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Entry tags:
fic: newBSG, On the Painted Desert
Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: Mature Audiences. Violence, Innuendo, Gross Stuff.
Set: This should be before the "To Be Continued" portion of 'Torn'. But certainly after the bulk of the episode.
Spoilers: As such, this contains spoilers up through 'Torn'.
Pairings: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, Cally/Chief, Roslin/Adama (hints), Dualla/Lee Adama (er, I think there are hints?)
Genre: ...angst, drama, action/adventure, humor, episode insert....
Notes: This started as crack!fic and morphed into, well, something a little different. Mostly because I was joking and mocking my own tendencies with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rhi_silverflame. Grateful thanks are to be passed onto rhi_silverflame, especially (she is totally to blame for a lot of this), and karma_aster and familyarchives for answering a Very Important Question. Title from the Boom Boom Satellites' song of the same name.
Words: 13,386
Summary: There's a lot of anger and sadness going around, and Chief Tyrol has had enough.
On the Painted Desert
by ALC Punk!
"They're going to pay, in one way or another."
"This isn't about vengeance. This is about justice."
-=-
Galen Tyrol was a kind man, a happy man, generally. Even with the end of the world and the fall of civilization as he knew it, he was happy. His life had purpose--especially now, with a wife and a son. That part actually made him happier than most. Because there was nothing like curling up with them and hearing them fall asleep first, and knowing that they were safe. His planes also made him happy--although he still sometimes missed his blackbird terribly. And he'd never quite forgiven Apollo for losing her.
So it really came as no surprise to anyone that he was doing a lot of glaring at Captain Thrace. After all, she'd succeeded in damaging one viper badly, and seemed not to care if she damaged another.
When it was announced she was back on flight status, Chief finally decided he'd have to do something--before she wrecked his vipers, and before Sam Anders drank his deck crew into earlier graves than the cylons were currently giving them.
The idea seemed perfectly sensible to him. Really, as he explained it to Cally when she was falling asleep (and not really paying attention, because his voice was just soothing and she was frakkin' tired and why the frak didn't he ever shut up when she wanted to sleep?), if Captain Thrace were happy, she wouldn't want to damage his vipers. If she were happy, she wouldn't be reckless and get other people in danger, either.
The bonus of keeping his deck crew's livers intact was just nice.
-=-
Seelix elected herself Chief's second in command for the op. Not that it was hard to take a little vengeance on Sam Anders for doing a little too much damage to her liver. She wasn't touching the part where she thought he'd wussed out on the circle.
Justice had nothing to do with getting the man to match her shot for shot until he couldn't see straight.
And it certainly had nothing to do with dragging him to a random storage room and dumping his nearly unconscious ass on the floor to sleep it off. She only kind of thought it was justice when she locked the hatch.
-=-
"Just a little further along here, Captain." Tyrol's plan was coming together. Just a few more minutes, and his vipers might be safe. Well, it could take them days to actually sort shit out--hence the supplies he'd left them. He'd considered trying to get them access to a head, but that would be too complicated. They'd survive. Besides, he was confident that they'd see reason. After all, they were in love. Love wasn't everything, but it helped a hell of a lot.
"Fine. Whatever."
Galen had considered drugging the captain or knocking her out physically. But given her incarceration by the cylons, that might not have been a good idea.
Still, her utter boredom and apathy with their destination worried him vaguely. He'd been non-specific about needing her help with something. Letting her think it was setting up a new still had been easy. Actually keeping an eye out for random crew who might stop them was less easy. But the room they were headed towards was in one of the few sections that still wasn't in the best shape--after the cylons crashed in the starboard landing pod, most of the storage rooms in the area had been in disarray. And there hadn't been a need for them to house people. Even now, most of the refugee civilians were housed in other parts of the ship. There was a lot of open deckspace, and he sometimes wondered if maybe they should fill it with more people.
Thankfully, the door he needed still had a lock on the outer side of the hatch. He pulled it open and waved, "After you, sir."
Starbuck rolled her eyes and stepped through without answering.
It couldn't have gone better if he'd shoved her. Tyrol slammed the hatch on her before she could notice the rest of the room. Then he spun the lock and stepped back.
There was a clunk as presumably, Starbuck threw herself against the solid metal.
He grinned and waved. "I'll let you out in a bit, sir." Not that she could hear him, of course. With happy thoughts for his somewhat safer planes, Galen turned and walked away, whistling.
-=-
"What the frak?!" Kara slammed her fist against the closed hatch again. "Chief!"
When it didn't open, she started cursing. She knew there'd been something about the way he'd been acting. Something secretive. Great. The great Starbuck had walked straight into a trap. What was it to be? She wondered, finally tiring with the door and turning to take in the rest of the room.
A snoring sound drew her attention to one wall.
"Oh, frak me." She muttered in irritation. As if she couldn't close that chapter of her life fast enough and without complication, here it was again. Sam Anders was stretched out on the floor, head lolling with every breath.
Given the scent of ambrosia in the room, Kara was willing to bet he'd had a lot before passing out. A quick search proved he hadn't brought it with him, however. "Bastard."
Kara resisted the urge to kick him and went back to the hatch.
Nope. Still locked.
And given her vague impression of the hallways around them, she didn't think anyone would be coming for a while. If ever. Kara kicked the door again and then turned to glare at Sam. "This is your fault."
The storage room itself was empty, except for a box. Kara almost didn't want to know what was in the box, but it would be nice to empty it and try battering the hatch with it. Her boots made hollow sounds on the metal floor as she stomped over to have a look. Bottles of water, two ration kits, and a blanket. Well, someone had been planning for the long haul. She scowled and dumped the contents on the floor, searching for anything useful.
A groan suddenly came from Sam, followed by pain-filled cursing as he rolled over. "Gods..."
"Yeah. Gods aren't here." Kara informed him, standing with the box and cursing herself when she decided the flimsy plastic wouldn't be any use.
"What the frak? Kara?"
"Yeah. I asked that, too."
Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position and paled slightly. "Oh, gods." He clapped a hand over his eyes and pulled his knees up. With careful movements, he folded his arms and dropped his head forward to rest on them. "Where the frak are we?" He sounded almost like he didn't care.
Fine. She could be civil. "Storage room. Great idea you had, Anders."
"Not mine." He replied, voice muffled.
"You mean you didn't put Chief up to locking me in here with you and all the comforts of home?" She asked, voice sarcastic.
"Seelix." Sam lifted his head, "I was... Seelix and alcohol." He winced again.
Given how hungover he looked, Kara was kind of leaning towards believing him. At least the part about the alcohol and Seelix. But the rest, she wouldn't put past him. Well, she would, but the small part of her that wasn't completely throttled of emotion and wanted to deal with shit thought Sam might do it just to try getting her back.
Angry, she paced to the hatch again and kicked it.
"Bet that accomplished a lot," Sam muttered from behind her.
"Shut up."
"Fine."
"Fine." Kara kicked the hatch again and wondered how long Chief was planning to leave them there. Knowing him, as long as he thought it would take.
Though take for what, she didn't know. Did he want them to kill each other?
"You cut your hair."
"What?" Kara turned and stared at him.
"It looks nice."
"Yeah, well, I didn't cut it for you." A horrible thought hit her, and she glared, "You set this up. You think a few little compliments is going to make me crawl back to you, Anders? 'Cause, I gotta tell you, the whole hangover doesn't really help. It just makes you pathetic."
"What? No!" Matching her glare with one of his own, he stood. "I don't want to be here anymore than you do!" Suiting actions to words, he walked over and poked at the hatch.
"Yeah. Right."
"Kara."
Suddenly tired, she turned away from him. "I don't have the time for this, Sam."
He didn't answer as he moved back to his wall and sat, closing his eyes. Kara eyed him for a moment before dropping to the floor herself.
She didn't close her eyes.
Because for just a moment, she remembered what it had been like to be locked into Leoben's apartment. And he'd thought it was for her own good, too.
-=-
"Chief!"
Tyrol looked up from the report he was paging through. "Seelix."
