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crack_van2009-03-13 11:06 am
frolicndetour.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-03-13 11:06 am
Entry tags:
The Body is a Myth, by Beccatoria (PG-13)
Fandom: BATTLESTAR GALACTICA (NEW)
Pairing: Gen, multi-character
Length: 28,182 words
Author on LJ:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beccatoria
Author Website: fic listed here
Why this must be read:
I have honestly never read anything quite like this. It goes AU after "The Hub;" Laura Roslin is the final Cylon, Natalie is still alive, and Kara Thrace is the first Cylon/Human hybrid. And that's just the first few paragraphs. This fic is epic in every sense of the word, delving into the history of the canon universe, the Cycle of Time, the fate of Earth, the Hybrids - all the mythology that makes the show itself so rich. It focuses primarily on Laura, Kara, Caprica, and the Cylons, but it's long enough that virtually every character has a role to play and gets his or her due. The characterizations are flawless and the ending is as satisfying as anything we're likely to get. And even though it's long, it's completely riveting; I couldn't put my laptop down. :)
Excerpt:
Laura Roslin died; so much morpha she was barely aware of Bill or the book. Of his son, or of Kara Thrace.
Laura Roslin died, a cold metal ring on her finger, two grieving men, and the harbinger of death at her side.
Laura Roslin woke up in a vat of white goo. She was a little disappointed. She was tired; she'd been ready, she'd felt done. But this was impossible. The hub was gone. This was a morpha-dream. She'd wake up, barely, to Bill and the book and his son and Kara Thrace and they'd start again, this waiting for death.
Thrace was terribly inefficient. She'd mention that, when she woke up, in her broken voice. She'd mention it if she could remember.
That room – the room where she had died (no, she reminded herself, the room where she was dying right now) – that room was a place where her thoughts never made it as far as her lips. Her brain was misfiring on morpha; her thoughts were eating themselves the way her body was eating itself, and this was the first time in days she had entertained an idea that complex.
She wondered if she'd forget it, when she woke up. If she'd forget this dream: the goo was warmer than it had looked in the hybrid's bath. The vat was so much more comfortable than a hospital bed.
Laura Roslin turned her head to the left and saw Natalie, the Six, kneeling. Natalie pressed her long, elegant fingers against Laura's mouth, just for a second, and said, “I'm so sorry, Madam President.”
“What for?” Laura asked. Her voice was high and clear: it was like discovering she could have been a concert soprano. She had forgotten what it was like to speak without effort.
“It's not a dream,” Natalie said. “I'm so sorry.”
The Body is a Myth
Pairing: Gen, multi-character
Length: 28,182 words
Author on LJ:
beccatoriaAuthor Website: fic listed here
Why this must be read:
I have honestly never read anything quite like this. It goes AU after "The Hub;" Laura Roslin is the final Cylon, Natalie is still alive, and Kara Thrace is the first Cylon/Human hybrid. And that's just the first few paragraphs. This fic is epic in every sense of the word, delving into the history of the canon universe, the Cycle of Time, the fate of Earth, the Hybrids - all the mythology that makes the show itself so rich. It focuses primarily on Laura, Kara, Caprica, and the Cylons, but it's long enough that virtually every character has a role to play and gets his or her due. The characterizations are flawless and the ending is as satisfying as anything we're likely to get. And even though it's long, it's completely riveting; I couldn't put my laptop down. :)
Excerpt:
Laura Roslin died; so much morpha she was barely aware of Bill or the book. Of his son, or of Kara Thrace.
Laura Roslin died, a cold metal ring on her finger, two grieving men, and the harbinger of death at her side.
Laura Roslin woke up in a vat of white goo. She was a little disappointed. She was tired; she'd been ready, she'd felt done. But this was impossible. The hub was gone. This was a morpha-dream. She'd wake up, barely, to Bill and the book and his son and Kara Thrace and they'd start again, this waiting for death.
Thrace was terribly inefficient. She'd mention that, when she woke up, in her broken voice. She'd mention it if she could remember.
That room – the room where she had died (no, she reminded herself, the room where she was dying right now) – that room was a place where her thoughts never made it as far as her lips. Her brain was misfiring on morpha; her thoughts were eating themselves the way her body was eating itself, and this was the first time in days she had entertained an idea that complex.
She wondered if she'd forget it, when she woke up. If she'd forget this dream: the goo was warmer than it had looked in the hybrid's bath. The vat was so much more comfortable than a hospital bed.
Laura Roslin turned her head to the left and saw Natalie, the Six, kneeling. Natalie pressed her long, elegant fingers against Laura's mouth, just for a second, and said, “I'm so sorry, Madam President.”
“What for?” Laura asked. Her voice was high and clear: it was like discovering she could have been a concert soprano. She had forgotten what it was like to speak without effort.
“It's not a dream,” Natalie said. “I'm so sorry.”
The Body is a Myth
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