[He knew the new Host was awake- finally. Had felt his consciousness bubble up, the torrent of his mind washing across the station, louder than most of the rest now, after they had learned at least something about muffling their volume. They probably still seemed quite loud to him, with a mind unaccustomed to the press of others- or unaccustomed to this press, at least.
It is a surprise, then, that he finds Prince's quiet among them. Not exactly a pleasant one.]
On occasion. If you wish to speak to me about them I would prefer to do it in person.
[Even like this- without sound, his voice is low and level, without a hint of emotion, unaccompanied by an answering flash of feeling, by curiosity or irritation. Controlled.
He has had more than enough of this for today, more than enough of his voice in other's heads, more than enough of them in his.]
[ Sam's found, since waking with his mind patched back together from the damage done both by the bullet he'd taken, and the complete rending of his consciousness that was being the hybrid, that this thing, the connection through the Nest, is both easier for him in some ways, and harder.
the easier part - navigating it. by nature of what he is, how much the Cylon share in consciousness and projection, and the fact his mind had taken on something much, much more vast than a group of 15 or so, reaching through it seemed more natural. handling the strain of noise constantly in his head, felt less disturbed by it than others. but muffling, that's been the issue. he's too loud, bleeds himself into the harmony of the link between him and his brood, and hadn't found much success in trying to temper it, rein it in and compact it all down. That'd been how he'd found Prince in the mental soup that is the Nest. And also why his first instinct had been to reach through the connection. Which, now, he gets isn't as welcome as Cathaway. Whoops. ]
(Sorry. I'll come find you.)
[ with that, it's cut, Sam trying his best to withdraw himself, and he takes a walk, likely asking some of the others where Prince's quarters are located.
It does take him some time to get there (probably getting lost in all of the station's hallways), but once there, he knocks at the door, nerves working through him. He was never this nervous with Admiral Adama, but then again, he'd married the man's surrogate daughter. So. ]
[He thinks to give him a location, but the Host has already shut the link down as well as he is able, and it is respectful enough that he chooses to leave it. That willingness to respect the boundaries of others was best cultivated, in those that took more easily to the Nest. And it is not hard, after all, to be where Sam thinks to find him. Not quite his quarters- a place low on the flight deck where he did the most of his work-quiet and distant from where most of the Hosts resided. He knows where they are, each of them a beacon, and when it was that direction he had taken Prince had been sure to be there first.
His nervousness, the low buzz of it precedes him, and Prince is already halfway to the door by the time the time he knocks. He thumbs a seemingly unmarked section of wall beside the door and it slips open silently with the pressure, revealing-
Prince. Tall, but not looming in the way Kylo Ren was. Broad, in a solid way, middle aged but older than he looked, years betrayed most by the seriousness of his expression, the slight silvering in his hair, the crease between his brows. He looks almost human, but then again, so did Sam.]
Hello.
[His voice is the same. He steps aside easily, leaving the doorway open to the room- a single almost brutally efficient desk and rows of cabinets on the outer walls. Armor in the back corner, not antiquated at all.]
Please, come in. [There is something awkward in his greeting. As if he thinks the greeting is insufficient. A heaviness to the silence.] You look somewhat improved.
[ Tall. Sam had been level with Ren on height, but he hadn't had the same solidity of this man, nor the stoicism. Ren was a tidal wave of emotion and sensation, but Prince gives off nothing. It's a strange contrast, and a bit soothing, really. Silence, and age written into his features. There's a distant thought of Admiral Adama. ]
Hi. Thanks. [ He gives a polite, small smile, and lifts a hand in a short greeting. He can't help it, Sam's just so used to wanting to be warm with people. To being human. Ducking his head, he makes his way into the room, hands clasped behind his back, like a kid going through a museum, told to keep their hands to themselves on pain of grounding. ] Sorry to bug you.
[ Meant with a genuine apology - Prince hadn't seemed too thrilled about the contact, though he hadn't really seemed... anything. The lack of emotion doesn't necessarily mean anything negative, but he had specified wanting to meet in person. Steve prefers that too, and Sam had reached out before he'd thought about it. But coming into the room, his eyes skim the area, from the cabinets, to the desk, and to the armor - the last being the only thing that seemed to really give him a sense of the man. but everything else only speaks of order.
a short, quiet chuckle leaves him, glancing back to the station guardian, with a lopsided kind of smile. ] From the bald guy covered in goo and plugged into a spaceship? Yeah, moving again's been nice.
[ but to the point. the man probably has other things to get to. what he came to ask. ] I, uh. Just wanted to ask, what are the requirements to gain access to the starfighters?
And, [ this is the weird one, and he knows it's weird, but it's better than the alternative. ] If you'd mind if I practiced something with them. They wouldn't have to leave the hangar at all.
[It's not a lie- this in and of itself was no trouble, even if he would prefer to be left alone today. His preferences mattered very little, he wasn't a child who put his whims above his duty. And he was relatively calm for the loudness of his thoughts- he hadn't demanded answers or thrown them back in Prince's face yet, which was often the way of new Hosts.
He lets the door close behind them, turning to face Sam as he does, expression mild. His- jokes, levity, at least, find little purchase, but they don't appear to offend him, either.]
Those are questions I can likely answer. However I would prefer we not skip introductions. I find it makes conversation more difficult. [This always happened- it doesn't even irritate him anymore, but he does prefer to do this the traditional way.]
I am Prince, one of the two guardians of Station 72. My job here is to teach those who wish to learn, and to defend new Hosts to the best of my ability.
[A pause, obvious and empty, waiting for Sam to fill it.]
[ he doesn't have anything against introductions. the last thing sam knew was military life, and that's show up, say what you need to say, do what you need to do, and get out of your superior's face. waking up here, that was the best he could compare the station to - just another, very empty, very weird Galactica. but he's not going to complain about things being more personable here in the least. ]
I'm Sam Anders. Castor brood. [ Sam's lips part, about to say LT Viper pilot assigned to Galactica, but that's not really relevant anymore, is it? Even if they cared about what his life was before this, the Galactica's been dissolved into the new Earth's star, along with the fleet. There is no Galactica, no Vipers, and that's as it should be. Now he's just... Sam. 2,000 year old Sam, who's seen too much, knows too little, and still doesn't understand who or what he is.
