The Spoils of War
Intro: Secrets & Whispers. The ninth and last in a series of Baltar/Gaeta missing scenes fics. These stories may be read together or as stand-alone oneshots.
Chapters: 1. Devotion to Good, 2. Return from Kobol, 3. After the Election, 4. The First Intern, 5. Judgement Day, 6. A Walk at Midnight, 7. Awaiting the Verdict, 8. Voices in the Mind. 9. The Spoils of War
Synopsis: Gaius finally does something good for Felix.
Characters: Baltar, Gaeta, Hoshi and Six.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own BSG.
Warning: You might want to be alone when you read this. It's upsetting (as most of you are anticipating).
Beta: All my thanks to
lls_mutant and brennanspeaks and all the readers who have supported this fic.
Quote: "They say it's the last song. They don't know us, you see. It's only the last song if we let it be." Dancer in the Dark
9. The Spoils of War
They had the night. They had all the dark hours of that last long night. It was more time than Gaius had hoped to have with Felix again and yet their time together was held captive, so soon to be brutally ended.
Felix was under arrest in a set of officer’s quarters, his execution scheduled for 0600 hours. Gaius had been granted his request to talk with the prisoner, but he had been scared of who he would find in that room. He feared his old friend might have been transformed into a lunatic or demon by the blazing fires of his mutiny. But the Felix who had greeted him was pleasant and tender, more so than he had been in years. His mood made sense when Gaius considered it. Felix’s life had been so fraught and complicated, so suffocated by his pressures and burdens. His sentence had made his remaining hours so ridiculously simple for him. The weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was giddy with the fleeting sense of freedom. Felix no longer had to struggle to fix the world. He just needed to leave it.
Theirs was a conversation for the end of the world, the end of time. Gaius felt like it was the first genuine conversation he had experienced in months. They didn’t talk about the revolution or New Caprica or the many betrayals that lay between them. Instead Gaius asked Felix about his childhood, his fondest memories and earliest dreams; things that he should have asked about long ago but was too selfish to inquire. The guards had furnished them with a tray of cigars and coffee laced with ambrosia. Gaius knew the tradition of the last meal and what it symbolised. To accept these offerings meant to make peace with the host; to take an oath of truce and forgive the executioner. Gaius had been prepared to rebel against it, but Felix encouraged him to share in his calm surrender. So they smoked and they drank together while they waited for the dawn. Felix didn’t call it his last rites. He called it the spoils of war.
Gaius wanted time to leave them alone in that room while Felix was no longer glancing at his watch. In the end their only warning was a sudden clump of boots in the corridor outside. Their eyes met through the haze of smoke. They stubbed out their cigars. Gaius knew that if they had anything left to say to each other then it had to be now, but his throat was constricting. Felix only had one question.
“Are you going to be there?” he asked.
Gaius hesitated. He didn’t know if it would be better to say yes or no. He feared that either answer might upset Felix. He heard the wheel being turned on the hatch door and he knew he had to tell him something.
“If you want…” he replied.
Felix made a slight movement with his head. It was so meek and subtle that Gaius couldn’t be sure if it was a nod, but that didn’t matter. Gaius knew that he was going to be there. He knew there would be many people standing witness to Felix’s death. At least one of them should be a friend.
The hatch door opened and the guard stepped inside.
“Felix Gaeta,” he said; a toneless summons.
Felix blinked at the sound of his name. He sat frowning for a moment and Gaius could see that Felix was now scratching his own name off that long list that he still kept in his mind. He could never make those lists disappear. It was better if he disappeared and became one of them; one of the lost names.
Felix nodded obligingly to the guard. He reached for his crutch and hauled himself up from the table. Gaius looked down and noticed that the metal limb was missing from below his knee. Felix was struggling to balance.
“Wait,” Gaius blurted, rising to his feet, his nerves kicking in. “Wait...he needs his leg. Felix, where is it? Where did you put your prosthetic?”
“It’s fine,” Felix dismissed. “I don't need it.”
Gaius was still glancing around the room, desperate to find it for him.
“Wait,” he repeated. “Just wait a moment…”
Don’t kill him, he thought uselessly.
Gaius wanted to make some form of protest, even though he knew that it would do no good. He wanted a photo forgery that he could run security checks on and show to the Admiral, proving that Felix was not the man he thought he was. He wanted to do something. But God was offering no miracles this morning. Felix was already limping through the hatch. Gaius abandoned his search, slumping his shoulders and following him out into the corridor.
There was a detail of six marines waiting to escort Felix to the hanger bay. Six tall soldiers with rifles, helmets and body armor sent to guard one pale crippled man. It was pathetic. Gaius hated everything about this dark ritual; this ceremony of judicial murder. He trailed behind them as they began their long walk down the hall. The guards were flanking Felix, three on each side, clutching their guns to their chests. Gaius knew that they were supposed to march, but Felix’s condition forced them to slow their pace, so they seemed more like a funeral procession.
