Fic: Don't Count Stars (3/??)
Title: Don't Count Stars(3/??)
Rating:K
Characters/Pairings: Adama/Roslin
Summary: Adama and Roslin and have a daughter. 'Nuff said really. Basically just imagine season three or two but with the whole story arc slowed down. AU obviously.
Also sorry about the long update drought. On the plus side I have like 10 more chapters all ready to go.
Please comment and give me some feedback. It would make my day :)
Previous Chapters: One and Two
Earlier That Day on the Carina
President Laura Roslin was bored. She knew she shouldn’t be but that didn’t stop her. She had been aboard the Carina to listen to their annual report for over an hour now and was currently marveling why anybody could be bothered to complain in this volume about everything from snack quality to entertainment facilities.
The ship was actually doing reasonably well considering what they had put the fleet through. On her way to the small first class lounge that now masqueraded as a board room, she had seen only disgruntled civilian passengers in what appeared to be similar variations of perfect health on a relatively modern ship.
Granted, they were consuming mainly bland preserved food and recycled water these days but sometimes Laura wondered why she felt more like a schoolteacher than ever, fending off complaints left, right and centre.
There was a lull in dialogue and she forced another smile, politely rebutting the Captain of Carina’s (somewhat misdirected) pleas for more cleaning staff. She felt Tory biting back a grin beside her without needing to look. Somehow, every time she got around to one of these meetings, at some point the party in question would just start requesting anything they could think of. She usually heard these outlandish requests only briefly - most speakers realized the futility of their ‘demands’ a short way in (although there were some, like Zarek, who she darkly suspected would never learn).
Finally when the captain started droning what promised to be a lengthy report on his crew’s sodium intake, Laura allowed her mind to wander. Taking of her glasses, a signal for Tory to start taking notes, she looked at the Galactica just visible through one of the windows behind the Captain.
A few vipers where currently training. Laura shuddered slightly while looking at them. Ourania had flown one of those monsters. The thought surprised Laura, the only machines she was used to thinking of as monsters were the Cylons.
The memory of Starbuck’s demolished viper flashed through her mind once again if Captain Thrace hadn’t been there to help. Laura stopped there if Captain Thrace hadn’t taken her flying in the first place she rejoined angrily, feeling the horrible concoction of pure anger and icy fear awaken in her chest once again. She clutched her glasses tighter and focused on her breathing, hoping that, unlike Bill, her emotions weren’t playing out too clearly on her face.
Bill had yelled at Captain Thrace for the better part of an hour after Ourania had fallen asleep in sickbay. The usually fearless Starbuck had said nothing to defend herself ; merely standing ramrod straight, her face twisted in some painful emotion and her eyes strangely bright.
Laura almost felt a little sorry for the girl. For all her outspokenness and bravado, Kara still loved the Adamas with something approaching religious certainty; to have Bill and Lee turn from her seemed beyond cruel in some lights. Before Laura had seriously begun to consider intervening however, Oura had suddenly slipped into a nightmare punctuated by little shrieks and Bill had ordered Captain Thrace out of sickbay.
Laura sighed and realized she’d have to talk to Bill about being lighter on Oura’s current punishment. He had barely spoken to her this past week and had not allowed anyone else to do so either. Lords of Kobol, the girl is only ten, she doesn’t merit a punishment this harsh-even if she had flown in a viper without permission at least she had the good sense to make Captain Thrace teach her.
The meeting finished later than President Roslin expected. Mildly annoyed at the Captain for keeping her this long she moved towards Tory who was still scribbling furiously, oblivious to the world around her. It was times like these that she still missed Billy. Gods it’s been almost a decade and I still wish he was here she watched Tory’s frown imagining instead Billy’s smile as he would have stood to talk to her, discarding the paperwork to be done later.
He was my only family back then; would I need him so much now? She clacked her tongue remembering how much the Commander and the Secretary of Education disliked each other at first. Who’d have thought I’d end up married to the man?
Tory looked up at the sound. Laura noticed with slight concern the bruise-like shadows underneath the younger woman’s eyes. She’s been working too long and too hard… but then haven’t we all? Laura ignored the little sting of hopelessness, it had been almost a decade and they were no closer to finding Earth than before. They had found a few farmable planets but it was far too dangerous to settle down with the whole Cylon Empire still on their tail.
Tory rose stiffly, years of cramped spaceship seats hadn’t done wonders for any of them. Laura noticed her aid had pen stains on her hands and cheek. She made a mental note to tell her later.
“Tory, anybody would think that you find sodium reports less than fascinating” She quipped gently.
The two women shared a smile and Laura was touched by how genuine the expression that danced on Tory’s face was. Tory would never fully replace Billy but even she had her moments.
“Madame President?”
A deckhand had appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a style of suit that hadn’t been in fashion for over twenty years, looking more than little frightened to be in the same room as the president.
“A shuttle’s waiting to take you back to Colonial One.”
Laura smiled at the youth. He was no older then seventeen. She wondered faintly if he remembered sunshine or the sprawling Caprican cities. She knew with some remorse that Oura had never seen a proper house.
Sighing and allowing her public facade to reclaim its customary dominance, Laura turned towards the boy wondering if she’d ever be free of the heavy title.
“Thank you.”
At that moment the sirens began to wail. Bill’s voice rang out from the speakers.
“The fleet is at condition one. The Cylons have found us.”
Laura rushed towards one of the windows that revealed a sight that almost made her heart stop.
A Cylon ship was attached to Galactica.
CIC
“Frak me, they’re boarding us!”
Adama didn’t bother chiding whoever swore. Instead he calculated how much time it would take for the Cylons to spread through the ship too little time he instantly concluded.
“They’re in the rear end of Galactica!” Tigh yelled.