Right. So moving on from that. ]
I'm not really sure what my job is here, yet. [ There's an awkward twitch of a smile, as his eyes stray, looking around. Maybe he shouldn't be that honest about it. ] Aside from trying to keep Castor from falling apart.
[ which is... a task. between Ilde and Kylo Ren and Steve. thankfully Anakin hasn't done anything crazy, and Sam hasn't even met Jessica yet. here's hoping she's at least a step down from Ren. ]
[He already identified with his brood. It may be a good thing, it may be bad. There was strength to be found in the Nest, but it was at a cost. He may not yet understand that. Or perhaps he was simply one of those who found little value in individuality.
It was his decision, either way, despite Prince's personal opinions.
He raises his hand to settle I'm the air just above his breastbone, bowing slightly.]
It is good to meet you, Sam Anders.
[As for his other words, he cannot help the sigh that comes as he straightens. Sore subject, this day.]
That itself would be a difficult job.
[One he has feared impossible. But perhaps this man will lend some much needed balance.]
Aboard the station you have no job, except to learn. To train. Has the situation been explained to you? Why you were brought here?
Pleasure's all mine. [ in truth, all Sam wants to hold to himself is Kara, and who he was with Kara, and what he has to do to get to her. This is his last step before moving on to her, slipping back into the endless ebb and flow of the universe, and somewhere in him, Sam knows all this - the powers, the damage, the chemicals and circuits and synapses both technological and organic - will be left behind. on the other side, it'll just be his soul, and all the rest. everything he is, and everything he was.
so no, he's not terribly concerned about it. he's been stripped down to just a vessel for the will of creation to work through. but then again, the Nest is not the force he'd joined before, and he's not planning on staying with it longer than he has to.
however, no one's really explained how that works to him in much detail, or how to try to prevent or slow it. ]
Well. It's that or be torn apart with them, so I don't see much of another option. [ they're a unit, they're woven together, and losing one of them strips something from all of them. either they get their shit together, or they're all screwed. he didn't need the datastream or God to tell him that. just the survivors on Caprica, and the men and women on Galactica. They don't have to like each other to work well together.
though he pauses a moment, thinking on the last question. not in express detail, no. ]
Steve told me something about missions, and Ilde said "We are not given orders", so. [ it was a very firm notion, and sam's pretty sure it came from somewhere personal, considering the heat that was behind it. but either way, no one painted that clear of a picture. ]
[Prince listens with nothing less than his full attention- dark eyes set on Sam, expression unchanging, but not disinterested. It was not common among those who had been members of the Nest as long as he had- at least not without the accompanying feeling of far more than two eyes on you.]
You are very self-possessed.
[His tone changes very little, but it is as close as he is likely to come at this moment to open approval. Many attempted to avoid the responsibility of their brood. It was a pleasant surprise when one didn't.
Less pleasant than the reminder of Ilde. He is careful to keep his voice even, despite it.]
Not entirely untrue. You know something wished to see you dead. It is because your mind was a match to the symbiote. This thing has hunted all of us, for longer than you can imagine. [yes, even you Sam] It does other things as well, meddles, in small ways and in large, across the multiverse, leaving darkness in its wake. We do our best to see its plans fail, when we can.
[It is a long speech, but it is easier for him, because it is practiced. Words he has said many times.]
We ask that you do things to help, but we do not order. We are not your leaders.
[ Sam blinks owlishly for a moment, a bit surprised to get that particular comment. compliment? he'd lead a lot of people during a lot of shit things, lived through more than he probably should have, and maybe that was luck, or John wanting to make sure he suffered enough for his sin, or maybe it was design. but either way, he'd watched two worlds burn, and one born. It makes all other things seem small. ]
Apocalypse tends to make social circle issues seem kinda manageable. I guess I've just been weirder places.
[ One day, a switch flips, and you're something else. It'd been more than just learning what he was - so many other instances in the last several years. He'd thought, as the heat in the CIC felt boiling on his skin, that he'd reached the end of what new things he could become. Apparently not.
And with that in mind, his end, what Prince starts to tell him about their enemy is the most valuable set of words he's heard since waking here. ]
After me. Just me? [ he's taking a step forward unconsciously, because this is important. this is what he's been needing to know and hadn't found a way to it yet. when he'd been taken out of the Galactica, he'd thought it'd just be a matter of appearing somewhere else the next moment. but it'd been at least a week in that healing pod. a ship with a half-decent jump drive could have gotten from the sun, to Earth's orbit in seconds. He's praying with everything in him that it had truly been just him the thing wanted. ] There was another thing, sorry. It's important--
[ he is enjoying talking with Prince, and he does want to hear the rest of what he's telling him, and ask the questions that he'd had rolling around in his head, but this is paramount. this is the singular reason he'd decided to stay alive. ]
The star system you guys pulled me from, is there any way to check on it? On one of the planets? Scan for the environment, or habitation, or anything. [ There's a kind of pleading, and a fear, in his eyes that's rare to him. ] It cannot make it to that planet.
[He is prepared to answer him- yes, just him, no, not just him, all of them, across every universe- but he doesn't get the chance before Sam's mind catches across something- sticks. Hard. It sizzles off of him like water off a hot stone, a messy jumble that Prince finds both overwhelming and incomprehensible.
Still, he recognizes it deeply important. He would have taken his word for it either way. Even if the answer he has for him will doubtlessly fail to bring him comfort.]
I'm sorry, no. [And he does sound sorry- as sorry as he could, a certain solemn delivery to the words] It is too dangerous. There is no way for us to see what is there without going, and in going we would draw the attention of the thing that already circles there, waiting for you. This is not just for your safety, but for those you left behind.
