Those Who Lift Each Other, Chapter 10, part 2
As the days ticked by, the great peace of the Cylons took its shape. Watchtowers and lights were put up. Centurions patrolled the streets to keep the peace. And the apartment complex that had never been completed rose into a dark bulk of a building, heavy and imposing and surrounded by a high fence. This was what peace looked like to the Cylon eye, Burt thought sourly, and it was all couched in phrases like "public safety", "best interests", and "temporary measures."
There was a little more freedom than Burt anticipated, though. He'd thought that it might be impossible to meet with anyone not on the construction crew, but as long as they met before the curfew, the Cylons didn't try to stop it. Yet.
"One day they're going to figure out what's going on," Shannon said as she sat with Burt and Sue in the high school tent. "When things heat up, it's going to be hard to get groups together. They'll start cracking down."
"Like to see them try," Sue said. She was shelling a bowl of nuts. "Unless they want to open up and bomb everyone-"
"You really think they won't?" Shannon asked
Sue conceded the point with a tilt of her head. "But they haven't yet, which means they've got to be somewhat serious about this crazy brainwashing kumbaya bullshit. If they weren't, they'd have nuked us all to hell and back by now. They're as serious about peace as Will Schuester is about hair gel."
"He's not even here to hear that," Burt reminded her, looking at his watch. Carole was a half-hour late. "Where is Schuester, anyway?"
Shannon and Sue exchanged glances. "That's something we wanted to talk to you about," Shannon said. "Look, I love Will, you know that, right?" Burt nodded. "But Will's… Will's looking at things from a different perspective. He can't get it through his head that these kids are practically grown up right now."
"He's a frakking coward," Sue interrupted. Shannon glared at her, but Burt noticed that she didn't argue, and Shannon wasn't one to hold back her opinion of Sue's nonsense. Pleased with Shannon's lack of argument, Sue broke another nut open. "Oh, please. You think Will Schuester has the mettle do to what's going to need to be done? Of course not. He can't handle it." Sue sneered as she sat back. "One little explosion that makes the Cylons crack down further and he's going to be singing the party line about how we don't want to make it worse. And from there, it's only a step to believing their promises, and only one more step to turning us all in."
"Will wouldn't do that," Shannon said.
"You want to bet lives on that?"
Burt had the uncomfortable revelation that he really didn't know which woman he agreed with. Before he could answer, the tent flap flew open and Carole rushed in. One look at her face and Burt knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
"What the hell happened?" Shannon asked, jumping off her chair immediately.
"The plant," Carole said, gesturing in the general direction agitatedly. "The water treatment plant. The Cylons came down today."
"Everybody alive?" Burt asked.
"No." Carole's voice was curt. "They shot seven of my workers."
"Frak."
"It was supposedly an uprising," Carole said. Sue put a glass by Carole's hand, and Carole took a quick swallow, grimacing at the raw alcohol. "An uprising," Carole scoffed. "Only because they brought Centurions in."
"They brought chrome jobs in?" Shannon asked. "What did they think was going to happen?"
"Probably exactly what they wanted," Carole said, sipping her whiskey again. "People got angry. One shot went off and…" she shrugged angrily. "It was a mess, and now the Cylons are taking complete control of the facility."
"Frak," Shannon said, sitting back down slowly.
"So what's the bad news?" Sue asked. Burt and Shannon both stared at her, because seven people dead wasn't bad news? Sue was insane but… but Carole was bracing herself. Burt could see it in how quickly she downed the rest of her drink, and the expression on her face and the tenseness in her shoulders.
"When they restored order," she said, and her voice sounded choked and strange, "they took prisoners. They took Xeno Fenner, they took half my line…" She paused, wiped her eyes, and Burt knew this was it. "They took Sam and Rya. Sam and Rya are prisoners."
Burt felt the bottom of his stomach drop out of his body, and all the horror and the fears of this occupation became infinitely more real.
***
"You're serious," Kurt said. "They've got Sam and Rya?"
"They took them," Carole said, covering Kurt's hand with her own. "Yesterday. There hasn't been any sign of them."
"I… I don't understand." Kurt rubbed his forehead. "What would they want with Sam and Rya?"
"I'm not sure. At least Xeno made some sense- he was in charge of the plant- but Sam and Rya weren't even on the floor where the Centurions were. I don't know. But one of those Ones came in and told the Centurions to take both of them."
