Title: Revelation
Author: RangerLord
Email: T (PG) - Mild Language
Summary: Ever wonder why Adama allowed Tigh to strand Aaron Doral on Ragnar Anchorage based solely on Dr. Baltar's accusation? Perhaps he received a revelation.
Classifications: Intrigue, Original Characters, in the Mini-series timeline.
Spoilers: None
Archive: NO
Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica and all related recognizable concepts are ideas belonging to Glen Larson, Ronald D. Moore and/or others involved in the Battlestar Galactica series on the Sci-FI Channel, 2003-2005. All other characters and references are copyright 2005 RangerLord. Keep yer mitts off, without the author's permission.
Author's Note: This is a background story for a large project I am writing.
Revelation
"I believe that was sufficient, Commander."
The unfamiliar voice snapped Adama's attention away from Leoben's bloody face. He squinted into the shadows of the machinery room, trying to locate and identify the speaker. A flashlight beam played into his eyes, blinding him for a moment. He heard footsteps as the unknown party approached.
Winded from the desperate fight with the humanoid Cylon, Adama rose to face the newcomer. The flashlight lowered, revealing the man who carried it. Forty-ish, with black hair cropped Marine-style, the man wore the Colonial Fleet uniform. Not regulation blue, though, but black. That meant Fleet Intelligence.
Injured from the beating Leoben had dealt him, Adama leaned against a valve wheel, but his gaze never left the other man. With the polished toe of a shoe, the man prodded the Cylon's body. "Tough sons 'a bitches, aren't they?" His tone made it a statement rather than a query. "The storm fraks 'em up something serious, though." The man turned his attention to Adama. His detached manner unnervingly reminded the Commander of the Cylon he'd just killed.
"Your Chief has nearly completed loading the ordnance, Commander. You'd best get back to the Galactica. We're both racing against time. You need to get your fleet out of here before the Cylons come, and they are coming. They know we've discovered their little secret, the revelation you've just now received. And they know you're here.
The intelligence officer paused, but seeing that Adama had yet to regain enough breath to speak he continued. "You want my advice? Run. Run and don't look back. I've seen the reports. You don't have the firepower to take this fight to the Cylons, and you have civilians to protect."
"The tin cans are coming to Ragnar to stop us. Me, and the few others who work with me. They know we're here, and why. Don't let them catch you here, too. We can hide, at least for a while; you can't. You should go before they trap the fleet. Get the frak out while you still can."
Reaching into a uniform pocket, the officer withdrew a laminated card. Gesturing toward the Cylon corpse, he said "Take that with you. Learn from it what you can." Turning the card over, he continued, "And memorize these faces. They're not who they seem to be." Adama scanned it, eyes narrowing, and he looked back at the intelligence officer.
"I have to go," the man said. "Thanks to you, I need to capture another humanoid Cylon before the main force arrives." The man stepped off into the shadows, his footsteps echoing among the pipes.
Finally finding his voice, Adama thought to demand some answers. The man was Fleet Intelligence, though. No matter the number of questions his words had raised, Adama knew he would get nothing further from him. Instead, the Commander gave him the one bit of information he had, speaking it firmly into the darkness.
"You'll have your Cylon. That I can give you."