Birthday Fic: The Plains of Esdraelon (5/11)
Title: The Plains of Esdraelon (5/11)
Author: bugs
Summary: The medication is acquired for Billy, but new obstacles arise for the resistance.
Rating: T
Genre: Adventure, Romance, Angst, Drama
Word Count: 2,500
Series: The Stars in Their Courses
Chapter Five:
Tory leaned against the cold steel door, trying to slow her fluttering heartbeat. She felt like a rat stuck in the dead end of a maze, but she had to keep going. The only way to freedom was back out through the warren of corridors in the Cylons’ detention center. Besides prisoners, their valuable stores were kept here, including this room full of medical supplies.
She’d been carefully coached by Doctor Cottle on exactly what she was looking for and where to find it in the pharmacy, but now her panic overcame her and she monetarily forgot. It had taken all her resolve to quickly orient herself and find this room after dropping off some meaningless paperwork for Baltar.
Frantically, she scanned the bottles in the refrigerated cases. Tycrecycine... that’s what she was looking for.
She froze. Was that approaching footfall she heard? A rat...she was a rat...she was going to kill that Elizabeth Roslin if--when she got out of this mess.
Breathing deeply, she forced herself to continue searching. Finally, in the last case, she found the bottles she was looking for. Heartened by her discovery, she opened her empty briefcase and emptied all the bottles of Tycrecycine into it. She rearranged the remaining bottles to delay the inevitable discovery.
At the door, she waited, trying to hear through it. She had to open it a crack and listen again. Do it! she chided herself and slipped through.
“Felix!” she gasped, clutching the briefcase to her chest. The bottles inside clattered.
“What were you doing in there, Tory?” the young man asked, glancing behind her at the pharmacy.
Licking her dry lips, Tory began explaining. “The President asked me to personally pick up some antibiotics for him.”
“Antibiotics?” Gaeta’s brow furrowed with confusion. Then his expression changed to one of distaste. “Oh.”
“Yes,” breathed Tory. “He didn’t want Caprica Six to know...you understand.”
Gaeta sneered and looked Tory up and down. “Yes, I’m afraid I do.”
Tory was amazed at how calm she remained. Chuckling, she linked her arm with his. “Let’s go,” she said. If she was going to be captured and tortured to death, this little frakker was coming with her.
But as they strolled towards Colonial One, Tory was visited by a new worry. Her story would fall apart as soon as they encountered Baltar.
Suddenly the briefcase was yanked from her hand. “Hey!” she yelled.
One of the notorious tent city juvenile delinquents had snatched her bag and was sprinting away. Gaeta gave chase but lost sight of the thief. Thuggish young men closed in around him when he stopped to catch his breath. He held up his hands. Baltar’s drugs weren’t worth it. “Nothing to worry about here,” he said, backing out of the narrow aisle between the sagging tents.
“Well?” Tory asked when he returned.
“I lost him.”
“What!?” Tory looked around frantically as though she thought she may have just dropped the bag. “Dammit, Felix, sh--he’s going to kill me!”
“Let him go to Doc Cottle,” grumbled Gaeta, stalking off.
Tory remained frozen, anger and fear warring in her gut. Then she spotted bright penny-colored hair peeking around the corner of a tent. Elizabeth nodded at her and disappeared.
Holding in hysterical laughter, Tory staggered off, her limbs weak from relief. She paused though, within sight of Colonial One. No. She’d put her lot in with the resistance; she was no longer safe in the den of vipers. Turning, she casually sauntered in the direction of the marketplace.
Elizabeth darted among the tents. Now that they had the drugs, she must get the doctor. Pulling up short, she dodged behind a stack of crates.
Centurions stood at the entrance to the medics’ tent.
~*~
Laura glared up at Sam in the dim underground chamber. “I don’t like this at all. How can you be assured humans won’t die in an attack on the police academy?”
“It’s called collateral damage, Ma’am,” Sam said contemptuously. “And those traitors aren’t worth much.”
Tyrol glanced quickly between the two adversaries. “Listen, Sam, she’s got a point. Duck will be at the back of the group, triggering the explosives when Baltar’s at the podium, but other humans will die, there’s no two ways about it.”
