Chapter 5
Sharon Valerii gulped another breath of oxygen and began another fit of coughing. When she finished, she inhaled, and the process began again. She didn't think she'd ever be able to catch her breath.
"Slow, shallow breaths," Cassie recommended. "Your lungs are tender from all the smoke and fumes, so it'll take a while before you can breathe deeply. Little breaths, and you'll stop the coughing."
Sharon followed her directions out of desperation. She stopped trying to breathe, and looked around the room to get her bearings. She had been disoriented since they put her on the stretcher. Now she realized that she'd been taken to the infirmary. A medical technician, she thought his name was Kenny, was putting an IV into her left arm while Cassie took her blood pressure on the other. The ceiling and walls were the typical gray of the Galactica, but the equipment was a shiny silver. It struck her as odd. On an aircraft, they used nothing shiny so as to reduce the possibility of detection.
She looked around her and didn't see her partner. The last thing she remembered from the flight was hitting the edge of the landing pod as she came in because the vertical thrusters wouldn't respond. She remembered a flash of light, and then everything was fuzzy until she'd regained consciousness beneath Hawk's body. She had tried to call for help then - he hadn't been moving and she had been terrified - but all she could do was cough. She couldn't lift him to move, and she had honestly thought she was going to die there.
"Better," Cassie said in approval, her blond hair swinging as she turned to look up at a monitor. "You do okay when you aren't trying too hard."
Sharon took another tiny breath, then attempted to talk. "Hawk?"
Cassie briefly looked at her, and then away. "He's been taken to the life station," she finally said. "His burns were too serious for the infirmary."
Sharon tried to talk again, but wound up with a coughing fit. When it eased, she whispered, "Okay?"
The med tech used a damp cloth to wipe ash from Sharon's face before she answered. "He's burned badly," she admitted. "And his lungs are in the same shape as yours. Doctor Salik wanted to be able to put him on life support if he needed to. He should be fine, but it's going to take a while."
Sharon nodded her understanding, and closed her eyes. She knew that Hawk wouldn't have been burned nearly so bad if he hadn't been trying to protect her. She had a flash of memory of his telling her to get down, then grabbing her and tossing her beneath him, but it was still blurry in her mind.
A brief commotion caught her attention and she opened her eyes. Tyrol was standing in the doorway of the infirmary and being blocked by Kenny. She reached up a hand, the one with the IV in it, but couldn't get any words out. Cassie seemed to understand.
"Let him in," she advised. "It's okay."
He pushed past Kenny a little more roughly than was necessary to come to a stop by Sharon's cot. "God," he began, but his voice was too rough to go on.
Sharon reached up and grasped his hand, oblivious to the tubing that was taped to her hand. He grabbed her hand gently, squeezing slightly, and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. It was the only part of her face exposed by the oxygen mask. "You okay?" he finally asked. Then, looking up at Cassie, "Is she okay?"
"She swallowed a lot of smoke," the tech told him. "But it doesn't look like the damage to her lungs will be permanent. No significant burns, either. She got really lucky."
Tyrol rested his forehead against hers, his breathing just a little irregular. "Thank the Lords," he whispered. "I thought I'd lost you."
Sharon wanted to say something, to tell him how glad she was to see him, to warn him that he shouldn't be here, but her throat was raw and her breathing was still unsteady, and damn-it she wanted him here. So instead she found her eyes blurring as tears began that she just couldn't stop.
He noticed right away. "Are you okay? Are you hurting?"
At his frantic look, she shook her head as much as she could with the mask around her face. She wanted to tell him so much, but the words just weren't there.
"It's probably just reaction," Cassie said quietly. "I haven't found any serious burns. Her flight suit kept her pretty safe. I do need to get it off, though. Chief, I'll need you to leave."
Sharon watched as Tyrol looked her in the eye, closed his, and then met her gaze with a determined expression. "It's nothing I haven't seen before," he told Cassie simply. "If you want me out of here, you'd better call security."
