FanFic: 'Battlestar Galactica' -- The Return Source: BlipNetwork Forums
Posted 11 October 2009 - 05:05 AM
It had been hours since the sun set, but the unusually bright radiance of the full moon in the sky made it almost feel like day.
That would make travel difficult, especially this close to the camp. And it was close. A small orange glow was visible in the distance, evidence of a fire on a chilly night. And where there was fire, there were sure to be people.
He continued to move through the field toward the light. Never tiring, never allowing anything to distract him. There was a singular purpose for such a late-night journey, and it was imperative nothing hindered his progress.
Each step brought him closer to the flame. When he were just 50 feet away, he stopped. And listened.
There was no sound outside of the distant crackling of the wood being consumed by the flame. A lion’s roar could be heard over the ridge, obviously announcing to the world it had made some kind of a significant find. But other than that, the air couldn’t be more still.
A discovery. There was no movement around the fire, but six figures were spotted laying around the small inferno, asleep.
He studied the figures. They were definitely people, but there was something different about them.
A branch cracked on the ground behind the traveler, and he spun almost instantly to the sound. Not all of the people who had set up camp had been asleep, apparently, and now he had been caught.
But this wasn’t the person he was expecting to find, either. In fact, nothing about these people seemed right.
The man in front of him didn’t say a word, but stood there, holding some sort of sharpened stick, pointing it at the unwelcomed visitors. He was frozen, obviously shocked about what he saw in front of him.
The intruder held out his hand to the man, an effort to convince him he was not looking for aggression.
The gesture seemed to resonate with the man, and he slowly lowered his rudimentary weapon. As he did that, the traveler realized that these people were different. They seemed to be a primitive form of humans, and there was nothing they could do to help him.
The man was still trying to figure out who was standing in his camp. He reached out and touched the visitor’s arm. It felt cold to the touch, probably the result of running through slightly frigid weather without much clothing to protect him.
His hand moved up to the traveler’s face. Still cold. And there was something completely different about it.
His fingers traced the contours of the intruder’s head and face, getting no resistance.
The traveler extended his right arm, forcing the hunter to jump back in surprise. But he didn’t run. He didn’t turned away. He just stared at the arm held out perpendicular to the figure he could barely make out in the moonlight.
The hunter put down his spear, and after thinking about it for a moment, decided to mimic the action, reaching his opposite arm out, looking to make contact with the hand in front of him.
The already slow pace of this world suddenly screeched to an almost halt for the hunter, as it seemed to take an eternity for his fingers to reach the clammy hand that awaited him. And then he reached it, no longer afraid of how cold the traveler was, or how strange he felt.
The visitor clasped his hand around the hunter, making true first contact.
The hunter had never interacted with another being this way, but the action made sense. He felt relaxed, at ease, almost one with the visitor.
He felt pressure around his hand and realized he should do the same. Then the traveler pulled him right up against him, almost in an embrace. The visitor was cold, but now the hunter was really starting to feel warm. In all his years living on this planet, he had never felt so comfortable, so relaxed.
In fact, he was starting to feel so relaxed, he was finding himself barely able to keep his eyes open in the arms of his newfound friend. And he was feeling warmer.
There was something wrong about this. This is not the kind of intimacy that he should be sharing with anyone, except for when he occasionally came across a band of females that he could mate with.
The warmth was suddenly turning to coldness. Extreme coldness. And there was something else wrong. He could feel something in his chest. All of this had taken place in a matter of seconds, but now he could see why he felt so warm.
The hunter was covered in blood. His blood. The visitor still had a tight grasp on the hunter’s hand, but his other had some kind of spear of its own. And now the hunter was impaled with it.
Not one spear. More than one spear. And they were small, and exceptionally sharp. And now they were in his body as if he were prey.
The hunter’s world turned to darkness as the heat and life escaped his body, and he slid of the spears and onto the ground.
The visitor looked down at the man or what was left of him.
Without feeling any remorse, he turned back toward the fire. None of the other figures had moved. It didn’t matter. They would have to be eliminated as well.
The traveler approached the fire, which cast a glow around the primitive camp. If the people who had built the fire were awake would have a chance to see everything now. And they would be scared. Very scared.
The traveler lifted up his right hand again, displaying his five sharp weapons. His single, red eye surveyed his prey. Remove this obstacle and continue to move.
