Fic: Descant (chapter 8)
Jan. 31st, 2012 09:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
embolaliaTitle: Descant (Chapter 8)
Rating: R
Characters: Kara/Leoben, Helo, Caprica, Hera, & more
Word Count (this chapter): 3,091
WARNINGS: Non-canon character death. Canon-level violence and themes.
Part 2
Destiny
by A.E.
LIKE winds or waters were her ways:
The flowing tides, the airy streams,
Are troubled not by any dreams;
They know the circle of their days.
Like winds or waters were her ways:
They heed not immemorial cries;
They move to their high destinies
Beyond the little voice that prays.
She passed into her secret goal,
And left behind a soul that trod
In darkness, knowing not of God,
But craving for its sister soul.
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
A month passes as an impossible convoy of battlestar and baseship travels through the stars in search of a mythic planet. Tensions rise and fall as the occupants of both ships get used to each other. Kara does her best to stay out of it.
Gaius’ first step on the scavenger hunt for Earth turns out to be a beacon infected with some kind of Cylon-attacking virus. Cottle inoculates the human models as quickly as possible with Hera’s blood, but the Cylons are left chilled by what it is they’ve given up. Kara finds her own heart racing when she sees the first Six die of the disease as Leoben prays over her. The images of those lost to the virus begin to appear along one hallway on the baseship. Resentment between humans and Cylons begin to ease. But the beacon proves too eroded to be useful, and the Fleet slows to a stop, mired in uncertainty about where to go next.
Kara submerges herself in the duties of CAG, avoiding any down time. Avoiding him. But even in work there’s no avoiding the dull throb of loss where the Chief should have been, or Tigh, or even Lee. In the halls and rooms that were once home, there are too many ghosts.
Everyone who wasn’t on New Caprica has litanies of questions about Sam’s death, about the revolution, coming at her from all sides at once until she can’t take it anymore. Adama doesn’t push, but after the first week he reassigns her to the Tighs’ empty quarters without asking questions. Kara accepts it with a sigh of relief and returns to work. It’s easier to believe in the mission than to think about what went on back there.
Each night, though, his presence suffuses her dreams, his arm around her waist, the heat of his body warming her as she sleeps. She nestles backwards, indulging in the contact. His breath caresses her neck and she smiles. In the mornings she tells herself she dreamt of Sam, or Lee, or Zak. She tells herself she doesn’t have a destiny, and it’s not him.
Six days after they give up on the beacon, Kara peers down a hallway, frowning. She’s always known Galactica like the back of her hand, but even after a month of visiting the baseship, she keeps getting lost. Glancing over her shoulder, she shrugs and continues.
A few yards further, the floor turns abruptly from metal to the unnerving organic tissue of the raw baseship. As she eases down the corridor and emerges onto a catwalk above the baseship’s landing bay, Kara stops for a moment, staring downward. The vast rows of raiders are an impressive sight, one that still makes her tense reflexively. But she can’t help smiling as voices carry up from below: Jammer and Ishay and an Eight are trying to work out how to heal a damaged raider.
Kara starts walking again before the others notice her and ask for help. It’s better for them to figure out how to interact on their own. And if she can ever find the main command room, she’s due for a meeting with the leadership about where to go next.
As she passes into the next stretch of hallway, the floor becomes metal again and Kara breathes easier. Then she comes to a door. Kara pauses with her hands on her hips. Every door on this frakking ship looks the same: she could find more of the creepy, empty Cylon bodies on the other side; or Gaius and Caprica having sex again; or her meeting. She rolls her eyes and gets it over with.
It’s none of those things. At first Kara’s not even sure what it is that she’s seeing. A single resurrection tub, except sunken into the floor. And the woman in it isn’t a Cylon she’s ever seen before.
“Life support enabled,” the woman says. “Exchanging breath for breath the machine lives. The five lights of the apocalypse are kindled as one.”