Cassie looked at him a moment, her gaze assessing, and then looked to Sharon. "You okay with that?"
Sharon nodded quickly, her grip on his hand tightening.
"So be it," Cassie told them on a sigh. "Get the door, Ken. We don't need a room full of people."
The tech nodded and closed the hatch of the infirmary, then Cassie stepped towards Sharon with scissors in hand to see if they had missed any injuries.
Kara sat on her bunk and shuffled the cards she held. She shuffled again, then laid them out in a solitary game of Single Pyramid. She looked for patterns, moved cards, and looked again. She was bored out of her mind.
Most of the squadron was asleep. There were two on patrol, and another two on the deck, but the rest of them were essentially confined to quarters until they figured out what had brought Sharon's Raptor down.
She had been down to the infirmary to see Sharon a couple of hours earlier, but the techs had run her off, saying that Sharon was sleeping. She had also checked in on Hawk, but he had been on a breather. He looked awful from what she could see, more bandages than anything else, but she hadn't really been close enough to tell.
She had wound up back in quarters, wondering what was going on down in the landing bay and knowing that she could find out if she really wanted to press things. She was fairly close to the Commander, and if she went to him he would likely let her down there, but she didn't want to have to deal with Lee if she pushed the advantage. He was running the investigation, and he wouldn't appreciate her interference. Still, keeping her nose out of it was just about the hardest thing she had ever done. It was well past midnight, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep until she knew the situation.
It was several hours later when Lee came in, looking far beyond tired and into miserable. He was moving slowly, like an old man. He had to be exhausted. Kara stood just as he reached their bunks. He didn't even startle.
"How's Sharon?" she whispered.
"Fine," he said wearily. "And they're taking Hawk off the breather in the morning."
She nodded her understanding. "How'd the investigation go?"
"It was the fuel line," Lee said on a yawn. "It looks like the seal corroded and the line let loose. Tyrol has them tearing down the rest of the Raptors and checking seals, then he'll do the same on the Vipers. It was just an accident."
"Thank the Lords," she muttered as Lee leaned against the ladder to his bed. "I hoped it wasn't pilot error, but."
"Yeah, I know. This way is a lot more work, but I'm glad it isn't on Sharon."
"How's the Chief?"
"He's holding it together," Lee admitted. "But that's about it. He got back to the deck about an hour ago. He told me Sharon was sleeping and he wanted to relieve Cally. Short of sending him to the brig, I couldn't tell him no."
He had sunk down onto her bunk now, and was leaning against the ladder on his right, eyes barely open. She couldn't help asking, "And how are you?"
"I'm just tired," he whispered. "I didn't feel like I could leave until we knew what had happened and made damn sure it wouldn't happen again. One of the joys of being CAG. Until I knew that Sharon was in the clear, I just couldn't leave it to the deck crews."
She looked him over again, from eyes drooping closed to his slumped posture. She hadn't seen him this tired since the early days of their flight from the Cylons, when he would work himself two and three days straight on only a few hours sleep. Some days he didn't know when to quit.
"Take my bunk," she offered. "It's closer."
"Hmmm?" he mumbled, half-asleep sitting up with one hand on the ladder.
"Just go to sleep, Lee," she whispered, giving him a slight shove so that he would lay down. When she moved her cards out of his way and put them on the shelf at the head of her bed, he did so with surprisingly little resistance. She nudged at him until he was more or less comfortable on the bunk, then she grabbed a blanket from the stack by the door to toss over him. It was easier than trying to get the covers from beneath him. With him settled, she hoisted herself up the ladder and made herself comfortable in his bed. Her last thought before falling asleep was that she hoped she didn't roll over in the night. It was a long way down.
Commander Adama made it a point to visit with any crew member that was admitted to the life station or infirmary. It was something he had done for years, and just one way of keeping himself close to his crew. When they were there due to an accident or equipment failure that occurred while in the line of duty, he felt especially duty bound.
