Part One: Happened Before
Disclaimer: not mine, either BSG(new) or Xenosaga. An idea that floated into my head after finishing ep3 and watching the final scenes.
For BSG(new) - I'm following the series, and rather deeply hooked, but I never bought into the whole Starbuck-mystery or the Final Five as revealed, so consider this canon through mid-season three and then going sharp AU as far as revealed Cylons go. The Four as shown in the season three finale are *not* Cylons in my story.
Colonial Fleet, Deep Space, en route to elsewhere
She looked around the room. Inserting herself into the refugee fleet had been easier than she'd anticipated. With the chaos of New Caprica and the horrors of just trying to get to a ship and leave the planet, no-one had noticed that she'd never been there before.
Most of the humans were trying to repress the memories of their time there, so much the better. It did make it easier for her to blend in.
At least it had until she'd slipped and cut her hand.
Which brought her to this moment, sitting in a cell, with the leaders of the fleet gathering outside.
"Another Cylon skinjob," Kara sneered. "Where'd she get picked up?"
Tigh heaved a relieved sigh. "Fortunately, one of the smaller freighters. No food production or materials processing for her to mess up."
The Admiral's gaze would have burned her, had she not faced far worse in her time. She supposed that being completely unphased wasn't helping matters. The suggestion to act cowed was made, analyzed, and rejected.
The Admiral may be human but he wasn't a fool. And she'd been under his gaze too long to attempt a behavioral switch.
"And she's not a skinjob," Tigh continued. "When her hand was cut, there was machinery there. Even Athena bled a little when she pulled her virus switch on the Cylons last year. Whatever this one is, it's something new." His voice grew graver. "And given we've got hard enough evidence on her presence that she's likely been here since New Caprica..."
She shook her head. "I'm not a Cylon, Colonel," she interrupted. Given the glare he turned on her, she must have spoiled the ominous note he was trying to build.
Too bad for him.
"You'll forgive me," the Admiral growled, "if we don't believe that. You're clearly Cylon."
"Correction," she fired right back. "I'm clearly artificial
in origin and design. And if you keep traveling in the general direction that you're traveling, you'll find lots of beings that are neither Human nor Cylon, and not in the least bit shy about proving their point with weapons you've never seen before."
The Admiral's gaze ratcheted so high that his officers and even the just arriving President of the Colonies rocked away from him - and he wasn't even looking their way. Now that,
she mused idly, is impressive. I'm almost to the point of feeling a twinge of worry.
"Cylons," he grated. "You lie as easily as you exist."
She sighed. He just wasn't getting it. Fine. Proof then.
"I'm thousands of years older than your Colonies, Admiral," she said quietly, standing as she did and beginning to drift for the cell door. "And as proof, how's this?"
It had taken quite some time and effort to properly adjust the colors of her eyes. Even more to fix her hair. But knowing that she'd one day have to reverse it completely to prove to those that she herself was searching for, she made sure that it was an easy change to make. And to reverse, as needed.
So her reddish-brown hair began to bleed away. Her green eyes darkened. There was nothing that she could do about her apparel, and she spared a picosecond of dismay. She'd liked this shirt.
Kara swore feelingly as the Colonials - even the Admiral - stepped back in shock as their prisoner drew closer. Blue-white hair drifted down the supposedly not-Cylon's back in an impossibly steady cascade. Her eyes were now red as blood. And her arm...
She activated the sequence with all the ease that eons of practice granted. Her hand and forearm blurred outward, forming the long blade that her original creator had so unimaginatively dubbed the "R Blade."
Two quick swipes removed the impediments of hinges and bolt. A simple pull and toss and the way out was clear. The Colonials, frozen as they were, did nothing as she stepped close to the Admiral and let him see just how the materials of the blade resequenced themselves back into forearm and hand.
"My name is KOSMOS," she said.END
I know, it's the worst possible place to leave off.
On the other hand, my muse has been uncommonly free with scenes in this crossover, so I'll have more snippets to share soon enough.