Something in her expression was agitated, "Hey, Chief." She shot a glance around, "You haven't seen Connors, have you?"
"Connors?" He frowned, trying to remember the last time he'd seen the ill-washed civilian. Probably about the same time he'd cut Gaeta free. "No idea."
Seelix nodded, "All right. If you see him, let me know, all right?"
"Yeah."
She was gone across the deck before he could ask her why. And then it didn't matter as he got distracted by the reports he was reading. They were already too low on extra metal for patches and repairs. He was going to have to see about scrounging some from the civilians. Just in case, of course.
-=-
The room was quiet, except for the sound of two people breathing and the occasional movement. Sam was a bit impressed that Kara had so far spent the time without another word or movement. She hadn't even gotten up and paced. If he'd wanted any sign that the woman he'd loved was gone for good, the fact that Kara--energetic, unable to stand still, Kara--hadn't even paced once would have done it.
Inactivity used to drive her insane.
He'd wisely not bothered saying a damned thing, though. She was convinced he'd set this all up. And while he had an inkling that it might really be a set-up, he was trying hard to believe it had been an accident.
Or maybe he was just lying to himself to escape the fact that, as much as he still wanted her, he'd given her up.
Or maybe it was just the gods-damned hangover talking.
He'd have to kill Seelix the next time he saw her.
It occurred to him that he didn't even know what he would say to Kara if she were speaking to him. The woman across from him was someone he didn't think he knew. For an instant, he'd thought she was--when she was angry and yelling at him. That had been familiar.
But then the woman who'd told him she wanted to scratch his eyes out had reappeared and she wasn't his anymore.
If he faced reality, she never really had been, either.
Kara shifted a moment before he heard something. He opened his eyes and mouth, "Kara--"
"Shut up." She scrambled to her feet.
Fine. He followed suit, grateful that Chief had apparently decided to let them out. Or maybe Seelix had.
The hatch clanked as it unlocked and then swung open.
"Chief!" Kara snapped, "You'd--"
A masked man with a gun pointed at them stepped into the room. "I'm afraid Galen Tyrol isn't here."
Sam blinked. What the frak?
"Now," the man continued, "You can either come peaceably, or, well, I suppose you could attempt to resist."
Four more men walked into the room, each as armed as the first.
Kara growled.
And Sam almost sighed. After all, with Kara, there was no easy way.
He should have remembered that.
"Frak you."
"We have the guns, Captain Thrace. Unless you want to be shot in the leg, I suggest you behave." The man smiled unpleasantly, "The knee, perhaps? I've heard that's a rather vulnerable spot, for you."
Sam moved when Kara did, throwing himself at the nearest man, hoping they'd both reach their targets in time. He didn't see Kara's fight, but the man he faced simply turned with his attack and slammed him against the wall before jamming the gun into his stomach. "Don't. Move."
"Ah. Not quietly, then. Incapacitate them," the man ordered.
"Yes, boss."
Sam didn't have time to brace himself before the man brought his arm up and smashed the butt of the gun against his temple. There was a moment of pain worse than his hangover and then everything went dark.
-=-
Lieutenant Dualla wasn't really paying attention when she sorted through the paper messages stacked in the Admiral's in-tray. Most of it was the usual stuff: reports signed by the Chief of the deck, a comm traffic report from Gaeta, and one summation of the wireless discussions the fleet civilians had been having. It gave her a strange sense of being home to sort it. As though she'd really never left Galactica, even as she was finding it difficult to step back into the rhythm of things. Too long as a deck officer instead of a communications technician.
Probably, she shouldn't let it get to her head, she reflected as she slit open the last missive.
There was something tacky on the paper, and she frowned, wondering if the Chief had forgotten something and sent it up coated in viper. But the smell was wrong. Not machine-like, though it was sharp and metallic. Sweet. Dee lifted her fingers to her nose and sniffed.
Dread filled her and she unfolded the note, eyes scanning it, catching the stains and words both. Not wanting to believe the sense.
Not until she'd scrubbed the blood from her fingers and stood.
It was with something almost mechanical that she headed for the Admiral, standing at the strategy table. "Sir."
"Dee." He nodded to her.
She swallowed. "You'll want to read this, sir."
Picking up on her stiffness, he straightened and received the letter with something approaching care. "This has to be a joke," he said after he'd scanned it.
"If it is, somebody went to a lot of trouble, sir."
Admiral Adama fingered one of the stains, finger coming away stained red. "So it would appear."
"Sir, are you...?" Dee found she couldn't finish the question. After all, the entire contents of the letter made no sense and seemed almost ludicrous.
"Mister Wilson!"
The comm tech snapped to attention, "Sir?"
"Get me the President on a secure channel."
The boy saluted, and Dee for a moment wondered if she'd ever been that young.
Adama picked up his phone, "I need to speak with the Chief." His conversation was brief, then he set the phone back down.
-=-
Karen Szarda had joined the New Caprican Police Force because she believed in the needs of peace. She'd believed that the cylons wanted the best for them. And, standing in one of the deserted storage rooms on Galactica, she still believed it.
Staring at the unconscious man they had bound to a chair, she felt the old hate rising. Two of her best friends had died in one of his suicide bombs. Samuel Anders had taken the law into his own hands and he'd ruined what had been a good life. What could have become something incredible. All because he was angry. All because he couldn't let go of the hate.
Giving in to her own anger would make her like him, although she ached to do so. Ached to kick him and punch him until he was bloody at her feet and unable to breathe.
Sean had died in her arms, coughing up his life's blood while his eyes went cold and dark.
That they had bound Kara Thrace to a similar chair, and placed her back to back with her husband didn't particularly interest Karen. Perhaps if she could be used against him, to cause him pain, it would matter.
But until he paid for his crimes--until she felt he had gotten the justice he deserved--she would follow along with what was required of her. She might think their great leader was full of shit and unlikely to get his demands, but Brother Marlon did have a way with words.
-=-
"Understood, sir," Galen hung up the phone and felt a moment of unease before he shook it off. "Great. Stupid jokes. Cally!"
"Yo, Chief." His wife grinned at him.
He found himself unable to fight the return grin before he turned serious, "I need to go check up on something, can you hold the fort while I'm gone?"
"Yessir."
"Thanks." He also fought the urge to kiss her--that wouldn't be very professional after all--and ended up reaching out to tap her nose before turning and walking off.
Figuring it was all just a hoax--maybe Captain Thrace was trying to pay him back already--he didn't bother telling anyone where he was going. Though he did look around for Seelix. Not finding her, he sighed and headed on his way.
It was almost eerie, how the people just trickled away, the closer he got to the room he'd stashed the warring pair in. The walls of Galactica felt that much closer.
Tyrol frowned and paused before he reached the corridor. There was no one, and hadn't been for at least three junctions. His instincts were telling him it was wrong. That there should have been one or two people. If nothing else, there should have been marines.
Maybe it wasn't some stupid prank.
With the hair on the nape of his neck rising, Tyrol turned and headed back down the corridor. Sergeant Hadrian's quarters weren't too far from where he was. And while he might not be fond of the woman, she wouldn't exactly talk, if this was just a prank.
Three corridors and one turning later, he tapped on the hatch before pushing it open and sticking his head in. "Sergeant?"
Several disinterested marines glanced at him. Hadrian, at the back of the room folding laundry blinked at him. "Chief."
"Could I speak to you for a moment, sir?"
Her eyebrows raised, but she seemed to get the hint that he didn't want an audience and came to him. "Yes, Chief?"
"Look, I... Let's just say that there might be a prank going on, and if so, I need your discretion. And if not... Then something very serious is happening."
She snorted, "That makes no sense whatsoever, Chief."
"I need backup."
"For a prank."
"Not exactly."
Hadrian looked at him for a moment, then shrugged, "Fine. Lead the way, Chief."
"Thank you, Sergeant." Hoping neither of them would regret this, he led the way back to the storage room. Approaching it, he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck again. "Almost there."
When she didn't answer, he glanced back and found her watching their surroundings, hand lightly resting on her sidearm. Rather wishing he'd brought one of his own, Galen turned back and stepped around the corner. At the far end of the corridor, the hatch to the room he'd locked the Captain and her husband in hung open.