Kara eases closer, mesmerized. “Hello?” she asks, wondering if the woman is drugged or crazy or both.
Eyes snap to hers, hold her gaze intently. When Kara looks away, she gasps in horror; the woman’s body is twisted, literally woven into the ship by cords and wires.
“Did they do this to you?” she demands. “The Cylons? Where did you come from?”
The woman speaks, though if it’s an answer Kara doesn’t understand. “Genesis leads to exodus that never ends. From the shore the view is always the same and never the same.”
Kara kneels down at the edge of the tub, peering into it. It seems almost like she’s talking to an oracle. Or Leoben. She tries to catch the woman’s eyes again. “Do you know where I can find the others?” she asks, feeling insane.
A hand snatches her wrist, drawing her close with impossible strength. “Lightening turns sand into glass. What was broken becomes unbroken. You are the harbinger of death, Kara Thrace. You will lead them all to their end. End of line.”
The hand releases her and slips into the water; the woman’s eyes close and her head falls limp. Kara is frozen in place.
“What did you say?” she whispers. Then she stands abruptly, brushing off her clothes as if the words have left a trace behind she can remove. Kara backs away, heart racing, then takes off out of the room, down the hall, adrenaline driving her steps. She’s going nowhere, directionless, just running. The woman’s words spin around and around in her head until suddenly she tears around a corner and staggers to a halt in front of the group she was looking for.
“Good to see you, Captain,” Roslin greets her with just a hint of disapproval.
Kara pants, trying to act normally. “I got lost,” she bites out. “Sorry.”
Natalie frowns in confusion, then continues what she was saying. “We’ve been through the books of scriptures that were left to us and there are references to the Temple of Hopes, just as there are--”
“In Pythia!” Roslin says excitedly. “Show me.”
Kara tries to catch her breath as Caprica brings out a tome and the women begin to pore over it, but the words keep playing through her mind: the harbinger of death.
“Kara?”
She looks up sharply at the sound of Leoben’s voice. He’s frowning at her intently. Kara turns away, tries to focus on what the others are saying. Adama is impatiently scrolling through star charts on a modified Cylon display while Laura and the Sixes compare prophecy. Kara moves to join him, lets her mind focus only on the static of the stars.
“There!” Leoben bursts out suddenly. The others turn to him as one. He’s pointing to a particularly bright area of the display, a star cluster shrouded in radiation clouds. “That’s where we’ll find the temple.”
Natalie and Caprica close their books, leaning closer to see.
“We couldn’t get there if we wanted to,” Adama protests. “The radiation would destroy our ships.”
“The baseships have sufficient shielding. And if we can find the planet’s exact coordinates we may be able to make it in one jump,” Natalie suggests. “Galactica could survive the trip if we went ahead and found the safest path.”
Adama grimaces. Even after a month, Kara knows he’s wary of dealing with the Cylons.
“Bill,” Laura says in her most diplomatic voice.
“It’s a Cylon’s vision!” he protests.
“It’s a vision.” She smiles faintly, coyly. “You’ve followed those before.”
Kara meets Leoben’s eyes, sees a familiar certainty there. He nods, asking silently for her support. She purses her lips. “What have we got to lose?” she asks, turning to the Admiral. “If it’s safe, then it won’t take us more than a few days to either find the temple or rule this quadrant out.”
Bill glowers at her a moment for taking the other side, then shrugs it off. “Fine. Go back to Galactica and coordinate.”
“Yes, sir.” Kara nods to the group and turns back down the hall.
“Kara.”
It’s almost a relief when she realizes Leoben is following her; at least she won’t get lost again.
He catches her arm, pulls her to a stop. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. “There will be answers for all of us once we get there.”
Kara shrugs, suddenly afraid of what those answers might be. His hand on her wrist is familiar, drawing her back to New Caprica. His thumb strokes lightly at her pulsepoint, and Kara resists a shiver. In the weeks since they left, this is the first time she’s allowed him to touch her. “I saw,” she starts, struggling with the words. “I found a room before, by accident. A woman in a tub.”