Gaius’s heart was pounding against his ribs. There had been so many nights in his cell when he had imagined himself taking this walk. He had always hoped he would have been brave and dignified, but that wasn’t the man he was. Deep down Gaius knew he would have been screaming, weeping and hysterical, and it would have taken all these guards just to drag him along. The man who he wanted to be was only an idle dream. He could only pretend to be the hero in his mind.
I wash my hands of the phony democratic system…many of the oppressed have realised the truth and are ready to take action…even take arms...
Gaius had written the words. He even believed in them but he never would have dared to take that stand. He feared too much for the consequences.
If you hear the people you will never have to fear the people.
Felix was walking without fear or words. The guards did not lay a hand on their prisoner. They watched him nervously out of the corner of their eyes, hearing the scrape of his crutch on the floor and the quiet gasps accompanying his every painful step. Felix was not pulling back from this fate, but struggling forwards to meet it. One last difficult task he had to complete. It was his duty. His back was hunched and his remaining leg was shaking at the knee. Felix raised one arm to steady himself; his hand fluttering in the air. Gaius fixed his eyes on that hand. It looked like bird with a broken wing, so close to tumbling out of the sky.
Frak it… he thought.
Gaius took four brisk strides forward. He caught hold of Felix’s hand. He clasped it in both palms, letting Felix lean against his arm, trying to still the quiet trembling in him. The marines turned their heads. At least one of them cocked their rifle. Gaius gave them a sharp glance, enough to tell them that if helping a crippled man to walk was some form of mutiny then he wasn’t prepared to quit in his revolt. Felix held onto his hand, but he didn’t turn to look at him. His eyes were still staring ahead, focusing on that final door that lay at the end of the hall.
All was silent when they stepped into the hanger which would serve as the execution chamber. There were two chairs stationed at the end of the launch tube. Tom Zarek already sat bound to one of them, his expression stony and resigned. Gaius winced as he thought of the many nights that he had shared drinks and cigars with this man too; back in their campaign days and the early months of New Caprica. He had no wish to see Tom die either, but he knew that he was brave. If Zarek could grit his teeth and order a whole army of cylon invaders to leave their settlement, then he could face this alone. Gaius needed to concentrate on Felix now.
The marines filed out and formed a line. The firing squad was comprised of former mutineers. This was how the Admiral expected them to swear their oaths again; a new allegiance signed with the blood of his enemies. Adama and Tigh stood a little way behind the shooters, wearing dual expressions of unforgiving disappointment. For seven years they had been Felix’s superiors and he their faithful servant. Gaius had witnessed their daily routines. He knew how these two steely old men had put him to work, used him for his brains and his efficiency, lost their tempers at him, bullied and repressed him, forgotten to appreciate his efforts, never listened to him when he tried to advise against their judgments…until their Mr Gaeta had finally snapped, like a lever that they pushed down on too hard one day.
In a final act of nobility, Felix smiled at them all. He tipped his head at the marines, his comrades in mutiny, as if he wished to commend them on their professionalism. The faces surrounding him were cold and stern. None were prepared to return his oath of truce, but Gaius knew they needed this from Felix. They needed him to accept his defeat so that the Old Man could take back his ship under a banner of righteousness. That was what Adama had bought from his officer with the tray of coffee and cigars and even the soothing ambrosia he had slipped into his drink. Something to put out the fire in Felix so there would be no more rebellious speeches, nor accusations of failed leadership on his way to the firing squad.
Gaius was certain that Felix hadn’t forgotten or relinquished his ideals, but he was humble, he was sporting and more than anything he was tired. With his smile he promised them that his spirit and his memory wouldn’t haunt them in the days that followed. Felix had no interest in lingering here. The mission had been cruel to him. He was done with it. His bitterness was falling away from him like rags. He was becoming something beautiful, his smile bringing him a step closer to the angels.
With the shooters assembled and waiting, Felix began to shuffle towards the airlock. Gaius had been prepared to walk beside him, to help him all the way to the appointed spot. But Felix turned his head, bringing his mouth close to his ear.
“Let go, Gaius…” he whispered.
Gaius sighed and nodded reluctantly, allowing his fingers slipped from his grasp. He never would have believed it would end this way. Once they had fought in a prison cell; branding each other traitors and trying to drag each other down. Now Gaius wished he could hold him back while Felix was refusing to take him any further.
