It is currently Thu Jan 17, 2019 4:50 pm

All times are UTC




Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 10 posts ] 
Author Message
 Post subject: The Shape of Things Long Passed
PostPosted: Sat Dec 25, 2010 10:09 pm 
Offline
Hera's Fiance
User avatar

Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2009 4:55 pm
Posts: 716
Title: The Shape of Things Long Passed
Author: C. Taylor
Rating: PG-13 for violence and Colonial swear words
Genre: Action/Drama
Word Count:
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the setting, this is just fanfic.
Note: Thanks to Pierre for the pictures

The Shape of Things Long Passed
a multimedia fanfic

Chapter 3 of 5

Sharon Valerii got off the bus and headed down the sidewalk towards her apartment building. It was a clear, cool fall morning and the neighborhood was exactly as she had remembered it. She tried to push all thoughts of the task ahead out of her mind and just live in that moment, revel in the extraordinary details of “ordinary” life that she had taken for granted until it was ripped from her: the sound of children, the bustle of shoppers and merchants, the beautiful deep blue of the Caprican sky, the smell of food wafting from the corner store. Sharon stopped and examined the display table full of fresh fruit that the grocer had placed outside his shop. Her mouth was salivating as she picked up one of the oranges, rubbed its skin with her hands, held it close to her nose, and breathed in its fragrant scent.

Image

“Frak,” Boomer thought to herself, “all the planning I did and I didn’t think to bring along money for souvenirs.”

The door to the grocery opened, accompanied by the sound of jangling bells, and out stepped the owner. He was a heavyset older man with a balding head and a belly that fell over his belt. He still had wide shoulders and thick meaty hands; his nose was bent as if it had been broken in a brawl decades before.

“Good morning, Mr. Pachis,” Sharon said. “I was just admiring your oranges, but I left my purse in my apartment. Could I buy one on credit and…”

“I haven’t seen you around for a couple of months, Sharon,” Mr. Pachis said, interrupting her. “How have you been?”

“Good. After graduation I got assigned to the Galactica’s Raptor squadron. I’m just planetside on a transport mission and I’ll probably have to head back to my battlestar again tomorrow.”

The grocer nodded his head and pulled a medium-sized paper bag out of a holder on the display. “You keep the orange,” he said, “don’t worry about paying. It’s a graduation present.” He put several more oranges in the bag and then reached for the nectarines. “You like nectarines?” He said, not giving Sharon time to answer. “And the pears are very good too. They arrived fresh this morning. I want you to try one of these Sagittarian apples.”

“Thank you,” Sharon said as he finished filling the bag, “but I don’t need that much, I just wanted…”

“No,” Mr. Pachis said with a grin. “Thank you. Thank you for your service. Whatever you don’t eat, take back to your squadron. Tell them not to be discouraged when they see the protestors outside the naval base or hear politicians complaining about how we should be spending our taxes on better things than the Fleet… there are still a lot of people like me who remember well enough to be grateful for the men and women who protect us from the Cylons.”

Boomer took the bag of fruit from Mr. Pachis’s outstretched hand. She looked at the bag, and then at the grocer. “I… um…” Sharon stuttered. She shifted the bag into the crook of her right arm, stepped forward quickly, wrapped her other arm around him and hugged him tightly. “I’ll tell them.” She said. As she stepped back away from Mr. Pachis she added, “And they’ll be very glad to get some fresh fruit in the middle of a patrol.”

The spare key to her apartment was still hidden where she had left it, taped to the inside flange of one of the light fixtures on her floor. After letting herself inside, Boomer locked the door behind her, left the bag of fruit sitting on the kitchen counter, and walked around her old apartment. Everything was still there and still intact: the elephant carving she remembered her parents giving her, the photograph of her shipmates on the Galactica that she had smashed when arguing with Caprica Six, the pictures of her and Chief Tyrol... Boomer couldn’t have stopped grinning if she’d tried. She turned on the radio, dialed through the frequencies until she found a band she liked, then danced over to her closet and looked inside.

She was suddenly tempted to postpone her mission. “The invasion wouldn’t be for another three months, what would one more day matter?” she thought. She could put on her sexiest dress and go out on the town tonight. She could eat at her favorite restaurant. She could go out dancing until early morning. Better yet, she could throw some clothes into her suitcase, withdraw a fistful of money from her bank, and hop a transport to Picon for the weekend. She’d always wanted to go, told herself that she would, but never got the chance. Now there was nothing stopping her. She could rent a sailplane and see if she could run the ridge lift all the way up the Grand Mountain Range. She could have a fling with some strapping young islander. She could buy a guide book at the spaceport and just spend the day exploring the shops and native bakeries in Old Town. It wouldn’t hurt anything for her to take a few days vacation; the worlds would still be here when she got back.

Boomer was about to reach for her suitcase when she thought about Mr. Pachis. She looked over to the kitchen counter where the bag of fruit he’d given her was sitting. War was coming, and she was the only person in the universe who had the knowledge to stop it. There were billions of people who were counting on her. What would happen to them if she got herself killed in a sailplane crash, or drowned at the beach, or stepped in front of a car crossing the street to a nightclub? What if her enemies figured out what she was doing and caught up with her? Sharon knew she had only one chance to do this and couldn’t afford to take unnecessary risks. She walked over to the radio and turned it off, then picked up the telephone and made the call.

“Hello, Professor Sula,” she said, “It’s Sharon Valerii... The Galactica… Yes, I’m doing well, but I need to ask you a big favor… I know you’re retired from the agency, but I figure you must still have friends there… no, no, it’s not that. I’m very happy flying Raptors; I don’t want to be a spy... Well, I believe I’ve stumbled across evidence of a massive Fleet security breach and I’m afraid to go to anyone in the normal chain of command with it. I know how this must sound coming from a junior L-T, but please… Yes, Sir… Yes, Sir. I can be at the Ministry of Defense building in half an hour. Should I meet you at the main gate?... I’m not familiar with that entrance, where is it?... Okay… Thank you. Thank you, Sir. I’ll see you in half an hour.”

Sharon Valerii hung up the phone. She walked over to her closet, reached in, pulled out a classic brown leather flight jacket, and slipped it on. Then she knelt down and reached past her clothes to spin the dial on a safe in the back of the closet. The safe popped open. Boomer pulled out two items: a small, white, round IFF transmitter, and a 9mm pistol.

Click For End Theme Song.

