trans_9 | Sooo...Meet-y

"I'm unfamiliar with that species or organization," Picard replied. Not completely, as he had done much research, and information on all worlds was available in the media library, not just those of currently popped crew members. He crossed his arms, considering his answer.

"This vessel was constructed by a race of trans-dimensional alien entities known as the Daligig. If that's an unfamiliar term to you, don't worry. It is to all of us."

Gaius immediately had conflicted feelings about this.

He knew he should simply be drowning in the relief of finally having escaped the Cylons, somehow, miraculously.

But something in the grim manner of, well, everyone gathered, told him that this might be an even worse place to be.

He resolved then and there to stop griping quite so often about how things were the worst they could possibly be. A resolution he broke moments later as he cursed under his breath.

"For frak's sake, what's next?" He ran a hand through his hair, forgetting the state it was currently in. "The Daligig. No, I'm not familiar with that term. I'm afraid I don't understand exactly who the crew is, then. Are you from the Colonies?"

He already suspected the answer would be no, but he had no idea what that meant.

"This is going to be a lot to take in, so please bear with me," Picard began.

"The most important thing to note is that not everyone here is from the same reality. We all come from different worlds, different interpretations. My own home is called the United Federation of Planets, and it's an interplanetary alliance of alien races. I'm from Earth.

"There are other realities, but that's the one I'm from. The Ohm go about and destroy realities. We're here to stop them. According to the Daligig, we were saved from our own realities because the Ohm have already destroyed them. Our influence on our realities, the strengths of our ... stories, for better words, is what drew them to us."

Baltar was braced for quite a bit, but that managed to throw him completely anyways. His mouth opened and closed once, his eyes skittering across the strange faces convening in the room.

Alternate realities. It wasn't as if the idea hadn't been thrown about in scientific circles, but it was usually more as a philosophical or theoretical exercise, and Baltar didn't know very many scientists who had continued to take it seriously after they graduated university.

It was then that something else sank in -- we were saved from our own realities because the Ohm have already destroyed them.

Gaius blinked once, hard, his head swirling at the implication, as he gawped, trying to form words. "I -- you mean... everything..."

Everything he knew. Everyone he knew. The last shreds of humanity. The entire Cylon race. Wiped out.

A memory floated through his head - Six's words to him, on Kobol. You are the guardian and protector of the new generation of God's children.

"This is madness," he said, though it was half to himself, and more wishful thinking than anything else.

Picard knew that face. That reaction. He'd had much the same response. "I realize how you must feel. It's nigh impossible to take in.

"We're still holding out hope that the universes can be restored, and the damage undone. The Daligig we spoke with informed us that it's possible, if difficult."

Baltar was rubbing a hand across his mouth, staring at the floor. The Captain had hit the nail on the head: it was just too much for any one man to deal with.

"Undone," Baltar repeated, his voice distant. But only temporarily, perhaps. Oh yes, what a wonderful idea that would be - restore the same frakked up universe I'd been loathing before I arrived here, he thought to himself, bitterly.

But did he hate it enough to wish it didn't exist whatsoever? When he, quite clearly, still did, perhaps for the purpose of saving everyone who hadn't made it?

That was a question that would take a bit more contemplation.

"In the meantime then," he asked, his voice sounding faint, even to him, "What are we... expected to do here?"

"The previous crew that brought us aboard experimented with weapons and artifacts from many worlds. In the end, they found something they could not control and were destroyed in their hubris. We're their replacements, a new crew functioning to fill the shoes of a previous community trained and ready for this task.

"We are not so lucky. We have powers, heroes and legends from numerous universes, but much of the crew is fractured, unwilling to work in a military or militaristic community. I don't blame them. So we'll establish a civilian side to this crew, so that they can have balance. Then we train and prepare, and save ourselves and our homes."

"I see," he said, and he really did - there was a familiar aspect to this. "In my own... reality, as you call it, humanity's homeworlds were destroyed by an attacking force called Cylons. Military and civilians were forced into a similar situation: we were all running, or fighting, for our lives. Our first President was originally a school teacher." He smiled humorlessly. "And I was the last President - a scientist, and not a politician, I assure you." He nearly winced as the phrase 'last President' fell off his lips. It was suddenly much more literal than he had meant it to be.

"It sounds like your knowledge and experience will come in extremely useful regarding the establishment and liaising of the civilian council system. May I have your name, sir?"

This felt like the worst kind of deja vu.

Lie, came a tiny, urgent voice in the back of his skull. Tell him some other name, and then get lost in the crowd and just do what you have to do to get by. Don't step into these shoes again - how many times do you have to ruin humanity's chances before you finally learn that it's best to just keep your head down and...

And then there was another voice directly in his ear, clear as crystal, but edged with a silken purr: "This is what we've been waiting for, Gaius. You can't back out now."

