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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Mon Jul 27, 2009 7:08 pm 
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Uh, this is Battlestar Galactica, remember?

Math continues the cycle. You're just supposed to have enough faith and God will tell you the answer. :)


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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Mon Jul 27, 2009 7:12 pm 
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Some philosophs, centuries ago, wondered about this "perfect" equation: e^(i*pi) + 1 = 0 . :angel:

Well, maybe we should work on Chris' riddle.

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Mon Jul 27, 2009 7:29 pm 
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Pierre wrote:
Uh, is that some weird maths challenge?

Like 1+2+3+...+n = n(n+1)/2 ; 1+4+9+...n^2 = n(n+1)(2n+1)/6 ; 1+8+27+...+n^3 = [n(n+1)/2]^2 ??? :bounce:


Not exactly. The math is only half of it. There are an infinite number of right answers if math were the only consideration. The other half is common sense. The denominations have to be practical as currency, too. You know the biggest is 1000. The smallest is 1. It doesn't take much imagination to guess there is a 100. Etc.

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Tue Jul 28, 2009 1:27 am 
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Math :head:

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Tue Jul 28, 2009 12:04 pm 
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Well, it's a Kinderspiel:

I think the correct answer is: 1.888*10^6/(1+2+5+10+20+50+100+200+500+1000) = 1000.

That means 1000 1 cubit notes, 1000 2 cubits notes, etc... up to 1000 1000 cubits notes.
Makes indeed 10000 bank notes.

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Tue Aug 11, 2009 5:47 am 
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Re your question: Are we allowed to guess that Boomer becomes a wealthy Cylon entrepreneur by opening a series of food-shaped restaurants? ;) The beauty of that is, as a Cylon, she won't have to worry about a lawsuit from Gaeta.


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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Wed Aug 12, 2009 7:55 pm 
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The last section of the supply room drawers were dedicated to military equipment, clothing, and accoutrements. Sharon counted and inspected her way through the fake Colonial fatigues, coveralls, EVA suits, and dress greys. She paused when she got to the Raptor driver's pressure suit in her size and cursed under her breath. The sheath that contained the knife in the standard pilot's survival kit was empty. It was a minor oversight but she knew that little details like that were exactly the sort of thing which can cost an undercover agent their mission, or even their lives. She was furious, but not at her predecessor, Thea. She could hardly expect a Six, with their mercurial, head-in-the-clouds idealism to manage such a utilitarian and detail oriented task. Besides, Thea did not have enough training to serve as a department head and had only been pressed into the job in addition to her duties as SIGINT chief by the wartime personnel shortage. Sharon was mad at herself for having gotten so wrapped up in her pet projects that she had waited this long to do a proper inventory audit. After all, she was an Eight. She added the knife to her list of new items to requisition and moved on to the oversized secure drawer that held the small arms locker.

Her department's small arms locker was unique on the ship, because it contained Colonial weapons as well as Cylon. There were enough Colonial arms and ammunition to equip one tactical squad with everything from sidearms to a light machine gun. There was also an assortment of various civilian Colonial pistols and a hunting rifle. Behind these were the Cylon firearms. In addition to the usual submachine guns and pistols there were a few weapons created especially for the Intelligence Department. There was a rifle that could be disassembled into smaller components and made entirely from plastics and ceramics to avoid detection by Colonial scanners; even the bullets had no metal in them. There was also a pair of small handguns of similar construction and a submachine gun that looked like a video camera. There was even a weapon that appeared to be a compact rifle with a collapsible stock and a thick short barrel, but was not a firearm at all. The barrel was actually a highly directional antenna, and instead of bullets the weapon was designed to transmit Cylon computer viruses and other short pieces of malicious software at Colonial electronics. Sharon didn't need anything that exotic for what she had planned, however. She selected a basic Cylon submachine gun with a folding stock and slipped it into her flight bag along with a several spare magazines for it.

