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The Only Thing New In This World

This is a remix of/companion piece to The History Books Forgot About Us b miabicicletta nbsp;an sunshine_queen nbsp;that I wrote as part of the 2011 BSG Remix. It will make much more sense if you read the original, but, in a nutshell, it tells the story of eleven previous lives which the spirits that became Bill Adama and Laura Roslin had shared together on each of the twelve colonies.

What might happen, I wonder, if the processes that bind those two souls together snare someone else in their wake?



The Only Thing New In This World...Collapse )
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Gracious Yuletide Author

First, thanks so much for writing a story for me. I'm excited to read something new about these characters that I love.

Second, if the specifics of my request are too daunting for you, follow your muse. I'd much rather read a story that isn't exactly what I wanted that comes from the heart than a tortured attempt to write something you hate just to please me.

Third, just in case I need to mention it, I don't care for cruelty. I can enjoy stories in which bad things happen to good people, or in which good people have to do bad things, but I don't care for deliberate evil (except for brief examples of supervillains being supervillains.)

Anyway, here's some more specifics about my fandoms:

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Anyway, thanks again for making me a special holiday story. I hope you have as much fun writing it as I will reading it.
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Repairing the Damage

 The atmosphere in CIC was weirdly calm.  Everyone spoke quietly, concentrated on their duties, and did their best to ignore the blood stains where Private Jaffee had died the day before.  No one said anything beyond what their duties required, and none of them met the Admiral's gaze.

Then, two hours after his shift began, at his post manning the comms station, Lieutenant Hoshi began to cry.  Not quiet tears that might have gone unnoticed, nor even a gentle sobbing that the Old Man and the XO might have chosen to overlook, but the harsh, agonized wails of a soul in torment.

Admiral Adama strode over to stare directly up at him.  "Mr. Hoshi," he said after moment.  The crying continued unabated, indeed with no sign that the junior officer had even heard him.  "Mr. Hoshi!" he repeated, eyes narrowing.  "Resume your duties, or I'll have you relieved."  Hoshi lay his face in his hands, unable to stop.

Colonel Tigh climbed the stairs and went to the distraught younger man.  "Bill," he said softly, "I'll handle this."  Gesturing over a specialist, Tigh helped Hoshi to his feet, and led him to the observation area over the CIC, and closed the door.

Hoshi sat down.  Tigh gave him some water.  Shortly, Hoshi had regained enough composure to say: "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Tigh replied.  

Silence stretched between them for perhaps a minute, and then Hoshi asked: "Sir, what should I do?"

Tigh shook his head.  "I don't know, son.  I know what I would do, but you need to do what you have to take care of yourself.  If  you need some time to grieve before you can do your job, then say so, and that will be that."

Hoshi nodded. "What would you do, then, sir?"

"Well, Lieutenant..." he began, and then stopped.

"Don't take offense, but I think I know how you feel."

Hoshi's eyebrows shot up.

"I'm not second guessing the Admiral's decision, or defending Gaeta's decision to mutiny.  But the fact remains that he was a fine officer and a good man, and you loved him, despite what he did."

Hoshi teared up again, but remained quiet and nodded.

"That's more or less how I felt when I found out that Ellen had passed on information about the Resistance to the Cylons.  She'd betrayed us all, but that didn't lessen my love for her one whit."

Tigh paused, gazing back across months and light years.

"Well, I was mess after that," he continued, "but the thing that's helped me the most to cope with that loss, and all the crap that's happened since then, has been my duty.  The fleet's a mess right now, and the human race has never been in worse trouble, and right now we need everyone at their posts, keeping this ship flying and protecting us all."

"Even though you're a Cylon, sir?" Hoshi asked.

Tigh looked at him sharply for  a moment, but seeing only respect on Hoshi's face, and hearing only curiosity in his voice, the XO answered.  "I've been a Cylon all my life, even when I thought I was human, so I don't know if I really understand how real humans think.  But from what I can see, the human mind and the Cylon mind are like car transmissions: you can have manual or you can have automatic, but in the end, they do the same job and they're part of otherwise identical cars.  It's how you drive it that really matters."

Hoshi nodded, and dried his eyes, deep in thought.  Tigh counted slowly to himself.  When he reached ten, he asked: "So, like I said, I think I know how you feel, but we need you to take your post.  There are so few of us left."

Hoshi stood up.  "Yes, sir.  I am ready.  It's what Felix would do."

"Yes," Tigh agreed.  "It is."

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(This little slip of a story inspired a superb, much longer story by millari about Louis Hoshi and his life after the mutiny, entitled Aftermath.  Go read it now.)
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Transcript of Face Of The Enemy webisode two

As a favor for millari , and anyone else who might benefit from it, here is a transcript of part two of the new BSG webisodes.  (Or Gaetasodes, as she calls them.)  

There are a couple of points at which I am not certain that I have transcribed the dialogue correctly, and I have underlined the text at that point to signal my uncertainty.  If I simply couldn't understand what was said well enough even to hazard a guess, I simply put [inaudible] and moved on.
 

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Safer With Her

Author’s Note: The story is meant to address how the battle of New Caprica might have gone had Helena Cain still been alive.  It’s a sequel to an earlier fic, Hubris, an AU in which the budding civil war in mid Season Two between Galactica and Pegasus was averted, and Cain was imprisoned aboard the Galactica, where she has remained for a year, waiting for her war to come back to her.
 

Characters: Helena Cain, Bill Adama, Lee Adama, Dee, Cat, Peter Laird, Racetrack

Rating: PG?  Some violence, no sex

Spoilers: through early Season 3.  

Word Count: 3450

 

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Jordan's story about the flood

The moment that sums the great flood for me was completely mundane, yet all the more uncanny for being so astonishingly unlikely. I can recall the fights, the desperate people, the strangeness of Laudan streets becoming branches of the Thaims, the floating bodies, the monsters the bodies became, the sadness, the fear, the danger, but that all fades into the mist of exhaustion. More than anything else, the experience of the flood was the experience of an exhaustion so distilled that I nearly weep to think of it. However, on the second day, there was a moment of precious beauty, a little reminder of the wonder Render wove into every part of the Cloth.

There was a house, four stories tall, that had collapsed, and only the dirty red roof stuck out of the water, which was still flowing swiftly. Perched on top of the roof was a small grey tabby cat. It calmly watched the water go by, tail curled around its paws for some time. Then, it realized I was watching, and it stood up, stretched itself, and moved to the edge of the roof. It watched the current for a few moments, head bobbing, and then it leaped onto a broken table that was drifting by. The table wobbled, and nearly capsized, but the cat held on and kept its balance, and as the table drifted off, the cat sat up on its new perch and curled its tail around again to watch the city fall apart around it as it drifted on through with dry feet.

Call me a fool if you like, but right then and there I said a prayer of thanks to all the gods that I had lived to see that moment.