With the Weapons of a Woman
by Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction.
Author's notes: This is the last chapter of the first part of this story. The sequel will deal with the events of "The Tombs of Kobol", seen from a very different point of view.
The intricacies of Ovion procreation are taken from the novelization of the pilot; considering that it's based on Glen A. Larsen's original concept, it can be considered canon.
Chapter 15 – Aftershocks and a New Hope
When she came to, she found herself in Life Station, being fussed over by one of the med techs – to her relief, it wasn't the socialator. Apparently, Patroclus hadn't found the time to draft her just yet.
"I can't find anything wrong with you," the med tech said. "Your blood test shows up normal enough; your blood pressure is a bit high, but considering the recent events, that isn't really surprising."
"Why did I faint then?" Serina asked. "That isn't something I'm usually prone to, you know. I'm no wilting flower."
"Perhaps not," the med tech allowed, "but you've lived in a refugee camp for sectares and were, as a result, severely malnourished. The excitement of the recent days must have played havoc with your circulation. Plus, Doctor Paye suspects that the Ovions have drugged the drinks; perhaps even the food, down there. He's running a detailed analysis as we speak."
"Has somebody ever found out why the Ovions were so friendly to us?" Serina asked, rising from the examination table carefully. She was still more than a little dizzy. "And what was that about the lower levels where no guest were allowed?"
The med tech nodded, her tired face becoming very grim.
"Turns out those were their breeding chambers," she explained. "They put our people into some sort of pods, flooded the pods with tranquilizing gas and liquefied them there," she lowered her voice as she added. "Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck saw people who were half-moulded with the pods already."
Serina tried very hard not to become sick, and won the struggle… barely.
"They were turning our people into food?"
"Apparently, they could extract the liquid through tubs attached to the pods to feed their little maggots with it. They told the captain that they could even absorb knowledge that way, not only nutrients and minerals, and…"
Serina didn't hear the rest of the explanation. Losing the fight against her upset stomach, she stumbled into the turboflush, where she became violently ill. The med tech dashed after her, holding her head, lest she'd loser her balance and injure herself.
"So much about Elysium," Serina commented, washing out her mouth. The med tech shrugged.
"Yeah, I'd rather live on rations than become food myself," she replied. "Now, if you're feeling better, I'll have somebody escort you to your quarters, where you can have a proper wash and change clothes. Commander Adama has announced a celebration later in the evening, and your presence has been required, for whatever reason."
Her tone revealed that she didn't see Serina as part of the same league as the Commander and his family, which stung, but was, sadly, very true.
"I guess I'm needed to make the official records," Serina murmured. "It's my job, after all."
But deep down she made a malevolent little mental notice to put the med tech thoroughly in her place, as soon as she'd Sealed with Apollo. Not the same league? She'd show her. She'd show them all!
Several centares later she was sitting in the large room that had been assigned to the Quorum of Twelve aboard the Galactica, to host their regular meetings. Right now, it was hosting a celebration. A great number of people were sitting around the council table, Quorum members, ranking officers and civilians alike, who'd been invited for various reasons.
Adama sat at the head of the table, with Sire Anton on his right and Colonel Tigh on his left. Apollo and Athena were sitting further down on his left, with Starbuck, Boomer and several other pilots who'd excelled in the most recent battle. Serina was seated between Apollo and Athena; opposite her, she was somewhat displeased to find Cassiopeia, wearing, for a change, something that didn't exactly fit her.
What the Hades was a socialator doing at the commander's table? Was she here with one of the councillors, having found a new patron already, or had Starbuck indeed, dumped Athena in favour of someone a little more… available? Either way, having her here was an insult to Athena, who was pretending not to see her.
At least the little tramp didn't seem to enjoy her newly-won position, if her haunted eyes were any indication. Either it was Athena's presence, or something must have happened to her in Carillon. Something truly traumatizing.