Directly below the small arms locker was the last item that she needed to acquire. As she slid open the drawer and looked at the rows of detonators and the neatly stacked bricks of plastic explosives Sharon was suddenly swept with a strange feeling of nostalgia. In her mind's eye she can see herself back on the Battlestar Galactica. She has used her cover-life's access codes to enter their arms locker. Hurriedly she gathers up several detonators and blocks of explosives, and stuffs them into her Colonial flight bag. Sharon ran her hand over the row of Cylon detonators. Unlike her operation on Galactica, she couldn't count on sloppy security procedures to help hide her actions now. She decided not to take the detonators this time. They are inventory-controlled items so it would be too risky; she'll improvise detonators from the fuses on the Black Angel's cannon ammunition instead. Sharon took a brick of plastic explosive from the middle of the stack and sat down on the floor next to her flight bag. She flipped out the blade from her newly acquired pocket knife and carefully slid it under the top fold of the thick waxy paper that the explosive bricks were wrapped in. After cautiously unfolding the wrapper and setting it to the side she cut the brick in half and dug out a small handful of the explosives from the center of each half. It was not enough to blow out the armored hull of a Battlestar but it would be just right for blowing open a locked door or breaching an interior wall, which was all that Sharon expected to need it for. Sharon pressed the brick halves back together, smoothed out the surface of the clay-like material to hide the cut and then re-wrapped the brick back in its original paper. She examined her handiwork and, when she was satisfied that no trace of her theft could be seen, returned the hollowed out brick to its proper place in the drawer and grabbed another.

When Sharon cut open the second brick of explosive the knife slid too easily through it, and when she saw the hollow inside her first thought was to be angry that her department had been sent defective demolition equipment. Then she realized what she was seeing. Someone else had already hollowed out the brick and stolen some of the explosives before her. They had done exactly what she was doing and replaced the brick so that no one would know of the theft. It was only by sheer chance that Sharon had picked up the same brick and cut it open for her own theft that allowed her to discover it. Her pulse raced and the hair on the back of her neck bristled. There was another feeling too, just beneath the fear. It was an emotion she could not name; it seemed as if there was a voice in the back of her mind trying to tell her something but should couldn't quite make out the sounds. There were sixty-four explosive bricks in the drawer. Sharon dumped them all on the floor, unwrapped them, and plunged the knife blade into each of them to check. Forty of the bricks were hollow. Her hands were shaking by the time she reached the last brick. The thief had taken enough explosives to blow every fuel tank and bulk ammo store on the ship. "But who would want to blow up the ship?" Sharon asked herself. "Who would do this?" Sharon felt that she should know the answer to that question. She knew that she suspected someone but their name stubbornly refused to coalesce in her mind, like having just the right word sitting on the tip of her tongue almost spoken but not able to decide what that word is. "Who would want to blow up the ship?" She began to go over her most likely suspects in her mind, but it still felt like one was missing.

Sharon looked down at the knife in her hand. It was a commando knife, designed for someone who goes behind enemy lines to scout and sabotage. That was what Sharon was: a spy, a saboteur, an elite commando. She had picked a knife that fit her training; her choice of blade was a reflection of who she was. There was one other knife that was missing. The thief must have taken it to cut open the explosives with just as Sharon had done. Sharon was suddenly swept with a strange feeling of nostalgia, a twisted twin of her earlier thoughts. In her mind's eye she can see herself back on the Battlestar Galactica. She has just opened a storage case to return the detonator that someone planted in her flight bag and discovered that six more are missing. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God… where are the rest of them?” Terrible feelings wash over her: fear and confusion and, for a reason that she does not yet understand, heart-wrenching guilt. "Oh, my God," she whispered to herself. The missing knife was the knife of a Colonial Raptor pilot! Suddenly Sharon Valerii realized the name of the suspect she had been afraid to remember: Boomer. Boomer wanted to blow up the ship. Boomer had tried to blow up the ship and failed by only the narrowest margin... and Boomer was a Raptor pilot. Somehow Boomer had survived, hidden onboard the ship undetected. She had broken into the storeroom with Sharon's codes and stolen the explosives to finish the job and take her revenge! Sharon's mouth was dry. Her palms were sweaty. Boomer could have already planted the explosives. She could be anywhere on the ship right now. Wait... that wasn't right. Boomer wasn't a real person. Her breathing was difficult and the panic felt like a darkness pressing in on her, narrowing her vision. It felt like a constrictor snake was coiled around her mind, squeezing out her conscious thoughts... or... or was that something else.