"Chief." Hadrian's softly-voiced comment was almost a command.
Tyrol froze where he stood, then moved into the scant cover on their side of the corridor. "See something?"
"No."
Listening, he couldn't hear a damned thing. "Fine... Just..." He shook his head and carefully continued the last few feet to the hatch. He peered in, easily ascertaining there was no one inside. "Looks clear."
Hadrian moved past him and stepped inside, scanning the room. "What the frak was this, Chief? Love nest?" She gestured at the piled foodstuffs and blanket.
Grimacing, Tyrol shrugged, "D'no, sir."
She shot him a look, but didn't press it as she continued her examination of the room.
Absently rubbing the back of his neck to calm the hairs there, he glanced down at the floor. And paused, noting the tiny dark drops scattered here and there. Without thinking about it, he stooped and swiped a finger through one. It came away sticky and red. One sniff was all he needed. Frak. "Sir."
Hadrian looked up from where she was inspecting another spatter of blood, "Whoever was in here, Chief, didn't leave quietly."
"No, sir." Damn. Damn damn damn. "I need to let the Admiral know."
"Know what, Chief?"
"Either Captain Thrace killed her husband, or they're both in serious danger."
-=-
"If this is just a hoax, I don't want a panic." Laura Roslin wondered if there would ever come a day when things went easy. Given the last two and a half years, she was going to have to go with a no on that one. Especially not where the cylons were concerned.
"Agreed." His voice sounded tinny, coming through the wireless. "And if it isn't."
"We don't deal with terrorists, Admiral." The knot of tension that had formed at the base of her skull when Tory informed her the admiral wanted to speak to her tightened.
"I'm going to have Doc Cottle run an analysis of the blood. I'll get back to you, Madame President."
"Good. In the meantime, I'll have my people look into things and find out if this group is legitimate." And if they were, and her people hadn't told her about them, she was going to be rather upset. This was the sort of shit she needed to know beforehand.
"Adama out."
Laura gave herself a moment to sigh internally as she set the phone down. And then she snapped into readiness and looked up at Tory, "I need everyone in here for a meeting. Now."
"Sir."
This was not shaping up to be a good day. Not at all. And she hadn't even gotten to the supply lists that needed to be inspected.
-=-
He called himself Brother Marlon, though if asked, he couldn't prove he was a priest of the Gods. Not that it mattered. He'd listened at the feet of Sister Elosha until her untimely death. And he'd followed her teachings, believing in the prophecy. Until Laura Roslin had stopped dying. Until she'd proved it all to be a sham to gain political sway.
And now he had his chance to enact justice. To stop the murderers in the military from furthering their plans of war.
For one year and four months, there had been peace. People had lived in harmony, even with the cylons. The problem had been the blind prejudice exhibited by the colonists, and the resistance's continual erosion of the foundations that should have made their society great. Brother Marlon had almost stayed on New Caprica, but the thought of gaining the whole of the fleet and turning them to his views. Of nurturing them until they realized that finding the cylons was the only solution, swayed him.
Without the cylons, there would be fewer children. The population would die out, and there would be nothing left. No one to prove that the Colonies had ever existed. The cylons, of course, would remember. But they would move on in their own plans and never consider the humans they had thought to live in peace with.
The young woman, Karen, was the one who had come up with their plan. Marlon was putting it into practice, but she suggested their targets. He'd thought them rather fitting.
Samuel Anders, the leader of the resistance under Colonel Tigh, and his wife, Kara Thrace. She who had led so many bombing raids against the cylon fleet. To everyone, they were symbols. People to respect, people to emulate. And the President and the Admiral would understand that. And then Chief Tyrol had practically gift-wrapped them for the cause.
That they had fought was even better, it had given them the added incentive on their message. Their blood had looked rather untidy on the white sheet, but it had conveyed their intent.
Contact the cylons and surrender, pleading peaceful co-existence, or we shall execute these traitors to peace. Kara Thrace. Samuel Anders.
And perhaps he would execute them, anyway.
Karen would certainly enjoy that.
"Brother Marlon."
He glanced up from the notations he was making on his copy of the scrolls. "Karen."
"I request..." she frowned, the anger in her eyes banked, but visible. "Sam Anders caused the deaths of my friends, sir. You told me I could have him."
"In due time, Karen."
"Now."
Marlon frowned at her, thoughtful; he understood her need for vengeance, after all. "You cannot kill him."
"I'll try not to, Marlon." A slight smile touched her lips. It wasn't echoed by the darkness in her eyes. She reached into a pocket and pulled out two pairs of brass knuckles. "I'll just bruise him a little."
A sigh almost escaped Marlon as she walked away. Really, this barbarism was going to have to be culled. Once her usefulness was gone, Karen might find herself unneeded by his people. He wouldn't enjoy throwing her to the wolves, although, perhaps they would be merciful.
Far more merciful than she herself was.
-=-
The day's courier run from Galactica was in, and Roslin sighed as she sorted out the letters. They were all probably high priority. Tory had once suggested she should deal with the letters, but Laura had refused. Billy could have dealt with them, but Tory was... less kind than he had been. Laura had a feeling a lot of them would have found their way into the trash, unanswered. At least, if she went through them, she could give the ones that had to be answered to Tory and deal with the rest, herself.
It made it better if she threw them away.
A box had come, too, and Tory had teased her about Adama sending her gifts. Since it wasn't in his hand-writing, Laura hadn't blushed. She also hadn't responded, setting it to the side and frowning at the weight. Perhaps someone was attempting to curry favor?
It couldn't be a bomb, as all boxes were checked by Galactica's people. In fact, she could see where the tape had been slit and then replaced.
Four letters in, she sighed and let her curiosity get the better of her. Standing, she reached for her letter opener. It was easy to slice the tape, and she had the top folded back for almost ten seconds before her brain finally acknowledged what she was seeing. Laura sucked in a breath.
"Tory. Get Commander Adama on the secure channel."
"Madame President?"
Carefully folding the box closed again, she looked up, knowing she was probably paler than before. "Has the courier left Colonial One?"
"No, the raptor pilot is still doing pre-flights, I think."
"Stop him and have him brought up here." Roslin swallowed, "And don't attract suspicion, if you can help it."
"What--" Tory reached for the box flap.
"No! You don't want to see what's in there."
Tory studied her for a moment, then nodded, "I'll see to it."
"Thank you."
Sitting back in her chair, Laura closed her eyes. And immediately re-opened them as the sight of Charlie Connors' head stared back at her, eyes glassy.
-=-
Kara woke up with her head on Sam's shoulder. It was an awkward angle, and she muffled a curse as she raised her head. Her arms were behind her back, tied tightly together. Thick cabling wrapped around her shoulders and seemed to be anchored to the metal chair she was sitting on. The same cabling immobilized her legs against the chair legs. She could feel--through the numbness that was spreading through her arms--Sam, behind her. At least, she was assuming it was Sam. He smelled the same.
"Oh, good. You're awake."
The shoulders behind her tensed and shifted.
"No need pretending, Anders. Your wife's awake, after all. Or maybe viper pilots just recover faster." The tone was bitter and angry.
Kara considered telling the woman they weren't exactly married anymore. But it seemed rather pointless--a lot of things seemed rather pointless, these days.
"Frak you." Sam sounded almost bored.
"Nah. I don't know where you've been." Metal clinked against metal, and Kara craned her neck and found that at a painful angle, she could see the woman sliding brass knuckles onto her fingers.
Facing front seemed easier.
A sick feeling slithered into her belly. The same one she'd had for four months, locked in a room with Leoben's constant prattle. Kara shoved it away. This wasn't a cylon trap, this was humans. She'd been right. Tigh had been right. Humans couldn't be trusted. And in some ways, they were no better than the cylons were.
The first blow came as a shock.
Kara found herself flashing back to half a dozen bar fights in an effort to ignore it.