He had checked on Devin Hawkins first, as he was reported as the most seriously injured. The man was still unconscious, but his prognosis was good. His body was assimilating the oxygen that the breather was producing, so they were planning to take him off life support later in the morning. He was relieved. He hated to see his men down.
His next stop was at the infirmary. He had been told they were releasing Lieutenant Valerii today, and he wanted to be sure that he stopped in before they did so. It was still early, and most of the crew was sleeping, but he didn't want to wait until after she'd been discharged.
There were few secrets on the Galactica, and he was not an oblivious commander. He knew the vast majority of what went on in the corridors and storage rooms of the Galactica, although he most often pretended ignorance. Still, he was slightly surprised at the sight that greeted him as he opened the hatch.
Sharon Valerii was there, and resting comfortably from every indication. What he hadn't expected was his crew chief sitting next to the bed, his head sharing the Lieutenant's pillow as he snored softly. Their hands were carefully interlocked, pulled up under the Chief's chin, as if to reassure him that she was really okay. It was actually a very sweet sight. If they had both been officers, or both enlisted, it would have been perfectly appropriate.
As it was, he was faced with a precedent setting decision that he didn't really want to make. Turning a blind eye to a quiet affair was one thing, but allowing blatant fraternization among his crew was something else altogether. On the one had, he had hundreds of years of military tradition saying that the situation was unacceptable. On the other hand, they were all in survival-mode after the near destruction of their race. Could any healthy relationship really be denied? And why the hell did he have to be the one to decide?
As he stepped further into the room, Sharon murmured quietly, her body curling towards Tyrol. He scooted closer as well, his hand tightening on hers, and they went on sleeping. Adama realized that there really wasn't a decision to make after all.
He cleared his throat rather loudly, and the Chief's head jerked up and around so quickly that the man must be dizzy. There was more than a little nervousness in his crewman's eyes, but he didn't say a word. Sharon slept on, undisturbed by his movement.
"How is she?" William asked softly.
Tyrol cleared his throat before speaking. "Better," he finally said. "They took her off the oxygen this morning, and she's breathing easier. She's coughing less."
"That's good," he told the younger man. "Are they letting her out today?"
"Yes, Sir."
He nodded thoughtfully. "You're in family quarters, aren't you, Chief?"
"Yes, Sir," Tyrol answered. "It was more appropriate for the boy that was picked up on Caprica. Sharon didn't want him living in regular crew quarters."
"Probably a wise choice," the commander agreed. "There are a few things he doesn't need to learn just yet. Co-ed quarters would probably teach him more anatomy than is appropriate for his age."
"Yes, Sir," Tyrol said again.
William took another deep breath and let it out on a sigh. Command never got easier, and what he was about to say would set the tone for many years to come. There would be no going back. "You should probably take her back to your quarters," he finally suggested. "It'll be quieter than the pilot's quarters, and she might be able to rest and get better. I'll speak to my son about getting you pulled off the duty roster until she's ready to be left alone. She'll need someone to keep an eye on her."
Tyrol's eyes had widened almost comically, but he had the good sense not to look a gift-Commander in the mouth. "Yes, Sir," he said vehemently. "I'd appreciate that."
Adama nodded and turned to leave. At the last minute he turned back and faced his crew chief. "Lieutenant Valerii does the fitness review for the flight deck, does she not?"
Tyrol blinked several times before providing him with another, "Yes, Sir."
He nodded at that. "I'll get that duty reassigned as well. There's no point in leaving an opening for someone to declare a conflict of interest. There are enough other jobs that she can pick up to make up for it."
Tyrol just nodded. The Commander then turned and walked into the Galactica's main passageway, closing the hatch behind him to give the couple some privacy.
Months ago he had realized that they would need to change some thing to get by during their escape. He had made some minor policy changes over the months, relaxing some policies and encouraging others, but this was the first open stand he had made regarding crew relationships. He supposed he should be worried about the inevitable backlash from such a decision, but at the moment he was thinking of a young couple that had likely been hiding out in storage rooms for the last several months. It wasn't fair to them. It wasn't fair to any of them.
He thought about stopping in at Blue Squadron's living quarters, but decided against it. Lee wouldn't appreciate his father checking up on him. Instead, he'd be sure that he requested the Captain's presence on the CIC later in the day to be sure that there were no other problems as a result of the accident that had occurred yesterday. He had already received a full report verbally, but it needed to be written down and recorded before the matter was put to rest. And if it was a reasonable excuse to get a look at his son and see how he was managing, then he would consider it an added benefit.
Glancing up at the wall chronometer, he absently wondered where Starbuck was this morning. She was usually running by this time, and it was unlike her to miss a day. He walked slowly to ensure that he wouldn't miss her if she was just at another point in her lap, but she never ran by him. The previous day's activities must have kept her up late as well. He had looked at the duty roster, and she wasn't scheduled for patrol until tomorrow at midday.
Out of excuses, he returned to his quarters and sat at the small desk they'd found him. There was a stack of reports, prescreened by Tigh, who was currently in command in CIC. A quick glance through the papers ensured that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on. No unusual activity in the sector, no planets within range, and no urgent military matters to attend to. It was a routine day on the Galactica.
William stood, pushing his chair up under the desk and sitting down on the edge of his bunk. He had spent last night alternately checking on the investigation and trying to get a few hours sleep. As a result, he was a little tired, but still too keyed up to sleep. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he honestly had nothing demanding his attention. The officer's mess wouldn't open for another hour, so he couldn't even grab an early breakfast.
Shaking his head in wonder at the pure normalcy of the morning, he went over and prepared his coffee pot. If he was going to have a quiet morning with nothing to do, he might as well enjoy a cup of coffee and a few minutes with a good book. These opportunities were rare indeed, and he wouldn't waste one. If the thought crossed his mind that he should be retired with coffee and books as the norm, he didn't bother to dwell on it.
Sharon Valerii gulped another breath of oxygen and began another fit of coughing. When she finished, she inhaled, and the process began again. She didn't think she'd ever be able to catch her breath.
"Slow, shallow breaths," Cassie recommended. "Your lungs are tender from all the smoke and fumes, so it'll take a while before you can breathe deeply. Little breaths, and you'll stop the coughing."
Sharon followed her directions out of desperation. She stopped trying to breathe, and looked around the room to get her bearings. She had been disoriented since they put her on the stretcher. Now she realized that she'd been taken to the infirmary. A medical technician, she thought his name was Kenny, was putting an IV into her left arm while Cassie took her blood pressure on the other. The ceiling and walls were the typical gray of the Galactica, but the equipment was a shiny silver. It struck her as odd. On an aircraft, they used nothing shiny so as to reduce the possibility of detection.
She looked around her and didn't see her partner. The last thing she remembered from the flight was hitting the edge of the landing pod as she came in because the vertical thrusters wouldn't respond. She remembered a flash of light, and then everything was fuzzy until she'd regained consciousness beneath Hawk's body. She had tried to call for help then - he hadn't been moving and she had been terrified - but all she could do was cough. She couldn't lift him to move, and she had honestly thought she was going to die there.
"Better," Cassie said in approval, her blond hair swinging as she turned to look up at a monitor. "You do okay when you aren't trying too hard."
Sharon took another tiny breath, then attempted to talk. "Hawk?"
Cassie briefly looked at her, and then away. "He's been taken to the life station," she finally said. "His burns were too serious for the infirmary."
Sharon tried to talk again, but wound up with a coughing fit. When it eased, she whispered, "Okay?"
The med tech used a damp cloth to wipe ash from Sharon's face before she answered. "He's burned badly," she admitted. "And his lungs are in the same shape as yours. Doctor Salik wanted to be able to put him on life support if he needed to. He should be fine, but it's going to take a while."
