Chapter 1: Frakking right I'm scared
Mornings are usually the best time of day for me; I always wake early, and I can stretch out and relax in a warm soft bed before I have to get up and face the work waiting for me.
That day I lay in bed, staring in the dark at the glowing clock face and thinking that my next year or two was going to be really, really hard. Going to a prestigious university on a scholarship isn't so bad, but being dumped by one of the richest boys on the planet - that's hard.
I shook that thought aside and flicked the wireless on. It might be early, but I'd had far more sleep than usual since it was the holidays and I didn't have to study. I listened to the news as I got up - a pyramid game, the Galactica's decommissioning - I was sorry about that one. My grandfather had said the Galactica had been one of the best ships he'd served on. Some political speech. The Hoteliers Union was calling for tighter restrictions on health payouts. Concern over a fuel spill in an ocean on Geminon.
I took a quick shower, enjoying the chance to get my hair truly clean, and dried off briskly while listening to the babble about proposed tax laws. I had just finished hanging up the towels and was hunting for something to wear when the voice changed.
"We interrupt this program for an emergency bulletin. A thermonuclear device in the fifty-megaton range was detonated over Caprica City seven minutes ago. Cylons have been detected approaching the system, and we are picking up signals that indicate other colonies are also under attack." I started to shake. Please, let this be a joke. My friends, my school, my university… "Nuclear detonations have been reported on Picon, Erlon and Toron. Picon Fleet Headquarters has been destroyed." I forgot about finding something that looked good and grabbed for durable trousers and a plain shirt, shrugging into them so fast I almost ripped the seams. My grandfather's stories came back to me like a blow to the temple. "The government has ordered a full hold on all civilian shipping. Emergency plans are being implemented…" My wet hair refused to cooperate and I settled for tying it back with a multitude of hair elastics to keep it out of my eyes. I shoved my glasses back on my nose and watched the world come back into focus as I hastily shoved my feet into my sturdiest boots and tied the laces frantically. I had the feeling that I wouldn't be needing a fancy gown for a long time. "We have a report that President Adar is dead, but this is unconfirmed…"
The message ran for thirty seconds longer talking of casualties, then began repeating itself. I left it running and ran down the hall to pound on Jesse's door.
"Jesse, get the hell out of bed," I said.
A charmingly tousled head stuck itself around the door. Jesse might be my ex's little brother, but he was a good friend and shared my taste for engineering. We'd planned to study together. "What is it? It's early, Amy."
"Turn the wireless on. The news channel. Right now. Caprica City's been nuked." I was aware my voice had changed from its usual soft alto to strident whiny tones like it usually did when I was stressed, and I was actually wringing my hands without meaning to. He looked at me and went back into his room with a disgruntled sigh. His whole demeanour of irritation vanished as soon as he heard the broadcast and he slid down the wall. I realised abruptly that he was clad only in his underwear, but I didn't really care. I grabbed his arm and hauled him back up.
"Look at me," I said viciously. "Look at me." He did, his face slack with shock like mine undoubtedly had been. "We've got to tell the crew, if they don't already know. We've got to stay out of the combat zone."
"The ship's armed."
"Yeah, to repel raiders after an easy ransom!" I said viciously. "Trust me, that's not going to cut it."
"Are you scared, Amy?"
"Frakking right I'm scared!" I don't think he'd ever heard me swear. I was usually polite. "Look, put some clothes on and come on. We've got to find the captain." I stepped outside for politeness' sake and waited. He was out in seconds; I guess changing in a hurry for sports practice does some good after all. We ran down the hall, not caring if we woke people; several heads poked out to complain and I just ran straight past without answering a single question.
I knew when the adrenaline ran out I'd feel horribly embarrassed.
We found the captain inspecting the galley - in other words, scrounging sandwiches.
I don't think Jesse was terribly coherent. He opened his mouth and babble gushed out. I told him to shut up and summarised the broadcast briefly. "Caprica City's been bombed. So have some of the other colonies. The Cylons are coming. The President may be dead. I think we're in the shit."
He turned on the galley radio and tuned it; he got nothing but static. Twisting it to some channels I didn't know, he got a Civil Defence broadcast that was a masterpiece of panic and nonsense. I sat down hard at a table and stared numbly as the cooks gathered around the wireless like solemn magnets. "My God," someone said softly and with feeling.
"My kids live in Caprica City," the elderly sous-chef said brokenly. "Oh, my God." He collapsed and started to cry softly. Someone else dropped to hold him and tried to think of something to say.