Leoben’s eyes light up. “The hybrid!” He’s excited. “Did she speak to you?”
“Did you make her that way?” Kara demands. “Where did she come from?”
“The hybrids control all our ships,” he answers. “They were made by the Centurions, even before we were. They live in the stream, navigate both space and time.”
Kara shudders at the thought of it.
“Did she speak to you?” Leoben asks again. His grip tightens.
She swallows hard. “No,” she bites out, jerking free. “No.”
Kara heads off again, walking as fast as she can. If she has a destiny, it cannot possibly be that. The harbinger of death. Almost immediately she reaches the landing bay where a Raptor is waiting for her. Kara darts inside, eager for the blank relief of space.
*
Leoben finds the Galactica strangely familiar, but after all it’s Kara’s home. As he leaves the final planning session the next day, Adama offers him an escort back to his heavy raider. Leoben merely shakes his head and says Caprica will show him the way. In truth he doesn’t need a guide, but he spares the Admiral’s feelings. Anyway, he adds, he wants to check on Hera. He glances at the President to make his point and Adama dismisses him with a glare and a nod.
As they step in to the hall, Caprica smiles at him. “That went well,” she says softly, steering them toward the hanger deck.
He nods absently.
She cocks her head. “I thought you’d be excited. With any luck, tomorrow we’ll find the Temple of Hopes.”
“I am.” He tries to sound it.
“Leoben,” Caprica stops at the corridor that will lead her away to the quarters that she and Gaius share. “I know you miss her. Kara.” She reaches out to touch his hand and they’re suddenly at the edge of her lake, in the safety and privacy of projection.
Leoben gazes out at the view. “I’m here to be her guide, not her lover,” he says quietly.
“God is love,” she corrects. “Your love for her is His will.”
He turns quickly, meeting her eyes. “I can’t be either. She denies what we shared.”
Caprica smiles helplessly. “It’s still the truth. Look how far love has gotten us already.”
Leoben stares into her eyes, then drops her hand, unravels the projection.
“She’s staying in the old XO quarters,” Caprica says softly. “Down that way.”
He nods in acceptance, and heads down the hall, follows the ripples of Kara’s presence. The intensity builds as he reaches her door.
After a moment’s hesitation, Leoben opens the hatch and gasps, shuddering with the power of what he sees.
“What are you doing here?” Kara demands, moving quickly to stand between him and Hera.
Images races through him: a temple in the side of a mountain, swirling clouds, Hera crying. Kara in his arms.
“Leoben?” Her voice, her hand on his shoulder, bring him back to himself with a jolt. He steps further into the room, letting the hatch fall closed. His fingers trace through the air, exploring the paintings that cover the walls.
“You did these?” he asks in awe, taking in the stars.
“Yeah,” Kara says, agitated. She settles down to the floor, crouching beside Hera, who’s playing with her own set of paints. “It’s nothing. Something to decorate.”
The stars call out to him; all else fades away as his eyes are drawn into the star cluster they’re about to visit. “This is beautiful,” Leoben offers softly.
“Thanks.”
When he turns, she’s smiling shyly at him and for a moment Leoben sees Kara as a girl, painting fiercely, expelling all the darkness her mother poured into her. “You’re beautiful,” he says, and means so much more than the words.
Kara looks away, down at Hera. “The hybrid,” she says nervously, and then she gasps, her eyes widening in fear.
Leoben looks at her sharply, then follows her gaze downward. On Hera’s page there are three concentric circles: blue and yellow and red.
“Did you show her that?” Kara begs, looking up at him in terror.
Leoben shakes his head slowly. He smiles Hera. The power of it is filling the room, filling him. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Kara,” he says tenderly. “Hera is God’s tool just as you are, just as I am. We all do his will.”
