"Happy birthday, old man," cried Ellen, hugging Bill and kissing him on the cheek. Happy chatter filled the recreation room where a generous crowd had gathered to celebrate and relax in honor of their commanding officer. Despite the crowd and without warning, the lascivious blonde's hand dropped to squeeze a handful of the Admiral's backside, and she giggled madly when he jumped and pulled away. Ellen swayed on her feet before leaning against her husband who raised a glass of green liquor in his friend's honor, completely oblivious to his wife's shenanigans.
"Sixty frakkin' years, Bill. Yer gettin' old!" Saul slurred, grinning at his wife who'd snaked her arm around his own waist now. When Ellen's hand trailed south he laughed. Saul enjoyed her shamelessness about as much as he appreciated the celebration's open bar.
"Look who's talking," Bill teased with a grin. "I'm still in my prime. I can keep up with both my girls and fly circles in a Viper around you if need be." A bark of indignant, amused laughter escaped Saul before the two men raised their glasses in salute to one another.
The atmosphere thrummed with festive excitement; it wasn't everyday the old man rounded the six decade corner. Strangely enough for him, Bill felt like celebrating because he didn't feel quite so very old and tired as he once had.
It could have easily been a somber, lonely occasion (as it was in the last timeline), but the Admiral's pilots, crew, children, and Commander-in-Chief acted as co-conspirators and put together a festive party. They'd strung silly banners around the room, loosely looped around the framed paraphernalia on the walls. Chief's best moonshine stood like an offering on the counter for the celebrants. Most of Bill's troublemakers had partaken of said liquor: boosted with liquid courage, Zak flirted shamelessly with Maya in the corner; Kara and Boomer looked like they were plotting; Lee stood next to Liam and laughed at the scrunched face the recently-turned-adult Liam made every time he took a sip of moonshine. Life was good.
This birthday friends and family surrounded him and humanity maintained its grip on a hopeful future. His eyes strayed over to where Laura stood talking with Kat and her pilots. He enjoyed the sight of her in the red dress, the material clinging to her curves perfectly with a tasteful but tantalizing amount of skin exposed. Evie stood in front of her, holding onto both of her mother's hands.
When Evie spotted her father's attention she bellowed, "Dada!" and started toddling over to him. Most definitely their last baby, she kept them both sharp and on their toes despite them being older parents. At eighteen months, she was still new to walking, but liked her mobility. Bill knelt and held out his arms for her, and the happy smile that spread on her face made him feel like he could melt into a happy puddle.
Evelyn fell into his arms and gave him a hug around his neck.
"Hi, precious," Ellen cooed when they stood, immediately sobering up in Evie's presence. It impressed them all how well Ellen behaved around Evie, although Bill sometimes caught the jealous look in her eyes. She tickled the toddler's side and Evelyn giggled. "Your mama actually can throw a pretty good party. Who knew?"
The friends chatted happily for a while until a birthday cake appeared, carried by Laura herself. Bill suspected she'd also baked it too, with a bit of help from little fingers if the flour remaining on Evie's dress was any indication. The multitude of candles on it were lit.
"Gives off quite a bit of light when you reach the big six-oh," Saul teased as the pilots around them broke into a badly sung but time-honoured chorus. Evie clapped her hands over her ears.
"Make a wish!" Lee said.
"Be careful!" Hotdog shouted. "You already got one miracle baby!" This made much of the party laugh. Bill rolled his eyes before handing Evie to her mother and then blowing out the candles. At the raucous applause, Bill shared an intense look with Laura who looked to be on the verge of giggling.
"What did you wish for?" she asked.
"A babysitter tonight."
"Gods, some things never change," Laura giggled. "It's already arranged. There will be no audience when you unwrap your present."
He pulled back and gave her an incredulous look. For a moment, he stared at her shamelessly. "You're gonna be the death of me, Laura."
...
The vitriolic fear before a fight; Sam knew that feeling well after spending months fighting the Cylons. Sam Anders had taken charge of the remaining resistance after the bombs rained down destruction on the Twelve Colonies. In the time since the end of the world, he trudged through the ashes and the days and carried his part of the burden of survival. Together the resistance scraped and crawled toward the day that would be their last in a nuclear wasteland.