"By name?"
Carole frowned. "Now that you mention it… yes. He called them by name." She looked at Burt, her eyes wide. "The priest that married them…."
"He was a One." Burt had blocked that out. "But why would he remember that? They were just a couple of kids. He barely knew them." Carole shrugged helplessly, and Burt turned back to Kurt. "Look, Kurt. That's the thing. None of us have the first idea of why they were really picked up. And we have no idea of why they're being held." Kurt looked miserable at that thought, but Burt pushed on. "We were wondering if you knew."
"No. They don't talk to me about things like that." Kurt gave a bitter little laugh. "I'm just a machine for them to relay orders through. Nothing like a little irony, don't you think?"
"Yeah, well, I don't know about that, but do you think there's anyone up there that you could ask?"
Kurt frowned. "I can ask," he said. He didn't add any more, but the "but" hung there in the air. But it might not work. But he might not be able to find anything out. But even if he did, he might not be able to do anything about it. But it might make the Cylons angry. But he might get in trouble himself.
"Be careful, all right?" Burt said. "I don't like to ask you to do this, but-"
"No, no. I'll definitely ask," Kurt said. His answer was immediate. "I promise, Dad. I'll do what I can to find out."
"All right. Just don't get yourself in trouble, you hear me? Stay safe."
Kurt nodded. "I will."
***
Kurt selected three items of clothing very, very carefully before he headed up to Colonial One the next morning. "What are you taking clothes for?" Puck asked suspiciously when he saw Kurt leaving the tent.
"Dry cleaning," Kurt replied glibly, and then left before Puck could press the matter. It had been easy then, but now that he was inside Colonial One and headed to his office, he couldn't ignore the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about what he was going to do.
Doral wasn't in yet, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. He draped the garments he'd brought with him over the back of the broken-down couch. It really wasn't the best backdrop to highlight their potential, but it would have to do. The deep charcoal gray cardigan sweater in good shape. He'd have to take the shoulders in a little on the shirt he'd brought. And the tie… the tie was one Kurt really didn't want to part with, but it went so well with the other two pieces that Doral wouldn't be able to resist. Kurt arranged the three pieces together, and then went to his desk to sit down and wait.
The minutes ticked by on a clock, slowly and loudly. In the hallway, he could hear the voices of Cylons, and the occasional human voice as well. It was always easy to tell the human voices- they were muted and subdued. Subservient. He tried to focus on his work, but he jumped at every sound outside his door.
It was midmorning when Doral finally came in, whistling tunelessly in a way that grated on Kurt's ears and wearing a burgundy jacket that hurt Kurt's eyes. He tossed a stack of papers down on Kurt's desk, and then stopped suddenly when he spotted the garments draped out on the couch. "What's this?"
Kurt took a deep breath, stood up, and closed the door. Doral's eyebrows went up in amused interest. "There are two people I need to find," Kurt said, his back against the door as if holding it closed would secure his own safety. "Two people who were arrested a few days ago."
"Arrested?" Doral affected concern. He might even be concerned- it looked like it might be genuine. "That's terrible. But I don't see what that has to do with half your wardrobe being spread across our office."
"I was getting to that. You know," Kurt said, going over to the couch and picking up the sweater, "as much as we both agree that bold colors catch the eye, the basics have their appeal, too, especially when the shape of the garment is unusual and eye-catching. Look at the Sixes, for example. They favor black, but they always- without exception- look fabulous."
"The Sixes would look fabulous in anything," Doral said, frowning. "Believe me. They were designed that way."
"True, but the point still stands." Kurt picked up the sleeve of the sweater and tried not to think about how much he really, really liked this one. "Fashion is more than color. Try it on."
Doral looked at him strangely, but picked up the sweater. "Oh. The fabric-"
"See what I mean?"
"It's… it's remarkable." Doral removed his awful blazer and pulled the sweater on.
"It looks good," Kurt lied. He moved around to Doral's back and adjusted the seams. "See? Well, I suppose you can't, because there's no mirror in here, but it really does flatter you."
"It's very… it's different." Doral's voice was dubious, but Kurt could see he was winning- Doral's fascination with the cardigan was written all over his face. But soon, the aware, calculating look was back. "So what did you want?"