_________________
Avatar by my unknown Kindreds Secret Santa


Top
 Profile  
 
Author Message
 Post subject: Re: The Shape of Things Long Passed
PostPosted: Mon Dec 27, 2010 11:55 pm 
Offline
Constable
User avatar

Joined: Sat Apr 25, 2009 7:08 am
Posts: 619
Cool end theme song. :)

Nice working in of the fruit picture, too. :wink:


Top
 Profile  
 
Author Message
 Post subject: Re: The Shape of Things Long Passed
PostPosted: Tue Dec 28, 2010 8:37 pm 
Offline
Hera's Fiance
User avatar

Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2009 4:55 pm
Posts: 716
NT2 wrote:
Nice working in of the fruit picture, too. :wink:


Actually, Pierre gets the credit for the picture. I wrote the story with no knowledge that the picture existed, only (as has been well established :wink: ) that Boomer likes oranges. After I posted this originally at Kindreds, Pierre found the picture, cropped it appropriately, and pasted it in the thread. This lead to Shape of Things Long Passed being my 1st illustrated fanfic.

I thought it appropriate, therefore, to be the 1st one with a soundtrack as well. I'd been trying to figure out how to put music into a fanfic for a while (Jack even tested an MP3 tag) but until I discovered Grooveshark the copyright restrictions on the songs I had in mind prevented it.

_________________
Avatar by my unknown Kindreds Secret Santa


Top
 Profile  
 
Author Message
 Post subject: Re: The Shape of Things Long Passed
PostPosted: Tue Dec 28, 2010 8:43 pm 
Offline
Hera's Fiance
User avatar

Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2009 4:55 pm
Posts: 716
Chapter 4 of 5

Click For Beginning Theme Song

Sharon Valerii bit into the crisp Sagittarian apple as she stepped out of the elevator and into the top level of the parking garage adjacent to her apartment building. The apple was delicious: sweet, juicy, with just a hint of tartness. She pressed a button on her spare set of car keys and a bright yellow roadster nearby chirped as it unlocked its doors for her. Since it was such a pretty morning, Sharon also keyed the switch to retract the car's convertible roof. Before settling inside it Boomer walked around the car, trailing her hand lightly across its fender and admiring the smooth muscular lines of its styling.

Image

The car's engine started with a roar. She paused to take one more bite out of the apple when she caught a glimpse of the three other Cylons out of the corner of her eye. They were a number One, Four, and Five model and they had just come out of the stairwell entrance at the top of the parking garage ramp. All three were carrying silenced machine pistols.

"Frak!" Sharon decided. She drew the pistol from under her jacket in one quick fluid motion and then hesitated for a microsecond to let the front blade of the gunsight settle on the head of the leading Five. The gun in her hand barked when she pressed the trigger and the Five fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The other two Cylons sprinted for the cover of a large SUV, with the Four spraying bullets wildly in her direction. She returned fire, tracking them as they ran, and thought she saw the Four stumble right as he disappeared behind the vehicle. Boomer quickly fired two more rounds into the back of the SUV for good measure, then dropped the pistol into the passenger seat, threw her car into reverse gear, and punched the accelerator to the floor. The squeal of tires echoed through the parking garage as Sharon’s car leapt backwards out of the parking space. She was afraid that she’d be gunned down if she paused long enough to switch gears, so instead Boomer turned the steering wheel hard over to point the back end of the car down the ramp and kept the accelerator pedal pinned to the floorboard as she looked backwards over her shoulder and raced the car down the parking garage ramp in reverse. She couldn’t hear the sound of the bullets whizzing past her over the roar of her engine, but Sharon knew they had started shooting at her again when small fountains of concrete dust began erupting from the far wall of the parking structure.

She tried to take the turn at the far end of the garage at full speed in reverse. She misjudged how far out the front fender of her car would swing and smashed her headlamp on the protruding bumper of a parked delivery van but did not slow down. When she had finished the turn and was out of the line of fire, Boomer stomped on both the clutch and brake pedal simultaneously while turning the steering wheel hand over hand. She hoped to swing the front of the car around to face down the ramp in a smooth “bootlegger reverse” like she’d seen done so many times at the movies. Instead, her roadster made it halfway through the skidding maneuver and then slammed to a stop when its rear impacted a parked luxury car. The other car’s alarm wailed in complaint.

Sharon shook off the shock of the impact, threw the shifter into first gear, and stomped on the accellerator. The rear tires on her roadster smoked and spun for a brief second and then her rear bumper peeled off as she rapidly pulled away from the screaming parked car. The transmission shuddered as Boomer speed-shifted into second gear without letting off the throttle. Spider webs of cracks suddenly erupted in her windshield as a burst of bullets blew through it from behind her. She didn’t even touch the brakes as her car rocketed towards the next turn in the parking garage ramp, but the little sports car held onto the pavement while trailing four long black stripes through the corner. Boomer shifted into third gear and flew down the last level of the parking garage like she was landing a hot Raptor on a narrow flight deck. She could see the street exit onto Central Parkway at the bottom and for a moment was sure that she would escape. Sharon didn’t even have time to hit the brakes when a bright red compact car backed out of a parking space right in front of her.

When Sharon Valerii regained consciousness, the first thing she was aware of was the pain all down her right side. She tried to stand but couldn’t find which way was up and her legs didn’t seem to be obeying her. When she looked at them, she realized why. The remains of her little yellow roadster were laying upside down across her lower legs. She could feel a warm fluid pooling around her ankles; she hoped that it was only gasoline. Human screams and the muffled sneeze of silenced machine pistols reminded Sharon of the urgency of her situation. She looked around frantically and saw her handgun lying nearby on the pavement. Despite the stabbing pain in her legs, she stretched to reach it. The gun was at least half a meter too far away to touch. A shadow descended on her and she looked to see the Model One Cylon standing over her.

“I thought we voted not to do this, Boomer” he said calmly.

“You can’t make murder right by voting to do it,” Sharon answered. The Model One’s brow furrowed but he didn’t answer.

“You know the invasion is a mistake,” she continued. “I’ve heard you say it yourself. If there is any love in your heart for me, Cavil… If you ever loved me… I’m begging you… Have faith in your own beliefs. The others are wrong and you know it. Help me. Please, help me stop this terrible mistake before it happens.”

“You’re right. You’re right that the invasion was a terrible mistake, and the others are wrong not to stop it.” Cavil knelt down and pressed the barrel of his silenced pistol to Boomer’s head. “But our race can never learn from its mistakes unless it is first allowed to make them. I’m sorry.”

