Sam "Longshot" Anders is (not so) secretly a Cylon (pyramidcylon) wrote in parabolical, @ 2009-06-10 12:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | sam anders |
WHO: Sam Anders
WHAT: AU switching time!
WHEN: 10th June
WHERE: Caprica and then LA
RATING: Highish for the genocide of humanity?
STATUS: Narrative: COMPLETE
Some days he just wasn't in the mood. Samuel T. Anders, captain of the Caprica Buccaneers Pyramid Team, packed up his gear for high altitude training, something his team apparently needed. Every interview these days focused on the fact that he didn't have many seasons left before retiring and all hopes were pinned on him to lead the team to the championship. Still, his shoulder was twinging slightly in pain as he tried to lift his arm too high, an old injury that hadn't quite healed entirely.
"Yo, Longshot."
Sam gritted his teeth against the nickname. It was apparently a longshot of him ever leading the C-Bucs to winning the final. People didn't seem to grasp the idea that he didn't care about titles or glory. For him at was all about that moment of perfection, getting the perfect catch, the perfect throw. Seeing the beauty of mathematics and physics all in that one moment.
He glanced up at Jo -Man and Ten Point as they entered the locker room, Ten Point lounging against the door frame. "You ready Cap?"
And in that moment, Sam just decided he really wasn't in the frakking mood. He was too tired and aching too much to bother trekking all the way out for high altitude training.
"Actually, I'm gonna sit this one out guys," he shrugged against their calls of complaint. "I know, I know, but this shoulder still aches and I just don't think I'm up to it."
He took the mocking that followed in good stride before he packed his team off to get their asses in gear and work out. The rest of the day was spent stretching and training the damaged muscles until finally he wandered homewards. When the sun rose the next day he actually woke up feeling refreshed and considered grabbing a shuttle out to join the rest of his team after all.
And then the bombs came.
Explosions that rattled every building to its foundations. Screams filled the city as the people burned. Sam, like the rest of them, tried to run. Just in front of him he saw a teenager push a child to the ground in his bid to just get out, move faster. Sam bit back a snarl as he picked the crying girl up, gathering her in his arms as he carried her away from the fire and smoke. He could feel more people falling behind him, but he didn't dare look back. The air was getting thicker and thicker and people began to slow down and stumble ahead. Finally, when his arms couldn't take any more and his lungs ached for oxygen, Sam had to put the girl down.
"Just run, ok?" He told her, kneeling down to meet her eyes. "Just keep running and don't look back."
She nodded, her eyes, wide and frightened, before she turned and ran, ducking between the legs of the adults in front of her. Sam watched her go for a moment before he tried to force himself onwards. Thick, choking smoke forced itself down his throat, the chemicals from the bombs killing more people than the explosions themselves. Nuclear weapons. Everyone dies.
He only made it a few more paces before he collapsed for the last time, barely aware of others staggering past him, falling on top of him as he died.
Moments later he woke up with a gasp, the world coming back in a screaming rush. His hands were chained to the side of some sort of bath, a thick gel surrounding his body. For a long second he was disorientated before the memories hit him. The Cylons. There had been a war, both sides had lost. The Cylons had retreated.
And he was one of them. He was a Cylon.
"Well, well, look who's back."
Sam looked up at the voice, recognizing the old man standing there. "John."
The Cylon screwed his face with distaste. "I prefer Number One these days. Welcome back, father dear."
Sam closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the head rest.
The humans tried to run. A rag tag civilian fleet, let by a relic of a Battlestar. There was even a tocken resistance on Caprica. But without Sam to lead them, they fell quickly. When Starbuck returned for the Arrow of Athena, both she and Helo were killed without the Resistance to aid them. The Number Eight sent to seduce Helo was brought back to the Cylon basestar and restrained, howling in her grief until her child was ready to be born. When the half breed was finally ready, Number One cut it out of her and dissected it for study.
It didn't take the Cylons long to find the human Fleet and while they gave a good fight, with no direction to follow, they quickly lost hope. The Twos, the Sixes and the Eights argued that they should show the humans some compassion. This was quickly overruled by Number One, flanked by the Fours and Fives. They executed every single member of the Eights before boxing the entire line, along with the Threes. The Twos and Sixes were restrained.
As for Sam, himself, One took great pleasure in killing him over and over again, forcing him to download to many new bodies. With each death Sam found the memories of his human life slipping away. The news of the humans defeat left him oddly detached, something that One relished. They were machines, he argued. It made no sense for them to come equipped with a human's weakness. Gradually, even the humanoid Cylons began to go back to their metal state, fitting each model with increasing numbers of machine implants.
I am a machine. Humanity is weakness.
That was without question. There was no human left in the galaxy.
Cylons needed no rest, no sleep. So Number Nine, the first of the Final Five to to reborn in his true state, formerly known as Sam Anders, was peturbed when he had 3.74 seconds of blackness. When the world righted itself, it was not as it had been. Gone was the cool grey metal of the ship and in its place was a warm room, with a rumpled bed. Clothes and weapons were stored around the room, and what looked like a half eaten tray of food.
Number Nine looked around, using the oculer implant to scan his surroundings. The readings were confusing, impossible. A computer device was sitting on the table and the Cylon approached it, tugging out a couple of cables. Crude, but he should still be able to interface with the machine. He plugged the cables into a port on his machinical arm, instantly connecting his mind to this 'internet', trying to make some sense of this place.