Battlestar Galactica re-re-imagined (new writers always welcome)

Susan, sickbay

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CHARACTER:

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Susan
She is a dormant agent, she doesn't know about her cylon nature.
Her model hasn't been discovered (yet) so she goes around the fleet like a normal human being.

She was aboard a civilian ship when the attacks took place, but as she has medical knowledge she was transferred to Galactica to the orders of Dr. Cottle.
She is a quite open person and likes to flirt with men.
She has been mostly secluded in the medical center since the attacks, so she has just met people having to be healed.
Now the attacks are getting more isolated, she is starting to be able to get around the battlestar and even going to other ships.
Sometimes she has strange dreams where she is around the ship doing strange things she doesn't understand. One time she even woke up in the hangar, but as it was empty, she wasn't seen
---

IC:

Susan woke up that day as any other, in her bunk bed near the sickbay. She dressed up in her medtech clothes and headed to the next room. Another day has begun, she though as she saw the already crowded place. She checked what was left to do and got to work.

Patrick is 22 years old. Engaged as a Viper pilot on the Battlestar Galactica, he's really proud of it. he made his way quickly up the ladder to become chief of a small squadron, although he's still too young and perhaps a bit too naive to get more. In his days he'll surely become a great leader and a person of importance, but he still got to learn a few things in life and in human relations.
Since the attacks are getting more and more isolated, Patrick can spend more time resting on the ship, and that is something he appreciates. He tries to spend time with his fellows pilots in order to get some social relations. But he's quite shy and doesn't dare to go as far as the exuberant ones around him. Anyway, he's a really great pilot and that is something everynoe agrees on.

Patrick's 6'4'' and is rather thin, muscular but not over-muscular. Short dark hair, piercing green eyes, a little scar on his chin. He likes to wear his uniform and is proud of it. And he's proud of his nick too among pilots : Fierce!


---

IC :

Although the attacks happen really less often than in the first weeks, they are stll there. The fragin cylons are still around and come on the ships like predators on a slow group of preys. That day, Patrick was on patrol with his squad and they just turned back an enemy attack. They fought well, not loosing a single Viper, but the Cylons lost half of their fighters ; and they fled. But Patrick's fighter was touched, and he had to land urgently at the end of the fight (he kept in the action till the end anyway). The smoking Viper get in the bay in time and Patrick came out. He was chocking, and the smoke had put its mark on him as he didn't felt well. he stumbled on the deck and fall down. His men brought him in a hurry to the medics...

Captain Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace

http://img2.timeinc.net/ew/dynamic/imgs/080403/bsg-starbuck_l.jpg

Kara was out of her steaming Viper before it had even skidded to a complete halt. She ripped off her helmet and unclipped the brace around her throat without breaking stride. Recognising these signs, Commander of Air Group Lee Adama was already striding away from her, towards where Patrick lay coughing on the ground. Starbuck jogged ahead of him and then wheeled round.

"I frakkin' told you."

"Not now Captain."

The deck crew had already gotten Patrick onto a stretcher, an O2 mask over his head. His Viper was in poor shape too, something else they couldn't afford. They watched as Patrick was wheeled away. Never known for her diplomacy or tact, Starbuck folded her arms across her chest and glared at Lee side-long.

"He's too green. Can't watch his nose and his ass at the same time. Soon as he sights a target he forgets all about his rear end and this is what happens." She snapped.

Lee was in no mood for this.

"Are you about to lecture me about the foolishness of giving hot-headed pilots command?"

"He could have taken the whole squad down with him. When I'm up I keep my ass clean and I know where my frakkin' wing boys are at all times."

"There isn't a better option in the Air Group. You got a better idea?"

"Yes Sir." She replied sardonically. "If he survives this frak up and if his ship isn't scrapped for parts, next time you send him up have the whole squad fly in front of him... hell have them all stay within view of his windshield. Oh, except for whoever follows up and wipes his ass clean of raiders for him."

"Funny."

"I am not frakking laughing Lee."

"He's not that bad."

"He's not that good."

"Enough." He told her brusquely. "You said your piece, now get out of my sight" His voice rose to a booming roar, until he was bellowing into her face. "Chewing my ear off like a damn pitbull! Get outta here. Get some food. Get some drink. Play some cards. Get in your rack... and I mean your rack Starbuck and I better not see your sorry ass till the next watch! That's an order!"

