Caprica Season 2 at Beginning of Line is brought to you with limited commercial interruption by
The Kobol Collection - For Men.
Previously on Caprica:
Tamara
summons Sam, still reeling from Willie's death two months later,
to V-World in order to help them both find closure. (Episode Five - posted 2/8/11) Part 1 of a 3-part story.
Caprica Season 2, Episode 6
Safe Journey: Spatiu Gol
Part 2 of 3
By Teresa Jusino
Screencap by Juanita Martinez.
She’d begun living in the house, and yet there were entire rooms that
remained untouched. His bedroom, for instance, littered with the
remnants of someone expecting to return - nightclothes tossed onto an
unmade bed, as if to make the bed and fold the clothes was unnecessary,
because they’d both soon be undone; an unfinished cup of strong Tauran
coffee, which wasn’t coffee at all the way the bland Capricans
understood it; and a computer console, barely used, but always on. He’d
understood that his younger soldiers communicated better this way, and
she’d helped him adapt. It was the console that broke Fidelia’s heart
when she entered the room for the first time in the two months since her
father’s death. Unanswered messages flashed on the screen, a blinking
reminder of the kind of man her father was. This was a man who tried.
Fidelia’s stomach tied itself in knots as she approached his desk, and she allowed tears to come. She placed her hand on the raised console, and was reminded that she now wore her father’s ring. There was business on this unit. Business it was now her job to tend. She dried her eyes with the heels of her hands and sat in his seat. She breathed deeply, telling herself that she could do this. She was born to do this. Taurans moved on, and Taurans who were the children of Guatraus? There was no room for sentiment.
Several of the messages concerned matters she’d already handled. Monthly shipments of purple. Friction between dueling Ha’la’tha gangs on the north and south sides of Caprica City. And the return to the soil of a man who dared to subjugate Tauran girls below the age of consent in brothels that specialized in the selling of Tauran flesh.
She noticed a vid link message and wondered who sent it, since it was all her father could do to keep up with text. Fidelia opened the message and gasped when she saw the face.
Yusif’s daughter.
But that was impossible. She’d died in the MAGLEV bombing. Yet here was her face, and the message was dated a week ago. How was this possible? Fidelia played it, holding her breath...
Hello, Guatrau. I know this might seem like a shock. I have returned to the soil. But in a way, I am the soil. It’s difficult to explain without being face to face, but I assure you this is real, and I am here. If you have any love or respect for my family at all, I ask that you speak with me. If you put on the holoband I detect is connected to this console, you’ll be able to come see me. I know that you and my family aren’t on the best of terms right now, but relations are surely not so far gone that you won’t at least hear what I have to say. Remember, you once offered me a job. I’d like to take you up on that offer.
When the message stopped, Fidelia noticed that the holoband attached to the console, the one her father had never touched because he knew nothing of holobands, switched on automatically. Offered her a job? Fidelia had done no such thing, so this message was intended for her father. Wherever The Adama Girl was, she wasn’t paying attention to current events. The Adama Girl was making it easy for him; knowing him well enough to know he’d need help, savvy enough to provide it so he wouldn’t seek it elsewhere.
Fidelia couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Yusif’s daughter with another woman knowing her father so well. Yet she was also impressed with the girl’s confidence. That same confidence must have impressed her father if he’d offered her some kind of a role in the organization. The girl was much older than she was when Fidelia had last seen her, and whatever the MAGLEV bombing had done to her had given her face a toughness Fidelia hadn’t expected from someone so notoriously straight-laced.
Before she could change her mind by suspecting a trap or giving in to jealousy, Fidelia disconnected the holoband from the console and put it on.
After the shimmer, Fidelia found herself in a large, sun-drenched office filled with stately, wooden furniture and bookshelves filling two of its four walls. The titles of the books drew her to them: Tauran Women Through the Ages; The History of the Tauran Civil War, Vols 1 and 2; No Bull: How a Dirteater Ascended to the Caprican Parliament. Fidelia caught herself smiling. These were all books she owned.
“What are you doing here?” a voice behind her demanded.
And there she was. Yusif’s daughter. The spitting image of a woman she couldn’t stand.
Tamara was surprised. What was Fidelia doing here? Suddenly, she felt nine years old again, walking into the den looking for her father only to find him with his arms around a woman who was sitting on his desk. He stood between her knees, and she held his tie in a ball as she draped her arms around his neck, giggling insipidly about something. Her thin skirt had been pushed up near her hips, and Yusif’s hands rested on her thighs. Tamara had never seen this woman before and wondered who she was. And also, what was Daddy doing home?
