The Galactica had never seemed less welcoming than it did right now. The Raptor's engines faded down to silence, and the vibrations eased. Racetrack flipped a few switches, and then sighed heavily.
"I'm sorry," she said, when the silence must have become too overwhelming for her. "I'm really sorry, Hoshi."
Louis swallowed hard and then took off his helmet, wiping frantically at his eyes. "Thank you," he said. He took one deep breath, and then another.
"Do you want me to handle the report to Adama?" she asked.
Yes. "No," he said. "I'd better do it. They let me go, so I should at least…" his voice broke and he swallowed again. "I should tell them."
"All right then," Racetrack said. "But I'm going with you."
Louis nodded, and they both left the Raptor.
As it happened, they didn't have to go far. Louis had just jumped down out of the craft when he looked up to see Tigh and Adama coming down the stairs to the deck below. He stood straighter as they approached, and snapped off a salute.
"What's the status, Lieutenants?" Tigh asked, looking directly at Louis. There was sympathy on his face, and Louis realized he already knew.
"We failed in our mission to find Raptor 718, sir," Louis said around the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry."
Tigh stood still. It was the Admiral that nodded and said, "All right. Report to Lieutenant Burrell before your next shift, she'll help you arrange the funerals."
"Sir? Do you need a debriefing?" Louis managed to ask.
Admiral Adama's expression was strange. It wasn't quite sympathy, but his features arranged themselves into an expression that looked like it would have been sympathetic, if the Admiral could feel anything. "I'll get it from Racetrack," he said. "You're dismissed, Lieutenant Hoshi."
Louis nodded and saluted. As he walked past, Tigh reached out and gripped his shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss, Lieutenant," he said quietly.
"Thank you, sir."
The corridors were crowded with people. People on their way to the mess hall, to the deck, to their racks and to the rec room. People with laundry, people with reports, Marines doing drills and pilots running their laps. People laughing, arguing, muttering, talking… life going on, despite the fact that Raptor 718 was lost. Louis watched them all as if he was the ghost that Felix now was, standing stock still as a solitary island in a river of life.
"Lieutenant Hoshi!" Fingers snapped in front of his face. Louis blinked and turned his head slowly, confronting Gage. "Sorry, sir, but you weren't answering. Do you have the manual for the tactical station? Adama told me to take a look at it."
Louis stared at him for a long moment, and then nodded. "Yeah. It's in my rack. Come on."
Gage fell into step beside him. Intellectually, Louis knew it would make sense to tell him about Felix's death- he was sure Adama had been anticipating the mission's failure and that was why he'd instructed Gage to study the manual- but he couldn't make himself form the words. Besides, he hadn't liked Gage since he first met the man, and the feeling was generally mutual.
Gage was oblivious. "Frakking skinjobs," he said as they passed a group of Cylons. "Did you hear Adama wants to upgrade the FTL drives with toaster tech? Worst idea I ever heard. I don't trust that shit. The baseships actually regenerate. That's just… it's wrong. Adama's out of his mind."
"Mmhmm."
Encouraged by the fact that a lieutenant hadn't called him out about speaking disrespectfully about a superior officer, Gage barreled on. "He's been drinking like a fish since Earth, too. He thinks no one knows, but everyone's talking about it. Have you seen him? Gods, Admiral Cain would never let that happen."
"Yeah."
"And he's still got Tigh on as an XO, even though the shithead's a toaster. Frak! What's the world coming to, Hoshi?"
"Lieutenant."
"Right. Lieutenant. When we've got frakking machines telling us what to do… the world is frakked up."
"Yeah."
Gage stopped, and looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "You aren't taking Adama's side, are you? Wanting that toaster shit, this godsdamned alliance?"
With no small relief, Louis opened the door to the officer's racks and the binder out of his locker. "Here," he said, thrusting it at Gage. "Go."
"Hoshi, you aren't-"
"I told you, it's Lieutenant. And right now, I'm not on anyone's side, okay? Gaeta's dead, Gage," Louis heard himself saying. "Leave me alone."
"Wait. Gaeta's dead? How?"
"I said, leave me alone. That's an order, Specialist."
Gage nodded tightly, saluted, and left. Louis sighed with relief, especially as the hatch slammed and the racks were quiet.
His own rack was one of the top ones, although he'd been sleeping in Felix's so much that his own was more a storage unit than a place to live. He slid into Felix's rack, closed the privacy curtain, and lay down.
Felix was dead.
It washed over him in waves, hitting him over and over as he repeated the words in his mind. When it became too much, he reached out and fumbled for the pillow, closing his eyes. His body shook as he held the pillow tight.
