Part 34

Battlestar Olympus
CIC

+26:34:12

(Richards)

I was beyond tired and beyond frustrated, fast approaching both nervous collapse and outright cynicism.

None of the search parties had found the missing COMCAW or Caprican Delegate. Roslin and Adama's reassurances aside, it had taken some effort not to panic on my part and order the ship go to General Quarters. Oh, I had no doubt Ted would have followed the order to do so if it came to that; I equally had no doubt he'd immediately have me sedated and escorted to the deepest, darkest cell in the brig immediately afterwards.

The fact Roslin herself would be coming aboard within the next hour or two, plus Irene and gods-knew-who-else a few hours after that, gave the poor man enough to work over for the time being. My having a breakdown at the frantic pace everything was developing through was something he didn't need and wouldn't appreciate. Things had been tense enough since I had been seconded to the Secretariat, I suspect mainly because he had seen it as me abandoning him to deal with Starbuck's tender mercies all on his own.

I, therefore, swallowed my numerous anxieties and busied myself with, well, nothing of real consequence. Mainly I stayed in CIC and pestered the CommBoard; a couple ofcalls to Conference Blue, being reassured by Shan the three girls were getting along, another to MedDeck getting reassurances from Doctor Creo that he was on top of all possible health issues, and a final one to Callisto on the Landing Deck confirming the EU crews were behaving themselves.

This all done, I stood there for a time studying the AEGIS and contemplating my navel. The temptation to call Galactica and give Adama what for again was there. Fortunately, I was calm enough by that point to see it wouldn't serve any practical purpose, never mind likely cause more complications once Irene took over. Even the entertainment value of such an exchange was minimal at best; Kara had gone into the personality and habits of 'the Old Man' in exacting detail over the last year. Such detail, in fact, that there were those on staff who had suggested she was actually Adama's bastard daughter as opposed to just a talented stick-jockey. Family was, understandably, a very sore subject for her, and our Principles Committee had made considerable effort to keep her from hearing so much as a whisper of such rumors.

However, Nellis was a long ways away at that moment, and I was fast running out of ways to keep myself from feeling useless. I tended to get hyperactive when that happened, which most definitely was not a good state for the Secretary of State to be in under the circumstances. I considered sending out a general address plain out ordering Kara to report in, but I had no desire to add to my collection of carefully broken bones. It would hardly be dignified to meet either Roslin or Irene on the flight deck with a cast on my arm, or leg, or neck, or with my jaw wired shut.

Doubtless, both Irene and Roslin would understand and maybe even get a chuckle out of it. But my career in comedy was done with, or at least on extended hiatus.

Besides, anyone who knew Kara Thrace and did not have a healthy fear of her short temper was a complete fool. I could safely say I had learned my lesson there, even it was after nearly a year of first-hand experience.

Seventeen Months Ago…

Nellis Air Base, Nevada
Base Infirmary
Exam Room Two

The resident finished tightening the straps on the pre-molded cast he had affixed to my newly fractured forearm. Thankfully, my fingers and range of motion were not impaired by the injury, which I was told was a clean break and would heal up within a few weeks. He made a couple final notations on the chart in his hand and informed me I could leave, something he himself did rather quickly.

Ted chose that moment to walk in, smiling that damned smile of his with his perfectly straight teeth. I had known Theodore Rice a very long time, even before I had been shanghaied out to this godsforsaken desert. That smile never meant trouble, only impending mockery that would leave my ears stinging.

He opened with, "What'd you do this time?"

"Nothing," I protested.

"Right. Like the last four times she landed you here?"

I answered this with a glare that wouldn't have intimidated a hypochondriac field mouse. "We're going to need to modify her wardrobe," I groused.

"Yeah, that's what I figured," Ted sighed. "You called her 'fat', didn't you?" I declined to answer, verbally anyway. "Damn, Ben. You were married for what, eight years? Didn't you learn there are things you just don't tell a pregnant woman?"

Were it anyone else bringing my wife into a conversation, regardless of context, I would have commenced breaking some bones myself. Ted however had earned a lifetime pass there and wasn't shy about using it, the shit.

"I didn't say she was getting fat."

"No?"

"No." I paused, swallowed, and added, "I just said she was starting to show…a little."

Rice didn't sound convinced. "That's it?"

"Yeah. Well, she was trying up her pants at the time…"

"And she asked the obvious question," the Admiral finished for me. "Ouch."

"Yeah, 'ouch'." I stared at the cast for a moment. "At least she offered to drive me here this time."

"'This time' being the operative words, right? You're lucky she didn't kick your hovering ass out a window." Ted sighed in his long-suffering manner. "Where is she now?"

"Probably down the hall," I shrugged. "Major Dunross wanted to check her over while we're here." Ted snorted and left the room, doubtless to make a nuisance of himself to the Flight Surgeon and our recent arrival. There was a running pool for which of them would deck him first; my money was always on Thrace, although to date she'd shown remarkable restraint. With Ted at least; the rest of us didn't fare quite as well.

