FIC: Eleven Hours ~ Chapter One

[bugsfic]

Title: Eleven Hours
Author: bugs
Genre: Drama, Suspense, Romance
Rating: T
Word Count: 3,600
Timestamp: Day One; eleven hours, three minutes

A/N: I cheated and posted the first part of this chapter as a birthday fic for akachankami but here's the full chapter.

As this story will actually have a plot, bsg_aussiegirl very kindly is giving it the hairy eyeball to assure things make sense.

~*~

And the Lords anointed a leader to guide the caravan of the heavens to their new homeland. This leader had a wasting disease, turning the bones to dust and the heart to stone until blood pumped no longer. The leader showed us the way to green plains and deep waters, but did not live to see that day. The leader's death is foretold in these pages.

"Eleven hours?" I spat at the Admiral. "Eleven hours and you've just called us in?"

An hour ago, I'd been in bed, reading reports, when the call had come in for our first case aboard Galactica. I'd dressed quickly and grabbed my equipment bag before pounding on the hatch of my recently appointed junior partner. We rounded up our few uniformed officers and met the waiting Raptor in the Salpica's landing bay.

We were part of the new Fleet police force, created out of the underground citizen patrols started on New Caprica. It had taken nearly a year of wrangling and stops and starts to create this division, but I knew our work was just beginning; now we had to prove ourselves capable of the job. Our beat included the battleship Galactica, but we'd yet to set foot on her as police detectives. I'd been waiting patiently for Admiral Adama to call and have us come over for an orientation.

It had been forty years since I'd been on Galactica for the first time. My grandfather had been the ship's first commander, and I'd attended his retirement ceremony. Being one of the last living connections to the vessel's glory years had earned me a trip to the old girl's decommissioning, saving my life while all my family, friends and colleagues died on Caprica. I had exchanged a few brief words with the then Commander after his rather odd speech, but hadn't seen him since.

When I was invited aboard, I hadn't expected the call to come at twenty-two hours, a terse order from a communications officer to be in the Admiral's quarters as soon as possible. I hadn't even received the ten cubit tour on the way; the Marines had escorted us at double-time through the maze of corridors.

"You know where we're going?" I huffed at Mac, my shorter legs barely keeping up. Our uniforms lagged behind to take in all the unfamiliar details of a battlestar.

The young man nodded, his gaze boring into the broad, black-uniformed backs before us.

"You gonna be okay?" I asked. The last time he'd been on this ship was to resign his commission as a Viper pilot.

He only nodded again. "We're here," he said tightly. "This is the place."

The hatch read 'Commanding Officer’ in faded white block letters.

Two Marines were already outside, but they parted to admit us without a word. Our escorts remained with them and I nodded to our uniforms to do the same.

The hatch creaked open and we stepped over the lip to enter. I begin any investigation the moment I enter the crime scene, but these quarters were so spectacular after four years of cramped steel lockers and storage rooms that I was stunned.

The heavy steel deck became plush carpets, strewn haphazardly around the room. There was a long leather couch hugging one wall. Statues, a huge painting and masks covered the riveted bulkhead...It had been so long since I'd seen anything that wasn't absolutely necessary for human existence, that I couldn't register the details...And books. Lots and lots of books...

I forced myself to focus on the people in the room.

A lean bald man lounged on the couch--the ship's XO, Colonel Tigh and a familiar face from New Caprica, although I hadn't had the pleasure to work with him on any missions. He did not rise, but watched us pass, contempt on his drawn face.

A younger woman with thick curly hair leaned against the shadowed wall, a notepad in her hands, her pen at the ready. I recognized her from the few press conferences of the President I'd been able to see broadcast in the communal room aboard my ship. She'd been a shadowy figure on New Caprica, entering our meetings just long enough to pass off coded orders and slipping away.

Lee Adama I knew from the news as well. It was odd to see him in a civilian suit, but he was even more handsome in person, if shorter than I expected. He stood behind a large imposing desk where another man sat.

This was Admiral Adama. The years had aged him. His face had the sort of features that seemed to be chiseled from granite by the harsh elements but the sharp planes has been worn by our tribulations.

He did not rise. The room remained silent.

"I am Lieutenant Han Stallsworth," I said, keeping my cool. "This is my partner, Detective Sergeant MacKenzie Truelove."