***
Specialist Brooks' funeral had been heavy on the gods and religion, with statues and incense, hymns and verses from the Scrolls. Lieutenant Gaeta's funeral looked to be the exact opposite. Saul led Caprica to a seat in the second row.
"I shouldn't be here," she whispered to him.
"It's fine."
"No. The front is where those closest to the deceased should sit. I know that, Saul."
She was right. But although a lot of the back seats were occupied, only Hoshi was sitting quietly in the front row, head bowed, fingering a set of prayer beads. Saul glanced pointedly at the empty chairs, and Caprica sighed her capitulation. They both slid into the second row.
The door opened, and Bill entered, Roslin leaning on his arm. Saul stood, but Bill just shook his head and slipped into the seat beside him. "Doesn't look like it's a very big turnout."
"People are tired of funerals," Saul grumbled. He glanced at Roslin, who was watching Hoshi with that same strange expression Bill had worn when Hoshi got off the Raptor. "And a lot of Gaeta's friends are dead."
Bill winced.
The door opened again, and Narcho, Racetrack, and Skulls entered, all in their dress grays. There was a quiet discussion, and then they entered the second row from the far side. Saul noticed that Narcho left several seats in between himself and Caprica.
"I always forget," Saul heard Skulls whisper, "is it Louis or Lucas?"
"Louis, I think," Narcho whispered back. His face screwed up in concentration. "I'm almost positive."
Saul leaned over Caprica. "It's Louis," he confirmed. Narcho stiffened, not looking at Saul as he nodded acknowledgement.
Bill looked over his shoulder, and then nudged Saul. When Saul turned around fully to see what had captured Bill's attention, he snorted. Of all people, Gaius Baltar was sitting in the back row. Gaeta would be spinning in his grave. Or his Raptor, as it was.
He turned back around, bowing his own head. Gaeta wasn't what Saul would call a friend, but he was part of the CIC family, and although they'd never gotten along, there had been a time he'd actually rather liked the kid. But New Caprica had destroyed so much, and-
"What is he doing here?" Roslin's hiss broke Saul out of his ruminations. He looked up to see Tom Zarek taking a place in the front row, two seats away from Hoshi. Hoshi didn't look up, but his shoulders tightened.
"It's a funeral," Saul muttered back. "Can't exactly keep him away."
Zarek heard them- Saul could tell by the way he was sitting- but he didn't turn around. Saul exhaled slowly, relieved as the brother came forward and started the service.
The brother served more as the glue to hold the ceremony together than a spiritual leader. That didn't surprise Saul. What surprised him was that it was Zarek, not Hoshi, who stood up to deliver the eulogy. He stepped to the stand with the confidence of a seasoned politician, but his hands shook as he gripped the edges of the podium.
"Felix asked me, if this day ever came, to keep this short," Zarek said, managing a grin. "He wasn't one for sentimentality, or for ceremony. I'll do my best, not only to honor his wishes, but because this is one funeral I did not want to see.
"I met Felix Gaeta when he joined Baltar's staff on New Caprica." There was a quiet murmur, and Zarek shifted into a slightly more confident stance. "I realize that many of those words bring back terrible memories for most of you, but when taken together, they signify the beginning of a friendship that I have treasured very much. I didn't expect to; Felix was not exactly my usual type, as our Madame President once said," he said, nearly winking at Roslin. She kept her face stony, leaning against Bill. "But I've always respected idealism and vision, and Felix had both in spades."
He continued a little longer in the same vein. Next to Saul, Bill shifted impatiently. "Man always was in love with the sound of his own voice," he whispered to Saul.
"Good thing Gaeta asked him to keep it short," Saul agreed. He glanced down at his watch. Zarek hadn't been talking that long… it just felt like it. Caprica discreetly wiped a tear from her eye before it fell, and Saul wished he could be moved. But as he listened to Zarek, he felt nothing.
"We are standing here at the end of the world," Zarek said, finally reaching his conclusion, "none of us knowing what possible future we may have. We've lost everything; we've lost our homes, we've lost our lives, we've lost all that we love. We've all lost survivors, and we all find fresh grief every day. And we've lost Earth. We've lost our direction, our goals. We've lost our hope.
"I don't know if I believe in an afterlife, and I know that Felix did not. But wherever his soul is now, I can only hope that the solace that eluded him in life finds him in death. So say we all."
"So say we all."
Zarek sat down, head high and looking like the image of a politician. But when Hoshi took the podium and read a Kataris poem in a breaking voice, Saul noticed that Zarek buried his face in his hands. His grief, it seemed, was actually real.