“If they side with the Cylons, they’re no longer humans,” Duck said, his pale face flushed with anger.
“They’re trying to survive, just as we are,” Laura pointed out.
Tyrol looked at his watch. “About time to check the radio for a communication from the Raptor.”
“Gimme a break,” Sam sneered. “They’re not coming.” He glanced at Laura. “Remember, I’ve got experience with that.”
“He’s coming. They’re coming back,” she said as she rose stiffly from her stool. “You think these new codes your source gave you will finally break through the Cylon jamming, Chief?”
“I hope so, Ma’am,” Tyrol said, hovering over Laura as he escorted her towards the large wireless he’d stolen from a Raptor.
Sam trailed after them.
Laura glanced at him. “Any word of Kara, Sam?”
He shook his head, his jaw tight.
“We must find her,” said Laura. “Bill won’t leave this planet without her.”
Sam started to speak, then closed his mouth.
Duck called to them, “I’ve got to pick up that police uniform,” as he left the chamber.
Waving vaguely at his operative, Sam focused on the computer screen while Tyrol input the new codes. The message remained as it had day after day: WAITING FOR OPEN CHANNEL.
“Did you hear, Ma’am?” said Tyrol. “The Cylons cut food rations today.”
“I heard,” said Laura.
“And they’re talking about closing down the marketplace,” Tyrol added gloomily. “Security risk.”
Sam crossed his arms. “We’ll just shift targets.”
Laura hissed under her breath.
“How much longer?” asked Sam.
“Two minutes.” Tyrol stared at the screen intently, as though he’d miss something by blinking.
“Nothin’,” Sam said with grim satisfaction but as he turned to go, Tyrol held up his hand.
“Contact,” the Chief breathed. His screen read: FREQUENCY RESOLVED. SECURE CHANNEL OPEN.
Laura leaned close, gripping Tyrol’s shoulder tightly.
~*~
Ishay sorted through the boxes of their meager supplies. The Cylons covered their basic needs, but just so the human medical team could triage Cylon victims effectively before they were sent to their secured detention center where the Simons took over. As for the humans’ medical care, the Cylons allowed it for now, but every day she wondered if the Centurions would tear it down like they had so many things.
She, Doctor Cottle, and another medic had been on the surface for their bi-weekly medical calls when they’d been trapped by the Cylon invasion. Although she had worked every day since then, she felt her duty lay here, rather than up on the Galactica. The need was so great, she thought as she carefully refolded freshly-washed rags that served as sponges for surgery.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her ankle. Being battle alert every day had trained her well. Containing her reaction, Ishay casually glanced down. The Admiral’s daughter’s face was peeking under the tent’s edge.
Ishay opened a box of vials and started counting them. “One, two, what is it, four, five, six...”
“Centurions, outside. Can you get out?”
“Eight, have a way, ten, eleven...”
“Meet by the court.” The bright head disappeared.
Ishay closed the box and stacked it atop another. She wandered towards the sleeping area, nothing more than a cot behind a hanging curtain. “I’m taking an hour,” she called out to a worried looking Cottle. She didn’t know what was going on, but she was sure he did.
“Good. Take two,” he replied.
Ishay lay on the cot so it could be heard squeaking and then shut off the lamp. In the darkness, she carefully rolled off the cot and onto the floor. A tear in the canvas made it possible to slide under the edge and outside. A stack of boxes gave a convenient hiding place to assess the situation. Ishay peered between two boxes. A Centurion patrolled the area alongside the medical tent.
Puzzled, Ishay waited for an opening, but none came. Nightfall was approaching, but not fast enough. Finally, a knot of young people playing Pyramid burst out of the tents, hooting and passing the ball back and forth. Seeing her chance, the medic slipped out and joined them, dodging among the players, listening for the sound of clanking feet behind her or the spray of gunfire.
When they reached the courtyard with the goal, she peeled off, blending into a crowd of watchers. A heavy hand fell on her shoulder and she started.
“This way,” said a deep voice, and she glanced up to see a vaguely familiar face from Galactica, a burly man with sad eyes and a fresh scar on his grizzled cheek. One of the knuckledraggers, she thought. Figurski?