“Get out,” she snaps, leaping to her feet, pushing him backward until he staggers into the wall beside the door. Her hands rest on his chest and for a moment he sees her eyes darken, feels himself respond to her closeness. Then Kara seems to realize it too and releases him. “Leave us alone.”
He opens the door but stops there, looking back over his shoulder at her, at the child. He can see Kara’s fear, the way she continues to fight all the signs of her destiny even as they build around her. The need to take that fear away is even stronger than the need to do God’s work. “I love you, Kara,” Leoben says softly. He leaves before she can reply.
*
The journey through the radiation clouds passes easily enough, to Adama’s disgruntled satisfaction and Natalie’s quiet delight. The Raptors fill quickly with humans and Cylons eager to be on solid ground again, at least for a few hours. The twos and sixes and eights mingle with pilots and marines and knuckledraggers, and if there’s resentment on either side, no one mentions it aloud.
Kara sets foot on the planet with a mix of trepidation and relief. She doesn’t want to think about what it means that Leoben’s vision was a true one, but at least if they can find the temple they’ll be one step closer to Earth.
Hera runs over, attaching herself to Kara’s leg, and she picks the child up with a smile.
“We thought we’d give her a breath of fresh air,” Athena says, walking up to them with Helo beside her.
“We could all use one,” Kara answers, squeezing the little girl and then setting her down again.
Sharon follows after Hera as she toddles off, but Helo sticks with Kara as they join the procession through the dry scrub. Leoben leads; no one questions how he knows where to go.
“Hera said something about seeing Leoben yesterday,” Helo says affably after a few minutes. He waits for Kara to respond. “You still avoiding him?” he asks when she stays silent.
Kara glares, then answers slowly. “Back there...on New Caprica everything was screwed up. Sam was dead, Galactica was gone.”
“And you fell in love with him.” Helo’s frowning at her, trying to catch her eye.
“I didn’t say that!” Kara snaps. Up ahead she sees Leoben glance back at her in concern. “Leave it alone, Helo,” she mutters. “He can’t get it out of his head that I have some magical destiny coming. And I don’t.”
“Okay,” he says softly, but she can still feel him watching her.
Their journey takes more than an hour, and even Kara imagines she can feel some kind of energy humming through her as Leoben leads them finally to a door in the side of a mountain.
The file in, gazing up with wonder. Kara’s eyes stop on a symbol on the side of a column, her heart pounding in her chest. She’s so overcome by the horror and awe of what she’s seeing that she doesn’t notice the complete silence that’s fallen until the cocking of a gun echoes through the chamber.
Then her gaze falls and she freezes at the sight before her: a dozen enemy skinjobs there already.
The world erupts into motion; Kara downs two Threes before she’s even processed what’s going on. Bullets are flying in both directions and ricocheting off the walls of the temple.
“Stop!” Athena screams suddenly, and everyone freezes. The only sound is Hera wailing as a One clutches her to his chest, a gun to her head. Around the floor, bodies are scattered: the threes, a four and five sprawled across each other, an eight clutching at her leg and a marine kneeling over one of the knuckledraggers.
“Didn’t see that coming?” the One sneers at Leoben. “So much for your foresight.” He pulls Hera around to shield him and she whimpers, squirming.
“You can die, too,” Leoben says calmly. “Forever. Don’t force us to shoot you.” He glances at Kara and she aims her weapon at the One’s head.
The One opens his mouth, grinning vindictively, and in that moment Leoben rushes him, catching the One around the waist as Hera tumbles to the ground.
“Now!” Leoben orders and Kara fires. The rest of the marines and pilots are shooting again, too, and in a moment the rest of the enemy forces have fallen.
Kara feels like the world is moving in slow motion. The One is on the ground, fallen where she hit him. And on top of him is another body, his short blond hair dark with blood. “No,” she whispers, and flies across the room, crouching over him. The harbinger of death. There are tears on her cheeks. She turns him onto his back. His eyes are closed, his face a mask of death.
