Again thank you to anyone still following this story. I wish I could say the next one wont be so far away but at this point I don't have much hope in that being true. It's either very long breaks between chapters or abandon it. Again, I do write late at night and I can only give up so much sleep.
If it feels like the plot is stalled a bit I promise the next few ( which should be the last few) will power forward.
Thanks again for your time and readership.
NEW CAPRICAN CYLON ADMINISTRATION BUILDING; JOHN CAVIL'S OFFICE
WEEK 46 OF CYLON OCCUPATION
"Well, look at this. On time for once," John mocked as D'Anna entered his office. "Glad you could fit me into your schedule," he continued to prod, eyeing the Three from where he sat with his hands folded smugly at his desk.
"I'm here," she shrugged, dismissing his sarcasm. "As requested."
Though she'd been wary of the One's rise to a more authoritative position among their brothers and sisters since settling on New Caprica she'd recently come to believe that his direction had to be part of the Lord's plan. They'd been stagnant as a race since the attacks on the Twelve Colonies and John seemed to be the only one willing to force their advancement forward. Though they had always worked as a collective, she rationalized that their eldest brother really did understand what they needed as Cylons more than some of the others.
"And that should be the norm," he continued to lecture. "It used to be. In fact you were among our most reliable sisters, Three. Dependable, steadfast and focused. What's going on with you lately?" he inquired, leaning back in his chair and narrowing his eyes at her.
D'Anna licked her lips and folded her arms in front of herself.
"To be honest with you I wasn't sure for some time. I've been suffering with sleepless nights and restlessness," she admitted. "When I do sleep I find myself having vivid dreams that leave me feeling drained as if I've gotten no rest at all."
"You're a machine," John deadpanned. "Deal with it."
D'Anna paused for a moment before forcing herself to smile politely. She had to temper herself in front of the One if she was going to regain his confidence. She desperately needed to be a part of what was coming, a part of what the Oracle had foreseen.
"Surely you recognize, brother, that even as Cylons we can only push these bodies so far. It's just caught up to me and I'm sorry I've been lax in my responsibilities."
"So what's changed now?"
"Clarity," D'Anna stated, her token calm sense of confidence now restored since her visit to the Temple. "Clarity of mind. I want you to know that I am dedicated to our plan of procuring a scion to show us the way of the future."
Despite the conviction of her statement John looked back at D'Anna with a bemused expression.
"The child that is intended to be conceived from Roslin's ovum is meant to be used for research," John asserted. "To explore possible avenues of Cylon reproduction and hybridization. You make it sound so quixotic," he criticized.
The last thing he needed was for her to be caught up in some fanciful religious quest that might vere them off track. They had goals to attain.
"I think it is," D'Anna maintained. "I think it's God's will."
"I think it's my will," John antagonized.
The Three quite literally bit her tongue, breathing steadily through her nose until the wave of vexation subsided.
"I believe the Lord is guiding your hand," D'Anna diplomatically acquiesced.
"Believe what you want, Three, just show up when you're needed," John told her.
D'Anna gave her brother a short nod of acceptance.
"I've been thinking about this endeavor a lot lately," she said, taking a few steps closer to his desk.
"I see. Well, we're still two weeks out until we can officially begin. Simon wants Roslin to be six weeks post-delivery before she starts getting the hormone injections that will ensure the egg harvest. Had you made it on time to the last meeting you'd know that already."
"She's been released. How will those injections be administered unless she's taken in again?"
"We're working on that," John assured her, though his reply was irritatingly lacking details.
D'Anna suspected he wasn't holding back out of spitefulness over her recent shortcomings, but because he didn't have a firm answer to give. Their plan seemed far too hopeful. She didn't like that Roslin was out of custody at all, but she gave him a nod of confirmation despite her misgivings.
"There's something else I've been wondering about," she remarked, deciding that she would at least attempt to get John to share as much with her as possible.
"And that is?"
"Well, if you mean to conceive a child with genetic qualities similar to the child Roslin recently lost then you'll need a Colonial man to father it."
"I know how the birds and the bees work, Three. That's the plan."
"What I mean is, who will it be?"
"I have someone in mind," the One divulged. Only Simon was aware of who John had chosen to use as a donor and he wasn't quite ready to share that bit of intel until he'd secured it as a certainty. "In fact I plan on giving him a visit shortly."
"Someone willing?" D'Anna tested, doubtful that it would be the case.
"Not yet. Might take some convincing. Though, the less he knows the better if we're being frank."
D'anna stared at her brother in silent consideration before deciding that she couldn't refrain from voicing her concern. The child was meant to be key in the survival of their race and vital in their endeavor to please the Lord. It was supposed to be her only hope of ever knowing true love. As little as D'Anna cared for Laura Roslin she was at least an enigmatic force for a human woman. She worried the coming child would be fathered by a common prisoner; some poor unfortunate encampment refugee who had been locked up for breaking curfew or being publicly intoxicated.
"I think we should be very careful about who we choose to add to this child's DNA. It shouldn't be just anyone."
"Listen, Three. I'm glad you've apparently found some reason to pull yourself together, but you let me worry about the details. I called you here today because you need to do more than just proclaim your excitement for the future," John admonished, unimpressed with her probing. "These are tumultuous times. There's no room for Cylons who can't pull their weight. You know what happens to those who can no longer function as part of this…family."
"I don't intend to-"
"What you should intend," he forcibly interrupted, "is to prove yourself. Show me, show the rest of your brothers and sisters that you give a damn and that they should too for frak sake! Cut out the BS, stop being so damn aloof, quit acting like a flake and get it together!"
D'Anna almost took a step back in the face of her brother's shouting and menacing reference to boxing. Instead she steeled herself and stepped forward until her thighs touched the edge of his desk.
"I'll do anything I can to move forward," D'Anna sternly stated, looking down at him in his chair.
The One narrowed his eyes as he held her unyielding gaze.
"While we're trying like hell to look toward our future as a race, our main concern is still existing in the present on this rock we've chosen to call our new home," the One continued as he looked up at her. He leaned further back in his chair so as to fully take in the Three's statuesque frame. She could be quite intimidating when she wanted to be. Maybe not to him, but to others, he presumed. "Col. Saul Tigh has been in detention now for over a week. He's proven to be as strong willed as they come. Despite the increasing severity of the methods we've employed to encourage him to talk he's thus far refused."
John's thoughts immediately went to the Colonel's wife. When Ellen came to him following Saul's most recent arrest it had been much like their other encounters. John had gotten what he wanted, delighting in witnessing the obvious pain in her eyes underneath her poorly feigned enthusiasm. Though he knew it was impossible he'd taken to fantasizing that Ellen would look down upon him mid-frak and somehow recognize the face of her father. The face she'd proudly granted him with as if it were some kind of honor. He imagined the expression of complete horror that would come over her and each time the thought sent a thrill through his entire body.
After Saul Tigh's arrest Ellen had arrived as expected, but for the first time since their arrangement began John sent her home at the end without agreeing to Saul's release. Instead he'd instructed her to keep herself available to him for the time being. He'd told her to return in the evenings after the curfew alarms ceased. He warned her that missing a night would only delay her husband's freedom and might even add to the severity of his detainment conditions. At first Ellen had complied but after the third night in a row of submitting to John's demands, gratifying his desires and taking his abuse without Saul being freed she didn't show up a fourth time. Briefly John considered sending a centurion escort for her, but he decided against it. She'd seemed a bit worse for wear lately; either boozed up, hungover or exhausted. Her body was marked with bruises he'd inflicted himself or that she'd acquired during a drunken stupor. He decided to give her a temporary reprieve to heal up and pull herself together if only for his own benefit. It wasn't as fun frakking her looking like an old worn mop. He knew her well enough to presume that she would be back eventually, but she would be punished for disobeying and so would her husband. That much John was sure of and as he looked up at the Three he had a feeling that this time he wouldn't have to get his own hands dirty to do it.
"I'm placing you in charge of Tigh's interrogation beginning today, Three," the One continued. "And I expect you to get results. If you want to prove your dedication to your race then start by finding out how we can thwart those who intend us the most harm."
D'Anna's brow creased. She'd fully intended to accept whatever John asked of her but it felt an awful lot like he was setting her up for failure.
"You say he won't talk. How am I supposed to get him to confess to anything when no one else has managed to?"
John looked her in the eyes as if he were sizing her up, challenging her.
"Figure it out, Three," he told her. "Get…creative."
NEW CAPRICAN COLONIAL TENT CITY;
COLONIAL MINING TUNNELS
WEEK 46 OF CYLON OCCUPATION
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I know it's a trek," Galen told Laura as the two walked through the underground tunnels that connected the mines. "I know you're still recovering, but since you didn't want to bother Elle this was the closest way," he explained as they trudged on. "Well, I mean- sorry, that's not really true," he clarified. "I could have brought you through Duck McCllen's but to be honest, I didn't want to bother him either. It's kind of late and well-."
