Those Who Lift Each Other, Chapter 10, Tricked By the Future You Picked
Title: Those Who Lift Each Other, Chapter 10: Tricked By the Future You Picked
Author: lls_mutant
Fandom: Glee/Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Rating: R, for adult themes and violence
Pairing(s): BSG: canon pairings, plus Gaeta/Baltar. Glee: Burt/Carole and Tina/Mike. Cross-fandom: Puck/Ellen, Kurt/Baltar, Santana/various pilots, Sam/Rya Kibby.
Warning(s): War-related violence, abortion issues, BSG-canon suicide, torture, PTSD, character deaths. (Character deaths are both canon BSG deaths and Glee deaths.)
Fic Summary: When the Cylons attacked, the kids of New Directions were on board the Cybele, on their way to the All-Colony Show Choir Competition. Now they're members of the Fleet, being chased by the Cylons and trying to deal with the day-to-day aspects of a life after the worlds end.
Chapter Summary: The Cylons insisted they came to start a new life, a new chapter in Cylon-human history. But it was nothing like that at all.
Notes: This is a 17 part story. Each chapter is from the POV of a Glee character, working through the BSG canon. BSG canon does not change; this ends up being a "average people in the Fleet" story. More information can be found here. Also, huge thanks to kappamaki33, who is betaing this monster.
Chapter Notes: An introduction to new BSG characters can be found here. This is the chapter with torture (surprise, surprise). Also, this chapter contains a lot of discussion about suicide bombers, which comes largely from BSG canon itself. This is another super-long one, but after this they should hopefully go back down to normal size.
Info Post | Chapter 1 (Will) | Chapter 2 (Brittany) | Chapter 3 (Puck) | Chapter 4 (Artie) | Chapter 5 (Santana) | Chapter 6 (Tina) | Chapter 7 (Beiste, Blaine, and Lauren) | Chapter 8 (Rachel) | Chapter 9 (Kurt and Burt (I)) |
Gaius Baltar surrendered to the Cylons.
The news was around the settlement in a matter of minutes. Burt had known there was no hope- the Centurions tramping through the market place and the ships flying overhead had announced that. What he didn't know was what had happened. Was the Fleet destroyed? The Galactica? Was Finn- no. He wasn't going to think about that right now, because there was no reason to believe that the whole settlement wouldn't be blown to bits at any minute. If Finn was dead, he might be the lucky one.
The real question was, what happened now?
Everyone had been ordered back to their tents by a detached voice over the loudspeaker system. Burt and Carole had obeyed, because what else could they do? They had no idea of where anyone else was, and machines who had destroyed the Colonies had a way of making them cooperate.
"We should find the kids," Carole said as they huddled in their tent. "As many of them as we can. We should-"
There was shouting outside, and the rattle of guns, imprecise, accompanied by human shouting, and the answer of the ordered firing of Centurions. Screaming. The fight was over quickly, but the screaming went on. Carole's face was pale, and she reached out for Burt's hand. He gripped hers tightly, mouth pressed closed tightly as the screaming finally began to die away. He wasn't surprised that people would resist, and he didn't blame them, but the message was clear. Fall in line or be killed.
There was one name in the forefront of Burt's mind, one person who he desperately needed to see, to assure himself that he was all right. But Burt had no idea if he could get to Kurt, even if he could get out of this tent. Kurt would be up in Colonial One, which meant…. He had no frakking clue what that meant, except that Burt was terrified.
They heard gunfire again, and he wrapped his arm around Carole as she buried her face in his shoulder. They were just going to have to wait. They had no idea if Finn was alive, they had no idea if Kurt was alive, they had no idea if they themselves would be alive in an hour. They clung to each other, the only comfort they could find in their fear.
***
Baltar's office was crowded with every member of the human government, as well as several Cylons. Kurt sat on the couch between Tom and a Quorum representative, trying to huddle in on himself and to keep from just jumping up and running away. He'd never been so scared in his life, especially with the Cylons standing in the room. A Six was addressing the assemblage.
"This is not a conquering force or an attempt to exterminate the human race," she said. "This is God's plan. He wants us to live in peace, to atone for our sins by forming this new alliance with humanity." She believed. It was clear she believed in this God and her words. And if Kurt only listened to her, he might believe that this was all right. But she wasn't the only one speaking.
"However, let's be honest with ourselves, shall we?" a One broke in. He was an old man, dressed in black, leaning against Baltar's desk. "This 'new society' will take time to be built. Time and… certain cooperation. Compromises. Sacrifices."
"On whose side?" Tom stood up, his arms crossed and his face steady and hard.
A Three raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Whose side will be making compromises and sacrifices? We've heard the guns going off outside already."
"Only in defense," the Three said. "This is a nonviolent and peaceful-"
"There is no nonviolent way to deprive people of their freedom."
"That's not what we're here to do," an Eight said.
Tom raised his head defiantly. "If you think that your living here is in any way in accordance with the people's wishes, you are deluding yourself. There is no way that the people will not rise up against you, and the only way you can accomplish this so-called peaceful coexistence is through violence, coercion, and force. And you are asking us to be party to that."
"Technically, we're not asking," a One pointed out. "As you say, the only way we can accomplish our goals is through violence, coercion, and force, and frankly, those all sound like pretty good ideas to me."
"I won't do it."
Kurt stared up at Tom, frozen. His heart was pounding hard and his mouth went dry, and very suddenly it occurred to him how very, very much he liked his boss and how badly he really did not want him to die.
"Well, now." The One smiled. It was an oily smile, and the meaning behind it was clear. "Are you volunteering to be our first demonstration, Mr. Zarek?"
"Tom." Baltar stood up. "Don't do this. This is not worth your life."
Tom gave a little choked laugh. "Not worth my life, Gaius? You do remember who I am and what I have done, right? Did you ever think that any of it was a ploy? A joke? I have always been willing to sacrifice my life for the good of the people- for their freedoms and their rights. Why should now be any different?"
"Because it won't matter!" Baltar said, looking around at the Cylons frantically. "Because if you die here, they won't leave! It won't accomplish anything!"
"I'll take that chance, Gaius. At least then I shall die with my soul intact."
Don't do this, Kurt wanted to beg him. Please. Don't do this. But the words wouldn't come out of his mouth, and he could only sit on, paralyzed.
Tom broke that paralysis when he touched Kurt's shoulder. "Are you coming with me? Or are you staying here and going along with this madness?"
"My father…" Kurt croaked out, and suddenly that freed him. "My father has a weak heart. If I died…." Was it an excuse or the truth? Kurt didn't know. All he knew was that there was disappointment in Tom's eyes when he looked at him.
"Enough of this," the One said. "Shoot him."
"No!" An Eight and the believer Six both protested. "That's not how this is supposed to work!" the Eight said.
"Well, then, take him to some sort of prison," the One said, waving a hand dismissively. He looked at the Four and Five that had been standing silent all this time. "Do we even have one?"
"I'm sure the humans have some sort of disciplinary measures," the Four said. They looked at Baltar.
Baltar's shoulders slumped. "There's the Astral Queen," he said. "A former prison ship. We've been using that for detainment purposes."
"It will have to do for now. Throw him into a cell on this Astral Queen, and we'll deal with him later. Anyone else?"
The rest of the administration remained silent. Kurt couldn't look anyone in the eye, but if he'd been able to he would have noticed that no one else could, either. The Four and the Five flanked Tom, who held his wrists out in a resigned sort of way. Kurt was a little surprised that Tom didn't go kicking and screaming, but maybe he'd realized that there was some truth in what Baltar said, that his death would accomplish nothing. The room was silent as Tom was led out, and Kurt didn't realize he was shaking until the door slammed.
The One watched them go, and then turned back to face the human administration. "Good. Now that that's settled, let's get to work."
***
"Carole Hudson."
Burt and Carole both froze as a man who looked exactly like Simon O'Neill threw open their tent flap and walked in, the morning sun behind him. It had been a long, terrifying night spent isolated in their tent with no clear idea of what was happening. Burt tightened his grip on Carole's hand as she stood to answer.
"Yes?"
The Four looked at a clipboard in his hand. "You're management in the water treatment facility."
Carole drew herself up. "Yes."
"Come with me."
Burt jumped to his feet. "Where are you taking her?"
The Four smiled, just a little bit, like he saw Burt's fear and thought it ridiculous, even though he knew the root cause. "To work, of course. She'll be home in twelve hours."
Burt automatically glanced at his watch. It was about the time Carole would normally leave. "I'll hold you to that," he growled.
"As long as no one makes trouble, you're fine," the Four said. "Hudson. Let's go."
"Wait." Burt grabbed his own coat. "I want to come with you."
"Excuse me?" the Four asked.
"I want to know that you're telling me the truth, and I'm not gonna believe it unless I see her go into that plant with my own eyes. You can walk me to work after, if you want."
The Four shrugged. "Fine. If you insist." He held the tent flap open and bowed mockingly. "After you."
Carole slipped her arm through Burt's and he covered her hand, and they walked through the streets of New Caprica with the Four right behind them. Carole was pressed close against him, and his own heart was pounding so hard he was sure the Four could hear it. There were others in the streets, both human and Cylon, and both skinjobs and Centurions, but it didn't have the air of business as usual.
The Four didn't redirect them at all as they walked to the water treatment facility, and when they arrived, he inclined his head for Carole to go in. So it was true. Burt breathed a little easier. Carole leaned in and he kissed her goodbye, then the Four cleared his throat and Carole headed into the plant. Safe.
Brittany was in the shop when Burt arrived. The Four left, uninterested ever since his main errand was complete, and as soon as he was gone Burt crossed the shop and hugged Brit to him. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Brittany said, pulling away. "I'm just- she's dead, isn't she? Santana?"
"Hey, we don't know that. They could have jumped away."
"They wouldn't," Brittany said. "Santana wouldn't leave me here."
Burt drew a deep breath. "They would," he said. "It stands to reason, right? That they'd run away and come back to get us later? We've got to believe that, Brit, that they got away. Okay?" He cupped her cheek, and Brittany nodded. "Good girl. Now come on. We've got work to do." Burt wasn't sure if anyone would pick up the orders or not, but if nothing else working would keep him and Brittany busy and their minds off what was going on outside. He pulled out a space heater that they were piecing together from old parts. "Come on. Let's see what we can do with this bad boy, okay?"
The work wouldn't help much, but it might just be enough to get them through the day.
***
Kurt huddled on the couch in Tom's office, taking deep breaths and reminding himself that he was still alive, even after an entire day and night of Cylon occupation. Not only was he alive, but he'd looked out the windows and there was no wholesale slaughter in the streets. There were humans moving around down there. And even Tom was still alive. Kurt shuddered. He didn't want to think of Tom, and the disappointment on his face when Kurt had stayed in the office, not following him to the Astral Queen in a show of rebellion.
The door opened, and Kurt stiffened and automatically turned to see who was coming in. It was one of the Fives. He sauntered in, looking around the room with an air of propriety. He ran his hand over Tom's desk, made a face, and then looked around again. His gaze fell on Kurt and he grinned. Kurt drew back.
"Hello."
The Five could kill him, and then what would happen to his father? He had to speak. "Hello," Kurt managed to croak out.
