Responses to Earlier Comments:
Hi, War Sage - I considered putting Cru down on the planet, but I got into that problem a while back. Adding Cru to existing action scenes made him a "third wheel" to an already crowded set. Plus, I've been looking for a way to move Cru and Evvie's relationship forward.
Just a Crazy-Man - This chapter took a long long time to write. It is my first ever intimacy scene. It's not that involved, I know, but it went thru many dozens of versions. Anyway, I know it's March, but I hope you enjoyed the holidays. We did, over here at the Mythrilforge house.
***All comments are welcome. I'll do my best to respond***l
Disclaimer: Please note: I own no part or share in the Battlestar Galactica realm, commercial or otherwise. This story is submitted for entertainment purposes only. Oh, and any similarities to people present or past are purely coincidental.
Chapter 42 - Encounter x 2
"She has a birthmark in the shape of a bell. Curious."
~Cru's journal, if he had time to keep one.
Day 694, six weeks after Cru's return
Bree's Twin, Cru's Quarters
Evening
Cru and Evvie had stolen the kind of privacy that seemed almost impossible aboard a working ship, a moment where everyone else had somewhere to be, something to fix, and nothing demanded immediate attention. Cru was still recovering from his wounds aboard Bree's Twin, his knee braced and his side mending. Evvie and her daughter, Emily, had tended to him with a diligence that bordered on the fanatical—changing his bandages, making sure he ate, even fluffing his pillows whether they needed it or not.
One late afternoon, Evvie shooed Emily from the room with a wink to Cru that carried more meaning than words. When her daughter was gone and the young woman's footsteps faded from hearing in the outer hallway, Evvie gave the door lock a quick flip. She lowered the lights as she turned back to Cru. She reached up with a playful smile and slipped the shoulder of her denim jumper off her arm in a slow, deliberate motion.
"Hello, Sailor," Evvie said with a little laugh, her voice carrying a hint of teasing. She giggled a bit, which wasn't intended, but that was okay. Her hands found her hips as she tilted her head and turned her torso just enough to show some curves. She'd struck poses like this before—just being silly—but this time, there was something more intentional beneath it.
"It's Marine," Cru corrected with a smirk as he pushed himself upright. "Ma-rine."
"Whatever,…Ma-rine," said Evvie, pretending disinterest. Her grin widened as she reached back behind and unzipped the jumper.
Cru smiled again and lifted the corner of the blanket. "Join me?".
Evvie dropped the jumper's other shoulder down over her arm and let the garment fall to the floor at her feet. In one fluid motion, she sat down, turned in place, and slid in closer to Cru. The room was chilly and so were her feet.
"Good gods, you're like ice…" said Cru with a laugh.
"Oh, hush, you big baby," laughed Evvie, nudging him with her knee.
Cru chuckled and looped an arm around her waist. "Baby, she says?"
Cru gave a light, mischievous grin and pulled Evvie to him with one arm, seemingly without effort. A startled laugh escaped Evvie as they came together face to face.
"Hi," said Cru with a low, even tone, his eyes drawn irresistibly to hers.
"Hi...," said Evvie in a soft response.
"Fancy meeting you here?" said Cru in that same voice, but he spoke it as a question, as if asking if they had finally arrived at the point when all the words that could be spoken without showing their true feelings had at last been uttered and nothing remained but their deepest intentions.
"Yes,… fancy," said Evvie. "Indeed."
Evvie sighed softly, then spoke again in the old Tauron, "Et emm'esh lu'elka, Rishiard Cru. Thu' metta liu tei'malvek et'."
Cru's lips curved slightly. "Which means?" Evvie could speak five languages. He spoke just one.
"The moment has found us, Richard Cru. Let us not waste it."
They sat together without speaking, and then, as if on cue, they both leaned in towards each other. Their lips met, slow and searching at first, but quickly deepened into something more urgent. Evvie let herself sink into the moment, one hand resting against Cru's chest as the other traced its way to his shoulder. Cru's hand found Evvie's knee, his touch steady as she slid her leg over his."
The world outside seemed to fall away. No ship, no Cylons, no hurt, no pain—only them, joined by something they couldn't resist any longer. Evvie rested her forehead against Cru's shoulder, letting the moment stretch between them before she pulled back just enough to speak.
"About time, Richard Cru," she murmured, her fingers brushing gently over his cheek.
Cru's smile was soft, compelling. He reached out and gently pulled a strand of loose hair from in front of Evvie's eyes and tucked it behind her ear. "You're not wrong," he said. His voice was warm with a rare ease.
~~~~~/~~~~~
Day 695
Bree's Twin, Cru's Quarters
Early morning
The night had passed. The man and woman lay entwined, their breaths slow and in perfect rhythm. The lights were dimmed, and a single candle, all but a nub, flickered in the warm air of a distant vent. Two glasses sat on the counter—one drained, the other holding a faint swirl of melted ice. Nearby, an empty bottle lay on its side, forgotten.
