The Next Time (for puszysty)
Title: The Next Time
Author: plaid_slytherin
Original story: Federal Rules of Evidence drabbles: Rule 407 by puszysty
Characters: Saul Tigh, Galen Tyrol, Bill Adama
Rating: T
Summary: After losing eighty-five men, Saul takes steps to ensure there won't be a next time.
He could still hear it in his dreams, even now, a week later-the blaring siren, the shattering glass, the screams of eighty-five men. He didn't actually hear them die, but he imagined it nonetheless.
He'd been through this before, countless times, but he never imagined he'd have to go through it again, not after all these years. Those men just as easily brought to mind his buddies, dying in their Vipers forty years ago. And it was all starting again.
"Eighty-five," Saul mumbled, staring at his hands. It was somewhat startling, in the haze he was in, to see them looking so old, when just a second ago, he was in the cockpit, barely nineteen, trying to raise his wingman on the comm. "Eighty-five men. Eighty-five kids."
He shouldn't feel guilty, he knew. He was just doing his job. But after all these years, it was starting to weigh on him. Or maybe it was always weighing on him and he'd just never noticed.
If hadn't ordered their deaths, the ship would have gone up and they'd all have been dead-the entire crew of Galactica and then, soon after, what little remained of humanity, wiped out by the Cylons without Galactica to protect them.
But still. It shouldn't have happened.
With a sigh, Saul pushed himself to his feet. He'd better head down to the hangar deck and see what was happening down there. There'd have to be a lot of cleanup, but there was one thing Saul wanted to make sure happened.
**
Saul deliberately took it slow on the stairs so Tyrol could see him coming. He knew what it was like to feel like the hangar deck was his and his alone, and when he was in Tyrol's shoes, he knew he resented the XO's interference.
But the XO back on Athena hadn't been a deckhand, didn't know how things worked. Saul could at least identify.
"Chief."
"Colonel." Tyrol's salute was sharp enough, but there was a hint of resentment behind his eyes. "What do you need, sir?"
"Want to talk, Chief. Anywhere we can go."
Tyrol relaxed, but still looked somewhat wary. "Tool room, I suppose."
Saul led the way.
Once they were inside, Tyrol started talking.
"Look, sir, if this is about Lieutenant Valerii-"
Saul blinked. "No. No, it's not that. Not now." He quirked an eyebrow. "However."
"I know, sir." Tyrol cast his eyes away guiltily. "What is it, then?"
"It's about the fuel lines."
He could almost feel the younger man tense. "Sir, if you'd only given me a few more seconds-"
"We didn't have seconds," Saul snapped. "Not unless you wanted to get all of us killed. But you know that. I know you know that. And I know, too, that you can't get those men out of your head, can't stop thinking about them. I know because I can't either. And let me tell, you it doesn't stop. It doesn't get better."
There was a pause, in which it seemed like Tyrol didn't quite know what to say.
"Sir, I-"
Saul nearly interrupted, but didn't. He crossed his arms over his chest, silently telling Tyrol to go on.
"I don't know, sir." Tyrol buried his face in his hands. "I just can't stop thinking about what if we could have-"
"There's no point to that. Nothing you can do about it." Saul sighed. "Only thing you can do is keep going, hope that maybe things work out next time."
"Next time," Tyrol murmured. "There won't be a next time if we fireproof the lines."
Saul felt his stomach drop. "What did you say?"
"I said we need to fireproof the lines."
"You mean they're not fireproofed? Not in fifty years?"
"No, sir."
Saul sighed and looked away. "Not fireproofed in fifty years," he murmured.
"Sir?" Tyrol prompted after a long moment had gone by.
"Well, it happens now, Chief." Saul stood. "Right frakking now."
Tyrol was still standing there.
"Well?" Saul advanced on him. "What are you waiting for?"
"You're serious, sir? We can do it?"
"You're damn right we can do it! Get a team together, see what we've got that you can use." Saul stormed toward the hatch. This wouldn't make the feeling of the senseless loss go away (and why had nobody done it before? They'd had fifty years.) But maybe, Tyrol was right. Maybe there wouldn't be a next time.
**
He tried to stay away-he didn't want to be that interfering XO, like he remembered. Despite all this, he felt his feet carrying him down to the flight pod.
"How's it coming, Chief?" he asked, standing, by the hatch in which the men were working.
Tyrol poked his head out. He looked tired and sweaty, but Saul knew that look in his eyes. The work was hard, but it was worth it.
"It's going all right." Tyrol sighed. "Like you said, all we had was some cladding-they'd already taken off most of our supplies, so we're lucky to have that. I assume the metal was treated when they built her, but we can't know for sure. The lines themselves aren't coated. I know she was a rush job, but…" He shook his head. "It's a miracle this didn't happen earlier."
Saul rubbed his face. "Yeah, don't I know it. How much board you got?"
"Only about enough for half."
Saul crossed his arms over his chest. "Let me see," he said, suddenly, surprising even himself.
"Sir?"
"Let me see," Saul repeated, already unbuttoning his jacket. "I want to see what you're doing." To hell with not interfering. He'd been a deckhand; he understood it. He knew what he was doing.
"Of course, sir." Tyrol stepped back and Saul climbed through the hatch. It was a tighter fit than he remembered at seventeen, but he could still do it, and Galactica was of the same class as the battlestars he'd served on during the war, so he was familiar with all her ins and outs.
"The problem's here," Tyrol said, pausing patiently while Saul struggled someone to contort his body in a way that would fit under the tubing. "Like I said, we're running out of panels, so I wasn't having them cover every spare inch. We're spreading it out."
"Yeah, well, what about this in between?" Saul ran a hand over the exposed lines. "These should've had sleeves put on years ago."
"I know." Tyrol sighed. "We don't have anything like that. I wish we did."
"No tape or anything?"
"No. Like I said, that was some of the first stuff they took."
Saul thought for a moment. Being back here was like taking a step back in time. The smell of the place, the gritty feeling on his fingers from where he'd touched the wall, the way the men shouted to each other as they worked. Saul may have risen in the ranks, but he'd always feel a connection to the deck crew-they kept the ship running.
"What about the spray?" he said. "The spray they treat the Vipers and Raptors with?"
Tyrol considered this. "I've never heard of anyone using it for this."
"Yeah, I know, but it's all we got… we do have some, right?"
"Oh, we've got a ton. They wouldn't take it." Tyrol's face was starting to light up. "When we offloaded the other stuff, I asked them about it, since it's not like we have the capability to manufacture ships onboard Galactica, but they said they'd take it later."
"That should work," Saul said, nodding. It was sounding like a good idea.
"It should," Tyrol echoed.
Saul felt just a bit of the weight lift from his shoulders. Maybe it was going to work out after all.
**
Saul lost track of how long he stayed down on the hangar deck-he'd completely forgotten about leaving. He was in and out of the hatch, watching the team work, and at one point-he wasn't sure what possessed him to do it-he grabbed a tank himself and got to work.
When they were finished, Saul climbed, exhausted, out of the hatch and out onto the deck with the other knuckledraggers.
Bill was waiting for them, sitting on a crate, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was unreadable. "Can I speak to you, Colonel?" he asked.
Saul winced. Bill wasn't going to like this. "Of course, sir," he said, reaching for the jacket he'd dropped on the floor.
Together, they walked to the stairs.
"You think I could take a shower first, before you start dressing me down?" Saul asked in a low voice.
"I'm not going to dress you down." Bill didn't look at him, just kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead. "I know how you were beating yourself up about this. You had to feel like you were part of the solution."
"I guess." Saul wiped his hands on a rag and stuffed it back in his pocket. "Felt good to get my hands dirty, you know? I never get to do that kind of thing anymore."
"It's good seeing you like this," Bill said. He stopped then and looked at Saul. "Being productive."
Not drinking was what he didn't say and Saul silently thanked him for that.
"Feels good," he said.
"I know how that can be. I feel that way about flying sometimes." Bill grinned and Saul thought he looked a good deal younger suddenly. "Hard going out there, though, at my age. Mostly, I just feel self-conscious with all these kids staring at me."
"Don't I know it." Saul shook his head. "It's like some of them think I was born with these pins. Wonder how many of them actually realize I used to be in their position."
"I'm sure a fair few do," Bill said. "But you're right. It makes it awkward sometimes to go amongst the crew. Think you do a bit better job of blending in than I do, if your triad record's anything to go by."
Saul shrugged and didn't say anything.
"One thing I wanted to mention, though." Bill stopped here and turned to look at him seriously. "I need you, you know that, right? I get that you were bothered by what happened, and you did the right thing by having them fireproof the lines. But you really shouldn't have gone in there yourself. Because if you'd died in there…"
"I know, I know, it was stupid." Saul looked down at his feet. Feeling eighteen again had its downsides, too. "I won't do it again. But I had to this time." He looked up at Bill and smirked. "You want to do something stupid and make it even."
"I'll keep that one in the bank." Bill's lips twitched with the hint of a smile and Saul felt a wave of relief wash over him. He wasn't really mad. Bill cuffed him on the shoulder. "I want to see you in my quarters; there are some duty sheets I'd like to go over first. But take your shower first. You frakking stink."
Saul grinned and saluted. "Yes, sir. I forgot about that."
Bill smirked and headed off down the corridor. Saul watched him go. He knew Bill was right. It wasn't his place as XO to be crawling around in the bowels of the ship.
But still.
Saul smiled to himself. It had taken his mind off the events of the past few days. Wouldn't do anything about the eighty-five kids they'd lost; he'd never forget them.
But maybe Chief was right. Maybe there wouldn't be a next time.
Oh, sure, they'd lose men. This was war and just being out here was risk enough. But if he could do anything to keep them from dying that way, keep them from getting sucked out into the vacuum of space, he would. He was the XO; he owed them that much.
Author: plaid_slytherin
Original story: Federal Rules of Evidence drabbles: Rule 407 by puszysty
Characters: Saul Tigh, Galen Tyrol, Bill Adama
Rating: T
Summary: After losing eighty-five men, Saul takes steps to ensure there won't be a next time.
He could still hear it in his dreams, even now, a week later-the blaring siren, the shattering glass, the screams of eighty-five men. He didn't actually hear them die, but he imagined it nonetheless.
He'd been through this before, countless times, but he never imagined he'd have to go through it again, not after all these years. Those men just as easily brought to mind his buddies, dying in their Vipers forty years ago. And it was all starting again.
"Eighty-five," Saul mumbled, staring at his hands. It was somewhat startling, in the haze he was in, to see them looking so old, when just a second ago, he was in the cockpit, barely nineteen, trying to raise his wingman on the comm. "Eighty-five men. Eighty-five kids."
He shouldn't feel guilty, he knew. He was just doing his job. But after all these years, it was starting to weigh on him. Or maybe it was always weighing on him and he'd just never noticed.
If hadn't ordered their deaths, the ship would have gone up and they'd all have been dead-the entire crew of Galactica and then, soon after, what little remained of humanity, wiped out by the Cylons without Galactica to protect them.
But still. It shouldn't have happened.
With a sigh, Saul pushed himself to his feet. He'd better head down to the hangar deck and see what was happening down there. There'd have to be a lot of cleanup, but there was one thing Saul wanted to make sure happened.
**
Saul deliberately took it slow on the stairs so Tyrol could see him coming. He knew what it was like to feel like the hangar deck was his and his alone, and when he was in Tyrol's shoes, he knew he resented the XO's interference.
But the XO back on Athena hadn't been a deckhand, didn't know how things worked. Saul could at least identify.
"Chief."
"Colonel." Tyrol's salute was sharp enough, but there was a hint of resentment behind his eyes. "What do you need, sir?"
