FIC: Youth's Final Luxury Part 8
Title: Youth's Final Luxury, Part 8
Author lls_mutant
Rating: PG-13ish
Characters: Tom Zarek and Felix Gaeta
Pairings: current Gaeta/Hoshi, Zarek/Racetrack; previous parts have Gaeta/Skulls, Gaeta/Baltar, and unrequited Zarek/Roslin.
Summary: Gaeta and Zarek begin laying their plans.
Spoilers: Through Blood on the Scales
Author's Note: Yup, there will be a part 9.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
Felix lay on his side, wrapped in Louis's arms, Louis behind him. The pain in his leg was excruciating, but he ignored it, tipped his head back and pretended pleasure. His fingers tightened on the sheets as Louis moved in him, and he clenched his eyes and jaw shut, even as pushed back against Louis desperately.
Louis groaned and stilled, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of Felix's neck. Felix breathed out slowly, threading his fingers through Louis's and squeezing. Finally, Louis pulled out and rolled to his back, still staying flush alongside him. Felix turned over, not able to completely hide his discomfort.
"We shouldn't have done that," Louis murmured guiltily. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Felix reassured him, trying to push a lock of hair behind Louis's ear and almost succeeding. "I'm glad your hair's grown out. It looks better long."
Louis considered him for a moment, and then settled against him. Felix guided his head to his shoulder, still stroking his hair. Louis closed his eyes.
"Did it work for you?" he murmured.
"I got what I wanted," Felix said, which was at least a true answer. He hadn't come- there had been no way in hell- but that wasn't what he was looking for. He was looking for this, Louis beside him, in his arms, head on his shoulder as he drifted off to sleep. He kissed Louis's forehead gently and wished he could just fall asleep here with him. But then, he wished a lot of things.
He stayed for a long while, letting his hands roam lightly over the bare skin of Louis's back and shoulders, and when he was sure he was sleeping, his face. Then he eased out from underneath him, pulled the blanket up over Louis's shoulders, and got dressed. He glanced at the clock. He had about six more hours before the withdrawal symptoms would really hit.
He hoped this wouldn't be the last time. But as he buttoned up his duty blues jacket, he suspected it was.
***
"Felix." Noel stood up and pulled a chair out, and then looked at Felix's face. "You okay?"
"Fine," Felix said, waving it off. He maneuvered himself into the chair, his body informing him there was a reason Cottle probably wouldn't be smiling about the last hour's activities. "Just… let's not worry about it."
"Right." Noel looked like he wanted to argue, but must have decided it wasn't worth it. Instead, he poured them both some water and pushed a bowl Felix's way. "You're kicking a morpha addiction, aren't you?"
"Shut the frak up."
"Hey, you can pretend you didn't hear Louis and Zarek arguing, but the rest of the sickbay probably did."
"I didn't hear them arguing," Felix said grumpily, "I was asleep. And since you don't seem to understand the meaning of 'shut the frak up', yes, I am kicking a slight morpha addiction. Okay? Happy now?"
"You're in a good mood," Noel retorted sarcastically, but he was grinning. "But then, I suppose you've earned it."
"Thank you," Felix sniffed, grateful that at least one person on board got it. He pulled the nudged bowl of slime towards him and dutifully ate a spoonful. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked. Although he knew. He knew damn well.
Noel glanced around at the empty room like he was afraid someone might be hiding under a chair, and then leaned forward, all business. "Look," he said, "this stuff with you and the Raptor, this is just the last straw. The way Adama's acted over this? It's ridiculous."
Felix chewed slowly and then swallowed, hard. "Louis thinks he's not saying anything because the Cylons won't believe I didn't do it," he ground out. But his eyes met Noel's, and he saw the anger he felt reflected there as well. "It might be a fair point," he tried, but the words sounded robotic in his ears.
"Might be," Noel allowed. "But that was no excuse not to mount an S&R mission."
"What do you mean?" Felix asked, brows furrowed and feeling like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. "He did."
"No," Noel said, "he didn't. Felix, Louis came looking for you. He's the one that got the mission going. He was begging Tigh for two frakking days to let him go."
"What?" Felix whispered, his lips numb. "You're joking."
"I swear to you, I am not joking at all."
Hands were on his shoulders and they shoved him over that edge, and he was falling. Falling through spiderwebs, each strand snapping as he plummeted to the ground. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it and his eyes, and tried again. Nothing came out, although somewhere underneath he felt like he should scream.
Adama hadn't come looking for him.
For years, he'd watched the Admiral, respected him, served him. For years, he believed they'd been… well, yes, close. For years he'd seen Adama risk lives and resources to rescue Lee, to rescue Kara, to rescue Raptor and Viper pilots, to rescue Laura Roslin.
But now, when it was his turn, there was nothing.
"Felix." Noel's voice was coming from a great distance away. "Are you all right?"
No. No, he wasn't all right. He closed his eyes, and saw Adama's face before him. Telling him to get over his issues with Kara Thrace. Assigning him to the Demetrius. Standing over his bed, perfunctorily asking after his leg. Never investigating. Never saying much of anything. Telling him he was needed back at work after five days. Brushing right by him without a word after Dee's suicide. Telling him that they weren't pursuing the matter of an Eight killing three humans.
He exhaled, long and slow, and took another deep breath. He tried to tell himself this was an overreaction brought on by morpha withdrawal, but it wasn't. He knew it wasn't. When he looked up, Noel was watching him, slightly fearful. "A year ago," Felix said slowly, "Adama never would have done that. He would have looked for a Raptor with four humans. He would have looked…."
"He would have looked for you," Noel said softly.
Felix shook his head. "No," he heard himself saying. "I mean, yes, he would have. But this can't be about me. It has to be about all of us, the Fleet, the people. He hasn't just let me down, Noel. It's everyone. He's…"
"He's what?"
Felix shook his head. "I remember this night on New Caprica," he said slowly. "I was in my office, and I was reading the Articles. Do you know I hadn't read the Articles since I was in fifth grade, when it was required reading for everyone? I mean, I knew what was in them, but I hadn't read them."
"Yeah," Noel said dubiously.
"How long has it been since you really read the oath we take in the Fleet? I mean, really read it? We don't swear our allegiance to a man, Noel. Or to a ship. We swear our allegiance to protect the people of the Colonies. Our people. It shouldn't matter who was out there in that Raptor, if it was Roslin or Starbuck or me or a random civilian from the Prometheus. He should have gone after it. But more than that, he shouldn't have led us this way. He shouldn't have led the people to believe that Earth was the only solution."
"Hell," Noel cut in, obviously releasing a thought he'd kept bottled up, "what if we'd gotten there, it had been great, and the Cylons had followed us and blown it all up anyway? Not only would we be gone, but another entire world of people."
They stared at each other, both chilled at the thought.
Felix pushed his bowl away, and Noel quietly pushed it back. Felix glared at him, but Noel stared back evenly, and Felix sighed and picked up the spoon and continued eating. As he mechanically chewed and swallowed, he felt like he was drifting away, watching himself and Noel sitting at the table.
"I've already half-worked it out, you know, if we have to go that way," he said.
Noel didn't ask what he meant. He just raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. It was back when we knew the Cylons could look like us, but we didn't know anything else. I thought maybe they were taking people and replacing them with Cylons. Anyway, I figured that if I was the Cylons, my chief target would be Adama. And if Adama turned out the be a Cylon… well, we were going to need a way to deal with it. Quickly."
"You scare me," Noel said, but he grinned. "Only you would plot mutiny as an extra credit assignment."
Mutiny. It was the first time either of them had said the word, and Felix felt a jolt pass through him at the acknowledgement. Mutiny. Against Adama.
And something in him finally died.
***
"Right," Adama said, striding into Tom's office. "Let's get this over with."
"Excuse me," Tom said, sitting up in his chair and glancing significantly at Lee, dogging Adama's footsteps. "What's he doing here? Wait, let me guess. I don't have to answer to you."
"You're catching on," Adama said. Lee opened his mouth to say something, but both men ignored him. Tom could barely look at him. Any affection he might have once felt for Lee had vanished the day Lee assumed the Presidency. He'd always thought the boy had had more regard for democracy than that, but when push came to shove, Lee Adama was just as big a hypocrite as anyone else in this damn Fleet.
"I don't think we'll have much to say anyway," Lee told Tom, in an annoyingly patronizing manner. "The press will be eager to talk to the Admiral."
"As I said," Adama said, moving towards the press room, "let's get this over with."
Tom had no choice but to follow.
The crowded press room was nothing new to him, but under professional veneers and determined faces, Tom saw desperation and despair. These people needed hope. They needed a plan. They needed some reason to go on, and as Adama stood there and did his best to avoid answering questions, they weren't finding it. He seethed in frustration.
And yet, the questions kept coming. "Admiral Adama, what do you think…?"
"Admiral Adama, what are you going to do about…?"
"Admiral Adama, is the President…?"
"Admiral Adama, when will you…?"
"Admiral Adama-"
"Admiral Adama-"
"Admiral!"
They were calling to him, begging to him, and the man stood there, a wall of stone, refusing to see it. And they refused to see that, that Adama wasn't listening. That Adama had broken, had given up, but wouldn't let go. They still heaped all of their hopes on his shoulders, even when there was someone else willing to carry them.
"Admiral Adama. Is it true that you're contemplating forming a permanent alliance with the rebel Cylons currently in this Fleet?" Sekou asked, his voice breaking through Tom's anger.
"I'm not going to talk about hypotheticals," Adama growled. It was as good as a yes.
The buzzing started in his ears. An alliance with the Cylons. Tom flashed back to that day in his cell, when they'd heard the worlds had ended. Even on the Astral Queen there was silence, shock, and grief. These men were criminals, but they all had someone that they loved, someone that was gone. He remembered New Caprica, and the sound of Centurians marching down a street, destroying the life they were trying to build. He remembered four months of detention and torture, and the misery on board as they returned. Running, frantic and desperate and losing- always losing. And now Adama was going to allow the very people who had perpetrated this in their Fleet permanently? The anger choked him, but when Sekou turned to him and demanded, "Mr. Vice President, would you support such a move?", he snapped back to reality.
If he'd believed in the Gods and portents and signs, this one would have been blazing neon, telling him what he had to do. And now was a perfect opportunity. He didn’t want to answer the question. If he came out right now and said "no", it would be an open gesture of defiance too early. Nothing would be accomplished. Nothing would change, except Adama would manage to find a reason to put him out the airlock in the next twenty four hours. But if he waited… if he let his disapproval be known in no way that could be faulted… he stood in silence for a long, long time.
Finally, he glanced at Adama with an expression that he was sure had to be read as servile. "No comment."
It evoked exactly the reaction he was looking for: anger, frustration. Fury. An explosion of voices, all clamoring for answers. He hid his smile behind a mask of obedience.
Playa's voice rang out over the babble. "Where is President Roslin?"
The room quieted, and Tom moved towards the microphone. After all, he was the voice of the civilian government. But Lee cut him off, jumping over to the podium with the agility of a frog. Or an eager puppy dog, determined to impress its master. He forced a smile that he must have felt was genuine, but clearly announced that he did not like the question. "Thank you, Playa! The President is resting comfortably aboard the Galactica. Last question. Sekou?"
"Do you have any more information on the identity of the fifth Cylon?"
Lee shifted uncomfortable. "Uh, we believe the fifth Cylon to be dead."
"But you're not sure?"
"No, but we believe she died some time ago."
She? Tom's silent furious shout was echoed by the reporters. "She?"