The admiral's gaze flitted quickly over my face, then moved onto my sergeant. He gave Mac a nod. "How you doin', Catpaw?"

"Fine, sir," Mac said evenly.

"You called us," I reminded Adama.

Lee Adama started to speak, but the slightest of twitches in his father's shoulders silenced him.

The Admiral had yet to meet my gaze. He kept his eyes on Mac. "Yes, we need the services of the police," he said, sounding surprised, an emotion that did not fit this impassive man.

I tried to remain calm, realizing that we had not been called into a case. A former crewmember had been brought in to clean up some mess, and I was just along as window dressing. This was the first test of our partnership and it was only a few days old.

"What is it, sir?" I asked.

The room crackled with an odd energy. They were all waiting for him to say something.

The disbelief was still in his tone. "She's gone. We can't find her. We've torn this ship apart, and we can't find her."

I had a horrible idea who he meant--someone was missing from the room--but I had to ask. "Who, sir?"

His large fists, planted on the desktop, tightened. His gold wedding band winked in the lamplight. "The President. President Roslin is missing."

I felt Mac's shocked reaction beside me rather than heard it. I pulled out my notebook and he followed suit, just as I'd taught him but his hands were shaking.

Myself, I felt a deadly calm. I started my questions; routine was the safe harbor in all crises. "When was the last time she was seen?"

The aide stepped forward. Before she could speak, I asked her name and address. That second part seemed to fluster her, and her gaze darted around the others before she told me Colonial One. It didn't seem that hard of a question, but I let it go.

"I left the President in the observation deck at a little after eleven," Tory Foster said. "We'd had a morning meeting in the Ready Room with supply staff of Galactica, then she was to have a follow up appointment with Doctor Cottle after lunch. Her diloxin treatment had been yesterday," she explained. "He checks her responses."

"What time did this meeting start?" I asked.

"Nine AM."

I glanced to the hatchway. "She has guards as well?"

Everyone looked back to the Admiral. I was beginning to find this tiresome.

He cleared his throat. "She has a detail of Marines. Six troops, two twelve hour shifts of two men, with the two spares." He pushed himself up from the desk, I thought to pace, but he remained standing behind the heavy piece of furniture, just as imposing and as solid.

"They swap shifts at twelve hundred hours." He looked to Ms. Foster. "They tell me that rather than going home, she decided to read in the lounge until lunch--sometimes these quarters can feel claustrophobic. She likes to look out the windows."

"I understand," I murmured.

"Tory went for an early lunch--"

The young woman flushed as though he'd accused her of something.

"And the President dismissed her detail early, telling them to have the next shift report to the lounge to escort her here for lunch."

"You were to dine with her?" I asked and that damn tension was back in the room, from everyone but Adama.

"Yes." He licked his lips as though fighting nausea. "I arrived just a minute or so after twelve. I wasn't worried that she wasn't here--I thought her meeting ran over. But her detail arrived at twelve seventeen, looking for her. She was not at the lounge when they arrived at twelve O-five."

"I left her there, with her book, reading," burst in Tory. "I thought she may even nap. I wanted her to rest--"

"Of course, Tory," Adama said, cutting her off. "I wasn't concerned at first. I thought there may been an emergency."

He looked very tired. "There's always some emergency," he said heavily. "I checked with Colonial One and then the lounge to see if she and Tory had left the ship. Nothing."

"A Marine found me in the cafeteria, having my lunch," Tory said quickly. "I told the Admiral what I told you."

"The deck crew had no record of the President leaving on any vessel with anyone," Lee Adama said, finally speaking up. "Because of security breaches, the deck is now monitored with cameras and all passengers coming and going are recorded. We've checked the footage and there was no sign of her."

"You looked at the footage from eleven until what time?"

Lee and his father looked at each other. The young man finally spoke up. "I'd say it was about thirteen hundred hours."

"I'd check those again," I said crisply. "If she's somehow eluded your searches until one, she could still have left or been taken from the ship after that."

The Admiral finally seemed to register a glimmer of hope. "Yes," he said, and nodded at his son. Lee Adama moved to the handset on the wall and issued quick instructions.

"I'm going to take your word that this vessel's been thoroughly searched--"

"Over a hundred Marines," Adama said tersely.

"Public announcements?" I asked. "Perhaps she just ran into a friend and has lost track of time chatting. This is a very large ship, you could keep missing her--"

Impatience was on his face. "No. And no announcements. She wouldn't want that. There must not be panic."