Chapter 9
Rating: R
Characters: Kara/Leoben, Helo, Caprica, Hera, & more
Word Count (this chapter): 3,091
WARNINGS: Non-canon character death. Canon-level violence and themes.
Part 2
Destiny
by A.E.
LIKE winds or waters were her ways:
The flowing tides, the airy streams,
Are troubled not by any dreams;
They know the circle of their days.
Like winds or waters were her ways:
They heed not immemorial cries;
They move to their high destinies
Beyond the little voice that prays.
She passed into her secret goal,
And left behind a soul that trod
In darkness, knowing not of God,
But craving for its sister soul.
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
A month passes as an impossible convoy of battlestar and baseship travels through the stars in search of a mythic planet. Tensions rise and fall as the occupants of both ships get used to each other. Kara does her best to stay out of it.
Gaius’ first step on the scavenger hunt for Earth turns out to be a beacon infected with some kind of Cylon-attacking virus. Cottle inoculates the human models as quickly as possible with Hera’s blood, but the Cylons are left chilled by what it is they’ve given up. Kara finds her own heart racing when she sees the first Six die of the disease as Leoben prays over her. The images of those lost to the virus begin to appear along one hallway on the baseship. Resentment between humans and Cylons begin to ease. But the beacon proves too eroded to be useful, and the Fleet slows to a stop, mired in uncertainty about where to go next.
Kara submerges herself in the duties of CAG, avoiding any down time. Avoiding him. But even in work there’s no avoiding the dull throb of loss where the Chief should have been, or Tigh, or even Lee. In the halls and rooms that were once home, there are too many ghosts.
Everyone who wasn’t on New Caprica has litanies of questions about Sam’s death, about the revolution, coming at her from all sides at once until she can’t take it anymore. Adama doesn’t push, but after the first week he reassigns her to the Tighs’ empty quarters without asking questions. Kara accepts it with a sigh of relief and returns to work. It’s easier to believe in the mission than to think about what went on back there.
Each night, though, his presence suffuses her dreams, his arm around her waist, the heat of his body warming her as she sleeps. She nestles backwards, indulging in the contact. His breath caresses her neck and she smiles. In the mornings she tells herself she dreamt of Sam, or Lee, or Zak. She tells herself she doesn’t have a destiny, and it’s not him.
Six days after they give up on the beacon, Kara peers down a hallway, frowning. She’s always known Galactica like the back of her hand, but even after a month of visiting the baseship, she keeps getting lost. Glancing over her shoulder, she shrugs and continues.
A few yards further, the floor turns abruptly from metal to the unnerving organic tissue of the raw baseship. As she eases down the corridor and emerges onto a catwalk above the baseship’s landing bay, Kara stops for a moment, staring downward. The vast rows of raiders are an impressive sight, one that still makes her tense reflexively. But she can’t help smiling as voices carry up from below: Jammer and Ishay and an Eight are trying to work out how to heal a damaged raider.
Kara starts walking again before the others notice her and ask for help. It’s better for them to figure out how to interact on their own. And if she can ever find the main command room, she’s due for a meeting with the leadership about where to go next.
As she passes into the next stretch of hallway, the floor becomes metal again and Kara breathes easier. Then she comes to a door. Kara pauses with her hands on her hips. Every door on this frakking ship looks the same: she could find more of the creepy, empty Cylon bodies on the other side; or Gaius and Caprica having sex again; or her meeting. She rolls her eyes and gets it over with.
It’s none of those things. At first Kara’s not even sure what it is that she’s seeing. A single resurrection tub, except sunken into the floor. And the woman in it isn’t a Cylon she’s ever seen before.
“Life support enabled,” the woman says. “Exchanging breath for breath the machine lives. The five lights of the apocalypse are kindled as one.”
Kara eases closer, mesmerized. “Hello?” she asks, wondering if the woman is drugged or crazy or both.
