Echoes: Chapter 34 of 38
Title: Echoes
Author: EcstaticDance
Summary: Allof this has happened before, now we're going to see it happen again. But the Lords of Kobol want to see if they can possibly change it, so key characters have retained the echoes of memories which cause them to make different decisions, or experience things at different times, than in previous cycles.
Spoilers: Through Season 4
Warnings: Heavy mysticism. This is not scientifically sound, folks. It's myth-driven.
Pairings/Characters: Kara/Lee, and canon couples
Rating: M
Disclaimers: None of it is mine.
Cross-posted: Not yet.
Beta: ez_as_pi (Thank you, as always!)
Previous Chapters: At My LJ
Return to Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Lee met Romo outside the interrogation room at precisely the time they'd agreed upon. The lawyer was just closing the door behind him, grim-faced and weary-looking. He'd spent the last several hours questioning the marine who had survived Hera's kidnapping.
“She says she'll talk, but not to me. Maybe she'll prefer your pretty face to my ill-favored mug, eh?” Lampkin grimaced at him.
Lee frowned. It wasn't as if he had never questioned a witness before, but he didn't exactly have a plethora of experience, either. Maybe Romo's theory was based on his status as a former member of the military? He supposed it was possible she might be more willing to respond to someone she felt was a peer.
Rolling his shoulders back, Lee nodded. “Can't hurt, right?”
“Oh, it can hurt.” Romo assured him, stepping close. “Try not to repeat the mistakes you made with Roslin, will you? This one will be a lot harder to talk your way out of.”
“Right.” Lee took a deep breath and licked his lips before turning to the door. With deliberate movements, he placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it. He only had one chance to get this confession.
He walked in and stood behind the chair he assumed Lampkin had recently vacated. The woman across from him looked familiar, as if their paths had crossed before. Lee searched his memory for times that they might have interacted, and came up blank.
“Sgt. Harder.” He greeted her.
She huffed a laugh. “Not any more.” A strained expression crossed her face. “No more than you're a major.
His eyes narrowed. As far as he knew she'd neither requested to leave the military nor been forced out. Was she playing a game with him, or offering him something? He decided to bite, and inclined his head slowly in acknowledgment. “Ms. Harder, then.” A small, sad smile played across her face for a quick moment, then disappeared. Whatever front she might be putting up, Brandy Harder was a military woman. The lack of that title stung. That made her willingness to step away a much bolder statement than it might otherwise have been. It also gave him a context in which to deal with her. “Why?” If she was ready to make her statement, this gave her the opening she needed. If not, she could talk around the point until he managed to steer her into it unaware.
She looked at him, unflinching. “The same reason you did, sir.”
He almost smiled at her use of formal address before her actual words registered in his mind. He blinked once and quirked an eyebrow at her, wondering if she was going to say more. The memory that came back to him was one that he hadn't expected. This was the marine who had let him escape with Roslin when they'd tried to thwart his father's military coup d'etat. Both he and the president had talked of doing the right thing, and standing up for what one believed in. He was starting to connect the dots.
Once it was clear that she'd offer no more, he prompted her. “And so the ends justify the means?”
He watched as a million unspoken thoughts and half-formed emotions flitted across her face. The same reaction could be expected from any soldier when asked why they continued to fight in the face of seemingly impossible odds. Resisting the urge to reach out to her, to tell her he understood, he waited for her to speak.
“I've spent what feels like my whole frakking life fighting the cylons.” Harder finally responded. “And now, Starbuck comes back from the dead, another cylon for all we know, and goes off on her own for a couple months, then brings back a whole frakking baseship to live in the middle of our fleet. You and Roslin and the admiral all shake hands with them and turn them loose and expect us to act like everything is forgiven. But it doesn't work that way. There is nothing those frakking skin jobs can do or say that will give me back my boyfriend, my parents... my life. I was looking for someone who gets it, someone who understands that we can't survive, we can't be true to ourselves, if we're always having to hold back that anger and hurt and pretend that it doesn't exist. I mean, it was bad enough when it was just a handful of them that we had under our eyes all the time, and could judge by themselves, but this...” She stopped and looked up at him, her face set with determination. “I'm sorry, sir. I'm from Caprica, so you're my representative, and I respect you, but I can't follow someone who won't fight the cylons.”
