Chapter 5: Something Sacred Taken Out of My Soul

[mutantwrites]

Chapter 5: Something Sacred Taken Out of My Soul

"I don't believe it," Cottle said, staring at the images. "It shouldn't be possible."

Two weeks had gone by since Laura's treatment on the Persephone. Bill's heart surged in hope. "What is it, Doc?"

"The cancer is receding."

The world stopped, and then lurched into high speed. "You're joking."

"You ever know me to joke about a diagnosis, Admiral?" Cottle asked. He took a deep drag off his cigarette. "The blood tests are coming back with improved carcinoembryonic antigen and CA 15-3 counts. We did a scan, and we're seeing other signs of improvement as well. It shouldn't be possible- I have never seen a case this advanced go into remission, spontaneous or not. But all the data I'm getting is pointing to precisely that."

Bill stared at Laura incredulously. She, however, was radiant and luminously peaceful. "I don't believe it," he said.

Cottle turned his attention to Laura as well. "You said you've been experiencing improvement in energy level and your sleep, am I right?"

"And decreased bone pain as well," Laura added. One eyebrow quirked up. "Although I believe your exactly words were psychosomatic and placebo."

"Look, if we keep getting data like this back I'll gladly eat my words and grovel at Brink's feet. But you can't blame me for being skeptical about this idea."

"No, I can't," Laura admitted.

"Well, then," Cottle closed his file. "Keep thinking yourself into a state of miraculous recovery, and we'll do more tests in a week's time."

They left the infirmary together, Laura leaning on Bill's arm. It wasn't so much for support now; he could feel the strength in her body and her steps. He smiled.

The halls of Galactica still had that edgy, near-death feel. Bill's euphoria dimmed as they stepped into the rest of the ship, with the flickering lights and sputtering power. Laura noticed it, too.

"It's too bad Topher can't put the Galactica in his chair of the gods," she said.

"Chair of the gods," Bill laughed. "Don't let him hear you say that."

"I'm almost dreading telling him about what Cottle said," Laura admitted.

Bill looked around. The resin that the Cylon crews were painting on had a strong, organic smell to it that reminded him strongly of the algae planet, and the color was all wrong. It wasn’t everywhere, but he saw patches of it here and there, on uniforms, on the floor, on tools, like a movie mystery where the blood was highlighted in each scene. "I hate to say it, but he's offered the Galactica a bit of an extension."

"I know. Tyrol keeps requesting Tim Reynolds back for a while. But expertise isn't what we need."

Bill didn't want to think about it. The parts, the materials… all of it was beyond their reach. He looked away from the ship and back at the woman who might be saved. "At least the drives are doing better, although it's the hull…" he shook his head.

"We need to find something soon," Laura sighed. "Has Hoshi had any luck finding a K class star?"

"He's found two, but the scouts we've sent out haven't found any habitable planets."

"Do you need a navigator?"

Bill thought about that, and to his surprise, there was a pang of longing at that question. I do, he wished he could say. I need Gaeta back, like he was before all this. The thought shocked him, because he'd never thought of Gaeta that way- never realized he thought of Gaeta that way. He shoved it away angrily. "Don't know that a navigator could help," he grumbled. "It's not that Hoshi can't do the job, it's that the equipment can't."

"Story of our lives," Laura sighed.

"It is," Bill sighed. But the idea that Laura might heal and survive… he felt a surge of energy he hadn't felt since Earth. "I'd better get back to work."

Laura smiled. "Me, too. I'll see you later."

Later. There would be a later. Bill smiled, and for once, it didn't hurt to kiss her goodbye.

***

All three recon teams had come back from their searches for habitable planets. Kara supposed she should be grateful about that.

The human team of Snowbird and Quarry was easy enough to deal with. Kara liked them. The Cylon team was a little harder, but Kara could work with them, especially since it was a Six and an Eight. The Active team of Racetrack and Narcho, who today were being called Bravo and Tango, freaked her the hell out.

She lay on her rack, looking up at the ceiling. There were pictures taped there, some of people living, some of people dead, and some of people caught in between. She heard the hatch open, but didn't bother to look to see who came in.

"Kara?"

Her heart lifted a little, even if she didn't want to admit it. "What, Lee?"

"I was over on Galactica for a meeting. I thought I'd stop in and say hi."

"Hi," Kara said, not looking at him. But at the same time, it was good to hear his voice, and she couldn't deny that. With all this confusion, Lee was one thing that remained a strange sort of solid. "Have a seat," she offered, scooting over.

He awkwardly slid into the rack with her. He looked uncomfortable in his suit and was unsure where to put his shoes, as if it really mattered. Then he folded his arms behind his head. "Any luck with the planet recon missions?"

"Nope." Kara sighed. "One planet was almost habitable, but almost doesn’t cut it, does it."

"Almost like New Caprica?" Lee asked.

Kara shook her head. "Almost like Gemenon's moon."

"Oh."

"Yeah." She sighed. "Figures, though, that that was the one that Bravo and Tango were sent to."

"Bravo and Tango?"

"Racetrack and Narcho." Kara snorted. "If we really want a habitable planet, they ought to just put Racetrack back in herself and send her out with Skulls."

"You know we can't do that. Besides, Dad said that Racetrack really wanted to do this."

"I was joking, Lee. You know? About how Racetrack and Skulls seem to find everything?"

"Oh."

"Frak," Kara sighed. "Everyone seems to have lost their sense of humor these days."

"Look who's talking," Lee said. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and Kara kept staring at the pictures. "How are things with Sam?" Lee finally asked.

There was a way Lee could have asked it that would seem bitter, or catty, or like he was looking to get in her pants. He didn't ask it that way. He asked it like a brother, like a friend. Like he cared. Kara relaxed and leaned into their contact, her head nearly on Lee's shoulder.

