Word Count: 1,749
Date: 2004
Series: N/A
Rating: T
Category: Character
Pairing/Focus: Kara
Warnings:
Summary:
Spoilers/Disclaimers: Mini /
I’ve run my usual route twice. I’ve used the exercise room. I’ve used the CAG’s quarters to get a private shower. I can’t stop pacing. I’m a human being. I’ve risked my life numerous times since Judgment Day to keep the fleet safe. I’m the fleet’s best viper pilot. Now they want to treat me like a slave, with no control over my own body. Everyone has a limit. I’ve just reached mine.
Earlier today, I went to life station for a routine physical exam. As usual I’m in very good shape. As I’m about leave I’m told that I need to talk to my reproductive counselor. I say, “No thanks, I don’t want to have children.” I’m told that I need to be educated on my responsibilities to the human race and I will not receive flight fitness status until I take reproductive counseling.
So I have a meeting with my reproductive counselor. Ethel May is a soulless government functionary. Her goal is to educate me on my role in our new society, motherhood. I need to have as many healthy children as possible.
Ethel May gives me a tutorial on the fleet demographics that reinforces the importance childbearing. The Battlestar Galactica had a pre Judgment Day crew of two thousand; only two hundred four were female. I already knew that there are roughly nine male crewmembers for each female.
The largest groups of healthy survivors are the passengers and crews of long-range cruise ships. These ships have reliable FTL engines, excellent radiation protection, large stocks of food and water, and comfortable living facilitates. Because of the expense and length of time necessary to take these luxury cruises, passengers are affluent, well educated and have an average age of fifty-seven. Long separations from families and seniority with the cruise ship company were required of crewmembers on these premier liners. The average age of female crewmembers is thirty-eight. Female crewmembers only make up five percent of the population of the cruise liners.
Cargo ships, mining, and manufacturing ships have relatively small crews. Theses ships provide excellent FTL capabilities, radiation protection and generally have provisions for their crews but living space is limited. With the exception of the mining ship where heavy metal poisoning is common, the crews are healthy. Again the crews were predominantly man. The number of healthy female crewmembers eighteen to forty five years old is very small.
The rest of the fleet varies wildly from the latest in high tech luxury yachts to Colonial Movers. These ships all have some FTL capabilities, but radiation protection, food, water or adequate living condition are very limited. Over crowding increases the risk of violence, and disease. Many members of the fleet that were planet side or in planetary orbit during the attack suffered radiation poisoning. Only a fraction of the survivors have health, fertility and un-mutated eggs to become mothers to healthy children.
In summery I’m informed that there are less than four thousand fertile females between eighteen and forty-five years. There are only about three thousand girls likely to grow up to be mothers. The fleet is unable to replace its population. Every effort must be made to maximize the population.
She has the nerve to tell me that at thirty I’m not expected to have ten to twelve children. Six offspring is my goal. She tells me that eight kids might be possible.
She then starts to tell me about the benefits of motherhood. I would have quarters for my offspring and myself. Pregnant and lactating women and children under eighteen years are given special treatment if food rationing is needed. Mother’s and children get preferential medical treatment. Families are housed on the ships with the best living conditions. Education, recreation, and daycare services would be available. Motherhood would be my career. I was essential to the survival of humanity.
“So, how many children have you signed up for?” I ask.
“I’m sterile. I can only help by supporting my fertile sisters,” Ethel May replies.
“So if you can’t breed, counsel. Is that it?” I snap.
“There is no need to be hostile. Lieutenant, there are many options to make your motherhood as efficient as possible.”
Reproductive Options:
§ Traditional Family. This is the best for the children. Children with two parents are healthier and more emotionally stable. I should develop an active relationship with a male willing to assume parental responsibility. Ethel will tell me the fertility status and genetic desirability of any potential spouse. If my partner were acceptable the natural results of the relationship would be accepted. This is government speak for we could have sex in private.
§ Artificial Insemination. If I find men or the act of sex distasteful, I could have a nice clean clinical procedure. I could select from a compatible list of donors. By selecting a different donor for each pregnancy, I could serve humanity by increasing genetic diversity. I would be able to breast-feed each child longer because the beginning of the next pregnancy would be more predicable.
