Chapter 110 Hued Purpose

The paired Centurions could have been statues if not for the slow strobe of their red 'eyes'. They stood side-by-side blocking the archway entrance to her 'room' and hadn't moved since Kara had awoken a short time ago. Finding herself in a pseudo-hospital room, guarded by metal twins had quickly clued her in to her situation even before the hazy memory of a Five leaning over her surfaced.

On coming to, she had initially lain quietly, taking time to evaluate her physical condition and surroundings. There was still the feeling of a lingering fatigue, but the nausea and dizziness had passed. Kara had also been acutely thankful to find she wasn't restrained since she'd had the impression that she had been earlier. Raising her left hand, she'd been alarmed by the purpled-hued mark on the back where an IV had been attached; relief had left her shaking after she'd checked her abdomen and hadn't found any new incisions.

Now that the wave of panic had receded, Kara sat up and eyed the white set of sweats she was clothed in. Another thing to be grateful for she realized, remembering how vulnerable she had felt clad only in a thin hospital gown while held at the Cylon Farm. Besides, it's a lot easier to kick some toaster ass while wearing pants.

Kara had learned a long time ago to recognize the difference in her body when in space compared to being planetbound. She was almost certain she'd been brought aboard one of starfish-shaped basestars; which meant her prospects for escape were frakking dismal if not non-existent, especially with the silent pair monitoring her every move. She glowered at them before turning to survey the dimly lit room.

So…Cylon captive? Check.

On a Cylon ship? Double check.

Typical Kara Thrace move. Frakked up as usual.

Glaring down at the floor, Kara tasted the sour bile of failure.

Too slow. Took to damned long.

She'd spent too much time surveying Earth and the surrounding star system before jumping back through the mandala. If only she'd been quicker, hadn't screwed around trying to get conclusive proof that the constellations matched those from the tomb of Athena, she would've been back on Galactica before the Cylons had found them.

She and the fleet could've made it to Earth by now.

Kara hugged her arms around her middle as she bent forward, feeling sick again as what she'd lost—let slip away—pressed down on her with a mocking vengeance.

So that's it? Gonna just curl up and quit like you always do?

Her mother's scornful words lashed a stripe of anger and Kara lifted her head.

What're you gonna to do now? Sit there and cry…or clean up the this shitty mess you've made?

The familiar refrain from her childhood goaded her off the bed and towards the sentinels. She stopped a foot in front of them.

"Move," she demanded.

Both Centurions swiveled their heads to peer down at her, otherwise held their place.

Kara was tempted to throw herself at them in hopes of slipping between, and if she somehow succeeded, then what? The rational part of her that knew how useless the attempt would be. All she'd get for her effort was a new set of bruises and the humiliation of being beaten again by a machine.

"Frakkin' toasters," she muttered and spun away, agitated gaze sweeping the room for any weapon. Besides the bed, a silent heart monitor and an empty IV pole were the extent of the room's furnishings. Her eyes narrowed on the metal stand. It had possibilities. It's presence also reminded her that she'd received some sort of treatment in the past few days.

Days.

Kara was uncomfortably certain that she'd been unconscious—or delirious—for quite a while. How much time had elapsed remained to be seen, and she forced her thoughts away from wondering if Galactica had returned to the algae planet yet. Wetting her lips, she prayed that the basestar that had found her had left the system shortly after, leaving it clear for the fleet's return. And if that meant that she'd missed her chance of finding Galactica, then it also meant that the Cylons hadn't either.

As Kara turned away, she couldn't know that her reasoning was faulty. Mere hours may have passed for her in the journey through the mandala and back, but the Galactica had spent nearly a week gathering precious stores before having to flee from the Cylons.

