Fic: Silence before the storm
Silence before the Storm
Chapter 5;
beta: amazing:
trickalicious78
Previous chapter
Stagnation. Everything around seems benumbed and still. Even the air seems still, and unmoving. It seems like there is no wind, no movement around. The air is thick and heavy, it clings to you) and sticks heavily to your skin, as you lay on the floor. The carpet under you feels rough against your skin, but it is the only thing that indicates that you are still alive. The crude material helps you to concentrate, as you try to stay awake.
You try to avoid dreams. Try to stay awake as long as possible. But it gets harder and harder. As now they are coming each day. And each day they are filling your body with drugs. Drugs, that make your body feel heavy, your dreams become nightmares, and your waking hours (are) dull and painful.
But as time passes they come more often, and your body can’t process all the drugs they are giving you, so the nightmares are your constant companions even when you are awake. There are moments when the dull ache is replaced with sobriety and coherence, but they are so rare, sometimes you wish it never came. As they remind you of where you are, and where you wish you were.
Nightmares, or visions, as they call it. The drugs should help you to see visions. Visions from their Gods, no, their one true God. Visions of the Leader of the Human race. The Prophet of the Gods. Visions, that should hold all the answers, and give promises of eternal and happy life.
But the answers aren’t coming. What is coming back are the memories, memories of what have happened and what could have happened.
Memories of lost loves, of lost hopes, lost sneakers and dolls. Of lost chances and people who are long gone.
You hear the sound of the door opening, and know that there will follow the sound of three footsteps, of a tray being laid on the glass surface, and then there will be incoherent words being whispered in your ear. And the needle piercing your skin. And then…dreams…visions…memories. As the drugs flood through your body, the memories mix with the nightmares and visions in your mind, creating confusion, exhaustion and a dull ache.
Fathers, mothers, sisters, lovers, friends and foes. Waitresses, strangers and children. All creating a vortex of emotions and leaving sorrow in the wake, as the drugs do what they are meant to do.
But one face always remains. Always waits. It is always protecting and caring.
One familiar versus a thousand strange ones. Rugged face, piercing blue eyes and warm smile. And voice that always finds a way into your dreams and guides you back into the light.
One face. One man. Love.
* *
The dim corridors of Galactica seem even more discolored than ever. Everything around seems faded and inanimate. The muddy light that the bulbs cast as he made his way through the corridors only accentuated the desperation that was now all around. He saw it in the faces of the few people that were still on the ship. The people loafed around, and the fact that they had no place to go, no task to do was evident in the way they carried themselves. People needed hope, and he should be the one to give them the ray of hope, beacon to look to. But how could he, if he, himself was lost. If he was robbed of that hope, separated from the person he was one with. Two hearts that beat as one, were separated. They were both carved from the same stone. He had to find her, bring her back, or die trying. He was hers, and she was his.
He turned around, casting a last glance at the corridor. He will bring her back. Bring them all back. He will put this fleet back together in one piece.
He went back to his quarters, and as the quiet light of their home enveloped him, his resolution only grew stronger.
He changed from his robe into his uniform. The scent of soap filled his nostrils. Clean, fresh and perfectly ironed, the uniform represented military training, reminded him that he was trained to fight, to defend and be ready to die.
Medals spoke about his years spent fighting, spent at war. And it made Bill Adama ashamed of himself, made him feel shame for his moments of weakness, doubt and indecision.
HE had to build the hope. Not go around sulking and licking his wounds. He had to build the beacon, to guide others through the darkness, not wander around and cry. He was the Admiral, the Leader.
‘The time comes when you can’t hide.’ He recalled his own words. This was the time. Time to fight, make hard decisions and win.
‘Why are we as the humans are worthy of survival?’ His was still unanswered. The faults of humanity were still too evident in his mind. But this was the time to find out, to prove ourselves worthy, able, and human.
‘We need to start having babies.’ The quote running through his own mind, and accidentally arising, made him smile. Yes, it was time to start having babies, to build humanity anew.