"Weird," she admitted. "He remembers us some, but it's not real clear. Of course, if I could make some of it unclear, I would," she admitted, rolling her eyes. "Frakking lucky bastard on some of it."

"Yeah." Lee obviously didn't know what to make of it. But then, Lee hadn't been down on that craphole known as New Caprica.

"I know I should be grateful. I could have lost him. But the Sam that's there now… it's not my Sammy. It almost is, but it’s not, and I don't know what the frak to make of it. I think I've lost him anyway."

"Mmm."

"Hey, you asked," Kara said crossly.

"I know." Lee was looking at the pictures. "Hey, what's this one?" He pointed to a picture of Narcho with Hoshi's little girl, laughing at the camera while the little girl clung to his neck from behind. When Kara didn't answer right away, he said, "The guy looks a lot like Narcho."

Kara sighed. "The guy is Narcho. I don't know. It's something I got from Hoshi and never gave back to him. I know I should, but if I can avoid running into the bastard, I do."

"Why do you have it up?" Lee asked. "It's Narcho."

"Yeah, I know. But he's still a pilot."

"So?"

Kara struggled to explain. "If Adama had shot the bastard, I wouldn't put his picture on the wall, but someone would have, you know? Showboat or Washout or even frakking Hoshi himself. But he's not dead, so he can't go on the wall, and he's not alive. He's just… getting lost."

"That explains Racetrack over there," Lee muttered, pointing to a picture of Racetrack and Skulls that inhabited another corner. "Gaeta up here, too?"

"No. He's not a pilot." Kara was clear on that. She turned over though, and found the packet of pictures that she still had from that night. "But if you see Hoshi, give him these. He'll want them back."

Lee flipped through the photos, lingering on the one of Hoshi embracing Gaeta, both of them laughing. He didn't comment though, just shuffled the pictures back into a neat stack. "I'll get them to him," he said. Of course he would. She closed her eyes.

"Kara?" Lee asked, wrapping a companionable arm around her shoulders. "Are you okay? I mean, I know Earth left a lot of people… lost," he finally settled on, "but you seem to be…."

Kara didn't open her eyes. "I'm all right, Lee," she lied. "I'm managing. It would just be nice if something would make sense, you know? "

"I know," Lee agreed, and she could hear the honest grief in his voice. "Believe me, I know."

***

"Well?" Topher spread his hands out, like he expected Laura to twirl around. "What's the verdict?"

Laura couldn't even mind his theatrics. She spread her hands in response, grinning. "Doc Cottle says the cancer is receding."

"I knew it!" Topher said triumphantly. "I knew that if I reversed the translobal polarity and adjusted the-"

"Politician in the room," Laura said with a mock sternness in her voice.

"Right. Sorry. I just get a little excited when I'm crossing the lines between boy and god." Topher grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. "So, who are we creating today?"

"I don't know," Laura confessed. "The team worked late last night, and they finished what I'd planned for today. If nothing else, we can go for some psychological counseling, I suppose."

"Ah, shrinks. That's always a popular choice," Topher agreed. "We can pull out Chris Novak, the child psychologist, or Kiera Senning, the post traumatic stress disorder expert. I like her- she's a sci-fi buff. Or we could go through the catalogue."

"Let's see what else we might come up with," Laura agreed. She sat down beside Topher, watching as he scrolled through the imprints. Name after name filed by her.

"So these are all the imprints? Or the scans that you have?"

"These are the imprints," Topher said. "Very few of them are unmodified. They're all conglomerations of people that we scanned."

"Do you have all the scans?"

"Of course." Topher looked at her. "Why?"

"Just… my first aide. Billy Keikeya. I just remembered… he told me that he thought he'd been scanned back when he was in college."

"Well, let's find out," Topher said agreeably. He typed in the name, and a file appeared. "Want to take a look?"

"Would I understand any of it?" Laura asked.

Topher clicked on it, and the file sprang open. There was a picture- Laura stared at it. Billy looked so young. "How old was he when this was done?"

Topher pointed to the birth date. "Nineteen, it looks like," he said.

"Did you do it yourself?"

Topher snorted. "Definitely not. Not these. These were done by the grunts. Low level things, you know? We use most of these scans to flesh out the personalities. Although," he rapidly entered something into the computer, "yeah, it looks like Billy here has been flagged on a few other things. Diplomacy, negotiation… looks like he's even been used a few times."

"Really." Laura wasn't sure how she felt about that. "In one of our Actives?"

"Nope. Once on a counseling engagement, and once on a sexual one." Laura stared at him, and Topher misunderstood her horror. "See that?" he asked, pointing to the diagram of the brain. "There's a strong tendency towards empathy and non-aggression. Meaning, basically, he's what the female of the species- erm, male, in this case- call sweet."

"You sent Billy out to have sex with some man?"

"No. I took that portion of Billy's personality and combined it with…" Topher peered at the screen, "the sexual prowess of a Tommy Grator, the intelligence- or lesser amount of- of a Grant Thomas, and a few other little dashes and smidgens of people."

"Have you ever sent an Active out with a single personality?"

Topher studied her. "If you want, I can put Billy in one of our Actives."

She hadn't even thought of it, and the realization jumped through her. "You could do that?" she asked, her voice sounding strange in her ears.

"Well, yeah, but it would be the Billy from this scan," Topher said, tapping the screen. "So it would be a nineteen year old Billy."

Billy. Laura closed her eyes, picturing him. Even in the years- gods, had it really been years? - since his death, his face hadn't faded in her memory. But she forced the picture away. Billy had been twenty four when he died, not nineteen.

"No," she said reluctantly. "That's all right." Then to take her mind off the image, she said, "I wonder if there's anyone else in there that might have family in the Fleet."