Restless, she walked the five strides to the side wall and lifted a hand. The sound of hydraulics caused her to pause and look back over her shoulder to where one of the Centurions had swiveled its head to better follow her actions. With eyes on the guard, Kara reached forward and touched the wall. When the chrome-job held its place without reacting further, she gave a small shrug and returned her attention to the surface beneath her palm. Strange. It wasn't metal. At least not any type she'd ever seen before. The black surface was smooth with just the slightest give to it; and as she watched with widening eyes, the area under her hand began to lighten to a honey-hued tone. She pulled back and observed the handprint slowly fade back to black.

As she studied it, Kara realized that the wall had been slightly warm, and there was something else that pulled at her senses. She tilted her head and then heard it. A low, steady sound that reminded her of…something.

As she probed at the elusive memory, soft fur and an annoyingly persist cat came to mind. Having a pet had been out of the question as a child; her mom claiming that they were just a nuisance and money pit. But Kara had hooked up with a bartender once that had kept a grey-striped tomcat in the bar's back rooms. The beast had been persistent in its demands for attention whenever she had sojourned into its territory. And even if she had occasionally snuck scraps to the creature, she hadn't missed it once she'd moved on to another guy.

Not at all.

Last thing Kara Thrace had wanted was the responsibility of an obnoxious furball.

She blinked and brought her focus back to the vaguely comforting and yet disquieting sound emanating from the walls about her. The subharmonics really did resemble a steady purr.

"Are you alive?' she murmured with a sense of déjà vu as she reached out to stroke the surface, observing how it tinted up at her touch.

With fingers tracing a path, Kara moved along the side to where it curved to the back wall and around to the opposite one without a break in the surface. She ignored the sound of sliding metal this time, assuming that she'd be able to tell if the mechanical men actually moved from their station. She halted directly across from where she'd started and turned her attention to the pulsing red bar of neon that ran the length of the room. A touch confirmed that it, at least, was made of hard plastic and it felt surprisingly cool under her fingers considering that it probably housed numerous circuits and electrical systems. A tap to the squares of light proved that they were similarly covered. While she might be able to use the IV stand to smash access into either, Kara knew it'd be a useless exercise with the guards constantly monitoring her.

Moving from the wall with a sigh, she returned to the only furniture in the room and sat on the edge of the bed. As her stomach growled, Kara wondered again how long she'd been on the basestar. And any lingering doubt that it was a basestar had been wiped away by the room's similarity to the Raider she'd flown. The goo and veined membranes might be missing, but she was gut-sure that this was one of the Cylons' massive warships.

Kara jerked around at the unexpected sound of clanking to the Centurions part to allow the white-coated figure of a Five to pass between them.

Simon.

Or some semblance of him.

Just frakkin' great.

"Good to see you up, Kara," the dark skinned doctor greeted her as he approached. She could see the wariness in the tension of his stance as he stopped a few feet away.

"Can't say the same, Doc," she said, eyes glinting as she wondered what fun experiments he had planned for her now. Purposefully keeping her muscles relaxed to hide her intentions, she considered the odds of using the IV stand to strike down the skin-job before the guards got to her. Slim to none, she reluctantly decided. But then he took a step closer and the ghosted image of another Simon superimposed over the figure before her and smeared away her caution.

Not this time. Not again!

Kara lunged for the pole.

"Wait! No!" Simon yelled, at her and the guards in tandem as they started forward.

"Stand down," he commanded to the metallic pair without taking his focus from Kara where she had paused, both hands now wrapped about the makeshift weapon. To her he said, "Put it down," at the same time as he raised a hand in a calming gesture.

"Make me," she bit out, determined to wreak as much damage on the toaster as possible before she was went down.

"This is not necessary," was his response. Then at her bitter laugh, "You won't be harmed, Kara."

"Trying your hand at stand-up comedy, Doc?" She shifted her grip slightly higher and added, "I'd say stick to your day job, but you kinda suck at that, too."