"No, no, no..." Sharon repeated as she backed away from the pile of explosives. "It isn't me. It wasn't me." She took slow deep breaths, trying to force back the darkness and clear her mind. "My name is Sharon Valerii," she reminded herself. "I'm not a human. I'm not a Colonial pilot. I'm a loyal, decorated Cylon officer. I run the Intelligence Department on Depot Ship #8. I command Raider squadron CF-165. I'm not Boomer. She's not real. She was just a cover identity." Her heart was pounding in her chest and the memories boiled and churned in her mind like a storm of nightmares: the fear and distrust in her lover's eyes, "cylon" in yellow marker superimposed across her face, an alien voice in the back of her mind, the taste of gunmetal in her mouth, her commander lying in a pool of blood, the horror of knowing that the thing you hate most in the universe inhabits your very body and uses you to attack the people you love. They were Boomer's memories. They were her memories too, because Boomer was nothing but a file of forged paperwork, a suitcase of Colonial clothing, and a headful of lies. Boomer was a fiction that had never done anything. It was always Sharon, sometimes acting under the delusion of false memories and sometimes her true ones. Everything that made Boomer real, her flesh and blood and heart and soul, had been in Sharon Valerii; it still was.

"It's not possible," Sharon assured herself as she stood in the middle of the store room fidgeting with her hands. "I didn't do this. I wouldn't do this. It's just a little paranoia from what happened on my mission." She searched her memories for any trace of missing time or blackouts. She found none. She had no recollection of things being out of place in her office or stateroom, or of finding herself somewhere without knowing how she'd gotten there. She chanced a wireless query to her private terminal in her stateroom just to make sure that she hadn't been unknowingly coming and going during her sleep cycle. "I knew it," Sharon thought as she exhaled deeply and wiped her sweaty hands on her pants leg. "Somebody else broke into this store room, took those explosives, and is trying to frame me for it." As her anxiety began to subside Sharon felt a little shame at her over-reaction and the weakness it suggested. It was silly, she knew, to think, even for a moment, that Boomer could have done this. Selene must be behind it, Sharon decided, and taking the survival knife from the Colonial Raptor pilot's suit was a ploy to point suspicion on her. Perhaps it was a covert counterpart to the incriminating dossier she had collected, and Selene was hoping to win a promotion by claiming to have uncovered a Colonial sympathizer's plot to destroy the ship. Or perhaps Selene wanted to sabotage the ship and planned blame her for it. What better job for a pagan cult leader to have, after all, than head of the Security Department that's supposed to be trying to catch them? That would explain why Selene never actually finds the traitors. Maybe it was just chance that the thief had picked the knife she had, or even that the missing knife was just misfiled and had nothing to do with the explosive theft. Sharon considered all these possibilities, turning them over in her mind and coldly examining them for plausibility and implications. She could not tell anyone of the theft, she decided, because she had no way of knowing who on the ship to trust. Instead Sharon would proceed with the plan she already had. She would investigate her closest friends first and build a core group of people she knew she could trust, then she would do the job she was trained to do: fill the ship with networks of secret surveillance devices and layers of blackmailed informants until she knew what was really going on. She would find the real face of her enemy and strike them before they could hurt her any more. Sharon knelt down on the floor beside her flight bag, cut open another one of the intact bricks of plastic explosive, and tried to not hear the voice in the back of her mind.