"I understand, Chief," Laura offered, quickly putting an end to his apologetic rambling. Her stomach had dropped at the mention of the grieving ex-pilot as her guilt over his wife's death rolled over her in an oppressive wave. "There's a lot of despair these days. No need to disturb those who we know are suffering. Besides, I'm actually feeling significantly better. I'll make it there just fine."
After a week spent at the Cylon medical center Laura had found herself feeling worlds better physically by the time she was released. She almost hated to admit it, reluctant to give them any credit for the improvements, but it was undeniable. Her postpartum bleeding had ceased, the soreness from delivery was nearly gone as was the cramping. Cottle was just as impressed with her recuperation and when he'd examined her upon her release he'd been surprised to find that the internal laceration she'd suffered during childbirth was totally healed.
As miserable as Laura felt emotionally she couldn't ignore the energy she'd regained. Though it had been difficult to avoid breast engorgement while in Cylon custody she'd somehow made it through without alerting them to how much of a struggle it was. The Cylon medical staff had noticed she was still actively lactating but only made passing comments assuring her that it would soon dissipate. Though her supply suffered a bit while she was gone she was able to resume pumping bottles to send to the baby shortly after she'd returned. She was so thankful to the wetnurse who Meri assured had made up for her absence. She was also grateful to hear that there was currently an adequate supply of baby formula available for the foster parents to supplement with.
As relieved as Laura was to be healthy enough to feed her son, she couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right. She felt almost too well considering all she'd been through and she was starting to realize just how strangely resilient her body had become.
She should have been long dead already.
She wasn't.
The odds had been stacked against her being able to conceive and carry a pregnancy to term and yet she'd delivered a healthy baby.
She was tired, stressed and her body was underfed and overworked and yet she felt better than she had in years.
It shouldn't be. It wasn't right. It didn't add up.
Cottle had tried to tell her that the rest, hydration and food that she'd been provided over her weeklong stay at the Cylon hospital had been what helped her heal so swiftly; 'You'd be shocked at what a few nights of proper comfortable sleep and some protein can do for a person,' he'd told her when she'd gone to the med tent to get checked out after her release, but Laura could tell that he was really just as suspicious as she was.
"Glad to hear it, Ma'am," Tyrol told her with a smile.
"Thank you, Chief," she replied as they kept on with their journey.
As well as Laura felt she was tired. Since being released she'd found it hard to sleep, tossing and turning into the early morning hours. After a week in a warm hospital room with fresh clean sheets her tent felt so much colder and her mattress felt even lumpier, but the condition of her dwelling wasn't really to blame. It was her own mind that wouldn't settle long enough to let her rest. As soon as her head hit her pillow with nothing left to distract her Laura would begin to agonize over when the Cylons would take her next and what would become of her son. She worried for Maya and Hera and for Saul Tigh still in detention. She spent hours wondering where Bill was and if she was a fool to think he might still return one day. She contemplated resistance strategy, ruminated over all of the guilt she felt and lamented in the damage that had been caused by her lies.
The last few nights she'd taken to working at her desk for hours just to avoid her bed. She worked on lesson plans for the school and wrote notes of thanks to all of the volunteer teachers who had been helping Maya and Tory to keep things going in her absence. She journaled and she took notes, but inevitably she would become exhausted and retire to her bed where all of her anxieties awaited to keep her from sleep. It was beginning to catch up to her and as she walked beside Chief Tyrol, keeping up with his stride, she felt the weariness deep in her bones.
"I probably shouldn't be asking this," the Chief prefaced with caution in his voice, "but have you heard how the little guy is doing?"
For a moment they walked in silence. Galen glanced over at her and immediately regretted the inquiry as she seemed to be struggling to find her voice to reply.
"I don't know much," she eventually answered. "They tell me he's well, but it's better if I don't get many details."
"I'm sorry, Ma'am," he winced. He hadnt meant to upset her. "I can only imagine how hard it is to be away from him."
Laura swallowed before responding.
"No one warns you how terrifying becoming a parent really is."
"Tell me about it," Tyrol agreed.
For a while more they walked quietly before he made the choice to change the subject.
"Ya know, to be honest we probably could have gone in through the Tigh's tent without even waking Ellen up," he darkly mused. "She sleeps pretty hard when she's been drinking. Pretty positive she was at it all afternoon. I'm sure she's passed out cold."
Laura bit at her lip and she felt her cheeks flush as the memory of Ellen's explosive dismissal echoed in her ears. She'd done her best to push the thought of it out of her mind since it happened. She had more pressing things to worry about, and yet she couldn't help the surge of disappointment that filled her chest each time Ellen came to her mind. She tried to ignore it, letting it pass to be replaced by another rush of fear or grief over some other more egregious matter in her life. She told herself that there was no reason to be hurt. Ellen owed her nothing. She had helped her when she needed it, and now that time was over.
"I wouldn't want to scare her," Laura said as they took another turn. "An uninvited intruder is the last thing she needs."
Tyrol nodded, choosing not to gently clarify to the former president that he'd merely been joking.
His suggestion to enter the Tigh's tent while Ellen was black-out drunk had been in jest, but only in order to bring up the matter that he didn't find humorous at all.
"Cally and I are really worried about her," he confessed, hoping the seriousness of his concern would be conveyed in his tone while they both traveled eyes forward.
"I understand," Laura replied after a beat.
He was slightly disheartened by the flatness in her voice but he continued on anyway.
"She stopped taking Nicky and…I don't know. She's just started to fall apart. I guess there's only so much some people can take. If it was Cally who kept getting arrested I'd be a mess too," he said with a sigh. "We really trusted Elle with the baby. It's been hard to leave him with another sitter. I think he misses her."
Unable to dismiss the young man's concern, Laura could no longer push the thought of Ellen Tigh to the back of her mind. A sense of displaced frustration began to set in and she wasn't sure where it was coming from. Was she mad at herself? Mad at Ellen or mad at the entire situation?
"I don't know Ellen all that well, Chief, but I do know that she cares for your son a great deal. She most certainly wants what's safest for him and she can't trust herself right now," she told him, offering the only response she could confidently say she knew to be true.
Tyrol nodded.
"I guess we should at least be thankful that she was responsible enough to know she couldn't look after him anymore."
"Has Cally tried talking to her?" Laura posed.
"She has, here and there, but it hasn't been much help. And I wish I could say different but Anders is no help either. He misses Kara just as bad as Ellen misses the Colonel. He's fed up with her for the way she's reacting. I think he looks at her and he sees what would happen if he just lost it and couldn't keep his anger and fear and all his grief in check. I don't know if he's mad at her for letting it all out or mad because he can't. Either way, they haven't been speaking much. They're going through the same damn thing and they're just pissed off at each other for handling it differently. He still checks in on her though, makes sure she's okay and all, but he also frakkin' enables her. Uh- excuse my language, Ma'am."
"No need," Laura dismissed. "Enables her?" she echoed, prompting him to continue.
"Keeps bringing her more booze. I swear he makes sure she doesnt go a single night without it. It's frakked up. I told him to stop, but he says he figures she'll get it somehow anyways and it's just safer to bring it to her instead of having her out looking for more."
Laura's fists clenched within the depths of her coat pockets. As unhealthy as his method was, Sam Anders was probably right to try and keep Ellen at home for her own safety. It was a bleak outlook, but Laura understood the man's reasoning in a way. No one had the time, resources or wherewithal to help Ellen cope with her situation. Everyone was either in the same boat or one bad day away from being just as disillusioned. Maybe Sam was justified in trying to minimize the damage she was doing. Or maybe not. Maybe they had all become so demoralized by circumstance that they could no longer see the forest through the trees, Laura considered.
Maybe she was just rationalizing Sam's response because deep down on a less than conscious level she felt the same resentment toward Ellen; the same odd sense of abandonment from someone who had repeatedly encouraged her not to give up, but was now crumbling under the weight of what surrounded them. Ellen had convinced them to have hope and so they did. Now she'd lost hers and where did that leave them?
"We all have to battle our demons…our vices," she stated, knowing that her response left much to be desired.
"I guess," Tyrol replied, finding himself increasingly hesitant to ask what he'd intended, but there was no one else to go to. Cally was worried about Ellen and they'd both agreed they couldn't stand by and just watch the poor woman self-destruct. Not after all she'd done for them. "Do you think you could talk to her, Ma'am?" he posed, flinching at his own suggestion. School teacher or president, Laura Roslin could be an intimidating woman, but there had always been a warmth to her, a side he hoped he could appeal to. It was the same dulcet warmth that had been so evident when she'd convinced the Old Man to let them muster out and settle down to raise their family. He just wasn't sure he was feeling that warmth from her at the moment. Perhaps the unforgiving bitter cold they'd been living in had finally extinguished it. "I mean I know she helped you out a lot over the past few months. You've spent some time together. Maybe she'll listen to you," he suggested, with some hope left in his voice.