So he couldn't outrun her, even here. Gaius' blood ran cold.

Six's hand tightened on his shoulder, and he hoped his utter shock at her appearance didn't show on his face, given that to the Captain, Gaius would seem to be simply standing there, abruptly frozen for no good reason at all. He'd had years of practice at hiding his reactions to the woman that might exist only in his mind's eye, but his surprise that she had followed him into another dimension or whatever this was reignited all his old nervous tics.

"It's your destiny, Gaius. Seize it," she urged, and as her nails dug in tighter, he spoke up, voice squawking a bit unnecessarily: "Gaius Baltar." He held out a hand with a stiff, utterly forced smile. "Glad to help in any way I can."

Edited 2009-12-01 23:23 (UTC)

That hesitation ... Gaius's response. Suddenly Picard felt himself going back into his own mind, to a part he rarely acknowledged, a voice he hid away and never listened to but in the direst of circumstances. A voice that had unwillingly led him to victory years ago.

Resistance is futile.

The realization struck him hard, almost left Picard breathless. He knew this man. They had never met, true, and they were most certainly not from the same worlds, but Picard nonetheless knew him. Knew him for what he was: a man with a secret, one that haunted him and possibly endangered his crew. His own hand reached out almost mechanically toward Baltar's, clenching it in a strong grip that was just beginning to become painful before he pulled away.

"Would you meet me here, after this meeting?" he asked, his expression calming as he mentally stepped away from the voice of the Queen, of Locutus, that would never truly leave him.

Edited 2009-12-01 23:33 (UTC)

The Captain's firm grip -- too firm, really -- caused Baltar's attention to be brought quite squarely back into the present. And there was something in his eyes, and a shift in his voice that was unsettling, to say the very least.

"... Very well," he said, with a brisk nod. After all, he thought, with a small twinge of something approaching despair - what else was he going to do now?

It was obvious the Captain had others to greet, and break the grisly news to. So for the time being, Baltar slipped aside, mulling over all of this, and doing what he could to surreptitiously seek out an opening in the crowd where he might have a hushed conversation with Six without appearing insane.

Motoko's gloved hand landed on Gaius' shoulder, hard. No, boy, you won't be getting your little murmured conversation with your schizoid delusions just now. You have an annoyed cyborg to deal with.

"You're broadcasting," she informed him flatly, in a tone that made it clear she expected him to stop, now. Damn, but it was a headache and a half, these people. One thing after another.

"Ex... cuse me..." Gaius said slowly, utterly astounded by not only the angry glare that met him when he turned around, but also by exactly what she said. "I have ...no idea... what you are talking about," he said, gaining confidence and even a hint of flippancy as he continued, and shrugged his shoulder carefully away from her hand. Denial - now that at least was familiar territory for him.

"You're broadcasting high-frequency static, either from your person or something you have with you," She replied, businesslike and still much-annoyed, though significantly less baleful. Her hand was like a vice— it would be staying where it was, thank you. Military cyborgs were not to be trifled with, "I'm asking you to stop, you're interfering with radio communications."

Gaius' eyes were waffle-sized as he took in what she was telling him.

It couldn't be true. There was a room full of people, crammed together. She must be misreading something. Her disturbingly iron-tight grip on his shoulder, however, told him that this would be a bad response.

"I promise you that I'm not broadcasting anything on purpose... perhaps it's some equipment or..." But he knew there was nothing on his person, except perhaps the same equipment they'd handed to everyone else at the door, that could be doing something like this.

"I... I have no idea," he finally said, and to his supreme frustration, Six began circling around behind the woman, grinning as if this were all extremely fun.

"She's got your number, Gaius," Six said. "But if you're broadcasting something, what does that mean?"

"Nothing," he replied tartly in Six's direction, and then quickly added "...of mine was given to me when I arrived here. I only have the standard issue... whatever these are."

Motoko followed his eyes. He wasn't watching her he was looking elsewhere, little flickering signs and flecks of expression caught in hyper-realistic cyborg vision. Wonderful, leave it to her luck to find a deranged idiot who was broadcasting a mobile headache.

"No," the Major brooked no argument, "Figure it out."

the implied threat: or I will.

Baltar was torn between explaining that he didn't know how to stop doing whatever he was doing (and God, but he didn't want to think about why he was doing it), and lying, only to have her catch him later. He had a feeling the latter would result in consequences he didn't want to imagine right now.

"I'll do what I can," he stammered. It was the best oily compromise he could offer. Hopefully enough so that she would let go of him.

A curt nod, gaze sliding along the back of his neck— no jacks? So, he wasn't their kind of cyborg, at any rate. What a hassle. The Major let go and moved off without replying. There was work to be done.

Sooo...Meet-y

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject