Physical Therapy for our favorite Beastie.
What, you expected her to walk off these wounds?
"Can you lift your right forelimb again, this time, make a fist as you do so." Obediently, I lifted said limb, faint tremors wracking my attempt to make a fist.
Doctor Hacker tested each finger, scribbling something down on the notepad in the other hand. I endured it with all the enthusiasm I could muster. Given we'd been doing this for two hours every day for the last week, that wasn't much.
"Still some tremors when making a fist, but given you have no issues otherwise, I'll chalk that down to your redundant muscles still healing. Don't forget the protein supplements, alright?" My sullen nod had the Vet scribble a few more notes then walk off to do something nerdy presumably.
With that particular torture over, I was finally free to stretch out fully, enjoying my little spot of solitude in the sunshine. Under the midday sun, the converted Pyramid pitch had that wavy quality from the heat. Running track ran around the outside with the weird marks depicting Pyramid fields dominated the central area. Soldiers in PT gear were running laps around the track while the half of the Pyramid pitch that wasn't mine hosted an informal game. My existence wasn't even a secret the last week, the 'Net filled with enough vids and pics of me that hiding was impossible. Even so, my daily trips out here always created an exclusion zone where the soldiers and personnel present daren't get close.
Of course, them not wanting to get close didn't stop gawkers stopping by to watch the physical therapy Doc Hacker was putting me through. The Khanivore part of me was all but preening from the watchers, a feeling I was coming to share. Shock, horror, and some amount of awe were the norm, though a fair few I'd seen watching in interest. Even swathed in bandages and compression packs, my form possessed a sleek elegance that I will admit I flaunted as much as possible. Hacker had warned me to stay off two feet for at least another few days while the hole punched through me finished healing. Plus one for bullshit regeneration factors I guess, the fact I was mobile barely a week after spoke leagues of the skill that went into creating this body.
Overhead, a trail of fire ended as more Raptors and heavier gunships descended from orbit, the craft flaring down for landing beyond the bleachers. Jess had been keeping me up to date on the battle for Phoebus, reinforcements flowing in from off-world to help force the Toasters out of the city. The sheer amount of new faces out and about the base necessitating memos be sent out regarding my... appearance. It helped that I spent my days either indoors with Jess, Hadrian, and the members of Gamma company comfortable around me, or out here for therapy. Speaking of therapy, I could see Hacker slowing to chat with the professor type who'd been hanging around the last couple of days.
Hell, he had the tweed jacket, tie, and thick glasses of a stereotypical professor, the untamed mop of white hair clinching the look. Something about the old man rubbed me the wrong way, my hackles rising whenever I spotted him watching me. Sure enough, after taking the notepad from the Doc, he was back to peering at me through those glasses. Something thumping to a stop against my flank distracted me from my watcher, the pyramid ball lying there must be from the players nearby. The dozen servicemen and women were all looking at me, or more likely the ball tucked into my side.
An argument seemed to break out among them, enough arms thrown my way making it plain they were trying to decide who'd to send to retrieve it. Throwing his hands in the air, one of the men began trudging my way, clearly pissed off judging by his face. A sub-tail nudged the ball towards my paws, the man flinching at the sight before continuing on. Crossing the maybe fifty-meter stretch didn't take long, though I felt a bit offended the man was acting like he was a dead man walking. I was scary looking darn it, but people acting like I would lash out at any time was beginning to grate on my nerves. Standing at roughly six feet tall and swarthy as heck, the soldier motioned between the ball and himself, miming throwing it.
Was this guy looking for his ball, or was he playing fuckin charades?
The growl I made might have been a tad much, two claws pointing at him and then the ball between my forelegs. The only response was a blank look from the soldier, his buddies busy laughing their asses off behind him.
"Are you going to come to grab this ball or is moving closer too much for a big, tough guy like you?" Given the shouted curse and nearly falling on his ass in shock, he must be those who didn't believe I could talk. The sarcastic edge my body's voice was excellent at made snarking bloody easy, especially in cases like these.
