Reunions and Revelations, Part II
Oct. 12th, 2017 06:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chiron_survivor((tl;dr -- Adia meets the infamous Gaius Baltar and learns a secret about the thirteenth tribe. Also, for those unfamiliar with the canon, Baltar is often plagued by a Six that only he can see.))
Adia’s post on Galactica turned out to be none other than Gaius Baltar’s sanctuary, an out of the way nook for wayward refugees drawn to the former president’s monotheistic cult.
Her escort, a hard-faced military nurse, pinched her mouth when they entered the makeshift barracks. “Hope you brought your surgical gloves,” she muttered. “This place has more STDs than a bad night on Scorpia.”
It was a crude joke, and unfair, but as Adia looked around at the piles of cushions and blankets, young men and women lying atop them as if without a care in the world, she could understand the nurse’s contempt. It seemed lazy and hedonistic to listen to a man’s sermons about fate and providence while humanity was teetering on the edge of extinction.
She set up her medical station and began administering vaccines. As she treated Baltar’s followers — mostly young adults, some older, some children — she softened her initial assessment. These people were no different from the rest of the Fleet. They had the same hopes, the same fears. And they suffered, too. She had to treat a number of physical injuries in addition to the usual ailments.
Her surroundings, she had to admit, were surprisingly peaceful considering that they were in the belly of a warship. The pervasive smell of incense was sweet without being cloying and soft classical music was playing from an old stereo. People spoke quietly, in comforting murmurs. It eased her nerves. She could get used to a place like this.
Gaius Baltar approached and her good mood vanished into the scented smoke.
He looked smaller in person, and a little rough around the edges. His smile was still that of a politician’s, albeit less charming and more pious. “Hello, Adia.” He offered his hand in greeting. “Thank you for offering your time and care to my people. It’s a pleasure to have another scientist among us.”
Adia looked at his hand. She didn’t take it. “I didn’t vote for you.”
Gaius visibly flinched, his dark eyes flicking off to the side. “Yes, well…” He laughed nervously before clearing his throat. “Even more props to you, then, for overcoming your prejudices. I’ve spoken to those who have seen you already, you’ve been very kind.”
“I’m not prejudiced against your followers,” she muttered, preparing his vaccination.
Gaius kept his expression serene, despite the amusement dancing in his eyes. “Ah. So it’s just me, then?”
Frustrated, she set down her needle and stared at him, right in his smirky, jerky face. All of her anger, her outrage at the cruelty of her universe, came bubbling to the surface. It was irrational and out-of-line, but in that moment she was ready to blame Baltar for everything. For his failed defense codes that let the Cylons annihilate the colonies. For his ineffective leadership. For the fact that he hid like a coward on his presidential shuttle and now got to play prophet while Galactica was literally falling apart at the seams.
“You,” she hissed, full of righteous indignation. Gaius already began to shrink back on himself like a scolded child. “You made us settle on New Caprica. We wasted all that time when we could have kept looking for Earth.”
But even as she said it, she could feel the fire fading from her words. Yes, they would have found Earth that much sooner. It still would have been a burnt-out shell. She swallowed a bitter lump in her throat and went back to her work. “Forget it… you didn’t know. None of us did.”
She kept her gaze down, cheeks burning. Gaius thankfully remained quiet as she took the time to regain her composure and finish dosing his vaccine. “Are you left or right-handed?” she asked, looking up.
Gaius was staring at the space to his left and muttering under his breath. It reminded her of Josh, oddly enough, when they were trapped in that maze of ice mirrors. Thinking of her friend alleviated some of her lingering annoyance. “Dr. Baltar?” she asked softly. “Are you all right?”
He blinked and looked at her quickly. “Ah… yes, sorry. What was that?”
“Are you left or right-handed?”
“Oh…” He was focused on her, but he still seemed distracted, his head tilted slightly like a confused dog. “Well, technically I’m ambidextrous, but—“
“Which arm do you want the needle in?” she interrupted.
To his credit, he seemed genuinely embarrassed at his misinterpretation. “Left,” he replied meekly, rolling up his sleeve.
