Unexpected Consequences

By Crystal Wimmer

Chapter 1

Kara Thrace was in trouble. Really in trouble.

She gulped in another breath of oxygenated air, and used the wireless. "Galactica, this is Starbuck. I need to cut the mission short. Can you please get the CAG on the wireless to advise?" Kara waited in nauseous silence for the reply.

"Viper four-one-two, are you having a mechanical problem?" It was Dee's voice. Great, they'd transferred her request up to CIC. She supposed they had to in order to contact Lee, but she still hated this going over the speakers. Unfortunately, she was too sick to care.

"Not mechanical. Pilot illness."

"Starbuck, what's your condition?"

That was Lee's voice. Good. At least they were getting somewhere. The Galactica was just now coming back into visual range, and she still wasn't sure if she'd make it. "Urgent," she told him. "If you have another team ready, launch em. I'm coming in."

Kara held her breath, counted to ten, and released it through her teeth. It wasn't helping, and there was no way to put her head between her knees in a Viper. Oh Lords, what was she going to do if she puked inside her helmet? The Viper cabin was pressurized, but not oxygenated. If she took off the helmet, she couldn't breathe. If she left it on, she would probably aspirate. Neither boded well for her breathing in the near future.

"Viper four-one-four, report. Where are you, Pointer?" Lee asked.

"I'm right behind her," Lieutenant Cummings answered.

"Good," Lee said quickly. "Pointer, hold position while Starbuck comes in. We'll have a new wing-leader out to you immediately."

"Roger that. Thanks, CAG."

Kara listened through a fuzzy spin as arrangements were made to replace her. She didn't give a frak. If she could just get landed, and out of the damned Viper, she'd be so grateful that she'd kiss the Chief. The Galactica was getting close, although it's image was shimmering in her field of vision. She would have given just about anything for an auto-landing about now, but the technology didn't even exist for the Mach II Viper that she was flying.

"Starbuck, status report," Lee demanded.

"Coming in," she replied, her voice shaking. Images of Zak's Viper slamming full speed into the wall of the flight deck and then careening across to the opposite wall in a flaming heap assaulted her. She didn't want to die this way. Oh Lords, please not this way.

She hadn't felt her best that morning. She hadn't been sick, but neither had she really felt well. Chalking it up to waking alone for the first time in a couple of weeks — Lee had gotten up early to take care of paperwork before his shift — she had put on her uniform, skipped her morning run, and eaten a couple of pieces of toast for breakfast to settle her stomach. It hadn't been this bad before the flight had started. She'd been a bit light-headed, yes, and maybe queasy during launch, but that wasn't entirely uncommon. The G's pulled during a launch were enough to upset anyone's stomach.

She and Cummings had begun the routine patrol of the sector just as they normally did. Almost an hour into the four-hour patrol, Kara had realized that she was in trouble. Whether it was something she'd eaten or a virus that was slamming her out of nowhere, she was sick. It wasn't just queasy or nauseous, but she was going to start throwing up. Period. The only question was when. Well, that and whether or not she'd live through it.

She was sweating like crazy as she approached the Galactica's starboard landing bay. "Coming in on starboard side," she said, her voice slurring, her head ringing. "Request permission to land."

"Starbuck, this is Shooter. You have a clear deck. Proceed to land."

Thank God for that much. She could see the landing pod before her, although she couldn't really tell where the entrance was. She shook her head, wound up dizzier rather than clearing it, and took a couple more deep breaths. Please, Lords, she thought. Please, don't let me die this way. In combat I can handle, but not crashing into a hangar wall. Please.

"Starbuck, this is Shooter," the voice said urgently. "Bring your nose up. Repeat, you are coming in too low. Bring it up, or abort landing."

She should really answer, Kara thought as the pod came in and out of focus. Shooter sounded upset about something, although for the life of her she couldn't figure out what. The pod was right there. Wasn't it? Why was it moving around so much?

"Starbuck, repeat, bring your nose up. Now. Kara, damn-it, listen to me!"

She shook her head again, feeling the burning sensation in the back of her throat that told her she wasn't going to be able to keep the contents of her stomach in place for much longer. Gradually, she saw the brighter interior of the landing pod, the lights of the deck guiding her. She nudged up the nose of the Viper, groaning as the move set her stomach churning again. She swallowed a foul tasting belch, took one more deep breath, and eased the Viper onto the landing pad with more efficiency than finesse.

Once she felt the magnetic locks engage, she started fumbling with her helmet. Oxygen or no, she had to get that frakking thing off or she was going to choke. The lift that was carrying her up to the flight bay jolted her, but she wasn't able to pay attention to it. Her stomach hurt, and her head was spinning, and vomiting wasn't a matter of "if" but rather "now".

Before the lift had locked or the canopy lifted, Kara finally got her helmet loose and half-way off before she started puking all over everything. She was beyond embarrassment as someone slid her canopy clear and reached in to grab her helmet and put it somewhere. She braced one arm on the edge of the canopy frame, and stuck her forehead on her arm, and threw up until there was nothing left to lose. Even then, the dry heaves kept her shaking and sweating.