Note: special thanks to Pierre for a prompt research assist! Sorry it took so long, but I hope y'all think it worth the wait.

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Last edited by Chris Taylor on Thu Aug 13, 2009 8:10 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Wed Aug 12, 2009 9:24 pm 
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I wonder what she is really planning, where her loyality/heart really is by now

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 2:13 am 
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NT2 wrote:
Re your question: Are we allowed to guess that Boomer becomes a wealthy Cylon entrepreneur by opening a series of food-shaped restaurants? ;) The beauty of that is, as a Cylon, she won't have to worry about a lawsuit from Gaeta.


Hmmm... Drat. That's a better plot than I'd come up with! Keep in mind that this diverges from canon. Maybe I'll have Gaeta be the the billionaire Cylon resturant tychoon. :) He can sell Sharon's fine smokable phallic symbols (tm) at the bar, though.

What about a cigar store shaped like a cigar? :think:

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 4:37 pm 
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So it's the reverse double gainer, huh? :) I think you mentuioned an idea like this before on another thread. So is Boomer really the sleeper now?

Should be interesting to find out.


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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 8:58 pm 
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Quote:
Suddenly Sharon Valerii realized the name of the suspect she had been afraid to remember: Boomer. Boomer wanted to blow up the ship. Boomer had tried to blow up the ship and failed by only the narrowest margin... and Boomer was a Raptor pilot. Somehow Boomer had survived, hidden onboard the ship undetected. She had broken into the storeroom with Sharon's codes and stolen the explosives to finish the job and take her revenge! Sharon's mouth was dry. Her palms were sweaty. Boomer could have already planted the explosives. She could be anywhere on the ship right now. Wait... that wasn't right. Boomer wasn't a real person. Her breathing was difficult and the panic felt like a darkness pressing in on her, narrowing her vision. It felt like a constrictor snake was coiled around her mind, squeezing out her conscious thoughts... or... or was that something else.

A serpent swallowing its own tail: Ouroboros.

Has Sharon considered the possibility of a third persona?

Nice piece.
"Who would want to blow up the ship" triggered "Who would I want to love" (Boomer to Ellen in S4.5) in my mind. Be damned for all eternity, RDM, for fooling us. :gloomy:

"It wasn't me" : Both Sharon/Athena and Boomer said it...

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 9:02 pm 
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In this case

Sharon has to realize that she is Boomer, they are the same person. They are her.

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 9:41 pm 
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Quote:
A serpent swallowing its own tail: Ouroboros.


Yes. THAT is how you bring Boomer's story "full circle."

Quote:
Nice piece.


:thx:

Quote:
"It wasn't me" : Both Sharon/Athena and Boomer said it...


I try to borrow as much as I can from Mrs. Park's portrayal of Boomer and Athena when writing the Sharon in this story. I have had her use the line before, in Day 39's dream sequence when she sees her own corpse. (http://www.acrossthesalt.com/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?p=959#p959) It is not clear then, however, if she is denying that she is the murder victim or that she is the murderer. Her fidgeting with her hands when she's under stress is straight from Mrs. Park's mannerisms during Water. The "constrictor snake" description is a callback to my own work, however; it's from the very first chapter of OTS Part 1.

Quote:
Sharon has to realize that she is Boomer, they are the same person.

8-)

Author's Note: When watching the show I first assumed that Boomer was fighting some programming or perhaps an evil version of herself. If I've done my writing correctly, however, you can see in OTS that she has the same exact personality, quirks, and mannerisms regardless of whether she thinks of herself as a "Cylon" or a "human." The spy was no more "evil" than the Raptor pilot.

Quote:
So is Boomer really the sleeper now?
Should be interesting to find out.

I'll do my best to make it so.

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 11:47 pm 
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Question? -What does Boomer want?

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 Post subject: Re: Obstinate Tin Soldier
PostPosted: Fri Aug 14, 2009 7:20 am 
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A tiara & a blue Caprican ermine cloak. :grin:

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