"Sir yes Sir!" She replied, snapping to attention and saluting, a broad grin on her face.

"As you were... No. Not as you were. As you were but frakking mute."

Starbuck stuck her tongue out at him before swaggering jauntily towards the officer's mess.

sickbay

After a couple of hours he was waking up.

"Hey, you handsome, can you hear me?"

The unconscious pilot had been brought and was now regaining his conscience. Susan thought he was really handsome, not all pilots were. She had always had a crush on military men, probably because of their always fit nature.

He finally opened his eyes, although he seemed a bit lost.

"You are on sick bay, you smoked too much during your last flight", she joked.

The guy was trying to sit up but was a bit dizzy.
"Hey, take it slow, hottie or you'll fall off" She grabbed his arm and pushed his chest gently to have him lain down again. They had had to remove his shirt and his adbominal muscles were tantalizing. She had just been waiting for the perfect occasion to touch him.

"Now, let's check you up", she said grabbing her stethoscope and placing it in his chest. "Breathe deeply, please", she went on with the examination. "Everything looks just normal, but you'll have to stay here at least until tomorrow so we are sure everything is fine. You are a lucky guy, you could have died out there. What's your name?", she asked him with a smile

It took quite some time for Patrick to emerge from his unconsciousness. He blinked, he was all dazy, his vision was blurry. He faintly heard the calming and reassuring voice, the nice words. He felt the soft hands keeping him down as he tried to stand up, he felt the cold of the stethoscope. That pulled him out of the dizziness and made his vision clear. He grunted. "Hmph" was all he replied at first, then he shoock his head.
- Frak that was a close one!
He stared at the woman. So pretty.
- I'm Patrick. Wow, you say I'm alive? Then you're not the angel welcoming me on the other side.
He pulled himself to a seat, smiling. Coughing again.
- Oh yes you're Susan, I saw you already a couple of times around. Thanks for the check up. I think I'm fine now. Let's kill some other frakkin bastards!
Saying this loudly, he tried to jump down from the bed. And stumbled, still weakened by the meds and the smoke. He put his hand on the bed to regain some composure.

Baltar, Corridor

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It had been a week since he'd seen her. A week since she spoke to him.

At first Baltar enjoyed the silence in his own mind. It felt like a real awakening, a dawning that perhaps the guilt he knew he was supposed to feel could finally come, could wash away the sins and leave him a pure man.

But this temporary sanity didn't last. Baltar realized all too quickly that there was no one aboard he could talk to. Anything and everything on his mind, every piercing motive and justification of himself had to be silenced whenever someone else came into the room. He had to choose his words carefully in each conversation, making sure to reveal nothing of himself and his true nature.

And then he woke up one morning and missed her.

The feeling came to him slowly, like hunger, but once it was there he knew it unmistakable.

She left him, and now he missed her.

The voice in his head, the phantom on his conscious, the computer chip in his brain... whoever she was, wherever she came from, he now had a longing for that simple companionship. He wished to confess himself, and on the Battlestar Baltar was only surrounded by willing ears and accusing stares.

He found himself wandering the large vacant corridors of the ship, searching through the bowels of his new home, hoping to catch a glimpse of blonde hair or red dress. Each day he could only find new faces.

Maybe this was guilt tearing at him. The thought of having a secret he could never share with anyone began to weigh him down, a physical pull he felt against his heart. It couldn't be the longing for a companion, but the guilt of mass genocide.

He didn't know. He had never experienced either before, so it was hard to make a comparison.

Still, until he found something better to do, Baltar searched the ship for something that only existed in his own mind.

Leoben out of his mind... or in it?

He knew he was asleep, but his mind was telling him he was awake. How did that work? Why did he think of the word mind? Did he have a mind? Why did he have to sleep?

He was sleeping in a forest. It was warm. It was green. He could feel it. He couldn't remember ever having been in a forest, but he was in one now.

He wasn't thinking of himself in terms of silicon and binary data. He'd never thought of himself like that. He was real.

Alive? Could a cylon be alive? Or were they just on?

Humans operated on electrical impulses. Mentally. Physically. Why did they think they were real?

He had memories. Not just memory. But memories. He was no different to a human. But he was. Or was he?

Memories flashed though his mind. Fighting. Hiding. Planning.

