fic: heavenly sisters, part I/?
title: heavenly sisters
pairing: ensemble, undertones of k/l and other canon couples, nothing specific (pairings will not really be used as plot device)
summary: a season four spec. fic (no known spoilers). there is a new pilot on galactica who will only trust starbuck, back from the dead and hidden away from the fleet by her own fears.
spoilers: season three, through crossroads, part II
Her boots hit the deck with a thud. The sound resonated across the hanger and more than one deckhand stopped their work to look in her direction. The young guy in an orange jumpsuit that approached wiped his hands on a rag and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me, Miss? You need to show official identification before disembarking on the Galactica”.
Without pause and ignoring him completely she turned to reach for a beat-up military issue duffle. The deckhand, knowing when he was out of his league motioned for the closest lieutenant before making his way back over to the viper he was working on. When he chanced a glance behind him she winked in his direction and shoved past the officer extending his hand to her.
Captain Kelly was the next to encounter the woman. Recently released from his stint in the brig, brought up on charges of endangering a fellow crewman, he noted the new arrival with mild interest. Dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders in waves. Like a shampoo commercial, before the end of the worlds, he thought to himself. Her back was ramrod straight, deep brown eyes flashing, committing the hanger to memory.
“Miss,” he started in his most cordial manner, “civilians are not allowed to freely move around the hanger deck. I apologize but you will have to wait with your shuttle”.
She snorted in disbelief and called back to the pilot currently exiting the transport. “Unload my bags carefully. They’re fragile”. Her voice was calm, smooth even, nothing like the sneer Kelly was presented with when she turned back to face him.
“I have an appointment,” she told him. Kelly continued to stare blankly and she added, “With the commander”.
How this woman could not have known that the commander had been made an admiral two years before was beyond him. He waved a marine over. “I will have you arrested if you do not return to your shuttle”. His comment actually seemed to amuse her and Kelly was starting to wonder if he was staring into the face of one of the final five cylons.
“That wont be necessary,” she paused and motioned with her hand.
“Captain Kelly,” he supplied, puffing up his chest.
“Right,” she replied still smirking, “Captain Kelly, please call William Adama and alert him that I am waiting”. Nothing in her tone belied the sardonic expression she wore. She was so imposing and she couldn’t be more than twenty-five. Her attitude reminded him of someone and Kelly found himself turning his back, speaking quickly with the lieutenant she had first come across, and then walking forward to place the call. A marine remained, guarding the mysterious, brash young woman.
As Kelly waited for the admiral to be handed the phone in CIC, he watch her examine her nails in disgust before her eyes crawled their way from his boots up to his eyes. Then she grinned predatorily and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant Kelly thought, as a shiver ran through him.
“Sir, we have a small situation in the hanger bay”.
“Go ahead, Captain”.
“There is a civilian woman here claiming that she has an appointment with you. I have repeatedly asked her to remain in her shuttle but she will not comply and insisted that I call you directly. I currently have a marine with her”.
“And how did she even get onto the deck, Captain?”
“Well, Sir,” Kelly cleared his throat, “apparently she flashed a set of wings and a Pegasus patch”.
Adama was silent a moment before saying, “I’m on my way there now. Keep the marine on her,” he stopped. Kelly thought he was signing off but Adama added, “Treat her with the utmost respect Captain”.
“Yes, Sir,” Kelly replied and returned the phone to its cradle. He turned back to the woman; still in the same place as she had been but now she watched him with a thick Caprican cigar shoved between her perfect, full lips. Kelly hadn’t even known a decent cigar remained in the fleet; he cleared his throat again and reigned himself in. Smoke billowed around her and the marine watched with interest as she gnawed on the tip.
Captain Kelly made his way towards the young woman and her guard, “The admiral will be down to see you momentarily”. She removed the cigar from her mouth, blew smoke in his face, then spit out a mouthful of brown sludge on the deck floor.
“Great,” she smirked. “So, where’s Starbuck?” Kelly coughed more out of surprise than necessity, though the cloud of smoke in his face was objectionable. She seemed unmoved.