The woman noticed Tamara standing in the doorway. “Yusif,” she whispered, but didn’t flinch.
Yusif turned and froze at the sight of his daughter.
“Hello, baby,” he managed after pulling away from the woman and grabbing his tie from her. “You’re home from school already? Is your Mom here?”
“Mommy had to work late today,” Tamara said. “She said that you were gonna pick me up, but you never came. So, I walked home.”
Yusif squeezed his eyes shut remembering that, yes, Shannon had mentioned something about picking Tammy up. He’d thought it was tomorrow. His eyes shot open as he realized that his six-year-old son also needed picking up.
“Willie...” he muttered.
The woman hopped off the desk and straightened her skirt. Tamara didn’t know who this person was, or why she was here (it’d be years before she’d piece together the why), but she was already put off by the brazen familiarity of this woman to whom she’d never been introduced.
The woman bent toward Tamara and extended her hand.
“Hello, Tammy. Your dad’s told me a lot about you. I’m Fidelia. I’m an old friend of your dad’s and your Uncle Sam’s”
Theios knew her, too? Tamara intended to ask him about her later. To Fidelia, she said nothing.
“My friends call me Fiddy,” she said, retracting her hand, but maintaining a warm composure.
When Tamara remained unresponsive, Fidelia turned to Yusif.
“I’m going to go,” she said. “Go get your son.”
Tamara now knew as she stood in the same room with Fidelia’s avatar that she was not only the woman who tried to break up her parents’ marriage, but she was the daughter of The Guatrau. Tamara surprised herself by being able to sympathize more with the kingpin of a crime syndicate than she could with the woman who tried to usurp her mother. Fidelia. The irony of the name was not lost on Tamara. There was nothing “faithful” about this woman.
Fidelia stared at The Adama Girl for a moment before speaking. “I’m here, because you sent me a message,” she said.
“That message was for your father,” the girl replied. “But I guess getting your hands on things that don’t belong to you is a specialty of yours.”
Fidelia was struck to the core. Not because of any guilt over Yusif, but because of the insinuation that what belonged to her father should not be hers. Suddenly, her ring felt heavier on her finger.
“My father is dead,” she said, simply. “Your father and uncle killed him to avenge your brother’s death.”
The Adama Girl started toward her. “I swear to all the gods if you dare harm either one of them, or anyone else in my family, I’ll...”
Fidelia raised a hand. “I helped them do it! All right?”
The girl stopped mid-step and eyed Fidelia suspiciously.
“You helped kill your own father? Wow. Your resume just gets better and better.”
Fidelia closed the distance between them and slapped her, furious that this girl dared to trivialize how difficult helping Yusif and Sam had been. I helped your family, you child, she thought. They are beholden to me, now.
Tamara turned away and held her cheek longer than necessary to give herself a moment to think. This was happening all wrong. She was prepared to deal with the grandfatherly Guatrau who’d given her a college fund, not his conniving daughter.
“I apologize,” Fidelia said.
Tamara didn’t give her the satisfaction of turning around. Instead, she slowly walked toward the large desk in the middle of the room and sat on it, turning away from Fidelia. Tamara heard Fidelia’s heels click against the hardwood floor as she came closer.
“I should not have done that. I am here at your invitation, and...”
“The invitation wasn’t for you,” Tamara interrupted.
“Be that as it may,” Fidelia replied. “Your message was for The Guatrau.” She flashed her ring for emphasis. “That would be me.”
Tamara turned her head, but kept her eyes on the ring. This is how she’d have to play it. All business.
“Well then,” she said. “ I guess I have a proposition for you.”
“First things first,” Fidelia replied. “Explain yourself.”
Tamara hopped off the table. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Yusif’s daughter is dead. So who are you, and what do you think you’re doing?”
What do you think you’re doing?
Shannon asked that of eleven-year-old Tamara as she entered her room one evening to find her drawing on her neck with a black marker.
“Tammy!” she cried, rushing over and grabbing the marker. “You’ll have plenty of time to ink up your skin when your ink day comes in a couple of years!”
“I just wanted to see what it would look like...”
Shannon looked at Tamara’s neck and saw a tattoo similar to the one Sam had on his.
“The Guatrau came over to Theios and Larry’s today,” Tamara said. “We played cards, and I beat him, and now he wants to give me a job! It was so cool!”
Shannon sighed, then turned to shut Tamara’s bedroom door before entering Tamara’s bathroom and wetting a tissue.
