Fic: Four Words Kara Dislikes Hearing
Title: Four Words Kara Dislikes Hearing
Author: lyssie
Characters: Kara, Tory Foster, Laura Roslin, Playa Palacious.
Spoilers: New Caprica though fic is AU
Rating: PG 13, language, some violence, adult concepts
Length: 3,000 words
For mmrox, prompt: "Kara saves Laura from Cylons on New Caprica"
"Captain, we've got a problem."
Not words Kara wanted to hear in the middle of her lunch break. Running a resistance and avoiding capture by the Cylons was hard enough. Problems which couldn't be avoided as Billy Keikeya was just that annoying (or good, as Sam suggested) and could track her down when she didn't want to be bothered, made it worse. Kara knew why Laura Roslin had turned him over to Sam to train and use as a messenger, but that didn't make her happy to see him. Still, it wasn't as though Billy were prone to exaggeration--not like Tory's last messenger, a young boy who might never again think humans were right.
"Yeah? We finally out of stogies?" Kara missed those with her evening cards almost as much as she missed New Caprica without Cylons.
Trivial problems like that were commonplace, though. With supplies dwindling and no one wanting to ask the Cylons for anything, people were getting more and more petty, stealing and squabbling over the tiniest things. It was a problem Roslin was working on. Though Kara didn't think the Cylons could make cigars, anyway.
Billy glanced around, then sighed and dropped into the rickety stool next to her. After waving at Connor for a watered-down glass of rotgut, he murmured, "My contact gave me a list of detainees the Cylons are planning to round up as 'enemies of peace'." He reached over and took a handful of the stale peanuts that Connor had dug out of the back months ago. Almost no one ate them.
'Detainees'. Another word for 'suspected terrorist' or 'person no one will see alive again'. Kara felt her gut clench in horrified anticipation. The last time a list had gone around, they'd lost Nora. Duck still refused to speak to her for not saving his lover, and sometimes, Kara didn't blame him. He hadn't seen his wife in two months, didn't even know if she was still alive, still carrying their baby.
"Who was on it?" Foregone conclusion: too many people they couldn't afford to lose. Kara grabbed for her glass and downed a swallow while she waited for Billy to get around to his point.
"Mostly innocent people."
They both knew that wouldn't help: public sentiment was slowly swinging in favor of the Cylons, despite people being 'disappeared'. Part of it was fear, part of it was that people were simply exhausted with fighting a losing battle. Kara was sure a better person wouldn't be able to blame them, but she wasn't that better person, and just hearing the pro-Cylon comments from people in the street made her want to punch something.
"And Roslin."
Kara closed her eyes, fingers clenching on her glass. They couldn't afford that. Laura Roslin was a rallying point: losing her would destroy some of their credibility. Especially if some of the ideas Sam was coming up with were to go ahead.
"Frak."
"Yeah." Billy sipped his drink and looked miserable.
Pulling in a breath, Kara held it while she thought. She exhaled too fast, feeling light-headed. "How long do you think we've got?"
"Maybe a few hours? They like raiding after dark."
Experience was a good teacher. Kara waved at Connor, then finished her drink. The half-eaten sandwich was going to have to wait. She smacked Billy on the back, "Cheer up, maybe a pretty girl will kiss you."
-=-
Seelix was working in one of the trenches, digging foundations for the new school the Cylons were promising. Of course, the new school would be built with the sweat of the humans on New Caprica. Kara had to sort of admire the Cylons for their practicality: physical labor made it hard to plot rebellions at night. If the information Billy's contact had was true (and Kara didn't have a lot of reason to doubt Boomer, though Billy didn't know she knew who his contact was, and she was planning to keep it that way), they didn't have much time.
"Hey, Seelix," Kara dropped down into the ditch, so Seelix would be slightly taller. Squinting up at her put the other woman at the advantage. "Got a job for you."
The ex-deckhand snorted, her head staying down as she dug out another shovelful and dumped it over the side. "Busy."
"Tonight." Not taking no for an answer was one of the reasons Kara wasn't the one in charge of recruiting. She'd been told it annoyed people or pissed them off. Which pissed her off right back, but Sam and Billy had learned to deal with her impatience by giving her things to blow up instead of people to talk to.
