Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D
Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.
Chapter 25: 'Love and Bullets'
Sonya, wearing a simple, concrete-gray, one-piece deck hand suit, looked up from the box she had seated herself on when she noticed Baltar, wearing a storm-gray robe over his clothes with a hood. "I was wondering if you' actually show up or not."
"God knows why I let you talk me into this. I'm surprised you're sober enough for this mission," he retorted.
She stood. "I haven't had a drink for the last two hours. Come on, the Raptor's waiting."
He sat across from her inside the Raptor as the door closed. "I would like to know how this plan of yours is going to work."
She pulled the diagrams out of a front pocket. "I need you to create a big enough distraction to bring this man," she pointed to a dot in a line of squares that represented the trading booths, "out of his booth there. He has an access key that will lead me exactly where I need to go, but he can't know I'm there."
"What sort of distraction were you envisioning?" he probed, noticing that her outfit had several pockets, some appearing less flat than others.
"I don't know. Try some religious revival thing," she suggested.
"What then?" he inquired.
She folded the plans up and replaced them into her pocket. "I'll get the woman out of there. Most likely, Nigel has her in his office. Once I'm out of the office, you'll take her back to the Raptor while I run the other way."
He scoffed. "That's your plan? You're going to get us both killed."
"Look, I don't have time to fight this. Just go with it. Like I told you before, you're the one who's going to live through this," she remarked, leaning back in her seat.
As the Raptor docked at the Prometheus, Sonya covered her head with a tan cloth. She let him exit the vessel first. "Now go, and be as loud as possible."
"You owe me for this!" he shouted back.
She left the Raptor and hid underneath one of the booth counters, watching him. He took a deep breath, feeling a moment of relief when his inner Six appeared. "Come on, Gaius. Be the prophet. Tell them their gods are false."
He nodded and it began. "Who are you worshipping?" he asked the crowd. Some people turned, others rolled their eyes and looked away. "I ask you, who are you worshipping? Have your gods every really done anything for you? Why do you serve gods that don't answer back? That you feel nothing for? That feel nothing for you? Serve the one true God. Leave your lies and follow the truth."
A few more looked his way. "What makes your beliefs better than ours? How do we know you're not speaking for the Cylons?" a woman carrying sweaters to trade asked.
"I don't serve the Cylons. I serve the one true God, a God of love and compassion. Throw down your statues, your idols, and believe the truth," he called out.
Sonya watched as Arnie left his booth to join the commotion. "How can you expect us to believe you after what you did on New Caprica?"
Baltar looked directly at him. "Because I didn't know the truth then. My life was a mess until I saw the truth."
Leaving her hiding place under the counter, Sonya did not hear what else Baltar had to say as she headed toward Arnie's booth. Once she reached it, she glanced from one side to the other before pulling the curtain back. She headed toward a table in the back of the room. Reaching it, she pressed her hand to the underside of it and found what she sought: the access key to the other decks. Then she left the booth and made her way to a door. She swiped the key and passed through it. Next she crept toward the ladder. Soon she was on the upper deck, heading for Nigel Gorgon's office.
Inside the office, Abigail woke to a chocking sensation. She could hardly breathe through the smoke in the room. Putting her hands out in front of her, she felt carpet. She also realized that her hands were not bound. As she pulled herself to a sitting position to assess her circumstances, she heard the squeak of an office chair behind her.
"Well it's nice to see that you're awake," a young, but slightly hoarse voice told her.
It must be the smoke causing him to sound like that, Abigail reasoned as she turned to face the speaker. However, all she saw was what looked like a shadow sitting in a chair, the dim lighting of the room, coupled with the smoke having obscured the true image. "What do you want with me?"
"I want to know how to get to Earth, of course," he answered.
She stood, trying desperately not to breathe in the smoke, covering her nose and mouth with both hands. "I don't know what you're talking about," she decided to bluff.
