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Chapter 16: Gentle Execution
Laura let herself relax for one second before climbing up out of the Resistance base and into the unusually sunny New Caprican afternoon. She walked calmly through the smattering of trees and into the main street of the settlement. People bowed their heads in prayer, in support, and she nodded back, hoping to whatever Gods that will listen that no one can hear her heart pounding.
She managed to get back to Ellen's, her calm before what is surely to be one hell of a storm, in only a few minutes, which sends her into a series of worrying thoughts. What if she was followed? Did she move too fast? Can anyone tell she's nervous?
Laura closed her eyes as the swirling thoughts began to cloud her mind's eye. There could be no room for such things if Bill stood any chance of rescue.
"Ellen, I sent some herbs ahead. We should try and eat now,'' she called as she opened the tent," Ellen?"
No one was there. A sinking feeling of cold dread dropped like a stone to the bottom of her stomach. Laura shook it off almost immediately as she removed her coat. Ellen certainly had her normal errands to run still, though Laura had advised her to stay in. No doubt, she told herself firmly, the poor woman's nerves hadn't allowed her to just sit and wait until the appointed time. So she sat down at the table and began to cut up the small amount of herbs she'd bought earlier in the day. The thin chopping sound lulled her into a sense of calm she'd not felt in a long while. Chop, chop, chop. Her heart rate, which had been out of control since she'd dismissed the resistance leaders slowed to a steady beat.
She took a calming breath as she finished, setting the knife aside and tossing the chopped herbs, their sweet scent rising from the freshly chopped ends, into a small bowl. She took up the crude ceramic container and crossed the small tent to where the still smoldering embers of the afternoon fire lay ready to burn once more.
"LAURA!"
She jumped. Too late she realized that the bowl had slipped from her fingers at the sound of her name being screamed from Gods knew where. The sound of it's shattering roused her from her sudden shock just as Chief wretched back the tent flap with so much force the whole structure was pulled towards him.
"Galen, whats wrong?!"
"It's now."
Laura felt all the blood drain from her body. She imagined the earth below her sucking it all out, as it had with her job, her people's trust, and her hope.
"Oh Gods," she whispered, shaking.
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The Cylons stood within a cluster of Centurions. A few Sixes were looking forlorn as their prisoner was drug towards the hangman's noose. It was such a primitive form of execution, the noose. A death for the honorless, the betrayers. The people around the Centurions roared with outrage at the method almost as much as they had the prospect of Adama's death in general. They had expected, since the Cylons had infiltrated them, for such a man as William Adama to receive a warrior's death by the sword.
Even more outrageous for them was that the form of the Old Man was entirely obscured by a long white cloak which covered his form in a way that made him indistinguishable from anyone else. They had made it so he could be any one of them. The symbolism was not lost on Laura Adama as she watched in horror, certain that when he dropped from the platform her own neck would break and she'd die right there in the crowd.
"Galen..."
"I'm sorry...Ma'am please I..," Tyrol whispered back in the voice of a terrified child. She looked away from the cloak and noose to look him in the eyes. They were shimmering, ready to loosen the tears she'd never expect from him, and filled with remorse.
"We tried to get him out...but,"
"It's not your fault," she replied weakly. It wasn't, really. Her eyes returned to the platform. He'd told her along the way of the sudden panic of Adama's execution being pushed forward, the attempt to save him that had left three young people dead, and she found that she couldn't find the selfishness to be angry. They had died in his name; she could not begrudge their sacrifice in the face of unimaginable odds.
No words came as the Cylons tied the rope around their victim's neck. Laura squeezed her eyes shut, imagining his blue ones staring back at her with the love and strength he'd always carried for their people.
Stay strong for them, Laura she imagined he'd say in that deep, calming voice of his. And she would. Whenever Saul showed up, she would help him save their people. A flash of sympathetic pain struck her at the thought. After it was all over, she could see the look on Saul's face when she told him he'd been too late to save the brother he'd found over thirty years before. Saul Tigh was many things: cranky, a drunk, a card player, a Colonel, but above all he was a loyal friend with a bigger heart than he'd admit. She did not relish the conversation between bereft brother and sudden widow.
The noose was tightened, the Cylons stepped back. An Eight closed her eyes, a soundless cry coming from her lips. Laura's eyes widened as realization hit her that the only Eight there was most likely Boomer. A rage caught up in her throat. How dare that woman mourn him!