Ignoring his flinch in response to her words, Starbuck brought the pole up in a diagonal swing that struck Simon at the elbow. The too familiar crack of a breaking bone heralded her success and she twisted to strike back a second time. The pole whispered over his head as Simon ducked away from the awkward weapon and then surged forward to grab her about the throat. His momentum propelled her backwards into the wall and the breath gusted out of her at the impact. He squeezed, and her lungs sought to suck air in around the tightening grip.

Spots blurred her vision as the room started to fade.

The distant sound of metal hitting the ground tinned through the rush of blood in her ears…and the hand about her neck abruptly released her.

Gasping, she bent forward, empty hands propped on her knees as she heard Simon swear.

"Goddamnit, you broke my arm," he cursed through gritted teeth.

Raising her head. "One down. How many to go? Come on, you're the doctor. You should know this," she taunted even though it hurt her raw throat.

She saw sweat beading Simon's face as he held the injured arm across his chest. Her gazed flickered to the Centurions where they stood just behind him, still respecting his command to wait. Her eyes dropped to the floor and the pole where it had fallen a mere foot distant. Before she could act on the impulse to try again, a polished shoe kicked the rod aside and out of reach. Straightening, Starbuck smirked up into the intense brown eyes and watched as the pseudo-man fought down the easily recognizable impulse to strike her.

"I…am…not…your…enemy," each of his words were spaced out for emphasis.

On a huffed laugh, she mocked, "Sure! We go back a long ways," then she closed the half pace between them, letting her body press against his broken arm and feeling his spasm of pain in response to the pressure. "That's why you murdered billions of us, right?" she spat out. Her voice dropped as she took a step back. "Why you tortured me."

"It-it was a mistake." He grimaced, and Kara wasn't sure if it was from the pain or at her accusations. She watched him lick his lips before continuing. "We made a mistake. I know that now."

Her brows rose in disbelief. He had to be frakking kidding?

"A mistake? That's what you call it?" She put her hands on her hips, resisting the urge to hurl herself at the Cylon as she bitterly added, "Try frakkin' genocide, you bastard!"

"I know… I've learned." He sighed and shook his head. "I don't expect you to understand, Captain. Or forgive." He inclined his head toward her. "But I want you to believe me that you're in no danger here. You are not to be harmed." His gaze fell on her bruised throat and he grimaced again before shifting away.

He bent to retrieve the IV pole and, at the movement, gave a little hiss of pain.

When he spoke next, his eyes were hooded, "I'll be back soon…and we can continue our discussion then, Starbuck." With that, he turned and, taking care for his injured arm, gingerly walked from the room.

Kara massaged her throat as the Centurions moved back to their place in front of the opening. Wishing suddenly for a drink, she surveyed the cell once again, realizing for the first time that there weren't any sanitary facilities at all. So, unless they intended to move her to another room soon or escort her at need to the proper facilities, it was likely to get messy in here.

The flashback ambushed her. On a wave of dizziness, Kara staggered to lean, gagging, against the corner of the bed. She slid down as the images reeled her back to another room ripe with the scent of despair.

[ I I I I I ]

"…ptain. Captain Thrace?" The distant voice sounded concerned. "Can you hear me?" The words came clearer now and she lifted her head, blinking dazedly at her hands wrapped around her knees where she had them pulled to her chest.

"Starbuck?"

As her eyes focused, she saw that Simon knelt at her side, his expression stressed. She worked her tongue, trying to moisten a mouth gone dry and loosen jaw muscles cramped with tension. Blinking again, she noted that the Cylon had his left arm immobilized in a cast and sling. Kara shuddered as she realized that she had lapsed into a fugue states again; long enough for Simon to have gotten his arm treated and return.

"Frak," she muttered and swatted away the hand on her arm. "Don't you frakkin' touch me." Climbing to her feet, Kara swayed against the bed, and the hand was on her elbow again to steady her.

"Get off a me!"

She struck out then, and her fist impacted with a satisfying thump, spinning Simon to the side. The momentum of her swing tipped Kara off balance and she partially sprawled over the bed with her cheek pressed into the soft foam of the mattress.