When Felix stepped into the launch tube, Gaius felt the air in the room changing. The mob stood in silence before the airlock. They watched Felix trying to navigate the difficult terrain with his crutch. They watched the space where his leg had once been. The military had already taken a piece of this man. They all knew it had been friendly fire, though nobody had ever answered for it or received punishment. It was easier to ask Felix to accept the punishments for their failures. He could carry the burden to his death and extinguish it with his acceptance. Gaius knew they felt it. They watched as Felix took his last walk. They held their breath for him; they counted his steps and they willed him not to fall. If he fell then every man in this room might break.
Felix reached the chair. He clung to its frame, catching his breath. He sank down into its seat.
For a brief moment he was a hero to them all.
Just as suddenly the spell was broken. Adama gave a nod and two of his marines made their way down the track of the launch tube. One of them took away Felix’s crutch. The other pulled his hands behind him, securing them to the chair. A blindfold was offered and declined. Gaius struggled to calm his breaths as he realised how quickly this was going to be over. Having prepared the victims, the two guards returned to their position at the end of the line.
Gaius could still see Felix’s face in the light. He was still smiling; unafraid. When it came to friendly fire he was a veteran. Zarek glanced across the space between them, so Felix turned and shared his smile with him too; one last act of kindness and solidarity; one last chance for them to smile. Then they both turned back to the guns.
Adama’s voice punched at the air.
“Ready…”
Gaius made sure he was standing in the light. He made sure Felix could see him. He wanted to weep but forced himself to be brave and dignified, a mirror reflection of the man before him. Felix had always been a mirror to him.
“…Aim…”
Gaius stood in the gap between the two marines leveling their weapons at his friend’s chest. He wanted Felix to look at him and not their guns. He wanted the last thing that Felix saw in this world to be the face of a friend.
“…Fire!”
Gaius watched through the shots and the smoke. He watched through the mist of blood that erupted into the air and the ringing silence that followed. He waited till he was certain that Felix didn’t see him anymore.
Then Gaius turned away, gasping for breath and staggering towards the back of the chamber. A sob escaped from his mouth and echoed up to the ceiling. He didn’t care who heard it. The tears were already forming in his eyes. Gaius glanced to this side and saw that Lee Adama had moved away too. The Admiral’s son, who had been the first to let Zarek out of his cage because he thought that he was right. The young man who had boasted in court that the elite were very forgiving of mistakes. Where were his speeches now? Where were those lofty ideals? They were bleeding at the end of a launch tube and Lee could not bear to look.
Gaius straightened and made quickly for the hatch door. He didn’t wish to stay here any longer or to see what undignified way they would choose to dispose of the bodies. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had only come here for his friend.
Gaius came to an abrupt halt in the corridor. There was a man stood in the hall outside the hanger bay; an officer in duty blues, the same uniform as Felix; a colleague from the CIC perhaps. His head was bowed, his face pale and solemn as he stared down at a photo clasped in his hands. Slowly the officer lifted his head to Gaius. He frowned at first, a hint of animosity creeping into his still expression. Then he saw the tears standing in Gaius’s eyes and seemed to soften to him.
“Did he suffer?” the man asked simply.
His voice suggested that he had seen too much suffering already, too much loss. Gaius shook his head, wishing to spare him further pain.
“No,” he said. “The marines were merciful in their aim.”
Gaius winced, feeling a little sick that he had described what had just happened in that room as merciful. The truth was he didn't know, he couldn't imagine what Felix had suffered. But he knew what this man needed to hear. Before either of them could speak again, Tigh stepped out into the hall. The Colonel did not speak, but as he passed them by he reached out to press the officer’s shoulder in a quiet gesture of condolence.
Gaius blinked. He suddenly realised who this man had been to Felix.
“You…you were a friend of Mr Gaeta?” he asked.
The officer met his eyes and nodded. They both knew what was meant by the term friend.
Gaius swallowed. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
“Lieutenant Hoshi,” the man answered.
“Right,” he nodded. “I’m…”
“I know who you are,” he cut in.
Gaius shifted his feet nervously. They both knew what was meant by that too. But truly, Gaius didn’t wish for any hostility between them. Not now. He was relieved to learn that Felix had loved others; that he hadn’t been the only one. Just looking at this man he could imagine that Hoshi was solid, loyal, dependable…all the things that Gaius had never been for Felix.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Gaius told him.
Hoshi sighed, his breath feathery and torn. “I…I almost lost him a week ago. I was prepared for it. But not like this. It isn’t right that Felix should die this way. I knew him and he was…” His voice trailed into silence.
“I knew him too,” Gaius offered. It was all that needed to be said.
“I suppose…there won’t even be a funeral now…”
Hoshi’s face creased with sadness. Gaius felt that there was nothing quite so cruel as execution when even mourning was outlawed and condemned.
“What are you holding?” Gaius asked him gently. “May I see?”