His arm was covered in bruises, some fresher than others. Carefully, she wiped at a spot on his shoulder that wasn’t mottled or sore. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” She knew that he had been thrown into the brig (again) during the mutiny. What else was he hiding, underneath his worn clothes?
“I’m fine.” He flashed her an awkward smile. “I’ve had worse.”
She didn’t want to imagine how worse. Part of her didn’t want to feel any sympathy for him, but her heart gave a little, anyway. He had suffered, too.
“This might sting,” she warned before sticking him with the needle, her hands gentle and steady. She had run out of little round bandages, so she settled for a square of gauze and some medical tape. “There. You’re all set.”
He turned to face her. This close, she could see crow’s feet starting to form in the corner of his eyes. “Thank you, Adia. And… I am sorry, truly.” He faltered a moment before adding, “For not putting more faith in the Fleet. I see that now, surrounded by God’s love.”
She wrinkled her nose a little at the religious overtones, although the apology went a long way to soothe the last of her hurt nerves. “I can’t blame you for that,” she admitted. “Not when we keep making the same mistakes, over and over…”
“‘All of this has happened before and will happen again,’” Gaius recited the Sacred Scrolls proverb from memory. “Is that what you believe?”
Truthfully, Adia wasn’t sure what she believed anymore. She certainly hadn’t anticipated getting into a theological discussion with Doctor Baltar, of all people. Flustered, she fussed over properly disposing her syringe’s needle before replying. “I think there’s plenty of evidence to suggest a pattern. It’s too much of a coincidence that the humans on Earth also created Cylons.”
Her answer was met with silence. She looked up, and once again Gaius was staring at something only he could see. He mouthed a slient question to the air, shooting nervous glances at Adia all the while.
And then he leaned in, his voice low and urgent. “There’s something you should know, but it’s very important that you keep it to yourself.” He paused, giving one last look to something past her shoulder. “I tested the remains we found on Earth. Men, women, children… they weren’t human. They were Cylons.”
Adia blinked. “What?” It was the last thing she expected him to say. “But the thirteenth tribe —“
“They were all Cylons.” He leaned even closer, his eyes wide and earnest. “But they weren’t clones. They had somehow developed the ability to reproduce biologically. Hundreds of years they spent, just like us, until they got it into their heads to make Centurions for manual labor.”
“But…” But this was crazy, a wild theory for conspiracy theorists. She searched his face for a sign of deception and found none. His mouth was a sober line, his eyes dead serious. “How can you know that for sure?”
“The Final Five, they remember living on Earth. They’re the last of the thirteenth tribe.” He paused and let out a shaky breath. “Commander Adama decided not to tell the rest of the Fleet. He was worried it would cause a mass panic.”
“So why are you telling me?” Adia wrung her hands together. “Why now?”
He gave her a small, wry smile. “She said you’re good at keeping secrets.”
“She?” Adia repeated, watching him flinch at the same time, as if someone had swatted his ear.
“Sorry, just a… an inside joke.” He absently rubbed the side of his head. “I agree with you that there seems to be a pattern to our existence. But it’s a complex pattern. The variables change. Every time we go through a cycle, we have the opportunity to change the outcome. The thirteenth tribe ended in disaster, but that doesn’t mean we’re bound to the same fate.”
This sounded suspiciously like a sermon, but not the kind he usually delivered to his followers. “I thought that’s what your religion was all about. Fate.”
Gaius shook his head. “Fate puts us where we need to be. It’s still up to us to decide what path to take. And we all have that power. We all have a part in what happens. Even you, Adia. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do.”
Unconsciously, she placed a hand over her blazer pocket. He couldn’t possibly know about her decision. Could he?
From somewhere in Galactica, a muffled explosion sent a shockwave through the room, rattling the walls and shaking the floor. Gaius instinctively braced her with his arms, preventing her from toppling over. An alarm started outside the barracks doors.
And abruptly stopped.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he smoothly helped her regain her balance. “I should find out what that was about. I’ll be right back.”
Shaken, both literally and metaphorically, Adia could only nod in reply. She watched him head for the doors before preparing herself for her next patient. She feared the worst — a suicide bomber or a Cylon attack — but Gaius never returned, and the alarms stayed silent.
