[Fic] Bellerophon (BSG)
Title: Bellerophon
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Kara and Karl, best friends forever. Also Pegasus crew.
Warnings: Discussion of canon physical and sexual abuse.
Summary: Helo-on-Pegasus-AU. When Pegasus joins the Fleet, Starbuck is excited to finally see her best friend again. Written for bsg_epics Inspiration Day, first paragraph by sci_fi_shipper.
When Karl stepped onto the Battlestar's deck for the first time, he felt a wave of recognition, the strange sense that he'd been here before, even among a crew he didn't know, and the unfamiliar cadence of the Chief's barked orders. He paused, hand resting lightly on his service weapon as a shiver passed through him. Pegasus, he knew, was going to change his life.
That’s what his letter said, anyway, the last one she'd gotten before the attacks. Karl always was prone to purple prose, but Kara didn’t mind. She knew what it was like to feel an intense loyalty to your ship, the deep patriotism for the uniform and the snap of the Colonial flag on the pole. Besides, Karl could write whatever he wanted as long as that name stayed the same. She hadn’t misremembered her best friend’s billet: Pegasus, Pegasus, Pegasus.
She folded the letter reverently and tucked it into the inside breast pocket of her dress uniform. She looked up to see Hot Dog watching her. “Boyfriend on Pegasus, Sir?” he asked her.
“Better,” she replied.
The ranks were already assembling as she raced down the ladder, the Raptor hatch opening as she slipped into line next to Lee. “Nice of you to join us,” he said.
“Couldn’t get here too early,” she shot back.
Everyone seemed to be taking their sweet time coming out of that Raptor. Kara felt as nervous and excited as she’d ever been, like when she knew she passed her Viper qualifications and was just waiting to see her name on the list to know it was real. Marines, then pilots in their Viper smocks. The excitement was fading, the nervousness increasing as the pilots gave way to a man with pins to be the XO, then the Admiral herself.
But Kara could see that there were still more crew left in the Raptor, and it’d make sense that he’d remain inside if he were the ECO. Or he could be not on the Raptor at all-Karl’d make Senior Officer one day, he had future XO written all over him, but he’d still been a Lieutenant when they’d last parted and perhaps he’d been passed over for this landing party by rank. Or maybe he’d been on-watch and too busy to come. Or off-watch and the Admiral hadn’t wanted to interfere with rest periods, or a thousand other reasons.
But that hope, that hope that had given lightness to her feet and her heart, was sinking.
Commander Adama and Admiral Cain exchanged greetings, and Cain welcomed them back to the Fleet. Cheering and embracing and hugging, and the party in the rec room would be joyous tonight. She spotted Chief, poking around the outside of the Raptor, and it was all she could do, too, not to peer inside.
“Cole Taylor,” the CAG said, offering a hand, drawing her back into the crowd.
“Kara Thrace,” she replied. He was already scanning, looking for his next hand, but she held firm a second too long, and he looked back at her. She was almost reluctant to ask, to make it real or not real. But the pain of not knowing was worse. “I was wondering about one of your Raptor wranglers,” she said. “Lieutenant Agathon? Callsign Helo?”
She’d always remember how Taylor’s face grew hard. Not sad, or sympathetic, but hard. “We lost a lot of pilots,” he said. And Kara’s heart came crashing down.
***
“We lost a lot of pilots,” was all anyone would tell her about Karl. Like it was an answer.
She knew it wasn’t.
“But how?” she asked, and they’d just shake their heads.
It was stupid, frakking stupid, because Karl hadn’t even been a frakking pilot. And that hard look in their eyes. She knew what it was like to steel yourself, to close yourself off to the grief of losing everyone you knew, but this was something different. Hatred, almost. An inconceivable emotion to connect to Helo.
When Cain assigned her to the Pegasus, Kara went without complaint, in hopes of finding out more, or maybe, just maybe, finding Helo himself, and they’d share a dark laugh about the terrible prank his crew had pulled.
But no Helo, and a crew that was incredibly cold. If she and Lee weren’t off-duty at the same time, she drank alone, like now, sitting with her back to the wall, surveying the pilot’s rec room.
She noticed him enter immediately. It was somewhat startling, after thinking of Chief Tyrol as the last deck chief in the universe, to adjust to the sight of a different man, a smaller one, in chief’s clothing. His eyes darted around the rec room, clearly uncomfortable.