"This office is terrible," the Five complained, his hands clasped behind him as he rocked back on his heels. "Old, awkward, and clunky. It's such a shame that humans don't have any appreciation of aesthetic flare." He smiled again. "In fact, the only thing worthwhile in this office is you." The Five stepped closer, eyeing him predatorily. Kurt shrank back against the couch as the Five came nearer and nearer, stopping well within Kurt's personal space. He reached out and fingered the lapel of Kurt's blazer, and Kurt's breath stopped completely.
"This jacket," the Five said, "it's really quite remarkable. I love the color."
It was the last thing Kurt expected to hear. "Thank you."
"Really. The red is just fantastic." The Five sighed and stepped back, and Kurt could breathe again. The Five clapped his hands together.
"So," he said, when Kurt didn't say anything, "I've been informed that you come with the office. Which is a nice touch, I admit. Not all of us rate an assistant."
"Oh." Well, if he was an assistant still, he wasn't dying. "What do you do… sir?"
"Sir." The Five brightened at that. "I like that. Well… Kurt, am I right? Kurt. You and I are going to be running the distributions."
Kurt's brows furrowed. "What does that entail?"
"Rations, mainly. Supply. A lot of other tedious but necessary jobs. A waste of my flair, and apparently of yours, but we want to make sure everything is fair, don't we?" There didn't seem to be room to disagree, so Kurt nodded. "Good. Now." The Five pulled out Tom's chair and sat down. Kurt cringed and looked away. "Let's get to work."
***
The day crept by. For the most part, people didn't come into the shop, although Burt wasn't surprised when Galen Tyrol did.
"You guys okay?" Galen asked. Burt nodded, and Galen leaned closer. "You heard the Fleet jumped away?"
"They really got away?" Relief flooded him.
"Yeah. Don't know if it'll do us any good, but they're out there."
"I want to believe that," Burt said. Not that it would do much good. Two battlestars couldn't do much against the entire Cylon Fleet.
"Take care of yourselves and hold tight," Tyrol said before he slipped off again. Already, Burt could see that this man was a soldier, and he was gearing up for some sort of fight. Humanity wouldn't bow that easily.
As the afternoon wore on, Burt and Brittany heard other sounds from outside. People in the streets, some even talking. Centurions marching by. The siren-type noise from Colonial One to indicate the end of the shift.
"Should we go home?" Brittany asked.
Burt frowned. "Maybe. But maybe we should…" he looked outside into the streets. People were moving about. Their heads were down and their hands were in pockets, but they were moving, unhampered by the Cylons. "Maybe we should go over to the high school tent."
Brittany nodded and pulled on her coat. "You don't think the Fleet will have gone around to the other side of New Caprica, do you? Like an eclipse?"
"The Cylons would pick them up this close," Burt said. He pulled on his jacket and adjusted his hat. "Let's go. And stay close to me, you got it?"
They stepped out into the street, and even though nothing was happening, Burt cringed. It felt as if they would be shot at any moment. But no one seemed to notice them, and they joined the traffic of other people walking.
The high school tent wasn't far away. Burt didn't know why they were headed there- it wasn't like there had been any sort of message- but it seemed right. And when they entered, he knew it was right, because not only were Will, Shannon, and Sue there, but Carole, Sam, Rya, Rachel, Lauren, Puck, and Mike and Tina with Blaine. The only two missing were Kurt and Quinn.
"Burt." Carole hugged him first, followed by Shannon, and Sue draped an arm around Brittany.
"Everyone okay?" Burt asked.
"Any word about Kurt?" Carole asked. Burt shook his head, and Shannon clapped him on the shoulder silently while Schuester pressed his lips together sadly. Burt wanted to yell that Kurt wasn't dead, but he had no idea.
"A whole lot of them came into Supply and took over," Rachel said. "They were awful- just awful."
"What do you expect?" Lauren asked. "They're toasters."
"But to see them up close like that! I never realized they were so creepy." Rachel shivered.
"How'd you not know? You knew one," Puck said. "I saw that Biers chick from TV walking around. She's a frakking Cylon."
"So's the priest that married us," Rya said, looking up at Sam. "Although we've known that one for a while."
"The Centurions are the worst," Tina said. "I can handle the ones that look human."
"They kept talking about how they're coming in peace," Mike said hopefully. "Maybe it won't be so bad."
"We've already seen them shoot to kill," Sue said, breaking in and staring Mike down. "There's no use pretending. If you all want to live in delusion about great societies and 'we come in peace', be my guest. But let's not fool ourselves and think that people aren't going to die."
"I was just saying," Mike mumbled, looking away. Tina rubbed his arm, and Burt couldn't blame him. Yeah, it would be nice to believe that the Cylons meant all that stuff about peace. But Sue was right: it already wasn't happening.
The tent flap opened and everybody went on edge, relaxing again when they saw that it was Kurt coming in. Burt sighed with relief, especially as Kurt came right to him. Burt hugged him tightly enough that Kurt's back cracked.
Kurt pulled back first. "Are you okay, Dad?"
"Me? I'm not the one up there in Colonial One. What's going on up there?"
"Is everyone dead?" Brittany asked. "Are you a ghost?"
Kurt shook his head. His face was pale, but he looked unhurt. Knowing Kurt was safe and that Finn probably was too and Carole was here and everyone else… a weight lifted off Burt's heart a little, and he could breathe again.
Schuester cleared his throat. "I'm glad you guys are all okay," he said, and Burt realized he was slipping into that teacher mode of his. "And since everyone's here, I think we should talk about how we can keep it that way."
"You think that's gonna happen?" Puck said. "Because I can tell you, I'm not sitting tight while those frakking toasters crush us." Lauren nodded.
Schuester sighed. "Look. Puck. I know that you-"
"You know what?" Puck asked. "Just in case you've forgotten, Mr. Schue, none of us are kids anymore. I'm twenty-one. I don't have to answer to you just because you're a teacher."
"I didn't say that you did! But you have a tendency to be impulsive, and that's going to get you killed!" Schuester looked around at the whole group. "The last thing I want- the last thing- is for anything to happen to any one of you."
"But what's going to happen?" Rachel asked. "How long is this going to be?"
"I don't know, Rachel."
"They think they're here for good," Kurt said. "They think they can live in peace with us."
"Like hell they can," Puck growled.
"I didn't say it would work. I just said that that was their goal."
A lot of arguing and discussion broke out, with people worrying and trying to reassure themselves that this wasn't going to be as terrible as they all knew it was going to be. Burt took the moment to take Kurt over to the side. Carole followed.
"Listen," he said, staring at Kurt like it was the last time he'd ever see him. "I don't like you being up there on Colonial One."
"I know, but I can't just quit. They won't let me."
"I know." Burt cut that off before Kurt could go any further. "And that's exactly what I want to talk to you about." Burt took Kurt by the shoulders. "Look. Whatever happens during this occupation, you're a kid, okay? You're my kid. And you're gonna have to do what you have to do to stay alive."
Kurt's eyes widened and he looked over at Carole. Carole nodded. "Your dad's right, honey," she said. "Working in the administration and so close to them…" she bit her lip. "You're in more danger than any of us."
"I'll be all right," Kurt said, but without any conviction.
"You will be." Burt's fingers tightened around Kurt's shoulders. "Because whatever you have to do to stay alive up there, you do it. Got that? You do whatever it takes."
"But-"
"Kurt. You're a low-level assistant. You're a kid. They're not going to ask you to do anything too big," Burt said. Carole nodded. "They're going to roll over you and make their own decisions, and if you argue or try to play the hero, they're going to shoot you and find someone else who will do it. You got that? You keep your head down and you do what they tell you and you stay alive."
Kurt looked from him to Carole, and his face looked so desperate and upset. Like he would be asked to shoot someone or walk through the settlement snatching food out of the hands of orphans. Burt had no clear idea how the occupation was going to go, but he did know that there were a lot of people they'd turn to before they looked to Kurt to do stuff like that. "Just keep your head down, okay?" he repeated. "Promise me."
"I promise."
Burt pulled him close and hugged him tight, and then released him to Carole. All the tension of the last few months was gone from the air between the two of them. No one knew what was coming with this occupation, but one thing Burt and Carole both knew was that the most important thing about it was getting their family through it alive.
***
People were beginning to leave. Kurt hung back. On the one hand, he didn't want to remember that humiliating morning a week ago involving Baltar. On the other hand, Sue deserved to know. Kurt pulled her over to the corner of the tent as the people who remained continued their discussions.
"What did you want to talk to me about, Porcelain?" Sue asked, once they were out of earshot of everyone else.
Kurt took a deep breath. "They took Tom away," he said, his voice shaking. "They've got him over on the Astral Queen."
"So?"
"So? But you- the other day- I saw-"
"You saw me leaving a booty call. That's all it was." She crossed her arms and stared straight at him, challenging him. "I'm not sure what you want me to do with this information."
The words exploded out of Kurt. "Get him out!"
"And how do you expect me to that?"
"I don't know! If I knew, I'd do it! I've already lost Blaine twice- I can't do the same thing with Tom!" To his horror, Kurt felt tears welling up. Sue gawked at him for a long moment, and then snorted and put a patronizing hand on Kurt's shoulder.
"I don't care if he gets out or not. But you obviously do. The best I can tell you is don't call too much attention to it. Don't let the Cylons think he's too important to you, or they will use it, just like I used Lee Adama's famous love of noodles to get him to hand over a small arsenal to me when we settled on this craphole. Worry about yourself right now. Because up there on that tin can, you're going to be the one who needs it."
Kurt nodded. He noticed his father looking in their direction and did his best to pull himself together. The last thing Kurt wanted was for his dad to worry about him. More than he would, anyway. He took a deep breath, wiped his face on the cuffs of his sleeve, and nodded. "Thank you."
Tom and Blaine were both heavy on his mind as he made his way home, tense and nervous as he walked through the streets. If Blaine was here, he'd at least have someone to hold on to. Kurt closed his eyes momentarily. If Blaine was here… Kurt couldn't even imagine how being pinned down by the Cylons on a planet would affect him. It would be like being plunged right back into the hell that was Caprica, only worse. The thought choked him, because he really did not want to think that maybe it was better that Blaine was dead than here for this. He forced that thought sternly from his mind and entered his tent.
Quinn was sitting on his bed.
"What are you doing here?" Kurt blurted, because Quinn was the one person who hadn't gone to the high school tent. "Not that I'm not glad to see you alive, but-"
"The Fours are in the medical tent," Quinn said. She wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands, and Kurt realized she'd been crying. Very delicately and gracefully, but crying all the same. "One even told me to call him Simon."
"Oh."
"Is this what it was like for you?" Quinn asked, and Kurt winced. "Is this what it's like to love someone and think they're dead and then to have them come back, but not really? He looked just like the Simon I worked with. Every detail. But he didn't know me. That's when I knew he wasn't real."
"Then it's not the same," Kurt said. "Blaine was real."
"So was Simon. The Simon I worked with, I mean. He was real," Quinn said. She wiped her nose and lifted her chin. "It turns out he's really dead. He didn't resurrect." She shuddered on the word.
"You asked?"
Quinn shrugged. "Wouldn't you?" Her eyes bored into Kurt, and he sighed.
"Yes." He sat down next to her. "So what are the Cylons doing in the med tent?"
