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Old January 26 2013, 01:01 AM   #85
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)

“Please, just let me resurrect,” begged D’Anna as she writhed with pain on the stretcher. “Please,” she begged again.

Simon shook his head and he injected her with another syringe of morpha. “You will recover, D’Anna—we don’t have enough bodies to resurrect for every injury, not anymore.”

He nodded to another Simon who laid a cold compress on her head. “We will take good care of you sister,” he said.

The Basestar they had fled to was crowded—it had the crews of two full ships onboard after all. The ones assigned to it as well as those from the Basestar John was taking back to Prime. Thankfully, Daniel had not disabled the inhibitors of the Centurions in the far-flung Fleet—only those that been at Prime, or in orbit above it. So these at least were still loyal.

But the danger could not be overstated, and Simon’s brothers and sisters were already working to ensure that the Guardians could not subvert their Centurions. Simon shivered. That was the nightmare that they faced. That and finding a way to replace the cloning vats that John was going to destroy.

He sighed. As with so many other things, Daniel had designed those. And none of the Seven retained the knowledge of their construction—but there was hope. Before he left, John had whispered that the Five each held a piece of the key. It was a slim hope, that all of them still lived, but it was enough to the give the Cylon race hope.

He stepped into the control room and immediately noticed the silence—and then his jaw dropped as he saw the woman that this brothers and sisters were staring at.

Caprica?” he asked hesitantly.

She smiled at him. “Hello, Simon. Yes, it is I.”


“We were outside of Delphi when the attack struck—it took us almost three weeks to get to an intact transmitter. We were lucky,” she said. “The last Heavy Raider evacuating the planet picked us up thirty minutes before the Guardians arrived.”


“Yes, we,” a second very harsh, very angry voice snapped, and Simon spun around to see Boomer standing there. But it was a very different Boomer. Her face had been burnt—badly, it had already begun to scar, he noted. That damage would not be easy to correct. The burn covered the right side of her face, from the jawline to her hairline, from the remains of her ear to her nose—and her right eye was gone as well, covered with a simple black patch.

“I would say that right about now you fracking assholes are starting to rethink this whole ‘let’s attack the Colonies’ thing, aren’t you?” she hissed. “Well, luckily for you, Caprica and I have a plan.”
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