Once they were in the tents, Elizabeth Roslin popped out through a flap and joined them. “What’s with the Centurions?” she asked Ishay.
They hurried along, glancing over their shoulders. “I don’t know,” said the medic. “We haven’t done anything.”
Elizabeth looked worried. “Surely they couldn’t have discovered the stolen meds already.”
“They see everything,” the older man said gloomily.
The two women nodded. “The noose just keeps tightening,” said Elizabeth as she tugged Ishay’s arm, pulling her into the tent with the trapdoor.
~*~
“Enter the message,” Laura ordered Tyrol, even as she felt faint from the excitement. Was their nightmare over?
He carefully typed their status report: 1150 ARMED EFFECTIVES CYLONS CRACKDOWN. LAUNCH KEYS REMOVED--
“Can you...add to it?” she whispered. “I mean, I understand, military protocol and all...”
The Chief concentrated on his work. “Something short,” he muttered.
“Just add the letters L,E, please. That should do it.”
He grinned. “Easy enough.”
Laura smiled back. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth’s head popped around the corner. “Mom, we’ve got the meds and I got Sergeant Ishay. We’ll be with Billy.”
She disappeared before Laura could tell her the good news. Then Laura laughed. Elizabeth’s news was good too. They were going home and Billy would be with them.
Her mirth faded. She turned to Sam. “Cancel that attack on the police academy. It’s not necessary now.”
He started to protest. “Ma’am, it could be weeks before the Fleet actually arrives--“
She narrowed her eyes. “Do it. Now.”
Without looking up, Tyrol backed her. “I’ve got the transmitter for the explosives. I’m not giving it to Duck.”
“Okay, okay,” Sam grumbled and left the chamber.
Laura squeezed Tyrol’s shoulder again.
~*~
Ishay finally shooed Elizabeth away from Billy’s bedside. “There’s nothing to see, and you’re probably breathing germs all over him,” she said briskly as she checked her unconscious patient’s pulse one more time.
“Okay, okay.” Elizabeth reluctantly rose from the chair and laid Billy’s hand on the mattress, giving it one last squeeze. “But fetch me if there’s any change.”
“Of course,” the medic said, flapping her hands to move the girl along.
Elizabeth found Laura in their sleeping chamber. Candles lit the room with a warm glow, but the girl realized it wasn’t for light. Her mother’s scrolls lay open and Laura had been murmuring prayers.
She pulled up short. “Uh, sorry, I’ll come back later...”
“No, no.” Laura reached out for her daughter, a smile spreading across her face. “How’s Billy?”
“Sergeant Ishay says he’s responding well already.”
“My prayers have been answered!” Laura said as a joke, but Elizabeth just looked uncomfortable.
“Come here,” she said, holding out her hand for her daughter. Putting her arm around the girl’s shoulders, she kissed her temple.
“Guess what,” Laura whispered. “Tyrol finally got through today and contacted the Raptor. Something, somebody, remains up there, and it looks like we’ll get rescued from this rock.”
She expected Elizabeth to cheer, to scream with joy, but the strong body in her embrace sagged instead, leaning into her.
“We’re going home?” This was not the voice of her hardened warrior; it was her little girl again.
“Yes,” Laura choked out. “Home.”
They rocked together, the candlelight dancing across their expectant faces, daring to dream of their steel-clad quarters, its books, its vivid rugs, its master’s embrace.
“I’ll be so glad to leave this place,” Laura finally said. “All these horrible decisions I’ve had to make... Violent choices... Without your father’s even temperament as guidance...”
Elizabeth pushed herself upright and looked at her mother levelly. “You made the tough choice to take out Admiral Cain, Mom. Give yourself credit.”
Laura shook her head. “That was different. That woman was going to kill your father and he couldn’t see it.”
“That’s what I’m saying. You’ve done it when you’ve had to. No one’s expecting you to enjoy it,” Elizabeth pointed out practically.
Running her hand up and down the girl’s arm, Laura looked at her daughter carefully. “And I’m glad you’ll be out of this sort of situation. I’m sure Admiral Cain was a tough young woman too, living through the Cylon War, but look what she became.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Oh, Mom!”