“Tammy,” she said. “We have enough gangsters in this family.”
Tamara’s shoulders slumped. She was sure her mother would be proud of her decision to join what she’d come to think of as The Family Business.
“But...Daddy and Theios...and Tsattie...”
“Your father isn’t Ha’la’tha,” Shannon corrected her as she returned with the tissue and a towel in hand. “Not really. I wouldn’t have married him if he were. Your uncle is...well, he’s your uncle. As for Mammé....that was a long time ago. But do you know what they all have in common?”
Tamara shook her head.
“They all formed a relationship with the Ha’la’tha so that you wouldn’t have to.”
Tamara’s eyebrows bunched in the middle. “What do you mean?”
Shannon gently pushed Tamara’s head to the side and began to scrub at the marker on her neck. “They didn’t join the Ha’la’tha because it was cool or fun. They did it, because they wanted to better their lives and ensure that you and Willie would never have to live on the streets the way they did. And in doing that they’ve sometimes had to do things that are...”
Tamara straightened her neck when her mother paused. “What?”
“Sometimes they’ve had to do things that no one should ever have to do.”
Tamara considered this as her mother dried her wet neck with the towel, muttering that the rest of the marker would have to come off in the shower.
“But isn’t that brave?” Tamara asked.
“Isn’t what brave?”
“Doing things that no one should ever have to do. Like, in this movie I saw the other day with Daddy, Spatiu Gol, where these travelers are hiking in the Gramadas on Gemenon and start rockclimbing up Spatiu Gol. One of them falls and gets his leg stuck between this rock ledge and the side of the plateau, and he can’t get out. The woman that’s with him tries sending up flares and stuff, but there’s no one for miles and miles. She doesn’t want to leave without him, so she stays with him for days and takes care of him until their food and water starts getting really low. Eventually, they realize that she’s either gonna have to leave him there, or she’s gonna have to cut off his leg and carry him down...”
“Your father let you watch this?”
“Mommy! I’m not a baby!” Tamara insisted. “Anyway, so she cut the bottom of his leg off with a hunting knife to save him. And he was saved! She was a hero! But no one should have to cut their friend’s leg off...”
Shannon chuckled and shook her head. “That’s very different. The woman in that movie was saving someone’s life.”
“But...didn’t you say that Daddy and Theios and Tsattie worked with the Ha’la’tha to save Willie and me? Isn’t that the same thing?”
Shannon stepped back and looked at her daughter with surprise. She knew it was impossible, but she could almost swear that she’d seen her daughter age just then.
“Well, you’re certainly your father’s daughter,” she said, smoothing Tamara’s hair. “Such a little lawyer.”
Even after The Adama Girl’s explanation, Fidelia couldn’t believe it. The girl was all avatar? With feelings? Memories? And Daniel Graystone was responsible for this?
And Yusif?
“Well, this is certainly a lot for me to take in,” she said, folding her arms and beginning to pace.
“You?” Tamara replied. “Imagine not having a heartbeat.”
Fidelia turned on her heel to face Tamara. “What could you possibly want, then? I mean, you could make yourself anything you want here in V-World, right? What could I possibly do for you?”
Tamara stepped forward, her spine suddenly straight and her head held high in the same haughty way that made Shannon Adams stick out like a sore thumb at any Tauran party she attended. “I want to help you help Taurans,” she said.
Fidelia’s stomach tied itself in knots as she approached his desk, and she allowed tears to come. She placed her hand on the raised console, and was reminded that she now wore her father’s ring. There was business on this unit. Business it was now her job to tend. She dried her eyes with the heels of her hands and sat in his seat. She breathed deeply, telling herself that she could do this. She was born to do this. Taurans moved on, and Taurans who were the children of Guatraus? There was no room for sentiment.
Several of the messages concerned matters she’d already handled. Monthly shipments of purple. Friction between dueling Ha’la’tha gangs on the north and south sides of Caprica City. And the return to the soil of a man who dared to subjugate Tauran girls below the age of consent in brothels that specialized in the selling of Tauran flesh.
She noticed a vid link message and wondered who sent it, since it was all her father could do to keep up with text. Fidelia opened the message and gasped when she saw the face.
Yusif’s daughter.
But that was impossible. She’d died in the MAGLEV bombing. Yet here was her face, and the message was dated a week ago. How was this possible? Fidelia played it, holding her breath...
