Fic: Occupation
The explosion, when it happened, rocked the ground for almost a mile all around. All of New Caprica heard it.
And all of New Caprica felt the fallout.
~*~
Gaius Baltar didn’t look at the paper in front of him; he dashed off his signature, with a practiced flourish - but one that, today, was bereft of any energy whatsoever.
“Don’t you even look at what you sign anymore?”
Felix Gaeta’s voice was edgy, snappier than usual, and Gaius dragged his eyes up to Felix’s face, to the set jaw and the accusing stare. Ah, this; this is why he doesn’t look at Felix anymore. “It’s all the same,” said Baltar, “ration reports, food shortages, sanitation requirements.” Felix didn’t look convinced, so Baltar added, “you’re doing a very good job, Mr. Gaeta,” in hope that it would drive Felix away.
Felix made a quiet sigh, and he turned to go.
“Wait,” said Baltar, because Felix had never asked him that before. “Why did you ask me that?”
“Because this one might not have been one you wanted to sign,” Felix told him.
~*~
Laura Roslin set her glasses down on her desk. They made a quiet clink against the metal, something she held on to, focused on, because the world was bending around her ears and rushing through her veins and she couldn’t focus. She touched her forehead, and wasn’t surprised by the clammy feel.
“Ma’am?” came a quiet, inquisitive voice.
Laura turned on a smile, in an instant, though she felt it might have been weaker than her usual. “Billy,” she said, “how many times do I have to tell you to call me Laura?”
Billy didn’t smile. Something was very wrong.
Laura straightened her spine. “What is it?” she asked, and he told her.
~*~
Jammer ducked between two rows of tents, and glanced around, tightening his jacket around his shoulders. Dusk - the sunlight was failing, and curfew would be up soon.
He slipped through tent flaps, and looked up to the sight of ex-Admiral Helena Cain, one knee to her chest, twirling a pencil between her fingers. She pinned him with her stare, and Jammer swallowed.
“Admiral,” he greeted, then nodded to Colonel Tigh, “Colonel.” He took a deep breath. “The rumor is true.”
Tigh clenched his jaw; Cain’s grip snapped the pencil in half, an abrupt crack like a gunshot in the still air.
~*~
Tyrol gritted his teeth at the sight of the poster. “By order of the President of the Colonies,” he muttered, bitterly. “Anyone else really regretting that election?”
Anders, beside him, snorted.
Tyrol eyed the poster one last time, and turned, continued moving along the main thoroughfare through the city on New Caprica. “I can’t believe they think anyone is this desperate,” he said, mostly to himself.
Anders still didn’t speak, and Tyrol noticed the man’s fists were clenched, his eyes aimless.
“Still no word on Kara?” Tyrol asked.
“Still in detention,” said Anders, and Tyrol knew enough to leave it at that.
~*~
“Hey,” said Tory Foster, a little bit awkwardly, as Seelix lifted a crate full of school supplies to the desk in front of her.
Seelix shot her a glance, and a “hey,” with a tight smile.
Tory bit her lip as Seelix left to bring the other crate in (what to say, what to say), and when Seelix returned, she took a breath. “Have you seen those posters, outside?” she asked.
Seelix paused. “Yes,” Seelix said, carefully.
“Are you…?”
Seelix shook her head. “No way,” she snapped.
Tory breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”
Seelix cocked her head to the side, and seemed to really look at Tory for the first time. Tory felt her face go hot, but she knew it wouldn’t show, so she kept cool and lowered her voice, conspiratorially. “Feel like helping us get the Cylons off this rock?”
“I’m listening,” said Seelix.
~*~
“What do you want?” Kara asked Leoben, and she felt like her eyes were burning holes in her skull. She hadn’t slept well for months, she thought, but she couldn’t be sure.
“What does any living being want?” Leoben returned, with just a hint of a smirk around his mouth. “To live, to reproduce, to love God.”
Kara shrugged. “Well, I guess one out of three ain’t bad.”
“The question is,” and Leoben leans forward, intent, “what do you want?” He examined her face, his eyes steady. “What invades your dreams?”
Kara lets a grin slide over her face. “Well actually,” she said, “last night I had a really good one, about Bill Adama opening a factory making canned food for horses on Arelon-”
The shadow of irritation that passed over Leoben’s face was reward enough.
Just stay sane, Kara told herself, just stay sane. If she stayed sane, she could escape - and once she was out, she could see Sam again.
~*~
Boomer glanced over at Caprica, a frown twisting her mouth. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Caprica crossed her perfect legs. “Five seemed to think it was a good idea.”
Boomer dropped her gaze. “I’m,” she began, “I’m just not sure that I would like it, if I were them.”
Caprica raised her eyebrow. “We don’t have any other options.”