The service ended a half-hour after it began, and the mourners filed out quickly. Bill glanced at Saul, eyebrows raised as Baltar made his way to the front to pay his respects, and Caprica drew an audible breath. Neither Hoshi nor Zarek acknowledged Baltar, who stood with his head bowed for a moment and then slunk away. Interestingly, Hoshi and Zarek only fleetingly acknowledged each other with a brief handshake and a hug that was more just hands on shoulders and a foot of space between them. Bill headed over to Hoshi, blatantly ignoring Zarek.
Hoshi was standing stiffly when they approached. His face was schooled into a very professional, almost blank expression, even as the Admiral and then the President shook his hand and offered condolences. Saul wasn't sure what to say to a man he didn't know well and who obviously wanted to keep his grief private. He glanced over at Caprica, and she looked even more uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Lieutenant," Saul said, shaking Hoshi's hand.
"Thank you, sir."
It was a stock line, formal and impersonal, and it brought no comfort to either of them. In fact, Saul had said the exact same words earlier, when Hoshi had returned from his search. Saul fumbled for something more to say.
"He was a good man," Caprica put in.
Hoshi started, and stared at her for a long moment. She paled, realizing she'd spoken out of turn, and drew a little closer to Saul. But finally Hoshi just said, "He was. Thank you."
"Right. Take some time, if you need it, Lieutenant," Saul heard himself saying. "I can get Helo and Gage to cover communications for a few days."
Hoshi shook his head. "I'll be back on duty as scheduled, sir." He tipped his chin up defiantly. "It's best if I keep busy."
Saul grunted approval. "Very well. 0500 hours tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
Bill was listening; Saul saw the spark of acknowledgment in his eyes. But there was nothing more to say, and he became aware that Lieutenant Thornton and Petty Officer Sian were standing behind him, respectfully waiting to speak to Hoshi. He nodded one more time to the grieving lieutenant and then followed Bill and Laura out of the room.
As they left, he noticed Narcho, Racetrack, and Skulls were talking to Zarek. Saul shook his head and continued on.
***
The picture they'd chosen was of both of them, because they figured if one of them died, the survivor might not have anyone close enough to remember to pin his picture up. It was a good picture- they were laughing at the camera, Louis's arms wrapped around Felix's shoulders from behind, the two of them cheek to cheek. Both of them smiling and happy… and whole.
Louis hated the Memorial Hallway, with all the faces looking back at him, the overwhelming reminder of loss. But it was a Galactica tradition, and Felix had been as firm on this as he had been on a simple ceremony. So Louis found the picture of Dee and pinned Felix's picture right next to it, and then stepped back. As he did, he bumped into someone. "I'm sorry," he began, turning around, and then froze.
The man he'd bumped into was a Cylon.
It was one of the Twos. Unlike most of the Twos, who were clean shaven, this one wore a goatee. His hair was slicked back, and he wore a plain button-down shirt which looked remarkably sedate for a Two. He had a gentler face than most of his brethren, but right now he looked stricken and sad.
"I'm sorry," Louis stammered again.
The Two looked at the picture that Louis had just hung. "I know who he is," he realized. "That's Felix Gaeta."
"Yes."
"He was lost on the Raptor 718 as well."
"As well?" Louis asked.
The Two turned and pointed, and Louis looked at the picture and did a double take. The picture was posed almost identically to the one of him and Felix, with the Two embracing an Eight. "Oh," he said softly.
"She was a pilot," the Two said. "She came over to Galactica for a briefing, and then she just… she never came home." He looked at the picture of Felix again. "Was he your…?"
"Partner," Louis supplied. "Lover. Boyfriend. Whatever… yes. We were together eleven months. Was she your…?"
"My wife," the Two said solemnly.
"Wife? I didn't think that Cylons married," Louis said with surprise.
The Two looked at the picture. "We watched the humans, and we thought it might help. That if love was what was needed for procreation, making a formal commitment might convince God that we truly…" he shook his head. "I suppose it doesn't matter any more… but nothing ever mattered to me more."
Louis looked at the picture he'd just pinned up. "I know."
"Is this grief?" the Two asked. "This empty, burning hole inside you when someone you loved so much is gone?"
"Yes," Louis said, his own throat closing.
"How do you bear it?"
Louis shrugged. "You just do. It's what you have to do."
"How long does it last?"
"Forever," Louis said, and then relented. "Although it gets easier with time."
The Two looked around the Memorial Hallway, at all the faces. "And this is what we brought to you," he said. "This pain, this grief…" He shook his head and looked directly at Louis. "I'm sorry."
