Adia Costas

Winter continued its reign on Atlantis, but all around, there were signs that spring was coming.

Songbirds returned to the woods, their chirps and whistles filling the air. Crocuses began to push their way out of the ground. Humans spent time in the growing daylight hours preparing the fields and their own gardens for the coming season.

There were signs that Caspar was getting better, too. He stopped freezing Adia out, or pretending he was okay when he wasn’t. Like a thawing river, he let his thoughts and emotions out, little by little, until he could share what was on his mind with her freely. The nightmares lessened, as did his desire to project.

At least, not without including her.
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Every month, when the moon is full, Adia has the strangest dreams.

Not the vivid nightmares that she occasionally has of Caspar dying from a poisoned spear, or Atlantis falling under a malevolent attack. And not the more mundane dreams of being back in school, except for some reason she hasn’t attended classes all semester and she has a final paper due and she can’t remember her locker combination. Those are normal dreams, or at least normal for what she’s lived through.

No, her dreams during a full moon are of a different nature entirely.

She is in the wilderness: a forest, a beach, the rolling foothills of a mountain. It is always night, and the stars in the sky are so close that if she reached up, she is sure that she could touch one. The moon hangs low and bright like a lantern. Wherever she goes, it lights her way.

Sometimes there is a deer, pale and skittish in the distance. Sometimes she is the deer, running swiftly across the wild terrain.

She feels a pull from the moon above her. A gentle beckoning. Look at what I have to show you, it calls to her. Open your eyes and see.

When she tries to look, she catches the faintest glimpse of something. A tapestry made of endless silver threads, scrolling out into infinity.

But that’s all she gets before she wakes up.

~*~

Babysitting Hera was always a welcome break from Adia’s typical routine. She loved spending time with Karl and Sharon’s daughter, and though Hera had plenty of aunties and uncles to watch over her, it gave Adia a special warm feeling to know that she was one of Hera’s favorite caretakers.

It was probably because of the stories. Adia had started a tradition of telling elaborate tales about the Nexus to Hera. Keeping the Nexus a secret on Atlantis was taxing at times, so it was a relief to share what she could, albeit couched in the pretense of fiction.

She was wrapping up a tale about Princess Hera introducing a lightning-wielding king to hot chocolate, when the the little girl tugged at her sleeve, urging her to stand up. “Auntie, I want to show you something, okay?”

Adia smiled and obliged. “What is it?” she asked, expecting another hand-drawn picture.

The world around them shifted into the Nexus. Adia blinked and stared at the familiar sight of the Plaza, complete with couches, fountains, and vending machines. “Wh—“

“I’m projecting,” Hera said with a proud smile. “Like Mommy.”

Projecting. It was a skill that Cylons had of creating powerful mental images that they could share with other Cylons. But not humans. Their brains weren’t wired for it. “How… how am I seeing it, too?”

Hera’s smile grew. “You’re dreaming.”

Oh.

Wait, what?

Her wide-eyed stare returned to Hera, who suddenly didn’t seem anything like the little girl she knew. The expression on her face was far too mature, and her eyes were silver, nothing like their usual dark brown.

“But you don’t have to be,” she continued. “You can do this, too, Adia.” Her eyes shined like moonlight. “You just have to open your eyes and see.”

~*~

Adia woke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest.

What was that all about?

“Hey. You okay?” Caspar was lying next to her in the early dawn light, his expression alert. On edge. For a moment, she thought she could hear the crashing waves of the beach and smell the sharp tang of seawater. But when she blinked, the sensation disappeared.

“I’m fine.” She snuggled into the warm flannel sheets. “Just another strange dream. I was reading Hera a story and… then we were in the Nexus, I think? But… she wasn’t Hera, and then she told me something…”

Adia sighed in frustration. Why did these dreams disappear from her so quickly?

Caspar leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I’ll get the fire started,” he murmured, then left the bed to do just that. Anastasia quickly took his place, hopping up and finding a warm spot against Adia’s side. In moments, the kneazle dozed off again, purring contentedly in her sleep.

Adia smiled wistfully at the sight. If only it were that easy.

Apple-picking on Atlantis was nothing like apple-picking on Leonis.

There were no cider doughnuts, hayrides, or other amusements. Just lots and lots of apple trees that needed to be picked. It was a bountiful harvest, of which Adia was thankful…

…but did it have to be so darn hot?

