Mementoes -Part 1/1 

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One of Matt Greentree’s favorite pastimes consisted of 
observing the people around him. He generally did so 
with a little more care and attention than his fellows, 
while at the same time lacking the honesty to examine 
any aspects of a situation which were less flattering 
to him and his view of the universe. At the moment 
the object of his study was his new shipmate 
-one Kara Thrace, call sign ‘Starbuck’.

Ever since coming over to Pegasus from that old pile 
of junkyard pieces which some people called a battlestar, 
she’d had an attitude. Of course all the people from 
that damned ship seemed to have an attitude, from Commander 
Adama on down. Like they were the saviors of the universe 
or something.

He examined her as she opened her newly assigned locker 
and pulled out her things out from standard issue baggage 
that had seen better days. She didn’t have much to put 
in the locker –that was one thing he noted right 
off. Then he considered her a bit more closely.

Every pilot he’d ever known had stuff –things 
they’d hauled with them from posting to posting 
even before the world blew up and everything 
changed. Usually their baggage was a combination 
of utilitarian and not. It was the ‘not’ that gave 
the most away, really. The mama’s boy could come 
aboard looking mean and tough, but would have a few 
homey items tucked in the depths of his bags. Some 
would have porn to feed their secret kink, or clothing 
and other items to help them live it. Others had now 
rare books they couldn’t bear to part with, a few 
letters, or mementoes of times deep in their heart. 
The point was that whatever it was, it always revealed 
something.

He sat back as he watched the woman, trying to figure 
her out –somewhat like the inanimate puzzles he would 
put together back home as a kid.

“So, I hear we’ve got The Great Starbuck aboard.” A 
mocking voice behind Kara said as a small group of pilots 
entered the Pegasus locker room. Closing her locker 
and leaning back against it with an air of nonchalance, 
she slowly turned to face the new arrivals.

“I heard something about you holding the all-time 
Academy record in the viper sims, but I knew it 
couldn’t be true. I mean, you couldn’t be that good 
and have ended up in a dead end slot on a hunk of 
junk like Galactica. And besides…” The man 
continued, his voice trailing off as his fellows 
stood grinning behind him.

“I don’t believe everything I hear. I mean, 
you probably spread that rumor ‘round yourself, 
didn’t you?” He added, his handsome face widening 
into an arrogant grin.

Oh, how she regretted the days not so long ago 
when she would have let herself go and used physical 
means to correct this pompous jackass’ mistaken 
impressions. But times had changed and so had she, 
and she was *trying* to turn over a new leaf because 
a pilot with a disciplinary problem was a useless pilot 
in wartime.

“Think what you want. I don’t give a frak.” She said 
shortly, turning back to her locker as she finished 
tucking away her possessions and tried to ignore 
the jeers and comments of the other pilots.

As she was about to close her locker, she completed 
her usual silent ritual and mentally inventoried 
the contents of her locker. At the bottom of a small 
nondescript brown cloth bag, lying on the bottom of 
her locker atop her boots were one tape recording, 
two small statues, a few paint tubes and brushes 
and one pilot’s dogtag. Propped into the side of her 
locker was a photograph.
***
(Twenty five years ago)

It was growing late and the weather was bitingly 
cold, but inside where the little girl stood it was 
warm -warm and filled with love.

“What was that you were playing?” She asked.

“It’s a piece I wrote a little while ago.” Her 
father mentioned, as he reached down to pull 
her onto his lap.

“How does hitting the keys make those sounds?” She 
asked, with all the innate curiosity of a 
four-year-old. Reaching over, she hit the piano 
keys with her little hands, grimacing at the clanging 
noise she made which was so very different from the 
harmonious creation her father’s fingers had elicited.

“Touching a key causes a little hammer to hit a string 
inside the instrument.” He watched as her mouth 
opened into a wide ‘O’ as she pondered this 
information. “Would you like me to show you how 
to play?” He asked, and she nodded vigorously. 
That night was her first music lesson.