Laura didn't reply right away and the pause between them grew dense.
"Ellen Tigh has made it very clear that my help is… unwanted," she eventually told him, leaving it at that.
"Oh." There went that idea, Tyrol thought to himself. So Roslin had already tried and Ellen had pushed her away too. Or maybe she hadn't really tried and she just didn't care enough to make the attempt. Maybe she was just shutting him up. Maybe she just had too much on her own plate to worry about one more damn thing. "Okay. I see. I just figured I'd ask," he relented, trying his best not to convey the level of disappointment he felt.
"I continue to pray for her," Laura added, internally ashamed at how callous she probably sounded to the well-intentioned young man.
"Yeah," Tyrol said, clearing his throat. "Sometimes I wish I still prayed too."
Soon they'd made it to their destination. Upon entering the bunker below the Tigh's tent Chief headed for the com system and took a seat at the desk.
"Just let me boot it up and then I'll show you how it works," he said, but Laura only half nodded in return as she stopped in her tracks, scanning the familiar space.
All evidence of the night of her son's birth was gone except for an outline on the ground where the shipping pallets had been stacked to support the mattress. The pallets themselves had been stripped apart and now sat off to the side as a pile of scrap lumber. A painful lump quickly formed within Laura's throat. She hadn't considered how difficult it would be to return and now all she could think about was the sound of his bleating cries echoing through the tunnels as he was taken away from her.
"Must be kind of weird to be back here, huh?" Tyrol spoke up, unable to to ignore the visceral reaction Roslin seemed to be having.
Laura swallowed down the ache in her throat and tried to push away the haunting memory.
"Yes," she answered, unwilling or unable to reply further.
"Well," Chief began, sensing that she'd rather move on, "if you come over here I'll teach you how to flip through the channels on the communicator."
Laura nodded and made her way over.
Tyrol stood, offering her the chair.
As she sat he took his place leaning over her shoulder.
"Sometimes we can't even get a transmission out. Tonight it seems to be working."
"Thank goodness for small victories, I suppose," she said with a low groan.
It didn't take him long to explain the process. He had to hold back a bit of smirk when the former president slipped a pen and paper from her coat pocket and began to take notes as he spoke; an action which he took to be a sign of her preciseness and diligence rather than an inability to memorize the instructions.
"I think I can handle it for a while," she said once they'd gone over it a few times.
"I'm sure you can, Ma'am. Can I just ask why you wanted to come do this tonight? I mean, believe me, I don't mind. It never hurts to scan for contact but I mean…"
"I know it might seem strange," Laura said with a half smile, "And I know you and your men have it covered. I just thought I might give it a try. I know the Colonel usually comes down and does it at night when he can't sleep. He's been gone for a while this time. When they let me go and I found out he was still detained I just thought…well maybe I'd come down here and do it for him for a little while."
It was mostly true. She wouldn't tell him that it was yet another avoidance tactic she'd come up with in order to put off her nightly battle with insomnia. She also wouldn't share the feeling of foreboding she'd been experiencing over Saul Tigh's detainment. She didn't know why but this time she was more than afraid for him. She worried great harm had come to the Colonel and she wondered if they would ever even see him again. She couldn't continue on her own without him. The resistance would have to lead itself.
"I get it, Ma'am," Tyrol offered with a polite nod.
"I think maybe it's also that I want to feel like I'm doing something," Laura posed. "Something useful. Maybe I'm hoping that reaching out and scanning for a signal will make me feel closer to the fleet."
The fact that their hopeful signals had to travel through a nearly immeasurable expanse into the void of space was not lost on Laura. In fact it felt a lot like prayer; pleading desperately to the gods without knowing if they were even listening.
"If we're to believe your informant and the recent documents you've been getting then there's always the chance that they're out there. You never know."
Tyrol's supposed informant had been leaking them documents from the office of the president for months now but the drops had recently become more frequent. One document that reported recent Cylon interference of a possible Colonial signal was the best news they'd received in ages. Perhaps someone from the Fleet was out there after all.
"Hey, maybe you'll be our good luck charm," Tyrol mused.
"Maybe."
"I'm actually going to head up and check if there's been another drop. I figure if there's anything new we might as well go over it tonight before you head back home. It'll take me a little less than an hour to get there and back."
"Sounds like a plan," Laura agreed with a nod.
"Yes, Ma'am. If you should have an emergency, if anything happens just use the ladder to Tighs. Don't try and make it back through the tunnels on your own. Just get up there and bang the hatchway as hard as you can. I was half kidding before. It's not easy to wake Ellen up but she'll hear it eventually."
"I'm sure I'll be fine."
"If there's a power outage there's a fully charged flashlight in the drawer. If anyone comes down here who shouldn't be, Cylon, human, whatever, I want you to reach under the desk, take hold of that big yellow wire and pull. Cut off the power quick as you can."
"Got it."
"I'll be back."
"Thank you, Chief."
Once the sound of Tyrol's boots trudging back through the tunnels became too far to reach her ears Laura made her first attempt at sending out their distress signal.
Unsurprisingly it went unanswered by anything other than the empty screech of dead air.
She tried another channel and then another until she was halfway down the available transmissions. It wasn't as if she'd truly expected to make contact, but the persistent reminder that they likely still remained abandoned and alone was more dejecting than she'd considered it would be.
Needing a break from the discouraging task Laura leaned back and stretched in the rickety chair hoping it would hold up as it creaked under her movements. When she relaxed her eyes once again went to the open space of the bunker. She tried to recall the way it had looked the last time she'd been there. The bright light that Sam Anders had rigged over the bed for Doc Cottle was gone, probably needed elsewhere. She imagined the light that had shone down upon her body during her most vulnerable moment now shining down upon the hands of resistance members as they built bombs. Laura felt herself flinch at the thought of how the light had blinded her when Cottle turned it on, how she'd instinctively covered her newborn son's eyes too, even though he'd yet to even open them. She could remember the relief she'd felt as the doctor assured her that she wasn't bleeding to death and then turned off the blazing white brightness allowing a fleeting moment of comfort to wash over her.
Laura looked back to the console, half considering another attempt before her focus returned to the site of her son's delivery.
Laura wondered if she would ever tell Bill about it, if she'd recount all that had happened, all that he'd missed of his son's arrival into the world. For some reason she couldn't imagine it. How could she possibly abridge that night for anyone who hadn't been there?
But, Bill wasn't just anyone, she sternly reminded herself.
He was the father of her baby. Why should the notion of one day giving him her own account of the event feel so strange to her?
He'd been there for the child's conception for frak sake.
And yet somehow Will's birth felt like something different, something beyond the level of physical intimacy. In fact, in Laura's recollection it all felt closer to a miraculous religious experience that could never be described to someone who hadn't been a witness to its glory. As fearful and anguished as Laura had felt that night, in her memory she knew that she'd been profoundly and almost etherically encircled by the protective tending of the women around her. From the hours she'd spent laboring with Maya by her side and being ushered to safety under the moonlight by Tory, to Lane Ishay and Meri Brigid's vigilant care and Ellen Tigh's impassioned supportive embrace; it was like a well practiced ancient ritual with each woman performing her goddess given task. In Laura's perception time had stood still that night as those women guided her through something she'd never thought possible.
She bit down on her lip hard, cursing herself over the level of self-aggrandizing running through her mind. She would be lucky as frak to ever see Bill Adama again, she scolded herself, let alone get the chance to inform him that their child even existed. How could she sit there contemplating what she'd keep from him if he ever returned, as if his absence had rendered him unworthy?
Laura rubbed at her temples and let out a yawn. She was past overtired and starting to feel like it was affecting the way she was thinking. She'd made a mistake by coming down to the com-system when she really needed the rest.
Pushing away the control panel, Laura folded her arms on the desk and rested her head down upon them hoping a moment of quiet meditation might help her refocus.
She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, choosing to concentrate on the steady hum of the com-system computer. The mechanical droning was not unlike the constant whir of Galactica and Laura found it surprisingly calming to listen to. At some point the battlestar had become a comfort to her, a comfort well beyond its purpose of defense. The irony was not lost on Laura that the only place she'd felt any peace or solace in her recent memory was a warship. The nights she spent aboard Galactica in guest quarters or in Bill's bed had been some of the most restful she'd experienced since fleeing the Colonies. Of course she knew the reassurance she felt had not simply come from the thrumming sounds of its bulkhead, yet the steady vibrations had served to underscore an undeniable sense of protection and relief she'd come to associate with the ship.