Hello, Guatrau. I know this might seem like a shock. I have returned to the soil. But in a way, I am the soil. It’s difficult to explain without being face to face, but I assure you this is real, and I am here. If you have any love or respect for my family at all, I ask that you speak with me. If you put on the holoband I detect is connected to this console, you’ll be able to come see me. I know that you and my family aren’t on the best of terms right now, but relations are surely not so far gone that you won’t at least hear what I have to say. Remember, you once offered me a job. I’d like to take you up on that offer.
When the message stopped, Fidelia noticed that the holoband attached to the console, the one her father had never touched because he knew nothing of holobands, switched on automatically. Offered her a job? Fidelia had done no such thing, so this message was intended for her father. Wherever The Adama Girl was, she wasn’t paying attention to current events. The Adama Girl was making it easy for him; knowing him well enough to know he’d need help, savvy enough to provide it so he wouldn’t seek it elsewhere.
Fidelia couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Yusif’s daughter with another woman knowing her father so well. Yet she was also impressed with the girl’s confidence. That same confidence must have impressed her father if he’d offered her some kind of a role in the organization. The girl was much older than she was when Fidelia had last seen her, and whatever the MAGLEV bombing had done to her had given her face a toughness Fidelia hadn’t expected from someone so notoriously straight-laced.
Before she could change her mind by suspecting a trap or giving in to jealousy, Fidelia disconnected the holoband from the console and put it on.
After the shimmer, Fidelia found herself in a large, sun-drenched office filled with stately, wooden furniture and bookshelves filling two of its four walls. The titles of the books drew her to them: Tauran Women Through the Ages; The History of the Tauran Civil War, Vols 1 and 2; No Bull: How a Dirteater Ascended to the Caprican Parliament. Fidelia caught herself smiling. These were all books she owned.
“What are you doing here?” a voice behind her demanded.
And there she was. Yusif’s daughter. The spitting image of a woman she couldn’t stand.
Tamara was surprised. What was Fidelia doing here? Suddenly, she felt nine years old again, walking into the den looking for her father only to find him with his arms around a woman who was sitting on his desk. He stood between her knees, and she held his tie in a ball as she draped her arms around his neck, giggling insipidly about something. Her thin skirt had been pushed up near her hips, and Yusif’s hands rested on her thighs. Tamara had never seen this woman before and wondered who she was. And also, what was Daddy doing home?
The woman noticed Tamara standing in the doorway. “Yusif,” she whispered, but didn’t flinch.
Yusif turned and froze at the sight of his daughter.
“Hello, baby,” he managed after pulling away from the woman and grabbing his tie from her. “You’re home from school already? Is your Mom here?”
“Mommy had to work late today,” Tamara said. “She said that you were gonna pick me up, but you never came. So, I walked home.”
Yusif squeezed his eyes shut remembering that, yes, Shannon had mentioned something about picking Tammy up. He’d thought it was tomorrow. His eyes shot open as he realized that his six-year-old son also needed picking up.
“Willie...” he muttered.
The woman hopped off the desk and straightened her skirt. Tamara didn’t know who this person was, or why she was here (it’d be years before she’d piece together the why), but she was already put off by the brazen familiarity of this woman to whom she’d never been introduced.
The woman bent toward Tamara and extended her hand.
“Hello, Tammy. Your dad’s told me a lot about you. I’m Fidelia. I’m an old friend of your dad’s and your Uncle Sam’s”
Theios knew her, too? Tamara intended to ask him about her later. To Fidelia, she said nothing.
“My friends call me Fiddy,” she said, retracting her hand, but maintaining a warm composure.
When Tamara remained unresponsive, Fidelia turned to Yusif.
“I’m going to go,” she said. “Go get your son.”
Tamara now knew as she stood in the same room with Fidelia’s avatar that she was not only the woman who tried to break up her parents’ marriage, but she was the daughter of The Guatrau. Tamara surprised herself by being able to sympathize more with the kingpin of a crime syndicate than she could with the woman who tried to usurp her mother. Fidelia. The irony of the name was not lost on Tamara. There was nothing “faithful” about this woman.
Fidelia stared at The Adama Girl for a moment before speaking. “I’m here, because you sent me a message,” she said.
“That message was for your father,” the girl replied. “But I guess getting your hands on things that don’t belong to you is a specialty of yours.”
Fidelia was struck to the core. Not because of any guilt over Yusif, but because of the insinuation that what belonged to her father should not be hers. Suddenly, her ring felt heavier on her finger.
“My father is dead,” she said, simply. “Your father and uncle killed him to avenge your brother’s death.”