"Sam Evans and Rya Kibby-Evans," Kurt said, trying to sound more confident and casual than he felt. "They were arrested a few days ago. Sam is my brother. Rya is my sister-in-law."
"Your brother?" Doral looked surprised. "You don't have the same last name. I thought that was the convention."
"My family isn't conventional," Kurt said, and dropped the subject. "If you would ask, I would be…." He wasn't sure how to finish that sentence, so he just gestured at the sweater.
"I see." Doral pressed his lips together, and then turned back to the couch. "This shirt doesn't look like much."
"It's broadcloth," Kurt explained. "Look at the texture."
"What texture? There's nothing there."
"Exactly. Formal. Classic. Subtle."
"Boring." Doral made a face, but it cleared. "There's a shirt I've seen you wear. It has black around the collar and down the front."
Kurt knew immediately which one he meant, because it was a favorite. But he forced himself to nod. "If they are released, I could even alter it for you. Fit is crucial."
"Mmm." Doral didn't look convinced. "Let me get back to you." He picked up the shirt and the tie.
"Wait, I thought-" Kurt began. Doral turned around and raised an eyebrow, his meaning clear, and Kurt broke off. "I thought… I thought you wanted to go over the minutes of the meeting with the security captain," he finished lamely.
"Later." Doral seemed supremely uninterested. He glanced at his watch, which Kurt suspected he did for show. "I have somewhere to be. I want those memos on my desk by noon."
"Yes, sir." Kurt slowly sat back down at his desk and Doral stalked out, carrying the clothing and looking extremely smug. Three items of clothing, just to find out what had happened to Sam and Rya. And more if he needed to get them out.
Kurt took a deep breath. "It's just clothing," he said out loud, softly. "They're people. Sam and Rya are more important than anything in my closet."
He believed that, completely and utterly, and if it got them out of detention, Kurt would give up his entire wardrobe. So the last thing he ever wanted anyone to know about was the fact he was crying a little as he typed the next memo.
***
It took three days for Doral to get back to him. Kurt was afraid to ask, because as of right now, Doral didn't seem upset with him. But Kurt was becoming familiar with Doral's volatile temper, and it was best not to rouse it. But finally, Doral came into the office and closed the door, and Kurt knew what this was about even before he said it. He half-stood up from his desk, his heart swelling with hope.
"I can't do it," Doral said.
"What?" Kurt sat back down. "But I-"
"They're in detention," Doral explained. "For causing a disturbance at the water treatment facility."
"What did they do?" Kurt really couldn't imagine Sam causing a disturbance anywhere. "I mean, they were both line-workers before we landed here. It's not like they were military or-"
"I don't know." Doral shrugged. "What I do know is that Cavil has them flagged. It’s out of my reach."
"But-"
"It's out of my reach. That's the end of it."
There was steel in his voice. Kurt knew when to back down. "All right. Thank you, sir, for at least finding out." It galled him to have to say that, but he knew better.
Doral smiled at him. Like Kurt should be pleased, like this was some great thing. "I'm so glad we could help each other, Kurt." His smile widened. "I can call you Kurt, right?" Kurt nodded. "We work together very well. Someday, when this transition is over, you and I will be a model of how humans and Cylons can truly be friends."
"Right." It was the only word that Kurt could manage to get out without throwing up.
***
"Kurt says he talked to a Doral, but the Doral couldn't help," Burt said, as he and Puck worked on the cellar that they were digging under Burt's shop. The main work was done and the iron rebar had been put in for support, but now there were other niches to carve out, and electricity to wire in. The basement was accessed by a trap door hidden under a crate. It wasn't very big- it felt very close and tight with both Burt and Puck down there- but there was room for five or six people right now. But with the tunnel that they were digging, that would help, too.
"So, what did Kurt do after that?" Puck asked, kicking his shovel into the earth.
"What do you mean?"
"What's his plan? What's he going to do next?"
"Nothing, that I know of." Burt had a bad feeling where this was going.
He was right. Puck stopped shoveling and crossed his arms. "You mean to tell me that my boy Sam is in that jail with gods knows what happening to him, and all Kurt did was bat his eyelashes and say pretty please at some skin job?"
Burt put aside his own shovel. "What do you expect him to do?"