"Being doctors, if you can believe that," Quinn said. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. Kurt impulsively reached over put a hand over them. Quinn gave him a dirty look, but put them away. "They want to know more about human life, and to be fair, which I don't want to be, they seem to be pretty good at it already."
Kurt didn't even want to think about how the Cylons had come by that knowledge. "Is it all of them?"
"No. Just the Fours." Quinn shook her head. "You'd think one or two of the other numbers would be interested, but it's just the Fours."
"It's all of them up on Colonial One," Kurt said. "In fact, I-" He was interrupted by Puck exploding into the tent.
"Kurt. Quinn." Puck nodded at them and went straight to his bed, dropping to his knees and looking under the mattress. Kurt and Quinn watched him like he was insane.
"Please tell me we don't have roaches," Kurt said. "Believe me, I think that would be the final thing to tip me over the edge."
"Roaches?" Quinn asked. "Really? That would be what tips you over the edge today?"
"Aha!" Puck was triumphant. "I knew I still had it."
"What is that?" Kurt demanded.
"A gun, dumbass," Puck said.
"I wasn't being literal," Kurt said dryly, but he eyed the gun in Puck's hands with trepidation. It was a big one, too, bigger than the pistol that Puck carried for security and left locked on the Astral Queen when he wasn't on duty. "What I really meant was where did it come from?"
"Then you should have asked that instead. It was a souvenir. All the Marines took a few. I've got more." This time, Puck lay flat on his stomach on the dirt floor and pulled out a big box from under his bed. He flung it open and smiled. Kurt leaned forward and saw several boxes of ammunition, some grenades, and two smaller guns. Puck's smile was huge. "Come to papa, babies."
"What are you doing? You're going to get in trouble," Quinn said.
Puck looked up at her, all traces of his smile gone. "Do you really think that people are just going to lie down and let the frakking toasters walk all over us?"
"It's not like there's much we can do," Quinn said. "The Fleet jumped away."
"So? There's people on the ground."
"With what? Are you planning on throwing rocks at the Cylons?"
"Did you just miss the guns I pulled out from under my bed? I was kind of planning on shooting those."
"And getting yourself killed." Kurt was on Quinn's side. "What are those guns going to do, Puckerman? The Cylons resurrect."
"Yeah, but I hear it hurts a lot when they die." Puck didn't smile as he said it. He put the gun back in the case, clicked it shut, and shoved it back under the bed. "And you two can stop gaping at me like that. I'm not going to go out into the street screaming and taking Cylons out left and right."
"Then what are you going to do?" Kurt asked.
"Fight 'em till we can't fight 'em anymore," Puck said, sitting back on his heels.
"That doesn't even make sense," Quinn said. "How are you going to fight them?"
Puck just grinned. "You'll see."
***
Burt had told Kurt to keep his head down and do whatever it took to stay alive, but that was for Kurt. Burt wasn't in the habit of letting people push him around, and neither was Carole. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that people would be planning to get rid of the Cylons already, and both Burt and Carole wanted in. It only took one short conversation with Galen to find out who was running this operation.
Burt had heard about Colonel Tigh from Finn and Mercedes, but had never met him. From their attitude and jokes Burt had somehow pictured Tigh as fat, with a bad comb-over and a slightly vacant expression, even though he'd seen the man on television. He wasn't quite expecting the hard, lean man who Galen introduced them to, whose eyes raked over both Burt and Carole assessingly, immediately cataloguing how they could be of the most use.
"Either of you know how to use a gun?" was the first real sentence he said.
"Not so much," Burt admitted.
"Yes." Carole's voice was clear and definite. Burt blinked, amazed. Carole shrugged. "I did biathalon back in high school. I got pretty good with a rifle."
"What kind?" Tigh asked.
"I liked the Shilen DGV."
Tigh smiled. "Good taste. Anything else?"
"Chris and I used to go on dates to the shooting range, especially when he was in the Fleet. Handguns and rifles."
Of course. Now that she said it, Burt remembered Carole mentioning both of those bits way back. It just wasn't something they talked about. Tigh was really interested though. "You any good as a shot?"
"Had to aim to miss a few times, or Chris got annoyed."
Galen and Burt both laughed at that, and even Tigh grinned. "Good. You'll be of use, then. And you?" he said, turning to Burt.
"I could learn," Burt offered.
Tigh snorted. "Where? You think the Cylons are going to let us set up firing ranges for practice?"
"Fair enough. But there are more ways of taking out toasters than just guns."
Galen nodded. "He's right about that, Colonel. Some of them are more efficient, too."
"Efficient as you can be against an enemy that doesn't die." Tigh scowled, but his scowl was one of thought, not of disgust. "You're right, Chief. And I'm guessing a mechanic could figure out some clever ways of wiring things up, am I right?"
"Let's talk clear. You mean like bombs, right?"
"I mean bombs. I mean remote triggers. You think you can do that sort of stuff?"
"Don't know much about bombs, but I've picked up a lot about wiring," Burt said. "And that's all stuff you can learn in a tent. And I've got a workshop and a lot of tools that the Cylons aren't using yet."
Tigh nodded. "All right. You're in. We'll be in touch."
***
Somewhere in his head, Kurt had visions of himself, Gaeta, and Baltar rising above their differences and banding together under Cylon oppression. It took all of three days for him to realize that wasn't going to happen.
Baltar was worse than useless. As much as Kurt hated it, he could understand why Baltar surrendered. Resistance would not have sent the Cylons away. But the surrender pulled all the life from Baltar. He retreated behind his desk, mumbling, drinking, and definitely not showering. But even that horrid offense against hygiene was nothing compared to the fact that Baltar immediately started sleeping with a Six.
The Six was called Caprica for some bizarre reason. Kurt didn't ask why. All he knew was that she was the most fervent believer in the idea that the Cylons were here to live in peace with humans. She was the one who talked about God's will with a glow in her eyes and sincerity on her face, and Kurt hated her. But Baltar… it didn't even take the end of the first day for Baltar to have her back in his bedroom. There would be no resistance to the Cylons at all from Baltar.
Gaeta was another matter. He hated the Cylons too, Kurt could see it written all over him. But he cooperated, which made sense. The administration had to do what they were told, because otherwise the Cylons would just kill or imprison them and put other people in their place, accomplishing nothing. After all, that was what had happened to Tom. And Kurt knew Gaeta didn't enjoy it. But instead of reaching out and finding any sort of companionship among the humans, Gaeta retreated into himself until he was just his job. He was just an empty shell following orders, and Kurt couldn't speak to him at all.
No Gaeta, no Baltar, no Tom. The last one made Kurt's heart physically ache. He wasn't even sure if Tom was still alive, although he supposed he was. In the few days that they'd been here, the Cylons had taken over the incomplete apartment building and already made huge strides on the construction. The walls were already rising higher and a huge fence was put up around the place. Kurt had heard that the Cylons would live there, but a big block of what was already built was being converted into a detention center to house prisoners. If the Cylons wanted people like Tom dead, there would be no need for prisons.
Tom was on his mind when he trudged into the office, ready to sit at his old desk with a new boss. "That's an interesting sweater," Doral said as Kurt sat down.
Kurt didn't answer. It was something Tom often said, and generally led to a bit of teasing about the way he dressed, and with this bright yellow sweater, a "serious discussion" on why the bright orange of Tom's prison jumpsuit was unacceptable but Kurt looking like a lemon was highly fashionable. It was a show of affection, and Kurt knew it. He didn't want it corrupted by this… this toaster. He clenched his jaw and stared down at his desk.
"I mean it," Doral continued, apparently sincere. "It really is interesting. The color is very compelling. It's something that many of the other models don't understand- bold colors make a statement." Kurt looked at Doral's hideous, badly-cut blue jacket and said nothing. Doral noticed him looking. "You agree, don't you?"
Kurt took a deep breath. "I agree."
"But you don't think much of what I'm wearing." Kurt wasn't sure how to answer that. He fumbled for an answer, and Doral sat back, eyes glinting at his confusion. "Don't worry," he finally said. "You won't get shot if you tell me you don't like it." Apparently the relief on his face answered Doral's question about the jacket. Doral looked down, fingering the lapels. "What's wrong with it?"
Could Cylons be sincere? Kurt wasn't sure, but there was something on Doral's face that made Kurt think he really wanted to know. "It's not the color," Kurt heard himself saying. "It's the cut. And what you have it paired with. The seams are shoddy, the shoulders don't fit right, the collar of the shirt is too high, and the pants take the color from bold to forcibly reminding one of toilet bowl cleaner."
"Well, I did ask." Doral didn't look pleased, but Kurt was pretty sure it wasn't a dangerous sort of displeasure. He narrowed his eyes, tapping his fingers against the desk, and studying Kurt. "So what makes it different that you can wear such a bright, bold color and pull it off? I don't understand."
"There's more to it than color." The words came out against his will as Doral stood up and paced, listening intently. "Like I said, fit matters. So does the quality of the fabric. The cut of the garment. What it's paired with."
"Interesting." Doral came to the front of Kurt's desk. "I'm not sure that I agree, but I do find it interesting." Doral leaned forward and touched Kurt's sweater. Kurt flinched back, and Doral raised one eyebrow mockingly. The message was clear- stay still. Kurt froze, and Doral ran his fingers over the fabric. He tapped Kurt's chest in a manner that forcibly reminded Kurt of that day that Karofsky had taken the wedding cake topper, and then stepped back. Silence hung between them. Kurt wanted to look away because Doral's expression terrified him, but was afraid to look away because he had no idea what was about to happen. But Doral stepped back. "Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to get back to work?"
Kurt turned back to his desk, letting his breath out in a relieved whoosh as Doral sat back down. The papers shook in his hands, and it took a great deal of focus to read the words. But after a while, the monotony of the paperwork calmed him.
The office was ponderously quiet. Even when he and Tom had both been absorbed in their work, it hadn't been like this. There'd been the rustle of pages turning and the sounds of pens or Kurt's typewriter, coffee cups clinking and occasional noises from either of them. Doral was silent. It made all those little normal office sounds so much louder.
The morning dragged on, and Kurt began to relax a little more. There were forms and memos and notes from Cylon meetings that he was expected to type up and distribute. Kurt noticed sourly that a race of machines had taken very quickly to bureaucracy. He finished typing a long, involved memo on ration procedures, and then picked up the next item. It was a list. He automatically loaded the paper in and began typing. It wasn't until he was halfway through that he realized it was a list of names.
"Is something wrong?" Doral asked.
Kurt realized he'd stopped typing and was staring that the list in shock. "What is this?"
Doral got up and looked over Kurt's shoulder. "Oh, that." He leaned down, examining the names that Kurt had already typed. "There are some citizens that we want to keep a closer eye on, that's all. Some that we need to get to know, that might require… extra convincing to make sure this 'grand civilization' goes smoothly. A small matter, really."
A lot of the names were familiar, but Kurt couldn't place them. Fischer. Maldonaldo. Nowart. He didn't know any of them, and couldn't figure out where he'd heard them until he saw right name in bold handwriting. Puckerman, Noah. They were all Marines, and Puck's name was right there on that list.
"You don't have to question him," Kurt blurted. "I live with him. I know him."