Sharon nodded her understanding, and closed her eyes. She knew that Hawk wouldn't have been burned nearly so bad if he hadn't been trying to protect her. She had a flash of memory of his telling her to get down, then grabbing her and tossing her beneath him, but it was still blurry in her mind.
A brief commotion caught her attention and she opened her eyes. Tyrol was standing in the doorway of the infirmary and being blocked by Kenny. She reached up a hand, the one with the IV in it, but couldn't get any words out. Cassie seemed to understand.
"Let him in," she advised. "It's okay."
He pushed past Kenny a little more roughly than was necessary to come to a stop by Sharon's cot. "God," he began, but his voice was too rough to go on.
Sharon reached up and grasped his hand, oblivious to the tubing that was taped to her hand. He grabbed her hand gently, squeezing slightly, and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. It was the only part of her face exposed by the oxygen mask. "You okay?" he finally asked. Then, looking up at Cassie, "Is she okay?"
"She swallowed a lot of smoke," the tech told him. "But it doesn't look like the damage to her lungs will be permanent. No significant burns, either. She got really lucky."
Tyrol rested his forehead against hers, his breathing just a little irregular. "Thank the Lords," he whispered. "I thought I'd lost you."
Sharon wanted to say something, to tell him how glad she was to see him, to warn him that he shouldn't be here, but her throat was raw and her breathing was still unsteady, and damn-it she wanted him here. So instead she found her eyes blurring as tears began that she just couldn't stop.
He noticed right away. "Are you okay? Are you hurting?"
At his frantic look, she shook her head as much as she could with the mask around her face. She wanted to tell him so much, but the words just weren't there.
"It's probably just reaction," Cassie said quietly. "I haven't found any serious burns. Her flight suit kept her pretty safe. I do need to get it off, though. Chief, I'll need you to leave."
Sharon watched as Tyrol looked her in the eye, closed his, and then met her gaze with a determined expression. "It's nothing I haven't seen before," he told Cassie simply. "If you want me out of here, you'd better call security."
Cassie looked at him a moment, her gaze assessing, and then looked to Sharon. "You okay with that?"
Sharon nodded quickly, her grip on his hand tightening.
"So be it," Cassie told them on a sigh. "Get the door, Ken. We don't need a room full of people."
The tech nodded and closed the hatch of the infirmary, then Cassie stepped towards Sharon with scissors in hand to see if they had missed any injuries.
Kara sat on her bunk and shuffled the cards she held. She shuffled again, then laid them out in a solitary game of Single Pyramid. She looked for patterns, moved cards, and looked again. She was bored out of her mind.
Most of the squadron was asleep. There were two on patrol, and another two on the deck, but the rest of them were essentially confined to quarters until they figured out what had brought Sharon's Raptor down.
She had been down to the infirmary to see Sharon a couple of hours earlier, but the techs had run her off, saying that Sharon was sleeping. She had also checked in on Hawk, but he had been on a breather. He looked awful from what she could see, more bandages than anything else, but she hadn't really been close enough to tell.
She had wound up back in quarters, wondering what was going on down in the landing bay and knowing that she could find out if she really wanted to press things. She was fairly close to the Commander, and if she went to him he would likely let her down there, but she didn't want to have to deal with Lee if she pushed the advantage. He was running the investigation, and he wouldn't appreciate her interference. Still, keeping her nose out of it was just about the hardest thing she had ever done. It was well past midnight, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep until she knew the situation.
It was several hours later when Lee came in, looking far beyond tired and into miserable. He was moving slowly, like an old man. He had to be exhausted. Kara stood just as he reached their bunks. He didn't even startle.
"How's Sharon?" she whispered.
"Fine," he said wearily. "And they're taking Hawk off the breather in the morning."
She nodded her understanding. "How'd the investigation go?"
"It was the fuel line," Lee said on a yawn. "It looks like the seal corroded and the line let loose. Tyrol has them tearing down the rest of the Raptors and checking seals, then he'll do the same on the Vipers. It was just an accident."