The sharp, loud report of a gunshot echoed throughout the parking garage. A spray of blood erupted from Cavil’s chest and he fell forward on top of Sharon. Another loud gunshot quickly followed the first. Sharon pushed Cavil’s dead body off her and struggled to get the machine pistol from his dead hands.

“Hello, Boomer,” Sharon heard someone say. There was another Cylon standing over her. When she looked into its face she saw her own doppelganger staring back at her. It was carrying a pump-action 12 gauge shotgun.

“Hello, Athena,” Boomer replied.

“Are you okay?” Athena asked.

Boomer looked back at Athena as though she had asked if one plus one equals eleven. “No,” Boomer answered. “No! I’m not okay! Get this car off me!”

“Alright. Don’t panic. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not panicking! I just…” But before Boomer could finish her sentence Athena had run away, leaving Boomer lying trapped under the remains of her car. Boomer returned her attention to retrieving the machine pistol from Cavil’s dead hand, then checking to see if there was a round in the chamber.

Athena returned seconds later with the shotgun slung over her back and a two meter long piece of lumber in her hand. “When I pick up the car,” Athena said as she slid the wood beam under the wreckage near Boomer’s leg, “see if you can pull yourself out.”

Athena strained at the makeshift lever. The car rolled up and back a few centimeters. Boomer grimaced and hastily pushed herself back until her legs were free.

“Okay, I’m out,” Boomer said.

Athena dropped the lever and quickly examined Boomer’s injuries. “I’m going to carry you out to my vehicle,” Athena said.

Without giving her time to protest Athena maneuvered Boomer onto her shoulders and slowly stood up. With the shotgun in her right hand and Boomer in a fireman’s carry Athena struggled towards the garage’s side entrance ramp. Sitting at an angle partially inside the entrance ramp and partly on the sidewalk was a familiar looking, large, black Hum-Vee. Its engine was still idling, its driver’s side door was still open, and Boomer could see that one of Kara’s guns was missing from the gunrack inside. Athena went to the back of the Hummer, opened the rear hatch, and laid Boomer down in the back cargo area.

“Where are we going?” Athena asked.

“M.O.D. building.” Boomer said. “There’s a side entrance on Memorial Boulevard.”

Athena nodded and started to close the hatch.

“Wait,” Boomer said. “I don’t understand why you’re helping me. You were against this. If I stop the war then…”

“I’ll never meet Helo.” Athena finished Boomer’s sentence for her. Her words seemed flat and her face betrayed no emotions. “I took an oath to the Colonial Government.”

Boomer shook her head, disbelieving. “Why?”

Athena sighed. Her stony expression dissolved and she suddenly looked as though she was bearing the entire weight of all the Colonial worlds on her shoulders. “How could I ever look my grandchildren in the eyes again… if I knew that I had bought their existence by allowing millions of other children to be slaughtered?” Athena quickly shut the rear hatch before Boomer could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

Click For End Theme Song (same as above)

_________________
Avatar by my unknown Kindreds Secret Santa


Top
 Profile  
 
Author Message
 Post subject: Re: The Shape of Things Long Passed
PostPosted: Tue Jan 04, 2011 4:18 am 
Offline
Hera's Fiance
User avatar

Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2009 4:55 pm
Posts: 716
Chapter 5 of 5

It was early morning, and Karl ‘Helo’ Agathon walked through the starboard hangar deck of the Battlestar Galactica. The expansive interior of the hangar was bustling hive of activity as workers were preparing the area for the activities of the day. William Adama was in the middle of the room having an animated conversation with a Fleet Intelligence Officer. Helo kept to the edge of the hanger wall and made his way to the Pilot’s Ready Room near the back. He spun the handwheel latch, opened the door, and stepped into the Ready Room as he had done a thousand times before. Sharon ‘Boomer’ Valerii was the only other occupant of the room. She was standing near the CAG’s lectern, preoccupied with adjusting the cuffs on her uniform jacket.

“You look absolutely beautiful, Boomer.” Helo said with a smile. “Leave the cuffs alone.”

“Helo!” Boomer exclaimed. Her face broke out into a bright, broad grin as she ran over to embrace him. “I better look nice,” she said. “I spent an hour putting this uniform on today, and two more on my hair and makeup. A girl doesn’t get married everyday!”

“I can’t believe you and Galen rented the Galactica for the ceremony. We should fly it to orbit for one last trip after the wedding is over. We could tie some cans to the back and deliver you two to Picon for your honeymoon in style. I think we have enough of the old crew here and I saw Professor Adama when I was coming in. I’m sure he remembers how to sail a battlestar.”

Helo’s laugh was infectious and Sharon shook her head as she chuckled at her old flying partner’s suggestion. “We only rented the museum’s event space, I’m afraid, not the whole thing. I don’t think the Caprica City Parks Department would have been careless enough to leave their new military history wing fueled up and spaceworthy anyway.” Sharon pulled Helo further into the room. “Come in. Sit down. Tell me how everything’s going on the Atlantia,” she insisted.

“I’m still having a blast,” Helo said as he and Boomer settled into a pair of the front row briefing chairs. “I can’t believe they pay me to do it. Of course, breaking in a new pilot hasn’t been easy… They all want to fly the Raptor like it’s made of eggshells. Any chance you’ll be back in the cockpit? It’d be good to have someone around who can keep up with the Viper jocks.”

Sharon frowned and shook her head. “The doctors told me not to expect my flight status to ever be reinstated. I can’t even go onboard an operational battlestar right now. They pulled my security clearance, too.”

“They pulled your security clearance over a genetic disorder?!” Helo exclaimed. “Gods that’s crazy! How can you work for Fleet Intelligence now if you don’t have a security clearance?”

“They’ve got me working in a new office, and they have their own compartmentalized security ratings. It’s not flying Raptors, but… well… they’ve put together a pretty good team and the project’s important enough I don’t have to deal with much red tape.” Sharon shrugged her shoulders and added, “For a REMF job, I guess it’s not too bad… and maybe it’ll give Galen and me the stability to start a family.”

“I thought that with your condition you couldn’t…”

“We’re going to adopt,” Sharon said.

Karl nodded. “I think you two will make good parents. Any kid would be lucky to have you,” he said.

“Thanks.” Boomer and Helo just sat and smiled at each other for a second as the conversation lulled.

“Should I be in here?” Helo asked. “Don’t I have some duties or something?”

“You just need to stand with the rest of the men in Galen’s party when the ceremony starts and pass the incense along when it comes to you,” Sharon explained. “It’s a Geminon tradition that the bride and groom aren’t supposed to see each other on the wedding day until after the ceremony starts. He and the rest of the guys have set up shop in the tool room. I’ve commandeered the pilot’s room for me and the ladies.”