"Busy," Seelix snapped, her expression one of annoyance.
Kara rolled her eyes and moved closer, leaning in so that she could smell the sweat and dirt on Seelix's skin, "Listen, specialist, I own your ass. You show up tonight."
"Or what?" challenged Seelix, not backing down. "I'm exhausted, Captain. I am not going to do you any good."
Turning Seelix in wasn't in the cards. Kara stared at her for a moment, then nodded, "Don't expect any favors."
Leaving the specialist digging dirt, Kara headed back into the 'city', automatically filtering her list down again. Barolay was not going to be enough backup. Sam couldn't do it, busy with Cally and a series of tiny malfunctions at one of the food processing stations (disrupt trade or food supplies, blow up a few ships, and you have an unhappy population; though Kara hated unprocessed protein).
That left Tory, though Tory wouldn't be help for the physical side, she could tap more people who would be. People she trusted. Not that Kara was ever entirely sure she trusted Tory, but Laura Roslin did, and that was mostly good enough for her. Even if Tory always looked like she was standing back, calculating how the wind would blow and which side she should come down on, Kara didn't think Tory wanted the Cylons to win.
-=-
"I heard you were looking for me." Tory Foster took a seat next to Kara, on Billy's favorite rickety stool.
The problem with trying to hide from the Cylons was that being in the open could bring you in direct contact with them. So she skulked in the corner bars a lot. Of course, Kara sort of hoped that if the Cylons couldn't get Laura Roslin this one time (and there was enough of a ruckus) that they wouldn't try for her again--Roslin was more use in the public eye than out of it. Besides, with her gone, Sam would threaten her with teaching the kids.
Kara didn't even want to think about that. Nuggets were hard enough.
"Yeah. Need some muscle, maybe some of the press." Kara handed her drink to Tory and waited for the ex-president's aide to take a sip.
Tory Foster wouldn't have been in charge of Roslin's campaign if Billy hadn't been shot, but then again, Kara wasn't sure Keikeya would have gotten Roslin the winning vote anymore than Foster did. And she had her suspicions about Tory's methods of gaining voters. Methods Billy would never have approved of.
It was something which made Kara wary of Tory, and worried that in trusting her, she was trusting the wrong person. But it wasn't like she could ask any person on the street to help: most of them were too frightened of the Cylons.
"You need something big planned? When?"
Tory didn't ask why. It made her one of the better candidates for the resistance. "Tonight. Normal raiding time." Kara paused for a moment, then murmured, "Roslin's tent."
A little silence settled, then Tory nodded, as though unsurprised. "So they're finally coming for her."
"Yeah."
Kara's glass clinked against the top of the makeshift bar and Tory made an annoyed sound, "I could have used another hour of warning. Do you understand how many--"
"Don't care. Just make it happen."
Tory was silent for a moment, then she nodded, "You'll have your three-ring circus, Captain. I can't promise no bloodshed, though."
"Not asking for it to be bloodless. Besides, I thought blood made a story."
A snort, and Tory was off of her stool, "Thank you for the drink."
-=-
The problem with having news media interrupt your visit with Laura Roslin, was that they tended to jump to the wrong conclusions. Kara could see a certain smug look in Playa Palacious's eyes as she held her microphone in front of her mouth and asked, "Captain Thrace, is it true that Laura Roslin snores?"
It was a delicate situation, something Kara wasn't exactly made for. "I've been told she does."
"Captain--"
Laura Roslin interrupted Playa, shielding her eyes from the light on the camera, "Is there a reason you're here?"
The other problem was that Kara hadn't really explained her reason for visiting: after all, Billy hadn't said Roslin knew, and the less she worried about her own safety, the better she was at worrying about the colony's safety. At least, that was how Kara figured it.
"A little bird told me an interesting story was developing," Playa replied, smiling cheerfully, "So, tell me, Ms. Roslin, is this your way of recovering from the devastating loss of your presidency?"
"Is what my way of recovering?" Looking mildly amused, Laura turned to Kara, "Was this your idea of a joke, Captain?"