"I don't know. Keep asking other Cylons, maybe? Or here's a crazy idea- he could blow the frakkers from here to tomorrow if they don't give us Sam and Rya back."
Burt skipped over the obvious question of "how?" and went straight to the real problem. "And what good would that do? Let's say Kurt- and remember, you're talking about Kurt here- manages to get a bomb in there and set it off and get away again. What happens next? They don't die. They just download and come back, no matter how hard you blow them up. And then we've got Sam, Rya, and Kurt in that prison."
Puck scowled. His eyes were dark and angry and he was fighting it, but Burt could see that the logic was making its way through Puck's brain. He could almost see when Puck got it- that there wasn't much else Kurt could do. "All right," he muttered, and picked his shovel back up. "But it still bugs the hell out of me that they're in there."
"You and me both, kid." Burt looked around their dimly lit basement and then got back to work. "You and me both."
***
CRACK.
The blow hit hard, and Kurt went sprawling across the floor. He tasted blood in his mouth, and when he prodded the spot with his tongue, he could feel a jagged cut in the flesh of his cheek. Doral loomed over him, and Kurt braced for another blow. But the blow never came. Doral stood over him, breathing heavy, and then reached down and wrapped a hand around Kurt's bicep and pulled him to his feet.
"I'm sorry," Doral said, and he seemed genuinely distraught. "I'm sorry, Kurt."
Kurt just nodded, still in shock. The blow hadn't come from out of nowhere- Doral had asked Kurt to type a memo about ration cuts, and Kurt had pointed out that the rations were being cut for pregnant and nursing women. It had escalated to an argument, but the Cylons were so kid-crazy and after a month of occupation, Kurt had gotten used to Doral enough that he'd felt he could voice this particular objection. But it was still a surprise- a surprise and a reminder. Kurt raised his hand to his cheek.
"I'm sorry," Doral repeated. He pulled Kurt's hand down so he could inspect the damage for himself, and then winced. "That looks bad. You should get down to the med tent."
"It's not bad," Kurt began, and then wondered why he was arguing. Getting to the med tent meant getting out of here and away from Doral, and right now, nothing seemed more appealing, and his cheek really, really hurt. He nodded.
"Wait." Doral picked something up, gripped it in his hand for a long moment, and then handed it to Kurt. It was a small chip. "Give this to one of the Fours, so he knows that I sent you." At Kurt's quizzical look, Doral added, "So you can be sure to get pain medication. It's under a fairly tight rationing, you know. And any other medical care you might need." He squeezed Kurt's arm one last time. "I really am sorry. You forgive me, don't you?" Kurt nodded, hoping that Doral would chalk his silence up to the pain in his jaw.
He was glad to get out into the cold air of the settlement, but as he trudged to the med tent, he noticed that people were watching him. It was something he'd noticed more and more, and it reminded him of being back at McKinley, especially back in junior year, when people would glare at him as he walked by and mutter under their breaths just because he existed. They were doing that now. Covertly, mostly, but Kurt noticed it because he'd spent so long attuned to exactly that.
Collaborator.
He was starting to hear the whispers. He supposed they'd been happening for a while, but people hadn't been open about their thoughts. He kept his eyes forward and kept walking, determinedly pretending to ignore everyone but watching from the corners of his eyes. He was an old pro at this. Nevertheless, he was relieved to reach the medical tent.
The tent wasn't too busy. He saw his father's friend Tyrol sitting in one corner with his wife Cally, who was holding their baby. Cally's eyes widened, and Kurt touched his cheek self-consciously. It was swelling fast, and he didn't even want to think what his face looked like. It was confirmed when Quinn caught sight of him and fumbled the tray she was carrying.
"Kurt. What happened?"
"Long story."
Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Does it involve humans?"
"No."
"Then it's not a long story." She put her tray down and gestured with her head. "Come with me." She led him back to a cubicle that was sectioned off by sheets, and Kurt sat up on the table.
Quinn's hands were cold when she touched his cheek, and the skin was extremely rough. Kurt remembered when they used to be almost as smooth as his own. Automatically, he looked down at his own hands. They were nothing like they used to be, either. He yelped as Quinn pressed on his cheekbone.
"Can you open your mouth?" Kurt obeyed. "Wider." He tried, and was met with a shaft of pain that made him grab for his cheek. Quinn sighed. She pressed a few other areas, and some made him cry out with pain. "I think you have a fractured cheekbone," she finally said. "We'll have to get permission from a Four to use the X-ray."