§ Egg donation. This option is only a partial solution. Currently there are over two thousand females who have volunteered to be surrogate mothers. These women due to age, radiation exposure, or other defect do not produce viable eggs but are capable of carrying a child to term. Given that I’m a famous viper pilot, I might find a volunteer willing to carry my child.
§ Surrogate Motherhood. If I haven’t fulfilled my maternal obligations while I still produce my own eggs I will be expected to carry someone else’s child. This is also an excellent way to maximize my contribution to humanity after having my required six children.
§ Casual Procreation. This is the least desirable option, according to Ethel. There is no control over the physical genetic fitness of the father. No commitment to the children by the father. Less predictable pregnancy rate. It may be damaging to older children to see their mother behave in an irresponsible manner.
Ethel tells me that I have some time to consider how I wish to fulfill my obligations to humanity.
Ethel then gives me her pep talk. She lets me know that there are approximately seven adult males for every fertile female. I can pretty much have my pick of men. Although I’m not eighteen and not a classic beauty, I’m attractive, very healthy and have been a viper pilot. Every man wants his son to grow up to be a viper pilot.
Ethel can help me find a man. If I’m shy, introductions can be made. She can arrange for me to go to a cruise ship, use its recreational facilities while I check out approved males.
If I’m not interested in a relationship, Ethel can arrange for ‘dates’ with genetically desirable males with no strings attached.
If I’ve had bad experiences with men or grieving over a lost love, counseling is available
I can be relieved of any current job responsibilities, in order to pursue reproductive activities. Oh. I can just see Ethel telling Apollo, that he would have to find a replacement pilot, “Starbuck can’t go on patrol she has a hot date.”
I’m a viper pilot. I’m not sure I could live if I got grounded. The Commander has to help me.
So I’ve been pacing outside the Commander’s door waiting for him to come off his shift in CIC. I know I’m breaking chain of command going straight to the Commander, but I need help.
Fifteen minutes after end of shift I knock on the Commanders door. No response.
I wait another five minutes and knock again. I get an “Enter.” When I open the hatch, The Commander says, “Starbuck have a seat. I’ve been expecting you.”
“Sir, you have to help me. I’m a pilot. I can’t fly if I’m pregnant. I’m not cut out to be a mother,” I say.
“Starbuck I know how you feel about flying. But there isn’t much I can do. Making babies is the only way for us to survive,” the Commander replies.
“Sir, this is institutionalized rape. I don’t really remember my mother. I grew up in foster and group homes. I don’t want to have kids and turn them over to the government.” I say.
“Given our current situation each child is precious. Resources are limited but children are the civilian governments top priority. Your children would be treated very well if you don’t raise them yourself. But I think you would make an excellent parent and should think about raising your children yourself,” the Commander says.
“But I don’t know how to do all sort of stuff that happens in families. I noticed all sorts of things going on when I visited your family with Zach. Selena adored Zach and Lee. Selena and Lee made sure that there were regular meals, things to do and everyone was nice nearly all the time. You all took care of each other. Zach knew what to do. He knew could count on you, his mother and Lee,” I point out.
“Selena deserves all the credit for creating and maintaining the family. I was gone most of the time. But if you marry you can expect help from your husband. Post Judgment Day, families have regained their importance. Friends and shipmates will be supportive and helpful. Think about finding a nice guy,” The Commander says with a very warm smile.
“Its unfair men aren’t forced to have sex,” I complain.
“We haven’t been able to change biology. But it’s difficult for everyone. Young men only have a one in nine chance of marriage.
“Commander, I haven’t dated or anything since Zach died. I don’t know where to start. I’m just one of the guys. I don’t want that Ethel May creature involved in my life,” I say in desperation.
“Starbuck any man would be flattered by your interest. Talk to them the way you talked to Zach. Take your time. You deserve to be loved whole-heartedly. Find love and the children will come,” he advises gently.
So the Commanders advice is: find a nice guy, fall in love and have kids. This is advice from the guy people say is a Holly Lord. This situation rots.
I go back to my quarters, I consider talking to Sharon but I remember she’s sterile