Minutes passed, and the sound of metal hitting flesh, and the occasional grunt of pain, continued until the woman simply stopped. "Not so pretty anymore, Anders. Bet your wife'll be sad."
"She's not..."
"What?" The woman's voice drew nearer. Kara didn't look, guessing she'd bent closer to Sam. A hand grabbed her by the hair. "I could let you rest, Anders. I could go work on her for a little while. Let you recover."
"No." His voice thick, Sam continued. "Leave her alone. It's me you want, remember?"
The hand yanked once at Kara's head then let her go. "And how do you figure that, Anders? Maybe I just hate pyramid."
"Nah. This's personal." His head lolled back against Kara's shoulder for a minute, then lifted. "Who'd I kill, Karen?"
"You don't get to ask questions." The anger was tinged with rage and hatred.
The next blow slammed Sam back into Kara, and the chairs both scraped against the floor. He coughed wetly.
The sick feeling in Kara's stomach got worse. Where the frak were the marines? Where was Adama? Or were they just left on their own, thanks to Chief's little prank? When she got out of here, Cally was going to be a widower.
Flesh hit flesh, and Kara closed her eyes.
-=-
"It's human, same blood type as Starbuck," Cottle informed Adama, voice as gravelly as normal. He waved his cigarette, "The other appears to be the same blood type recorded for Mr. Anders. If you want DNA, that's going to take hours."
Adama nodded. "Thank you, doctor."
"Sir, Chief Tyrol is on the phone for you."
"Thank you, Wilson." Picking up the phone, he barked, "Chief, tell me good news."
Cottle blew out another mouthful of smoke and then left the CIC, muttering under his breath.
-=-
"Madame President, I've brought the courier, as requested. And Admiral Adama is apparently in a meeting."
Laura looked up from the letter she'd been perusing and blinked in surprise at just who the courier was. "Sharon Valerii."
"Agathon, sir." The cylon tried to smile, "We, ah, got married."
"Not a surprise. Sit down, Sharon."
The raptor pilot frowned, but sat. "Was there something wrong, sir?"
"This box." Laura gestured at it. Keep it simple, keep it friendly. No need to start accusing the cylon of duplicity just yet. "You brought it in your courier run. Were you there when they inspected it?"
"No. I--" The pilot ducked her head, then half-smiled, "Admiral Adama's standing orders are that I not leave Galactica--for my own protection. The civilians aren't as accepting as the crew over there."
"Then why are you here?"
"Captain Paladino was sick and there wasn't anyone else who could fly on short notice." She glanced at Tory, "That was why I didn't exit the raptor."
"So you didn't know what was in the box." Possibly a lie.
Guileless eyes looked at Laura, puzzled. "No, sir."
On a whim, Laura gestured, "I'd like you to take a look."
"All right." Still puzzled, but clearly willing to humor her, Sharon stood and moved to look inside the box. "Oh my gods." She paled and stepped back, hand coming up to her mouth. Meeting Laura's eyes, she whispered, "I swear to you, I didn't know that was in there, I wouldn't--"
Laura weighed things and nodded, "I believe you, Sharon. But I'm not so sure what to do about this. How sick was Captain Paladino?" For now. She believed her for now.
"He didn't say, I just assumed it was a random stomach thing." Sharon sank back into her chair and closed her eyes. "I knew of him, sir."
"Charlie Connors."
"Yes."
"Tory, get Admiral Adama on the line."
-=-
Sam ached from the beating Karen had given him. It had taken him a while to recognize her, but she'd been one of the women Jammer had flirted with for a short time. The kid had even brought her to one of the resistance meetings, but it hadn't panned out. Sam tried not to move, he wasn't sure she hadn't broken a rib or two. The violence didn't seem to have helped her at all, either. She was still pacing with restrained anger, still fingering her gun. Maybe if he made her angrier...
"What do you want out of this?"
She jerked to a halt and stared at him. "What do I want out of this, you piece of shit? Yeah, right. Like you even care."
"Maybe I do."
"Your suicide bombs killed innocent people and innocent cylons, and all they wanted to do was live in peace with us."
"Oh, yeah," said Kara from behind him, her tone derisive. "Those cylons. They're all about the peaceful co-existence. Right before they nuke you to hell."
"Please. You think they wanted to do that? It was a mistake."
Sam stared at her. A mistake? Was she nuts? "One which cost billions their lives."
"One which was perpetuated by the military and their endless need for war and glory." She snorted, "You know, if we'd just stopped running once and asked them why, they might have explained. They might have said, 'Hey. we're sorry'. Like they did when they found New Caprica."
"Tell that to the men and women who died on New Caprica."
"They were malcontents, dissidents."
"They were people! Men and women with families," Sam laughed derisively, "Hell, tell that to the people I lost when I was on Caprica. The few who survived the initial bombs and the radiation poisoning. Tell that to the women locked in the farms, strapped down and forced to have children all at the cylons' whim. Tell that to the men they harvested genetic samples and more from. Tell that to the dead planets we left back there, uninhabitable until the radiation fallout dies."
"Shut up." Her sidearm was pointed at him, her eyes angry.
"Tell that to Kara Thrace, Colonel Tigh, Tom Zarek and the hundreds who were thrown into faceless boxes," he continued, holding her gaze. "Tell them that the cylons just wanted peace, Karen."
"You don't--they were disturbing the peace!"
"Like Cally? Chief's wife? She has a baby, you know. And she was on a death list. But, hey, if you think that the cylons were right to round up all of those people, and right to send them to be shot by a firing squad, then, go ahead." Sam finished quietly, "Shoot me now. Because Adama is never going to deal with you."
"What?"
"Sam--"
He ignored Kara. "You want revenge for the bombings, you want to prove you're right and we're wrong? Then just do it and get it over with. Dragging it out is pointless."
Karen stared at him, gun pointed at his chest. Then she cursed and dropped her hand, angrier than before. "I can't kill you. Not until he's done with you. Not until we have what we want."
"You won't get it."
"Maybe. Maybe we will." Anger in her every movement, she shoved the gun back into its holster and stalked out of the room. The hatch slammed closed behind her.
-=-
"No, sir," Chief sighed and looked at Hadrian. "We've searched every store room along this deck and come up with nothing. Captain Thrace and Sam Anders aren't here."
The old man growled in frustration, "Just a moment, Chief."
A muffled conversation occurred and Tyrol took the moment to wipe a hand over his forehead. This little plan of his had backfired badly. So badly, he wasn't sure he could deal with the consequences. In some ways, this was worse than lying to himself about Sharon. He'd endangered the lives of two people he respected. Two people who were doing nothing but trying to live their own lives.
A snort escaped him. Obviously, a matchmaker he was not.
Maybe he could take up a life as a janitor once Adama got through with him. Cally could help support him--if she didn't leave him.
"Chief, get more people and start looking in any place you can think of."
Adama's order dragged him out of his thoughts. Tyrol nodded, then replied, "Yes, sir." He hung up before he could ask the Admiral if he wanted his resignation.
"Chief?"
"He says to get more men and organize a search."
Hadrian nodded, "Let's get started. There's two decks to search, not to mention countless storage areas where the civilians have taken over."
-=-
"What the frak was that all about?" Kara demanded.
Sam fought back a shrug, knowing it would hurt. "I thought... she might do something stupid."
"Well, it worked so well, Samuel. She could have shot you!"
"That was kind of the point."
"Gods, you're an idiot."
It made him smile. It was stupid and she was insulting him and pissed off at him, but it still made him smile. It made him stupid. "Yeah, well, you didn't marry me for my brains."
A sound escaped her, and then she growled, "We're not having this discussion."
"Nope. We're not." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, fighting down a wave of dizziness. The blood was drying and crusting, moving pulled at the edges of the scrapes on his face. Kara's shoulder wasn't that far back. And he could blame it on the beating.
"Sam..."
Ignoring the warning in her voice, he sucked in a breath, taking in her scent and wondering if he had any right to feel like all was right with the world. They were tied up, slated for death, and he was feeling goofy about his wife (except she wasn't his wife, she'd dumped him). Yeah. Maybe he could blame it on his concussion. "Like the hair," he mumbled before he drifted back into unconsciousness.
on to the rest
Set: This should be before the "To Be Continued" portion of 'Torn'. But certainly after the bulk of the episode.