[The furrow between his brows is slightly deeper than usual. He knows it is not what he wants to hear.]
[ it isn't, and it's like all the gravity in the area converges in the center of his chest and starts to suck the entire room in, imploding. crushing. because he knows this - ] They're the only sentience in a million light years.
[ there's no where else to search for him but there. there's no one else to punish for his escape, but them. and they are utterly, hopelessly, defenseless. sam's hands raise up, pushing over his eyes and back into his hair, an ache in his chest and his throat, stinging at his eyes, as he turns and paces. maybe looking for a chair, but he doesn't feel like he wants to sit either. this is his fault. ]
If I had let it kill me, would it have left? [ did he make the wrong choice? should he have just let fate take it's course? but if the agent from the Nest was there, wouldn't that have been a part of it? gods, there's no answers out of tossing it one way or another, least of all when he's back to just being him, and not whatever he was before, with every moment in time at his fingertips, streaming through him. all he'd had to do was die, and he'd failed. ]
What if I go? [ asked with voice raw and hoarse. 2,000 years is more than long enough. two civilizations wiped from history, so, so many dead. so much agony and pain and sacrifice, crawling tooth and nail to survive. it can't end like this. ]
Either I get a ship fast enough to lead it away, from both of you, or it kills me and doesn't have a reason to stay anymore.
[It is overwhelming. He has already spent too much of today in the minds of others. He is already- shaken, for reasons other than this, and it actually takes him a moment, in the face of Sam's sorrow, his fear and his guilt and his panic and every other feeling that bubbles out from him, to build his walls up well enough to muffle the sound of it. To provide a breaker for the cresting waves of his emotion.]
No- [The sound is half-cut off, words not chosen carefully, he must chose them carefully-] No, quiet. Calm. You misunderstand.
[He hadn't explained it well, perhaps. This was best left to Cathaway, always, empathy came easily to her, she understood the feelings of others because they were hers. His were only ever his. It was his strength, when it was not his weakness.]
It went there because you were there. You are no longer there. If you return it will sense you the same way it did then, and it will hunt you.
[Circles there- yes, he misspoke. There, in the space between, with its eyes on his universe. Likely with agents within it, but not dangerous for the moment. A difficult concept. He does not say that it has no other interest in his home, because he cannot guarantee that. It is possible that some part of his own life was a result of it's plots and plans, that it may still have machinations for the universe he was born in to, but if so it isn't because of him. If so, he was better off lending his strength to them, now.]
Yes, if it had killed you, it would have left. But you would have been dead, and it would have torn through anyone and anything that stood between it and you. As it is, you are alive, and you can still fight.
[ for a long, still moment, sam's quiet, eyes unfocused and staring off somewhere between the other side of the wall and the opposite end of the universe. it's not a comfortable quiet, but it's quiet.
eventually, his shoulders sway, and sam moves just far enough to lean his back against a wall, slumping his weight there for the sake of not having to carry it anymore, head tilted back and eyes towards the ceiling. when he speaks, it's blank, not as flat as when he'd been near paralyzed in the datastream tank. simply empty, but honest. clear. ]
I was on my way to die already.
[ there's not sorrow or regret in that, just the simple statement. almost wistful, even. he'd wanted to, not for any kind of unhappiness with his life, but because it was his end. what the Nest agent had brought back to the station was halfway to a corpse already, and there was good reason for that. the corner of his lips twitch, almost wanting to laugh at the ridiculousness of this, of just how perfectly wrong it'd turned out. the twitch turns into a smirk and the smirk into a humorless chuckle. ]
There was nothing between it and me but a broken command console on a disintegrating battleship, heading for the center of the sun. [ eyes dropping down, he watch Prince for a moment, before lifting and dropping his shoulders in a shrug. ] Now, it's 36,000 people, all that's left of life there, who have suffered for eons for this chance.
[ he'd frakked up. everything Kara had suffered for, he'd broken down in the two syllables it took him to agree to live. ]
[There is little comfort to be found in his quiet, although he is calm in it. Enough to give Prince the time to sort- which words were words, which were not but which were no less important. To untangle the thread of this tale to the best of his ability, from what had been told.
And then he steps forward, stopping to stand in front of him, right hand coming to rest with it's knuckles against the wall. He drags it slowly outward, away from them, and for a long second nothing happens, but as he drops his hand away again the wall shifts. Moves. A simple bench pushes out from it, the same color, the same finish, a seamless continuation. When the last section of it settles into place he places his hands broad across Sam's shoulders and steers him to sit, oddly gentle.]
My father once told me to presume yourself the only one capable of doing what must be done is hubris.
[And then he had come here, sometimes he had wondered if his father would find that very amusing. He didn't think of it often. He presses his left hand out in turn, and the section of wall that shifts out opposite of Sam does so with more ease, allowing Prince to sit across from him, back very straight.]
If I am to understand, you wished this battleship to continue its journey. Into the sun? Unless I am mistaken in everything I know about universal constants, with no one to interfere it will continue along its path. It is in motion. Is that incorrect?
[Had the gravity of that great celestial body already sunk it's fingers into his final duty? Would it pull it along like a parent with an errant child?]
[ There's a furrow in his brow as he watches Prince touch the wall, not sure what's going on here, until the bench pulls outward, sam... not as surprised as he probably should be. as he would've thought he'd be, before all the rest of this happened, in the last few months. either way, he puts up no argument as his eased to sit, leaning a bit against the wall, watching Prince do the same, and listening quietly to what he tells him for the moment. Laura Roslin comes to mind. Kara too. A lot of people, really. Everyone had a destiny, though they didn't all know what it was. ]
Maybe. Probably. Honestly, I'm the last person that should be doing this. I'm also the only one from home who knows there's even a threat. [ said with a sad kind of laugh. there'd be a million people more outfitted to something like this. Kara, Lee, the Admiral. Helo. All those people with drive and fight and skill. not the guy who stumbled into being an AI prophet. still so scared of so much buried in him. but at the same time, what other option is there? Everyone from the fleet is on the ground, and Kara's moved on, waiting for him. ] Only reason I'm still here.
