Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel. Margaret Vestry and Commander Diana 'Artemis' Genoa are mine.
Chapter 13: Little things
The Cylon detector was finished two months later. They tested it on the Six in the cell, as well as Roslin, Adama, Margaret, Diana, and Baltar. Only Six was confirmed to be a Cylon. Tigh, Anders, Tory, and Tyrol were to be tested no one else was around in order to keep the secrecy. "I said you weren't a Cylon," Diana told Tigh smugly as they left the lab.
"Means that we need to test that attorney next. Good thing the detector is portable. It looks like one of those antique scanning devices they used to use at cash registers," he commented.
Diana rubbed her chin. "We need somebody willin' to watch him, see where he goes."
"Gotta find him first. Right now we've got other problems. The 'Old Man' is thinking of letting that blonde Cylon go if she can prove herself," Tigh mentioned.
Adama stood in front of the cell and asked the marines to open the door. He walked in and the blonde Cylon quickly stood from where she had been lying on the bed. She eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want to know?" she inquired.
He folded his hands and watched her through his stony reserve, showing nothing. "We're considering letting you go if you can answer a few more questions. It would be a limited freedom, and you would be watched, but you'd be out of the cell," he offered.
"I'll answer what I can. Is Gaius alright?" she asked hesitantly.
The admiral nodded, seeing her interest. "Would you really be willing to serve with humans instead of Cylons?" he probed.
She nodded. "I came here because what my people did was despicable and wrong. I'd rather be on your side, if you'll let me."
He continued. "Do you know of any Cylon spies?"
"There are five models that we haven't even seen. One of these is a spy who will awaken the others to what they are. That's all I know about it," she answered, staring at her hands.
"One more question," he paused so that he was looking directly into her eyes, "I know the answer to this one, so let's see if you do. Why did the Cylons want the president?"
The Cylon's eyes widened, as if surprised that he knew. "We found the lost prophesies, the ones that said she would be healed and that her union with a wizened warrior would produce a child who would show them the way to Earth. You can't let the Cylons find Earth, or they'll destroy it. I want to help you," she conveyed.
He watched her for a long minute and then took a deep breath. She bit her lip pensively and sat back down. That look in his eyes was enough to tell her that he did not trust her. Adama and Roslin had discussed the situation that morning, deciding that the blonde Cylon should be watched extensively. "Six, you're free to go," the admiral finally said.
She smiled slightly and stood. He exited the cell and she followed him slowly. The guards removed the shackles and she faced him again. "Thank you. There's one more thing," she waited and he gave her a nod to proceed. "I don't want to be called 'Six' or 'Caprica' anymore. I want my name to be 'Angela.'"
Adama took her to the lab where Margaret and Baltar were working on a few theories for vitamin supplements. "Dr. Baltar, you have a guest," the admiral announced.
Baltar's head shot up from the microscope and an expression between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry crossed his face. He left the stool he had been sitting on and dashed over to Angela. As if doubting her presence, he hesitantly put a hand out and lightly touched her face. Realizing that she was real, he pulled her into a secure embrace. The blonde Cylon began to tear up.
"I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered into the shoulder of his lab coat.
"I was beginning to wonder the same thing," he admitted. Adama and Margaret started to leave, but Baltar called them back. "Wait. Margaret, I want you to meet Caprica Six-"
"Angela," she interjected. "I'd like to be called 'Angela.'"
He grinned at her and nodded. "'Angela' it is then. Margaret and I have been working together," he explained.
"I'm his parole officer," Margaret added.
"Admiral," Baltar paused, trying to look into the face of the older man without seeming to be nervous. "I want to marry her, if you'll let us."
Margaret had mentioned it to Roslin, who had told Adama about the matter loosely. He looked from Baltar to Angela. "What do you say?"
"Yes. I want to marry Gaius," she replied. The admiral grudgingly married Angela to Baltar four days later and she agreed to help him in the lab with Margaret supervising.
Later that day, Adama had Margaret meet him at his office. "You understand that the president and I don't trust Baltar or Six- I mean Angela. I saying this because I don't think that you should either. I'm just warning you because he's good at manipulating people."
Margaret nodded. "Thank you for your concern, Admiral. I don't trust either one of them. However, I do feel that they can both be useful to the fleet. I intend to keep a very close eye on them," she relayed.
Adama took a deep breath. "You're getting too close to him."
"Sir, he trusts me, and I can keep a better eye on things," she added.
He thought over his words for a moment, still trying to assess the woman who stood before him. "Are you trying to reform them?"
She shifted from one foot to the other. "Yes."
After she had left, Adama sighed heavily and stared down at the files from the lab. He was still milling over the situation when Roslin came home. "Bill, you've got that look again. Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" she probed, walking toward him.
He took her hand and squeezed it. "I think we've got a problem with your friend, the woman watching Baltar," he began.
Roslin faced him with concern. "What's going on?"
"As you know, I let the blonde Cylon go back to Baltar," he paused as she nodded. "I've given the two of them enough rope to see if they hang themselves, and I've got a few of my officers watching them when we're not. But I think your friend is being naïve."
"Why?" Roslin inquired.
Adama folded his hands and sat back in his desk chair. "She honestly thinks that she can reform them. I've seen the tapes and I've read the lab reports from her. Baltar has two modes. He's either the arrogant victor, or the needy victim. He's tricked her into feel sorry for him and I think he's just using her."
Sifting through the reports herself, Roslin nodded. "You're probably right. She has a very forgiving, inclusive nature."
"Since the Cylon detector is finished, should we get her out of the lab and put someone else in there?" Adama suggested.
Roslin shook her head. "I think that, given her increased proximity to them, she could still spy on them. It seems that Baltar has forgotten about the video camera from the conversations he's had with the Cylon and Margaret lately. We'll just have to keep a closer eye on them."
As Margaret walked to the meeting for the education committee, she looked over her shoulder, having the distinct feeling that she was being followed. She shook her head as if to remove the discomfort, but the hair on her skin continued to stand on end, as if someone was watching her. The feeling carried over to the following day when she walked to the lab.
When she entered the lab, Angela was bent over a microscope and Baltar was madly scribbling down equations. "What are the two of you up to?" Margaret asked casually.
Angela glanced up from the microscope. "I'm helping with the vitamin project that you and Gaius started," she replied.
Margaret leaned over Baltar's paper. "What's all that?" she probed.
When he faced her, a hint of nervousness sat in his eyes. "It's just a puzzle. I'm just a little stuck on it," he replied.
She stared at the paper and picked up a pencil, realizing that she was looking at a series of chemical equations. "May I?" she requested. He nodded and she jotted down a few notes, adding to the equations. "Is that the solutions you were looking for?"
He scrutinized the paper and then turned back to her. "That's brilliant. How did you fix the problem?"
"A few of the properties were unbalanced," she answered plainly.
"I knew that. I was just testing you," he stated.
She smirked. "If you say so. I'll finish with the vitamins."
Later in the day, Margaret overheard Baltar muttering to himself while Angela worked on the other side of the lab. "But I need an actual sample."
"A sample of what?" Margaret questioned.
He looked over at her and sputtered a bit before answering. "It was nothing. I… was… just milling over a hypothetical problem," he covered. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. Though she did smile at him, her expression let him know that she was watching him.
With the false sense of security that comes from not having to fight the Cylons for a while, people had begun to take notice of Baltar again. Unlike Angela, who had a marine watching her if she went anywhere other than the lab, Baltar had been left to his own devices. He was mugged over the next week and anyone he passed by glared at him mercilessly. With the stress he had been under, he headed to the hanger for a drink. He had to talk the bar tender out of spitting in his drink first. Angela found him hours later, passed out on the couch. What she learned from him when he woke was enough to worry her.
Margaret came into the lab the next day to see only Angela. "Where is Dr. Baltar?" she inquired.