For a long moment Louis couldn't speak. What could he say? That's okay, it's not a big deal? Hey, no harm done? Even You're forgiven? He thought of all the people he had lost before this- family, friends… everyone he'd ever known who hadn't been on the Pegasus… and there was no way I'm sorry could begin to make up for it.
And yet, it was more than any other Cylon had ever said.
Louis looked around at the eyes, the faces from the past watching him. He had to get out of here. He looked at the Two, a face from the future that was apparently being built, and he sighed. "Do you want to go get a drink?" he heard himself asking. "I could use one."
The Two gave a weak smile. "I could, too." He extended his hand. "My name is Jesse, by the way. Jesse Conoy."
Louis clasped his hand tightly. "Louis Hoshi. Come on," he said, gesturing for Jesse to follow him from the Memorial Hallway, "there are better ways to remember the people we loved."
***
Joe's was nearly deserted, but they sat at a corner table anyway, out of the line of sight of anyone who might come in. Joe himself hadn't looked happy about serving a Cylon, but he'd handed over the bottle without comment, just a wry expression. They'd had a good two or three drinks before either of them said anything, just eyeing each other speculatively, each trying to get a measure of the other man in silence. That silence had ended after Louis had poured them both their third shot, almost an hour ago.
They both bolted down their sixth whiskey, and Jesse laughed. "There was this one time," he told Louis, "that… oh God, it was on New Caprica. And she… she was shuttling back and forth between the baseship and the colony. And Sarah, she had to shuttle Cavil."
"A One?" Louis asked.
"No. Well, yes. But Cavil. He's sort of the… well, not sort of. He is the leader of the Ones."
"So the model lines have leaders."
"Not really." Jesse looked down at the table. "I mean, not as a default. The Twos don't, the Fours don't and the Eights certainly don't. The Sixes sort of did, the Ones do… the Threes most definitely did. And the Fives are kind of in between. It depends." Louis nodded like he understood. "Anyway," Jesse continued, "she was shuttling a One down to the colony after he'd downloaded. She was frustrated with the way all of the Ones spoke to her, and so she manipulated the data stream so that the only language he could interface with the ships was to use the language that the Raiders run on." Jesse laughed, and then caught Louis's expression of bewilderment. "The Ones always considered the Raider's language crude and… insulting, I guess, to have to use it."
Louis still didn't understand the implications fully, but he did understand that it was meant to be a funny story, so he smiled. Jesse's expression was far away, like he could see her behind his eyes, and a wistful smile was on his face.
"I've heard about projection," Louis began tentatively.
Jesse snapped out of his reverie, his eyes hardening. "No," he snapped.
"I'm sorry," Louis began. "I-"
Jesse shook his head. "No," he said, holding up his hand. "I apologize for snapping. You couldn't understand. When we project… we choose to see our environment a certain way. It feels real. I once believed it was real. But now… I know it's not. And when I end that projection and she goes away, it only sharpens the grief. We gave you the Hub so we could accept mortality. It's not a decision we made lightly, and projecting her again cheapens that."
"I see." Louis looked down at his glass. Although he saw Jesse's point, he wished he could project, just long enough to say all those things he wanted to say to Felix. I wish we'd had a better chance than this. I already miss you so much I can't breathe. I love you, and I wish I'd said that sooner. But then, it wasn't really Felix that would hear them, either. He forced the idea from his mind, pouring them each one more shot.
"To Felix and Sarah," he said, holding up his glass.
Jesse looked at him for a long moment, and then mimicked the gesture. "To Felix and Sarah," he agreed, and they both drank.
Much, much later, Louis realized that was probably the first time a human had ever deliberately included a Cylon in a toast.
***
Despite the fact that he was a grown man, a former Commander of a battlestar and a Major, the Caprican Representative to the Quorum of Twelve, and had been married, mostly divorced and technically widowed, Lee Adama still felt like a child when he was summoned to his father's study. The Admiral's study, he corrected himself firmly. He adjusted his tie and opened the hatch, walking in like the government official that he was.
Laura Roslin was sitting on the couch, sipping coffee and reading a book.
She looked at Lee and gave him a brief smile of acknowledgment, and then looked back down at her book. "Madam President," Lee said, automatically standing to attention.
Roslin raised an eyebrow. "Representative Adama," she said, smiling like it was a private joke between them rather than his actual title.
"You look good," Lee said. She did. She was wearing Galactica sweats and a scarf around her head, and there was a flushed glow in her cheeks and an air of serenity about her. Roslin's smile deepened, but not in pleasure. She turned her attention back to her book. "The Quorum has been asking after you," Lee said, a hint of firmness in his voice.
"Mmm." She turned a page deliberately.