Faces flashed through his mind. Not his. He'd had many faces.

Adama. Roslin. Anders. Thrace... Kara Thrace. Starbuck. She stayed there the longest. Paused in the flashbacks. Why?

She was beautiful. She was strong. If he was not a human. If he was not real, then how could he consider her beautiful? Or strong?

He wanted her. Why did he want her?

The forest was still there, but only in the background. Starbuck was all around him. Dozens of Starbucks. Arms folded. All looking at him. None of the Starbucks were smiling. If truth be told (and how could this be the truth because he was dreaming - wasn't he?), the Starbucks didn't look friendly at all.

So why did he want her?

He had spent his existence - or should that be existences? - fighting humans, trying to destroy them. Wasn't Starbuck a human? Shouldn't he be trying to kill her too? Not wanting her. Not wanting to be with her.

He wanted the dream to end. He didn't feel good about it. If he could feel, that is.

But he remembered. He had to lie here and sleep. Pretend to be asleep.

He hoped he would wake up soon. He had to make sense of this. If there was sense to this.

The forest was still there, but so was Starbuck. All the Starbucks.

Starbuck.

Arms folded, looking down at him angrily.

Starbuck.

sickbay

Susan thought that pilot was really cute but also quite stubborn.

"Hey, Patrick, slow down, will ya? I said you have to stay here quiet for some more time, you have to completely recover. I guess those "frakkin bastards", will have to wait. Besides, you won't want to get killed being half recovered, right? We can't afford to lose any pilot... or any man really, remember we are the last people in the whole universe", she winked at him and stood up. "I'll be around checking other patients, if you need anything, just let me know."

She crossed the curtain and let some pilot friends get to him. They had been waiting to know whether he'd be fine. They stood there by his bed for some minutes.

Susan went around the room healing some wounds from other pilots. She looked at him now and then to see if he was obeying her orders and she always find him gazing at her. She felt quite flattered but also a bit nervous, as having someone's eyes on your back was putting some pressure on her duties. She finally approached him.

"Hey, you, how you feeling? You want a book or something? I realized you are a bit bored here..."

Sickbay

having spent some minutes with his friends, Patrick was a bit exhausted. it seemed he wasn't completely healed yet. As much as he like his friends, he was happy to see Susan take them away and stand alone with him in the bay. It was really nice to be alone with her. Patrick couldn't help but look her up and down.
- Yes it's going to be quite long alone in here. maybe I'll just need a bit of company...
He put his best smile in it, gettin a little flirty towards Susan...

sickbay - corridor

"Well, then, I'll have to call your frinds in again. As much as I'd like to chat with you, I have a lot of things to do so..."

She couldn't finish her sentence as another harmed pilot entered the room. Most of the people at sickbay gathered around him. He had ben involved in a cash and his arm had been badly cut. If they could save him, he probably would lose his arm. Doctor Cottle was not at the ship as he had to go on a medical examinations to the Astral Queen. So Susan was in charge, being the second in command in that room.

She started shouting asking for material and several tools. After half an hour of dealing with the poor boys body they had to give him up for dead. It had been long since anybody had died in her arms so Susan was quite shocked. She told the others she needed a little rest and stepped out into the corridor.

She leaned against the wall and slowly her body slid, her hand covering her face. She end up sitting in the floor in a dark corner. Why can't those frakkin' toasters let us alone? Haven't they had enough?, she kept thinking

Lt. Noel 'Narcho' Allison, Corridor

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Lt. Noel 'Narcho' Allison is a viper pilot that was originally among the crew of the Pegasus when the Cylon's struck. Noel has pretty much kept their himself since there still seems to be some tensions between the different crews of Galactica and Pegasus. As a pilot he was dependable and loath to showboating always watching his comrades backs. On ground he was relatively shy and while he couldn't help but notice the many attractive members of the crew he struggled to connect.


IC: Narcho woke up in the cramped confines of the bunk room and slowly crawled out to the side of his cot, hanging his leg over and let himself waken slowly. Rubbing his sleepy face he pulled himself out of bed and dressed himself. Feeling exhausted from the constant sorties and stress expecting to go to battle at any moment, he decided to get some energy by going for a run. Opening the hatch he entered the corridor and started to jog slowly around the ship.