He cast a last glance around his quarters and smiled to himself as he closed the hatch. ‘Never give up hope. ’
Later that evening, through Galactica rang the Admirals orders, ordering everyone to be prepared to fight. That was the beginning of the rescue mission, beginning of the legend. `tbc
Chapter 5;
beta: amazing:
trickalicious78
Previous chapter
Stagnation. Everything around seems benumbed and still. Even the air seems still, and unmoving. It seems like there is no wind, no movement around. The air is thick and heavy, it clings to you) and sticks heavily to your skin, as you lay on the floor. The carpet under you feels rough against your skin, but it is the only thing that indicates that you are still alive. The crude material helps you to concentrate, as you try to stay awake.
You try to avoid dreams. Try to stay awake as long as possible. But it gets harder and harder. As now they are coming each day. And each day they are filling your body with drugs. Drugs, that make your body feel heavy, your dreams become nightmares, and your waking hours (are) dull and painful.
But as time passes they come more often, and your body can’t process all the drugs they are giving you, so the nightmares are your constant companions even when you are awake. There are moments when the dull ache is replaced with sobriety and coherence, but they are so rare, sometimes you wish it never came. As they remind you of where you are, and where you wish you were.
Nightmares, or visions, as they call it. The drugs should help you to see visions. Visions from their Gods, no, their one true God. Visions of the Leader of the Human race. The Prophet of the Gods. Visions, that should hold all the answers, and give promises of eternal and happy life.
But the answers aren’t coming. What is coming back are the memories, memories of what have happened and what could have happened.
Memories of lost loves, of lost hopes, lost sneakers and dolls. Of lost chances and people who are long gone.
You hear the sound of the door opening, and know that there will follow the sound of three footsteps, of a tray being laid on the glass surface, and then there will be incoherent words being whispered in your ear. And the needle piercing your skin. And then…dreams…visions…memories. As the drugs flood through your body, the memories mix with the nightmares and visions in your mind, creating confusion, exhaustion and a dull ache.
Fathers, mothers, sisters, lovers, friends and foes. Waitresses, strangers and children. All creating a vortex of emotions and leaving sorrow in the wake, as the drugs do what they are meant to do.
But one face always remains. Always waits. It is always protecting and caring.
One familiar versus a thousand strange ones. Rugged face, piercing blue eyes and warm smile. And voice that always finds a way into your dreams and guides you back into the light.
One face. One man. Love.
* *
The dim corridors of Galactica seem even more discolored than ever. Everything around seems faded and inanimate. The muddy light that the bulbs cast as he made his way through the corridors only accentuated the desperation that was now all around. He saw it in the faces of the few people that were still on the ship. The people loafed around, and the fact that they had no place to go, no task to do was evident in the way they carried themselves. People needed hope, and he should be the one to give them the ray of hope, beacon to look to. But how could he, if he, himself was lost. If he was robbed of that hope, separated from the person he was one with. Two hearts that beat as one, were separated. They were both carved from the same stone. He had to find her, bring her back, or die trying. He was hers, and she was his.
He turned around, casting a last glance at the corridor. He will bring her back. Bring them all back. He will put this fleet back together in one piece.
He went back to his quarters, and as the quiet light of their home enveloped him, his resolution only grew stronger.
He changed from his robe into his uniform. The scent of soap filled his nostrils. Clean, fresh and perfectly ironed, the uniform represented military training, reminded him that he was trained to fight, to defend and be ready to die.
Medals spoke about his years spent fighting, spent at war. And it made Bill Adama ashamed of himself, made him feel shame for his moments of weakness, doubt and indecision.
HE had to build the hope. Not go around sulking and licking his wounds. He had to build the beacon, to guide others through the darkness, not wander around and cry. He was the Admiral, the Leader.
‘The time comes when you can’t hide.’ He recalled his own words. This was the time. Time to fight, make hard decisions and win.
‘Why are we as the humans are worthy of survival?’ His was still unanswered. The faults of humanity were still too evident in his mind. But this was the time to find out, to prove ourselves worthy, able, and human.
‘We need to start having babies.’ The quote running through his own mind, and accidentally arising, made him smile. Yes, it was time to start having babies, to build humanity anew.
He cast a last glance around his quarters and smiled to himself as he closed the hatch. ‘Never give up hope. ’
Later that evening, through Galactica rang the Admirals orders, ordering everyone to be prepared to fight. That was the beginning of the rescue mission, beginning of the legend. `tbc