Lee stood, stunned by the little speech he'd just heard. Having been so wrapped up in Kara and her return and her absolute faith, he'd forgotten to take into account the mood of the general public. He still believed he'd made the right choice. Kara had seen something, understood something there while they'd been standing beside her viper that went beyond public opinion and matters of practicality. Even from a pragmatic standpoint, the choice had been an obvious one. The damaged baseship could repair itself, given time. Now that it was mostly repaired, it doubled both their offensive and defensive power. The extra pilots didn't hurt, either.
But, Roslin's closed-lip policies hadn't done them any favors. He understood her reasoning. Just trying to keep the “Capricans” at a point that resembled grudgingly satisfied left him drained and exhausted. To call any effort to make all of humanity happy a losing battle was to be almost unreasonably optimistic. The problem with surrendering that fight, however, sat across the table from him, staring him calmly in the face and reminding him that he'd done the same himself not so long ago.
He'd been so young then. Would he still make the same decision if the choice were put in front of him today? The question had bothered him
before, but it took on a new meaning in light of an actual confession. The answer, he realized, was yes. If he felt he had no other way to influence what was happening, he would absolutely have been willing to get involved with Zarek's rebellion. Shame layered itself over well-aged guilt, and Lee swallowed hard. He only needed to get one last piece of the puzzle.
“And so when Zarek asked you to hand Hera - the child of one of those cylons you've had time to get to know and to trust... the child of a human that you've worked closely with for years - when Zarek asked you to hand her to Tory Foster, you agreed.” He didn't allow his voice to hold any trace of question. He knew it was true. All they needed was confirmation. “You did this, knowing that the child was wanted for cylon experiments that will likely cost Hera her life. Do the ends justify the means, Ms. Harder?” His tone hardened. Whatever mistakes had been made... Lee closed his eyes and an image of Elpis, drugged and tied up, floated in the darkness behind his eyelids. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that this wasn't about him or his family.
When he opened his eyes again, Brandy met his gaze. Her eyes were bright, in defiance of unshed tears. “It was what she needed to agree to get the cylons to leave us the frak alone. Sometimes, you've gotta roll the hard six, right?” There was an unspoken plea for understanding and forgiveness in her statement.
But for better or worse, that forgiveness was not his to give.
He set his shoulders and sighed. “Thank you, Ms. Harder.” He took a step backwards before pivoting and exiting the room. After telling the guards they could bring the prisoner back to her cell, he looked at Lampkin. “I think we've got it.”
﴿﴾
Bill glanced at Laura, then turned back to Lee in disbelief. “So you're suggesting we let Zarek walk?” He'd been caught off guard, just beginning his morning ritual. Lee looked like he might not have slept all night.
His son's mouth thinned for a moment before he answered.
“No. We can't do that. Murder, abduction, treason... we've got too much on him. All I'm saying is that we can't convict him and kill him without addressing the concerns of the people. He managed all this because we haven't been listening to anyone but ourselves, and we haven't been communicating with anyone but ourselves.”
Bill frowned, not sure he liked where this was going, but remained silent.
“This is Baltar's trial all over again.” Lee continued. “If... when... this trial goes public, it won't be about Zarek. It'll be about us, and what we have or have not done about the cylons. It'll be about the destruction of the Colonies, and everything that happened on New Caprica. It'll be about this alliance that they had no say in. It'll be about how we still have not found Earth. We need to do something to show people that we hear them and that we're responding to them.”
Laura stepped in before he could react, so Bill bit his tongue and waited.
“And, as the main author of this alliance that seems to have people up in arms, what do you suggest we do, Mr. Adama?” Her voice was cool, and the barb perfectly placed. Bill had always admired that about her.
Lee winced in response. “Yes, I played a key part in this. It was necessary. Galactica's on her last leg--”
“Watch it.” The Admiral could feel his anger boiling up. His ship was not dying. It was bad enough the president was killing herself, ensconced in his quarters and forcing him to watch as her hair fell out and her body withered. He loved her, could and had forgiven her everything and anything. He couldn't imagine being separated from her, unable to help her or support her. He couldn't bear to lose more than her. He couldn't survive watching them both slip away together. “This is still the finest ship in the fleet.”
