~BSG: 24 Notes
Title: 24 Notes
Author: kastari
Summary: Love is a cold and broken Hallelujah.
Characters: Bill Adama
Rating: T
Word Count: 300
Author’s Note: Written for the 10th arar_drabbles challenge. Prompt: Make us sniffle with a fic set during or before the ‘Miniseries.’
Disclaimer: I’m just playing in Universal’s sandbox.
24 Notes
“Colonial One, this is Galactica,” Adama calls. “Apollo, you have inbound enemy fighters coming toward you. Get outta there.” Horrified, all eyes in CIC watch the blips of the Cylon Raiders move steadily toward the civilian transport’s marker.
“Apollo. Apollo! Lee, get…LEE!” he yells into the wireless.
Impact.
Far away in the cold black of space, a brilliant light flashes.
In slow motion, Colonial One explodes on the DRADIS, taking the Raiders with her. The markers wink out. The beeping of the radar sweep continues until the screen goes dark.
Adama removes his headset.
“Fifty kiloton thermonuclear detonation,” Lieutenant Gaeta reports.
Time stops.
…The brightness of the day is unsettling.
They stand on opposite sides of the casket-Carolanne in black, clutching the neatly folded Caprican flag tightly with Lee at her side, his arm protectively around her-Bill in dress grays standing at attention with Kara at his side. She struggles for control. He struggles, too.
Lee steps forward, places a set of pilot’s wings on his brother’s casket.
Bill takes Kara’s hand in his. “So say we all,” he says quietly.
The honor guard points rifles to the clear blue sky-one, two, three volleys. The sharp cracks echo, shattering the afternoon stillness.
Salute-Lee, then Kara, then Bill.
A lone soldier raises his trumpet, silver glinting in the sun.
Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar drawing nigh
Falls the night
The eloquent melody is haunting…
“Cylons moving off, sir,” Lieutenant Gaeta announces.
Without a word, Saul places his hands on his friend’s shoulders, squeezes tight, lets go.
“Resume jump prep,” Adama orders. He’s a soldier. No time for grieving.
Leland Joseph Adama, his son.
Roslin, his president.
Roslin.
Her name was Laura Roslin.
William Adama will never forget.
~finis~
Author: kastari
Summary: Love is a cold and broken Hallelujah.
Characters: Bill Adama
Rating: T
Word Count: 300
Author’s Note: Written for the 10th arar_drabbles challenge. Prompt: Make us sniffle with a fic set during or before the ‘Miniseries.’
Disclaimer: I’m just playing in Universal’s sandbox.
24 Notes
“Colonial One, this is Galactica,” Adama calls. “Apollo, you have inbound enemy fighters coming toward you. Get outta there.” Horrified, all eyes in CIC watch the blips of the Cylon Raiders move steadily toward the civilian transport’s marker.
“Apollo. Apollo! Lee, get…LEE!” he yells into the wireless.
Impact.
Far away in the cold black of space, a brilliant light flashes.
In slow motion, Colonial One explodes on the DRADIS, taking the Raiders with her. The markers wink out. The beeping of the radar sweep continues until the screen goes dark.
Adama removes his headset.
“Fifty kiloton thermonuclear detonation,” Lieutenant Gaeta reports.
Time stops.
…The brightness of the day is unsettling.
They stand on opposite sides of the casket-Carolanne in black, clutching the neatly folded Caprican flag tightly with Lee at her side, his arm protectively around her-Bill in dress grays standing at attention with Kara at his side. She struggles for control. He struggles, too.
Lee steps forward, places a set of pilot’s wings on his brother’s casket.
Bill takes Kara’s hand in his. “So say we all,” he says quietly.
The honor guard points rifles to the clear blue sky-one, two, three volleys. The sharp cracks echo, shattering the afternoon stillness.
Salute-Lee, then Kara, then Bill.
A lone soldier raises his trumpet, silver glinting in the sun.
Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar drawing nigh
Falls the night
The eloquent melody is haunting…
“Cylons moving off, sir,” Lieutenant Gaeta announces.
Without a word, Saul places his hands on his friend’s shoulders, squeezes tight, lets go.
“Resume jump prep,” Adama orders. He’s a soldier. No time for grieving.
Leland Joseph Adama, his son.
Roslin, his president.
Roslin.
Her name was Laura Roslin.
William Adama will never forget.
~finis~