“How appropriate. Do I need to give Chief Tyrol the ‘big brother’ speech that I’ll break his nose if he breaks your heart again?”

“No.” Sharon shook her head sadly, “Please don’t. We’ve forgiven each other and I don’t want to dwell on it. Especially not today. If you knew the hell we both went through after…my diagnosis, then you’d understand. What I’d really appreciate is if you just hung out here for a little while, until the girls show up.” Sharon suggested, “I miss having you around. Besides, you can catch me up on all the latest fleet gossip. Maggie wrote me that the two of you might be getting serious.”

“We tried it for a little while,” Helo admitted. “It was a little weird though… Kind of like fraking my sister. We’re back to being just…”

“Aaaahhh!” Boomer exclaimed as she pressed the palms of her hands against her forehead, then started giggling. “Too many snide remarks! I don’t know which one to use.”

Helo laughed along, then squirmed in his seat and rubbed his chin. “Speaking of family,” he said, “You wrote me about meeting your cousin… was that her I saw in the hanger chatting with The Old Man? You didn’t mention she was in the service.”

“Athena?” Boomer answered. “Yeah, that’s her. Hard to believe we’re related isn’t it?”

“I think I see a little resemblance in the eyes,” Helo joked. “You didn’t tell me she was hot. Is she… ah… seeing anybody right now?”

Boomer held up one hand and shook her head slightly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, Helo. She lost somebody very close to her last year… I don’t think she’s ready to meet you yet.”

“Oh,” Helo said, “I understand…”

“Starbuck’s here, you can start the party!” Kara Thrace announced as she barged through the entry hatch, interrupting Helo in mid-sentence.

“Sharon! You look great,” Margret ‘Racetrack’ Edmondson exclaimed as she followed Kara into the room.

Sharon stood up and exchanged enthusiastic hugs with her two friends. “It’s great to see you guys again,” she said. Then she added with a devilish grin, “Maggie, Helo was just telling me that you’re as good a frak as his sister was.”

“I didn’t say that!” Helo protested, with his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red. He had stood up as well, and walked over to shake Starbuck’s hand.

Kara grabbed his hand and pulled him into a bear hug. “Still keeping yourself out of trouble, Helo?”

“He better not have said that. Because I didn’t think his sister was a very good frak at all.”

“Barely. How’s the new queen of the Pegasus flight deck? How many times has Admiral Caine thrown you in the brig?”

“Did she do that upside down thing?”

“You two leave my sister out of this!”

“Not as often as I deserved.”

After the four friends finished their flurry of greetings, hugs, and locker-room jests, Margret turned to Sharon and said, “Did you see the news this morning?”

“I know… I know…” Sharon said. “The C-bucks got stomped last night; I owe you another hundred cubits. With Anders out all season this is going to be a long year.”

“No, not the game,” Racetrack replied, “The Cylons are back.”

Sharon said nothing and covered her mouth with her hand.

“What?!” Helo exclaimed.

“It was all over the radio as we were driving in,” Kara said.

“Are we being recalled to the Atlantia?”

“No news of military mobilizations yet,” Racetrack said, “According to the radio we’re not at war anymore. They showed up at Armistice Station months ago. It was probably back when we had that fleetwide alert, right before they decommissioned the Galactica. The Cylons had a coup and the government has been in secret negotiations with them ever since. The new Cylon leadership says they want embassies on all the Colonial worlds, a trade agreement, cultural and religious exchanges… can you believe that?”

“It’s a Cylon trick,” Kara pronounced. “They want to get access to the Colonies to scout it for an invasion, lure our politicians into cutting the fleet’s budget so we’ll be easier pickings. It’s a Cylon trick and the frackin’ politicians are so eager to grab a peace treaty that they’re falling for it. The Toasters’ll probably swoop in while we’re celebrating “Peace Day” or some other crap and blow us all to Hades.”

“Who in their right mind would want to go to a Cylon cultural exchange, anyway?” Racetrack opined. “What would you do? Sit around and watch a bunch of computers beep at each other?”

“I’d go,” Helo said. All three women turned to look at him as he continued. “Look, I’ll fight to the death to keep the Cylons from invading the Colonies, but I’d rather not have to do that. Maybe some of the Toasters are thinking the same thing. We’d be stupid to cut back the Colonial Fleet and just trust to their good nature… But… If it’s possible for us to coexist peacefully with the Cylons, then it would be terrible for us to have been given that chance and squander it. Maybe if we give them a chance we might find out that we are more alike than we’d imagined.”

“I’ve known too many cruel people to be comforted by the possibility that Cylons might be more like us than we imagine.” Kara said simply. She turned to face Sharon and added, “What do you think, Sharon?”

“I… um… I think I’m glad to have so many good friends show up for my wedding,” Boomer said. “And no matter what happens with the Cylons I just hope we all can stay friends forever.”

“Of course,” Karl said as he stepped up next to Boomer, put an arm around her, and gave her a quick hug.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Margret asked rhetorically as she reached out to touch Sharon’s shoulder.

“Can that count as my wedding present?” Kara asked.

“Sure,” Boomer answered. Then she turned to Helo and added, “My cousin will kill me for doing this… but at the reception this afternoon I’m going to put you and Athena at the same table. What happens after that is up to you.”

End Theme Song

_________________
Avatar by my unknown Kindreds Secret Santa


Top
 Profile  
 
Author Message
 Post subject: Re: The Shape of Things Long Passed
PostPosted: Fri Mar 04, 2011 6:26 pm 
Offline
Hera's Fiance
User avatar

Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2009 4:55 pm
Posts: 716
The Shape of Things Long Passed
By Chris Taylor
PG-13 for violence and Colonial swear words


Chapter 1 of 5

“All of this has happened before, and will happen again.”

Sharon Valerii got off the bus and headed down the sidewalk towards her apartment building. It was a bright, warm summer morning and the neighborhood was exactly as she had left it. The Caprican sky was a beautiful deep blue. Businessmen hurried by while shoppers strolled along casually browsing the wares displayed in shop windows. The light wind carried with it the sounds of human children playing in the park across the street. Sharon noticed none of it; her mind was lost in thought. She trudged along in her cadet uniform with a small backpack slung over her shoulder and a worried frown on her face.

