|
Post by Amy81 on Nov 12, 2004 8:58:30 GMT -6
Amy watched with detached emotions as her memory of Charybdis faded away. Nothing was there anymore. No Charybdis, no landscapes, starfields, nothing...Her mind was blank, every nerve ending in her body had gone numb.
Amy twisted around, or thought she was as she looked for something, anything. No memories came to her. Thoughts of a ship of lights or a tunnel or anything else she might have expected to see remained just out of her ability to think them. All around was darkness.
Was it even darkness? What was the color of nothing, of emptiness, of eternity? Had she died? Gone into a coma? What would a coma be like without one's memories for companionship?
Amy floated on, feeling nothing, even the sensation of floating out of her reach. She felt no fear, felt no peace.
She felt nothing at all.
|
|
|
Post by Astraea on Nov 14, 2004 23:03:25 GMT -6
Astraea’s question lanced through him like a sword. “How do you know Lieutenant Hawke?”
Had she seen the name on the jacket? Did she recognize it? Had she met him as a captive? All of those questions flashed through Lazant’s mind during the few microns it took for his Cylon steel cup to slip from his fingers and hit against the edge of one of the tables.
“Frack!” he yelled when the green soup splattered over him. He looked down at his well-worn uniform which quickly absorbed the stains and decided in an instant to use the accident to his advantage. “What did you do? Grease the cups?” he snapped. He wiped at the growing spots with his bare hand as he made haste for the exit. Astraea’s question had caught him completely off guard and he would rather retreat for a few centons than have to bear her scrutiny.
Astraea shook her head as the door closed behind him then gazed down at Amy lying across her lap. “That guy should be on stage.” She offered Amy another sip of the cold soup, but didn’t get the usual response. “Are you full already princess?” she asked as she set the cup aside.
She eased out from under Amy then rearranged the pillows once more to make her comfortable. “Looks like I got a little messy with you,” Astraea commented as she tucked in the thin metallic material around Amy. “I’ll rip off another piece of robe and we’ll see about getting you cleaned up.”
Lieutenant Hawke. Astraea mulled over the name while she set about her task. It had a familiar ring to it, but she couldn’t quite recall who he was. She was certain that he wasn’t a warrior while she was still with the fleet. She had memorized all of the names of the warriors in Gold and Black squadrons when she had first enlisted, but she discovered that to be a heartrending habit. When those men and women began to die, knowing their name and any part of their history made their deaths even more poignant.
She poured a small amount of water over the tattered rag and squeezed it to wring out the excess before moving back to Amy’s side. She lightly brushed the moist material over the clean parts of Amy’s face then moved onto the soup covering her chin and uniform.
Hawke. Astraea turned the name over in her mind. If she could make some association with him, she might be able to remember who he was, but there was only a niggling familiarity to the name.
She pulled Amy’s hands out from under the thin sheet to try to work off some of the grime. “That armor sheeting does pretty well keeping you warm, doesn’t it?” she remarked conversationally even though she knew there wouldn’t be a response. “Luckily the Cylons keep spare parts on big tubs like this. They can’t have one of their dignitaries showing up with an escort in scuffed armor.” She chuckled at the absurdity. “That sheeting you’re using is off one of those gold breastplates.”
She continued to chatter as she cleaned. She needed to keep her mind off of Lieutenant Hawke or it would drive her crazy trying to remember. “Unfortunately, there was only one of those in storage. I probably could have taped together some of the thigh sheeting to make me a blanket, but I’m use to curing up under my robe.” She glanced down at the shortening hemline. “Although I was feeling a bit of a draft earlier.”
Satisfied that she had gotten most of the soup off of Amy, Astraea tore off a fresh strip so that she could attend to some of the blood caking on Amy’s head. “This is probably going to hurt a little princess, but I’ll try to be gentle.” She dabbed at the tracks which had gotten close to Amy’s eye first then moved up, but she was careful not to disturb the gash across her scalp. The last thing that she wanted to do was open it back up
“Okay princess, I’m going to touch your head around the cut so hold on.” Astraea probed lightly with her bare fingers for any sign of heat which would signal an infection, but found none. She glanced down at Amy’s face as she worked and frowned. Previously when she had inspected her scalp, Amy had reacted, but not this time.