Though she couldn't truly pinpoint when exactly it had occurred, Laura chose to assume that her child had been conceived aboard Galactica rather than on the cold surface New Caprica. It didn't really matter, and yet she couldn't fathom anything so precious coming from the prison of a planet. It made her feel better to believe that her baby had been made in the warm confines of his father's ship as it hummed around them.
Laura told herself twice to lift her head as she grew drowsy at the sound of the machine droning on, but she didn't move and eventually the noise had lulled her to sleep.
Her body rested soundly at the desk within the quiet bunker, but in her mind Laura was racing through the tunnels that once again echoed with the haunting cries of her baby. She was running toward him, at least she hoped she was as the sound of his wailing reverberated throughout the subterranean maze in all directions.
Her heart pounded in her chest and her breathing was strained, but she couldn't feel her feet trouncing upon the dirt floor as she ran. Had she not felt the other visceral signs of her exertion she would have thought she was floating.
Laura ran and ran through the endless labyrinth until suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks when she came upon a split in the mine tunnels. To the left Will's cries continued to ring clearly through the passage's depths. To the right Laura found another path, one that was poorly lit and winding. At first she wasn't sure as to why she'd stopped instead of just racing down to the left where she could hear her baby the strongest, but as she peered into the darkness to the right her eyes began to adjust and soon she saw a hint of movement yards away just before the tunnel made an abrupt turn. Unable to stop herself Laura cautiously ventured closer and closer until she could finally make out what it was she was seeing.
There was Hera again, just as she had found her in a dream once before, alone and wobbly on her feet about thirty yards away.
"Hera, sweetie?" Laura called as the child's chubby little legs gave way and she fell to her knees. "Stay put. I'll be right there," she instructed, but as she began to attempt to sprint forward she felt impossibly sluggish. It was like she was treading water. Her movements were strained and the harder and faster Laura tried to run the slower she went.
Panic quickly set in as the toddler began to crawl toward the turn in the tunnel.
"Hera, no no, sweetheart," Laura told her. "Stay there."
Laura powered onward but Hera was quick on her tiny hands and knees and heading into the shadows where Laura knew she wouldn't be able keep eyes on her. Behind her she could still hear the sounds of Will's cries but they were getting further and further away. All she had to do was grab Hera and then she would be able to turn back and head toward her son with the girl in tow. Once she had both of them she could make sure that they were safe.
"Hera, baby, stay there where I can see you," Laura shouted again, causing the toddler to momentarily glance back over her shoulder before continuing on all fours into the blackness.
"Hera!" Laura yelled again, becoming more and more panicked as she lost sight of her and Will's crying began to sound softer and even more muffled.
Finally Laura was at the apex of the tunnel. Hera could have only crawled a couple of feet into the turn. It had only been a few seconds, at least she thought it had. Time felt strange.
"Hera!?" Laura called as she took the curve in the path following the girl's scurrying.
She squinted in the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust but once they did there was no child at her feet. She looked forward to find an empty tunnel that went on far longer than Hera could have gotten on her own.
"Hera," Laura cried out again, her voice cracking in her ears, but the girl was gone and now the mining tunnels were eerily silent.
Her throat went tight and her stomach sank.
Laura stood in place not knowing what to do next.
They were both gone. There was no sign of either of them. Her sweet innocent babies had vanished. Suddenly she was enveloped by the crushing notion that not only would she never be able to save them no matter how hard she tried, but that she was the one who had set them each on a path of constant peril. Laura's heart began to flood with the molten anger of every battle she'd ever waged throughout her life only to end up alone in the end.
She opened her mouth to scream.
A gasp escaped instead.
"Ma'am!?" Tyrol exclaimed as Laura shot up from the top of the desk.
"Oh my gods."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?"
"Yes. No. I mean- I'm sorry I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"It's okay, it's alright, Ma'am. Hey, I get it. We're all exhausted, but you're sure okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine. I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have come. I didn't realize how tired I was."
"That's okay. It's a boring job. I've nodded off down here before myself. Colonel does it all the time. I've woken him up with a lit cigarette still hanging out of his mouth at least half a dozen times."
Laura cringed as Saul's face flashed in her mind's eye.
"Gods I hope he's okay," she prayed in a trembling whisper.
"Yeah. Me too," Tyrol sighed.
He watched her for a few moments wishing that he had some water to offer as she attempted to catch her breath and regain her composure. He glanced around the bunker briefly on the off chance that someone might have left a canteen somewhere, but potable water wasn't often forgotten about or left behind on New Caprica. For a split second he looked up to the exit hatch as the thought crossed his mind that he could try and wake Ellen to ask her for some.
"I'm fine," Laura announced, almost as if she could sense his frantic thoughts. "I'm fine, Chief," she repeated.
Galen looked down at her and nodded in acceptance. Her voice was back to its steady reassuring tenor and once she was able to look up at him he found the unremitting confidence that he usually saw in her eyes.
"Assuming you didn't have any luck," he said, nodding toward the computer.
"I only scanned half the channels," Laura frowned, disappointed that she'd wasted her time down there
"That's okay for tonight," Tyrol attempted to console her. "There wasn't anything for us in the drop location."
"Damn," Laura swore in frustration as she rubbed her eyes with her open palms.
"C'mon, Ma'am. It's late. I'll take you home."
NEW CAPRICAN SHIPYARD
COLONIAL 1
PRESIDENT GIAUS BALTAR'S QUARTERS
WEEK 46 OF CYLON OCCUPATION
"Do you still plan to warn her?" Gaius asked as he leaned back on his pillow propped up in bed.
"Yes. I mean…if I can," Caprica answered from where she sat perched on the side of the mattress still nude from their lovemaking.
She'd already failed once at telling Laura Roslin what was in store for her if John's plan was successful. The opportunity hadn't presented itself again and soon a week had passed and Simon had discharged her.
"She's been released now," Gaius noted. "Should be your chance."
He watched Caprica's bare shoulder blades rise and fall with a sigh before she reached down to grab her discarded camisole.
"I considered that," she admitted while slipping the satin garment over her head. "but I can't just walk up to her tent. She's being watched far more closely this time. Any unsanctioned interaction she has with a Cylon would surely be reported. And I have her reaction to consider," she noted, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Depending on how she responds she could link it back to me."
"Which is why you can't trust her," Gaius warned, reaching for a bottle of pills, uncapping it and shaking whatever was left into his mouth.
His conscience was at odds with itself. He abhorred what the Cylons planned to do to Laura Roslin but he very much feared losing the only person alive who still thought anything of him. He gulped down the medication hoping it would quiet the warring contradictions in his mind.
Caprica cringed as she watched Gaius dry-swallow the pills and toss the empty bottle toward the foot of the bed. She turned back and bent down to reach for her panties on the floor. She stood to slide them back up her legs before sitting back down on the bed with a heavy sigh.
"D'Anna…" she began, trailing off in thought, reconsidering if she should even bring up the Three's recent struggle.
Their relationship with the other Cylon woman was strange. They weren't close. Not only that but D'Anna knew full well how Caprica had been the one to crack her head open back in Caprica City. Yet the Three had managed to find her way into their bed a handful of times since the occupation began. Caprica had been reluctant to share Gaius at first but she'd also been so eager to please him after they'd reunited that she'd given in to satisfy him. In a strange sense she supposed it also felt like a way to repent to her sister for the violent act she'd committed against her. Eventually she'd come to feel that Gaius enjoyed their times together a little too much and when Caprica found that she could no longer be sure that Gaius would turn D'Anna away if she ever came to him alone she'd put a stop to their occasional trysts.
"Yes?" Gaius prompted.
"She's been having some issues lately," Caprica began despite her hesitation. "It's ironic, you know? When I first downloaded after the initial attacks on the Colonies were over it was D'Anna who had me speak to Boomer about how disconnected and alone we both felt. Now it's D'Anna herself who seems distracted and lost."
"What's she have to do with this?" Gaius frowned.
He had quite the attraction to the Cylon Three but he did feel intimidated in her company even without the presence of weapons or centurions. There was something about her eyes. Sometimes when he looked into them it was akin to the feeling of being burned by ice.
"John. He's fed up with her," Caprica went on. "She more or less missed a meeting the other day and while he was berating her he mentioned- he mentioned boxing."
"Boxing," he repeated, a befuddled frown forming on his face as the Colonial sparring sport momentarily came to mind. "Boxing," he said again, with the alarm of sudden recall. "You mean taking her offline?"
Caprica nodded, turning toward him and wringing her hands.
"Removing her from circulation within her line, taking her out of the stream."
"The stream."
"Our network, what connects us all," she clarified, though she'd explained the concept to him more than a few times before. "I'm not sure he was exactly serious," she half shrugged in an attempt to quell her own anxieties. "I think it was an empty threat. A decision like that would need a majority vote anyway. But just hearing him refer to it as a punishment was…concerning."
