Chapter 2
Lee hated shuttle flight, but it was better than nothing. He had put himself on the roster just to get off the Galactica's grounded crew for a few hours. Tomorrow he would likely give Kara the same opportunity, just to keep her from climbing the walls. Half of the Vipers were still in repair, and most of the Raptors were being overhauled for defective seals, so that left only about eight real missions in any given day. As much as he wanted at least two of them, he knew it wasn't fair to anyone.
So he was piloting a shuttle, on a mission his father had recommended, to pick up the President from one of her routine checks of the fleet Hospital Ship. Except it wasn't a routine mission. That was what his father had told him that morning when he'd been called to the office to get details on the assignment. His father had been surprised to see him.
"I didn't expect the CAG to be pulling shuttle duty," he had said with a smile. "You put yourself on report or something?"
"Not a chance," he had admitted. "That's Kara's tactic. I just exercised my right to do something besides walk the decks. If it's a problem, though.."
Adama had shaken his head, his smile fading. "Not at all," he admitted. "I'd just as soon it be you. At least you know how to keep your mouth closed about high security issues."
"Security?" Lee had asked. "My understanding was that it was a routine flight."
"Yes and no," Adama had said with a sigh, and then sat down. Over the next hour and a half, Lee had gradually gone from intense surprise to a dull kind of shock. Apparently while the mission was routine, the President's visits to the hospital ship were not. She had cancer, and might die from it, and to prevent a panic they were keeping it quiet until she'd had a chance to recover or reach a point where they knew she would not.
A scene had flashed through Lee's mind of the President faltering a couple of weeks back. She had looked tired to the point of exhaustion, and intuition had told Lee that it was more than the stress of leadership. After all, he'd been there when she'd assumed the Presidency, and she hadn't fallen apart then. But she had been bracing herself against walls to stand and looking more gray than pale. It made a sad kind of sense.
Her treatments were done weekly aboard the Lenna Dell, which was where Lee was headed. She had gone over on the Nautilus, but it was having a little trouble with the docking supports. Rather than take a chance on something failing with their President aboard, Lee was to pick her up in the Daedelus. The Nautilus pilot would stay aboard until they either repaired the problem or brought in a towing crew to get it back to the Galactica.
Sadly, it wasn't an unusual occurrence. These ships had not been designed to work together, and the adjustments to docking and balancing the fleet was taking a toll. It was frankly the least of the fleet's problems though. Lee was also aware that fuel shortages were becoming an issue. If they didn't find a planet with Tylium in the next couple of weeks, chances were high that they would reach a crisis stage. Lee really didn't think it would come to that - they had come too far to fail now - but it was a possibility. It was just one more piece of information that he had to juggle as Commander of the Air Group. The crew hadn't really noticed the lowered temperatures to conserve fuel used for heating, but it was only a matter of time before cool became cold, and life support was impossible.
Yet information wasn't his primary concern at the moment. He was concerned for the President. Regardless of his father's and her differences, she was a decent woman with the best of intentions, and she'd shown him that she had some good sense thrown into the mix. She hadn't required a large number of screw-ups before she began deferring to other authorities that might be more qualified to make decisions. One big screw-up had been enough. The same could not be said of many leaders. She had the people's best interests at heart, and she didn't make the same mistake twice. There was a damned lot to be said for simple good sense in government.
He didn't like to think of her sick. She had been a fairly strong woman, he had thought. Not that strong women couldn't get cancer, but he had a feeling it was worse when they did. She didn't seem the type to be able to be sick without it making a serious dent in her lifestyle. On top of that, it would seriously affect the fleet. And, although he hated to admit it, she was a damned nice person. No one deserved to be sick, but nice people deserved it even less. It seemed that the nice ones always got the worst of it.
Okay, there was one other reason that having her sick bothered him. As his father had once said, she was a school teacher. A part of him couldn't help but think of her that way, because it was what she had been first. She reminded him of any of a dozen teachers he'd had over the years - patient, and understanding, and tolerant of his endless questions and Kara's endless antics. The thought of a teacher ill bothered him. That was dumb, but it was gut-level and he couldn't help it. Teachers weren't supposed to get sick.
"Daedelus on final approach," Lee radioed in. "Request docking on port bay."
There was a static pause before he got his clearance and eased the shuttle into position. He felt the tug as the grapples took hold and pulled the shuttle in the rest of the way. His panel showed hard seal, but that didn't mean it had been smooth. This style of shuttle just wasn't designed to air-dock with larger vessels - it was designed to land in an open bay. It was no wonder that the Nautilus was having trouble.
