InsaneJournal

Reviewing the Heavy Raider
When Caprica interfaces with the Heavy Raider again, she is not surprised to learn that it's getting tired of just sitting around in hiding. While it is used to spending long periods waiting within a basestar before deployment, this is different. She apologizes for the necessity of it, and that she can't visit more often; it's a long walk. If she knew of a closer place to hide it, she would help it get there.

That isn't why she has come, though. The interior of the Heavy Raider is considerably large, and she has not had a chance to better review its inventory yet. She disengages from the interface to have a walkthrough, checking the storage compartments to review the ammunition, extra weapons, and— to her surprise— a large collection of seeds. She supposes they were prepared just in case she needed to grow some food when supplies ran low.

She moves into the rear sections of the Heavy Raider, and is less surprised when she comes upon a row of Centurions. They stand together, deactivated. No movement of their polished limbs, no red light shining in the faceplates. Good. It definitely would not help with blending in if Centurions were walking around. She hopes she never has need to call on them here, and walks on past.

In the next section, though, she has a strong visceral reaction to the sight in there and starts to retreat. An empty black tub rests in the center of the chamber, unlit and unfilled since it isn't in use. Along one wall is a set of tanks, each holding a body identical to hers, none of them showing signs of activation.

She forces herself to stop and assess this. Whoever sent her on the mission might not have known how long it could take or how dangerous it might be, so they must have tried to prepare her for various eventualities. Death was always a possibility. Thus, if she should die, someone had attempted to equip her for resurrection. How successful a resurrection would be with no one there to guide her through it, though, she does not want to fully consider. She shudders to imagine waking up in death throes without someone assuring her that it was behind her. She gives the bodies another study, making sure none of them are actually alive and waiting to be woken up.

No, none of them are living yet. And— no, surely they weren't Sixes who'd had their consciousnesses boxed, their bodies sent along with her as some sort of taunt to make her simply think they were here in case she died again. That would be too horrific.

At least she knows now that they are here. If at all possible, she wants to avoid another death, but there is some reassurance in seeing that it might not be a mortal death after all, assuming no problems with resurrecting. She supposes the Centurions can at least manage some of the procedures. They could move a body into the tank, track the download of her consciousness, and monitor her vitals. The comfort, though, would be very much missing. And to her knowledge, Centurions have never been programmed to assist with a resurrection. She'll have to add that to them, just in case; she passes the necessary instructions on to the Heavy Raider for it to hold in keeping for the Centurions.

She collects some seeds and tucks the packages into her coat before she exits the Heavy Raider. Her flat gets a lot of sunlight through the windowed walls; she might as well make an attempt someday at growing something. For now, though, she has a long walk ahead of her.

It takes awhile to get back into town, but once there, she heads up to the shoreline to find a seat in view of the clocktower. She watches people passing by on their way to shopping or working or just enjoying the beach. She imagines scenarios for their lives, wonders what the reality is, and looks out for any familiar faces. Some of them might enjoy people watching as well, she thinks, but others might just like to sit and chat.