Doral raised his eyebrows. "Who?" He leaned over closer so that he could see which name Kurt was pointing to. His chest brushed against Kurt's shoulder, but Kurt steeled himself against flinching away. "Noah Puckerman," Doral read. "Well, he sounds like a very respectable young man, just from his name and your passionate plea. Nevertheless, I think a conversation is in order."
"What are you going to do to him?"
"Haven't you heard the will of God? We come in peace." Doral snorted. He still didn't stand up. "We're just going to talk. We might have to hold him for a few nights-"
"A few nights?!"
"But I'm sure he'll answer our questions satisfactorily."
Questions. Kurt could only guess what kind of questions those would be. And like Tom, Puck would rather die before cooperating. Kurt knew that- the evidence was in a box of guns under Puck's bed and a grim look on Puck's face as he told Quinn and Kurt he had every intention of fighting. Puck couldn't die. Kurt had lost Blaine, he'd probably lost Tom… he wasn't losing Puck, too.
"You don't have to question him," Kurt said, turning in his seat. "You don't. I- I know Puckerman. I promise."
"You promise." Doral leaned back a little, a mocking smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "You promise. That's touching, if not remotely useful."
"What would be useful?" Kurt blurted.
Doral leaned back even further, his eyes raking over Kurt's torso. Kurt swallowed hard, but then Doral reached out and fingered the fabric of Kurt's sweater again. "Bold colors," he said. "And I do see what you mean about the fabric."
"My sweater?" Kurt hesitated for only a second. He loved that sweater, but up against Puck being tossed into prison and possibly dying, the choice was simple. "You can have it. I'll even alter it so it fits you perfectly. Just please- believe me when I say you can keep Puckerman off your list."
"Is this a bribe, Mr. Hummel?" Kurt's throat closed with fear that he'd misread the situation, but he nodded. Doral smiled. "Good. Just so we're clear." He extended his hand. Kurt fumbled with the buttons and slipped the garment off his shoulders, handing it over. Doral put it on, an air of satisfaction about him.
"It's a little big in the shoulders," Kurt said. "I can take it in for you tomorrow. I'll bring my sewing kit in. My real one, I mean- not just the one I have for emergencies."
"Mmm." Doral was twisting around, trying to take in the effect. Kurt privately thought it looked just as ridiculous on him as the teal jacket had, but Doral was so pleased that Kurt wasn't going to say anything. "Finish your work," Doral said, sitting back down. "And make sure you leave that name off the list when you type it." He winked.
Kurt exhaled shakily and began typing. Name after name, some of which he remembered from Puck's stories. People for "questioning." But he'd kept Puck from that. Kurt decided he had to focus on that and not think about anything else, otherwise he wouldn't be able to handle it. With grim determination, he applied himself to the list.
***
Burt knew that he and Carole were far from the only ones willing to fight against the Cylons. There were military types, there were the survivors from Caprica, and there were people like Sue. There was a whole frakking resistance being organized. Yet there were no secret meetings or attacks or anything else. "So what are we waiting for?" Burt asked one day when he and Galen were working on the crews.
"Firepower," Galen said with a sigh. "Manpower. You hear about the Marines that mustered out?"
"No."
Galen stepped in closer and lowered his voice. "Bunch of them all got picked up two days ago."
"All of them?"
"Nah, they left a few of them." Galen picked his concrete smoother back up and went back to work on the floor they were working on. "A lot of them have gotten right back out again, too. But they've kept a few of them."
Burt remembered he'd seen Puck that morning, now that he thought about it, and he relaxed a little. "How many did they keep?"
"I don't know," Galen admitted. "I tried asking a couple of guys that I know in the administration, but fat lot of good that did. I know of three that are missing for sure, but there could be more. They took Anders' wife, too."
"Frak."
"Yeah. And it's got people scared. Not just civilians, but people who were military. People we were counting on." He hit the smoother against his hand. "Plus, we've only got so many weapons."
Burt sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah. Guess I see the point."
"Listen," Galen leaned in closer, "I've got a couple of messages from the Colonel."
"I'm listening."
"One's not so much a message. It's a set of plans." Galen pulled a packet out of his pocket and handed it to Burt. "Tents don't really make for good places to plan, or to hide things. The Colonel's got his eye on your shop."
"On my shop?" Burt unfolded the plans, and then frowned. They were plans for dig-outs, cellars and tunnels dug under the earth. "Not so crazy about it being my shop," Burt said. "What about my tent?"
"Too far out of the network that we've got." Galen looked around. "What's wrong with your shop?"
"Brittany. Look, I'm willing to go into this, and so's Carole. But Brittany needs to stay out of it." He saw a set look coming over Galen's face and held up a hand to stop him. "It's not all the kids I'm arguing about here, Tyrol. But you've met Brit. You think she can handle a secret resistance?"
Galen reeled back a little as he thought about it. "Yeah. No, yeah, you're right. But if you hide the entrance-"
"Yeah." Burt was studying the plans again. "I'll work something out. What else?"
Galen stepped back, and he looked uncomfortable. "Your son."
"What about my son?"
"The Colonel knows he's in the administration. He wanted me to feel you out about if there's any chance he could get us information-"
"No."
"Burt. He's in one hell of a position."
"No." Burt had to strain to keep calm. "Kurt stays out of it."
"He can't just stay out of it," Galen said, pacing again. "He's already in danger just by being on this frakking planet."
"And I'm not putting him in any more."
"Burt-"
"Look, both Carole and I are going into this with our eyes open, okay? We know the risks. We're talking death here. And if they're picking up people already and holding them, we're probably not talking the quick and painless kind, right?" Galen nodded grimly. "So you can have me. You can have my wife. But the one thing I want from this is my son to be safe, as safe as he can be. You got that?"
"The Colonel's not going to like that."
"Yeah? Well, is Cally in this thing?" Galen looked away. "What about the Colonel's wife? That's what I thought."
"All right, I get it." Galen composed himself. "The last thing was this list. The Colonel wanted to see if you could get your hands on any of these things."
Burt took the list and unfolded it. It was a list of materials and tools. "I've got some of them in my shop," he said, scanning down it. "I'll see what I can do about the rest."
"You two," a One said sternly, glaring at Burt and Galen, "enough chatter." Immediately, they both went back to work. It made Burt sick to take orders from a Cylon, but he grit his teeth and got on with it. After all, people were being picked up and questioned. There was nothing good that could come of that. Burt pushed the what-ifs from his mind and focused on his work. The present was terrifying enough without adding to it.
***
By the end of a week and a half, it was amazing how much things had settled down and into a routine. Kurt was still on edge, but now he had a better idea of what to expect. The streets didn't feel any safer- nothing did- but either he was getting desensitized to it, or just learning to live with the constant threat. Work felt slightly better, but he was still glad to leave the office. Everyone in New Directions was settling down, too. For the most part, their jobs hadn't changed much, although Puck was no longer working any sort of security and had been moved to one of the construction gangs.
He knew that someone was visiting their tent even before he entered because he could hear Puck laughing. The laughter sounded out of place after two weeks of Cylon occupation, but it made sense when Kurt pushed aside the flap and saw Puck with baby Blaine on his lap. Puck was holding Blaine in a sitting position and making faces at him, and Blaine kept giggling and awkwardly reaching his chubby hands in the general direction of Puck's nose.
"So you should have seen Tina today," Mike was saying to Puck, looking at his wife proudly.
"Yeah? What happened?"
"We had skinjobs coming into the daycare," Mike said. "It's really…" he paused, searching for the word.
"It's really disturbing and creepy," Tina said flatly. "They come in and they stare at the kids like they've never seen one before. Which," she added with a sigh, "I suppose they haven't."
Puck frowned. "Of course they have. Haven't they? Hey! You got it!" Blaine managed to grab Puck's nose. "You little- ow!" Puck disengaged Blaine's hand. "He's got quite a grip. But what's the big thing about rugrats?"
"Cylons can't reproduce," Kurt reminded him as he unbuttoned his overcoat. "That's why everything with that Eight and Helo was such a big deal, remember?"
"Oh. That's right. Hey," Puck frowned, studying Kurt. "Weren't you wearing a tie this morning?"
"You actually noticed?" Kurt was surprised. And also not at all willing to answer the question, so he turned to Tina. "What exactly did you say to the Cylons?"
"She told them to frak off," Mike said proudly.
"Not quite like that. I told them that it upsets the children to have outsiders around and a lot of other stuff like that." Tina looked pleased, but Kurt's blood ran cold.
"How did they take it?" he asked, trying to look casual as he took off his overcoat and hung it up neatly.
Tina shrugged. "They didn't drag me out in the street and shoot me, obviously. They listened."
"What else was she going to do?" Puck demanded. "Stand there and let those toasters gawk?"
"I didn't say that," Kurt said. He sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled his knees up. He raised his hand to touch his tie and then remembered it was gone. "Just… be careful."
"Of course I'm being careful," Tina snorted. "I asked nicely. Firmly, but nicely."
"And they've shot people for less than that," Kurt reminded her.
"Nice, Kurt." Mike looked uncomfortable at the thought, like he'd been doing his best to forget about it. Kurt sighed.
"Ignore me," he said. "It's a long day up there on Colonial One."
"Can’t you quit?" Tina asked sympathetically.
"Tom did," Kurt said. "Look where that got him."
"Well, not that dramatically," Tina said. "More like… maybe ask to do a different job? Get a transfer into something that's not on Colonial One?"
Before Kurt could answer, Puck yelped at the baby. "What is he doing?"
"Oh, he's rooting," Mike explained cheerfully. "Trying to nurse."
Puck let out a strangled noise and extended the baby. "Get him off!" Tina laughed and took Blaine, and then adjusted her clothing and began to nurse him. After four months she was practiced enough that she didn't reveal much skin, but Puck stared at her as if she was sitting there topless.
"You do know her husband is sitting right there, right?" Kurt asked dryly.
"Oh. Right." Puck tore his gaze away from Tina and turned to Mike. "So, tell me, man. Are the bigger boobs awesome, or what? And do you get milk when you-"
"Don't make me squirt you," Tina threatened. She and Mike laughed like it was the funniest thing ever, and Puck and Kurt exchanged rather horrified glances. But their horror dissolved into laughter, and inside the tent, it was a little easier to forget about the Cylon occupation happening outside.
"You know," Puck said after the Cohen-Changs left, "her boobs really are awesome now."
"And here I thought you were about to wax poetic on things worth fighting for." Kurt was heating up some soup.
Puck snorted. "Nah. Boobs make for better poetry. Besides, everything's worth fighting for when it's the frakking toasters that are involved." He frowned. "Hey- did I tell you that Nowart's finally out of the Astral Queen?"
"I'd heard," Kurt said, staring at the soup. Nowart had been kept for three days. "Is he okay?"
"What do you think?" Puck asked with a sneer, which didn't really answer the question at all, and left way too much to Kurt's imagination. "Wonder why they haven't picked me up."
"They're only picking up people that were of a certain rank," Kurt lied, his fingers going to the place where his tie should have rested again. "They figured you're too low-ranking to know anything or command anyone. Stay out of trouble and you should be safe."
"Yeah, like I'd do that." Puck lay back on his bed, arms folded behind his head. "Good to know, though, that they don't care what I do."
"Oh, they're watching you," Kurt warned him.