Lee shut down systems quickly and then went to the hatch to open it from his side. Once in the docking bay, he was met by Lieutenant Collins, who had flown the President over on the Nautilus for the last several round trips.
"Good morning, Captain," he said in a clear and friendly voice. "I see they didn't play around with sending the rookies."
"Not for a Presidential transport," Lee agreed. "I've been briefed on the nature of her mission. Can you let me know if she'll need anything else that I should prepare before she boards?"
The Lieutenant was quiet for a moment before answering. "Towels," he admitted. "I keep an extra load on the Nautilus. I'll bring them over. And if you have any ice, that would be good too."
"No ice, but I have a cooler," he admitted.
"I'll fill it," the Lieutenant assured him. "Her assistant is pretty good about caring for her so long as he has what he needs. They won't bother you."
Lee shook his head. "I'm not worried about that. I just want to be sure she's comfortable."
"Not much you can do about that," the Lieutenant admitted. "Just try to keep the takeoff and landing easy. They seem to bother her the most."
Lee actually had already known that from his time on Colonial One, but he didn't comment. Instead, he checked his wrist to see that he still had an hour before he was scheduled to leave. He had come early on purpose, wanting to see the ship for himself. Oddly, this was one of the few ships in the fleet that he hadn't had time aboard, simply because their transports were so limited. This was as good a time as any to look around.
So he began his wandering and looking. He was surprised how much he liked what he found. It was clean to the point of sterility, which was a wonder of its own right in the fleet. Water was at a premium, so he wondered how they were managing it even as he realized the necessity. He passed by a few Colonial officers on his trek, some limping and some rushing, but all pausing to snap a quick salute. If he didn't find a place to hole up, he might well have a sore arm by the end of this. Salutes were still used aboard the Galactia, but primarily they were confined to the CIC, where they were appropriate and appreciated. No one wanted to salute every time they walked down a hallway, and it served no real purpose.
A familiar face caught his eye as he rounded one corner. It was the president's aide, although he'd forgotten the name. Something young, that was for damn sure. Bobby? Tommy? He settled for a nondescript, "Hi there," as he approached the young man.
He turned quickly, smiling as he saw him. That was a good sign. It wasn't likely her assistant would be smiling if Roslin carried any resentment towards his quick return to his duties rather than taking her up on her offer to move to Colonial One. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the offer, but a Heavy Cruiser wasn't his idea of flight. He preferred the Vipers: sleek, fast, and deadly.
"How's it going?" Lee asked as he gestured to the closed door that the man had been staring at.
"As well as can be expected," he admitted.
Billy. That was it. Sheesh, one would think he could remember his own father's name, but he'd never known William to go under anything other than either his rank or "Dad". Well, the exception to that was Tigh, but then they never used one another's right names. His father still called Paul by Saul, citing some reference in the ancient scrolls where a profit's name was changed. Whatever worked for them. After all, with the world gone from around them, everyone needed a good friend. Lee thanked the Lords for Kara every day, and he assumed that his father did the same for Tigh. It was a last link to their past, and a promise for their future. At least it was for him.
"Will she be able to get to the ship?" he asked Billy simply.
"She'll walk it," he said with a wry grin. "She wouldn't let anyone see her do otherwise. She's the most stubborn woman I've ever met.
Lee smiled at that. He knew a few stubborn women himself, and one in particular came to mind. One that was going to make him crazy if he didn't get her into a plane soon. It was worse than a drug withdrawal, but he couldn't deny it. He felt the need to fly himself. That was why he was here.
Lee took the seat that was beside Billy and decided to wait. They didn't say much, but instead both took the opportunity to enjoy the quiet. If the sounds of illness behind the door were audible, they were not unexpected, nor frequent. Lee did his best to ignore them.
"Mr. Billy!"
Lee turned quickly to see a small blond girl running up to the man next to him. She climbed up on his lap without asking, and he had to smile at the expression on Billy's face; it was somewhere between pleased and embarrassed.
"Princess, this is Captain Adama," Billy told the girl. "Sir, this little princess is Katee."
"It's nice to meet you Katee," Lee said, extending one hand. The child was having none of it, instead climbing from Billy's lap to his own and giving him a huge hug. He couldn't help but smile. Billy was on the verge of laughter.
"What'm I 'posed to call you?" she asked earnestly.
He looked into blue eyes that contained sparkly white spots and appeared slightly tilted. She had gorgeous eyes. "How about just Lee," he told her softly. "That's what my friends call me."