"Only if the joke includes centurions." Jean Barolay had wandered up without a lot of fanfare, the pistol in her hand still pointed at the ground, though Kara could tell from the tension in her shoulders that she ached to raise it and fire on the approaching Cylons.
Four centurions, two "human" Cylons. Kara was pleased that they were Fives. Fives were so officious, they were easy to annoy.
If they'd been smarter, they would have sent out a bunch of Fours and Sixes. They would have moved a lot more quietly, and definitely less noticeably. Kara raised a hand and waved it, "Gentlemen. Out for a nice stroll?"
There was the sound of canvas tearing behind her, and Kara turned almost too late to get her own side-arm up and out, pointing it at the chest of the centurion that had erupted through the wall. It paused, then shifted its arm for a weapon, the barrel making a hissing noise as it moved until it was pointing at Kara. It held its fire, waiting for orders.
All of which was happening in front of Playa's eager little camera-person, her light pointing into the tent and silhouetting Kara from behind.
"Well, isn't this interesting." Playa's voice shifted as she raised it, "Tell me, Mr. Doral--that is your name, right?--what do you have to say to the people of New Caprica, whom you pledged peace and prosperity to?"
Kara remained with her gun on the centurion, waiting.
"I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding, this is a legitimate--"
"Peace, Mr. Doral, does not include Cylon bullies breaking down tents and beating up honest citizens, like Laura Roslin who is simply trying to live her life." On a roll now, Playa continued, her passion pouring out of her. "Peace does not include secret detentions and people disappearing never to be heard from again. Where is the peace of the Cylons, the succor they offered in exchange for our peaceful and unconditional surrender?"
"Centurions!" The Five snapped, and Kara could hear the others shift and extrude guns. "You're all under arrest and will now be detained--"
"This is live, Mr. Doral," interrupted Playa, her tone smug, "Every person on New Caprica can see--though of course, most of them only hear this having been reduced to merely radios by the Cylons. Hell, the people in this aisle can see it live. You are arresting us with no reason, continuing your regime of oppression and terror. Do you have any way of explaining this?"
"I knew this was a horrible idea. The Sixes--"
"Shut up, brother." The Five that Playa had obviously decided was the long-un-missed Aaron Doral glared at Playa, obviously weighing the choices. It was possible that she was live as she claimed, that the humans were huddled in groups around their radios, listening to the staticy reception they gained from the tiny device she was broadcasting with.
Kara glanced at him, then back at her centurion, "If he doesn't stop aiming at me, Five, I will shoot him."
"Captain." Roslin's hand on her shoulder made her jump, "If we offer them violence, they are well within their rights," she murmured.
"I know." But Kara was angry. She was tired of this stand-off bullshit, tired of trying to rid her world of Cylons and having her attempts fail. One step forward, ten billion back. She shrugged Roslin's hand off and tightened her grip on the pistol.
"Captain Thrace," called Playa, her tone bright and cheerful, "You've survived many engagements with the Cylons. In fact, you were one of the people who protested settling on New Caprica. How do you think the Cylons have treated us?"
"Horribly. We're like pets to them. They feed us and clothe us and give us no say in what we do with our lives." Impressed with her own ability to say what she meant, Kara stopped talking, refocusing on the centurion.
"Is that enough for you, Mr. Doral, or does the tide of public opinion need to turn even further against you before you halt your vicious attacks on the people of this colony?"
Kara smirked. Playa was rather good at what she did--as long as she wasn't turning her microphone on Kara and her sexual escapades, at least. Luckily, Kara had dodged that bullet for over a year, and gleefully watched (or listened to) Playa nail everyone from Galen Tyrol (there was that public sex thing) to Felix Gaeta (though that hadn't caused anyone to blink an eye) to Gaius Baltar (who'd fallen asleep during their interview and one of his 'girlfriends' had talked about drugs with Playa for ten minutes).
Doing serious reporting was obviously something Playa, an ex-entertainment reporter, was taking in stride. Perhaps it was what she'd always wanted to do.
"This is a legitimate arrest." He managed to get that out before Playa's laughter cut across him.