"Want to talk, Chief. Anywhere we can go."
Tyrol relaxed, but still looked somewhat wary. "Tool room, I suppose."
Saul led the way.
Once they were inside, Tyrol started talking.
"Look, sir, if this is about Lieutenant Valerii-"
Saul blinked. "No. No, it's not that. Not now." He quirked an eyebrow. "However."
"I know, sir." Tyrol cast his eyes away guiltily. "What is it, then?"
"It's about the fuel lines."
He could almost feel the younger man tense. "Sir, if you'd only given me a few more seconds-"
"We didn't have seconds," Saul snapped. "Not unless you wanted to get all of us killed. But you know that. I know you know that. And I know, too, that you can't get those men out of your head, can't stop thinking about them. I know because I can't either. And let me tell, you it doesn't stop. It doesn't get better."
There was a pause, in which it seemed like Tyrol didn't quite know what to say.
"Sir, I-"
Saul nearly interrupted, but didn't. He crossed his arms over his chest, silently telling Tyrol to go on.
"I don't know, sir." Tyrol buried his face in his hands. "I just can't stop thinking about what if we could have-"
"There's no point to that. Nothing you can do about it." Saul sighed. "Only thing you can do is keep going, hope that maybe things work out next time."
"Next time," Tyrol murmured. "There won't be a next time if we fireproof the lines."
Saul felt his stomach drop. "What did you say?"
"I said we need to fireproof the lines."
"You mean they're not fireproofed? Not in fifty years?"
"No, sir."
Saul sighed and looked away. "Not fireproofed in fifty years," he murmured.
"Sir?" Tyrol prompted after a long moment had gone by.
"Well, it happens now, Chief." Saul stood. "Right frakking now."
Tyrol was still standing there.
"Well?" Saul advanced on him. "What are you waiting for?"
"You're serious, sir? We can do it?"
"You're damn right we can do it! Get a team together, see what we've got that you can use." Saul stormed toward the hatch. This wouldn't make the feeling of the senseless loss go away (and why had nobody done it before? They'd had fifty years.) But maybe, Tyrol was right. Maybe there wouldn't be a next time.
**
He tried to stay away-he didn't want to be that interfering XO, like he remembered. Despite all this, he felt his feet carrying him down to the flight pod.
"How's it coming, Chief?" he asked, standing, by the hatch in which the men were working.
Tyrol poked his head out. He looked tired and sweaty, but Saul knew that look in his eyes. The work was hard, but it was worth it.
"It's going all right." Tyrol sighed. "Like you said, all we had was some cladding-they'd already taken off most of our supplies, so we're lucky to have that. I assume the metal was treated when they built her, but we can't know for sure. The lines themselves aren't coated. I know she was a rush job, but…" He shook his head. "It's a miracle this didn't happen earlier."
Saul rubbed his face. "Yeah, don't I know it. How much board you got?"
"Only about enough for half."
Saul crossed his arms over his chest. "Let me see," he said, suddenly, surprising even himself.
"Sir?"
"Let me see," Saul repeated, already unbuttoning his jacket. "I want to see what you're doing." To hell with not interfering. He'd been a deckhand; he understood it. He knew what he was doing.
"Of course, sir." Tyrol stepped back and Saul climbed through the hatch. It was a tighter fit than he remembered at seventeen, but he could still do it, and Galactica was of the same class as the battlestars he'd served on during the war, so he was familiar with all her ins and outs.
"The problem's here," Tyrol said, pausing patiently while Saul struggled someone to contort his body in a way that would fit under the tubing. "Like I said, we're running out of panels, so I wasn't having them cover every spare inch. We're spreading it out."
"Yeah, well, what about this in between?" Saul ran a hand over the exposed lines. "These should've had sleeves put on years ago."
"I know." Tyrol sighed. "We don't have anything like that. I wish we did."
"No tape or anything?"
"No. Like I said, that was some of the first stuff they took."