[ Sam's hand comes up half unconsciously, to touch at the dogtag on the necklace laying against the clean white shirt he'd found in the Nesting deck, 'K THRACE' engraved in the metal. head lolling some to look over to Prince, that's where the genuine sorrow is found. Not for any regret of losing what his life was to the Nest. But for not moving on with her. but this is it, the only reason he's still living. for this future they wanted so badly to make, and to put everything he has in every last molecule of his being towards protecting it. ]
Fight 'em until we can't, right? [ he murmurs, knowing Prince won't get the reference, but maybe, somewhere, Kara could hear, and forgive him for being late.
Coming back to the conversation, he nods. That's correct. ] It's in motion. I locked trajectory and blasted everything into thrust power for every ship in the fleet before I left. I was hoping whatever it was coming for me would die with the ship, before it could call more to the system.
[Prince is content to let him speak without interruption. It was a lot to process in a short time, and he would not be the first to wonder if he had made the correct choice. But if everything he has said was true, he was dead there, one way or another, or alive here and capable of doing more, doing good.
For some that had great worth.
Prince looks away a the gesture- the rise of emotion that follows. It is private. Personal. He had come to terms long ago with the inability to truly hide the deepest of your feelings from those closest to you, from your brood, who would find you as open as a book with time. Had settled on the conclusion that it didn't matter- what you felt- the only thing that mattered was what you did. He still didn't enjoy prying, had no interest in seeing others exposed.
Speaking of the ship is easier. Speaking of the enemy, easier still.]
It is quite likely dead. The thing that came for you was only a pawn. They have many others. Vast numbers.
[A pause, a hesitation, then-]
You do know we are not in your universe, don't you?
[ it's good to hear at least that one thing is dead, less so about many others. especially not if they'd known where he last was, where to look for him if he returns.
but that last question, he hadn't actually had brought up, by anyone. A lot of people say 'my world' and consider the colonies used to call each different planet a separate world, he'd only assumed that - another planet, another galaxy, another corner of an infinitely expansive universe. Ilde could have easily come from a place on the other side of the galaxy, where something like magic had somehow become possible, Ren could easily be from the other end of the universe, where whatever led them to their new Earth manifested as something they'd called the Force. Whatever life needed, he thought - like how they'd needed Kara, and the supernova, and Hera - would be.
even to call it his universe seems intrinsically wrong. when he, his people, his timeline, is less than a grain of sand on every beach he's ever set foot on. the universe would notice him in it as much as a human would notice one particle shift on the opposite end of the continent.
blinking, confused, at Prince a moment, Sam straightens up, and asks. ]
What other universe would we be in? [ a pause, and he adds, almost cautiously. ] What's bigger than a universe?
[It is a blunt answer, spoken bluntly. Prince was not exactly the correct person to ask about truly complex sciences. On his world the scientists had been a very particular caste of people, and while he had learned since then, he still did not quite take to it.]
At the moment, we are between. The station is capable of moving into different universes, but we do not typically linger in them. It draws unwanted attention.
[The symbiote itself was what allowed such travel. It was what allowed the mind to exist between, where one unconnected would find itself slowly shredding, and it was what allowed them to access the Nest's power to move between Universes. It was supposed to be uniquely theirs. One of the many mysteries of their enemy. It's ability to exist- outside, between, within- went against everything they had one known.]
I suspect this answer will lead into what you came here to ask initially.
[ a more fully expanded universe. well, yes. but how would that exist? wouldn't he have known? but then again, when he'd actually been connected, when the thing came for him, he hadn't seen it. of all the knowledge he had, or all the time he watched stream past him like rushing water, there was nothing of it. the thing that started all of this.
and maybe that's why. it leaves him feeling a bit too alone, a bit to abandoned, thinking that the force that looked after life where he'd come from may be completely beyond what he can reach here. but it is what it is. it's not as if, when he'd been just a simple human, running around a nuclear fallout of a planet, that he'd truly believed in anything greater.
it's just back to square one. ]
How-- [ but all the hows are terribly important, not as important as what it all means. and there's too many to start asking now besides. so he drops it, letting Prince just explain. ]
[There are more things in heaven and earth than even you have dreamed.
Unfortunately.]
You wish to have permission to use them? If you were hoping to fly them, I am afraid I must refuse, for the time being. It is not wise to use them between untrained.
[He brow furrows slightly, remembering, suddenly, the rest of his request.]
Unless you were not intending to fly?
[The confusion is, this time, in the sound of his voice, tempered by an edge of suspicion. He has had a long day, and while Sam has been, at worst, slightly odd and a little loud, and has seemed otherwise well-balanced, perhaps enough to temper his troublesome brood, Prince has learned his lesson about underestimating this group's ability to do damage.]
Fly was the eventual goal, right. I figured we needed training or something for it, though.
[ Anakin had said 'gain access', so either there was training or some other level of seniority needed to be allowed to use them. or maybe some level of trust from the guardians here. especially considering he just talked about taking one of the planes and flying back to his planet.
which he won't do, but if it were him, or Lee, or Adama, they probably would be wary about putting That Guy in a cockpit right after the fact.
but the second part of what he'd asked when he'd come in here had much less to do with his want to get back to piloting, and a lot more to do with something much weirder. ]
For right now, actually, no... not really. [ this is awkward. how do explain this... ] What I was wanting to do, exactly, is, um.
Plug myself into one of the ships? [ is that the best way to say this? What's the easiest way to explain this without having to say "i'm a machine"... ] To train my ability thing. The ship would probably power up, maybe adjust some features here and there, but not try to take off.
For some, yes. For others, you simply will not be able to use them until the bond between you and your symbiote is stronger.
[And the flight of any ship would require a certain amount of trust from him. They had quite an array of them, at this point, but the loss of even one in some reckless action by a foolish Host was to be avoided if at all possible. They were not easy to obtain.