Following it came another type of lesson when she 
found herself playing alone two years later, after 
he had left her and her mother behind. Her 
parents’ relationship had deteriorated and 
Kara’s father had left, promising to keep 
in touch with his daughter. Aside from one 
or two letters however, he never did.

When Kara finally accepted this, she never 
played again -somehow she’d lost the heart 
that connected her fingers to the keys. It 
also settled certain disputes in the house, 
since her mother didn’t like her playing. 
There was, however, one thing she simply 
couldn’t give up.

When she was alone, she would sometimes 
play a tape recording of one of her father’s 
concerts, and remember that once she’d had 
a father who loved her.
***
(Twenty one years ago)

It had been a cold and windy day and night 
was quickly falling as she walked quietly 
through the graveyard, watching as the 
surrounding trees echoed the rhythm of 
the howling wind.

She had tried to ignore the cold because 
her mother would most likely still be awake 
at home, but she was only eight years old. 
As night fell that cold intensified and began 
to scratch at her consciousness with its 
deathly-cold fingers. Shaking, she finally 
gave up and decided to try to find some kind 
of shelter.

Seeing a light in the distance, she ran 
towards it and fell as she tripped over a 
gravestone. Hissing at the sting arising 
from her skinned knees, she picked herself 
up and kept going. As she approached the source 
of the light she saw that it was a tall 
building of some kind –a temple.

Stepping up to one of the great metal doors 
and giving a great heave, she cautiously 
opened it. Stepping inside she saw that she 
was within the main room, where the religious 
services would be held. None were being 
held at the moment, but she crept forward, 
mesmerized by the sounds coming from the altar. 
Kara Thrace had never heard a choir before, 
and she closed her eyes as she felt the beautiful 
music glide over her.

“Hello, little one.” A cheerful voice said from 
behind her and she jumped, quickly turning to face 
the new arrival.

“Who… Who are you?” Before her was an elderly woman 
with bright blue eyes, who smiled kindly down at her.

“My name is Sansia. I’m the assigned Priest for 
this temple.”

“Th… This temple? What temple is it?” Kara asked, 
her curiosity breaking through her fear.

“Well, it used to be the temple of Artemis, but 
now it’s a site dedicated to all the Gods. But you 
must be cold and hungry, child. Can I take back 
to your home? Your parents must be worried sick 
about you.” Kara shook her head.

“No. I came alone.” Sansia was quiet for a 
moment as she took in Kara’s response, her 
eyes turning sad as they looked down upon 
the lonely little urchin.

“Come with me.” The woman said, gesturing to 
Kara that she should follow, somewhat as one 
would coax a skittish animal. Walking further 
into the temple, she sat the little girl 
down on a pew. “Wait here.” She said, and 
disappeared for a few minutes.

When she returned, she was carrying a bowl 
of hot soup and a brown cloth bag, slung 
over an arm. “Here you are, little one. 
This will warm you up.” As cold and hungry 
as she was, Kara made short work of the 
food. Then, turning to look at her 
companion, her gaze grew wary.

Experience was a good teacher.

The woman, however, only held out 
the cloth bag. “Open it.” She told Kara 
softly, and watched as Kara did so. The bag 
contained two little figurines, one 
representing Zeus, the other Athena.

Kara looked up at Sansia, who smiled. “So 
you’ll never be alone.” The woman said. 
“The Gods will watch over you.” Reaching 
over to squeeze Kara’s hand, she continued, 
“And if you ever need help, so will I.”

Kara ran home a few minutes later, the statues 
clutched to her chest as her mind went 
through the story of the Gods which she had 
heard this night for the very first time. 

For the first time in her eight years of 
life, Kara Thrace had discovered the meaning 
of faith and hope.
***
(Fifteen years ago, during the summer)

Night had fallen and day was only a memory as 
Kara Thrace came to a stop just outside her 
mother’s home. Usually if she came home late 
enough and left early enough, she could dodge 
her mother and whatever live-in male companion 
was present at the time. It didn’t always work, 
but it was one way of avoiding beatings.