Eyes snap to hers, hold her gaze intently. When Kara looks away, she gasps in horror; the woman’s body is twisted, literally woven into the ship by cords and wires.
“Did they do this to you?” she demands. “The Cylons? Where did you come from?”
The woman speaks, though if it’s an answer Kara doesn’t understand. “Genesis leads to exodus that never ends. From the shore the view is always the same and never the same.”
Kara kneels down at the edge of the tub, peering into it. It seems almost like she’s talking to an oracle. Or Leoben. She tries to catch the woman’s eyes again. “Do you know where I can find the others?” she asks, feeling insane.
A hand snatches her wrist, drawing her close with impossible strength. “Lightening turns sand into glass. What was broken becomes unbroken. You are the harbinger of death, Kara Thrace. You will lead them all to their end. End of line.”
The hand releases her and slips into the water; the woman’s eyes close and her head falls limp. Kara is frozen in place.
“What did you say?” she whispers. Then she stands abruptly, brushing off her clothes as if the words have left a trace behind she can remove. Kara backs away, heart racing, then takes off out of the room, down the hall, adrenaline driving her steps. She’s going nowhere, directionless, just running. The woman’s words spin around and around in her head until suddenly she tears around a corner and staggers to a halt in front of the group she was looking for.
“Good to see you, Captain,” Roslin greets her with just a hint of disapproval.
Kara pants, trying to act normally. “I got lost,” she bites out. “Sorry.”
Natalie frowns in confusion, then continues what she was saying. “We’ve been through the books of scriptures that were left to us and there are references to the Temple of Hopes, just as there are--”
“In Pythia!” Roslin says excitedly. “Show me.”
Kara tries to catch her breath as Caprica brings out a tome and the women begin to pore over it, but the words keep playing through her mind: the harbinger of death.
“Kara?”
She looks up sharply at the sound of Leoben’s voice. He’s frowning at her intently. Kara turns away, tries to focus on what the others are saying. Adama is impatiently scrolling through star charts on a modified Cylon display while Laura and the Sixes compare prophecy. Kara moves to join him, lets her mind focus only on the static of the stars.
“There!” Leoben bursts out suddenly. The others turn to him as one. He’s pointing to a particularly bright area of the display, a star cluster shrouded in radiation clouds. “That’s where we’ll find the temple.”
Natalie and Caprica close their books, leaning closer to see.
“We couldn’t get there if we wanted to,” Adama protests. “The radiation would destroy our ships.”
“The baseships have sufficient shielding. And if we can find the planet’s exact coordinates we may be able to make it in one jump,” Natalie suggests. “Galactica could survive the trip if we went ahead and found the safest path.”
Adama grimaces. Even after a month, Kara knows he’s wary of dealing with the Cylons.
“Bill,” Laura says in her most diplomatic voice.
“It’s a Cylon’s vision!” he protests.
“It’s a vision.” She smiles faintly, coyly. “You’ve followed those before.”
Kara meets Leoben’s eyes, sees a familiar certainty there. He nods, asking silently for her support. She purses her lips. “What have we got to lose?” she asks, turning to the Admiral. “If it’s safe, then it won’t take us more than a few days to either find the temple or rule this quadrant out.”
Bill glowers at her a moment for taking the other side, then shrugs it off. “Fine. Go back to Galactica and coordinate.”
“Yes, sir.” Kara nods to the group and turns back down the hall.
“Kara.”
It’s almost a relief when she realizes Leoben is following her; at least she won’t get lost again.
He catches her arm, pulls her to a stop. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. “There will be answers for all of us once we get there.”
Kara shrugs, suddenly afraid of what those answers might be. His hand on her wrist is familiar, drawing her back to New Caprica. His thumb strokes lightly at her pulsepoint, and Kara resists a shiver. In the weeks since they left, this is the first time she’s allowed him to touch her. “I saw,” she starts, struggling with the words. “I found a room before, by accident. A woman in a tub.”