Spoilers: As such, this contains spoilers up through 'Torn'.
Pairings: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, Cally/Chief, Roslin/Adama (hints), Dualla/Lee Adama (er, I think there are hints?)
Genre: ...angst, drama, action/adventure, humor, episode insert....
Notes: This started as crack!fic and morphed into, well, something a little different. Mostly because I was joking and mocking my own tendencies with
rhi_silverflame. Grateful thanks are to be passed onto rhi_silverflame, especially (she is totally to blame for a lot of this), and karma_aster and familyarchives for answering a Very Important Question. Title from the Boom Boom Satellites' song of the same name.Words: 13,386
Summary: There's a lot of anger and sadness going around, and Chief Tyrol has had enough.
On the Painted Desert
by ALC Punk!
"They're going to pay, in one way or another."
"This isn't about vengeance. This is about justice."
-=-
Galen Tyrol was a kind man, a happy man, generally. Even with the end of the world and the fall of civilization as he knew it, he was happy. His life had purpose--especially now, with a wife and a son. That part actually made him happier than most. Because there was nothing like curling up with them and hearing them fall asleep first, and knowing that they were safe. His planes also made him happy--although he still sometimes missed his blackbird terribly. And he'd never quite forgiven Apollo for losing her.
So it really came as no surprise to anyone that he was doing a lot of glaring at Captain Thrace. After all, she'd succeeded in damaging one viper badly, and seemed not to care if she damaged another.
When it was announced she was back on flight status, Chief finally decided he'd have to do something--before she wrecked his vipers, and before Sam Anders drank his deck crew into earlier graves than the cylons were currently giving them.
The idea seemed perfectly sensible to him. Really, as he explained it to Cally when she was falling asleep (and not really paying attention, because his voice was just soothing and she was frakkin' tired and why the frak didn't he ever shut up when she wanted to sleep?), if Captain Thrace were happy, she wouldn't want to damage his vipers. If she were happy, she wouldn't be reckless and get other people in danger, either.
The bonus of keeping his deck crew's livers intact was just nice.
-=-
Seelix elected herself Chief's second in command for the op. Not that it was hard to take a little vengeance on Sam Anders for doing a little too much damage to her liver. She wasn't touching the part where she thought he'd wussed out on the circle.
Justice had nothing to do with getting the man to match her shot for shot until he couldn't see straight.
And it certainly had nothing to do with dragging him to a random storage room and dumping his nearly unconscious ass on the floor to sleep it off. She only kind of thought it was justice when she locked the hatch.
-=-
"Just a little further along here, Captain." Tyrol's plan was coming together. Just a few more minutes, and his vipers might be safe. Well, it could take them days to actually sort shit out--hence the supplies he'd left them. He'd considered trying to get them access to a head, but that would be too complicated. They'd survive. Besides, he was confident that they'd see reason. After all, they were in love. Love wasn't everything, but it helped a hell of a lot.
"Fine. Whatever."
Galen had considered drugging the captain or knocking her out physically. But given her incarceration by the cylons, that might not have been a good idea.
Still, her utter boredom and apathy with their destination worried him vaguely. He'd been non-specific about needing her help with something. Letting her think it was setting up a new still had been easy. Actually keeping an eye out for random crew who might stop them was less easy. But the room they were headed towards was in one of the few sections that still wasn't in the best shape--after the cylons crashed in the starboard landing pod, most of the storage rooms in the area had been in disarray. And there hadn't been a need for them to house people. Even now, most of the refugee civilians were housed in other parts of the ship. There was a lot of open deckspace, and he sometimes wondered if maybe they should fill it with more people.
Thankfully, the door he needed still had a lock on the outer side of the hatch. He pulled it open and waved, "After you, sir."
Starbuck rolled her eyes and stepped through without answering.
It couldn't have gone better if he'd shoved her. Tyrol slammed the hatch on her before she could notice the rest of the room. Then he spun the lock and stepped back.
There was a clunk as presumably, Starbuck threw herself against the solid metal.
He grinned and waved. "I'll let you out in a bit, sir." Not that she could hear him, of course. With happy thoughts for his somewhat safer planes, Galen turned and walked away, whistling.
-=-
"What the frak?!" Kara slammed her fist against the closed hatch again. "Chief!"
When it didn't open, she started cursing. She knew there'd been something about the way he'd been acting. Something secretive. Great. The great Starbuck had walked straight into a trap. What was it to be? She wondered, finally tiring with the door and turning to take in the rest of the room.
A snoring sound drew her attention to one wall.
"Oh, frak me." She muttered in irritation. As if she couldn't close that chapter of her life fast enough and without complication, here it was again. Sam Anders was stretched out on the floor, head lolling with every breath.
Given the scent of ambrosia in the room, Kara was willing to bet he'd had a lot before passing out. A quick search proved he hadn't brought it with him, however. "Bastard."
Kara resisted the urge to kick him and went back to the hatch.
Nope. Still locked.
And given her vague impression of the hallways around them, she didn't think anyone would be coming for a while. If ever. Kara kicked the door again and then turned to glare at Sam. "This is your fault."
The storage room itself was empty, except for a box. Kara almost didn't want to know what was in the box, but it would be nice to empty it and try battering the hatch with it. Her boots made hollow sounds on the metal floor as she stomped over to have a look. Bottles of water, two ration kits, and a blanket. Well, someone had been planning for the long haul. She scowled and dumped the contents on the floor, searching for anything useful.
A groan suddenly came from Sam, followed by pain-filled cursing as he rolled over. "Gods..."
"Yeah. Gods aren't here." Kara informed him, standing with the box and cursing herself when she decided the flimsy plastic wouldn't be any use.
"What the frak? Kara?"
"Yeah. I asked that, too."
Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position and paled slightly. "Oh, gods." He clapped a hand over his eyes and pulled his knees up. With careful movements, he folded his arms and dropped his head forward to rest on them. "Where the frak are we?" He sounded almost like he didn't care.
Fine. She could be civil. "Storage room. Great idea you had, Anders."
"Not mine." He replied, voice muffled.
"You mean you didn't put Chief up to locking me in here with you and all the comforts of home?" She asked, voice sarcastic.
"Seelix." Sam lifted his head, "I was... Seelix and alcohol." He winced again.
Given how hungover he looked, Kara was kind of leaning towards believing him. At least the part about the alcohol and Seelix. But the rest, she wouldn't put past him. Well, she would, but the small part of her that wasn't completely throttled of emotion and wanted to deal with shit thought Sam might do it just to try getting her back.
Angry, she paced to the hatch again and kicked it.
"Bet that accomplished a lot," Sam muttered from behind her.
"Shut up."
"Fine."
"Fine." Kara kicked the hatch again and wondered how long Chief was planning to leave them there. Knowing him, as long as he thought it would take.
Though take for what, she didn't know. Did he want them to kill each other?
"You cut your hair."
"What?" Kara turned and stared at him.
"It looks nice."
"Yeah, well, I didn't cut it for you." A horrible thought hit her, and she glared, "You set this up. You think a few little compliments is going to make me crawl back to you, Anders? 'Cause, I gotta tell you, the whole hangover doesn't really help. It just makes you pathetic."
"What? No!" Matching her glare with one of his own, he stood. "I don't want to be here anymore than you do!" Suiting actions to words, he walked over and poked at the hatch.
"Yeah. Right."
"Kara."
Suddenly tired, she turned away from him. "I don't have the time for this, Sam."
He didn't answer as he moved back to his wall and sat, closing his eyes. Kara eyed him for a moment before dropping to the floor herself.
She didn't close her eyes.
Because for just a moment, she remembered what it had been like to be locked into Leoben's apartment. And he'd thought it was for her own good, too.
-=-
"Chief!"
Tyrol looked up from the report he was paging through. "Seelix."
Something in her expression was agitated, "Hey, Chief." She shot a glance around, "You haven't seen Connors, have you?"