"Well, let's find out," Topher said. "Start giving me names."

It was meant to be a silly game, just to get the idea of Billy coming back out of her head. Laura started with the names of the Quorum, and as she expected, no matches came up. There were millions of scans in the computer, but billions of people in the Colonies. The coincidence was in the realm of the possible, but not the probable. When she ran out of the Quorum names, she started going through the military.

Thrace. Agathon. Taylor. Costanza. Tigh. She worked through them, and except for "Taylor", which generated four matches, none of which gave any indication if they were related to the pilot, none of them came up with anything.

"Adama," Laura said, just for a laugh.

"Adama," Topher repeated, entering the name.

A match came up.

Laura leaned in. "You're kidding," she said. "It's not that common a name. Who is it-"

"It's a Zak Adama," Topher said. He shrugged. "Any possible relation?"

"Zak Adama?" Laura asked, her voice weak. "Yes. That's the Admiral's son."

***

Tom looked at the paper in frustration. "It's been two weeks, and you still haven't published anything!" he complained.

Playa was unruffled. "I haven't gotten anything that I can prove yet. You wanted this done right."

"That never stopped you before," Tom muttered. Playa glared at him, but Tom just glared back. "Don't tell me you never… embellished… for the sake of circulation."

"Because circulation wars matter right now?" Playa asked incredulously. "Everyone reads the paper. It's one of the only things to do. And we only have the resources for one paper. Circulation is a thing of the past, Tom." She sighed, leaning back in her chair and playing with the ends of her hair. "One thing about this whole mess," she said sourly. "News is news again. But I can't run this story until I have some sort of proof. All it will do is force Roslin deeper into her hole."

"You'd think someone would notice."

"People on Galactica do, as far as I've been able to tell," Playa said. "But my access to Galactica is extremely restricted. I've been working the contacts you've given me for all that I can, but they are too low level to provide me with much. Who else can I try? The big guns, Tom."

"I've given you all I can-"

"Who helped you escape the Persephone?" Playa asked.

"I've told you I can't tell you that. It would put her at too big of a risk."

Playa huffed with frustration. "Then give me someone."

"Karl Agathon. Helo. He's shadowing Gaeta."

"I keep telling you, he's too deeply in the Admiral's pocket," Playa said. "He won't talk."

"He's the one who flew us over there to become Actives," Tom insisted.

"Did he have a co-pilot? Or an ECO?" Tom didn't answer. Playa sat back. "I see." She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "All right. Let's try a different tactic. Who on the Galactica might care? Are there any personal ties to any of the three Actives?"

"And you call yourself a reporter?" Tom muttered. He caught Playa's glare and reined himself in, reminding himself he had no power here. "Sorry. Racetrack and her ECO were close…"

"Hamish McCall is on the Astral Queen," Playa reminded him, revealing that she'd at least done some of her homework. She frowned. "But that's interesting that Edmondson is an Active and McCall is not." She scribbled a note to herself. "What about Narcho? Noel Allison?"

"I didn't know him well at all. He was Gaeta's choice."

"All right. Gaeta, then. I know you knew him." Playa's expression softened a little bit. "I remember seeing the two of you talking all the time on New Caprica."

"Mm." There were even a few nights that Playa had joined them, early in the administration when the job of being Gaius Baltar's press secretary wasn't a logistical nightmare. "The problem is, most of his friends are dead or on the Astral Queen. He didn't- wait." A name came back to him, one Tom had deliberately avoided. "Louis Hoshi."

Playa looked up from her notes, an expression of surprise on her face. "The Communications officer with the stick up his ass who seems to enjoy cutting off calls?"

"That would be the one."

"Great," Playa sighed. "How close was he to Gaeta?"

"Felix could have done better," Tom said sourly.

Playa's grin was knowing. "Right. But he's still active duty?"

"Now that I think about it, I remember Gaeta talking about wanting Hoshi protected. He wasn't top tier and it was obviously important to Gaeta, so I didn't give it much thought. I would guess that he didn't even know what we were planning."

"All right." Playa wrote the name down, underlining it. "I know you're frustrated, Tom," Playa said, closing her notebook. "But for what it's worth, we've made progress."

"Right," he said sourly.

"We have," Playa said. "I might not be able to convince anyone else yet, but with the research I've done, I believe you now."

"Well," Tom said, slightly gratified, "that is something, isn't it?"

***

Helo blew across the cup of coffee he was carrying, trying to balance two others in his other hand. He caught sight of Victor heading for the docking bay with Racetrack, Racetrack with her hair tied into a low ponytail and consulting a series of charts. "What sort of specialist this time?" Helo asked Victor, handing him one of the cups of coffee.

"Psychologist," Victor said, taking an appreciative sip. Victor and Sierra were the only two people that Helo had met that actually liked the algae coffee. Apparently Topher had rewired their brains to think it tasted like the real stuff. "She's headed over to the Galactica to deal with PTSD stuff."

"Great." Helo sighed. "This Keira Senning again?"

"I am standing right here," Racetrack said sternly. "It's nice to see you again, Captain Agathon."

Helo shuddered. Racetrack smirked, and then went back to her charts. "Sorry, Dr. Senning," he said. He was beginning to get why Topher didn't like using repeat imprints; it was eerie that she remembered him. Easily understood, but eerie.

"Come on, Victor," Racetrack said sternly. "I need to be over there at 1000 hours, and already we're running behind."

"You okay?" Victor asked Helo as he and Racetrack left.

"Yeah," Helo said. "You just have no idea how weird it is to hear her worry about time." He continued down the Persephone's now familiar halls until he spotted Sierra sitting outside the imprint room on the floor, her knees up to her chest.

