Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. Margaret Vestry and Colonel Diana 'Artemis' Genoa are mine.
Chapter 12: On the road again
Over the next two months, Adama sent Tigh over to the Cassiopeia to help Diana. She appeared not to need the help, running her CIC almost as smoothly as the admiral had, but when people came to her with reports, she ran them by Tigh. After looking at reports on the status of the livestock, she and Tigh walked over to her office in CIC behind the glass partition.
"I never realized how much trouble takin' care of those things was gonna be in space," she relayed. "They're runnin' amok! They don't do a dang thing you want 'em to do either. It's been one doozy of a mess tryin' to coral those four-legged rugs," she had nicknamed the creatures. The animals resembled something between a goat and a cow, also having white bushy fur coats.
He nodded. "At least it gives jobs to a few more people, and they seem to like the algae."
"It's easier than hay to feed 'em. I suppose it'd work; humans get the real food while livestock lick up the green goop," she paused and exchanged a smile with Tigh. Taking out her hair band for a moment, she sighed and closed her eyes, running a hand through her hair. "I'm plum tired of space already. I don't much care for livin' in a tin can all day, and I miss the sun already. Stars alone ain't good enough," she muttered, placing her hands against a console and leaning forward.
"Ah, it's not so bad. You'll get used to it again," he reassured her, placing a hand on top of hers.
She turned her head to look over at him and smiled again. "I'm glad Bill let you come over for a while. Just hope that your workin' with me won't interferin' with your duties from him. I'd sooner see one of those four-legged rugs loose on the bridge than be your excuse to be late for work."
He chuckled, picturing one of the creatures running around CIC. "Nope, Bill knows what he's doing. And if he doesn't, Laura does. Want some coffee?" he offered.
"Yeah, that'd hit the spot about now," she answered.
He left and returned after a few minutes with two metallic Battlestar standard mugs. She accepted hers and nodded in thanks. He spoke after glancing at the screens in her office. "You never said if you married or not. I'd have figured being down on the planet you might've settled."
She laughed and shook her head. "Someone'd have to be a few gears short to try that one. You really think anybody could stand me long enough for that? Plus I'm forty and nobody's interested when you've passed thirty-five."
"You aren't so bad," he conveyed, laughing with her.
Taking another gulp of coffee, she eyed him incredulously before grinning wryly. "Are you kiddin'? I'm opinionated and I talk to dang much."
Her responses had been quick, he realized, and he wondered what she was not saying. "You're pushy and stubborn too, but that's not always a bad thing. At least you didn't drown yourself in liquor," he added.
She snorted and faced him. "That's because one glass of that moonshine you've got on your ship would've killed me. Stuff'll burn the metal off the hull!"
"Probably," he added, chuckling. They stood close to each other as they finished their coffee. Tigh transferred the cup from his left hand to his right so that he could place an arm around Diana's shoulders. She raised an eyebrow, uncertain if she should hope, but then chuckled softly. He looked toward the viewscreen and wondered how the admiral was fairing on Galactica.
Adama had returned to his quarters that morning for a report on the evacuations. He opened the hatch to find Roslin at the desk organizing her own paperwork for the day. Walking over to the desk, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Have you seen the files on the people from the Cassiopeia?" he inquired.
She smiled and handed him what he was looking for. "Are you working without Saul again?"
"Thanks, this is exactly what I needed. I'll have him back when I'm certain that Diana's fine. She took Falkner's death better than I expected. I'm sure she's capable of managing the ship, but if he's there for her to lean on just in case, then I don't have to worry as much," Adama relayed.
"It sounds as though you've included her as family," Roslin stated.
He flipped through the file. "She might as well be." The two shared amused smiles.
Roslin stood and stretched. "From what I understand, she has perseverance and tenacity. If anyone can survive through difficult situations, it will be Diana."
"You're probably right," the admiral stated with a smile.
She abruptly stopped and put a hand on the desk. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," she commented.
Adama raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked with a hint of concern as he walked over to her.