"In the middle of the night, with a bunch of centurions and secrecy? I don't think so, Mr. Doral. This was a raid, pure and simple, an act of intimidation against the people of this colony--the very people that have welcomed you with open arms and trusted that you would hold your side of the bargain. 'We come in peace', you said. But this is not peace. This is something else entirely."
Calling it war would be going too far. Kara had to admire Playa for leading her audience to that inevitable conclusion without saying it. They would all think they'd come up with it on their own. Gods. She'd been around Tory too long, thinking in circles and twists like that.
"That is not what we were doing." The Five sounded agitated, though he softened his voice, "You surrendered to us, this is not negotiable, we are here on legitimate business."
"Excuse me." It was a Six, her voice sounding as perfectly manicured as her nails probably were, "Brother. Perhaps now is not the time for this sort of argument. Call off the centurions."
The last sentence was spoken as an order, the tone implacable. Kara gleefully filled in the rest of Six's comment, you are giving us bad publicity, you idiot, shut up and let it go. The Six, of course, would never say 'idiot' or 'shut up'. Well. Probably not. Kara had never bothered to ask them their vocabulary preferences, she'd usually been more interested in killing them before they killed her.
"Six, this is--"
"Centurions. Return to the hangar silo and await further instructions. Escort Five with you--both of them."
The centurion in the tent shifted, then its arm flipped back and the gun disappeared.
In response, Kara slowly lowered her weapon and shifted to the side to let it pass her. She hoped Playa's camera-person was getting it all.
"Six," Playa said, her tone diffident, "Your actions here are commendable. Do you believe it's still possible for the Cylons to bring peace with them?"
"I do, Playa. I do. God has a plan for all of us."
"So I've heard. I'm not sure what the Gods would say about that." The sound of the centurions and Fives receded, and Playa's voice shifted to a chirpier vein, "Well, that's all the time we have, this has been Playa Palacious with your evening news. Good night."
"Good night," Six said quietly, and then she left, following the centurions.
"Thanks for the ratings boost, Captain." Giving Kara a smug look, Playa left, going the opposite direction.
That left Kara with a slightly-glaring Laura Roslin and a gaping hole in her tent.
"Barolay, help me patch this, so Ms. Roslin can get some sleep before she has to teach the little monsters in the morning," Kara said hastily, holstering her pistol and moving to inspect the damage.
The centurion had sliced through with several fingers, leaving the wall in ribbons.
"I don't suppose you have extra canvas, Captain?" Roslin asked, her tone filled with irony.
"We can borrow some," Barolay offered, "Two rows over, there's the food tent. It's got some extra tarps."
Kara nodded and looked at her, "Go."
Patching the tent was important: New Caprica nights were getting increasingly cold and blustery. The wind was already kicking lightly through the tatters.
With Barolay gone, there was an awkward little silence. Roslin didn't break it, her eyes resting on Kara's face, as though waiting for something. Kara saw no reason to break it; after all, the Cylons arresting Laura Roslin wasn't her fault. She'd never been good at staying quiet, though. "Nice night for a walk, huh?"
"Captain. Am I to take it that this little debacle was your doing?"
"I was out for a walk."
"Bullshit." Striding away from Kara, Roslin picked up her coat and slung it around her shoulders. Turning back, her voice lowered, "Playa Palacious, Kara? How stupid do you think I am?"
"She got results," Kara defended, refusing to feel in the wrong for this. "The people need you alive and in sight, Roslin."
It was hard for Laura to dispute that, and Kara saw some of her anger fade.
"They were coming for you, like they did Zarek and Herrick and all of those others. Disappearing would have caused rumors, but nothing more. At least this way, they know that if they take you, someone will notice."
Roslin nodded, then dropped the argument as Barolay returned, a tarp over her shoulder. "Get my tent patched up, ladies. I have work to do in the morning."
-=-
After Roslin said good night to them, Kara and Jean stood in the lane outside her tent. Kara wondered if they should stick around and guard it, but decided that the Cylons wouldn't try arresting her twice in one night--even they weren't that dumb.
She slung an arm around Barolay, "You thirsty?"
"Yeah."
Which was as good an excuse as any to get her husband's best friend drunk off her ass and listen to Embarrassing Sam stories.
