Encounter At Dawn
Part 25: The Ties That Bind

"I would like to thank you again for agreeing to this tour." Thor looked around the Galactica's CIC, ignoring the way some of the crew were looking at him, "You have a most remarkable ship: I doubt that my people would be able to build something that could withstand so much without relying on our most advanced technology."

"Why thank you, Commander." Adama nodded, "Having observed just a little of what your own ship is capable of, I take that as a compliment."

"Feel free to." The Asgardian leader nodded, deciding to let the slip over his rank slide.

"There was something I wanted to ask you." Adama led the way out of the CIC and along one of the main passageways, "I was hoping that you could give me some insight into the Tau'ri, in particular the way that they seem to be more open to the Cylons, considering all that has happened."

"A very complex question, with an equally complex answer." Thor thought about it for a moment, "There is a saying on Earth, a quote from one of their political leaders, that General O'Neill explained to me once: one death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic. While I believe that it is not entirely true, and that the people of the Tau'ri do feel for your loss, they find it hard to comprehend it due to the numbers involved. What happened to Dr McKay is easier for them to relate to, especially for General O'Neill; he has been in a similar situation several times. With McKay, someone they know, they can see the changes in him since he returned to Atlantis, where as they did not know any of the people you lost on your home worlds."

"I was afraid that it was something like that." Adama nodded, "It's going to take us a long time to atone for that."

"Give them time." Thor reassured his guide, "If there is one virtue the Tau'ri have that has impressed my people the most, it is their ability to forgive an honest mistake. Give them enough time, and they will come to understand your position. Maybe not all of them, but most."

"Thank you for helping with this." Cottle spoke with the remains of a cigarette hanging from one corner of his mouth, "Our medical staff is stretched as it is. Almost 2,000 extra refuges to look after, many in bad shape after years in Cylon hands..." He shook his head as he opened the last hatch leading into the landing bay, "It's just too much."

"I'm glad I could help." Becket nodded, carrying a full medical kit in each arm, his laptop hanging over his shoulder in a satchel, "This have been a little tense down on Atlantis; I need some time to get my head straight."

Dogsville had expanded exponentially since the last time Becket had been there, but thankfully a lot more care had been taken in the construction of the newer dwellings. He saw standard SGC issue tents dotted amid the more unconventional shelters, but there were also walled off shower and toilet units spaced around the cavernous bay. A number of medics in Atlantis expedition uniforms could already be seen moving around from the vantage of the upper walkway,

"Most of the people the Cylon's handed over came from their farms." Cottle explained as he led the way down a flight of stairs to the lower deck, "The worst off are spread out across almost every medical bay and infirmary in the fleet: some will probably never recover, so we just make them as comfortable as we can. The others, as well as a few hundred who appear to have been captured resistance fighters or slave labour, are mainly here or over on the Astral Queen; she's the only other ship with room for them."

"I take it that you've taken steps to stop the spread of any infections?"

"We're doing the best we can, but we're short staffed in just about every department: if I ask the Admiral for more hands here, they have to be taken from elsewhere."

"I'm afraid that we're not going to be able to offer much help there: the only way to get more medical staff from Earth is by ship, and we don't have that many that can make the trip in anything approaching a reasonable time frame."

"Then I guess we'll just have to make do with what we have." Cottle held open the flap of one of the larger tents, "This is where we're keeping our most critical patients that don't need the support equipment in infirmary." He walked over to where a a man of about sixty sat on the edge of a cot, a young girl of about two and a half curled up asleep at his side, "How you feeling today, Mr Franklin?"

"Same as ever." The man responded with a gruff yet surprisingly soft voice, "No one will tell me anything, but I know the news ain't good: cancer is cancer is cancer, no mater where it is. I'm just worried that there's not going to be able to look after my granddaughter here when I'm gone." he petted the little girls head softly, brushing a few stray golden hairs away from her face.

"Mr Franklin's daughter died in childbirth about six months after the attack." Cottle explained to Becket, "He had a cabin high in the mountains, a days drive outside Caprica city, and was shielded from the worst of the radiation. We've found no signs of illness in his granddaughter, but..."

"I have Pancreatic cancer; got diagnosed about a year before the war." Franklin shrugged, "I come through two Cylon wars without a scratch, and my own body decides to turn against me." he laughed, "That just so fracking ironic."

"Do you have any other family?" Becket asked.

