Fic - "Going Forward" - BSG/STNG AU - Part 19
Woo! Part 19! BSG/Star Trek Next Gen crossover, sequel to Going Native (tagged here as trekfic)This part? Yeah this story needed more intrigue.
It still gave him chills, every time he landed on the deck. Having some of the new crew interspaced with the Cylon deck hands helped, but it was still eerie to step out of a colonial Raptor onto a base star. A base star that he commanded. He sometimes wondered if the gods just enjoyed mocking him.
“Commander on deck!” called one of the Fives. The man snapped off a salute and Tigh returned it. Chief Edward Fivesix, he thought, and congratulated himself on being able to put a name to an identical face. The naming conventions on Cylonia made it even worse. Chief Fivesix was married to a Six, a civilian, and combining numbers for last names was popular and irritating to keep track of since there was never any discernable rhyme or reason as to whose name went first. And then there were the ones who didn’t take human first names and just went by their number, and the Twos liked to use Conoy or Leoben as a first or last name, while the Ones all preferred variations of John or Cavil.
Three, his executive officer, was waiting for him on the edge of the main deck. It meant something was wrong, but not serious enough to have warranted a call planet side. It had been a nuisance trip, meeting with the Quorum, mostly to ease everyone’s mind that the Cylons were under control. He had almost snorted in disgust during the meeting when Zarek asked him about security measures. The irony, he supposed, was that his Cylon crew was never the problem. There had been a few of the reservists who he’d needed to send back to the colony, a few more that would probably need that boot in the ass as well.
“Commander Tigh, there was an incident while you were away.” Three said easily.
Commander, he thought as he signaled for her to fall in beside him as he went to the corridor leading off the base star landing deck. It was something he had never wanted. He was never meant for command, he’d understood that from early on. His fear, his real fear that he had no one to share it with, was that things would go so badly wrong that Roslin would put her emergency plan to evacuate the colony into effect. That would put him in charge. It was his worst nightmare. “What happened?”
“Chief Tyrol… he had a sort of incident in one of the control rooms.” Three said it as though it explained everything.
“Did the incident involve alcohol?” He was certain it had. He had been able to step back from the edge. Bill had helped, and so had the synthenol. He was still an alcoholic, but it was under control, and had been under control for years. Galen Tyrol had gone in a different direction. A shame really. The man had seemed fine at first, but after the first year, he had fallen apart. That in itself wasn’t unusual. A lot of people had fallen apart during that year. The various psychologists said it was normal, that it was a reaction to the stress, and most people bounced back. Tyrol hadn’t. He got into fights, his drinking increased and since the man knew how to make alcohol, he didn’t have to worry about restrictions from a replicator. Cally had tried to help him, but she had their son to think of as well. The couple had divorced in the third year after the colony was established. The new war had brought Tyrol back into military service and there had been problems already. Tyrol resented not getting his old job back on the Galactica and made no bones about still hating Cylons. Tigh had brought him on partly because the man was an expert mechanic when sober, and partly because he hoped having a crisis to work with would help the chief sober up.
Apparently it had failed.
Much to his surprise, Three shook her head at his words. “No, according to the medical scans, he was sober when it happened. He was working in one of the control rooms and tripped and he fell into one of the data streams.”
That stopped Tigh in his tracks. The data streams were a source of contention and anger between the human and Cylon crew. The Cylons used them to communicate and manipulate the ship and in many ways it made things faster. And quieter. It had something to do with their nanite technology, he didn’t really understand it. However the ship could be flown without using the data streams, which made sense, because the mechanical Cylons didn’t have nanites and ultimately had planned to eliminate their biological slaves. The human crew, himself included, suspected that the data streams were often used as a source of gossip. The Cylon crew countered that the data streams made things work more efficiently, and he had conceded the point. But… “No one said those damn pools of water were dangerous. What the hell happened?”
Three looked at him oddly. “The data stream isn’t dangerous to humans. Haven’t you ever tried it, sir? We tested it. There’s nothing dangerous to humans. If you put your hand into the stream, you just get wet.”
“Then what happened to Chief Tyrol?” he asked, letting his irritation show in his tone. She didn’t react. It was another thing that he didn’t like about his Cylon crew.
