Almost done with draft 1 of Collborators prt 1...
the only person who is my buddy here is Taylor... and some how I doubt she reads these, not that I'd want her to anyway, too... geeky.
3 out of 4+ pages of Collaborators prt 1. I predict the episode will turn out to be 3.5 or 4 stars... prt 2 will be anywhere from 3 to 4...
The Collaborators, Part One
There was a forest, lush and green sprawling beneath a pale sky as far as Bill could see. There was something refreshing about it, odd, but refreshing. He was alone, the only sounds to be heard were the playful chirping of the birds and sound of the grass and the wind rustled through it. To his far right, he saw enormous fruit trees sprouting out of ground so tightly packed it almost seemed like one mass. The ration packs from his Viper had run out long ago and the most he’d eaten since then was a fine soup of moss and worms, which, oddly enough, tasted wonderful to a person who hadn’t eaten in days. His legs began moving again, they were taking him towards the paradise, but something was different; the pain that had been omnipresent had suddenly vanished. He ran fast, faster than he had ever run before, and when he reached the trees, he thrust his grimy hands at the nearest fruit, shoveling it into his mouth, and then another, and another, until he lost count.
There was a snap of a twig, Husker’s ears perked. Then another, and the groan of a tree. He dropped the fruit and hid behind the nearest trunk, carefully peering around to hear for the noise. He heard the sound of feet running, the swish of clothes as they rubbed against each other, twigs snapping, all of it grown louder and faster. Bill’s beating heart slowly climbed up his throat, and when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he ran. The sounds followed him, still growing louder. He was too scared to look back and focused on the approaching edge of the forest. The clouds turned from white to a murky gray and diffused out into the sky, darkening it.
Rain fell; the terrain had grown wet and slippery. He flew out of the forest, but the meadow was gone, instead there was a cliff that spread into a thick mist. A clap of thunder nearly burst his eardrums and he looked to see where it had come from. What Bill saw instead was death, the trees had become charred and leafless, the grass was gone, and there was something running at him. It pounced off of a fallen tree, straight for him.
Husker threw his body out of the way and watched as the thing land where he stood moments before. As it slid past on the muddy ground, Adama saw Jackal’s panicked face look him in the eye, pleading for help. He watched as Jackal slid off the cliff and crawled over to the precipice, looking down. There was Abraham, grasping to a bit of rock that jutted out from the face, unable to climb back up. Husker lowered himself over the side, keeping one hand on the ledge and grabbed Jackal’s arm with the other. Jackal’s life was in his hands and he used all his strength to pull them both up, but he couldn’t do it. His hand was slipping from the edge, there was no choice; it was either both of them, or just Jackal. He let go and watched Jackal disappear into the mist, but he couldn’t raise himself. He couldn’t live with he’d just done, and so he just let go and also vanished beyond the veil of mist. Bill awoke with a start, morning had come.
The dream was always the same, every night, every time he closed his eyes he was back on the precipice. When he wasn’t reliving the shooting, Bill hated himself. Looking back on what happened, he was convinced that Jackal would never have shot Hack, whom he noticed was still asleep. He looked over at Preacher and noticed he was the only one awake. Sleep didn’t come easily to him anymore; he’d stay awake to avoid the nightmares and would awaken at the crack of dawn as he died each time.
The sun continued to rise and Bill began packing up the gear and watched Hack and Preacher slowly awaken. “Bad dreams again?” Preacher asked.
“Yeah…always the same,” Husker said while helping him up.
“You need sleep. Every night I watch as you stare into the fire instead of sleeping and every morning I see you getting the gear ready. A man can’t live like that for long,” Preacher told Bill.
“Plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead,” Said Bill with a cold stare.
“Oh, would you cut out the drama?” Hack interjected. “You did the right thing, shooting Jackal like that. I think you’re both forgetting who he was about to shoot!”
“We don’t know if he would’ve actually pulled the trigger,” Bill said.
“Did he deserve a chance to do it just to see if actually would? I don’t think so,” Scoffed Hack.
Bill wasn’t even going to respond; it’s always different when you’re on the other side of the gun.
“Let’s go,” Preacher said, leading the way.
They spent the night under the overhang of a building and slowly climbed up its steps to the street. No sooner had they stepped into the daylight, Cylon gunfire greeted them. Hack and Preacher rolled back down the stairs, but Bill, for some reason, felt the need to run forward, closer to the gun fire, but also towards the protection of a statue. Bullets ricocheted off the chrome plating of the president’s statue, but managed to miss Bill. He fired off several shots, but was too afraid to expose himself and couldn’t take aim.
Husker heard Hack and Preacher firing off their own rounds and yelling, “Get back here! We’ll cover you!”