Hoshi nodded, allowing him to see the picture in his hands. It was a photo of Felix in his uniform, standing to attention. His eyes were bright, his hair was neatly trimmed and there was colour in his cheeks. He looked like a kid on his first day of school who was already determined to come top of every class.
“It’s the only picture I have of him,” said Hoshi. “The guards took the rest when they emptied his things out of his locker. They said it was…evidence. I don’t know if I’m going to get them back now.” He sighed. “I wanted to put it up in the remembrance halls, but I…I’m worried someone will tear it down.”
“No. No, they wouldn’t do that,” said Gaius, trying to sound surer than he felt. “They knew him too, you see. When they see that picture they’ll remember who he was. I think this is how people should remember him.”
Hoshi nodded again. “Do you want to come with me?”
Gaius winced. The man was sounding a little desperate. He seemed afraid that he was going to be left alone with his grief and the loss that was already too much.
“Yes, I’ll come,” said Gaius. “I’d like to come...”
“I think Felix would like it too.”
Their eyes met over the mention of his name. They held his memory between them for a moment. Then they lowered their heads and made their slow way through the decks. They walked like crippled men, their bodies weaker and more pained with every step that they took. Hoshi spoke a little to Gaius of how Felix had been in the last month. He learned what he had meant by the words ‘I almost lost him a week ago’. He was told about Dualla’s suicide, the morpha, the Raptor and the Eight. He could hardly take it all in. It was too much just to hear and imagine.
“He shouldn’t have been working,” Gaius muttered.
Hoshi nodded, wincing with shame. “That’s what I said. But Felix kept on insisting he was fine. It…it’s my fault, I should have realised…”
“No, don’t think that,” said Gaius. “You were good to him, Lieutenant. You might have been the last person who was ever good to him.”
“Actually, I think that was you, Doctor.”
Hoshi managed a frail smile, an oath of truce such as Felix would offer to one who was in need of it. Gaius felt blessed by his words. He remembered faintly how he had always wanted to do something good for Felix.
“Thank you, Mr Hoshi...and there will be a service. I promise you that. Come down to the storage bay on deck eight, section fourteen, this evening time. There are some things I intend to make known in my next broadcast.”
They fell silent as they turned into the hallway. Gaius took a step back, not wishing to intrude on the lieutenant as he paid his last respects. Hoshi passed slowly through the corridor, his eyes scanning the sea of faces that covered its walls. At first it seemed he would place Felix’s picture beside his dear friend Dualla, but he drew back. There were too many Colonial officers on that wall. They both knew that Felix didn’t fit in with them anymore. Perhaps he never did. Hoshi moved his photo along to the next wall; a wall covered with civilian pictures. Gaius nodded with approval. It felt right to place Felix there. His heart had always belonged to the people.
Hoshi didn’t stay too long. He lit a solitary candle on the table below; a memory of the fire he had loved in Felix. Then he stood to attention, looking at the picture one last time before slowly raising his hand in a salute. Hoshi wouldn’t allow Felix to be the only soldier of this fleet whose sacrifice was not saluted.
It wasn’t until Hoshi had left that Gaius approached the picture himself. As he came closer, he looked up at the wall and his heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe it. Of all the places he could have chosen to put that photograph…
...Hoshi had placed Felix’s picture right next to Adrian.
“Look at them, Gaius. They were so beautiful, weren’t they?”
Gaius turned his head to find his Six standing beside him. Her red dress was covered by a long black coat and shawl. There were tears glittering in her eyes.
“I didn’t think you’d care,” he remarked.
“Of course, I care Gaius,” she said, turning her head and looking at him sharply. “He was one of God’s children, just like you. He’s played his part in God’s plan. We can only hope that his soul is at peace now…”
Gaius frowned. “So this was God’s doing, was it? God wanted this man to suffer and be put to death as some part of his divine purpose?”
“God is wise and merciful," she insisted. "He wants to lead you to salvation. But to bring about that miracle, there must be sacrifices along the way.”
“Is that what I just witnessed in the hanger deck? A sacrifice of God?” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it that myself.”
“What would you call it, Gaius?” she asked.
Gaius stared at Felix’s picture on the wall. He thought of all that had been taken from him. A hopeful young life plundered and ruined by their mission.
“The spoils of war,” he murmured.
Gaius swallowed, looking at Felix and Adrian beside him; two men he had loved for their goodness, for their humble goodness, expressed in so many ways throughout their brief lives. Gaius felt like there were no good men left in the world. If only he could become such a man himself. He had made the promise years ago. He had fallen to his knees and he had vowed to devote his life to good before selfishly turning aside. Yet God had saved him. No, Felix was the one who had saved him. Because he had believed there was a better man in Gaius. A good man. An honourable man.