The smell of food wafting from a corner store penetrated her introspection. Her stomach growled as she paused in front of the grocery and examined a display table full of fresh fruit that the grocer had placed outside his shop. She picked out an orange at random and then entered the store to the sound of jangling bells above the door. The grocery was empty except for the owner’s wife, a slightly pudgy, silver-haired old lady, who was standing behind the counter taking freshly-made sandwiches off of a stack and wrapping them individually in pieces of brown wax paper.

“Good morning, Mrs. Pachis,” Sharon said. “I’d like to buy this orange and one of your chicken salad sandwiches.”

“I haven’t seen you around for a few weeks, Sharon,” Mrs. Pachis said. “How have you been?”

“Good. I’ve finished my coursework at the Academy, and I have to complete one more semester of specialty training on Raptors before I get my commission. I’ve been doing launch and landing training with the Battlestar Galactica in orbit while it’s being prepared for the next patrol rotation. The only thing between me and my Lieutenant bars now is passing the combat landing proficiency.”

The grocer’s wife nodded her head as she bagged the fruit and a sandwich for Sharon, then rang the purchase up on the cash register. “Three cubits,” she said. After she gave Sharon two cubits change for a fiver, the grocerwoman added, “I made a fresh plate of cookies this morning, Sharon. Why don’t you try a couple, I think you’ll like them,” while she retrieved a pair of home-made chocolate chip cookies wrapped in cellophane from under the counter and added them to the bag with Sharon’s sandwich.

“Mrs. Pachis,” Sharon responded, “I don’t want to take your own cookies.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Pachis told her. “If you don’t eat them then my husband will, and he has eaten too many already.”

“I don’t know why you both are always trying to give me free food,” Boomer said shaking her head. “I may be an orphan, but I don’t need charity. I inherited a lot of money. I can afford to pay…”

“Did I ever tell you that my younger brother was in the Fleet?” Mrs. Pachis asked, interrupting her.

“No… I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Pachis said, as she pulled a thin necklace chain up out from under her blouse and apron. “This was his.” She unclasped the necklace at the back, took it off, and handed it over the counter for Boomer to examine. Attached to the chain was a small coin-sized iridium medallion.

Boomer held it in her hand and ran her finger lightly over the crest engraved on it. She turned it into the light and read what was written on its face, one word written in block capital letters: VALOR. “It’s heavier than I expected,” Sharon said quietly. “How did… What did he…” Boomer looked up at Mrs. Pachis’s face, not knowing how to politely ask the question.

“He was a Machinist’s Mate on the Battlestar Acropolis. It was during the evacuation after the Troy disaster. Apparently the Fleet was flying recovery missions as fast as they could get ships turned around. People got sloppy and a fire broke out in one of the transports on the hangar deck. Billy… his name was William, but I always called him Billy… wasn’t even part of the deck crew, he had just gone there to deliver some tooling and was the closest crewman to the transport when the fire broke out. He could have escaped, but he didn’t… he ran straight into the fire to rescue the pilot.” Mrs. Pachis gestured to the medal in Sharon’s hand. “He passed away in the Aerelon Hospital Burn Unit two days later.”

“He was a very brave man to do that,” Sharon said as she handed the precious medallion back to the old woman.

“I used to complain to my husband that they don’t make people like my brother anymore,” Mrs. Pachis said as she looked straight into Boomer’s eyes.

Sharon looked back at her for a second, expecting the woman to say something more. After a moment of silence, Sharon realized the implication behind Mrs. Pachis’s words. “I… I’m not like… I’m nothing special,” Boomer protested.

Mrs. Pachis shook her head. “You’re a smart girl, Sharon,” she said. “You’re pretty. You have money. You could be anything you wanted to be… and you choose to serve in the Fleet. You’re risking your life for the chance to protect ours. We know that. We appreciate that. You don’t know how much of a relief it is for my husband and I to see that the Colonies can still produce young people like you. The cookies aren’t charity, Sharon. They’re gratitude.”

“I…” Sharon Valerii opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again and shook her head. “I don’t deserve this,” she confessed.

“Oh, listen at me,” Mrs. Pachis said. “I’ve gone and embarrassed you. I shouldn’t ramble on so.” She picked up the small paper bag of groceries on the counter and handed them over to Sharon. “Have a good day, dear.”

After returning to her apartment, Boomer locked the door behind her and headed to the kitchen. She dropped her backpack on the floor, grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, and emptied the grocery bag onto the kitchen table. She sat down at the table, unwrapped the sandwich, and just stared at her food. She wasn’t hungry anymore. Her stomach aches had returned, and this one felt worse than any before. She felt dizzy and it was hard to breath.

Sharon laid her head down on the kitchen table and shut her eyes. She felt the coolness of the table top on her forehead and tried to just concentrate on breathing, but other thoughts kept intruding on her mind, dark and unwanted thoughts. In her imagination she sees Mr. and Mrs. Pachis’s grocery store the day the Cylon nukes begin falling on Caprica city. The flash blinding anyone who looks at it. The heat burning the flesh off Mr. Pachis as he arranges the fruit display table outside their store. The shockwave blowing in the glass storefront and wiping out the business that they had spent decades building up. Mrs. Pachis on her hands and knees behind the counter vomiting blood as the radiation destroys her body…

Mr. and Mrs. Pachis were proud of her. They thought that Sharon would risk her own life to protect them. They thought she would be some kind of hero. Tears streamed down Boomer’s cheeks as she thought about what she really was: a Cylon spy. A lying machine. Her primary function was to kill every person she’d ever met and steal everything they’d worked to build. She was helping to murder Mr. and Mrs. Pachis, her schoolmates, her shipmates…

Sharon didn’t know how long she just sat and cried, until she didn’t feel like crying anymore. She took the bottle of beer and went across the kitchen to sit on the floor next to her backpack. She reached in the pack and pulled out a framed picture she had brought home from the Galactica. It showed her getting out of her Raptor after just finishing her first solo landing on a battlestar. She was surrounded by deck crew and fellow aviators. What if something had gone wrong instead, Boomer wondered. What if there had been a terrible accident and she was trapped in her burning Raptor? She thought about the emergency drills she’d seen and participated in. She thought about the character and personality of each person in the photograph. As a Cylon spy Sharon was skilled in assessing human nature. She knew how to predict their behavior so she could exploit their weaknesses and turn their strengths against them. There were people in that photograph who she would not lend money to and expect repayment. There were people who would skip on their turn to buy drinks at the pub. There were even a few people who would cheat at cards. But she couldn’t find one person in that photograph of her human shipmates who would leave her to burn to death in a flaming Raptor.

“Every human in this photograph would risk their life to save mine…” Boomer thought to herself.