"Good," Puck said. "Let 'em watch."
On to Part 2
Author: lls_mutant
Fandom: Glee/Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Rating: R, for adult themes and violence
Pairing(s): BSG: canon pairings, plus Gaeta/Baltar. Glee: Burt/Carole and Tina/Mike. Cross-fandom: Puck/Ellen, Kurt/Baltar, Santana/various pilots, Sam/Rya Kibby.
Warning(s): War-related violence, abortion issues, BSG-canon suicide, torture, PTSD, character deaths. (Character deaths are both canon BSG deaths and Glee deaths.)
Fic Summary: When the Cylons attacked, the kids of New Directions were on board the Cybele, on their way to the All-Colony Show Choir Competition. Now they're members of the Fleet, being chased by the Cylons and trying to deal with the day-to-day aspects of a life after the worlds end.
Chapter Summary: The Cylons insisted they came to start a new life, a new chapter in Cylon-human history. But it was nothing like that at all.
Notes: This is a 17 part story. Each chapter is from the POV of a Glee character, working through the BSG canon. BSG canon does not change; this ends up being a "average people in the Fleet" story. More information can be found here. Also, huge thanks to kappamaki33, who is betaing this monster.
Chapter Notes: An introduction to new BSG characters can be found here. This is the chapter with torture (surprise, surprise). Also, this chapter contains a lot of discussion about suicide bombers, which comes largely from BSG canon itself. This is another super-long one, but after this they should hopefully go back down to normal size.
Info Post | Chapter 1 (Will) | Chapter 2 (Brittany) | Chapter 3 (Puck) | Chapter 4 (Artie) | Chapter 5 (Santana) | Chapter 6 (Tina) | Chapter 7 (Beiste, Blaine, and Lauren) | Chapter 8 (Rachel) | Chapter 9 (Kurt and Burt (I)) |
Gaius Baltar surrendered to the Cylons.
The news was around the settlement in a matter of minutes. Burt had known there was no hope- the Centurions tramping through the market place and the ships flying overhead had announced that. What he didn't know was what had happened. Was the Fleet destroyed? The Galactica? Was Finn- no. He wasn't going to think about that right now, because there was no reason to believe that the whole settlement wouldn't be blown to bits at any minute. If Finn was dead, he might be the lucky one.
The real question was, what happened now?
Everyone had been ordered back to their tents by a detached voice over the loudspeaker system. Burt and Carole had obeyed, because what else could they do? They had no idea of where anyone else was, and machines who had destroyed the Colonies had a way of making them cooperate.
"We should find the kids," Carole said as they huddled in their tent. "As many of them as we can. We should-"
There was shouting outside, and the rattle of guns, imprecise, accompanied by human shouting, and the answer of the ordered firing of Centurions. Screaming. The fight was over quickly, but the screaming went on. Carole's face was pale, and she reached out for Burt's hand. He gripped hers tightly, mouth pressed closed tightly as the screaming finally began to die away. He wasn't surprised that people would resist, and he didn't blame them, but the message was clear. Fall in line or be killed.
There was one name in the forefront of Burt's mind, one person who he desperately needed to see, to assure himself that he was all right. But Burt had no idea if he could get to Kurt, even if he could get out of this tent. Kurt would be up in Colonial One, which meant…. He had no frakking clue what that meant, except that Burt was terrified.
They heard gunfire again, and he wrapped his arm around Carole as she buried her face in his shoulder. They were just going to have to wait. They had no idea if Finn was alive, they had no idea if Kurt was alive, they had no idea if they themselves would be alive in an hour. They clung to each other, the only comfort they could find in their fear.
***
Baltar's office was crowded with every member of the human government, as well as several Cylons. Kurt sat on the couch between Tom and a Quorum representative, trying to huddle in on himself and to keep from just jumping up and running away. He'd never been so scared in his life, especially with the Cylons standing in the room. A Six was addressing the assemblage.
"This is not a conquering force or an attempt to exterminate the human race," she said. "This is God's plan. He wants us to live in peace, to atone for our sins by forming this new alliance with humanity." She believed. It was clear she believed in this God and her words. And if Kurt only listened to her, he might believe that this was all right. But she wasn't the only one speaking.
"However, let's be honest with ourselves, shall we?" a One broke in. He was an old man, dressed in black, leaning against Baltar's desk. "This 'new society' will take time to be built. Time and… certain cooperation. Compromises. Sacrifices."
"On whose side?" Tom stood up, his arms crossed and his face steady and hard.
A Three raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Whose side will be making compromises and sacrifices? We've heard the guns going off outside already."
"Only in defense," the Three said. "This is a nonviolent and peaceful-"
"There is no nonviolent way to deprive people of their freedom."
"That's not what we're here to do," an Eight said.
Tom raised his head defiantly. "If you think that your living here is in any way in accordance with the people's wishes, you are deluding yourself. There is no way that the people will not rise up against you, and the only way you can accomplish this so-called peaceful coexistence is through violence, coercion, and force. And you are asking us to be party to that."
"Technically, we're not asking," a One pointed out. "As you say, the only way we can accomplish our goals is through violence, coercion, and force, and frankly, those all sound like pretty good ideas to me."
"I won't do it."
Kurt stared up at Tom, frozen. His heart was pounding hard and his mouth went dry, and very suddenly it occurred to him how very, very much he liked his boss and how badly he really did not want him to die.
"Well, now." The One smiled. It was an oily smile, and the meaning behind it was clear. "Are you volunteering to be our first demonstration, Mr. Zarek?"
"Tom." Baltar stood up. "Don't do this. This is not worth your life."
Tom gave a little choked laugh. "Not worth my life, Gaius? You do remember who I am and what I have done, right? Did you ever think that any of it was a ploy? A joke? I have always been willing to sacrifice my life for the good of the people- for their freedoms and their rights. Why should now be any different?"
"Because it won't matter!" Baltar said, looking around at the Cylons frantically. "Because if you die here, they won't leave! It won't accomplish anything!"
"I'll take that chance, Gaius. At least then I shall die with my soul intact."
Don't do this, Kurt wanted to beg him. Please. Don't do this. But the words wouldn't come out of his mouth, and he could only sit on, paralyzed.
Tom broke that paralysis when he touched Kurt's shoulder. "Are you coming with me? Or are you staying here and going along with this madness?"
"My father…" Kurt croaked out, and suddenly that freed him. "My father has a weak heart. If I died…." Was it an excuse or the truth? Kurt didn't know. All he knew was that there was disappointment in Tom's eyes when he looked at him.
"Enough of this," the One said. "Shoot him."
"No!" An Eight and the believer Six both protested. "That's not how this is supposed to work!" the Eight said.
"Well, then, take him to some sort of prison," the One said, waving a hand dismissively. He looked at the Four and Five that had been standing silent all this time. "Do we even have one?"
"I'm sure the humans have some sort of disciplinary measures," the Four said. They looked at Baltar.
Baltar's shoulders slumped. "There's the Astral Queen," he said. "A former prison ship. We've been using that for detainment purposes."
"It will have to do for now. Throw him into a cell on this Astral Queen, and we'll deal with him later. Anyone else?"
The rest of the administration remained silent. Kurt couldn't look anyone in the eye, but if he'd been able to he would have noticed that no one else could, either. The Four and the Five flanked Tom, who held his wrists out in a resigned sort of way. Kurt was a little surprised that Tom didn't go kicking and screaming, but maybe he'd realized that there was some truth in what Baltar said, that his death would accomplish nothing. The room was silent as Tom was led out, and Kurt didn't realize he was shaking until the door slammed.
The One watched them go, and then turned back to face the human administration. "Good. Now that that's settled, let's get to work."
***
"Carole Hudson."
Burt and Carole both froze as a man who looked exactly like Simon O'Neill threw open their tent flap and walked in, the morning sun behind him. It had been a long, terrifying night spent isolated in their tent with no clear idea of what was happening. Burt tightened his grip on Carole's hand as she stood to answer.
"Yes?"
The Four looked at a clipboard in his hand. "You're management in the water treatment facility."
Carole drew herself up. "Yes."
"Come with me."
Burt jumped to his feet. "Where are you taking her?"
The Four smiled, just a little bit, like he saw Burt's fear and thought it ridiculous, even though he knew the root cause. "To work, of course. She'll be home in twelve hours."
Burt automatically glanced at his watch. It was about the time Carole would normally leave. "I'll hold you to that," he growled.
"As long as no one makes trouble, you're fine," the Four said. "Hudson. Let's go."
"Wait." Burt grabbed his own coat. "I want to come with you."
"Excuse me?" the Four asked.
"I want to know that you're telling me the truth, and I'm not gonna believe it unless I see her go into that plant with my own eyes. You can walk me to work after, if you want."
The Four shrugged. "Fine. If you insist." He held the tent flap open and bowed mockingly. "After you."
Carole slipped her arm through Burt's and he covered her hand, and they walked through the streets of New Caprica with the Four right behind them. Carole was pressed close against him, and his own heart was pounding so hard he was sure the Four could hear it. There were others in the streets, both human and Cylon, and both skinjobs and Centurions, but it didn't have the air of business as usual.
The Four didn't redirect them at all as they walked to the water treatment facility, and when they arrived, he inclined his head for Carole to go in. So it was true. Burt breathed a little easier. Carole leaned in and he kissed her goodbye, then the Four cleared his throat and Carole headed into the plant. Safe.
Brittany was in the shop when Burt arrived. The Four left, uninterested ever since his main errand was complete, and as soon as he was gone Burt crossed the shop and hugged Brit to him. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Brittany said, pulling away. "I'm just- she's dead, isn't she? Santana?"
"Hey, we don't know that. They could have jumped away."
"They wouldn't," Brittany said. "Santana wouldn't leave me here."
Burt drew a deep breath. "They would," he said. "It stands to reason, right? That they'd run away and come back to get us later? We've got to believe that, Brit, that they got away. Okay?" He cupped her cheek, and Brittany nodded. "Good girl. Now come on. We've got work to do." Burt wasn't sure if anyone would pick up the orders or not, but if nothing else working would keep him and Brittany busy and their minds off what was going on outside. He pulled out a space heater that they were piecing together from old parts. "Come on. Let's see what we can do with this bad boy, okay?"
The work wouldn't help much, but it might just be enough to get them through the day.
***
Kurt huddled on the couch in Tom's office, taking deep breaths and reminding himself that he was still alive, even after an entire day and night of Cylon occupation. Not only was he alive, but he'd looked out the windows and there was no wholesale slaughter in the streets. There were humans moving around down there. And even Tom was still alive. Kurt shuddered. He didn't want to think of Tom, and the disappointment on his face when Kurt had stayed in the office, not following him to the Astral Queen in a show of rebellion.
The door opened, and Kurt stiffened and automatically turned to see who was coming in. It was one of the Fives. He sauntered in, looking around the room with an air of propriety. He ran his hand over Tom's desk, made a face, and then looked around again. His gaze fell on Kurt and he grinned. Kurt drew back.
"Hello."
The Five could kill him, and then what would happen to his father? He had to speak. "Hello," Kurt managed to croak out.
