Chapter 8 New Accommodations

Six led the way down a second set of stairs that descended deeper into the bowels of the newest section of the detention center with Starbuck, now held securely between the two Centurion guards, reluctantly following. A chill raised goosebumps along her arms, and Kara tried to convince herself that it was only due to the cooler temperatures in this lower section and not fear at whatever "rehabilitation treatments' the skin-job had hinted at. She tried to convince herself that anything was better than the slow abyss she'd been sliding towards for weeks now, but as their little procession halted in front of a steel door and the guards released their hold, she shivered again—with apprehension this time.

The blonde skin-job set her palm on a flickering square on the wall and the door swung inward on silent hinges. Seeing what lay inside, Kara conceded that the apartment might not have been such a bad setup after all. Locking her knees, she held her place in the doorway as Cylon woman strode before her into the cell.

The Six turned, and on seeing Kara hesitate, gave a nod and Kara felt a metal palm on her back, then she was shoved, stumbling, across the threshold into the ten-by-ten concrete room. Catching her balance, she debated whether now was the best time to challenge the skin-job, but after darting a quick glance over her shoulder at the silent Centurions, decided to bide her time until the odds were a bit better. Instead, she surveyed what little there was of the room. The bare concrete floor, walls and ceiling deepened the chill within the cell. A spigot was set into the wall in the corner and a bucket occupied another. The ambiance of the room wasn't lightened by the naked bulb, offset from the center of the ceiling, and the hook which dangled directly above a drain in the floor.

And I thought the other cell was bad. At least it had a real toilet.

Turning her eyes to meet the Six's measuring regard, she quipped, "I want an upgrade. Maybe a suite with a Jacuzzi." Determined not to let the skin-job see her growing dismay, she gave a sweep of her hand indicating the room, "Last time I book through a Toaster travel agency."

"Sorry your new accommodations aren't up to your demanding standard," Six said, and then gave a wave to one of the guards. "Perhaps you'll like the accessories. But first…I think you're a little overdressed for today's activities."

The Cylon woman sidled forward into Kara's personal space, pausing as if waiting for a reaction. When Starbuck just returned her glare, Six grasped the hems of Kara's double tanks and lifted. Biting down on the impulse to punch her, Kara let the skin-job pull her tops off and toss the garments to the side, leaving her clad in only the black sports bra and cargo pants. As the taller blonde stepped back, Kara let her held breath out slowly, relieved that the Cylon appeared satisfied with just stripping her of her shirts.

"Much better."

The skin-job gave a signal and Kara heard the stomp of a Centurion behind her. Metal fingers clamped on her bare arm, twisting her around to face the chrome-job; she swallowed as a set of shackles were locked around her wrists with a snap. The thick wristcuffs were spanned by a length of chain that looked impervious to any attempt she might make to break loose.

"Up," commanded Six and Kara's arms were hauled above her head and she was lifted as the Centurion secured the center link of the chain to the hook in ceiling.

Grimly feeling the stretch in her shoulders and arms from the unnatural position, Kara was thankful she was still able to touch the floor, even if only on the balls of her feet.

Ok, this is a damn sight worse than Leoben's sermons.

Her breath quickened in anticipation of what was obviously going to be a really unpleasant rehab session—lesson—or whatever the frakkers wanted to call it. Starbuck knew how this worked. It all came down to pain…and how much she could endure.

Ok, not gonna be so much fun. Just keep focused, Thrace. Pain's pain, and this bitch isn't even family.

As she drew into herself emotionally, Kara stirred the furnace of her fear into flames of anger, then glanced up, eyes narrowing on the chain above her head. Maybe she could get in a preemptive strike or two before the skin-job got her shot.

After dismissing the guards and shutting the cell door, the Six swiveled around on her high heels and gave Kara a brief up and down look, a smirk filled with contempt emphasizing her enjoyment of the situation.

Putting on her best Triad face to hide her intentions, Starbuck's eyes stayed locked on the Cylon female sauntering towards her. That's right Toaster trash, just a little closer, she mentally urged. That's it. Just another step...

Grasping her opportunity—and the chain above her hands—she swung her legs up and locked her knees around the skin-job's neck. As the tall blonde's eyes widened, Starbuck wrenched violently to the side. Through her calf muscles, she felt the snap of vertebra, and then the Six became literal dead weight. Kara let the body drop to the floor at her feet.

"Well…that was fun... Guess I'll just hang around until she gets back," she said to the empty room, wishing she had an audience to play to. Then again, the idea of anyone being stuck in this hellhole with her quickly wiped away the gallows humor. She suddenly wondered what Helo was doing right then, and fervently hoped it was devising some plan to stage a whopping big rescue. Lords she missed his goofy lollipop-stuffed grin. What she wouldn't give to see him come through that door about now. She'd even be willing to stop giving him a hard time for falling for a Toaster.

Speaking of which…

With a bare toe Starbuck nudged the Six's pale corpse and idly wondered if Centurions understood jokes. Imaging one of the metal Toasters laughing sent a shudder down her spine, and the motion drew her attention to her arms and she looked up, noticing that her wrists were trickling red where the shackles had scraped the skin in her exertions.

She looked down at the body again, contemplating possibilities. Worth a try, she decided. By stretching she was able to hook a heel into the Cylon's armpit and roll the woman closer. A few grunts and curses later and she had the skin-job positioned where she could cautiously step up onto its chest. The additional height took more of the strain off Kara's shoulders.

That in itself was reward enough for the effort.

Through narrowed eyes, she surveyed the hook and chain that held her in place. If I can just… She reached upward, trying to use the slack in the chain to flick it off the hook. Losing her balance on the second attempt, she slipped off her improvised stepstool and pain shot down her arms at the unexpected jolt.

"Frak," she cursed as she gave the chain an angry rattle. Several deep breaths later and she was back up and trying again. This time it came free on the second go and Kara stumbled forward, catching her balance against the cell wall.

Success gave her a brief rush but, as she looked about her, she realized she didn't know what to do next. A quick search of the Cylon's clothes revealed nothing useful—such as a key.

Moving to the cell door, Kara gave it a half-hearted push then shrugged. Nope, not gonna budge. Not that she'd actually thought it would. Surveying it closer, she saw that the hinges were on the outside so no chance to work them loose. That just left the rectangle beside the door that matched the one Six had palmed earlier; she tentatively reached out and touched the pad with an index finger, half expecting to get zapped. When nothing happened, she shrugged again and pressed her hand flat, feeling the warmth of the surface, but nothing happened.

A few minutes—and curses—later, Kara had the Cylon's body propped up and she pressed the limp hand against the panel. The door remained stubbornly locked. Giving a disgusted snort, she let her burden drop to the floor and turned away. It was obvious that the Cylons had put more thought into their security procedures than the humans that had built the original section of the detention center.

After getting a drink from the spigot in the corner and rinsing the blood from her wrists, Starbuck settled with her back to the wall, facing the door, and waited for company to arrive.