This work is dedicated to Katee Sackhoff , who made Kara Thrace such an iconic Sci-Fi character.
Prologue
She was in her bunk in the Officer's section on board Galactica. She was quiet: the ship was deathly quiet as well. No one wanted to talk; no one wanted to do much of anything. The ship had been reduced to a stunned silence.
Captain Kara Thrace simply stared at the curtain in front of her, eyes unblinking, emotions for the moment completely turned off, just like everyone else. The mission to the Algae Planet had been a success: The Fleet now had enough food coming aboard to last several years. Algae didn't taste good, but they wouldn't starve now.
The price paid had been almost unbearable. Two ships lost, with their crews; and one valuable, pain-in-the-ass pilot as well.
Kat was gone; she wasn't coming back.
The Fleet lost pilots and would lose more. Yet the way Kat had perished was painful for everyone on board, even for Kara, who had been involved in running verbal and sometimes physical battles with the young upstart pilot.
Kara was devastated. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
The Funeral Service for Louanne Katraine was in two days. The Old Man, who had sat with the young dying pilot until her eyes closed for the last time, would deliver the eulogy. That was as it should be. Kara couldn't get the image of her young rival, dying in in the sickbay out of her mind. She had never been so shaken in her life as when she last saw Kat. As was always the case, she couldn't let her real emotions out, hiding behind a stone-faced facade. She had actually smiled at Kat as she turned and walked away. The shame of that moment would haunt her forever.
Kat's soul was in the hands of the gods, or God, or whatever existed beyond flesh and blood. Kara felt damned at that moment, wondering if she would ever feel otherwise. She had berated Kat from virtually the moment the young woman had become a Nugget and had never let up. As Kara looked deep into her flawed soul, she realized that she was no better than she thought Kat was-and was probably worse.
Kat had OD'd on stims during a CAP once-and it was recorded on video; Kara, on more than one occasion, had missed a scheduled flight because she was still drunk or hung over; Kat was a smart-mouthed pain-in-the-ass; Kara was the original smart-mouthed, pain-in-the-ass. Both had flown with an attitude and by the seat of their pants. Both wanted to be The Bad-Ass of the jocks.
Kara had pools of tears in her eyes when she saw Kat for the last heartbreaking time and again when she had put Kat's picture on the memorial wall. But her emotions hadn't gone beyond that. The Great Starbuck couldn't be seen as emotionally weak, lest someone see it and think less of her. Yet with her history of drinking, insubordination and revolving door to her rack, how could anyone really think less of her than they did now?
Crying would show a weakness she thought she couldn't afford.
She had been in the bunk for a half hour, not blinking once. With that stone look on her face she found the strength to rise, and without hesitation headed towards Admiral Adama's quarters.