BSG: The Unforgiven Ones, Part 8: The War Orphan
Back to Part VII: Election Day
VIII: The War Orphan
Claudius didn't go back to Six right away. He wandered the halls instead, lost in his own thoughts. They ran round and round inside his skull: I had to stop him and I wanted to do it and he was gonna tell the Admiral. As he walked, he passed officers and civilians and even Marines, but he never saw them. He saw only what he'd done, and what it meant.
As the evening wore on into night, his thoughts began to converge. At last, the truth appeared before him, as though carved in stone.
He'd done it. He'd protected Cavil's secret. He'd helped, just as he'd promised he would. Everyone else had let Cavil down. Everyone else.
But not him. Not Claudius.
When he finally opened the hatch to Six's storage closet, she was inside with a big man in overalls, the same one from before. They were standing together at the end of the closet, nestled in each other's arms. It looked as if he'd just finished whispering something in her ear.
Claudius flinched, but Six looked over at him.
"It's OK. You're not early. We were just finishing up." She walked toward him, with a sad sort of smile, and bent down to ruffle his hair. "How was your day?" she asked.
"Amazing," he said. "I did it. I really did it. I--"
"That's nice," she said, as if he hadn't even spoken. "Listen, we have to talk."
We've got something to tell you.
"What?" Claudius asked. He felt suddenly cold.
"I have to go now," she said. "I'm leaving. I'm sorry, kid. Tony says he can get me on a transport to Cloud Nine."
"Can I go with you?" Claudius asked.
Six glanced over her shoulder, but the big man wouldn't meet her eyes. Finally, she sighed. "I can't take you," she said quietly. "I can't. I'm really sorry."
"But I can help," he said. "Cavil said I could. I even proved it!"
"I'm sorry," she said again. She took him by the shoulder, and guided him over to the corner, by the hatch. "Look, you'll be OK. You're a cute kid; someone will adopt you. I know they will."
"Cavil adopted me," Claudius muttered. "I don't want somebody else. I want Cavil back."
Six didn't say anything. Finally, she sighed. She took her briefcase down from the shelf, and offered it to Claudius. "Here," she said, leaning in close. "Take this. I can't take it with me, anyway -- if the humans see it, I'm sunk."
Claudius' heart leapt. "The beacon?"
"The beacon."
Claudius glanced back at the man in the overalls, and then snapped open the case. Inside was a white plastic hemisphere with a black lens across the center. It was riddled with little holes, almost like the colander his mother had used to drain noodles back home. A red light burned within the lens, sliding back and forth along the hemisphere's mid-point.
Claudius looked up at Six. "Wow. How do I turn it on?"
Six frowned. "It works through Projection," she said. "I don't think humans can turn it on. Just keep it, OK? It's... it's something to remember Cavil by. It's all I've got."
Claudius stood there and watched as she walked away. The briefcase felt very heavy in his hands. "I killed for you," he muttered. "I can help. I know I can."
She didn't seem to hear him.
The hatch clanged shut, and Claudius was alone.
---
Claudius held out for five more days. He fed himself by hanging around the line near the hangar bay; people from Poseidon's Army were giving out little packets of crackers and dried soybeans, and he managed to look enough like a pious pilgrim to grab one every other day or so. He filled his cup with water from the tap in the storage closet, soaked the soybeans until they were soft, and spread them on the crackers. They weren't good, but they stopped the hunger, at least until the next day.
There was a piece of paper folded into each packet, with devotional slogans written on it. On the fifth day, the one Claudius got said BE THANKFUL FOR WHAT YOU HAVE. THE GODS PROVIDE.
Claudius had to laugh.
By evening, he was hungry again. He went by the line, but the blue-robed charity workers were long gone. The people in line glared at him, as though his presence bothered them, so he left.
He took the circuitous route to Section 20, avoiding the corridor to Section 5. He still hadn't seen the place; for all he knew, there was food there, food and a safe place to sleep. He didn't care. It wasn't right. Over the last few days, he'd decided that he was no orphan -- Cavil had said the Marines couldn't kill him, and Claudius believed him.
Claudius was thinking of this as he approached Section 20, so at first he didn't see the commotion. Then a voice jerked him out of his reverie. He glanced up, saw the small group gathered around the entrance to Section 20, and froze.
Nurses were bringing people out of the Section. Dead people. They had them on stretchers, with a nurse on each end. There was a white cloth over each body, so that Claudius couldn't see. As he watched, though, one of the little group of mourners began to argue with one of the nurses.