“Amy?” Astraea said her name with a note of concern. “Amy,” she repeated, making her voice sound authoritative. Astraea pressed her thumb down hard against the edge of the cut on her scalp, but Amy didn’t even flinch.
“Oh frack,” Astraea breathed out. “I’ve soupped her to death.”
~~~
|
|
|
Post by Amy81 on Nov 15, 2004 16:03:50 GMT -6
BUHbump Buhbump...Buhbump...BUH...bump....------------------------------ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ -----------------
(Fade to black)
(I mean gold)
(no, black it is...)
(Who's saying this? The chick's dead already!)
|
|
|
Post by Astraea on Nov 15, 2004 19:36:12 GMT -6
Lazant opened one compartment after another in the storage area trying to find a soft cloth to clean his uniform. He had discovered a regal garment covered in piping and beads that he was tempted to change into, but they would be home soon and he wanted to step off of the Cylon ship in warrior’s clothes no matter how bad they looked.
“There’s got to be something in here somewhere,” he grumbled while sifting through a number of carefully wrapped cleaning supplies. “If you clean your weapon, you’ve got to have some rags. Now where are they?”
He had tried using some of the protecting wrapping off of several of the stored items, but the metallic based material only spread the stains further. Lazant paused when he thought he heard thumping. He listened intently for several microns until he heard it again. He shook his head when he realized that it was probably Astraea running up and down the hallways. “What a flake.”
He rubbed at the back of his head as he thought about the uncanny way she had of saying just the right thing to send his senses reeling. Simply mentioning Lieutenant Hawke had sent him scampering out of the room like a cadet. “She must have seen the jacket,” he told himself to ward off the uneasy feeling that she was some sort of witch.
Lieutenant Hawke was the more interesting puzzle. Lazant had found a link in Hawke’s file that took him to a hidden dossier of encrypted data on the disk he had downloaded. Lazant had already spent several centars trying to find a cipher, but was only frustrated by the effort. He couldn’t even figure out when Hawke had been captured. The dating system that the Cylons used couldn’t be translated into Colonial terms on the limited cruiser computer.
“Lazant!”
He froze for an instant. Astraea’s voice had been muffled, but the desperation had come through clearly and he bolted for the door. “What is it?” he barked at her retreating back. He had caught her just as she turned the corner to search another section of the ship.
“Oh thank the Lords,” she panted and she rushed to his side. “Amy’s worse. I can’t get any response from her.”
|
|
|
Post by Astraea on Nov 16, 2004 21:52:42 GMT -6
“What did you do to her?” Lazant snapped while he placed two fingers against Amy’s throat.
Astraea jerked back slightly at the comment as she stood behind Lazant. “I was just cleaning her up when I noticed she wasn’t moaning or flinching like she did before.”
He breathed in deeply as he rose to his feet. Amy couldn’t die. Even lobotomized, he would fare a better chance with Charybdis than if she was alive. Or would he? “It was probably that witch’s brew you gave her. You’ve poisoned her.”
“Hey, you and I both had the same stuff that Amy did and we’re still alive,” she reminded him. “Although, that could change.”
Lazant put his hands on his hips as he squared off in front of her. “Is that a threat Lieutenant?”
“What if it is?” she shot back. “Are you going to report me?” She held out her hands and shook them in mock nervousness.
“How about if I lock you in a storage compartment until we get back to the fleet?”
She let out a burst of air. “I don’t know if you’re in on this little play or not, but here’s a news flash…we’re still on that basestar. We’re not going to make it back to the fleet. They Cylons are probably working on your girlfriend right now which is why she is unconscious instead of participating in this farce.”
His brows drew together as he gaped at her. “You’re insane.” He glanced down at Amy and then back at Astraea. There was no telling what Astraea was capable of. Even murder. “Maybe I should lock you up before you have the chance to do this to me.”
She instinctively stepped back when he reached out and grabbed her arm. “Don’t touch me,” she warned as she threw her arm over his and easily broke the contact. When he grabbed her once more and jerked her towards him, she used the momentum to land a heavy blow with her fist against his eye.
Lazant stumbled back and slapped his hand over his injured eye. She had hit him so solidly that it felt like his eyeball had exploded and he pulled his hand back expecting to see blood.
Astraea wiggled her fingers then rubbed at the knuckles across her hand. She had learned early on in captivity that any sign of weakness would be exploited. “I warned you.”