"Concerning," Gaius echoed.
"Frightening," she amended, admitting her fear. "It's not supposed to be a punishment. Not really. It's for a Cylon's own safety or the safety of other Cylons around them. Used only when there's no other choice. Somewhere along the line it's become a prison sentence."
What Caprica planned to do was far more treasonous than D'Anna's recent absentmindedness. If John thought the Three was deserving of being boxed for failing to be productive he would have no qualms doing it to a Cylon who intentionally jeopardized his plan.
"Then stay out of it," Gaius sternly advised. "I'm sorry, but your good deed isn't likely to change much."
"It will for me," Caprica told him, her voice soft but unwavering.
"I see," he said, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.
"No," she replied, reaching out to rest her hand atop his, "you don't. But that's okay. I'm not asking you to understand."
Gaius closed his eyes for a moment and felt them sting from the dry stale air of the grounded ship. After a moment he offered her a slight nod of acceptance.
"I don't have much time left," Caprica began again. "There's less than two weeks until they start administering the hormonal injections to get Laura's body ready for the egg harvest."
Gaius' eyes opened and he snorted over the sheer arrogance of the Cylon plan.
"You think she'll just let your doctors and medics start pricking her with mystery shots? Are you mad?" he scoffed.
"Simon still thinks it's best for her hormonal levels if she's less stressed. He wants the majority of the injections to be given while she's out free. The plan is for a Cylon nurse to administer them under the guise of vitamin supplements. They plan to tell Roslin that her latest blood work showed a dangerous deficiency and that they are there to help. The nurse will be with a centurion escort and maybe even a police officer. Roslin will have the choice to accept the daily shot or be detained and have it administered in our hospital. They figure she won't likely fight it when faced with little choice."
"Oh, that should help with her stress levels. Wonderful. Good plan."
"Simon figures it's better than having her locked up and shackled for days on end. He says if we do that then it might not work."
"And then what? Then you arrest her anyway and steal her ovum?"
"At the end of the hormonal regimen she'll be brought back to the hospital. When she's ready she'll be given a final trigger shot to release the matured eggs in preparation for the procedure. She'll undergo the harvest and then…I'm sure there will be an attempt to create a viable embryo. It just won't be implanted in her womb. They'll use a surrogate. Laura's part in the endeavor will be over."
"No. It wont. She'll have been violated and stolen from. And there is no end to that. Understand? Not to mention that a woman with her cancer history and genetic predisposition shouldnt be given the type of hormonal alterations you're suggesting. It will never be over for her. She'll live with the repercussions for the rest of her life."
Caprica's face flushed red in a mix of anger, shame and frustration.
"Maybe it won't get to that," she mustered up the ability to reply.
Gaius shook his head and closed his eyes in disgust. They were beginning to feel heavy from the medication he'd taken.
Letting out a low groan he rubbed at his temples with his thumbs.
"My Godsson," he spoke after a moment, "he was conceived that way. Created in a lab from his parents sperm and egg, then born from a hired surrogate carrier," he remarked as he let his head fall back heavily onto his pillow, the effects of the drugs beginning to fully set in. "Of course it was consensual. Lords know his parents very much wanted him."
"I didn't know you had a Godchild," Caprica said, inching herself closer to his side of the bed. "You never told me."
Of course he hadn't told her, she chastised herself. He hardly told her anything truly personal during their time together back on Caprica. She'd found out about his convalescent father well into their relationship and he'd become enraged when she did, even when she'd only wanted to help him take care of the poor old man.
"My lab partner and his wife," Gaius said, lifting his chin as he thought of them. "They used the method after trying all other avenues to conceive."
"Why have you never mentioned him?" she pressed, despite her better judgment.
Back on Caprica she'd convinced herself that he had his reasons for keeping much of his personal life from her. She'd always told herself that things would change. She supposed now they had. Gaius was far more open and vulnerable with her than he'd once been, but it had taken blowing his life to dust for it to happen.
"Because I was a shit Godsfather. That's why," he snapped, snatching his cigarette case from where it sat on the bed by his thigh. "Don't know why they chose me in the first place for frak sake," he griped as he began searching for a lighter among the sheets and pillows that surrounded him.
After a moment of watching him struggle Caprica reached for the bedside drawer where she knew she'd easily find one. Once she located the lighter she tossed it to him and Gaius lit his cigarette with no offer of thanks.
"Adrian, my lab partner…" he spoke again, stopping to blow out a long stream of smoke "…he was a good man. A better friend than I deserved most times. He was from Gemenon and I helped him get his visa so he'd be able to continue working with me on Caprica as long as possible. I introduced him to the woman who became his wife and the mother of his child."
"It sounds like you were a good friend to him, Gaius," Caprica observed, encouraged to hear that he'd once maintained such a positive connection to someone. "That's why he chose you."
"I didn't stay a good friend. Money, success, women…distractions."
Caprica frowned at his admission as she watched him take another long drag.
"What was the boy's name?"
"Petyr," he replied, looking down into his lap. "I even loaned them part of the funds they needed to pay the surrogate. I hadn't been following what they were going through all that closely but when Adrian mentioned how they were struggling and how expensive the fee was going to be I offered to help."
"That was very kind of you, Gaius. You helped their dream come true," Caprica noted, but he had no reaction to her compliment.
"Just after the baby was born they moved to Leonis. I visited a few times here and there, but I hardly saw the boy. Of course as his Godsfather I went to his naming ceremony. I even made it to his first birthday party. I spent one Saturnalia with them skiing at a resort. I remember that holiday I did bring dozens of gifts for him trying to make up for the long gaps between visits," Gaius recounted as he dropped his cigarette into a discarded drink upon his nightstand. "After a while I just stopped keeping up with the things I was supposed to do. I had my personal assistant send birthday cards each year and a generous check whenever Saturnalia and Kronia came back 'round. All of it was out of a sense of obligation, maybe some guilt. Every now and then I'd catch up with Adrian on the phone and I'd have to remind myself to enquire about Petyr's wellbeing, schooling, health, all the things I knew I should have cared to know. Adrian would reply with pride like any good father, telling me all about his son, but I can admit now… I hardly listened. Adrian was always kind about it. Never complained or asked much of me," Gaius recalled as he winced and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "The last thing I did for him was write a letter of recommendation to aide in Petyr's acceptance to a prestigious private primary school in Luminere. Adrian had called and asked me for the letter. He told me if Petyr were to have a letter from his famous Uncle Gaius he was sure to get in. Of course I'd agreed to do it, but for weeks I kept putting it off. The night I finally sat down to write the damned thing I realized I had no business doing so at all. I didn't know the boy. I had no idea what subjects he excelled at, or if he played an instrument. I didn't know if he enjoyed Juniors League Pyramid or if he participated in any clubs. I had not a clue," he said, pausing to try and gulp down an unexpected swell of emotion, but it was no use and his tears began to run freely. "It was the first real thought I'd given him in years. I felt terrible."
Caprica looked at him as she ran her fingers through his hair, stroking it back from his forehead.
"You should never have agreed to it when he was born," she softly chastised, sympathetic to his apparent remorse, but unwilling to excuse his failure. She'd done so far too many times and she refused to do so when it concerned an innocent child. "It was an honor that was given to you by his parents, to guide and protect him. You should have told them that you couldn't follow through."
Gaius grimaced and sniffed at her words.
"Adrian should have known better than to ask me," he attempted to justify. "Though, I do recall feeling rather touched when he did. It felt quite nice to know that I had a friend close enough to request something like that of me. Maybe he only asked me because I helped pay for the child's conception and he felt they owed it to me. Either way, you're right I suppose," he admitted with a half shrug. "I agreed without considering what it truly meant."
Caprica smiled sadly, giving him a nod of compassion. Gingerly she began to settle down beside him but suddenly Gaius leaned away from her touch.
"Suppose none of it bloody matters now. That primary school is probably a pile of radiated rubble and Adrian and his family perished as well thanks to you and yours," he bitterly added, reminding her that their blood was on her hands.
He'd tried to locate the little family within the fleet for weeks after the fall before finally giving up. They were the only ones he'd actually looked for. After some time he'd accepted that they weren't among the survivors. One night while working in his lab on Galactica sitting among hundreds of vials of blood samples he'd begun fiddling around with the contents of his wallet as a means of avoidance. He'd wondered why he even still had it in his possession; all of his bank cards and identification now useless. As he thumbed through his leftover worthless cubits and a few old restaurant valet tickets he found something unexpected. A folded photo of Adrian. It had been taken years before after a ceremony they'd attended where they'd both been given an award for something he could no longer remember. When he'd moved out of their formerly shared laboratory it was one of the last personal items left stuck to the wall of his office space. He'd forgotten that he'd grabbed it and placed it in his wallet before walking out of the door for the last time.