He shook off the comforting hand Roslin tried to extend to him and watched as Lee struggled with a flush of anger, then shoved his hands
into his pockets and carried on as if his father hadn't said anything. “Galactica is on her last leg, and we need the baseship to defend the rest of the fleet if we can't find a habitable rock. We need the pilots, and if... when, at this point... we confront the other cylons, we are sure as hell going to need their intelligence.”
“That doesn't answer my question, Lee.”
The younger Adama looked down at the carpeted deck. Bill could tell he was clenching his teeth. That muscle along his jaw was twitching. His throat tightened as he was overwhelmed by the memory of the little boy who had been so proud to show off everything he'd learned while his father had been away. Bright blue eyes and sunshine and bicycles and improvised pyramid courts. It had slipped away so gradually Bill hadn't realized it until one day he showed up for a visit and the boy was gone, replaced by a cold stranger who was everything a father could ever hope for, but so distant that it was clear they'd never really know each other.
When Lee finally answered, his voice was quiet. “We go after Hera.” He looked up at them - the leaders of humanity, his father and his mentor - with the confident eyes of that stranger who had greeted Bill at the door so long ago. “We execute Zarek, we re-organize the quorum so that representatives come from each ship and know their constituents, instead of from planets that we hardly remember anymore and don't tie us together, and we go after Hera, Tory, and Boomer. We vow to finish off whatever cylons we find there, and bring Hera back.”
The admiral answered. “We'll take your suggestion under advisement. Dismissed.”
Lee was still soldier enough to not argue, and came close to saluting before he left. Pushing himself back from his desk, Bill started toward the head. He needed to shave. He'd not made it more than two steps when Laura stopped him.
“You don't like the idea.” Her voice was nearly accusatory.
“No more than I liked it when Starbuck and Sam suggested it.” He wouldn't defend himself, but he would at least offer her the respect of stopping to listen. “You?”
“His ideas about reorganizing the quorum have merit. I think he's right, actually. We've lost touch with the people, at least in part, because we aren't the same people we were when we started this journey.” Sorrow clouded her face. “And you know how I feel about Hera. I made mistakes, I admit that, but I still think we need to do everything in our power to get her back. The fact that Tory, Tory of all people, took her makes me wish I was back on my medication just so that I could jump in a raptor and chase them myself.” As if to illustrate her inability to do exactly that, a coughing fit interrupted her. Still gasping and clutching at her chair for support, Laura continued. “I knew she'd be safer if the
cylons didn't know about her.” Her face crumpled, and she looked as if the weight of an entire world had settled on her shoulders.
Bill sighed and turned back around, intent on finally shaving. Instead he noticed something in the mirror, something on the wall above the doorframe. He turned to make sure it wasn't a smudge on the glass. A gash, four inches wide and three feet long, had opened in the wall of his quarters sometime over night.
“What is it, Bill?” Laura stood and walked slowly over to him. “Bill? Are you alright?” He backed away a step and pulled her in, turning her around to see what he was looking at. “Oh, Bill,” she gasped and laid a frail hand over his.
This is what Galen and Lee had been trying to tell him. His ship was disintegrating as surely as their fleet was falling apart. He gripped the fragile shoulders under his hands, seeking the strength that had carried them all so far. He needed that strength now.
Bill abandoned the idea of shaving. A few quick calls canceled all of his appointments for the day. Lee was right. But he needed time to say goodbye to his life's work.
Laura returned to sickbay, exhausted by their meeting with Lee and the subsequent realization of just how deep and thorough the damage to
the Galactica was.
The knock at the hatch made him jump.
He barked a rough, “Come,” and Saul walked in. He handed his best friend a drink and motioned toward his couch. “I've made a decision, Saul.”
The taller man grunted his approval. “Finally going to send those toaster work crews packin' are you?”
Bill almost laughed at the irony. “No. We're going to stop all repairs on the ship, and the work crews are going to start stripping her. We're abandoning ship.”
“You can't be serious.” Saul regarded him with his remaining eye.