"How do you know it was a woman?" someone pounced, and Lee's smile became even more forced, if that was possible.
"That was the last question," he said awkwardly, and spun around to leave the room. Tom followed, because if he stayed out here it would become obvious just how little he knew. But as soon as the door closed, he was on them.
"What was that about?" he demanded.
"Forget about it," Adama growled.
The truth was that the identity of the fifth Cylon mattered very little to Tom. It wasn't Adama and he was pretty sure it wasn't Roslin, and he was quite sure it wasn't himself. Tom decided to go for what actually mattered.
"A permanent alliance between this government and the Cylons - any Cylons - is out of the question. I hope you both know that."
"Yeah?" Lee demanded, sounding like a schoolyard bully's sidekick. "Well, it's not your call."
He kept his cool, smiling mockingly. "Is it yours? Are you the President again? Sorry, I get confused what job is on any given day."
"Laura Roslin's still the President," Adama said. "She'll make the final call."
"And where is Laura Roslin? Oh, that's right, resting comfortably aboard Galactica. Funny how she kind of dropped out of sight since her 'prophecies' about Earth turned out to be a bunch of crap."
It hit, and it felt good. Adama didn't react, but Tom could see that shot went straight to his heart. Good. "We're done here," Adama said.
Lee gave him the look of a kid who… well, who was convinced his father could beat him up, and then left. But Tom wasn't done.
"If you try to shove an alliance with the Cylons down our throats, they'll be consequences, Admiral. I promise you," Tom said through clenched teeth.
"Thank you, Mr. Zarek. Makes it a little bit easier to know who to hold responsible if there's an unfortunate incident."
He met the challenge with none of the servility he had shown in the press room. "I'm not hard to find, Admiral. I'm right here. Running the government."
"For now," Adama intoned, and turned and stalked off. and then followed.
Tom watched him go, like he was watching him walk into darkness. And really, he was.
***
Felix limped down the hall, leaning heavily on his crutches and swearing abundantly. The Admiral still wasn't listening. It wasn't even that he wouldn't admit he might be wrong… it was that he wasn't even listening to any other viewpoint. That, more than anything, burned him up, his soul and his heart shriveling like scraps of paper in the fire. His stomach turned over, but he wasn't sure if that was his inner turmoil or the morpha withdrawal.
The hatch opened behind him, and he heard footsteps.
"Lieutenant Gaeta." Tigh's voice would allow for no disobedience, so Felix stopped and turned.
"Colonel?"
"What the frak was that?"
"What was what?"
"Don't play dumb with me," Tigh said, stepping right up to him. "You know damn well what I mean."
For a moment, the anger in Tigh's face quelled him, took him back to those days after New Caprica, standing in the CIC as Tigh chewed him out in front of everyone. But this time, he wasn't backing down. This time, he didn't respect the… he didn't respect Tigh, didn't trust him, didn't care what he thought. "Allowing the Cylons access to our ships engines and FTL drives is insane, no matter what the Admiral thinks. You don't even know how that technology works! Give me one good reason that we should trust them!"
"The Admiral trusts them, and that right there is all the reason you need, Lieutenant." Tigh grabbed him by the jacket, and Felix had to struggle for a moment just to stay upright. "Now, I know you think you've had an especially hard time of it lately, but wake up and look around you. Everyone's life sucks, and you're no frakking exception. So shut the hell up and fall into line, soldier!"
Felix glared back. "This is not about me, sir," he hissed. "This isn't a whim. There's evidence that we can't trust the Cylons, I've given you that. This is about the Fleet, it's about protecting the people from the Cylons. But you wouldn't get that, would you?"
To his amazement, Tigh almost started laughing. "You keep telling yourself that, Felix," he said, his voice edged with venom. "You keep believing that you're doing this for justice, when really all you want is personal vengeance. And after you throw an innocent man out an airlock, you come to me and we'll talk. Until then, you remember your duty and your place, Lieutenant." He pushed Felix away and walked away, and although he was chuckling it was the bitterest sound Felix had ever heard.
And there it was, in front of him. Adama would not be swayed from this course of action. And neither would he.
***
Louis was in the racks when he returned to grab a few things. Felix could barely stand to look at him, because he knew what was coming and he knew now he had to do this, and Gods, it was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Hey," Louis said, looking up and smiling at him. "Where'd you sneak off to?"
"The meeting with Adama," Felix said.
"How did it go?"
"Not well. He's not only going forward with the alliance with the Cylons, but that idea Tyrol had? They're upgrading the ships- all of the ships- using Cylon technology."
Louis whistled between his teeth. "That's not going to go over well."
"As well it shouldn't. Even Tyrol can't tell us the first thing about the technology. Why should we trust it?"
"Well, the Cylons are rebels," Louis pointed out. "And they did give us the Hub."
"But what if Cavil's baseships can hack into it? What if they can control it on their own?"
Louis rolled his eyes. "Spoken like a true Galactian."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Felix bristled.
"Oh, come on, Felix. You know the entire Fleet thought Adama was a superstitious joke because he refused to network the Galactica. Hell, you've laughed about it as much as anyone."
"And he turned out to be right," Felix pointed out. "That's what he seems to be forgetting. He was right, and that's why we survived."
"It's not why we survived," Louis said.
"Is too. Your systems were down for repairs."
"We-" Louis opened his mouth, and then closed it again. They stared at each other for a long moment. "Let's not go there now, Felix," Louis said. "We're just going to regret it."
Right. Saying something to Louis about Cain was pretty much the equivalent of arguing with Adama about Tigh… or himself about Tom, he supposed. He got that. And besides, this wasn't the way it needed to end. He nodded, and then grabbed Louis by the neck and pulled him in for one last kiss.
"Hey," Louis said with that little almost-smile, "don't get me all riled up. I have duty."
"I know." Felix turned towards the hatch. "I've got a meeting myself."
"A meeting?" Louis asked, holding Felix's elbow as he clambered out of the hatch. "With who?"
"Zarek."
"Zarek?"
"Look, I know you don't like him," Felix began, heart in his throat. Maybe…
"No, I don't," Louis said flatly. "He's manipulative and power hungry."
Well, that answered any lingering doubts. "You know how you told me earlier let's not go there?" he asked. "This is my let's not go there."
"All right. But Felix… Felix, I don’t understand. Why would you set up a meeting with him, of all people?"
"I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it."
"What are you doing?!" Louis demanded.
The quicker you do it, the less painful it will be, he told himself. He gripped Louis's shoulder, taking in his face for what he was sure was the last time… at least like this. "Look," he said. "You found me and you saved me, so I’ll protect you. But if this doesn’t work out, and if I’m wrong… you have a bright future, Louis."
"What are you talking about? If what doesn’t work?"
"Keep your head down," Felix warned him. He opened a bulkhead and went through, and tried not to listen to Louis calling after him.
The door clanged behind him, and he would have thought he would burst into tears. But curiously, he felt nothing, just a sense of purpose that propelled him to the hangar bay.
"Racetrack," he said, when he caught sight of her, "can you get me over to the Astral Queen? I've got a meeting."
She knew. He could see it in the defiant lift of her chin and her smile, and she approved. "Right away, Lieutenant."
***
"We won't stand for it," Captain Doval told Tom in the Astral Queen's dining hall. "Having the Cylons tamper with our FTL drive… there's absolutely no way."
"And that should be every ship's right to decide for themselves, Captain," Tom agreed fervently. "When the Quorum meets tomorrow, I'll be telling them that." He picked up a bowl and headed towards the door. "I hate to leave on such a short notice, but there's work that needs to be done."
"Of course," Doval said.
It was an unneeded comfort that Doval was so opposed to this scheme of Adama's. He smiled, patting the man's shoulder in a reassuring gesture, and then eased his way out of the mess hall. He had too much to do, too much to process….
And when he arrived at his quarters, he saw he also had company. Felix was standing outside the door, sweating and shaking and looking more disheveled than Tom had ever seen him. He was gripping a small bag, and leaning heavily on his crutches.
"Felix. What are you doing here? What's going on?"
Felix looked up at him. "We need to talk," was all he said. Tom nodded and unlocked his hatch.
"Do you want something to eat?" he asked, setting his bowl down on his desk.
"No," Felix said, shaking his head. "It will just come up anyway."
Tom looked at the young man again, and realized what was happening. "You're going off the morpha all at once, aren't you?"
"Don't have much of a choice. Not if I'm going to do what needs to be done." Felix ran a hand through his curls, and shook it irritably. "Cottle gave me some medicine that he said would help, but he said the first twelve hours were still going to be rough." He sneezed.
"You said what needs to be done…" Tom said slowly. "What do you mean? And for crying out loud, sit down before you fall down."
Felix ignored him. "This can't happen," he said. "This alliance…"
"It's not going to happen," Tom reassured him.
Felix looked at him wildly. "Yes, it is," he said. "As long as Adama's in charge, it will happen." He finally sat down, eyes unfocused. "Tom," he said abruptly, "I really hate to ask this, but can I stay in the Astral Queen's infirmary tonight?"
"What about Hoshi?"
Emotion flickered over Felix's face, intense and sharp and fleeting. "That's part of why I want to stay here tonight," he said. "We're not together any more."
"You're kidding."
"No. And what's it to you? I'm surprised you're not dancing around the room already."
"That would be a bit callous. But last time I saw you two together, I thought I was going to need a crowbar to get you apart from each other. Now you're telling me it's over? Who ended it?"
"I did." Felix was shaking. "He can't know about… I can't…." He shook his head in frustration, still private in this particular pain, and unable to voice the words.
The words that Tom knew, somehow. Somewhere deep inside him, he saw the future forming, and what was coming. The world was shattering, and there was no magic solution this time. There were no prophecies, no acts of the Gods, no saving graces. There were only broken promises, shams, and dictatorial sacrifices. And there was no one to fix it.
Bill Adama and Laura Roslin had failed. They'd failed themselves, they'd failed their mission, they'd failed their people. All of their people, even the ones they refused to see. The civilians. The people of the Fleet. The Sagittarons. The tylium workers, the mechanics, the people who processed algae… the people who huddled on ships with no relevant skills, but were shipped from jump coordinates to jump coordinates, always afraid for the lives which were completely out of their hands. The people who didn't have their ear, who didn't have a voice. The people they wouldn't listen to.
Billy Kiekeya. Ray and Sesha Abinell. Jean Barolay. Helena Cain. George Chu. Ellen Tigh. Tucker Clellan and Nora Farmer. Maya Gabalondon. Cally Henderson Tyrol. Marshall Bagot. Anastasia Dualla. They'd failed them all.
They'd failed Tom Zarek. And they'd failed Felix Gaeta.
Felix was shaking, still standing, leaning heavily on his crutch. Tom stood up and shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "Stay here tonight," he ordered him. "If you go to the infirmary, people will know, and that will only make your job harder. Stay here, take the bed. I'll help you through it."
For a moment, Felix looked like he was going to argue, and then a shudder wracked his frame and he nodded. "Thank you."
Tom smiled. "Of course."
***
It was a long night, a night with no dawn. The ticking of the clock seemed loud, despite their conversation. They sat together, Felix in the bed, Tom in the chair beside him. They talked, not of rebellion and insurrection, but of inconsequential matters. Of the people they'd loved, of the families they'd had, of New Caprica. Phantom pains and withdrawal tremors shook Felix, and when it got too hard, Tom took his hand without comment, and Felix clung to it like a trusting child.