"This can't be happening. It isn't real."
"This has to be a joke. Please let it be a joke."
"Well, that's today up the spout for a start." I don't know who said that and I don't want to know.
The captain was suddenly up and moving. I ran after him.
"Captain! Captain Holloway!"
"Look, miss, you'd best go to your room."
"No. This is important."
"What?" I had to do an awkward sideways run to keep up with him through the unfamiliar corridors and keep looking him in the face at the same time.
"In the last war the Cylons could infiltrate any computer system. That's why they were so deadly."
"So?"
"So we've started using integrated computer systems again. This ship has a large network of them. They hook into the drives, the weapons, the life support systems…" He skidded to a stop.
"You're saying they can shut us down by remote?"
"Yes. Very likely. They've had forty years to improve their technology." I felt the last bit of blood drain from my face and felt horribly cold. "And that means almost every ship in the Fleet will be easy pickings. We're screwed."
If I thought he'd been running before, he was sprinting then. I was no runner; I hadn't a chance in hell of keeping up. I turned and ran for the passenger lounge, which had a console to show ship's status. I was half-way there, trying to keep out of the way, when the alarms went off.
I skidded into the passenger lounge and tripped over the edge of a rug, ending up flat on my face. I stumbled back up in a very undignified manner, not that it mattered; everyone there was in night-gear or hastily grabbed mismatched clothing asking what was going on. They seemed to think it was some kind of safety drill, a joke in poor taste. After all, it was early morning - who could possibly expect such rich and powerful young people to wake up early after a late night drinking and partying? I just seated myself, rubbing hands with slight carpet burns, and tried to access the status report.
Apparently the bridge crew had either not heard the government order shipping stopped or hadn't obeyed; we were running right into a fire fight.
The ship shuddered, and then shuddered again. I remembered something my grandfather had said: "To a Cylon, there are no non-combatants."
Everyone had thought years of fighting and fearing the Cylons had made him paranoid. I'd thought it had made him wise.
Now it made me scared. Things, people, I'd never met were trying to kill me.
Which were they? Things or people? My grandfather had asked me that once and I'd had no answer. I still didn't know. I just knew I didn't want to die. I was seventeen. I didn't want to die.
Mornings are usually the best time of day for me; I always wake early, and I can stretch out and relax in a warm soft bed before I have to get up and face the work waiting for me.
That day I lay in bed, staring in the dark at the glowing clock face and thinking that my next year or two was going to be really, really hard. Going to a prestigious university on a scholarship isn't so bad, but being dumped by one of the richest boys on the planet - that's hard.
I shook that thought aside and flicked the wireless on. It might be early, but I'd had far more sleep than usual since it was the holidays and I didn't have to study. I listened to the news as I got up - a pyramid game, the Galactica's decommissioning - I was sorry about that one. My grandfather had said the Galactica had been one of the best ships he'd served on. Some political speech. The Hoteliers Union was calling for tighter restrictions on health payouts. Concern over a fuel spill in an ocean on Geminon.
I took a quick shower, enjoying the chance to get my hair truly clean, and dried off briskly while listening to the babble about proposed tax laws. I had just finished hanging up the towels and was hunting for something to wear when the voice changed.
"We interrupt this program for an emergency bulletin. A thermonuclear device in the fifty-megaton range was detonated over Caprica City seven minutes ago. Cylons have been detected approaching the system, and we are picking up signals that indicate other colonies are also under attack." I started to shake. Please, let this be a joke. My friends, my school, my university… "Nuclear detonations have been reported on Picon, Erlon and Toron. Picon Fleet Headquarters has been destroyed." I forgot about finding something that looked good and grabbed for durable trousers and a plain shirt, shrugging into them so fast I almost ripped the seams. My grandfather's stories came back to me like a blow to the temple. "The government has ordered a full hold on all civilian shipping. Emergency plans are being implemented…" My wet hair refused to cooperate and I settled for tying it back with a multitude of hair elastics to keep it out of my eyes. I shoved my glasses back on my nose and watched the world come back into focus as I hastily shoved my feet into my sturdiest boots and tied the laces frantically. I had the feeling that I wouldn't be needing a fancy gown for a long time. "We have a report that President Adar is dead, but this is unconfirmed…"
The message ran for thirty seconds longer talking of casualties, then began repeating itself. I left it running and ran down the hall to pound on Jesse's door.
"Jesse, get the hell out of bed," I said.