He was dressed in sleek, black tactical gear with a comm radio clipped to his bulletproof vest. His pockets bulged with extra equipment: ration packs, grenades, medical supplies, a pyramid ball, and even a blade or two. Everything he thought he'd need in the future was clipped on his person somewhere. He felt tired but determined and focused.
The moon hung low in the clouded sky. Their useful light came from searchlights sweeping the surrounding area from the guard towers erected along the perimeter of the fence that kept the fortified military installation separate from the forest around it. The clanking of Centurions walking the grounds echoed over the surrounding area where teams waited for the word to come through.
Today was the day they gambled.
Their unlikely Cylon allies had proven themselves time and again. The Twos, Sixes, and Eights claimed to deeply regret that their fellow Cylons hadn't wanted peace. They supported living in harmony and always—or so their story went. After seeing their worlds burn, the resistance didn't really care what pretty words any Cylon spoke, but nevertheless the Twos, Sixes, and Eights had arrived at the resistance camp with proof of their sincerity: humans they'd liberated from farms. The sight of more survivors kindled a little spark of hope in the humans. The Cylons promised they could do more, and Sam, looking at the haunted faces of the humans who thanked their Cylon liberators, told them that they'd damn well better.
On behalf of their new allies, the Cylon defectors gathered survivors and spirited them away to the resistance. More resilient to the radiation, the Sixes, the Eights, and the Twos foraged for supplies while the humans remained in the mountains above the radiation. Their unlikely Cylon allies' supply drops were a blessing from the gods; too many nights Sam stayed up with his head in his hands, wondering how their food and amo would stretch. With full bellies and armed hands, the humans were able to extend a little trust toward the Cylon models who turned traitor against their compatriots.
After they presented their plan, Sam had asked why they were helping the humans. The Sixes, Twos, and Eights shared a solemn look with one another. Unbeknownst to Sam, the Cylons reflected on the previous timeline and the friends they'd made. We learned better, they said mournfully, gazing over the destruction.
Now Sam and his team activated their tactical comm sets and checked all equipment for readiness one last time. Several Sixes, Twos, and Eights had blazed into the resistance camp two nights before as if another apocalypse followed hot on their heels. They'd found Sam and told him it was time to find their fellow humans who'd escaped to the stars.
"The rest of the Cylons will know about our betrayal soon. This is our only window," Six had said.
"They're unboxing the worst Cylon model among us." Sam didn't understand what Eight meant, but her eyes were wide in unmistakable terror. "He'll destroy us all."
Sam studied their panic-ridden faces and felt cold. He knew he needed to trust them, even if he still didn't want to like them. Sam wanted his people off the Colonies before whatever had scared the Cylons came for them. The urge to shoot Six, Two, and Eight models on sight still piqued Sam and members of the resistance on occasion, but they decided to trust the Cylons' plan. The hope of reuniting with the rest of humanity and escaping whatever had even the Cylons worried was too good to pass up.
He'd made some insane plays during his time as a pyramid player. He'd lived for the thrill of a daring pace and an exciting comeback. He'd thrived on adrenaline pounding through his veins, but this was a whole new offense strategy. They needed to take the Delphi base, steal the Heavy Raiders, get into orbit, and make their way to the Scorpion Shipyards without getting blown out of the sky. Docked there was the main objective of their plan: they were going to steal the only Battlestar left within the Colony's home solar system. If Sam lived to tell the tale, it would be the craziest stunt he'd ever pulled.
There was no back-up plan.
No amount of planning in the universe could stop the dread everyone felt. After months of fighting, the resistance knew how to channel their nervous energy into preparation. When the call came in to begin the assault on Delphi's base, they were ready. Sam listened to the staticky voice on the comm and pushed down his fear. It was too late to wonder if he'd overlooked the Cylon's inherent evil nature in his desperation; too late to ask if they'd rescued all the humans left on the Colonies; too late to question their odds of success. The fear before the fight seeped through his clothing and sank into his skin, but he gripped his gun and flicked off the safety. Abandoning the cover of the fallen tree they hid behind, the Two to his left stood and fired the first shot. Sam heard the clash of a falling Centurion hitting the ground before the sound of bullets erupted all around them.
Samm no longer dreaded death. What he feared was the pain of his people. He feared their capture and return to the farms they'd liberated for months. He feared that there was going to be someone he might not be able to save. He grabbed those feelings, harnessed them, and turned it all into anger. Leaping over the log, he ran in with the rest of his people, together assaulting Delphi's military base. At the fence, humans and Cylons worked together to clip their way through the wire and hold off the Centurions.