From somewhere, a cool cloth materialized on her neck, and another went to her forehead. She wanted to thank whoever the hell had the courtesy to help her out, but she couldn't open her eyes for the dizziness. She had been sick before, but nothing like this, and never in a Viper.

It was several minutes more before the heaving stopped and Kara was able to see anything that was going on around her. When she started to become aware, the first thing that registered was the stench of her own vomit down the front of her flight suit. Lovely. The disgusting substance was also in her lap, on the floor of the Viper, and all over her controls. Tyrol was going to kill her, or worse yet he'd make her clean it up herself.

"Starbuck, are you okay?"

The voice was Cally's, and Kara wanted to smack her. Did she look okay? She had a lap full of puke, she couldn't lift her head, and she was still sweating. Oh god, this wasn't over. The heaving started again, taking with it any chance for her to answer the Specialist and any hope of making some kind of a grateful exit.

What happened next Kara wasn't sure about. She was lifted from the Viper by someone, which did nothing to settle her stomach. She wound up on a stretcher, turned on her side, while a medic quickly inserted an IV catheter into her arm. She felt the pain absently, more concerned about explaining this to Tyrol than anything. The man loved his birds, and he would neither tolerate nor understand her desecration of one.

And then everything was black for a while. Blessedly, warmly, fuzzily black. She felt herself touched, and moved, and she heard voices coming from every direction although not a single one made any sense. She threw up a few times more, but at least the pain of the retching had eased somewhat. She could feel it, but not entirely. It didn't matter. Anything was better than the sickness that she had felt upon landing.

The commotion around her seemed to ebb and flow, increase and decrease, until she had no sense of where she was or what was happening. Finally, long after she'd thought she could stand no more, everything finally faded away into nothing, and Kara knew no more.

Lee Adama wasn't a patient man. But he was a damned fine CAG, and he had the best trained crew that he'd ever worked with, so he stayed at his post despite the urgent need to scramble down to the flight deck and find out what the frak was going on with Kara.

It wasn't unheard of for someone to get sick on patrol. It happened. Standard procedure was to report in, return to the Galactica, and report to Life Station for evaluation. It had happened once or twice, but it was by no means routine. For the person in question to be Kara was completely unbelievable. Kara didn't get sick. Ever. She had a reputation for a cast-iron stomach, and it was well earned. He didn't think he'd ever seen her sick, and having spent more than twenty-five years of his life knowing her, that was saying something. For her to be sick enough to cut a patrol short

Standing on the CIC, Lee made sure that the replacement Viper was launched. He monitored communications between the deck crew — or at least what they said on short-wave — and watched the trajectory of the Viper they'd launched until it met up with Pointer and the two proceeded on the original patrol, albeit about ninety minutes behind schedule. A quick calculation showed that Pointer would have more than enough fuel to complete the routine patrol, and some left over just in case, regardless of his detour in accompanying Starbuck back to the Galactica.

As a CAG, there was nothing more for him to do. He would get a report eventually on her condition, and no urgent calls had been made up to the CIC regarding accident or infection that needed to be isolated, so he really didn't even need to worry. But he did, because Kara wasn't just his best pilot. She was also his friend, and roommate, and lover. And Kara was never sick.

His intensity on the screen before him was such that when he heard a voice behind him he nearly jumped.

"Go on down to the Life Station," the Commander told him. "I'm sure they have her moved down there by now."

Lee shook his head, then looked up at his father. "That's not necessary. I'm sure if it's anything serious"

"Go," Adama said clearly. "You may be able to wait, but I'd like to know that my pilot is in one piece. That landing wasn't her best, and we both know what it would take to throw her that far off. Find out how she is, and report back to me."

It was an order for which Lee was enormously grateful. The look in his father's eyes told him that the elder man knew it. Yes, he was concerned, but a single call down to the Life Station would get the Commander whatever he needed. He didn't have to send a runner, much less his CAG.

So Lee didn't argue. "Yes, Sir," he said quickly as he removed his headset and walked briskly from the CIC. The Life Station was a deck down, and he didn't bother with the elevator. Taking a stairwell, Lee half-ran and half-slid using the railing for support in a practiced motion. He was out the door and down the corridor towards the Center before he could have managed to get on the elevator in the first place. A quick glance at his watch told him that she'd been on the Galactica for almost twenty minutes. It felt more like two or three hours.

When Lee had first come aboard the Galactica, he had resented being known as the Commander's son. He hadn't appreciated the rolled eyes and nervous crewmen that his heritage caused. But as he nodded quickly to the tech manning the entryway of Life Station, he was grateful that he had free run of the ship. He didn't care if it was because of his father, his status as CAG, or his rank. He just wanted to find out what the hell was going on.

But neither rank, nor status, nor parentage got him past the doors into the emergency treatment center. "You'll have to wait here," he was told before he could say a word. "Doctor Salik will be out as soon as he knows what's going on."

Lee took a deep breath, and then another, and tried to calm his racing heart. She was fine. She'd landed, he'd heard over the wireless that she was sick and medics had been summoned, and that they were bringing her here. She was getting the best care. He didn't know why he was so damned scared.

Only he did. He was scared because the woman behind those doors was nearly everything to him. She wasn't just the childhood friend who shared his memories of growing up on a planet that no longer existed. She was more than his roommate, or friend, or co-worker. She was even more than his lover. She was his lifeline. Kara kept him balanced, and focused, and sane. She was the one that let him have it when he was out of line, and supported him even when he screwed up. She forgave him when he was a pain in the ass, and she held him when nightmares woke him in the early hours of the morning. She listened to his complaints, and knew when to offer suggestions and when to remain silent. In the past three and a half years, Kara had become his world. That thought alone was enough to terrify him; the knowledge that she might be in danger was almost more than he could bear.

His wait wasn't long, a fact for which he was very grateful. Only a few minutes after he'd arrived at the Life Station — perhaps half an hour after her less than ideal landing — Doctor Salik stepped out of the emergency suite and faced him with a calm demeanor. That was a good sign.

"She's stable," he said first. How many times had Lee heard those words from this man? It always seemed to be the first thing out of his mouth, however good or bad a situation was. Lee had to wonder what "unstable" might look like. "We've given her some fluids, and an injection to stop the vomiting. She's sleeping now. We'll know more when we get the test results back."

"Any ideas?" Lee asked blindly. The doctor had to know more than he was saying. "Suspicions?"

The physician's mouth quirked. "It could literally be anything from viral to bacterial infection, food poisoning, pregnancy, allergic reaction, appendicitis, gall bladder disease do you really want me to go on?"

Lee closed his eyes as logic overruled his frustration and impatience. "No thanks," he muttered.

"Good, because I'd rather get some history from you than play guessing games. I have name, age, weight, and occupation. Does she have any allergies, drug or otherwise?"

"Not that we know of," Lee answered as he followed the doctor towards his office.

"Has she ever been pregnant?"

"No."

"Has she shown any cold or flu symptoms recently?"

"You know I wouldn't let her fly if she was sick," Lee began, but the doctor's look cut him off. He'd done just that. "No," Lee said simply.

"Has she had any surgeries?"

"Tonsils when she as about ten," Lee said. "Nothing else."

"Is she sexually active?"

"Yes, but she gets the injection," he said.

Salik nodded. "I know; I give it to her. Has she had any cycles since we began the injections?"

"No," Lee said, fighting the blush that came with discussing anything personal, but especially so when Kara wasn't even there. He felt like he was talking behind her back. And yet another part of him was pleased that Salik would ask him anything. He and Kara weren't married, but Lee felt they were at least that close. They simply hadn't signed the papers or said the words.

"Do you know her blood type?"

"O positive," Lee answered.

"Okay," the doctor said as he took a seat at his small desk and jotted down what Lee had told him. "That's about all I can do for the moment. We'll have the results of the tests back in the next few minutes. From there we'll determine how to treat her. Aside from fluids and addressing isolated symptoms, there's nothing more we can do without a diagnosis. You're welcome to go back and see her, but the antiemetic has her asleep."

"Anti-what?" Lee asked.

"The medication that stopped the vomiting."

Lee nodded. "I'd like to see her. Do I need a note, or will they let me back?"

The doctor smiled at that. Lee didn't feel much like smiling. The sarcasm had been automatic — the result of living with Kara and her humor — rather than being generated by any urge to be funny. "I think you'll get back there," the doctor said with a wink. "I'll be back as soon as I know something."

Lee nodded and thanked the physician, more reassured by his offhanded manner than his words, and then walked back down the hallway he'd just followed the doctor through. Once he was at the door, he expected an argument from the medic that had barred his way before. This time the man just smiled and gestured to the door. Lee didn't hang around waiting for an engraved invitation. He went back into the emergency bay without a word.

Kara was there, lying on her side on a stretcher with straps across her body and rails on either side of her. She didn't look like she planned on going anywhere. Her skin was pale, her features drawn, and her flight suit was gone. She was dressed in a hospital gown with a sheet wrapped around her from beneath, rather like a mummy. Under other circumstances, it would have been cute, but Lee was too worried to find any humor here.

Kara had her hand wrapped around the rail, as though to keep herself on her side. He gently covered that hand with his own, and wasn't surprised when her eyes fluttered open at the touch. "Hey," he said softly. "How you doing?"

"Better," she told him in a whispered, hoarse voice.

"What happened?"

She shrugged her upper shoulder and closed her eyes. "Got sick," she said simply.

"You never have done things half-way," he said with a smirk. He lifted her hand, kissed it gently, then held it in both of his. Kara just closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Lee's hands where they were holding her own. She was so tough, so strong, that sometimes he forgot just how fragile she could be. Grateful that he was with her, and still worried about what was wrong, Lee stood beside the stretcher in the quiet room and waited while Kara slept. He thought that he should probably call his father, but decided against it. He would wait until he knew something. Besides, now that he was here, he didn't want to leave her.

Half an hour later, Doctor Salik returned to the room clutching a printout and wearing a concerned expression. Lee gripped Kara's hand a little more tightly and waited for the doctor's verdict.