Bill was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I can. I want all the civilians off by tomorrow, and the crew by the end of the week. This ship is dying, and I can't let humanity die with her any more than I can change what you are.” He looked over at the gray-haired man sitting next to him. How often had they sat like this? “Whatever else you might be, you're also the best officer, and friend, I've ever had.” He thought for a moment longer. His ship was dying and his best friend was a cylon. But not all cylons were the same, just as not all humans were the same. “But we're going to send her off in style.” He raised his glass. “To the best ship in the fleet.”
Saul's eye narrowed, considering him. After a long moment he raised his glass as well. “To the Galactica.”
﴿﴾
“Thomas Zarek, you are under arrest, charged with abduction, treason and murder. If you do not come with us quietly, we are authorized to use whatever force is necessary.”
Tom looked up, blinking in disbelief at the marines who had just entered his office. They were absolutely serious. He sighed, then stood up and held out his wrists for them.
“You know the accusations are baseless, right? They're just trying to silence the voice of the people.” Godsdamned soldiers didn't know truth when they heard it. They were too accustomed to taking orders. “How do you feel about it, really? The alliance with the cylons? Do you feel safe with dozens of them walking around the halls of Galactica completely unguarded?” A flicker of acknowledgment, someone who might listen. “And carrying weapons! We don't even trust our own civilians enough with guns to have a proper police force! Yet we let these machines loose in our fleet with weapons that could destroy a ship with a single strike... but Roslin and Adama don't want to hear that, don't want to hear that the people aren't happy with their choices, don't want to believe that they don't have all the answers.”
Lee Adama appeared in the doorway, then. Lee Adama, who spoke the language of democracy while wielding the rod of dictatorship. The younger man's face was stony, and Tom could tell he was displeased with the little speech that had just finished. Tom smiled. “Mr. Adama. I should have known.”
“Yes, you should have. Get him out of here.” Something that almost looked like regret flashed through the younger man's eyes, and Tom made a note to examine it with him next time they spoke. They would speak again, of course. The few loose ends he hadn't managed to tie up were buried so deep it would practically take a god to unearth them. Besides, everything he'd done had been in the name of justice and democracy. Lee had to recognize that and come to him.
The Marines didn't escort him to the hanger deck. Instead, he found himself standing in an empty airlock. Lee made a brief gesture, and one of the marines tied Tom's legs together. Panic threatened, but he shoved it down, stayed calm. “What about due process, Lee? What about democracy and the system? I thought you believed in those things. You know you'll regret it if you go through with this.” He flashed a confident, winning smile. Half the secret of getting people to agree with you is to believe what you told them.
Lee nodded, hands in his pockets and shoulders pulled forward. The past few months had aged him even more than the years since they'd first met on the Astral Queen. Suddenly, he pulled a flask of amber liquid from his pocket, opened the top and held it out.
“I probably will regret it, but... you've already been tried.”
Already tried? How had they found...? But it didn't matter. He'd taken chances, been sloppy. Done was done. Tom smiled and accepted the bottle, tipping it up, letting the liquid run slowly down his throat. Bluster wouldn't work with Lee Adama. It never had. He looked at the floor as he handed the bottle back and laughed quietly. “Apollo. God of War and Healing.” He raised his eyes to meet Lee's once more. “You finally picked a side, did you?”
Lee watched him silently; unsmiling, unblinking. “I don't think you ever understood what the sides really were.” The boy's eyes were wide and held a sorrow that made Tom's heart race.
“You don't have to do this, Lee. I haven't done anything illegal.”
“Yes, I have to.” Lee responded as he stepped back, finishing the thought as glass doors slid shut between them. “And I won't regret this nearly as much as I regret getting between you and Starbuck's bullet on the Astral Queen.”
Tom Zarek felt a tug and then nothing, until a bright, blue-green light surrounded him. He looked around, trying to figure out what had
happened. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Captain Thrace, who leveled a calculating look in his direction.
“In a way, I suppose I should feel thankful to you,” she said when she finally broke her silence. “I don't think I would have been able to convince them to go after Hera without your games, and I know that's the next step on our journey.” She took a step closer, and in her eyes he saw reflected all the sins he'd committed in the sight of the gods. “But I don't,” she snarled. Raising an arm, she pointed to a path that had suddenly appeared off to one side. “Remember, Zarek. We all make our own hell.” She turned, and was gone.