"I brought you coffee," he said, handing her the cup.

"Thank you." Her smile was grateful.

Helo sat down on the floor across from her. "Who are you getting today?" he asked.

Sierra held up a pair of wire-rimmed classes. "Chris Novak again." She smiled. "I rather like him."

"Yeah." Another repeat, and a good one. Chris Novak had such a sensitive, gentle air about him that if he wasn't really Narcho, Helo would bring Hera to him instead of to the psychologist over on the Inchon Velle. "Can't blame you there."

"What's on your schedule for the day?" Sierra asked, leaning her head back against the wall.

"Don't know yet." Helo shifted. "Wouldn't mind a nap."

Sierra smiled, but the smile faded quickly. "Captain Agathon, can I ask you something?" Helo shrugged. "Has Playa Palacios been asking for you?"

"The reporter? Not that I know of, but the press has to go through the proper channels with the military." Although now that Helo thought about it, he had seen her around three times when his work had taken him off the Galactica. "Why? Has she been talking to you?" Sierra nodded, and Helo growled. "If you want, I can-"

"Put the fear of the gods in her?" Sierra said, with that deep throaty laugh. "Captain Agathon, that's hardly necessary. You don't think that the Agency has us trained to deal with reporters? I know you probably imagine that anyone who gets in too deep would be neutralized, but it's really much more efficient to redirect people. Not to mention much more legal."

Helo flushed. "I'm sorry. I just assumed-"

"Yes, I know." Sierra's smile was kind, but a little superior as well. "You can't help it. You're one of those white knight personalities. That what makes you such an excellent handler, you know. At least right now," she amended. "You'd probably end up being a pain in the ass back on Caprica."

"A pain in the ass," Helo sighed. "Not the first time I've been called that."

Sierra shrugged. "Some handlers get very attached to their Actives," she explained. "Too attached. And then some engagements become too much for the handler to handle." She stretched her legs out in front of her. "But with the assignments these days, there's really not that much potential for entanglement, unless the Actives are given a dangerous assignment. But I'm sure you're used to that, sending pilots out into combat."

That was a thought that Helo had been avoiding. So far, Gaeta had been given assignments that were dangerous in the wrong hands, merely risky in the right ones. His handicap made it very difficult to give him anything more. But he wondered if the day would come where Adama decided that Gaeta's death would do more good than his life. Helo could order Gaeta into a position like that. He wasn't sure he could order the person inhabiting Gaeta's body to die, knowing that Gaeta's soul wouldn't be able to follow. He was about to say something when the door to the imprint room opened.

"Someone please tell me you have my glasses," Narcho said, coming out. "And a cup of coffee."

"Right here, Dr. Novak," Sierra said, extending the glasses. "We'll get coffee over on the Zephyr."

"Thank the gods." Narcho sounded relieved. He put on the glasses and blinked, looking around him. "Captain Agathon," he said, smiling. "How's your daughter?"

"Doing fine, Doctor," Helo said. He glanced at his watch. "I should go back and see how Gaeta's doing."

"Take your time," Topher said, poking his head out of the door. "We're not quite ready for Gaeta."

"You're not ready yet? What are you doing in there? Making the Herculean Hero?"

"No, but that's a really good idea," Topher said. "If I just… well, I'll have to play with that. But I need time to put the leg patch into today's imprint.."

"All right," Helo said. He took one more gulp of the algae coffee and then headed for the Actives' room.

Victor or Sierra had helped Gaeta get up and dressed; he was now sitting at the low table, eating a bowl of algae. "Hey Felix," Helo said as he entered. "How's the leg doing?"

Gaeta looked up. "It is a little sore," he said. "It itches."

"Well, finish your breakfast and we'll take a look at it, yeah?" Helo said. The one nice thing about Gaeta in this blank state was he would actually give an honest answer when asked about his leg. It was about the only nice thing about Gaeta in this state. Helo sighed.

"Have a good night?" he asked. Gaeta looked up and nodded, and Helo sat down at the table, setting his cup of coffee down. "Galactica's been busy," Helo said, partly just to hear someone talk. "They're doing repairs like crazy. I told you about the hairline cracks in the Galactica's hull, right?" Gaeta just blinked at him. "Right. Hoshi's still asking me about you, though." He braced for some sort of reaction to the name, but Gaeta gave him none. "You know, that's just frustrating," Helo said. "The man is in still love with you, even after everything you did. You could at least pretend to remember his name."

"I'm sorry," Gaeta said neutrally. "I shall try to remember next time."

"I know you can't." Gaeta went back to eating, and Helo looked down at the table. "I do wish you could, though," he said, more to himself. "I wish I could talk to you again. I wish I knew if I could have stopped you. If there was something I could have said… even if it was just sorry you got screwed over. I can't say I made the wrong choice, because I didn't. And you knew that and I knew it, even before the Demetreius got back to the Fleet. And I know you followed me of your own free will. I don't even know what I could say, except maybe just to ask how you're holding up and give a shit about the answer."

He stared at the table in silence, trying not to let his mind walk down the paths of how things could have been different. Because when all was said and done, what Felix had done was mutiny and it had cost hundreds of lives. He had nearly executed the Admiral. If he had been successful, the Fleet would have split in two, potentially costing even more lives.

But he was Gaeta. He knew all this, and he must have worked through the costs, and decided that the benefits were worth more. And he'd left Hoshi out of it, because he knew the consequences. That was one thing Helo didn't doubt at all.

But why Hera? And why send Gage and Vireem, of all people, after his family? He'd understand it better if Gaeta had just ordered the three of them shot in the head.