"We have to get permission?" Kurt asked. "Is it hard to get?"
Quinn pressed her lips together. Kurt knew that look- he'd seen it frequently enough in the choir room, although generally directed at Mr. Schuester, Rachel, Santana, or Finn. It was Quinn's you're an idiot look. "You work in Colonial One. You don't know?"
"I don't know every last thing that goes on up there, no."
"Sorry," Quinn said, although she didn't sound it. She sat down beside him on the table and her shoulders slumped. "I shouldn't have snapped, but I have a patient right now who's having some sort of gastrointestinal issues. Dr. Robert desperately wants to use the X-ray, but because she's former military, he can't get permission. She might be a troublemaker. Not that the Cylons would admit that," Quinn added with a bitter little laugh. "They just cite resources."
Kurt remembered the chip Doral had given him and pulled it out. He turned it over hand, staring at it. His cheek was killing him- it hurt like nothing had ever hurt before. But at the same time… collaborator.
"Quinn? What happens to me if I don't get the x-ray?"
Quinn shrugged. "I'll have Dr. Robert look at you first, but my guess is nothing. I couldn't feel anything, which means that if it is broken, it's a hairline fracture. It doesn't feel like it's displaced. You don't look like you have a concussion, but as long as you're not bleeding internally, there really isn't a whole lot that can be done. Ice and pain medication, really."
"So I need an x-ray because…?"
"Just because I can't feel it doesn't mean that the bone's not displaced. It really would be best to check."
Kurt thought about it, turning the chip over in his hands. "Here," he said thrusting it at her. "Take it."
Quinn looked at the chip skeptically. "What's this?"
"It's something from Doral to give to the Fours, ensuring I get whatever medical treatment I need. Tell them I need a x-ray. Can you get into the room where the x-ray equipment is alone?"
"I can’t, but Dr. Robert can."
Kurt waved that off. "Whatever. Tell them you're going to do the x-ray on me, and then do it on your other patient. The one that they won't do it for."
Quinn goggled at him. "Seriously? You really want to do this?"
"Well, I'll check with Dr. Robert first," Kurt temporized. "But yes. If he agrees to it, I'll do it."
Quinn's face lit up. "I'll go get him." She patted him once on the knee and disappeared.
Kurt took a deep breath. He hoped he'd still be able to get some painkillers- his cheek really hurt. It seemed like a small risk to himself to possibly save someone's life. He turned the chip over in his hand again, looking at it thoughtfully as he waited.
***
"I'd be willing to bet it's a hairline fracture," Dr. Robert said, feeling Kurt's cheek. "If it's a fracture at all. It could still just be damage to the soft tissue, although I understand the Cylons have enough strength to break a man's cheekbone with a blow." He shined a light in Kurt's eyes. "The blood vessel by your eye burst, so it will take a few days for the blood to clear out, but it looks like the bleeding itself stopped. You don't have a concussion, although I recommend you have someone wake you up a couple of times tonight. Do you have someone who can do that?"
"I have a roommate."
"Good. Well, Kurt, if you're really willing to do this, I could sure make use of that x-ray time." Dr. Robert stepped back. "I think you'll be fine, and I can manage to get some of the painkillers for you, if you'd like."
"I'd like them," Kurt confessed.
"Well, then. Ice. Lots and lots of ice. It shouldn't be too hard to come by. Cold compresses, anything to help with the swelling. Keep to soft foods for a few days, chew with the other side of your mouth. You'll be fine." He patted Kurt on the shoulder and left.
Quinn got Kurt an ice pack and a few pills. He swallowed them gratefully and put the ice on his cheek. The cold felt good, and the throbbing eased slightly. Quinn sat down on the table next to him. Her shoulder was against his, and they both unconsciously leaned into the contact. They were both consciously disobeying orders to save someone's life. Kurt tried not to think of the implications of that, but he had to, and as he did, second thoughts began creeping up.
"We work with the Cylons," he began slowly. Maybe we shouldn't be doing this. Maybe we have to-
"Don't say it," Quinn said, shaking her head. "Don't… just, don't."
Kurt nodded, and they sat in silence again.
***
"What the hell happened to you?" Puck demanded as soon as Kurt entered the tent.
