TM 234: Utopia
OOC: This prompt response contains spoilers for the fourth season of Battlestar Galactica, including 4.10 "Revelations," the mid-season finale.
I actually have looked into the slim possibility that I've simply gone insane. There's really no other explanation for the lack of reaction I've had to this whole thing. The whole frakking thing is pretty damned anticlimactic, if you ask me. I'm a Cylon and now everyone knows it. Except for a few scary minutes there at the launch tube, it actually hasn't changed too much.
Then again, I never really expected Roslin's understudy to actually have the frakking guts to airlock Tigh, who's a frakking war hero and lost his eye and his wife to the Cylons on New Caprica. Sam and me, yeah. Maybe. But he started with frakking Tigh, which told me right off the bat that no one actually wanted to kill us. If it wasn't for my son, I think I wouldn't have minded taking the first walk out that launch tube. That's probably how it's going to end up, anyway. Cally and I both survived our first trip out a launch tube, because we wanted to. I don't think I'd mind following her.
Earth. Is this it? I feel like laughing right now. I've felt like laughing this whole frakking time. I felt sort of bad for Sam when he was facing Starbuck, but what the hell else were we going to do? Deny it? Lie? Fracture the Four even further than Tory did when she defected over to the baseship. I'll kill her, by the way, if she comes near me expecting anything but coexistence. You don't jump ship over to the other side when the going gets tough and then expect to be welcomed back with open arms just because circumstances have changed.
So, this is what the Cylons' war has gotten all of us. They attack us and then they turn on each other and now we're here, standing on what I'm sure could be a dead ringer for any one of our homeworlds. I'd be pointing and laughing at the Three right now if she would just frakking turn around and look at me. Yup. This is your precious Earth. The refuge you stole from us and now no one's finding sanctuary here.
I've been noticing that, in general, everything the Cylons touch turns to dust. I wonder if anyone else is getting the message.
And now I'm stuck. I can't go off and throw myself out a launch tube now, because everyone frakking knows that my son, that Cally's son, is a Cylon/human hybrid. There's no safe place for him anymore. What I should've done...
I should've told Cally. Told her to leave the ship, take Nick and never come back. Hell, even if I didn't tell her the truth and spun some huge whopper of a lie, telling her that Tory and I were sleeping together, or that I'd never gotten over Boomer, or whatever lie was convenient enough to make her hate my guts so much that she'd never come back. She would've been safe then. And she would have kept Nick safe.
Earth. What a joke.
After Cally died, I should've taken Nick to one of the other ships and left him there. Just make sure that someone would give him a good home, where he could grow up anonymously and no one would ever know he was my son. Of course, I'd have to come up with a partner in crime then. And I'm frakking glad I didn't think of this then because the natural partner in crime would be Tory, who has some experience in arranging anonymous adoptions. Couldn't have gone to the Old Man or the President, because they'd want to know why I would ever want to part with my last link to Cally. How would that conversation have gone, I wonder?
And now we're all stuck. We're stuck here on some post-apocalyptic nightmare and my son is stuck with the stigma of being half-Cylon because I didn't frakking know. And when I did, I didn't do what I had to do to keep him safe.
Utopia is gone. It's been gone since that frakking Ionian Nebula. Everyone else is just figuring it out now.
CPO Specialist Galen Tyrol
Battlestar Galactica 2003
693 words
I actually have looked into the slim possibility that I've simply gone insane. There's really no other explanation for the lack of reaction I've had to this whole thing. The whole frakking thing is pretty damned anticlimactic, if you ask me. I'm a Cylon and now everyone knows it. Except for a few scary minutes there at the launch tube, it actually hasn't changed too much.
Then again, I never really expected Roslin's understudy to actually have the frakking guts to airlock Tigh, who's a frakking war hero and lost his eye and his wife to the Cylons on New Caprica. Sam and me, yeah. Maybe. But he started with frakking Tigh, which told me right off the bat that no one actually wanted to kill us. If it wasn't for my son, I think I wouldn't have minded taking the first walk out that launch tube. That's probably how it's going to end up, anyway. Cally and I both survived our first trip out a launch tube, because we wanted to. I don't think I'd mind following her.
Earth. Is this it? I feel like laughing right now. I've felt like laughing this whole frakking time. I felt sort of bad for Sam when he was facing Starbuck, but what the hell else were we going to do? Deny it? Lie? Fracture the Four even further than Tory did when she defected over to the baseship. I'll kill her, by the way, if she comes near me expecting anything but coexistence. You don't jump ship over to the other side when the going gets tough and then expect to be welcomed back with open arms just because circumstances have changed.
So, this is what the Cylons' war has gotten all of us. They attack us and then they turn on each other and now we're here, standing on what I'm sure could be a dead ringer for any one of our homeworlds. I'd be pointing and laughing at the Three right now if she would just frakking turn around and look at me. Yup. This is your precious Earth. The refuge you stole from us and now no one's finding sanctuary here.
I've been noticing that, in general, everything the Cylons touch turns to dust. I wonder if anyone else is getting the message.
And now I'm stuck. I can't go off and throw myself out a launch tube now, because everyone frakking knows that my son, that Cally's son, is a Cylon/human hybrid. There's no safe place for him anymore. What I should've done...
I should've told Cally. Told her to leave the ship, take Nick and never come back. Hell, even if I didn't tell her the truth and spun some huge whopper of a lie, telling her that Tory and I were sleeping together, or that I'd never gotten over Boomer, or whatever lie was convenient enough to make her hate my guts so much that she'd never come back. She would've been safe then. And she would have kept Nick safe.
Earth. What a joke.
After Cally died, I should've taken Nick to one of the other ships and left him there. Just make sure that someone would give him a good home, where he could grow up anonymously and no one would ever know he was my son. Of course, I'd have to come up with a partner in crime then. And I'm frakking glad I didn't think of this then because the natural partner in crime would be Tory, who has some experience in arranging anonymous adoptions. Couldn't have gone to the Old Man or the President, because they'd want to know why I would ever want to part with my last link to Cally. How would that conversation have gone, I wonder?
And now we're all stuck. We're stuck here on some post-apocalyptic nightmare and my son is stuck with the stigma of being half-Cylon because I didn't frakking know. And when I did, I didn't do what I had to do to keep him safe.
Utopia is gone. It's been gone since that frakking Ionian Nebula. Everyone else is just figuring it out now.
CPO Specialist Galen Tyrol
Battlestar Galactica 2003
693 words