-0-
Author: lyssie
Characters: Kara, Tory Foster, Laura Roslin, Playa Palacious.
Spoilers: New Caprica though fic is AU
Rating: PG 13, language, some violence, adult concepts
Length: 3,000 words
For mmrox, prompt: "Kara saves Laura from Cylons on New Caprica"
"Captain, we've got a problem."
Not words Kara wanted to hear in the middle of her lunch break. Running a resistance and avoiding capture by the Cylons was hard enough. Problems which couldn't be avoided as Billy Keikeya was just that annoying (or good, as Sam suggested) and could track her down when she didn't want to be bothered, made it worse. Kara knew why Laura Roslin had turned him over to Sam to train and use as a messenger, but that didn't make her happy to see him. Still, it wasn't as though Billy were prone to exaggeration--not like Tory's last messenger, a young boy who might never again think humans were right.
"Yeah? We finally out of stogies?" Kara missed those with her evening cards almost as much as she missed New Caprica without Cylons.
Trivial problems like that were commonplace, though. With supplies dwindling and no one wanting to ask the Cylons for anything, people were getting more and more petty, stealing and squabbling over the tiniest things. It was a problem Roslin was working on. Though Kara didn't think the Cylons could make cigars, anyway.
Billy glanced around, then sighed and dropped into the rickety stool next to her. After waving at Connor for a watered-down glass of rotgut, he murmured, "My contact gave me a list of detainees the Cylons are planning to round up as 'enemies of peace'." He reached over and took a handful of the stale peanuts that Connor had dug out of the back months ago. Almost no one ate them.
'Detainees'. Another word for 'suspected terrorist' or 'person no one will see alive again'. Kara felt her gut clench in horrified anticipation. The last time a list had gone around, they'd lost Nora. Duck still refused to speak to her for not saving his lover, and sometimes, Kara didn't blame him. He hadn't seen his wife in two months, didn't even know if she was still alive, still carrying their baby.
"Who was on it?" Foregone conclusion: too many people they couldn't afford to lose. Kara grabbed for her glass and downed a swallow while she waited for Billy to get around to his point.
"Mostly innocent people."
They both knew that wouldn't help: public sentiment was slowly swinging in favor of the Cylons, despite people being 'disappeared'. Part of it was fear, part of it was that people were simply exhausted with fighting a losing battle. Kara was sure a better person wouldn't be able to blame them, but she wasn't that better person, and just hearing the pro-Cylon comments from people in the street made her want to punch something.
"And Roslin."
Kara closed her eyes, fingers clenching on her glass. They couldn't afford that. Laura Roslin was a rallying point: losing her would destroy some of their credibility. Especially if some of the ideas Sam was coming up with were to go ahead.
"Frak."
"Yeah." Billy sipped his drink and looked miserable.
Pulling in a breath, Kara held it while she thought. She exhaled too fast, feeling light-headed. "How long do you think we've got?"
"Maybe a few hours? They like raiding after dark."
Experience was a good teacher. Kara waved at Connor, then finished her drink. The half-eaten sandwich was going to have to wait. She smacked Billy on the back, "Cheer up, maybe a pretty girl will kiss you."
-=-
Seelix was working in one of the trenches, digging foundations for the new school the Cylons were promising. Of course, the new school would be built with the sweat of the humans on New Caprica. Kara had to sort of admire the Cylons for their practicality: physical labor made it hard to plot rebellions at night. If the information Billy's contact had was true (and Kara didn't have a lot of reason to doubt Boomer, though Billy didn't know she knew who his contact was, and she was planning to keep it that way), they didn't have much time.
"Hey, Seelix," Kara dropped down into the ditch, so Seelix would be slightly taller. Squinting up at her put the other woman at the advantage. "Got a job for you."
The ex-deckhand snorted, her head staying down as she dug out another shovelful and dumped it over the side. "Busy."
"Tonight." Not taking no for an answer was one of the reasons Kara wasn't the one in charge of recruiting. She'd been told it annoyed people or pissed them off. Which pissed her off right back, but Sam and Billy had learned to deal with her impatience by giving her things to blow up instead of people to talk to.