God was love. He loved everyone, and all good Cylons are supposed to follow His example. They told other Cylons how much they loved each other routinely. “But do we really mean it?” Sharon wondered. “Or is it just an empty formality?” She imagined that she was in a burning Heavy Raider on a basestar hangar deck outside the range of any Resurrection Ship. Sharon knew what the other Cylons would do. They would calculate the odds of her survival, calculate the odds of their survival, and then let her burn to death. The Scripture said that there was no greater love than for someone to lay down their life for a friend. Boomer looked again at the photograph full of humans who would lay down their own life for her. They may not say it as often as the Cylons do, she realized, but these are the people who really know what love is… and they loved her.

“Every human in this photograph would risk their life to save mine…” Boomer thought again. Her next thought followed as naturally as morning followed night, “… and I would give my life to save theirs.” She knew it was true the moment she thought it. Sharon suddenly felt as if a giant weight had been lifted off of her. She looked around the room and back down at the photograph. Boomer smiled, and then laughed at how easy it was. In an instant her whole universe was different. She didn’t have to go along with what all the other Cylons decided. She would make up her own mind. She wasn’t going to just be a meek member of the Model Eight production line. She was going to be Senior Cadet Sharon 'Boomer' Valerii, and she was going to do what she knew was right. Why not? It was that simple. She would give her life to save them. She loved them. All of them: her schoolmates, her shipmates, Mr. and Mrs. Pachis, her neighbors… God bless him, she was even going to save that jerk air traffic controller at the Caprica City Spaceport who had pissed her off that morning. Boomer couldn’t have stopped grinning if she’d tried.

Boomer stood up and paced into her living room. How do you stop a war? Who could she confess to that would take her seriously? She picked up the telephone and made the call.

“Hello, is Professor Sula in today?” she asked. “No, I can’t leave a message. I really need to speak with him in person. Do you know if he’s having office hours this afternoon? Yes… Senior Cadet Sharon Valerii… Thank you. I’ll be right over”

Sharon Valerii hung up the phone. She walked over to her closet and looked at herself in the full length mirror. Her shoes were shined. Her gig line looked good. She straightened her meager collection of ribbons and adjusted the cuffs on her uniform. She stood up ramrod straight and practiced her best salute. Satisfied that she looked like the model Academy cadet, Sharon opened her closet door. She knelt down and reached past her clothes to spin the dial on a safe in the back of the closet. The safe popped open. Boomer pulled out two items: a small, white, round IFF transmitter, and a 9mm pistol.

_________________
Avatar by my unknown Kindreds Secret Santa


Top
 Profile  
 
Author Message
 Post subject: Re: The Shape of Things Long Passed
PostPosted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 8:05 pm 
Offline
Cylon Bible Thumper
User avatar

Joined: Mon Apr 20, 2009 9:56 pm
Posts: 545
Location: Northern NJ
Cool premise , I want more!!!

_________________
Sharon, Helo and Hera Always


Top
 Profile  
 
Author Message
 Post subject: Re: The Shape of Things Long Passed
PostPosted: Fri Mar 18, 2011 7:38 pm 
Offline
Constable
User avatar

Joined: Sat Apr 25, 2009 7:08 am
Posts: 619
Interesting.


Top
 Profile  
 
Author Message
 Post subject: Re: The Shape of Things Long Passed
PostPosted: Wed Mar 30, 2011 3:52 am 
Offline
Hera's Fiance
User avatar

Joined: Sun Apr 19, 2009 4:55 pm
Posts: 716
Chapter 2 of 5

Sharon Valerii bit into the soft, chocolate-chip cookie as she stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the top level of her apartment complex’s parking garage. The cookie was delicious: sweet, moist, with just a hint of tartness coming from something she couldn’t identify. She took another bite. Bits of dried cherry perhaps? Whatever the recipe it was the best cookie she’d ever eaten, Boomer decided. Then she wondered if perhaps the cookie was not so extraordinary but that her impending vivisection had given her a heightened appreciation of the pleasures of life that she would be losing.

Sharon was suddenly tempted to postpone her defection. Surely the rest of her life in Colonial custody would be as a laboratory test subject, and the Cylons would box her immediately if she ever returned home. “The invasion wouldn’t be for another six months, what would one more day matter?” she thought. “It might be my last chance to really enjoy being alive.” She looked at the cookie in her hand that Mrs. Pachis had given her. War was coming, and she was the only person in the universe who had the knowledge to stop it. There were billions of people who were counting on her. Boomer took another bite of the cookie and savored its texture on her tongue, the flavor of the cookie, the chocolate and… yes, she decided… it was definitely dried cherries. She would go straight to Prof. Sula and tell him what she was. She couldn’t afford to take any unnecessary risks with anything else.

“Hello Sharon, you look especially nice today.” Leoben Conoy said as Sharon stepped out of the elevator. He was leaning against the doorframe of the staircase entrance, a few meters away from the elevators. In contrast to Boomer’s spit and polish Colonial Fleet uniform, Leoben was wearing baggy trousers and a shirt that looked like a cartoon artist threw up on it. “Going out on a date with some lucky human?”

Boomer’s thoughts immediately went to the pistol she had holstered under her uniform jacket. Leoben’s model was the strongest and fastest of them all. She wondered if she could get off a shot before he snapped her neck. Maybe. Maybe one shot. But unless she hit him in the brain or spine that wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

“No,” Sharon said. She pressed a button on her car keys and a bright red sport coupe nearby chirped as it unlocked its doors for her. She began walking towards her car as she spoke and Leoben fell into step right beside her. “I’m on my way to see my faculty advisor at the Academy. I want to make certain I’m still on track to graduate this semester. I won’t do the war effort much good until I get a fleet assignment.”

“I understand,” Leoben said with a nod and a wink, as they arrived at Sharon’s car. “Gotta turn on that Eight charm.”

“I think you understand too much,” Boomer answered, with a flicker of annoyance visible in her expression. “It’s just paperwork. We can meet up and do the memory scan when I get back. Maybe we could all go out to dinner later, too. There’s a new Gemonese restaurant in the neighborhood that Simon would really like.”

Sharon pulled the car door handle latch upwards and started to open the door, but Leoben suddenly reached out to put his right hand on the door and force it back closed again with a loud ‘thunk’. “I’m afraid your advisor will have to wait,” Leoben said. “You have to get your memory scan done now.”

