The Space Between Us- Chapter 6

[mutantwrites]

CHAPTER 6: After the Storm

Back to Chapter 5, part 2

The infirmary was quiet. After the excitement of the past few hours, it felt like it should be busier, but Sharon realized just how few people knew exactly what had happened in the brig of Galactica.

"You all right?" she asked Kara.

"Yeah," Kara said, flexing her shoulder. "Bitch took the bullet."

Sharon sighed. "Is Racetrack all right?" she rephrased.

"She'll live." Kara's face was hard and angry, and Sharon couldn't blame her in the least. "At least until the Old Man sees her."

"Hey," Sharon asked, "what happened to the grenade you threw?"

"Never pulled the pin," Kara said, with a huge grin. "Threw the frakkers off, but didn't damage the ship. It was hysterical."

Sharon managed a smile in response, although she suspected that later, she'd think it was pretty funny as well. But right now she really didn't feel like laughing.

Kara boosted herself off of the exam table, her hospital gown fluttering with the motion. She pushed it off and began shrugging on her uniform. "How's Hera?"

"Fine. Thornton isn't doing so well, though." Sharon glanced across the infirmary. "Or Caprica Six."

"Yeah, well, that's the price, I guess," Kara said.

"The price of what?" Sharon demanded sharply. Kara shrugged. "Kara, what's been going on with you?"

"You care?" Kara asked sharply. "After convincing your husband to mutiny against me?"

Sharon bit down the response she wanted to make to that. "I meant since Earth," she said. Kara didn't answer. Instead, she just fastened her pants and began to lace up her boots. "Kara-"

"I'm fine," Kara snapped. She glanced over at where Cottle was treating Lieutenant Conoy. "Frakking freaks me out to see a Two in uniform," she muttered, and then stalked off to where Adama was talking to Lee.

Sharon found herself drifting over to Conoy. She remembered him from her days before Galatica, vaguely, as a part of the Two line. He hadn't had the goatee then, or the look of grief he had in his eyes. He sat on the examination table wearing Fleet tanks and underwear, idly playing with his dog tags as Cottle stitched his leg.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

"I guess," Jesse said. "The wound's not bad."

Cottle looked up from his stitching and gave Sharon a quick nod. He didn't shoo her away, so Sharon leaned against the wall, watching the process. "You going to be in here overnight?"

"Yes," Cottle answered for him.

"I need to-"

"You need to rest, and I need to keep an eye on you, Lieutenant," Cottle said sternly. "Now hold still."

"Will I be able to see Louis tonight, then?" Jesse asked Cottle. Cottle's didn't look up, but his face darkened. "I'm worried about him, and I really would like-"

Cottle continued stitching. "Lieutenant Hoshi has asked for no visitors," he said. "I'm going to respect his wishes on this one."

Sharon looked at Jesse, and she saw the frustration there, that dedication and determination that seemed to be a part of the Twos' programming, almost to the point of obsession. She reached out and touched his arm.

"Give him space," she said softly. He opened his mouth to argue and she changed the subject. "You've taken your first bullet for the Colonial Fleet," she said. "Are you regretting it?"

"Not at all," he said.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why did you do it?"

"Why did I take a bullet? It wasn't exactly my choice."

"No. Why did you join the Fleet? You didn't have so much as a memory of what the humans are like or being a part of them, and you didn't have any real attachments."

Cottle tied off his stitches, but he stayed on his stool, not interrupting. Sharon had the impression he very much wanted to hear Jesse's answer as well. Jesse was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, "When I voted for the plan to eradicate humanity, I could only see what they had done wrong. The enslavement of our Centurion brothers, the violence, the pettiness, the way they treat each other… it's all there, in gory pulsing reds, in patterns like water on glass. I was convinced that what we were doing was right.

"I never thought much about humans until we were on New Caprica, and I began to see different patterns. Sarah saw it, too. And when we made that commitment to each other…" he shook his head. "I knew it was the most important thing I'd ever done in my life. And humans had conceived of it. And I began to wonder what else we hadn't imagined that humans had."

"New Caprica," Cottle snorted. "Funny place to find the good in humanity."

"I found a lot, you know, although it took me a long time to believe it," Jesse said. "We'd seen the depths they could sink to, but not the heights they could rise to, and as I began to open my eyes and pay attention to those, I had the uneasy feeling that I'd been wrong. That we'd been wrong. That what we'd done…" He shook his head. "It was unspeakable. That was why I voted for our mortality, why I was willing to make the break with our brethren."

Sharon nodded.