Saul thought for a moment. Being back here was like taking a step back in time. The smell of the place, the gritty feeling on his fingers from where he'd touched the wall, the way the men shouted to each other as they worked. Saul may have risen in the ranks, but he'd always feel a connection to the deck crew-they kept the ship running.
"What about the spray?" he said. "The spray they treat the Vipers and Raptors with?"
Tyrol considered this. "I've never heard of anyone using it for this."
"Yeah, I know, but it's all we got… we do have some, right?"
"Oh, we've got a ton. They wouldn't take it." Tyrol's face was starting to light up. "When we offloaded the other stuff, I asked them about it, since it's not like we have the capability to manufacture ships onboard Galactica, but they said they'd take it later."
"That should work," Saul said, nodding. It was sounding like a good idea.
"It should," Tyrol echoed.
Saul felt just a bit of the weight lift from his shoulders. Maybe it was going to work out after all.
**
Saul lost track of how long he stayed down on the hangar deck-he'd completely forgotten about leaving. He was in and out of the hatch, watching the team work, and at one point-he wasn't sure what possessed him to do it-he grabbed a tank himself and got to work.
When they were finished, Saul climbed, exhausted, out of the hatch and out onto the deck with the other knuckledraggers.
Bill was waiting for them, sitting on a crate, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was unreadable. "Can I speak to you, Colonel?" he asked.
Saul winced. Bill wasn't going to like this. "Of course, sir," he said, reaching for the jacket he'd dropped on the floor.
Together, they walked to the stairs.
"You think I could take a shower first, before you start dressing me down?" Saul asked in a low voice.
"I'm not going to dress you down." Bill didn't look at him, just kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead. "I know how you were beating yourself up about this. You had to feel like you were part of the solution."
"I guess." Saul wiped his hands on a rag and stuffed it back in his pocket. "Felt good to get my hands dirty, you know? I never get to do that kind of thing anymore."
"It's good seeing you like this," Bill said. He stopped then and looked at Saul. "Being productive."
Not drinking was what he didn't say and Saul silently thanked him for that.
"Feels good," he said.
"I know how that can be. I feel that way about flying sometimes." Bill grinned and Saul thought he looked a good deal younger suddenly. "Hard going out there, though, at my age. Mostly, I just feel self-conscious with all these kids staring at me."
"Don't I know it." Saul shook his head. "It's like some of them think I was born with these pins. Wonder how many of them actually realize I used to be in their position."
"I'm sure a fair few do," Bill said. "But you're right. It makes it awkward sometimes to go amongst the crew. Think you do a bit better job of blending in than I do, if your triad record's anything to go by."
Saul shrugged and didn't say anything.
"One thing I wanted to mention, though." Bill stopped here and turned to look at him seriously. "I need you, you know that, right? I get that you were bothered by what happened, and you did the right thing by having them fireproof the lines. But you really shouldn't have gone in there yourself. Because if you'd died in there…"
"I know, I know, it was stupid." Saul looked down at his feet. Feeling eighteen again had its downsides, too. "I won't do it again. But I had to this time." He looked up at Bill and smirked. "You want to do something stupid and make it even."
"I'll keep that one in the bank." Bill's lips twitched with the hint of a smile and Saul felt a wave of relief wash over him. He wasn't really mad. Bill cuffed him on the shoulder. "I want to see you in my quarters; there are some duty sheets I'd like to go over first. But take your shower first. You frakking stink."
Saul grinned and saluted. "Yes, sir. I forgot about that."
Bill smirked and headed off down the corridor. Saul watched him go. He knew Bill was right. It wasn't his place as XO to be crawling around in the bowels of the ship.
But still.
Saul smiled to himself. It had taken his mind off the events of the past few days. Wouldn't do anything about the eighty-five kids they'd lost; he'd never forget them.
But maybe Chief was right. Maybe there wouldn't be a next time.
Oh, sure, they'd lose men. This was war and just being out here was risk enough. But if he could do anything to keep them from dying that way, keep them from getting sucked out into the vacuum of space, he would. He was the XO; he owed them that much.