Battlestar Galactica: Runaway

by Mirwalker

CHAPTER TEN

"After… Mr Baresi convinced Colonel Tigh to let him handle the questions, she came out from under the table that the Colonel had frightened her under."

Not looking at his unrepentant Executive Officer, the Battlestar's Commander focused the report, "And she explained what?" His interest was clearly in the interrogation's product, not its process.

"She received the doll as a prize from a 'pretty blond woman' she didn't know, at a street fair her family attended in town," Lee continued his report, as Baltar shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "There were also some trucks or planes—she didn't remember which, given to the boys. I'm guessing that once she had her doll, she didn't pay much attention to anything else…"

"So not only may there be other dolls like hers at large, we may also be looking for some other toy vehicles too?" the President sighed.

"Ran is going to see if he can get her to remember more details about the toys or the festival, to help us narrow down a search. But even if she can give us a general idea, I don't see that we have much of a choice but to search out any possible toys if we're confident that the dolls were the tracking device."

Whether they focused on the logistical issues or the joy-killing aspect of the task, they all imagined the chore of and reaction to ripping every potential threat—every single toy, from the hands of children across the fleet.

Nonetheless… "We can't ignore the risk of that possibility. If the Cylons were behind this, we can bet that two little girls on two Colonies weren't their only two carriers," the Commander deduced.

"What did her parents do?" Roslin asked, considering a slightly more focused angle. "Perhaps Jina, and the little girl on the botanical cruiser, were singled out to receive the transmitter doll for a particular reason."

"We don't know about Cami; but Jina's parents worked in retail and dentistry," her senior aide noted off his paperwork. "No known military, government or other vital infrastructure connections. Do you really think the Cylons would go through the trouble of handing out beacons this haphazardly?"

"Not without purpose, Mr Keikeya," the Commander corrected. "Expecting some humans would be missed in the initial strikes on the Colonies, a large number of even randomly distributed transmitters would be very useful in tracking down survivors. And since most adults will almost instinctually preference survival of children over themselves, and children will be likely to cling to non-essential items... It's actually a brilliant method of planting beacons where they'll most likely remain with survivors, and out of suspicion."

"'Brilliant' is not the first word that comes to my mind, Commander," Roslin nearly hissed. She obviously wasn't prepared to utter whatever was her first choice...

"And it means they understand us as a species far better than we do them," Adama nodded grimly.

"All this is still assuming she's not knowingly in on it, that she's not a frakking Cylon herself," Tigh reminded. "We ought to have her in the brig, just in case."

"Which is why we sealed off the area the children are in, and have guards posted," the CAG reminded.

"Doctor," the President turned to the vague-eyed scientist, "It seems we've yet again come back to the imminent need for your detector. Please tell me you've made some progress, so that we can settle the question of this little girl's humanity."

Glancing about at all the expectant faces, the doctor smiled nervously and smoothed his ruffled hair. As usual, he seemed like he was both just back from some mental excursion, and also about to flee the room physically. With an obvious swallow and another uncomfortable grimace, he explained, "I appreciate the urgency of my work; I do. For many reasons. But, I'm sure you all understand the importance of doing it well, of getting it right, given how much is riding on the test results. If I were to rush it, and return a false positive on this little girl…"

"Your concern for the children is admirable, Doctor," the senior Adama cut off his rambling. "But your detector would also be invaluable in exonerating her, and allowing us to move on in our search for the real threats among us. Even if it's not massively scalable, we need something on this particular subject. And soon."

He nodded to his Lieutenant, who slid an envelope down the table toward Baltar. "Here's a sample of her hair that was clipped while questioning her; if you need live samples, Mr Gaeta will coordinate with Mr Baresi to get you access. Either way, I expect a conclusion within 24 hours."

The Commander continued the shift from talk to action, closing his folders, and not making eye contact with—and thus not accidently inviting feedback from—anyone around the table. "While we will go after the batteries, we'll hold the more overt confiscation of the dolls until we can also look for other suspect toys. No need to tip off our suspicion of them until we know more. And, Madame President, pending a decision on the girl's threat level, I would appreciate your staff's expediting the transfer of all the children to a civilian ship." He stood, "We'll all keep one another updated, and reconvene as needed or with Dr Baltar's test results."

With a nod to Roslin, he turned from the table, the meeting ended. But before he exited, he stopped and faced his son, as the others gathered their items. He obviously also wanted everyone to know of the other security effort underway. "Captain, do you have that new pilot?"

"Captain Adama!" the familiar voice echoed up the corridor, breaking his dejected, distracted walk toward the ready room. Lee also knew it well enough to recognize the anger woven into the volume.