"And then when I lost Sarah…" he shut his eyes. "It's been like no pain I've ever imagined. To know that I'll never see her again, that I'll never hold her… it's like a piece of me is torn away. It hurts, but God, it's sacred. This is what it means to love, and for all that it hurts… I'd never give it up. But when I walked through our baseship, they didn't understand. Mortality is still so new to us- loss and grief and even pain are still so new to us- it was only among the humans that I learned how to cope with it. They gave me the inestimable. I was ready to give back."

Cottle wound Jesse's leg with a bandage. "You're all set, Lieutenant," he said. "I want you to rest. I'll check in on you later." He patted Jesse on the shoulder. "And if Hoshi wants a visitor, I'll tell him you're here."

"Thank you." They watched Cottle leave.

"You should rest," Sharon said. "Cottle knows what he's doing."

"I will," Jesse said. Sharon helped him lay down. He smiled grimly at her. "We are a sight, aren't we? Who would have ever thought?"

Sharon leaned over and kissed him on the forehead like a proud older sister. "Get some rest," she said, and drew the curtains around him as she stepped away.

The heights that humans could rise to. Sharon thought of Helo, thought of the CIC, the pilots who accepted her, her callsign and the family that was formed on Galactica, fractured as it was. She thought of Racetrack changing her mind, of Kara risking everything, of Adama ensuring justice, even though it cost him a piece of his soul. The heights and the glories and the good in humanity. With a deliberate effort, she consigned the memories of the cell and Lieutenant Thorne back to the recesses of her memory, pushing them down and leaving them there, hopefully never to look on them again.

***

Lieutenant Hoshi had said no visitors, but there was a difference between a visitor and a commanding officer. Bill pushed the curtain aside and entered the cubicle.

Hoshi was lying on his stomach, a sheet pulled up over his waist to protect from the inevitable gap in a hospital gown. His chin was resting on his crossed arms, and his was staring into space. There were no monitors in here. Bill pulled a chair over and sat down.

"Lieutenant."

Hoshi glared at him, but apparently knew better than to comment on the intrusion. "Admiral."

Bill had had many difficult encounters in his life, but this one was already ranking up there in the top ten. He had absolutely no idea of what to say to the soldier in front of him. "I'm sorry that this happened on my ship."

Hoshi shrugged. "Thank you, sir." The words hadn't touched him. But then, Bill didn't expect them to, and there were other matters to deal with.

"I understand you shot two of them after they stood down."

"Yes, sir."

Adama sighed. "I can't let that slide."

"I know, sir."

"I also need you on duty. With Sian dead and Gage in the hack, we've lost two of our Communications officers," Adama sighed. "You've got a month of sewage shifts on top of your CIC shifts, once you're approved for heavy lifting.

"Yes, sir."

Bill was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "Cottle's given you clearance to leave the infirmary after tonight. I expect you to report for duty in the CIC at 0800 hours tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

Bill stood up. "Get some rest, Lieutenant." He left the cubicle with a sense of relief that he didn't want to admit to himself.

Cottle was watching him. "You're putting him on duty?"

"Don't have much of a choice," Bill said. "I'm down two Communications officers, and Thornton's not going to be in any position to come back on for a few days. You said he was cleared."

"I said I could clear him." Cottle's voice was firm. "There's a difference."

"Will it harm his physical health?"

Cottle sighed. "No."

"That's all I need to know, Doctor."

Cottle looked like he was going to argue, but Bill fixed him with a glare, and he nodded, although it was clear from the set of his eyebrows that he was still unhappy about the decision. "It's not all you need to know about, though," he told Bill. "I've got some more bad news."

"What is it?"

"We've done some of the analysis on the patients' blood," he said. "The humans were just taken by force. Most of the Cylons were given some sort of narcotic. I don't know which one yet, but it shouldn't have any lasting effect. But Caprica Six and Tigh both had mifepristone in their blood."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, two things. One, Caprica Six is almost certainly going to miscarry her baby. There aren't many other uses for mifepristone. And two…" Cottle took a step closer to Bill. "We've got these drugs under lock and key," he said. "But somehow, these bastards were able to get their hands on them."

"Someone in the infirmary was in on this," Bill realized.

"Someone in an infirmary was in on this," Cottle confirmed. "The hostage takers might have gotten it from another ship. But someone gave it to them, and none of the prisoners on your list had that kind of access to these drugs."

The thought chilled Bill to the bone. "Any idea of who?"

Cottle shook his head. "Not without starting a witch hunt."

"Frak." Bill wanted to hit something. As he stood there, he could see the other implications unfolding as well.

Cottle clapped him on the shoulder. "I've got patients, Admiral."

Bill nodded to him, and Cottle moved off to another cubicle. Bill continued his rounds.

Caprica Six was sleeping, which was small mercy. Saul was sitting anxiously by her bedside, but when he heard Bill enter he stood. He looked terrible, but he also looked uninjured, much to Bill's relief.

"How is she?"

Saul shook his head. "Doc says it's only a matter of time before she loses the baby."

"I'm sorry, Saul," Bill said.

Saul nodded, his expression very far away before he pulled himself together. "I hope you're going to shoot the bastards."

"I'm sending most of them to the Astral Queen."

"Most of them?"

"Racetrack's been busted down to ensign and lost her flight status, but once she's out of the infirmary she can still serve as an ECO." Saul nodded approval. "I'd like to airlock Gage, but I can't."

"Why not?" Saul asked. "After what he did-"

"If we just execute Narcho and Tory, we can minimize the deaths. If we execute Gage, we have to start answering questions about why him and no one else. Seems unfair to Hoshi."

"Ask him first," Saul pointed out. "But if you're so concerned about it, make something up." Bill glared at him, but Saul was unaffected. "What about Narcho?"

Bill closed his eyes. "It's already done."

"Good," Saul said, although there was an echo of sadness in his eyes. "Do you need me right now, Bill? If you do, I can…"

"No. Stay with Caprica. That's only right."

Saul looked haggard as he clapped Bill on the shoulder. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Bill left the infirmary and headed down to the CIC.

***

It was mid-afternoon when Caprica opened her eyes. Saul only knew because he'd been watching the clock so intently.

"Hey," he said gently, squeezing her hand.

"Saul?" Her free hand flew to her belly. "The baby…"

"I know." His throat closed. "I'm sorry."

"What… does Cottle know what happened?"

The curtain pushed aside, and Cottle entered. "I do," he said, looking at his chart. "It was a drug called mifepristone. It was in both of your blood streams, so I'm surmising it was in the coffee you drank this morning."

"What kind of sick frak-"

"The kind that doesn't want to see a baby come to term," Cottle said. "There's only one use for mifepristone." He moved over to the monitors and checked the numbers. "How's the pain?"

"Not bad," Caprica admitted. "Shouldn't it hurt more?"

Cottle shrugged. "I put pain meds in your IV. I figured that you'd be hurting enough."

"What happens next?" Saul asked.

"We're going to have to give you another dose of the miefpristone," Cottle said. "Although there's no chance the baby can survive, the uterus won't contract hard enough to expel the pregnancy. Leaving matters as they are will compromise her health as well." He nodded towards Caprica. "It won't be comfortable, but we can ease that to an extent. There'll be some bleeding, clotting, and cramping, but the exact extent of it is hard to determine." He sighed. "But given how far along you were, it's not going to be fun."

Caprica nodded. "It's just… this baby was the future of our race. It was proof that we were going to survive."

"This baby was a baby," Cottle said, his face closed. "Colonel, I need to speak to you." He gestured for Saul to precede him from the cubicle.

"What is it?" Saul demanded once they were out.

Cottle took a deep breath. "There are several things. The first and foremost… I know that Cylons have this idea that love is required for procreation," he said. "I'm not a psychologist, but even I can see this one coming. Love wouldn't have overridden biology. There was nothing that could be done to stop this miscarriage, short of her not being given the drug in the first place. Make sure she knows that. And while you've never seemed the sentimental type to me, Colonel, gods know what's going through your brain these days, either. Make sure you know that."

"I do." Didn't make it hurt any less, that they were losing this child. But even in the midst of it, Saul could see the wisdom in Cottle's words. "There's something else, isn't there?"

"Yeah." Cottle lit two more cigarettes, and gave one to Saul. "This 'future of our race' thing that Caprica's worried about…. There's been another Cylon-Cylon pregnancy."

Somewhere deep inside, Saul felt a flicker of triumph, and the oddest sense of relief. But more importantly… "Who? And why didn't you tell us?"

"Well, the first leads into the second. The who is an Eight who called herself Sarah." Cottle glanced over his shoulder. "Jesse Conoy's wife."

"Frak…"

"He doesn't know. I confirmed the pregnancy right before she got on that Raptor. Never told anyone because I didn't think it would do much good. I wasn't sure if the Cylons could get pregnant and just never carried to term, or what the situation was, and it seemed cruel to tell the man that he'd not only lost his wife, but that she was pregnant."

"You could have told me or the Admiral."

"I am telling you. No other Cylons have come to me reporting pregnancy symptoms. I've also had a chance to talk to a few of them about the history. Sarah's situation was unique, and she may have been able to carry the pregnancy to term if she'd lived. I don't know how much that will help Caprica's mindset- you'll have to be the judge of that. It might only hurt her to know another Cylon baby was lost- I don't know. But there it is."

It wouldn't help her. Not right now. Because even if every other Cylon got pregnant, none of those babies would be this baby, and this baby was the one they were losing right now. Saul just nodded, staring at the doctor.