"This office is terrible," the Five complained, his hands clasped behind him as he rocked back on his heels. "Old, awkward, and clunky. It's such a shame that humans don't have any appreciation of aesthetic flare." He smiled again. "In fact, the only thing worthwhile in this office is you." The Five stepped closer, eyeing him predatorily. Kurt shrank back against the couch as the Five came nearer and nearer, stopping well within Kurt's personal space. He reached out and fingered the lapel of Kurt's blazer, and Kurt's breath stopped completely.
"This jacket," the Five said, "it's really quite remarkable. I love the color."
It was the last thing Kurt expected to hear. "Thank you."
"Really. The red is just fantastic." The Five sighed and stepped back, and Kurt could breathe again. The Five clapped his hands together.
"So," he said, when Kurt didn't say anything, "I've been informed that you come with the office. Which is a nice touch, I admit. Not all of us rate an assistant."
"Oh." Well, if he was an assistant still, he wasn't dying. "What do you do… sir?"
"Sir." The Five brightened at that. "I like that. Well… Kurt, am I right? Kurt. You and I are going to be running the distributions."
Kurt's brows furrowed. "What does that entail?"
"Rations, mainly. Supply. A lot of other tedious but necessary jobs. A waste of my flair, and apparently of yours, but we want to make sure everything is fair, don't we?" There didn't seem to be room to disagree, so Kurt nodded. "Good. Now." The Five pulled out Tom's chair and sat down. Kurt cringed and looked away. "Let's get to work."
***
The day crept by. For the most part, people didn't come into the shop, although Burt wasn't surprised when Galen Tyrol did.
"You guys okay?" Galen asked. Burt nodded, and Galen leaned closer. "You heard the Fleet jumped away?"
"They really got away?" Relief flooded him.
"Yeah. Don't know if it'll do us any good, but they're out there."
"I want to believe that," Burt said. Not that it would do much good. Two battlestars couldn't do much against the entire Cylon Fleet.
"Take care of yourselves and hold tight," Tyrol said before he slipped off again. Already, Burt could see that this man was a soldier, and he was gearing up for some sort of fight. Humanity wouldn't bow that easily.
As the afternoon wore on, Burt and Brittany heard other sounds from outside. People in the streets, some even talking. Centurions marching by. The siren-type noise from Colonial One to indicate the end of the shift.
"Should we go home?" Brittany asked.
Burt frowned. "Maybe. But maybe we should…" he looked outside into the streets. People were moving about. Their heads were down and their hands were in pockets, but they were moving, unhampered by the Cylons. "Maybe we should go over to the high school tent."
Brittany nodded and pulled on her coat. "You don't think the Fleet will have gone around to the other side of New Caprica, do you? Like an eclipse?"
"The Cylons would pick them up this close," Burt said. He pulled on his jacket and adjusted his hat. "Let's go. And stay close to me, you got it?"
They stepped out into the street, and even though nothing was happening, Burt cringed. It felt as if they would be shot at any moment. But no one seemed to notice them, and they joined the traffic of other people walking.
The high school tent wasn't far away. Burt didn't know why they were headed there- it wasn't like there had been any sort of message- but it seemed right. And when they entered, he knew it was right, because not only were Will, Shannon, and Sue there, but Carole, Sam, Rya, Rachel, Lauren, Puck, and Mike and Tina with Blaine. The only two missing were Kurt and Quinn.
"Burt." Carole hugged him first, followed by Shannon, and Sue draped an arm around Brittany.
"Everyone okay?" Burt asked.
"Any word about Kurt?" Carole asked. Burt shook his head, and Shannon clapped him on the shoulder silently while Schuester pressed his lips together sadly. Burt wanted to yell that Kurt wasn't dead, but he had no idea.
"A whole lot of them came into Supply and took over," Rachel said. "They were awful- just awful."
"What do you expect?" Lauren asked. "They're toasters."
"But to see them up close like that! I never realized they were so creepy." Rachel shivered.
"How'd you not know? You knew one," Puck said. "I saw that Biers chick from TV walking around. She's a frakking Cylon."
"So's the priest that married us," Rya said, looking up at Sam. "Although we've known that one for a while."
"The Centurions are the worst," Tina said. "I can handle the ones that look human."
"They kept talking about how they're coming in peace," Mike said hopefully. "Maybe it won't be so bad."
"We've already seen them shoot to kill," Sue said, breaking in and staring Mike down. "There's no use pretending. If you all want to live in delusion about great societies and 'we come in peace', be my guest. But let's not fool ourselves and think that people aren't going to die."
"I was just saying," Mike mumbled, looking away. Tina rubbed his arm, and Burt couldn't blame him. Yeah, it would be nice to believe that the Cylons meant all that stuff about peace. But Sue was right: it already wasn't happening.
The tent flap opened and everybody went on edge, relaxing again when they saw that it was Kurt coming in. Burt sighed with relief, especially as Kurt came right to him. Burt hugged him tightly enough that Kurt's back cracked.
Kurt pulled back first. "Are you okay, Dad?"
"Me? I'm not the one up there in Colonial One. What's going on up there?"
"Is everyone dead?" Brittany asked. "Are you a ghost?"
Kurt shook his head. His face was pale, but he looked unhurt. Knowing Kurt was safe and that Finn probably was too and Carole was here and everyone else… a weight lifted off Burt's heart a little, and he could breathe again.
Schuester cleared his throat. "I'm glad you guys are all okay," he said, and Burt realized he was slipping into that teacher mode of his. "And since everyone's here, I think we should talk about how we can keep it that way."
"You think that's gonna happen?" Puck said. "Because I can tell you, I'm not sitting tight while those frakking toasters crush us." Lauren nodded.
Schuester sighed. "Look. Puck. I know that you-"
"You know what?" Puck asked. "Just in case you've forgotten, Mr. Schue, none of us are kids anymore. I'm twenty-one. I don't have to answer to you just because you're a teacher."
"I didn't say that you did! But you have a tendency to be impulsive, and that's going to get you killed!" Schuester looked around at the whole group. "The last thing I want- the last thing- is for anything to happen to any one of you."
"But what's going to happen?" Rachel asked. "How long is this going to be?"
"I don't know, Rachel."
"They think they're here for good," Kurt said. "They think they can live in peace with us."
"Like hell they can," Puck growled.
"I didn't say it would work. I just said that that was their goal."
A lot of arguing and discussion broke out, with people worrying and trying to reassure themselves that this wasn't going to be as terrible as they all knew it was going to be. Burt took the moment to take Kurt over to the side. Carole followed.
"Listen," he said, staring at Kurt like it was the last time he'd ever see him. "I don't like you being up there on Colonial One."
"I know, but I can't just quit. They won't let me."
"I know." Burt cut that off before Kurt could go any further. "And that's exactly what I want to talk to you about." Burt took Kurt by the shoulders. "Look. Whatever happens during this occupation, you're a kid, okay? You're my kid. And you're gonna have to do what you have to do to stay alive."
Kurt's eyes widened and he looked over at Carole. Carole nodded. "Your dad's right, honey," she said. "Working in the administration and so close to them…" she bit her lip. "You're in more danger than any of us."
"I'll be all right," Kurt said, but without any conviction.
"You will be." Burt's fingers tightened around Kurt's shoulders. "Because whatever you have to do to stay alive up there, you do it. Got that? You do whatever it takes."
"But-"
"Kurt. You're a low-level assistant. You're a kid. They're not going to ask you to do anything too big," Burt said. Carole nodded. "They're going to roll over you and make their own decisions, and if you argue or try to play the hero, they're going to shoot you and find someone else who will do it. You got that? You keep your head down and you do what they tell you and you stay alive."
Kurt looked from him to Carole, and his face looked so desperate and upset. Like he would be asked to shoot someone or walk through the settlement snatching food out of the hands of orphans. Burt had no clear idea how the occupation was going to go, but he did know that there were a lot of people they'd turn to before they looked to Kurt to do stuff like that. "Just keep your head down, okay?" he repeated. "Promise me."
"I promise."
Burt pulled him close and hugged him tight, and then released him to Carole. All the tension of the last few months was gone from the air between the two of them. No one knew what was coming with this occupation, but one thing Burt and Carole both knew was that the most important thing about it was getting their family through it alive.
***
People were beginning to leave. Kurt hung back. On the one hand, he didn't want to remember that humiliating morning a week ago involving Baltar. On the other hand, Sue deserved to know. Kurt pulled her over to the corner of the tent as the people who remained continued their discussions.
"What did you want to talk to me about, Porcelain?" Sue asked, once they were out of earshot of everyone else.
Kurt took a deep breath. "They took Tom away," he said, his voice shaking. "They've got him over on the Astral Queen."
"So?"
"So? But you- the other day- I saw-"
"You saw me leaving a booty call. That's all it was." She crossed her arms and stared straight at him, challenging him. "I'm not sure what you want me to do with this information."
The words exploded out of Kurt. "Get him out!"
"And how do you expect me to that?"
"I don't know! If I knew, I'd do it! I've already lost Blaine twice- I can't do the same thing with Tom!" To his horror, Kurt felt tears welling up. Sue gawked at him for a long moment, and then snorted and put a patronizing hand on Kurt's shoulder.
"I don't care if he gets out or not. But you obviously do. The best I can tell you is don't call too much attention to it. Don't let the Cylons think he's too important to you, or they will use it, just like I used Lee Adama's famous love of noodles to get him to hand over a small arsenal to me when we settled on this craphole. Worry about yourself right now. Because up there on that tin can, you're going to be the one who needs it."
Kurt nodded. He noticed his father looking in their direction and did his best to pull himself together. The last thing Kurt wanted was for his dad to worry about him. More than he would, anyway. He took a deep breath, wiped his face on the cuffs of his sleeve, and nodded. "Thank you."
Tom and Blaine were both heavy on his mind as he made his way home, tense and nervous as he walked through the streets. If Blaine was here, he'd at least have someone to hold on to. Kurt closed his eyes momentarily. If Blaine was here… Kurt couldn't even imagine how being pinned down by the Cylons on a planet would affect him. It would be like being plunged right back into the hell that was Caprica, only worse. The thought choked him, because he really did not want to think that maybe it was better that Blaine was dead than here for this. He forced that thought sternly from his mind and entered his tent.
Quinn was sitting on his bed.
"What are you doing here?" Kurt blurted, because Quinn was the one person who hadn't gone to the high school tent. "Not that I'm not glad to see you alive, but-"
"The Fours are in the medical tent," Quinn said. She wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands, and Kurt realized she'd been crying. Very delicately and gracefully, but crying all the same. "One even told me to call him Simon."
"Oh."
"Is this what it was like for you?" Quinn asked, and Kurt winced. "Is this what it's like to love someone and think they're dead and then to have them come back, but not really? He looked just like the Simon I worked with. Every detail. But he didn't know me. That's when I knew he wasn't real."
"Then it's not the same," Kurt said. "Blaine was real."
"So was Simon. The Simon I worked with, I mean. He was real," Quinn said. She wiped her nose and lifted her chin. "It turns out he's really dead. He didn't resurrect." She shuddered on the word.
"You asked?"
Quinn shrugged. "Wouldn't you?" Her eyes bored into Kurt, and he sighed.
"Yes." He sat down next to her. "So what are the Cylons doing in the med tent?"