"Thank the Lords," she muttered as Lee leaned against the ladder to his bed. "I hoped it wasn't pilot error, but."
"Yeah, I know. This way is a lot more work, but I'm glad it isn't on Sharon."
"How's the Chief?"
"He's holding it together," Lee admitted. "But that's about it. He got back to the deck about an hour ago. He told me Sharon was sleeping and he wanted to relieve Cally. Short of sending him to the brig, I couldn't tell him no."
He had sunk down onto her bunk now, and was leaning against the ladder on his right, eyes barely open. She couldn't help asking, "And how are you?"
"I'm just tired," he whispered. "I didn't feel like I could leave until we knew what had happened and made damn sure it wouldn't happen again. One of the joys of being CAG. Until I knew that Sharon was in the clear, I just couldn't leave it to the deck crews."
She looked him over again, from eyes drooping closed to his slumped posture. She hadn't seen him this tired since the early days of their flight from the Cylons, when he would work himself two and three days straight on only a few hours sleep. Some days he didn't know when to quit.
"Take my bunk," she offered. "It's closer."
"Hmmm?" he mumbled, half-asleep sitting up with one hand on the ladder.
"Just go to sleep, Lee," she whispered, giving him a slight shove so that he would lay down. When she moved her cards out of his way and put them on the shelf at the head of her bed, he did so with surprisingly little resistance. She nudged at him until he was more or less comfortable on the bunk, then she grabbed a blanket from the stack by the door to toss over him. It was easier than trying to get the covers from beneath him. With him settled, she hoisted herself up the ladder and made herself comfortable in his bed. Her last thought before falling asleep was that she hoped she didn't roll over in the night. It was a long way down.
Commander Adama made it a point to visit with any crew member that was admitted to the life station or infirmary. It was something he had done for years, and just one way of keeping himself close to his crew. When they were there due to an accident or equipment failure that occurred while in the line of duty, he felt especially duty bound.
He had checked on Devin Hawkins first, as he was reported as the most seriously injured. The man was still unconscious, but his prognosis was good. His body was assimilating the oxygen that the breather was producing, so they were planning to take him off life support later in the morning. He was relieved. He hated to see his men down.
His next stop was at the infirmary. He had been told they were releasing Lieutenant Valerii today, and he wanted to be sure that he stopped in before they did so. It was still early, and most of the crew was sleeping, but he didn't want to wait until after she'd been discharged.
There were few secrets on the Galactica, and he was not an oblivious commander. He knew the vast majority of what went on in the corridors and storage rooms of the Galactica, although he most often pretended ignorance. Still, he was slightly surprised at the sight that greeted him as he opened the hatch.
Sharon Valerii was there, and resting comfortably from every indication. What he hadn't expected was his crew chief sitting next to the bed, his head sharing the Lieutenant's pillow as he snored softly. Their hands were carefully interlocked, pulled up under the Chief's chin, as if to reassure him that she was really okay. It was actually a very sweet sight. If they had both been officers, or both enlisted, it would have been perfectly appropriate.
As it was, he was faced with a precedent setting decision that he didn't really want to make. Turning a blind eye to a quiet affair was one thing, but allowing blatant fraternization among his crew was something else altogether. On the one had, he had hundreds of years of military tradition saying that the situation was unacceptable. On the other hand, they were all in survival-mode after the near destruction of their race. Could any healthy relationship really be denied? And why the hell did he have to be the one to decide?
As he stepped further into the room, Sharon murmured quietly, her body curling towards Tyrol. He scooted closer as well, his hand tightening on hers, and they went on sleeping. Adama realized that there really wasn't a decision to make after all.
He cleared his throat rather loudly, and the Chief's head jerked up and around so quickly that the man must be dizzy. There was more than a little nervousness in his crewman's eyes, but he didn't say a word. Sharon slept on, undisturbed by his movement.
"How is she?" William asked softly.