"Zarek, specifically. He's been quite… concerned."
"I'm sure he has." There was a tinge of steel there now.
"He's been making noise about assuming the Presidency."
Roslin sighed irritably and set her book down, looking at Lee over the rim of her glasses. "When, in the past four years, has Tom Zarek not been talking about assuming the Presidency?" she asked Lee. "If he wasn't clamoring for it, I'd be more concerned."
"He's pushing for a vote of no confidence, and he'll probably get it."
"No, he won't." Lee turned to face the Admiral, and Roslin fled back to her book. The Admiral moved to his desk, a cursory glance at the papers on top. "The last time the Presidency was open, the Quorum wouldn't confirm him."
"This time they will," Lee said. He faced his father, leaning forward as he took the seat that was offered, across the desk. "I've been trying to sell the Quorum on the idea of upgrading the ships' FTL drives for two days now, and it's not going well. They have… concerns."
"Concerns," Adama said flatly.
Lee glared at him. "The thing is, these concerns are valid. How much do you understand the Cylon technology? How much does any human understand it?"
"After seeing what the Cylons can do to our technology, who's doubting their capabilities?"
"It's not the technical superiority," Lee explained. "It's how can we be sure that they're doing what they say they're doing to our ships? That the Ones, Fours, and Fives can't access the upgrades? That they aren't making any other… improvements?"
"We're going to have to trust them."
"And you don't understand why this is a problem?" Lee asked, his frustration rising. "The Cylons destroyed everything- everything- less than four years ago, and you're asking the Fleet to roll over and trust them, based solely on Tigh's say-so."
"I'm not the one who brokered the alliance in the first place," his father reminded him.
"An alliance to find Earth," Lee said. "There's a difference between trying to find Earth together and having Cylons do gods only know what to our ships. You're asking too much."
"I'm not asking," Adama said. "I'm ordering."
Lee sighed. "Then declare martial law."
"No." Roslin said it from the couch, even as Adama's brows furrowed downward in anger. "This is a single decision that falls into the military's jurisdiction."
"Including the appointment of a Cylon representative to the Quorum of Twelve?" Lee demanded. "Look," he rushed on before either of them could argue, "I'm not trying to argue against this alliance. It makes me sick that we have to do it this way, but it is the only way. But I've seen both sides of this. I've been in the military and I've been on the civilian side, and I get why they're scared. And they're scared enough of this idea that they will confirm Tom Zarek as President."
He watched both of their faces carefully. The truth was, Lee didn't think Zarek would make a terrible President, but if anything would rouse his father and Roslin out of these trances they'd been in since Earth, it would be that threat. And there was a flicker there- he saw it in the way Roslin's shoulder's tensed and the way his father reached for his papers again. But he was afraid it wasn't enough.
"Make it work," the Admiral ordered him.
"Give me something to work with," Lee pleaded. "Talk to the Quorum, let them meet one of the Cylon candidates for the representative, give us Presidential endorsement of the alliance, release the name of the Fifth… give me something. You were willing to work with Natalie, and Tory's worked closely with you for two years. Maybe something with you and her-"
Roslin sighed. "It wouldn't do any good, Lee. We're past public gestures."
"Fine," Lee said stiffly, giving up for now and rising to his feet. "I'll see you later,"
It was pretty much impossible to slam the heavy hatch to the Admiral's study. But he was positive that his father knew he wanted to slam it as hard as he could.
***
"What do you think?" Lee asked Zarek anxiously after the Quorum and their guest made their way out of the Presidential office. The Six had had platinum hair, an intelligent expression, and was dressed more conservatively than others of her line. She wasn't quite the speaker that Natalie had been, but she was close, and her arguments had been well-chosen and well-constructed. Not that any of it mattered.
"Enough," Zarek told Lee. "That's enough."
"You need to give it a chance," Lee insisted. "Did you even listen to what she had to say?"
"I listened," Zarek said, "but no matter what she says, it doesn't change the fact that she- and all of her brethren on that damned ship- voted to exterminate the human race four years ago. Forcing this alliance will not change that."
"We have to look past it."
"Well, you'd better start explaining to me how. Because let me tell you something, Lee. I'm not the only one not understanding this. The entire frakking Fleet doesn't understand it. If you put Cylons in boarding parties on other ships, I guarantee you that there will be bloodshed."
"Is that a threat?" Lee demanded.
Zarek stared him down. "No," he said. "It's a promise."
***
The DRADIS screen was blank. Louis stared at it for two more seconds, then swung in the chair and entered a code on the keyboard. The ship's pressure readouts danced before his eyes, nothing standing out. The phone buzzed, and he picked it up and fielded the call to the Colonel. A half a second for a sip of coffee and then Private Jaffee was at his elbow with a form and the phone rang again with a message from Deck Chief Laird.