She nodded with a seriousness that was at odds with both her actions and speech. "Mr. Lee," she agreed.
"Just Lee is fine," he corrected, but she shook her head.
"Nope. You're a grown up, so you have to be a mister. That's what my daddy always said."
"Were is your daddy?" Lee asked curiously, wondering what the girl was doing running about the ship alone.
"I don't know," she told him with a furrowed brow. "He's with my mommy, I think. Do you know my daddy?"
"I don't think so," Lee answered, confused by the odd look on her face. "What's his name?"
She shrugged one shoulder, "Daddy."
He nodded. "Well, um. I know a lot of daddies," he said simply. "Is your dad a mister something?"
She shrugged again, settling onto his lap for what appeared to be the duration of his wait. He wished he could mind, but the girl reminded him so much of the kid his father had brought home from the garbage cans that he couldn't quite take his eyes off her. Maybe it was the dark blond hair, although it was neatly trimmed and combed, as opposed to Kara's wild tangle. Maybe it was just that pure innocence that reminded him of what Kara had never had. Most likely it was that edge of confusion. He had the distinct idea that her parents hadn't survived the war, whether she knew it or not. He wasn't sure where the sad thought had come from.
"Do your parents live on this ship?" he asked her gently.
Katee shook her head. "They went away when the bright lights came," she told him softly. "I miss 'em."
His heart broke. Looking over at Billy, he saw the same emotion that he was feeling. It was a combination of sadness and pure rage that this child should be all alone. "Where do you live?" he asked.
"Here, silly," she said with her smile returning at full force. "I'm Princess of the Dell."
"I'll just bet you are," Lee agreed.
His conversation with the girl was cut short as the door before him opened and a technician stepped out accompanying President Roslin. She looked absolutely awful. Her face was somewhere between gray and green, eyes sunken and lips pale. She looked like walking death. He was taken aback at this change from the vibrant woman he had met only months ago.
"There's the Princess," the President said softly. Her voice was faint, but audible.
Katee immediately hopped off his lap to give the President an oddly gentle hug, if her reaction to him had been an indication. She definitely seemed to know that gentleness was called for. President Roslin hugged her back, frail arms grasping only slightly.
"Captain Apollo," she said with a barely perceptible nod. "I'm grateful that you're early. I would very much like to get back to my quarters on the Galactica."
"Yes, Sir," he said softly, wondering how she could even stand when she looked so ill. Again Kara popped into his mind, and with her the memory of a stubbornness bordering on stupidity at times. She was horrible when she was sick. He was grateful that it didn't happen often. "I'd be happy to leave as soon as you're ready."
"What do you say, Princess," she asked the girl softly. "Can you walk me to my plane?"
Katee smiled broadly and carefully took the President's hand. "Is your tummy better now?" she asked her.
"A little bit, Princess," the President replied. "Still kind of yucky."
Katee nodded her understanding. "So we should walk slow," she decided.
"That would be fine."
Lee and Billy stepped in behind the President and her small escort. Lee watched for stability as they made the short trek to the ship, and stepped forward to take one arm as they reached the steps to the docking bay. She didn't wave him off, but leaned on him heavily as she made it up the several steps with difficulty. She would have done so with more ease if she'd had her other hand for the rail, but she didn't seem inclined to let go of the small girl's hand. He really couldn't blame her.
Once aboard the small shuttle, Katee ushered the President to a seat that reclined and watched her sit heavily. Then she looked around until she found a pillow and blanket, and carried them carefully to her charge. It was almost comical watching the child spread the blanket over the President, and tuck an unnecessary pillow behind her head. Roslin's smile stayed intact, though. Not natural, but intact.
"There you go," Katee said proudly. "If your tummy gets sick again, you can use one of those bags," she informed the President. "That's what I had to do when my tummy was hurting."
"Thank you," President Roslin replied earnestly. "I couldn't have gotten back here without you. You be sure to come see me the next time I'm here."
"Next week, like before?" Katee asked.
"Next week," Roslin confirmed. "Have a good week, Princess."
Katee's smile could have lit half the ship. "You feel better," she commanded. And Lee thought that if anyone could command an illness to retreat, it would be this little scamp. He couldn't keep his own smile off his face as he watched her go back out through the door, walk carefully down the stairs using both hands on the rail, and then take off skipping down the hall.
"She's something," Lee said to no one in particular.
"She's beautiful," Roslin confirmed. Billy was behind her, gently taking away the pillow that had her head pressed forward so that her chin was resting on her chest.