“And she was Tauron too.” Laura cocked her eyebrow at her daughter.
“Mom!”
Laura could smile easily now, relief washing through her soul. “Well, it just explains so much! I didn’t know! I wasn’t exchanging family trees with your father that night...”
The girl blushed. She hated it when her parents referred to her conception; their combination of embarrassment and wicked glee always made her uncomfortable.
Leaning over to blow out a few of the candles, Laura then rolled up her scrolls. “This felt good,” she said, patting her beloved texts.
“You hadn’t prayed in a while,” her daughter noted.
Laura picked up the small bronze figurines of Zeus and Hera from the table and tucked them away in the velvet satchel with her scrolls. “I hadn’t felt worthy of praying in a while.”
“I thought your gods were supposed to give you strength.”
Not wanting a theological debate, Laura tucked her arm into Elizabeth’s and led her into the corridor. “Let’s go visit our boy.”
But before they could get far, Sam and Tory hurried up.
“Duck did it,” Sam said confusingly.
“Did what?” asked Laura, stepping forward.
“He took the bomb we gave him to the policy academy.”
Laura tipped her head in confusion. “But Tyrol didn’t give him the triggering mechanism.”
“He didn’t use one,” said Sam grimly. “He did a straight rigging and set it off as soon the Cylons filed in.” The big man curled his fists in aggravation. “For nothin’, he died for nothin’! Baltar didn’t even show up, the shithead.”
“And now the NCP have spread out through the tent city,” Tory babbled. “They’re looking for you, Ms. Roslin.”
Elizabeth put an arm around her mother.
Sam nodded. “They’ve been tearing up tents, offering rewards with one hand and issues threats with the other. They want you.”
Tyrol suddenly appeared in the gloom of the tunnel.
“Cally’s gone, she’s gone,” he panted, terror on his face.
“What’s happened?” Laura asked, trying to calm him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back the tears. “The police took my wife!”
Sam and Elizabeth exchanged steely looks and with a sinking heart, Laura knew what it meant. Her daughter’s time as a fighter wasn’t over yet.
End (5/11) (chapter six)
Author: bugs
Summary: The medication is acquired for Billy, but new obstacles arise for the resistance.
Rating: T
Genre: Adventure, Romance, Angst, Drama
Word Count: 2,500
Series: The Stars in Their Courses
Chapter Five:
Tory leaned against the cold steel door, trying to slow her fluttering heartbeat. She felt like a rat stuck in the dead end of a maze, but she had to keep going. The only way to freedom was back out through the warren of corridors in the Cylons’ detention center. Besides prisoners, their valuable stores were kept here, including this room full of medical supplies.
She’d been carefully coached by Doctor Cottle on exactly what she was looking for and where to find it in the pharmacy, but now her panic overcame her and she monetarily forgot. It had taken all her resolve to quickly orient herself and find this room after dropping off some meaningless paperwork for Baltar.
Frantically, she scanned the bottles in the refrigerated cases. Tycrecycine... that’s what she was looking for.
She froze. Was that approaching footfall she heard? A rat...she was a rat...she was going to kill that Elizabeth Roslin if--when she got out of this mess.
Breathing deeply, she forced herself to continue searching. Finally, in the last case, she found the bottles she was looking for. Heartened by her discovery, she opened her empty briefcase and emptied all the bottles of Tycrecycine into it. She rearranged the remaining bottles to delay the inevitable discovery.
At the door, she waited, trying to hear through it. She had to open it a crack and listen again. Do it! she chided herself and slipped through.
“Felix!” she gasped, clutching the briefcase to her chest. The bottles inside clattered.
“What were you doing in there, Tory?” the young man asked, glancing behind her at the pharmacy.
Licking her dry lips, Tory began explaining. “The President asked me to personally pick up some antibiotics for him.”
“Antibiotics?” Gaeta’s brow furrowed with confusion. Then his expression changed to one of distaste. “Oh.”
“Yes,” breathed Tory. “He didn’t want Caprica Six to know...you understand.”
Gaeta sneered and looked Tory up and down. “Yes, I’m afraid I do.”