"I'd better examine her again," Cottle said, clapping Saul on the shoulder. "I'm sorry again, Colonel. This won't be easy on either of you." He pushed aside the curtains and disappeared into the cubicle.

It was strange. He'd only begun to get used to the idea of being a father and having a baby, and now it was being taken away.

He set his shoulders and went back into the cubicle.

***

It happened a little after 0300 hours, in what should have been the dead of the night. The baby that Caprica Six considered the savior of the Cylon race was miscarried, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. It was a boy, and he would have been healthy if he'd come to term.

They sedated Caprica. Saul wished they could sedate him, too, as he staggered out of the infirmary and to the one place he knew he could find any sort of solace on this boat.

Bill was awake. Waiting, reading a book. Saul staggered in and Bill stood up to catch him, just like it had been for so many years now.

"He's dead," Saul told Bill. "The baby's dead."

And Bill held him as he cried.

***

The clock said it was 0500 hours. There was no dawn, but Louis could almost imagine the sunrise he remembered from Virgon, the light creeping in through the cracks in closed curtains.

His sleep had been fitful at best, punctuated with nightmares that required no interpretation whatsoever. He eased out of bed. A pair of clean sweats and tanks had been placed on the nightstand, and he put them on cautiously. Cottle had given him medication; he stuffed the bottles and tubes into his pocket. He moved the curtain aside and picked up his shoes, walking softly in stocking feet.

The halls of the Galactica were never empty, but reveille hadn't been called yet, and the crowds were thinner. The few people he passed had duty on their minds or alcohol in their systems; few people noticed him, despite the fact that he was still carrying his shoes.

He opened the hatch of the room set aside as a temple. It was empty at this hour, but two candles flickered on the altar. He walked in and laid his shoes down gently, then approached the altar.

The altar had been cobbled together from pieces found throughout the ship. Candles, prayer icons, rosaries… black velvet cloths and a copy of the Scrolls. He picked up a rosary.

"I've prayed to you all my life," Louis whispered. The beads were smooth under his fingers, worn by countless grieving hands. "I've always believed in you. Even after the Cylons attacked… maybe their God was stronger than you. Maybe you had your reasons. Maybe I just prayed because that was what I had done my whole life and I had no other answers, no other recourse. Maybe I just prayed out of habit."

He looked at the rosary. "Maybe there's justice in this. Maybe you look at me and you see the Pegasus or the Scylla. Maybe you see some other crime I committed. But it doesn't matter anymore. I don't worship you anymore."

The beads blurred under his eyes, and he looked at the altar. He saw the flickering lights of the candles, the faces carved into metal and stone, and he threw the beads as hard as he could. "I don't worship you anymore." He said it with more confidence. "I don't know if you weren't there when I needed you, or if you brought this down on me yourselves, but I will not bow my head to you anymore!" The anger surged up, and he swept his arm over the altar. The artifacts fell to the floor with a loud crash. He pulled the cloth from the altar and tore it in two. It came apart with a satisfying rip, the fabric wound around his hands. He knocked the table over, kicked it and regretted that as pain shafted up his body.

"Hey!" An older man stood in the corner, disheveled and wearing night clothing. Some rational part of Louis realized he must be one of the priests, sleeping in this room because there was nowhere else. He began to back up. He couldn't face people… couldn't face what this man would say.

The priest saw something in his face- the cuts and bruises, or the damage that went deeper- and he gentled. "Son," he said, obviously gathering his patience, "do you need help?" He approached slowly, like he was approaching a wounded animal. "The gods can help you, son," he said softly. He touched Louis's bare arm.

Louis shoved him away. "No," he said. "They can't."

He couldn't run, but if he could, he would have fled. As it was, he walked out of the room, picking his shoes up as he left.

***

"Seventeen of my men," Bill said, staring moodily at his liquor.

"It couldn't just be seventeen," Lee insisted. "They took too many of us for that."

"Were any of the Cylons involved as well?" Laura asked.

"Don't know," Bill said. "Couldn't get an answer out of any of them."

"It would make sense if they weren't," Sonja said. "Tory wouldn't have wanted them knowing that she was responsible for killing any of the Final Five."

"They were mostly Marines, too, except for Racetrack," Lee observed sullenly. He slumped down further into the sofa in his father's study. "I can't believe that Narcho wouldn't have recruited more pilots."

"There had to have been others," Laura said.

"Skulls," Lee said.

His father looked up. "We don't know that."

"You ever know Skulls and Racetrack to do much separate from each other?"

"They all wore masks."

"You really expect me to believe that Racetrack wouldn't recognize Skulls through a mask?" Lee demanded.

"I can't convict a pilot just because he happens to be friends with someone who is proven guilty. Racetrack and Gage both swear that they don't know who else was involved. Cottle pointed out that pursuing anything more thoroughly will basically be starting a witch hunt."

Lee glanced at Laura. "Are we back to absolution and forgiveness, then?"

"Do you see another choice?" Laura asked. Her voice was firm, but her eyes darted away from Lee's for a moment, and he knew she didn't like the idea, either. This wasn't like New Caprica, where people had collaborated to survive. This was human turning on human, bent on violence and revenge. Lee threw his hands up in the air.

"We could try. I know it wouldn't be easy, but with the right amount of-"

"We don't have much of a choice," Bill overrode him. "We punish the ones we've got and let it go at that."

Lee saw the look on his father's face, and realized he had to back down on this one. It was the wrong decision, he thought, but there was nothing more he could do.

***

We still don't know who they all are. We still don't know who gave them the drugs they used. And there's no way we'll find out if we got them all.

For the first time since Earth, Laura felt fear.

Not fear for herself. If they came for her, so be it. But fear for the people on this ship, for the people in this Fleet. People who needed protection. People the dying leader had failed, yet again.

Believing in the gods had been one thing, day-to-day religious devotion had been another. She'd never had much time for it, to be truthful. But now something was drawing her towards one of the rooms used as a temple on Galactica. She opened the hatch and stepped inside.

The room was almost empty, except for a brother patiently gluing the pieces of statue back together. He looked up and smiled, although it was a motion of his lips that did not extend to his eyes. "President Roslin," he said gravely.

"Brother…."

"Brother Niles. What can I do for you?"

It wasn't a question she was prepared to answer. Instead, she stared at the statue he was carefully mending. "It's a beautiful piece."

"I know," he sighed. He gestured for her to have a seat, and she took it. "I plan on working it into my next sermon, how something beautiful can be shattered, but when put back together, we only appreciate the beauty more. Not very subtle, but then, subtlety is lost on so many." He had very kind green eyes, Laura noticed, set off by crows' feet and gray eyebrows.

"What happened to it?" Laura asked. Brother Niles didn't answer right away. She looked around the room and noticed other signs of damage, and the fear she'd been feeling sharpened. "They didn't attack here, did they?"

"They?" Brother Niles asked, confused. "Did the Cylons attack?"

"No," Laura began, and then shook her head.

"I heard there was some commotion earlier," Brother Niles said, turning back to his work, "but these days, such commotion has become common. But this was nothing to worry about."

"If someone is harming you-"

"No. This one meant no harm to me, I think. Only to the gods." His eyes turned piercing as he looked at her. "These days, he's far from alone."

Laura flushed. "Earth," she said, and the very word burned her soul.

"Earth," Brother Niles agreed, and he said it far more easily. He picked up another piece of the sculpture and began meticulously applying glue to the broken edge. "I always wondered why you put so much stock in Earth. There was never any guarantee. Granted, I didn't expect what we found, but the Scriptures indicate that the Thirteenth Tribe did not leave us happily. I have always doubted that they would welcome us with open arms."

"It was a risk," Laura admitted, although it was not one she'd allowed herself to think of often. There were a lot of risks that she hadn't let herself think of often. She sighed heavily. "I don't even know why I'm here."

Brother Niles smiled. "You're here because the gods put you here. You are the dying leader. Did you think it would be easy?"

"It hasn't been easy."

"No. No, I didn't say it had been. It hasn't been easy for anyone left alive in this Fleet, and least of all for you. But it is your destiny."

"Destiny," Laura scoffed. "Do you know what happened here on Galactica yesterday, Brother Niles? I tell you this in the nature of confession. Two humans and two Cylons were killed. One of the humans was a mother. One was a young man just serving his commanding officer. And they were killed, not by the Cylons and not by some grand war, but because a group of thugs decided to take their lives to make a political point. How is that anyone's destiny? How can the gods sit there and make those plans for people?"

"Because destiny doesn't work like that," Brother Niles said. "We have free will, Madam President. Do you know what happens when we do not? We become what we made of the Cylons; slaves to the gods. And if we were slaves to the gods, believe me, I would not be sitting here mending a statue broken in anger and despair." He smiled at her, and then carefully dribbled some glue along the edge of a piece. "But sometimes, the gods make choices. They choose people for tasks, and entrust them with responsibilities. How those people carry out those tasks… that is their decision. The gods have not forced any decision you have made on this journey- you have made those yourself."

"So it's all my fault, and not the gods' fault. Forgive me if I don't find that very comforting," Laura said, stung.

He pressed his piece to the statue, holding it tight as the glue bonded. "It wasn't meant to be comforting. I hope I'm not giving you that delusion. You have people to comfort you. But apparently you don't have anyone to kick you in the ass hard enough to make you sit up and take your responsibilities seriously again." Laura raised an eyebrow, but Brother Niles just chuckled. "If you think that just because I'm a brother that I don't pay attention to politics, you've got a very naïve view of religion. I've been dying to say this to you since Earth. And not as a brother, mind you, but as someone who voted for you."

Laura snorted. And yet, although she didn't want to admit it, something in what he was saying resonated with her. Not because she hadn't heard it, but maybe, because after seeing what she'd seen yesterday, she was ready to listen.

"You want to give up," Brother Niles continued. "You want to let your life end, to live what you have left. I understand that, I really do. But the fact is, Laura, you can't. And not because of what some prophet said or because some gods put you in your role, but because of the people."

She raised an eyebrow. "Technically, I was never elected President," she said with a wry grimace.

"That's right," he said with a smile. "But if I stood up in front of the Fleet and announced my Presidency, I'd be laughed off my podium, because I am not the one the people trust. I have not done the work, shouldered the burdens, or spoken with the people. And those people deserve the best that you've got left."

"I didn't come here to be scolded like a child," Laura said.

Brother Niles turned solemn, pausing in his work and looking directly at Laura. "Then what did you come here for?"

It took her a little off guard. "I… I came looking to find my way again, I suppose."

"Well," Brother Niles said, sitting back, "I'm going to be egotistical and say that your prayers were answered. Now all you have to do is decide if you're going to listen."

***

"Baltar," Bill said flatly.

Saul had never liked Gaius Baltar, not from the moment he'd gotten on the blasted ship. And he liked him even less now, standing in front of Adama's desk with a look on his face that was half trembling weasel, half righteous indignation. He glanced over at Laura, and she smirked at him in solidarity.

"Admiral," Baltar said, in the tone of someone granting a favor. "I hope that you have given thought to my proposal-"

"I have," Bill grunted. "I don't like it."

Baltar sniffed. "But Admiral, after the recent situation, surely you must agree that we need to protect the civilians that are on this ship. Order must be maintained, especially at a time like this."

"The situation was a military one," Bill replied darkly. "The military will take care of that."

"But you are right," Laura said stiffly, with her most gracious, put-on smile. "The civilians require protection." She looked tired and strained and defeated, but she looked more alive than she had since Earth. "And I realize that it is in your best interest, Doctor, to have order and protection in your… area. After all, you can't have followers if they're all dead."

Baltar drew himself up indignantly. "That is hardly why I am asking this. There are… there are children! Yes! There are children down there-"

Laura spoke over him. "And you've always excelled at acting in your own self-interest. So the answer, Doctor, is yes."

"-have you considered that? Children having the food snatched out of their very hands. Not to mention some very disreput- what?"

"She said," Lee spoke up for the first time in the meeting, "the answer is yes."

"With some conditions," Bill amended.

"What conditions?" Baltar asked warily.

"For one, we want regular patrols," Saul said. "We want schedules. Who's patrolling where, when. So that way, if something happens on your watch, we know it."

"Patrol leaders will report to Sergeant Norton." Bill said.

Baltar nodded. "That seems reasonable."

"We're limiting your munitions as well," Bill said.

"Limiting munitions?" Baltar asked. "But if my people need-"

"We're not being unreasonable," Saul drawled. "We just don't want any firefights in the bowels of the ship."

Baltar turned to face him. The look on his face was one of wounded pride. "I assure you, Colonel," he said with as much dignity as he could muster. "Our intentions are only to protect those who require it, and to-"

"I don't care what your intentions are," Saul said, thinking of Ellen. "Everyone's got good intentions. Now get the frak out before we change our minds."

Baltar looked at Bill, who looked down at his desk, and at Laura and Lee. Laura nodded imperiously.

"As you wish," Baltar said, with not a little mocking. He gave a half-bow, and retreated from the room.

"I can't believe it's come to this," Laura sighed. "The lives of the people truly are in Gaius Baltar's hands."

"The whole world's upside down," Lee agreed. He glanced at his watch. "I need to be at a Quorum meeting in a half hour. Madame President, will you be joining me?"

Laura didn't even glance at Saul or Bill. "Yes. I'll give you a hand. There's still a lot of smoothing over to be done concerning the situation on Galactica…" She kissed Bill on the cheek, and then Lee held the hatch for her.

"So we've given guns to the devil," Saul said once they were alone.

"Better the devil you know, I suppose," Bill said, sitting down. He poured them each a drink, and pushed one across the table to Saul, who took the seat opposite. "For all his faults- and there are many- Gaius Baltar is not a violent man."