Baltar, Corridor

He found her in a dark corridor at the corner of a ship. She didn't smile, or play coy, or jump at the very sight of him. She didn't have her bright blond hair in curls and her formal dress.

She wore scrubs. Her dirty blonde hair back in a simple ponytail. She looked tired. She looked worried. She looked...

Normal.

This must be some trick, some game she was playing with him. Baltar had learned that each time she met with him there was another lesson to learn or humble thought he had to dismiss.

Baltar came up to her. He sat down on the other side of the corridor next to her. He studied her for a moment. She looked beautiful in a normal kind of way. She looked the way he imagined his wife might look one day, coming home from a long day at work, only waiting for someone to say or do something to make her smile and light up her face.

Baltar wiped away at the corners of his mouth.

"So... what do we do now?"

He waited, hands on his knees, wondering why it had taken him so long to find her.

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Cassiopeia "Cassie" ConDoin
Civilian
Former Video Starlet and Popstar trying to find her place in a new world that no longer has any need for her.


IC: Cassie sat in the corner of the Galactica's crowded sickbay, virtually oblivious to the cacophony around her. Her head was angled low, a mess of sweaty curls obscuring her face and matted down heavily with ash, soot and blood from a bandaged gash just under the hairline.

She had been aboard her yacht, half way between Picon and Tauron when they attacked. She still doesn't know how she had survived... she was only half conscious when someone tossed her in that lifeboat. Gods only know how long she had been out and adrift when those pilots found her and brought her back to the Galactica.

Now, sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped up around her shins, she could see how lucky she really was. When she had been brought on board, she was clad only in a lace bra and panties set -- formerly white but now deeply stained by soot and sweat. She drew a long lab coat about her waist and held it tight. She didn't know where it had come from... someone had just dropped it folded on her lap and walked away. Beneath that coat hid dozens of tiny scrapes and wooden splinters that were once her bedpost. And although she winced at the thought of what her previously unblemished skin must look like now, she knew good and well how fortunate she was. A few scrapes and a cut across the forehead was a small worry compared to those around her. Her thoughts were slow and muted from shock, and she couldn't help but worry. Worry about where she would go from here... no agent, manager or parent to guide her. Not even knowing when her next meal or shower would come. All she could do was huddle herself up in this corner and wait...


OOC: Hi everyone! I left a couple of loose threads there in case anyone wants to help write me in. Feel free to use any of them or PM me any other ideas you might have! A few possible intro plot threads might be:
~ Someone from the Galactica comes to assign me to new living quarters.
~ One of the doctors or nurses check on me
~ One of the pilots who found my lifeboat might check on me
~ The person who gave me the lab coat might come back
~ Something else!

Sickbay

*deleted because didn't follow the story, sorry,*

corridor

"So... what do we do now?", he had said.

Susan knew Dr Baltar, of course, everybody in the fleet knew him. But she couldn't recall ever talking to him, so his approach to her was really strange.

"What do we do about what?", she replied. She didn't know what he was talking about, there sitting in front of her. Some legs were passing in between them, as that was a quite crowded corridor. "I hope you're not talking about the poor dead pilot, because I'm sorry to inform you there is nothing else we can do about him."

He was probably not talking about it, but it was the only thing she could think of. He was a strange man, she had seen him a couple of times talking to himself along the corridors, and she thought he might me a bit crazy. But he was a respectable scientist and he was wroking on some devices that would help the fleet, so she wouldn't want to disturb him. Maybe he needed some medication, and was waiting for Doctor Cottle. Or maybe he had mistaken her for someone else.

"Sorry, doctor, but I don't know what you are talking about. Can I do anything for you?"

Sickbay

Patrick was feeling better. He wasn't really hurt, only a bit touched by the smoke and the shock. Now it seemed better. So he stood up, put on his pilot's jacket and walked around the sickbay, to see if he could help.
He went to a few first patients, but they were already taken care of, so he moved along the line to the followers. If his little knowledge of first aid could alleviate the line and let only the really ugly ones for the medics, that would be a good thing already.
And there he almost fell on that girl. Sweaty, tired, looking absently as if in shock. Under the sweat and the blood she was pretty. Only a coat and almost nothing under. Patrick looked down at her. He lowered himself to be on eyes level.
- Hi.
He waved his hand in front of her eyes to check her reactions.
- How are you? You OK? Has someone already check on you? I'm Patrick. What's your name?
Looking into his eyes, he saw behind the dust and sweat and blood, and she really looked cute.