Another last time. Another last love. Because when this went forward, when these plans shifted into action, their personal relationship couldn't matter. Father and son, friend and friend, brothers in arms… whatever they were, it had to be locked away, forgotten, ignored. The civilian government and the military had to check each other, to balance each other, to watch each other to make sure that each side was watching out for the people they were meant to serve. That was the mistake that Roslin and Adama had made; they no longer could serve as each other's balance. They were too personal.
They couldn't let it be personal.
There was no sun to break the darkness, no dawn to light the world. No new day to call their own. But a few hours before the alarm, Felix finally drifted into a restless sleep, and Tom slept in the chair beside him, their hands still joined. But when they woke, they pulled away from each other, no words needing to be spoken.
They suited up. They locked away what was precious. And now they were ready to go to war.
***
Felix sat in the Raptor trying not to shiver. Cottle had assured him that the meds he'd given him would make the experience significantly easier, but it was still anything but easy. And in addition to the withdrawal symptoms, the pain in his leg was now constant, varying from throbbing to intense. None of which was helped at all by being in a Raptor again. But he had to do it.
Something had happened last night, something he couldn't put his finger on. Something had shifted from idea to action, and something had shifted within himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think of Louis, but he couldn't pull up an image. All he could think about was what needed to be done, what he had to do.
So that's the way it was going to be. Strangely, he felt calm inside. Not peaceful, just… purposeful. Calm. Prepared.
Racetrack glanced back at him. "Almost there, Felix," she said. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." He checked his watch, and then straightened up in his seat. "I've got an hour before duty, and I'm supposed to meet Narcho for breakfast. You two should join us." His tone was half invitation, half order.
Racetrack and Skulls looked at each other and smiled. "Sounds good to us, sir," Skulls said, and Felix knew he'd been exactly right.
***
"People are pissed," Racetrack said, ignoring her breakfast and leaning on the table. "They'll come."
"Who, though?" Felix asked, looking at them. "Who's pissed that we can trust? Not just mechanics and Marines and grunts, but people who can command?"
"Most of the old guard are out," Noel said. "Tigh, Tyrol, Starbuck… they're the ones that will never turn against Adama. But if you look to some of the younger soldiers, maybe some of the Pegasus people…"
"That's a good point," Skulls agreed. "The Pegasus crowd hasn't been happy with the way that the ship's been run from the beginning. Too different from Cain."
"Admiral Cain," Narcho corrected stiffly, and Felix kicked Skulls under the table with his good leg before it could turn into an argument. He turned to Narcho.
"All right. Who do you recommend from the Pegasus?"
"Might be able to bust Stinger out of the brig," Narcho said. "And Limbern can head up the Marines."
"Great." Felix rubbed his nose and then sneezed again. He pulled his duty blues jacket tighter around his shoulders. Fortunately, the others didn't seem to notice anything was amiss, or were too polite to say so.
"What about Hoshi?" Narcho said cautiously.
"No."
"Have you talked to him?"
"Enough to know he's not going to jump on board." Felix shook his head. "Just as well. I think I need to do it alone in the CIC. That's the one place where there's no give. Adama's right there. Someone gets cold feet… someone even gets nervous and the whole takeover could be over before it even begins. I can't afford to trust anyone in the CIC."
"What are you going to do with the CIC staff?" Racetrack asked.
"Take them into custody. Immediately- at least the senior staff. We'll sort them out after." He looked down at his carefully coded notes. "What I'm going to need is someone who can take the tactical station once this gets going."
They were all silent for a moment. Finally, Narcho flipped his hand. "Gage," he said resignedly.
Felix groaned inwardly. "Any other options?"
"Nope."
"Not that I can think of," Racetrack said.
"Sinker has ECO training and could probably do it, but I don't think you'll sway her over from Adama," Skulls said.
"Well, Gage it is. At least I don't have to worry that he'll change his mind on me." Felix noted it down. "Who else can we count on?"
They went through the list. There were names on there that Felix wasn't thrilled about. Charlie Conner with his Sons of Ares. Diana Seelix, whom he had to admit was a good choice. Vireem. It didn't take long.
"Right," he said, stacking the papers together. "Racetrack and Skulls, I need you to get going. Start feeling out the pilots, the Marines, even civilians." They both nodded, and Felix caught Racetrack's eye. "When we take over, we need to have a command structure in place immediately," he told her. "You're CAG."
"Yes, sir." She and Narcho shared a brief look of surprise, and then she left with Skulls.
"So. Racetrack's CAG, and you're not telling Louis about this," Narcho said.
"Right." Felix sighed heavily. "Noel, you know how this can end, right? If we don't get this right…."
"It's the firing squad, or just an airlocking if Adama doesn't want to waste bullets," Noel said. "I'm under no illusions."
"Neither am I. If we're taken down, I'm betting Adama will spare anyone who pledges loyalty back to him… anyone except the command structure. If we go down, I'm dead. And so is my XO. I want you to be clear on that, because when we take control, you're XO."
Noel nodded. "Crystal clear, sir." He looked down at the table. "That's why you're not telling Louis, isn't it?"
"Well, I wasn't lying when I said I don't know if he'd go along with it. But yes, that's why I'm not telling him. I…" something inside him cracked, threatening to break free, and he angrily shoved it away. "I'm not giving him the choice. He goes into the brig as soon as the mutiny begins. He should be physically safe there, but more than that, if we go down and the time comes for Adama to ask questions, he's safe then, too. I'll go down, and I'm willing to take my friends with me. But I won't take Louis."
Narcho smiled. "Good," he said, and extended his hand. "Then I believe, sir, we both have duty to attend to. I'll see you after your shift." He stood and saluted.
"Noel?" Felix said as he walked out the door.
"Yes?"
"Do you still love him?"
Narcho smiled. "Not like you do. But we all have to have something to protect. You and he are the best I've got."
***
The memo sat on the desk before them, thirteen perfect copies, with the signature of the Admiral. Innocuous pieces of paper informing them that the Cylons would be upgrading the FTL drives of each and every ship, whether people wanted these measures or not. And that there would be a permanent alliance with the Cylons in the Fleet, where they would have access to all of the ships, the same rights as any Colonial citizen, and a seat on the Quorum.
"They can't do this," Chronides fumed. "There is no way we will allow this. Quorum representation? Civil rights?" Her words were met with assent from the others. "There is no forgiveness for what they've done," she continued. "There's no forgetting."
"The Admiral is not asking people to forgive and forget," Lee said. "Neither is the President. But we're running out of options. If Cavil catches up with us before we find a habitable planet, we're dead in the water."
"The Galactica is dead in the water," Orimosis pointed out. "The FTL drives on the civilian ships are in better condition."
"But for how much longer?" Lee demanded. "How much longer can we rely on that? And why should the people rely on that, when there's a better option available?"
"If you consider using Cylon technology a better option," Cantrell said. "Although I admit it may be. But the fact is that what Adama and Roslin are… should I say proposing? Probably not. But what they are ordering goes against the Articles. Why don't they just declare martial law and be done with it?"
"No. Martial law is not an option," Lee said.
"Then why pretend? Why the pretense? Why are we sitting here, like our voices matter?"
"Because they should." Tom stood up. "Because this is democracy, this is about the people of the Fleet. And even as our circumstances become more desperate, we should never forget that."
He took a deep breath. "In prison you start to confuse your hopes and dreams with reality. You start to believe that because you want something to happen. Parole, a pardon, appeal, a writ. You start to believe that it will happen. You live on wishes the way things should be instead of the way they are. And all because you can't face reality. The leaders of this Fleet are starting to succumb to wishful thinking because they can't face reality. And the reality is that the Adama-Roslin administration has led us nowhere.
"Earth was a mirage. A fantasy they dangled in front of us for four long years in order to maintain power. A fantasy they dreamed up as a way to hold on and control the government. Over the democratic wishes of the population. So now, what does our feckless and dispirited leadership doing to solidify their position after failing us so miserably? Turning to the Cylons. The Cylons...for help! Heh!" He looked directly at Lee. "Aren't the Cylons the reason we're out here in the first place? Aren't they the enemy!?! Or are they suddenly our friends if that helps keep Roslin-Adama in power!?"
"Point of order," Lee interrupted. "The chair needs to bring a motion and not make a speech."
Tom allowed a sarcastic smile. "Thank you Mr. Adama. The chair moves that any decision on allowing Cylons to board any ship in the fleet be made by the Captain and any people living on that ship and not the Roslin- Adama administration!"
He could see the approval on their faces, and the anger and the purpose surged through him. This was what the people needed- a voice to speak out for them, to fight. Someone to say that what Adama and Roslin were forcing was morally wrong.
Lee protested, looking desperate. "What we need right now is unity! This is a Fleet-wide issue. We need to stand together. It affects all of us!"
Cantrell raised his hand. "Sagittaron calls the question."
"Tauron seconds."
"Question has been called and seconded. All in favor?" Every hand except Lee's went up. "All opposed?" Lee obligingly raised his hand. "Vote is 11 to 1. The motion carriers: No Cylon will board a ship in this Fleet without permission of its people."
The Quorum broke into applause, and began shaking hands. Tom couldn't help the feeling of triumph that flooded his veins, even as Lee Adama crept out of the room. But even as he shook the hands of the Quorum, he knew this was far from over, and there was no way that Adama and Rolsin were going to allow this motion to stand.
***
"You're sure about this," Jed Temlin, captain of the Hitei Kan said, studying the paper Tom had pushed in front of him.
"Positive." Tom leaned in.
"And the Admiral is really going to do this? He's ordering Marine escorts with the Cylon mechanics?"
"Force has been authorized in this case." Tom tapped the relevant paragraph.
Temlin shook his head angrily. "I will not stand to have them aboard my ship," he told Tom roughly. "I can't stand to look at those frakking toasters. It's been four years, but I still can't fathom what's happened. Every morning I wake up, and for just a moment I think 'maybe we can go home today' or 'I wonder what my wife and kids are doing'. And every morning it all comes crashing down again, and I remember. And there's no way I'm forgetting. And there's no way I'm forgetting that every last one of those damn toasters was in on it. That's the thing, see. It's not like it was some fringe group of terrorists," he said, flicking his eyes to Tom meaningfully. "It was all of them. All of them. Maybe Adama and Roslin can forget that, but me and my people… we can't."
"You're not the only ones. Several other captains have broached me with the exact same concerns," Tom said. "But you're the one that can make a difference. You're the one who can make that statement. I have a copy of the schedule for the FTL upgrades, and the Hitei Kan is first on the list. I know that what I'm asking isn't easy, but your people are the hope for this Fleet."
"It's not easy," Captain Temlin agreed, "but it's right." He set his jaw and stood up. "We'll do it, Mr. Zarek."
"Thank you, Jed." Tom stood up to shake his hand. "And you won't be doing this alone."
***
Tom sat in the office, tapping his pen on the desk. It wasn't so much nerves as the insatiable need for action. This time it was really going to happen. He thumbed through his papers, looking at the notes that Felix had given him on his ideas for a settlement. It was far from perfect, but it was more than Roslin or Adama could come up with. And it was the most anyone had offered at this point. He stared at the abrupt pencil sketches that mapped out a plan for a future. He smiled.
The phone rang, shrill and shattering the silence. Tom grabbed it immediately.
"Zarek."
"Zarek." Temlin's voice was anxious, just as it was meant to be. "They tried to board us. The crew… they didn't take any prompting at all. They killed one of the Cylons, and two of the Marines."
They were ready. They were completely ready. Tom's heart pounded faster in excitement. "It's going to be all right, Captain," he said soothingly. "We-"
"The Dradis," Temlin interrupted, pitching his voice into a more frantic tone. "The Dradis shows a Raptor and Vipers heading straight for us! They'll be here any minute!"