Serina forced her mind away from the socialator. Instead, she looked past the gathering at the starfield portal behind them. It seemed to her as if the stars in this part of space glittered more than anywhere else she'd ever been. She felt vaguely hopeful.
Commander Adama cleared his throat and raised his silver goblet to signal a toast. All around the table became silent. He took a moment to gaze at them before beginning his speech.
"I toast our victories and the achievement of our temporary goals," he started.
"Hear, hear!" Sire Anton said on his side.
"And I ask you to remember for a moment all those men and women who died in the Cylon invasion of the Twelve Worlds," Adama continued, "or in the subsequent events, in which the warriors of our fleet fought so valiantly."
They all rose to observe the obligatory micron of silence, during which many of the assemblage bowed their heads in prayer. Serina was not one of those. She had lost her faith in any divine beings many yahrens ago. Still, showing proper respect for the dead and for those who'd saved the still living felt the right thing to do.
When the micron passed, Adama resumed his speech.
"I hope that out of this – all this tragedy – some good will come in the end. For I'm certain that we haven't seen the end of treachery yet, either, be it the human sort, like Baltar's, or coming from aliens, like the Ovions. We might have achieved a major victory today, but we must not think that this is the end of the Cylon threat."
Serina glanced towards Sire Uri, who was sitting among his fellow councillors, wearing an expression of studied indifference.
"I'm surprised that your father did not include him on his list of villains," she murmured. "After all, much of what happened on Carillon was his fault."
Apollo shrugged. "Perhaps his resignation from the temporary Quorum has soothed Father's anger towards him," he replied, not really caring. For him, the world was in its right order again. Perhaps as a warrior he was used to see death and destruction all the time, and it had shaken him less.
"I wish to take this occasion," Adama continued, "to officially announce my acceptance of the election as President of the temporary Quorum and to thank you for electing me."
"We didn't elect you," Sire Anton interjected, his face reminding of a vulpine in the middle of a flock of fowl. "We merely took back and tore up your resignation… until the proper elections begin to run their circle anyway."
"Be that as it may, I still thank you," Adama replied. "Now that the immediate threat has been stopped, we can go seeking a place for our people; a place where we can settle in peace and grow again. A place where we can test our whole potential, not only our skills in warfare."
"Are we talking about finding the Thirteenth Tribe again?" Sire Geller asked with a scoff. "And about that theoretical planet our mythology calls Earth?"
"Oh, I do believe that Earth and the Thirteenth Tribe are more than just a myth," Adama smiled. "And you will realize, if you take a look around you, that you are the only one who still scoffs when I mention Earth this time."
"At least openly," Apollo murmured in a low voice, meant for Serina's ears only. "The others aren't stupid enough to argue with Father right after he's been proven right – again."
If Adama caught his son's cynical comment, he gave no sign, just went on with his toast.
"Perhaps now you believe that our little ragtag fleet can do it," he said. "That we can indeed perform this lonely quest as we flee from Cylon tyranny; to discover anew the shining planet Earth. Ladies and gentlemen, as a toast I give you… hope."
They all drank, although Serina was quite certain that the hope would only last until the first problems began to raise their ugly heads again. Such an exodus through unknown space, to a destination that might or might not exist at all, had the potential of spectacular failure – and a failure would mean the end of mankind, with or without Cylon help.
"Do you really believe that we can find this place, this Earth, Commander?" she asked quietly; she was seated close enough to Adama so that not many would hear them.
The old man nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. I also realize what you're implying with your question, my dear: that we're chasing a dream. But sometimes dreams are worth chasing. Along the way, who can say what we may find; what we may learn."
Serina raised a hand in mock defence. "Don't misunderstand me, Commander. I'm on your side, and I hope with all my heart that your vision will prove true."
Because really, what else did they have to hold on to?
"I appreciate you saying that," Adama replied mildly. "There have been times recently when I wasn't entirely sure who was on my side – including some who were quite close to me."
He didn't look at Apollo directly, but the hint was even so clear enough. The young captain stared at the table before him stonily, while Athena, leaning over between their backs, laid a consoling hand on her father's arm.
