Cold, grey metal. A low, rumbling hum. Stale air. A swift kick in the shin.
"Get your ass up off the deck, nugget!"
Dreaming again, right? Only not a dream. What had Zoe and the old blind man called it? V-World? Signals from some distant civilization, drifting across the vastness of space for thousands of years. When he slept, he was somehow plugged in. If he chose to believe that sort of thing.
"I said get your ass up! Now!"
No time to think about it now. Get up or get your ass kicked. He knew he was either dreaming, or gaming, or whatever, but it still hurt like hell.
"You'd better haul ass to your station, Rook."
"Where's that?"
"Godsdamn it, how much did you have to drink, anyway? Didn't they warn you about the chief's home brews? You know he gets that straight out of the torpedoes, right?"
Daniel thought silence was best. He blinked, they shook their heads in mock disgust.
"Starboard flight deck."
Daniel nodded and began walking. One of the crewmen grabbed him by the arm and redirected him.
"That way."
He walked blindly down the dimly lit corridors in what he hoped was the right direction, but what did it matter? He would wake up soon, and that would be that. Judging from the military uniforms, Daniel figured he must be on a battleship of some kind. Simulated, naturally.
Eventually he flowed into a stream of orange jumpsuits floating into some kind of industrial cacophony. A young woman dodging blue sparks handed out goggles. She shouted something that sounded like "gift shop!" Daniel had no idea what that meant.
He donned his goggles and just about drifted by her when she clamped a hand on his collar, dragging him to a halt.
"First time through?"
"Huh?"
"First time through the simulation? I don't recognize you!"
No use lying.
"Yeah, sure," said Daniel. "It's my first time."
She nodded, jotted something on the clipboard, and motioned toward a small vehicle on the far side of the … what was this? Some kind of landing bay?
When he turned around to ask her, she was gone.
And so was everyone else.
He tried to soak in what he was seeing. A landing bay of … space ships, maybe? Fighter planes? He'd never seen anything like it, outside of sci-fi movies. (Or maybe he'd never even seen those, if Zoe and her blind friend were to be believed. He still didn't know what to think about that.)
He put his hand on the grey metal of one of the ships. "Mark VII," it said. It wasn't English, but somehow he could read it. The figures resembled those he'd seen on his father's dog tags.
He heard hammering, a metal clink echo in the cold chamber, like icicles falling one by one. Daniel followed the sound the length of five or six ships, and finally found two legs sticking out under the last one, which looked like a minivan with wings.
"Where have you been?"
Daniel knew that voice. The man in the orange jumpsuit stood and flipped up his welding mask. Daniel's mind braced.
"I almost started the simulation sequence without you," he said, wiping his hands on an oil-soaked rag. It was his father. Or his creator, the stranger who'd melded him together in a tub of goo like some kind of obscene Frankenstein ham radio.
Only it wasn't that old man at all. This version was much younger, slimmer, and … at peace? The face he had always known was engraved with eons of care, loss, and worry. This fresh, clean-shaven face showed none of that. Daniel may not even have recognized him, if not for that distinctive voice.
But how could his father be here, in this transmission from the far reaches of space? It couldn't possibly be him. But then again, he'd found Zoe here, right? Maybe Zoe and the blind man were lying to him about this "V-World" business, after all. It was all too outlandish to be true, right? But then what was all this? None of it made any sense.
"Funny," Galen said, taking a swig of something he kept at his work station, "I don't think I've ever seen you before."
"Really?"
"We get the same faces now, over and over and over. It's been so long since I've seen a new face. I would definitely remember if I'd seen you. And yet somehow you seem familiar. Weird, huh?"
"Just never made it down to this part of the ship, I guess. It is a ship, right? Which ship is it?"
"Which ship?" Galen laughed and took another drink. "You're in worse shape than I thought, if you don't even know what ship you're on. You're lucky you made it out here before she's decommissioned. This whole deck you see out here? See all that construction? You know what that's going to be?"
Daniel thought for a moment.
"A gift shop?"
Galen stared at Daniel, then took another drink.
"A frakking gift shop."
He shook his head.
"Bad way for a battlestar to go out, right?"
Daniel nodded and for a moment he thought he could keep himself from asking the question. But no, he had to ask.
"What's a battlestar?"
The chief spit out some of his drink.
"You're serious?"
Daniel shrugged.
"Godsdammit, kid, what assback farm on Aerilon were you stuck on? You've never heard of the fleet? Atlantia? Pegasus? Valkyrie?"
Daniel shook his head. He had to admit he was kind of enjoying this. Getting a rise out of his father was usually not this easy. Incredulity was a characteristic the older version of Galen no longer possessed. Maybe he really had seen everything.
"You're on the Galactica. We are the only thing that stands between the 12 Colonies and the Cylons owning your frakking ass. Get that straight right off the bat."
Wait. Now Daniel was thoroughly confused. Hadn't Zoe clearly said that he was a Cylon? The world's first? So there were more of them? How?
"So let me guess. Now you're gonna try to tell me you've never heard of a Cylon, right?"
"No, no, of course, I mean, yeah, yeah," Daniel said. "I mean I'm one, right?"
Galen's jaw set. Daniel laughed uncomfortably. He picked up Galen's drink and sniffed it, then set it down again.
"What are you talking about?"
A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Daniel smiled like an idiot.
"I'm a Cylon. I know, it's crazy, right? I think maybe we're both Cylons. Or something, I don't know."
Daniel reached for the drink again and took a sip this time. Galen slapped it out of his hand and glared at him.
"Chief!"
A young Asian woman in what looked like a dark blue officer's uniform called Daniel's father from across the bay.
"Can you take a look at my bird for a second?"
Galen stood slowly, still glaring at Daniel.
"Are you frakking with me? The Cylons killed my grandparents on Gemenon. They nearly destroyed the 12 colonies until we finally kicked their chrome asses back to Cylon space. Are you saying – are you saying they look human now?"
"Chief!" the Asian officer shouted again, more urgently. "Can I have a second?"
"Yes sir, lieutenant, sir!"
He crossed in front of Daniel to the officer, leaving Daniel wondering what he should say to course correct this conversation. The younger version of his father was more of a hothead than he was used to. He was definitely looking to kick some Cylon ass. Daniel didn't want to stand in his way.
The chief finished his conversation with the lieutenant – to Daniel it looked like some kind of lover's quarrel – and he motioned for Daniel to follow him. Galen pushed a button and a door opened up. He motioned for Daniel to step through. Daniel readily obliged. He was ready to take an elevator to some other level, like on Star Trek. Anywhere but here. The glass door shut behind him.
Galen continued to glare at him through the glass. A red light began to flash. An alarm sounded.
"After my grandparents died, my father became a priest. My mother became an oracle," said Galen.
"They told me you would come one day," he said.
Daniel was starting to get a bit concerned. He felt a flush of cold air enter the chamber.
"We have a special way of welcoming Cylons aboard the Galactica," said Galen, his finger hovering over the flashing red button.
"I'm your son!" Daniel screamed through the glass.
"Nice try," said Galen. "I shoot blanks."
Daniel felt the floor drop out from under his feet and his heart melt into black ice as he flushed into the bottomless nothing of space.