Tom nodded. He'd seen that one coming from a mile away. He was sure that the Galactica CIC must be listening in on this call by now. Every word counted. "They have no right to board your ship without permission."
"What should we do Mr. Vice President?"
And that was the signal. Tom gave the counter signal. "Every citizen has the right to protect themselves from oppression. Take whatever measures you think necessary."
"Thank you, sir."
"Thank you."
He hung up the phone and smiled. And then put down the pen, stood up, and waited. He didn't have to wait long.
He heard the bootsteps first, and raised his eyebrows as the Cylon called Athena walked in. Interesting choice of an emissary on Adama's part, and a mistake. The crew of the Galactica might accept her as one of them- even Gaeta didn't seem to have a problem with her- but the Fleet was another story all together. "Lieutenant Agathon," he said, inclining his head. "What can I do for you?"
She raised her gun and pointed it at him. "You can come quietly," she said. "Or we'll drag your dead carcass to the Admiral."
For a fleeting moment, he debated kicking up a little fuss. Just enough that he'd have to be quelled, just enough that they'd drag him out of the Colonial One kicking and screaming. It wouldn't be terribly dignified, but it would certainly make a statement. But as he looked at the expression on the Cylon's face, he figured he'd be smart to come quietly.
"Ladies first," he said mockingly, bowing and gesturing to the door.
The photographer who just "happened" to be waiting around on Colonial One would get a good picture regardless.
***
"Felix." Louis grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him aside roughly in the corridor. "What the frak was that?"
"What the frak was what?" Felix demanded. "You saw what the Admiral did! Louis, that was…"
"I know that. You know that. But last time I checked, you are an officer of the Colonial Fleet, and you could get your ass tossed into the brig for talking like you just did to the brass before I cut you off. Is that what you're trying to do, Felix?"
"Louis, don't worry about it. It doesn't concern you any more."
Louis's eyes searched his face, and then suddenly he yanked Felix in close. Felix nearly lost his balance but Louis caught him, his mouth hungry on Felix's. For a moment, he couldn't help but respond, losing himself in the ferocity of the kiss. But then reason reasserted itself. If they were caught like this, no one would ever believe it was over between them a few days ago. He broke the kiss and pushed Louis away.
"Stop."
Louis's jaw was set. "Why? I don't understand this. Whatever's going on with you-"
"Whatever's going on with me has got nothing to do with you, okay?" Felix shouted. His voice echoed off the metal of the walls, and he cringed. "Let it go, Louis. Believe me, it's for the best."
Louis's eyes narrowed. "Did you know something about the Hitei Kan jumping?" he asked. "Do you know where it is?"
Felix shook his head. "I had no idea that was going to happen," he answered honestly. "I'm not surprised, but I didn't know." Louis's gaze was still piercing through him, and Felix was extremely glad that it was the truth.
Finally, Louis just shook his head. "Look," he said, and he sounded exhausted. "I know that you're going through a lot right now. I understand that. But you know how I still feel about you, and when I kissed you… I know you still feel the same about me."
Louis's words were coming dangerously close to breaking through his defenses. Felix looked away. "I do," he said, the words tearing out of him, because Louis had to know that that was the truth. "Moreso, if you want the truth."
"So let me just ask one thing. When this is all over, and you've… done whatever you want to do, will there be a chance for us again?"
Felix swallowed hard. "Louis," he said, "if there's ever going to be a chance for us again, believe me, I will be the one that's groveling, not you."
"But-"
Felix tightened his grip on his crutch. "Goodbye," he told Louis firmly, and turned and walked away. And when he turned and glanced back, Louis was gone.
Just as well, he told himself. It's better this way.
***
"Felix," Noel said, raising a hand. Felix balanced his tray, trying to maneuver over to the table without spilling food or drink. At least the worst of the morpha withdrawal shakes were gone. He struggled over to the table and Noel belatedly stood up, taking the dishes from him and helping him get settled.
"Thanks." Felix sat and rubbed his temples. Between the Hitei Kan and Louis, he should be exhausted. But there was an energy burning inside him, and he was finding it hard to sit still. "How's it going?"
"Good," Noel said, eating as mindlessly as possible. "I've got a lot of people who agree with me that this food is complete slop."
"Good to hear," Felix said. "Did you find forks for all the people who think the food is slop?"
"Actually, that was easy. One of the people who can't stand the food is an armed master chef. She's going to get us into the cutlery drawers. We'll have all the forks we need."
"Figured that would be the case." Felix chewed carefully. "I need a few of the Marines. Ones you're sure we can trust, that have brig access."
"Brig access?"
Felix leaned in. "Adama brought in Zarek," he said, glancing around. "Hauled him in for Zarek telling the Hitei Kan that they didn't have to let a Cylon crew board them or the Galactica raptor board. Zarek was quoting the Articles at Captain Temlin, and Adama's had him hauled in for it."
"You're kidding." Noel goggled.
"I wish I was. I'm sure the story is going to be in the paper tomorrow, but we've got to act before then."
"How soon?"
Felix took a deep breath. "Let me get to Zarek, and get him into place. Let me make sure he's committed to this." Noel snorted at that, and Felix ignored it. "But it's got to be soon, before someone says the wrong thing to the wrong person, or changes their mind."
"Got it. Hey, I also talked to Gage. Pegasus slop was a bit different than Galactica slop. You want to give him your secret recipe?"
"Yeah, I'd better do that. Is he around now?"
"I think so."
"Go get him. I'll take him through it right now."
Noel nodded and stood up, and as he left, Felix rubbed the bridge of his nose. It all had a strange, unreal quality about it, and some part of him- the part he'd slammed and locked the door on- couldn't believe he was doing this. But more of them couldn't believe he had to.
To his surprise, Gage was relatively intelligent and picked up the basics of the tactical station quickly- at least on paper. Felix took him through it quickly, very aware that there was no way this guy was going to do the job as well as he could… or as well as Louis could. He forced that thought from his mind, focusing on it.
"What about the Cylons?" Gage asked him. "The ones who live on Galactica? What are you doing about them?"
"Taking them into custody," Felix said.
"Not shooting them?"
"No. Look, there are six Cylons we really need to worry about. The final four we need to keep as bargaining chips, although one of them may have to…" he broke off, because the idea of actually killing Colonel Tigh was difficult to put into words. "Caprica Six and Athena have to be neutralized."
"Be better to just shoot them," Gage opined.
"No," Felix said angrily. "Look, if you're in on this, there's something you have to be very clear on, okay? I'm not doing this for power or for control, or for revenge. I'm doing this because it has to be done, because Adama and Roslin aren't listening to the people anymore. They aren't protecting the people anymore. People are going to have to die in this revolution. I know that. But that's not the point. We kill as few people as we need to kill."
Gage stared at him. "They're toasters, boss."
"Be that as it may, those are my orders. Got that, Specialist?"
It hung in the air between them. Finally, Gage gave a salute. "Yes, sir."
***
Another prison cell. Tom idly wondered how many cells he'd been in. It was a statement when he could comment that this cot was one of the more comfortable he'd slept on, and at least this cell had plumbing.
The hatch clanged open, and Tom didn't even bother to look up. He didn't need to- even Adama's footsteps defined him. Besides, the only other person he expected had very different footsteps indeed.
There was a loud thwack, and a thick folder landed in front of him as Adama sat down. "Sworn statements," he said. "Transcripts of wireless conversations. Shipping records. All kinds of documents, really. Compiled over the last year with one theme. The buying and the selling of the Vice President's office."
"This is extortion," Tom said, just to clarify.
"This is about law and order, but you can call it what you want."
Tom snorted. Law and order. He idly wondered what Adama had in that file. Adama was wrong about the motivations, but Tom was plenty honest with himself to know there was enough he'd done that would make that sort of file very interesting reading for a jury.
"I believe that you would walk happily to the gallows, or languish in a cell for the rest of your life, if you could do it as a martyr to your cause. But the idea of being publicly humiliated as a corrupt politician, with your hand in the till? Well, that would scare you. Somehow I don't think that the legend and the myth of Tom Zarek, the political prisoner and a man of conscience, can survive the airing of that much dirty laundry."
Tom inhaled quietly, and looked at the folder. "Do you really think that the Fleet is going to sit by for a long and politically motivated trial while you make an Alliance with the Cylons?"
"Without the tylium ship, we're not going anywhere," Adama said. "At least they won't be bored."
"You think I know where the Hitei Kan is," Tom said, inwardly amused.
"Yes, I do."
"Why?"
"Because I know that you do. Read the file," he said, standing. "Some juicy stuff. Makes a great story for the press."
Tom considered the file again, watching Adama retreat. He was exactly where he needed to be… three… two… one…
"Murder and extortion."
Adama froze.
Tom reached into his jacket and pulled out a note pad. "You know what the difference between you and I Admiral? You wear that uniform, and I don't."
He wrote the coordinates of the Hitei Kan on the notepad, and then crumpled the paper and tossed it at Adama imperiously. Adama came back and retrieved it, studying the coordinates, and picked up the file as well.
"You can cool your heels here until we check these out. I wouldn't eat the food." Adama turned on his heel and left.
Once he was gone, Tom allowed himself to smile. That couldn't have gone any better than if he'd written the script himself.
***
It was late when he heard the distinctive sound of a man limping on a metal prosthetic, dragging himself on crutches. And he was not at all surprised when a Marine let Felix- no, Gaeta- into the cell.
"Mr. Vice President," Gaeta said, and Tom smiled grimly at the formality, knowing that he understood it just as well. "Are you all right?"
"Of course. Have a seat." Tom pulled the chair Adama had used around so Gaeta could sit. He did so awkwardly, and Tom leaned in to help him. Gaeta smiled up at him, because even though they were keeping this distant, they both knew the truth, but then immediately retreated back into the smooth formality Tom had seen time and time again in crisis. "Are you better?" he asked.
"Much, thank you. Physically, anyway. But there's something we need to discuss, and I can't guarantee us much time," He glanced significantly at the door, where the Marine was on the lookout.
"Tell me what what's going on."
"You're not the only one who's not happy about the alliance, or the Admiral and the President trampling on people's liberties. This isn't right, and I don't have to list off the reasons for you to agree with me. And they need to be stopped."
"Stopped."
Gaeta inclined his head. "Stopped. Removed. When the head of the government forgets that their duty is to serve and protect the people, they are no longer effective, or just. What the Fleet needs is someone who remembers that."
Tom sneezed, covering his mouth. "Excuse me," he said, and stood to wash his hands, pulling his thoughts together.
"Every revolution begins with one small act of courage," he said, "but I hope you know how serious this is. I hope you understand that this will have consequences- deadly consequences. For a lot of people.
"I've thought about the consequences. And I'm ready for them. We all are."
"How many is 'we'?"
"Enough," Gaeta said cagily. "But once it starts we'll get more support. People know something has to be done." He glared up at Tom in frustration. "The world is frakked. It's upside-down and somebody has to turn it right-side up. Are you that man?"
Are you that man? Tom thought of those men. Adama. Tigh. Baltar. Roslin. People that Felix Gaeta had put on a pedestal, believing that they were the heroes as he did the work. Believing that they were good, believing that they were wrong. If this was going to work, he couldn't be that golden idol to Gaeta. It had to be equal; they had to be in this together.
"I'm one of them," he said. "I need... a partner."
Gaeta understood. He pulled himself to his feet, his chin raised defiantly, and extended his hand. "You've got one."