Continue to Chapter 35
Author: EcstaticDance
Summary: Allof this has happened before, now we're going to see it happen again. But the Lords of Kobol want to see if they can possibly change it, so key characters have retained the echoes of memories which cause them to make different decisions, or experience things at different times, than in previous cycles.
Spoilers: Through Season 4
Warnings: Heavy mysticism. This is not scientifically sound, folks. It's myth-driven.
Pairings/Characters: Kara/Lee, and canon couples
Rating: M
Disclaimers: None of it is mine.
Cross-posted: Not yet.
Beta: ez_as_pi (Thank you, as always!)
Previous Chapters: At My LJ
Return to Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Lee met Romo outside the interrogation room at precisely the time they'd agreed upon. The lawyer was just closing the door behind him, grim-faced and weary-looking. He'd spent the last several hours questioning the marine who had survived Hera's kidnapping.
“She says she'll talk, but not to me. Maybe she'll prefer your pretty face to my ill-favored mug, eh?” Lampkin grimaced at him.
Lee frowned. It wasn't as if he had never questioned a witness before, but he didn't exactly have a plethora of experience, either. Maybe Romo's theory was based on his status as a former member of the military? He supposed it was possible she might be more willing to respond to someone she felt was a peer.
Rolling his shoulders back, Lee nodded. “Can't hurt, right?”
“Oh, it can hurt.” Romo assured him, stepping close. “Try not to repeat the mistakes you made with Roslin, will you? This one will be a lot harder to talk your way out of.”
“Right.” Lee took a deep breath and licked his lips before turning to the door. With deliberate movements, he placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it. He only had one chance to get this confession.
He walked in and stood behind the chair he assumed Lampkin had recently vacated. The woman across from him looked familiar, as if their paths had crossed before. Lee searched his memory for times that they might have interacted, and came up blank.
“Sgt. Harder.” He greeted her.
She huffed a laugh. “Not any more.” A strained expression crossed her face. “No more than you're a major.
His eyes narrowed. As far as he knew she'd neither requested to leave the military nor been forced out. Was she playing a game with him, or offering him something? He decided to bite, and inclined his head slowly in acknowledgment. “Ms. Harder, then.” A small, sad smile played across her face for a quick moment, then disappeared. Whatever front she might be putting up, Brandy Harder was a military woman. The lack of that title stung. That made her willingness to step away a much bolder statement than it might otherwise have been. It also gave him a context in which to deal with her. “Why?” If she was ready to make her statement, this gave her the opening she needed. If not, she could talk around the point until he managed to steer her into it unaware.
She looked at him, unflinching. “The same reason you did, sir.”
He almost smiled at her use of formal address before her actual words registered in his mind. He blinked once and quirked an eyebrow at her, wondering if she was going to say more. The memory that came back to him was one that he hadn't expected. This was the marine who had let him escape with Roslin when they'd tried to thwart his father's military coup d'etat. Both he and the president had talked of doing the right thing, and standing up for what one believed in. He was starting to connect the dots.
Once it was clear that she'd offer no more, he prompted her. “And so the ends justify the means?”
He watched as a million unspoken thoughts and half-formed emotions flitted across her face. The same reaction could be expected from any soldier when asked why they continued to fight in the face of seemingly impossible odds. Resisting the urge to reach out to her, to tell her he understood, he waited for her to speak.
“I've spent what feels like my whole frakking life fighting the cylons.” Harder finally responded. “And now, Starbuck comes back from the dead, another cylon for all we know, and goes off on her own for a couple months, then brings back a whole frakking baseship to live in the middle of our fleet. You and Roslin and the admiral all shake hands with them and turn them loose and expect us to act like everything is forgiven. But it doesn't work that way. There is nothing those frakking skin jobs can do or say that will give me back my boyfriend, my parents... my life. I was looking for someone who gets it, someone who understands that we can't survive, we can't be true to ourselves, if we're always having to hold back that anger and hurt and pretend that it doesn't exist. I mean, it was bad enough when it was just a handful of them that we had under our eyes all the time, and could judge by themselves, but this...” She stopped and looked up at him, her face set with determination. “I'm sorry, sir. I'm from Caprica, so you're my representative, and I respect you, but I can't follow someone who won't fight the cylons.”