Maybe it was time he became that man at last...
His Six took him by the hand and Gaius let her guide him away.
The End
Chapters: 1. Devotion to Good, 2. Return from Kobol, 3. After the Election, 4. The First Intern, 5. Judgement Day, 6. A Walk at Midnight, 7. Awaiting the Verdict, 8. Voices in the Mind. 9. The Spoils of War
Synopsis: Gaius finally does something good for Felix.
Characters: Baltar, Gaeta, Hoshi and Six.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own BSG.
Warning: You might want to be alone when you read this. It's upsetting (as most of you are anticipating).
Beta: All my thanks to
lls_mutant and brennanspeaks and all the readers who have supported this fic.
Quote: "They say it's the last song. They don't know us, you see. It's only the last song if we let it be." Dancer in the Dark
9. The Spoils of War
They had the night. They had all the dark hours of that last long night. It was more time than Gaius had hoped to have with Felix again and yet their time together was held captive, so soon to be brutally ended.
Felix was under arrest in a set of officer’s quarters, his execution scheduled for 0600 hours. Gaius had been granted his request to talk with the prisoner, but he had been scared of who he would find in that room. He feared his old friend might have been transformed into a lunatic or demon by the blazing fires of his mutiny. But the Felix who had greeted him was pleasant and tender, more so than he had been in years. His mood made sense when Gaius considered it. Felix’s life had been so fraught and complicated, so suffocated by his pressures and burdens. His sentence had made his remaining hours so ridiculously simple for him. The weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was giddy with the fleeting sense of freedom. Felix no longer had to struggle to fix the world. He just needed to leave it.
Theirs was a conversation for the end of the world, the end of time. Gaius felt like it was the first genuine conversation he had experienced in months. They didn’t talk about the revolution or New Caprica or the many betrayals that lay between them. Instead Gaius asked Felix about his childhood, his fondest memories and earliest dreams; things that he should have asked about long ago but was too selfish to inquire. The guards had furnished them with a tray of cigars and coffee laced with ambrosia. Gaius knew the tradition of the last meal and what it symbolised. To accept these offerings meant to make peace with the host; to take an oath of truce and forgive the executioner. Gaius had been prepared to rebel against it, but Felix encouraged him to share in his calm surrender. So they smoked and they drank together while they waited for the dawn. Felix didn’t call it his last rites. He called it the spoils of war.
Gaius wanted time to leave them alone in that room while Felix was no longer glancing at his watch. In the end their only warning was a sudden clump of boots in the corridor outside. Their eyes met through the haze of smoke. They stubbed out their cigars. Gaius knew that if they had anything left to say to each other then it had to be now, but his throat was constricting. Felix only had one question.
“Are you going to be there?” he asked.
Gaius hesitated. He didn’t know if it would be better to say yes or no. He feared that either answer might upset Felix. He heard the wheel being turned on the hatch door and he knew he had to tell him something.
“If you want…” he replied.
Felix made a slight movement with his head. It was so meek and subtle that Gaius couldn’t be sure if it was a nod, but that didn’t matter. Gaius knew that he was going to be there. He knew there would be many people standing witness to Felix’s death. At least one of them should be a friend.
The hatch door opened and the guard stepped inside.
“Felix Gaeta,” he said; a toneless summons.
Felix blinked at the sound of his name. He sat frowning for a moment and Gaius could see that Felix was now scratching his own name off that long list that he still kept in his mind. He could never make those lists disappear. It was better if he disappeared and became one of them; one of the lost names.
Felix nodded obligingly to the guard. He reached for his crutch and hauled himself up from the table. Gaius looked down and noticed that the metal limb was missing from below his knee. Felix was struggling to balance.
“Wait,” Gaius blurted, rising to his feet, his nerves kicking in. “Wait...he needs his leg. Felix, where is it? Where did you put your prosthetic?”
“It’s fine,” Felix dismissed. “I don't need it.”
Gaius was still glancing around the room, desperate to find it for him.
“Wait,” he repeated. “Just wait a moment…”
Don’t kill him, he thought uselessly.
Gaius wanted to make some form of protest, even though he knew that it would do no good. He wanted a photo forgery that he could run security checks on and show to the Admiral, proving that Felix was not the man he thought he was. He wanted to do something. But God was offering no miracles this morning. Felix was already limping through the hatch. Gaius abandoned his search, slumping his shoulders and following him out into the corridor.
There was a detail of six marines waiting to escort Felix to the hanger bay. Six tall soldiers with rifles, helmets and body armor sent to guard one pale crippled man. It was pathetic. Gaius hated everything about this dark ritual; this ceremony of judicial murder. He trailed behind them as they began their long walk down the hall. The guards were flanking Felix, three on each side, clutching their guns to their chests. Gaius knew that they were supposed to march, but Felix’s condition forced them to slow their pace, so they seemed more like a funeral procession.