"You know what the worst part is?" he asked. Gaeta shrugged. "I feel like I'm starting to forgive you. I shouldn't. You put my daughter in danger, and there is no world in which that will ever be okay. And Sharon's right. All this life saving shit you're doing… it's not you doing it. It's whoever they put in your body. You're still in that wedge, hating the Admiral and thinking that you're completely justified in everything you did. But I can't look at you and forget that you're not really a person, you're just the blow-up doll that everyone said Sharon is. And she's not…" he rubbed the palm of his hand with his forehead. "And you don't understand any of this, do you?"

"I try my best," Gaeta told him seriously.

"I know you do," Helo muttered. "I know. Finish your breakfast, and we'll take a look at your leg."

***

The Kimba Huta was the second stop on Sharon's run for the day. The cold storage was not completely useless; certain algae products still required the cold to avoid spoilage. She climbed out of the Raptor, waiting for her contact to meet her. She leaned against the Raptor, arms crossed, watching.

"Lieutenant Agathon?" She turned to see Playa Palacios approaching her. Sharon stiffened automatically. "Do you have a moment?"

"I…" Sharon looked around for the woman who normally met her. Late. Of course. "What do you want?"

"I just have a few questions for you," Playa said.

"You need to go through the Military Press Office," Sharon said. "I'm not authorized to answer any questions right now."

"This is off the record," Playa tried.

"There's no such thing." Sharon glanced at her watch. "I need to meet-"

"Gia O'Dell? She's going to be delayed by fifteen minutes."

"Then I'll wait in the Raptor," Sharon snapped.

"It's about the mind-wiping technology that Roslin has in her possession," Playa said. Sharon didn't react. "Tom Zarek wants to thank you."

Sharon spun. "He told you?"

"No, but it wasn't that hard to figure out." Playa's smirk was triumphant. "Do I have your attention, Lieutenant?"

Sharon grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the Raptor. "All right. You have my attention. What do you want?"

Playa was unflappable. She looked Sharon straight in the eye. "Look, I know you can't go on record and say you helped Zarek escape. But you did, and there's a reason for that."

"It's not support for Zarek," Sharon said through gritted teeth. "Believe me."

"I never thought it was. Zarek's telling the truth about this mind-wiping technology. You don't need to confirm it- I already know."

"Then what do you want?"

Playa sat down in the bucket seat. "Three things. One, I want to get over to the Persephone. Two, I want to meet with Lieutenant Hoshi. And three, I want access to the Astral Queen to talk to Hamish McCall."

"What are you trying to do?" Sharon asked. "Put Zarek back in power?"

"No," Playa said, very definitively. "I couldn't care less what happens to Zarek. But people deserve to know about this. Katres once said that the press is the watchdog of democracy. Laura Roslin needs to be held accountable for her actions."

"But-"

"Look," Playa snapped, "my agenda isn't so much your concern as the fact that I know you helped Zarek escape, and I know where he's hiding. I know you don't give a frak about Zarek himself, but if you don't help me, I'm in the position to make things very uncomfortable for you."

"The Admiral trusts me," Sharon said. "Why would he believe you over me?"

"He might not," Playa agreed. "Shall we go find out?"

He wouldn't believe Playa. If the Admiral was going to ask questions, he should have asked them a long time ago. In fact, Sharon suspected that on some subconscious level the Old Man knew, but had let her get away with it because he wasn't comfortable with this scheme himself. Just like when the Demetrius had returned, and he hadn't asked many questions. Just like after Dee committed suicide, just like after Racetrack brought back that Raptor of corpses, just like in the aftermath of the mutiny, when nothing had changed. He wasn't going to ask… unless he was forced to.

"All right," Sharon sighed. "I can't get you on to the Astral Queen, but I can take you over to the Persephone, and tonight I'll take you to Galactica to talk to Hoshi. But how much you get out of him is entirely your problem."

Playa smiled. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

***

"Who do we have today?" Helo asked Topher as the blue light glowed around Gaeta's head. President Roslin was sitting at the desk watching, her chin on her hand.

"We have John Cassidy, a higher up in the Sagittaron Relief Organization," Topher said.

"The Sagittaron Relief Organization?" Helo asked, looking at Laura.

"Since the team finished the repairs ahead of schedule, we didn't have anything planned for the day," Laura explained. "I thought that someone who worked with distributing supplies to a destitute area might have some relevant experience."

"I see," Helo said. He looked over at the chair, and Gaeta sat up. He looked at Helo, blinking.

"I would prefer a different ride, if you don't mind. As much as I appreciate everything the military has done for us, I really do not care to interact with them."

Laura sighed. "You couldn't have taken out the fundamentalism?"

"Hey, you're the one that said Sagittaron," Topher said with a shrug.

"You're right," Laura said, rolling her eyes. She looked at Gaeta, now John Cassidy. "I respect your views, Mr. Cassidy, but the military is the only form of transportation available, and we have a lot to do. All of my documents are over on Colonial One."

"Fine." Gaeta- or most definitely Cassidy- rolled his eyes. "If we must."

"We won't need you too much today," Laura told Helo as they walked through the halls together. "In fact, I think this engagement might go better without your presence."

"Yeah, I'm getting that impression."

"But?"

"But what?" Helo asked.

"You're thinking something, Captain Agathon."

The funny thing was, he had been. "I'm just a little concerned," Helo admitted.

"About?"

"You taking political advice from one of their Actives," Helo said.

"I'm taking political advice from someone who has years of experience dividing up resources on a war-torn planet," Laura corrected.

"Yeah, but what if they've programmed him to give you their own agenda?" Helo asked. "I know it sounds crazy, but-"

"Hardly crazy," Laura said, tightening her grip on his arm. "More naïve. I take advice from dozens of people a day, Captain Agathon, and every last one of them has an agenda. That's a large part of being President, is prioritizing agendas."

It was a good thing she wasn't looking for validation, Helo thought, because right now he didn't quite trust himself to speak. He led her to the Raptor, unable to argue or to agree.

***

Playa Palacios was wearing a very low-cut shirt. Kara sat at a table watching her, drinking and wondering sourly if she'd raided the President's wardrobe. If she had, she hadn't chosen one of the better tops.

It was the appeal of a train wreck, Kara supposed, that made her watch in the first place. Playa was leaning over slightly, fingering the fabric of her top unconsciously. She was obviously trying to either get laid or get a story illegally, and figured that flashing a little skin would be the best way to her goal. Which might have worked, if the man sitting opposite her wasn't Louis Hoshi. Scuttlebutt said Hoshi had never quite outgrown the theory that girls had cooties. Hoshi was sitting as far back from her as he could get, and was obviously agitated.

Playa didn’t look overly happy either. As Kara watched, she crossed her legs and leaned in, arguing about something vehemently. Hoshi shook his head angrily, and then pushed away from the table. He moved to get up, but Playa stopped him. Whatever she said to him turned his face white, and he sat back down heavily. Playa patted his hand, and then stood up to leave. Hoshi sat at the table, still pale, staring down at the tabletop as Playa walked out.

Kara shrugged and turned back to her own thoughts, that source of amusement and distraction played out. She was drawing patterns in the condensation on the table when someone slammed a glass down in front of her.

"Tell me the truth," Hoshi said, bracing his hands on the table and leaning down to be face to face with her. "Did Adama give Felix a choice?"

"How the frak would I know?" Kara said. "I'm not the Old Man."

"You sure as hell know him better than I do, being one of his kids." Scorn dripped from Hoshi's voice on the last word.

"Jealous?" she asked, just to get under the bastard's skin.

"Frak, no. I don't need a surrogate father figure to prop me up and cover up my mistakes. So answer my question, Thrace. Did the Admiral give Felix a choice?"

Kara shrugged. "You really think I'm going to answer that, Hoshi? Even if I knew?" He grabbed her by the shoulders, and Kara jumped up and threw his hands off. "Get the frak off of me!"

"Tell me!"

"What does it matter?" Kara shouted. They were attracting attention now, but she didn't care. "He frakking mutinied, Hoshi! If there was any justice in the world, he should be dead! You should be on your knees kissing the Admiral's feet if you're so worried about your precious Gaeta!"

"He can't even remember his own name!" Hoshi roared. "That's ripping someone's soul out of their body!"

"Well, take it up with the Admiral, then, not me!" Kara roared back. "And get the frak out of my face! I've got enough problems without worrying about some shit that tried to take over the ship! Give me one good reason why I should care about a thing that Gaeta did!"

"Because you were his commanding officer when he lost his leg!"

"Because he was mutinying then, too! So stop blaming all your problems on me and have the balls to take it up with the Admiral yourself! At least Gaeta did that. Get the frak out of my face." She pushed him aside and stormed out of the bar.

Playa was standing right outside, smoking a cigarette.

"What the frak!" Kara reeled back. "What did you say to him?"

"The truth," Playa said, not asking Kara what she was talking about. "Adama didn't give Gaeta a choice about becoming an Active."

"And how the frak would you know about any of this anyway?"

Playa arched an eyebrow. "I have my sources," she said mockingly.

"Get out of here," Kara snapped. "Before I tell the Admiral you're in a restricted area and he has you removed. Who let you down here, anyway?"

"My press credentials," Playa said matter-of-factly. "If you'll excuse me, Captain, I have a story to write. But you might want to ask the Admiral about his methods of justice." With that, Playa headed down the hall, leaving Kara staring after her.

***

"How'd it go today with the relief worker?" Bill asked, settling beside Laura on the couch.

"Exhausting," Laura admitted.

"Wasn't it worth it?"

"It was," Laura said, "although I had to listen to a lecture on my former use of diloxan and how the mind is a myth and the body is a temple for the spirit."

"Oh." Bill had the temerity to look amused. Laura fixed him with a mock death glare.

"Well, we're short Gaeta tomorrow, at least for the morning," she said. "Mr. John Cassidy refused to meet with Cottle for a physical exam, and Cottle didn't have time to make it over to the Persephone to do the exam after hours. And he insists on examining Gaeta's leg before he does anything else tomorrow. He says that Helo's been making enough noise about the swelling that it's probably best if Gaeta stays off it for a few days."

"Well, make sure you send him over someone cooperative in him," Bill said. "Injury is one thing, but refusing to see a doctor due to a superstitious, outdated belief…." He shook his head. "I would have loved to hear what Helo had to say about this."

"There were some mumblings about karma," Laura admitted, unable to miss the dark humor in the situation. "But tomorrow-"

A knock on the hatch cut her off, and Bill rose to his feet. "Come in," he ordered.

The hatch opened, and Kara Thrace appeared. "I'm sorry for interrupting, sir," she said, standing at attention, the picture of a Colonial soldier. But a flick of her eye acknowledged Laura sitting on the sofa as well.

"What is it, Captain Thrace?" Bill asked, responding to her professional demeanor.

"I just found Playa Palacios in Joe's," Kara said stiffly. "I don't know what she was doing there, but she knows about what you're doing with Gaeta. And I'm guessing Racetrack and Narcho as well."

"Zarek," Laura sighed, disgusted. "It was only a matter of time before he found someone who would believe him."

"Who was she talking to, Captain?" Bill asked.

"Lieutenant Hoshi, sir. I don't think he's the one that told her, though. She looked like she was trying to get information out of him."

"I'll talk to Hoshi," Bill muttered.

"Sir? She told Hoshi that you didn't give Gaeta a choice." She paused. "Is that true, sir?"

"Mr. Gaeta gave up any right to a choice when he committed mutiny on this ship," Bill growled.