Tory was amazed at how calm she remained. Chuckling, she linked her arm with his. “Let’s go,” she said. If she was going to be captured and tortured to death, this little frakker was coming with her.
But as they strolled towards Colonial One, Tory was visited by a new worry. Her story would fall apart as soon as they encountered Baltar.
Suddenly the briefcase was yanked from her hand. “Hey!” she yelled.
One of the notorious tent city juvenile delinquents had snatched her bag and was sprinting away. Gaeta gave chase but lost sight of the thief. Thuggish young men closed in around him when he stopped to catch his breath. He held up his hands. Baltar’s drugs weren’t worth it. “Nothing to worry about here,” he said, backing out of the narrow aisle between the sagging tents.
“Well?” Tory asked when he returned.
“I lost him.”
“What!?” Tory looked around frantically as though she thought she may have just dropped the bag. “Dammit, Felix, sh--he’s going to kill me!”
“Let him go to Doc Cottle,” grumbled Gaeta, stalking off.
Tory remained frozen, anger and fear warring in her gut. Then she spotted bright penny-colored hair peeking around the corner of a tent. Elizabeth nodded at her and disappeared.
Holding in hysterical laughter, Tory staggered off, her limbs weak from relief. She paused though, within sight of Colonial One. No. She’d put her lot in with the resistance; she was no longer safe in the den of vipers. Turning, she casually sauntered in the direction of the marketplace.
Elizabeth darted among the tents. Now that they had the drugs, she must get the doctor. Pulling up short, she dodged behind a stack of crates.
Centurions stood at the entrance to the medics’ tent.
~*~
Laura glared up at Sam in the dim underground chamber. “I don’t like this at all. How can you be assured humans won’t die in an attack on the police academy?”
“It’s called collateral damage, Ma’am,” Sam said contemptuously. “And those traitors aren’t worth much.”
Tyrol glanced quickly between the two adversaries. “Listen, Sam, she’s got a point. Duck will be at the back of the group, triggering the explosives when Baltar’s at the podium, but other humans will die, there’s no two ways about it.”
“If they side with the Cylons, they’re no longer humans,” Duck said, his pale face flushed with anger.
“They’re trying to survive, just as we are,” Laura pointed out.
Tyrol looked at his watch. “About time to check the radio for a communication from the Raptor.”
“Gimme a break,” Sam sneered. “They’re not coming.” He glanced at Laura. “Remember, I’ve got experience with that.”
“He’s coming. They’re coming back,” she said as she rose stiffly from her stool. “You think these new codes your source gave you will finally break through the Cylon jamming, Chief?”
“I hope so, Ma’am,” Tyrol said, hovering over Laura as he escorted her towards the large wireless he’d stolen from a Raptor.
Sam trailed after them.
Laura glanced at him. “Any word of Kara, Sam?”
He shook his head, his jaw tight.
“We must find her,” said Laura. “Bill won’t leave this planet without her.”
Sam started to speak, then closed his mouth.
Duck called to them, “I’ve got to pick up that police uniform,” as he left the chamber.
Waving vaguely at his operative, Sam focused on the computer screen while Tyrol input the new codes. The message remained as it had day after day: WAITING FOR OPEN CHANNEL.
“Did you hear, Ma’am?” said Tyrol. “The Cylons cut food rations today.”
“I heard,” said Laura.
“And they’re talking about closing down the marketplace,” Tyrol added gloomily. “Security risk.”
Sam crossed his arms. “We’ll just shift targets.”
Laura hissed under her breath.
“How much longer?” asked Sam.
“Two minutes.” Tyrol stared at the screen intently, as though he’d miss something by blinking.
“Nothin’,” Sam said with grim satisfaction but as he turned to go, Tyrol held up his hand.
“Contact,” the Chief breathed. His screen read: FREQUENCY RESOLVED. SECURE CHANNEL OPEN.
Laura leaned close, gripping Tyrol’s shoulder tightly.
~*~
Ishay sorted through the boxes of their meager supplies. The Cylons covered their basic needs, but just so the human medical team could triage Cylon victims effectively before they were sent to their secured detention center where the Simons took over. As for the humans’ medical care, the Cylons allowed it for now, but every day she wondered if the Centurions would tear it down like they had so many things.