His head tips, just slightly as he attempts to explain. Very little surprised him anymore, when it came to hosts. So he isn't shocked by the suggestion, he is, however, slightly less than eager to agree.]
I see. [He did, but while there were some ships he would easily let him tamper with (a lie, he was never casual with the Stations' resources, but if not easily than readily), he is hesitant. Some of those ships were not the hodge-podge collection, some were of the Nest. Unique, special. And very dear to some people.]
For certain ships, and with supervision to begin with, I would allow this. However you must speak to Cathaway about the Nest vessels.
[They were designed to interact with the minds of the Nest, but not such as that. It seemed almost like a violation, ignoring the open door to break out a window.]
So how do you do that? Strengthen the bond? [ does he need to sit down and... talk to it? does it even talk? meditate? he's all lost with this stuff.
but the answer he's given on the last part is more what's immediately concerning him, now, after this talk they've had. ]
Supervision - you or Cathaway, or just anyone? [ because, while he does like Prince, and has no reason to think ill of him or his intentions, he's not sure how much he trusts him. considering the disappearance of everyone before them. not that he can really trust many, here. but for what he'd like to do the second he gets a chance (plug himself in and try to get answers from... himself), maybe he wants someone who knows less about what the answers mean to him.
It takes only a moment for Sam to realize what the Nest vessels are supposed to be. The ones that look different, the ones that feel different. ]
Those are the ones that hum, aren't they? The Nest vessels? [ like the nest does, constantly, in the back of their minds. and while he's not needing to do anything with them, or feeling the need to ask to, he still has an intense curiosity, that had been with him since he heard it. ] Are they alive?
Use your powers. Delve into the connection between yourself and others. You can also sleep in the Nesting Deck, if you can stomach it. It is like a muscle, you exercise it to see it strengthen. But be cautious. Doing so will have a cost of its own, as all things do.
[Time, as well. You could not stop the progression, even if you never used a single one of the Symbiote's tools. It was a part of you and the physical connection would only strengthen. You changed, whether you wished it or not.]
Not just anyone, certainly. The ships are valuable, and both you and your power are quite new.
[There was wisdom in caution. Prince shifts back slightly, setting his hand down beside him on the bench, as if he would stand.]
Yes. [He takes a breath, gaze slipping away as he considers the question.] It is not as simple as that. They are part of the Nest, but they are not- [He raises his left hand and waves away whatever he was going to say] It is not simple. You will understand in time.
[She would be able to explain it better than him. They weren't alive, but they were hardly the same as the dead metal that most of the ships in the hanger were.]
For now, you should rest. Much has happened today. Things will be the same tomorrow.
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It is a surprise, then, that he finds Prince's quiet among them. Not exactly a pleasant one.]
On occasion. If you wish to speak to me about them I would prefer to do it in person.
[Even like this- without sound, his voice is low and level, without a hint of emotion, unaccompanied by an answering flash of feeling, by curiosity or irritation. Controlled.
He has had more than enough of this for today, more than enough of his voice in other's heads, more than enough of them in his.]
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the easier part - navigating it. by nature of what he is, how much the Cylon share in consciousness and projection, and the fact his mind had taken on something much, much more vast than a group of 15 or so, reaching through it seemed more natural. handling the strain of noise constantly in his head, felt less disturbed by it than others. but muffling, that's been the issue. he's too loud, bleeds himself into the harmony of the link between him and his brood, and hadn't found much success in trying to temper it, rein it in and compact it all down. That'd been how he'd found Prince in the mental soup that is the Nest. And also why his first instinct had been to reach through the connection. Which, now, he gets isn't as welcome as Cathaway. Whoops. ]
( Sorry. I'll come find you. )
[ with that, it's cut, Sam trying his best to withdraw himself, and he takes a walk, likely asking some of the others where Prince's quarters are located.
It does take him some time to get there (probably getting lost in all of the station's hallways), but once there, he knocks at the door, nerves working through him. He was never this nervous with Admiral Adama, but then again, he'd married the man's surrogate daughter. So. ]
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His nervousness, the low buzz of it precedes him, and Prince is already halfway to the door by the time the time he knocks. He thumbs a seemingly unmarked section of wall beside the door and it slips open silently with the pressure, revealing-
Prince. Tall, but not looming in the way Kylo Ren was. Broad, in a solid way, middle aged but older than he looked, years betrayed most by the seriousness of his expression, the slight silvering in his hair, the crease between his brows. He looks almost human, but then again, so did Sam.]
Hello.
[His voice is the same. He steps aside easily, leaving the doorway open to the room- a single almost brutally efficient desk and rows of cabinets on the outer walls. Armor in the back corner, not antiquated at all.]
Please, come in. [There is something awkward in his greeting. As if he thinks the greeting is insufficient. A heaviness to the silence.] You look somewhat improved.
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Hi. Thanks. [ He gives a polite, small smile, and lifts a hand in a short greeting. He can't help it, Sam's just so used to wanting to be warm with people. To being human. Ducking his head, he makes his way into the room, hands clasped behind his back, like a kid going through a museum, told to keep their hands to themselves on pain of grounding. ] Sorry to bug you.
[ Meant with a genuine apology - Prince hadn't seemed too thrilled about the contact, though he hadn't really seemed... anything. The lack of emotion doesn't necessarily mean anything negative, but he had specified wanting to meet in person. Steve prefers that too, and Sam had reached out before he'd thought about it. But coming into the room, his eyes skim the area, from the cabinets, to the desk, and to the armor - the last being the only thing that seemed to really give him a sense of the man. but everything else only speaks of order.
a short, quiet chuckle leaves him, glancing back to the station guardian, with a lopsided kind of smile. ] From the bald guy covered in goo and plugged into a spaceship? Yeah, moving again's been nice.
[ but to the point. the man probably has other things to get to. what he came to ask. ] I, uh. Just wanted to ask, what are the requirements to gain access to the starfighters?
And, [ this is the weird one, and he knows it's weird, but it's better than the alternative. ] If you'd mind if I practiced something with them. They wouldn't have to leave the hangar at all.