He took a tentative step towards his comrades, but the bullets kept crossing between him and the steps, forcing back to the statue. He squatted down and covered his head with his hands and screamed as the gunfire increased. The precipice flashed before his eyes and Bill saw Jackal fall into the abyss. He stood up and pulled out his gun again, leaving the safety of the statue behind and running towards the Cylons. He squeezed off a few rounds and then there was a massive explosion, followed by three more. Bill stared at his gun, amazed that it could do that to Cylons. Hack and Preacher ran up to him, in equal awe.
“Run into a little trouble?” Came a voice from behind them. They turned around and saw a man hoisting a rocket launcher on his shoulder. He was tall, but very thin, probably from famine resulting from the rebellion. His clothes were torn and blackened by smoke, this man had seen combat. He walked towards them, the sun at his back lighting him up like an angel of the Gods. He stopped in front of them and offered his hand, which Bill quickly took.
“My name is Taro,” The man said.
“William Adama,” Husker said.
Eying the pilot’s uniforms, Taro said, “Colonial Fleet? You guys are some rescue party”
“We aren’t a rescue team, we were shot down on day one trying to destroy a base nearby. Where did you get that fine gun?” Preacher said, staring at the rocket launcher.
“Compliments of the resistance,” Taro replied very simply.
“There’s a resistance?” Hack said hopefully.
“Of course, as the military was largely made up of Cylons there isn’t anyone to protect us but us,” Said Taro. Hearing the faint grinding of Cylon machinery approach, he added, “We need to leave this place before more Centurions come. There’s a resistance base not too far from here, I can lead you to it.”
“Lead on,” Preacher said.
The pilots followed this strange man through back alleys, tunnels, and mountainous piles of rubble. Strangely enough, they didn’t see any Cylons during their trek through the city, which was, of course, a very welcome, if slightly puzzling, turn of events. Bill had no idea where they were going, though because he didn’t know where the resistance base was. He hadn’t known Caprica City very well before the attacks, being from Delphi, and the bombs had destroyed anything he might have recognized. However, one didn’t need to know the city well to realize they were slowly leaving the skyscrapers in the center and entering slightly less developed land.
“So…what’s your story?” Hack asked Taro, eager to learn about the first human they had met in weeks.
“Pardon?” Replied a slightly puzzled Taro.
“How did you get involved with the resistance?” Hack said.
“Oh…that. That’s a long story. I didn’t really have much choice,” Taro said expressionlessly as the others perked their ears, eager to break up the cancerous silence that had been slowly growing between them. “I was in the city on business and the next thing I knew the Cylon Chef behind the counter at the coffee shop I was in had stopped pouring drinks and was walking out the door and killed a little kid who was in his way. I was evacuated, same as the others, and was part of an enormous convoy leaving the city. That’s when I saw Vipers flying overhead…and Cylon Raiders on their way. The few Vipers that survived ran their sissy asses home… leaving us defenseless. It took less than two minutes for almost everyone in the convoy to be killed, I was lucky enough to escape with a very small group of people… mostly children who weren’t bogged down carrying books…bags…remnants of their lives. It took us a few days, but we did manage to raid a military weapons store and we’ve been attacking those frakkers ever since then.”
Bill looked at Preacher and Hack and saw a similar expression of awe on their face. It had been their Viper squadron Taro saw, it was they who ran off, leaving civilians to be slaughtered. If he thought his time on Caprica was bad, he could only imagine what must have been like for people who were not only in the same situation as he was, but had no military training and had experienced far greater loss than he.
“And you’ve been attacking ever since?” Preacher asked.
“No choice. We either attack or wait for them to attack us. You know what they say about the best defense,” Taro said with a smile that vanished as quickly as it had come.
“I hear that… nothing else works with those toasters,” Hack said.
“Don’t call them toasters. The Cylons are remarkably advanced for something created by mankind; ‘toaster’ is just the layman’s cheap shot,” Taro responded.
“How can you stand and defend those things? For gods’ sakes they nearly killed you! You saw firsthand what they are willing to do!” Said Hack with disgust.
“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe we had this coming? No, of course not, it’s far too easy to hate them. When you get right down to it, we almost deserve what’s happening. First we create these machines, and then we give them enough intelligence to be self-aware and still keep them enslaved, but this is okay, of course, because they aren’t humans. They are Cylons. This is our own damn fault,” Taro said coolly.
“You sure you’re in the resistance?” Bill said, half-jokingly, half-seriously.
“Well if I’m not then you’re really screwed. ‘Course I am, you just need to understand where your enemy is coming from, understand what they want and know what lengths they will go to. If you don’t know that, then you can’t stage a proper attack, much less win,” Taro responded, looking Bill dead in the eye. The conversation seemed to stop there; no one said a word more.