The Adama Girl started toward her. “I swear to all the gods if you dare harm either one of them, or anyone else in my family, I’ll...”
Fidelia raised a hand. “I helped them do it! All right?”
The girl stopped mid-step and eyed Fidelia suspiciously.
“You helped kill your own father? Wow. Your resume just gets better and better.”
Fidelia closed the distance between them and slapped her, furious that this girl dared to trivialize how difficult helping Yusif and Sam had been. I helped your family, you child, she thought. They are beholden to me, now.
Tamara turned away and held her cheek longer than necessary to give herself a moment to think. This was happening all wrong. She was prepared to deal with the grandfatherly Guatrau who’d given her a college fund, not his conniving daughter.
“I apologize,” Fidelia said.
Tamara didn’t give her the satisfaction of turning around. Instead, she slowly walked toward the large desk in the middle of the room and sat on it, turning away from Fidelia. Tamara heard Fidelia’s heels click against the hardwood floor as she came closer.
“I should not have done that. I am here at your invitation, and...”
“The invitation wasn’t for you,” Tamara interrupted.
“Be that as it may,” Fidelia replied. “Your message was for The Guatrau.” She flashed her ring for emphasis. “That would be me.”
Tamara turned her head, but kept her eyes on the ring. This is how she’d have to play it. All business.
“Well then,” she said. “ I guess I have a proposition for you.”
“First things first,” Fidelia replied. “Explain yourself.”
Tamara hopped off the table. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Yusif’s daughter is dead. So who are you, and what do you think you’re doing?”
What do you think you’re doing?
Shannon asked that of eleven-year-old Tamara as she entered her room one evening to find her drawing on her neck with a black marker.
“Tammy!” she cried, rushing over and grabbing the marker. “You’ll have plenty of time to ink up your skin when your ink day comes in a couple of years!”
“I just wanted to see what it would look like...”
Shannon looked at Tamara’s neck and saw a tattoo similar to the one Sam had on his.
“The Guatrau came over to Theios and Larry’s today,” Tamara said. “We played cards, and I beat him, and now he wants to give me a job! It was so cool!”
Shannon sighed, then turned to shut Tamara’s bedroom door before entering Tamara’s bathroom and wetting a tissue.
“Tammy,” she said. “We have enough gangsters in this family.”
Tamara’s shoulders slumped. She was sure her mother would be proud of her decision to join what she’d come to think of as The Family Business.
“But...Daddy and Theios...and Tsattie...”
“Your father isn’t Ha’la’tha,” Shannon corrected her as she returned with the tissue and a towel in hand. “Not really. I wouldn’t have married him if he were. Your uncle is...well, he’s your uncle. As for Mammé....that was a long time ago. But do you know what they all have in common?”
Tamara shook her head.
“They all formed a relationship with the Ha’la’tha so that you wouldn’t have to.”
Tamara’s eyebrows bunched in the middle. “What do you mean?”
Shannon gently pushed Tamara’s head to the side and began to scrub at the marker on her neck. “They didn’t join the Ha’la’tha because it was cool or fun. They did it, because they wanted to better their lives and ensure that you and Willie would never have to live on the streets the way they did. And in doing that they’ve sometimes had to do things that are...”
Tamara straightened her neck when her mother paused. “What?”
“Sometimes they’ve had to do things that no one should ever have to do.”
Tamara considered this as her mother dried her wet neck with the towel, muttering that the rest of the marker would have to come off in the shower.
“But isn’t that brave?” Tamara asked.
“Isn’t what brave?”
“Doing things that no one should ever have to do. Like, in this movie I saw the other day with Daddy, Spatiu Gol, where these travelers are hiking in the Gramadas on Gemenon and start rockclimbing up Spatiu Gol. One of them falls and gets his leg stuck between this rock ledge and the side of the plateau, and he can’t get out. The woman that’s with him tries sending up flares and stuff, but there’s no one for miles and miles. She doesn’t want to leave without him, so she stays with him for days and takes care of him until their food and water starts getting really low. Eventually, they realize that she’s either gonna have to leave him there, or she’s gonna have to cut off his leg and carry him down...”
“Your father let you watch this?”
“Mommy! I’m not a baby!” Tamara insisted. “Anyway, so she cut the bottom of his leg off with a hunting knife to save him. And he was saved! She was a hero! But no one should have to cut their friend’s leg off...”
Shannon chuckled and shook her head. “That’s very different. The woman in that movie was saving someone’s life.”