So damned tired. Why couldn't the frakking toasters just leave her alone?

Leveraging a foot under her, Kara managed to shift herself further up onto the bed where she lay, still facedown and shivering in reaction. She heard the swish of material and tensed as she sensed the Cylon coming near, but he kept his hands to himself this time. Apparently the Doc was wising up.

"Increase room temperature by two degrees," he intoned instead, voice flatly professional now and Kara realized that the environmental settings could be verbally adjusted.

Well, if the skin-job wanted to crank up the heat that was just fine by her, she muzzily thought as another shiver spasmed through her.

She lay there tensely waiting as the room warmed, but relaxed as the hiss-clank of the Centurions informed her of Simon's departure. As the shudders subsided, she drifted off once more.

[ I I I I I ]

There was a rhythm to his breathing that Kara immediately recognized as she slowly became aware of her surroundings again. She was tempted to fake sleep, but knew that Leoben wouldn't be fooled, so she instead sat up to face him.

The man—the Cylon—that had figured so prominently in countless nightmares over the past months leaned in shadows against the side wall. Kara didn't need to see his expression to visualize the intensity of his gaze; every plane and angle of his features had been scorched into her psyche over the length of her captivity.

"Hello, Kara," Leoben said, shifting into the light.

Her bare feet hit the floor as she stood to meet him.

"You look like hell," he said, moving closer.

She held to her silence, too many emotions fighting for dominance to come up with a fitting comeback.

"You're too thin." This time his words surged an image to the surface and Kara reflexively choked as she struggled to shake off the memory of him forcing a feeding tube down her throat.

As she regained control of her breathing, she was surprised to see Leoben regarding her with concern tightening the lines of his mouth and brow. He had halted a couple of paces away—and there was a hesitancy in his look now that seemed new to her.

"What do you want?" The question slipped out without thought, and Kara frowned. She already knew what the frakking skin-job wanted from her. Hadn't she heard it ad nauseam? As he opened his mouth to reply, "Yeah, I got it. Fulfill my destiny. Well, I was working on it until you frakkers—" she abruptly broke off, realizing too late what she was saying.

"Kara?" Leoben's eyes narrowed, then abruptly widened as he twitched back. "You've seen it. God's shown you the way and you stepped from the stream?" His tone awed and demanding in one.

Grimly berating herself, Kara sought for some lie, some misdirection to satisfy his obsession. Last thing she dared was tell him that she'd found Earth. If any of the Cylons learned her secret, they'd never stop until they had the location from her. Shame flayed Kara as she remembered how she'd broken before.

No. Not sliding down that hole again.

Gritting her teeth, she mentally crawled free.

In the center of the maelstrom Kara had discovered a purpose. Leoben had been right in that she was destined to be more than to just be a world class frak-up. Now she wasn't about to let him—or her own doubts—strip that path from her. There was a reason that she had felt compelled to enter the cosmic storm, a reason only she had seen the mandala and answered its call. Whatever the gods were planning for her, this time they'd laid course out so simply that even she could see it.

And as that self-depreciating thought flickered through her mind, so too did the image of Lee calling bullshit. Her lips twitched then firmed again. Lee was waiting for her. The entire fleet was and no one probably even knew it. By now they had to have assumed that she was dead, lost forever in the radiation field or to a blind jump. Somehow she had to get back to the Galactica.

Whatever it took.

First order of business was to counter the fervor of Leoben's questions.

"Sorry, not been doing any wadding lately. Just scouting," she said sarcastically.

"In a radiation field?"

Her gaze dropped to his hand as Leoben pulled an octagonal object from his pocket. On seeing him holding her blackened badge, she lifted her eyes.

"Been wondering what happened to that. Girl can't have too many accessories," she said and extended her hand.

Leoben made as if to pass it over, but pulled his hand away at the last moment.