As she reached over to retrieve the key she 
always hid in their mailbox she paused, 
listening, and heard it again -a scuffling 
noise, followed by a thud.

Kara broke out into a run –she knew quite 
well where those sounds were coming from. 
Making her way through the alley beside their 
house to the back of the row including it, 
she ran through the yard to their neighbor 
Jack Reynold’s house. Without pause, she 
turned and rammed her shoulder into their 
back door. The lightweight inner door 
gave way, and she found herself facing 
a scene of horror.

Blood lay on the ground along with her 
neighbor’s wife, Rejeanne. Her husband 
was standing next to her, chest heaving, 
having only lately exerted himself.

“You frakking bastard!” Kara cried out, 
running to the woman’s side. Jack grabbed 
her arm and thrust her aside.

“Mind your own frakking business you little…” He 
began, moving towards his wife, when Kara 
stopped him by thrusting an arm in his direction.

“Do you want her to die? ‘Cause that’d make you 
guilty of murder.” She pointed out bluntly, her 
voice shaking. He turned to face her then, a 
sudden fear coming to life in his faded blue 
eyes. He obviously hadn’t thought far enough 
to have considered that possibility.

“I’ll call the medics.” He said hurriedly, 
and Kara watched as he walked over to the 
commnet and did so.

Kara moved to sit next to Rejeanne. She 
had never learned first aid and so she 
could only sit quietly, holding the woman’s 
hand.

Kara knew the Reynolds well. Rejeanne, 
before her recent marriage, had often given 
Kara a quiet and safe place to stay when so 
very few people cared about the fate of one 
lonely and unloved little girl. Kara had 
already called the city security forces 
twice –both times, she had lain in bed and 
heard the woman scream through her bedroom walls.

She went to the hospital and waited, and 
eventually she received a report that Rejeanne 
Reynold was going to be all right –for now. 
Once more, no charges were filed, since 
Rejeanne was not the type of woman to let other 
people handle her problems. 

Kara knew well how easy it was to tell yourself that.

Kara made her way home alone later that night, 
and waited until she saw light in the Reynold 
home before making her way over to their house, 
walking into the kitchen and coming to stand 
behind Jack.

“What the frak do you want?” He snarled, a 
blazing anger coming onto his face as he 
turned and recognized her.

“I want you to stop beating your wife. D’you 
think you could do that, or is that too difficult 
a concept for you to grasp?”

His mouth dropped open, as if he couldn’t 
quite believe her gall. “Listen, you little…” Kara 
however, had had enough.

Enough of being pushed, enough of being beaten, 
enough of taking the blame for simply existing. 
Enough of watching her friend go through the same 
things, and enough of things always staying the 
same. And so she grabbed a kitchen knife, and 
waved it around in front of the man.

His mouth opened even wider when she 
intentionally slashed her hand on its edge, 
drawing blood. She kept on with her performance 
after that, intentionally keeping him off-balance 
so he wouldn’t gather his wits until she was done.

“Yep. Nice and sharp.” She said with a feral smile 
as she waved the bloody knife in his direction. 
“Just like I like ‘em.” She stepped closer 
to him. “You know, I understand very 
well what’s going on here –much more than 
you think. So this is how it’s going to be, since 
I know your wife is never going to leave you or 
expose you -so this is probably going to end with 
her death.”

“Except it’s not going to be that way.” She said, 
and paused –a menacing expression on her face.

“If I find you’ve touched so much as a hair 
on her head, I’ll be back. And while I’ll grant 
you that I’m still young and still much smaller 
than you there is one thing I do know… And that’s 
that you need to sleep some time.” She smiled, a 
grimace full of teeth. “If you do, and if you’ve 
hurt her, you’d better sleep with both eyes open.”