On to Part 9
Author lls_mutant
Rating: PG-13ish
Characters: Tom Zarek and Felix Gaeta
Pairings: current Gaeta/Hoshi, Zarek/Racetrack; previous parts have Gaeta/Skulls, Gaeta/Baltar, and unrequited Zarek/Roslin.
Summary: Gaeta and Zarek begin laying their plans.
Spoilers: Through Blood on the Scales
Author's Note: Yup, there will be a part 9.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
Felix lay on his side, wrapped in Louis's arms, Louis behind him. The pain in his leg was excruciating, but he ignored it, tipped his head back and pretended pleasure. His fingers tightened on the sheets as Louis moved in him, and he clenched his eyes and jaw shut, even as pushed back against Louis desperately.
Louis groaned and stilled, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of Felix's neck. Felix breathed out slowly, threading his fingers through Louis's and squeezing. Finally, Louis pulled out and rolled to his back, still staying flush alongside him. Felix turned over, not able to completely hide his discomfort.
"We shouldn't have done that," Louis murmured guiltily. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Felix reassured him, trying to push a lock of hair behind Louis's ear and almost succeeding. "I'm glad your hair's grown out. It looks better long."
Louis considered him for a moment, and then settled against him. Felix guided his head to his shoulder, still stroking his hair. Louis closed his eyes.
"Did it work for you?" he murmured.
"I got what I wanted," Felix said, which was at least a true answer. He hadn't come- there had been no way in hell- but that wasn't what he was looking for. He was looking for this, Louis beside him, in his arms, head on his shoulder as he drifted off to sleep. He kissed Louis's forehead gently and wished he could just fall asleep here with him. But then, he wished a lot of things.
He stayed for a long while, letting his hands roam lightly over the bare skin of Louis's back and shoulders, and when he was sure he was sleeping, his face. Then he eased out from underneath him, pulled the blanket up over Louis's shoulders, and got dressed. He glanced at the clock. He had about six more hours before the withdrawal symptoms would really hit.
He hoped this wouldn't be the last time. But as he buttoned up his duty blues jacket, he suspected it was.
***
"Felix." Noel stood up and pulled a chair out, and then looked at Felix's face. "You okay?"
"Fine," Felix said, waving it off. He maneuvered himself into the chair, his body informing him there was a reason Cottle probably wouldn't be smiling about the last hour's activities. "Just… let's not worry about it."
"Right." Noel looked like he wanted to argue, but must have decided it wasn't worth it. Instead, he poured them both some water and pushed a bowl Felix's way. "You're kicking a morpha addiction, aren't you?"
"Shut the frak up."
"Hey, you can pretend you didn't hear Louis and Zarek arguing, but the rest of the sickbay probably did."
"I didn't hear them arguing," Felix said grumpily, "I was asleep. And since you don't seem to understand the meaning of 'shut the frak up', yes, I am kicking a slight morpha addiction. Okay? Happy now?"
"You're in a good mood," Noel retorted sarcastically, but he was grinning. "But then, I suppose you've earned it."
"Thank you," Felix sniffed, grateful that at least one person on board got it. He pulled the nudged bowl of slime towards him and dutifully ate a spoonful. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked. Although he knew. He knew damn well.
Noel glanced around at the empty room like he was afraid someone might be hiding under a chair, and then leaned forward, all business. "Look," he said, "this stuff with you and the Raptor, this is just the last straw. The way Adama's acted over this? It's ridiculous."
Felix chewed slowly and then swallowed, hard. "Louis thinks he's not saying anything because the Cylons won't believe I didn't do it," he ground out. But his eyes met Noel's, and he saw the anger he felt reflected there as well. "It might be a fair point," he tried, but the words sounded robotic in his ears.
"Might be," Noel allowed. "But that was no excuse not to mount an S&R mission."
"What do you mean?" Felix asked, brows furrowed and feeling like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. "He did."
"No," Noel said, "he didn't. Felix, Louis came looking for you. He's the one that got the mission going. He was begging Tigh for two frakking days to let him go."
"What?" Felix whispered, his lips numb. "You're joking."
"I swear to you, I am not joking at all."
Hands were on his shoulders and they shoved him over that edge, and he was falling. Falling through spiderwebs, each strand snapping as he plummeted to the ground. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it and his eyes, and tried again. Nothing came out, although somewhere underneath he felt like he should scream.
Adama hadn't come looking for him.
For years, he'd watched the Admiral, respected him, served him. For years, he believed they'd been… well, yes, close. For years he'd seen Adama risk lives and resources to rescue Lee, to rescue Kara, to rescue Raptor and Viper pilots, to rescue Laura Roslin.
But now, when it was his turn, there was nothing.
"Felix." Noel's voice was coming from a great distance away. "Are you all right?"
No. No, he wasn't all right. He closed his eyes, and saw Adama's face before him. Telling him to get over his issues with Kara Thrace. Assigning him to the Demetrius. Standing over his bed, perfunctorily asking after his leg. Never investigating. Never saying much of anything. Telling him he was needed back at work after five days. Brushing right by him without a word after Dee's suicide. Telling him that they weren't pursuing the matter of an Eight killing three humans.
He exhaled, long and slow, and took another deep breath. He tried to tell himself this was an overreaction brought on by morpha withdrawal, but it wasn't. He knew it wasn't. When he looked up, Noel was watching him, slightly fearful. "A year ago," Felix said slowly, "Adama never would have done that. He would have looked for a Raptor with four humans. He would have looked…."
"He would have looked for you," Noel said softly.
Felix shook his head. "No," he heard himself saying. "I mean, yes, he would have. But this can't be about me. It has to be about all of us, the Fleet, the people. He hasn't just let me down, Noel. It's everyone. He's…"
"He's what?"
Felix shook his head. "I remember this night on New Caprica," he said slowly. "I was in my office, and I was reading the Articles. Do you know I hadn't read the Articles since I was in fifth grade, when it was required reading for everyone? I mean, I knew what was in them, but I hadn't read them."
"Yeah," Noel said dubiously.
"How long has it been since you really read the oath we take in the Fleet? I mean, really read it? We don't swear our allegiance to a man, Noel. Or to a ship. We swear our allegiance to protect the people of the Colonies. Our people. It shouldn't matter who was out there in that Raptor, if it was Roslin or Starbuck or me or a random civilian from the Prometheus. He should have gone after it. But more than that, he shouldn't have led us this way. He shouldn't have led the people to believe that Earth was the only solution."
"Hell," Noel cut in, obviously releasing a thought he'd kept bottled up, "what if we'd gotten there, it had been great, and the Cylons had followed us and blown it all up anyway? Not only would we be gone, but another entire world of people."
They stared at each other, both chilled at the thought.
Felix pushed his bowl away, and Noel quietly pushed it back. Felix glared at him, but Noel stared back evenly, and Felix sighed and picked up the spoon and continued eating. As he mechanically chewed and swallowed, he felt like he was drifting away, watching himself and Noel sitting at the table.
"I've already half-worked it out, you know, if we have to go that way," he said.
Noel didn't ask what he meant. He just raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. It was back when we knew the Cylons could look like us, but we didn't know anything else. I thought maybe they were taking people and replacing them with Cylons. Anyway, I figured that if I was the Cylons, my chief target would be Adama. And if Adama turned out the be a Cylon… well, we were going to need a way to deal with it. Quickly."
"You scare me," Noel said, but he grinned. "Only you would plot mutiny as an extra credit assignment."
Mutiny. It was the first time either of them had said the word, and Felix felt a jolt pass through him at the acknowledgement. Mutiny. Against Adama.
And something in him finally died.
***
"Right," Adama said, striding into Tom's office. "Let's get this over with."
"Excuse me," Tom said, sitting up in his chair and glancing significantly at Lee, dogging Adama's footsteps. "What's he doing here? Wait, let me guess. I don't have to answer to you."
"You're catching on," Adama said. Lee opened his mouth to say something, but both men ignored him. Tom could barely look at him. Any affection he might have once felt for Lee had vanished the day Lee assumed the Presidency. He'd always thought the boy had had more regard for democracy than that, but when push came to shove, Lee Adama was just as big a hypocrite as anyone else in this damn Fleet.
"I don't think we'll have much to say anyway," Lee told Tom, in an annoyingly patronizing manner. "The press will be eager to talk to the Admiral."
"As I said," Adama said, moving towards the press room, "let's get this over with."
Tom had no choice but to follow.
The crowded press room was nothing new to him, but under professional veneers and determined faces, Tom saw desperation and despair. These people needed hope. They needed a plan. They needed some reason to go on, and as Adama stood there and did his best to avoid answering questions, they weren't finding it. He seethed in frustration.
And yet, the questions kept coming. "Admiral Adama, what do you think…?"
"Admiral Adama, what are you going to do about…?"
"Admiral Adama, is the President…?"
"Admiral Adama, when will you…?"
"Admiral Adama-"
"Admiral Adama-"
"Admiral!"
They were calling to him, begging to him, and the man stood there, a wall of stone, refusing to see it. And they refused to see that, that Adama wasn't listening. That Adama had broken, had given up, but wouldn't let go. They still heaped all of their hopes on his shoulders, even when there was someone else willing to carry them.
"Admiral Adama. Is it true that you're contemplating forming a permanent alliance with the rebel Cylons currently in this Fleet?" Sekou asked, his voice breaking through Tom's anger.
"I'm not going to talk about hypotheticals," Adama growled. It was as good as a yes.
The buzzing started in his ears. An alliance with the Cylons. Tom flashed back to that day in his cell, when they'd heard the worlds had ended. Even on the Astral Queen there was silence, shock, and grief. These men were criminals, but they all had someone that they loved, someone that was gone. He remembered New Caprica, and the sound of Centurians marching down a street, destroying the life they were trying to build. He remembered four months of detention and torture, and the misery on board as they returned. Running, frantic and desperate and losing- always losing. And now Adama was going to allow the very people who had perpetrated this in their Fleet permanently? The anger choked him, but when Sekou turned to him and demanded, "Mr. Vice President, would you support such a move?", he snapped back to reality.
If he'd believed in the Gods and portents and signs, this one would have been blazing neon, telling him what he had to do. And now was a perfect opportunity. He didn’t want to answer the question. If he came out right now and said "no", it would be an open gesture of defiance too early. Nothing would be accomplished. Nothing would change, except Adama would manage to find a reason to put him out the airlock in the next twenty four hours. But if he waited… if he let his disapproval be known in no way that could be faulted… he stood in silence for a long, long time.
Finally, he glanced at Adama with an expression that he was sure had to be read as servile. "No comment."
It evoked exactly the reaction he was looking for: anger, frustration. Fury. An explosion of voices, all clamoring for answers. He hid his smile behind a mask of obedience.
Playa's voice rang out over the babble. "Where is President Roslin?"
The room quieted, and Tom moved towards the microphone. After all, he was the voice of the civilian government. But Lee cut him off, jumping over to the podium with the agility of a frog. Or an eager puppy dog, determined to impress its master. He forced a smile that he must have felt was genuine, but clearly announced that he did not like the question. "Thank you, Playa! The President is resting comfortably aboard the Galactica. Last question. Sekou?"
"Do you have any more information on the identity of the fifth Cylon?"
Lee shifted uncomfortable. "Uh, we believe the fifth Cylon to be dead."
"But you're not sure?"
"No, but we believe she died some time ago."
She? Tom's silent furious shout was echoed by the reporters. "She?"
"How do you know it was a woman?" someone pounced, and Lee's smile became even more forced, if that was possible.