"I'm not stupid. Which of the Colonies are you from then, if you're not from Earth?" he probed.
I have a feeling that my answering that probably got me into this mess. "Why should I tell you?"
The man chuckled darkly. "You're brighter than I've been led to believe. But it's for your own benefit if you do. I can let you go if you tell me what I want to know."
Abigail moved covertly toward the door, fingering the latch quietly. "I really don't know what you're talking about."
"That door's locked. You can't get out on your own," he told her, pausing to raise an object that she could barely see. "Now I suggest you start at the beginning. You see, or maybe you don't see, I have a loaded gun. When I want answers, I get them."
Realizing that he was not falling for her first ploy, she decided to try Plan B. "Alright, I'm not from the Colonies. But I don't know the special coordinates. I'm only a linguist. I was brought here by accident."
"Hmm, that's more plausible, but I don't know if I believe that any more than the other story you tried to pass off on me. So here's how we're going to play the game: somebody out there knows the coordinates. I've already sent a transmission for your ransom. If they really want you back, they'll give me what I want," the man explained.
Abigail sighed and sat back down on the floor. We may have a long wait then, she concluded.
Sonya was footsteps away from the door, devising a plan that her boss might buy. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, using the eight-knock code that Arnie had used on her last visit. "Go away. I specifically asked not to be disturbed," Nigel's voice growled.
"It's Sonny Jets," Sonya called back. "I'm here about your guest."
She heard shuffling and then the clicking of the locking mechanism in the door. "Then by all means," his shadowy form mentioned as he opened the door.
Sonya stepped into the office, withholding the urge to cringe at the oca smoke engulfing the room. She watched her boss sit at his desk, and her peripheral vision noticed a woman sitting on the floor. Sonya assumed her usual swagger and approached the desk. "That is what you're ransoming?" Sonya asked, pointing toward Abigail, who glared back.
"Sonny, Sonny, she has potential. Those up top want her. Since you're back, they obviously sent you to negotiate for her. What have you got?" he probed.
Slowly pacing the room as if she had all the time in the universe, she glanced at Abigail and then turned back to him. "The admiral and the president aren't being as cooperative as they could be."
He laughed. "When are they?"
"They just don't understand how we do things down here. I mean, it took hours for them to get you this," she stated, pulling a document out of a different pocket than the one she had used for the escape plan diagrams. She had forged a document guaranteeing legal immunity for those onboard the Prometheus, with a false signature of both the admiral and the president.
Nigel examined the document. "Impressive. And the Cylon? What did they say to that?"
"The Cylon prisoner was the only one of your demands they couldn't meet. You wouldn't want her anyway. She's in a coma," Sonya revealed.
He sat forward in his chair. "I take it that means you have the coordinates to Earth then?"
She turned her head to glance at him over her shoulder, almost flirtatiously. "Would I be one of the best if I didn't?"
"You can't! Don't you know what you're doing? You're handing a whole planet over to him! How can you do this?" Abigail shrieked.
Sonya snorted and turned back to Nigel. "How do you shut her up?"
"Sonny, I can't wait to have you back here again. When should I expect you?" he inquired.
"Hopefully after I bring her back to our esteemed, gullible leaders," Sonya mentioned, resting one hand against his desk.
"Well? Don't leave me in suspense then. Where are the coordinates?" he mused, tracing the bones in her hand.
I really hate it when he does that. "I have them right here. Then I should be going. The sooner I get her back to them, the sooner I can go back to your assignments. They've always been so much more fun. You wouldn't believe what they've had me doing the last few days."
"Of course. Now, the coordinates?" he pursued.
She plunged her hand into yet another of the several pockets on her outfit and removed a folded piece of paper. Shaking it out, she placed it on his desk. "There it is, the key to a new venue for business."
"It is always business with you, Sonny. One of these days, you'll opt for pleasure instead," he responded.
Walking over to Abigail, she grasped the woman's upper arm. "Get up."