"Being doctors, if you can believe that," Quinn said. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. Kurt impulsively reached over put a hand over them. Quinn gave him a dirty look, but put them away. "They want to know more about human life, and to be fair, which I don't want to be, they seem to be pretty good at it already."
Kurt didn't even want to think about how the Cylons had come by that knowledge. "Is it all of them?"
"No. Just the Fours." Quinn shook her head. "You'd think one or two of the other numbers would be interested, but it's just the Fours."
"It's all of them up on Colonial One," Kurt said. "In fact, I-" He was interrupted by Puck exploding into the tent.
"Kurt. Quinn." Puck nodded at them and went straight to his bed, dropping to his knees and looking under the mattress. Kurt and Quinn watched him like he was insane.
"Please tell me we don't have roaches," Kurt said. "Believe me, I think that would be the final thing to tip me over the edge."
"Roaches?" Quinn asked. "Really? That would be what tips you over the edge today?"
"Aha!" Puck was triumphant. "I knew I still had it."
"What is that?" Kurt demanded.
"A gun, dumbass," Puck said.
"I wasn't being literal," Kurt said dryly, but he eyed the gun in Puck's hands with trepidation. It was a big one, too, bigger than the pistol that Puck carried for security and left locked on the Astral Queen when he wasn't on duty. "What I really meant was where did it come from?"
"Then you should have asked that instead. It was a souvenir. All the Marines took a few. I've got more." This time, Puck lay flat on his stomach on the dirt floor and pulled out a big box from under his bed. He flung it open and smiled. Kurt leaned forward and saw several boxes of ammunition, some grenades, and two smaller guns. Puck's smile was huge. "Come to papa, babies."
"What are you doing? You're going to get in trouble," Quinn said.
Puck looked up at her, all traces of his smile gone. "Do you really think that people are just going to lie down and let the frakking toasters walk all over us?"
"It's not like there's much we can do," Quinn said. "The Fleet jumped away."
"So? There's people on the ground."
"With what? Are you planning on throwing rocks at the Cylons?"
"Did you just miss the guns I pulled out from under my bed? I was kind of planning on shooting those."
"And getting yourself killed." Kurt was on Quinn's side. "What are those guns going to do, Puckerman? The Cylons resurrect."
"Yeah, but I hear it hurts a lot when they die." Puck didn't smile as he said it. He put the gun back in the case, clicked it shut, and shoved it back under the bed. "And you two can stop gaping at me like that. I'm not going to go out into the street screaming and taking Cylons out left and right."
"Then what are you going to do?" Kurt asked.
"Fight 'em till we can't fight 'em anymore," Puck said, sitting back on his heels.
"That doesn't even make sense," Quinn said. "How are you going to fight them?"
Puck just grinned. "You'll see."
***
Burt had told Kurt to keep his head down and do whatever it took to stay alive, but that was for Kurt. Burt wasn't in the habit of letting people push him around, and neither was Carole. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that people would be planning to get rid of the Cylons already, and both Burt and Carole wanted in. It only took one short conversation with Galen to find out who was running this operation.
Burt had heard about Colonel Tigh from Finn and Mercedes, but had never met him. From their attitude and jokes Burt had somehow pictured Tigh as fat, with a bad comb-over and a slightly vacant expression, even though he'd seen the man on television. He wasn't quite expecting the hard, lean man who Galen introduced them to, whose eyes raked over both Burt and Carole assessingly, immediately cataloguing how they could be of the most use.
"Either of you know how to use a gun?" was the first real sentence he said.
"Not so much," Burt admitted.
"Yes." Carole's voice was clear and definite. Burt blinked, amazed. Carole shrugged. "I did biathalon back in high school. I got pretty good with a rifle."
"What kind?" Tigh asked.
"I liked the Shilen DGV."
Tigh smiled. "Good taste. Anything else?"
"Chris and I used to go on dates to the shooting range, especially when he was in the Fleet. Handguns and rifles."
Of course. Now that she said it, Burt remembered Carole mentioning both of those bits way back. It just wasn't something they talked about. Tigh was really interested though. "You any good as a shot?"
"Had to aim to miss a few times, or Chris got annoyed."
Galen and Burt both laughed at that, and even Tigh grinned. "Good. You'll be of use, then. And you?" he said, turning to Burt.
"I could learn," Burt offered.
Tigh snorted. "Where? You think the Cylons are going to let us set up firing ranges for practice?"
"Fair enough. But there are more ways of taking out toasters than just guns."
Galen nodded. "He's right about that, Colonel. Some of them are more efficient, too."
"Efficient as you can be against an enemy that doesn't die." Tigh scowled, but his scowl was one of thought, not of disgust. "You're right, Chief. And I'm guessing a mechanic could figure out some clever ways of wiring things up, am I right?"
"Let's talk clear. You mean like bombs, right?"
"I mean bombs. I mean remote triggers. You think you can do that sort of stuff?"
"Don't know much about bombs, but I've picked up a lot about wiring," Burt said. "And that's all stuff you can learn in a tent. And I've got a workshop and a lot of tools that the Cylons aren't using yet."
Tigh nodded. "All right. You're in. We'll be in touch."
***
Somewhere in his head, Kurt had visions of himself, Gaeta, and Baltar rising above their differences and banding together under Cylon oppression. It took all of three days for him to realize that wasn't going to happen.
Baltar was worse than useless. As much as Kurt hated it, he could understand why Baltar surrendered. Resistance would not have sent the Cylons away. But the surrender pulled all the life from Baltar. He retreated behind his desk, mumbling, drinking, and definitely not showering. But even that horrid offense against hygiene was nothing compared to the fact that Baltar immediately started sleeping with a Six.
The Six was called Caprica for some bizarre reason. Kurt didn't ask why. All he knew was that she was the most fervent believer in the idea that the Cylons were here to live in peace with humans. She was the one who talked about God's will with a glow in her eyes and sincerity on her face, and Kurt hated her. But Baltar… it didn't even take the end of the first day for Baltar to have her back in his bedroom. There would be no resistance to the Cylons at all from Baltar.
Gaeta was another matter. He hated the Cylons too, Kurt could see it written all over him. But he cooperated, which made sense. The administration had to do what they were told, because otherwise the Cylons would just kill or imprison them and put other people in their place, accomplishing nothing. After all, that was what had happened to Tom. And Kurt knew Gaeta didn't enjoy it. But instead of reaching out and finding any sort of companionship among the humans, Gaeta retreated into himself until he was just his job. He was just an empty shell following orders, and Kurt couldn't speak to him at all.
No Gaeta, no Baltar, no Tom. The last one made Kurt's heart physically ache. He wasn't even sure if Tom was still alive, although he supposed he was. In the few days that they'd been here, the Cylons had taken over the incomplete apartment building and already made huge strides on the construction. The walls were already rising higher and a huge fence was put up around the place. Kurt had heard that the Cylons would live there, but a big block of what was already built was being converted into a detention center to house prisoners. If the Cylons wanted people like Tom dead, there would be no need for prisons.
Tom was on his mind when he trudged into the office, ready to sit at his old desk with a new boss. "That's an interesting sweater," Doral said as Kurt sat down.
Kurt didn't answer. It was something Tom often said, and generally led to a bit of teasing about the way he dressed, and with this bright yellow sweater, a "serious discussion" on why the bright orange of Tom's prison jumpsuit was unacceptable but Kurt looking like a lemon was highly fashionable. It was a show of affection, and Kurt knew it. He didn't want it corrupted by this… this toaster. He clenched his jaw and stared down at his desk.
"I mean it," Doral continued, apparently sincere. "It really is interesting. The color is very compelling. It's something that many of the other models don't understand- bold colors make a statement." Kurt looked at Doral's hideous, badly-cut blue jacket and said nothing. Doral noticed him looking. "You agree, don't you?"
Kurt took a deep breath. "I agree."
"But you don't think much of what I'm wearing." Kurt wasn't sure how to answer that. He fumbled for an answer, and Doral sat back, eyes glinting at his confusion. "Don't worry," he finally said. "You won't get shot if you tell me you don't like it." Apparently the relief on his face answered Doral's question about the jacket. Doral looked down, fingering the lapels. "What's wrong with it?"
Could Cylons be sincere? Kurt wasn't sure, but there was something on Doral's face that made Kurt think he really wanted to know. "It's not the color," Kurt heard himself saying. "It's the cut. And what you have it paired with. The seams are shoddy, the shoulders don't fit right, the collar of the shirt is too high, and the pants take the color from bold to forcibly reminding one of toilet bowl cleaner."
"Well, I did ask." Doral didn't look pleased, but Kurt was pretty sure it wasn't a dangerous sort of displeasure. He narrowed his eyes, tapping his fingers against the desk, and studying Kurt. "So what makes it different that you can wear such a bright, bold color and pull it off? I don't understand."
"There's more to it than color." The words came out against his will as Doral stood up and paced, listening intently. "Like I said, fit matters. So does the quality of the fabric. The cut of the garment. What it's paired with."
"Interesting." Doral came to the front of Kurt's desk. "I'm not sure that I agree, but I do find it interesting." Doral leaned forward and touched Kurt's sweater. Kurt flinched back, and Doral raised one eyebrow mockingly. The message was clear- stay still. Kurt froze, and Doral ran his fingers over the fabric. He tapped Kurt's chest in a manner that forcibly reminded Kurt of that day that Karofsky had taken the wedding cake topper, and then stepped back. Silence hung between them. Kurt wanted to look away because Doral's expression terrified him, but was afraid to look away because he had no idea what was about to happen. But Doral stepped back. "Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to get back to work?"
Kurt turned back to his desk, letting his breath out in a relieved whoosh as Doral sat back down. The papers shook in his hands, and it took a great deal of focus to read the words. But after a while, the monotony of the paperwork calmed him.
The office was ponderously quiet. Even when he and Tom had both been absorbed in their work, it hadn't been like this. There'd been the rustle of pages turning and the sounds of pens or Kurt's typewriter, coffee cups clinking and occasional noises from either of them. Doral was silent. It made all those little normal office sounds so much louder.
The morning dragged on, and Kurt began to relax a little more. There were forms and memos and notes from Cylon meetings that he was expected to type up and distribute. Kurt noticed sourly that a race of machines had taken very quickly to bureaucracy. He finished typing a long, involved memo on ration procedures, and then picked up the next item. It was a list. He automatically loaded the paper in and began typing. It wasn't until he was halfway through that he realized it was a list of names.
"Is something wrong?" Doral asked.
Kurt realized he'd stopped typing and was staring that the list in shock. "What is this?"
Doral got up and looked over Kurt's shoulder. "Oh, that." He leaned down, examining the names that Kurt had already typed. "There are some citizens that we want to keep a closer eye on, that's all. Some that we need to get to know, that might require… extra convincing to make sure this 'grand civilization' goes smoothly. A small matter, really."
A lot of the names were familiar, but Kurt couldn't place them. Fischer. Maldonaldo. Nowart. He didn't know any of them, and couldn't figure out where he'd heard them until he saw right name in bold handwriting. Puckerman, Noah. They were all Marines, and Puck's name was right there on that list.
"You don't have to question him," Kurt blurted. "I live with him. I know him."