"Hoshi," Gage called from across the CIC.
"Lieutenant Hoshi," Louis heard someone correct him. He shot a harried smile at the protocol expert and then went over to the communications console.
"What is it, Specialist?" he asked, deliberately stressing Gage's rank. Gage glared at him, and Hoshi suspected Gage was deliberately "forgetting" to address him properly.
"I'm stuck between frequencies again," Gage complained.
Louis sighed, and then adjusted one of the dials. Gage shook his head. Louis held out a hand, took the surrendered headphones, and then began working. When every known protocol failed, he sighed again. He checked to make sure neither Tigh nor Adama were looking, and then when he was satisfied they were not, he smacked the side of the console as hard as he could.
The static resolved into the chaos of voices that he was used to. He took the headphones off and handed them back to Gage. "You see what I did?" he asked. Gage nodded, a smirk on his face. "Don't forget it," Louis said, and then darted back down to the tactical station because a red light was flashing, and red lights were never good.
"Sir," Petty Officer Sian told him, "The Astral Queen isn't responding to our hails."
"I'm getting the same response from the Outlander," another voice put in.
Louis looked over at Adama, and Adama gestured with his head. Go fix it. But somehow, he didn't think the problem was technological.
"The frequency is open and operational, sir," he said, looking down at Adama. "But the ships simply are not acknowledging our contact."
"How many?" Adama demanded, looking at Gage. Gage began running through the frequencies, but not quickly enough. Adama sighed and looked over at Louis again, and Louis caught the unspoken message and darted back up to the Communications console.
"Twelve ships are refusing to respond to our hails," he said. "Transmitting the list." His fingers flew over the keyboard, and then he sprinted back down the steps to the tactical station.
"Ten ships refusing a direct order from the flagship," Colonel Tigh growled. "And twelve more that won't respond to our hails."
"Sir," Gage broke in again. "I've got an emergency hail from the Marines aboard the Hitei Khan. The crew is mutinying, sir. And they've killed a Cylon and two Marines."
"Scramble the mardet alert team and assault Raptor," Adama ordered.
"They're spooling up, sir," Louis reported. "Dropping out of formation."
"Frak," Tigh growled. "They aren't…"
Adama was on the line, but there was response. "Sir?" Gage interrupted. "They're communicating with Colonial One."
"Let's hear it," Adama ordered, and Louis stopped what he was doing as the transmission played through the CIC.
"The DRADIS shows a Raptor and Vipers heading straight for us! They'll be here any minute!" the captain was saying frantically.
"They have no right to board your ship without permission." It was Zarek's voice, calming and smooth, and yet so inflammatory at the same time.
"What should we do Mr. Vice President?"
"Every citizen has the right to protect themselves from oppression," Zarek answered. "Take whatever measures you think necessary."
Louis spun again to face the DRADIS. "They've jumped, sir," he informed Adama. Adama slammed the phone down in a burst of frustration and rage. He barked out orders and Louis responded automatically, not really hearing them.
The fuel ship was gone, over the alliance with the Cylons. He grit his teeth and cursed Zarek, although he found that there was a part of him that couldn't curse the bastard too much. As Felix would have pointed out, there was some merit in what the man said.
A hail came in from Athena that Zarek had been taken into custody with no resistance. Louis relayed the message, and then sat with his eyes closed for a long minute. No matter what Zarek had done, no matter what good could come of the alliance, arresting the Vice President was not going to be looked on favorably.
A blue light blinked, and with a sigh, Louis turned back to the station to face the next crisis that demanded attention.
***
Bill and Saul walked through the corridors, down to the brig. "We'll get the ship back," Saul said.
"I know that," Bill agreed.
It was odd, but Saul was almost grateful. Bill was walking with more purpose, and he wasn't gravitating towards the bottle as much. He needed something- anything- to focus on rather than dwelling on the disaster that was Earth, and Tom Zarek was filling that role nicely. "What are you going to do?" Saul asked.
"I have a few ideas," Bill said. "Things I think Zarek will respond to." He brandished a heavy folder. Saul raised his eyebrows, but Bill didn't elaborate. "It will take some time, but we'll get the coordinates of the ship out of him."
"Think he'll give them up willingly?"
"I think he'll give them up." They stopped at the brig. "I'll handle this one alone," Bill said.
Saul saluted. "Yes, sir," he said. And as Bill squared his shoulders and entered the brig to face Zarek, Saul couldn't help his smile.