She smirked and took one of his hands. Then she pressed it to her abdomen and he felt the baby kick. "This. It's the strangest feeling," she remarked. Being about five and a half months along, she was noticing how active the baby had become.
He chuckled and let his other hand drift to her cheek. Then he brushed her cheek with his thumb. She giggled and he realized that there was one thing he had always wanted to do when she did that. Leaning forward he kissed her tenderly. When he pulled back she raised a stunned eyebrow. On the second kiss she met him halfway.
Then she spoke with a smirk. "What was that for?"
Grinning, he kissed her softly again. "Because."
The ringing of the phone interrupted their moment. He reached over and picked it up. "Adama. I'd almost forgotten about that. Thanks Jack, we'll be there shortly." He turned to face her as he hung up. "We've got a doctor's appointment."
She ran a hand through her hair. "I forgot completely. I think he mentioned at the last one that he wanted to do an ultrasound," she stated.
They left and headed for Life Station. Cottle noticed that Roslin was still slightly squeamish about being slightly exposed in front of Adama. "This'll only work if you lift up your shirt a bit," he reminded.
They watched the screen with interest while Cottle moved one end of the ultrasonic device around Roslin's abdomen. She could not help flinching. "Sorry if it's cold," Cottle stated.
She shook her head. "Actually it tickles," she admitted.
Soon an image materialized on the screen. Adama held one of Roslin's hands as they watched the baby move. "Looks like you two are gonna have a healthy baby girl," Cottle told them. "Usually it takes longer for the baby to move so information like that is visible, but I guess this little one didn't want her parents guessing for much longer."
"Oh my," Roslin said quietly.
"She's perfect," Adama said quietly.
Roslin glanced up at him and noticed that his glasses were off. "Yes, she is."
Adama turned to face Roslin and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Cottle watched the two and rolled his eyes. "Most couples at times like this kiss each other," he reminded.
The other two glared at him, but then listened to his suggestion. They kissed soundly and only pulled away when the phone rang. Cottle answered it and then handed the phone to Roslin. "It's Tory."
She nodded and accepted the phone. "Hello Tory, what? No, I think- well I suppose we could. Is it really that necessary to- okay. I'll be there in twenty minutes." Handing the phone back to Cottle, she explained the conversation to Adama. "I've got to meet with the labor committee in half an hour to discuss the job rotations again."
"Want me to tag along?" the admiral asked.
She smiled and shook her head. "It'll be fine."
They went their separate ways, him to CIC and her to the meeting, each mulling over their thoughts quietly. I should've told her. After the past few months, I can't imagine not having her around. She's become so much more than my friend, Adama mused as he stepped into CIC.
Roslin had similar thoughts on her way to the meeting. I'm so glad that he's been here for me to lean on. It's difficult to admit, and it would put is in unfamiliar territory, but I think the truth is that we're more than friends. I cannot imagine my life without him, she thought to herself, entering the room.
The committee was composed of twelve people who liked oddly as though they would like to have been somewhere else. She took a seat at one end of a long table. "Alright ladies and gentlemen, where shall we start?"
Half an hour into the meeting, Roslin had to excuse herself to use the bathroom. The other members seemed to understand and let her go. However, she discovered as she tried to leave the tiny closet-like area later that the door was stuck. "This is just my luck. I don't remember asking the deities for patience today," she said aloud, fiddling with the door handle.
Sighing, she slumped against the wall and tried to think of a plan. Suddenly, she heard the main door in the other room break down and people shouting. Shots were fired and she heard a man's voice say, "Alright, we represent the people you're sending to the wrong jobs and you're our hostages 'til we get what we want."
"And that would be?" someone dared to ask.
Roslin flinched as she heard the man who had asked be struck with something. The other voice answered, "We want public acknowledgment and our labor demands met."
A woman spoke in a shaky voice. "That's what we're negotiating at the moment. You've got a union too."