Gaius’s heart was pounding against his ribs. There had been so many nights in his cell when he had imagined himself taking this walk. He had always hoped he would have been brave and dignified, but that wasn’t the man he was. Deep down Gaius knew he would have been screaming, weeping and hysterical, and it would have taken all these guards just to drag him along. The man who he wanted to be was only an idle dream. He could only pretend to be the hero in his mind.
I wash my hands of the phony democratic system…many of the oppressed have realised the truth and are ready to take action…even take arms...
Gaius had written the words. He even believed in them but he never would have dared to take that stand. He feared too much for the consequences.
If you hear the people you will never have to fear the people.
Felix was walking without fear or words. The guards did not lay a hand on their prisoner. They watched him nervously out of the corner of their eyes, hearing the scrape of his crutch on the floor and the quiet gasps accompanying his every painful step. Felix was not pulling back from this fate, but struggling forwards to meet it. One last difficult task he had to complete. It was his duty. His back was hunched and his remaining leg was shaking at the knee. Felix raised one arm to steady himself; his hand fluttering in the air. Gaius fixed his eyes on that hand. It looked like bird with a broken wing, so close to tumbling out of the sky.
Frak it… he thought.
Gaius took four brisk strides forward. He caught hold of Felix’s hand. He clasped it in both palms, letting Felix lean against his arm, trying to still the quiet trembling in him. The marines turned their heads. At least one of them cocked their rifle. Gaius gave them a sharp glance, enough to tell them that if helping a crippled man to walk was some form of mutiny then he wasn’t prepared to quit in his revolt. Felix held onto his hand, but he didn’t turn to look at him. His eyes were still staring ahead, focusing on that final door that lay at the end of the hall.
All was silent when they stepped into the hanger which would serve as the execution chamber. There were two chairs stationed at the end of the launch tube. Tom Zarek already sat bound to one of them, his expression stony and resigned. Gaius winced as he thought of the many nights that he had shared drinks and cigars with this man too; back in their campaign days and the early months of New Caprica. He had no wish to see Tom die either, but he knew that he was brave. If Zarek could grit his teeth and order a whole army of cylon invaders to leave their settlement, then he could face this alone. Gaius needed to concentrate on Felix now.
The marines filed out and formed a line. The firing squad was comprised of former mutineers. This was how the Admiral expected them to swear their oaths again; a new allegiance signed with the blood of his enemies. Adama and Tigh stood a little way behind the shooters, wearing dual expressions of unforgiving disappointment. For seven years they had been Felix’s superiors and he their faithful servant. Gaius had witnessed their daily routines. He knew how these two steely old men had put him to work, used him for his brains and his efficiency, lost their tempers at him, bullied and repressed him, forgotten to appreciate his efforts, never listened to him when he tried to advise against their judgments…until their Mr Gaeta had finally snapped, like a lever that they pushed down on too hard one day.
In a final act of nobility, Felix smiled at them all. He tipped his head at the marines, his comrades in mutiny, as if he wished to commend them on their professionalism. The faces surrounding him were cold and stern. None were prepared to return his oath of truce, but Gaius knew they needed this from Felix. They needed him to accept his defeat so that the Old Man could take back his ship under a banner of righteousness. That was what Adama had bought from his officer with the tray of coffee and cigars and even the soothing ambrosia he had slipped into his drink. Something to put out the fire in Felix so there would be no more rebellious speeches, nor accusations of failed leadership on his way to the firing squad.
Gaius was certain that Felix hadn’t forgotten or relinquished his ideals, but he was humble, he was sporting and more than anything he was tired. With his smile he promised them that his spirit and his memory wouldn’t haunt them in the days that followed. Felix had no interest in lingering here. The mission had been cruel to him. He was done with it. His bitterness was falling away from him like rags. He was becoming something beautiful, his smile bringing him a step closer to the angels.
With the shooters assembled and waiting, Felix began to shuffle towards the airlock. Gaius had been prepared to walk beside him, to help him all the way to the appointed spot. But Felix turned his head, bringing his mouth close to his ear.
“Let go, Gaius…” he whispered.
Gaius sighed and nodded reluctantly, allowing his fingers slipped from his grasp. He never would have believed it would end this way. Once they had fought in a prison cell; branding each other traitors and trying to drag each other down. Now Gaius wished he could hold him back while Felix was refusing to take him any further.
