Fic: Teeth
Colonial One, Cally, Teeth
Fic: Opening Wide
Word Count: 510
Cally noticed people's teeth.
She had intended to be a dentist some day. Frak, that was the only reason she had enlisted. The plan was to serve her hitch, then use the military education money to pay for dental school.
Cylon teeth were very white.
At least Boomer's were. Super white.
Now that Cally thought about it, Boomer's teeth never had looked real. Straight and tiny and perfect and whiter than white.
She remembered shadowing a dentist for a day back on Canceron when she was in secondary school. She had looked at all the shades of tooth bleach, her eyes lingering on the one labeled Double Plus White Number Three
"That's really too white," the old dentist had told her, chuckling. "I almost never use it. It just doesn't look real."
While she had cooled her heels in the brig after shooting Boomer, she had spent some time thinking about the Cylons. Her time in the brig was fine, fun even. All the knuckledraggers visited her constantly, bringing her stories, extra blankets, pillows, rationed treats. A lot of the pilots, too. She had killed a skin job -- a skin job that had tried to murder the Old Man. They couldn't slap her on the back enough.
The Old Man's teeth were crooked. He should have had orthodontia when he was a kid.
Cally had started thinking about orthodontics when she started working on deck crews after basic training. Before that, she had just wanted to clean teeth, do fillings. But the more she worked on deck crews, the more she knew that she was good at fixing stuff. Probably fitting braces on a kid's teeth was pretty much like jerry rigging a MacPeter strut with steel wire.
The Chief never came to visit her in the brig.
As Cally adjusted the compression foil on the underbelly of a raptor, she thought about the Cylon models. So far, only two models had been identified. There could be hundreds of skin jobs hanging around, and nobody knew what they looked like. They could be anywhere.
People said Dr. Baltar was working on some kind of a cylon detector. She wondered if he was checking out teeth. Probably all the models had white, white teeth. It might be a way to identify them.
She wondered if she could get somebody to yank her one of the teeth out of the Boomer skin job. The body was still probably in the morgue. If she could get a tooth, she might be able to work out a way to compare it to a human tooth.
"Cally, what's going on with that bird?" she hear the Chief bark.
She sure didn't see much of the Chief's teeth these days -- he wasn't smiling. And definitely he wasn't smiling at her.
When they finally found Earth, things were going to be different, right? When the war was over, and they were finally on Earth, the raptors and vipers would be grounded, but people would still have teeth. And the teeth would need to get fixed.
She could fix things.
She hauled herself out from under the raptor and trotted over to The Chief. She knew she could fix things.
Fic: Opening Wide
Word Count: 510
Cally noticed people's teeth.
She had intended to be a dentist some day. Frak, that was the only reason she had enlisted. The plan was to serve her hitch, then use the military education money to pay for dental school.
Cylon teeth were very white.
At least Boomer's were. Super white.
Now that Cally thought about it, Boomer's teeth never had looked real. Straight and tiny and perfect and whiter than white.
She remembered shadowing a dentist for a day back on Canceron when she was in secondary school. She had looked at all the shades of tooth bleach, her eyes lingering on the one labeled Double Plus White Number Three
"That's really too white," the old dentist had told her, chuckling. "I almost never use it. It just doesn't look real."
While she had cooled her heels in the brig after shooting Boomer, she had spent some time thinking about the Cylons. Her time in the brig was fine, fun even. All the knuckledraggers visited her constantly, bringing her stories, extra blankets, pillows, rationed treats. A lot of the pilots, too. She had killed a skin job -- a skin job that had tried to murder the Old Man. They couldn't slap her on the back enough.
The Old Man's teeth were crooked. He should have had orthodontia when he was a kid.
Cally had started thinking about orthodontics when she started working on deck crews after basic training. Before that, she had just wanted to clean teeth, do fillings. But the more she worked on deck crews, the more she knew that she was good at fixing stuff. Probably fitting braces on a kid's teeth was pretty much like jerry rigging a MacPeter strut with steel wire.
The Chief never came to visit her in the brig.
As Cally adjusted the compression foil on the underbelly of a raptor, she thought about the Cylon models. So far, only two models had been identified. There could be hundreds of skin jobs hanging around, and nobody knew what they looked like. They could be anywhere.
People said Dr. Baltar was working on some kind of a cylon detector. She wondered if he was checking out teeth. Probably all the models had white, white teeth. It might be a way to identify them.
She wondered if she could get somebody to yank her one of the teeth out of the Boomer skin job. The body was still probably in the morgue. If she could get a tooth, she might be able to work out a way to compare it to a human tooth.
"Cally, what's going on with that bird?" she hear the Chief bark.
She sure didn't see much of the Chief's teeth these days -- he wasn't smiling. And definitely he wasn't smiling at her.
When they finally found Earth, things were going to be different, right? When the war was over, and they were finally on Earth, the raptors and vipers would be grounded, but people would still have teeth. And the teeth would need to get fixed.
She could fix things.
She hauled herself out from under the raptor and trotted over to The Chief. She knew she could fix things.