“He seemed to have some sort of seizure and collapsed. When he awoke, he described some sort of hallucination and became violent. He tried to harm himself and the doctor medicated him. He was asking for you.”
Something about how she held herself made him curious. “What is so special about one of the crew having a mental breakdown that you needed to meet me on arrival to tell me about it?”
Three eyed him carefully. “When he took his hand out of the stream, he started screaming that he was a Cylon. Then he grabbed a sharp tool and tried to cut his own throat. The doctor has him down in sickbay, restrained.”
It was worse than he thought. “I still don’t see the urgency. It’s unfortunate and the gods know we can’t afford to lose someone with his skill, but I do consider you capable of arranging medical transport for Chief Tyrol planetside.” In fact, he had already grudgingly admitted to Bill Adama that Colonel Three was an excellent executive officer.
She nodded and then seemed to carefully consider her next words. “Commander Tigh, do you know why my model was boxed?” She stepped in front of him, blocking the hallway.
“To be blunt, no. Cylon politics aren’t something I kept up on.” Although he did know the boxing had happened after the Temple of Jupiter had been found.
“I saw the faces of the final five. The ones forbidden. One of the conditions of my awakening was that the memory was removed but…. Chief Tyrol’s hallucination is very similar to what happens when I enter the data stream.” She said it carefully.
Tigh felt his blood turn to ice. “Are you… are you suggesting that Galen Tyrol is a Cylon?” It wasn’t the horror show of an accusation that it used to be, but it was still an enormous problem, especially with the Cylons stuck on New Atlantis.
Three nodded. “The five may still exist. I think we should have the medical staff test Chief Tyrol for nanites. Because it is a sensitive topic, I wanted to make sure you were here when the doctor runs the test.” She paused. “For what it’s worth, it means that Chief Tyrol didn’t have a hallucination, he’s just unfamiliar with data stream communication. And of course, under the law, he’s still a human being. Just one that has a nanite colony.”
“If you’re correct.” Tigh hoped like hell that she wasn’t. It had always been a mystery, that the Cylons insisted there were twelve models but only seven of them were known, and it had become a sort of conspiracy theory on New Atlantis, who the other five were. “It’s a gods damned problem…”
“Also… before he was sedated, he was asking for you. Shouting really, that he needed to share something with you,” Three said. It was obvious that she was curious.
“Am I a Cylon now?” he asked dryly as they resumed walking down the corridor. To the infirmary, because it had to be dealt with.
“Perhaps, sir, you should consider the possibility.” Three said it matter of factly. “You are in the small minority of people who find transporting uncomfortable. Despite years of alcohol abuse, you’re in excellent health. Have you ever been tested for Palamas indicators? Have you ever even considered taking steps to have your eye replaced? I understand with Federation technology, its relatively simple.”
“I haven’t bothered.” His skin was crawling though. Transporting wasn’t a pleasant experience for him at all and while it hadn’t been told to the public, people who found transporting to be refreshing and physically pleasant consistently were found to have the Palamas genetic markers. Cylons found transporting unpleasant but enough humans didn’t care for it that it wasn’t significant. He’d considered seeing a doctor about his missing eye but early on, the medical staff had been so backed up with genuine emergencies and people suffering from worse problems, he’d put it off and it had just never seemed like the right time. Things kept coming up, there had always been a reason to not go to the medical clinic. Cottle had even stopped asking him about it. “You’ve seen the five. Am I a Cylon?”
Three shrugged. “I don’t remember. It’s a dark spot in my memory. Have you ever joined the data stream? Put your hand in?”
“No,” he admitted. It was another thing that always seemed to be next on the list. He had intended, when the complaints started, to test it, and hadn’t because there were always more important things. And because something always seemed to stop him whenever he lingered by the water falling in the command center. “Why don’t we talk to Chief Tyrol first before we continue this discussion?”
He sure as hell didn’t like what Three was implying.