The temperate weather was taking a break, apparently, as the sea breeze shifted and left stifling humidity in its wake. There was a thunderstorm in the evening’s forecast, but for now the sun beat down on them between the rows of trees. Nobody was comfortable except for Maggie’s son Jason, gnawing ineffectively on an apple under the shade of his bonnet, strapped to his mother’s back so she could help with the harvest.

Even Caspar had a light sheen of sweat upon him that refused to evaporate. It caused the fabric of his gray t-shirt to cling to his back, and though the sight distracted Adia from the heat for a while, eventually she had to admit that this was terrible weather for apple-picking.

“Ugh,” groaned Maggie, finally giving voice to the drudgery of their afternoon. “Why do we have to do this today?”
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A half-block away from their destination, Caspar had told Adia to close her eyes, that he would guide her the rest of the way. She asked jokingly if she should make a wish, too, but she knew that it was unnecessary. Whatever thoughtful, romantic surprise he had planned — on Valentine’s Day, no less — was sure to be more than enough.

“Door,” Caspar said helpfully as he led her through it. A pleasant jingle rang from above and she was enveloped in the sweet, comforting aroma of chocolate. “Okay. Open your eyes.”

She was inside a fancy chocolate shop, its counters and shelves festooned with red ribbons, all the better to show off the merchandise. The confections looked as good as they smelled, and Adia would have smiled in delight if she hadn’t suddenly realized to her horror and dismay that she had already been here once before.

On this very same holiday.

With a lovestruck Shark.
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For the first time in three years, the Fleet can celebrate Winter Solstice.

The infrastructure for an island-wide electrical grid is not fully in place, but people make do with strings of battery-powered LED lights and colorful votive candles to decorate the inside and outside of their homes. The weather on Atlantis is mild, but every fire pit is lit, communal gathering points for friends and neighbors to share drinks and wish one another well.

The holiday is traditionally celebrated by a quiet dinner with family. Those that have no family (and there are many) break bread with friends and neighbors, or join other loners at the Temple of Persephone. The priests pray to her for a short winter and a joyous return to spring. The priests pray to her cousin, Apollo, for the sun to rise in the morning. A formality, of course, to even the most religious in the Fleet, but it doesn’t hurt to cover one’s bases.

The Cylons have no Solstice traditions, but many have grown close to at least one human, and are welcomed into their homes. Julia joins Adia’s little family for dinner, which adds an additional layer of awkwardness to the evening. But the food is good and filling and there’s a bottle of wine to share, so everyone remains on their best behavior.

(Except baby Jason, who is teething.)
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The afternoon passes slowly, but not slowly enough.

Adia returns to her lab and works through her samples, but her thoughts are elsewhere. With each adjustment of the microscope knob, she has to breathe through the tight knot of nerves twisting her up inside. All the hypothetical conversations running through her head aren’t preparing her for seeing Caspar in the slightest.

What if he doesn’t apologize? What if he does, but it isn’t sincere?

What if he does everything right, and she still can’t forgive him?

She reaches for the tray of ocean water samples and accidentally knocks the whole thing over.

“Dammit!”

Grabbing her windbreaker and the tray (thank goodness nothing broke), she heads down to the beach to refill everything. There are children playing along the shore; a few beachcombers are gathering shells and driftwood. She collects her samples, answers questions about the ocean life. A gust of wind carries off a little girl’s hat and she helps chase after it.

By the time she returns to the lab, she is sandy and windswept, and her hair is a mess.

Caspar is there.
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[One week prior to the Second Cylon War.]

“Flowers, huh? I had no idea Caspar had it in him. He’s gonna make the rest of us lovestruck fools have to up our game.”

Adia giggled at Seth’s joke, then looked once more at the bouquet of birthday tulips sitting pretty on her desk. “I had no idea, either,” she admitted, touching one of the soft, orange petals. “It was very sweet of him.”

“I’m happy for you, kid. Listen, Maggie wants you in the conference room tonight after dinner. She has a surprise for you.”

“A cake?” Her smile turned a shade uneasy. “And a party, probably…”

Seth laughed and clapped her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I told her to keep the guest list to a minimum. Make sure you bring your boyfriend.”

“He’s not — we haven’t even gone on a date, yet,” she protested, even as a giddy blush spread across her face.

“Uh huh.” Seth tapped the side of his nose. “The dude is head over heels for you. He’s your boyfriend.”
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The rest of Adia’s shift passes quietly, but when she is led by her escort to the captain’s office, she is alarmed by the frenetic activity that surrounds her. Military workers are wheeling away large pallets of equipment, and refugees are being herded about like cattle. It feels like an evacuation, but there are no sirens, no shouts of panic.

