Galactica's chief engineer wondered what the old man was planning on doing with the cargo runner. Commander Adama had been in the cargo hanger several times over the last two days checking up on the engineer's progress with the small ship. The commander ordered it stocked and fueled for tested for a mission. That wasn't unusual but what cargo was so precious that the old man himself would sweat the details so much? He never checked his son's viper before he flew. What could be more important than his own son?
The engineer would also like to know why they were arming the ship this time. It had always had hard points to carry weapons but they were rarely loaded. Mostly, the ship was just used to run things among ships of the fleet, like a cargo shuttle. No matter how curious he was, he knew he couldn't ask the commander about the mission. If the commander would tell him, he would have already done it.
As the commander approached, the engineer snapped to attention, "She's mission ready, Sir."
Adama returned the salute. "Good. Stow this in aft of the crew compartment," he directed as he handed a heavy case to the engineer.
"Aye, Sir. How should I list this in the equipment?"
"Clothing."
Now the engineer was really curious. Either this was wardrobe for a whole lot of people for a long time or there was something other than clothes in this case. It was very heavy.
"Aye, Sir." He asked the next question with some trepidation but he had to know since it was scheduled to depart tomorrow. "And whom should I list on the manifest, Sir?"
"I'll get that to you first thing tomorrow. It won't take off until 1400, so you'll have plenty of time to square away the paper work." Adama called this last bit over his shoulder as he was already exiting the hanger.
Back in his quarters, the commander initiated the second part of his plan. He picked up his old-fashioned phone and punched the direct line to the President. "Madam President, I'm sorry to bother you."
"What is it, Commander?"
"Ma'am, can I go secure?"
"Yes, go ahead."
Adama punched the encryption button and continued when the light flashed "SECRET". "I've got some intelligence that you are in danger. I need to covertly get you off your ship and replace you with a decoy, just for tonight."
The President hadn't given much thought to assassination attempts. Since she knew her days were numbered, it didn't seem worth the worry. "Cylon or human?" she asked.
"Human," he responded in a half truth. He hated lying, especially to her. "Ma'am, we need to roll to set up a trap. I'd like to send Petty Officer Velez over under the cover of fixing your lighting. She's about your size and height and has your color hair. She'll switch clothes with you. When you come over to the Galactica, I'll hide you. I can't afford to let any of the crew know you're here or it might leak. Once you're here, I'll send a detail over supposedly to help Velez with the lighting. They'll watch Velez's back while she plays you."
The President didn't like the idea of someone being a decoy for her but she didn't have a better idea right now. "Alright, Commander. But if we don't catch the assassin tonight, let's come up with another plan tomorrow. I don't like putting someone else in danger if we don't have to."
"Yes, Ma'am. She'll be over as soon as we dock."
Petty Officer Velez was in the President's room taking off her clothes a half hour later. Once the President saw that the petty officer had her hair pinned up in a bun, she went into her bathroom to do the same. She came out with a nightgown and robe for Velez and took the uniform Velez left on the couch for her. There was a hat which partially covered her eyes and helped make her less recognizable.
Adama was hovering around the ladder. When the President came down it he looked her in the eye for a brief second to let her know to follow him. He turned and walked out of the room while saying loudly, "Colonel, you have the conn."
As the night shift took their changeover briefs from their counterparts at the various stations, no one noticed "Petty Officer Velez" following Commander Adama at ten paces as he made his way toward his quarters. Once inside, he turned to look at her. A small smile played on his features. The uniform she was wearing was more form fitting than her business suits and the hat made her look young and eager.
"What?" she asked, smiling back at him.
"You would have made a fine officer," he teased in a low tone. The fact that she was wearing an enlisted rank made him want to abuse his privileges. He meant 'fine' in both senses of the word.
She laughed. "Don't get your hopes up. I don't see myself signing up anytime soon." She took the hat off and set it on the table. "Are we going to get updates from the security crew?"
"No. We'll have to wait until something happens or until morning. We didn't want to risk tipping them off."
"Who are they, Commander?"
"I don't know, Madam President. Hopefully we'll get an answer by tomorrow."
Laura nodded recognition but she was still unhappy about putting Velez in danger. She was already working on an alternate plan for tomorrow if this trap didn't work tonight. Uncomfortable in the uniform, she wanted to get to bed to think about it. "Where is Velez's bunk?" she asked.
"Madam President, you can't sleep there. It's six to a room. The others would know you're not her. Right now they probably think she's sleeping with her boyfriend."