“But...didn’t you say that Daddy and Theios and Tsattie worked with the Ha’la’tha to save Willie and me? Isn’t that the same thing?”
Shannon stepped back and looked at her daughter with surprise. She knew it was impossible, but she could almost swear that she’d seen her daughter age just then.
“Well, you’re certainly your father’s daughter,” she said, smoothing Tamara’s hair. “Such a little lawyer.”
Even after The Adama Girl’s explanation, Fidelia couldn’t believe it. The girl was all avatar? With feelings? Memories? And Daniel Graystone was responsible for this?
And Yusif?
“Well, this is certainly a lot for me to take in,” she said, folding her arms and beginning to pace.
“You?” Tamara replied. “Imagine not having a heartbeat.”
Fidelia turned on her heel to face Tamara. “What could you possibly want, then? I mean, you could make yourself anything you want here in V-World, right? What could I possibly do for you?”
Tamara stepped forward, her spine suddenly straight and her head held high in the same haughty way that made Shannon Adams stick out like a sore thumb at any Tauran party she attended. “I want to help you help Taurans,” she said.
And now, a word from our sponsor:
Ad by Rhesa Sealy.
And now, back to Safe Journey: Spatiu Gol...
Yes, Tamara could do whatever she wanted in V-World, but it wasn’t enough. An
eternity of code and tech, of watching people be their most depraved
selves wasn’t enough, and she had no real interest in Zoe’s revolution
that marched to the beat of One True God. Tamara knew she wasn’t a part
of the outside world anymore, but for her, meaning could only be found
if she could affect real lives beyond serving as entertainment. Ever
since Sam’s visit, Tamara had been thinking about what her Tauran
culture meant to her, about how her father and uncle and grandmother had
struggled. She thought of her mother, and how she’d wanted Tamara to do
anything she dreamed of doing with her life, so long as it didn’t
involve the Ha’la’tha. Now, Tamara was preparing to walk a line that no
one in her family had ever been powerful enough to walk without losing
their balance.
Fidelia wore an amused expression as she asked, “Help Taurans? And how do you propose to do that from here? Giving Taurans the cheats for beating New Cap City?"
Tamara resisted the urge to lose her temper, or become catty, or become in any way emotional. She couldn’t afford to be the little girl hurt by an adulterous woman. She ruled V-World, and she was dealing with The Guatrau of the Ha’la’tha.
“The Ha’la’tha is responsible for some horrible things. But my family has always taught me to appreciate the good the organization can do. The Adamas are living proof that the Ha’la’tha can do just as much good for others as it can do for itself. I want to start a Tauran school...”
“A Tauran school!” Fidelia scoffed.
“...in V-World.”
“A Tauran school in V-World.”
“Yes. I want you to send your new recruits to me.”
Fidelia laughed out loud, which infuriated Tamara, but she continued.
“I’m not being cute. Or funny. I want you to send new recruits to me. Set them up with holoband accounts and assign them to me. I’ll set up programs for them so that they can continue their educations, learn Tauran history, learn a trade...and yes, even military and weapons training that they might require should they decide to become Ha’la’tha soldiers on the outside.”
“I have no need for soldiers trained in hypotheticals. If this is the only reason you called me here, you’re wasting your time.”
Fidelia raised her hands to her temples to remove her holoband.
“You’re missing the potential here!”
Fidelia lowered her hands. She had to admit that she admired The Adama Girl’s earnestness, but she had no use for such naive notions.
“The Ha’la’tha isn’t a charity,” she said. “We conduct business. For profit. For power.”
“You’re a criminal organization.”
“Sometimes our business flies in the face of the law, yes, but what business doesn’t?”
“It doesn’t have to. Believe it or not, profit and power can be gotten legally.”
Fidelia sighed and walked toward the large window. She looked out and saw an idyllic view of a meadow in springtime, complete with fluttering insects, scurrying rodents, and little boys and girls running as they flew a kite. There was a stream. It was a scene straight out of a children’s book.
And it didn’t match the other window.
Fidelia noticed a difference in the light coming from the window across the room, and when she walked over to it, instead of the meadow, she saw a pristine city not unlike Caprica City filled, but not overcrowded, with people in impossibly tailored clothes.
“Couldn’t decide on a motif?” she asked.
The Adama Girl didn’t respond.
“So, what do you want from me? I’m supposed to just give you my soldiers so they can, what, better themselves? Wasting time running around in fake worlds while my business goes to kopria?”
