A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words for millari
Title: A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words
Characters: Sweet!Eight, with appearances by Caprica Six and Boomer
Rating: PG
Summary: Something's off in the administration, but the Eight doesn't know exactly what.
Original Story: Sketches from the Journal of a Dead Man by millari
The humans had left Colonial One for the day, and the Eight was glad. She wished there were windows she could open to let out the stink.
"There's no stink," Boomer had said, perplexed when the Eight had said as much to her. "At least, no more than us." But Boomer was wrong. She must have gotten used to it in her time among them. But the Eight could smell it every time the humans were here. To be fair, it was subtle, but it was persistent and after a while, it gave her a headache.
Boomer was with her now, helping to straighten up the office after the humans left for the day. She picked up a few papers, glancing over them, and tucked them away with a look of anxiety on her face.
"What are those?" the Eight asked.
"Gaeta's notes," Boomer said. "Nothing important. I'll take care of them."
There was something in the futility of Gaeta taking notes and then the Cylons discarding them that the Eight liked. Gaeta was a mess of a human- a knotty ball of anger and mistrust, although probably harmless. It amused the Eight that he thought he was helping, but as Cavil said, it also kept him out of trouble. It was a waste of paper, so she let Boomer deal with the mess.
After all, it wasn't anything important.
***
She first noticed it at a meeting, the way that Gaeta glared at Baltar. It wasn't just annoyance, it was all-out hate. The Eight knew that a lot of humans blamed Baltar for the Cylons being on New Caprica, which was just ridiculous because Baltar couldn't have stopped it if he wanted to, but that was humans for you. But it could be a problem.
She mentioned it to Caprica when they were sitting in together in the break room. "Oh. Gaeta," Caprica said with a sigh. "Believe me, it's nothing."
"It's definitely something," the Eight said. "I know all the humans hate us-"
"They don't all hate us," Caprica interrupted. The Eight stared at her, and Caprica almost flushed. "It's God's will that we live together."
"Right." The Eight kept from rolling her eyes. "But Gaeta hates Baltar."
"There's history there," Caprica said, and the Eight realized that she wasn't going to say much more.
"Fine," she said with a sigh. "Have it your way."
***
When she watched Gaeta (she wasn't sure why), she noticed that he wrote in two different ways. Sometimes his motions were neat and precise, and other times more leisurely, particularly when the meetings devolved into arguments among the Cylons. But she only noticed that during meetings, and by the end, other matters had occupied her attention.
It was a minor detail at best.
***
"We’re missing three crates of supplies," a Three reported.
One of the Cavils shrugged, but a Doral looked concerned. "How could they possibly disappear?"
The Three consulted her clipboard. "I'm not sure. They were signed for at the drop off point, but they never seemed to make it. It almost appears to be a clerical error."
"Humans," the Doral said with a roll of his eyes. "Their inefficiency is astounding. We should look into revamping the system."
"I keep telling you, I don't know why we need them at all," a Cavil said. The argument began again, and the minor matter of three missing crates was lost in the conversation.
But the Eight remembered.
***
"You don't think it was just a little convenient?" the Eight asked Boomer. "That the humans were able to leave intact the one truck that had weapons?"
"Don't underestimate them," Boomer cautioned her as she gathered up the notes from the meeting again. She studied them, bit her lip, and then crumpled them in her hands, squeezing them into a tight little ball. "A lot of them are former soldiers. They aren't as stupid as you'd like to believe."
"I never said they were," the Eight said. "I just find it too convenient. You don't suppose we could have a leak?"
"No. I just think Galen and Tigh are smart enough to do reconnaissance before they plan an attack. It's basic military strategy." Boomer was annoyed. "I'm going to take care of these."
The Eight let her go.
***
Maybe there wasn't a leak. The insurgence didn't gain any especial power that the Eight could tell, and surely if there was a leak, they would. Perhaps Boomer was right on that. But some antibiotics got redirected, a rations cut got lost in paperwork, and a New Caprican police order got fouled up.
Something was still going on, in small little blips the others weren't paying attention to. The Eight was going to find it.
***
"It's not just that he hates Baltar," the Eight said to Caprica. "Gaeta ignores you. He acts like you don't exist."
This time Caprica did flush. "I know."
This was interesting. The Eight leaned forward. "Why?"
Caprica looked towards the conference room door, apparently anxious not to be overheard. "Gaeta was in love with Baltar." The Eight stared at her, and Caprica made a little gesture with her hands. "They were together. For a little, anyway."
"Why?"
Caprica shrugged. "Gaius is… Gaius. I'm not surprised, to tell the truth."
She'd misunderstood. The Eight could not understand Caprica's love for the wretched mass of life that was Baltar, much less another person loving him. But she held her silence. Caprica would not see her point on this matter- the Eight knew that.
"So this is why he hates Baltar so much," she mused instead. "Because of personal history. Why didn't you tell me when I asked the first time?"
"I hoped…."