The end of her shift couldn’t come soon enough.
Adia’s post on Galactica turned out to be none other than Gaius Baltar’s sanctuary, an out of the way nook for wayward refugees drawn to the former president’s monotheistic cult.
Her escort, a hard-faced military nurse, pinched her mouth when they entered the makeshift barracks. “Hope you brought your surgical gloves,” she muttered. “This place has more STDs than a bad night on Scorpia.”
It was a crude joke, and unfair, but as Adia looked around at the piles of cushions and blankets, young men and women lying atop them as if without a care in the world, she could understand the nurse’s contempt. It seemed lazy and hedonistic to listen to a man’s sermons about fate and providence while humanity was teetering on the edge of extinction.
She set up her medical station and began administering vaccines. As she treated Baltar’s followers — mostly young adults, some older, some children — she softened her initial assessment. These people were no different from the rest of the Fleet. They had the same hopes, the same fears. And they suffered, too. She had to treat a number of physical injuries in addition to the usual ailments.
Her surroundings, she had to admit, were surprisingly peaceful considering that they were in the belly of a warship. The pervasive smell of incense was sweet without being cloying and soft classical music was playing from an old stereo. People spoke quietly, in comforting murmurs. It eased her nerves. She could get used to a place like this.
Gaius Baltar approached and her good mood vanished into the scented smoke.
He looked smaller in person, and a little rough around the edges. His smile was still that of a politician’s, albeit less charming and more pious. “Hello, Adia.” He offered his hand in greeting. “Thank you for offering your time and care to my people. It’s a pleasure to have another scientist among us.”
Adia looked at his hand. She didn’t take it. “I didn’t vote for you.”
Gaius visibly flinched, his dark eyes flicking off to the side. “Yes, well…” He laughed nervously before clearing his throat. “Even more props to you, then, for overcoming your prejudices. I’ve spoken to those who have seen you already, you’ve been very kind.”
“I’m not prejudiced against your followers,” she muttered, preparing his vaccination.
Gaius kept his expression serene, despite the amusement dancing in his eyes. “Ah. So it’s just me, then?”
Frustrated, she set down her needle and stared at him, right in his smirky, jerky face. All of her anger, her outrage at the cruelty of her universe, came bubbling to the surface. It was irrational and out-of-line, but in that moment she was ready to blame Baltar for everything. For his failed defense codes that let the Cylons annihilate the colonies. For his ineffective leadership. For the fact that he hid like a coward on his presidential shuttle and now got to play prophet while Galactica was literally falling apart at the seams.
“You,” she hissed, full of righteous indignation. Gaius already began to shrink back on himself like a scolded child. “You made us settle on New Caprica. We wasted all that time when we could have kept looking for Earth.”
But even as she said it, she could feel the fire fading from her words. Yes, they would have found Earth that much sooner. It still would have been a burnt-out shell. She swallowed a bitter lump in her throat and went back to her work. “Forget it… you didn’t know. None of us did.”
She kept her gaze down, cheeks burning. Gaius thankfully remained quiet as she took the time to regain her composure and finish dosing his vaccine. “Are you left or right-handed?” she asked, looking up.
Gaius was staring at the space to his left and muttering under his breath. It reminded her of Josh, oddly enough, when they were trapped in that maze of ice mirrors. Thinking of her friend alleviated some of her lingering annoyance. “Dr. Baltar?” she asked softly. “Are you all right?”
He blinked and looked at her quickly. “Ah… yes, sorry. What was that?”
“Are you left or right-handed?”
“Oh…” He was focused on her, but he still seemed distracted, his head tilted slightly like a confused dog. “Well, technically I’m ambidextrous, but—“
“Which arm do you want the needle in?” she interrupted.
To his credit, he seemed genuinely embarrassed at his misinterpretation. “Left,” he replied meekly, rolling up his sleeve.
His arm was covered in bruises, some fresher than others. Carefully, she wiped at a spot on his shoulder that wasn’t mottled or sore. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” She knew that he had been thrown into the brig (again) during the mutiny. What else was he hiding, underneath his worn clothes?