"Busy," Seelix snapped, her expression one of annoyance.
Kara rolled her eyes and moved closer, leaning in so that she could smell the sweat and dirt on Seelix's skin, "Listen, specialist, I own your ass. You show up tonight."
"Or what?" challenged Seelix, not backing down. "I'm exhausted, Captain. I am not going to do you any good."
Turning Seelix in wasn't in the cards. Kara stared at her for a moment, then nodded, "Don't expect any favors."
Leaving the specialist digging dirt, Kara headed back into the 'city', automatically filtering her list down again. Barolay was not going to be enough backup. Sam couldn't do it, busy with Cally and a series of tiny malfunctions at one of the food processing stations (disrupt trade or food supplies, blow up a few ships, and you have an unhappy population; though Kara hated unprocessed protein).
That left Tory, though Tory wouldn't be help for the physical side, she could tap more people who would be. People she trusted. Not that Kara was ever entirely sure she trusted Tory, but Laura Roslin did, and that was mostly good enough for her. Even if Tory always looked like she was standing back, calculating how the wind would blow and which side she should come down on, Kara didn't think Tory wanted the Cylons to win.
-=-
"I heard you were looking for me." Tory Foster took a seat next to Kara, on Billy's favorite rickety stool.
The problem with trying to hide from the Cylons was that being in the open could bring you in direct contact with them. So she skulked in the corner bars a lot. Of course, Kara sort of hoped that if the Cylons couldn't get Laura Roslin this one time (and there was enough of a ruckus) that they wouldn't try for her again--Roslin was more use in the public eye than out of it. Besides, with her gone, Sam would threaten her with teaching the kids.
Kara didn't even want to think about that. Nuggets were hard enough.
"Yeah. Need some muscle, maybe some of the press." Kara handed her drink to Tory and waited for the ex-president's aide to take a sip.
Tory Foster wouldn't have been in charge of Roslin's campaign if Billy hadn't been shot, but then again, Kara wasn't sure Keikeya would have gotten Roslin the winning vote anymore than Foster did. And she had her suspicions about Tory's methods of gaining voters. Methods Billy would never have approved of.
It was something which made Kara wary of Tory, and worried that in trusting her, she was trusting the wrong person. But it wasn't like she could ask any person on the street to help: most of them were too frightened of the Cylons.
"You need something big planned? When?"
Tory didn't ask why. It made her one of the better candidates for the resistance. "Tonight. Normal raiding time." Kara paused for a moment, then murmured, "Roslin's tent."
A little silence settled, then Tory nodded, as though unsurprised. "So they're finally coming for her."
"Yeah."
Kara's glass clinked against the top of the makeshift bar and Tory made an annoyed sound, "I could have used another hour of warning. Do you understand how many--"
"Don't care. Just make it happen."
Tory was silent for a moment, then she nodded, "You'll have your three-ring circus, Captain. I can't promise no bloodshed, though."
"Not asking for it to be bloodless. Besides, I thought blood made a story."
A snort, and Tory was off of her stool, "Thank you for the drink."
-=-
The problem with having news media interrupt your visit with Laura Roslin, was that they tended to jump to the wrong conclusions. Kara could see a certain smug look in Playa Palacious's eyes as she held her microphone in front of her mouth and asked, "Captain Thrace, is it true that Laura Roslin snores?"
It was a delicate situation, something Kara wasn't exactly made for. "I've been told she does."
"Captain--"
Laura Roslin interrupted Playa, shielding her eyes from the light on the camera, "Is there a reason you're here?"
The other problem was that Kara hadn't really explained her reason for visiting: after all, Billy hadn't said Roslin knew, and the less she worried about her own safety, the better she was at worrying about the colony's safety. At least, that was how Kara figured it.
"A little bird told me an interesting story was developing," Playa replied, smiling cheerfully, "So, tell me, Ms. Roslin, is this your way of recovering from the devastating loss of your presidency?"
"Is what my way of recovering?" Looking mildly amused, Laura turned to Kara, "Was this your idea of a joke, Captain?"