~*~
The medical center was something of a new feature to the base star. It had been one of several gyms and converted. The resurrection ship was there, huddled close to the base star but he understood that none of the Cylons really understood the resurrection process and there was a concern that they would eventually run out of spare bodies. They had a doctor, a Cylon, one of the Number Four models, who was trained on Earth. The man had taken an Earth name, Dr. Benton, and Saul could admit, it made him less nervous when the Cylon in question seemed to be one of the converts to Federation life. The Cylons seemed to have a higher number of people who embraced the Federation like a long lost friend.
Benton stopped them before they got to the bed that Galen Tyrol was tied to. “Chief Tyrol is not up for an interrogation,” the man said. “He’s had some sort of psychological incident and needs to be kept calm.” He eyed Tigh balefully, and Tigh found himself reminded of Jack Cottle, of all people. “Frankly, sir,” Benton directed his words to Tigh, “the best thing we can do right now is get this man planet side so he can get the help he needs. I’m not ashamed to admit that my training in psychiatry is minimal at best.”
“Did you check Chief Tyrol for nanites?” Tigh asked. He had a suspicion what the answer would be.
The Cylon looked aghast. “Surely you’re not thinking he’s a Cylon?”
“I think,” Tigh said carefully, “that we should perhaps at least rule out the possibility.” He hated saying it, but it was necessary. As the doctor blanched and nodded at the order, Tigh brushed past him and took a seat at Tyrol’s bedside. Tyrol was strapped down and while his eyes were open, Tigh doubted he was going to get much from the man. “Galen…. I need to know what happened to you today. Tell me about it. That’s an order.”
Tyrol blinked rapidly and then tried to grab his hand. Sensing he’d get more if he let the man touch him, Tigh gripped Tyrol’s hand. The younger man almost smiled at the touch.
“Sir… thank you… thank you for coming…. I have to tell you something.”
“Go ahead, Chief,” Tigh said. He suddenly dreaded what the man was about to say.
“I saw… I saw everything…. “ Tyrol closed his eyes and then opened them wide, as though he had been suddenly awakened. “Sir… Saul… you have to look in the places that don’t exist… the truth is there… its all there… I saw you… I saw Ellen… I saw everything in the stream… It’s so beautiful… sir, you have to look… look in the places that aren’t there…..”
His eyes fluttered and Tigh realized that whatever drugs they had given the man had silenced him. “Gods… the places that aren’t there… what the frakking hell does that mean?”
Tagged goingforwardfic
It still gave him chills, every time he landed on the deck. Having some of the new crew interspaced with the Cylon deck hands helped, but it was still eerie to step out of a colonial Raptor onto a base star. A base star that he commanded. He sometimes wondered if the gods just enjoyed mocking him.
“Commander on deck!” called one of the Fives. The man snapped off a salute and Tigh returned it. Chief Edward Fivesix, he thought, and congratulated himself on being able to put a name to an identical face. The naming conventions on Cylonia made it even worse. Chief Fivesix was married to a Six, a civilian, and combining numbers for last names was popular and irritating to keep track of since there was never any discernable rhyme or reason as to whose name went first. And then there were the ones who didn’t take human first names and just went by their number, and the Twos liked to use Conoy or Leoben as a first or last name, while the Ones all preferred variations of John or Cavil.
Three, his executive officer, was waiting for him on the edge of the main deck. It meant something was wrong, but not serious enough to have warranted a call planet side. It had been a nuisance trip, meeting with the Quorum, mostly to ease everyone’s mind that the Cylons were under control. He had almost snorted in disgust during the meeting when Zarek asked him about security measures. The irony, he supposed, was that his Cylon crew was never the problem. There had been a few of the reservists who he’d needed to send back to the colony, a few more that would probably need that boot in the ass as well.
“Commander Tigh, there was an incident while you were away.” Three said easily.
Commander, he thought as he signaled for her to fall in beside him as he went to the corridor leading off the base star landing deck. It was something he had never wanted. He was never meant for command, he’d understood that from early on. His fear, his real fear that he had no one to share it with, was that things would go so badly wrong that Roslin would put her emergency plan to evacuate the colony into effect. That would put him in charge. It was his worst nightmare. “What happened?”
“Chief Tyrol… he had a sort of incident in one of the control rooms.” Three said it as though it explained everything.
