Chapter 4 Gilded Cage
Twenty-four—Twenty-five—Twenty-six… Kara silently counted as she lowered and raised herself above the carpet. Sweat dripped from her nose as she completed her second set of push-ups and rolled over to start the next round of sit-ups in her self-prescribed exercise regimen.
After two weeks locked away in the dreary apartment, she was settling into a routine. The first few days she had spent attempting to find a way out of her prison, prying at window frames and the door with various utensils, all without success.
She'd also killed Leoben a third time, using a heavy lamp to crush his skull. Standing in the middle of the living room, she had waited for his return; sure that she'd pierced his disturbing composure this time. It was stupid to provoke him; she knew it, and yet she couldn't stand around and do nothing.
Entering the apartment a couple of hours later, Leoben had just given her a shake of the head before ordering the Centurion he'd brought along to remove his previous body. His expression only gave her the impression of patient acceptance, like he knew she was compelled to resist yet it saddened him.
How dare the frakker act disappointed in her, he had no right!
Each morning he had fixed breakfast for them, talking continuously about the visions he saw—as if she gave a damn—then he'd politely ask her to wash up. After leaving the apartment for the remainder of the day, he'd return to put together a dinner for them to share in the evening.
Not that she had touched either meal the first two days. She'd sat, with arms crossed, glaring at the plate and refusing to eat. With a sigh, Leoben had picked up her untouched dish each time and scraped it off into the garbage. On the second night he'd caught her with a chicken leg scavenged from the can and told her that she would either eat with him or go without. He'd actually tried to take it from her, only to discover she didn't have any inhibitions about biting him. Still without anger, he'd simply twisted her arm behind her back until she was forced to drop the drumstick.
The next day he'd installed a lock on the food cabinet and made a point of emptying the trash can after dumping her scrambled eggs in it. By evening, Kara was getting lightheaded from hunger and the smell of the ham dinner he put in front of her was overpowering. Halfway through watching him eat his meal, she had finally decided that it was better to keep her strength up than win this battle, and she'd started shovel the food into her mouth without looking again at the figure sitting across from her. When she did finally glance at him after pushing her empty plate away, Leoben had the satisfied smile curving his lips that she'd expected.
Damn him!
She'd flung her dish against the wall then, hearing the crash as it shattered. Had his lips tightened just the tiniest bit? Kara couldn't say for sure, but she'd gotten a measure of her own satisfaction in the act of destruction. He'd given her the same sad headshake and said he was going to bed and invited her to join him.
That had frozen her in place at the time.
Sprawled out on the carpet, having lost track of her count on the sit-ups, Kara recalled the fear that had surged forward that night.
She'd been sure that Leoben was going to finally make his move. Force the issue between them. After all, it was too early for him to be going to sleep, and he had undoubtedly grown tired of waiting for her to join him in the bedroom of her own volition. The first two nights in the apartment he'd issued the same request. Each time, accepting her refusal without comment, leaving her to sleep on the living room couch instead. Not that she'd gotten much rest. Between her restless searching for an escape and her nervous certainty that he was only waiting for her to drop her guard, she'd only nodded off for short periods.
Leoben must have correctly interpreted her thoughts about his invitation that night for he'd firmly restated that he'd meant what he'd said the first day, that he'd not force her. So, after her first meal in several days, Kara had relaxed enough to actually doze off for a few hours stretched out on the couch. She had still jerked awake repeatedly throughout the night at the slightest sound.
Now, climbing to her bare feet, Kara wiped an arm across her sweaty brow and surveyed of the nicely appointed cell, searching yet again for some weakness in her prison's confines. The ducts were too small, the door and lock impervious to her efforts, and she'd already tried first breaking, then prying, the windows open.
Kara ambled towards the corner where she had finally pinpointed one of the surveillance cameras and flipped it the bird before turning and brushing the damp bangs out of her eyes. It had been on the fourth day of her imprisonment when she'd confirmed her suspicion that the place was monitored.