***
Lee had been aboard the Cylon baseship twice before this, but it still disturbed him deeply to step on. The atmosphere was so serene that for a moment it was difficult to imagine that this was the environment where the near-extinction of humanity had been plotted. He angrily pushed the thought from his mind and followed a Centurion through the halls.
Sonja was in the… well, control room, he supposed, for lack of a better word. She smiled at him and extended her hand.
"Representative Adama," she said graciously. "What can I do for you?"
"I'd like to talk to Tory Foster," Lee said.
"Tory? Of course," Sonja looked a little troubled at that. "Let me see if she'll speak to you. Wait here."
"Thank you." He stood in the middle of the control room, looking around. An Eight had her hand in the water of the main… console? He supposed that was the nearest term he could get. Her eyes were closed and she looked as if she was praying as she worked.
To Lee's relief, he soon heard two sets of high heels, and Sonja returned with Tory in tow. Tory's eyes were cold as she looked at Lee, and he reminded himself again to tread very cautiously with this woman.
"What do you want, Lee?" she asked, without any precursor.
Tory had always been blunt. Lee decided to be blunt right back. "I need your help," he said. "The Fleet is not accepting the alliance well."
"Does that surprise you?" Tory asked.
"Not particularly, no," Lee agreed. "But a public gesture between human and Cylon would be beneficial."
"What, like a big, public 'I forgive you' love fest between myself and President Roslin?" Tory scoffed.
"Something along those lines, yes."
"No."
"Tory… I don't understand a lot of this," Lee began, choosing his words as carefully as he could. "But I do know that you and Laura were very close. If you-"
"You don't know anything, Lee," Tory said. She turned away. "This was a stupid idea," she told Sonja, and walked away.
"Tory, wait!" Lee called, but as he tried to follow her Sonja stepped in his path, and the Eight at the console opened her eyes, watching him warily.
"I can't let you follow her. You know that, Mr. Adama," Sonja said. The words were pleasant enough, but there was steel behind them.
"Can you talk to her?" Lee asked. "Can you make her see reason? If this is going to work, we need some sort of genuine cooperation."
"I can talk to her," Sonja agreed. "But I can't promise you anything. If I were you, I'd look for my symbol of alliance elsewhere."
"Yeah," Lee sighed, still staring at the corridor Tory had stalked down. "I guess so."
***
"So even though he gave up the coordinates and the Hitei Khan has returned, you're keeping him in the brig?" Saul asked.
"He interfered with a military operation," Bill replied, pouring himself another drink. He offered it to Saul, who started to shake his head, reconsidered, and accepted it. "And he's guilty as all hell."
They were sitting in the study, Saul in the armchair and Bill sprawled out on the couch. Saul couldn't blame him for his disarray; it had been yet another extremely long day in a series. But he couldn't make himself relax, not like he used to. Bill glanced at him expectantly, and Saul considered carefully before he spoke. "You know that won't be a popular move," he said slowly.
"It's not my job to be popular." Bill stared at the glass. "It's my job to protect this fleet."
"Be that as it may, he's still the Vice President. And with Laura stepping down…"
"She's not stepping down," Bill insisted.
"The longer she stays away, the less anyone believes that. I'm not blaming her, Bill," Saul said when Bill opened his mouth to defend her. "If I'd been what through what she's gone through, I'd be ready to say frak it all myself. But it leaves a vacuum."
"And nature abhors a vacuum. I'll admit that's the other advantage of keeping Zarek locked up. If he's in the brig, the Quorum has to find someone else."
"But what if they don't want to? From what Lee says, they're pretty gung-ho for Zarek these days."
"They're gung-ho for anyone who will speak out against the alliance," Bill said. "Give them a few days and they'll forget about Zarek."
"You might be right," Saul said. He didn't really think so, but the set look on Bill's face told him it didn't matter what he thought. Besides, while in principal he disagreed with Bill, in reality he couldn't help but think that the best place for Tom Zarek was behind bars… or out an airlock. "Any word from Lee on a reconciliation between Tory and Laura?"
Bill looked at his glass. "It's a definite no-go."
"Great," Saul drawled. "Really would help if we had something public. Some show of good faith."
"I know. How are the upgrades going?" Bill asked.
"Aside from the Hitei Khan, everything else is on schedule," Saul said. "I'll say this for the Cylons; they're organized."
Bill looked up at his phrasing, and Saul stared back at him defiantly. Bill looked down first, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. "Right," he said. He sighed heavily. "We'll get it done."
"We will," Saul agreed. He hoped like hell he was right.
***
"I still don't believe," Louis panted as they rounded a corner together, "that Cylons need to run to stay in shape."