"Only if the joke includes centurions." Jean Barolay had wandered up without a lot of fanfare, the pistol in her hand still pointed at the ground, though Kara could tell from the tension in her shoulders that she ached to raise it and fire on the approaching Cylons.
Four centurions, two "human" Cylons. Kara was pleased that they were Fives. Fives were so officious, they were easy to annoy.
If they'd been smarter, they would have sent out a bunch of Fours and Sixes. They would have moved a lot more quietly, and definitely less noticeably. Kara raised a hand and waved it, "Gentlemen. Out for a nice stroll?"
There was the sound of canvas tearing behind her, and Kara turned almost too late to get her own side-arm up and out, pointing it at the chest of the centurion that had erupted through the wall. It paused, then shifted its arm for a weapon, the barrel making a hissing noise as it moved until it was pointing at Kara. It held its fire, waiting for orders.
All of which was happening in front of Playa's eager little camera-person, her light pointing into the tent and silhouetting Kara from behind.
"Well, isn't this interesting." Playa's voice shifted as she raised it, "Tell me, Mr. Doral--that is your name, right?--what do you have to say to the people of New Caprica, whom you pledged peace and prosperity to?"
Kara remained with her gun on the centurion, waiting.
"I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding, this is a legitimate--"
"Peace, Mr. Doral, does not include Cylon bullies breaking down tents and beating up honest citizens, like Laura Roslin who is simply trying to live her life." On a roll now, Playa continued, her passion pouring out of her. "Peace does not include secret detentions and people disappearing never to be heard from again. Where is the peace of the Cylons, the succor they offered in exchange for our peaceful and unconditional surrender?"
"Centurions!" The Five snapped, and Kara could hear the others shift and extrude guns. "You're all under arrest and will now be detained--"
"This is live, Mr. Doral," interrupted Playa, her tone smug, "Every person on New Caprica can see--though of course, most of them only hear this having been reduced to merely radios by the Cylons. Hell, the people in this aisle can see it live. You are arresting us with no reason, continuing your regime of oppression and terror. Do you have any way of explaining this?"
"I knew this was a horrible idea. The Sixes--"
"Shut up, brother." The Five that Playa had obviously decided was the long-un-missed Aaron Doral glared at Playa, obviously weighing the choices. It was possible that she was live as she claimed, that the humans were huddled in groups around their radios, listening to the staticy reception they gained from the tiny device she was broadcasting with.
Kara glanced at him, then back at her centurion, "If he doesn't stop aiming at me, Five, I will shoot him."
"Captain." Roslin's hand on her shoulder made her jump, "If we offer them violence, they are well within their rights," she murmured.
"I know." But Kara was angry. She was tired of this stand-off bullshit, tired of trying to rid her world of Cylons and having her attempts fail. One step forward, ten billion back. She shrugged Roslin's hand off and tightened her grip on the pistol.
"Captain Thrace," called Playa, her tone bright and cheerful, "You've survived many engagements with the Cylons. In fact, you were one of the people who protested settling on New Caprica. How do you think the Cylons have treated us?"
"Horribly. We're like pets to them. They feed us and clothe us and give us no say in what we do with our lives." Impressed with her own ability to say what she meant, Kara stopped talking, refocusing on the centurion.
"Is that enough for you, Mr. Doral, or does the tide of public opinion need to turn even further against you before you halt your vicious attacks on the people of this colony?"
Kara smirked. Playa was rather good at what she did--as long as she wasn't turning her microphone on Kara and her sexual escapades, at least. Luckily, Kara had dodged that bullet for over a year, and gleefully watched (or listened to) Playa nail everyone from Galen Tyrol (there was that public sex thing) to Felix Gaeta (though that hadn't caused anyone to blink an eye) to Gaius Baltar (who'd fallen asleep during their interview and one of his 'girlfriends' had talked about drugs with Playa for ten minutes).
Doing serious reporting was obviously something Playa, an ex-entertainment reporter, was taking in stride. Perhaps it was what she'd always wanted to do.
"This is a legitimate arrest." He managed to get that out before Playa's laughter cut across him.