She had hoped to win Gaeta over. The Eight barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. But on the other hand, this explained so much.
Gaeta had never been a threat after all.
***
Cavil arrested Robin something, one of the members of the Quorum of Twelve, for trying to adjust ration regulations without permission. An undersecretary of some sort was dragged out onto the street and shot for passing information about the NCP membership to a rebel, and that rebel was imprisoned in the detention center. And yet, something was still off in the administration, something that was escaping everyone's notice. But no one agreed with her, and no one cared.
After a while, she tried to dismiss it from her mind.
***
Meeting after meeting, argument after argument. The Eight wished they had never came to this hellhole, this stagnant waste of life. There was nothing here for them, no wars to fight and triumphs to be won. She sat in the corner, legs crossed, pretending to listen and bored out of her mind.
When the meeting adjourned, she noticed Boomer in quiet conversation with a Two. Boomer looked urgent, passionate. The Two must be wavering, either coming around to support for Boomer, or withdrawing his support and casting his lot with Cavil. The Eight found she didn't care. She began to gather up the papers spread across the table. And as she did, a drawing caught her eye and she froze.
There, in the margins of the paper, was an excellent likeness of Cavil, with bullets spraying into his chest. Cavil dying horribly in a miserable little doodle. The Eight turned the paper ninety degrees and studied it more closely.
"It's nothing." Boomer appeared beside her and snatched the papers out of her hands.
"Excuse me?"
"I said it's nothing. Humans often doodle. It means nothing."
It meant more than nothing. It was an indication of their mindset, a window into what they were thinking. How could Boomer not see that? The Eight looked at the notes again. Gaeta.
"You and Gaeta were friends on Galactica, weren't you?" she asked.
"Yes. He's not… he's…."
The Eight waved a hand dismissively. "I just wondered." So Boomer was trying to protect him, because she knew what any other Cylon would make of these little pictures. Said a lot about Boomer's faith in humans, really.
"Don't say anything to him, will you?" Boomer begged her. "It's just a little doodle."
"I know it is." The Eight smiled at her. "There are more important things, right?"
Boomer looked relieved. "Right."
Stupid. Her faith in this human was ridiculous. The Eight wondered how she herself had managed to evade this fact for so long, but now, with that one doodle, the pieces had fallen into place. There was something off in the administration, and Gaeta needed to be watched. But it would have to be a project of her own- Boomer certainly wouldn't help. She stepped away, smiling.
"You're right," she said. "It's nothing."
She'd have to keep a close eye on Gaeta by herself.
Characters: Sweet!Eight, with appearances by Caprica Six and Boomer
Rating: PG
Summary: Something's off in the administration, but the Eight doesn't know exactly what.
Original Story: Sketches from the Journal of a Dead Man by millari
The humans had left Colonial One for the day, and the Eight was glad. She wished there were windows she could open to let out the stink.
"There's no stink," Boomer had said, perplexed when the Eight had said as much to her. "At least, no more than us." But Boomer was wrong. She must have gotten used to it in her time among them. But the Eight could smell it every time the humans were here. To be fair, it was subtle, but it was persistent and after a while, it gave her a headache.
Boomer was with her now, helping to straighten up the office after the humans left for the day. She picked up a few papers, glancing over them, and tucked them away with a look of anxiety on her face.
"What are those?" the Eight asked.
"Gaeta's notes," Boomer said. "Nothing important. I'll take care of them."
There was something in the futility of Gaeta taking notes and then the Cylons discarding them that the Eight liked. Gaeta was a mess of a human- a knotty ball of anger and mistrust, although probably harmless. It amused the Eight that he thought he was helping, but as Cavil said, it also kept him out of trouble. It was a waste of paper, so she let Boomer deal with the mess.
After all, it wasn't anything important.
***
She first noticed it at a meeting, the way that Gaeta glared at Baltar. It wasn't just annoyance, it was all-out hate. The Eight knew that a lot of humans blamed Baltar for the Cylons being on New Caprica, which was just ridiculous because Baltar couldn't have stopped it if he wanted to, but that was humans for you. But it could be a problem.
She mentioned it to Caprica when they were sitting in together in the break room. "Oh. Gaeta," Caprica said with a sigh. "Believe me, it's nothing."
"It's definitely something," the Eight said. "I know all the humans hate us-"
"They don't all hate us," Caprica interrupted. The Eight stared at her, and Caprica almost flushed. "It's God's will that we live together."
"Right." The Eight kept from rolling her eyes. "But Gaeta hates Baltar."
"There's history there," Caprica said, and the Eight realized that she wasn't going to say much more.
"Fine," she said with a sigh. "Have it your way."
***
When she watched Gaeta (she wasn't sure why), she noticed that he wrote in two different ways. Sometimes his motions were neat and precise, and other times more leisurely, particularly when the meetings devolved into arguments among the Cylons. But she only noticed that during meetings, and by the end, other matters had occupied her attention.
It was a minor detail at best.