“Striking a superior officer will earn you a few yahren in the brig.”
“Oh get off it. Even if this was really happening, it would be your word against mine.”
“I’d say a black eye is pretty good evidence.”
She leaned slightly in his direction, but well out of arm’s reach. “Haven’t you looked at your reflection recently? You’ve already got two black eyes.”
“What?” He looked around for something nearby and found a small piece of metal sheeting that had probably been used as some sort of serving tray. He held it up to his face and saw a haggard stranger staring back at him. Stubble darkened the lower half of his face and both of his eyes had dark rings around them.
Astraea pointed up to her own smudged eyes. “This isn’t from sleep depravation. We probably got concussions when we were shot out of that worm hole.”
“Make up your mind! First you say that we haven’t even left the basestar and now you claim that the worm hole did this to us? If we’re on the basestar then there was no worm hole.”
She shook her head at him. She had the same argument with several other prisoners she had been placed with. “The Cylons are sticklers for detail. They can inject into our minds anything that they choose including bruises, cuts, broken bones or even people.”
He glared at her. “If you’re so smart, then do something to help Amy.”
She drew in a startled breath. “She’s still alive?” She had been certain that Amy had died in her lap. Astraea had witnessed sudden deaths by participants in Cylon experimentation many times generally caused by accidents while working on the physical body during a hallucination.
“Her pulse is weak, but it’s there.”
Astraea sent up a silent prayer as she gazed down at Amy. Even though she was certain that they were living a dream, she had developed something of an attachment for Amy. “I’m not a doctor. I can’t do anything to help her.”
|
|
|
Post by Astraea on Nov 21, 2004 12:31:39 GMT -6
Astraea stared at the thin piece of metal that she had placed on the cushion next to Amy’s mouth. Her breathing was so shallow that Astraea couldn’t discern it under all of her clothing so she had improvised. She had been watching the slight moisture from Amy’s breath condense then disappear from the reflective material for over a centar. “Come on Amy,” she whispered for the hundredth time.
“Stop torturing yourself,” Astraea ordered herself as her gaze dropped down to her own clenched hands. Was it the soup? The Gourt root? The gash on her head? The trip through the vortex?
The Gourt root was what tormented her. Although she knew of its benefits and how to prepare it, Astraea never actually had the chance to use the root before. She had learned about it through the Galactica’s extensive library on medicinal horticulture, but it hadn’t been one of the plants saved in the Great Exodus so she didn’t have the chance to experiment with it like she had others.
Still, she had been fascinated by the root’s wide range of use. Not only was Gourt root an affective pain killer, it had almost no side effects. It could be used in small doses to alleviate chronic pain, or mixed with the Napt flower to purify the body of toxins including most serpent venom. In larger doses, it could act as a tranquilizer and had been used for an anesthetic in rural communities to perform surgery. Gourt root was even reputed to have been used during ritual ceremonies by tribal elders to induce a spiritual trance.
“What if I gave her too much?”
Astraea squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her hands hard against her face. “I had the root too,” she insisted as she tried to shore up her confidence. “It wasn’t too strong. I had more than Amy, but it didn’t cause hallucinations or knock me out.”
She stared at the metal next to Amy’s face to watch it mist over a few more times. “I didn’t do this. It was the Cylons.”
Astraea stood to pace. “It doesn’t matter if this is real or not. The Cylons are behind it all.” She stared up at the ceiling as she held her arms wide. “Why don’t you just kill us and get it over with?” she yelled. “I’m sick to death of all your mind games. Why won’t you just let me die like the rest of them?”
She dropped down on the bench next to Amy and lightly rubbed her shoulder. “Don’t let them beat you Amy. Don’t let them get away with all this felgercarb. You can make a difference in this world. You will get the respect that you deserve.” A lump formed in her throat. Astraea hated the feeling of helplessness. She needed to do something.
She stared at the door silently cursing Lazant for disappearing. She allowed her anger at him to simmer to squash the tears threatening to flow. His accusations that she was behind Amy’s current state only fed her own doubt, but she refused to sit by when there was something that she could do. “Gourt root is safe,” she insisted then looked at Amy once more and sighed. “You’ve got to fight Amy. I’m here to support you all the way.”
|
|
|
Post by Astraea on Nov 24, 2004 21:51:37 GMT -6
Lazant checked over the antiquated equipment in disbelief. “Why in Hades would the Cylons keep such an old cryotube on board?” He nodded as he booted up the system. “At least it looks like this one’s working.” He pulled hard against the chamber, but it was mounted firmly against the wall. “Okay, so we’ll have to bring Amy down here.”