Sick of the bogus Cylon detection task that surrounded him and distracted by the memory of his friend, Gaius had stood up with the photo of his lost friend in hand and left Galactica's lab. He made his way to the ship's wall of remembrance and tacked Adrian's picture among the lost. At the time he'd wished he had a photo of his wife or of Petyr. Their faces were already forgotten to him.
As tears began to steam down Gaius' cheeks
Caprica reached for him again. This time he allowed her to settle beside him in bed.
"Gaius," she said as she held him while he quietly wept.
For a moment she considered expressing some words of consolation or comfort, but she continued to hold him in silence instead. There was nothing comforting to be said to him, nothing that was true at least, and she had learned to value the moments of clarity when he would recognize his mistakes and feel true guilt or remorse. She cherished the same moments for herself. They helped her feel alive.
He didn't reply and soon he was asleep in her arms; she assumed finally sedated by whatever pills he'd taken.
As she lay there with him she tried to picture Gaius holding his infant Godson years ago at his naming ceremony and despite all of his admitted selfishness she felt a surge of warmth over the image of him with an innocent baby in his arms.
She wasn't totally delusional. She was well aware it was highly improbable that they would ever have a child but the fact that the hybrid Hera had been conceived and born gave her a hope that she would never fully let go of.
She was aware that her desire to have a child with him had recently become stronger even as their relationship continued to weaken.
Since the day she'd first been sent to monitor Laura Roslin's pregnancy she'd become enamored with the idea. The whole process fascinated her. She found so much beauty in it all. She couldn't help but sometimes look at the expectant women as if she were a divine being, creating life where there was none before. It all seemed so miraculous. Watching Laura's belly grow and seeing the images of her baby within the womb had been one of the most marvelous things Caprica felt she'd ever witnessed. She'd been almost entranced. As unlikely as it was she often dared to wonder what it would be like to experience it all for herself. To receive the most precious gift.
Her thoughts went to Laura's son, the little miracle that had resulted from it all. Little Atlas, as his foster mothers called him. Caprica had been moved to protect the child before he was even born. Now she was actively keeping his existence from anyone who might wish to do him harm.
While Laura was detained in the Cylon hospital Caprica had secretly arranged for a box of cloth diapers and blankets to be dropped off at the foster home door as her guilt and worry ate away at her. She wondered how long she would be able to keep it up. A New Caprica that was safe enough for Laura Roslin to openly raise her son herself would be a planet that Cylons would probably have no place on. What was the endgame? What was she hoping would happen? Caprica didn't know what to pray for anymore.
As her eyes grew heavy she considered that she was much like an unseen Godmother to the child and the thought brought a faint smile to her lips. She understood that the little boy might never know or understand how she'd helped him or his mother, but she knew she'd keep doing so anyway for as long as she possibly could.
NEW CAPRICAN CYLON RESIDENTIAL BUILDING; RESIDENCE OF LEOBEN CONOY
WEEK 46 OF CYLON OCCUPATION
"Kara?" Leoben spoke from where he sat on the opposite side of the sofa staring at her. "Do you want children?" he asked as casually as if he were asking if she wanted sugar in her tea.
Kara looked up with an immediate scowl. Neither of them had said anything in nearly an hour. Why Leoben had chosen to break the silence with such a strange question was beyond her.
"Not that it's any of your business, but no," she told him, glaring from her side of the couch.
Leoben frowned at her reply and she wasn't sure if he was disappointed with her answer or her snide cadence.
"Why not?" he asked after a pause. "Is it because of your past?" he prompted, causing her to let out a low groan of disgust. She looked away from him, avoiding eye contact. "You're not your mother, Kara," he continued, knowing it would regain her focus. "I'm positive you'd never hurt a child."
Kara squinted at him, annoyed that he was obviously baiting her into some sort of reaction.
"Would you please shut up?"
"I think you'd be surprised at what a good mother you'd be," Leoben offered as he leaned forward in his seat.
Kara rolled her eyes, shifting further into the cushions and away from his leering.
"Yeah, well your doctor friend probably frakked up any chance of that after what he did to me back on Caprica so it doesn't even matter what I want," she bitingly reminded him.
"Only one ovary was taken, Kara," he contested. "The other remains fully functional. The exam I took you to just a couple of weeks ago showed you to be quite healthy."
"You mean the exam you forced on me?" Kara shot, staring daggers at him.
She'd tried to block the entire experience out of her mind. She couldn't remember what they'd done to her and so she decided not to try and figure it out. Thinking of it just made her angry and sick to her stomach.
"Besides…" Leoben began again, ignoring Kara's animosity, "there are other ways. Raising a child that's not your blood could be just as rewarding. A child in need of someone to love and protect them," he proposed.
Kara kept her eyes forward trying not to give him the opportunity to read her facial expression or look too deeply into her eyes to search for more strings to pull.
"You know, Kara," the Two continued. "I do see a child in our future."
"Fat frakking chance," Kara scoffed.
She didn't like the topic of conversation and though the way Leoben looked at her always made her feel uneasy, something about the way he was currently watching her had her unnerved more than usual.
She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms, further avoiding his fixation. She reminded herself to take a moment to calm down, suspicious that he was only luring her into another attack. She was beginning to feel as though he took pleasure in getting under her skin enough to incite physical outbursts, like it was some perverse predilection he'd developed. She could tell the times she'd actually attempted to murder the Two angered and upset him deeply, but something told her that he'd begun to enjoy her more abrupt minor assaults; maybe because they were the only times she willingly put her hands on him.
The last time he'd succeeded in provoking her into violence was when he'd claimed Adama had a stillborn son. It hadn't gotten very far. He'd stopped her before it escalated. Kara still didn't know if she believed him about the Old Man and the baby or not. It was peculiar that only a week later he was bringing up the topic of procreation. Perhaps it really was true, she considered. Maybe that's why it was on his mind. If it was true she wondered what condition Roslin was in. Was she still out there leading the resistance with Col. Tigh? Did Adama actually knock her up? Had she really carried a baby for months only to have to have him die before he was even born? If it was true, was it the strain of the rebellion that caused it or just an unfortunate act of nature? Or was it the Cylons who harmed the child? Had there ever really been a baby at all? What would be the purpose of such a lie?
"What are you thinking of Kara?" Leoben asked, interrupting her spiraling ruminations.
She ignored him, groaning into her hands.
She hated that his prodding was successfully instigating thoughts that she couldn't help but ponder, but she'd die before she admitted as much to him. He knew how to play her far too well and no matter how aware she was of it she continually struggled against his constant manipulations.
The intrusive thoughts had been triggered; probably exactly as the Two had intended and now Kara wasn't able to stop herself from wondering if Lee and Dee had perhaps already started a family aboard Pegasus or if they would one day soon.
It wasn't something Kara had ever wanted for herself. The instinct wasn't there and though Leoben pretentiously assumed it was only because she feared she'd be a failure as a parent that wasn't the sole reason she'd never felt the urge to have a child. She and Zak had never planned to have kids. They'd been content with one another and happy to keep on advancing in their military careers side by side without the burden of a family to raise at home. Kara considered that if he'd lived perhaps Zak would have eventually changed his mind. They'd both been so young afterall. What would she have done then? It suddenly occurred to her that she and Sam had never even really discussed it and she winced at how foolish it was of them. They'd gotten married so fast.
"I think we would do well raising a child together," Leoben said with a subtly expectant smile, just waiting for her response.
"What in the hell would make you think that?" she balked.
"Your determination and will to live combined with my spiritual clarity. Your beauty and my sense of devotion and loyalty. I think any child of ours would be a blessing to this world."
Kara's eyes narrowed, disgusted by the thought.
"Get this through your thick toaster skull; it's never going to happen."
Leoben smirked at her outburst, relaxing back into the cushions of his seat with an eerie look of satisfaction in his eyes.
"Never say never, Kara. Only God knows the future."
BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
RECREATION ROOM
The rec-room aboard the battlestar was hardly a traditional venue for a wedding reception and yet the space was filled with laughter and cheers and the sounds of glasses and bottles clinking in joyful celebration.
"Congratulations to both of you," Bill said for not the first time that night as he joined the newlywed couple where they sat at a card table, each grinning ear to ear. "I mean it.
"Thank you, Sir," Helo replied. "And thank you for this," he added, gesturing with his beer bottle in hand. "Your approval, your support. It means everything to us. Everything."
Bill nodded in silent acceptance of his words.
His decision to allow the couple to wed was a contentious subject to many. Though there were many fellow fleet members who had shown up to celebrate the union of Karl Agathon to his Cylon bride there were noticeable absences; those who had simply made it a point to avoid the ceremony and afterparty and others who had made formal complaints leading up to the event. Even Lee and Dee had decided not to attend. Not because they didn't want to but because Lee felt it would only add to the uneasiness the marriage was causing much of the crew aboard Pegasus.
