" So Say We All"
The bottle beckoned him. He wanted the drink, wanted it so badly that he could already taste the harsh blend in his mouth. It was nearly full, and while dropping it in the waste basket was a grand gesture, he could think of numerous other bottles that were secreted all around the small cabin. He was a drunk, Kara Thrace was right about that, and truth be known, she was probably right about him being a bastard.
And he wanted that drink.
Did Husker really know the path to go on? Tighe doubted it. Oh, if everyone in high command was like William Adama, then he would have found it totally believable. Husker was duty bound and had been, ever since flight school, and he would have kept the secret. Tighe just didn't trust the load of buffoons that had made up the rest of high command to keep the coordinates of a mythical planet to themselves. That just wasn't very likely.
He picked up the bottle again, and sat down on his small bunk. Was there some mythical planet, the Earth of legend? Did anyone know where it was? Did he really want a drink? Did he need it?
He needed it badly, so badly his hands were shaking. The world was ending, and he wanted to be drunk. There was no Earth, no place to run and everything that ever mattered was gone. The President was a school teacher that never would have been elected in a real election. She was an appointee, a friend of the now dead President Adar, and while he couldn't complain about her, he had doubts about whether she would be able to hold the civilian fleet together without giving them hope. Even a false hope, like finding Earth.
The people had been caught up in the moment at the ceremony. Most of them didn't even understand what was being proposed. A trek across the galaxy, looking for a needle in a haystack. The very idea made him want to drink Really, was there ever a more ridiculous situation that demanded drinking? They were running for their lives, billions of people had died within the last 36 hours, they had gone from being the crew of a ship about to be decommissioned and turned into a museum to being the protectors of the last remnant of humanity. It was enough to make a sober man drink, and he wasn't a sober man by nature.
The commander had blind sided them with hope. It was masterful, really. He had stood in formation with the rest, chanting the relevant parts of the prayer, and he had felt it. It had rolled over the crowd, far more overpowering than the sickly stinging scent of disinfectant and the underlying odor of decay it had been trying to cover. In that moment, they had believed. Hell, he had believed.
But once the warm afterglow had worn off, and it wore off very quickly when you were the XO who had ordered the action that had caused most of the shipboard deaths, he had time to think. Granted, he was a piker in comparison to the Cylons, but the flight deck was never going to see him as anything but a monster.
And while he was absolutely certain that he had made the right decision, the only decision that would have saved the ship, he wasn't sure that he was ever going to be welcome down in crew quarters again. Not that it was easy to be the second in command and still casually hang out. It was probably for the best that he didn't feel comfortable about going down to the officers club and having a drink. Not with what he was thinking.
Bill had lied. Tighe had known the man since their first day at the academy. It was a lie, a grand, inspired lie, worthy of a master. But. it was a lie, and that meant that within the next few months, they were probably going to be strafed by Cylon nukes.
And that made him want that drink. He had wanted it all day. Really, considering how the day had gone, he would have been delighted if he could have just had the stuff injected directly into his veins. The hang over would be worth it. He deserved a drink, really.
If he was having second thoughts about the commander's plan, then it had to be assumed that some of the crew were thinking the same thing. Some of the civilians too, and they couldn't be ordered to shut up. That was going to be a problem, a problem of no small proportion. The commander was going to need a lot of support. Better support than the words of a drunk.
Tighe picked up the bottle out of the wastebasket and set it carefully into a cabinet. Throwing it out was a foolish extravagance. At the very least he could donate it to the flight deck. Give them something to curse his name with.
The bottle beckoned him. He wanted the drink, wanted it so badly that he could already taste the harsh blend in his mouth. It was nearly full, and while dropping it in the waste basket was a grand gesture, he could think of numerous other bottles that were secreted all around the small cabin. He was a drunk, Kara Thrace was right about that, and truth be known, she was probably right about him being a bastard.
And he wanted that drink.
Did Husker really know the path to go on? Tighe doubted it. Oh, if everyone in high command was like William Adama, then he would have found it totally believable. Husker was duty bound and had been, ever since flight school, and he would have kept the secret. Tighe just didn't trust the load of buffoons that had made up the rest of high command to keep the coordinates of a mythical planet to themselves. That just wasn't very likely.
He picked up the bottle again, and sat down on his small bunk. Was there some mythical planet, the Earth of legend? Did anyone know where it was? Did he really want a drink? Did he need it?
He needed it badly, so badly his hands were shaking. The world was ending, and he wanted to be drunk. There was no Earth, no place to run and everything that ever mattered was gone. The President was a school teacher that never would have been elected in a real election. She was an appointee, a friend of the now dead President Adar, and while he couldn't complain about her, he had doubts about whether she would be able to hold the civilian fleet together without giving them hope. Even a false hope, like finding Earth.
The people had been caught up in the moment at the ceremony. Most of them didn't even understand what was being proposed. A trek across the galaxy, looking for a needle in a haystack. The very idea made him want to drink Really, was there ever a more ridiculous situation that demanded drinking? They were running for their lives, billions of people had died within the last 36 hours, they had gone from being the crew of a ship about to be decommissioned and turned into a museum to being the protectors of the last remnant of humanity. It was enough to make a sober man drink, and he wasn't a sober man by nature.
The commander had blind sided them with hope. It was masterful, really. He had stood in formation with the rest, chanting the relevant parts of the prayer, and he had felt it. It had rolled over the crowd, far more overpowering than the sickly stinging scent of disinfectant and the underlying odor of decay it had been trying to cover. In that moment, they had believed. Hell, he had believed.
But once the warm afterglow had worn off, and it wore off very quickly when you were the XO who had ordered the action that had caused most of the shipboard deaths, he had time to think. Granted, he was a piker in comparison to the Cylons, but the flight deck was never going to see him as anything but a monster.
And while he was absolutely certain that he had made the right decision, the only decision that would have saved the ship, he wasn't sure that he was ever going to be welcome down in crew quarters again. Not that it was easy to be the second in command and still casually hang out. It was probably for the best that he didn't feel comfortable about going down to the officers club and having a drink. Not with what he was thinking.
Bill had lied. Tighe had known the man since their first day at the academy. It was a lie, a grand, inspired lie, worthy of a master. But. it was a lie, and that meant that within the next few months, they were probably going to be strafed by Cylon nukes.
And that made him want that drink. He had wanted it all day. Really, considering how the day had gone, he would have been delighted if he could have just had the stuff injected directly into his veins. The hang over would be worth it. He deserved a drink, really.
If he was having second thoughts about the commander's plan, then it had to be assumed that some of the crew were thinking the same thing. Some of the civilians too, and they couldn't be ordered to shut up. That was going to be a problem, a problem of no small proportion. The commander was going to need a lot of support. Better support than the words of a drunk.
Tighe picked up the bottle out of the wastebasket and set it carefully into a cabinet. Throwing it out was a foolish extravagance. At the very least he could donate it to the flight deck. Give them something to curse his name with.