"It seems impossible that three years ago, you wouldn't have cared," Kurt said lightly.
"Don't frakking change the subject. What the hell happened?" Puck stood up and approached, and much to Kurt's shock, gripped his chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned his face. "What the hell-"
"Don't touch it," Kurt begged. "It's a fractured cheekbone."
Puck stepped back, his face darkening. "It was a toaster, wasn't it? Those frakkers can hit like nothing I've ever felt before." Kurt shrugged. "It was the one you work for, wasn't it?"
"Am I really that easy to read?" Kurt moved over to their crate where their meager rations were stored, hunting for some dried soup mix. "I'd appreciate it if we just left the subject."
"Are you kidding? This is great!"
Kurt whirled around. "Great? How is a fractured cheekbone great?"
"Because now you can leave." To Puck, it was simple. "Look, I get why you haven't gotten the hell out of there before this, but it's got to be driving you nuts, collab- working there. And you've said that some of the lines are a little more sympathetic, right? Like that toaster you said Baltar's frakking?" Kurt saw where this was going. "So, go to one of them and complain. Say that you want to switch to a construction crew or another clerking job or whatever. Get out of there now. With the way your face looks-"
"Does it really look that bad?"
"Yeah, it looks awful. But with the way your face looks, one of those chick Cylons will melt enough to move you, and you're not working in the administration anymore, and you don't get yourself killed for quitting. This is perfect."
Kurt's heart leapt for a moment, because Puck was actually right, and because getting away from Doral would be amazing. It would also mean that there was no one to keep Puck off the lists of troublemakers. That right there was a reason he couldn't leave the administration, and then today… today he might have helped save someone else's life, too.
"So?" Puck said, and Kurt realized he'd been quiet too long. "What do you think? Brilliant plan, right?"
"Yeah. Brilliant plan."
"So are you going to do it?"
Kurt turned to look at Puck, who was watching him excitedly. "I don't know," he said slowly. "I have to think about it." Puck stepped back, and the happiness and openness on his face faded fast. He looked less like Kurt's friend and more like the boy who used to toss him in the dumpster years ago. Kurt couldn't bear to see that expression come back. "I'll think about it, okay?" he begged. "There's a lot to consider."
"Right." Puck stalked over to his bed, throwing himself down and pulling the blankets up over him. "You think about if you want to keep doing their dirty work when you've got a perfectly good way out."
"You have no idea what-" Kurt began, and then stopped. Puck couldn't know. "You have no idea what it's like up there," he finished lamely.
"Don't need to. They're toasters, Kurt, and that's all I need to know." And with that, Puck turned out the light, leaving Kurt standing in the middle of the tent in darkness.
***
"My God," Doral whispered when he saw Kurt the next morning, staring at his cheek with a horrified fascination. "Is it-"
"Broken?" Kurt finished for him, sitting down primly. "Yes."
"I'm sorry. Kurt, I'm so sorry." Doral advanced closer and closer, until he was right in Kurt's space. Kurt forced himself to sit still. Doral cupped his cheek (which hurt, why did everyone insist on doing that?) "This is not how this new civilization was supposed to work."
Pretend to forgive him. Kurt met Doral's eyes. The touch on his cheek felt more intimate that way, more… not loving, but… but it was something he could have imagined Tom doing, in a moment of physical affection. But there was something off in Doral's expression that reminded Kurt deep down of just how dangerous Doral could be. He looked away, casting his eyes downward.
"Is it all right, Kurt?" Doral's voice was gentle but insistent. "Is everything all right?"
Kurt looked back up. "Everything's all right," he lied. Doral gave a small smile, and finally rocked back and out of Kurt's space, and Kurt could breathe again. Doral smiled one more time, and then retreated to his desk.
Kurt took a deep breath and pulled up the forms he'd planned on working on today. They were forms applying for medical permission, each one detailing a case and signed by a human doctor and approved by a Four, requesting medicine or access to specific medical equipment. Kurt was supposed to present these papers to Doral, who was supposed to compare them against the supplies of medicine and determine what could be done, and then Gaius Baltar's signature was required. It was an awful lot of work from people who shouldn't have even been involved, but Kurt supposed that was insurance on the Colonies, too. But because it was so much work, it usually amounted to Baltar not seeing any of the papers, because Doral categorically rejected them.