3 out of 4+ pages of Collaborators prt 1. I predict the episode will turn out to be 3.5 or 4 stars... prt 2 will be anywhere from 3 to 4...
The Collaborators, Part One
There was a forest, lush and green sprawling beneath a pale sky as far as Bill could see. There was something refreshing about it, odd, but refreshing. He was alone, the only sounds to be heard were the playful chirping of the birds and sound of the grass and the wind rustled through it. To his far right, he saw enormous fruit trees sprouting out of ground so tightly packed it almost seemed like one mass. The ration packs from his Viper had run out long ago and the most he’d eaten since then was a fine soup of moss and worms, which, oddly enough, tasted wonderful to a person who hadn’t eaten in days. His legs began moving again, they were taking him towards the paradise, but something was different; the pain that had been omnipresent had suddenly vanished. He ran fast, faster than he had ever run before, and when he reached the trees, he thrust his grimy hands at the nearest fruit, shoveling it into his mouth, and then another, and another, until he lost count.
There was a snap of a twig, Husker’s ears perked. Then another, and the groan of a tree. He dropped the fruit and hid behind the nearest trunk, carefully peering around to hear for the noise. He heard the sound of feet running, the swish of clothes as they rubbed against each other, twigs snapping, all of it grown louder and faster. Bill’s beating heart slowly climbed up his throat, and when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he ran. The sounds followed him, still growing louder. He was too scared to look back and focused on the approaching edge of the forest. The clouds turned from white to a murky gray and diffused out into the sky, darkening it.
Rain fell; the terrain had grown wet and slippery. He flew out of the forest, but the meadow was gone, instead there was a cliff that spread into a thick mist. A clap of thunder nearly burst his eardrums and he looked to see where it had come from. What Bill saw instead was death, the trees had become charred and leafless, the grass was gone, and there was something running at him. It pounced off of a fallen tree, straight for him.
Husker threw his body out of the way and watched as the thing land where he stood moments before. As it slid past on the muddy ground, Adama saw Jackal’s panicked face look him in the eye, pleading for help. He watched as Jackal slid off the cliff and crawled over to the precipice, looking down. There was Abraham, grasping to a bit of rock that jutted out from the face, unable to climb back up. Husker lowered himself over the side, keeping one hand on the ledge and grabbed Jackal’s arm with the other. Jackal’s life was in his hands and he used all his strength to pull them both up, but he couldn’t do it. His hand was slipping from the edge, there was no choice; it was either both of them, or just Jackal. He let go and watched Jackal disappear into the mist, but he couldn’t raise himself. He couldn’t live with he’d just done, and so he just let go and also vanished beyond the veil of mist. Bill awoke with a start, morning had come.
The dream was always the same, every night, every time he closed his eyes he was back on the precipice. When he wasn’t reliving the shooting, Bill hated himself. Looking back on what happened, he was convinced that Jackal would never have shot Hack, whom he noticed was still asleep. He looked over at Preacher and noticed he was the only one awake. Sleep didn’t come easily to him anymore; he’d stay awake to avoid the nightmares and would awaken at the crack of dawn as he died each time.
The sun continued to rise and Bill began packing up the gear and watched Hack and Preacher slowly awaken. “Bad dreams again?” Preacher asked.
“Yeah…always the same,” Husker said while helping him up.
“You need sleep. Every night I watch as you stare into the fire instead of sleeping and every morning I see you getting the gear ready. A man can’t live like that for long,” Preacher told Bill.
“Plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead,” Said Bill with a cold stare.
“Oh, would you cut out the drama?” Hack interjected. “You did the right thing, shooting Jackal like that. I think you’re both forgetting who he was about to shoot!”
“We don’t know if he would’ve actually pulled the trigger,” Bill said.
“Did he deserve a chance to do it just to see if actually would? I don’t think so,” Scoffed Hack.
Bill wasn’t even going to respond; it’s always different when you’re on the other side of the gun.
“Let’s go,” Preacher said, leading the way.
They spent the night under the overhang of a building and slowly climbed up its steps to the street. No sooner had they stepped into the daylight, Cylon gunfire greeted them. Hack and Preacher rolled back down the stairs, but Bill, for some reason, felt the need to run forward, closer to the gun fire, but also towards the protection of a statue. Bullets ricocheted off the chrome plating of the president’s statue, but managed to miss Bill. He fired off several shots, but was too afraid to expose himself and couldn’t take aim.
Husker heard Hack and Preacher firing off their own rounds and yelling, “Get back here! We’ll cover you!”