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[It's not a lie- this in and of itself was no trouble, even if he would prefer to be left alone today. His preferences mattered very little, he wasn't a child who put his whims above his duty. And he was relatively calm for the loudness of his thoughts- he hadn't demanded answers or thrown them back in Prince's face yet, which was often the way of new Hosts.
He lets the door close behind them, turning to face Sam as he does, expression mild. His- jokes, levity, at least, find little purchase, but they don't appear to offend him, either.]
Those are questions I can likely answer. However I would prefer we not skip introductions. I find it makes conversation more difficult. [This always happened- it doesn't even irritate him anymore, but he does prefer to do this the traditional way.]
I am Prince, one of the two guardians of Station 72. My job here is to teach those who wish to learn, and to defend new Hosts to the best of my ability.
[A pause, obvious and empty, waiting for Sam to fill it.]
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[ he doesn't have anything against introductions. the last thing sam knew was military life, and that's show up, say what you need to say, do what you need to do, and get out of your superior's face. waking up here, that was the best he could compare the station to - just another, very empty, very weird Galactica. but he's not going to complain about things being more personable here in the least. ]
I'm Sam Anders. Castor brood. [ Sam's lips part, about to say LT Viper pilot assigned to Galactica, but that's not really relevant anymore, is it? Even if they cared about what his life was before this, the Galactica's been dissolved into the new Earth's star, along with the fleet. There is no Galactica, no Vipers, and that's as it should be. Now he's just... Sam. 2,000 year old Sam, who's seen too much, knows too little, and still doesn't understand who or what he is.
Right. So moving on from that. ]
I'm not really sure what my job is here, yet. [ There's an awkward twitch of a smile, as his eyes stray, looking around. Maybe he shouldn't be that honest about it. ] Aside from trying to keep Castor from falling apart.
[ which is... a task. between Ilde and Kylo Ren and Steve. thankfully Anakin hasn't done anything crazy, and Sam hasn't even met Jessica yet. here's hoping she's at least a step down from Ren. ]
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It was his decision, either way, despite Prince's personal opinions.
He raises his hand to settle I'm the air just above his breastbone, bowing slightly.]
It is good to meet you, Sam Anders.
[As for his other words, he cannot help the sigh that comes as he straightens. Sore subject, this day.]
That itself would be a difficult job.
[One he has feared impossible. But perhaps this man will lend some much needed balance.]
Aboard the station you have no job, except to learn. To train. Has the situation been explained to you? Why you were brought here?
[He could look, and see, but he would not.]
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so no, he's not terribly concerned about it. he's been stripped down to just a vessel for the will of creation to work through. but then again, the Nest is not the force he'd joined before, and he's not planning on staying with it longer than he has to.
however, no one's really explained how that works to him in much detail, or how to try to prevent or slow it. ]
Well. It's that or be torn apart with them, so I don't see much of another option. [ they're a unit, they're woven together, and losing one of them strips something from all of them. either they get their shit together, or they're all screwed. he didn't need the datastream or God to tell him that. just the survivors on Caprica, and the men and women on Galactica. They don't have to like each other to work well together.
though he pauses a moment, thinking on the last question. not in express detail, no. ]
Steve told me something about missions, and Ilde said "We are not given orders", so. [ it was a very firm notion, and sam's pretty sure it came from somewhere personal, considering the heat that was behind it. but either way, no one painted that clear of a picture. ]
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You are very self-possessed.
[His tone changes very little, but it is as close as he is likely to come at this moment to open approval. Many attempted to avoid the responsibility of their brood. It was a pleasant surprise when one didn't.
Less pleasant than the reminder of Ilde. He is careful to keep his voice even, despite it.]
Not entirely untrue. You know something wished to see you dead. It is because your mind was a match to the symbiote. This thing has hunted all of us, for longer than you can imagine. [yes, even you Sam] It does other things as well, meddles, in small ways and in large, across the multiverse, leaving darkness in its wake. We do our best to see its plans fail, when we can.
[It is a long speech, but it is easier for him, because it is practiced. Words he has said many times.]
We ask that you do things to help, but we do not order. We are not your leaders.
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Apocalypse tends to make social circle issues seem kinda manageable. I guess I've just been weirder places.
[ One day, a switch flips, and you're something else. It'd been more than just learning what he was - so many other instances in the last several years. He'd thought, as the heat in the CIC felt boiling on his skin, that he'd reached the end of what new things he could become. Apparently not.
And with that in mind, his end, what Prince starts to tell him about their enemy is the most valuable set of words he's heard since waking here. ]
After me. Just me? [ he's taking a step forward unconsciously, because this is important. this is what he's been needing to know and hadn't found a way to it yet. when he'd been taken out of the Galactica, he'd thought it'd just be a matter of appearing somewhere else the next moment. but it'd been at least a week in that healing pod. a ship with a half-decent jump drive could have gotten from the sun, to Earth's orbit in seconds. He's praying with everything in him that it had truly been just him the thing wanted. ] There was another thing, sorry. It's important--
[ he is enjoying talking with Prince, and he does want to hear the rest of what he's telling him, and ask the questions that he'd had rolling around in his head, but this is paramount. this is the singular reason he'd decided to stay alive. ]
The star system you guys pulled me from, is there any way to check on it? On one of the planets? Scan for the environment, or habitation, or anything. [ There's a kind of pleading, and a fear, in his eyes that's rare to him. ] It cannot make it to that planet.
Please.
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Still, he recognizes it deeply important. He would have taken his word for it either way. Even if the answer he has for him will doubtlessly fail to bring him comfort.]
I'm sorry, no. [And he does sound sorry- as sorry as he could, a certain solemn delivery to the words] It is too dangerous. There is no way for us to see what is there without going, and in going we would draw the attention of the thing that already circles there, waiting for you. This is not just for your safety, but for those you left behind.
[The furrow between his brows is slightly deeper than usual. He knows it is not what he wants to hear.]