"Scouting for what, Kara? We passed through the same area…and it seemed a gravely inhospitable place." He tilted his head. "What could have possibly drawn you back at this expense?" he asked, lifting the badge to regard the matt-black surface. "Simon says, you took about the limit of a survivable level of exposure. I have to wonder why?"

"I wasn't scouting in, motherfrakker. I was scouting through."

She saw him contemplating her explanation as his fingers stroked the wristband.

"But why scout through," he challenged, emphasizing the word just as she had, "once the fleet had already passed through?What of worth had you left behind? We know they came through and harvested algae on the planet where we found you, so why send you back?"

Something about his words bothered her, but Kara was focused on steering him from the truth. If it was even vaguely possible that a search of the radiation field might lead the Cylons to the mandala—and on to Earth, she had to prevent it at all costs.

She wet her lips and dropped her eyes, feigning shame. "I lost a ship. In the field. One I was escorting. I-I thought there might be some chance—yeah, I know, a frakkin' small chance, but still at least some chance of finding it," she said, trying to appear reluctant at confessing her supposed failure.

Leoben was silent for a long moment until Kara finally looked up. Reflexively reaching out, she snagged the badge mid-air as he tossed it to her. And as her hand closed around the plastic disk, she saw by the disappointed look in his eyes that he knew she was lying.

"Keep your secret—for now. But, Kara, don't play me for a fool," he warned. Then, with a nod towards her clenched hand, "Adama would never have let you go on such a slim chance. Not knowing what that much radiation would do to you."

She frowned in confusion, eyes flicking between the badge and the Cylon.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Come now, Kara. Simon told me. I know what a dose that high means." His words just built on her confusion. Leoben blinked, finally recognizing her non-comprehension. He abruptly stepped forward and grasped her elbows.

"You don't know, do you?" He tightened his grip as she tried to pull free. "They didn't tell you what a level that high meant?"

She kept her lips pursed, a deep unease stirring…and suddenly she didn't want to hear what he had to say. Leoben's pale eyes softened with pity, a look which just strengthened Kara's growing dread.

"Simon told me that the effects of radiation are well documented." He hesitated, easing his hold, but not releasing her as he continued, "The fleet doctor, and your Admiral Adama, had to know that anyone exposed to that much radiation would be rendered sterile…among other things."

Sterile.

Leoben was still speaking, but Kara didn't hear him as she remembered the moments from before the last jump that had puzzled her at the time: Cottle and Ishay's evasive comments, the Old Man's actions in the wardroom…and Lee's readiness to ground her, and then his reluctance to reinstate her, even though he knew that there wasn't really a choice. All the pieces slotted neatly into place. They had known that many—probably most—of the escorting pilots would be damaged by their multiple trips.

They knew…and didn't tell us?

Lee knew?

"…creased risk. They betrayed you, Kara."

Betrayed?

Well, it wasn't the first time.

She swallowed and tried to bring her scattered thoughts back into some semblance of control. So what if the Admiral hadn't told them all the hazards. It wouldn't have really made a frakking bit of difference, she decided. The fleet had been starving. There was food to be had. They just needed to go through the radiation field to get to it. Go from point alpha to beta to cappa. There hadn't been a choice.

Kara, the soldier, understood all that, but the young woman in her was left to grapple with the ramifications and the fresh taste of betrayal.

"Leoben, go away," she flatly said, her arms lax at her sides as she stared past him at the pulsing red along the distant wall.

She felt him studying her, but refused to meet his gaze. After a moment, he dropped his hold and stepped back.

"We can talk later."

She gave a vague nod in acknowledgement and heard the Centurions part to allow him to exit. Murmured words came to her, but Kara didn't shift her line of sight. It was only when Simon appeared in her peripheral vision that she realized that he'd entered as Leoben had left.

He came bearing a tray.

Kara glanced down at the bowl of gruel…

…and promptly turned and was violently ill.