Lee stood, stunned by the little speech he'd just heard. Having been so wrapped up in Kara and her return and her absolute faith, he'd forgotten to take into account the mood of the general public. He still believed he'd made the right choice. Kara had seen something, understood something there while they'd been standing beside her viper that went beyond public opinion and matters of practicality. Even from a pragmatic standpoint, the choice had been an obvious one. The damaged baseship could repair itself, given time. Now that it was mostly repaired, it doubled both their offensive and defensive power. The extra pilots didn't hurt, either.
But, Roslin's closed-lip policies hadn't done them any favors. He understood her reasoning. Just trying to keep the “Capricans” at a point that resembled grudgingly satisfied left him drained and exhausted. To call any effort to make all of humanity happy a losing battle was to be almost unreasonably optimistic. The problem with surrendering that fight, however, sat across the table from him, staring him calmly in the face and reminding him that he'd done the same himself not so long ago.
He'd been so young then. Would he still make the same decision if the choice were put in front of him today? The question had bothered him
before, but it took on a new meaning in light of an actual confession. The answer, he realized, was yes. If he felt he had no other way to influence what was happening, he would absolutely have been willing to get involved with Zarek's rebellion. Shame layered itself over well-aged guilt, and Lee swallowed hard. He only needed to get one last piece of the puzzle.
“And so when Zarek asked you to hand Hera - the child of one of those cylons you've had time to get to know and to trust... the child of a human that you've worked closely with for years - when Zarek asked you to hand her to Tory Foster, you agreed.” He didn't allow his voice to hold any trace of question. He knew it was true. All they needed was confirmation. “You did this, knowing that the child was wanted for cylon experiments that will likely cost Hera her life. Do the ends justify the means, Ms. Harder?” His tone hardened. Whatever mistakes had been made... Lee closed his eyes and an image of Elpis, drugged and tied up, floated in the darkness behind his eyelids. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that this wasn't about him or his family.
When he opened his eyes again, Brandy met his gaze. Her eyes were bright, in defiance of unshed tears. “It was what she needed to agree to get the cylons to leave us the frak alone. Sometimes, you've gotta roll the hard six, right?” There was an unspoken plea for understanding and forgiveness in her statement.
But for better or worse, that forgiveness was not his to give.
He set his shoulders and sighed. “Thank you, Ms. Harder.” He took a step backwards before pivoting and exiting the room. After telling the guards they could bring the prisoner back to her cell, he looked at Lampkin. “I think we've got it.”
﴿﴾
Bill glanced at Laura, then turned back to Lee in disbelief. “So you're suggesting we let Zarek walk?” He'd been caught off guard, just beginning his morning ritual. Lee looked like he might not have slept all night.
His son's mouth thinned for a moment before he answered.
“No. We can't do that. Murder, abduction, treason... we've got too much on him. All I'm saying is that we can't convict him and kill him without addressing the concerns of the people. He managed all this because we haven't been listening to anyone but ourselves, and we haven't been communicating with anyone but ourselves.”
Bill frowned, not sure he liked where this was going, but remained silent.
“This is Baltar's trial all over again.” Lee continued. “If... when... this trial goes public, it won't be about Zarek. It'll be about us, and what we have or have not done about the cylons. It'll be about the destruction of the Colonies, and everything that happened on New Caprica. It'll be about this alliance that they had no say in. It'll be about how we still have not found Earth. We need to do something to show people that we hear them and that we're responding to them.”
Laura stepped in before he could react, so Bill bit his tongue and waited.
“And, as the main author of this alliance that seems to have people up in arms, what do you suggest we do, Mr. Adama?” Her voice was cool, and the barb perfectly placed. Bill had always admired that about her.
Lee winced in response. “Yes, I played a key part in this. It was necessary. Galactica's on her last leg--”
“Watch it.” The Admiral could feel his anger boiling up. His ship was not dying. It was bad enough the president was killing herself, ensconced in his quarters and forcing him to watch as her hair fell out and her body withered. He loved her, could and had forgiven her everything and anything. He couldn't imagine being separated from her, unable to help her or support her. He couldn't bear to lose more than her. He couldn't survive watching them both slip away together. “This is still the finest ship in the fleet.”