"You can't take them! They're our people!" the man cried. He waved his prayer beads over the stretcher, as though he was trying to consecrate it.
"They're infected," the nurse snapped. She stopped where she was. Her partner on the other end of the stretcher was a male nurse, and he stopped, too. "We have to quarantine the dead, or the sickness will spread to the whole ship. Do you want the rest of your people to die?"
"The Gods will take care of us! Not like you, you butcher!"
"Oh, for Zeus' sake," the other nurse said. "Doesn't that line ever get old?"
"Blasphemer!" The Sagittaron suddenly went for the nurse, hands outstretched. The burly nurse fell back, out of surprise or fear of infection, and the stretcher hit the deck with a bang. The female nurse jumped back, letting her end fall as well. The white sheet slid to the deck, pooling beside the upturned stretcher.
Underneath was a man, maybe forty years old. He had a severe face, and a little braid-lock next to his ear. His dead hand had flopped over onto his chest, and there was a wedding ring on it; it caught the light, winking in and out as the nurses and their attacker moved above it.
Claudius stared. He looked like--
He looked just like--
Claudius turned away, squeezing his eyes shut. I don't care, he told himself, walking back toward the storage room. He had forgotten his hunger. I don't care, I don't.
On his way back down, he passed by the line again. The people were murmuring excitedly, as though something had just happened.
"Can't frakkin' believe it's gone," someone was saying. "Six thousand people, just like that."
"It's the will of the Gods," a woman replied. "They're telling us that we must colonize this planet. If not even Cloud Nine is safe--"
"Wait!" Claudius cried. "What about Cloud Nine? What about it?"
The civilians seemed taken aback by his outburst. "It's gone," the woman finally said. "Haven't you heard? It was nuked by a terrorist cell just this morning."
"You-- you're sure it was Cloud Nine?"
"No doubt about it," she said. Then she added, "I'm sorry, did you have family there?"
"Not exactly," Claudius whispered. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, as if the air had grown thin. "See you."
As he walked away, the woman raised her voice. "Don't worry, son! It's official now: we're going to the planet! We're going to be safe! Praise Poseidon, the deliverer, the guardian of all, he who--"
Claudius began to run. He pressed his hands to his ears, blotting out the sound; he ran past rows of refugees who stared at him as he charged past. As he turned the corner, he nearly ran into a group of Marines.
"Hey!" one of them cried. "Stop!" But another one clapped him on the shoulder, guiding him away.
"Never mind," he said. "It's just a kid."
---
That night, Claudius lay on the pile of rags in the storage room. He'd tucked his backpack beneath his head as a pillow; the firm, round shape of the beacon inside was a small comfort to him. Even so, it took him hours to get to sleep.
He dreamed of his father: not the dead thing lying in the corridor, but his real father, his Cylon father. In the dream, Cavil was standing in a big, black, empty room. Strange red lights played upon his face, and he paced back and forth, staring down into a pool of moving water.
He was searching, searching for the fleet. Searching for Claudius.
Others joined him: a lady who looked a lot like Six, only with darker hair and more modest clothes, and another who looked like Sharon, the woman Claudius had seen in the hallway with Helo. Then there was a little man in a funny suit, like the one he'd seen in the mugshot. They all looked down into the water together, as if they were trying to help Cavil in his search.
"I'm here!" Claudius cried. "Cavil! Dad! I'm here!"
Cavil didn't hear him. He went on staring into the water, his thick brows beetling in concentration. Around him, the others began to mill back and forth. One of them, a blond man with short, unkempt hair, wandered off as if attracted by the lights on the wall.
Claudius called again, but still no one heard. He cried out until he was hoarse; he shouted until only Cavil stood beside the scrying pool, alone.
"Please," Claudius begged. "We're here. You have to find us. You have to find us now, before we move to the planet!"
Claudius closed his eyes in the dream, pressing them shut until not even the red lights intruded. An image of the fleet replaced them, as though summoned by his disordered thoughts. The Galactica was there, and the Pegasus, surrounded by a diffuse cloud of smaller ships. All were nestled inside the nebula that was supposed to protect them from Cylon detection. Beneath everything, a blue-grey planet turned in slow, stately rotation.
We're here, he thought, as hard as he could. Right here. Please, Dad. Please.
When he woke sometime later, he had only a vague memory of the dream, a single impression of Cavil standing over a pool of water. He shook his head, stretched, and drew himself a cup of water, then pissed into the wide-mouthed bottle he kept for the purpose.
Unbeknownst to him, the red light on the beacon had begun to flash.
