Drop The Pilot

by Jacob Clifton November 2, 2009
The Plan

There was a white flash, something far away. Saul labored over her, losing hope but desperate to save her, and she finally touched his face. She was calm, and beautiful, and she knew how far the thrashing would get him. Imagine the eyes of something infinitely loving, that's seen just enough of the future to know that the better world is coming. That eventually we will go home. She was joyful, even as she bled out beneath the stones.

But not here, not in the Fall. On Picon there was no comfort and no relief this time, not even God: One took that from his mother too. There was no one to remind her, the way she told Saul last time, that love outlasts death. "No, your suffering isn't over yet. Not when you've got so much left to learn," One gloated, only confusing her more.

In the docking bay Chief Tyrol was so young once, listening to Bill on the PA. "This is the Commander. Moments ago, this ship received word of a Cylon attack against our homeworlds is underway. We do not know the size or the disposition or the strength of the enemy forces. But all indications point to a massive assault against Colonial defenses. How, why, doesn't really matter now. What does matter is that, as of this moment, we are at war."

On Picon, One accompanied his mother into the ambulance. Soon enough, they were assured, they'd join the Fleet; he'd nurse her back to health. She wouldn't remember that time, thankfully; she'd turn it into dreams. The first to mistake One for Adama, but not the last.

Lee listened to his father; Kara was in stir for punching a superior asshole, listening. "You've trained for this. You're ready for this. Stand to your duties, trust your fellow shipmates, and we'll all get through this." Galen forced himself past the rough spot and called his knuckledraggers to attention and they went back to work, putting the world together.

On Caprica Sam led the Bucs across a bridge, Jean Barolay following closely behind; they stood on a bridge and watched the Centurions load up the bodies of their brothers. Their ritual. As they stared -- as Four rolled his eyes and smiled -- a Raider rose suddenly, turning its engines on them as it blasted away. Sam couldn't think what to do, so they kept running. He never wanted this responsibility; he only wanted perfection.

Lee got everybody off Colonial One -- including Edward James Olmos's real-life wife, looking for her husband, who served in the Fleet on Gemenon -- and onto the bay floor. He never wanted this responsibility. In his quarters, temple bleeding, Bill found a note -- There are only 12 Cylon models -- and in the CIC, Gaius sat gingerly, afraid and shaking. And the chase began.

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