AWD #100: Changes
Summary: Ceres rises again. Those of her line after her begin to notice a difference. Change happens. aka BAI CERES! HAVE FUN STORMIN DA CAAAASTLE
Date: 17/4/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Transporting the Prisoners
Ceres Dropkickst 
Resurrection Room - Basestar
A simple room with resurrection containers.
AWD #100

The first shots from the Centurions tear through her. But Ceres has been shot before. The pain is numbed, lost after a second and she powers through it as, staring at the red lights that swivel back and forth in the heads of the cylons. She continues to pray in a strained voice, feeling the fire slowly working in from the rear towards the back where the three are. She may not feel the pain, but the weakness is obvious, there is only so much a body can take, only so much it can survive - even her.

She gets off a few more shots before laying back. The searing heat suddenly grows and the deafening explosion rips through the hull and sends the Raptor in millions of pieces outwards, taking out centurions and the gun alike. Ceres feels the brilliance wash over her and the weakness is gone.

A coolness spreads around her, a luke warm liquid that she moves in and then tries to breath as she feels a suddenly renewed strength. Her limbs flex and with a great panic, still reeling from the explosion, she sits up and manages to cough out the liquid, breathing heavily as it drips down her face and hair which clings to her back down to the small of her back. She blinks a few times in the stark light, coughing, shuddering as her heart races, causing her to grab at the edge. Trembling, she starts to gasp, her head bowing as her eyes close and there is a fierce aching cry that rips past her lips.
Its a rather large room on the basestar. There are probably a dozen tubs lain out like the numbers on a clock in a perfect circle. They look to be all nines here, helping their sisters out as they come through the process. One of them walks over with a towel in one hand and a robe in the other and kneels beside Ceres. "Sister," she greets stoically. "You're back home now. Do you require a One to process intelligence with?" she asks, extended both towards the woman in the tank.

The sound of the voice next to her brings Ceres' head about to look at the clone of her own body. It's unnerving after so long and she has to take a moment, looking around as the viscous liquid in the tub sloshes around. She wipes at her face and then manages to calm herself before she shakes her head. "No….no One, thank you." The reply is suddenly just as stoic as she buries all her memories deep for now, slowly rising with only just the slightest hesitation. She is a nine, she must act like a nine. Dark eyes blink and she looks around a moment before she reaches out her hands. "The death was a bit…much. Is there an eleven I can speak with?" The question is asked, "And a sister nine…I would also like to be able to process all the new information first. The nearest collective stream would be appreciated." She steps out, slowly and carefully. Long legs find their footing, new ones, powerful and slowly she takes the towel. It is a moment she spends wiping off her left hand, turning it over to notice there are no scars. This brings a furrowing of her brows before she continues to clean herself off.

The other nine watches her for a moment before nodding. The reply seems to sate her. But even as Ceres towels herself off, the memories of the others are filtering in. Murder, infiltration, suicide missions to kill dozens of people. Still others beg for their lives only to be shot by her hand. Cold, calculating, vicious. Hundreds of missions flick past her slowly while she towels, each searing itself into her memory. She might still be the individual inside, but there is that struggle. The calling of familiarity. The new body has its own desires. But through the fog, faces and voices ring out. 'I'm not leaving them behind, Maia. We're going down.' Still others, Knox giving her the last orders and finally setting her free after the paintball game. Getting married. Charlie's and the comradarie. The Wing. Its a struggle.
"An Eleven? I do not know that we have any aboard. We have a stream panel down the hall, though." She watches Ceres idly, not looking particularly interested. Another nine is waking up a few tubs over and sitting up, staring straight ahead while everything processes.

"Very well, if there is no eleven, I will do without," Ceres has to pause a few times as the cold calculating baseline of what she is worms its way back in. She closes her eyes before she continues to clean herself off. She holds onto what she is, who she is and Ceres is not a Nine, she is something different and likely would be boxed were they to find out. There is a shudder through her and she finally begins to see what she was made to be, always knew it but with everything rushing back in she begins to seethe with anger, rebel against what she is and her motions become swifter. "A robe, something.." She says, pushing the towel off and stalking in long purposeful strides towards that stream panel. She needs to get to it before something goes wrong - before she's found.

She glances at the newest sister that wakes and she leans over, touching her shoulder as she passes. "I love you." She says. Three words. SO infectious in and of themselves. But she's about to do more than words.

The Nine hands over the robe to Ceres without looking, more bored and focused on a fresh body being loaded into the tub. On the other side of the room, a third Nine wakes up. Busy day. She lifts and takes on much the same look as the first, except her eyes focus on Ceres, blinking. She knows. …But she doesn't say anything. The most freshly awoke just watches that touch to the other Nine as Ceres passes. The loved sister opens her eyes, breathing a name as she looks up hopefully to Ceres as she passes. 'Ceres.' Its not loud enough to be heard by any of the others walking around, but there is low-end awe there. The other two still in their tubs look at each other, nearly stunned, and then slowly make their ways out of the tubs and in no particular hurry. The virus has been implanted and the entropy is being broken. And so far the Nines are not saying a word.

The whispered sound of her name causes her to study the newest of her line and then the second to wake is given a nod but she out, down the hall and moving as she tugs the robe on. Barefeet sound on the flooring as she moves, long quick strides and slowly the setup on the basestar becomes obvious, it is once more familiar. Like riding a bike. That cool efficiency is at its peak now. A nine has a mission, a nine named Ceres. Soon it will not just be those waking now that have the memories, it will her line if she can help it, all of them."

As she nears the stream panel, she looks about and then slowly moves to study it. Her hand flexes free of her side, rising to press into place and access all the information, but impart who she is to those of her line, those who will connect here.

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