A thick soft blanket draped loosely over both. Cru stirred in his sleep, his hand sliding to Evvie's waist as if, even in sleep, he needed to confirm she was there. Evvie, without fully rousing, curled herself nearer to him. Most mornings, her thoughts might have dragged her awake, to scroll through the endless lists of things she needed to accomplish. Instead, she listened to the sound of Cru's breathing for a short time, felt her own breathing fall back into pace with his, and sank back into the contented depths of sleep.
Outside, the ship creaked and groaned with its continued operation while faint footfalls echoed beyond the door from time to time. But here, in this moment, the world was just the two of them. It would last only a little while longer. It was "borrowed time", as either might have called it. To have an evening, a night, and part of a morning without interruption was a rarity, indeed. Anything more was statistically not possible.
The handset next to Cru's bed rang out. It was John, looking for Evvie. He knew where she was. Word traveled fast aboard Bree's Twin—especially when it involved the dear Captain and the gallant Lieutenant Colonel spending the night together. Most of the crew already knew.
~~~~~/~~~~~
In the absence of the President and the entire Quorum of Twelve, Evvie had been appointed "En'shem'l un ri Kohlannis," or "Steward of the Colonies." She presided over the ships of the Coalition with a quick "raise of hands" election by the Coalition leaders. The non-Coalition ships lacked central leadership and accepted Evvie as a reasonable proxy. So too did the small number of ships that escaped from the surface. Evvie was the "President Pro Tem". She was the Leader 'for the time being'.
"Madam Steward," said Admiral Adama over the 2-way radio.
"Admiral Adama, to what do I owe this pleasure?" said Evvie in reply.
The Admiral was always cordial, but the times were grave and a call from him was rarely easy. Evvie and T-Dog kept good records on all of the non-military personnel that had escaped with them, and Evvie had the best details on all the civilian material resources. Bill Adama was planning something big. Cru knew at least some portion of what it was, but was silent on the matter. Still, Adama was stripping key personnel and long-term support items for use aboard the Galactica and the Pegasus. The discussions were often hard negotiations on the long-term survivability of those who were left versus what she could only assume was a massive rescue operation, likely suicidal, back on New Caprica.
"Don't tell him I'm here," Cru whispered, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. He lay beside Evvie, idly tracing lazy patterns with his finger across the bare skin of her back.
Evvie twisted in the sheets, turning just enough to fix him with a mock-serious glare. "Shhh," she whispered, though the amusement in her eyes betrayed her. She hovered there a second longer than necessary, then flopped back onto her pillow with a smirk.
Silence settled between them. Then, Evvie shot bolt upright.
"They've made contact—the Cylons." Her voice rang sharp in the quiet room.
"Here?" Cru was already moving, rolling off the bed in one motion. He reached for his uniform, neatly folded on a nearby chair—the kind of habit that never really left a soldier.
Evvie's gaze locked onto his, her blue eyes wide with something sharper than fear. It was worry. "It's something different," she mouthed, barely audible.
Cru buttoned his shirt with precise, military efficiency, his mind racing. No alarms, no emergency broadcast, no panicked fleet-wide jump. But Cylons? That was enough. Nothing about them could ever be taken lightly.
"Yes, Admiral, I understand." Evvie snapped the receiver back onto its hook. She turned to Cru as he finished dressing. Her expression had shifted into something unreadable.
"Richard."
Cru glanced up, pausing for the briefest second. Evvie only used that tone when things were about to get serious.
"You're no longer on convalescence. You've been called back to Galactica."
Cru exhaled sharply. "Alright. What do I need to know?"
"The Admiral didn't say much. We're pulling emergency supplies—huge numbers—food, blankets, everything."
"For the Cylons?" Cru frowned. "Food? What's happened?"
Evvie shook her head, her fingers tightening on the bedsheets. "It's big," she said. "We're loading as much as we can onto a civilian transport. He wants the Coba." She hesitated. "He asked for it, but let's be honest—he's not really asking."
"A civilian ship? Really?"
Evvie nodded.
Cru exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Okay. Well, it's winter back there, on-planet, and you said they don't have enough food for forty thousand people."
"Right. Not even close. Fleet crops were still seventy-five percent of the produce. If the Cylons aren't feeding them, they're already running out."
"Then that's it," Cru said. "I gotta go. Can you set me up with a shuttle?"
"Galactica's sending a Raptor—fifteen minutes out."
Cru shook his head, slipping on his shoes. "No time like the present."
He was halfway to the door when Evvie's voice stopped him.
"Richard?"
He turned. "Evvie?"