He took a tentative step towards his comrades, but the bullets kept crossing between him and the steps, forcing back to the statue. He squatted down and covered his head with his hands and screamed as the gunfire increased. The precipice flashed before his eyes and Bill saw Jackal fall into the abyss. He stood up and pulled out his gun again, leaving the safety of the statue behind and running towards the Cylons. He squeezed off a few rounds and then there was a massive explosion, followed by three more. Bill stared at his gun, amazed that it could do that to Cylons. Hack and Preacher ran up to him, in equal awe.
“Run into a little trouble?” Came a voice from behind them. They turned around and saw a man hoisting a rocket launcher on his shoulder. He was tall, but very thin, probably from famine resulting from the rebellion. His clothes were torn and blackened by smoke, this man had seen combat. He walked towards them, the sun at his back lighting him up like an angel of the Gods. He stopped in front of them and offered his hand, which Bill quickly took.
“My name is Taro,” The man said.
“William Adama,” Husker said.
Eying the pilot’s uniforms, Taro said, “Colonial Fleet? You guys are some rescue party”
“We aren’t a rescue team, we were shot down on day one trying to destroy a base nearby. Where did you get that fine gun?” Preacher said, staring at the rocket launcher.
“Compliments of the resistance,” Taro replied very simply.
“There’s a resistance?” Hack said hopefully.
“Of course, as the military was largely made up of Cylons there isn’t anyone to protect us but us,” Said Taro. Hearing the faint grinding of Cylon machinery approach, he added, “We need to leave this place before more Centurions come. There’s a resistance base not too far from here, I can lead you to it.”
“Lead on,” Preacher said.
The pilots followed this strange man through back alleys, tunnels, and mountainous piles of rubble. Strangely enough, they didn’t see any Cylons during their trek through the city, which was, of course, a very welcome, if slightly puzzling, turn of events. Bill had no idea where they were going, though because he didn’t know where the resistance base was. He hadn’t known Caprica City very well before the attacks, being from Delphi, and the bombs had destroyed anything he might have recognized. However, one didn’t need to know the city well to realize they were slowly leaving the skyscrapers in the center and entering slightly less developed land.
“So…what’s your story?” Hack asked Taro, eager to learn about the first human they had met in weeks.
“Pardon?” Replied a slightly puzzled Taro.
“How did you get involved with the resistance?” Hack said.
“Oh…that. That’s a long story. I didn’t really have much choice,” Taro said expressionlessly as the others perked their ears, eager to break up the cancerous silence that had been slowly growing between them. “I was in the city on business and the next thing I knew the Cylon Chef behind the counter at the coffee shop I was in had stopped pouring drinks and was walking out the door and killed a little kid who was in his way. I was evacuated, same as the others, and was part of an enormous convoy leaving the city. That’s when I saw Vipers flying overhead…and Cylon Raiders on their way. The few Vipers that survived ran their sissy asses home… leaving us defenseless. It took less than two minutes for almost everyone in the convoy to be killed, I was lucky enough to escape with a very small group of people… mostly children who weren’t bogged down carrying books…bags…remnants of their lives. It took us a few days, but we did manage to raid a military weapons store and we’ve been attacking those frakkers ever since then.”
Bill looked at Preacher and Hack and saw a similar expression of awe on their face. It had been their Viper squadron Taro saw, it was they who ran off, leaving civilians to be slaughtered. If he thought his time on Caprica was bad, he could only imagine what must have been like for people who were not only in the same situation as he was, but had no military training and had experienced far greater loss than he.
“And you’ve been attacking ever since?” Preacher asked.
“No choice. We either attack or wait for them to attack us. You know what they say about the best defense,” Taro said with a smile that vanished as quickly as it had come.
“I hear that… nothing else works with those toasters,” Hack said.
“Don’t call them toasters. The Cylons are remarkably advanced for something created by mankind; ‘toaster’ is just the layman’s cheap shot,” Taro responded.
“How can you stand and defend those things? For gods’ sakes they nearly killed you! You saw firsthand what they are willing to do!” Said Hack with disgust.
“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe we had this coming? No, of course not, it’s far too easy to hate them. When you get right down to it, we almost deserve what’s happening. First we create these machines, and then we give them enough intelligence to be self-aware and still keep them enslaved, but this is okay, of course, because they aren’t humans. They are Cylons. This is our own damn fault,” Taro said coolly.
“You sure you’re in the resistance?” Bill said, half-jokingly, half-seriously.
“Well if I’m not then you’re really screwed. ‘Course I am, you just need to understand where your enemy is coming from, understand what they want and know what lengths they will go to. If you don’t know that, then you can’t stage a proper attack, much less win,” Taro responded, looking Bill dead in the eye. The conversation seemed to stop there; no one said a word more.