Quinn had given him five names, five people who desperately needed what those forms could provide and who probably wouldn't get it. Keeping an ever cautious eye on Doral, Kurt filled out the forms and then very carefully forged Gaius's Baltar's signature on each of them. He stared at his handiwork, hoping that it would fool machines that could spot tinier details than his eyes could. It would have to. He put the five applications into a drawer and turned to the next item on his list, a little soaring feeling in his chest. It was a huge risk, but he was doing something.
The war was on.
***
He was able to give Quinn three more signed forms before he found himself staring at a newly drafted medical permission form, which required not only President Baltar's signature but also authorization from a One and one other line. A One. Kurt could bribe Doral, he could have relied on an Eight or a Six and maybe even a Two to show some compassion, and he could have appealed to a Four's scientific nature. He was powerless against a One. He thudded heavily into his seat, staring at the new form.
"Why did it change?" he heard himself asking Doral.
Doral sounded unconcerned. "For protection, of course."
"How is this protection?" Kurt's eyes were starting to burn and the paper was getting blurry in his vision. He couldn't let Doral see how upset he was over this. His fractured cheekbone still kept him up at night. "Who are you trying to protect?"
"Everyone." Doral looked maddeningly superior. "What does it matter to you?" His eyes met Kurt's and it was clear. Doral knew what he'd be doing.
"There have been some people exploiting the system," Doral continued. "And really, I understand that. I can see their intentions are good, and that they only want to help people, and that intent shouldn't be punished. At least, I don't think so. But those people are overstepping their boundaries and getting into areas they don't understand." Doral's voice sharpened. "It needs to stop. Or next time, I will have to punish someone just for being compassionate." Kurt looked down, and Doral dropped all pretense. "Stop messing with things you don't understand, Kurt, or next time, I might not be able to protect you. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir," Kurt said, shoulders slumping. "We're clear."
Frak.
***
"This feels wrong," Burt said. "I know it's Rachel's birthday, but Sam and Rya are still in detention. A little cold, you know?"
Carole, former military wife, shook her head. "No. They need to come up for air for a bit and be young and happy. It's hard on them. Rachel's birthday is a good excuse."
The kids had each managed to bring something to pool for dinner. Shannon and Will had strung small lights up in the high school tent, and there was even some music playing. As far as New Caprican parties went, this one was downright lavish. The kids all gathered at one of the long tables, relaxed and talking.
"We should join them," Carole suggested, taking Burt's arm. "It's a party."
"Yeah." At least, it looked like one, on the surface. But Lauren was toying with her knife, not eating and her eyes focused far away. Puck kept glaring at Kurt, who had a nasty bruise that he refused to answer questions about. In fact, Kurt had seemed a bit withdrawn at first, although Burt thought that might have just been his imagination, as he was now sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Rachel, looking as happy as he ever looked these days. Quinn looked sour. But Brittany was playing with Blaine, who was awake and alert on Mike's lap, and Tina was smiling as she talked to Schuester and watched them.
Burt was just about to sit when the sounds of gunshots tore the air apart. For one terrible moment he thought that the Cylons were shooting into the high school tent, but his mind cleared and he realized that the sounds were coming from outside the tent. But it was definitely Centurions.
"Stay here," he ordered the kids.
"Dad, where are you going?" Kurt was anxious. "You can't go out there. They're shooting!"
Carole caught his arm. "Kurt's right, Burt. What are you going to do?"
Burt stopped. Outside the tent, the shooting stopped as abruptly as it had begun, but they could still hear screaming. Rachel buried her face in Kurt's shoulder, and Mike was holding Blaine so tightly that Tina had to take the baby. Puck looked angry, but Lauren's barely reacted at all. Burt wondered if that was how she looked all the time on Caprica.
It was Quinn who spoke first. "I should go out there," she said firmly. "I might be able to help."
She might. Burt didn't like the idea of her going alone, though. "I'll go with you," he said, even though there wasn't much he could do to protect her. But Carole's hand tightened on his arm in silent support, and together, the three of them walked out into the streets.
Burt knew that he would never forget the sight of a father on his knees, cradling a child to his chest. It was all too easy to imagine how soon that could be him. Quinn ran over, but he knew the verdict even before she bent down to touch the boy. People were standing around helpless, uncertain of what to do. And there were several other bodies lying on the ground. And over it all stood several Centurions, an Eight and a Six, both looking horrified, and a One, looking grim.
