A Likely Prospect
Originally posted by fragrantwoods at A Likely Prospect
Title: A Likely Prospect
Rating: T
Word Count:1800
Follows the following AU drabbles and stories
Many thanks towishflsinfl for all the beta, feedback & brainstorming
The Old Man, the Old Lady , Running Late . If He'd Only Known..., Presidential Abstinence, Driving Lessons, "Let Me Go Crazy", Autumn Leaves, Ivy Covered Hallowed Halls , Separate Lives, Dotted Line, Coming to the Table, Memories of Sweeter Days, Time Machine , "Long and Low and Sleek and Fast" , Anything for Love , Community Roots, Rotten, I'd Lie for You(and That's the Truth), Shame at the Gate , "One Wing in the Fire" , Outreach, Arrangements, Stolen Illusions. Something New, Time, Trouble, Patch Party, Post-Campaign Promises
Most of the club officers ignored the television behind the bar as they sauntered past, the volume turned down on another soundbite of Adar going on about striding boldly into a bright, forward-looking future, according to the words at the bottom of the screen.
Saul glared at the television for a second before holding his hand out for a cold bottle. “Why don’t you find another channel before the Old Man comes through, kid? Try the Triad tournament on channel 12.”
“Another one here, Sparky,” Bill said as he walked up behind Saul, glancing up at the silenced scene of card players around a fancy felt table. Drinks in hand, they went into the inner sanctum of the club and shut the door behind them.
The other officers were already gathered near the head of the massive carved table. They were slapping each other’s backs and talking trash while they settled themselves in their seats, some lighting stogies or home-rolled smokes, beer bottles hissing as they were popped open. At Bill’s nod, Saul went to the massive door and opened it, waving the waiting man inside. The chatter ebbed as Saul returned to his Sergeant at Arms seat and re-lit his cigar. All eyes focused on the now-familiar figure standing before them, holding sheaves of rolled-up papers in his arms.
The leather vest with cut-off sleeves and a rocker patch reading “PROSPECT” on the back looked incongruous on the olive-skinned man with jet-black curls and a finely chiseled mouth…until you got to the eyes. Then it became clear that the inked panther on his arm was more totem than decoration. He wouldn’t have been a pilot or a gunner back in the war, not this guy, thought Bill. He’d have been tactical, acquiring targets and plotting moves with quiet stealth for others to execute.
Felix Gaeta had been sequestered for the past few weeks in one of the crash rooms at the back of the clubhouse, burning up his laptop as he worked a search grid over a geo-map of Caprica. Every week, before church, before the meeting room was packed with the rank and file, the club officers gathered as he brought in spreadsheets and maps, pages of printed data…and prices. He rode the men’s learning curve with finesse, watching Bill for signs that he was moving too fast, or lagging behind their impatience.
“What’ve you got for us this time, Prospect?” Saul had stopped mocking Gaeta after the first couple of weeks, and his question was tinged with uncharacteristic respect.
Gaeta looked up at Bill as he spread out the map at the head of the table. “Shall I start?”
“Go ahead, Gaeta.”
Bill watched the slight nervousness of the young man dissipate as he picked up ashtrays to hold the map flat and checked the circled areas against the list in his hand, muttering coordinates to himself as he made final pencil marks here and there. Lee and Galen were focused on the map already as the other men leaned forward, questioning eyes on the young man.
Gaeta cleared his throat and began. Bill had to tell him to bottom-line what he was saying a couple of times, but as he finished and asked for questions, even Saul was nodding his head.
“So tell me again why this parcel is so cheap?” Saul growled at the map like it was a trick.
“Well, besides being isolated and 98 klicks from the nearest population center, it’s land-locked. There’s no road going from a public highway to the property. The seller has agreed to allow the buyer access through his land.” Gaeta straightened and looked at Bill, as if waiting for permission to deliver bad news. At Bill’s nod, he continued.
“The thing is, he could change his mind, and the buyer would have no legal right to access his own property without the seller’s permission.”
Bill and Saul looked at each other across the table.
“By the time we need it, property rights won’t be an issue,” Bill said quietly.
“Got that right.” Saul tapped the ashes off the end of his cigar.
“It’s got the features you asked for, Mr. Adama. There’s an underground water source, it’s heavily wooded, there’s a high ridge on the property…it’s”-his nervous swallow was audible as he looked at the tableful of grim, aging men-“it’s defensible, in my opinion.”
Bill looked around the room at his officers, his original members. “All in favor?”
He could see the wheels turning in every head at the table. This purchase was different from the guns, the ordnance they’d been running and buying for so long. This buy…this would make it all real.
One by one, he watched the men who had ridden with him for years raise their hands and reach into an unknowable future. They weren’t just voting on a club buy. They were voting on their belief of the shape of things to come. Finally, with a mixture of emotions playing across each weathered face, man after man met his look and gave him a solemn “aye”.
“Opposed?”
After holding the silence for a beat, he tapped his gavel as a formality. “The ayes have it. That’s parcel number one.” He pointed his gavel at Gaeta."You got everything you need on this?"
Gaeta nodded. “I’ll draw up the offer. Now, this next one…”
By the time they were ready to open their weekly church, four new parcels of land in different locations over Caprica had been identified and agreed upon. Each parcel had key features in common: they were isolated and hard to get to, at least eighty kilometers from the nearest city, had a water source and lots of natural cover. The process became easier as the men grew more used to the commitments they were making. Bill doubted he’d live to see even a fraction of their new properties, but that was fine. They weren’t for him; they would be for others.
For survivors.
“Gaeta, get with Galen about the money.” He glanced up at his treasurer. “Galen, the other clubs have made their deposits for this, right?”
Galen pulled a print-out from thick account ledger and scanned it again carefully. “Yeah, boss. The MCs in Pheobus wired their share in last night.”
”You got civvies?” Bill looked over the rim of his glasses at the young man in the plain leather vest.
Gaeta’s increased ease in the group was apparent in his relaxed grin. “Sure, Mr. Adama. I’ve even got a three piece suit, somewhere.”
“Don’t get crazy. Just wear something that looks like a civilian would wear on a Saturday. A civilian with money.” He looked over at his son. “Lee, get his picture and do up an ID that says he’s a resident of Delphi.” He turned back to Gaeta. “And kid…for frak’s sake, call me Bill.”
The members ambled out of the large room at the end of the meeting, a couple of the newer members getting silenced by Lee for questioning what the Prospect was doing in the pre-meeting. Saul closed the door on the chatter and sat down next to Bill.
“You got a timeline for this?” All crude joviality had left him, and he reminded Bill of the young warrior he had been years ago.
“No. But it’s coming. You know who Gaius Baltar is? Dr. Gaius Baltar?” Bill pronounced the name with deliberate contempt.
“That whiz-kid genius asshole scientist? The one who started the Caprica City VA Riots?”
“That’s him. Word is, he’s got a contract to upgrade the Colonial Defense system.” Bill tried to keep the dread out of his voice, but he could tell by Saul’s face that the feeling was shared.
Saul chewed on this for a few seconds before he spoke again.“Frak me…what the frak does he know about defense? And why now?”
Bill walked over to the window, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the sky. “The chickens, Saul. The chickens Mr. Roslin told me about before he died…” He glanced at the closed door then looked back at Saul.
“I think we’re getting closer to the day those chickens come home to roost.”
Saul returned his solemn look. “What you’re saying, Bill, you-us, going up against a guy with Baltar’s cred…you think we’ll be believed when the time comes?”
“All I can do is offer the proof I’ve been given over the years. It was good enough for me, for you, for Cottle and the rest of the originals.”
Saul nodded thoughtfully. “Day’s coming soon when you’ll need to tell Lee and the others everything.”
“I know.” Bill shook his head, suddenly tired of long-range plans and plotting. “Day’s coming to bring Zak in, too.” He nodded towards the empty chair to the right of Lee’s seat.
Saul looked away. “Bill, you sure Zak should come into the life, with all this? I mean, I love him like my own, but that wild woman he’s been running with-“
“Kara. Her name is Kara Thrace, Saul. Starbuck, if you want to try being friendly for a change.”
“I don’t want to be her frakkin’ friend! She’s insane!” He glowered as Bill started chuckling.
“Frak, you’re just pissed off she rode with the boys that hijacked that last shipment you had your eye on. And she was damn good at it, they said. She did a decoy and evade move that took the cops miles from our crew.”
“Oh, I heard,” Saul scoffed. “She crowed about that for a week. You need to tell Zak to rein her in, acting like she’s a member, or somebody’ll do it for him.”
Bill put a cautioning hand on Saul’s arm. “Saul…she’s probably gonna be Zak’s old lady one of these days. So she helps the club in non-traditional ways.” He shrugged. “It’s a member’s old lady doing her part for the MC. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. The money ends up in the same place.”
“Zak’s not even patched in yet.”
Bill wished he couldn’t see the hint of doubt in Saul’s eyes, but they’d ridden together too long.
“He’ll get patched. He knows he’s got to prove himself first, even if I don’t keep him a Prospect for a year. I told him to come up with a plan that’ll be a significant service to the club, execute it successfully, and I’d put his membership up for a vote. Just like I did with Lee.”
Saul got up, wincing as his knees popped. “Well, good luck to him then, Old Man,” he sniffed. “C’mon, let’s go see if the kids left us any booze out there.”
Relieved at the change in subject, Bill clapped his old friend on the back as they opened the door and re-joined the rowdy crowd.
Title: A Likely Prospect
Rating: T
Word Count:1800
Follows the following AU drabbles and stories
Many thanks towishflsinfl for all the beta, feedback & brainstorming
The Old Man, the Old Lady , Running Late . If He'd Only Known..., Presidential Abstinence, Driving Lessons, "Let Me Go Crazy", Autumn Leaves, Ivy Covered Hallowed Halls , Separate Lives, Dotted Line, Coming to the Table, Memories of Sweeter Days, Time Machine , "Long and Low and Sleek and Fast" , Anything for Love , Community Roots, Rotten, I'd Lie for You(and That's the Truth), Shame at the Gate , "One Wing in the Fire" , Outreach, Arrangements, Stolen Illusions. Something New, Time, Trouble, Patch Party, Post-Campaign Promises
Most of the club officers ignored the television behind the bar as they sauntered past, the volume turned down on another soundbite of Adar going on about striding boldly into a bright, forward-looking future, according to the words at the bottom of the screen.
Saul glared at the television for a second before holding his hand out for a cold bottle. “Why don’t you find another channel before the Old Man comes through, kid? Try the Triad tournament on channel 12.”
“Another one here, Sparky,” Bill said as he walked up behind Saul, glancing up at the silenced scene of card players around a fancy felt table. Drinks in hand, they went into the inner sanctum of the club and shut the door behind them.
The other officers were already gathered near the head of the massive carved table. They were slapping each other’s backs and talking trash while they settled themselves in their seats, some lighting stogies or home-rolled smokes, beer bottles hissing as they were popped open. At Bill’s nod, Saul went to the massive door and opened it, waving the waiting man inside. The chatter ebbed as Saul returned to his Sergeant at Arms seat and re-lit his cigar. All eyes focused on the now-familiar figure standing before them, holding sheaves of rolled-up papers in his arms.
The leather vest with cut-off sleeves and a rocker patch reading “PROSPECT” on the back looked incongruous on the olive-skinned man with jet-black curls and a finely chiseled mouth…until you got to the eyes. Then it became clear that the inked panther on his arm was more totem than decoration. He wouldn’t have been a pilot or a gunner back in the war, not this guy, thought Bill. He’d have been tactical, acquiring targets and plotting moves with quiet stealth for others to execute.
Felix Gaeta had been sequestered for the past few weeks in one of the crash rooms at the back of the clubhouse, burning up his laptop as he worked a search grid over a geo-map of Caprica. Every week, before church, before the meeting room was packed with the rank and file, the club officers gathered as he brought in spreadsheets and maps, pages of printed data…and prices. He rode the men’s learning curve with finesse, watching Bill for signs that he was moving too fast, or lagging behind their impatience.
“What’ve you got for us this time, Prospect?” Saul had stopped mocking Gaeta after the first couple of weeks, and his question was tinged with uncharacteristic respect.
Gaeta looked up at Bill as he spread out the map at the head of the table. “Shall I start?”
“Go ahead, Gaeta.”
Bill watched the slight nervousness of the young man dissipate as he picked up ashtrays to hold the map flat and checked the circled areas against the list in his hand, muttering coordinates to himself as he made final pencil marks here and there. Lee and Galen were focused on the map already as the other men leaned forward, questioning eyes on the young man.
Gaeta cleared his throat and began. Bill had to tell him to bottom-line what he was saying a couple of times, but as he finished and asked for questions, even Saul was nodding his head.
“So tell me again why this parcel is so cheap?” Saul growled at the map like it was a trick.
“Well, besides being isolated and 98 klicks from the nearest population center, it’s land-locked. There’s no road going from a public highway to the property. The seller has agreed to allow the buyer access through his land.” Gaeta straightened and looked at Bill, as if waiting for permission to deliver bad news. At Bill’s nod, he continued.
“The thing is, he could change his mind, and the buyer would have no legal right to access his own property without the seller’s permission.”
Bill and Saul looked at each other across the table.
“By the time we need it, property rights won’t be an issue,” Bill said quietly.
“Got that right.” Saul tapped the ashes off the end of his cigar.
“It’s got the features you asked for, Mr. Adama. There’s an underground water source, it’s heavily wooded, there’s a high ridge on the property…it’s”-his nervous swallow was audible as he looked at the tableful of grim, aging men-“it’s defensible, in my opinion.”
Bill looked around the room at his officers, his original members. “All in favor?”
He could see the wheels turning in every head at the table. This purchase was different from the guns, the ordnance they’d been running and buying for so long. This buy…this would make it all real.
One by one, he watched the men who had ridden with him for years raise their hands and reach into an unknowable future. They weren’t just voting on a club buy. They were voting on their belief of the shape of things to come. Finally, with a mixture of emotions playing across each weathered face, man after man met his look and gave him a solemn “aye”.