***
"We’re missing three crates of supplies," a Three reported.
One of the Cavils shrugged, but a Doral looked concerned. "How could they possibly disappear?"
The Three consulted her clipboard. "I'm not sure. They were signed for at the drop off point, but they never seemed to make it. It almost appears to be a clerical error."
"Humans," the Doral said with a roll of his eyes. "Their inefficiency is astounding. We should look into revamping the system."
"I keep telling you, I don't know why we need them at all," a Cavil said. The argument began again, and the minor matter of three missing crates was lost in the conversation.
But the Eight remembered.
***
"You don't think it was just a little convenient?" the Eight asked Boomer. "That the humans were able to leave intact the one truck that had weapons?"
"Don't underestimate them," Boomer cautioned her as she gathered up the notes from the meeting again. She studied them, bit her lip, and then crumpled them in her hands, squeezing them into a tight little ball. "A lot of them are former soldiers. They aren't as stupid as you'd like to believe."
"I never said they were," the Eight said. "I just find it too convenient. You don't suppose we could have a leak?"
"No. I just think Galen and Tigh are smart enough to do reconnaissance before they plan an attack. It's basic military strategy." Boomer was annoyed. "I'm going to take care of these."
The Eight let her go.
***
Maybe there wasn't a leak. The insurgence didn't gain any especial power that the Eight could tell, and surely if there was a leak, they would. Perhaps Boomer was right on that. But some antibiotics got redirected, a rations cut got lost in paperwork, and a New Caprican police order got fouled up.
Something was still going on, in small little blips the others weren't paying attention to. The Eight was going to find it.
***
"It's not just that he hates Baltar," the Eight said to Caprica. "Gaeta ignores you. He acts like you don't exist."
This time Caprica did flush. "I know."
This was interesting. The Eight leaned forward. "Why?"
Caprica looked towards the conference room door, apparently anxious not to be overheard. "Gaeta was in love with Baltar." The Eight stared at her, and Caprica made a little gesture with her hands. "They were together. For a little, anyway."
"Why?"
Caprica shrugged. "Gaius is… Gaius. I'm not surprised, to tell the truth."
She'd misunderstood. The Eight could not understand Caprica's love for the wretched mass of life that was Baltar, much less another person loving him. But she held her silence. Caprica would not see her point on this matter- the Eight knew that.
"So this is why he hates Baltar so much," she mused instead. "Because of personal history. Why didn't you tell me when I asked the first time?"
"I hoped…."
She had hoped to win Gaeta over. The Eight barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. But on the other hand, this explained so much.
Gaeta had never been a threat after all.
***
Cavil arrested Robin something, one of the members of the Quorum of Twelve, for trying to adjust ration regulations without permission. An undersecretary of some sort was dragged out onto the street and shot for passing information about the NCP membership to a rebel, and that rebel was imprisoned in the detention center. And yet, something was still off in the administration, something that was escaping everyone's notice. But no one agreed with her, and no one cared.
After a while, she tried to dismiss it from her mind.
***
Meeting after meeting, argument after argument. The Eight wished they had never came to this hellhole, this stagnant waste of life. There was nothing here for them, no wars to fight and triumphs to be won. She sat in the corner, legs crossed, pretending to listen and bored out of her mind.
When the meeting adjourned, she noticed Boomer in quiet conversation with a Two. Boomer looked urgent, passionate. The Two must be wavering, either coming around to support for Boomer, or withdrawing his support and casting his lot with Cavil. The Eight found she didn't care. She began to gather up the papers spread across the table. And as she did, a drawing caught her eye and she froze.
There, in the margins of the paper, was an excellent likeness of Cavil, with bullets spraying into his chest. Cavil dying horribly in a miserable little doodle. The Eight turned the paper ninety degrees and studied it more closely.
"It's nothing." Boomer appeared beside her and snatched the papers out of her hands.
"Excuse me?"
"I said it's nothing. Humans often doodle. It means nothing."
It meant more than nothing. It was an indication of their mindset, a window into what they were thinking. How could Boomer not see that? The Eight looked at the notes again. Gaeta.
"You and Gaeta were friends on Galactica, weren't you?" she asked.
"Yes. He's not… he's…."
The Eight waved a hand dismissively. "I just wondered." So Boomer was trying to protect him, because she knew what any other Cylon would make of these little pictures. Said a lot about Boomer's faith in humans, really.
"Don't say anything to him, will you?" Boomer begged her. "It's just a little doodle."
"I know it is." The Eight smiled at her. "There are more important things, right?"
Boomer looked relieved. "Right."
Stupid. Her faith in this human was ridiculous. The Eight wondered how she herself had managed to evade this fact for so long, but now, with that one doodle, the pieces had fallen into place. There was something off in the administration, and Gaeta needed to be watched. But it would have to be a project of her own- Boomer certainly wouldn't help. She stepped away, smiling.
"You're right," she said. "It's nothing."
She'd have to keep a close eye on Gaeta by herself.