She smiled—the kind of worried smile that could bring a room to silence, the kind of concern a man didn't walk away from.
"Whatever this is, come back…okay?"
Cru held her gaze for a beat, then nodded. "I will."
"And...Richard," added Evvie. "Don't volunteer for anything, okay?"
Cru smiled back as reassuringly as he could. "I'll need to work on that…"
~~~~~/~~~~~
Thirteen hours later
Coba - Civilian Transport
Cru keyed the mic. "Lieutenant Colonel Cru, standing by for departure to New Caprica."
"Stand by, Colonel," came the reply from Galactica's comm officer.
Eight Marines, including Cru and Lieutenant Jimmy Downs, his co-pilot, stood ready and waiting for the final order. Their mission: deliver food and supplies in support of the forty thousand captives under Cylon control. Their journey out would begin and end aboard the Virgon Express—one of T-Dog's larger maintenance ships, now in Cylon hands. The plan was simple: dock, transfer the cargo in less than six hours, and leave. Followed by a repeat every four days. No one would speak except the Cylons and Cru. Every crate would be inspected. Any sign of military supplies or hidden messages found, and as one Leoben had put it, "the agreement would be terminated, the Coba destroyed, and its crew lost".
Cru and Downs ran through final preps one more time, but Cru's thoughts drifted to Evvie. Evvie's daughter Emily had spotted him in the passageway and started giggling with her friend Essa and whispering to each other. Cru smiled to himself. Yeah, everyone knew. Even the kids. John did, too. John had referred to him and Evvie as "Sweeties" and added, "About damn time...".
After a moment, the radio clicked. "Colonel Cru?" The man's voice was unmistakable. It was Admiral Adama.
"Admiral?" said Cru.
"Colonel, we know what they've asked for, but we can't know what they're thinking. Keep your eyes open. If anything looks wrong, anything at all, get out of there. We'll deal with it after."
The Coba was set up for what was termed a "lightning re-jump". Cru eyed the push button switch plate wired in and screwed down onto the console panel. A lightning re-jump was a short hop that could still be made at a jump's destination before the FTL drive spun down. It wouldn't get them far, but they'd be beyond Cylon tracking. He'd have about six seconds to decide "Go" or "No-Go" once he arrived. After that, the FTL engines and the ship would require a reset, which, for the Coba, would take about twelve minutes.
"Copy that, Admiral."
~~~~~/~~~~~
Gas Cloud region near New Caprica
Cru and a Marine Staff Sargeant named Merkle stood aboard the Coba looking opposite into the Virgon Express. Three Cylons were waiting there: a Model Two and two Sixes. Behind the human Cylons, or 'Skin Jobs', were four of the tall metallic Centurions, and behind them were thirty or so colonials. But, it was the second Six that most caught Cru's attention. It was her presence that made him slip his hand over the grip of his holstered pistol.
Sixes were known to take different names. This one was 'Danielle'. In Danielle's hands was a Tac-116 Stalwart assault rifle, with Dink-Dink barrel, verticle foregrip, active-active leveling, and a twenty-round speed-mag. It was the "Breach-Rat's" and "Tunnel Dog's" weapon of choice because of its rugged, close-quarters, point-and-corpse reputation. The Cylon woman held it like she was patrolling a hot zone, like she knew what she was doing with it. There was something else too, something in her eyes - barely perceptible but not lost on Cru. It was like a small, impatient desire to get on with whatever happened next. She was dangerous. She was lethal.
"That one's trouble," said Cru in a whisper to Merkle.
"I am," said Danielle at a distance. There was no emotion in her voice, just an acknowledgment.
"And, she's got good hearing," added Cru.
"Copy that," said Merkle.
The Leoben turned in place and gestured to the colonials. Thirty men and women shuffled forward and began using carts and lifts to bring the Coba's cargo over to the Virgon Express. None of the colonials looked Cru's way; they weren't allowed to, but they didn't need to for Cru to see the gaunt faces and sunken expressions.
The three human cylons stepped up to the threshold between ships.
"Lieutenant Colonel Cru, permission to come aboard?" asked the Leoben. He gave a smile like a practiced business leader pitching a new proposal.
Cru nodded and waved them forward.
"How do you wish to be addressed?" said Cru as the three joined him and Merckle.
"Please call me Leoben. This is Danielle and Desiree." Leoben gestured to the two Sixes. "We have no titles, just names."
"This is Staff Sargeant Merckle," said Cru, gesturing to his right.
"Hello, Staff Sargeant," said the Leoben.
Merkle nodded his response.
"Colonel–" Leoben began, but Cru interrupted.
"Tell me," said Cru, "why are we doing this? Why are these people alive? Why are we talking?" Cru gave Leoben a hard stare. He had many more questions. The cylons exterminated fifty billion people. None of what was transpiring made sense.