With the element of surprise on their side, the resistance pushed through the fence and charged over the broken remains of buildings, neutralizing the Centurions as quickly as possible. In their final act before their deception was discovered, the Twos, Sixes, and Eights sabotaged as many communication relays as possible. This was their pocket of time when enemy Cylon units would be disarrayed and uncoordinated; time was of the essence. Their window to escape was small.
Many buildings were only charred remains. What had been grounded Raptors were now twisted, melted metal hunks. Seeing the broken remains of the Colonial military filled Sam with cold, dark rage. Eyes forced open against the anger churning inside him, he squeezed the trigger of his rifle and took down Centurion after Centurion.
Sue-Shaun died beside him. Sam didn't have time to mourn.
The resistance fighters cleared the best path possible towards the Cylon Heavy Raiders on the ground. They plunged inside the ships, cramming as many people as possible into each one. Cylon pilots took off and blasted toward the Scorpion Shipyards. Sam held the line beside a Two as Centurions attempted to press in and kill the escaping humans. He lost track of how many Centurions he killed, but his blood raged as he saw hulking metal figures dropping in the distance.
Someone pulled on his shirt, screaming in his ear.
"We've got to go!"
Looking around, Sam saw theirs was the last Heavy Raider that remained to take off and no more humans were running toward them hoping for escape. How much time passed, Sam wondered. He looked down and saw the Two dead by his feet. He shot at another Centurion running toward them before turning to duck into the ship.
…
Hours after the ground battle, they arrived at the Scorpion Shipyards. Against the sun, the installation looked like a sad, derelict piece of salvage. Debris still floated everywhere. The lifeless corpses of two full-blown Battlestars, still docked at the shipyard remained as a grotesque display of the Cylons' brutally swift attack. Escort ships, medical ships, cargo ships, Raptors, and countless Vipers drifted around and bumped against one another in a macabre dance. These lifeless ships would be the remains of the Colonies they saw and a profound sadness weighed them down along with an angry bitterness. Their military failed them, and that failure was engraved on every tired face in the Raider.
A nearby Basestar stood watch over the shipyards, but the Two next to Sam, who had longer hair than his dead brother, assured him that the Basestar was under rebel Cylon control. Their job was to hold off any incoming enemy fighters while the humans secured the only Battlestar that survived the attack on the Scorpion Shipyards.
Unable to look out the window anymore, Sam closed his eyes and waited.
…
The old, lined face twitched and limbs slowly stretched as he woke little by little. The smell of oil and metal hung in the air along with something strangely sweet and Laura assumed it came from the viscous liquid in the tub. Rooted to the spot, her legs refused to carry her away from the sight of the Cylon slowly waking in his resurrection bath. Laura wanted to believe she was dreaming, but there was something off about it. It felt too real.
The man sat up slowly, stretching his body. When he opened his eyes, Laura felt panic grip her heart.
"Welcome back, brother," a dark, gravely voice said from the side where a man in shadows crouched beside the tub. Appearing to be the twin of the man in the tub, the man dressed in all black extended a hand to his fellow Cylon.
"So, you're ready to listen to the voice of reason," the One asked. The two identical, gray-haired men looked at each other in grim amusement, as if the world were their plaything and they wanted nothing more than to see it reduced to ashes. Cavil pulled the unboxed Cavil to his feet, splashing some of the gooey fluid out of the tub.
"The others have seen the light."
"Let me guess. The little Secretary is president again?"
"And hiding somewhere in the stars with that Admiral of whom you spoke."
"How poetic you make it sound."
"Only for a worthy audience, brother."
"Our pet Eights ran off with them?"
"And that's not all…"
Laura felt powerless from where she stood. Her whole body hurt from the memory of the torture the Cylon before her once inflicted on her. Darkness pressed down around her and she tried to block out the memories. Wake up. This can't be real. He was boxed. Wake up!
Laura awoke with a scream and bolted upright, breathing hard. She felt something on her arm and jerked away violently.
"Laura! Calm down and breathe, Laura. It's Bill, your husband!" The voice sounded distant, like an echo through a forest. Laura tried to shake the dream and memories away. She felt the pressure on her arms and he lashed out instinctually, jerking her arm away before throwing her fist back towards her assailant as hard as he could. I'm never being taken again!