“Did the incident involve alcohol?” He was certain it had. He had been able to step back from the edge. Bill had helped, and so had the synthenol. He was still an alcoholic, but it was under control, and had been under control for years. Galen Tyrol had gone in a different direction. A shame really. The man had seemed fine at first, but after the first year, he had fallen apart. That in itself wasn’t unusual. A lot of people had fallen apart during that year. The various psychologists said it was normal, that it was a reaction to the stress, and most people bounced back. Tyrol hadn’t. He got into fights, his drinking increased and since the man knew how to make alcohol, he didn’t have to worry about restrictions from a replicator. Cally had tried to help him, but she had their son to think of as well. The couple had divorced in the third year after the colony was established. The new war had brought Tyrol back into military service and there had been problems already. Tyrol resented not getting his old job back on the Galactica and made no bones about still hating Cylons. Tigh had brought him on partly because the man was an expert mechanic when sober, and partly because he hoped having a crisis to work with would help the chief sober up.
Apparently it had failed.
Much to his surprise, Three shook her head at his words. “No, according to the medical scans, he was sober when it happened. He was working in one of the control rooms and tripped and he fell into one of the data streams.”
That stopped Tigh in his tracks. The data streams were a source of contention and anger between the human and Cylon crew. The Cylons used them to communicate and manipulate the ship and in many ways it made things faster. And quieter. It had something to do with their nanite technology, he didn’t really understand it. However the ship could be flown without using the data streams, which made sense, because the mechanical Cylons didn’t have nanites and ultimately had planned to eliminate their biological slaves. The human crew, himself included, suspected that the data streams were often used as a source of gossip. The Cylon crew countered that the data streams made things work more efficiently, and he had conceded the point. But… “No one said those damn pools of water were dangerous. What the hell happened?”
Three looked at him oddly. “The data stream isn’t dangerous to humans. Haven’t you ever tried it, sir? We tested it. There’s nothing dangerous to humans. If you put your hand into the stream, you just get wet.”
“Then what happened to Chief Tyrol?” he asked, letting his irritation show in his tone. She didn’t react. It was another thing that he didn’t like about his Cylon crew.
“He seemed to have some sort of seizure and collapsed. When he awoke, he described some sort of hallucination and became violent. He tried to harm himself and the doctor medicated him. He was asking for you.”
Something about how she held herself made him curious. “What is so special about one of the crew having a mental breakdown that you needed to meet me on arrival to tell me about it?”
Three eyed him carefully. “When he took his hand out of the stream, he started screaming that he was a Cylon. Then he grabbed a sharp tool and tried to cut his own throat. The doctor has him down in sickbay, restrained.”
It was worse than he thought. “I still don’t see the urgency. It’s unfortunate and the gods know we can’t afford to lose someone with his skill, but I do consider you capable of arranging medical transport for Chief Tyrol planetside.” In fact, he had already grudgingly admitted to Bill Adama that Colonel Three was an excellent executive officer.
She nodded and then seemed to carefully consider her next words. “Commander Tigh, do you know why my model was boxed?” She stepped in front of him, blocking the hallway.
“To be blunt, no. Cylon politics aren’t something I kept up on.” Although he did know the boxing had happened after the Temple of Jupiter had been found.
“I saw the faces of the final five. The ones forbidden. One of the conditions of my awakening was that the memory was removed but…. Chief Tyrol’s hallucination is very similar to what happens when I enter the data stream.” She said it carefully.
Tigh felt his blood turn to ice. “Are you… are you suggesting that Galen Tyrol is a Cylon?” It wasn’t the horror show of an accusation that it used to be, but it was still an enormous problem, especially with the Cylons stuck on New Atlantis.
Three nodded. “The five may still exist. I think we should have the medical staff test Chief Tyrol for nanites. Because it is a sensitive topic, I wanted to make sure you were here when the doctor runs the test.” She paused. “For what it’s worth, it means that Chief Tyrol didn’t have a hallucination, he’s just unfamiliar with data stream communication. And of course, under the law, he’s still a human being. Just one that has a nanite colony.”
“If you’re correct.” Tigh hoped like hell that she wasn’t. It had always been a mystery, that the Cylons insisted there were twelve models but only seven of them were known, and it had become a sort of conspiracy theory on New Atlantis, who the other five were. “It’s a gods damned problem…”
“Also… before he was sedated, he was asking for you. Shouting really, that he needed to share something with you,” Three said. It was obvious that she was curious.