Doral raised his eyebrows. "Who?" He leaned over closer so that he could see which name Kurt was pointing to. His chest brushed against Kurt's shoulder, but Kurt steeled himself against flinching away. "Noah Puckerman," Doral read. "Well, he sounds like a very respectable young man, just from his name and your passionate plea. Nevertheless, I think a conversation is in order."
"What are you going to do to him?"
"Haven't you heard the will of God? We come in peace." Doral snorted. He still didn't stand up. "We're just going to talk. We might have to hold him for a few nights-"
"A few nights?!"
"But I'm sure he'll answer our questions satisfactorily."
Questions. Kurt could only guess what kind of questions those would be. And like Tom, Puck would rather die before cooperating. Kurt knew that- the evidence was in a box of guns under Puck's bed and a grim look on Puck's face as he told Quinn and Kurt he had every intention of fighting. Puck couldn't die. Kurt had lost Blaine, he'd probably lost Tom… he wasn't losing Puck, too.
"You don't have to question him," Kurt said, turning in his seat. "You don't. I- I know Puckerman. I promise."
"You promise." Doral leaned back a little, a mocking smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "You promise. That's touching, if not remotely useful."
"What would be useful?" Kurt blurted.
Doral leaned back even further, his eyes raking over Kurt's torso. Kurt swallowed hard, but then Doral reached out and fingered the fabric of Kurt's sweater again. "Bold colors," he said. "And I do see what you mean about the fabric."
"My sweater?" Kurt hesitated for only a second. He loved that sweater, but up against Puck being tossed into prison and possibly dying, the choice was simple. "You can have it. I'll even alter it so it fits you perfectly. Just please- believe me when I say you can keep Puckerman off your list."
"Is this a bribe, Mr. Hummel?" Kurt's throat closed with fear that he'd misread the situation, but he nodded. Doral smiled. "Good. Just so we're clear." He extended his hand. Kurt fumbled with the buttons and slipped the garment off his shoulders, handing it over. Doral put it on, an air of satisfaction about him.
"It's a little big in the shoulders," Kurt said. "I can take it in for you tomorrow. I'll bring my sewing kit in. My real one, I mean- not just the one I have for emergencies."
"Mmm." Doral was twisting around, trying to take in the effect. Kurt privately thought it looked just as ridiculous on him as the teal jacket had, but Doral was so pleased that Kurt wasn't going to say anything. "Finish your work," Doral said, sitting back down. "And make sure you leave that name off the list when you type it." He winked.
Kurt exhaled shakily and began typing. Name after name, some of which he remembered from Puck's stories. People for "questioning." But he'd kept Puck from that. Kurt decided he had to focus on that and not think about anything else, otherwise he wouldn't be able to handle it. With grim determination, he applied himself to the list.
***
Burt knew that he and Carole were far from the only ones willing to fight against the Cylons. There were military types, there were the survivors from Caprica, and there were people like Sue. There was a whole frakking resistance being organized. Yet there were no secret meetings or attacks or anything else. "So what are we waiting for?" Burt asked one day when he and Galen were working on the crews.
"Firepower," Galen said with a sigh. "Manpower. You hear about the Marines that mustered out?"
"No."
Galen stepped in closer and lowered his voice. "Bunch of them all got picked up two days ago."
"All of them?"
"Nah, they left a few of them." Galen picked his concrete smoother back up and went back to work on the floor they were working on. "A lot of them have gotten right back out again, too. But they've kept a few of them."
Burt remembered he'd seen Puck that morning, now that he thought about it, and he relaxed a little. "How many did they keep?"
"I don't know," Galen admitted. "I tried asking a couple of guys that I know in the administration, but fat lot of good that did. I know of three that are missing for sure, but there could be more. They took Anders' wife, too."
"Frak."
"Yeah. And it's got people scared. Not just civilians, but people who were military. People we were counting on." He hit the smoother against his hand. "Plus, we've only got so many weapons."
Burt sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah. Guess I see the point."
"Listen," Galen leaned in closer, "I've got a couple of messages from the Colonel."
"I'm listening."
"One's not so much a message. It's a set of plans." Galen pulled a packet out of his pocket and handed it to Burt. "Tents don't really make for good places to plan, or to hide things. The Colonel's got his eye on your shop."
"On my shop?" Burt unfolded the plans, and then frowned. They were plans for dig-outs, cellars and tunnels dug under the earth. "Not so crazy about it being my shop," Burt said. "What about my tent?"
"Too far out of the network that we've got." Galen looked around. "What's wrong with your shop?"
"Brittany. Look, I'm willing to go into this, and so's Carole. But Brittany needs to stay out of it." He saw a set look coming over Galen's face and held up a hand to stop him. "It's not all the kids I'm arguing about here, Tyrol. But you've met Brit. You think she can handle a secret resistance?"
Galen reeled back a little as he thought about it. "Yeah. No, yeah, you're right. But if you hide the entrance-"
"Yeah." Burt was studying the plans again. "I'll work something out. What else?"
Galen stepped back, and he looked uncomfortable. "Your son."
"What about my son?"
"The Colonel knows he's in the administration. He wanted me to feel you out about if there's any chance he could get us information-"
"No."
"Burt. He's in one hell of a position."
"No." Burt had to strain to keep calm. "Kurt stays out of it."
"He can't just stay out of it," Galen said, pacing again. "He's already in danger just by being on this frakking planet."
"And I'm not putting him in any more."
"Burt-"
"Look, both Carole and I are going into this with our eyes open, okay? We know the risks. We're talking death here. And if they're picking up people already and holding them, we're probably not talking the quick and painless kind, right?" Galen nodded grimly. "So you can have me. You can have my wife. But the one thing I want from this is my son to be safe, as safe as he can be. You got that?"
"The Colonel's not going to like that."
"Yeah? Well, is Cally in this thing?" Galen looked away. "What about the Colonel's wife? That's what I thought."
"All right, I get it." Galen composed himself. "The last thing was this list. The Colonel wanted to see if you could get your hands on any of these things."
Burt took the list and unfolded it. It was a list of materials and tools. "I've got some of them in my shop," he said, scanning down it. "I'll see what I can do about the rest."
"You two," a One said sternly, glaring at Burt and Galen, "enough chatter." Immediately, they both went back to work. It made Burt sick to take orders from a Cylon, but he grit his teeth and got on with it. After all, people were being picked up and questioned. There was nothing good that could come of that. Burt pushed the what-ifs from his mind and focused on his work. The present was terrifying enough without adding to it.
***
By the end of a week and a half, it was amazing how much things had settled down and into a routine. Kurt was still on edge, but now he had a better idea of what to expect. The streets didn't feel any safer- nothing did- but either he was getting desensitized to it, or just learning to live with the constant threat. Work felt slightly better, but he was still glad to leave the office. Everyone in New Directions was settling down, too. For the most part, their jobs hadn't changed much, although Puck was no longer working any sort of security and had been moved to one of the construction gangs.
He knew that someone was visiting their tent even before he entered because he could hear Puck laughing. The laughter sounded out of place after two weeks of Cylon occupation, but it made sense when Kurt pushed aside the flap and saw Puck with baby Blaine on his lap. Puck was holding Blaine in a sitting position and making faces at him, and Blaine kept giggling and awkwardly reaching his chubby hands in the general direction of Puck's nose.
"So you should have seen Tina today," Mike was saying to Puck, looking at his wife proudly.
"Yeah? What happened?"
"We had skinjobs coming into the daycare," Mike said. "It's really…" he paused, searching for the word.
"It's really disturbing and creepy," Tina said flatly. "They come in and they stare at the kids like they've never seen one before. Which," she added with a sigh, "I suppose they haven't."
Puck frowned. "Of course they have. Haven't they? Hey! You got it!" Blaine managed to grab Puck's nose. "You little- ow!" Puck disengaged Blaine's hand. "He's got quite a grip. But what's the big thing about rugrats?"
"Cylons can't reproduce," Kurt reminded him as he unbuttoned his overcoat. "That's why everything with that Eight and Helo was such a big deal, remember?"
"Oh. That's right. Hey," Puck frowned, studying Kurt. "Weren't you wearing a tie this morning?"
"You actually noticed?" Kurt was surprised. And also not at all willing to answer the question, so he turned to Tina. "What exactly did you say to the Cylons?"
"She told them to frak off," Mike said proudly.
"Not quite like that. I told them that it upsets the children to have outsiders around and a lot of other stuff like that." Tina looked pleased, but Kurt's blood ran cold.
"How did they take it?" he asked, trying to look casual as he took off his overcoat and hung it up neatly.
Tina shrugged. "They didn't drag me out in the street and shoot me, obviously. They listened."
"What else was she going to do?" Puck demanded. "Stand there and let those toasters gawk?"
"I didn't say that," Kurt said. He sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled his knees up. He raised his hand to touch his tie and then remembered it was gone. "Just… be careful."
"Of course I'm being careful," Tina snorted. "I asked nicely. Firmly, but nicely."
"And they've shot people for less than that," Kurt reminded her.
"Nice, Kurt." Mike looked uncomfortable at the thought, like he'd been doing his best to forget about it. Kurt sighed.
"Ignore me," he said. "It's a long day up there on Colonial One."
"Can’t you quit?" Tina asked sympathetically.
"Tom did," Kurt said. "Look where that got him."
"Well, not that dramatically," Tina said. "More like… maybe ask to do a different job? Get a transfer into something that's not on Colonial One?"
Before Kurt could answer, Puck yelped at the baby. "What is he doing?"
"Oh, he's rooting," Mike explained cheerfully. "Trying to nurse."
Puck let out a strangled noise and extended the baby. "Get him off!" Tina laughed and took Blaine, and then adjusted her clothing and began to nurse him. After four months she was practiced enough that she didn't reveal much skin, but Puck stared at her as if she was sitting there topless.
"You do know her husband is sitting right there, right?" Kurt asked dryly.
"Oh. Right." Puck tore his gaze away from Tina and turned to Mike. "So, tell me, man. Are the bigger boobs awesome, or what? And do you get milk when you-"
"Don't make me squirt you," Tina threatened. She and Mike laughed like it was the funniest thing ever, and Puck and Kurt exchanged rather horrified glances. But their horror dissolved into laughter, and inside the tent, it was a little easier to forget about the Cylon occupation happening outside.
"You know," Puck said after the Cohen-Changs left, "her boobs really are awesome now."
"And here I thought you were about to wax poetic on things worth fighting for." Kurt was heating up some soup.
Puck snorted. "Nah. Boobs make for better poetry. Besides, everything's worth fighting for when it's the frakking toasters that are involved." He frowned. "Hey- did I tell you that Nowart's finally out of the Astral Queen?"
"I'd heard," Kurt said, staring at the soup. Nowart had been kept for three days. "Is he okay?"
"What do you think?" Puck asked with a sneer, which didn't really answer the question at all, and left way too much to Kurt's imagination. "Wonder why they haven't picked me up."
"They're only picking up people that were of a certain rank," Kurt lied, his fingers going to the place where his tie should have rested again. "They figured you're too low-ranking to know anything or command anyone. Stay out of trouble and you should be safe."
"Yeah, like I'd do that." Puck lay back on his bed, arms folded behind his head. "Good to know, though, that they don't care what I do."
"Oh, they're watching you," Kurt warned him.
"Good," Puck said. "Let 'em watch."
On to Part 2