Cassie looked at the man through a curtain of sweaty curls as he lowered himself and began waving his hand in front of her face. She lifts her hand to catch him at the wrist to stop the flurry of movement. "That's... uh, pretty annoying," she laughs softly through a hoarse throat.

Patrick said:

"How are you? You OK? Has someone already check on you?"

Click to expand...

"Ummm, yeah." She forces a smile. "Someone came by earlier... gave me some gauze for my head and left. Guess I'm not as bad off as I feel..." Her voice trails off as she looks over the crowded room. No doubt, she got off lucky.

"I'm Patrick. What's your name?"

Click to expand...

"Cass~~sandra," she catches herself before spitting out her real name. Hopefully the blow to her head would help cover the fib. "My name's Cassandra." She glances around the room once more from behind her mask of dirty hair, then back to Patrick. "Ummm.... do you think they have any tweezers they could spare around here?" she asks and lets the right shoulder of her borrowed lab coat fall away to reveal dozens of tiny red, infected lines covering her shoulder, arm and the crest of her breast. Many of the tiny cuts still held wooden splinters that were too deep for her to dig out herself.

"And maybe sunglasses?" she asks and squints hard. "The light is... I guess I'm just real sensitive. Must be the concussion...." It seemed a plausible enough excuse to her at least!

Baltar never fully understood the conversations he had with Six. She spoke to him at times like he should have random information he couldn't possibly know, or that he was supposed to make these leaps in logic which he could not always see.

It made Baltar feel like he were ever learning in the presence of a master. He both loved and hated this. Inside information always pleased Baltar greatly, any chance to know something not knowing could be beneficial to him. He simply wished she could tell him what she meant half the time.

He wanted to lash out at her for not coming to him sooner, but the people in the hallway prevented him from making a scene. Perhaps that's why she chose this place. Instead he peered beside her into the sickbay.

"Dead pilot?" She came all the way down here for a dead pilot? Was this something interesting, did the dead pilot mean something? Once more his confused watery eyes searched hers for an answer. Once more the twinge of arousal replaced the confusion and Baltar found himself biting his lower lip.

"What does the pilot have..."

Baltar stopped in mid sentence, watching the people around him. He couldn't look like any more of a fool than he already was, he didn't want to compound that by talking to himself either. Instead Baltar got up and crossed the corridor, beside Six.

He sat down, speaking in a low tone so the passerby's couldn't hear.

"What does the pilot have to do with anything? Why did you disappear for nearly three days? Why are you dressed like that? I need some sort of an answer this time... I can't keep playing these games of yours."

"Disappear for three days?", she didn't understand what he was talking about. "I have been here for more than a week, so I wouldn't say I disappeared", she added.

She separated a bit from him being afraid. Now she was sure he was completely nuts, he was whispering, as if someone was spying him, and he was talking nonesense.

"And I'm always dressed like that, I am medical stuff. And I'm not playing any games. And, now, if you'll excuse me I have work to do", she wasn't ready to go back to sickbay, but she didn't want to be outside with that man.

She was standing up when a nurse appeared calling for her

"Miss, the girl seems better, maybe you could check up on her..."

"Of course, I'll be right back in", she said to the nurse that hurried back inside. Susan turned to Baltan again. "If you ever need anything from me, you better speak clearly", she said before starting her walk back to the infirmary.

Sickbay

- Cassandra, that's a nice name...
Patrick ran his gaze and fingers over some cuts.
- These doesn't seem really bad. Although they might hurt, they are not life threatening. I might take care of them to help the people here around. Come with me.
He slid his arm under her armpits and helped her to stand up, guiding her to sit on the edge of one of the beds. Hegrabbed some first aid meds and tools and invited her to let off the coat.
With patience and care, Patrick began to retrieve the splinters and close the wounds. The tools helped him burn the splinters. He used the nano-tools to help the skin recover and launch an accelerated process of wound healing, placin each time a small odse of antibiotics to kill the infections.
Of course, he was not a medic in first line. What he knew was what usefull on a battlefield. But that was enough to alleviate her pain and heal those injuries. But he was no medic and there it was hard to keep it purely medical and cold. Behind the sweat, the dust and the blood was a body of a woman. He had to push away some thoughts more than once in order to work well. Once he had to ask a medic for a particularly deep cut.
- Here we are, almost ready.
He smiled at her, sighing as he was at the end of his work. He took his own pair of sunglasses form his jacket and held them to her.
- Take those.
He offered his arm to help her.
- What about we find a place for you to wash yourself and some real clothes? And perhaps a meal or something? You could then tell me your story and how you landed on the Galactica.