“Opposed?”
After holding the silence for a beat, he tapped his gavel as a formality. “The ayes have it. That’s parcel number one.” He pointed his gavel at Gaeta."You got everything you need on this?"
Gaeta nodded. “I’ll draw up the offer. Now, this next one…”
By the time they were ready to open their weekly church, four new parcels of land in different locations over Caprica had been identified and agreed upon. Each parcel had key features in common: they were isolated and hard to get to, at least eighty kilometers from the nearest city, had a water source and lots of natural cover. The process became easier as the men grew more used to the commitments they were making. Bill doubted he’d live to see even a fraction of their new properties, but that was fine. They weren’t for him; they would be for others.
For survivors.
“Gaeta, get with Galen about the money.” He glanced up at his treasurer. “Galen, the other clubs have made their deposits for this, right?”
Galen pulled a print-out from thick account ledger and scanned it again carefully. “Yeah, boss. The MCs in Pheobus wired their share in last night.”
”You got civvies?” Bill looked over the rim of his glasses at the young man in the plain leather vest.
Gaeta’s increased ease in the group was apparent in his relaxed grin. “Sure, Mr. Adama. I’ve even got a three piece suit, somewhere.”
“Don’t get crazy. Just wear something that looks like a civilian would wear on a Saturday. A civilian with money.” He looked over at his son. “Lee, get his picture and do up an ID that says he’s a resident of Delphi.” He turned back to Gaeta. “And kid…for frak’s sake, call me Bill.”
The members ambled out of the large room at the end of the meeting, a couple of the newer members getting silenced by Lee for questioning what the Prospect was doing in the pre-meeting. Saul closed the door on the chatter and sat down next to Bill.
“You got a timeline for this?” All crude joviality had left him, and he reminded Bill of the young warrior he had been years ago.
“No. But it’s coming. You know who Gaius Baltar is? Dr. Gaius Baltar?” Bill pronounced the name with deliberate contempt.
“That whiz-kid genius asshole scientist? The one who started the Caprica City VA Riots?”
“That’s him. Word is, he’s got a contract to upgrade the Colonial Defense system.” Bill tried to keep the dread out of his voice, but he could tell by Saul’s face that the feeling was shared.
Saul chewed on this for a few seconds before he spoke again.“Frak me…what the frak does he know about defense? And why now?”
Bill walked over to the window, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the sky. “The chickens, Saul. The chickens Mr. Roslin told me about before he died…” He glanced at the closed door then looked back at Saul.
“I think we’re getting closer to the day those chickens come home to roost.”
Saul returned his solemn look. “What you’re saying, Bill, you-us, going up against a guy with Baltar’s cred…you think we’ll be believed when the time comes?”
“All I can do is offer the proof I’ve been given over the years. It was good enough for me, for you, for Cottle and the rest of the originals.”
Saul nodded thoughtfully. “Day’s coming soon when you’ll need to tell Lee and the others everything.”
“I know.” Bill shook his head, suddenly tired of long-range plans and plotting. “Day’s coming to bring Zak in, too.” He nodded towards the empty chair to the right of Lee’s seat.
Saul looked away. “Bill, you sure Zak should come into the life, with all this? I mean, I love him like my own, but that wild woman he’s been running with-“
“Kara. Her name is Kara Thrace, Saul. Starbuck, if you want to try being friendly for a change.”
“I don’t want to be her frakkin’ friend! She’s insane!” He glowered as Bill started chuckling.
“Frak, you’re just pissed off she rode with the boys that hijacked that last shipment you had your eye on. And she was damn good at it, they said. She did a decoy and evade move that took the cops miles from our crew.”
“Oh, I heard,” Saul scoffed. “She crowed about that for a week. You need to tell Zak to rein her in, acting like she’s a member, or somebody’ll do it for him.”
Bill put a cautioning hand on Saul’s arm. “Saul…she’s probably gonna be Zak’s old lady one of these days. So she helps the club in non-traditional ways.” He shrugged. “It’s a member’s old lady doing her part for the MC. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. The money ends up in the same place.”
“Zak’s not even patched in yet.”
Bill wished he couldn’t see the hint of doubt in Saul’s eyes, but they’d ridden together too long.
“He’ll get patched. He knows he’s got to prove himself first, even if I don’t keep him a Prospect for a year. I told him to come up with a plan that’ll be a significant service to the club, execute it successfully, and I’d put his membership up for a vote. Just like I did with Lee.”
Saul got up, wincing as his knees popped. “Well, good luck to him then, Old Man,” he sniffed. “C’mon, let’s go see if the kids left us any booze out there.”
Relieved at the change in subject, Bill clapped his old friend on the back as they opened the door and re-joined the rowdy crowd.