"She lives on board?" Lee asked.
Billy answered for the President, who had closed her eyes and effectively tuned them out. Lee couldn't blame her. "Yes," the young man said. "The doctors and technicians have pretty much adopted her. They didn't want her sent to the orphan ship."
Lee nodded at that. He was glad there was someone looking out for the child.
"Will she need anything before we go?" Lee asked.
"I'm fine, Apollo," she answered by herself. "I'll manage until I'm back in my room."
Lee didn't see how she could, but he didn't argue. He simply made his way to the front of the ship and began preparations for the smoothest takeoff he had ever attempted. He managed it well, and the flight was quick an uneventful. He again exercised his ability to be precise as he landed the shuttle on the Galactica without so much as a bump. It was tiring, but not so tiring as landing a Viper hands-on.
By the time he had systems shut down, Billy had Roslin half way down the ladder to the Galactica's flight deck. He thought of following, but decided it wouldn't be welcome. If it were him that was sick, he certainly wouldn't have wanted an audience. He finished clearing out his paperwork before handing his clipboard to a deck hand and walking the distance to his office. Instead of going in, he detoured to his father's office, unsure whether he would be there. Adama and Tigh alternated shifts of command, and while they were frequently seen there together, just as often one was trying to recover from the exhausting twelve hours of life and death decisions.
Lee got lucky, and heard his father's, "Yes?" when he knocked at the hatch.
"Just me, Sir," he said as he eased the door open. "Do you have a minute?"
As it turned out, his father was just getting ready for work. He was in his undershirts and pants, but hadn't yet gotten to the upper half of his uniform. Wiping his face on a towel, Adama gestured for Lee to come in.
Seeing that the bed was not yet made, Lee began quickly arranging the covers in the usual military style. It took him only a couple of moments to have the bed made with its requisite military corners, and tight enough that a coin would have bounced a foot.
"You haven't lost your touch," his father said with a grin, now pulling on his uniform shirt.
Lee gave him a sheepish grin. He hadn't even been thinking, just moving to keep his thoughts at bay. Now he sat down on the edge of the neatly made bed and faced his father. "You've had me making beds since I was three," he remarked. "It's a habit."
"I'm sure it is. And thank you; I'm running behind this morning."
"Finally get more than an hour's sleep?" Lee asked with an attempt at sarcasm. It fell flat, because there was more truth than joke in the words.
"Forgot to set the alarm," he said with embarrassment. "If Lieutenant Gaeta hadn't called to check on me I'd still be sleeping. Thank the Lords Saul doesn't have anywhere to go."
Lee grinned at that. "He probably would have let you sleep the day if you'd asked," he suggested. "It might be a good idea. Nothing much is happening now."
His father sat heavily on his chair and reached for a boot. "That's the problem," he admitted. "What needs to be happening is some Tylium processing, but there isn't any to process."
"We could always jump back to a known location," Lee suggested. "It might be a good idea before we get too low to jump."
Adama looked up sadly. "We already are," he admitted. "Not the Galactica, of course, but most of the ships. I won't leave them without some kind of protection. We simply have to find a source in this quadrant. I have Vipers looking because our Raptors are down, but then you know that."
Lee nodded. He made the schedules. He knew what the missions were. "So it's getting tight?"
"We're not at a crisis point yet," his father said firmly. "We'll find a way. We don't have a choice."
"Well, I'd better let you get ready for work," Lee told him as he stood.
"Didn't you want to see me for something?" Adama asked.
Lee really didn't want to bring it up given his father's current burdens, but he couldn't see a way around it now. "President Roslin," Lee admitted. "Are you aware of how sick she is."
"Yes, I am," Adama said quietly.
"Don't you think something should be done to speed up the process of appointing a government?" he asked. "She looks like she may not make it to morning, much less through an election."
"If she becomes incapacitated, she has asked that I act in her stead until she recovers," Adama said simply. "I won't do so unless she orders it, or is unable to order anything. We don't have a lot of checks and balances right now, but we need them. We have to pray that she recovers."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then we do our best to create a civilian government on our own," he admitted. "The general population won't tolerate military leadership for long. They are too used to freedom and having a voice, and that isn't possible while maintaining military discipline. There has to be a final word. It's simply how things work."
"I would think you'd be happy not to have her opposition," Lee said in confusion. "Not that I think you'd wish her ill, but if she were unable to continue I'd think it would be counterproductive to appoint someone else to replace her."