Abigail stood stiffly. "I hope you know what you've done, you heartless thief."
Sonya scoffed. "Did you hear that, Nigel? She calls me the thief." He was still laughing as the women left the office. One the door closed, Sonya began dragging Abigail down the hallway. "We have to hurry."
"I can't believe you did that!" the linguist continued to complain.
"There's no time for this. Shut up and work with me. We have to get out of here as quickly as possible," Sonya stated as then climbed down the ladder.
"Why should I bother?" Abigail retorted.
Rolling her eyes, Sonya continued to pull Abigail by the arm. "Because we have less than ten minutes until he realizes that the coordinates I gave him were false."
The linguist could only take an incredulous glance. "You what?"
"They were faked. Everything was faked. Now will you please hurry your ass along?" Sonya pressed.
"Well, I certainly never expected this when I woke up this morning," Abigail mentioned, matching Sonya's pace. As they moved, Sonya noticed a blinking blue light behind a counter that they passed.
Sonya took Abigail by the hand and towed her through the crowd by the trading booths. She spotted Baltar and pulled at his robe from the back. He wheeled around, startled to find her. "I've got a convert for you," Sonya remarked, placing Abigail in front of her. "Take her and go."
"Why can't you?" he questioned as they began moving toward the docking bay.
"Because of them," she stated, pointing to the shop keepers behind her that moved in her direction. "Nigel must have set off the alarm. It's a light in everyone's booths instead of a sound."
"How do you know they're after you right now? Perhaps they're after me for causing a public disturbance," he suggested.
She looked over her shoulder and saw not only the shop keepers then, but also Arnie, followed by a taller person in a form of desert garb that revealed nothing of the person's appearance. "I think that Hades has finally emerged from the underworld. Now run! It's me they want."
Sonya darted off to the left, behind a row of booths. Baltar pulled the hood back over his head and took Abigail's hand. "I think she means her boss. Come on," he instructed as they weaved through the crowd, back toward the Raptor. Every few steps though, he glanced back to see where Sonya had gone. At suddenly hearing shots fired, he quickened his pace.
They reached the Raptor with a curious, violent crowd of spectators following them. Baltar helped Abigail into the vessel first, and then placed his hands on the sides of the door frame to enter himself. Then to Abigail's surprise, he stepped back.
"What are you doing, Gaius? Get back in there," the Six in his head ordered.
He ignored her and only leaned in. "If I'm not back in twenty minutes, just go," he told the pilot."
"What's going on?" Abigail inquired.
"I have to do something," he replied, heading back into the crowd.
The Six in his head tried to block his path. "No! You have a destiny!"
"Oh shut up! I'm taking my fate into my own hands for once," he told her, sauntering right through where she would have been standing.
He looked to where he had last seen Sonya. Careful to blend into one of the hooded groups that wandered through the Prometheus, he followed where he estimated she might have gone. Instinct told him to keep his gaze on the ground. He was not surprised when he spotted her, curled up in between a book booth and a newspaper booth.
Her right hand rested on a crimson stain on the lower right side of her abdomen. "You've been shot," he stated, kneeling down next to her.
Though in pain, her sarcasm was still present. "Ding, ding, ding, give the man a cigar. I knew there was a reason why you're supposed to be a genius." Then she closed her eyes.
He touched her face. "Hey. Stay with me. The people after you have gone off on the other side of the market place." Then he reached for her head covering. "You should lose this. It seems people recognize you with it on. Maybe you'll draw less attention with it off."
"Why did you come back?" she asked as he removed her head covering and held it against the bullet wound.
"I had to do one thing right. Can you walk?" he inquired.
She shook her head. "Not without leaving a trail of blood"
"Hold on then," he remarked, scooping her up into his arms.
She glared at him. "This is beyond awkward."
"Yes, but at least you're not painting the town red single-handed," he mentioned.