Tyrol cleared his throat before speaking. "Better," he finally said. "They took her off the oxygen this morning, and she's breathing easier. She's coughing less."
"That's good," he told the younger man. "Are they letting her out today?"
"Yes, Sir."
He nodded thoughtfully. "You're in family quarters, aren't you, Chief?"
"Yes, Sir," Tyrol answered. "It was more appropriate for the boy that was picked up on Caprica. Sharon didn't want him living in regular crew quarters."
"Probably a wise choice," the commander agreed. "There are a few things he doesn't need to learn just yet. Co-ed quarters would probably teach him more anatomy than is appropriate for his age."
"Yes, Sir," Tyrol said again.
William took another deep breath and let it out on a sigh. Command never got easier, and what he was about to say would set the tone for many years to come. There would be no going back. "You should probably take her back to your quarters," he finally suggested. "It'll be quieter than the pilot's quarters, and she might be able to rest and get better. I'll speak to my son about getting you pulled off the duty roster until she's ready to be left alone. She'll need someone to keep an eye on her."
Tyrol's eyes had widened almost comically, but he had the good sense not to look a gift-Commander in the mouth. "Yes, Sir," he said vehemently. "I'd appreciate that."
Adama nodded and turned to leave. At the last minute he turned back and faced his crew chief. "Lieutenant Valerii does the fitness review for the flight deck, does she not?"
Tyrol blinked several times before providing him with another, "Yes, Sir."
He nodded at that. "I'll get that duty reassigned as well. There's no point in leaving an opening for someone to declare a conflict of interest. There are enough other jobs that she can pick up to make up for it."
Tyrol just nodded. The Commander then turned and walked into the Galactica's main passageway, closing the hatch behind him to give the couple some privacy.
Months ago he had realized that they would need to change some thing to get by during their escape. He had made some minor policy changes over the months, relaxing some policies and encouraging others, but this was the first open stand he had made regarding crew relationships. He supposed he should be worried about the inevitable backlash from such a decision, but at the moment he was thinking of a young couple that had likely been hiding out in storage rooms for the last several months. It wasn't fair to them. It wasn't fair to any of them.
He thought about stopping in at Blue Squadron's living quarters, but decided against it. Lee wouldn't appreciate his father checking up on him. Instead, he'd be sure that he requested the Captain's presence on the CIC later in the day to be sure that there were no other problems as a result of the accident that had occurred yesterday. He had already received a full report verbally, but it needed to be written down and recorded before the matter was put to rest. And if it was a reasonable excuse to get a look at his son and see how he was managing, then he would consider it an added benefit.
Glancing up at the wall chronometer, he absently wondered where Starbuck was this morning. She was usually running by this time, and it was unlike her to miss a day. He walked slowly to ensure that he wouldn't miss her if she was just at another point in her lap, but she never ran by him. The previous day's activities must have kept her up late as well. He had looked at the duty roster, and she wasn't scheduled for patrol until tomorrow at midday.
Out of excuses, he returned to his quarters and sat at the small desk they'd found him. There was a stack of reports, prescreened by Tigh, who was currently in command in CIC. A quick glance through the papers ensured that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on. No unusual activity in the sector, no planets within range, and no urgent military matters to attend to. It was a routine day on the Galactica.
William stood, pushing his chair up under the desk and sitting down on the edge of his bunk. He had spent last night alternately checking on the investigation and trying to get a few hours sleep. As a result, he was a little tired, but still too keyed up to sleep. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he honestly had nothing demanding his attention. The officer's mess wouldn't open for another hour, so he couldn't even grab an early breakfast.
Shaking his head in wonder at the pure normalcy of the morning, he went over and prepared his coffee pot. If he was going to have a quiet morning with nothing to do, he might as well enjoy a cup of coffee and a few minutes with a good book. These opportunities were rare indeed, and he wouldn't waste one. If the thought crossed his mind that he should be retired with coffee and books as the norm, he didn't bother to dwell on it.