The New Caprican Detention Center was the first building erected by the Baltar Administration and the first the occupying Cylons were working to expand. Less than four hours on the planet and Centurions were already visibly adding two new extensions onto the oppressive structure. Stepping into the shadow of the looming prison, Kara Thrace balked, locking her knees against the pressure of the hand on her elbow. Along with the two Centurion guards flanking her, the Cylon skin-job gripping her arm also came to a halt as she literally dug in her heels in the dirt of the dismal planet.
"Kara, don't make me drag you, it's unbecoming," Leoben said calmly. She knew he really meant not again as he had less than fifteen minutes ago when he'd pulled her kicking and cursing from the tent she shared with her husband.
Turning her head slightly, Starbuck spit at his feet, refusing to give him the satisfaction of any other answer. At his bemused look and the hard pressure on her elbow, she let him propel her forward again. And, as the gate of the facility snicked shut behind her, a shiver wove down her spine and she tensed further in apprehension of Leoben's purpose in taking her. Revenge for her torturing him had been her obvious first thought, yet…
No, that wasn't what he was after.
Kara couldn't say why but she was positive; she just knew. Also, disregarding the next most logical thought that they wanted her for her military knowledge, she instead was grimly certain that this was about her 'special destiny', whatever the frak it was.
Twisting her head back, she gave a last look beyond the barrier, searching for some sign that her capture had been noted, and realizing that this might be the last time she glimpsed the sky. As they crossed a second threshold, the solid metal door closed behind them with an ominous clang, sealing her to whatever fate was lay ahead, and Kara faced forward again, struggling to contain the fear-spiked adrenaline surge. She knew it was probably suicide to try to attack the skin-job now.
Wait. Watch. Move when I got a chance, she told herself. It was damned hard, though.
As Leoben lead her up several flights of stairs and deeper into the structure, seemly oblivious to her fuming glares, he flashed an occasional, pleased smile that might have been meant as reassuring. Her stomach twisted. The need to wipe the triumph from his face was nearly overpowering, so she forced her focus on their path instead, memorizing the layout of the prison as best she could.
Stopping before a door with a small window, Leoben unlocked it and pushed Kara inside. The small cell held only a cot, while a spigot and toilet were attached to the back wall.
All the comforts of home. Better, since the plumbing's indoors, she thought as she gave the cell a quick glance before turning back to her captor.
"This," Leoben gave a wave to indicate the cell, "is just for a day or so. Until I've prepared our place," he said.
Kara wondered what the frak he meant by that, but kept her mouth clamped shut and her sneer in place, unwilling to give the Toaster the satisfaction of seeing her confusion and fear.
Regarding her with intense eyes, Leoben smiled as he continued, "I'll be back later with dinner. We can talk then."
"Don't want to eat with you, you frakkin' Toaster. I want the frak outta here," she bit out, then cursed herself as his smile widened at her outburst.
"I understand, Kara." His head tilted slightly. "Soon, you'll understand, too." On that cryptic remark, he stepped back, obviously not willing to turn his back to her, and pulled the door closed.
Kara waited for the click of the lock and then spun away.
She grabbed the cot and upended it. Taking hold of one end, she swung the metal frame against the wall, trying to break loose a leg or strut—anything to use as a weapon. The heavy steel refused to snap, barely bending beneath her onslaught. Unleashing a scream of rage, Kara settled for tearing apart the pad, scattering the stuffing across the floor until she'd reduced it to 'fluff and tatters'.
Breathing heavily from her exertions and lingering anger, Kara stood with hands on her hips and slowly turned in place. Frowning, she considered the sanitary unit. She knelt beside the toilet, feeling around the back, searching for any fixture she could possibly pry loose.
"Son of bitch!" Starbuck cursed, rising and shaking her bleeding thumb, having caught it on the jagged edge of a bolt. She kicked at the offending metal commode before turning to pace the tiny cell, still mumbling obscenities and sucking on her wound.
Snatching a scrap of cloth from the destroyed bed, she leaned against the concrete wall and wrapped her thumb with the makeshift bandage before moving to inspect the door, rapping it with her knuckle to test its strength. If not solid metal, it was the next thing to it. And no joy on the hinges, either.
Starbuck considered for a moment trying to use the cot as a battering ram, but without a couple more people to add mass, it wouldn't do much more then scratch the paint. With her back to door, she grimly stared at the mess she'd made, and all for naught.
With a frustrated sigh, she conceded that there just wasn't anything she could use as a weapon. Then her eyes fell again on the shredded fabric…and lingered. A slow smile stretched her lips and her jade eyes took on a wicked glint as she sat down beside the tattered remnants and began to pull long strips of material free.
Casting occasional glances at the door, Kara got to work, focusing on her task and not the myriad of thoughts that threatened to swamp her. Such as 'where the frak was the Galactica' and 'was Sam ok'? No, she wouldn't let herself be distracted right now.
She started to hum and tunneled her vision to her fingers.