Forward to Part IX: Number Nine
VIII: The War Orphan
Claudius didn't go back to Six right away. He wandered the halls instead, lost in his own thoughts. They ran round and round inside his skull: I had to stop him and I wanted to do it and he was gonna tell the Admiral. As he walked, he passed officers and civilians and even Marines, but he never saw them. He saw only what he'd done, and what it meant.
As the evening wore on into night, his thoughts began to converge. At last, the truth appeared before him, as though carved in stone.
He'd done it. He'd protected Cavil's secret. He'd helped, just as he'd promised he would. Everyone else had let Cavil down. Everyone else.
But not him. Not Claudius.
When he finally opened the hatch to Six's storage closet, she was inside with a big man in overalls, the same one from before. They were standing together at the end of the closet, nestled in each other's arms. It looked as if he'd just finished whispering something in her ear.
Claudius flinched, but Six looked over at him.
"It's OK. You're not early. We were just finishing up." She walked toward him, with a sad sort of smile, and bent down to ruffle his hair. "How was your day?" she asked.
"Amazing," he said. "I did it. I really did it. I--"
"That's nice," she said, as if he hadn't even spoken. "Listen, we have to talk."
We've got something to tell you.
"What?" Claudius asked. He felt suddenly cold.
"I have to go now," she said. "I'm leaving. I'm sorry, kid. Tony says he can get me on a transport to Cloud Nine."
"Can I go with you?" Claudius asked.
Six glanced over her shoulder, but the big man wouldn't meet her eyes. Finally, she sighed. "I can't take you," she said quietly. "I can't. I'm really sorry."
"But I can help," he said. "Cavil said I could. I even proved it!"
"I'm sorry," she said again. She took him by the shoulder, and guided him over to the corner, by the hatch. "Look, you'll be OK. You're a cute kid; someone will adopt you. I know they will."
"Cavil adopted me," Claudius muttered. "I don't want somebody else. I want Cavil back."
Six didn't say anything. Finally, she sighed. She took her briefcase down from the shelf, and offered it to Claudius. "Here," she said, leaning in close. "Take this. I can't take it with me, anyway -- if the humans see it, I'm sunk."
Claudius' heart leapt. "The beacon?"
"The beacon."
Claudius glanced back at the man in the overalls, and then snapped open the case. Inside was a white plastic hemisphere with a black lens across the center. It was riddled with little holes, almost like the colander his mother had used to drain noodles back home. A red light burned within the lens, sliding back and forth along the hemisphere's mid-point.
Claudius looked up at Six. "Wow. How do I turn it on?"
Six frowned. "It works through Projection," she said. "I don't think humans can turn it on. Just keep it, OK? It's... it's something to remember Cavil by. It's all I've got."
Claudius stood there and watched as she walked away. The briefcase felt very heavy in his hands. "I killed for you," he muttered. "I can help. I know I can."
She didn't seem to hear him.
The hatch clanged shut, and Claudius was alone.
---
Claudius held out for five more days. He fed himself by hanging around the line near the hangar bay; people from Poseidon's Army were giving out little packets of crackers and dried soybeans, and he managed to look enough like a pious pilgrim to grab one every other day or so. He filled his cup with water from the tap in the storage closet, soaked the soybeans until they were soft, and spread them on the crackers. They weren't good, but they stopped the hunger, at least until the next day.
There was a piece of paper folded into each packet, with devotional slogans written on it. On the fifth day, the one Claudius got said BE THANKFUL FOR WHAT YOU HAVE. THE GODS PROVIDE.
Claudius had to laugh.
By evening, he was hungry again. He went by the line, but the blue-robed charity workers were long gone. The people in line glared at him, as though his presence bothered them, so he left.
He took the circuitous route to Section 20, avoiding the corridor to Section 5. He still hadn't seen the place; for all he knew, there was food there, food and a safe place to sleep. He didn't care. It wasn't right. Over the last few days, he'd decided that he was no orphan -- Cavil had said the Marines couldn't kill him, and Claudius believed him.
Claudius was thinking of this as he approached Section 20, so at first he didn't see the commotion. Then a voice jerked him out of his reverie. He glanced up, saw the small group gathered around the entrance to Section 20, and froze.
Nurses were bringing people out of the Section. Dead people. They had them on stretchers, with a nurse on each end. There was a white cloth over each body, so that Claudius couldn't see. As he watched, though, one of the little group of mourners began to argue with one of the nurses.
"You can't take them! They're our people!" the man cried. He waved his prayer beads over the stretcher, as though he was trying to consecrate it.
