FIC: Don't Count Stars
Title: Don't Count Stars
Rating:K
Characters/Pairings: Adama/Roslin
Summary: Adama and Roslin at around season two/three. AU though. You'll see.
Author's Notes: Apologies to anyone feeling slight deja vu- previously published as "Pandora's Lullaby" on fanfiction.net when I was like 14. EDITED like a million times since then. It's heaps better now- enjoy!
Ourania could hardly wait. In a week it would be her birthday. Ten- it seemed such a huge number-almost impossible. She wondered for the thousandth time what her parents, the President of the Twelve Colonies and the Admiral of the Fleet had planned for her. She had badgered her brother Lee for information every day of the past week, but in an unusual turn even he would not budge. Sitting amidst a good few dozen children wreaking havoc otherwise known as daycare she once again hoped it was something good.
Daycare on Galactica had never seemed more pointless. The room had once been an old storage hall-the walls and ceiling overgrown with pipes and no windows except for one measly porthole to speak of. Their perpetually cheery teacher had done her best to cover up the military feel that was ingrained into every particle of the room with the usual crude children’s pictures which every now and then a non-parent adult would call delightful while visibly thinking quite the opposite.
Nicholas Tyrol, a boy her age, nudged her every so often to join in a game he was teaching the younger children. He was the son of the deck chief, even though the black, softly curling hair atop his head was the only resemblance anybody could pinpoint. Ourania pointedly ignored him and continued watching the stars outside the lone circular window frame. When his attention was finally reclaimed by the others she began playing idly with her thick auburn hair, wrenching out the rust colored strands and examining them distastefully.
Nicholas had the nerve to pull her out of her reverie once again, freeing himself from the younger kids to yank playfully at a particularly red strand.
“Why do you always play with your hair? It isn’t gonna change colour by being looked at.”
Tyrol, as Ourania referred to him in her head, had always known her hair colour bothered her, in fact until very recently he had been the best at inventing horrible names to tease her with.
Of course he always seemed to have some sort of sixth sense for when her mother, father or any other person of considerable authority would arrive, so when they did it was Ourania and another unprovoked attack at “well-mannered Nicholas” as her mother’s secretary ,Tory, liked to call him.
Ourania silently cursed the gods for not ending up with her fathers hair colour, a perfectly presentable black. Her eyes she liked. They were a soft combination of green and blue, as if her parents’ respective eye colors had each tried persistently to get the upper hand in that weird genetic battle until finally they’d just called it a draw.
Nicholas was still waiting for an answer. Ourania looked all the more determinedly out towards the sky. He was baiting her (a phrase she had learned from her mother) and she wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it anymore.
“Come on Oura - don’t sulk. I like your hair; it’s much nicer than Iris’”
Without meaning to Oura looked quickly towards Iris whose almost golden locks had allowed her to be adored by almost everyone on Galactica. Iris was, as always, surrounded by an admiring gaggle of younger children all vying for her attention.
She knew Nicholas was trying to get in her good books (another wordism of her mom’s) but immediate suspicion from years of being called hurtful names did not vanish that quickly. He’d been disgustingly nice to her lately and that alone was enough to make her nervous.
“Hey kid!”
Ourania leapt away from Tyrol as though electrocuted and almost sprinted towards her ‘Aunt’ Starbuck.
The years had not touched Starbuck and Oura would have bet all the toys she owned that Kara had looked pretty much the same a decade ago perhaps taking away a few laugh lines. Oura was also pretty sure Kara and Lee were going to get married one day. Any mention of this notion however got nothing but a honk of laughter from Starbuck and an embarrassed chuckle from her older brother, even though Oura had caught them kissing more times than some properly married couples.
Oblivious to Oura’s train of thought, Starbuck grinned good-naturedly down at the girl before turning to talk to her teacher.
“Admiral sent me down, said I was to keep Ourania out of trouble.”
Oura instantly recognized the lie in this. As lenient as her father could be he would never allow his best pilot to babysit while there was still even a microscopic chance of a cylon attack.
Her teacher, however, was not so enlightened and only pinched her lips together as if to say ‘Not good enough, am I?’ before grudgingly setting Oura free.
Galactica’s corridors were fairly quiet. There hadn’t been an attack for weeks now and Oura had a sneaking suspicion most of the crew was down at Joe’s bar under the guise of ‘finishing some paperwork’. The pair nevertheless walked in semi-guilty silence, not even looking up to meet the eyes of the few people who did pass them. Only when they entered a completely deserted corridor did Starbuck break into a sudden run, releasing a happy yell as she sped down the walkway. Ourania followed her example happily, though her exclamation was much more reserved.
By the time they arrived at the main hangar deck Ourania was out of breath. Starbuck’s viper was already set up courtesy of some bribed deckhand. As Kara retrieved their hidden pilot gear, more or less carrying them like some holy relic from another age, Ourania felt the familiar stirrings of guilt in her stomach for convincing the pilot to take her along on these bi-weekly ‘test runs’ behind her parent’s back. She silenced them swiftly with months of practice.