He shook off the comforting hand Roslin tried to extend to him and watched as Lee struggled with a flush of anger, then shoved his hands
into his pockets and carried on as if his father hadn't said anything. “Galactica is on her last leg, and we need the baseship to defend the rest of the fleet if we can't find a habitable rock. We need the pilots, and if... when, at this point... we confront the other cylons, we are sure as hell going to need their intelligence.”
“That doesn't answer my question, Lee.”
The younger Adama looked down at the carpeted deck. Bill could tell he was clenching his teeth. That muscle along his jaw was twitching. His throat tightened as he was overwhelmed by the memory of the little boy who had been so proud to show off everything he'd learned while his father had been away. Bright blue eyes and sunshine and bicycles and improvised pyramid courts. It had slipped away so gradually Bill hadn't realized it until one day he showed up for a visit and the boy was gone, replaced by a cold stranger who was everything a father could ever hope for, but so distant that it was clear they'd never really know each other.
When Lee finally answered, his voice was quiet. “We go after Hera.” He looked up at them - the leaders of humanity, his father and his mentor - with the confident eyes of that stranger who had greeted Bill at the door so long ago. “We execute Zarek, we re-organize the quorum so that representatives come from each ship and know their constituents, instead of from planets that we hardly remember anymore and don't tie us together, and we go after Hera, Tory, and Boomer. We vow to finish off whatever cylons we find there, and bring Hera back.”
The admiral answered. “We'll take your suggestion under advisement. Dismissed.”
Lee was still soldier enough to not argue, and came close to saluting before he left. Pushing himself back from his desk, Bill started toward the head. He needed to shave. He'd not made it more than two steps when Laura stopped him.
“You don't like the idea.” Her voice was nearly accusatory.
“No more than I liked it when Starbuck and Sam suggested it.” He wouldn't defend himself, but he would at least offer her the respect of stopping to listen. “You?”
“His ideas about reorganizing the quorum have merit. I think he's right, actually. We've lost touch with the people, at least in part, because we aren't the same people we were when we started this journey.” Sorrow clouded her face. “And you know how I feel about Hera. I made mistakes, I admit that, but I still think we need to do everything in our power to get her back. The fact that Tory, Tory of all people, took her makes me wish I was back on my medication just so that I could jump in a raptor and chase them myself.” As if to illustrate her inability to do exactly that, a coughing fit interrupted her. Still gasping and clutching at her chair for support, Laura continued. “I knew she'd be safer if the
cylons didn't know about her.” Her face crumpled, and she looked as if the weight of an entire world had settled on her shoulders.
Bill sighed and turned back around, intent on finally shaving. Instead he noticed something in the mirror, something on the wall above the doorframe. He turned to make sure it wasn't a smudge on the glass. A gash, four inches wide and three feet long, had opened in the wall of his quarters sometime over night.
“What is it, Bill?” Laura stood and walked slowly over to him. “Bill? Are you alright?” He backed away a step and pulled her in, turning her around to see what he was looking at. “Oh, Bill,” she gasped and laid a frail hand over his.
This is what Galen and Lee had been trying to tell him. His ship was disintegrating as surely as their fleet was falling apart. He gripped the fragile shoulders under his hands, seeking the strength that had carried them all so far. He needed that strength now.
Bill abandoned the idea of shaving. A few quick calls canceled all of his appointments for the day. Lee was right. But he needed time to say goodbye to his life's work.
Laura returned to sickbay, exhausted by their meeting with Lee and the subsequent realization of just how deep and thorough the damage to
the Galactica was.
The knock at the hatch made him jump.
He barked a rough, “Come,” and Saul walked in. He handed his best friend a drink and motioned toward his couch. “I've made a decision, Saul.”
The taller man grunted his approval. “Finally going to send those toaster work crews packin' are you?”
Bill almost laughed at the irony. “No. We're going to stop all repairs on the ship, and the work crews are going to start stripping her. We're abandoning ship.”
“You can't be serious.” Saul regarded him with his remaining eye.