“What do you mean…”

“An Eight on Tauron went native last week and we had to box her.” Leoben said, interrupting Sharon’s indignant statement. “Decided she was in love, confessed to her boyfriend what she was. Thank God we got to them before they did any real damage. All Eights in the field are getting memory scanned as soon as possible to check for any additional problems.” Leoben gestured towards a nondescript blue van parked further down the sparsely used garage ramp and added, “Simon brought the equipment, it will only take a few minutes.”

The driver and passenger doors to the blue van opened. Cavil stepped out of the driver’s side of the van. Simon slid out of the passenger seat and walked around the back of the vehicle. He had a black, leather doctor’s bag in one hand. Boomer’s heart raced with panic as the two additional Cylons started walking up the parking garage ramp towards her. Her eyes went to the black bag in Simon’s hand. As soon as they plugged her in to the memory scanner they would see what she planning to do. They’ll box her for sure. Sharon wiped the palms of her hands on the sides of her uniform jacket. She couldn’t let them plug her in to that machine. Boomer looked back to Leoben and put on her best Cylon spy act. “It’s a hell of a risk to bring that equipment out in public,” she said.

“We don’t have much choice,” Leoben replied. “We have to get all of you Eights scanned and find out…”

While he was speaking Sharon looked suddenly past his shoulder and across the garage. A flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes as she smiled and nodded her head slightly.

Leoben turned in mid-sentence to see what, or who, was behind him. Boomer drew the pistol from under her jacket in one quick fluid motion and pressed the gun barrel to the back of Leoben’s head. By the time Leoben realized that he had been tricked, Sharon had already pulled the trigger. The sharp, loud report of a gunshot echoed throughout the parking garage. A spray of blood and brains exploded from Leoben’s head. The lifeless Model Two body slumped to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut as Boomer pivoted towards Cavil and Simon. Cavil was pulling a silenced machine pistol from under his coat. Simon sprinted back towards the blue van. Boomer leaned forward and down to brace her pistol on the roof of her car. She hesitated for a microsecond to let the front blade of the gunsight settle on Cavil’s chest. The gun in her hand barked when she pressed the trigger. Cavil stumbled backwards. Sharon pulled the trigger again and again in rapid succession until another Cylon body collapsed dead on the hard concrete floor.

Simon had reached the van and ducked around the opposite side for protection from Boomer’s shooting spree. Sharon fired two more rounds into the back of the van for good measure, then yanked open her car door and slid into the driver’s seat. She dropped her pistol on the passenger seat beside her and shoved the key into the ignition. The car's engine started with a roar. Boomer threw her car into reverse gear, and punched the accelerator to the floor. The squeal of tires echoed through the parking garage as Sharon’s car leapt backwards out of the parking space. She was afraid that she’d be gunned down if she paused long enough to switch gears, so instead Boomer turned the steering wheel hard over to point the back end of the car down the ramp and kept the accelerator pedal pinned to the floorboard as she looked backwards over her shoulder and raced the car down the parking garage ramp in reverse.

Simon had retrieved his machine pistol and his nerves, and he momentarily peeked out from behind the blue van to spray a quick burst of gunfire at Sharon’s approaching car. Boomer turned the steering wheel to point the rear of her little red sports car at the side of the van. She kept the accelerator pinned to the floor and turned to face forwards again as she braced the back of her head against her seat’s headrest. Boomer’s car slammed into the side of van with an impact worse than her first simulated Raptor combat landing. The crumpled remains of the car’s rear and van’s side locked together in a tangled mess of metal and plastic. The van was shoved sideways several meters until the wrecked vehicles slid to a stop. Sharon shook off the shock of the impact and searched around the passenger floorboard to retrieve her handgun. Her legs felt a little wobbly when she stepped out of the car, and the van’s alarm system was wailing in complaint. Her black dress shoes crunched on scattered bits of broken glass and colored plastic as she walked around the van. She found Simon pinned under the right rear wheel of the van, desperately trying to grasp a machine pistol that was just out of his reach.

“Why?” He asked when he noticed Boomer standing over him.

“You’ve lived here as long as I have, Simon,” Boomer said. “You should know why.”

“Sharon, I wish…” Simon started to say, then suddenly shut his eyes and clenched his teeth. He struggled to speak for several seconds. “I’m in a lot of pain,” he said finally, “Make it quick.”

Sharon nodded, knelt down beside Simon, pressed the barrel of her pistol to his head, and sent him back to the resurrection tanks. She dug Simon’s medical equipment bag out of the van’s passenger compartment and, as an afterthought, picked up his machine pistol as well. Boomer walked back around the wreckage of the van and paused for a moment beside the front fender of her car’s remains. On impulse she reached out and pressed her hand against her car’s hood, then patted it gently as if it were some wounded animal. Boomer turned to walk back up towards the elevator, but the door to the stairwell was open and a blond Number Six model Cylon was standing in the doorway aiming a rifle at her. Sharon Valerii saw the rifle’s muzzle flash but never heard the sound of the gunshot that killed her.

Boomer was disoriented when she awoke in the secret Cylon resurrection facility. She was in a dark room surrounded by beings of light. She sat up from the warm gel bath and shivered as her face, arms, and chest were exposed to the cold air in the room. Something tugged at her left arm. As her vision cleared, the beings of light revealed themselves to be her fellow Cylon agents on Caprica. Leoben, Doral, Cavil, Simon, D’Anna, and the blond Six were all standing there, clustered in the small pool of light that was emanating from her resurrection vat. She looked to see what was on her arm. The other’s had handcuffed her into the vat to prevent her from escaping. There was something else, too. A long thin fiber optic cable was sticking into her arm. The other end trailed out into the darkness beyond. “They’re going to box me,” Boomer realized. Suprisingly, the thought of her death did not frighten or anger her. She just felt sad for having failed. She wished she could have another chance.

“You left quite a mess for us to clean up,” Aaron Doral said.

“No hard feelings, I hope,” Boomer replied.

“Of course not.” Leoben answered.

“Of all the Eights,” Cavil said, shaking his head, “I never figured you would go native on us, Sharon.”

“I haven’t gone native,” Boomer said sternly. “I just have a lot more data on the humans than we had when we planned the invasion… Enough data to know that decision was wrong. The humans aren’t just a bunch of dangerous animals to be culled and domesticated. They’re people who know, and can choose between good and evil. They have souls just like we do. Killing them would be murder.”

“They may be people, but they aren’t like us. They are pagans. We are God’s chosen children, not them,” Leoben pointed out.