Starbuck, though unknown to Oura, still felt slightly on edge If the president, the old man or his son ever find out about this, I’m frakking toast she thought while watching the girl scramble into a ‘lost’ viper jock uniform- it’s amazing how protective they all are of her, if she wasn’t so frakkin’ good I would have cancelled this tag along act months ago
“Starbuck ready for test run.” Oura confirmed into the com doing a pretty terrible job impersonating the pilot’s voice. They shared a grin as the com squawked ‘Starbucks’ permission to proceed.
It was good in some ways really that Oura was still a kid- otherwise they’d never both fit in the cramped cockpit. Still, as she climbed in behind the old man’s daughter, Starbuck prayed once again that no-one ever actually got close enough outside to notice that she was taking passengers.
Ourania tried not to dwell on her family’s disapproval as she waited for launch. She loved these viper lessons because Kara trusted her to be free- to escape the constant restriction that was her life, if only for a moment.
Oura knew it was not her parent’s fault; they were simply trying to protect her. Being the daughter of the leader of humanity and the head of military as well as the half sister to one of the highest ranking military officials was part of making her classed highly on many hit lists. But none of these facts stopped her from ever feeling just a little resentful that she, unlike her friends, had never been allowed to leave Galactica without either of her parents (and a military guard).
Flying was in Ourania’s opinion the next best thing to breathing. It came so easily to her - unlike most other things - especially her lessons. Ourania felt a slight depression overcome her at the thought of school. She could simply never remember any of the dates or equations.
Her mother liked to point out that this was due to Oura being scatterbrained and not placing enough worth on the knowledge she was given. Oura would have liked to point out that the people to whom this knowledge related where all dead-if not from old age then from Cylon nukes.
Oura felt the seat creak as Starbuck leaned back. When they’d first begun flying, Kara had never let Oura near the controls. It was weeks before she’d even convinced the pilot to divulge some basic flying schematics, and even longer before she’d been allowed to try them. They’d reached a stage where Oura could perform almost all simple maneuvers without the older woman’s help, though always secure in the knowledge that Starbuck remained keenly aware, ready to interfere should things get rocky.
Flight lessons, as always, went much too quickly. Ourania had the feeling only a few minutes had passed when Starbuck started telling her to turn back to Galactica.
Ourania mumbled sadly in agreement, starting the sequence for returning to base.
Suddenly a screen which she had never bothered looking at much lit up with dozens of tiny dots.
“Multiple dradis contacts!” Starbuck’s frantic voice yelled in Ourania’s headpiece.
Next part is here.
Rating:K
Characters/Pairings: Adama/Roslin
Summary: Adama and Roslin at around season two/three. AU though. You'll see.
Author's Notes: Apologies to anyone feeling slight deja vu- previously published as "Pandora's Lullaby" on fanfiction.net when I was like 14. EDITED like a million times since then. It's heaps better now- enjoy!
Ourania could hardly wait. In a week it would be her birthday. Ten- it seemed such a huge number-almost impossible. She wondered for the thousandth time what her parents, the President of the Twelve Colonies and the Admiral of the Fleet had planned for her. She had badgered her brother Lee for information every day of the past week, but in an unusual turn even he would not budge. Sitting amidst a good few dozen children wreaking havoc otherwise known as daycare she once again hoped it was something good.
Daycare on Galactica had never seemed more pointless. The room had once been an old storage hall-the walls and ceiling overgrown with pipes and no windows except for one measly porthole to speak of. Their perpetually cheery teacher had done her best to cover up the military feel that was ingrained into every particle of the room with the usual crude children’s pictures which every now and then a non-parent adult would call delightful while visibly thinking quite the opposite.
Nicholas Tyrol, a boy her age, nudged her every so often to join in a game he was teaching the younger children. He was the son of the deck chief, even though the black, softly curling hair atop his head was the only resemblance anybody could pinpoint. Ourania pointedly ignored him and continued watching the stars outside the lone circular window frame. When his attention was finally reclaimed by the others she began playing idly with her thick auburn hair, wrenching out the rust colored strands and examining them distastefully.
Nicholas had the nerve to pull her out of her reverie once again, freeing himself from the younger kids to yank playfully at a particularly red strand.
“Why do you always play with your hair? It isn’t gonna change colour by being looked at.”
Tyrol, as Ourania referred to him in her head, had always known her hair colour bothered her, in fact until very recently he had been the best at inventing horrible names to tease her with.
Of course he always seemed to have some sort of sixth sense for when her mother, father or any other person of considerable authority would arrive, so when they did it was Ourania and another unprovoked attack at “well-mannered Nicholas” as her mother’s secretary ,Tory, liked to call him.
Ourania silently cursed the gods for not ending up with her fathers hair colour, a perfectly presentable black. Her eyes she liked. They were a soft combination of green and blue, as if her parents’ respective eye colors had each tried persistently to get the upper hand in that weird genetic battle until finally they’d just called it a draw.