Bill was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I can. I want all the civilians off by tomorrow, and the crew by the end of the week. This ship is dying, and I can't let humanity die with her any more than I can change what you are.” He looked over at the gray-haired man sitting next to him. How often had they sat like this? “Whatever else you might be, you're also the best officer, and friend, I've ever had.” He thought for a moment longer. His ship was dying and his best friend was a cylon. But not all cylons were the same, just as not all humans were the same. “But we're going to send her off in style.” He raised his glass. “To the best ship in the fleet.”
Saul's eye narrowed, considering him. After a long moment he raised his glass as well. “To the Galactica.”
﴿﴾
“Thomas Zarek, you are under arrest, charged with abduction, treason and murder. If you do not come with us quietly, we are authorized to use whatever force is necessary.”
Tom looked up, blinking in disbelief at the marines who had just entered his office. They were absolutely serious. He sighed, then stood up and held out his wrists for them.
“You know the accusations are baseless, right? They're just trying to silence the voice of the people.” Godsdamned soldiers didn't know truth when they heard it. They were too accustomed to taking orders. “How do you feel about it, really? The alliance with the cylons? Do you feel safe with dozens of them walking around the halls of Galactica completely unguarded?” A flicker of acknowledgment, someone who might listen. “And carrying weapons! We don't even trust our own civilians enough with guns to have a proper police force! Yet we let these machines loose in our fleet with weapons that could destroy a ship with a single strike... but Roslin and Adama don't want to hear that, don't want to hear that the people aren't happy with their choices, don't want to believe that they don't have all the answers.”
Lee Adama appeared in the doorway, then. Lee Adama, who spoke the language of democracy while wielding the rod of dictatorship. The younger man's face was stony, and Tom could tell he was displeased with the little speech that had just finished. Tom smiled. “Mr. Adama. I should have known.”
“Yes, you should have. Get him out of here.” Something that almost looked like regret flashed through the younger man's eyes, and Tom made a note to examine it with him next time they spoke. They would speak again, of course. The few loose ends he hadn't managed to tie up were buried so deep it would practically take a god to unearth them. Besides, everything he'd done had been in the name of justice and democracy. Lee had to recognize that and come to him.
The Marines didn't escort him to the hanger deck. Instead, he found himself standing in an empty airlock. Lee made a brief gesture, and one of the marines tied Tom's legs together. Panic threatened, but he shoved it down, stayed calm. “What about due process, Lee? What about democracy and the system? I thought you believed in those things. You know you'll regret it if you go through with this.” He flashed a confident, winning smile. Half the secret of getting people to agree with you is to believe what you told them.
Lee nodded, hands in his pockets and shoulders pulled forward. The past few months had aged him even more than the years since they'd first met on the Astral Queen. Suddenly, he pulled a flask of amber liquid from his pocket, opened the top and held it out.
“I probably will regret it, but... you've already been tried.”
Already tried? How had they found...? But it didn't matter. He'd taken chances, been sloppy. Done was done. Tom smiled and accepted the bottle, tipping it up, letting the liquid run slowly down his throat. Bluster wouldn't work with Lee Adama. It never had. He looked at the floor as he handed the bottle back and laughed quietly. “Apollo. God of War and Healing.” He raised his eyes to meet Lee's once more. “You finally picked a side, did you?”
Lee watched him silently; unsmiling, unblinking. “I don't think you ever understood what the sides really were.” The boy's eyes were wide and held a sorrow that made Tom's heart race.
“You don't have to do this, Lee. I haven't done anything illegal.”
“Yes, I have to.” Lee responded as he stepped back, finishing the thought as glass doors slid shut between them. “And I won't regret this nearly as much as I regret getting between you and Starbuck's bullet on the Astral Queen.”
Tom Zarek felt a tug and then nothing, until a bright, blue-green light surrounded him. He looked around, trying to figure out what had
happened. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Captain Thrace, who leveled a calculating look in his direction.
“In a way, I suppose I should feel thankful to you,” she said when she finally broke her silence. “I don't think I would have been able to convince them to go after Hera without your games, and I know that's the next step on our journey.” She took a step closer, and in her eyes he saw reflected all the sins he'd committed in the sight of the gods. “But I don't,” she snarled. Raising an arm, she pointed to a path that had suddenly appeared off to one side. “Remember, Zarek. We all make our own hell.” She turned, and was gone.
Continue to Chapter 35