For a moment, Kara looked like she would argue, but she swallowed whatever she was going to say back and simply said, "Yes, sir. Sir, Narcho and Racetrack-"

"They were given the choice, along with twenty-seven other mutineers. They're the only two who accepted."

Kara nodded. Laura could see that she believed him; the numbers just didn't add up otherwise. "That's all, sir," she said finally.

"Thank you, Captain. Let me know if Ms. Palacios comes snooping around again."

"Yes, sir." Kara saluted and left the room. Bill sighed and sat back down next to Laura.

"We should have seen it coming," Laura said.

"Lee did," Bill said grudgingly. "He said there would be ships willing to hide Zarek."

"It's going to be a press nightmare," Laura mused, her mind ticking through possibilities already.

"No it won't. It's a military decision."

"Which won't make it any easier for the public to swallow. However, the only aspect we weren't prepared for was someone finding out it was involuntary on Gaeta's part. But that's manageable." She frowned. "We have enough evidence to demonstrate that we intend to use this technology in a way that best benefits the Fleet, and pointing out that Gaeta's crimes should have condemned him to death should quell all but the most ardent of dissenters."

"Except that there's still an entire ship out there willing to hide Tom Zarek."

"Right," Laura sighed. "You know, I really hate it when Lee's right."

***

"All right," Topher said the next morning, clapping his hands together. "No work assignment today, so I just put an… interesting new personality into Gaeta."

"Interesting how?" Helo asked suspiciously. "It can't be more interesting than a Sagittaron when we need to do a medical exam."

"Hey. That was not my fault," Topher said. "Roslin's the one who asked for that imprint."

"Well, who have we got today?" Helo asked.

"Well," Topher rocked back and forth on his heels. "All anyone specified today was 'cooperative', so it really could be anyone, right? And I looking through the scans, I found a name I couldn't help ignoring."

"Who?" Helo asked, ready for the Herculean Hero or whatever comic book creation Topher had managed to conjure up.

The blue light of the imprint chair went off, and Gaeta sat up. Topher's eyes lit up with excitement and a little mischief. "Captain Agathon, have you ever met Zak Adama?"

Helo's mouth dropped open, and he stared first at Gaeta and then at Topher. "You're joking."

Topher shrugged. "Not really. He was there in the imprint files. He's still a student at the Academy, although I'm kind of baffled why he wants to be a Viper pilot with some of his stats. I've put in the current patch to bring him up to speed."

"Does he know-" Helo began.

"That I'm in someone else's body?" Zak said. "I am sitting right here- I can hear you. Yeah, I know. So you're Helo. Kara talked a lot about you."

"Yeah," was all Helo could think to say.

"So. We going over to the Bucket to see this doctor of yours?" Zak, Gaeta, whoever, eased himself off the chair. "Because my leg is killing me."

"Very open and honest," Topher inserted. "I thought that would be helpful."

"Great. Yeah. Very helpful," Helo said sarcastically. "Don't let your father hear you call it the Bucket," he said. He frowned. "Did you take something from Narcho?"

"Just a little bit, to compensate for the fact he's a pilot and hasn’t been around Adama this whole time," Topher said. "He won't commit mutiny."

"Good to know. He'll just throw the Admiral for one hell of a loop. What the frak are you thinking? Put someone else in there!"

"I can't change it that quick unless it's an emergency- you know that. That was the problem yesterday. This doesn't qualify as an emergency," Topher said smugly.

"Right." Helo rolled his eyes. "Well, come on, Zak. Let's go." He reached out and helped Gaeta to his feet. "You're gonna hear about this one," Helo warned Topher.

"That's the problem with art," he heard Topher say as they left the imprint room. "Everyone's a critic."

***

"So what are you going to do?" Saul asked Bill. They were walking to the infirmary. "Hoshi's glaring daggers at you."

"Let him," Bill muttered. "He's not going to do anything to endanger the Fleet. Besides, it was a military decision."

"All right." Saul was going soft, Bill thought. There was a time he wouldn't have given a shit what a lieutenant thought about an order. He didn't particularly like the order either, but it had to be done, and the decision to use the imprinting technology had unquestionably done a lot of good for the Fleet. "What are you having the Actives do today?" Saul asked.

"Racetrack is on medical duty and Narcho is still doing child psychology. Gaeta's supposed to be off his feet. I'm not sure what Laura decided on today." They opened the doors of the infirmary and walked in. It was quiet, so it was easy to hear Gaeta's voice.

"So the blonde says, 'If you liked that, try the sausage!'" Gaeta laughed at his own joke. "Ouch. That definitely hurts. You're not laughing, Doc."

"I've heard that one several thousand times," Cottle said. "What about this?"

"FRAK! Sorry, Doc, but that one really-"

"There's some nerve damage and some infection. You need to stop clawing at it."

"I know. But it just-"

"Helo, you're going to need to help him with it. I'll give you a salve that will help with the irritation and speed the healing of the skin. Three times a day, at least."

"Yes, sir." Helo was standing against the wall, arms crossed. He noticed Bill and Saul approaching, and to Bill's surprise, he got the hard-jawed expression that meant that he was nervous and drew himself to attention. "Admiral. Colonel."

Cottle nodded, although there was a grim look on his face. Gaeta turned around, and his eyes lit up wonderingly. They fixed on Bill for a long time, and his mouth curled into a smile. "Dad?"

"Excuse me?" Bill wondered if the implant had broken Gaeta's brain. But Gaeta was sliding off the table and fumbling for his crutches, and Cottle's face grew even more serious. Bill glanced at Saul in confusion, but Gaeta was coming straight for him.

"Dad," he said, clapping Bill's shoulder, "it's me. Zak."