He had to find him. The one who forced him to traverse the terran countryside in the first place. The one who solidified the rift among his people, and who weakened his entire civilization almost to non-existence.
This Cylon Centurion was going to make William Adama pay.
The stream was a welcome relief for Lee Adama. He splashed water on his face, an effort to soothe the scratches he endured for misjudging a small cliff and landing in brush.
That was the life of Lee Adama the explorer, and something Lee the Viper pilot, or Lee the lawyer, or even Lee the politician never imagined he would ever get a chance to do.
He still couldn’t explain it, but destiny somehow brought him and the refugees who survived the nuclear annihilation of their homeworlds to this planet. It might not have been the Earth they were looking for, but it had since become a perfect home.
As the water in the stream settled a bit, Lee had a chance to glance at his face, the first time he had done it in recent memory. His once short-cropped military-style hair had given way to long, almost wild curls. The beard only added to his forest warrior mystique, thick and almost scraggly.
The parts of his face not covered by hair exposed a number of scratches, showing that even the best warriors couldn’t win every battle.
It had been three years since the fleet called this planet home, and it’d been almost that long since Lee ran into another living soul that didn’t walk on four legs, or slither on the ground. This planet, which his father decided to call Earth despite the irony in such a name, was so vast, Lee knew he would never get to explore every corner in his lifetime. But he was going to try.
A rustling in the trees across the stream caught his attention. He grabbed his backpack filled with mostly used supplies and decided his wound-licking could wait.
As quietly as possible, Lee plopped through the stream and made his way into the trees ahead of him. Who knew what was waiting for him through that brush, but Lee wasn’t fazed. He had knocked on death’s door so many times in his life – every single time he was called to jump into a Viper cockpit – this was more like a vacation.
Lee pushed through the trees, and heard rustling continuing ahead of him. There was definitely something ahead of him, and it was trying to get away. That only made his adrenaline pump harder as he continued the pursuit.
Over the years, he had come across all kinds of different animals. Some were friendly, some would run at first sight, and others would try and get a foothold on the food chain by trying to make Lee dinner. His pistol had saved his life more than once, and he thought a second about unclipping his tattered holster.
No, this was going to be a test of fate. Chances were good that Lee would have the upper hand in any potential battle, weapon or no weapon, but if it was his time to go, then it was his time.
He had to have been running for at least half a mile by now, and the brush continued to get thicker and thicker. Remembering his tumble from earlier in the morning, Lee kept one eye firmly ahead, but also was paying close attention to the ground under his feet.
The rustling continued, and Lee could see a clearing up ahead. If nothing else, the cover of the woods would no longer serve as a cloak for his prey, and he could develop a new strategy on the run from there.
The trees gave way, and then there was nothing. Really, nothing. Grass was blowing gently in the wind, the sun was beating down on his battle-worn face, but Lee found absolutely nothing in front of him.
There’s no way the creature could’ve lost him like that. His pursuit was almost by the book, and he was mere feet away from it the whole time.
Still breathing hard, Lee practically collapsed into the soft grass, and let his bag fall loose. It wasn’t the end of the world, but whatever it was that had been watching him at the stream, it was gone now, and he may never know what it was.
A strong cool breeze swept over him, cooling the beads of sweat on his face, and Lee laid back to enjoy the moment. He remembered once how Kara and him flew their Vipers upside down, if nothing else to get a clear view of the blue skies – something that was a rare site when cooped up on a battlestar.
Kara. Gods, he really missed Kara Thrace.
“I missed you too, Lee.”
In a matter of seconds, Lee was back on his feet, pistol in hand. He turned quickly around in circles, trying to find the source of the voice … a voice that had to be … ‘
“Don’t freak out, Lee. It’s really me.”
A small giggle echoed around him.
“Kara?” Lee said. But there was nothing. All around him was nothing more than an empty field, no sign of any outside disturbance than what he did running into it in the first place.
Lee fell onto his knees. His emotions getting the better of him.
He couldn’t find his voice, as the tears streamed down his blood-stained face.
“Kara,” he whispered.
Posted 11 October 2009 - 10:15 AM
At Comic Con, Eddie Olmos related a story about his idea for a BSG sequel (which he related with tongue-in-cheek) which had Adama, alone in his cabin, when Saul Tigh knocks on the door and says, "Admiral? We have a problem..."
At which time, the audience was whooping with applause and laughs.
This story feels consistent. Not bad.