***
Silence. The shootings were met with silence, and over three thousand candles.
Violent protest was impossible. It would only result in more deaths and the Cylons cracking down harder, imposing more regulations and more restrictions. Instead, the humans took to the street, candles in hand, and held a vigil for the victims of the shooting. There were no speeches, there were no songs. Just silence and candles.
Burt stood between Kurt and Carole, holding his candle and remembering what Tigh had said when he'd heard. Fat lot of good candles will do. He hadn't said anything more, but he'd made his opinion known. Burt had gone to the vigil anyway, if nothing else, out of respect for the dead.
Three thousand candles were answered with the New Caprica Police.
The Cylons professed their horror at the actions of the Centurions, and the result was the formation of the New Caprica Police. Instead of Centurions patrolling the streets, it would be humans.
"It's not a bad idea," Will Schuester insisted when the five adults met in the high school tent for dinner. "It gets the Cylons off the streets."
"It's a terrible idea," Sue informed him flatly.
"Why? We had a human police force before this. What's the difference?"
"The difference is who's giving the orders," Shannon said. Her face was grim as she answered.
"Oh my gods," Sue said slowly, staring at Shannon in horror, "the worlds really have ended. We agree on something."
"Yeah, well, I would have thought the bombs blowing everybody else up would have tipped you off by now," Shannon said dryly. She leaned toward Will. "Will. Pumpkin. It's not a good idea. With the Cylons in charge-"
"But that's the way it's always going to be," Will snapped. "The Cylons are always going to be in charge. There is no way that this city- because that's all we are, a city smaller than Lima- can fight back against the Cylons? With no firepower and no military?"
Everyone exchanged glances. "There's rumors the military will come back," Carole said finally.
"And if they do, they'll be destroyed," Will said. He looked miserable as he said it, leaning his face against his closed fist. "Two battlestars against all of the Cylons forces… it can't be done. Adama might come back for us, but he wouldn't win. The only chance we've got is to cooperate with the Cylons. Who knows? Maybe we can forge some kind of peace-"
"No," Sue said, dropping her fist to the table. "There's no such thing."
Will ignored her. "What do you think, Burt?"
"Listen," Burt said, slowly and carefully. "I'm not saying that I think you don't have a point. We don't know if Galactica will come back for us, and more important, we don't know if they'll succeed. You're right about that. And keeping your head down and going along as best you can- all that's just good sense. But this NCP… this is something different. This is asking humans to do the Cylons' dirty work for them. And all this stuff about them promising anonymity and protection to people who join? That's only going to result in people never being sure if their neighbor will inform on them. That's what it's really going to do- not protect the people who go in. I see what you're getting at, Will, but I'm with Sue and Shannon and Carole on this one. The NCP is a bad idea."
Will sighed in frustration, flopping back against his chair. Burt met Shannon's eyes. She was the one who was closest with Will, and she looked as upset as Burt felt.
"It's going to happen soon, don't you think?" Carole asked Burt as they walked back to their tent. "This resistance? Getting something going against the Cylons?"
"Gods, I hope so," Burt said, pulling her close. "But when it does, it's only going to get worse."
"I know." Carole sighed. "Burt… how much do you think we stand to lose?"
Burt frowned into the darkness. "Everything, I guess. Everything but our souls. I guess that's what we're really fighting for, when this all kicks off. Because Will's right about one thing- we don't have much of a shot at anything else."
They walked home together in silence.
***
Burt was in the shop with Brittany the next time they heard gunfire. Brittany paused in her work like a deer caught in headlights, frozen as she stared out the open flap of the tent. Burt put his own repairs down and came over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"It sounds like it's over by the temple," Brittany said. "The one to Aphrodite."
"It can't be," Burt answered. "That's the one thing I'll say for the Cylons- they leave the temples alone. They let it be sacred ground."
It was the temple. He found out that night, when Galen dropped by the tent.
"You and Carole want to come over for dinner tonight?" he asked, and the way his voice was pitched low and the anger in his eyes told Burt everything he needed to know. "The waiting is over. It's time to get moving."
Burt nodded. "We'll be there."
It was finally time.
On to Part 3