Cass winced a little when Patrick hoisted her to her feet and led her to the examination table. Up on the edge of that flat platform she allows her lab coat to fall away without protest -- modesty had never been an issue for her and given the state of this infirmary and all its wounded she seriously doubted anyone would care anyway. She then scoops up her long hair and lays it over her opposite shoulder in a big, messy bunch so Patrick can tend to the tiny wounds covering her right side without it getting in his way. It stung a little as he worked the tweezers, but it was nothing worse than what she had already endured, plus the meds and pain killers were finally starting to kick in.

When he offers her his own sunglasses, Cassie quickly accepts them with a smile and slips them over her eyes. It was a clumsy disguise, but it should work for the time being... at least until people start wondering why she's wearing sunglasses in doors, but she'll have to cross that bridge when she gets to it. Maybe this will become the new trend! She can make it fashionable!

Probably not...

What about we find a place for you to wash yourself and some real clothes? And perhaps a meal or something? You could then tell me your story and how you landed on the Galactica.

Click to expand...

She looks at him with a thin smile and arched eyebrow. If she didn't know any better she might think she was being hit on! "A shower and some food would be wonderful. How do people find living quarters around here? Does the Galactica assign them, or should I just go around asking girls if they have any open bunks in their rooms, or..." Her voice trails off as a rather unpleasant thought occurs to her. "Or will I even be allowed to stay on Galactica? This is a military ship... so they might send me to live on one of the civilian ships in the fleet?"

Balter, Corridor and Infirmary

A wave of confusion ran over Baltar as he looked at Six. Something felt wrong, completely wrong. She had played mind tricks with him before, but she always urged him on, always helped him see the clues.

Here? She gave him nothing. She acted strange, confused and cold, like he was a stranger. Was he a stranger?

And then someone else spoke to her.

Baltar scrambled to his feet, grabbing onto the wall for leverage as he stared at the nurse who just came in and told her something. It... was impossible. He stared in a simple disbelief as he looked at this girl.

Two things hit his mind then, one right after another. They were hard solid facts that probably would have made him loose his footing if he were not holding onto the wall. Baltar wasn't sure which idea came first, but they both seemed to be connected, as if one had to be there for the other.

She was real.

She was a cylon.

She began to walk back inside and Baltar stood there in the crowded corridor for a moment. He didn't know what to do. His mind reeled. Should he tell someone? He had to tell someone.... NO! No, he couldn't tell anyone. They would take her away from him and he needed her. This is the reason his own Six abandoned him, to go out and seek this one, here in the confines of Galactica.

He had to do something.

Did she know? Was she his Six from Caprica? He had so many questions.

Baltar followed her, nearly running. He grabbed for her arm to keep her from walking away further.

"Wait," He realized his voice sounded a little frantic. The infirmary didn't have a lot of people in here, but there were enough. He saw the nurse who had called Six out turn with surprise as him. Baltar tried to pull off some of his old charm with a smile, he didn't think it worked very well.

"Sorry," He said, a cheshire grin as he let go of her arm, "You look so much... like... someone I knew from Caprica. I thought surely you were her. You two could have been sisters, twins almost. I got a little confused. Let me start over, please."

He held his hand out for her to shake.

"My name is Dr. Gaius Baltar."

sickbay entrance

Twin sisters, she thought. She doubted two people could look so alike as to be mistaken. He was completely nuts. But now he looked as if he meant it.

"Ok, doctor Baltar, I accept your apologises", she said giving her hand to him. "My name is Susan, and I can assure I had never seen you before, except on TV, of course. But I understand you might be tired and confused. It has been a tiring journey since we left the colonies.", she said placing her hand in her pockets.

She needed to get back to work, but she didn't want to be rude, nw that he had apologized.

"Uhm... I'm needed in here, so... if there is nothing else I can do for you...", she said.