“The worlds are fake, but the cubits are very real.”
Tamara was encouraged by the way Fidelia suddenly snapped her head around at the mention of cubits. Clearly, appealing to any sense of cultural pride and a desire for the betterment of her people wasn’t going to get Tamara anywhere.
“I’m listening,” Fidelia said.
“After Zo...” Tamara stopped short of mentioning Zoe’s name. If Fidelia didn’t know about her existence, she certainly didn’t know about Zoe’s, and there was no need for her to know anything about Zoe if it could be helped. “There was an incident a couple of months ago that destroyed V-World. I thought that the gamers and thrill-seekers would be scared off, or get bored and find other interests, but they’ve come back stronger than before. New Cap City is back, and just as depraved as ever. All the underground areas, all the legitimate gaming sites...all back. They aren’t going away. And all of those people are paying for that access with real cubits. Those that are hacking in are dealing with each other in real currency. And I have access to all of it.”
“How much is that?”
“Thousands of transactions a day from Caprica City alone? Extrapolate that to the entire colony? Multiply that by twelve? I could do the exact math, but I’d much rather watch you figure it out.”
Tamara was having fun. It was the same thrill she felt at nine years old, playing the previous Guatrau for fake cubits. And she realized that she was having more fun not using her signature “look” - head down, eyes up. She much preferred looking Fidelia dead in the eye. Fidelia, who was rapt now that the financial potential in V-World had been brought to her attention.
“So, here’s how this would work,” Tamara continued. “Half a million cubits for every new recruit you send to me, paid in installments over a two-year period in which they’re required to remain enrolled, and during which they would not be employed by you in any other capacity. They stop showing up when they’re supposed to, or moonlight for you in any way, they get booted from the program and you don’t get a thing.”
Fidelia sat in an armchair by the City Window. Tamara could practically see the wheels in her head turning.
“The young men and women who come to the Ha’la’tha generally do so because they’re in financial straits...”
“They’d be provided with a salary, separate from what I’d be paying you, the amount of which would be determined by their individual situation and would be between me and the recruit. That money has nothing to do with you.”
Fidelia straightened up. “You know what does have to do with me? A personnel shortage. What am I supposed to do if I’m sending you all my new recruits?”
“Roll around in your newfound wealth?” Tamara said with a laugh. “My hope is that the financial incentive will inspire you to send as many as possible. Look, this only applies to recruits from here on out, to send or not send as you wish. You still have plenty of soldiers out there now, right? If you’re a Guatrau who’s worth a damn at all, maybe you’ll try a little harder to not get them all killed.”
Fidelia stood and walked toward Tamara until they were only inches from each other. Tamara kept her eyes on Fidelia’s and didn’t budge.
“And that’s what this comes down to,” Fidelia said. “This would pretty much make you Guatrau.”
“A teacher, maybe,” Tamara replied. “But I’m not interested in being anyone’s Guatrau. What use would I have for a title in here?”
Fidelia wore an amused expression as she asked, “Help Taurans? And how do you propose to do that from here? Giving Taurans the cheats for beating New Cap City?"
Tamara resisted the urge to lose her temper, or become catty, or become in any way emotional. She couldn’t afford to be the little girl hurt by an adulterous woman. She ruled V-World, and she was dealing with The Guatrau of the Ha’la’tha.
“The Ha’la’tha is responsible for some horrible things. But my family has always taught me to appreciate the good the organization can do. The Adamas are living proof that the Ha’la’tha can do just as much good for others as it can do for itself. I want to start a Tauran school...”
“A Tauran school!” Fidelia scoffed.
“...in V-World.”
“A Tauran school in V-World.”
“Yes. I want you to send your new recruits to me.”
Fidelia laughed out loud, which infuriated Tamara, but she continued.
“I’m not being cute. Or funny. I want you to send new recruits to me. Set them up with holoband accounts and assign them to me. I’ll set up programs for them so that they can continue their educations, learn Tauran history, learn a trade...and yes, even military and weapons training that they might require should they decide to become Ha’la’tha soldiers on the outside.”
“I have no need for soldiers trained in hypotheticals. If this is the only reason you called me here, you’re wasting your time.”
Fidelia raised her hands to her temples to remove her holoband.
“You’re missing the potential here!”
Fidelia lowered her hands. She had to admit that she admired The Adama Girl’s earnestness, but she had no use for such naive notions.
“The Ha’la’tha isn’t a charity,” she said. “We conduct business. For profit. For power.”
“You’re a criminal organization.”