The woman shrieked as she was struck. Someone picked up a phone and dialed. "Hey Adama, get a reporter down here to the labor committee meeting or the hostages die. What? You can't speak to her because she's not here. Looks like she was late or never bothered to show up, but we'll keep an eye out for her," he stated as he hung up the phone.
Oh, this is bad. Now Bill thinks that I'm missing. I really hope someone gets here soon, Roslin worried. In CIC Adama paced back and forth. "Sir, what'll we do?" Dee asked.
He sighed heavily. "I don't know, but we need to figure out where the president is. If she's not there, she has to be somewhere else," he stated logically.
"The man wants a reporter. Maybe if we send one, he'll let the people go," Dee mentioned.
Adama shook his head. "We don't deal with terrorists. I wish we had a better option."
"Sir, what if we sent someone under cover, someone that they wouldn't know?" Gaeta suggested.
The admiral paced again. "But where are we going to find…" he trailed off, seeing the Cassiopeia on the view screen. "I've got an idea."
After making a quick call, Adama had Tigh and Diana back on Galactica and explained the situation to them. "Sure I can handle it," Diana relayed. "I'll get that son-of-a-gun to let your people go, then I'll pretend to interview 'im."
"I'll hide with the marines for backup," Tigh added.
Shortly Diana, dressed in a grape suite with a notepad in her hand, knocked on the door. There was no sound so she knocked again. After receiving another empty response, she huffed. "Hey, I thought you dang people-hoarders wanted an interview. I don't have all day. If you wanna talk, then open the dang door."
A tall, lean, sneering man opened the door and glowered at her. She was unflappable and merely raised an eyebrow. "Get it," he growled.
She stepped into the room and the door closed behind her. The hostages were seated shoulder to shoulder on the floor, with two looking a bit beaten up. Diana pulled out a chair and watched the man as she sat. "I'm sorry all I have is a pad and paper. My listenin' device broke. Now, who the heck are you and what do you want?" she asked bluntly.
"What kind of reporter are you? Didn't they tell you anything?" another man retorted.
"They expect me to tell them somethin' and not the other way around. Now, are we gonna start, or are you gonna keep askin' me questions, because if you're gonna ask me stuff, maybe you should be the one writin' the story," she remarked.
The leader sighed and glared at her again. "Fine. My name's Herbert Schwartz. I'm a close and personal friend of Xeno Fenner," he began.
Roslin was still hiding in the locked bathroom. Hearing Diana's voice, she felt relief and hope that the problem might be resolved without further injury. Diana began writing, looking up frequently to the sounds of fear from the hostages. Finally she set her pen down and faced the others. "Look, I can't work with these people sittin' here like that. How about you let 'em go and we can continue?" she persuaded.
They grumbled and then let the hostages stand. Diana walked over toward the entryway. "I'll get the door," she offered. After the hostages left, she carefully placed something small in the latch so that the door would not completely lock. She made a production of letting the mechanism click into place and the took her seat.
She wrote down more information and then sighed heavily. "I can't do this with you fellas pointin' guns at me. Makes me uncomfortable. You can see that it's just me and the door's lock, so I would appreciate it if you'd put down your dang guns," she instructed.
Looking at the door and then at each other, they complied. Half a minute later, Tigh and the marines burst into the room and quickly arrested the unarmed me. As they were shackled, a man with sunglasses and a blue suit wandered through the doorway. "That's him," Tigh whispered to Diana.
She walked over to this new addition. "Can I help you, sir?"
"No, I just came to see how these people were being led off. They might need a trial and I wanted to know if any of them would be interested in my services," he stated, studying Diana.
"You an attorney?" she inquired.
"Romo Lampkin," he answered.
Looking at her pad of paper, she flipped back to the first page. "I'm a reporter. My listen' device is busted and I was wonderin' if you had one I could borrow for a day or so."
Though her accent made him curious, he decided that she was serious in her need and unzipped his bag. Then he handed her the small device. "I want it back by tomorrow. Meet me on the hanger deck."
"Sure thing, sir," she replied, not allowing him to see any connection between herself and Tigh.