“Captain Thrace is unavailable,” Kelly told her forcefully. Now he really did not understand who this woman was. Was she a reporter hoping for a story on Starbuck for Talk Wireless? Kelly couldn’t stand people messing with the pilots he worked with everyday let alone Starbuck, newly returned from the dead. Again. And why was the admiral even deeming this woman the courtesy of an interview?
He had very little time to ponder such things as the admiral chose that time to appear at his side, “Thank you, Captain Kelly. That will be all”. He dismissed the marine as well but the two, Adama and the brown-haired woman remained on the deck in front of a growing audience.
“So it’s true?” she faced him, spoke with little respect in regards to the admiral’s position in the fleet. “I want to see her”.
“Captain Pleiades, I told you when you wished to return to the military you need only call,” when she made no respond he explained, “You did not call”.
“I thought it was more of an open invitation,” Pleiades remarked flippantly picking at lint on the sleeve of her jacket.
The admiral was not amused but with a sigh commented, “We are always in need of pilots”.
“I know,” she replied, removing the cigar from her mouth once more. She turned to the side as she released more smoke. Clearly the woman had enough respect for Adama not to blow it directly in his face. “And I still want to see Thrace,” Pleiades sneered, “and until I do you’re still short one more pilot, Commander”.
Adama gritted his teeth clearly tiring of the captain’s attitude, “I think you know very well that it is Admiral now”.
“Oh yes,” Pleiades’ face went stony, “I apologize, Sir”. Her mood however changed back just as quickly; in a flash the patronizing grin was firmly in place once more. “My bags,” she called and motioned for the shuttle pilot to bring them forward. The mysterious Captain Pleiades was very commanding. Those of Galactica’s deck crew who had stopped to watch were whispering and sharing furtive glances. No one on duty had ever heard of Pleiades, which was nearly impossible as the admiral had made it clear that she was a pilot.
A viper pilot, specialist Cally guessed from the sidelines, she could always tell. And there was something in her demeanor that reminded Cally of someone but she couldn’t put her finger on it, instead she went back to the raptor she was prepping.
“I’ll need fairly private quarters,” the captain explained to Adama, “for my,” she trailed off and nodded towards her bags. The admiral noted with unease that something inside them was moving.
He was gruff, “I’m afraid we can’t accommodate your every wish, Captain. There are a lot of people on this ship”.
Pleiades snorted. “I’ll bunk down with Thrace then. I’m sure you have her in private quarters since she is,” she glanced at Captain Kelly, “unavailable. Unless of course you’ve stashed her in that cylon cage you keep below deck”.
The admiral lowered his voice and spoke in a harsh whisper, “You know very well she has nothing to do with this. This issue is between you and me, Captain. Leave Starbuck out of it”. His volume returned to normal as he continued, “Captain Thrace is unable to have visitors at this time. She has requested some time to collect herself,” he paused, “away from prying eyes”.
“Of course,” Captain Pleiades returned, nodding her head in agreement and the admiral finally smiled, pleased to be getting somewhere. But then she went on in a deprecating tone, “Why don’t you just let her know that I’m here. That my family and I are currently homeless and see what she has to say about it”. Then she added, “Sir,” with a sort of cynical glee.
Seemingly unwilling to explode in front of his crew the admiral made his way over to the phone Kelly had used only minutes before. When he returned Pleiades was halfway through her cigar and tapping her foot impatiently. With his approach she cocked an eyebrow expectantly. The crew, still watching from their posts, grew quiet.
Adama, looking fairly chastised, said, “Captain Thrace requests that you be allowed to share quarters with her and wanted me to tell you that your family,” he looked pointedly at the still squirming duffel bags, “are welcome as well”. He waved over another marine, “Please show Captain Pleiades to her quarters”.
The two marines practically frog marched the woman down the corridor, her eyes clearly taking in each face she passed, each looking back at her with some kind of confused fascination. “Bags,” she called out once more and the shuttle pilot grabbed the two bags she had left behind, only carrying the beat-up duffel herself.
The admiral remained on the deck as crew members returned to work. Captain Kelly moved to stand beside him, both men watched as the impetuous Pleiades walked around a corner and out of sight. “I want to be alerted immediately when Major Adama returns from CAP,” Kelly nodded. “Tell him to meet me in my quarters”.