As word of the coming wedding spread among the rest of the fleet Bill found himself defending his choice to several ship captains and it had not been easy. Though the fleet's escape from New Caprica's orbit had left them without a government and in a default state of martial law Bill still felt pressure to justify his decisions and several times he'd felt his confidence wavering as he attempted to explain himself. When it came down to it Bill knew he'd allowed his heart to override his head where the Agathons were concerned and admitting that to anyone would do him no favors. Especially when he would soon need to defend Sharon's approaching active duty status as well.
"I'm glad to see you both so happy," he told them, sitting his drink down on the table. "I wish we could have done more for you as far as a reception but-"
"No, this is great," Helo insisted. "It's more than we really could have hoped for."
"It is," Sharon agreed as they all looked around the room at their cohorts laughing and drinking.
She'd never dreamed of a wedding with a long gown and flowers. She'd never dreamed of falling in love. For the longest time she'd never dreamed at all. Her life now was something she'd never fathomed before meeting Karl. Simple as it was, she thought their wedding was wonderful.
"Apollo and Dualla send their congratulations," Bill began to explain."They wanted to be here it's just-"
"We understand, Sir," Helo interjected.
Bill nodded in acknowledgement. It would take time for the fleet to accept and he was sure that many never would no matter how much time went by.
"Hotdog sure is enjoying himself," Bill snarked, looking over at the young pilot who was clearly well past drunk and still going.
"He'll pay for it in the morning," Helo chuckled as they all watched him sway, unaware that he was spilling half of his beer while enthusiastically telling Kat a slurred story. "Wait til' I get him at morning briefing."
"Maybe not," Bill smirked, turning his attention back to the couple. "The XO will be on his honeymoon afterall."
"Sir?" Helo tested, his brow curiously creased.
"I want to offer you two a few days R&R. It's not much, but at least take some time to enjoy yourselves. I'd encourage you to head to one of the civilian ships, but under the circumstances I think it's safer if you stay here," Bill advised.
He could only do so much for them. The situation wasn't normal and though he was asking their military family to accept them he couldn't predict how civilians would react.
"We understand," Sharon told him.
Sometimes she could hardly believe he'd ever allowed her out of her cell, let alone granted her all of the trust and opportunities she was presently experiencing.
"I can give you a few nights in guest quarters, Bill offered with a shrug. "Bigger bed, nicer head. Little bit quieter. It's what the President usually stays in," he added, regretting his words as he saw the slight amusement in their eyes. Living aboard Galactica they were well aware of when Roslin had quit using guest quarters and started to stay with him overnight.
"That'd be great," Helo smiled.
"Honestly, Admiral," Sharon added, "we're so thankful that you've allowed us spousal quarters over the last few months. We're more than happy to just be there. It's our home now."
Bill nodded, acknowledging her appreciation but his decision to house the couple together without the typically required marriage license had come more out of practicality than anything else. He couldn't have her stay in the barracks while people were still getting used to the idea of her being free. He wasn't going to lock her back up even if it was for her own protection. She was safest with Helo in their own space.
"Take the guest room for a night at least," Bill encouraged.
"Sure," Helo accepted, taking hold of his new wife's hand. "Thanks, Admiral."
Bill smiled, pleased that he could give them
some sense of a romantic getaway.
"Next step- you get your wings," he said, looking directly at Sharon and taking a sip of his drink.
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't almost just as excited for that," the Eight admitted and Bill could tell that she meant it.
"You've earned both," he told her. "Your wings and your happiness."
Sharon's cheeks warmed as she held back the threat of tears.
"Thank you, Sir," she replied.
Helo squeezed her hand and gave her a knowing smile.
"Ya know, as happy as I am, I just keep thinking… the only thing that could make today better would be if our little girl was here with us," he shared.
Sharon's gaze went down to her lap as she struggled not to cry. She didn't begrudge her husband sharing his feelings but she didn't exactly want to break down in front of a room full of people enthralled in booze and games.
"Those moments never stop," the Admiral spoke up after a moment. "The times where you wish they were here. Those never go away. There's always something happening that makes you think about what it would be like if they were with you," he continued in his stolid way. "The important thing is to keep on making those moments that you wish she could be here to see. That's how you go on."
The couple sat there taking in the words of a fellow grieving parent.
"Thanks again, Admiral," Helo said, gulping back his emotion.
Bill nodded and then stood from his seat to raise his glass in the air.
"To the happy couple!" he shouted, the sound of his booming voice quickly quieting the chatter of the rest of the room. "May they enjoy many years of health, love and happiness," he finished.
"So say we all!" Hot Dog cheered as the others began to shout and whistle, joining in on the traditional chant as their glasses and bottles clanged together in joined merriment.
"So say we all," Bill echoed.
NEW CAPRICAN CYLON DETENTION CENTER
EAST WING
TOM ZEREK'S CELL
WEEK 46 OF CYLON OCCUPATION
In prison there was little worse than solitary confinement. In fact Tom would say that there was nothing worse.
He had read multiple studies on the subject while incarcerated and even the Colonial Psychiatric Council had deemed it torturous. A few Colonies had implemented the HALT act in response to the council's findings which had called for humane alternatives to prisoner isolation as punishment and prohibited solitary sentences over fifteen days in a row. Unfortunately for Tom, Sagittaron wasn't one of them. He fully believed that taking away human contact was cruel in a way that no one could truly understand unless they themselves had experienced first hand what it could do to the mind. It increased acts of violence and suicide, it diminished chances of rehabilitation and sometimes it even caused physical maladies. After several extended stinits in the hole during his previous sentence Tom decided that he truly would prefer physical torture than to be enveloped in the nothingness of solitarty confinement.
When the Cylons had first arrested him for noncompliance he'd wondered if they had plans to execute him. As days and weeks went by he would come to realize that even the toasters knew that total seclusion was a far more agonizing penance.
At first he'd been held in one of the standard detention cells; a concrete floor, cinder block walls and bars over the tiny window that was too high to see much out of. He could hear the constant goings on of the prison; toasters barking orders, gates rattling, bullet heads clomping down the halls and worst of all the cries of anger and suffering by others who were being detained. Noise traveled so easily through the prison that sometimes Tom could even pick out familiar voices. He knew for sure that he'd heard Col. Tigh at one point. At another time he thought he might have recognized the voice of Laura Roslin arguing back and forth with a One, but when he called out to her that evening during a lull in activity he'd gotten no response.
Tom tried to keep track of who was in the cell neighboring his but any communications that were noticed by the Cylons were grounds for consequences. Though Tom didn't scare easily he didn't want to be the cause of additional maltreatment of a fellow wrongfully imprisoned Colonial. After a while he'd stopped trying. The sounds of cell doors clamoring open and closed and the shouting of prisoners kept him up at all hours of the night, not that he could sleep much on the cold cement anyway. It was as miserable as it was meant to be, but it was nothing compared to where they'd eventually moved him.
After half a dozen failed interrogations by the Cylons Tom had been relocated to what he could only presume was another part of the detention building far away from the general population. As soon as he'd entered the new area of the prison he'd understood what he was in for. It was quiet; far from the racket he'd become used to. He was placed in a cell nearly half the size of the one he'd just been in but this time there were actually some basic comforts. Inside the room there was a cot, a sink and a toilet. It was even temperature controlled; warm enough not to freeze at night and the laminate flooring didn't retain the constant chill that the concrete had. There was a light high up on the ceiling that he came to find was on a timer, turning on in the morning and going off at night. The space seemed far more comfortable than the cell he'd been in for the first few weeks, but Tom knew better. He'd been placed in isolation with no way of knowing how long he would be there.
With no window or clock the cell's ceiling light was the only way Tom had even the slightest idea of what time it was and how many days had passed. He tried to keep count of when it went on and off in order to keep track but power surges and outages had confused his count more than a few times. It was beyond disorienting to have such little sense of time.
It was rare Tom saw anyone besides the centurions that acted as correctional officers, escorting him to the showers every few days. He assumed it was a skinjob who pushed his meager meals through the slot in his cell door, but he couldn't be sure. He'd started to develop migraines from the constant artificial light but there was no one to tell and no way to treat them other than closing his eyes tight and gritting through the pain until it passed. He didn't have a book to read. He didn't have a pen to write. He was alone with nothing but his thoughts.
After a few weeks he was finally taken out of the isolation cell and brought back to the familiar interrogation room. Tom never thought he would be relieved to see a Cylon. He was determined not to return to his cell for as long as possible and did his best to drag out his replies and responses. He even started a scuffle with a guard just to add to the interaction, but when he didn't provide them with the information they seemed to want out of him he was inevitably put back into solitary with no hope of reprieve in sight.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed since then but when the key slot on his cell door suddenly clicked, cutting the deafening silence Tom nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected sound. His adrenaline surged in anticipation. No matter what was about to happen it was something and his brain desperately needed the stimulation.