"Bealocwealm,hafath. freone frecan forth onsended! giedd sculon singan glaomen sorgiende, on Terra Kobol...," (1) a voice sang out clearly from the crowd. Laura's breath hitched at the long forgotten dirge for a dead warrior she'd only heard once in her life on some historical documentary. No one had earned the sacred song since Kobol was abandoned..
"....thæt he ma no wære , his dryhtne dyrest and maga deorost."(2) she added, eyes closed and heart so heavy it could sink her into the perpetually muddy ground if she'd let it. But she was the Admiral's wife. She would be their President again when this was over.
"Pull!" her eyes flew open, her breath caught, and she saw but a second of the cloak fluttering as it
fell before turning her face into Tyrol's chest. Oh Gods...oh Gods...
Suddenly a sonic boom knocked her off her feet, and Tyrol too. The young deck chief grabbed her
by the waist to keep her from flying away with the wind created by the blast and the two rolled to
the side.
"They're here!" he shouted over the sudden panic of the crowd," Ma'am, look!"
Laura turned up her face and cried with sorrow and joy at once. Galactica was falling from the sky, her Vipers flying out of her burning hull. Too late to save Bill, the military had returned.
"C'mon, we gotta get you to Colonial One," Tyrol said urgently. They had devised the plan ages ago. Tyrol was the one selected to see her and her husband safely off the planet. Only now it was only she he had to worry about. Only her...oh she couldn't leave Bill on the ground and just run.
"No!" Laura cried. Before Tyrol could catch her arm, she'd spun out of range and sprinted towards the platform, all noble thoughts of leading her people gone in the sudden rush of activity. Tyrol swore loudly behind her and gave chase.
Another boom sounded and she knew Galactica had jumped in the atmosphere and back into space. It almost sent her flying, but she dug in her heels and rode it out, panting with the effort as she continued her run.
She scrambled onto the platform, her still well kept (and long) nails slashing at the face of a D'anna copy as she did so. The woman shrieked and toppled over. Tyrol pushed her aside in his effort to follow. She made it to the body, breathless and wrathful, tearing the cloak from the beloved face.
She froze," oh..my Gods," and fell back just as Tyrol made it to her side. He too muttered a swear to the Gods as he looked down on the last person he expected to see.
It was Ellen.
The cloak was a bulky thing, hiding her petite shape and making her seem larger and stockier. The Cylons had known who they were executing, merely hoping no one questioned it. But then, where was Bill?
"LAURA!"
"Bill? BILL!" Laura shouted, eyes scanning the frantic crowds for the man to match the voice. She and Tyrol saw him at once near a Raptor, frantically calling her over. Shaking, Laura rose, watching from the corner of her eye as Tyrol respectfully picked up Ellen's body. They both began to run again, the Vipers and Raiders shrieking overhead and the people screaming as they ran for the nearest ship.
Laura reached Bill in mere seconds, pulling him in for a life-saving kiss before pulling back and letting him lead her into the Raptor. Tyrol followed with Ellen's body as a few other refuges took note of them and raced up the ramp. Bill jumped in the pilots seat and barked to one of the refuges, a pilot whose name Laura didn't know, to take the ECO's spot. The woman nodded and got to work, booting up systems that had lain dormant for months.
And somehow, by the miracle of Galactica and the Resistance, they began their ascent to the stars, their questions and griefs, for the moment, in another world.
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Yay the writer's block on this fic is GONE. W00t. Don't worry if your confused! And I hope Ellen's death was shocking enough. You'll see later, when Bill recounts his story, how it came to pass that I followed canon just a bit. XD
that sad, it was hard to kill Ellen. I was beginning to adore her. ;_;
"An evil death has set forth the noble warrior! A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels in Meduseld"- These are the English lyrics to Eowyn's Funeral Song from Lord of the Rings. I changed the Meduseld part to Terra Kobol ( Kobol's Earth..sorta..not a real translation). It fit with the idea of Bill as the warrior. So not mine. And can you believe that is really old English?!
"that he is no more,to his lord dearest and kinsmen most beloved. - Lyrics from the same song. Kind of interesting to note, the only words that remain the same are the, on(in) and his. The linguistic part of my brain did a happy dance at that for some reason...