Bill's yelp of pain finally snapped her back into the present. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of their quarters, Laura found her husband sitting up next to her on the rack. One hand massaging the side of his face, but he still spoke in warm reassuring tones.
"Welcome back." Bill tried his luck and reached out to touch her again. He moved in closer and caressed her cheek with his thumb, smiling when his touch was accepted. Guilt twisted in Laura's stomach, fighting for dominance with the terror that still hadn't fully passed following the nightmare.
"I dreamed Cavil was unboxed," she explained.
Unease surged through him, cold and heavy. His wife had been sleeping far better, but her dreams still remained strange, unexplainable things. He gently pulled her into his arms. "If that son of a bitch ever comes across our path again, I'll kill him with my bare hands."
She believed him.
"Are you alright, Bill?" she asked, looking at where her strike must have connected with his face.
"More concerned about you." Even in the dim light of their quarters at night, Bill looked unsettled and unconvinced. She sighed in frustration. Pushing the dream to the side, she lay back down on her pillow. "It was probably just another stupid nightmare."
"It's understandable. Try and get some more sleep." He kissed her cheek before settling down behind her and pulling her close. "And next time you want to take up boxing, let me put a pair of gloves on you first," Bill said lightly, using his dry humor to let Laura know that everything was fine.
...
"Establishing life support," a Six said over comms.
"Rebel Centurions are helping pull Raiders onto the hangar deck."
"We need to get the main power online first…"
"We're in," the Six piloting the Raider murmured, shaking Sam back to reality.
"Teams, secure your stations," Sam ordered over his comm. They'd pre-arranged groups of Cylons and humans to take control of the vital areas of the Battlestar. Shaking the fatigue from him, Sam glanced behind to check on the rest of his team. All of them nodded back their readiness.
Stepping out of the Cylon Heavy Raiders, the teams moved through the abandoned halls of the Battlestar with only the light of their guns to illuminate the corridors. They crept down the dark corridor, relieved to finally be on the move again. Despite no resistance being expected on the Bellerophon, everyone clutched their weapons and glanced up and down the corridor. Nothing yet. He counted to ten slowly.
"Easy, everyone," Sam said soothingly. He took a deep breath and tampered down a wave of fear for his friends. "No friendly fire."
His group made their way to CIC. Sam had absolutely no idea where he was going, but an Eight who claimed to know Battlestars like the back of her hand led the way. His lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. Equally grim-faced, his team fanned out behind him. The weight of the packs strapped to their backs was starting to make them pant heavily.
Once in CIC, Sam stood very still, holding in his surprise that they'd gotten that far, and tried to remember everything he'd ever known about Battlestars. He shook his head; he knew nothing besides stuff from old war movies. He could picture the famous Galactica's CIC from the movie Letters from Galactica and The Day the Colonies All United, but that was about it. There was little he could do now.
Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead and unsnapped the pack from his back, dropping it to the floor. He leaned against the Tactical Table in CIC and looked at the Cylons working around the room.
"How do you know where to go?" Sam asked.
"We…" a Two began from where he fiddled with some wires at what Sam believed must be navigation control.
"Have some intel," Six covered smoothly as the lights around them came on.
"Right," Sam said, nodding sceptically. He drew a sharp breath and watched them work. Fear stirred again and sank into his bones. He tamed it with effort. They would be all right. He fingered the radio attached to his vest. "Team leads, check in."
Listening to each team report their station secured and ready, Sam smiled to himself in spite of everything. He looked over at the Eight who stood across from him.
"Your show now. Get us out of here."
…
"What happened to you?" Saul asked, looking curiously at Bill's black eye when the old man joined him in CIC.
"Laura." Saul smirked. "What, Ellen's never given you a black eye before?" Bill asked.
"Well, yeah, but I didn't think you two were into that kinda kinky stuff." Saul said flatly. The XO shrugged and nonchalantly looked back down at his report. "I guess it was your birthday last night."
"You'd be surprised." Bill grinned at the stricken look on Saul's face. "She's certainly not a naive school teacher." The balding man, in fact, knew there were many layers to their president and was trying not to think about what his first impression was.
"Touché," Saul growled.
"Sitrep?"
"Clear skies."
