May. 24th, 2006 11:06 pm
Title: No Oasis To Be Found
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lovely_ambitionTitle: No Oasis To Be Found
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
andrealyn
Rating: PG-13
Fandom and Pairing: Battlestar Galactica, minor Starbuck/Anders hint
Claim and Prompt: 'Summer', Dark!fic
Warnings: General allusions to death
Notes: A little piece of the Resistance set before Lay Down Your Burdens.
Summary: Just another day against the Cylons, the last of humanity.
The only cool thing in radiated Caprica heat becomes Starbuck's dogtags in Anders' palm and they're the only thing that refreshes him because these are a part of her and she's like hope, she's like salvation. It's refreshing in this frakkin' hellhole where every day is worse than the last and there are more Cylons and skinjobs patrolling everywhere.
No more air-conditioning. They lost that base two weeks ago and every shelter since has had heat baked into the walls and the horizon constantly shimmers now, to deceive them.
"Two Cylons on patrol," Hilliard reports, retying her red hair in a messy ponytail. "There's a dish to the North, about one click."
"Tactically relevant?" Anders demands, rubbing his thumb over the etched engravings of the dogtags. His nail digs into the T-H-R. His eyes scan the unstable horizon constantly.
"Communications. We take down the dish and keep moving to Caprica City, get a couple buildings of skinjobs. We're getting better with the bombs," Hilliard promises, chewing her lip - can't use gum; gum can be used for explosives. They need to conserve. "It's a diversion."
Anders nods, sends orders for another march to death, all the while their campaign pushes on, no matter how many of them fall. They're the last ones; the last speck of humanity of Caprica. And they'll keep going until there aren't any more.
THE END
Author:
andrealynRating: PG-13
Fandom and Pairing: Battlestar Galactica, minor Starbuck/Anders hint
Claim and Prompt: 'Summer', Dark!fic
Warnings: General allusions to death
Notes: A little piece of the Resistance set before Lay Down Your Burdens.
Summary: Just another day against the Cylons, the last of humanity.
The only cool thing in radiated Caprica heat becomes Starbuck's dogtags in Anders' palm and they're the only thing that refreshes him because these are a part of her and she's like hope, she's like salvation. It's refreshing in this frakkin' hellhole where every day is worse than the last and there are more Cylons and skinjobs patrolling everywhere.
No more air-conditioning. They lost that base two weeks ago and every shelter since has had heat baked into the walls and the horizon constantly shimmers now, to deceive them.
"Two Cylons on patrol," Hilliard reports, retying her red hair in a messy ponytail. "There's a dish to the North, about one click."
"Tactically relevant?" Anders demands, rubbing his thumb over the etched engravings of the dogtags. His nail digs into the T-H-R. His eyes scan the unstable horizon constantly.
"Communications. We take down the dish and keep moving to Caprica City, get a couple buildings of skinjobs. We're getting better with the bombs," Hilliard promises, chewing her lip - can't use gum; gum can be used for explosives. They need to conserve. "It's a diversion."
Anders nods, sends orders for another march to death, all the while their campaign pushes on, no matter how many of them fall. They're the last ones; the last speck of humanity of Caprica. And they'll keep going until there aren't any more.
THE END
Tags: