daredevildaring: (waiting)
Five thirty A. M. ship's time found Kara walking. She'd drawn the short straw and ended up on the graveyard shift; even with Katniss and Sandor added to the rotation, it was still a six-hour stint trawling the corridors for disturbances that most often never actually showed up. She had music for company, one earbud in, one out, and a cigarette in one hand. The night was winding down to becoming morning, and people like Alain and the President were probably already awake. Half an hour to go meant she could make her way to the kitchen, where Jes was likely to be starting coffee.

It was still strange, sometimes, to walk toward doors that opened ahead of her, to turn a corner thinking kitchen and find herself not in the kitchen of the Argo. The Heirax's kitchen was larger, with square windows along one wall showing the stream of stars passing them by. And, apparently, sometimes inhabited by snoring Captains at five-thirty in the morning.

Bert had dropped like a stone, his head on the crook of his arm, the other arm outstretched on the table top. Papers lay in a haphazard pile underneath his face, and a glass next to him that had once contained either beer or root beer, judging by the quarter-inch of liquid left in the bottom.

Kara paused, wondering if she should wake him, or if it would be better to let Jes do it, who would undoubtedly do a kinder job of it. She was having a hard time convincing herself anyway; she could see from where she stood how exhausted he was, and if he'd slept the night here and not even stirred to go back to his own bed, he must be more overworked than she was giving him credit for.

Just as she'd decided to slink away and let Jes take care of seeing the captain on his way, Bert jerked upright with a snort and looked around, equal parts confused and sheepish. Kara couldn't help it; as soon as his eyes fell on her face, she burst out laughing.
daredevildaring: (ain't that some shit)
One thing Kara had long since gotten used to on board the Argo was the long stretches of down time. Sure, they had three-week spans where none of them got to sleep, but they were usually interspersed with a month or two of flying from place to place doing nothing but recovering, researching and trying desperately to find ways to amuse themselves. Jayne and the Shepherd had taken to hanging up a punching bag in the loading dock and using it to spar, and Kara was at the point where if that didn't keep her attention for more than an hour, she was ready to go find a person to take its place.

As she started down the stairs, though, she realized she wouldn't have to choose between the two. Someone was already having a go at the bag, and pretty vigorously by the sounds of it. As she rounded the bend in the stairs she saw it was Jim, and her mouth curved in a grin. The new mechanic wasn't really that new anymore (two months was long enough to have a decent idea of where not to leave your empty beer bottles and who not to cut in line for the shower) but he was a hell of a lot of fun to drink and spar with.

"Is this a private party, or can I gatecrash?" she asked, coming up behind him already in the process of strapping on her gloves, just in case he'd actually thought there was more than one right answer to that question.

game over

Oct. 24th, 2010 09:56 pm
daredevildaring: (whatthefrak?)
Flagg's henchmen were smart enough not to put their hands on her as they led her away. They stayed close, though, and Kara held her head high between them, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Bert and Alain and Gert to continue playing his game alone, and it seemed to echo down the hallway.

"Where is he?" she asked as they walked. "Your buddy Randall Flagg. I mean I'm assuming he's not actually here," she said, scornful. "Wouldn't want to take the chance one of us would get free and go on a rampage with him actually close enough to get hurt."

He must've coached them not to respond, though; either that or they were borderline catatonic and didn't quite get that she was looking for a response. A minute later they stopped outside a door, though, and Kara's stomach clenched. He might be in there. The idea that she might be about to confront him in person-- the idea that Claire, Kate, Jes and Jim might be in there with him too-- she stood up even straighter and set her jaw tight. "Open the gods-damned door if that's where I'm going," she said.

One of the henchmen sniggered as the other did as she'd said. Kara had only a moment to register a very small, very dark room before she was shoved inside and the door shut behind her. "Oh come on!" she yelled, kicking the door and banging on it with her fist, listening to the futile sound of retreating footsteps.

Then her voice wasn't the only one in the cell anymore.

"Come on Kara, lighten up," he said, the recording bouncing off the walls so it sounded like he was murmuring in her ear. She went still as stone, fists balled tight at her sides. "It's all in good fun. I get what I want-- that's the glasses, for the record, not to mention a stellar night's entertainment-- and you get what you want-- all your nearest and dearest alive, safe and sound. Speaking of near and dear, that was a pretty impressive display of emotion you put on back there-- Ruby and I were all choked up. But I'm disappointed-- you lost me a bet. I was so sure you'd lay one on our dear Captain Bert-- a real Hollywood goodbye kiss. Oh well. Guess we'll just have to hope the reunion's as heartfelt as the departure. So just sit tight for awhile, don't waste your time trying to get out, we'll be letting you go free soon enough. And hey, thanks for playing! You really made it worth my while."

The voice went silent and Kara realized she had her eyes squeezed shut and her lips pressed tight together, her breaths coming short and sharp. She was so angry she couldn't have formed words if she'd tried. She jammed her hands into her pockets, pacing the cell, three steps across and three steps back. She couldn't get their faces out of her mind, and the more Flagg's words ran through her head the hotter her rage burned. The worst part about him-- and he knew it, of course he did-- was that he spoke just enough of the truth to make it really hurt. She lashed out with her foot, kicking the door with a low, furious grunt. It didn't move, and it didn't make her feel any better.

It hadn't even been half an hour of pacing (and alternately throwing herself against the door of the cell) when there was a loud click. This time when she kicked the door, it bounced open, flooding the room with amber light. Blinded for a second, Kara threw up her arm in front of her face, blinking. Once her vision had cleared, she left the room, digging in the inner pocket of her vest.

She hadn't been kidding; it was a very tiny gun. And until she saw someone else from the ship, she was keeping it up and ready to shoot. She'd been taken advantage of enough for one night, and was half hoping some of Flagg's minions were still hanging around so she could vent some of her fury on a worthwhile target.

drabblefest

May. 1st, 2010 11:59 am
daredevildaring: (Default)
keyword : color
time period : any


Kara had always liked blue. A clear sky, light on the ocean, the steel and neon of Delphi outside her apartment window. It was a soothing color, soft and cool and inviting.

The blue of the glass is different. The Eagle's eye swirls in turquoise and cerulean and prussian and ultramarine, shifting and morphing every time she tries to name it. She's read a hundred names for blue on the sides of paint tubes, and the glass is all of them, and none of them. It makes her queasy, and when she holds it in her hand and hears the voice of the god in her mind, the world behind her eyelids explodes in a rainbow of blues that send her reeling.

After they go through the door to Gan, she ties it in an old shirt and shoves it at the bottom of her bag. It's unreasonable, but she can't help thinking it's better if whatever's inside can't see out. At night when she sleeps, she dreams of the ocean, of flying far above it on wings like a bird.
daredevildaring: (the magic 8 ball says it's ka)
It hadn't taken Kara long to discover she frakking hated Leonis. While most of the crew, even Connor and the gods-damn doctor, were off at some party trying to get information out of a government contact, while she was left hanging around the garage they'd docked the shuttle in, Just In Case something happened.

Well, it had been three hours, and the only noteworthy event had been her beating level nine on Portal 5. Flexing her fingers, she was just about ready to start the next level when she heard a sudden swell of noise, distant but loud and clear; the barking of several pissed-off dogs. As she listened, the sound seemed to get louder, as if the dogs were headed closer. Hopping off the cargo container she was using as a chair, Kara switched off the console and slipped it into her pocket, unsnapping the holster for her sidearm and letting her hand rest on the butt as she poked her head outside the garage door.

for Karl

Feb. 7th, 2008 05:50 pm
daredevildaring: (game face)
It wasn't like Kara had expected a warm welcome when she got back to Equus; hell, she'd hoped she wouldn't see a soul she knew, just to avoid the cold shoulder she knew she was going to get from most of her old friends. It was funny in that way that wasn't funny at all, that it had only occurred to her as they were entering Equus' orbit that half of them probably thought she was dead.

Nothing she'd done or thought had really prepared her for being back home. It felt surreal, coming to it as an outsider, seeing Delphi rear up at her from the observation bridge of the Argo. Even worse was being out and about in the city, half of it still in ruins from the Cylon attacks, half of it so painfully familiar she didn't know if she could stand it. It would be so much easier to pretend it wasn't home if Roslin weren't with her, but she could tell every time she looked at the President that she was sharing Kara's feelings about being back in their home city.

But as unprepared as Kara had been for being back at home, she found the rug completely torn from beneath her when the delegation from Galactica came on board the Argo. She'd expected Gaeta, she'd expected Dee; she hadn't expected Helo, wearing major's pins on his collar and speaking as Commander Adama's second in command. A few minutes later, when she realized that 'Commander' was Apollo, that the man she'd known as Commander Adama was now Admiral Adama, it was all she could do to keep staring ahead and holding her composure together. Being smacked in the face with everything she'd missed, everything she should have been a part of... it made her ache, and she hoped the meeting would be over quickly so she could escape to her rack and have some peace.

for Alain

Feb. 7th, 2008 05:43 pm
daredevildaring: (strategery)
A week after discovering the kid hidden away in one of their empty passenger rooms, Kara was starting to feel like she'd entered some sort of twilight zone. She'd frakked off their little pow-wow in the kitchen right after the kid started talking like he was conducting a one-man seance, and she'd only seen him a few times since, mostly sitting at the table drinking chocolate milk and looking completely un-crazy. But it had kind of freaked her out, all the same, and she decided after worrying about it for more time than she was really comfortable with, to ask one of the captains to give her some answers.

When she knocked on the captains' quarters door, there was no answer, so she turned and went out toward the kitchen and the public area and through to the little library, where she found Captain Stockworth sitting with his legs over the arm of a chair, poring through a dusty book. "Find anything interesting?" she asked with a little smile, leaning against the wall just inside the door.

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daredevildaring: (Default)
Kara Thrace

April 2011

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