"No," Saul agreed, "it takes a certain amount of courage to shoot a man."

Bill sipped his liquor. "How's Caprica?" he asked.

Saul studied the glass. "She's recovering."

"Mmm." Bill paused, as if waiting for Saul to say more, but it was too raw, too painful. "Losing a child…" Bill began.

"You would know," Saul cut him off. He thought about it. "And you almost lost two."

Bill didn't look up; a sure sign if any that Saul had hit his target. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd known they had him," he said moodily, slumping in his chair.

"Probably better not to dwell on it," Saul said.

"They might have won."

"Yeah, well, they didn't. It was an error on Narcho's part… or just as well for the sake of the ship." Saul sipped his drink. "Has Laura started her diloxan treatments back up?" Bill shook his head, and a shiver ran down Saul's spine. "You know, if she doesn't, we’re going to have to deal with Zarek sometime."

Bill gave him a don't even talk about that sort of glare, but Saul didn't flinch. It was Bill who looked down first.

"One thing at a time," he said. "Arming Baltar was enough of a disaster for one day." He swallowed the last of his drink. "At least I don't have to worry about him shooting any Cylons on sight."

Saul snorted. "No kidding."

***

"Thank you," Laura said as she let go of Lee's arm and settled down into her seat on the Raptor. "Walking longer distances is getting a little tiring."

"You're shaking," Lee pointed out. "Madam President-"

"Don't nag me, Lee," Laura said with a sigh. "We don't have much time before we get to Colonial One and start having to answer questions. They'll be on us the minute we get off this Raptor."

"All right." Lee looked concerned. Laura wanted to wipe the look off his face, or failing that, close her eyes. But there was too much to do.

"The first thing we must do is reassure the Quorum and the press that the command of Galactica is secure, and that this incident has only cemented our alliance with the Cylons. I hate to say it, but this might have been the expression of unity that you were looking for."

"Not really quite how I planned it playing out," Lee admitted.

Laura tried not to think about it, because thinking about Tory still stung. Instead, she smiled. "Well, what has been working out how we planned?" she asked.

"Madam President… if I can ask, are you returning to your position?" Lee asked.

Laura wanted to cringe at the phrasing, but she couldn't deny the truth in his question. "I am," she said. "I should have a long time ago; maybe this could have been averted."

"They still would have wanted an end to the Cylon alliance," Lee pointed out.

"Perhaps," Laura agreed, although she didn't really know what to think. But speculation wouldn't get anyone anywhere. "But I've lost my aide, and I'm rapidly losing my strength. I'm going to be relying more and more on you."

"I see," Lee said, his eyes narrowing.

He was thinking about Zarek, Laura could tell it. But she wasn't sure how she wanted to handle that yet, perhaps because she wasn't sure if Zarek was involved in this or not. The answer made a world of difference, and Laura didn't feel like pushing the subject with Lee right now.

"You'll do well with it, Lee," Laura said quietly. "You have the best interests of the people at heart. But remember what I said, about the difference between what is right and what's best. Sometimes, there is no right, and sometimes, what is just harms the whole too badly. It's a distinction that can be tough to draw, but it is necessary."

The Raptor was beginning its docking procedures. Lee looked like he wanted to say something more, but had decided to hold his tongue. Laura was glad. The less time she spent justifying and the more time she spent preparing, the better off everyone would be.

***

The last time Gaius had been in the sickbay, it had been when Felix Gaeta had lost his leg. Gaius hadn't actually approached him, but he had at least come up to visit.

This visit was no easier.

She lay sleeping in the bed… or, at least, her eyes were closed. It made it much easier to approach than it had been when Gaeta was awake. Gaius quietly pushed the curtains aside and walked in on velvet soft feet.

"I can hear you, you know," Caprica said without opening her eyes. "You never were as stealthy as you would like to imagine."

"Yes, well…." Flustered, Gaius fell back on manners. "I just came by to see how you were doing. I'm terribly sorry for your loss, you know. Terribly sorry."

"What do you want, Gaius?" Caprica asked, her voice weary and cutting through pretension.

"Nothing, I just wanted-"

"Tell me, or I will call the medics and have you ushered out of here."

Gaius sighed. "I recently lost someone very dear to me," he said softly. "Someone I cared about very much."

Caprica's brow furrowed in concentration, and then her eyes widened in recognition. "Are you really talking about Gaeta?" she said incredulously. "You never gave him a thought."

"Exactly," Gaius admitted, stepping closer to her bedside. "That's my point exactly. There was someone who meant a great deal to me, and I lost any chance to make things right between us, to say those last words, because I never gave him a thought. I'll have to live with that knowledge the rest of my life. I don't want to make the same mistake again."