Leoben smiled. "It's complicated, but perhaps it is best described as a 'pause' while we consider our past actions."
"You have forty thousand captives whose survival rests on the ponderings of machines?"
"We're more than machines," growled Danielle. She shifted subtly. It was no more than a small step to expand her stance and a fractional move of a finger to the safety switch on the Tac-116 rifle. Cru saw them both.
"Sister…," said the Six named Desiree. Her tone was as if cautioning and asking for restraint. She looked nervous–very nervous. Her eyes blinked incessantly, like a stress reaction.
"Okay…," said Leoben with a nod and an acknowledging smile. "The definition of 'complicated' can be subjective. I ask that all of us focus on why we are here."
Cru didn't speak for a long moment. His thoughts must have showed on his face. The full Cylon expance, the vast megalopolis of mechanical thought, was indecisive. Cru's thoughts scrambled for footholds. In his world, indecision was the same as being vulnerable. It might be that the Cylons were weak in a way never considered.
Danielle saw the change in Cru's expression. She anticipated his thoughts and considered them an insult.
Lightning fast, Danielle brought her weapon to bear. Cru's pistol cleared its holster with the same speed.
"Wait! Wait!" shouted Leoben as he jumped between the two combatants. "Wait!" he pleaded. He put his back to Cru and faced Danielle. "Danielle, put up your weapon. Please put up your weapon."
Merkle was a tad slower than Cru, but his response was the same. His pistol pointed at Leoben's head, right at dead center. The Cylon Centurians had flipped over to gun barrels from their clawed hands. They waited, like crouching jungle cats, ready to unleash a hail of hot spitting lead. Behind Cru, on the darkened catwalk back inside the Coba, were eight Marines primed and ready to fire. The colonists ducked for cover.
"Colonel," said Leoben, turning back to Cru. "I pushed too much too soon. I propose we finish the intended purpose of this exchange. Yes? Your Admiral is considering allowing more of these transfers to happen, for humanity's sake, but also as a hope - okay? A hope for open discussions. I would like that very much. I do not want to risk this. Next time, okay? Next time, we'll talk. Can we do this?"
"Smoke and mirrors," said Cru after a long pause.
"I'm sorry," said Leoben, "I don't…I don't know what that means."
"It's deception," said Cru. "I don't know if all of this was staged for my benefit or if you frakkers are really capable of dischord."
"Oh, it's real, Beg'Teth," growled Danielle at Cru. The word Beg'Teth was unfalttering on multiple levels. Cru didn't need Evvie to know what it meant. "And it sickens me," she added.
Leoben made a face and sighed. "And yet we persevere. Sisters, Colonel, Sergeant, I am slowly bidding the workers to continue their work, with my hand." He gestured cautiously to the others to continue the transfer of cargo, making extra sure not to incite another confrontation. "Do not shoot. Please ask your fellow Marines up there where we cannot see them, to hold their fire."
It was Leoben's turn to give the hard stare. "Colonel, please?"
Cru, after another long pause, nodded his acceptance.
"Thank you," said the Leoben. "Thank you."
Cru and Merkle watched as the colonials did their work. Leoben and Desiree watched from the Virgon Express. It was Leoben's opinion that the two groups should separate and monitor, each from a distance. Danielle was gone. She left in a fit of frustration.
Danielle was a curiosity for Cru. He would give her more thought later. For now, it was the Six named Desiree that he wanted to know more about. She continued to blink incessantly and to a point of annoyance, but was it her deception? As a cadet, Cru and several others had learned Morse Code, which was a series of dashes and dots representing the Caprican alphabet. It was a base form of communication when all other forms failed. And, if Cru was not mistaken, Desiree was spouting out volumes with her blinking eyes. Cru wanted to finish up the mission and get to the video recordings that were in progress. He wanted to know what the blonde skin job was trying to convey.
End of Chapter 42
Author notes:
As I stated in my note to Just a Crazy-Man, I struggled with the intimacy scene. I wanted to stay PG-13 or maybe a little more than that (Thrace and Anders were pretty steamy). But really, I had no business trying anything more than what I settled on. I've read fanfictions with mature, well-written sex scenes. Everything I tried was clunky and, well, juvenile by comparison.
The food/supplies deliveries were a congruency fix that I wanted to add. Baltar had stated how much food was needed weekly, and logistically, it didn't seem like any of that was possible. Scenes down on the planet were always with overcast and dreary skies, which I thought would make it difficult to grow crops in. I figured they'd still need the crop operations up in the fleet. It had the added advantage of keeping Evvie in a position of authority.
My timing is a bit rushed. I think it was later in the Cylon occupation that the human cylons started reconsidering their actions. Cru was on sick leave but could not stay that way for too long.