"Connors?" He frowned, trying to remember the last time he'd seen the ill-washed civilian. Probably about the same time he'd cut Gaeta free. "No idea."
Seelix nodded, "All right. If you see him, let me know, all right?"
"Yeah."
She was gone across the deck before he could ask her why. And then it didn't matter as he got distracted by the reports he was reading. They were already too low on extra metal for patches and repairs. He was going to have to see about scrounging some from the civilians. Just in case, of course.
-=-
The room was quiet, except for the sound of two people breathing and the occasional movement. Sam was a bit impressed that Kara had so far spent the time without another word or movement. She hadn't even gotten up and paced. If he'd wanted any sign that the woman he'd loved was gone for good, the fact that Kara--energetic, unable to stand still, Kara--hadn't even paced once would have done it.
Inactivity used to drive her insane.
He'd wisely not bothered saying a damned thing, though. She was convinced he'd set this all up. And while he had an inkling that it might really be a set-up, he was trying hard to believe it had been an accident.
Or maybe he was just lying to himself to escape the fact that, as much as he still wanted her, he'd given her up.
Or maybe it was just the gods-damned hangover talking.
He'd have to kill Seelix the next time he saw her.
It occurred to him that he didn't even know what he would say to Kara if she were speaking to him. The woman across from him was someone he didn't think he knew. For an instant, he'd thought she was--when she was angry and yelling at him. That had been familiar.
But then the woman who'd told him she wanted to scratch his eyes out had reappeared and she wasn't his anymore.
If he faced reality, she never really had been, either.
Kara shifted a moment before he heard something. He opened his eyes and mouth, "Kara--"
"Shut up." She scrambled to her feet.
Fine. He followed suit, grateful that Chief had apparently decided to let them out. Or maybe Seelix had.
The hatch clanked as it unlocked and then swung open.
"Chief!" Kara snapped, "You'd--"
A masked man with a gun pointed at them stepped into the room. "I'm afraid Galen Tyrol isn't here."
Sam blinked. What the frak?
"Now," the man continued, "You can either come peaceably, or, well, I suppose you could attempt to resist."
Four more men walked into the room, each as armed as the first.
Kara growled.
And Sam almost sighed. After all, with Kara, there was no easy way.
He should have remembered that.
"Frak you."
"We have the guns, Captain Thrace. Unless you want to be shot in the leg, I suggest you behave." The man smiled unpleasantly, "The knee, perhaps? I've heard that's a rather vulnerable spot, for you."
Sam moved when Kara did, throwing himself at the nearest man, hoping they'd both reach their targets in time. He didn't see Kara's fight, but the man he faced simply turned with his attack and slammed him against the wall before jamming the gun into his stomach. "Don't. Move."
"Ah. Not quietly, then. Incapacitate them," the man ordered.
"Yes, boss."
Sam didn't have time to brace himself before the man brought his arm up and smashed the butt of the gun against his temple. There was a moment of pain worse than his hangover and then everything went dark.
-=-
Lieutenant Dualla wasn't really paying attention when she sorted through the paper messages stacked in the Admiral's in-tray. Most of it was the usual stuff: reports signed by the Chief of the deck, a comm traffic report from Gaeta, and one summation of the wireless discussions the fleet civilians had been having. It gave her a strange sense of being home to sort it. As though she'd really never left Galactica, even as she was finding it difficult to step back into the rhythm of things. Too long as a deck officer instead of a communications technician.
Probably, she shouldn't let it get to her head, she reflected as she slit open the last missive.
There was something tacky on the paper, and she frowned, wondering if the Chief had forgotten something and sent it up coated in viper. But the smell was wrong. Not machine-like, though it was sharp and metallic. Sweet. Dee lifted her fingers to her nose and sniffed.
Dread filled her and she unfolded the note, eyes scanning it, catching the stains and words both. Not wanting to believe the sense.
Not until she'd scrubbed the blood from her fingers and stood.
It was with something almost mechanical that she headed for the Admiral, standing at the strategy table. "Sir."
"Dee." He nodded to her.
She swallowed. "You'll want to read this, sir."
Picking up on her stiffness, he straightened and received the letter with something approaching care. "This has to be a joke," he said after he'd scanned it.
"If it is, somebody went to a lot of trouble, sir."
Admiral Adama fingered one of the stains, finger coming away stained red. "So it would appear."
"Sir, are you...?" Dee found she couldn't finish the question. After all, the entire contents of the letter made no sense and seemed almost ludicrous.
"Mister Wilson!"
The comm tech snapped to attention, "Sir?"
"Get me the President on a secure channel."
The boy saluted, and Dee for a moment wondered if she'd ever been that young.
Adama picked up his phone, "I need to speak with the Chief." His conversation was brief, then he set the phone back down.
-=-
Karen Szarda had joined the New Caprican Police Force because she believed in the needs of peace. She'd believed that the cylons wanted the best for them. And, standing in one of the deserted storage rooms on Galactica, she still believed it.
Staring at the unconscious man they had bound to a chair, she felt the old hate rising. Two of her best friends had died in one of his suicide bombs. Samuel Anders had taken the law into his own hands and he'd ruined what had been a good life. What could have become something incredible. All because he was angry. All because he couldn't let go of the hate.
Giving in to her own anger would make her like him, although she ached to do so. Ached to kick him and punch him until he was bloody at her feet and unable to breathe.
Sean had died in her arms, coughing up his life's blood while his eyes went cold and dark.
That they had bound Kara Thrace to a similar chair, and placed her back to back with her husband didn't particularly interest Karen. Perhaps if she could be used against him, to cause him pain, it would matter.
But until he paid for his crimes--until she felt he had gotten the justice he deserved--she would follow along with what was required of her. She might think their great leader was full of shit and unlikely to get his demands, but Brother Marlon did have a way with words.
-=-
"Understood, sir," Galen hung up the phone and felt a moment of unease before he shook it off. "Great. Stupid jokes. Cally!"
"Yo, Chief." His wife grinned at him.
He found himself unable to fight the return grin before he turned serious, "I need to go check up on something, can you hold the fort while I'm gone?"
"Yessir."
"Thanks." He also fought the urge to kiss her--that wouldn't be very professional after all--and ended up reaching out to tap her nose before turning and walking off.
Figuring it was all just a hoax--maybe Captain Thrace was trying to pay him back already--he didn't bother telling anyone where he was going. Though he did look around for Seelix. Not finding her, he sighed and headed on his way.
It was almost eerie, how the people just trickled away, the closer he got to the room he'd stashed the warring pair in. The walls of Galactica felt that much closer.
Tyrol frowned and paused before he reached the corridor. There was no one, and hadn't been for at least three junctions. His instincts were telling him it was wrong. That there should have been one or two people. If nothing else, there should have been marines.
Maybe it wasn't some stupid prank.
With the hair on the nape of his neck rising, Tyrol turned and headed back down the corridor. Sergeant Hadrian's quarters weren't too far from where he was. And while he might not be fond of the woman, she wouldn't exactly talk, if this was just a prank.
Three corridors and one turning later, he tapped on the hatch before pushing it open and sticking his head in. "Sergeant?"
Several disinterested marines glanced at him. Hadrian, at the back of the room folding laundry blinked at him. "Chief."
"Could I speak to you for a moment, sir?"
Her eyebrows raised, but she seemed to get the hint that he didn't want an audience and came to him. "Yes, Chief?"
"Look, I... Let's just say that there might be a prank going on, and if so, I need your discretion. And if not... Then something very serious is happening."
She snorted, "That makes no sense whatsoever, Chief."
"I need backup."
"For a prank."
"Not exactly."
Hadrian looked at him for a moment, then shrugged, "Fine. Lead the way, Chief."
"Thank you, Sergeant." Hoping neither of them would regret this, he led the way back to the storage room. Approaching it, he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck again. "Almost there."
When she didn't answer, he glanced back and found her watching their surroundings, hand lightly resting on her sidearm. Rather wishing he'd brought one of his own, Galen turned back and stepped around the corner. At the far end of the corridor, the hatch to the room he'd locked the Captain and her husband in hung open.