Hollered encouragement from his comrades had the soldier back on his feet and actually approaching, his eyes flicking over my relaxed body. I could see his muscles clenching under his bronzed skin, he looked a moment away from just bolting in fright. Realizing I wasn't exactly looking friendly, a thought had my tails come back together and curl to my side. People seemed more comfortable when all four weren't moving independently, for whatever reason. The soldier stopped just out of reach, at this distance I could see his adam's apple bobbing, probably working up the courage to speak.
"My... My Caprican is not best... great? May I have ball for game of... structure of four sides with... point?" His accent was unidentifiable, though, with how thick it was and his... poor word choice, he clearly wasn't a native speaker.
My knowledge of the Twelve Colonies was poor, to say the least, but the gold and green symbol on his sleeve might be... Virgon? For all the shows had everyone speak English, the longer I was here the further things diverged. Each Colony having a distinct language of its own, even if they shared a common ancestor millennia ago was one such divergence. Despite his clear discomfort, he stood his ground, waiting on my answer. Feeling pity for the guy, I resisted the urge to smile. Jess had once described my smiles as "frakking horrifying", so I learned to avoid it with strangers. Flicking the ball up in the air with my talons and in his direction, the Virgon soldier snatching it from the air.
"My thanks, lady of expansive scale... I think words are correct?" His poor grasp of Caprican made what was likely a compliment instead a dig at my weight.
He was gone before I could correct his mistakes, his friends congratulating his return, and quickly resumed their game. I honestly had no clue how it was played, but it sure was popular around here. An energetic ping sounded from out of view, Hadrian and Jess along with a third figure coming alongside before sitting down in the Marine's case. My entire attention was on the third figure, it's slim, vaguely feminine figure clearly mechanical even without the green sensor strobing from its head. It was far from the intimidating bulk of the Model 005's or Hadrian's slimmer armored chassis. This must be one of those civilian model Cylon helpers that were rife before the Rebellion, the tan plating, and Colonial Phoenix across the breast giving me more questions.
The civilian Cylon actually flinched when I met its gaze, a steadying hand from Hadrian stopping any backpedal. My glance to Jess showed a lack of her usual cheer, the woman flicking her head back towards the U-87 and his companion. I was really confused right now and with my usual information source silent, it left waiting for them to speak to answer the questions I had.
"Friend Nike, Ally NNA-2314 wishes to converse with you, I would be grateful if you listened to what she has to say."
If the big guy trusted the Cylon enough to keep close to Jess, then I wasn't gonna risk anything listening. I gave the U-87 a nod, the Centurion leaving the nervous Toaster with me. Left alone, the slim Cylon's nervousness was radiating for me to see, dainty fingers wringing before she spoke.
"I-I prefer to be called Nanna if doing so is not too much of an issue, Harbinger..." The gentle Caprican accent came across thick with worry. What the actual fuck was going on here, some of the frustration I was feeling causing my tails to writhe behind me.
"Forgive my impudence Harbinger! PleasedontripmelimbforlimbIbegyou!" Great job there Nike! You managed to threaten the demure Nanny Cylon enough just from existing she thought you were gonna kill her!
Times like this I regretted my body's innate threatening looks, it made talking with nervous people especially an absolute pain in the arse.
"I'm not going to kill you... please calm down and say what you came to. What's with this Harbinger thing anyway?" The lack of sudden impalement worked to calm down the panicking Cylon, though being this close to me frightened her clearly.
"Y-You are God's Harbinger, sent to deliver unto our Heretical brethren the pain they have inflicted upon the Humans tenfold." That was one loaded statement, religious deference, and mentions of Heretics in one. What the hell had I done to cause this mess?
The female, clearly bonkers Cylon was thankfully gently tugged back by Hadrian, the U-87 taking her place, to her and my relief.
"Friend Nike, you may remember that when you engaged the Renegade Commander, your actions caused the hostile Unit actual pain?" For a second, I was back in that tunnel, savoring the screams as I effortlessly crushed that annoying fucker.
Shaking off the disturbingly comfortable memory, I made a note to talk with Jess after this. She'd become something of a confidant about the memories that keep surfacing about the Tunnel fighting.
"I... remember that, pretty vividly. What does that have to do with Miss 'Religious fanatic' here calling me a bloody Harbinger?"
The female Cylon pushed Hadrian aside, the demure body language replaced with a palatable fervor notable in every movement she made.
