Chapter 26 (Borrowed Time)
"Doctor O'Neill, your PA left you a message," the nurse behind the counter said, passing him a piece of paper, "and that lady is waiting to speak to you."
He turned to where the nurse was pointing. He hadn't been expecting this visitor, but he obediently followed her through the front doors of the hospital and into the public square.
"One sent me. Simon O'Neill is being made redundant."
"What are you talking about?"
"Your experiments. You're to immediately cease."
"But I'm so close."
"An Eight is closer. She's pregnant."
"What? How?" An Eight? He couldn't be hearing this correct. Eights didn't have the brains to deserve such a victory.
"An Eight has been captured by the humans. A Two saw her in one of their Battlestar's brigs and an undercover Six has learned from an Admiral in the Fleet she is pregnant. Everyone's assignments have been changed to ensure the safety of the child. The humans can't be trusted not to kill it."
"I should still stay. If the child dies, my work will still be needed. Or I could get to see the Eight. She may need a gynaecologist. My position is the perfect cover." He was whining. He enjoyed his work on Caprica. The female human body was fascinating. Why did God choose to give such power to this imperfect form?
"No, One is adamant. And the Twos, Threes and Sixes agree. Ensure your work is not easily interpreted. Cover your tracks. Then, have an unfortunate accident."
"An accident?"
"Yes, kill Simon O'Neill. I'll see you in your next life," she added without warmth before striding off across the square.
0.0.0
Bill was greeted by a man with a shock of pure white hair and glasses with abnormally thick lenses. He took Bill's hand and shook it eagerly.
"Admiral Adama, nice to meet you. Sorry about the mess. I allowed my assistant to have the last two weeks off. This is the consequence. Cleaning is not one of my strong points. Thank goodness the Ministry of Defence branch that employs me doesn't insist on inspections like in other areas of the military."
Bill let the doctor ramble and lead him through a maze of desks, each seemingly scattered with computers in various stages of being assembled or unassembled – Bill couldn't quite tell which. At the back of the room, Doctor Amarak dragged two stools across to face the only computer that seemed to be intact. He picked up the report that Bill had couriered over the day before. It had been pristine white pages in a plastic cover when it left his office. Now, it was crumpled, folded, and marked with bits and pieces of what Bill thought were probably food items.
The doctor flicked over to the third page and pointed to a section near the top. Bill tried to concentrate on the words printed instead of the obvious coffee ring stain.
"Here. She says she has to gradually remove the program, yes?"
Even though he presumed the 'yes' was a rhetorical question from the doctor, Bill answered. "Yes. Each part in stages. So the whole system doesn't crash."
"Exactly. True. This would be the correct way to remove Doctor Baltar's program. It would be a complex procedure. The time condition you offered Ms Inviere is almost certainly impossible. So, this isn't a lie. She does need more time."
"I see."
"This part," Amarak's stubby finger circled a paragraph lower on the page. "She wants security clearance for other technicians she has employed to assist her. Rubbish."
"What?" When Bill had reviewed Gina Inviere's report after Laura had told him of her visions, the fact she wanted extra assistants hadn't been an area that had raised his suspicions.
"The program can't be removed any faster whether you have one employee or ten. As I said, it's a complex procedure. Bringing in a couple of IT kids from the local call centre isn't going to garner any better results. It will have to be done by one person. Two at the most. Some stages will take overnight to run, so working in tandem wouldn't even work completely. It would be safe to say, Admiral, that you should run the names of her colleagues by Home Security."
"I see."
"Now, of course, I've left the most important factor in her report to last."
Bill obligingly gave the scientist his pause for dramatic effect before asking, "And what would that be, Doctor?"
"She lists the components she has removed. The stages as you put it."
"Yes. She has been working on it for a couple of weeks."
"Yes, so it says in her report. Admiral, whatever you've been paying her for, it hasn't been removing the program. Doctor Baltar's program is still intact. Every component of it is still in the Defence grid."
"Every component?"
"Every component," the doctor confirmed. "Very carefully hidden. One wouldn't notice if one cast a cursory check over the system. Or even a more than cursory really. I had to hunt around for a couple of the threads but I eventually found them. She's only moved them, so to speak. Everything she's claimed she's purged still exists in the main frame."
Bill stared at the man. Maybe his dramatic pause had been worthy, after all.
0.0.0
Four was headed for the hospital exit, wondering at the best death – something as painless and quick as possible – when a receptionist called out his human name.
"Your PA, Doctor," she said, waving the telephone at him.
He contemplated ignoring the call. He'd spent the entire afternoon ensuring all the files at the hospital didn't contain anything incriminating. One had told him that if the day came to cease his work, it would be abrupt. With this in mind, he had always kept the contents of the files at his own surgery office concise and inconsequential. They included patients' personal information and the occasional diagnosis, but little about the actual medical procedures he'd carried out. There was no real need, therefore, to return to that office.
In the end, he decided to accept the offered telephone, so as not to raise anyone's suspicions just yet.
As he listened to his PA, an idea formed in his mind.
"No, Mrs Simpkins, don't call the police," he said smoothly. "Please, tell Mr Anders I'm on my way to the office now and I'd be happy to speak to him."
0.0.0
Tory entered Laura's office and immediately went to lower herself into a visitor's chair.
"Don't bother sitting," Laura ground out. "I'll be brief. By law I have to give you a month's notice or pay the penalty."
"Sorry?" Tory gave her a blank look.