Leoben’s eyes light up. “The hybrid!” He’s excited. “Did she speak to you?”
“Did you make her that way?” Kara demands. “Where did she come from?”
“The hybrids control all our ships,” he answers. “They were made by the Centurions, even before we were. They live in the stream, navigate both space and time.”
Kara shudders at the thought of it.
“Did she speak to you?” Leoben asks again. His grip tightens.
She swallows hard. “No,” she bites out, jerking free. “No.”
Kara heads off again, walking as fast as she can. If she has a destiny, it cannot possibly be that. The harbinger of death. Almost immediately she reaches the landing bay where a Raptor is waiting for her. Kara darts inside, eager for the blank relief of space.
*
Leoben finds the Galactica strangely familiar, but after all it’s Kara’s home. As he leaves the final planning session the next day, Adama offers him an escort back to his heavy raider. Leoben merely shakes his head and says Caprica will show him the way. In truth he doesn’t need a guide, but he spares the Admiral’s feelings. Anyway, he adds, he wants to check on Hera. He glances at the President to make his point and Adama dismisses him with a glare and a nod.
As they step in to the hall, Caprica smiles at him. “That went well,” she says softly, steering them toward the hanger deck.
He nods absently.
She cocks her head. “I thought you’d be excited. With any luck, tomorrow we’ll find the Temple of Hopes.”
“I am.” He tries to sound it.
“Leoben,” Caprica stops at the corridor that will lead her away to the quarters that she and Gaius share. “I know you miss her. Kara.” She reaches out to touch his hand and they’re suddenly at the edge of her lake, in the safety and privacy of projection.
Leoben gazes out at the view. “I’m here to be her guide, not her lover,” he says quietly.
“God is love,” she corrects. “Your love for her is His will.”
He turns quickly, meeting her eyes. “I can’t be either. She denies what we shared.”
Caprica smiles helplessly. “It’s still the truth. Look how far love has gotten us already.”
Leoben stares into her eyes, then drops her hand, unravels the projection.
“She’s staying in the old XO quarters,” Caprica says softly. “Down that way.”
He nods in acceptance, and heads down the hall, follows the ripples of Kara’s presence. The intensity builds as he reaches her door.
After a moment’s hesitation, Leoben opens the hatch and gasps, shuddering with the power of what he sees.
“What are you doing here?” Kara demands, moving quickly to stand between him and Hera.
Images races through him: a temple in the side of a mountain, swirling clouds, Hera crying. Kara in his arms.
“Leoben?” Her voice, her hand on his shoulder, bring him back to himself with a jolt. He steps further into the room, letting the hatch fall closed. His fingers trace through the air, exploring the paintings that cover the walls.
“You did these?” he asks in awe, taking in the stars.
“Yeah,” Kara says, agitated. She settles down to the floor, crouching beside Hera, who’s playing with her own set of paints. “It’s nothing. Something to decorate.”
The stars call out to him; all else fades away as his eyes are drawn into the star cluster they’re about to visit. “This is beautiful,” Leoben offers softly.
“Thanks.”
When he turns, she’s smiling shyly at him and for a moment Leoben sees Kara as a girl, painting fiercely, expelling all the darkness her mother poured into her. “You’re beautiful,” he says, and means so much more than the words.
Kara looks away, down at Hera. “The hybrid,” she says nervously, and then she gasps, her eyes widening in fear.
Leoben looks at her sharply, then follows her gaze downward. On Hera’s page there are three concentric circles: blue and yellow and red.
“Did you show her that?” Kara begs, looking up at him in terror.
Leoben shakes his head slowly. He smiles Hera. The power of it is filling the room, filling him. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Kara,” he says tenderly. “Hera is God’s tool just as you are, just as I am. We all do his will.”