I shook my head in frustration.

"And that goes to you two as well," he said, looking from Mac to me. "No one outside this room can know about her disappearance."

My partner sat up straighter in the chair, his old military training in place. I didn't look up from my notepad.

"Let's backtrack," I said. "We'll need to know whomever was at the meeting. Perhaps she said something privately to one of them or showed some sign you missed, Ms. Foster."

Tory looked grateful for something to do at last. "I'll make a list."

"Thank you," said Mac, "I'll take it."

"What time did you arrive on the Galactica?" I asked, "who was your pilot?"

Tory's head shot up from her writing. She looked to the Admiral.

"The President has been residing on the Galactica while she has treatment," he said smoothly.

"Is this common knowledge?" I asked, watching Mac out of the corner of my eye. He did not return my gaze.

The Admiral came around to lean against his desk, standing right in front of us. "I would say not. Her staff knows--"

"Would you say most of the Galactica crew knows?"

"The President has been aboard on a nearly daily basis since her first bout of cancer." His thick shoulders rose and fell. "I doubt they make it their business."

Tory and Lee exchanged quick glances behind his back. I sighed. I felt as though I was at a pyramid game being played with five balls instead of one.

"The Dogsville residents?"

He shrugged again.

"But their area’s been searched?"

"Extensively," Lee Adama said.

The Admiral's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. I remembered that Gaius Baltar still lived aboard Galactica. I made a quick note.

"Does anyone know what time the President rose this morning? If she had contact with anyone, even on the phone?" I asked. "Does she dine in the galley or is her breakfast brought to her quarters?"

Everyone chose to look anywhere but at another person. The Admiral picked his boot tips. He sighed heavily.

Lee Adama leaned across the desk, giving me a sincere smile. "Really, Lieutenant, is any of this going to be helpful? No one on Galactica would harm the president. Shouldn't you begin your search of the Fleet immediately?"

He'd been wearing that politician's suit for only a month, but it seemed to be fitting very well.

"Keeping the Admiral's orders in mind about discretion, of course," he added.

I stood, touching Mac's shoulder. He slowly rose as well.

Forcing my voice to remain even-tempered, I laid it all out: "Galactica's part of my beat. I have a missing person case on this ship. If you will not cooperate with my investigation, I cannot do my job properly. No sense even starting."

I turned from the chair, tipping my head at Mac to follow me. "Good evening," I said.

I was halfway to the hatch when the Admiral spoke, his anger mixed with defeat: "I know what she'd want me to do and say. But I can't waste another minute with bullshitting."

Hearing what I needed to, I returned to the chair, pulling out my notepad again.

Adama addressed the still air, not me. "I got up at five hundred. My shift is at six hundred but I want her to sleep as much as possible, so I keep quiet. She woke, but drowsed on and off. I left a little before six--" His already rough voice cracked. "She wished me a good day at work. I asked if she wanted me to call around eight to wake her again. She did."

Lee jumped in. "I want to clarify. The president stays in the Admiral's quarters occasionally when she's had her treatments. It's closer to the sickbay." There was that slick smile again, but it didn't reach his eyes.

No one else commented on his lame excuse.

"I see," was my only reply. I made a note.

"My father sleeps on the couch," the younger man insisted, as though I'd said something more. Tigh winced and Foster stared at the painting over the couch like it was utterly fascinating.

The Admiral's expression was slightly embarrassed, and I had to fight the irrational urge to giggle. Was it because his son told the truth, or because he did not?

"My interest is where she was, what she did, what her manner was," I said crisply. "Sir, did she seem normal? Say anything odd? Mention meeting anyone else today than who you'd expect?"

Adama seemed relieved that I was keeping things professional. "She's ill and weak after her diloxin treatments. I want her to get as much sleep as possible, so I don't strike up a conversation, but her mood seemed as it always is." He shot his son a quelling glare. "She slept pretty well during the night, only had to get up once to vomit," he said with no drama in his tone.

Lee has the grace to look pained.

After checking my notes, I posed another question. "Did you call her as promised?"

"Yes."

"Did she say anything specific?"

A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "She told me to frak off when she answered."

He looked to the back of the quarters and now I noticed a bunk built into the wall, cloaked in shadows.

"She was angry?" I asked carefully.