"But let's not dwell on such matters," Adama said after a moment of tense silence. "This is a time for joy, after all."
There was general agreement around the table about that, and Apollo, leaning closer to Serina, murmured in a conspiratorial manner.
"If this is a time of joy, as my father says, how comes that you are not celebrating?"
"Oh, I am!" she protested with a somewhat forced smile, but Apollo wasn't buying it.
"Doesn't look so to me. In fact, you look a bit down in the mouth."
She gave him a surprised glance. "Does it show?"
As a rule, she was better at hiding her true feelings behind a permanently cheerful, radiant mask. Perhaps she was just out of practice. How long had it been since she'd last appeared on Transmission? It seemed yahrens now.
Apollo nodded sagely. "Yes, it does. And you're way too beautiful to look so sad."
Serina rolled her eyes. "Drop the cheesy pick-up lines, please. You know I'm perceptive to you without them."
Now he was looking at her in honest surprise. "You are?"
She frowned at him. "Apollo, I don't know what people have told you about me, but I don't usually sleep with every man who happens to come my way. Not even if I'm tipsy on grog that has been spiked with drugs by some man-eating insects."
He shrugged. "That wasn't what I meant. But in desperate times people tend to seek some human warmth by whomever they can find it. There's nothing wrong with that. Now, can you tell me what makes you so sad?"
"Well, it's… it's Boxey," she admitted. "He may not be my real son, but we've become very close. I just can't be happy with him so miserable.
Apollo nodded in understanding. "I met him out on the hallway not so long ago. He didn't look so cheerful. What's wrong?"
Serina sighed. "It's Muffit Two. Boxey's moping about losing him."
"If that's all, I think I can help," Apollo said, smiling.
"How?" she asked. "By having Doctor Wilker build a new one? It wouldn't be the same, and children can be very particular about their favourite toys. My little Maboc sure as Hades was, and I have the feeling that Boxey would turn out the same."
"Actually, I don't have to order a new droid built," Apollo clarified. "One of the shuttle pilots picked up Muffit by their last run. Doctor Wilker will have it fixed in no time."
"Fixed? What happened to him?"
"Brie says he bit a Cylon in the leg; the armour of the Cylon got short-circuited, and it fell onto Muffit, flattening him. But Wilker says it's gonna be a fairly easy repair job," he looked at Serina expectantly. "Do you want to go and tell Boxey the good news?"
Serina slumped in her seat in relief. As annoying as she found the daggit-droid sometimes, she couldn't deny that it had saved Boxey at one point, giving the boy back the joy in life. Knowing that she'd be able to return that joy to him again was more than she'd hoped for.
More than the mere knowledge that they'd survived the Cylon trap on Carillon, in fact.
"The first time you gave him that annoying droid, I told you that I owed you one," she said to Apollo, her voice heavy with unshed tears. Now, after all that's happened lately, I realize that I owe you everything. You've saved so much more than just our lives…"
"No need to get all emotional over a little favour," Apollo murmured, looking uncomfortable.
Serina laughed through her tears. "Oh, shut up, Apollo, and let me hug you!"
"I'd prefer if you hugged me in private," he replied, his green eyes smouldering.
"That can be arranged," she agreed. "After the celebration, and after we've told Boxey the good news."
"It's a deal," Apollo squeezed her hand under the table briefly, looking supremely content.
She squeezed back and looked out through the great window at the star-spotted blackness of space. Somewhere out there the Cylons were still looking for them – and sooner or later, they'd find them. The thousand-yahren-was was lost, but it was still far from being over. Yet they had survived, against all odds, and now they had a goal again, even if they were chasing a dream. The colonies were lost – but they were still alive and had just begun life again.
Perhaps Commander Adama was right. Perhaps some dreams were worth chasing.
~The End~
Will be continued in "On the Wings of Freedom" - eventually.
Soledad Cartwright2012-05-10