Caprica stared at him. "You're joking," she said, disbelievingly. "You're choosing this moment- now, when I've just lost…" she shook her head. "Get out," she ordered him.

"I'm not trying to seduce you!" Gaius protested. "I honestly only meant to-"

"Get. Out."

"But I-"

"I have a call button," she said. "I will use it."

He had to relent. "Fine," he muttered, stepping away from her. "But I want you to know-"

The curtain pushed open, and Ishay entered, looking from one to the other of them with a stern expression. "Is something wrong?"

"Dr. Baltar," Caprica said significantly, "was just leaving."

"Right," Ishay said, grabbing Gaius by the arm. "Come on. Let's go."

Resigned to the inevitable, Gaius followed Ishay out of the cubicle. But when he turned around one last time, Caprica was still watching him.

***

"I don't like it," Galen said as he poured out a drink for him and for Sam.

"What, Tory being shot?" Sam asked, taking the drink moodily.

Galen's shook his head. "No. I mean, I'm not exactly turning cartwheels over that, but it is what it is." He shrugged and fiddled with the glass. "I don’t like not knowing who else was in on that frakking caper."

Sam shrugged. "Any word on Caprica?" he asked, rather than answering Galen's last comment.

Galen grimaced. "Yeah. She lost the baby."

"How's Tigh taking it?"

"How can he take it?" Galen knocked back his drink. "He's Tigh."

"Right." Sam sighed. He ran a finger around the rim of his glass. "Galen, when we were in the cell, you said you remembered Tory and Tigh not getting along."

"Pretty much hating each other," Galen agreed.

"How did you remember that? I mean, was it like on Earth, where you got a flash?"

"Something like that, but not as sharp and intense." Galen studied the alcohol in his glass. "More like… you know that feeling when you've been trying all day to remember a song, and you just get a lyric or two in your head?" Sam nodded. "Like that."

"Was it before or after they got you with the second tranquilizer?"

"After." Galen frowned. "You're not suggesting that we all start hitting the tranqs in order to bring back memories, are you?"

"No," Sam said. "Just… wondering if there's another way to access them. Chemical, electrical… I don't know."

"Well, go stick your finger in a light socket and see if that works," Galen suggested. "Or, failing that, get really, really drunk."

Sam knocked back his drink and extended his glass for a refill. "Let's try that route for now."

***

Saul thought he wouldn't be surprised to see Caprica packing up her meager possessions, but when he opened the hatch to their quarters and found her doing just that, he was.

"You don't have to go," he told her.

Caprica smiled at him. "You and I both know that this was about the baby." The last word landed on an open wound, and he winced. "It's best if I go."

"We could try to make it about more," he offered, but his heart wasn't in it. She wasn't Ellen, and he wasn't… whoever. She smiled, and didn't answer, only slipped another shirt into her small bundle. Saul cleared his throat. "What are you going to do now?"

"It's a good question," she admitted.

"Will you back to the baseship?"

She slipped her last piece of clothing into her bundle and sat down on the bed. "I don't know," she admitted, looking a little lost. "I could. But I don't really feel at home among the Cylons any more."

"Are you at home on Galactica?" he asked, sitting down beside her and taking her hand.

She turned her hand over in his, lacing her fingers through his in a helpless sort of gesture. "No," she admitted. "But at least I don't expect to feel at home on Galactica. I'd like to stay here, but I don't want to go down to Dogsville."

He thought about Dogsville and the periodic reports they were getting from Baltar. "No," he agreed. "You don't want to do that. And it's safest if you stay on Galactica." The obvious answer hung between them. "We've sworn two Cylons into the Fleet," he finally said. "Lieutenant Agathon and Lieutenant Conoy. We could talk to Bill- make it a third."

"What would I do?" she asked.

"Could always find a place for you in the CIC. We're getting desperate in there."

Her smile turned sad. "I don't think you want me anywhere near your computers," she said.

"Pilot?" he asked. "Deck crew?"

She shook her head, biting her lip. "I just want to fight."

"I can talk to the Marines," he suggested. "They can always use a few more soldiers. Once Cottle's cleared you for that kind of work."

"I'd appreciate it," she said formally. "It won't be long."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." Caprica stood up. Despite her grief and her exhaustion, she was still beautiful, especially as she smiled at him. "Well, goodbye, Saul," she said, extending her hand.

He took it. Another man might have hugged her, but Saul thought even if the beginning of the relationship had had no dignity, the ending could. "Goodbye, Caprica," he said. "I'll be in touch."

She smiled again and walked out the door. He watched her go, and then sat down in on the bed. She hadn't taken much, but he had to admit the room felt emptier.

But no matter. The room had felt much, much emptier before.

***

On to Chapter 7