Boomer swallowed, and she took in a slow breath, let it out again. Caprica kept a careful distance from her; never stepping over Boomer’s personal boundaries, always holding herself back. It knotted Boomer’s stomach.
Finally, Boomer nodded. “I suppose.”
~*~
“Do you ever wonder if maybe we’re doing the wrong thing?” Tory asked. “Splitting our resources this way.”
Laura Roslin was silent for a moment. “I wonder, yes,” she admitted.
“I mean, it’s hardly effective,” continued Tory, glancing at Billy, but Roslin cut her off with a gesture.
“Tory, if you believe that Helena Cain, and Saul Tigh, are the answer to this Cylon occupation,” said Roslin, “then you can join them any time you want to.”
Tory bit her lip.
Roslin crossed her arms over her chest. “Cain and Tigh have an advantage over us,” she said slowly. “They have most of the veterans, the weapons.” She paused for a moment. “We need a source inside the administration,” Roslin decided.
“How are we supposed to do that?” Billy asked, speaking up, finally.
“Oh,” said Roslin, “I have an idea on that.”
She glanced over to the last person in the room - Doctor Jack Cottle.
Cottle raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
~*~
“It’s not effective enough.”
Cain’s eyes were cold, and another pencil spun, spun, over and over again, through her fingers. Sometimes Tyrol wondered if those eyes had ever had any warmth to them.
Anders and Tyrol exchanged glances. “What more can we do?” Anders asked. “We’re maxed out on our resources. There’s just no certain way to plant a bomb and get our people clear.”
The pencil stopped spinning. “So we don’t get them clear,” she said.
A cold shiver ran up Tyrol’s spine.
Tigh’s mouth hardened into a thin line; he nodded.
Anders took a slow breath, but he nodded too.
Tyrol’s stomach sank.
~*~
It was warm inside the compound. Much warmer than the winter, outside. Aaron Doral shifted in his seat, at his desk.
The quiet noise of the door closing caught his attention, and he glanced up.
It was a human, shrunk and cold, rubbing his hands together. He approached the desk cautiously, nervous, and Aaron Doral put on a smooth smile. “Can I help you?” he asked.
The human nodded. “Uh, yes.”
Doral waited.
“I’m here to sign up,” the human said. “For the New Caprican police.”
Doral suppressed a smile. This was the fourth recruit in the past half an hour. “First door on the right,” he said. “Thank you for your time.”
The human nodded, and slipped inside the room.
Doral let the smile spread across his face. The occupation was looking up; yes, it was, indeed.
And all of New Caprica felt the fallout.
~*~
Gaius Baltar didn’t look at the paper in front of him; he dashed off his signature, with a practiced flourish - but one that, today, was bereft of any energy whatsoever.
“Don’t you even look at what you sign anymore?”
Felix Gaeta’s voice was edgy, snappier than usual, and Gaius dragged his eyes up to Felix’s face, to the set jaw and the accusing stare. Ah, this; this is why he doesn’t look at Felix anymore. “It’s all the same,” said Baltar, “ration reports, food shortages, sanitation requirements.” Felix didn’t look convinced, so Baltar added, “you’re doing a very good job, Mr. Gaeta,” in hope that it would drive Felix away.
Felix made a quiet sigh, and he turned to go.
“Wait,” said Baltar, because Felix had never asked him that before. “Why did you ask me that?”
“Because this one might not have been one you wanted to sign,” Felix told him.
~*~
Laura Roslin set her glasses down on her desk. They made a quiet clink against the metal, something she held on to, focused on, because the world was bending around her ears and rushing through her veins and she couldn’t focus. She touched her forehead, and wasn’t surprised by the clammy feel.
“Ma’am?” came a quiet, inquisitive voice.
Laura turned on a smile, in an instant, though she felt it might have been weaker than her usual. “Billy,” she said, “how many times do I have to tell you to call me Laura?”
Billy didn’t smile. Something was very wrong.
Laura straightened her spine. “What is it?” she asked, and he told her.
~*~
Jammer ducked between two rows of tents, and glanced around, tightening his jacket around his shoulders. Dusk - the sunlight was failing, and curfew would be up soon.
He slipped through tent flaps, and looked up to the sight of ex-Admiral Helena Cain, one knee to her chest, twirling a pencil between her fingers. She pinned him with her stare, and Jammer swallowed.
“Admiral,” he greeted, then nodded to Colonel Tigh, “Colonel.” He took a deep breath. “The rumor is true.”
Tigh clenched his jaw; Cain’s grip snapped the pencil in half, an abrupt crack like a gunshot in the still air.
~*~
Tyrol gritted his teeth at the sight of the poster. “By order of the President of the Colonies,” he muttered, bitterly. “Anyone else really regretting that election?”
Anders, beside him, snorted.