Jesse was breathing just as hard. "We have strength," he admitted. "That's different from endurance."
They ran through a knot of pilots, and Louis noticed a range of expressions, from curiosity to outright anger. He glanced back, and then turned forward when he nearly tripped over a crate. "So you don't have endurance."
"Does it look like it? I don't know how you keep talking me into this."
"Come on. We still have two more times around Galactica." Jesse groaned, but Louis smiled grimly. 'To tell you the truth, I don't mind. This is about the only time I've been able to do anything besides sleep or work the CIC."
"They've still got you on double shifts?"
Louis nodded. "I guess I don't mind it. It keeps me from thinking too much…" Jesse nodded empathetically, "but they really need a few more officers. Thornton covers my off-shift on tactical, but he's got a baby." He made a wry face. "And Sian does Communications well enough, but, well, given that she's the mom of said baby…"
"What about that other one? Gage?"
Louis rolled his eyes. "Gage did well enough on a Mercury class battlestar," he admitted. "But the Galactica is a whole different beast. It's amazing how quickly technology can change."
Jesse snorted.
"Yeah, right, I get it," Louis said. "Anyway, we need more people who understand the more complicated aspects of the equipment, and there's not enough time to train them up."
"I could do it," Jesse suggested.
Louis stopped cold in his tracks. "What?"
Jesse turned around, still jogging in place. "I could do it. Louis, I'm essentially a machine, and I specialize in machines. I'm an engineer. If I can't figure out Galactica's computer technology in a matter of minutes, I should just snap my own motherboard."
"You would do that?" Louis asked. "You'd help on Galactica?" He began to run again.
"This alliance is meant to help both sides," Jesse said. "And besides, like you said, the work would keep me busy. I still think about her all the time, and I need something."
"Well," Louis said, still dumbfounded. "I'll talk to the Admiral about it."
***
"No." Bill was flat and unequivocal. He looked up at the man standing in front of his desk, and then looked back down again.
Hoshi sighed, and looked at Saul, silently appealing to the man who'd granted his request last time. "Sir," he said patiently, "we need some solution. I feel like I'm running the CIC by myself."
"That's a little dramatic, don't you think, Lieutenant?"
"It is, yes. But when Sian or Thornton aren't on, I am largely running Tactical and Communications. If I can say so, sir, Specialist Gage just hasn't caught on to the intricacies of the Galactica system."
"He's a moron, you mean," Saul opined.
Hoshi shrugged in a I didn't say it, you did sort of response. "Athena is a pilot," he pointed out. "A Colonial pilot, not a Cylon one. You trust her."
"Sharon Agathon is a special case," Bill countered. "And she proved her loyalty over the course of a year. And she's not a member of the CIC staff."
"But Colonel Tigh is, sir."
It hung in the air, and Hoshi waited, tense and visibly nervous, his hands clenched at his sides. Saul almost found himself laughing. "He's got you there, Bill," he said.
Bill glared at him. "It's not the same thing."
"Then take Helo off CAG and put him back on tactical," Hoshi begged. "Or get Captain Kelly out of the brig."
Bill shook his head. "I'm not in the habit of rearranging the duty roster to suit one lieutenant."
"No, but sir, when I checked the jump calculations I did yesterday, I found several errors. Simple errors, sir, like six times seven is thirty-six. If I make a mistake like that and don't catch it-"
"Don't make a mistake like that," Bill ordered. "Anything else?" Hoshi bit his lip and shook his head. "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."
Hoshi saluted and then turned sharply, and fumbled with the hatch. If it had been any other officer, Saul might have thought it was for effect, but Hoshi had the look of a man who knew his case was lost.
"H's right about Gage." Saul said as the hatch closed behind him. "The man is a moron. And Hoshi looks like shit, Bill,"
"He's still not over Gaeta," Bill theorized. "It's only been two weeks."
"Two weeks that have made it clear just how much Gaeta ran in the CIC."
"Have you met this Two?"
"Only in passing," Saul said. "He and Hoshi have been fairly inseparable. Jesse- the Two- was involved with one of the Eights on Raptor 718."
"Common grief."
"Exactly. It can form strong bonds."
"Mmm." Bill took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. "Not enough to inherently trust someone, though. What do you think?"
"Well, it's not a bad idea." Bill looked up sharply, and Saul met his gaze squarely. "It could that public gesture that Lee's so convinced we need."
"So you're saying…"
"Check him out, and if he seems trustworthy, take a chance and swear the bastard in," Saul said.
Bill was silent for a long time. "I don't like it," he finally said.
"Like Hoshi said, what other options have you got?"
"I'll think about it."