Left to myself, I simply stared at my injured arm. "Another one for the collection," I muttered disgustedly, wondering if Ted didn't have point for once.

Present Day

Diverting as it was, thinking about Thrace wasn't helping my disposition any. If anything, it began working my last nerve, as if I had any nerves left to work.

Perversely, this reminded me of something I'd been meaning to attend to. "Comms," I called out, turning away from the AEGIS board for the first time in hours.

"Sir?" the Specialist sitting that station responded.

I leaned down and lowered my voice. "I need a secure line to Nellis Air Base back on Earth. Is that possible from our current position?"

"One moment, Sir," the Specialist said equally quietly; my little ploy of gravitas apparently working. He typed into his console for several seconds before shaking his head. "No. Sorry, Mr. Secretary, but we're too far off the relay network to get a signal through." He was referring to a complex net of satellites and remote relay stations shared between the UN, TDF, EU, and China for off-planet communication. It really only stretched between Earth to the fringes of the 'Belt and wasn't the most reliable of mediums, never mind you could never be entirely sure who was listening in.

There was the open agreement by all sides that while everyone might be eavesdropping on everyone else, no one would ever attempt to jam or block any transmission lest a cry for help was missed. Space was as unforgiving as the ocean, so it wasn't surprising the traditions of the latter ruled out here. Everyone also stayed within a fixed frequency range, which apparently was the only reason Olympus originally found the Colonials.

"How about a simple text line?"

The Specialist nodded. "We can manage, Sir." Text transmission took less power and was infinitely more incongruous. I preferred it here because I knew anyone listening would start tying themselves up in knots trying to break the (non-existent) cipher. There was a part of me that just couldn't resist messing with my usually faceless opponents, who figured every little message from my office had some deeper meaning.

"I'll need a specific recipient, Sir."

"Ah, right. Send it to Erica Tate." I rattled off her comms code as I patted down my jacket pockets. Finding the notepad and pen I always kept on hand, I jotted out a message so simple Erica couldn't possibly misunderstand the question:

Any mention of a "Harbinger of Apocalypse" in Pythia? - Signed, Ben.

"Transmit this," I ordered, handing the Specialist the paper.

"Highest priority, Mr. Secretary?"

"No need," I shook my head. "Send it 'Median' when you have a chance. Priority to maintaining clear lines with Galactica and her fleet."

"Aye, Sir." The Specialist carefully folded the paper into his breast pocket, and then resumed his rapid-fire typing.

Figuring I'd done enough pestering in CIC, I made my way off the deck with no particular destination in mind. Well, I did have a general idea where I might still do some good before I finally keeled over.

Conference Delta

I didn't manage one step into the room before Rice intercepted me. "Mr. Secretary!" he all but cried out in a too-jovial-by-half manner. "I was just about to call you."

"I'm sure." Further comment was rendered moot as Rice gripped my arm and all but pulled me back into the corridor.

"Don't even fucking think about it," the Admiral hissed. My glare hadn't improved over the years, but it was enough to get him to cease dragging me further.

"Move the hand, Admiral," I murmured. Rice did so, but with clear reluctance. "I'm not here to..."

He cut me off again. "You are not needed here at all, Mr. Secretary. Major Agathon and Commodore Avery-Hunter have operations well in hand." He took another step closer, dropping his voice further still. "And the last goddamned we need is you driving everyone crazier than we already are!"

"Funny," I smirked.

"Do I look like I'm laughing, Ben?" He looked around the corridor, clearly hoping our confab was quiet to the point of inaudible. "How long has it been since you actually got some sleep?"

"Damned if I remember," I stated honestly after a few beats. It had been quite awhile at least, given I'd spent literally days in conference with Chinese ministers before getting 'the call'. Add to that the grinding anxiety over Kara being off-planet and my constant misgivings over being in the UN Secretariat these days? I had no idea how I was still upright any longer.

"Do I have to have you escorted to your cabin or have Creo sedate you?"

I actually chuckled at the thought, knowing Ted was dead serious about both options. "Either might be a good idea right now."

"I don't want it to come to that, especially with the Secretary General en route..."

"Never mind Roslin flying over in a couple hours," I broke in.

Rice was momentarily stunned. "You're kidding me."

"I wish."

"You didn't suggest this?"

"You wish. But no, it'sall her idea." I sighed and rubbed my already-chaffed neck. "Probably wants to show she trusts us..."

"When?"

I glanced at my watch, noting it was still set on Berlin time. "We talked about an hour ago and she was talking a three hour window. She will contact us before she heads out."

"Think she'll bring Adama with her?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Great." Ted looked back to the doorway of Con-Delta. "Agathon in the know...?"

"You tell me. You've seen him more than me."

Ted spent a few moments studying his boots. "Thrace surfaced yet?"

"Not that I've heard."

"This is getting crazy, isn't it?" I chuckled again, somewhat relieved I wasn't the only one who was feeling overwhelmed here.

"I don't know anymore, Admiral. I'm seeing double right now."

Ted joined me in another chuckle. "In that case will you please get some sleep? I'll make it an order if I have to."