She, Doctor Cottle, and another medic had been on the surface for their bi-weekly medical calls when they’d been trapped by the Cylon invasion. Although she had worked every day since then, she felt her duty lay here, rather than up on the Galactica. The need was so great, she thought as she carefully refolded freshly-washed rags that served as sponges for surgery.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her ankle. Being battle alert every day had trained her well. Containing her reaction, Ishay casually glanced down. The Admiral’s daughter’s face was peeking under the tent’s edge.
Ishay opened a box of vials and started counting them. “One, two, what is it, four, five, six...”
“Centurions, outside. Can you get out?”
“Eight, have a way, ten, eleven...”
“Meet by the court.” The bright head disappeared.
Ishay closed the box and stacked it atop another. She wandered towards the sleeping area, nothing more than a cot behind a hanging curtain. “I’m taking an hour,” she called out to a worried looking Cottle. She didn’t know what was going on, but she was sure he did.
“Good. Take two,” he replied.
Ishay lay on the cot so it could be heard squeaking and then shut off the lamp. In the darkness, she carefully rolled off the cot and onto the floor. A tear in the canvas made it possible to slide under the edge and outside. A stack of boxes gave a convenient hiding place to assess the situation. Ishay peered between two boxes. A Centurion patrolled the area alongside the medical tent.
Puzzled, Ishay waited for an opening, but none came. Nightfall was approaching, but not fast enough. Finally, a knot of young people playing Pyramid burst out of the tents, hooting and passing the ball back and forth. Seeing her chance, the medic slipped out and joined them, dodging among the players, listening for the sound of clanking feet behind her or the spray of gunfire.
When they reached the courtyard with the goal, she peeled off, blending into a crowd of watchers. A heavy hand fell on her shoulder and she started.
“This way,” said a deep voice, and she glanced up to see a vaguely familiar face from Galactica, a burly man with sad eyes and a fresh scar on his grizzled cheek. One of the knuckledraggers, she thought. Figurski?
Once they were in the tents, Elizabeth Roslin popped out through a flap and joined them. “What’s with the Centurions?” she asked Ishay.
They hurried along, glancing over their shoulders. “I don’t know,” said the medic. “We haven’t done anything.”
Elizabeth looked worried. “Surely they couldn’t have discovered the stolen meds already.”
“They see everything,” the older man said gloomily.
The two women nodded. “The noose just keeps tightening,” said Elizabeth as she tugged Ishay’s arm, pulling her into the tent with the trapdoor.
~*~
“Enter the message,” Laura ordered Tyrol, even as she felt faint from the excitement. Was their nightmare over?
He carefully typed their status report: 1150 ARMED EFFECTIVES CYLONS CRACKDOWN. LAUNCH KEYS REMOVED--
“Can you...add to it?” she whispered. “I mean, I understand, military protocol and all...”
The Chief concentrated on his work. “Something short,” he muttered.
“Just add the letters L,E, please. That should do it.”
He grinned. “Easy enough.”
Laura smiled back. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth’s head popped around the corner. “Mom, we’ve got the meds and I got Sergeant Ishay. We’ll be with Billy.”
She disappeared before Laura could tell her the good news. Then Laura laughed. Elizabeth’s news was good too. They were going home and Billy would be with them.
Her mirth faded. She turned to Sam. “Cancel that attack on the police academy. It’s not necessary now.”
He started to protest. “Ma’am, it could be weeks before the Fleet actually arrives--“
She narrowed her eyes. “Do it. Now.”
Without looking up, Tyrol backed her. “I’ve got the transmitter for the explosives. I’m not giving it to Duck.”
“Okay, okay,” Sam grumbled and left the chamber.
Laura squeezed Tyrol’s shoulder again.
~*~
Ishay finally shooed Elizabeth away from Billy’s bedside. “There’s nothing to see, and you’re probably breathing germs all over him,” she said briskly as she checked her unconscious patient’s pulse one more time.
“Okay, okay.” Elizabeth reluctantly rose from the chair and laid Billy’s hand on the mattress, giving it one last squeeze. “But fetch me if there’s any change.”