"Just little Gianne here." Franklin nodded at the still sleeping child, "Named her after her mouth; it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. No, my wife and I only had one child, and I never even met the son-of-a-bitch that got my daughter pregnant that ran out on here. That said, if he hadn't taken off like he did, my Gianne would never have left Caprica City to spend some time with her old man. We never really spoke about her ex: all I know is that his name was Lee something, and that he was a Captain in the Colonial Fleet Reserves."

"Oh, he's good." O'Neill paced back and forth, forcing everyone else to periodically move their feet to avoid gotten them stepped on.

Weir's office was packed to the point of standing room only: the expedition leader herself was sat behind her desk, while Woolsey and Caldwell had taken the other two chairs. Cater, Jackson and McKay were sat on the small sofa with Ronon and Teyla perched on either end. Zelenka, Hermiod and Major Lorne were standing backed up against the window over looking the Stargate, giving the frustrated General as much room as possible.

"He's very good." Weir agreed, "But that's not the point: what can we give them that we haven't already?"

"Not the Pegasus!" O'Neill shock his head, "I know that they'd like her back, but we've already started refitting her. Hell, we'll probably we tinkering with her right up until the shooting starts, but we've invested too much in her to just hand her over at the drop of a hat."

"I think they know that." Jackson took a notebook out of his pocket and flicked through a few pages, "I've spent the past few days talking to President Roslin and some of her advisers: aside from some frankly rather disturbing discussions about their religion and how they react to our view of these 'Lords of Kobol', their main area of interest appears to be about the new home world you personally promised that we'd find them. That if we give them some hard facts about the sort of worlds we're talking about, then they might be more willing to look at the Big Picture."

"You think that there might be trouble further along the line where their religion is concerned" Caldwell asked, "Some of them have already tried to set of a nuke in the city..."

"They're a deeply spiritual people." Teyla interrupted, "And I can understand their unease: my own people found it hard to adjust to the idea that the Ancestors we were thought to pray to were a lot like us on so many levels. Even now, there are some among the Athosians who cling to the old ways: such beliefs can be extremely hard to let go off. I still perform many of the old rituals, but mainly because they are a part of my peoples cultural identity, and we do not wish to be assimilated by the myriad cultures of Earth."

"So all we have to respect their traditions and culture, while helping them to come to terms with just how big and bad the universe really is outside of their own little star system?" O'Neill asked sarcastically, "Well why didn't you say so: we're so good at that sort of thing back home..."

"Never the less, we show that that we were serious about finding them a new home, they may hand over the other Zed-PM." Weir nodded, "I'll contact the SGC: have them put together a list of likely planets for both the Colonials and the Cylons to settle on."

Helo was reading an e-book on Earth history when the intercom on the table next to his chair chimed. Putting his book down, he pressed the receive button, "Yes?"

"Captain Agathon, we have a incoming call for you from the Galactica." The com-tech reported.

"Put it through." Helo sat up, wondering who could be contacting him so late at night.

"Captain." Adama's commanding voice came over loud and clear, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"No sir: I was just catching up on my reading while Sharon is helping the medical staff here build up a database on Cylon physiology."

"I was hoping to talk to the both of you at the same time, as I need to keep this conversation confidential for reasons that will soon become clear."

"I'm listening, sir."

"Having spoken to the President, we have agreed to assign a permanent liaison officer to Atlantis, assuming that Dr Weir and General O'Neill are willing. There is no need to tell you just how important such a posting is, and how much of a responsibility it will be to whomever we chose."

"I understand, sir. Do you want me to help orientate the liaison officer before returning to the Galactica?"

"Not exactly." There was a moment of silence, "I'm assigning you to be our peoples permanent representative to the Atlantis Expedition. Understandably, such a post will require a staff, say one Junior Grade Lieutenant?"

"Sharon?"

"If you wish: you'll have to work with whomever you choice, and given the distances involved and difficulties in getting a replacement set from wherever we end up, they will have to be someone you can get along with."

"I don't know how to thank you, sir. I'm surprised that the President agreed..."

"The President agreed that any liaison to Atlantis would have to be an officer of the fleet, at least at first, and as such the choice was mine to make. You've proven that you can handle yourself and adapt to a changing environment. I have full confidence in your ability to carry out your new assignment."

"Thank you, Sir; we won't let you down."

"I'm sure you won't. Adama out."

To Be Continued...

Have started a new, full-time job, which cuts into my available writing time (so many hobbies, so little time), so further updates will take longer to appear
.The good news is that I get my Saturday afternoons and all day Sunday free, so I should be able to get at least some writing done then.

Till then,
Jeff