"She's not a morning person," he explained.

"Anything else?"

"No, I just told her to not go back to bed; head into the shower."

I swung around to address Colonel Tigh. "Did you witness this call?"

"Witness," he growled. "What the frak do you mean?"

"Did you hear the Admiral call the President?"

"I don't snoop," he blustered.

I raised my eyebrows.

"Yeah, I heard him," he grumbled.

"Are you certain he was speaking to the President?"

"Why does it matter if my father spoke to the President?" asked Lee.

Adama directed one short nod at his XO.

"I knew it was her 'cause of what he said," muttered Tigh.

"That was?"

"Get your fat, lazy ass outta bed." His sallow face twitched. "When I heard that, I cleared out. I didn't hear anymore."

I looked back at the Admiral. "It's our thing," he explained.

"I see." I made another note. "And she did get up and meet Tory Foster?"

"I came to these quarters at half past eight," Tory said, sounding defeated.

"Do you have quarters aboard Galactica as well?" I asked.

"Yes, near..." She looked around, almost frantic, as though she wasn't sure what story she was on now. "Near the President's other quarters."

"She has another office and sleeping area," Lee explained quickly, appearing almost eager that this negated everything that had been admitted previously. I thought of my narrow cot in the women's dorm and the empty crate that was my desk and how I was grateful for both.

"And I assume you've checked there," I said dryly.

Everyone nodded like chastised schoolchildren.

I looked around, not disguising my inspection now. There was no obvious signs that a woman lived here, let alone this particular woman. That search would have to wait though.

"Earlier I asked who brings her breakfast," I said.

"A Marine, Jaffee, brings breakfast," said Adama. "He delivered mine at O-five-twenty, then he would have brought another meal after O-eight hundred."

"He can verify that she was here?"

"What the hell are you suggesting?" Lee Adama said, leaning aggressively toward me across the desk.

His father lay a hand on the younger man's arm. "It's okay, son. They always suspect the husband first."

At the word husband, Tigh went a deeper shade of yellow, Tory flushed red, and Lee Adama blanched pale.

"Dad--"

Bill shrugged yet again. "You know what I mean." He nodded toward me. "It's usually the ones closest to the victim. She's gotta go with the odds."

Shaking his head to clear it, Lee went on the offensive: "Suspect? Wait a damn minute."

I was suddenly pretty damn tired myself. I had had a long day and saw no end in sight; I would not sleep until I'd found the president.

"You gonna play defense attorney for your dad too?" I said and instantly regretted it. My mouth had gotten me in trouble more times than I could count.

Saul Tigh snorted rudely and Lee pursed his mouth.

For the first time since I had entered the room, William Adama looked me in the eyes. His were a deep blue, and crinkled with humor.

I stood. "All right, I want to work as quickly as possible. First, I'd like to check the lounge."

"It's been searched," protested Lee.

"We found her book there," said Adama. His hand came down on a volume on his desk, his large palm hiding its dark cover. "But no other signs."

"I'd like her guard detail to meet me there so we may interview them."

"Done," said the Admiral.

"I'll send one of my uniforms to the launch deck to obtain copies of both the camera footage and those logs."

Tigh nodded. "I can get those."

"Assuming we don't find a strong lead, we'll come back here to search these quarters thoroughly."

Lee looked around the room quickly.

Mac and I started to walk toward the door. The Admiral followed. "I'll come with you," he said.

"That's not necessary, sir," I protested.

"Dad, you need to get some rest," Lee said, bringing up the rear. His father only waved his hand in the younger man's face.

In the corridor, I gave my orders to the uniforms before dealing with Adama again. He waited, obviously impatient, for me to turn back to him.

Tigh and Foster passed us, hurrying away down the corridor together.

Facing the Admiral, I tried again. "Sir, you aren't needed--"

Those blue eyes could be very intense. "I have to do something," he stated. "This is my ship. I know every nut, every bolt, every crew member."

"Mac was on Galactica," I pointed out.

He kept his gaze on me. "I'm coming," he said flatly.

Lee Adama turned away. He must have been telling me something; when William Adama made a decision, there was no dissuading him.

I foolishly tried to stare him down anyway. Then I remembered my old Loo's advice, Keep the witnesses close, and your suspects closer.

"Yes, sir," I said, dropping my gaze and stepping aside. "Lead the way."

End ~ Chapter One