Not waiting on the CAG to come to a full stop, to turn around or even to answer his initial question, Baresi launched into his objection. "I understand that there was just a meeting to discuss the outcome of Jina's questioning? Seeing the manner in which Colonel Tigh seemed intent on conducting the interrogation, I really have to protest excluding the Youth Commissioner from a discussion of that youth." He was clearly angry, and working hard to keep his words formal and arguments, logical.

Knowing the protest was just as much from a friend feeling betrayed, Lee matched the official tone and structure to bolster himself against his own friendly guilt. "You'll have to ask the President, as I didn't make the invitations; and the Commander only asked military personnel." The non-civilian emphasis suggested a career change that could have gotten Baresi included.

But the former pilot wasn't biting on that bait. "And you didn't have a spare moment to let me know you all were going into executive session, or to challenge them to wait until I'd gotten a frightened child settled back into the safety of her peers?"

Lee resumed his walk toward the pilots' ready room. "I was doing my job, just like you were doing yours. Just like we both are now…"

Ran jogged up beside him, not willing to let the argument go, but also not keen on sharing it publically, for either of their sakes. "You've been all business and duty since the morning after we got here. Un-Apollo-ly awkward and distant. What gives?"

"A lot's happened," Lee reminded. "And not all good."

"LJ!" Ran barked, grabbing his arm. "What is going on… here," he pointed between the two of them.

Lee scowled at the throwback moniker, "You haven't called me that since we were children." He didn't seem to appreciate the nostalgic name.

"Because you haven't acted like a child since then," Baresi pointed out, hands on hips in what had become an instinctive 'you've been a bad boy' stance. "Is this because I won't fly with you? Because dad's disappointed you haven't been able to catch this fighter jockey prize?"

Lee grabbed Ran by the shirt and pulled him down a hallway, off the beaten path and away from public view and hearing. Pinning him lightly against the bulkhead, he loosed his dilemma on the person whose decision could resolve the most significant, non-life-threatening stressor in his life over the past few days. "Gods know we could use more good pilots, Ran," he confessed angrily. "And yes, after the President's smart, proactive move to draft you into her service unilaterally, my commanding officer has ordered me directly to get you back in the uniform. But, as you've said, I don't know if that's the best place for you, if that's where I want you to be."

The initial shock fading from his friend's newfound physicality, Ran repeated his question to exactly that point. "So where do you want me, Lee?" He stepped up into his friend's face, bravado to bravado, demanding an answer, a commitment. "Everyone else has been clear on their expectations of where I belong, of whom I should be with; but we haven't heard from you, the notoriously opinionated Leland Joseph."

Lee felt eyes beyond his friend's on him, as well as the weight of the military needs, the species' continuance and its smallest members' betterment. And here, his closest friend was sticking him with the same life-changing demand, bringing all the worlds' fates down on him. He needed Ran's support in these tough times, not to have his friend be another source of pressure. Because of all the competing demands, he needed this relationship, and all the comfort it offered, more than ever. "If you really care about me, you'll-" Lee blurted, his rush of urgent crisis fading.

"If I- What?" Ran cut him off, genuinely shocked by his friend's entirely unexpected shift to feelings, not about their previously shared profession, but about Terran himself.

Not how he'd meant that exclamation, Lee realized he'd stumbled into yet another unresolved issue between them—one he was even less clear on or comfortable talking about. But, he'd said it, and perhaps airing it out would bring some clarity to other issues. "Starbuck told me about your crush on me." Lee shuddered, in involuntary reaction to her implications, "You're like a brother…"

"Kara…," Ran seethed and shook his head. "Well, keeping in mind that Starbuck only shares for her own wicked mischief, in this case… she's also right."

Lee gaped openly at him, not at all expecting and certainly not wanting the confirmation he'd just been offered.

Understanding he'd delivered the verbal equivalent of an uppercut, Ran continued, quickly and quietly. "Not that you ever paid me that kind of attention, or that it ever would have come to anything; so… But if you really want to have this out here and now, I really wish you'd talk to me about my feelings—then or now, good or bad, rather than talking about anybody's feelings with Kara… Thrace…"

Baresi noticed how his final four words had broken through Lee's shock, to expose something deeper—fleetingly shown, but far more powerful than his reaction to Ran's admitted boyhood bromance. And his own mouth dropped opened, aghast that Lee really cared what Kara thought because, "Oh gods, you LIKE… Starbuck!"

It was instantly clear that he'd pushed Lee too far by gaining, much less speaking aloud, that amorous insight. The sharp pain at his jaw was his immediate confirmation that he'd not pushed his friend beyond arm's reach.

"Good for you," he laughed quietly, as he slid down the wall, and as the head pilot stormed away. "She's twice the man I am…"

tbc...