"That was the last question," he said awkwardly, and spun around to leave the room. Tom followed, because if he stayed out here it would become obvious just how little he knew. But as soon as the door closed, he was on them.
"What was that about?" he demanded.
"Forget about it," Adama growled.
The truth was that the identity of the fifth Cylon mattered very little to Tom. It wasn't Adama and he was pretty sure it wasn't Roslin, and he was quite sure it wasn't himself. Tom decided to go for what actually mattered.
"A permanent alliance between this government and the Cylons - any Cylons - is out of the question. I hope you both know that."
"Yeah?" Lee demanded, sounding like a schoolyard bully's sidekick. "Well, it's not your call."
He kept his cool, smiling mockingly. "Is it yours? Are you the President again? Sorry, I get confused what job is on any given day."
"Laura Roslin's still the President," Adama said. "She'll make the final call."
"And where is Laura Roslin? Oh, that's right, resting comfortably aboard Galactica. Funny how she kind of dropped out of sight since her 'prophecies' about Earth turned out to be a bunch of crap."
It hit, and it felt good. Adama didn't react, but Tom could see that shot went straight to his heart. Good. "We're done here," Adama said.
Lee gave him the look of a kid who… well, who was convinced his father could beat him up, and then left. But Tom wasn't done.
"If you try to shove an alliance with the Cylons down our throats, they'll be consequences, Admiral. I promise you," Tom said through clenched teeth.
"Thank you, Mr. Zarek. Makes it a little bit easier to know who to hold responsible if there's an unfortunate incident."
He met the challenge with none of the servility he had shown in the press room. "I'm not hard to find, Admiral. I'm right here. Running the government."
"For now," Adama intoned, and turned and stalked off. and then followed.
Tom watched him go, like he was watching him walk into darkness. And really, he was.
***
Felix limped down the hall, leaning heavily on his crutches and swearing abundantly. The Admiral still wasn't listening. It wasn't even that he wouldn't admit he might be wrong… it was that he wasn't even listening to any other viewpoint. That, more than anything, burned him up, his soul and his heart shriveling like scraps of paper in the fire. His stomach turned over, but he wasn't sure if that was his inner turmoil or the morpha withdrawal.
The hatch opened behind him, and he heard footsteps.
"Lieutenant Gaeta." Tigh's voice would allow for no disobedience, so Felix stopped and turned.
"Colonel?"
"What the frak was that?"
"What was what?"
"Don't play dumb with me," Tigh said, stepping right up to him. "You know damn well what I mean."
For a moment, the anger in Tigh's face quelled him, took him back to those days after New Caprica, standing in the CIC as Tigh chewed him out in front of everyone. But this time, he wasn't backing down. This time, he didn't respect the… he didn't respect Tigh, didn't trust him, didn't care what he thought. "Allowing the Cylons access to our ships engines and FTL drives is insane, no matter what the Admiral thinks. You don't even know how that technology works! Give me one good reason that we should trust them!"
"The Admiral trusts them, and that right there is all the reason you need, Lieutenant." Tigh grabbed him by the jacket, and Felix had to struggle for a moment just to stay upright. "Now, I know you think you've had an especially hard time of it lately, but wake up and look around you. Everyone's life sucks, and you're no frakking exception. So shut the hell up and fall into line, soldier!"
Felix glared back. "This is not about me, sir," he hissed. "This isn't a whim. There's evidence that we can't trust the Cylons, I've given you that. This is about the Fleet, it's about protecting the people from the Cylons. But you wouldn't get that, would you?"
To his amazement, Tigh almost started laughing. "You keep telling yourself that, Felix," he said, his voice edged with venom. "You keep believing that you're doing this for justice, when really all you want is personal vengeance. And after you throw an innocent man out an airlock, you come to me and we'll talk. Until then, you remember your duty and your place, Lieutenant." He pushed Felix away and walked away, and although he was chuckling it was the bitterest sound Felix had ever heard.
And there it was, in front of him. Adama would not be swayed from this course of action. And neither would he.
***
Louis was in the racks when he returned to grab a few things. Felix could barely stand to look at him, because he knew what was coming and he knew now he had to do this, and Gods, it was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Hey," Louis said, looking up and smiling at him. "Where'd you sneak off to?"
"The meeting with Adama," Felix said.
"How did it go?"
"Not well. He's not only going forward with the alliance with the Cylons, but that idea Tyrol had? They're upgrading the ships- all of the ships- using Cylon technology."
Louis whistled between his teeth. "That's not going to go over well."
"As well it shouldn't. Even Tyrol can't tell us the first thing about the technology. Why should we trust it?"
"Well, the Cylons are rebels," Louis pointed out. "And they did give us the Hub."
"But what if Cavil's baseships can hack into it? What if they can control it on their own?"
Louis rolled his eyes. "Spoken like a true Galactian."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Felix bristled.
"Oh, come on, Felix. You know the entire Fleet thought Adama was a superstitious joke because he refused to network the Galactica. Hell, you've laughed about it as much as anyone."
"And he turned out to be right," Felix pointed out. "That's what he seems to be forgetting. He was right, and that's why we survived."
"It's not why we survived," Louis said.
"Is too. Your systems were down for repairs."
"We-" Louis opened his mouth, and then closed it again. They stared at each other for a long moment. "Let's not go there now, Felix," Louis said. "We're just going to regret it."
Right. Saying something to Louis about Cain was pretty much the equivalent of arguing with Adama about Tigh… or himself about Tom, he supposed. He got that. And besides, this wasn't the way it needed to end. He nodded, and then grabbed Louis by the neck and pulled him in for one last kiss.
"Hey," Louis said with that little almost-smile, "don't get me all riled up. I have duty."
"I know." Felix turned towards the hatch. "I've got a meeting myself."
"A meeting?" Louis asked, holding Felix's elbow as he clambered out of the hatch. "With who?"
"Zarek."
"Zarek?"
"Look, I know you don't like him," Felix began, heart in his throat. Maybe…
"No, I don't," Louis said flatly. "He's manipulative and power hungry."
Well, that answered any lingering doubts. "You know how you told me earlier let's not go there?" he asked. "This is my let's not go there."
"All right. But Felix… Felix, I don’t understand. Why would you set up a meeting with him, of all people?"
"I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it."
"What are you doing?!" Louis demanded.
The quicker you do it, the less painful it will be, he told himself. He gripped Louis's shoulder, taking in his face for what he was sure was the last time… at least like this. "Look," he said. "You found me and you saved me, so I’ll protect you. But if this doesn’t work out, and if I’m wrong… you have a bright future, Louis."
"What are you talking about? If what doesn’t work?"
"Keep your head down," Felix warned him. He opened a bulkhead and went through, and tried not to listen to Louis calling after him.
The door clanged behind him, and he would have thought he would burst into tears. But curiously, he felt nothing, just a sense of purpose that propelled him to the hangar bay.
"Racetrack," he said, when he caught sight of her, "can you get me over to the Astral Queen? I've got a meeting."
She knew. He could see it in the defiant lift of her chin and her smile, and she approved. "Right away, Lieutenant."
***
"We won't stand for it," Captain Doval told Tom in the Astral Queen's dining hall. "Having the Cylons tamper with our FTL drive… there's absolutely no way."
"And that should be every ship's right to decide for themselves, Captain," Tom agreed fervently. "When the Quorum meets tomorrow, I'll be telling them that." He picked up a bowl and headed towards the door. "I hate to leave on such a short notice, but there's work that needs to be done."
"Of course," Doval said.
It was an unneeded comfort that Doval was so opposed to this scheme of Adama's. He smiled, patting the man's shoulder in a reassuring gesture, and then eased his way out of the mess hall. He had too much to do, too much to process….
And when he arrived at his quarters, he saw he also had company. Felix was standing outside the door, sweating and shaking and looking more disheveled than Tom had ever seen him. He was gripping a small bag, and leaning heavily on his crutches.
"Felix. What are you doing here? What's going on?"
Felix looked up at him. "We need to talk," was all he said. Tom nodded and unlocked his hatch.
"Do you want something to eat?" he asked, setting his bowl down on his desk.
"No," Felix said, shaking his head. "It will just come up anyway."
Tom looked at the young man again, and realized what was happening. "You're going off the morpha all at once, aren't you?"
"Don't have much of a choice. Not if I'm going to do what needs to be done." Felix ran a hand through his curls, and shook it irritably. "Cottle gave me some medicine that he said would help, but he said the first twelve hours were still going to be rough." He sneezed.
"You said what needs to be done…" Tom said slowly. "What do you mean? And for crying out loud, sit down before you fall down."
Felix ignored him. "This can't happen," he said. "This alliance…"
"It's not going to happen," Tom reassured him.
Felix looked at him wildly. "Yes, it is," he said. "As long as Adama's in charge, it will happen." He finally sat down, eyes unfocused. "Tom," he said abruptly, "I really hate to ask this, but can I stay in the Astral Queen's infirmary tonight?"
"What about Hoshi?"
Emotion flickered over Felix's face, intense and sharp and fleeting. "That's part of why I want to stay here tonight," he said. "We're not together any more."
"You're kidding."
"No. And what's it to you? I'm surprised you're not dancing around the room already."
"That would be a bit callous. But last time I saw you two together, I thought I was going to need a crowbar to get you apart from each other. Now you're telling me it's over? Who ended it?"
"I did." Felix was shaking. "He can't know about… I can't…." He shook his head in frustration, still private in this particular pain, and unable to voice the words.
The words that Tom knew, somehow. Somewhere deep inside him, he saw the future forming, and what was coming. The world was shattering, and there was no magic solution this time. There were no prophecies, no acts of the Gods, no saving graces. There were only broken promises, shams, and dictatorial sacrifices. And there was no one to fix it.
Bill Adama and Laura Roslin had failed. They'd failed themselves, they'd failed their mission, they'd failed their people. All of their people, even the ones they refused to see. The civilians. The people of the Fleet. The Sagittarons. The tylium workers, the mechanics, the people who processed algae… the people who huddled on ships with no relevant skills, but were shipped from jump coordinates to jump coordinates, always afraid for the lives which were completely out of their hands. The people who didn't have their ear, who didn't have a voice. The people they wouldn't listen to.
Billy Kiekeya. Ray and Sesha Abinell. Jean Barolay. Helena Cain. George Chu. Ellen Tigh. Tucker Clellan and Nora Farmer. Maya Gabalondon. Cally Henderson Tyrol. Marshall Bagot. Anastasia Dualla. They'd failed them all.
They'd failed Tom Zarek. And they'd failed Felix Gaeta.
Felix was shaking, still standing, leaning heavily on his crutch. Tom stood up and shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "Stay here tonight," he ordered him. "If you go to the infirmary, people will know, and that will only make your job harder. Stay here, take the bed. I'll help you through it."
For a moment, Felix looked like he was going to argue, and then a shudder wracked his frame and he nodded. "Thank you."
Tom smiled. "Of course."
***
It was a long night, a night with no dawn. The ticking of the clock seemed loud, despite their conversation. They sat together, Felix in the bed, Tom in the chair beside him. They talked, not of rebellion and insurrection, but of inconsequential matters. Of the people they'd loved, of the families they'd had, of New Caprica. Phantom pains and withdrawal tremors shook Felix, and when it got too hard, Tom took his hand without comment, and Felix clung to it like a trusting child.