“Seal off the damaged parts of the ship.” Adama countered.
There was a brief silence at this. He could see the undisguised shock in the crew’s faces.
“But sir, we have people down there…” Dee stammered
“Do it!”
Damaged Wing
Oura was still standing frozen in the dimly lit corridor. The lights continued flickering overhead. The whole thing felt a lot like one of those horror movies the pilots sometimes watched and that she had glimpsed before Lee or Helo kicked her out.
She noticed for the first time that she was on her own. Where had everybody gone? How did she not notice how empty these corridors were before? It’s nothing to cry about Oura- Galactica’s huge - plenty of places where there’s more metal than people, Oura reasoned with herself. She must have walked with her eyes down for so long that it was perfectly natural she just didn’t notice until now. The continuing sirens were unnerving though. They usually didn’t announce space battles so loudly.
Maybe the Cylons will wipe us out for real this time.
The thought was ridiculous. Her entire life had been made up of these clashes, some worse than others but no one ever really won. Ourania allowed herself a weak smile at the dumb fear and started to retrace her steps. At the end of the walkway she knew there were people and commotion and probably a hearty telling-off from Samuels. All good and normal things, just behind that corner she promised herself.
It was getting hard though to not be scared by the relentless noise from the speakers. She couldn’t even imagine it was music. No melody sounded so brash. Oura had caught a glimpse of a deck crew party once where they’d played some old records. It wasn’t like the military band that sometimes blasted, or like the shrill chorus of the daycare choir; it wasn’t even like the sharp-edged classical music that civilian orchestras commanded. There had been softness to the instruments that reminded Oura of her Mom humming and her Dad laughing. She smelled leaves, earth and sunshine in the notes. It was the first and only time Ourania truly regretted having never seen the bright worlds the Cylons destroyed.
She let the self-pity that woke with the memory go on for a little longer. It kept her from the present moment. Somewhere behind she thought she heard footsteps. She fought to keep her pace steady. There was a scream from the faraway depths of the damaged wing and she almost sprinted the rest of the way. A thick metal wall stood where the passageway should have continued.
Oura pounded on the wall feeling a horrible panic beginning to constrict her throat.
“Let me out! Let me out! Please!” Oura shrieked, very much aware of how her voice was no more than a shrill, small thing in the huge and deserted corridor.
There were definitely footsteps now. They sounded louder and heavier than normal. Like their owners were carrying something heavy or were very huge themselves. But the footfalls had none of the unevenness of normal human steps. They were precise; mechanical. The siren’s wail came back to Oura in a flash. Centurions the girl realized, her heart skipping yet another beat. This was exactly what she had imagined centurions would sound like.
What are centurions doing on Galactica? Ourania wondered before letting her instincts get the better of her and tearing off in the opposite direction. Acutely aware that she was speeding away from the route to CIC but also away from what had been nothing more than ghouls from her nightmares a mere hour beforehand.
She had not gotten far when she spotted an old storage closet. The Cylons didn’t know she was here yet and she couldn’t run forever. Silently praying that they would not hear the clatter of old cleaning equipment, she slipped into the small space, promising the gods or whoever was listening that when this was all over she would never go sneaking around again.
It seemed quiet for ages. There were no further noises. No centurions and no Galactica personnel had passed her hiding place. Oura had nearly relaxed, noticing for the first time the foul smell emanating from some of the older mops and wondering when she was going to get out of here. She’d even begun contemplating what to tell her parents about being in the damaged wing.
If the Number Eight hadn’t spoken Oura would not have realized they were there at all.
“The old man has sealed off the area. They’re bringing vipers around now to attack our ship. This was a mistake Cavil.”
Oura realized that the cylon talking must be Boomer; she could see her angry tanned face partially through the small ventilation slits, and anyway only someone who’d served under her father ever called him ‘the old man’. It was frightening just how much she looked like Athena. Athena who taught Hera and her how to draw flowers, Athena who had personal jokes with her brother and played card games with Starbuck. Oura had always thought she would be able to see something distinctly evil in others of her race. But there was nothing. Just Athena’s familiar face.
“It was worth a try. We are all getting tired of chasing these pathetic humans.” The other one called Cavil she couldn’t see. His voice was old. Older than her Dad, but lazy and cold in the same way some of her Mom’s political rivals were. He seemed oddly calm to Oura and her eyes flickered again to Boomer’s face to see if the Cylon woman thought so too.
For a moment the words seemed to have had no effect. Then Oura saw her features twist with frustration before abruptly realizing the rest. What she didn’t see was Boomer’s arm shoot out; didn’t see her hand curled, manicured fingernails digging into synthetic flesh. The noise was unmistakable though- the Cylon had punched the door of the storage closet Oura was hiding in.
Oura could do nothing more than feel her heartbeat quicken when, with a slight screech, the door started to open. This eight had shot the Admiral once; it was the only reason Oura even knew her name. Boomer was famous - the sweet and loyal girl turned traitor in with the flick of a switch. She imagined the metallic gun chatter that would end her and felt the scream building in the back of her throat. She was going to die.
Boomer spotted her first. Soldiers instincts, her Dad’s voice waltzed in from somewhere in Oura’s memory, they never disappear. She had exactly a microsecond to mull over that particular scrap of half-forgotten information before she felt a hand closing around her neck and pinning her to the wall.
“Dear Gods, I know her.” Boomers’ grip slackened a tiny bit “She’s the old man’s daughter!” Boomer seemed to realize that she had loosened her hold catching herself by slamming Oura back into the wall again. Oura felt a sharp pain on the back of her head. Boomer, the other cylon and the corridor became blurry.
“A gift from God it seems” Cavils sarcastic voice echoed in Ouras’ head before she passed out.