He groaned as he tried to stand and straighten his back, but the low pipes overhead kept him in a crouch. His lower back was beginning to ache again, but he did his best to ignore it as he hurried out. Part of him felt like he deserved the pain. He had debated for some time on the benefits of Amy living or dying until he realized what he was doing. That’s when he started looking for a way to save her and discovered the ancient cryotube in the bowels of the ship.
As much as Amy could irritate him at times, he had to admit to a certain fondness for her. She was young and headstrong, but she was smart and had a wicked sense of humor that rivaled his. He had thoroughly enjoyed the battle of wills they mounted when flying to the Cylon moon base. She had startled him by grabbing his hand, but the verbal sparring that followed brought a smile to his lips in remembrance.
He puffed heavily from the exertion and wiped his brow as he looked up the long ladder to the next level. They would have to bring Amy back down in the lift, but he knew that the ladder would be the shortest route back so he started to climb. Once at the top, he didn’t waste any time to catch his breath and darted down the hallway.
“Help me get Amy up,” he ordered Astraea as he burst into the room.
“What?” Astraea returned in confusion as she sat up straight. “I don’t think we should mov…”
“I found a cryotube,” Lazant interrupted “but it’s mounted to the wall so we have to move Amy.”
Astraea was on her feet in an instant. She grabbed one of Amy’s arms and the two of them hoisted her up between them. “Careful!” she insisted when Amy’s head flopped to one side.
Amy’s feet drug on the floor, but Lazant and Astraea were able to keep a fast pace. They headed off in the opposite direction from which Lazant came to get to the turbolift. “I was wondering what happened to you,” Astraea said, sparing him a glance over Amy’s head. “How did you find the cryo chamber?”
He hooked his fingers under Amy’s belt to give him a better grip then shifted her arm across his shoulders. His back was beginning to knot. “I did a search of the ship’s systems.” He bit at his lip to keep from swearing when he accidentally bumped his foot into Amy’s. The jolt up his leg nearly brought tears to his eyes when his back spasmed. “They used this tub as a prisoner transport,” he went on to keep his mind off of his back. “There are a couple of chambers down in the holding area, but only one of them is working.”
Astraea slapped at the keypad to bring the lift up to their level as they waited by the door. “Sounds like the Cylons are getting sloppy. They like to have all of their equipment in working order.”
“Actually, I think a laser blast to the area fried the circuits. We’re just lucky that they’re on separate systems.”
She eyed him curiously as they stepped onto the lift and he punched the appropriate buttons. “Do I detect a note of concern?”
He shot her a suspicious look. “Of course I’m concerned, just as I would be about any Colonial Warrior.”
“Watch it Lazant,” Astraea warned. “That almost sounds like you have a heart.”
“Maybe you can cut it out later and find out for sure,” he snipped in return.
The jibe hit her like a slap in the face. She didn’t need Lazant taunting her about the possibility that she had been the cause of Amy’s current condition. That was all she had been able to think about. “A tempting suggestion.”
Other than a few grunts and groans, they remained silent until they reached the cryotube. “Lay her down easy,” Astraea instructed as Lazant slipped his arm under Amy’s neck and eased her back onto the narrow bed. Astraea grabbed Amy’s legs and swung them up into the chamber. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
Lazant pushed several of the buttons on the wall just above the chamber. “I’ve never done it myself, but I’ve been the doctors and nurses using them many times.” He glanced down just before closing the door and saw that Amy’s arm had dropped out. He gently took her hand and laid it across her stomach. “I hope we’re holding hands again real soon,” he whispered.
“Oh so she is your girlfriend.”
|
|
|
Post by Astraea on Nov 29, 2004 12:23:42 GMT -6
Astraea wrapped her arms around her legs as she looked at the dim light radiating from the cryochamber. She lowered her chin to her knees as she scanned the cramped area around her. She couldn’t even imagine a Cylon being able to fit through the tight space. Her back felt like it would snap while helping Lazant bring Amy through the passage which was little more than a crawlspace.