"I'll pay the penalty," Laura went on, as if Tory had not spoken at all. "In fact, you'll find three month's worth of salary in your bank account by the end of the day."
"Madam President, I don't understand."
Laura opened her top drawer, removed a file and threw it towards Tory. Several photographs, showing both Tory and Gaius Baltar in various states of undress, spilled out onto her desk.
"It just happened," Tory said. "I wish you knew how many times I wanted to tell you. Your friendship and your trust means—"
"Frak," Laura interrupted, shocking Tory and herself with her vehemence. "Clearly my friendship and trust mean frak."
"Madam President…Laura…I am so sorry."
Laura flinched at Tory's use of her first name. "I'm sure you are, but if you spent the day on your knees begging, I wouldn't care. You're fired," she said in a bitter tone. "Go back to your desk, pack your personal belongings and leave the building. I've contacted Security. They should be at your cubicle. They'll ensure you don't take anything which isn't yours, or make any phone calls. Give them your Security Pass on the way out."
Tory opened her mouth to speak but Laura interrupted. "That will be all, Tory." She didn't want to hear Tory's explanations or excuses. There was no excuse for such a betrayal.
"You're wrong," Tory said. "I would never do anything to jeopardise your—"
Laura spun her chair around to stare out the window, deliberately turning her back to her once trusted assistant, in an act of dismissal.
0.0.0
Four politely shook Kara Thrace's husband's hand and showed him into his office.
He made a point to dismiss Mrs Simpkins, reassuring her that he would be able to calm Mr Anders even if he did show signs of agitation.
While offering Anders a coffee, he found his key for the bottom drawer of his desk where he secretly kept a gun. The gun's serial number was filed off and there was no record of its purchase. This plan was working out better than he could have anticipated. If he had been hit by a car or such on the way back from the hospital, there could have been quite a few questions asked about the presence of this gun in his office. As it was, everyone would now believe it belonged to Mr Anders.
"Do I know you?" Anders asked.
"Yes, of course you know me, Mr Anders. I'm your wife's doctor," he said.
"No, have we met before? Not at a game or anything? You have a familiar face."
"No, we've never met before." He unlocked the drawer and retrieved the weapon. Then, he stood and pointed it directly at Anders.
"Whoa! What are you doing? I just want to talk about Kara." Four almost laughed at the way Anders held up his hands in defence. What sort of defence would hands be against a bullet? Humans were so stupid.
"I don't want to discuss Kara," he said and fired a shot at the man's head.
Something was obviously wrong with the gun and it jerked in his hand, resulting in a less than clean shot. However, it would suffice. Human bodies were so fragile and Anders would soon bleed to death.
He calmly walked over to where Anders's body was slumped on the ground and placed the gun in the pyramid player's hand.
Sam Anders was going to be so easy to frame. Mrs Simpkins would readily testify to the man's state of mind. Kara Thrace's records had been altered. Her file now showed that Dr Simon O'Neill had carried out an abortion and her husband had never been consulted. Sam Anders would go down in history as a man who was pushed over the edge when told of his wife's duplicity. Four could even get lucky and traces of Stims could turn up in Thrace's husband's bloodstream. Pyramid players were fond of the drug.
He positioned the muzzle of the gun deep into his stomach. Dying was always painful. He wanted it over quickly.
0.0.0
Laura kicked off her shoes as soon as she entered her bedroom suite. She could hear Bill's deep baritone voice resonating from the bathroom; singing some song that was a hit probably twenty years ago.
She walked across to sneak a look around the corner, wondering why she couldn't hear the shower. She soon saw why. He wasn't in the shower. Instead, he was submerged in her bath, surrounded by a liberal amount of bubbles.
She giggled at the sight, making him aware of her presence.
"Hey," he greeted her.
"Bill, what are you doing?"
"What's it look like I'm doing? Waiting for you to join me, of course. One of the best advantages of being the President of the Twelve Colonies: you get a huge tub that fits two."
She snorted and took the liberty to sip from one of the glasses of wine that rested on the shelf above the bath. It was a nicely chilled Virgon chardonnay. She then swirled her finger around the bubbles to check the water temperature. It was invitingly hot.
"Nice timing," she remarked with an arch of her eyebrow.
Bill gave her a guilty look as she removed her jacket and tossed it into the laundry basket.
"Caught me. Security at the front gate called when your car drove in," he admitted.
She hummed and smiled at the way Bill had ingratiated himself to her Security agents. Government agencies were legendary for their mistrust of each other, yet Bill managed to represent the Admiralty and deal with Home Security in a most amiable manner. "I'm not sure I want to hear about any more of my staff being disloyal today," she said with a sigh.
"You'll have to tell me about it later. We're not talking about anything presidential or Fleet-related for the next couple of hours." His voice was rough, like when he was throwing out one of his military orders.
She frowned and shook her head at him questioningly.
"I'm not the Admiral tonight."
She lowered herself to balance on the edge of the bath, taking another sip of wine.
"Oh? Who are you then?" she asked.
"Bill Adama. And you are Laura Roslin. No shop talk."
"What shall we talk about then, Mr Adama?"
He took the glass from her hand and placed it back on the shelf.
"I'm sure we'll think of something, Ms Roslin."
Bill's hand suddenly snaked out and he hauled her into the tub. She yelped in protest until he captured her mouth and distracted her indignity with a warm, full-mouthed kiss.
"Bill, you've ruined my clothes," she spluttered eventually when they broke apart.
"S'okay," he murmured. "You've got more than three outfits, haven't you?"
She hummed in agreement when his lips found hers again.