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[ there's no where else to search for him but there. there's no one else to punish for his escape, but them. and they are utterly, hopelessly, defenseless. sam's hands raise up, pushing over his eyes and back into his hair, an ache in his chest and his throat, stinging at his eyes, as he turns and paces. maybe looking for a chair, but he doesn't feel like he wants to sit either. this is his fault. ]
If I had let it kill me, would it have left? [ did he make the wrong choice? should he have just let fate take it's course? but if the agent from the Nest was there, wouldn't that have been a part of it? gods, there's no answers out of tossing it one way or another, least of all when he's back to just being him, and not whatever he was before, with every moment in time at his fingertips, streaming through him. all he'd had to do was die, and he'd failed. ]
What if I go? [ asked with voice raw and hoarse. 2,000 years is more than long enough. two civilizations wiped from history, so, so many dead. so much agony and pain and sacrifice, crawling tooth and nail to survive. it can't end like this. ]
Either I get a ship fast enough to lead it away, from both of you, or it kills me and doesn't have a reason to stay anymore.
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No- [The sound is half-cut off, words not chosen carefully, he must chose them carefully-] No, quiet. Calm. You misunderstand.
[He hadn't explained it well, perhaps. This was best left to Cathaway, always, empathy came easily to her, she understood the feelings of others because they were hers. His were only ever his. It was his strength, when it was not his weakness.]
It went there because you were there. You are no longer there. If you return it will sense you the same way it did then, and it will hunt you.
[Circles there- yes, he misspoke. There, in the space between, with its eyes on his universe. Likely with agents within it, but not dangerous for the moment. A difficult concept. He does not say that it has no other interest in his home, because he cannot guarantee that. It is possible that some part of his own life was a result of it's plots and plans, that it may still have machinations for the universe he was born in to, but if so it isn't because of him. If so, he was better off lending his strength to them, now.]
Yes, if it had killed you, it would have left. But you would have been dead, and it would have torn through anyone and anything that stood between it and you. As it is, you are alive, and you can still fight.
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eventually, his shoulders sway, and sam moves just far enough to lean his back against a wall, slumping his weight there for the sake of not having to carry it anymore, head tilted back and eyes towards the ceiling. when he speaks, it's blank, not as flat as when he'd been near paralyzed in the datastream tank. simply empty, but honest. clear. ]
I was on my way to die already.
[ there's not sorrow or regret in that, just the simple statement. almost wistful, even. he'd wanted to, not for any kind of unhappiness with his life, but because it was his end. what the Nest agent had brought back to the station was halfway to a corpse already, and there was good reason for that. the corner of his lips twitch, almost wanting to laugh at the ridiculousness of this, of just how perfectly wrong it'd turned out. the twitch turns into a smirk and the smirk into a humorless chuckle. ]
There was nothing between it and me but a broken command console on a disintegrating battleship, heading for the center of the sun. [ eyes dropping down, he watch Prince for a moment, before lifting and dropping his shoulders in a shrug. ] Now, it's 36,000 people, all that's left of life there, who have suffered for eons for this chance.
[ he'd frakked up. everything Kara had suffered for, he'd broken down in the two syllables it took him to agree to live. ]
How do I fix it?
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And then he steps forward, stopping to stand in front of him, right hand coming to rest with it's knuckles against the wall. He drags it slowly outward, away from them, and for a long second nothing happens, but as he drops his hand away again the wall shifts. Moves. A simple bench pushes out from it, the same color, the same finish, a seamless continuation. When the last section of it settles into place he places his hands broad across Sam's shoulders and steers him to sit, oddly gentle.]
My father once told me to presume yourself the only one capable of doing what must be done is hubris.
[And then he had come here, sometimes he had wondered if his father would find that very amusing. He didn't think of it often. He presses his left hand out in turn, and the section of wall that shifts out opposite of Sam does so with more ease, allowing Prince to sit across from him, back very straight.]
If I am to understand, you wished this battleship to continue its journey. Into the sun? Unless I am mistaken in everything I know about universal constants, with no one to interfere it will continue along its path. It is in motion. Is that incorrect?
[Had the gravity of that great celestial body already sunk it's fingers into his final duty? Would it pull it along like a parent with an errant child?]
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Maybe. Probably. Honestly, I'm the last person that should be doing this. I'm also the only one from home who knows there's even a threat. [ said with a sad kind of laugh. there'd be a million people more outfitted to something like this. Kara, Lee, the Admiral. Helo. All those people with drive and fight and skill. not the guy who stumbled into being an AI prophet. still so scared of so much buried in him. but at the same time, what other option is there? Everyone from the fleet is on the ground, and Kara's moved on, waiting for him. ] Only reason I'm still here.
[ Sam's hand comes up half unconsciously, to touch at the dogtag on the necklace laying against the clean white shirt he'd found in the Nesting deck, 'K THRACE' engraved in the metal. head lolling some to look over to Prince, that's where the genuine sorrow is found. Not for any regret of losing what his life was to the Nest. But for not moving on with her. but this is it, the only reason he's still living. for this future they wanted so badly to make, and to put everything he has in every last molecule of his being towards protecting it. ]
Fight 'em until we can't, right? [ he murmurs, knowing Prince won't get the reference, but maybe, somewhere, Kara could hear, and forgive him for being late.
Coming back to the conversation, he nods. That's correct. ] It's in motion. I locked trajectory and blasted everything into thrust power for every ship in the fleet before I left. I was hoping whatever it was coming for me would die with the ship, before it could call more to the system.
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For some that had great worth.
Prince looks away a the gesture- the rise of emotion that follows. It is private. Personal. He had come to terms long ago with the inability to truly hide the deepest of your feelings from those closest to you, from your brood, who would find you as open as a book with time. Had settled on the conclusion that it didn't matter- what you felt- the only thing that mattered was what you did. He still didn't enjoy prying, had no interest in seeing others exposed.
Speaking of the ship is easier. Speaking of the enemy, easier still.]
It is quite likely dead. The thing that came for you was only a pawn. They have many others. Vast numbers.