The morning had begun with her sullenly eating the pancakes placed before her. Leoben again had politely asked her to clean up the kitchen and the shattered dinner plate from the night before. Kara remembered how the dirty dishes had been piling up in the sink and starting to give the place a slightly rancid smell. She had ignored him like usual as he finished getting ready and left for the day. With food and some sleep, her restless energy had become unbearable and she'd turned to a new plan. It had plenty of holes, and was as likely to get her killed as set her free. But what the hell, it was better than staring at the walls.
Using shoelaces, Kara devised a tripwire at the top of the stairs. Then she'd carefully assembled a variety of flammable items in pans in the kitchen by the stove. After snapping off the bottom portion of a broom, she had a wooden dagger and used the other end to make a torch with a cooking oil soaked cloth woven into the bristles. She also had ready the bottle of shampoo the Cylon had thoughtfully provided her.
The plan hadn't been particularly original. Set a fire. Wait for someone to investigate. From there, it depended on who showed—chrome or skin-job. The tripwire as her first line of attack. Then she hoped to be able to use the broom handle weapon or torch if dealing with a skin-job, or the shampoo if one of the metal Toasters. With no chance of fighting one of them, her only bet was to squirt the thick liquid in what passed for its face, hopefully blinding it long enough for her to escape. Thin chance of success, and things could get bad—fast—especially if no one came at all. She did set aside pans with water and a blanket to smother the fire as a last resort.
All her preparation came to naught though as she had heard the door lock click just after turning on the stove. She'd briefly debated making the attempt anyways, but when she looked up and saw that Leoben had two Centurions with him as he bent to untie the tripwire, that's when she'd known the frakker had probably been watching her the whole time. Out of frustration, she'd thrown the makeshift dagger at him and watched as he'd slapped it aside with that smug smile of his firmly in place.
Since then, Kara had located the two cameras he had setup. If there were more, she certainly hadn't been able to find them in two weeks of searching. At least now she knew their blind spots. Since discovering that a portion of the sofa was out of their line of sight, she'd hidden a shard from a broken plate in the corner of the sofa cushion for future need.
At this point in her morning routine, Kara would usually start running stairs, jogging in place and intermixed with jumping jacks to get a cardio workout . But, turning her back on the camera, she stood with hands on hips and regarded the neat little domicile that had become her world over the past couple of weeks.
It had been after Leoben had the Centurions remove the mess she had gathered to start the fire, that Kara had finally relented enough to do the cleaning chores. It was better to have something to do, even if it was just housework. She remembered how Leoben had wisely not said anything to her when he had returned again that evening and the place was straightened up. She'd stood by the window, refusing to acknowledge his greeting, just as she had the previous nights, only joining him at the table when the food was ready.
Having come to the conclusion that she wasn't going to be able to goad him with words, Kara had taken to ignoring his presence as best she could, refusing to answer any of his questions or be drawn into conversation when he'd finally worn out the topic of his visions. As a result, silence had become the standard between them and Leoben seemed content to eat and just watch her, only dropping an occasional comment.
From that point, each day became a dreary repeat of the prior; meals shared in relative silence; Leoben gone for most of the day while Kara tidied the place and started doing calisthenics to occupy her time and maintain her physical condition.
Now, at the end of a second week of confinement, Kara decided to skip the rest of her workout and went to shower instead. Standing beneath the warm spray, she prayed that Sam had recovered from the pneumonia and that everyone else was safe. She'd been careful never to mention Anders to Leoben, afraid that the Cylon male might come to see her husband as an obstacle to his plans—and take action to remedy it. As she rinsed her long hair, she wondered how much longer before Galactica and Pegasus returned to rescue them.
Knowing that all she had to do was hold out until then, Kara finished her shower and pulled on the blue robe Leoben had provided her. She slid a chair to the largest window and sat, staring skyward, searching the expanse for familiar shapes.