“Of course,” the medic said, flapping her hands to move the girl along.
Elizabeth found Laura in their sleeping chamber. Candles lit the room with a warm glow, but the girl realized it wasn’t for light. Her mother’s scrolls lay open and Laura had been murmuring prayers.
She pulled up short. “Uh, sorry, I’ll come back later...”
“No, no.” Laura reached out for her daughter, a smile spreading across her face. “How’s Billy?”
“Sergeant Ishay says he’s responding well already.”
“My prayers have been answered!” Laura said as a joke, but Elizabeth just looked uncomfortable.
“Come here,” she said, holding out her hand for her daughter. Putting her arm around the girl’s shoulders, she kissed her temple.
“Guess what,” Laura whispered. “Tyrol finally got through today and contacted the Raptor. Something, somebody, remains up there, and it looks like we’ll get rescued from this rock.”
She expected Elizabeth to cheer, to scream with joy, but the strong body in her embrace sagged instead, leaning into her.
“We’re going home?” This was not the voice of her hardened warrior; it was her little girl again.
“Yes,” Laura choked out. “Home.”
They rocked together, the candlelight dancing across their expectant faces, daring to dream of their steel-clad quarters, its books, its vivid rugs, its master’s embrace.
“I’ll be so glad to leave this place,” Laura finally said. “All these horrible decisions I’ve had to make... Violent choices... Without your father’s even temperament as guidance...”
Elizabeth pushed herself upright and looked at her mother levelly. “You made the tough choice to take out Admiral Cain, Mom. Give yourself credit.”
Laura shook her head. “That was different. That woman was going to kill your father and he couldn’t see it.”
“That’s what I’m saying. You’ve done it when you’ve had to. No one’s expecting you to enjoy it,” Elizabeth pointed out practically.
Running her hand up and down the girl’s arm, Laura looked at her daughter carefully. “And I’m glad you’ll be out of this sort of situation. I’m sure Admiral Cain was a tough young woman too, living through the Cylon War, but look what she became.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Oh, Mom!”
“And she was Tauron too.” Laura cocked her eyebrow at her daughter.
“Mom!”
Laura could smile easily now, relief washing through her soul. “Well, it just explains so much! I didn’t know! I wasn’t exchanging family trees with your father that night...”
The girl blushed. She hated it when her parents referred to her conception; their combination of embarrassment and wicked glee always made her uncomfortable.
Leaning over to blow out a few of the candles, Laura then rolled up her scrolls. “This felt good,” she said, patting her beloved texts.
“You hadn’t prayed in a while,” her daughter noted.
Laura picked up the small bronze figurines of Zeus and Hera from the table and tucked them away in the velvet satchel with her scrolls. “I hadn’t felt worthy of praying in a while.”
“I thought your gods were supposed to give you strength.”
Not wanting a theological debate, Laura tucked her arm into Elizabeth’s and led her into the corridor. “Let’s go visit our boy.”
But before they could get far, Sam and Tory hurried up.
“Duck did it,” Sam said confusingly.
“Did what?” asked Laura, stepping forward.
“He took the bomb we gave him to the policy academy.”
Laura tipped her head in confusion. “But Tyrol didn’t give him the triggering mechanism.”
“He didn’t use one,” said Sam grimly. “He did a straight rigging and set it off as soon the Cylons filed in.” The big man curled his fists in aggravation. “For nothin’, he died for nothin’! Baltar didn’t even show up, the shithead.”
“And now the NCP have spread out through the tent city,” Tory babbled. “They’re looking for you, Ms. Roslin.”
Elizabeth put an arm around her mother.
Sam nodded. “They’ve been tearing up tents, offering rewards with one hand and issues threats with the other. They want you.”
Tyrol suddenly appeared in the gloom of the tunnel.
“Cally’s gone, she’s gone,” he panted, terror on his face.
“What’s happened?” Laura asked, trying to calm him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back the tears. “The police took my wife!”
Sam and Elizabeth exchanged steely looks and with a sinking heart, Laura knew what it meant. Her daughter’s time as a fighter wasn’t over yet.
End (5/11) (chapter six)