The taller woman bit her lip pensively for a moment. "He drank too much yesterday and he's getting over it now."
"He should know better," Margaret mentioned.
Angela nodded in agreement and then looked down at the floor. "There's something you need to know."
"Which is?" Margaret prompted.
The other woman sighed heavily, still unable to face Margaret. "Apparently when he was drunk, he let it slip that he had a son. I don't think that he divulged a name, but the two of you may be in danger. If you want to know how I figured it out, I've seen your son and I know who he looks like."
Margaret sank into the stool and ran a hand through her hair. "I should never have confirmed it when he asked me. I don't know what I would do if anything ever happened to my son."
Just then Baltar stumbled into the lab, blinking at the bright lights. "I apologize for being late. I was delayed for health reasons," he managed, attempting to sound professional to mask the indignity of having a hangover.
As Margaret glared at him, all the color drained from his face and he swallowed hard. "You were drunk and you told who knows how many people that you have a son," she began quietly.
"Oh god, I never meant to. Damned moonshine, stronger than what I can usually get my hands on. I'm so sorry. I know, I'm always apologizing to you but-"
"As difficult as it is at this moment, I'm sticking to my policy of leaving the less productive opinions at the door. Just know that if anything happens to my son, it will be your fault," she paused and watched her quiet words take affect.
The three worked silently in the lab and were all mortified when a balding man in his fifties came barging through the door with a loud clamor in the afternoon. Baltar pushed Angela out of sight. Margaret jumped off the stool and eyed the man with scrutiny. "Excuse me, but what's the meaning of this?"
Unfortunately the marine watching the screen from the other room had stepped out for a while, becoming board from watching them work in silence for most of the day. The man that burst in through the door held a handgun. "Lady, this is between him and me. Finally tracked you down, Baltar. I don't care what the verdict was. You're gonna pay for New Caprica."
Margaret looked around frantically for the phone. Upon seeing it, she dashed over to it and tried to call security. She managed to reach them when the man aimed his handgun at her and fired a single shot. The bullet hit her shoulder and passed straight through. The pain that vibrated through her body caused her to drop to her knees. Baltar rushed over to her and tried to hold a handful of gauze to her shoulder.
The man had to reload before he could fire again. Baltar turned his head from Margaret to the other man. "You bloody moron! She was innocent! Your problem is with me, not her."
While the man's attention had been diverted, it gave Angela the opportunity to sneak up behind him and push him to the ground. The marines appeared in the doorway of the lab a moment later, having overheard parts of what had transpired because Margaret had not hung up the phone.
"He came to attack me and shot her. She needs to get to Life Station immediately," he stated.
Though the marines wondered who attacked whom, the first priority was to take Margaret to Life Station. The admiral was alerted and to sort out the entire mess, everyone convened in Life Station. Adama looked directly at Baltar in a reserved, but irritated stare. "I want to know what the hell happened."
"Admiral Adama, that man," Baltar paused and pointed to the man who fired the shot, "burst into the lab to take revenge on me. Dr. Vestry was calling for the marines, but he shot her in the shoulder."
After confirmation from Angela, as well as a marine who had gone back to look at the security tape, Adama had the marines take the man with the handgun to the brig. Roslin arrived later to speak to Cottle about Margaret's condition. "She'll live, and she'll be sore for a while, but she'll heal. Bullet went clean through so it could've been a lot worse."
"Thank you," Roslin told him before facing Adama. "It looks like we'll be looking after her son again for a while, if that's alright with you."
"Of course," he stated.
"As for her work in the lab, I was wrong. I thought her proximity would be an asset. It seems that it's done nothing aside from causing her trouble," Roslin remarked. Margaret was taken out of the lab as soon as she could exit Life Station, and returned to her duties with the Picon delegates. A marine was in charge of watching Baltar and Angela in the lab.
Almost a month had passed since the blonde Cylon had left the cell and the fleet had finally reached the nebula in which they were to find the next clue. "I don't see anything out there," Tigh told Roslin and Adama as they stared into the orange cloud.
