Caspar Costas (née Millen) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fiveofnone) wrote2019-01-28 08:34 am
fiveofnone) wrote2019-01-28 08:34 am
Entry tags:
Siblings, Part Three.
Unless directly tampered with, Cylons did not lose memories. They were, however, capable of the same psychological tricks that humans used to keep those memories out of their consciousness. Caspar was particularly fond of repression. It’s why he spoke so little of his time post-resurrection. If he didn’t talk about it, he didn’t have to think about it. He could keep all those dark times locked up inside of him where they belonged.
He’d already had plenty of practice.
~*~
Cylon Basestar, one month following the Battle for New Caprica
Leaving New Caprica behind should have been an easy thing for Caspar. The Occupation was a failure, of course. Any Five could have predicted that. It should have been a relief to be off that miserable, muddy planet, away from the grime and filthy humans, and back to chasing them from the comfort of a sanitized basestar.
It should have been. And yet —
After he resurrected, he had shed his old life like a bad suit. He hadn’t given a single thought to his false memories, or his time on Chiron. Least of all to her. Adia.
Adia…
He hadn’t expected all that time with her to come flooding back. All that warmth and kindness, so unlike any other human he’d met, either before or since. So he repaid the favor and got her out of the Detention Center. Not a big deal on his end. She wasn’t a suspected member of the Resistance, even if Three was treating her like one.
Then the humans escaped, with hundreds of casualties on the side of the Cylons. Anyone who had been showing any sympathy to humans was told to clean up their act. So he kept that little act of mercy to himself, careful not to upload it when he returned to the basestar. It felt wrong, hiding that memory from the other Fives, who normally shared everything, but he didn’t think they’d understand.
Or worse, they would, and then he’d get the entire lot of them in trouble.
It was such a small thing, it was easy to forget. Harder was the memory of him shoving her away. She had asked about resurrection, if Caspar was out there somewhere. She had looked so hopeful, like his continued existence would be a blessing. She should have hated him, after what he did to her. Why was she looking to find him?
The Caspar that she knew was gone, he was sure of it. The person who had shared conversation and meals and tender kisses with her was dead, a discarded husk. This Caspar was a Cylon. A Five. A biological robot superior to all humans and their irrational emotions. She was nothing to him, and he should have been nothing to her.
(So why had pushing her away make him feel like a monster?)
Whatever his reasons, he worked hard for the next month to lay low and concentrate on his assignments. There was a lot to do if the Cylons were going to find Earth first and make it their own. They had Hera, the only Cylon/human hybrid in existence, in their possession, as well as the former Fleet president, Gaius Baltar, who the Threes claimed would be useful in finding the lost thirteenth colony.
Caspar doubted that with extreme prejudice. So far as he could tell, Baltar was nothing more than a whiny little fraud. He was a good puppet during the Occupation when the Cylons were pulling his strings, but that was about it. What the Threes (and one Six in particular) saw in him, he had no idea.
He got his chance to ask over the reddish, back-lit glow of a coding fountain. A Three strode into the room, Baltar trailing behind her like a scolded dog. “Wait here,” she told him briskly as she continued on, “While I get the proper equipment.”
Baltar cast a nervous glance at Caspar, as if afraid to be left alone with him. Three smirked and added, her tone excessively gentle, “Don’t worry, Gaius. He won’t bite. Not unless you ask him to.”
She laughed at her little joke and left the room.
Caspar glanced briefly at the former president, not bothering to hide his irritation. He normally respected his older sister’s decisions. The Threes were no-nonsense and fashionable. They always had well-thought reasons for their actions and were devoted to The Plan. The Threes could be rather bossy at times, but they worked well with the Fives, which is why her out-of-character soft spot for Baltar had him so confused.
(He wouldn’t know about her obsession with the Final Five until later, and how heavily she leaned on Baltar for guidance in the matter. It would have explained her increasingly erratic behavior, and One’s insistence on boxing her model before anyone could question her.)
Baltar cleared his throat. “If, ah… if I’m interrupting your work, I can —“
“Stay put,” Caspar ordered. If Three wanted him to play babysitter, then he’d do it, albeit grudgingly. “The last thing any of us wants is you wandering around unsupervised.”
He watched Baltar shrink in on himself, clearly intimidated. It gave Caspar a small burst of satisfaction, but it didn’t last. He’d lost his taste for scaring humans after —
No. Don’t think about her. Dammit.
It must have been pity that made him look up at Baltar again. “Relax,” he said, less harshly than before. “I’m not the Five who held a gun to your head on New Caprica when you wouldn’t sign that damn form.”
Baltar did relax, ever so slightly, although there was unmistakeable shame in his hunched-over posture. “I wasn’t sure that mattered,” he admitted quietly. “Your models share all your memories, don’t they?”
“That one we did,” Caspar replied blithely, hiding the way his hands trembled ever-so-slightly in the streaming water. He smiled sharply. “We passed it around like candy.”
“Five, please don’t terrorize Gaius more than absolutely necessary.” Three had returned, an electronic astrolabe and some rolled-up parchment in her hands. She passed the items off to Baltar, who was eager to take them. “Go on ahead and meet me in the lab. The Centurion outside will show you the way.”
She sent off the man with a pat on the back, then walked up to the fountain.
“Awfully nice of Caprica Six to share her pet with you,” Caspar remarked dryly.
Three tutted and stuck her hands into the water. “Jealous? He doesn’t strike me as your type.”
“He doesn’t strike me as yours, either.” Caspar gave his sister a direct look, ignoring the code flowing between his fingers. “Humans are beneath us. You say that all the time. Why are you making an exception for him?”
Three sighed. “Because he has a purpose, brother. Most humans don’t, I’ll grant you that, but Gaius is important to the Plan.”
“According to whom?” Caspar countered. “We all nearly lost our lives from that network virus thanks to his misinformation.”
“That wasn’t his fault,” she replied insistently. Almost pleadingly. “Brother, we are very close to a breakthrough, but we won’t accomplish that without Gaius’s help.” A pause, and then she smiled once more. “I promise, if he ever loses his purpose, you can have the honors of getting rid of him. Does that sound fair to you?”
Caspar’s irritation dissolved, now that she was acting more like her usual self. “Fine.” He returned his attention to the code. “Just don’t make me babysit again.”
Three laughed. “Fair enough.” She finished collecting her data, then left without another word.
Purpose. The word stuck with him. All Cylons inherently had purpose. But what would happen…
What would happen if he lost his purpose?
(He wouldn’t learn that until later, either.)
He’d already had plenty of practice.
~*~
Cylon Basestar, one month following the Battle for New Caprica
Leaving New Caprica behind should have been an easy thing for Caspar. The Occupation was a failure, of course. Any Five could have predicted that. It should have been a relief to be off that miserable, muddy planet, away from the grime and filthy humans, and back to chasing them from the comfort of a sanitized basestar.
It should have been. And yet —
After he resurrected, he had shed his old life like a bad suit. He hadn’t given a single thought to his false memories, or his time on Chiron. Least of all to her. Adia.
Adia…
He hadn’t expected all that time with her to come flooding back. All that warmth and kindness, so unlike any other human he’d met, either before or since. So he repaid the favor and got her out of the Detention Center. Not a big deal on his end. She wasn’t a suspected member of the Resistance, even if Three was treating her like one.
Then the humans escaped, with hundreds of casualties on the side of the Cylons. Anyone who had been showing any sympathy to humans was told to clean up their act. So he kept that little act of mercy to himself, careful not to upload it when he returned to the basestar. It felt wrong, hiding that memory from the other Fives, who normally shared everything, but he didn’t think they’d understand.
Or worse, they would, and then he’d get the entire lot of them in trouble.
It was such a small thing, it was easy to forget. Harder was the memory of him shoving her away. She had asked about resurrection, if Caspar was out there somewhere. She had looked so hopeful, like his continued existence would be a blessing. She should have hated him, after what he did to her. Why was she looking to find him?
The Caspar that she knew was gone, he was sure of it. The person who had shared conversation and meals and tender kisses with her was dead, a discarded husk. This Caspar was a Cylon. A Five. A biological robot superior to all humans and their irrational emotions. She was nothing to him, and he should have been nothing to her.
(So why had pushing her away make him feel like a monster?)
Whatever his reasons, he worked hard for the next month to lay low and concentrate on his assignments. There was a lot to do if the Cylons were going to find Earth first and make it their own. They had Hera, the only Cylon/human hybrid in existence, in their possession, as well as the former Fleet president, Gaius Baltar, who the Threes claimed would be useful in finding the lost thirteenth colony.
Caspar doubted that with extreme prejudice. So far as he could tell, Baltar was nothing more than a whiny little fraud. He was a good puppet during the Occupation when the Cylons were pulling his strings, but that was about it. What the Threes (and one Six in particular) saw in him, he had no idea.
He got his chance to ask over the reddish, back-lit glow of a coding fountain. A Three strode into the room, Baltar trailing behind her like a scolded dog. “Wait here,” she told him briskly as she continued on, “While I get the proper equipment.”
Baltar cast a nervous glance at Caspar, as if afraid to be left alone with him. Three smirked and added, her tone excessively gentle, “Don’t worry, Gaius. He won’t bite. Not unless you ask him to.”
She laughed at her little joke and left the room.
Caspar glanced briefly at the former president, not bothering to hide his irritation. He normally respected his older sister’s decisions. The Threes were no-nonsense and fashionable. They always had well-thought reasons for their actions and were devoted to The Plan. The Threes could be rather bossy at times, but they worked well with the Fives, which is why her out-of-character soft spot for Baltar had him so confused.
(He wouldn’t know about her obsession with the Final Five until later, and how heavily she leaned on Baltar for guidance in the matter. It would have explained her increasingly erratic behavior, and One’s insistence on boxing her model before anyone could question her.)
Baltar cleared his throat. “If, ah… if I’m interrupting your work, I can —“
“Stay put,” Caspar ordered. If Three wanted him to play babysitter, then he’d do it, albeit grudgingly. “The last thing any of us wants is you wandering around unsupervised.”
He watched Baltar shrink in on himself, clearly intimidated. It gave Caspar a small burst of satisfaction, but it didn’t last. He’d lost his taste for scaring humans after —
No. Don’t think about her. Dammit.
It must have been pity that made him look up at Baltar again. “Relax,” he said, less harshly than before. “I’m not the Five who held a gun to your head on New Caprica when you wouldn’t sign that damn form.”
Baltar did relax, ever so slightly, although there was unmistakeable shame in his hunched-over posture. “I wasn’t sure that mattered,” he admitted quietly. “Your models share all your memories, don’t they?”
“That one we did,” Caspar replied blithely, hiding the way his hands trembled ever-so-slightly in the streaming water. He smiled sharply. “We passed it around like candy.”
“Five, please don’t terrorize Gaius more than absolutely necessary.” Three had returned, an electronic astrolabe and some rolled-up parchment in her hands. She passed the items off to Baltar, who was eager to take them. “Go on ahead and meet me in the lab. The Centurion outside will show you the way.”
She sent off the man with a pat on the back, then walked up to the fountain.
“Awfully nice of Caprica Six to share her pet with you,” Caspar remarked dryly.
Three tutted and stuck her hands into the water. “Jealous? He doesn’t strike me as your type.”
“He doesn’t strike me as yours, either.” Caspar gave his sister a direct look, ignoring the code flowing between his fingers. “Humans are beneath us. You say that all the time. Why are you making an exception for him?”
Three sighed. “Because he has a purpose, brother. Most humans don’t, I’ll grant you that, but Gaius is important to the Plan.”
“According to whom?” Caspar countered. “We all nearly lost our lives from that network virus thanks to his misinformation.”
“That wasn’t his fault,” she replied insistently. Almost pleadingly. “Brother, we are very close to a breakthrough, but we won’t accomplish that without Gaius’s help.” A pause, and then she smiled once more. “I promise, if he ever loses his purpose, you can have the honors of getting rid of him. Does that sound fair to you?”
Caspar’s irritation dissolved, now that she was acting more like her usual self. “Fine.” He returned his attention to the code. “Just don’t make me babysit again.”
Three laughed. “Fair enough.” She finished collecting her data, then left without another word.
Purpose. The word stuck with him. All Cylons inherently had purpose. But what would happen…
What would happen if he lost his purpose?
(He wouldn’t learn that until later, either.)