“Chosen for what? Chosen to spread death and misery? Or God’s Love and Forgiveness?” Boomer asked. One after the other, Sharon looked into the eyes of the Cylons around her as she spoke, hoping to see some glimmer of sympathy for her words. “We could teach them. And we could learn things from them in return. Yes, their hatred is very strong, exactly as we were told. But… they can love just as strongly.” The Model Six turned her face away and would not look Boomer in the eyes. “You have all lived among them, too. You must know what I mean. You must have experienced the same thing yourselves.”

“You don’t think they’d still love you if they knew what you were, do you?” The Six replied angrily as she turned back to scowl at Boomer. “You think they’d still go on loving you if they knew you were a machine?”

“No,” Boomer admitted. “Not at first. But once the Capricans didn’t consider Sagittarons to be fully human either, and the Gemonese and the Picons would kill each other on sight. It has taken the humans many generations, but now they are all united. There is still some prejudice and rivalry, but no one doubts that they are one race. We look like them now. If they can learn to love each other, then in time they can learn to love us, too.”

“So, your plan is to just wait a couple of centuries and hope they start to like us?” D’Anna asked.

“Of course it’s not going to be that simple,” Boomer said. “We’d need access to the Colonies, to give us and the humans as many opportunities as possible for personal contact. We go back to Armistice Station and offer to sign a permanent peace treaty, but make it conditional on demands that will give us that access, and encourage them to come to us. We could start out with embassies and trade agreements. We insist on having some cultural exchanges and religious ceremonies. People haven’t heard from the Cylons in decades; they will come just out of curiosity. Then we could negotiate free trade zones near the major cities, and turn them into the trendy places for young humans to go to, with restaurants and clubs and shops and big advertising campaigns. We subsidize cheap vacations to the Cylon homeworld and offer to give the Colonial Fleet access to Cylon space if they will participate in joint human/Cylon patrols and integrated training exercises. We give as many humans as possible as many opportunities as possible to see with their own eyes that we are not the monsters their history books describe. What do we care if it takes a century or two? It’s not like we will grow old. We’re machines. We can afford to take as much time as we want.”

The other Cylons in the room silently exchanged glances. Cavil leaned back and scratched his chin. The Six bit her lower lip and looked down at her feet.

“I was going to the Colonials because alone that was the only thing I could do to stop the war. But if all of us refuse to go along with the plan then the others would have no choice but to stop it. If we each go back to the rest of our model line and share with them what we’ve learned from the humans… show them the experiences we’ve had here… They’d have to listen to us.”

“They wouldn’t have to listen,” Simon said. “They could just box us all.”

“Sharon’s plan would offer us a number of ways we could gain influence with the Colonial political class,” Doral offered.

“We already have a plan that will work. Everyone agreed to it already,” D’Anna stated. “We just need to follow it through.”

“I don’t think the humans would let us wait that long,” Cavil stated. “Every year they grow stronger and smarter and more aggressive. They are already probing our borders for weaknesses. Our first responsibility is to protect ourselves.”

“We must continue on this path,” Leoben said.

“You’re a fool to trust them so much,” the Six said. “They would only hurt us.”

“Fine,” Boomer said. “Then just box me. If you’re going to murder billions of people, what’s one more gravestone? I’d rather be dead than live to see what we’re about to do.”

“You don’t understand,” Cavil said quietly. “We can’t just box you. We’ve put too many resources into getting you in the Colonial Fleet. The information you’ll have access to is too important for the invasion.”

Sharon looked down at the fiber optic cable trailing out of her arm. “What are…”

“We’re going to grant you your fondest wish, Sharon.” D’Anna said. “You wanted to defect to the humans... We are going to turn you into one of them.”

“We are going to erase some of your memories,” Simon explained. “You won’t remember wanting to defect. You won’t even remember that you’re a Cylon. We are only going to leave you with your cover life memories. When you wake up in your apartment tomorrow you will believe that you’re really Sharon Valerii, a human woman and loyal Colonial Fleet Academy cadet.”

“Of course, we’ll still need to get the fleet intelligence information from you,” The Six added. “So your subconscious will be programmed to establish communication with us for periodic uploading of memory scans and downloading of additional instructions.”

“You’re going to destroy who I am, and program me like I’m some kind of appliance?! That’s slavery. That’s the very thing we fought the first Human War to be free from!”

“You gave us no choice, Sharon,” Leoben said. He turned his back and walked away, into the darkness.

“The programming is only temporary,” Simon assured her. “After you are killed in the invasion, your resurrected body will be free from it.”

“What about my memories. Is that temporary? Will I remember who I am when I’m resurrected?”

“No,” Simon said. “The memory loss will be permanent.”

Aaron Doral abruptly turned and followed Leoben out of the room.

“I’m sorry, Sharon,” Cavil said.

“You brought this on yourself,” The Six said. She turned around crisply and, heels clicking on the hard floor, walked away.

Boomer looked into Cavil’s eyes. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t let them do this to me. Box me. Box me, but don’t let our people go down this path.”

“I…” Cavil started to speak, but then closed his mouth and looked down at the ground shaking his head slightly.

“Come on, Brother,” D’Anna said to Cavil as she took hold of his arm and started to pull him away. “Let’s give her some privacy.”

Cavil resisted for a moment. He looked back at Boomer and asked. “Is there anything you want me to tell you when you come back to us?”

“No,” Boomer said to him. “Stay away from me.”

Cavil nodded, turned, and followed D’Anna into the darkness. Boomer laid her head back and listened to the sound of their footsteps receding into the distance until she could hear them no more. She was alone in the cold, dark chamber with Simon. She watched Simon kneel down beside her resurrection vat and put one hand on her shoulder. He could not look her in the eye.

“Simon,” Boomer whispered. “Simon, look at me.” When Simon raised his head to look at her face she told him, “It’s okay, Simon. I forgive you.” Then she turned her head, stared out into the blackness, and added, “Make it quick.”


Click For End Theme Song.

_________________
Avatar by my unknown Kindreds Secret Santa


Top
 Profile  
 
Author Message
 Post subject: Re: The Shape of Things Long Passed
PostPosted: Sat Apr 02, 2011 1:21 am 
Offline
Constable
User avatar

Joined: Sat Apr 25, 2009 7:08 am
Posts: 619
Cute. I enjoyed reading it.


Top
 Profile  
 
Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
Post new topic Reply to topic  [ 10 posts ] 

All times are UTC


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest

You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot post attachments in this forum

Search for:
Jump to:  
cron

Style by HighDefGeek
Powered by phpBB © 2000, 2002, 2005, 2007 phpBB Group