“’Cause if you don’t, I’ll be waiting. And I’ll 
get even.” She said, and her grin grew wider as 
her eyes caught the feeling he couldn’t quite 
hide from her deep within his.

Fear. Of her.

As she walked out, she slammed the knife 
into the kitchen counter, feeling it vibrate as 
it kept time with her rage.

Later, when she reached her mother’s front door 
and placed her hand on the doorknob, she paused 
and looked at the door -smeared with the vivid 
red of her blood.

That day in her fifteenth year was the day Kara 
Thrace realized who and what she was. It was a 
day that was a watershed of sorts, both for her 
and for the people around her, since it was on 
that day that she finally realized her strength. 
It was also a day she would later revisit –every 
single time, in fact, that she would take hold 
of her painting instruments, and export her 
anger and pain onto a vivid canvas of color.
***
(Three years ago)

It wasn’t the first time Kara had taught Basic 
Flight, and she usually had no difficulty 
assessing which recruits would make it and which 
ones would wash out. It was, in truth, one of her 
many talents as an instructor and it was 
another one of the reasons why, despite her young 
age and relative lack of experience, she found 
herself teaching a course so central to the 
Academy’s curriculum.

However, there was one time where this particular 
gift failed her, and that was when a good looking 
young recruit named Zak Adama walked into her classroom 
and smiled the friendliest, warmest smile she had ever 
seen, and worked his way into her heart.

Like his other instructors and his fellow recruits, she 
hadn’t missed his last name –unlike the others however, 
it just wasn’t of any great concern to her. On the other 
hand, she quickly found herself trying to ignore the way 
his eyes lit up whenever he saw her, how his eyes would 
follow her footsteps, the way his voice sounded when 
he said her name. Unfortunately it was a battle she was 
doomed to lose, and before long they were sneaking around, 
breaking who knows how many Academy regulations and not 
caring in the least. She remembered one day in particular…

…They had spent their free afternoon making love, and 
now lay flushed and momentarily sated in each other’s 
arms. They began talking of their lives, and he 
suddenly pulled slightly away from her.

“I don’t want any special treatment.” He had 
said, and she had reassured him that she had not 
given him any. But she had lied –for the truth 
was that she had lied to him and passed him even 
though he didn’t deserve it, because she cared 
for him. Just as she had lied to herself for 
some time prior to his death.

And so all she had left was guilt, guilt over her 
lies to Zak and to herself. Guilt and painful, 
shameful memories brought forth by the handsome 
face of the man who should have been her brother, 
who somehow, from the very first, stirred her as 
Zak never could...

…And a single dogtag with her dead lover’s name 
on it, as well as a photograph of the three of 
them that she had begun to stare at periodically 
when felt she needed to revisit her guilt.
***
(Present day)

Matt Greentree considered his new shipmate as 
she ignored the jeers of their fellow pilots, 
turning back to her locker. He watched as she 
put her mementoes away, a thoughtful expression 
on her face.

Captain Lee ‘Apollo’ Adama walked into the pilots’ 
locker room and looked around, his mouth 
tightening angrily as he divined the general 
subject of conversation from Thrace’s deliberately 
nonchalant posture. Bringing his angry glare to bear 
on the pilots who had been taunting her, he prepared 
himself to start something when Thrace shot a look 
in his direction and shook her head, silently 
telling him not to make an issue out of the situation. 
Shaking his head, Adama seemed to accept her 
unspoken rebuke and opened his locker, smiling 
ruefully at her.

Matt was never certain whether it was his 
imagination or not, but it somehow seemed that Starbuck’s 
smile faltered slightly as she looked at the man –an 
almost automatic reaction which could only come from 
a place deep down and far away.

Shrugging and turning away from thoughts of his new 
shipmates as his watch’s alarm rang to indicate 
a shift change, Matt Greentree left, putting his 
entertaining pastime aside for when he was next 
off-duty.
***
The End

    Source: geocities.com/tropiques_sol