As he swung his legs to sit up on the edge of his cot the door creaked open to reveal a One.
"Mr. Vice President," the Cylon greeted with an antagonistic grin. "How's things?"
Tom swallowed and cleared his throat as he tried to find his voice. He didn't know how long it had been since he last spoke.
"I'd like to say I've been through worse," he replied, "but I have a feeling you'd all take that as a challenge."
"You might be right," the One said with a chuckle.
"Must be busy these days," Tom prodded from where he sat. "Taking in more prisoners than you can handle?"
He'd been one of the very first Colonials arrested after the Cylon occupation began, but during his time in general population there were dozens of arrests each day quickly filling up the cells of the newly built detention center. He often wondered what had become of Saul Tigh and Laura Roslin. Had they ever been released or were they somewhere still held in the prison? Were they even still alive?
"Your comrades are punished accordingly when they act out against the government," the One recited as if it were a well practiced line.
"You're our captors," Tom affirmed, "and this is not a government."
"Fine. Add that to your manifesto," the One mocked in return, folding his arms and taking a few steps forward toward the cot.
"Is Baltar still acting as President?" Tom inquired. "Whatever that means anymore."
He half hoped they'd imprisoned the frakking coward by now too, if not worse.
"He is- in a way," John confirmed with a smirk. "You really hitched your wagon to the wrong horse, didnt you?" he teased.
"Guess I did," Tom shrugged.
"And now…"
"And now what?"
"Well," the One began with a dramatic sigh. "I'm afraid until there's a dramatic shift in conditions you're stuck here. You're far too dangerous to be released. You know that. There's enough anarchy for us to deal with without you inciting more unrest. And I just know you wouldn't be able to help yourself."
"You're probably right about that," Tom agreed.
"But I may be able to do something for you as far as your confinement status."
Tom instantly froze at the mere suggestion.
"Like what?" he tested.
"How'd you like to get out of solitary?"
"I thought I was too dangerous to be around anyone," Tom challenged, careful not to let the One see how godsdamn desperate he was to get out.
"Well, you'll be put with others who are also here for a long stay."
Tom gave a slight nod in understanding.
"What's the catch?" he asked, ready for whatever the skinjob was about to throw at him.
"We're having some health issues among prisoners. We'd like you to submit to a physical exam and some basic testing. Just to minimize the risk of outbreaks and the like."
"That's it?" Tom skeptically squinted.
"That's it," the Cylon passively shrugged. "It's a pain in the mechanical ass for us when you people get sick. You're disgusting. No offense. A Cylon nurse will come examine you and collect a few samples. If you don't put up a fight we'll move you out of solitary as long as you're on good behavior."
Tom looked down at his lap considering the One's proposition. He didn't question for a second whether or not he was going to comply. He had to as far as he was concerned. His mind felt like it was eating itself. He couldn't take much more. He just wondered what the frak the One actually wanted from him. The exam excuse sounded like bullshit, but at this point he had to take the chance.
"And if I refuse?" he probed, glancing up at the little man.
"Oh don't misunderstand me, Mr. Zerek. The examination will take place whether you agree or not. You can choose to be compliant and earn some human contact and maybe, just maybe a cell with a frakkin window or you can put up a fight, get poked and prodded anyhow and then be thrown back in here alone when it's all over."
The two stared at each other in silent rancor for a few drawn out moments before Tom eventually spoke.
"When?"
"I can have a nurse in at some point this evening," the One replied.
Tom bit the inside of his cheek, internally counting to ten before he gave his answer.
"Fine."
"Good choice, Mr. Vice President."
"Whatever."
"Someone will be with you in a few hours."
"I'll be here," Tom muttered.
He began to lean back on his cot as the One pulled the cell door open to exit.
"Oh one more thing, Mr. Zerek!" the Cylon called, looking over his shoulder.
"What?"
"Do you prefer blondes or brunettes? I've got plenty of both."
NEW CAPRICAN CYLON DETENTION CENTER
INTERROGATION ROOM B
WEEK 46 OF CYLON OCCUPATION
The room was hot as hades. It was the first time Saul had broken a real sweat in months. The Cylons had literally turned the heat up inside the interrogation room hoping to make him as uncomfortable as possible.
Had he not been freezing his ass off for the majority of the past year it might have been more effective, but it was the Three questioning him who seemed to be letting the temperature get to her.
Saul watched from the table he sat at as the Cylon woman removed her jacket and then her sweater, leaving her in a thin tank top. As she tossed her clothing on a nearby chair with a huff Saul noticed that her chest and shoulders were glistening with perspiration. He would never understand why the race of robots had made models that could sweat, bleed and starve.
With a collective breath the Three turned back to face Saul where he had been sitting for the last two hours with his ankles chained to the chair and his wrists loosely cuffed together and secured to a latch on the tabletop.
Leaning down to rest her left palm on the surface of the table, D'Anna reached into her pants pocket with her other hand and pulled out an ink pen.
"Write down the names of all the men and women in your charge," she instructed, holding the pen out for him to take.
"You know," Saul smirked, "you're a good lookin' woman. Shame you've got all the charm of a marine drill sergeant," he teased, giving her an antagonistic wink.
Something about his mock flirtation sent D'Anna's temper soaring. His winking especially disgusted and enraged her.
She was anxious to prove herself to John but the Colonel wasn't making it easy.
"Write down the names of all the men and women in your charge, or I'm warning you, that you'll pay greatly," she told him, extending the pen closer to where his bound wrists rested.
"That's what you people always say," Saul said with a shrug.
"Take the pen," D'Anna demanded.
"Not a chance," he replied, giving her a pert smile.
D'Anna inhaled deeply and then let out a long drawn out breath. She could feel her shirt becoming damp at the small of her back.
"Your wife must suffer when you're gone," she told him, standing up straight and slipping the pen behind her left ear. "More so when you return ill or injured. Imagine how she'd suffer if you never came home at all. Why not save her the grief if you truly care for her?" she questioned as she began to circle the table.
After John's suggestion that she get creative with her interrogation tactics D'Anna's first suggestion had been the Colonel's fact she wondered why it was that they hadn't thought of it before. If anything could get Tigh to talk or convince him to aid them in any way she figured it would have to be a threat against his her dismay and great frustration John wouldn't hear of it. The more she argued the more angry he became. Though he offered her no explanation he told her that she wasnt to lay a finger on Ellen Tigh. Cautious of upsetting the One any further D'Anna reluctantly dropped the idea.
'I'm a member of the Colonial Fleet," Saul replied. "I took an oath."
He could just hear Ellen's voice echoing in the back of his mind. 'Your oath? What about your vows?!'
He hated how he'd left things with her. She was in a terrible state and he did blame himself, but as much as he knew he was the cause of her anguish he also knew he couldn't do anything to change it. He couldn't stop fighting. Not even for her.
"Your precious fleet no longer exists," D'Anna taunted as she completed another ring around the table. "Adama is long gone and he's never coming back. He left you and Roslin on this wretched planet to deal with those he abandoned and I can see just how tired you both are. I can see that neither of you can keep going much longer. You look worn, Colonel. And Roslin's a wreck after her own spitefulness resulted in the death of her child. Your men are dying fighting a losing battle. Save their lives. End this hell you're all living," she said, as she stopped at his side and took the pen from behind her ear. "Write down the names of all the men and women in your charge," she repeated, holding it out for him to take once more.
D'Anna wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand, internally cursing whoever had the stupid idea to turn the heat on. It wasn't doing a damn thing to Tigh but it was driving her mad.
She was sick of looking at the man, resentful that he seemed so steadfast in his loyalty to his people.
For a moment she wondered if John really had set her up to fail.
His threat of boxing had unnerved her, though she'd rolled her eyes at the time. The One had been exercising more and more control over their brothers and sisters and D'Anna wondered if he would ever be able to convince them to do such a thing in order to make an example out of someone. She didn't think so, but if he ever did, she decided it wouldn't be her. She couldn't imagine a worse fate than to be taken offline and out of the stream. She would miss out on everything. She would never come to know love. She'd never know heaven. She wouldn't live and she wouldn't die. She couldn't allow even the slightest chance of such purgatory.
"Take the pen, Colonel," D'Anna seethed, new perspiration beading on her forehead,
Saul looked the Three in her icey eyes.
"No," he told her.
The corner of D'Anna's lips curled up into a half smirk as she straightened her posture. She nodded as she moved behind his chair.
In an instant her arm was wrapped around his neck putting him in a chokehold. The last thing Saul saw was her other hand fisting the pen before she jabbed it into his left eye, pushing it in and popping it out.
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