She could smell the remains of human existence in the narrow cavity. There was barely enough room for herself, Lazant and Amy, but she could imagine prisoners crammed into the space awaiting their fate while Cylon dignitaries met in the tiny room on the upper level. People stacked on people with those in the worst condition packed away in antiquated cryotubes. Astraea shivered at the thought.
The cryotubes made up two of the walls in the confined area and she could hear the engines roaring against the third and fourth walls. There was little insulation from the sound with only the storage area on that level. The tiny room which they had been sharing on the main level looked grandiose next to the bowels of the ship.
Astraea instinctively put her hands down on the cold metal next to her when the ship suddenly jerked and the roar of the engines rapidly descended. “We’ve come out of the jump,” she whispered to herself and her heart leapt.
She scrambled out of the dark hold and up the short ladder to the next level. She reminded herself that she was living in a dream world, still in Cylon captivity on the basestar, but anticipation of seeing the fleet once more soared out of control. She ran the few metrons, which had seemed so far before, to the front of the ship in a matter of microns.
Lazant was in the pilot’s seat, but she barely gave him a passing glance as her eyes scanned the heavens through the front windows. “What happened?” Astraea asked as she took the second seat and studied the instrumentation. The fleet was no where in sight. “Why did we come out of hyperspace?”
Lazant sighed heavily. “We’re running low on fuel,” he said with a note of defeat.
Astraea pulled up the fuel readouts and saw for herself that they would have completely run out of reserves within thirty microns if they had stayed in the hyper jump. She looked over at Lazant accusingly. “I guess that little side trip with the Cylons wasn’t such a great idea after all.”
“We can travel in normal space for several centars on the fuel remaining,” Lazant informed her. “We’re close enough to the fleet now that we could be picked up by a long range patrol.”
“Could be?” she repeated with an arch of her eyebrow.
He couldn’t even look at her. If they had come out of hyperspace sooner, they could have eventually made it to the fleet on their reserves, but he had been so focused on finding a coolant system for Amy that he hadn’t thought to check the fuel. “As long as the fleet hasn’t continued on, they’ll find us.”
|
|
|
Post by Astraea on Dec 16, 2004 0:55:28 GMT -6
Astraea was annoyed with herself for continually scanning for the fleet, but she couldn’t help herself. Two centars had passed since they had come out of hyper space and their fuel was rapidly evaporating. Amy was in a state of frozen death and Lazant was absorbed in studying the disks he had salvaged. “This has got to be the most boring simulation I’ve ever done,” she mumbled as she leaned back to stretch. She gazed up at the gray ceiling as if trying to see her Cylon captors beyond. “If you think you’re going to break me with boredom,” she said loudly, “you’ve got the wrong girl. I live for moments like this.”
That wasn’t exactly true and she knew it. She craved alone time when she was able to delve into her history books, but watching the same scan come back repeatedly negative for vessels was putting her to sleep. She had gone for over three cycles without rest more than once when a piece of history became a mystery for her to solve. She loved being able to pick up threads from reports, literature and legend to assemble the full story behind past events. It was a challenge that she simply couldn’t walk away from.
Living in a cell with a dozen others made her yearn for solitary confinement. At least then she was able to sleep without worry of attack, but she found that she missed human company when she was isolated for experimentation.
She glanced back over her shoulder to see Lazant crouching in the compartment behind the cockpit. Astraea’s brow furrowed slightly. It was the first time she had seen him move since they had come out of hyper space. She had tried to initiate a conversation, but he had looked at her as if he was waiting for her to slice his throat. He was convinced that she had poisoned Amy and he completely rejected the idea that they could still be under Cylon control.
Astraea’s joints popped as she stood and stretched once more then she silently made her way into the seating area to peer over Lazant’s shoulder. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw that he had repaired the cable she had pulled before launch and was tucking away his precious disks. At that moment, she felt like slitting his throat. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Lazant jumped like a naughty child caught by a parent and stumbled up to his feet. “I’m returning the disks to their hiding place,” he snipped while straightening his tattered shirt with firm jerks.
“Expecting company?” she asked as her anger seethed.
“I hope so,” he returned flippantly. “A patrol will have to find us soon or we will be adrift in space.
Astraea thrust her fist into his chest with all of her might and Lazant fell to the floor gasping for breath. For a moment he thought that his heart had stopped until each throb pierced through the point of impact. He hadn’t even seen it coming.