"Well, where am I sleeping tonight? I do sleep, you know." Laura was pulling the pins out of her hair as she said this. They were pinching her scalp. Adama was transfixed, watching as her locks tumbled down around her shoulders. She put her hands in her hair to massage where the offending pins had been. Closing her eyes, she rubbed away until she noticed he hadn't answered her. When she opened her eyes he quickly looked down. She'd caught him staring at her and they were both a little embarrassed.
He cleared his throat. Without looking at her he gestured to his bed in the alcove behind her, "You'll have to sleep in my bed tonight, Madam President." He knew how that sounded so he quickly added, "I'll sleep on the couch in my office. I'll be close enough to keep an eye on you…so to speak…in case they've figured out you're here."
"Wouldn't the press love to hear about this arrangement," she sighed.
"Madam President, have you eaten?" he asked, to change the subject.
"Yes, thank you."
"Would you like something to drink?"
"That would be great, thanks."
Adama entered his adjoining office and she followed him. She sat down on the couch as he poured something into crystal glasses. "I don't usually have the President as a guest, so I'm breaking out the good stuff," he mused.
"What's the good stuff?"
"Passion fruit juice. I love the stuff and picked it up on our last run as we were heading home for decommissioning. Normally, I'd serve it with rum, but I'm out of that right now. I hope you don't mind it neat."
She gladly accepted the glass he poured for her. Since the attack she'd had nothing but water and coffee and little of those. "You're not giving me this because you think the assassin might get me, are you? Sort of a last drink?" she asked to make light of the situation.
Adama sat down in the chair next to the couch with his own glass. "No, Ma'am. I assure you, I'm going to do everything I can to keep you alive." He put the juice to his lips and she followed suit.
"I know you will, Commander. I appreciate your efforts, even giving up your bed for this operation. It's all still a little new to me. I joke about it to deal with it. I'm sorry if I insinuated that I had anything but the utmost trust in you." She took another sip of juice. "This really is good. I've never had it before."
"Yes, it's hard to resist," he agreed as he watched her for signs of sleepiness.
After steadily sipping it, she tucked her feet up under herself and rested her head against the back of the couch. She held the cool half-empty glass to her neck and closed her eyes.
"Madam President…are you OK?"
"Mmm?" She slowly opened her eyes, closed them again, and said, "Suddenly, I'm exhausted. I better clear our of your temporary bed and get into your real bed while I still can." She set her empty glass down on the table and stood up with some difficulty. Blood drained to her extremities, leaving her head in a fog. "Are you sure there was no rum in that?" she questioned as she began to collapse.
Commander Adama had set his glass down in anticipation and scooped her up before she hit the floor. She was completely limp so he knew she was out cold. He carried her over to his bed and laid her down. He was thankful she didn't try to change before the drink. It would be a lot easier to move her undetected in that uniform.
Moving quickly, he retrieved the folding crash cart from under his bed and set it up. He loaded the bottom with some gear. Then he lifted her from his bed and placed her on top. He covered her up to her neck with a sheet, tucked her hair under her head and placed the hat on her head until it covered her eyes.
He only had one offer of help on his way to the cargo bay from a well meaning ensign. He turned it down, saying he wanted to personally make sure "this one" was OK. The bay was empty as he'd ordered it isolated in preparation for the secret mission that was to go off tomorrow in the ship he was about to use.
He lifted Laura up into a fireman's carry and brought her aboard. Gently, he laid her down on the crew bunk and strapped her down. He loaded the gear and sealed the hatch. Silently, he strapped himself in, looked over his shoulder at his "cargo", and took off.
The mission manager noted with alarm that the ship set for tomorrow's mission was taking off now without a flight plan. Just as he was about to call for a fighter scramble and security lock down, Commander Adama's voice came over the speaker.
"Mission Control, this is Commander Adama. I had to move tomorrow's mission up to tonight. For security reasons, I couldn't file a plan and I can only tell you I'll be gone for several days. The colonel is in command while I'm on this mission. And one more thing…the President is with me. It's part of the mission. Do not pursue. Everything is fine. If, however, we aren't back in nine days, carry on without us."
The colonel was standing over the mission controller's shoulder during the last three sentences. He'd never wanted a drink so bad in his life. He couldn't have one now. Now he was the Old Man. Mentally, he cursed Adama for doing this without telling him and leaving him in charge. One of the young pilots was supposed to take this mission and the President certainly wasn't part of the original plan. What the hell was he doing? Damn him!