…
Two years on the run, and one year at Fallback Omega. Most ships were now repaired and the Fleet ran smoothly. To break up the monotony, Laura's Press Secretary and Public Relations manager, Ellen Tigh, who believed herself to be the gods' gift to the presidential staff, decided a presidential visit to the Colonial schools created on the Zephyr was a great idea. Lee, as both CAG of Galactica and member of the First Family, learned he was also roped into the appearance.
Laura nervously twisted a pencil in her fingers, jittery and on edge. She wasn't sure if it was her dream or the many faces that were familiar to her from the memories of New Caprica. She had nearly lost control of her emotions when a living, breathing Cami, the sweet girl she'd met on the Botanical Cruiser, gave her a hug when she arrived.
Billy and Lee, flanking her to the right and left, sat down beside her and helped answer the questions the curious lot fired at them. Elosha and two members of the Quorum were also present to check in on humanity's future. Rows and rows of the children, many of them barely old enough to remember the homes they would never see again listened eagerly to their visitors. They enjoyed the break from their lessons. In particular, Lee had them eating from the palm of his hand. Laura never realized how good he was with children. He smiled and regaled them with stories of flying and silly but brave men and women he fought beside. Though they had a strange relationship at times, Laura regarded her stepson proudly. She tried not to wonder how his ongoing argument with Starbuck over the subject of children was going; both she and Bill had agreed to stay out of it.
"Are you scared when you fly?" Cami asked.
"Yes," Lee said honestly. "But it helps to know I'm flying beside people I trust."
"Is your wife really Starbuck?" Lee laughed and rolled his eyes.
"Yes. And she's as crazy as they say, but I love her." Talkwireless had a fondness for talking about Kara's exploits. They certainly never tired of using her in their military recruitment paraphernalia, and Lee tried not to tally which one of them appeared more often in such broadcasts.
Laura called on another hand waving in the air.
What do you do for fun? What's it like to pilot a Viper? Why do they call the Admiral the Old Man? Is it fun to be president? I think Dr. Baltar is cute, don't you? Do you like having the president as a mommy?
Laura froze at the last question, and looked at her stepson. Their entire rocky relationship flashed before her eyes. While she'd loved her stepson as her own, they'd gone through some strained times. Lee's revulsion and adoration often battled against each other for dominance. With the return of Lee's memories two years ago, sometimes Laura wondered if he truly even saw himself as her stepson anymore.
"Yeah. I love my mom," Lee laughed at how easy the answer was. They'd become family; even if sometimes they'd wanted to shove each other out an airlock, it didn't preclude the bonds holding them together. Lords know I'm ready to pull a leaf from Laura's book and push Starbuck out an airlock, Lee thought. He leaned over and whispered in Laura's ear while Billy picked on a kid. "Was it ever hard to let Zak and me— to let me— come and live with you? To take us in?"
Laura raised her eyebrow at him, stunned at the striking similarity Lee sometimes had to his father. For all their pride, they struggled with a lingering self-doubt. The twisted logic made sense; Lee's own mother hurt and abandoned him, so why would the woman he'd increasingly challenged and butted heads with love him.
"No, Lee. You were always family."
"Madame President?" Maya poked her head in the room, and Laura apologized and excused herself before joining Maya in the corridor. Evelyn, usually content to be held by Maya, threw herself into Laura's arms. Maya looked at the pair frantically. "Something's wrong, and well…" Immediately alarmed, Laura looked over her daughter.
"What's wrong, honey?"
Evie shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. "Dark." She buried her head against Laura's neck, hiding in the red curls. "Mama!"
"I'm here ba—" Laura stopped. The blood drained from her face and she leaned against the wall as a wave of pure darkness seemed to hit her. Although the corridor remained well lit, Laura felt like she'd stepped into a nightmare. The air around her pushed down on her and she felt dizzy.
"Madame President?"
"President Roslin?"
"Are you having a vision?" Elosha asked, having joined them in the corridor. Beside them Sarah Porter, the delegate from Gemininon who delighted in finding religious meaning everywhere, looked at Laura expectantly.
"I'm—" Laura tried to breathe, fighting off the feeling of darkness but only partially succeeding. In her arms, Evie whimpered and clutched at her mother tighter. The people around them stared at the pair.
"Dark, mama."
Laura gritted her teeth, and rubbed her hand on Evie's back. "We have to get to Galactica," she said. "Something's coming."
…
Author's note: thank you for sticking with this little epic. I'm glad to have such a lovely group of readers. Virtual hugs and cookies to everyone. Drop a comment if you liked!