(TM) 182. Awards and Honors
You've just won an award! What would it be and why?
Note from mun: Of course, the first thing that jumped to my mind upon seeing this prompt was the Tammy Award Bill won for Saddest Prompt. I was surprised and deeply honored by winning a writing award, especially given the high quality of the other responses nominated. I'd be remiss if I didn't offer heartfelt (if belated *^_^*) thanks to all involved. If you missed Bill's acceptance speech, you can check it out here. ;)
But the Admiral is thinking of another award ...
I've won a few awards in my life, for a variety of reasons. You'd think they'd all be causes for pride and satisfaction, but some aren't.
(Note: Some of the following information is known only to arrow_of_apollo, laura_roslin, personanongaeta and oneeyed_drunk.)
It's not for you. It's for them. Stand up there, acknowledge your fleet, and give them what they need. A hero. That'll be your penance, even if it kills you.
That was how President Laura Roslin persuaded me to accept the Medal of Distinction, for my "45 years of courageous service."
Woman knows me too frakking well.
She knew that appealing to the welfare of my crew and the fleet was the only way she'd get me to accept a medal that I in no way felt I deserved. Not after I'd taken a beating from a man I commanded years ago, a man whose bird I ordered shot down to protect a mission that should never have been flown.
A mission in which we deliberately encroached on Cylon territory.
Yes, I staged that operation at the order of the Admiralty. But I have never in my life used just following orders as an excuse for any action I've taken, and I'm damned if I'll start now.
Laura, to her credit, knows what she asks of me. Even now, as she arranges a brilliant red ribbon around my neck, she understands that the gold medallion dangling from it weighs on my chest as if it were made of spent plutonium. She knows that turning and facing the wildly applauding audience is harder for me than facing down attacking Cylons ever was. She's one of only two people present for this tribute who realize how difficult this is for me.
I meet the eyes of the other as I scan the cheering crowd. I'd poured out the circumstances surrounding Bulldog's mission to Lee, expecting shock and disgust in response. Shock I certainly got, but my son refused to be as hard on me as I was being on myself. "You had no choice," he'd insisted. "You were one man."
Looking in his eyes now, I see somber realization ... and deep concern. Concern for me, I realize, and that spark of connection strengthens my will to carry on with the ceremony I can't help but see as a farce, to stand tall as my people expect.
One other man knows the complete truth, but he's not here on the hangar deck. He stops by my quarters later.
I heard you won a medal.
Yeah. They give them out for anything these days ...
Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 358
Note from mun: Of course, the first thing that jumped to my mind upon seeing this prompt was the Tammy Award Bill won for Saddest Prompt. I was surprised and deeply honored by winning a writing award, especially given the high quality of the other responses nominated. I'd be remiss if I didn't offer heartfelt (if belated *^_^*) thanks to all involved. If you missed Bill's acceptance speech, you can check it out here. ;)
But the Admiral is thinking of another award ...
I've won a few awards in my life, for a variety of reasons. You'd think they'd all be causes for pride and satisfaction, but some aren't.
(Note: Some of the following information is known only to arrow_of_apollo, laura_roslin, personanongaeta and oneeyed_drunk.)
It's not for you. It's for them. Stand up there, acknowledge your fleet, and give them what they need. A hero. That'll be your penance, even if it kills you.
That was how President Laura Roslin persuaded me to accept the Medal of Distinction, for my "45 years of courageous service."
Woman knows me too frakking well.
She knew that appealing to the welfare of my crew and the fleet was the only way she'd get me to accept a medal that I in no way felt I deserved. Not after I'd taken a beating from a man I commanded years ago, a man whose bird I ordered shot down to protect a mission that should never have been flown.
A mission in which we deliberately encroached on Cylon territory.
Yes, I staged that operation at the order of the Admiralty. But I have never in my life used just following orders as an excuse for any action I've taken, and I'm damned if I'll start now.
Laura, to her credit, knows what she asks of me. Even now, as she arranges a brilliant red ribbon around my neck, she understands that the gold medallion dangling from it weighs on my chest as if it were made of spent plutonium. She knows that turning and facing the wildly applauding audience is harder for me than facing down attacking Cylons ever was. She's one of only two people present for this tribute who realize how difficult this is for me.
I meet the eyes of the other as I scan the cheering crowd. I'd poured out the circumstances surrounding Bulldog's mission to Lee, expecting shock and disgust in response. Shock I certainly got, but my son refused to be as hard on me as I was being on myself. "You had no choice," he'd insisted. "You were one man."
Looking in his eyes now, I see somber realization ... and deep concern. Concern for me, I realize, and that spark of connection strengthens my will to carry on with the ceremony I can't help but see as a farce, to stand tall as my people expect.
One other man knows the complete truth, but he's not here on the hangar deck. He stops by my quarters later.
I heard you won a medal.
Yeah. They give them out for anything these days ...
Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 358