Another last time. Another last love. Because when this went forward, when these plans shifted into action, their personal relationship couldn't matter. Father and son, friend and friend, brothers in arms… whatever they were, it had to be locked away, forgotten, ignored. The civilian government and the military had to check each other, to balance each other, to watch each other to make sure that each side was watching out for the people they were meant to serve. That was the mistake that Roslin and Adama had made; they no longer could serve as each other's balance. They were too personal.
They couldn't let it be personal.
There was no sun to break the darkness, no dawn to light the world. No new day to call their own. But a few hours before the alarm, Felix finally drifted into a restless sleep, and Tom slept in the chair beside him, their hands still joined. But when they woke, they pulled away from each other, no words needing to be spoken.
They suited up. They locked away what was precious. And now they were ready to go to war.
***
Felix sat in the Raptor trying not to shiver. Cottle had assured him that the meds he'd given him would make the experience significantly easier, but it was still anything but easy. And in addition to the withdrawal symptoms, the pain in his leg was now constant, varying from throbbing to intense. None of which was helped at all by being in a Raptor again. But he had to do it.
Something had happened last night, something he couldn't put his finger on. Something had shifted from idea to action, and something had shifted within himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think of Louis, but he couldn't pull up an image. All he could think about was what needed to be done, what he had to do.
So that's the way it was going to be. Strangely, he felt calm inside. Not peaceful, just… purposeful. Calm. Prepared.
Racetrack glanced back at him. "Almost there, Felix," she said. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." He checked his watch, and then straightened up in his seat. "I've got an hour before duty, and I'm supposed to meet Narcho for breakfast. You two should join us." His tone was half invitation, half order.
Racetrack and Skulls looked at each other and smiled. "Sounds good to us, sir," Skulls said, and Felix knew he'd been exactly right.
***
"People are pissed," Racetrack said, ignoring her breakfast and leaning on the table. "They'll come."
"Who, though?" Felix asked, looking at them. "Who's pissed that we can trust? Not just mechanics and Marines and grunts, but people who can command?"
"Most of the old guard are out," Noel said. "Tigh, Tyrol, Starbuck… they're the ones that will never turn against Adama. But if you look to some of the younger soldiers, maybe some of the Pegasus people…"
"That's a good point," Skulls agreed. "The Pegasus crowd hasn't been happy with the way that the ship's been run from the beginning. Too different from Cain."
"Admiral Cain," Narcho corrected stiffly, and Felix kicked Skulls under the table with his good leg before it could turn into an argument. He turned to Narcho.
"All right. Who do you recommend from the Pegasus?"
"Might be able to bust Stinger out of the brig," Narcho said. "And Limbern can head up the Marines."
"Great." Felix rubbed his nose and then sneezed again. He pulled his duty blues jacket tighter around his shoulders. Fortunately, the others didn't seem to notice anything was amiss, or were too polite to say so.
"What about Hoshi?" Narcho said cautiously.
"No."
"Have you talked to him?"
"Enough to know he's not going to jump on board." Felix shook his head. "Just as well. I think I need to do it alone in the CIC. That's the one place where there's no give. Adama's right there. Someone gets cold feet… someone even gets nervous and the whole takeover could be over before it even begins. I can't afford to trust anyone in the CIC."
"What are you going to do with the CIC staff?" Racetrack asked.
"Take them into custody. Immediately- at least the senior staff. We'll sort them out after." He looked down at his carefully coded notes. "What I'm going to need is someone who can take the tactical station once this gets going."
They were all silent for a moment. Finally, Narcho flipped his hand. "Gage," he said resignedly.
Felix groaned inwardly. "Any other options?"
"Nope."
"Not that I can think of," Racetrack said.
"Sinker has ECO training and could probably do it, but I don't think you'll sway her over from Adama," Skulls said.
"Well, Gage it is. At least I don't have to worry that he'll change his mind on me." Felix noted it down. "Who else can we count on?"
They went through the list. There were names on there that Felix wasn't thrilled about. Charlie Conner with his Sons of Ares. Diana Seelix, whom he had to admit was a good choice. Vireem. It didn't take long.
"Right," he said, stacking the papers together. "Racetrack and Skulls, I need you to get going. Start feeling out the pilots, the Marines, even civilians." They both nodded, and Felix caught Racetrack's eye. "When we take over, we need to have a command structure in place immediately," he told her. "You're CAG."
"Yes, sir." She and Narcho shared a brief look of surprise, and then she left with Skulls.
"So. Racetrack's CAG, and you're not telling Louis about this," Narcho said.
"Right." Felix sighed heavily. "Noel, you know how this can end, right? If we don't get this right…."
"It's the firing squad, or just an airlocking if Adama doesn't want to waste bullets," Noel said. "I'm under no illusions."
"Neither am I. If we're taken down, I'm betting Adama will spare anyone who pledges loyalty back to him… anyone except the command structure. If we go down, I'm dead. And so is my XO. I want you to be clear on that, because when we take control, you're XO."
Noel nodded. "Crystal clear, sir." He looked down at the table. "That's why you're not telling Louis, isn't it?"
"Well, I wasn't lying when I said I don't know if he'd go along with it. But yes, that's why I'm not telling him. I…" something inside him cracked, threatening to break free, and he angrily shoved it away. "I'm not giving him the choice. He goes into the brig as soon as the mutiny begins. He should be physically safe there, but more than that, if we go down and the time comes for Adama to ask questions, he's safe then, too. I'll go down, and I'm willing to take my friends with me. But I won't take Louis."
Narcho smiled. "Good," he said, and extended his hand. "Then I believe, sir, we both have duty to attend to. I'll see you after your shift." He stood and saluted.
"Noel?" Felix said as he walked out the door.
"Yes?"
"Do you still love him?"
Narcho smiled. "Not like you do. But we all have to have something to protect. You and he are the best I've got."
***
The memo sat on the desk before them, thirteen perfect copies, with the signature of the Admiral. Innocuous pieces of paper informing them that the Cylons would be upgrading the FTL drives of each and every ship, whether people wanted these measures or not. And that there would be a permanent alliance with the Cylons in the Fleet, where they would have access to all of the ships, the same rights as any Colonial citizen, and a seat on the Quorum.
"They can't do this," Chronides fumed. "There is no way we will allow this. Quorum representation? Civil rights?" Her words were met with assent from the others. "There is no forgiveness for what they've done," she continued. "There's no forgetting."
"The Admiral is not asking people to forgive and forget," Lee said. "Neither is the President. But we're running out of options. If Cavil catches up with us before we find a habitable planet, we're dead in the water."
"The Galactica is dead in the water," Orimosis pointed out. "The FTL drives on the civilian ships are in better condition."
"But for how much longer?" Lee demanded. "How much longer can we rely on that? And why should the people rely on that, when there's a better option available?"
"If you consider using Cylon technology a better option," Cantrell said. "Although I admit it may be. But the fact is that what Adama and Roslin are… should I say proposing? Probably not. But what they are ordering goes against the Articles. Why don't they just declare martial law and be done with it?"
"No. Martial law is not an option," Lee said.
"Then why pretend? Why the pretense? Why are we sitting here, like our voices matter?"
"Because they should." Tom stood up. "Because this is democracy, this is about the people of the Fleet. And even as our circumstances become more desperate, we should never forget that."
He took a deep breath. "In prison you start to confuse your hopes and dreams with reality. You start to believe that because you want something to happen. Parole, a pardon, appeal, a writ. You start to believe that it will happen. You live on wishes the way things should be instead of the way they are. And all because you can't face reality. The leaders of this Fleet are starting to succumb to wishful thinking because they can't face reality. And the reality is that the Adama-Roslin administration has led us nowhere.
"Earth was a mirage. A fantasy they dangled in front of us for four long years in order to maintain power. A fantasy they dreamed up as a way to hold on and control the government. Over the democratic wishes of the population. So now, what does our feckless and dispirited leadership doing to solidify their position after failing us so miserably? Turning to the Cylons. The Cylons...for help! Heh!" He looked directly at Lee. "Aren't the Cylons the reason we're out here in the first place? Aren't they the enemy!?! Or are they suddenly our friends if that helps keep Roslin-Adama in power!?"
"Point of order," Lee interrupted. "The chair needs to bring a motion and not make a speech."
Tom allowed a sarcastic smile. "Thank you Mr. Adama. The chair moves that any decision on allowing Cylons to board any ship in the fleet be made by the Captain and any people living on that ship and not the Roslin- Adama administration!"
He could see the approval on their faces, and the anger and the purpose surged through him. This was what the people needed- a voice to speak out for them, to fight. Someone to say that what Adama and Roslin were forcing was morally wrong.
Lee protested, looking desperate. "What we need right now is unity! This is a Fleet-wide issue. We need to stand together. It affects all of us!"
Cantrell raised his hand. "Sagittaron calls the question."
"Tauron seconds."
"Question has been called and seconded. All in favor?" Every hand except Lee's went up. "All opposed?" Lee obligingly raised his hand. "Vote is 11 to 1. The motion carriers: No Cylon will board a ship in this Fleet without permission of its people."
The Quorum broke into applause, and began shaking hands. Tom couldn't help the feeling of triumph that flooded his veins, even as Lee Adama crept out of the room. But even as he shook the hands of the Quorum, he knew this was far from over, and there was no way that Adama and Rolsin were going to allow this motion to stand.
***
"You're sure about this," Jed Temlin, captain of the Hitei Kan said, studying the paper Tom had pushed in front of him.
"Positive." Tom leaned in.
"And the Admiral is really going to do this? He's ordering Marine escorts with the Cylon mechanics?"
"Force has been authorized in this case." Tom tapped the relevant paragraph.
Temlin shook his head angrily. "I will not stand to have them aboard my ship," he told Tom roughly. "I can't stand to look at those frakking toasters. It's been four years, but I still can't fathom what's happened. Every morning I wake up, and for just a moment I think 'maybe we can go home today' or 'I wonder what my wife and kids are doing'. And every morning it all comes crashing down again, and I remember. And there's no way I'm forgetting. And there's no way I'm forgetting that every last one of those damn toasters was in on it. That's the thing, see. It's not like it was some fringe group of terrorists," he said, flicking his eyes to Tom meaningfully. "It was all of them. All of them. Maybe Adama and Roslin can forget that, but me and my people… we can't."
"You're not the only ones. Several other captains have broached me with the exact same concerns," Tom said. "But you're the one that can make a difference. You're the one who can make that statement. I have a copy of the schedule for the FTL upgrades, and the Hitei Kan is first on the list. I know that what I'm asking isn't easy, but your people are the hope for this Fleet."
"It's not easy," Captain Temlin agreed, "but it's right." He set his jaw and stood up. "We'll do it, Mr. Zarek."
"Thank you, Jed." Tom stood up to shake his hand. "And you won't be doing this alone."
***
Tom sat in the office, tapping his pen on the desk. It wasn't so much nerves as the insatiable need for action. This time it was really going to happen. He thumbed through his papers, looking at the notes that Felix had given him on his ideas for a settlement. It was far from perfect, but it was more than Roslin or Adama could come up with. And it was the most anyone had offered at this point. He stared at the abrupt pencil sketches that mapped out a plan for a future. He smiled.
The phone rang, shrill and shattering the silence. Tom grabbed it immediately.
"Zarek."
"Zarek." Temlin's voice was anxious, just as it was meant to be. "They tried to board us. The crew… they didn't take any prompting at all. They killed one of the Cylons, and two of the Marines."
They were ready. They were completely ready. Tom's heart pounded faster in excitement. "It's going to be all right, Captain," he said soothingly. "We-"
"The Dradis," Temlin interrupted, pitching his voice into a more frantic tone. "The Dradis shows a Raptor and Vipers heading straight for us! They'll be here any minute!"