[A pause, a hesitation, then-]
You do know we are not in your universe, don't you?
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but that last question, he hadn't actually had brought up, by anyone. A lot of people say 'my world' and consider the colonies used to call each different planet a separate world, he'd only assumed that - another planet, another galaxy, another corner of an infinitely expansive universe. Ilde could have easily come from a place on the other side of the galaxy, where something like magic had somehow become possible, Ren could easily be from the other end of the universe, where whatever led them to their new Earth manifested as something they'd called the Force. Whatever life needed, he thought - like how they'd needed Kara, and the supernova, and Hera - would be.
even to call it his universe seems intrinsically wrong. when he, his people, his timeline, is less than a grain of sand on every beach he's ever set foot on. the universe would notice him in it as much as a human would notice one particle shift on the opposite end of the continent.
blinking, confused, at Prince a moment, Sam straightens up, and asks. ]
What other universe would we be in? [ a pause, and he adds, almost cautiously. ] What's bigger than a universe?
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[It is a blunt answer, spoken bluntly. Prince was not exactly the correct person to ask about truly complex sciences. On his world the scientists had been a very particular caste of people, and while he had learned since then, he still did not quite take to it.]
At the moment, we are between. The station is capable of moving into different universes, but we do not typically linger in them. It draws unwanted attention.
[The symbiote itself was what allowed such travel. It was what allowed the mind to exist between, where one unconnected would find itself slowly shredding, and it was what allowed them to access the Nest's power to move between Universes. It was supposed to be uniquely theirs. One of the many mysteries of their enemy. It's ability to exist- outside, between, within- went against everything they had one known.]
I suspect this answer will lead into what you came here to ask initially.
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and maybe that's why. it leaves him feeling a bit too alone, a bit to abandoned, thinking that the force that looked after life where he'd come from may be completely beyond what he can reach here. but it is what it is. it's not as if, when he'd been just a simple human, running around a nuclear fallout of a planet, that he'd truly believed in anything greater.
it's just back to square one. ]
How-- [ but all the hows are terribly important, not as important as what it all means. and there's too many to start asking now besides. so he drops it, letting Prince just explain. ]
The ships, right. What about them?
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Unfortunately.]
You wish to have permission to use them? If you were hoping to fly them, I am afraid I must refuse, for the time being. It is not wise to use them between untrained.
[He brow furrows slightly, remembering, suddenly, the rest of his request.]
Unless you were not intending to fly?
[The confusion is, this time, in the sound of his voice, tempered by an edge of suspicion. He has had a long day, and while Sam has been, at worst, slightly odd and a little loud, and has seemed otherwise well-balanced, perhaps enough to temper his troublesome brood, Prince has learned his lesson about underestimating this group's ability to do damage.]
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[ Anakin had said 'gain access', so either there was training or some other level of seniority needed to be allowed to use them. or maybe some level of trust from the guardians here. especially considering he just talked about taking one of the planes and flying back to his planet.
which he won't do, but if it were him, or Lee, or Adama, they probably would be wary about putting That Guy in a cockpit right after the fact.
but the second part of what he'd asked when he'd come in here had much less to do with his want to get back to piloting, and a lot more to do with something much weirder. ]
For right now, actually, no... not really. [ this is awkward. how do explain this... ] What I was wanting to do, exactly, is, um.
Plug myself into one of the ships? [ is that the best way to say this? What's the easiest way to explain this without having to say "i'm a machine"... ] To train my ability thing. The ship would probably power up, maybe adjust some features here and there, but not try to take off.
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[And the flight of any ship would require a certain amount of trust from him. They had quite an array of them, at this point, but the loss of even one in some reckless action by a foolish Host was to be avoided if at all possible. They were not easy to obtain.
His head tips, just slightly as he attempts to explain. Very little surprised him anymore, when it came to hosts. So he isn't shocked by the suggestion, he is, however, slightly less than eager to agree.]
I see. [He did, but while there were some ships he would easily let him tamper with (a lie, he was never casual with the Stations' resources, but if not easily than readily), he is hesitant. Some of those ships were not the hodge-podge collection, some were of the Nest. Unique, special. And very dear to some people.]
For certain ships, and with supervision to begin with, I would allow this. However you must speak to Cathaway about the Nest vessels.
[They were designed to interact with the minds of the Nest, but not such as that. It seemed almost like a violation, ignoring the open door to break out a window.]
Is that satisfactory?
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but the answer he's given on the last part is more what's immediately concerning him, now, after this talk they've had. ]
Supervision - you or Cathaway, or just anyone? [ because, while he does like Prince, and has no reason to think ill of him or his intentions, he's not sure how much he trusts him. considering the disappearance of everyone before them. not that he can really trust many, here. but for what he'd like to do the second he gets a chance (plug himself in and try to get answers from... himself), maybe he wants someone who knows less about what the answers mean to him.
It takes only a moment for Sam to realize what the Nest vessels are supposed to be. The ones that look different, the ones that feel different. ]
Those are the ones that hum, aren't they? The Nest vessels? [ like the nest does, constantly, in the back of their minds. and while he's not needing to do anything with them, or feeling the need to ask to, he still has an intense curiosity, that had been with him since he heard it. ] Are they alive?
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[Time, as well. You could not stop the progression, even if you never used a single one of the Symbiote's tools. It was a part of you and the physical connection would only strengthen. You changed, whether you wished it or not.]
Not just anyone, certainly. The ships are valuable, and both you and your power are quite new.
[There was wisdom in caution. Prince shifts back slightly, setting his hand down beside him on the bench, as if he would stand.]
Yes. [He takes a breath, gaze slipping away as he considers the question.] It is not as simple as that. They are part of the Nest, but they are not- [He raises his left hand and waves away whatever he was going to say] It is not simple. You will understand in time.
[She would be able to explain it better than him. They weren't alive, but they were hardly the same as the dead metal that most of the ships in the hanger were.]
For now, you should rest. Much has happened today. Things will be the same tomorrow.
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