"In the middle of the night, with a bunch of centurions and secrecy? I don't think so, Mr. Doral. This was a raid, pure and simple, an act of intimidation against the people of this colony--the very people that have welcomed you with open arms and trusted that you would hold your side of the bargain. 'We come in peace', you said. But this is not peace. This is something else entirely."
Calling it war would be going too far. Kara had to admire Playa for leading her audience to that inevitable conclusion without saying it. They would all think they'd come up with it on their own. Gods. She'd been around Tory too long, thinking in circles and twists like that.
"That is not what we were doing." The Five sounded agitated, though he softened his voice, "You surrendered to us, this is not negotiable, we are here on legitimate business."
"Excuse me." It was a Six, her voice sounding as perfectly manicured as her nails probably were, "Brother. Perhaps now is not the time for this sort of argument. Call off the centurions."
The last sentence was spoken as an order, the tone implacable. Kara gleefully filled in the rest of Six's comment, you are giving us bad publicity, you idiot, shut up and let it go. The Six, of course, would never say 'idiot' or 'shut up'. Well. Probably not. Kara had never bothered to ask them their vocabulary preferences, she'd usually been more interested in killing them before they killed her.
"Six, this is--"
"Centurions. Return to the hangar silo and await further instructions. Escort Five with you--both of them."
The centurion in the tent shifted, then its arm flipped back and the gun disappeared.
In response, Kara slowly lowered her weapon and shifted to the side to let it pass her. She hoped Playa's camera-person was getting it all.
"Six," Playa said, her tone diffident, "Your actions here are commendable. Do you believe it's still possible for the Cylons to bring peace with them?"
"I do, Playa. I do. God has a plan for all of us."
"So I've heard. I'm not sure what the Gods would say about that." The sound of the centurions and Fives receded, and Playa's voice shifted to a chirpier vein, "Well, that's all the time we have, this has been Playa Palacious with your evening news. Good night."
"Good night," Six said quietly, and then she left, following the centurions.
"Thanks for the ratings boost, Captain." Giving Kara a smug look, Playa left, going the opposite direction.
That left Kara with a slightly-glaring Laura Roslin and a gaping hole in her tent.
"Barolay, help me patch this, so Ms. Roslin can get some sleep before she has to teach the little monsters in the morning," Kara said hastily, holstering her pistol and moving to inspect the damage.
The centurion had sliced through with several fingers, leaving the wall in ribbons.
"I don't suppose you have extra canvas, Captain?" Roslin asked, her tone filled with irony.
"We can borrow some," Barolay offered, "Two rows over, there's the food tent. It's got some extra tarps."
Kara nodded and looked at her, "Go."
Patching the tent was important: New Caprica nights were getting increasingly cold and blustery. The wind was already kicking lightly through the tatters.
With Barolay gone, there was an awkward little silence. Roslin didn't break it, her eyes resting on Kara's face, as though waiting for something. Kara saw no reason to break it; after all, the Cylons arresting Laura Roslin wasn't her fault. She'd never been good at staying quiet, though. "Nice night for a walk, huh?"
"Captain. Am I to take it that this little debacle was your doing?"
"I was out for a walk."
"Bullshit." Striding away from Kara, Roslin picked up her coat and slung it around her shoulders. Turning back, her voice lowered, "Playa Palacious, Kara? How stupid do you think I am?"
"She got results," Kara defended, refusing to feel in the wrong for this. "The people need you alive and in sight, Roslin."
It was hard for Laura to dispute that, and Kara saw some of her anger fade.
"They were coming for you, like they did Zarek and Herrick and all of those others. Disappearing would have caused rumors, but nothing more. At least this way, they know that if they take you, someone will notice."
Roslin nodded, then dropped the argument as Barolay returned, a tarp over her shoulder. "Get my tent patched up, ladies. I have work to do in the morning."
-=-
After Roslin said good night to them, Kara and Jean stood in the lane outside her tent. Kara wondered if they should stick around and guard it, but decided that the Cylons wouldn't try arresting her twice in one night--even they weren't that dumb.
She slung an arm around Barolay, "You thirsty?"
"Yeah."
Which was as good an excuse as any to get her husband's best friend drunk off her ass and listen to Embarrassing Sam stories.
-0-