“Get out,” she snaps, leaping to her feet, pushing him backward until he staggers into the wall beside the door. Her hands rest on his chest and for a moment he sees her eyes darken, feels himself respond to her closeness. Then Kara seems to realize it too and releases him. “Leave us alone.”
He opens the door but stops there, looking back over his shoulder at her, at the child. He can see Kara’s fear, the way she continues to fight all the signs of her destiny even as they build around her. The need to take that fear away is even stronger than the need to do God’s work. “I love you, Kara,” Leoben says softly. He leaves before she can reply.
*
The journey through the radiation clouds passes easily enough, to Adama’s disgruntled satisfaction and Natalie’s quiet delight. The Raptors fill quickly with humans and Cylons eager to be on solid ground again, at least for a few hours. The twos and sixes and eights mingle with pilots and marines and knuckledraggers, and if there’s resentment on either side, no one mentions it aloud.
Kara sets foot on the planet with a mix of trepidation and relief. She doesn’t want to think about what it means that Leoben’s vision was a true one, but at least if they can find the temple they’ll be one step closer to Earth.
Hera runs over, attaching herself to Kara’s leg, and she picks the child up with a smile.
“We thought we’d give her a breath of fresh air,” Athena says, walking up to them with Helo beside her.
“We could all use one,” Kara answers, squeezing the little girl and then setting her down again.
Sharon follows after Hera as she toddles off, but Helo sticks with Kara as they join the procession through the dry scrub. Leoben leads; no one questions how he knows where to go.
“Hera said something about seeing Leoben yesterday,” Helo says affably after a few minutes. He waits for Kara to respond. “You still avoiding him?” he asks when she stays silent.
Kara glares, then answers slowly. “Back there...on New Caprica everything was screwed up. Sam was dead, Galactica was gone.”
“And you fell in love with him.” Helo’s frowning at her, trying to catch her eye.
“I didn’t say that!” Kara snaps. Up ahead she sees Leoben glance back at her in concern. “Leave it alone, Helo,” she mutters. “He can’t get it out of his head that I have some magical destiny coming. And I don’t.”
“Okay,” he says softly, but she can still feel him watching her.
Their journey takes more than an hour, and even Kara imagines she can feel some kind of energy humming through her as Leoben leads them finally to a door in the side of a mountain.
The file in, gazing up with wonder. Kara’s eyes stop on a symbol on the side of a column, her heart pounding in her chest. She’s so overcome by the horror and awe of what she’s seeing that she doesn’t notice the complete silence that’s fallen until the cocking of a gun echoes through the chamber.
Then her gaze falls and she freezes at the sight before her: a dozen enemy skinjobs there already.
The world erupts into motion; Kara downs two Threes before she’s even processed what’s going on. Bullets are flying in both directions and ricocheting off the walls of the temple.
“Stop!” Athena screams suddenly, and everyone freezes. The only sound is Hera wailing as a One clutches her to his chest, a gun to her head. Around the floor, bodies are scattered: the threes, a four and five sprawled across each other, an eight clutching at her leg and a marine kneeling over one of the knuckledraggers.
“Didn’t see that coming?” the One sneers at Leoben. “So much for your foresight.” He pulls Hera around to shield him and she whimpers, squirming.
“You can die, too,” Leoben says calmly. “Forever. Don’t force us to shoot you.” He glances at Kara and she aims her weapon at the One’s head.
The One opens his mouth, grinning vindictively, and in that moment Leoben rushes him, catching the One around the waist as Hera tumbles to the ground.
“Now!” Leoben orders and Kara fires. The rest of the marines and pilots are shooting again, too, and in a moment the rest of the enemy forces have fallen.
Kara feels like the world is moving in slow motion. The One is on the ground, fallen where she hit him. And on top of him is another body, his short blond hair dark with blood. “No,” she whispers, and flies across the room, crouching over him. The harbinger of death. There are tears on her cheeks. She turns him onto his back. His eyes are closed, his face a mask of death.
Chapter 9