I shook my head. "No need. I'm off. Just promise you'll alert me if..."

It was Rice's turn to shake his head. "Uh-uh. Only reason I'll call is if we have a real Case ZULU show up." I would have objected if Ted hadn't pressed on immediately. "We need you as clear headed as we can get, Ben. That means you'll have to leave things to the rest of us for a bit, okay? Okay?"

"Okay, fine." Truth be told, I was no longer in any condition to argue the point. "You're in charge until Irene shows up. Satisfied?"

"Not until I hear you're out cold and out of my, our goddamned hair."

Theodore Rice was many things; vulgar wasn't among them. "Geez. Maybe you need a nap." Rice gave me the sort of look we usually reserved for Kara when she wanted to push the envelope flying the latest Viper prototype.

I threw up both hands and said, "I'm going, I'm going. Don't overdo it, okay?"

"Frak you," the Admiral quietly sneered.

"No thanks, I'm happily married." This drew another chuckle from both of us as I walked off, intent on getting to the cabin I'd been assigned on Deck B. It proved a bit more of an effort than I had originally thought, my steps getting a little unsteady and my hands starting to shake slightly. Somehow I managed it.

Unfortunately, that is when things began to get more complicated for us all.

Deck B, Portside Corridor

I nearly walked past the intersection that I would recall later would have led to Thrace's cabin without a second look. It was at the moment I half-stumbled past that particular junction that I heard a door slam shut with unusual force. Looking over but not expecting anything more than an anonymous crewmember hurrying the opposite direction from me.

Seeing a disheveled Colonel Kara Thrace left me frozen in mid-stride for several seconds. Watching her march to the nearby wall-phone didn't help me any. It wasn't until she actually picked up the phone and dialed in what must have been the shipwide line that my paralysis broke as she said, "Pass the word..." She realized I was marching towards her and immediately added, "Cancel."

I counted to ten, twice, before I trusted my voice. "Where the hell have you been?" I demanded quietly, not willing to draw more attention to us than could be helped. She appeared out of breath, was missing her beret, and was trembling slightly from…something. It could have been excitement or anxiety.

"Catching up with Lee," she explained breathlessly. "Listen, I need you back me upon something."

Giving her a quick once-over and asked with remarkable calm "What happened to your uniform?" She looked down, as if noticing the missing buttons or small tears along her sleeves for the first time.

"Huh? Oh, uh, that's nothing..."

I stared at her, not trusting my voice and my temples pounding.

"Look," she went on. "I need you to back me up on a request to the Admiral."

"What? Adama?"

She shook her head sharply. "No, Rice."

"Ask him yourself." The last thing I needed was to get into something harebrained between her and Ted.

"No, no. This will influence negotiations with the Quorum. Well, maybe it will. I don't know."

I sighed heavily, knowing this was going to make my headache worse. "What is it?" I asked, eyes directed towards the ceiling.

"I need long-term guest quarters to be assigned aboard Olympus for someone."

Sounded reasonable enough. "For who?"

"Lee and the girls."

I moaned and bowed my head as spots started dancing before my eyes. I ineffectually tried rubbing them in hopes of clearing my vision.

"Ben, I'm not trying to make things difficult here…"

"Since when?" I groaned in existential pain.

"Look, Lee's already telling the President he's moving over, so..."

"Wha...? Whose brilliant idea was it?"

"His. He's already here and since I can't leave Olympus, it makes sense for him to be close by, right?"

I looked at her, now noticing the light bruising around her neck, her swollen lips and even-messier-than-normal hair. This gave me a very clear picture of what had likely been happening between them the last five and a half hours. Amazingly, it was at that point my head quit pounding. I was either going to start laughing and never stop, or simply have a stroke right in front of her.

Instead, somehow, my steady voice asked, "Family quarters?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Preferably something close to yours?"

"Uh, yeah."

This was just getting better and better. Gods only knew what Roslin was going to make of it, never mind Irene when she finally got here. "Where's Mr. Adama now?"

"My quarters taking a shower."

Oh, gods. That was it, the straw that broke my metaphorical back. Unable to asmuch as look at her any longer, I leaned back against the bulkhead and nearly doubled over. Both hands covering my face as if this would ward off everything that was hammering my conscious mind, threatening to knock me clean out. Precisely when had I completely lost control of events that stuff like…this…could happen?

Then again, when had I been in control of anything that happened in my life?

"Ben…" Kara started, only to be silenced by my upraised hand and small shake of my head. It was either that or risk strangling her.

At length, I calmed enough to straighten up and say, "Okay, I'll talk to Ted." Still not willing to look in her direction, I raised my hand sharply again, forestalling a coming comment from her. "Just…do me a small favor? Don't talk to me for a few hours."

Not wanting to risk any other reaction, from her or myself, I turned and started marching in the opposite direction from which she'd come. Gods willing I'd make it back to my cabin before everything unraveled and I simply and literally came apart.

Of course, first I would have to call Rice and give him the good news.

Hopefully, I wouldn't sound too crazy when I did so, but hope was a treacherous thing these days.

TBC...immediately!