The Raptor was in sight when Baltar noticed a group of marines disembarking from another one. Tigh led them and as Baltar neared them, the colonel stated, "Admiral Adama decided to send them anyway."
Sonya pulled herself up to over Baltar's shoulder. "Good thing. They've realized where I've gone and they're heading this way," she informed them, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Go on. Get her to the Raptor and return the other woman. We'll handle it from here," Tigh told him.
Baltar passed by, carrying Sonya, as the marines stopped Arnie before he could run far, grabbing his arms. "You're under arrest," one of them said.
"It's a good thing that the 'Old Man' sent backup," Tigh remarked as the marines fired a few more warning shots. The crowd stepped back and left a man covered from head to toe in what looked like desert robes standing by himself.
"Nice to see who you can trust," the man sneered.
Tigh walked over to him, pointing a gun at his head. "Something tells me you're the other guy that we need to arrest."
What they did not see as they escorted Arnie and the other man to the second Raptor was one of the shop keepers with a narrow gun that could fire from a distance. As Baltar set Sonya in the Raptor, the bullet hit him in the back. He cried out in pain while Abigail screamed in shock, then helped to pull him into the Raptor and close the door. "We need to leave," she told the pilot.
"It looks like one of us is going to die anyway," Baltar gasped.
As he lay sprawled out on the floor, Abigail sat on a seat while Sonya was curled up on the floor near him. She glanced over at the linguist. "I don't know much about these things, but try to slide his robe off. It's probably better if we don't move him any more than he's already been moved."
The other woman nodded, carefully sliding Baltar's robe over his head. Then she pressed it against the wound that was soaking his shirt. "Good idea," he whispered.
Facing him, Sonya shook her head. "You frakkin' idiot. You were supposed to live."
"You… gave up… and let yourself get shot," he accused.
"You shouldn't have come back for me," she retorted.
The sharp pain in his upper back burned into his responses. "At least… at least," he began to say.
She rolled her eyes, even as her right hand found its way on top of his. "If you say 'at least we'll always have New Caprica,' I really will rip out your spine."
Each breath he took felt as though he was climbing a mountain. "I'd like… to see you… try."
"Maybe… mmh," she winced in pain, but continued, "maybe we'll both live through this after all."
"At least I… did something right," he muttered. Sonya then gripped his hand, more for herself than for him, as if the small action could enable her to stay conscious.
Dr. Cottle waited in Galactica's docking bay, the pilot having notified him of the situation. Adama and Roslin were also in attendance. Tigh's Raptor landed first. "Seems we've got two more for the brig. One of them might even be the guy who called in for the ransom" he told his CO.
"Start interrogating them and we'll be by later," Adama responded.
When the other Raptor docked, Cottle stood with a few medics and two stretchers. The medics placed Sonya on one and Baltar on the other. As they were carried out, the admiral and the president approached Abigail, who emerged slowly from the Raptor. Roslin watched her with concern. "You're not hurt, are you?"
Abigail took a deep breath. "No, Madame President. Thankfully I'm fine. I owe those other two people a 'thank you' though."
Roslin and her detail walked Abigail to the guest quarters while Adama headed to the brig. When Roslin was able to catch up with him, she found him standing outside the door. "Bill, what's going on?"
"We've just finished interrogating the first man. His name is Arnie Sykes. He admits to overhearing Getani and Baltar, also to the kidnapping. He seems to be your run-of-the-mill Black Market thug turned businessman. I'm not sure what to do with him though," the admiral told her.
"He can stay in the brig for now. I told you letting the Black Market slide was a bad idea, didn't I? But you and your son had to insist that the illegal trade would be worse without one," the president pointed out.
"At the time Lee and I had a point, but then most decisions look different with the benefit of hindsight," he responded, his gaze drifting from the door back to her.
She crossed her arms in front of her. "And the other man? Is he the one who was holding her for ransom?"
"We were about to interrogate him when you arrived," Adama stated.