Nicholas was still waiting for an answer. Ourania looked all the more determinedly out towards the sky. He was baiting her (a phrase she had learned from her mother) and she wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it anymore.
“Come on Oura - don’t sulk. I like your hair; it’s much nicer than Iris’”
Without meaning to Oura looked quickly towards Iris whose almost golden locks had allowed her to be adored by almost everyone on Galactica. Iris was, as always, surrounded by an admiring gaggle of younger children all vying for her attention.
She knew Nicholas was trying to get in her good books (another wordism of her mom’s) but immediate suspicion from years of being called hurtful names did not vanish that quickly. He’d been disgustingly nice to her lately and that alone was enough to make her nervous.
“Hey kid!”
Ourania leapt away from Tyrol as though electrocuted and almost sprinted towards her ‘Aunt’ Starbuck.
The years had not touched Starbuck and Oura would have bet all the toys she owned that Kara had looked pretty much the same a decade ago perhaps taking away a few laugh lines. Oura was also pretty sure Kara and Lee were going to get married one day. Any mention of this notion however got nothing but a honk of laughter from Starbuck and an embarrassed chuckle from her older brother, even though Oura had caught them kissing more times than some properly married couples.
Oblivious to Oura’s train of thought, Starbuck grinned good-naturedly down at the girl before turning to talk to her teacher.
“Admiral sent me down, said I was to keep Ourania out of trouble.”
Oura instantly recognized the lie in this. As lenient as her father could be he would never allow his best pilot to babysit while there was still even a microscopic chance of a cylon attack.
Her teacher, however, was not so enlightened and only pinched her lips together as if to say ‘Not good enough, am I?’ before grudgingly setting Oura free.
Galactica’s corridors were fairly quiet. There hadn’t been an attack for weeks now and Oura had a sneaking suspicion most of the crew was down at Joe’s bar under the guise of ‘finishing some paperwork’. The pair nevertheless walked in semi-guilty silence, not even looking up to meet the eyes of the few people who did pass them. Only when they entered a completely deserted corridor did Starbuck break into a sudden run, releasing a happy yell as she sped down the walkway. Ourania followed her example happily, though her exclamation was much more reserved.
By the time they arrived at the main hangar deck Ourania was out of breath. Starbuck’s viper was already set up courtesy of some bribed deckhand. As Kara retrieved their hidden pilot gear, more or less carrying them like some holy relic from another age, Ourania felt the familiar stirrings of guilt in her stomach for convincing the pilot to take her along on these bi-weekly ‘test runs’ behind her parent’s back. She silenced them swiftly with months of practice.
Starbuck, though unknown to Oura, still felt slightly on edge If the president, the old man or his son ever find out about this, I’m frakking toast she thought while watching the girl scramble into a ‘lost’ viper jock uniform- it’s amazing how protective they all are of her, if she wasn’t so frakkin’ good I would have cancelled this tag along act months ago
“Starbuck ready for test run.” Oura confirmed into the com doing a pretty terrible job impersonating the pilot’s voice. They shared a grin as the com squawked ‘Starbucks’ permission to proceed.
It was good in some ways really that Oura was still a kid- otherwise they’d never both fit in the cramped cockpit. Still, as she climbed in behind the old man’s daughter, Starbuck prayed once again that no-one ever actually got close enough outside to notice that she was taking passengers.
Ourania tried not to dwell on her family’s disapproval as she waited for launch. She loved these viper lessons because Kara trusted her to be free- to escape the constant restriction that was her life, if only for a moment.
Oura knew it was not her parent’s fault; they were simply trying to protect her. Being the daughter of the leader of humanity and the head of military as well as the half sister to one of the highest ranking military officials was part of making her classed highly on many hit lists. But none of these facts stopped her from ever feeling just a little resentful that she, unlike her friends, had never been allowed to leave Galactica without either of her parents (and a military guard).
Flying was in Ourania’s opinion the next best thing to breathing. It came so easily to her - unlike most other things - especially her lessons. Ourania felt a slight depression overcome her at the thought of school. She could simply never remember any of the dates or equations.
Her mother liked to point out that this was due to Oura being scatterbrained and not placing enough worth on the knowledge she was given. Oura would have liked to point out that the people to whom this knowledge related where all dead-if not from old age then from Cylon nukes.
Oura felt the seat creak as Starbuck leaned back. When they’d first begun flying, Kara had never let Oura near the controls. It was weeks before she’d even convinced the pilot to divulge some basic flying schematics, and even longer before she’d been allowed to try them. They’d reached a stage where Oura could perform almost all simple maneuvers without the older woman’s help, though always secure in the knowledge that Starbuck remained keenly aware, ready to interfere should things get rocky.
Flight lessons, as always, went much too quickly. Ourania had the feeling only a few minutes had passed when Starbuck started telling her to turn back to Galactica.
Ourania mumbled sadly in agreement, starting the sequence for returning to base.
Suddenly a screen which she had never bothered looking at much lit up with dozens of tiny dots.
“Multiple dradis contacts!” Starbuck’s frantic voice yelled in Ourania’s headpiece.
Next part is here.