Soon the only people left in the room were Diana and Tigh. "What do you think happened to the president?" he asked her.
The new commander's eyes darted around the room. "If I were here, I'd be hidin' someplace," she stated.
Hearing this, Roslin decided that it was safe to make her presence known. She pounded her fists against the door. "I'm over here. The door got stuck!" she called out.
They heard her and rushed over. Tigh managed to pull the door open and a grateful president stepped out. "So that's what happened," Diana stated.
"Yes, I got locked in, and then I heard those people break in. Could someone tell me what's been going on? I've only heard pieces of it," Roslin requested.
"Sure, Ma'am, but we'll tell you on the way to CIC so Bill knows you're alright," Tigh commented.
Diana and Tigh filled Roslin in on the action she had missed, finishing at the door to CIC. The president passed through and made her way down into the middle of it. Adama glanced up and smiled in relief as he walked toward her. Pulling her into a warm embrace, he kissed her softly. She returned the kiss and the two held each other for a moment. Then he seemed to remember that they were not alone.
"What happened? Where've you been?" he questioned with concern.
She told him about being stuck in the bathroom and then Diana explained the rest. "It's been a long day," Roslin mentioned.
"From now on, I'm coming with you to meetings," he stated, leaving no room for argument.
"That's fine," she agreed. "I think I'll be content to go back to observing Margaret and Baltar for a while."
Adama and Roslin returned to their quarters after a while. She sat down on the couch, resting her head on the back of it. He headed to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water for them both. "Thank you. It's been a long day," she stated.
He nodded and took a gulp of water. "I'm not quite sure what to do with Fender's friends. Right now we need every able-bodied person to be doing something."
"Maybe if Chief Tyrol has a talk with them, they might be more apt to return to work," she said with a sigh as she leaned on his shoulder.
Placing an arm around her shoulders, he held her for a moment, thanking every deity that he could name that she was safe as he kissed the top of her head. "It was lucky that you got stuck in the bathroom instead of being out there with those people," he mentioned.
She looked into his eyes and seemed to divine his concern. "At first I thought that the deities were testing my patience. I suppose in a roundabout way, my needing to use the bathroom more probably saved my life."
"Stranger things have happened," he added. They sat in comfortable silence for a while before he spoke again. "Now that we know, we should probably come up with some names for the baby," he reminded.
Smiling, she draped one of her hands lightly over her abdomen. "How about 'Aurora?'"
"It's a good name, but I'd like to reserve the names of the deities for call signs. How does 'Louisa' sound?" he suggested.
Roslin shook her head. "I had a rabbit that I named 'Louisa,' and I don't want to think of the rabbit every time I use our daughter's name. 'Beatrice' is a nice name. We would end up having two Adamas with BA initials and we already have two with LA initials."
Adama snorted. "It's creative, but I'm not trying to play letter games with people's names. And technically I'm WA and you're LRA," he paused and she rolled her eyes. "I know I'm making this more difficult, but I just don't like the name 'Beatrice.' I had an aunt named 'Beatrice' and she was hard to get along with. What about 'Marjorie?'"
She adamantly shook her head. "I don't like the name. 'Marjorie' has too many strange nicknames. 'Serena' is a nice name."
He chuckled and shook his head. "Maybe today wasn't the best day for this."
Roslin stiffened as the baby began moving around again. She took one of Adama's hands and placed it so that he could feel the movement too. "I think she agrees with you."
"Most people do. You're the one who likes to disagree with me," he teased her.
"That's because it's so much fun to watch," she joked and they both laughed. Adama took a moment to wonder what his other friends were up to as he decided that it was time to make dinner.
Later Tigh and Diana managed to find time to examine the recording device back in her office. Knowing something about electronics, Tigh disassembled the device after they discovered that just having a tape in it was not the answer. What they found was a switch on the back that changed the frequency of what was played, but a panel had been covering the switch.
"Looks like this might be it here," Diana commented.