"Then why are you standing outside?" Roslin questioned.
Adama put a hand on her shoulder before she could enter the brig. "There's something you need to know first. Do you remember when Athena told you about there being two copies of one of the Final Five?"
Roslin nodded. "Are you saying that the man we've captured is someone we've seen before?"
He sighed heavily, regret present in his eyes. "He's more than someone we've seen before. He's someone you knew very well. Are you sure you want to do this? I can interrogate him myself."
"No, I need to do this. Let's just go in," she responded.
With his hand pressed discreetly on the small of her back, she entered the brig. Her feet froze in place as the man in the cell turned to face her, his head covering having been removed. She recognized the pale skin, brown curly hair, and the eyes. But the face itself wore a hardened expression, with scars around the mouth and an icy stare.
"Billy," she whispered.
The man's brow furrowed. "Nigel Gorgon."
The voice was Billy's but smoking oca had given it a hoarse quality. Roslin took a deep breath and composed herself. Before she could begin the interrogation though, the dog appeared. His presence was a mild relief as she watched him bark ferociously at the prisoner. "Mr. Gorgon, are you the man who held a woman hostage in exchange for information such as the coordinates to Earth?"
"You already know the answer to that. Try one that's new," he threw back.
Her confidence grew slightly as her authority fell back into place. "Are you a Cylon, Mr. Gorgon?"
One of the marines walked over to her. "He's got a data port sticking out of his arm," the man mentioned, gesturing to it.
"How long have you known that you are a Cylon?" Roslin inquired, biting back the nausea that threatened to boil in her stomach.
The face that did not belong to Billy smirked. "Now that is a good question, so I'll answer it. I work on computers, I understand them well. But it became something more when we entered this nebula. I could feel my computer. On a guess, I slashed a vein and stuck a live wire into it. I could access a part of my computer and see it in my head as I was seeing it on the monitor. Then I thought, 'This probably means that I'm a Cylon.'"
"Have you been receiving orders from the other Cylons?" Adama probed.
Nigel laughed, but the sound was harsh. "If they were sending me orders, I wouldn't be here now. All I wanted was a chance for new business that this 'Earth' of yours could offer. Now I think it's time you answered a question for me."
"You've been arrested. You're in no position to negotiate," Adama pointed out.
"Oh, I believe that I am. Madame President, why do you keep looking at me like you've seen a ghost?" Nigel asked.
She crossed her arms. "That's none of your concern."
Tory stepped near her boss. "I think we've done enough for today, ma'am."
Roslin glanced from Tory to Adama, and then to the prisoner before she turned back to her aide. "Let's go then."
The three of them stepped out into the corridor where Roslin braced herself against the wall. Adama rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Laura."
"Bill, I don't think I can do that again," she whispered.
"I was trying to warn you. I should've been more direct," he mentioned.
She put up a hand to wave off his concern. "I may be sick. I'll just find the bathroom, if you don't mind."
"I'll come with you," Adama hastily offered.
"You have things you need to do here. I'll be fine in a while," she reassured him.
Reluctantly he let her go, thankful that at least she had not complained about Tory following her. As Roslin reached the public bathroom, it was blessedly unoccupied. She emptied the contents of her stomach and then splashed cool water on her face from one of the white sinks. Tory noticed that tears mingled with the water from the faucet.
"Madame President, is there anything I can do?" the aide offered.
Roslin glanced toward the paper towel dispenser and Tory handed one to her. "It brought back Billy's death. Seeing that man was like seeing Billy's evil twin. I can't do it. I can't deal with this."
Tory carefully placed an arm around Roslin's shoulders. The older woman allowed Tory to pull her into a hug for a moment. "That's why you have the admiral."
Pulling back, Roslin smiled gratefully at her aide. "Thank you, Tory."
"Any time, Madame President," the other woman responded. "Are you still up for your meeting?"