"They're infected," the nurse snapped. She stopped where she was. Her partner on the other end of the stretcher was a male nurse, and he stopped, too. "We have to quarantine the dead, or the sickness will spread to the whole ship. Do you want the rest of your people to die?"
"The Gods will take care of us! Not like you, you butcher!"
"Oh, for Zeus' sake," the other nurse said. "Doesn't that line ever get old?"
"Blasphemer!" The Sagittaron suddenly went for the nurse, hands outstretched. The burly nurse fell back, out of surprise or fear of infection, and the stretcher hit the deck with a bang. The female nurse jumped back, letting her end fall as well. The white sheet slid to the deck, pooling beside the upturned stretcher.
Underneath was a man, maybe forty years old. He had a severe face, and a little braid-lock next to his ear. His dead hand had flopped over onto his chest, and there was a wedding ring on it; it caught the light, winking in and out as the nurses and their attacker moved above it.
Claudius stared. He looked like--
He looked just like--
Claudius turned away, squeezing his eyes shut. I don't care, he told himself, walking back toward the storage room. He had forgotten his hunger. I don't care, I don't.
On his way back down, he passed by the line again. The people were murmuring excitedly, as though something had just happened.
"Can't frakkin' believe it's gone," someone was saying. "Six thousand people, just like that."
"It's the will of the Gods," a woman replied. "They're telling us that we must colonize this planet. If not even Cloud Nine is safe--"
"Wait!" Claudius cried. "What about Cloud Nine? What about it?"
The civilians seemed taken aback by his outburst. "It's gone," the woman finally said. "Haven't you heard? It was nuked by a terrorist cell just this morning."
"You-- you're sure it was Cloud Nine?"
"No doubt about it," she said. Then she added, "I'm sorry, did you have family there?"
"Not exactly," Claudius whispered. He felt dizzy, lightheaded, as if the air had grown thin. "See you."
As he walked away, the woman raised her voice. "Don't worry, son! It's official now: we're going to the planet! We're going to be safe! Praise Poseidon, the deliverer, the guardian of all, he who--"
Claudius began to run. He pressed his hands to his ears, blotting out the sound; he ran past rows of refugees who stared at him as he charged past. As he turned the corner, he nearly ran into a group of Marines.
"Hey!" one of them cried. "Stop!" But another one clapped him on the shoulder, guiding him away.
"Never mind," he said. "It's just a kid."
---
That night, Claudius lay on the pile of rags in the storage room. He'd tucked his backpack beneath his head as a pillow; the firm, round shape of the beacon inside was a small comfort to him. Even so, it took him hours to get to sleep.
He dreamed of his father: not the dead thing lying in the corridor, but his real father, his Cylon father. In the dream, Cavil was standing in a big, black, empty room. Strange red lights played upon his face, and he paced back and forth, staring down into a pool of moving water.
He was searching, searching for the fleet. Searching for Claudius.
Others joined him: a lady who looked a lot like Six, only with darker hair and more modest clothes, and another who looked like Sharon, the woman Claudius had seen in the hallway with Helo. Then there was a little man in a funny suit, like the one he'd seen in the mugshot. They all looked down into the water together, as if they were trying to help Cavil in his search.
"I'm here!" Claudius cried. "Cavil! Dad! I'm here!"
Cavil didn't hear him. He went on staring into the water, his thick brows beetling in concentration. Around him, the others began to mill back and forth. One of them, a blond man with short, unkempt hair, wandered off as if attracted by the lights on the wall.
Claudius called again, but still no one heard. He cried out until he was hoarse; he shouted until only Cavil stood beside the scrying pool, alone.
"Please," Claudius begged. "We're here. You have to find us. You have to find us now, before we move to the planet!"
Claudius closed his eyes in the dream, pressing them shut until not even the red lights intruded. An image of the fleet replaced them, as though summoned by his disordered thoughts. The Galactica was there, and the Pegasus, surrounded by a diffuse cloud of smaller ships. All were nestled inside the nebula that was supposed to protect them from Cylon detection. Beneath everything, a blue-grey planet turned in slow, stately rotation.
We're here, he thought, as hard as he could. Right here. Please, Dad. Please.
When he woke sometime later, he had only a vague memory of the dream, a single impression of Cavil standing over a pool of water. He shook his head, stretched, and drew himself a cup of water, then pissed into the wide-mouthed bottle he kept for the purpose.
Unbeknownst to him, the red light on the beacon had begun to flash.
Forward to Part IX: Number Nine