“I’m fine.” He flashed her an awkward smile. “I’ve had worse.”
She didn’t want to imagine how worse. Part of her didn’t want to feel any sympathy for him, but her heart gave a little, anyway. He had suffered, too.
“This might sting,” she warned before sticking him with the needle, her hands gentle and steady. She had run out of little round bandages, so she settled for a square of gauze and some medical tape. “There. You’re all set.”
He turned to face her. This close, she could see crow’s feet starting to form in the corner of his eyes. “Thank you, Adia. And… I am sorry, truly.” He faltered a moment before adding, “For not putting more faith in the Fleet. I see that now, surrounded by God’s love.”
She wrinkled her nose a little at the religious overtones, although the apology went a long way to soothe the last of her hurt nerves. “I can’t blame you for that,” she admitted. “Not when we keep making the same mistakes, over and over…”
“‘All of this has happened before and will happen again,’” Gaius recited the Sacred Scrolls proverb from memory. “Is that what you believe?”
Truthfully, Adia wasn’t sure what she believed anymore. She certainly hadn’t anticipated getting into a theological discussion with Doctor Baltar, of all people. Flustered, she fussed over properly disposing her syringe’s needle before replying. “I think there’s plenty of evidence to suggest a pattern. It’s too much of a coincidence that the humans on Earth also created Cylons.”
Her answer was met with silence. She looked up, and once again Gaius was staring at something only he could see. He mouthed a slient question to the air, shooting nervous glances at Adia all the while.
And then he leaned in, his voice low and urgent. “There’s something you should know, but it’s very important that you keep it to yourself.” He paused, giving one last look to something past her shoulder. “I tested the remains we found on Earth. Men, women, children… they weren’t human. They were Cylons.”
Adia blinked. “What?” It was the last thing she expected him to say. “But the thirteenth tribe —“
“They were all Cylons.” He leaned even closer, his eyes wide and earnest. “But they weren’t clones. They had somehow developed the ability to reproduce biologically. Hundreds of years they spent, just like us, until they got it into their heads to make Centurions for manual labor.”
“But…” But this was crazy, a wild theory for conspiracy theorists. She searched his face for a sign of deception and found none. His mouth was a sober line, his eyes dead serious. “How can you know that for sure?”
“The Final Five, they remember living on Earth. They’re the last of the thirteenth tribe.” He paused and let out a shaky breath. “Commander Adama decided not to tell the rest of the Fleet. He was worried it would cause a mass panic.”
“So why are you telling me?” Adia wrung her hands together. “Why now?”
He gave her a small, wry smile. “She said you’re good at keeping secrets.”
“She?” Adia repeated, watching him flinch at the same time, as if someone had swatted his ear.
“Sorry, just a… an inside joke.” He absently rubbed the side of his head. “I agree with you that there seems to be a pattern to our existence. But it’s a complex pattern. The variables change. Every time we go through a cycle, we have the opportunity to change the outcome. The thirteenth tribe ended in disaster, but that doesn’t mean we’re bound to the same fate.”
This sounded suspiciously like a sermon, but not the kind he usually delivered to his followers. “I thought that’s what your religion was all about. Fate.”
Gaius shook his head. “Fate puts us where we need to be. It’s still up to us to decide what path to take. And we all have that power. We all have a part in what happens. Even you, Adia. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do.”
Unconsciously, she placed a hand over her blazer pocket. He couldn’t possibly know about her decision. Could he?
From somewhere in Galactica, a muffled explosion sent a shockwave through the room, rattling the walls and shaking the floor. Gaius instinctively braced her with his arms, preventing her from toppling over. An alarm started outside the barracks doors.
And abruptly stopped.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he smoothly helped her regain her balance. “I should find out what that was about. I’ll be right back.”
Shaken, both literally and metaphorically, Adia could only nod in reply. She watched him head for the doors before preparing herself for her next patient. She feared the worst — a suicide bomber or a Cylon attack — but Gaius never returned, and the alarms stayed silent.
The end of her shift couldn’t come soon enough.