“Sometimes our business flies in the face of the law, yes, but what business doesn’t?”
“It doesn’t have to. Believe it or not, profit and power can be gotten legally.”
Fidelia sighed and walked toward the large window. She looked out and saw an idyllic view of a meadow in springtime, complete with fluttering insects, scurrying rodents, and little boys and girls running as they flew a kite. There was a stream. It was a scene straight out of a children’s book.
And it didn’t match the other window.
Fidelia noticed a difference in the light coming from the window across the room, and when she walked over to it, instead of the meadow, she saw a pristine city not unlike Caprica City filled, but not overcrowded, with people in impossibly tailored clothes.
“Couldn’t decide on a motif?” she asked.
The Adama Girl didn’t respond.
“So, what do you want from me? I’m supposed to just give you my soldiers so they can, what, better themselves? Wasting time running around in fake worlds while my business goes to kopria?”
“The worlds are fake, but the cubits are very real.”
Tamara was encouraged by the way Fidelia suddenly snapped her head around at the mention of cubits. Clearly, appealing to any sense of cultural pride and a desire for the betterment of her people wasn’t going to get Tamara anywhere.
“I’m listening,” Fidelia said.
“After Zo...” Tamara stopped short of mentioning Zoe’s name. If Fidelia didn’t know about her existence, she certainly didn’t know about Zoe’s, and there was no need for her to know anything about Zoe if it could be helped. “There was an incident a couple of months ago that destroyed V-World. I thought that the gamers and thrill-seekers would be scared off, or get bored and find other interests, but they’ve come back stronger than before. New Cap City is back, and just as depraved as ever. All the underground areas, all the legitimate gaming sites...all back. They aren’t going away. And all of those people are paying for that access with real cubits. Those that are hacking in are dealing with each other in real currency. And I have access to all of it.”
“How much is that?”
“Thousands of transactions a day from Caprica City alone? Extrapolate that to the entire colony? Multiply that by twelve? I could do the exact math, but I’d much rather watch you figure it out.”
Tamara was having fun. It was the same thrill she felt at nine years old, playing the previous Guatrau for fake cubits. And she realized that she was having more fun not using her signature “look” - head down, eyes up. She much preferred looking Fidelia dead in the eye. Fidelia, who was rapt now that the financial potential in V-World had been brought to her attention.
“So, here’s how this would work,” Tamara continued. “Half a million cubits for every new recruit you send to me, paid in installments over a two-year period in which they’re required to remain enrolled, and during which they would not be employed by you in any other capacity. They stop showing up when they’re supposed to, or moonlight for you in any way, they get booted from the program and you don’t get a thing.”
Fidelia sat in an armchair by the City Window. Tamara could practically see the wheels in her head turning.
“The young men and women who come to the Ha’la’tha generally do so because they’re in financial straits...”
“They’d be provided with a salary, separate from what I’d be paying you, the amount of which would be determined by their individual situation and would be between me and the recruit. That money has nothing to do with you.”
Fidelia straightened up. “You know what does have to do with me? A personnel shortage. What am I supposed to do if I’m sending you all my new recruits?”
“Roll around in your newfound wealth?” Tamara said with a laugh. “My hope is that the financial incentive will inspire you to send as many as possible. Look, this only applies to recruits from here on out, to send or not send as you wish. You still have plenty of soldiers out there now, right? If you’re a Guatrau who’s worth a damn at all, maybe you’ll try a little harder to not get them all killed.”
Fidelia stood and walked toward Tamara until they were only inches from each other. Tamara kept her eyes on Fidelia’s and didn’t budge.
“And that’s what this comes down to,” Fidelia said. “This would pretty much make you Guatrau.”
“A teacher, maybe,” Tamara replied. “But I’m not interested in being anyone’s Guatrau. What use would I have for a title in here?”
Caprica ©2010, Syfy. A Division of NBC Universal.
Beginning of Line is a fan site with no affiliation to Caprica, Syfy, or NBC Universal. You should totes know that.
And "Safe Journey: Spatiu Gol" belongs to Teresa Jusino. No, the characters aren't hers, and she can't get paid for it, but if you want to reprint it anywhere, it'd be nice if you asked.
Beginning of Line is a fan site with no affiliation to Caprica, Syfy, or NBC Universal. You should totes know that.
And "Safe Journey: Spatiu Gol" belongs to Teresa Jusino. No, the characters aren't hers, and she can't get paid for it, but if you want to reprint it anywhere, it'd be nice if you asked.
