A Refugee's Tale (BSG TNS Fanfic)

[ViperTech]

Writer's Note: This fic came from my general urge to write a story about Battlestar Galactica TNS from an average person's point of view, which was inspired by all the "If you were on Galactica..." threads on Scifi.com. It takes place during the miniseries and shortly after Water (11 days after the holocaust), since its told in flashback. The characters are original, but the ships, main characters, and places are not mine at all. They're Ron Moore's and Scifi's. Hope you guys enjoy. Remember to comment! ;D

Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer, the days have stopped; the nights are never-ending; send me strength to make it through this one last night.

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A Refugee’s Tale

His hand gripped the gun's soft, plastic handle. Sitting on the bed, he prepared himself. Aaron tried to remember life before the bombs. The dim lights of the cargo hold made him wish to be back home with his family. He would never see his brother, sister, fiancee, mother. He had nobody. They had been incinerated by Cylon nukes that had bombarded Geminon.

When word came that Caprica had been destroyed, he had felt nothing. The flight aboard the Rising Star had been long. Longer than he had ever expected, as the captain announced that President Adar had suspended all landings. There was a general groan amongst the passengers as the once quiet luxury liner became a buzz with speculation. Aaron simply attempted to close his eyes. They would land, he told himself; they had to land, after all the ship wasn’t made for prolonged space flight. He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would take him.

A few hours passed, the coach cabin had managed to settle down. A coat sleeve rustled Aaron awake. The captain was making a general announcement on the intercom. The names sounded vaguely familiar, Picon, Aeries, and Tauron. He shrugged it off as the route the liner would take after landing on the planet.

To his left, in the middle row, a business woman was frantically dialing numbers on her wireless. There was only dial tone, followed by static, not even a machine picked up. To his right, a college student was typing away on his laptop, edging a bit closer he noticed that the kid was watching a recording.

“We do not yet know the source of the explosions...” and then static.

Whispering to the student, Aaron asked very slowly, “Is that... Caprica?”

The college kid stared at Aaron as if he had just materialized out of nowhere, like he had been living in a cave on Picon, “Yes, it was Caprica City. The captain just announced that the Colonies have been nuked.”<br>
The business women continued tapping buttons anxiously trying to get a signal. “Damnit,” she screamed. “Lords of Kobol!” Aaron just sat there. The cabin slowly got louder and louder. He could hear babies screaming. He could hear curses of every kind. He could hear crying. He was immersed in the grief, yet he could not get himself to react. There was something missing.

The stewards and stewardesses were doing their best to keep the passengers under control. A very gruff, dark man in a tan button down shirt was screaming to a frail, fragile porcelain flight attendant. “Frak you, frak you! I have family on Sagitarion for gods’ sake.” She only tried in vain to keep him calm, “Sir, please we are not able to contact any of the other Colonies. Please do not use that language while children are present.” The man sat down in defeat, breaking down against the window.

The student nudged Aaron, waking him from his stupor, “Hey are you okay?”

“I’m...fine,” he replied. He thought he was fine. He felt fine. He wasn’t going to accost a stewardess, if that was the definition of fine.

The kid continued, “I have family on Caprica.”

Aaron nodded, forcing a few words out, “Mine are on Geminon.”

“Why are you going to Caprica?"the student asked, inquisitively.

“School,” Aaron replied. He had been studying in at Caprica City University to be a history major, possibly returning to Geminon in hopes of teaching. Not that he ever wanted to teach, quite the opposite, his true dream was to become an archeologist. To uncover the mysteries of his people, to decipher the Scrolls the Lords had left behind.

He hit his pack with his foot. Inside, he reminded himself of the only book he had ever brought with him for this flight, Seeding the Colonies: Theories on the Origins of Man. The book was useless now, there were no Colonies. There were no restaurants, movies, no more books to be written, no songs to be sung. There would be no more churches, no more science, nothing worth living for, only death.

Cold steel slid between his teeth as his crate began to collapse into itself. Collapsing into his mind. They had been out in space for days with no contact from any other ships. The Fleet was an oasis, but there was no water to sustain it. The rationing was getting worse and worse. Aaron took the pistol out of his mouth, taking a sip of unpurified, yellow water, he sloshed it in his mouth before eventually spitting it back into the plastic cup.

Aaron turned to the student, “We’re going to die out here, ya know.”<br>
The kid smiled, replying, “Yeah right, somebody will come. The Lords of Kobol would not allow us to just die.”

Aaron laughed sardonically, “The Lords of Kobol also say, Life here, began out there; it seems life will end out there as well.”

[ViperTech]

The student sat perplexed, maybe distraught by Aaron’s lack of sympathy. He changed the subject, trying to raise Aaron’s spirit again, “I’m a student too. First year,” he said muttering. His voice picked up again, “Studying to be a literature major at Caprica City U!” The lit major moved a bit closer to Aaron, “The name is Horatio Epsilon.”

Aaron slouched in his seat. He just needed some time to figure all this out. What would happen to him, where his family was, if they were even alive, would they even survive this moment. The cabin seemed to be getting louder and louder, smaller and smaller.

Horatio continued, “What’s your name?”

“Aaron,” he replied.

The fresher smiled, “Pleased to meet you Aaron.”

He had nobody. The last vestiges of the life he had on Geminon were on his laptop, but they were only pictures. Images that only reminded him just how lonely life was. That there had been somebody with him, before the Cylons invaded. That he had a family, friends, and people who cared. Looking at the families huddled in their own crates, it only became more and more clear to Aaron just how useless it was to continue. Looking at the people shuffling in and out of the make-shift diner, he knew that he would never find anybody amongst the survivors that paled in comparison to the people he had on Geminon. Nobody would miss him...