When Felix stepped into the launch tube, Gaius felt the air in the room changing. The mob stood in silence before the airlock. They watched Felix trying to navigate the difficult terrain with his crutch. They watched the space where his leg had once been. The military had already taken a piece of this man. They all knew it had been friendly fire, though nobody had ever answered for it or received punishment. It was easier to ask Felix to accept the punishments for their failures. He could carry the burden to his death and extinguish it with his acceptance. Gaius knew they felt it. They watched as Felix took his last walk. They held their breath for him; they counted his steps and they willed him not to fall. If he fell then every man in this room might break.
Felix reached the chair. He clung to its frame, catching his breath. He sank down into its seat.
For a brief moment he was a hero to them all.
Just as suddenly the spell was broken. Adama gave a nod and two of his marines made their way down the track of the launch tube. One of them took away Felix’s crutch. The other pulled his hands behind him, securing them to the chair. A blindfold was offered and declined. Gaius struggled to calm his breaths as he realised how quickly this was going to be over. Having prepared the victims, the two guards returned to their position at the end of the line.
Gaius could still see Felix’s face in the light. He was still smiling; unafraid. When it came to friendly fire he was a veteran. Zarek glanced across the space between them, so Felix turned and shared his smile with him too; one last act of kindness and solidarity; one last chance for them to smile. Then they both turned back to the guns.
Adama’s voice punched at the air.
“Ready…”
Gaius made sure he was standing in the light. He made sure Felix could see him. He wanted to weep but forced himself to be brave and dignified, a mirror reflection of the man before him. Felix had always been a mirror to him.
“…Aim…”
Gaius stood in the gap between the two marines leveling their weapons at his friend’s chest. He wanted Felix to look at him and not their guns. He wanted the last thing that Felix saw in this world to be the face of a friend.
“…Fire!”
Gaius watched through the shots and the smoke. He watched through the mist of blood that erupted into the air and the ringing silence that followed. He waited till he was certain that Felix didn’t see him anymore.
Then Gaius turned away, gasping for breath and staggering towards the back of the chamber. A sob escaped from his mouth and echoed up to the ceiling. He didn’t care who heard it. The tears were already forming in his eyes. Gaius glanced to this side and saw that Lee Adama had moved away too. The Admiral’s son, who had been the first to let Zarek out of his cage because he thought that he was right. The young man who had boasted in court that the elite were very forgiving of mistakes. Where were his speeches now? Where were those lofty ideals? They were bleeding at the end of a launch tube and Lee could not bear to look.
Gaius straightened and made quickly for the hatch door. He didn’t wish to stay here any longer or to see what undignified way they would choose to dispose of the bodies. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had only come here for his friend.
Gaius came to an abrupt halt in the corridor. There was a man stood in the hall outside the hanger bay; an officer in duty blues, the same uniform as Felix; a colleague from the CIC perhaps. His head was bowed, his face pale and solemn as he stared down at a photo clasped in his hands. Slowly the officer lifted his head to Gaius. He frowned at first, a hint of animosity creeping into his still expression. Then he saw the tears standing in Gaius’s eyes and seemed to soften to him.
“Did he suffer?” the man asked simply.
His voice suggested that he had seen too much suffering already, too much loss. Gaius shook his head, wishing to spare him further pain.
“No,” he said. “The marines were merciful in their aim.”
Gaius winced, feeling a little sick that he had described what had just happened in that room as merciful. The truth was he didn't know, he couldn't imagine what Felix had suffered. But he knew what this man needed to hear. Before either of them could speak again, Tigh stepped out into the hall. The Colonel did not speak, but as he passed them by he reached out to press the officer’s shoulder in a quiet gesture of condolence.
Gaius blinked. He suddenly realised who this man had been to Felix.
“You…you were a friend of Mr Gaeta?” he asked.
The officer met his eyes and nodded. They both knew what was meant by the term friend.
Gaius swallowed. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
“Lieutenant Hoshi,” the man answered.
“Right,” he nodded. “I’m…”
“I know who you are,” he cut in.
Gaius shifted his feet nervously. They both knew what was meant by that too. But truly, Gaius didn’t wish for any hostility between them. Not now. He was relieved to learn that Felix had loved others; that he hadn’t been the only one. Just looking at this man he could imagine that Hoshi was solid, loyal, dependable…all the things that Gaius had never been for Felix.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Gaius told him.
Hoshi sighed, his breath feathery and torn. “I…I almost lost him a week ago. I was prepared for it. But not like this. It isn’t right that Felix should die this way. I knew him and he was…” His voice trailed into silence.
“I knew him too,” Gaius offered. It was all that needed to be said.
“I suppose…there won’t even be a funeral now…”
Hoshi’s face creased with sadness. Gaius felt that there was nothing quite so cruel as execution when even mourning was outlawed and condemned.
“What are you holding?” Gaius asked him gently. “May I see?”