It’s unnerving.

Captain Agathon is directing traffic outside his office door when she arrives. He turns to look at her, and she stifles a gasp. His eyes are red-rimmed, his face pale and distraught.

He’s been crying.

“Adia.” He forces a smile. “Sorry to make you come all this way. I can’t meet with you until later.”

“What happened?” she asks. “I heard an explosion, but…”

His smile crumbles. “Hera was kidnapped.”
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Standing in Galactica’s hangar bay, waiting for her military escort, Adia placed a hand over her blazer’s pocket and felt the reassuring outline of her PINpoint. It was a gesture she’d likely be doing all day, anxious to get through her medical shift so she could finally meet with Captain Agathon and tell him about the Nexus.

Distracted by her nerves, she didn’t notice the Six approaching until the taller woman was right in front of her. “Adia!” she said, smiling with relief, reaching out, her fingertips grazing Adia’s sleeves. “You made it. I’m so happy.”

Adia stared up at the Cylon. Her hair, unlike most other Sixes, was dyed brown. “Julia?” she said hesitantly. She couldn’t think of another Six who would know who she was, let alone care about her.

Laughing sheepishly, Julia brushed a dark lock behind her ear. “Yes, sorry. It’s me. I thought I’d try something a little different…”

“It looks nice on you,” Adia replied. Julia blushed and giggled shyly at the compliment, which didn’t seem much like her, either. But a profound sense of relief flooded Adia anyway, to see her savior alive and well. “You made it, too. I was worried you’d be punished for what you did to Four…”

Julia’s smile slid into a bitter smirk. “Oh, believe me, they tried. Our schism came at a rather convenient time.” And then she lost her smile completely, her eyes bright with anger. “He would have killed you. Or worse. If I’d known sooner how quickly he’d turn from the Plan…”

“The Plan?”

“God’s plan. To show the humans mercy…” The anger in her eyes dulled to shame. “Not that the rest of us were doing much better… I’d blame it on One spoon-feeding us lies, but…”

Adia had never seen Julia so remorseful. Her pretty features were etched with guilt. “Julia. You saved my life.” She patted her arm reassuringly. “You were always nice to me.”

“That’s because you made it easy.” Julia’s warm smile returned. “I spent all that time talking about God, when what I should have been doing was listening. Especially to you, Adia. You showed me far more kindness than I deserved.”

The compliment was nearly too much, especially considering the source. Julia had changed far more than the color of her hair. “You listened well enough. We’re friends now, right?”

She had meant to say “allies”, but considering the delighted grin she received in return, she was grateful for her accidental word choice. “Yes,” replied Julia. “We are. And I can keep protecting you, like I should have done from the beginning.”

Adia’s brows furrowed. Only now did she take in the raptor flight suit that Julia was wearing. “But… but that’s so dangerous. You can’t resurrect anymore.”

“So?” A hint of a patronizing smile crossed her lips, the old Julia peeking out from behind her new repentant persona. “Humans don’t resurrect, and yet you risk your lives, every day. Besides, I’m good at it.” She mimed firing off a round of cannon fire. “Helps me get out my aggression.”

Adia knew that she should laugh, that Julia was showing off for her benefit, but worrying about others was a hard habit to break. “Okay… stay safe, though. As safe as you can.”

“I will.” She leaned in, then seemed to think better of it, placing a hand on Adia’s shoulder instead and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You, too.”

People are strange.

When humanity was at its lowest point on New Caprica, the twelve tribes were able to set aside their differences and escape the Cylon occupation. But now that the Fleet is closer than ever to finding Earth, that united front is cracking.

The shift in mood begins when Gaius Baltar is acquitted of treason. Many colonists were looking for someone to blame for the Cylon invasion and subsequent occupation. Denying them that perceived justice has them furious and searching for a new scapegoat.

And then, because Gaius “self-proclaimed genius” Baltar can’t simply lay low like a normal person, he has to go and start his own religion. It’s a monotheistic cult that preaches love and ascending one’s fate — heresy for many, but appealing enough for some that he gains a sizable following. It sparks political discord in the Quorum of Twelve. It nearly ignites a spiritual war.

There are fractures within the Cylon Fleet as well, ones that blossom into a civil war, but Adia does not learn about this until the Demetrius returns from a scouting mission with a Cylon basestar in tow. It contains Twos, Sixes, and Eights, but no Fives.

Adia had not even had time to get her hopes up, but it still stings, knowing that Caspar continues to be the enemy.
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