A charmingly tousled head stuck itself around the door. Jesse might be my ex's little brother, but he was a good friend and shared my taste for engineering. We'd planned to study together. "What is it? It's early, Amy."
"Turn the wireless on. The news channel. Right now. Caprica City's been nuked." I was aware my voice had changed from its usual soft alto to strident whiny tones like it usually did when I was stressed, and I was actually wringing my hands without meaning to. He looked at me and went back into his room with a disgruntled sigh. His whole demeanour of irritation vanished as soon as he heard the broadcast and he slid down the wall. I realised abruptly that he was clad only in his underwear, but I didn't really care. I grabbed his arm and hauled him back up.
"Look at me," I said viciously. "Look at me." He did, his face slack with shock like mine undoubtedly had been. "We've got to tell the crew, if they don't already know. We've got to stay out of the combat zone."
"The ship's armed."
"Yeah, to repel raiders after an easy ransom!" I said viciously. "Trust me, that's not going to cut it."
"Are you scared, Amy?"
"Frakking right I'm scared!" I don't think he'd ever heard me swear. I was usually polite. "Look, put some clothes on and come on. We've got to find the captain." I stepped outside for politeness' sake and waited. He was out in seconds; I guess changing in a hurry for sports practice does some good after all. We ran down the hall, not caring if we woke people; several heads poked out to complain and I just ran straight past without answering a single question.
I knew when the adrenaline ran out I'd feel horribly embarrassed.
We found the captain inspecting the galley - in other words, scrounging sandwiches.
I don't think Jesse was terribly coherent. He opened his mouth and babble gushed out. I told him to shut up and summarised the broadcast briefly. "Caprica City's been bombed. So have some of the other colonies. The Cylons are coming. The President may be dead. I think we're in the shit."
He turned on the galley radio and tuned it; he got nothing but static. Twisting it to some channels I didn't know, he got a Civil Defence broadcast that was a masterpiece of panic and nonsense. I sat down hard at a table and stared numbly as the cooks gathered around the wireless like solemn magnets. "My God," someone said softly and with feeling.
"My kids live in Caprica City," the elderly sous-chef said brokenly. "Oh, my God." He collapsed and started to cry softly. Someone else dropped to hold him and tried to think of something to say.
"This can't be happening. It isn't real."
"This has to be a joke. Please let it be a joke."
"Well, that's today up the spout for a start." I don't know who said that and I don't want to know.
The captain was suddenly up and moving. I ran after him.
"Captain! Captain Holloway!"
"Look, miss, you'd best go to your room."
"No. This is important."
"What?" I had to do an awkward sideways run to keep up with him through the unfamiliar corridors and keep looking him in the face at the same time.
"In the last war the Cylons could infiltrate any computer system. That's why they were so deadly."
"So?"
"So we've started using integrated computer systems again. This ship has a large network of them. They hook into the drives, the weapons, the life support systems…" He skidded to a stop.
"You're saying they can shut us down by remote?"
"Yes. Very likely. They've had forty years to improve their technology." I felt the last bit of blood drain from my face and felt horribly cold. "And that means almost every ship in the Fleet will be easy pickings. We're screwed."
If I thought he'd been running before, he was sprinting then. I was no runner; I hadn't a chance in hell of keeping up. I turned and ran for the passenger lounge, which had a console to show ship's status. I was half-way there, trying to keep out of the way, when the alarms went off.
I skidded into the passenger lounge and tripped over the edge of a rug, ending up flat on my face. I stumbled back up in a very undignified manner, not that it mattered; everyone there was in night-gear or hastily grabbed mismatched clothing asking what was going on. They seemed to think it was some kind of safety drill, a joke in poor taste. After all, it was early morning - who could possibly expect such rich and powerful young people to wake up early after a late night drinking and partying? I just seated myself, rubbing hands with slight carpet burns, and tried to access the status report.
Apparently the bridge crew had either not heard the government order shipping stopped or hadn't obeyed; we were running right into a fire fight.
The ship shuddered, and then shuddered again. I remembered something my grandfather had said: "To a Cylon, there are no non-combatants."
Everyone had thought years of fighting and fearing the Cylons had made him paranoid. I'd thought it had made him wise.
Now it made me scared. Things, people, I'd never met were trying to kill me.
Which were they? Things or people? My grandfather had asked me that once and I'd had no answer. I still didn't know. I just knew I didn't want to die. I was seventeen. I didn't want to die.