“You’re not allowed to be in here, Laird,” one of the other pilots-Allison, if she remembered correctly-said.
Laird saw her, and they locked eyes, and she knew. “He’s with me,” she said.
“Then you both can go somewhere else,” Allison replied. “This ship has discipline.”
She shot him a look as she stood, and she and Laird walked out of the hatch together. “It’s better this way,” he told her. “I heard you were looking for information about Agathon.”
“Twenty cubits in it for you,” she said.
“No, I don’t want it,” he said. “Agathon was a good man, and deserves to have someone know the truth.” And he drew her off the main corridor into a hatch, closing it behind them.
“What’s with the frakking secrecy?” she demanded.
“We’re both risking time in the brig,” he said. “Or worse. Agathon was executed.”
Kara stumbled back, her back against the bulkhead. “Executed? No. You’re joking.”
“The official charge was mutiny.”
“Karl would never,” she said.
Laird shrugged. “Admiral used to like him, I heard. Enough to offer him a prime position interrogating our Cylon, but he wouldn’t do it. You have to understand, when Cain offers you something, you don’t turn it down. You just don’t. Some of the other officers had reservations, but Agathon was the only one who refused. He was outcast, ridiculed for being too soft-hearted to stomach a simple interrogation. But…”
“But what?” she asked.
“There were rumors about what was really happening,” Laird said. “Dark rumors. Physical abuse well beyond Fleet regulations for prisoners of war. It was expected we’d all be disgusted by him, but I'd rather feel that way about the woman who ordered him to rape her. It. Doesn't matter.”
Nausea rose in Kara’s stomach as she slid down the wall. “My gods. And he was killed for that?”
“No,” Laird said. “But he got sent on all the shit missions. About a week later, when Cain decided it was Python’s turn to be stripped, she made him the Raptor team’s ECO. But of course he knew about Scylla,” and here Laird’s eyes were as hard as Taylor’s had ever been, “and before they could dock he cut power to the navigation systems and Python had time to run. But Cain shot them down, and then she shot Agathon. He was the last godsdamned hero on this ship, if you ask me.”
“May the gods grant him peace,” Kara whispered.
Laird bowed his head in solemn agreement.
And when Commander Adama asked her to assassinate Cain, there was no hesitation, no doubt in her soul.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Kara and Karl, best friends forever. Also Pegasus crew.
Warnings: Discussion of canon physical and sexual abuse.
Summary: Helo-on-Pegasus-AU. When Pegasus joins the Fleet, Starbuck is excited to finally see her best friend again. Written for bsg_epics Inspiration Day, first paragraph by sci_fi_shipper.
When Karl stepped onto the Battlestar's deck for the first time, he felt a wave of recognition, the strange sense that he'd been here before, even among a crew he didn't know, and the unfamiliar cadence of the Chief's barked orders. He paused, hand resting lightly on his service weapon as a shiver passed through him. Pegasus, he knew, was going to change his life.
That’s what his letter said, anyway, the last one she'd gotten before the attacks. Karl always was prone to purple prose, but Kara didn’t mind. She knew what it was like to feel an intense loyalty to your ship, the deep patriotism for the uniform and the snap of the Colonial flag on the pole. Besides, Karl could write whatever he wanted as long as that name stayed the same. She hadn’t misremembered her best friend’s billet: Pegasus, Pegasus, Pegasus.
She folded the letter reverently and tucked it into the inside breast pocket of her dress uniform. She looked up to see Hot Dog watching her. “Boyfriend on Pegasus, Sir?” he asked her.
“Better,” she replied.
The ranks were already assembling as she raced down the ladder, the Raptor hatch opening as she slipped into line next to Lee. “Nice of you to join us,” he said.
“Couldn’t get here too early,” she shot back.
Everyone seemed to be taking their sweet time coming out of that Raptor. Kara felt as nervous and excited as she’d ever been, like when she knew she passed her Viper qualifications and was just waiting to see her name on the list to know it was real. Marines, then pilots in their Viper smocks. The excitement was fading, the nervousness increasing as the pilots gave way to a man with pins to be the XO, then the Admiral herself.
But Kara could see that there were still more crew left in the Raptor, and it’d make sense that he’d remain inside if he were the ECO. Or he could be not on the Raptor at all-Karl’d make Senior Officer one day, he had future XO written all over him, but he’d still been a Lieutenant when they’d last parted and perhaps he’d been passed over for this landing party by rank. Or maybe he’d been on-watch and too busy to come. Or off-watch and the Admiral hadn’t wanted to interfere with rest periods, or a thousand other reasons.