"Chief." Hadrian's softly-voiced comment was almost a command.
Tyrol froze where he stood, then moved into the scant cover on their side of the corridor. "See something?"
"No."
Listening, he couldn't hear a damned thing. "Fine... Just..." He shook his head and carefully continued the last few feet to the hatch. He peered in, easily ascertaining there was no one inside. "Looks clear."
Hadrian moved past him and stepped inside, scanning the room. "What the frak was this, Chief? Love nest?" She gestured at the piled foodstuffs and blanket.
Grimacing, Tyrol shrugged, "D'no, sir."
She shot him a look, but didn't press it as she continued her examination of the room.
Absently rubbing the back of his neck to calm the hairs there, he glanced down at the floor. And paused, noting the tiny dark drops scattered here and there. Without thinking about it, he stooped and swiped a finger through one. It came away sticky and red. One sniff was all he needed. Frak. "Sir."
Hadrian looked up from where she was inspecting another spatter of blood, "Whoever was in here, Chief, didn't leave quietly."
"No, sir." Damn. Damn damn damn. "I need to let the Admiral know."
"Know what, Chief?"
"Either Captain Thrace killed her husband, or they're both in serious danger."
-=-
"If this is just a hoax, I don't want a panic." Laura Roslin wondered if there would ever come a day when things went easy. Given the last two and a half years, she was going to have to go with a no on that one. Especially not where the cylons were concerned.
"Agreed." His voice sounded tinny, coming through the wireless. "And if it isn't."
"We don't deal with terrorists, Admiral." The knot of tension that had formed at the base of her skull when Tory informed her the admiral wanted to speak to her tightened.
"I'm going to have Doc Cottle run an analysis of the blood. I'll get back to you, Madame President."
"Good. In the meantime, I'll have my people look into things and find out if this group is legitimate." And if they were, and her people hadn't told her about them, she was going to be rather upset. This was the sort of shit she needed to know beforehand.
"Adama out."
Laura gave herself a moment to sigh internally as she set the phone down. And then she snapped into readiness and looked up at Tory, "I need everyone in here for a meeting. Now."
"Sir."
This was not shaping up to be a good day. Not at all. And she hadn't even gotten to the supply lists that needed to be inspected.
-=-
He called himself Brother Marlon, though if asked, he couldn't prove he was a priest of the Gods. Not that it mattered. He'd listened at the feet of Sister Elosha until her untimely death. And he'd followed her teachings, believing in the prophecy. Until Laura Roslin had stopped dying. Until she'd proved it all to be a sham to gain political sway.
And now he had his chance to enact justice. To stop the murderers in the military from furthering their plans of war.
For one year and four months, there had been peace. People had lived in harmony, even with the cylons. The problem had been the blind prejudice exhibited by the colonists, and the resistance's continual erosion of the foundations that should have made their society great. Brother Marlon had almost stayed on New Caprica, but the thought of gaining the whole of the fleet and turning them to his views. Of nurturing them until they realized that finding the cylons was the only solution, swayed him.
Without the cylons, there would be fewer children. The population would die out, and there would be nothing left. No one to prove that the Colonies had ever existed. The cylons, of course, would remember. But they would move on in their own plans and never consider the humans they had thought to live in peace with.
The young woman, Karen, was the one who had come up with their plan. Marlon was putting it into practice, but she suggested their targets. He'd thought them rather fitting.
Samuel Anders, the leader of the resistance under Colonel Tigh, and his wife, Kara Thrace. She who had led so many bombing raids against the cylon fleet. To everyone, they were symbols. People to respect, people to emulate. And the President and the Admiral would understand that. And then Chief Tyrol had practically gift-wrapped them for the cause.
That they had fought was even better, it had given them the added incentive on their message. Their blood had looked rather untidy on the white sheet, but it had conveyed their intent.
Contact the cylons and surrender, pleading peaceful co-existence, or we shall execute these traitors to peace. Kara Thrace. Samuel Anders.
And perhaps he would execute them, anyway.
Karen would certainly enjoy that.
"Brother Marlon."
He glanced up from the notations he was making on his copy of the scrolls. "Karen."
"I request..." she frowned, the anger in her eyes banked, but visible. "Sam Anders caused the deaths of my friends, sir. You told me I could have him."
"In due time, Karen."
"Now."
Marlon frowned at her, thoughtful; he understood her need for vengeance, after all. "You cannot kill him."
"I'll try not to, Marlon." A slight smile touched her lips. It wasn't echoed by the darkness in her eyes. She reached into a pocket and pulled out two pairs of brass knuckles. "I'll just bruise him a little."
A sigh almost escaped Marlon as she walked away. Really, this barbarism was going to have to be culled. Once her usefulness was gone, Karen might find herself unneeded by his people. He wouldn't enjoy throwing her to the wolves, although, perhaps they would be merciful.
Far more merciful than she herself was.
-=-
The day's courier run from Galactica was in, and Roslin sighed as she sorted out the letters. They were all probably high priority. Tory had once suggested she should deal with the letters, but Laura had refused. Billy could have dealt with them, but Tory was... less kind than he had been. Laura had a feeling a lot of them would have found their way into the trash, unanswered. At least, if she went through them, she could give the ones that had to be answered to Tory and deal with the rest, herself.
It made it better if she threw them away.
A box had come, too, and Tory had teased her about Adama sending her gifts. Since it wasn't in his hand-writing, Laura hadn't blushed. She also hadn't responded, setting it to the side and frowning at the weight. Perhaps someone was attempting to curry favor?
It couldn't be a bomb, as all boxes were checked by Galactica's people. In fact, she could see where the tape had been slit and then replaced.
Four letters in, she sighed and let her curiosity get the better of her. Standing, she reached for her letter opener. It was easy to slice the tape, and she had the top folded back for almost ten seconds before her brain finally acknowledged what she was seeing. Laura sucked in a breath.
"Tory. Get Commander Adama on the secure channel."
"Madame President?"
Carefully folding the box closed again, she looked up, knowing she was probably paler than before. "Has the courier left Colonial One?"
"No, the raptor pilot is still doing pre-flights, I think."
"Stop him and have him brought up here." Roslin swallowed, "And don't attract suspicion, if you can help it."
"What--" Tory reached for the box flap.
"No! You don't want to see what's in there."
Tory studied her for a moment, then nodded, "I'll see to it."
"Thank you."
Sitting back in her chair, Laura closed her eyes. And immediately re-opened them as the sight of Charlie Connors' head stared back at her, eyes glassy.
-=-
Kara woke up with her head on Sam's shoulder. It was an awkward angle, and she muffled a curse as she raised her head. Her arms were behind her back, tied tightly together. Thick cabling wrapped around her shoulders and seemed to be anchored to the metal chair she was sitting on. The same cabling immobilized her legs against the chair legs. She could feel--through the numbness that was spreading through her arms--Sam, behind her. At least, she was assuming it was Sam. He smelled the same.
"Oh, good. You're awake."
The shoulders behind her tensed and shifted.
"No need pretending, Anders. Your wife's awake, after all. Or maybe viper pilots just recover faster." The tone was bitter and angry.
Kara considered telling the woman they weren't exactly married anymore. But it seemed rather pointless--a lot of things seemed rather pointless, these days.
"Frak you." Sam sounded almost bored.
"Nah. I don't know where you've been." Metal clinked against metal, and Kara craned her neck and found that at a painful angle, she could see the woman sliding brass knuckles onto her fingers.
Facing front seemed easier.
A sick feeling slithered into her belly. The same one she'd had for four months, locked in a room with Leoben's constant prattle. Kara shoved it away. This wasn't a cylon trap, this was humans. She'd been right. Tigh had been right. Humans couldn't be trusted. And in some ways, they were no better than the cylons were.
The first blow came as a shock.
Kara found herself flashing back to half a dozen bar fights in an effort to ignore it.
Minutes passed, and the sound of metal hitting flesh, and the occasional grunt of pain, continued until the woman simply stopped. "Not so pretty anymore, Anders. Bet your wife'll be sad."