They put the tape she had tested it with back in and hit the switch. She heard nothing while Tigh heard it clearly. "This means that Lampkin could be a Cylon. How do we prove it though?" Tigh pointed out.
"I heard from Bill that they're makin' a new Cylon detector. Means we just have to wait until it's finished," she mentioned.
Roslin watched as Margaret and Baltar worked on the Cylon detector. He had been kind to her ever since she returned from her concussion. The president marveled at the odd amiability between the two. Baltar handed Margaret a few things that were too small to see from Roslin's vantage point.
"Thank you," Margaret stated.
"You're welcome," Baltar replied, not facing her.
She glanced over at him. "Something wrong?"
He studied something through a microscope. "I cannot understand why you would work with me. I know you mentioned the Cylon detector, but you don't have to be nice to me."
Pausing in what she was doing as she sat on the stool, she folded her hands in her lap. "What would be the point of working with someone whom I was angry with? If people are polite, then tasks can be accomplished. People who only think of themselves instead of benefiting others indulge in holding grudges and being angry," she told him rationally.
"You never did answer my question of where you stood on the verdict," he reminded. "I need to know because I need to see if it's true that everyone on this whole ship hates me," he relayed.
She noticed the pain in his eyes and gave him a half-smile. "I don't agree with decisions you've made, your allegiances, or how you've conducted yourself from time to time. However, I don't hate you. I feel that you can be reformed. Why is what I think so important to you?" she probed.
"Because you seem like a nice person who doesn't like to hurt other people. And if you don't hate me, then perhaps I've got a reason to stop hating myself. I'm going to tell you something that not many people know. I wanted to die for what happened on New Caprica. I don't know if you can believe that, but I really did. A man I trusted pulled a gun to my head and I asked him to end it. Somehow people have changed their minds and every time that I think things will end, I'm still here," he admitted.
Margaret took a deep breath and touched his shoulder sympathetically. "Which means that you ought to do good with the extra time you've been given. And that means you ought to stop using women."
"I don't use women. They find me!" he protested indignantly.
"That's not entirely true and you know it. I am here to make sure that you don't have problems like that," she explained.
His inner Six spoke to him. "Well Gaius, it looks like you'll have two consciences now. And I think she's serious."
"Am I to believe that you intend to be my conscience?" Baltar probed.
"If necessary," Margaret replied.
He sighed and glanced back at the microscope. "It figures that the only person on this ship whom I want to be friends with only wants to baby-sit me. I need one person, just one person to trust me. Why is that so difficult?"
"Trust is earned. I'll be your friend if you like, but trust has to be earned," she affirmed.
Nodding, he turned back to her and in that moment he saw something. To her surprise he removed her glasses. As she blinked at him, he saw it. "I know you, in more ways than one, actually. We met at a convention on Caprica, didn't we?"
She decided that she could now be more honest with him. "Yes. You and I were more interested in conversation than the lectures because the subject matter was making us bored. Then we went to a bar and had a few drinks."
Comprehension washed over his face and he nodded again. "It was more than a few and we woke up together. I'm sorry, I truly am for that lapse in conduct. I…," he trailed off and she knew that a few other truths had begun to sink in. "Your son, dear god the picture… I didn't see the resemblance until now. Oh god, I'm sorry."
Margaret put her hand up. "You were not the only one at fault, but I accept your apology," she remarked. "Tell me though, was there ever anyone whom you truly loved?"
She had been honest with him, so he decided to be honest with her. "I love the Six in the brig, very much."
"Then ask the admiral to marry the two of you. The Cylon pilot is married," Margaret advised.
Baltar shook his head. "But no one trusts Six. They'll never let her out of the brig," he complained.
"Give things time. They might if she manages to convince the others that she is no longer loyal to the Cylons," Margaret suggested hopefully.
He smiled at her. "So you've gone from parole officer to conscience and then to marriage counselor?" he teased.
She smiled back. "Whatever the need requires."
(My thanks to carolann, Mariel3, Izabella Black, and Kiyani for reviewing :D)