"It's what I'll do, Son," Adama told him firmly as he tied his second boot and stood. "Was there anything else?"
"No, Sir," Lee admitted. "I just wanted to be sure you understood how sick she really is."
Adama nodded gravely. "I check in to see her at least twice a week, with or without official reasons. There aren't many people who know, and that's the way it has to stay, but I would assume she needs someone around her for encouragement. As you now know the situation, you should probably do the same. It's bad enough being sick without being lonely too."
Lee nodded. His father had a point. He would be sure he dropped in to see her on occasion, even if it was just to let her know that he was thinking about her. She was a nice person. Again it occurred to him that nice people tended to get a raw deal in this world.
Lee hated shuttle flight, but it was better than nothing. He had put himself on the roster just to get off the Galactica's grounded crew for a few hours. Tomorrow he would likely give Kara the same opportunity, just to keep her from climbing the walls. Half of the Vipers were still in repair, and most of the Raptors were being overhauled for defective seals, so that left only about eight real missions in any given day. As much as he wanted at least two of them, he knew it wasn't fair to anyone.
So he was piloting a shuttle, on a mission his father had recommended, to pick up the President from one of her routine checks of the fleet Hospital Ship. Except it wasn't a routine mission. That was what his father had told him that morning when he'd been called to the office to get details on the assignment. His father had been surprised to see him.
"I didn't expect the CAG to be pulling shuttle duty," he had said with a smile. "You put yourself on report or something?"
"Not a chance," he had admitted. "That's Kara's tactic. I just exercised my right to do something besides walk the decks. If it's a problem, though.."
Adama had shaken his head, his smile fading. "Not at all," he admitted. "I'd just as soon it be you. At least you know how to keep your mouth closed about high security issues."
"Security?" Lee had asked. "My understanding was that it was a routine flight."
"Yes and no," Adama had said with a sigh, and then sat down. Over the next hour and a half, Lee had gradually gone from intense surprise to a dull kind of shock. Apparently while the mission was routine, the President's visits to the hospital ship were not. She had cancer, and might die from it, and to prevent a panic they were keeping it quiet until she'd had a chance to recover or reach a point where they knew she would not.
A scene had flashed through Lee's mind of the President faltering a couple of weeks back. She had looked tired to the point of exhaustion, and intuition had told Lee that it was more than the stress of leadership. After all, he'd been there when she'd assumed the Presidency, and she hadn't fallen apart then. But she had been bracing herself against walls to stand and looking more gray than pale. It made a sad kind of sense.
Her treatments were done weekly aboard the Lenna Dell, which was where Lee was headed. She had gone over on the Nautilus, but it was having a little trouble with the docking supports. Rather than take a chance on something failing with their President aboard, Lee was to pick her up in the Daedelus. The Nautilus pilot would stay aboard until they either repaired the problem or brought in a towing crew to get it back to the Galactica.
Sadly, it wasn't an unusual occurrence. These ships had not been designed to work together, and the adjustments to docking and balancing the fleet was taking a toll. It was frankly the least of the fleet's problems though. Lee was also aware that fuel shortages were becoming an issue. If they didn't find a planet with Tylium in the next couple of weeks, chances were high that they would reach a crisis stage. Lee really didn't think it would come to that - they had come too far to fail now - but it was a possibility. It was just one more piece of information that he had to juggle as Commander of the Air Group. The crew hadn't really noticed the lowered temperatures to conserve fuel used for heating, but it was only a matter of time before cool became cold, and life support was impossible.
Yet information wasn't his primary concern at the moment. He was concerned for the President. Regardless of his father's and her differences, she was a decent woman with the best of intentions, and she'd shown him that she had some good sense thrown into the mix. She hadn't required a large number of screw-ups before she began deferring to other authorities that might be more qualified to make decisions. One big screw-up had been enough. The same could not be said of many leaders. She had the people's best interests at heart, and she didn't make the same mistake twice. There was a damned lot to be said for simple good sense in government.
He didn't like to think of her sick. She had been a fairly strong woman, he had thought. Not that strong women couldn't get cancer, but he had a feeling it was worse when they did. She didn't seem the type to be able to be sick without it making a serious dent in her lifestyle. On top of that, it would seriously affect the fleet. And, although he hated to admit it, she was a damned nice person. No one deserved to be sick, but nice people deserved it even less. It seemed that the nice ones always got the worst of it.