But that hope, that hope that had given lightness to her feet and her heart, was sinking.
Commander Adama and Admiral Cain exchanged greetings, and Cain welcomed them back to the Fleet. Cheering and embracing and hugging, and the party in the rec room would be joyous tonight. She spotted Chief, poking around the outside of the Raptor, and it was all she could do, too, not to peer inside.
“Cole Taylor,” the CAG said, offering a hand, drawing her back into the crowd.
“Kara Thrace,” she replied. He was already scanning, looking for his next hand, but she held firm a second too long, and he looked back at her. She was almost reluctant to ask, to make it real or not real. But the pain of not knowing was worse. “I was wondering about one of your Raptor wranglers,” she said. “Lieutenant Agathon? Callsign Helo?”
She’d always remember how Taylor’s face grew hard. Not sad, or sympathetic, but hard. “We lost a lot of pilots,” he said. And Kara’s heart came crashing down.
***
“We lost a lot of pilots,” was all anyone would tell her about Karl. Like it was an answer.
She knew it wasn’t.
“But how?” she asked, and they’d just shake their heads.
It was stupid, frakking stupid, because Karl hadn’t even been a frakking pilot. And that hard look in their eyes. She knew what it was like to steel yourself, to close yourself off to the grief of losing everyone you knew, but this was something different. Hatred, almost. An inconceivable emotion to connect to Helo.
When Cain assigned her to the Pegasus, Kara went without complaint, in hopes of finding out more, or maybe, just maybe, finding Helo himself, and they’d share a dark laugh about the terrible prank his crew had pulled.
But no Helo, and a crew that was incredibly cold. If she and Lee weren’t off-duty at the same time, she drank alone, like now, sitting with her back to the wall, surveying the pilot’s rec room.
She noticed him enter immediately. It was somewhat startling, after thinking of Chief Tyrol as the last deck chief in the universe, to adjust to the sight of a different man, a smaller one, in chief’s clothing. His eyes darted around the rec room, clearly uncomfortable.
“You’re not allowed to be in here, Laird,” one of the other pilots-Allison, if she remembered correctly-said.
Laird saw her, and they locked eyes, and she knew. “He’s with me,” she said.
“Then you both can go somewhere else,” Allison replied. “This ship has discipline.”
She shot him a look as she stood, and she and Laird walked out of the hatch together. “It’s better this way,” he told her. “I heard you were looking for information about Agathon.”
“Twenty cubits in it for you,” she said.
“No, I don’t want it,” he said. “Agathon was a good man, and deserves to have someone know the truth.” And he drew her off the main corridor into a hatch, closing it behind them.
“What’s with the frakking secrecy?” she demanded.
“We’re both risking time in the brig,” he said. “Or worse. Agathon was executed.”
Kara stumbled back, her back against the bulkhead. “Executed? No. You’re joking.”
“The official charge was mutiny.”
“Karl would never,” she said.
Laird shrugged. “Admiral used to like him, I heard. Enough to offer him a prime position interrogating our Cylon, but he wouldn’t do it. You have to understand, when Cain offers you something, you don’t turn it down. You just don’t. Some of the other officers had reservations, but Agathon was the only one who refused. He was outcast, ridiculed for being too soft-hearted to stomach a simple interrogation. But…”
“But what?” she asked.
“There were rumors about what was really happening,” Laird said. “Dark rumors. Physical abuse well beyond Fleet regulations for prisoners of war. It was expected we’d all be disgusted by him, but I'd rather feel that way about the woman who ordered him to rape her. It. Doesn't matter.”
Nausea rose in Kara’s stomach as she slid down the wall. “My gods. And he was killed for that?”
“No,” Laird said. “But he got sent on all the shit missions. About a week later, when Cain decided it was Python’s turn to be stripped, she made him the Raptor team’s ECO. But of course he knew about Scylla,” and here Laird’s eyes were as hard as Taylor’s had ever been, “and before they could dock he cut power to the navigation systems and Python had time to run. But Cain shot them down, and then she shot Agathon. He was the last godsdamned hero on this ship, if you ask me.”
“May the gods grant him peace,” Kara whispered.
Laird bowed his head in solemn agreement.
And when Commander Adama asked her to assassinate Cain, there was no hesitation, no doubt in her soul.