The tides had been especially rough for some reason as the Preacher floated towards the beach. He wasn't awake, nor was he aware of his surroundings. Lying face-up on a large piece of driftwood, the salty seawater lapped up on his clothing. Were he conscious, he would've been very uncomfortable.
The driftwood held no secrets to its origins: slightly curved and bowed at one end, it obviously came from some sort of small vessel.
The Preacher, lying on his back, was blissfully unaware of his current location or where he was heading. The currents had a different idea in mind. The frothy water had left the his torso virtually untouched, his personal belongings dry in his large breastpocket. Were he conscious, he would've thanked God.
The driftwood savagely lodged itself into the beachhead, launching the Preacher onto the gravelly beach.
This action woke him up.
The Preacher's eyes widened, his limbs scrambling to action. He waved his arms wildly, as if trying to fend off a phantom. It took him a few minutes to fully register where he was and to take in his new surroundings. Once he had, he immediately calmed down, and began to take off his wet clothing. He started with his sopping-wet shoes, which had taken the brunt of the ocean's beating while he was floating.
He definitely wasn't in the Colony anymore. That made the Preacher happy.
He had finally made it to the overworld. Now he just needed to ascertain where in the overworld he actually was. He peered at his surroundings, hoping they would reveal something.
He had never experienced "tropical" before; that kind of climate and topography simply didn't exist in the caves and tunnels of the Colony. Plato certainly wouldn't have allowed him, a Preacher, to experience something like this.
The sun beat down on his body, created an interesting dichotomy with the cool feeling of the water evaporating from his skin. Looking towards the inland portion of the beach, he could clearly see mountains and intense tropical jungles. That told him he was in or near the equatorial regions of Pelagia, away from the frigid poles. Away from the Colony.
Away from Plato.
Now, he just needed to make contact with somebody, anybody, to warn and inform them about the present status of the Colony. He groggily made his way up the beachhead towards the trees.
"Sir, I have an anomaly on the western portion. Our motion trackers and thermodynamic sensors have registered the presence of an unauthorized person or being in the West Beach of Caprica. I'm sending a team to recover immediately." said a woman sitting in front of a panoply of monitors. Owen McCormick nodded.
"Commence, Evangeline. I honestly don't want anything else to happen now." he said. Evangeline nodded and brought a microphone to her lips.
"Team 7, you are go to collect and detain unregistered anomaly." Evangeline put a hand to the mic and looked at Owen again.
"Any preference where you'd like them to take it?" she asked. Owen looked contemplatively towards the ceiling.
"Here, please." he said.
"Of course," she said. Taking her hand off the mic, she continued her command, "Please bring the detainee back here to Compound C."
The Preacher had steadied himself and had gotten a view of his locale. The palms and tropical foliage had hidden a great number of useful fruits and materials. This lush paradise could sustain him for weeks or months until he met somebody to tell. This was perfect. He had moved slightly higher up the beach, in order to avoid the rushing torrents of the invading tide behind. He had taken the piece of driftwood and had set it up like a protective shell, making a homely shelter. Intuition and instinct kicked in at this point. A few fruits were lying, prepared to be eaten later on. His wet clothing was drying on the hull of the shelter.
Night had quickly fallen on his tropical make-shift shelter, which was unusual for an equator position, although seasons might be the reason why. The Colony wasn't too much into seasons: dimly lit tunnels were the same year-round.
The Preacher was in the process of leaning down when he heard a low humming noise that he felt in his bones and teeth. It reminded him of the trains back in the Colony: while they were still afar, you could feel the vibrations in your body. This feeling was different.
Suddenly, a crashing through the trees gave way to a levitating vehicle which had careened itself through the foliage. Its bottom glowed a cool blue. On its topside were about 8 to 10 soldiers. The Preacher immediately stood up, holding his hands up. The soldiers held their weapons up towards him, gruffly ordering him to get onto the vehicle.
At about this point, the Preacher wondered if escaping the Colony was such a good idea.
With a gesture from one of the soldiers, the vehicle descended closer to the ground. Looking closer, it seemed like an oblong semi-walled platform. Along the partial walls that surrounded its perimeter was a wrap-around bench where the soldiers, and eventually him, sat. To the front of the vehicle was a control panel where one of the soldiers piloted the vehicle. When the Preacher was safely onboard, the same solider motioned to the pilot. Pressing on one of the toggles, the vehicle hummed to life, floating above the treeline and hovering smoothly towards a large lit compound in the distance.
The scenic route gave the Preacher to look on the horizon. Clean-cut ultramodern building dotted the lush rainforest. Compounds and electric fences traced faint outlines in the bramble, as if man was attempting to claim nature for itself. The vehicle flew over several of these compounds, flying towards one on the far side of the region. Everywhere, the Preacher saw the same insignia:
The Omega symbol.
Intrigued and perplexed, the Preacher sat still as the vehicle descended near the compound. Stenciled in an industrial font was "Compound C". One of the soldiers told the Preacher to "exit the Grav Lift", to which the Preacher cooperated and hopped off the vehicle supposedly called the Grav Lift. He followed the group inside the compound, down a flight of stairs, through several halls, and finally to a row of cells. The Preacher entered into one of the cells obediently.
If I cooperate with the natives, perhaps they will treat me more favorably. That way, I can warn them! he thought to himself.
Waiting a few minutes afterwards, a new man appeared to his cell. This man wasn't a soldier; his coat and general appearance appeared more like a scientist than a military man. After looking at each other for a few awkward moments, the man introduced himself.
"Hello; my name is Owen. I'm going to be asking you a few questions."
~