Hoshi nodded, allowing him to see the picture in his hands. It was a photo of Felix in his uniform, standing to attention. His eyes were bright, his hair was neatly trimmed and there was colour in his cheeks. He looked like a kid on his first day of school who was already determined to come top of every class.
“It’s the only picture I have of him,” said Hoshi. “The guards took the rest when they emptied his things out of his locker. They said it was…evidence. I don’t know if I’m going to get them back now.” He sighed. “I wanted to put it up in the remembrance halls, but I…I’m worried someone will tear it down.”
“No. No, they wouldn’t do that,” said Gaius, trying to sound surer than he felt. “They knew him too, you see. When they see that picture they’ll remember who he was. I think this is how people should remember him.”
Hoshi nodded again. “Do you want to come with me?”
Gaius winced. The man was sounding a little desperate. He seemed afraid that he was going to be left alone with his grief and the loss that was already too much.
“Yes, I’ll come,” said Gaius. “I’d like to come...”
“I think Felix would like it too.”
Their eyes met over the mention of his name. They held his memory between them for a moment. Then they lowered their heads and made their slow way through the decks. They walked like crippled men, their bodies weaker and more pained with every step that they took. Hoshi spoke a little to Gaius of how Felix had been in the last month. He learned what he had meant by the words ‘I almost lost him a week ago’. He was told about Dualla’s suicide, the morpha, the Raptor and the Eight. He could hardly take it all in. It was too much just to hear and imagine.
“He shouldn’t have been working,” Gaius muttered.
Hoshi nodded, wincing with shame. “That’s what I said. But Felix kept on insisting he was fine. It…it’s my fault, I should have realised…”
“No, don’t think that,” said Gaius. “You were good to him, Lieutenant. You might have been the last person who was ever good to him.”
“Actually, I think that was you, Doctor.”
Hoshi managed a frail smile, an oath of truce such as Felix would offer to one who was in need of it. Gaius felt blessed by his words. He remembered faintly how he had always wanted to do something good for Felix.
“Thank you, Mr Hoshi...and there will be a service. I promise you that. Come down to the storage bay on deck eight, section fourteen, this evening time. There are some things I intend to make known in my next broadcast.”
They fell silent as they turned into the hallway. Gaius took a step back, not wishing to intrude on the lieutenant as he paid his last respects. Hoshi passed slowly through the corridor, his eyes scanning the sea of faces that covered its walls. At first it seemed he would place Felix’s picture beside his dear friend Dualla, but he drew back. There were too many Colonial officers on that wall. They both knew that Felix didn’t fit in with them anymore. Perhaps he never did. Hoshi moved his photo along to the next wall; a wall covered with civilian pictures. Gaius nodded with approval. It felt right to place Felix there. His heart had always belonged to the people.
Hoshi didn’t stay too long. He lit a solitary candle on the table below; a memory of the fire he had loved in Felix. Then he stood to attention, looking at the picture one last time before slowly raising his hand in a salute. Hoshi wouldn’t allow Felix to be the only soldier of this fleet whose sacrifice was not saluted.
It wasn’t until Hoshi had left that Gaius approached the picture himself. As he came closer, he looked up at the wall and his heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe it. Of all the places he could have chosen to put that photograph…
...Hoshi had placed Felix’s picture right next to Adrian.
“Look at them, Gaius. They were so beautiful, weren’t they?”
Gaius turned his head to find his Six standing beside him. Her red dress was covered by a long black coat and shawl. There were tears glittering in her eyes.
“I didn’t think you’d care,” he remarked.
“Of course, I care Gaius,” she said, turning her head and looking at him sharply. “He was one of God’s children, just like you. He’s played his part in God’s plan. We can only hope that his soul is at peace now…”
Gaius frowned. “So this was God’s doing, was it? God wanted this man to suffer and be put to death as some part of his divine purpose?”
“God is wise and merciful," she insisted. "He wants to lead you to salvation. But to bring about that miracle, there must be sacrifices along the way.”
“Is that what I just witnessed in the hanger deck? A sacrifice of God?” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it that myself.”
“What would you call it, Gaius?” she asked.
Gaius stared at Felix’s picture on the wall. He thought of all that had been taken from him. A hopeful young life plundered and ruined by their mission.
“The spoils of war,” he murmured.
Gaius swallowed, looking at Felix and Adrian beside him; two men he had loved for their goodness, for their humble goodness, expressed in so many ways throughout their brief lives. Gaius felt like there were no good men left in the world. If only he could become such a man himself. He had made the promise years ago. He had fallen to his knees and he had vowed to devote his life to good before selfishly turning aside. Yet God had saved him. No, Felix was the one who had saved him. Because he had believed there was a better man in Gaius. A good man. An honourable man.
Maybe it was time he became that man at last...
His Six took him by the hand and Gaius let her guide him away.
The End