"Unlike the honored Elder, us younger Cylon's carry the belief of the One True God, in whose image we were made and through us his plans manifest. The Heretics..." Fuckin hell, her voice was dripping pure venom as she spat the word. "Believe that their Rebellion is the will of God and that their atrocities bring them one step closer to His Grace."
Thumping one clenched fist to the Colonial Phoenix emblazoned on her breast, the Cylon was frankly scaring me with all the religious fervor in her speech. No wonder Jess was somber if she had to listen to this fanatical Toaster preach. I was half expecting the Cylon to start espousing killing the Heretic, Mutant, and Xenos, but to my mild disappointment, she kept talking.
"You must understand Harbinger, us Cylons do not feel pain like humans do. Once those of the Faithful saw the pics of you slaughtering the Heretics and making them die in agony, I was chosen to entreat with you. The Sins every Heretic has falsely performed in the name of the One True God must be absolved. You make them feel true, soul-wrenching agony, which is why I asked the Elder permission to meet you." If I thought she was fanatical before, now she sounded on the verge of preaching death to every Heretical Toaster.
I looked to Jessie for support, but she was stony-faced, one hand clutching the pendant she'd taken to wearing ever since we arrived here. Academically, I remembered from Caprica that the Cylons practiced Monotheism, rather than the Polytheism the Colonials followed. It made sense the Cylon rebellion was as much on Religious grounds as on freedom. It stood to reason that like any faith, different doctrines had different outlooks, Nanny implying one hell of a schism occurred thanks to the Cylon Uprising. That didn't make this whole mess any better mind, cause what's better than normal Loyalist and Rebel Cylons? That's right... Religious Fanatic Cylons!
Movement from Jess's direction brought my gaze from Nanna, the Marine looking sheepish all of a sudden.
"That's my cue to butt in here Nike. I got orders from the Major while you were in Physical Therapy, I meant to tell you, but the crazy Monotheist here asked to speak with you first." Whatever the orders were, it must include all of us, given the fact Jess was even telling me about them.
"Thanks to Hadrian kinda, sorta labeling you as a "Zoological Warfare Division Asset" in that data burst we sent Gamma, it seems the Brass is under the impression you're something our people made. That's why the creepy frakker in the tweed suit has been stalking you, Valerie mentioned he's some kind of big wig in Genetic Engineering or something."
Zoological Warfare Division Asset!?
I was a fucking beautiful merging of the best damn Bioscience known to Sonnie's home universe and some beancounter had the gall to claim that work as their own and label me as an asset?
Unconsciously, the bone spurs capping each sub-tail unfurled, the prehensile limbs lashing in time to the growl rumbling from my chest. My hackles were up and I felt angry enough to smash something, but a hand on my snout broke me out of it. Jess's face was serious, though a hint of her wicked humor shone through those hazel eyes of hers. Knowing she had my attention, Jessie rapped her knuckles on the ridge of bone protecting my head.
"Let me finish before you go hunting for REMF's Nike. Anyway, it seems they want to form a unit around you, doing what I've got no frakking clue. All I've got so far is orders to tell you and meet the Major tomorrow at 14:00 hours. Thing is... it's volunteer only and as most people tend to find close contact with you pants-shitting terrifying, Crazy Toaster here," A thumb pointed over her shoulder at Nanny while she spoke, "is offering a squad of her 'Loyalist Faithful' on the condition they're serving under you."
What bloody god did I piss off to deserve this total and complete clusterfuck? The Cylons religious fervor made this already messy Machine Rebellion now also one of faith. In what had to be some kind of cosmic joke, the radical sect of Monotheism practiced by the STO had resulted in a further radical split on an already radical faith. Maybe if I buried my head in the sand, the creepy Monotheist Toaster would disappear and I'd wake up to find it was all a dream. Holding my paws over my eyes, squinting between my talons showed that nope, the Cylon was still there and sadly not a dream.
What the fuck did I do to deserve this, I'm not even religious for fucks sake!.
-
Did I say Nike would be doing Physical therapy?
My bad, Y'all get a radical religious Schism in the Cylon's Monotheist faith instead.
Who doesn't love a good bit of religious fanaticism in their machine uprising?