"You're joking." Bill took a step back, and Gaeta nearly fell. "This is a joke."

"It's not a joke, sir." Helo put in. "Topher found a scan of Zak in the bank, and put him in Gaeta."

"How would there be a scan of my son?" Bill demanded.

Zak shrugged. "It was easy money," he said. "A few hundred cubits. Just enough for an engagement ring." He grinned. "Helo told me she said yes."

"Kara?" Bill asked, his lips bloodless.

"Yeah, Kara. Helo says she's on the Galactica. I can't wait to see her."

"She's married."

Gaeta's face darkened. "I know," he said. "But I still want to see her. And Lee."

"This is impossible," Bill managed.

"Frankly, I find it a lot less impossible than other things I've seen Gaeta do since you started this freak show experiment," Cottle said. "But you're the only one who's going to figure it out for sure."

"How much more do you have to do?" Bill asked Cottle.

"Give me a half hour to finish this and show Helo some new exercises I want Gaeta to do. I also want him off his feet for the next two days."

"All right. Come to my study when it's done," Bill ordered Helo.

"Yes, sir." Helo didn't look happy at all.

"Come on, Bill," Saul tugged at his arm. "Let's go." Bill hadn't even realized he'd been staring at Gaeta, searching for traces of his son in his eyes.

***

He paced the study, angrily, back and forth, his footsteps sounding loud in his own ears.

Zak.

The picture was on his desk, him and his boys. He picked it up, staring at the little boy that had such a huge smile. He set it down again, shaking his head.

The hatch opened, and Helo held it as Gaeta struggled in. Bill immediately moved to assist him, and Gaeta smiled up. "Thanks," he said, as Bill led him over to the couch to sit.

"We're all right, Captain Agathon," he told Helo. "You're dismissed to tend to your other duties."

"But sir, is that wise? If you-"

"Is he armed?"

"No."

"I think I can protect myself against an unarmed crippled man. You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Helo saluted and left.

Bill turned to Gaeta. "You've got a lot of talking to do."

"I figured." Gaeta settled back, draping one arm against the couch. It was a casual position, and one Bill never would have imagined Gaeta settling into in front of him. "You want me to start reeling off memories? Like how you took the training wheels off my bike when I was six, and I fell two days later and wouldn't speak to you for a week? Or the first time you took me up in a Viper, just me, and I sat between your legs as you flew and you let me try to steer? Or how you used to carry me upstairs and read Vinnie the Little Viper, and I'd sit on your lap and play with your watch?"

"Why?" Bill said, beginning to believe it already. Each one of those memories stabbed into his soul like a knife. "Why did you do this?"

Gaeta shrugged and spread his hands; a gesture that Bill did know, but not from Gaeta. "I didn't really know what it was for," he admitted. "They told us some gibberish about studying brain waves for surgery, and that anyone who participated would be paid. A couple of the guys did it and said it was no big deal, and they felt fine after, so I figured that it would be an easy way to pick up some extra money. Kara and I were getting serious, but I was still in Academy, so…" he shrugged. "Like I said, it paid for the ring." He smiled. "She really said yes, huh? Did we ever get married?"

"No. You died before you could."

"In the Cylon attack?" Zak asked, wincing.

Of all the things that Bill ever had to do, telling his own son how he died was not one he'd imagined. "You died in a training accident," he said stiffly. "On Caprica. Six years ago." He gave the date.

Zak did the math. "A few weeks after I bought the ring," he said sadly. "It's really weird to know you're dead."

"I imagine it is."

"Dad," he leaned forward, "do you believe it's me?"

"I'm starting to," Bill said.

"What can I do to convince you?"

The naked pleading in the voice was almost too much to bear. If Bill closed his eyes, if he didn't see Gaeta but listened to Zak….

"Just keep talking."

***

The walk from the hangar bay to the Admiral's study didn't seem nearly as long as it did a few weeks ago. Laura was certain she made it in less time, and only stopped to rest once. Still, she arrived at Bill's study with no small amount of relief.

To her surprise, Helo was sitting outside the hatch, knees updrawn and working on some paperwork, chewing on the end of a pen. "You look like a college freshman whose roommate just put a sock on the doorknob," Laura said with a grin.

Helo didn't smile back. If anything, his face got darker. "Just waiting for the Admiral, sir."

"Sitting outside his door?" Laura glanced at the closed hatch. "Who's he in there with, Helo?"

Helo's expression darkened even further. "You don't know?" he asked.

"Would I ask if I did?"

"He's in there with Gaeta."

"I assumed that," Laura said, her patience starting to strain. "What's the imprint?"

"Zak Adama."

For a moment, the whole world stilled. "What?" Laura asked, her voice sounding loud and distinct in her own ears. "What did you say?"

"They imprinted Zak Adama onto Gaeta." Helo said, struggling to his feet. "You didn't know?"

"On the contrary. I knew that…" Laura shut her mouth angrily. "I'm going in," she informed Helo.

"Yes, sir." Helo stepped aside willingly, and some part of Laura acknowledged that Helo was extremely unhappy about this development as well. She pressed the combination and opened the hatch.

As soon as she saw Bill's face, she knew that they were in trouble. The lines of worry had smoothed, and his eyes were shining in a way she hadn't really seen since Earth. And Gaeta's face was animate and alight as well, and it looked like he had been crying. She stood perfectly still, for once completely unsure as to what to say.

"Laura." Bill was struggling back into his Admiral persona, despite the emotional turmoil. Laura took a deep breath and sat down, laying a hand on Bill's arm.

"I know," she said, her voice low and even. She looked at Gaeta. "You're Zak Adama?"

Gaeta straightened. "Yes, sir."

It made her skin crawl to do it, but Laura extended her hand. "Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Adama."

On to Chapter 6