The admiral sighed and checked the console. "He's got a point. There isn't even a planet out there this time."
Roslin drummed her fingers on the table. "There's got to be something here." Watching the viewscreen for a while, her eyes widened and she pointed. "It's right there! Don't you see it? It looks like a small blinking red light."
Adama starred at the screen and then saw it too. He zeroed the viewscreen on it and they saw an old probe with a blinking red light. Having decided to bring it onboard, they decided to inspect it in a cargo bay, keeping anyone they suspected of being Cylons away from it. Baltar inspected it with Adama and Roslin watching. They determined that the light began blinking when the fleet passed within a certain proximity to it.
The probe held a single scroll preserved in a small capsule inside it. When it was unrolled, the scroll had writing and a picture of a spiral, along with more constellations. The president took the paper to study it before she and the admiral would meet with the Quorum to tell them about the probe.
Adama returned from CIC to find her analyzing the text on the scroll. "Find anything interesting?"
She glanced up at him before turning back to the scroll. "You need to hear this: 'They shall reach the loss tribe, but the demons will follow. One demon will be the sacrifice to free them, and that demon will destroy only the unworthy. She will take upon herself a wasting disease and spread it. Few demons will remain, but those left have been deemed worthy and will not fall ill.' I think this means that the Cylons are still following us."
He rubbed his chin with his index finger. "We've been unusually lucky lately. You could be right. Why can't things ever be simple?"
Standing, she walked over to him and smiled before kissing him warmly. "Because life isn't simple," she responded.
After the meeting with the Quorum, she eased herself onto the couch. "I think they're making meetings longer just to see how long I can actually stand," she remarked, slipping her feet from her flats.
Adama sat down next to her and yawned. "I don't think it's you they're trying to test. I really could've used a cup of coffee. The 'no food or drinks' policy they have can take a trip out an airlock. Someone's trying to see how much it'll take before the admiral dozes off," he commented with a chuckle.
Giggling, she shook her head. "At least you don't look like a beached whale."
Rubbing his chin with his index finger, he studied her and then shook his head. "You waddle like a duck, but you don't look like a beached whale."
"I feel much better now," she added sarcastically as she began to squirm out of her jacket.
He reached back by the collar and slowly slid it past her arms, setting it on the other side of the couch. Then he looked back at her and smiled warmly. "You want to know what I think?" he paused and cupped her cheek with his right hand. "I think you're beautiful."
Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes began to tear up. I am not getting emotional. I cannot believe these hormones. Oh who am I kidding? It's probably not the hormones, she thought to herself. "Bill, I can barely fit through the door."
"So?" he responded, tracing small circles in her cheek with his thumb. The contact began having an affect on her. Everything felt warmer and she wanted nothing more than to be closer to him. His left hand drifted to her abdomen and rested on top. She took his hand and moved it so that he could feel the baby kick.
Sliding his left hand along her waist to her back, he leaned toward her and kissed her gently. He had only intended to help her feel better, but desires that both had tried to ignore surfaced. They pulled back enough to lock gazes, each realizing the other's longing for something more. Then they kissed passionately. He pulled her as close as he could and deepened the kiss. She moaned and grabbed onto his uniform as she responded.
Then regretfully she pulled back. "We can't do this, not yet," she whispered, resting her forehead against his. "I'm eight months pregnant and this isn't a good idea."
He lightly brushed her lips with his, still holding her closely. "In that case, we'll just have to be patient."
Since the cot was the same height as the bed, they had decided to line up the two so that it became a makeshift double bed. Roslin had another dream and sat up in the middle of the night, looking for the light switch. She flicked it on and Adama groaned at the brightness. "What's wrong?"
She did not answer until he was also sitting up, noticing how alert she was. "I know where Earth is."
(A/N: I know this chapter had a great deal of Baltar stuff in it, but parts will be important later)
(My thanks to carolann and Kiyani for reviewing :D)