Tyrol eyed the poster one last time, and turned, continued moving along the main thoroughfare through the city on New Caprica. “I can’t believe they think anyone is this desperate,” he said, mostly to himself.
Anders still didn’t speak, and Tyrol noticed the man’s fists were clenched, his eyes aimless.
“Still no word on Kara?” Tyrol asked.
“Still in detention,” said Anders, and Tyrol knew enough to leave it at that.
~*~
“Hey,” said Tory Foster, a little bit awkwardly, as Seelix lifted a crate full of school supplies to the desk in front of her.
Seelix shot her a glance, and a “hey,” with a tight smile.
Tory bit her lip as Seelix left to bring the other crate in (what to say, what to say), and when Seelix returned, she took a breath. “Have you seen those posters, outside?” she asked.
Seelix paused. “Yes,” Seelix said, carefully.
“Are you…?”
Seelix shook her head. “No way,” she snapped.
Tory breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”
Seelix cocked her head to the side, and seemed to really look at Tory for the first time. Tory felt her face go hot, but she knew it wouldn’t show, so she kept cool and lowered her voice, conspiratorially. “Feel like helping us get the Cylons off this rock?”
“I’m listening,” said Seelix.
~*~
“What do you want?” Kara asked Leoben, and she felt like her eyes were burning holes in her skull. She hadn’t slept well for months, she thought, but she couldn’t be sure.
“What does any living being want?” Leoben returned, with just a hint of a smirk around his mouth. “To live, to reproduce, to love God.”
Kara shrugged. “Well, I guess one out of three ain’t bad.”
“The question is,” and Leoben leans forward, intent, “what do you want?” He examined her face, his eyes steady. “What invades your dreams?”
Kara lets a grin slide over her face. “Well actually,” she said, “last night I had a really good one, about Bill Adama opening a factory making canned food for horses on Arelon-”
The shadow of irritation that passed over Leoben’s face was reward enough.
Just stay sane, Kara told herself, just stay sane. If she stayed sane, she could escape - and once she was out, she could see Sam again.
~*~
Boomer glanced over at Caprica, a frown twisting her mouth. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Caprica crossed her perfect legs. “Five seemed to think it was a good idea.”
Boomer dropped her gaze. “I’m,” she began, “I’m just not sure that I would like it, if I were them.”
Caprica raised her eyebrow. “We don’t have any other options.”
Boomer swallowed, and she took in a slow breath, let it out again. Caprica kept a careful distance from her; never stepping over Boomer’s personal boundaries, always holding herself back. It knotted Boomer’s stomach.
Finally, Boomer nodded. “I suppose.”
~*~
“Do you ever wonder if maybe we’re doing the wrong thing?” Tory asked. “Splitting our resources this way.”
Laura Roslin was silent for a moment. “I wonder, yes,” she admitted.
“I mean, it’s hardly effective,” continued Tory, glancing at Billy, but Roslin cut her off with a gesture.
“Tory, if you believe that Helena Cain, and Saul Tigh, are the answer to this Cylon occupation,” said Roslin, “then you can join them any time you want to.”
Tory bit her lip.
Roslin crossed her arms over her chest. “Cain and Tigh have an advantage over us,” she said slowly. “They have most of the veterans, the weapons.” She paused for a moment. “We need a source inside the administration,” Roslin decided.
“How are we supposed to do that?” Billy asked, speaking up, finally.
“Oh,” said Roslin, “I have an idea on that.”
She glanced over to the last person in the room - Doctor Jack Cottle.
Cottle raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
~*~
“It’s not effective enough.”
Cain’s eyes were cold, and another pencil spun, spun, over and over again, through her fingers. Sometimes Tyrol wondered if those eyes had ever had any warmth to them.
Anders and Tyrol exchanged glances. “What more can we do?” Anders asked. “We’re maxed out on our resources. There’s just no certain way to plant a bomb and get our people clear.”
The pencil stopped spinning. “So we don’t get them clear,” she said.
A cold shiver ran up Tyrol’s spine.
Tigh’s mouth hardened into a thin line; he nodded.
Anders took a slow breath, but he nodded too.
Tyrol’s stomach sank.
~*~
It was warm inside the compound. Much warmer than the winter, outside. Aaron Doral shifted in his seat, at his desk.
The quiet noise of the door closing caught his attention, and he glanced up.
It was a human, shrunk and cold, rubbing his hands together. He approached the desk cautiously, nervous, and Aaron Doral put on a smooth smile. “Can I help you?” he asked.
The human nodded. “Uh, yes.”
Doral waited.
“I’m here to sign up,” the human said. “For the New Caprican police.”
Doral suppressed a smile. This was the fourth recruit in the past half an hour. “First door on the right,” he said. “Thank you for your time.”
The human nodded, and slipped inside the room.
Doral let the smile spread across his face. The occupation was looking up; yes, it was, indeed.