“That’s the Cylon tracking emitter you fool! If there are any Cylons in the area, you just alerted them to our presence.”
|
|
|
Post by Astraea on Dec 20, 2004 5:52:01 GMT -6
Astraea couldn’t decide if he was deliberately trying to signal the Cylon basestar or if he was just stupid as she dropped down to rip the cord out once more. Sparks flew out of the tiny compartment and Lazant’s life flashed before his eyes.
“The disks!” he screamed and scrambled back to the emitter. He didn’t hesitate to grab for the disks and the sparks burned his skin. He could smell the hair on the back of his hand singeing.
Astraea took advantage of the distraction and slipped out the thin metal strip from her shoe. When Lazant reacted and tried to pull his hand away of the frayed emitter cord, Astraea pushed his hand back into the compartment and pressed the cold steel against his throat. “What kind of patrol are you hoping will find us? Colonial or Cylon?”
“What?” His voice cracked when a jolt from the emitter caused his arm to tingle. He jumped instinctively, but Astraea pressed her weight against his back and he felt something nick his throat. “You’re insane!”
“Sing another song, traitor. I’ve heard that one before. Are you trying to contact that basestar?”
“What basestar?”
“The one I saw just before we went into the hyper jump,” she whispered in his ear. “Are they connected to the Cylons we followed? Are you coordinating an attack on the fleet?”
His mind raced to make sense of her accusations. Had she really seen a basestar? And, if she did, why hadn’t she said anything to him? He was more inclined to believe she was delusional. “Have you been smoking plant vapors? I just risked my life to protect the fleet. I’m not about to lead the Cylons back to them.”
“Then why did you repair the location beacon?” she countered and skillfully opened a flesh wound above his Adam’s apple.
Lazant hissed in air between his teeth when he felt his skin starting to burn. He had nicked himself enough times with primitive shaving implements to know when he had been cut. “I didn’t realize it was the tracking emitter,” he confessed. He held perfectly still even though every muscle in his body was poised to strike at the first opportunity. He couldn’t take a chance on shoving her away with a blade at his throat. He had to talk his way out. “I couldn’t get the disks back into the compartment without repairing the cable.”
“A skilled Colonial Warrior like you doesn’t know what a Cylon tracking assembly looks like?” she said sarcastically.
He drew in a gasp as if he was still getting burned by the frayed wires when she shoved his arm down into the compartment, but the automatic circuit breaker had already cut off power to the system. He was weighing his options and he wanted her to think that she was inflicting more pain than she actually was. He wanted to be ready to turn the tables. “Not everyone has had the fortune of living with the Cylons for yahrens. How many secrets did you hand over?”
Astraea pressed her knee into his lower back for the jibe and he groaned. She had been fortunate enough to catch him with his legs beneath him so she was easily able to hold him while shifting positions. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now traitor?”
“Because you’ll never get back to the fleet if you do,” he informed her. “Even if you do convince a pilot to take you back, you’re in a Cylon ship with two dead Colonial warriors. You’ll get the death penalty for sure.”
Her eyes narrowed at his quick response. “It sounds like you’ve thought this through. Perhaps while you were figuring out how to blame me for Amy’s condition?” she reasoned. “One warrior or two won’t matter if I’m facing the death penalty. They can’t kill me twice.”
Lazant bit at his lip as the muscles in his lower back started to knot up. “Lady, you take the word psycho to a whole new level.”
The proximity alarm sounded in the cockpit and both of their eyes turned to the open door. “A ship,” Lazant stated, wondering if she would finally let go. “We’ve got to contact them before they disappear,” he insisted when she didn’t seem in any hurry to investigate. “We’re almost out of fuel!”
“You’d better pray that’s not a Cylon vessel or you will be joining Amy,” Astraea warned. She kneed him in the back to insure that he wouldn’t be able to take advantage of his release then she hurried up to the cockpit.
Lazant rolled over onto the floor and groaned in agony as the muscles in his back began to spasm. He only gave his body a few microns to unknot then he drew himself to his feet in defiance of the pain. He was anxious to discover what ship had set off the proximity alarm, but caution too precedence over curiosity and he removed the Cylon sword he had appropriated from its hiding place. Astraea wouldn’t catch him off guard again.
|
|