Tom nodded. He'd seen that one coming from a mile away. He was sure that the Galactica CIC must be listening in on this call by now. Every word counted. "They have no right to board your ship without permission."
"What should we do Mr. Vice President?"
And that was the signal. Tom gave the counter signal. "Every citizen has the right to protect themselves from oppression. Take whatever measures you think necessary."
"Thank you, sir."
"Thank you."
He hung up the phone and smiled. And then put down the pen, stood up, and waited. He didn't have to wait long.
He heard the bootsteps first, and raised his eyebrows as the Cylon called Athena walked in. Interesting choice of an emissary on Adama's part, and a mistake. The crew of the Galactica might accept her as one of them- even Gaeta didn't seem to have a problem with her- but the Fleet was another story all together. "Lieutenant Agathon," he said, inclining his head. "What can I do for you?"
She raised her gun and pointed it at him. "You can come quietly," she said. "Or we'll drag your dead carcass to the Admiral."
For a fleeting moment, he debated kicking up a little fuss. Just enough that he'd have to be quelled, just enough that they'd drag him out of the Colonial One kicking and screaming. It wouldn't be terribly dignified, but it would certainly make a statement. But as he looked at the expression on the Cylon's face, he figured he'd be smart to come quietly.
"Ladies first," he said mockingly, bowing and gesturing to the door.
The photographer who just "happened" to be waiting around on Colonial One would get a good picture regardless.
***
"Felix." Louis grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him aside roughly in the corridor. "What the frak was that?"
"What the frak was what?" Felix demanded. "You saw what the Admiral did! Louis, that was…"
"I know that. You know that. But last time I checked, you are an officer of the Colonial Fleet, and you could get your ass tossed into the brig for talking like you just did to the brass before I cut you off. Is that what you're trying to do, Felix?"
"Louis, don't worry about it. It doesn't concern you any more."
Louis's eyes searched his face, and then suddenly he yanked Felix in close. Felix nearly lost his balance but Louis caught him, his mouth hungry on Felix's. For a moment, he couldn't help but respond, losing himself in the ferocity of the kiss. But then reason reasserted itself. If they were caught like this, no one would ever believe it was over between them a few days ago. He broke the kiss and pushed Louis away.
"Stop."
Louis's jaw was set. "Why? I don't understand this. Whatever's going on with you-"
"Whatever's going on with me has got nothing to do with you, okay?" Felix shouted. His voice echoed off the metal of the walls, and he cringed. "Let it go, Louis. Believe me, it's for the best."
Louis's eyes narrowed. "Did you know something about the Hitei Kan jumping?" he asked. "Do you know where it is?"
Felix shook his head. "I had no idea that was going to happen," he answered honestly. "I'm not surprised, but I didn't know." Louis's gaze was still piercing through him, and Felix was extremely glad that it was the truth.
Finally, Louis just shook his head. "Look," he said, and he sounded exhausted. "I know that you're going through a lot right now. I understand that. But you know how I still feel about you, and when I kissed you… I know you still feel the same about me."
Louis's words were coming dangerously close to breaking through his defenses. Felix looked away. "I do," he said, the words tearing out of him, because Louis had to know that that was the truth. "Moreso, if you want the truth."
"So let me just ask one thing. When this is all over, and you've… done whatever you want to do, will there be a chance for us again?"
Felix swallowed hard. "Louis," he said, "if there's ever going to be a chance for us again, believe me, I will be the one that's groveling, not you."
"But-"
Felix tightened his grip on his crutch. "Goodbye," he told Louis firmly, and turned and walked away. And when he turned and glanced back, Louis was gone.
Just as well, he told himself. It's better this way.
***
"Felix," Noel said, raising a hand. Felix balanced his tray, trying to maneuver over to the table without spilling food or drink. At least the worst of the morpha withdrawal shakes were gone. He struggled over to the table and Noel belatedly stood up, taking the dishes from him and helping him get settled.
"Thanks." Felix sat and rubbed his temples. Between the Hitei Kan and Louis, he should be exhausted. But there was an energy burning inside him, and he was finding it hard to sit still. "How's it going?"
"Good," Noel said, eating as mindlessly as possible. "I've got a lot of people who agree with me that this food is complete slop."
"Good to hear," Felix said. "Did you find forks for all the people who think the food is slop?"
"Actually, that was easy. One of the people who can't stand the food is an armed master chef. She's going to get us into the cutlery drawers. We'll have all the forks we need."
"Figured that would be the case." Felix chewed carefully. "I need a few of the Marines. Ones you're sure we can trust, that have brig access."
"Brig access?"
Felix leaned in. "Adama brought in Zarek," he said, glancing around. "Hauled him in for Zarek telling the Hitei Kan that they didn't have to let a Cylon crew board them or the Galactica raptor board. Zarek was quoting the Articles at Captain Temlin, and Adama's had him hauled in for it."
"You're kidding." Noel goggled.
"I wish I was. I'm sure the story is going to be in the paper tomorrow, but we've got to act before then."
"How soon?"
Felix took a deep breath. "Let me get to Zarek, and get him into place. Let me make sure he's committed to this." Noel snorted at that, and Felix ignored it. "But it's got to be soon, before someone says the wrong thing to the wrong person, or changes their mind."
"Got it. Hey, I also talked to Gage. Pegasus slop was a bit different than Galactica slop. You want to give him your secret recipe?"
"Yeah, I'd better do that. Is he around now?"
"I think so."
"Go get him. I'll take him through it right now."
Noel nodded and stood up, and as he left, Felix rubbed the bridge of his nose. It all had a strange, unreal quality about it, and some part of him- the part he'd slammed and locked the door on- couldn't believe he was doing this. But more of them couldn't believe he had to.
To his surprise, Gage was relatively intelligent and picked up the basics of the tactical station quickly- at least on paper. Felix took him through it quickly, very aware that there was no way this guy was going to do the job as well as he could… or as well as Louis could. He forced that thought from his mind, focusing on it.
"What about the Cylons?" Gage asked him. "The ones who live on Galactica? What are you doing about them?"
"Taking them into custody," Felix said.
"Not shooting them?"
"No. Look, there are six Cylons we really need to worry about. The final four we need to keep as bargaining chips, although one of them may have to…" he broke off, because the idea of actually killing Colonel Tigh was difficult to put into words. "Caprica Six and Athena have to be neutralized."
"Be better to just shoot them," Gage opined.
"No," Felix said angrily. "Look, if you're in on this, there's something you have to be very clear on, okay? I'm not doing this for power or for control, or for revenge. I'm doing this because it has to be done, because Adama and Roslin aren't listening to the people anymore. They aren't protecting the people anymore. People are going to have to die in this revolution. I know that. But that's not the point. We kill as few people as we need to kill."
Gage stared at him. "They're toasters, boss."
"Be that as it may, those are my orders. Got that, Specialist?"
It hung in the air between them. Finally, Gage gave a salute. "Yes, sir."
***
Another prison cell. Tom idly wondered how many cells he'd been in. It was a statement when he could comment that this cot was one of the more comfortable he'd slept on, and at least this cell had plumbing.
The hatch clanged open, and Tom didn't even bother to look up. He didn't need to- even Adama's footsteps defined him. Besides, the only other person he expected had very different footsteps indeed.
There was a loud thwack, and a thick folder landed in front of him as Adama sat down. "Sworn statements," he said. "Transcripts of wireless conversations. Shipping records. All kinds of documents, really. Compiled over the last year with one theme. The buying and the selling of the Vice President's office."
"This is extortion," Tom said, just to clarify.
"This is about law and order, but you can call it what you want."
Tom snorted. Law and order. He idly wondered what Adama had in that file. Adama was wrong about the motivations, but Tom was plenty honest with himself to know there was enough he'd done that would make that sort of file very interesting reading for a jury.
"I believe that you would walk happily to the gallows, or languish in a cell for the rest of your life, if you could do it as a martyr to your cause. But the idea of being publicly humiliated as a corrupt politician, with your hand in the till? Well, that would scare you. Somehow I don't think that the legend and the myth of Tom Zarek, the political prisoner and a man of conscience, can survive the airing of that much dirty laundry."
Tom inhaled quietly, and looked at the folder. "Do you really think that the Fleet is going to sit by for a long and politically motivated trial while you make an Alliance with the Cylons?"
"Without the tylium ship, we're not going anywhere," Adama said. "At least they won't be bored."
"You think I know where the Hitei Kan is," Tom said, inwardly amused.
"Yes, I do."
"Why?"
"Because I know that you do. Read the file," he said, standing. "Some juicy stuff. Makes a great story for the press."
Tom considered the file again, watching Adama retreat. He was exactly where he needed to be… three… two… one…
"Murder and extortion."
Adama froze.
Tom reached into his jacket and pulled out a note pad. "You know what the difference between you and I Admiral? You wear that uniform, and I don't."
He wrote the coordinates of the Hitei Kan on the notepad, and then crumpled the paper and tossed it at Adama imperiously. Adama came back and retrieved it, studying the coordinates, and picked up the file as well.
"You can cool your heels here until we check these out. I wouldn't eat the food." Adama turned on his heel and left.
Once he was gone, Tom allowed himself to smile. That couldn't have gone any better than if he'd written the script himself.
***
It was late when he heard the distinctive sound of a man limping on a metal prosthetic, dragging himself on crutches. And he was not at all surprised when a Marine let Felix- no, Gaeta- into the cell.
"Mr. Vice President," Gaeta said, and Tom smiled grimly at the formality, knowing that he understood it just as well. "Are you all right?"
"Of course. Have a seat." Tom pulled the chair Adama had used around so Gaeta could sit. He did so awkwardly, and Tom leaned in to help him. Gaeta smiled up at him, because even though they were keeping this distant, they both knew the truth, but then immediately retreated back into the smooth formality Tom had seen time and time again in crisis. "Are you better?" he asked.
"Much, thank you. Physically, anyway. But there's something we need to discuss, and I can't guarantee us much time," He glanced significantly at the door, where the Marine was on the lookout.
"Tell me what what's going on."
"You're not the only one who's not happy about the alliance, or the Admiral and the President trampling on people's liberties. This isn't right, and I don't have to list off the reasons for you to agree with me. And they need to be stopped."
"Stopped."
Gaeta inclined his head. "Stopped. Removed. When the head of the government forgets that their duty is to serve and protect the people, they are no longer effective, or just. What the Fleet needs is someone who remembers that."
Tom sneezed, covering his mouth. "Excuse me," he said, and stood to wash his hands, pulling his thoughts together.
"Every revolution begins with one small act of courage," he said, "but I hope you know how serious this is. I hope you understand that this will have consequences- deadly consequences. For a lot of people.
"I've thought about the consequences. And I'm ready for them. We all are."
"How many is 'we'?"
"Enough," Gaeta said cagily. "But once it starts we'll get more support. People know something has to be done." He glared up at Tom in frustration. "The world is frakked. It's upside-down and somebody has to turn it right-side up. Are you that man?"
Are you that man? Tom thought of those men. Adama. Tigh. Baltar. Roslin. People that Felix Gaeta had put on a pedestal, believing that they were the heroes as he did the work. Believing that they were good, believing that they were wrong. If this was going to work, he couldn't be that golden idol to Gaeta. It had to be equal; they had to be in this together.
"I'm one of them," he said. "I need... a partner."
Gaeta understood. He pulled himself to his feet, his chin raised defiantly, and extended his hand. "You've got one."
On to Part 9