“Am I a Cylon now?” he asked dryly as they resumed walking down the corridor. To the infirmary, because it had to be dealt with.
“Perhaps, sir, you should consider the possibility.” Three said it matter of factly. “You are in the small minority of people who find transporting uncomfortable. Despite years of alcohol abuse, you’re in excellent health. Have you ever been tested for Palamas indicators? Have you ever even considered taking steps to have your eye replaced? I understand with Federation technology, its relatively simple.”
“I haven’t bothered.” His skin was crawling though. Transporting wasn’t a pleasant experience for him at all and while it hadn’t been told to the public, people who found transporting to be refreshing and physically pleasant consistently were found to have the Palamas genetic markers. Cylons found transporting unpleasant but enough humans didn’t care for it that it wasn’t significant. He’d considered seeing a doctor about his missing eye but early on, the medical staff had been so backed up with genuine emergencies and people suffering from worse problems, he’d put it off and it had just never seemed like the right time. Things kept coming up, there had always been a reason to not go to the medical clinic. Cottle had even stopped asking him about it. “You’ve seen the five. Am I a Cylon?”
Three shrugged. “I don’t remember. It’s a dark spot in my memory. Have you ever joined the data stream? Put your hand in?”
“No,” he admitted. It was another thing that always seemed to be next on the list. He had intended, when the complaints started, to test it, and hadn’t because there were always more important things. And because something always seemed to stop him whenever he lingered by the water falling in the command center. “Why don’t we talk to Chief Tyrol first before we continue this discussion?”
He sure as hell didn’t like what Three was implying.
~*~
The medical center was something of a new feature to the base star. It had been one of several gyms and converted. The resurrection ship was there, huddled close to the base star but he understood that none of the Cylons really understood the resurrection process and there was a concern that they would eventually run out of spare bodies. They had a doctor, a Cylon, one of the Number Four models, who was trained on Earth. The man had taken an Earth name, Dr. Benton, and Saul could admit, it made him less nervous when the Cylon in question seemed to be one of the converts to Federation life. The Cylons seemed to have a higher number of people who embraced the Federation like a long lost friend.
Benton stopped them before they got to the bed that Galen Tyrol was tied to. “Chief Tyrol is not up for an interrogation,” the man said. “He’s had some sort of psychological incident and needs to be kept calm.” He eyed Tigh balefully, and Tigh found himself reminded of Jack Cottle, of all people. “Frankly, sir,” Benton directed his words to Tigh, “the best thing we can do right now is get this man planet side so he can get the help he needs. I’m not ashamed to admit that my training in psychiatry is minimal at best.”
“Did you check Chief Tyrol for nanites?” Tigh asked. He had a suspicion what the answer would be.
The Cylon looked aghast. “Surely you’re not thinking he’s a Cylon?”
“I think,” Tigh said carefully, “that we should perhaps at least rule out the possibility.” He hated saying it, but it was necessary. As the doctor blanched and nodded at the order, Tigh brushed past him and took a seat at Tyrol’s bedside. Tyrol was strapped down and while his eyes were open, Tigh doubted he was going to get much from the man. “Galen…. I need to know what happened to you today. Tell me about it. That’s an order.”
Tyrol blinked rapidly and then tried to grab his hand. Sensing he’d get more if he let the man touch him, Tigh gripped Tyrol’s hand. The younger man almost smiled at the touch.
“Sir… thank you… thank you for coming…. I have to tell you something.”
“Go ahead, Chief,” Tigh said. He suddenly dreaded what the man was about to say.
“I saw… I saw everything…. “ Tyrol closed his eyes and then opened them wide, as though he had been suddenly awakened. “Sir… Saul… you have to look in the places that don’t exist… the truth is there… its all there… I saw you… I saw Ellen… I saw everything in the stream… It’s so beautiful… sir, you have to look… look in the places that aren’t there…..”
His eyes fluttered and Tigh realized that whatever drugs they had given the man had silenced him. “Gods… the places that aren’t there… what the frakking hell does that mean?”
Tagged goingforwardfic