Roslin nodded. "I want to call Life Station first though and find out how Baltar and Getani are doing."
She placed the call from the admiral's quarters. "Getani is recovering and she'll probably be fine in a few days. She got lucky. The bullet hit her appendix."
"I suppose that's good. I can't believe I'm asking this, but how is Baltar?" the president inquired.
"He's still in surgery. Honestly I don't know if he'll make it or not. The bullet missed his spine, but not his left lung. I'm surprised that he made it to Life Station at all," Cottle explained.
"I'd like to ask Getani a few questions. Perhaps I'll do that tomorrow," Roslin stated before hanging up the phone. She and Tory then resumed their walk toward the boardroom, with one detour.
Abigail had been assigned a marine at all hours, who would be trading off with another every six hours, only leaving when the other marine arrived. After leaving Sonya in Life Station, Roslin had called to check on Abigail before leaving for another meeting the morning after her rescue.
The linguist set one of the cultural books that the admiral had loaned her down on the table as she stood to answer the door. "Madame President," Abigail greeted.
Roslin smiled politely. "It's 'Laura' at the moment. Abigail, I came by to see how you were doing."
"I admit that I'm still a little shaken from all that's happened. Do you know anything about the two people who rescued me?" she inquired, offering Roslin a chair.
"I won't be staying long. I have heard that Miss Getani will recover, but Dr. Baltar is still in surgery," Roslin explained. "If you'd like a cup of tea to calm your nerves, the mess hall has a few varieties that you can call for, or I can find you a few bags."
"Thank you, Laura, but I'm alright for now," Abigail replied. The president then left with Tory, who had been waiting in the hall.
Tory walked Roslin over to the meeting, pausing outside of the door. "Madame President, are you sure you're up to this?" the aide inquired.
"Some things have to be done," the president responded before entering the room.
Zarek and Lee watched her with concern. "Madame President," Lee began, "are you sure this is what you-"
"Gentlemen, I need to do this," she interrupted him.
"But why? Zarek is the vice president, already the successor," Lee pointed out.
Zarek leaned forward. "Mr. Adama, we both know that the admiral is not going to accept my presidency."
Roslin folded her hands on the table in front of her. "Lee, after careful consideration, I have determined that I want you as my successor."
"With me along as vice president, of course," Zarek added.
"But what's so important about figuring this out now?" Lee protested.
Roslin put on her best presidential mask, keeping a stoic tone. "Lee, I have three weeks left to live. Will you accept the proposition or not?"
His eyes widened and he did not mask the sorrow that fell over his face. "Laura, does… does my father know?"
"Yes. I will soon need to make a fleet-wide announcement, which includes naming a successor, before the fleet splits in the next jump," she explained.
The younger man placed a hand over hers, reminding her for a second of his father. He looked directly into the eyes of the woman he could almost call 'mother.' She was asking him to trust her judgment, and carry out a personal request. "Ma'am, I will accept what you suggest. If there's anything I can do, please let me know."
She smiled back warmly. "Thank you, Lee."
Turning her attention back to the files in front of her, she opened the top folder, leafing through it. However, she stopped seeing the words on the page. They changed and began to look more like the binary code of one's and zero's. She looked up and she did not see Zarek or Lee, but instead saw the Final Five sitting around her. Each had a file in front of them. As they opened the files simultaneously, Roslin stood to see what they had. Inside each file was one piece of paper, covered with a sequences of one's and zero's, shaped like a giant puzzle piece. And each piece had a different shape that most likely interlocked with the other four. Then the entire image blurred.
Lee gasped as Roslin suddenly froze and then slumped forward on the desk. He faced Zarek, panic etched into his face. "Call Dr. Cottle, now!"
(A/N: I know I'm going to get flak for making Lee the successor, but if you recall, the Lee in my story is different from the one on the show, so please be kind)
(My thanks to carolann and Ceridwyn2 for reviewing :D)