“Somebody will come,” Horatio said defiantly reopening the topic of their rescue.

Horatio rummaged through his backpack under his seat. Leaning over, nosily, Aaron noticed a small notebook, a Gideon Jarrow novel, and a New Caprican Scrolls edition. Nonchalantly the fresher brought out his notebook and his Scrolls and began writing. Raising his eyebrow, Aaron watched the student. He wondered if Horatio even understood the gravity of the situation.

“You do realize that there could very well be a Cylon Basestar out there,” he explained pointing out the window, “as we speak.” He sighed, “That everybody we know is dead.” Their spaceliner had no protection. There were no fighter escorts. He could not even fathom what the military was doing at this point. All he knew was that the entire species had been wiped out in the blink of any eye.

His world became ever so slightly smaller with this realization. His life now consisted of two bags. A bag of clothes, in the overhead compartment, and his pack, laying at his feet. This was his future. If he could even call it that. There was no guarantee somebody would rescue them, no guarantee somebody would rescue him. It was all a matter of probability. At that moment the odds were on enemy’s side.

The Cylons would keep coming, again and again. Chasing them deeper into space. Forcing them into the unknown. There was no way the Fleet would survive. Already riots were flaring, fires burned inside the cargo hold. People were screaming, demanding water. The leaders would never hear them. He had heard from traders that already the president had used force against rioting ships. The military didn’t care about civilians either; they were burdens. They were fighting amongst each other, over rations, over space, over the last memories of home. There was no way humanity would survive...

“What makes you so bloody sure,” Aaron asked, skeptically, “that we’ll be rescued?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Horatio replied, as if the question didn’t need explaining.

“The Cylons, for one,” he answered.

There was a small congregation outside his crate now. In his multicolored robes, a priest was delivering a sermon. Aaron shrugged it off. It was foolish. He had studied the Scrolls. He knew they were only man’s work. They held no mystical sway, simply good advice. Advice, however, can be found in many places, not just the church. As the preacher’s voice grew louder, calming a nearby protest, he slid the pistol in between his teeth.

Horatio laughed, “I doubt something as petty as the Cylons would have stopped the gods.”<br>
There was no absolute truth. There were no answers to life. It was a simple progression, based up biology and biology alone. They were animals, livestock. The Cylons had thinned their herd.

Aaron stared at the evangelist blankly, “The gods have also allowed for the destruction of their creation.” They had allowed for his family, his friends, to die. They had spared him, but that was not a gift; it was a curse. He would not have a future. He would never see his brother again. They would never go boating on Lake Janus. He would never see his fiancee again; there would be no marriage. There would be no barbeques, no birthdays, not even a funeral for the dead. There were no funerals when the world ends.

The cold steel went deeper down his throat. He was sure of it this time. This time he would go all the way. This time he would end it. This time he would not allow his cowardice to get the better of him.

The fresher nodded, solemnly to Aaron’s answer. “Maybe this is a new beginning for humanity.”

“The Lords of Kobol, fathers over our people, were born from the stars,” the priest chanted. “Now we return to the place of our fathers in hopes of finding a better world. A new way of life. We are a small band, less than 50,000 strong, but this does not mean we must not give up hope. We must trust that Zeus will give us the tools to survive. We must help one another. We must do our best with what we have. The Lords of Kobol say, Life here, began out there, so we will return to the land our fathers.”

Aaron smirked, “Tell me what do you have to restart our civilization, Horatio?”

“I have my memories,” Horatio replied, “and I have my faith.”

He heard the sermon echoing throughout the cargo bay. Clasping his lips upon the pistol he drove it deeper down his throat. He would pay no heed.

“We have lost so much,” he whispered.

“Hold on to what you have,” the priest hollered. “Share it with your neighbors. The memories you have, your worlds, the lives you had, the friends and families you love; they are the base from which we build our new civilization. We have only lost what we don’t acknowledge. Stop remembering the Colonies, and the enemy has won. Be thankful for what you have, be thankful to live."

“We still have hope."

Aaron coughed. It was foolish. He couldn’t go on with it. He removed the pistol from his mouth slowly. He knew that if he let himself do it, his brother would have never let him forget his mistake. He had far too much to live for. The survivors still could use him. He could still find some meaning to his life. Sitting atop his book, there was a flyer he had saved. It was a general announcement from President Rosilin requesting any educated persons interested in politics apply for a position in her administration. He had never got up the will to apply, but he knew it was far better than just waiting to die in his crate. It may even do some good.

There was a feint glimmer outside the window. A lone Raptor cruised toward the starliner...

[Xenu]

Great story, VT! You did a good job of evoking the world of the series...keep it coming!

[ViperTech]

Xenu said:

Great story, VT! You did a good job of evoking the world of the series...keep it coming!

Thanks a lot. ;D

Thinking of doing another story on an engineer aboard the Galactica. Its really hard considering as though you have to base a lot of it on inferences, that haven't been expanded on... For example, you can't write completely about any Cylons consiering as though we have NO IDEA what their "plan" is... (Well the Americans don't, the Brits have a better idea. No offense to them...) Nor can we fully right about a Tom Zarek groupie, cause we don't know EXACTLY what he is fighting for... The same can be said for the preists as an organization... The civilians though, and some no-name military officers strike me as fair game, heck even some pilots... Maybe a story about the CAP would be interesting... But I really want to write about the things we DON'T see...

Any suggestions are welcome... ;D

[ViperTech]

(coughs) Bump (cough)

Editted for continuity now...

[ViperPilotMomma]

I really enjoyed your entries. I loved the internal struggle Aaron, your main character, experienced.

[maddog101]

nice work keep it coming

[ViperTech]

Thanks

EDIT- Title change cause I change my mind often...