"She's not..."
"What?" The woman's voice drew nearer. Kara didn't look, guessing she'd bent closer to Sam. A hand grabbed her by the hair. "I could let you rest, Anders. I could go work on her for a little while. Let you recover."
"No." His voice thick, Sam continued. "Leave her alone. It's me you want, remember?"
The hand yanked once at Kara's head then let her go. "And how do you figure that, Anders? Maybe I just hate pyramid."
"Nah. This's personal." His head lolled back against Kara's shoulder for a minute, then lifted. "Who'd I kill, Karen?"
"You don't get to ask questions." The anger was tinged with rage and hatred.
The next blow slammed Sam back into Kara, and the chairs both scraped against the floor. He coughed wetly.
The sick feeling in Kara's stomach got worse. Where the frak were the marines? Where was Adama? Or were they just left on their own, thanks to Chief's little prank? When she got out of here, Cally was going to be a widower.
Flesh hit flesh, and Kara closed her eyes.
-=-
"It's human, same blood type as Starbuck," Cottle informed Adama, voice as gravelly as normal. He waved his cigarette, "The other appears to be the same blood type recorded for Mr. Anders. If you want DNA, that's going to take hours."
Adama nodded. "Thank you, doctor."
"Sir, Chief Tyrol is on the phone for you."
"Thank you, Wilson." Picking up the phone, he barked, "Chief, tell me good news."
Cottle blew out another mouthful of smoke and then left the CIC, muttering under his breath.
-=-
"Madame President, I've brought the courier, as requested. And Admiral Adama is apparently in a meeting."
Laura looked up from the letter she'd been perusing and blinked in surprise at just who the courier was. "Sharon Valerii."
"Agathon, sir." The cylon tried to smile, "We, ah, got married."
"Not a surprise. Sit down, Sharon."
The raptor pilot frowned, but sat. "Was there something wrong, sir?"
"This box." Laura gestured at it. Keep it simple, keep it friendly. No need to start accusing the cylon of duplicity just yet. "You brought it in your courier run. Were you there when they inspected it?"
"No. I--" The pilot ducked her head, then half-smiled, "Admiral Adama's standing orders are that I not leave Galactica--for my own protection. The civilians aren't as accepting as the crew over there."
"Then why are you here?"
"Captain Paladino was sick and there wasn't anyone else who could fly on short notice." She glanced at Tory, "That was why I didn't exit the raptor."
"So you didn't know what was in the box." Possibly a lie.
Guileless eyes looked at Laura, puzzled. "No, sir."
On a whim, Laura gestured, "I'd like you to take a look."
"All right." Still puzzled, but clearly willing to humor her, Sharon stood and moved to look inside the box. "Oh my gods." She paled and stepped back, hand coming up to her mouth. Meeting Laura's eyes, she whispered, "I swear to you, I didn't know that was in there, I wouldn't--"
Laura weighed things and nodded, "I believe you, Sharon. But I'm not so sure what to do about this. How sick was Captain Paladino?" For now. She believed her for now.
"He didn't say, I just assumed it was a random stomach thing." Sharon sank back into her chair and closed her eyes. "I knew of him, sir."
"Charlie Connors."
"Yes."
"Tory, get Admiral Adama on the line."
-=-
Sam ached from the beating Karen had given him. It had taken him a while to recognize her, but she'd been one of the women Jammer had flirted with for a short time. The kid had even brought her to one of the resistance meetings, but it hadn't panned out. Sam tried not to move, he wasn't sure she hadn't broken a rib or two. The violence didn't seem to have helped her at all, either. She was still pacing with restrained anger, still fingering her gun. Maybe if he made her angrier...
"What do you want out of this?"
She jerked to a halt and stared at him. "What do I want out of this, you piece of shit? Yeah, right. Like you even care."
"Maybe I do."
"Your suicide bombs killed innocent people and innocent cylons, and all they wanted to do was live in peace with us."
"Oh, yeah," said Kara from behind him, her tone derisive. "Those cylons. They're all about the peaceful co-existence. Right before they nuke you to hell."
"Please. You think they wanted to do that? It was a mistake."
Sam stared at her. A mistake? Was she nuts? "One which cost billions their lives."
"One which was perpetuated by the military and their endless need for war and glory." She snorted, "You know, if we'd just stopped running once and asked them why, they might have explained. They might have said, 'Hey. we're sorry'. Like they did when they found New Caprica."
"Tell that to the men and women who died on New Caprica."
"They were malcontents, dissidents."
"They were people! Men and women with families," Sam laughed derisively, "Hell, tell that to the people I lost when I was on Caprica. The few who survived the initial bombs and the radiation poisoning. Tell that to the women locked in the farms, strapped down and forced to have children all at the cylons' whim. Tell that to the men they harvested genetic samples and more from. Tell that to the dead planets we left back there, uninhabitable until the radiation fallout dies."
"Shut up." Her sidearm was pointed at him, her eyes angry.
"Tell that to Kara Thrace, Colonel Tigh, Tom Zarek and the hundreds who were thrown into faceless boxes," he continued, holding her gaze. "Tell them that the cylons just wanted peace, Karen."
"You don't--they were disturbing the peace!"
"Like Cally? Chief's wife? She has a baby, you know. And she was on a death list. But, hey, if you think that the cylons were right to round up all of those people, and right to send them to be shot by a firing squad, then, go ahead." Sam finished quietly, "Shoot me now. Because Adama is never going to deal with you."
"What?"
"Sam--"
He ignored Kara. "You want revenge for the bombings, you want to prove you're right and we're wrong? Then just do it and get it over with. Dragging it out is pointless."
Karen stared at him, gun pointed at his chest. Then she cursed and dropped her hand, angrier than before. "I can't kill you. Not until he's done with you. Not until we have what we want."
"You won't get it."
"Maybe. Maybe we will." Anger in her every movement, she shoved the gun back into its holster and stalked out of the room. The hatch slammed closed behind her.
-=-
"No, sir," Chief sighed and looked at Hadrian. "We've searched every store room along this deck and come up with nothing. Captain Thrace and Sam Anders aren't here."
The old man growled in frustration, "Just a moment, Chief."
A muffled conversation occurred and Tyrol took the moment to wipe a hand over his forehead. This little plan of his had backfired badly. So badly, he wasn't sure he could deal with the consequences. In some ways, this was worse than lying to himself about Sharon. He'd endangered the lives of two people he respected. Two people who were doing nothing but trying to live their own lives.
A snort escaped him. Obviously, a matchmaker he was not.
Maybe he could take up a life as a janitor once Adama got through with him. Cally could help support him--if she didn't leave him.
"Chief, get more people and start looking in any place you can think of."
Adama's order dragged him out of his thoughts. Tyrol nodded, then replied, "Yes, sir." He hung up before he could ask the Admiral if he wanted his resignation.
"Chief?"
"He says to get more men and organize a search."
Hadrian nodded, "Let's get started. There's two decks to search, not to mention countless storage areas where the civilians have taken over."
-=-
"What the frak was that all about?" Kara demanded.
Sam fought back a shrug, knowing it would hurt. "I thought... she might do something stupid."
"Well, it worked so well, Samuel. She could have shot you!"
"That was kind of the point."
"Gods, you're an idiot."
It made him smile. It was stupid and she was insulting him and pissed off at him, but it still made him smile. It made him stupid. "Yeah, well, you didn't marry me for my brains."
A sound escaped her, and then she growled, "We're not having this discussion."
"Nope. We're not." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, fighting down a wave of dizziness. The blood was drying and crusting, moving pulled at the edges of the scrapes on his face. Kara's shoulder wasn't that far back. And he could blame it on the beating.
"Sam..."
Ignoring the warning in her voice, he sucked in a breath, taking in her scent and wondering if he had any right to feel like all was right with the world. They were tied up, slated for death, and he was feeling goofy about his wife (except she wasn't his wife, she'd dumped him). Yeah. Maybe he could blame it on his concussion. "Like the hair," he mumbled before he drifted back into unconsciousness.
on to the rest