Harvesting
by ingrid
0o0o0o
The Chief's entire life has been about fixing things, but when the Cylons arrive, his work disappears in the matter of a day. Centurions are efficient workers, even better builders and the union he ran for the better part of a year falls apart from idleness before very long.
They couldn't have put together that jail in two days time anyway.
Add to that the fact that Cally gave birth a few hours after the Raiders were seen flying overhead -- it was the shock that did it, the midwife said, as Cally screamed and pushed the Chief's son into the world -- and Tyrol thinks that hiding inside and taking care of them might not be a bad idea after all.
It's not until the day one of his union members gets put in that well-built jail does Chief get the urge to fix things again.
"This is bullshit," he mutters over an untouched dinner, as Cally hums to the baby suckling at her breast. "We can't live like this."
She doesn't reply; she merely rocks the baby harder. Cally is good about letting Chief make his choices and she'll be there, no matter what, even if she doesn't exactly agree.
That's why she says nothing when he invites Colonel Tigh to dinner the next night, where the old soldier proceeds to get piss drunk, talking about weapons, war and hitting the frakkers where they hurt.
Hard.
0o0o0o
One of the first thing the Cylons do is offer free medical care to anyone who is sick, which is a large majority of the settlers, many of whom are suffering from illnesses that are usually found in a society that is on the verge of collapse.
The Cylon doctors are gracious and concerned, so gentle with their exams and generous with medicines, many people walk away feeling a twinge of gratitude. How this emotion lives beside the knowledge the Cylons have destroyed everything and everyone they've ever known is anyone's guess, but Duck notices that when Nora's dull cough disappears, her mood improves to the point where she begins to talk cheerfully about the future -- about making babies together.
He loves Nora, more than life, so Duck easily agrees, even when Nora mentions that the Cylon doctor advised her to quit smoking right away.
"It'll clear the toxins out before I get pregnant," she says, cuddling with Duck in bed, as outside, the rain falls in sheets. "He said that you should quit too, so I don't breathe in the smoke. That way the baby will have the most perfect home."
"Is that what he said?" Duck replies, quickly stubbing out his smoldering smoke. "He doesn't think you'll have any problems conceiving?"
Nora shakes her head happily. "He said that getting me pregnant should be the easiest thing in the world."
0o0o0o
Jammer prays a lot.
Always did, even before the toasters came. His faith held him through some damned rough times and it's in the temple where he feels most at ease - watching the sacred candles flicker, reciting the ancient scrolls, watching as the priestess gently places offerings before the goddess.
It's the only clean place on this damned hole and it helps that the toasters respect it enough to steer clear. Someone told him that they fear it in a way, partly because they have their own strangely jealous god, partly because they think the humans might take most of their outrages silently, but defiling the temple will be the one thing that infuriates them beyond caring if they live or die.
This thought makes Jammer smile, even as he recites, touching his forehead to his palms once, twice, three times.
He knows everyone who regularly comes to service, so it's a bit of a surprise when Tigh joins him there one evening, kneeling awkwardly at the altar, mumbling the prayers, missing half the verses.
It's disconcerting, even if Jammer wants to be happy Tigh has found religion. When there's a lull in the recital, he glances over and smiles at the Colonel, who returns the look with a grimace that might be a grin, it's hard to tell.
More contemplation and the service is just about over when Jammer feels something slipped into his jacket pocket. He starts, looking around, surprised that Tigh is gone. Nervous, he throws a few coins down for the priestess and leaves, stepping outside into the dull, damp air, feeling around his pocket, his fingers numbing as he touches something metallic and cold.
It's not until he's safely hidden behind a building when he dares to pull out the pistol Tigh's given him, with a note wrapped around its barrel.
With shaking hands, Jammer pulls it off and reads. It's a quote from the scrolls of the goddess and it says ...
"Stand up and fight, against the unbelievers, the demons who would take from us all our harvests, who would destroy My beloved children. Fight them, let your blood be spilled and rejoice, for your reward in death is great, so say we all."
Jammer stares at Tigh's uneven scrawl, even as the words echo in his mind, stirring something that feels a lot like rage in his heart. His hand tightens around the pistol, as he reads the words again and again.
For your reward in death is great ... so say we all.
0o0o0o
end