Okay, there was one other reason that having her sick bothered him. As his father had once said, she was a school teacher. A part of him couldn't help but think of her that way, because it was what she had been first. She reminded him of any of a dozen teachers he'd had over the years - patient, and understanding, and tolerant of his endless questions and Kara's endless antics. The thought of a teacher ill bothered him. That was dumb, but it was gut-level and he couldn't help it. Teachers weren't supposed to get sick.
"Daedelus on final approach," Lee radioed in. "Request docking on port bay."
There was a static pause before he got his clearance and eased the shuttle into position. He felt the tug as the grapples took hold and pulled the shuttle in the rest of the way. His panel showed hard seal, but that didn't mean it had been smooth. This style of shuttle just wasn't designed to air-dock with larger vessels - it was designed to land in an open bay. It was no wonder that the Nautilus was having trouble.
Lee shut down systems quickly and then went to the hatch to open it from his side. Once in the docking bay, he was met by Lieutenant Collins, who had flown the President over on the Nautilus for the last several round trips.
"Good morning, Captain," he said in a clear and friendly voice. "I see they didn't play around with sending the rookies."
"Not for a Presidential transport," Lee agreed. "I've been briefed on the nature of her mission. Can you let me know if she'll need anything else that I should prepare before she boards?"
The Lieutenant was quiet for a moment before answering. "Towels," he admitted. "I keep an extra load on the Nautilus. I'll bring them over. And if you have any ice, that would be good too."
"No ice, but I have a cooler," he admitted.
"I'll fill it," the Lieutenant assured him. "Her assistant is pretty good about caring for her so long as he has what he needs. They won't bother you."
Lee shook his head. "I'm not worried about that. I just want to be sure she's comfortable."
"Not much you can do about that," the Lieutenant admitted. "Just try to keep the takeoff and landing easy. They seem to bother her the most."
Lee actually had already known that from his time on Colonial One, but he didn't comment. Instead, he checked his wrist to see that he still had an hour before he was scheduled to leave. He had come early on purpose, wanting to see the ship for himself. Oddly, this was one of the few ships in the fleet that he hadn't had time aboard, simply because their transports were so limited. This was as good a time as any to look around.
So he began his wandering and looking. He was surprised how much he liked what he found. It was clean to the point of sterility, which was a wonder of its own right in the fleet. Water was at a premium, so he wondered how they were managing it even as he realized the necessity. He passed by a few Colonial officers on his trek, some limping and some rushing, but all pausing to snap a quick salute. If he didn't find a place to hole up, he might well have a sore arm by the end of this. Salutes were still used aboard the Galactia, but primarily they were confined to the CIC, where they were appropriate and appreciated. No one wanted to salute every time they walked down a hallway, and it served no real purpose.
A familiar face caught his eye as he rounded one corner. It was the president's aide, although he'd forgotten the name. Something young, that was for damn sure. Bobby? Tommy? He settled for a nondescript, "Hi there," as he approached the young man.
He turned quickly, smiling as he saw him. That was a good sign. It wasn't likely her assistant would be smiling if Roslin carried any resentment towards his quick return to his duties rather than taking her up on her offer to move to Colonial One. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the offer, but a Heavy Cruiser wasn't his idea of flight. He preferred the Vipers: sleek, fast, and deadly.
"How's it going?" Lee asked as he gestured to the closed door that the man had been staring at.
"As well as can be expected," he admitted.
Billy. That was it. Sheesh, one would think he could remember his own father's name, but he'd never known William to go under anything other than either his rank or "Dad". Well, the exception to that was Tigh, but then they never used one another's right names. His father still called Paul by Saul, citing some reference in the ancient scrolls where a profit's name was changed. Whatever worked for them. After all, with the world gone from around them, everyone needed a good friend. Lee thanked the Lords for Kara every day, and he assumed that his father did the same for Tigh. It was a last link to their past, and a promise for their future. At least it was for him.
"Will she be able to get to the ship?" he asked Billy simply.
"She'll walk it," he said with a wry grin. "She wouldn't let anyone see her do otherwise. She's the most stubborn woman I've ever met.
Lee smiled at that. He knew a few stubborn women himself, and one in particular came to mind. One that was going to make him crazy if he didn't get her into a plane soon. It was worse than a drug withdrawal, but he couldn't deny it. He felt the need to fly himself. That was why he was here.
Lee took the seat that was beside Billy and decided to wait. They didn't say much, but instead both took the opportunity to enjoy the quiet. If the sounds of illness behind the door were audible, they were not unexpected, nor frequent. Lee did his best to ignore them.
"Mr. Billy!"
Lee turned quickly to see a small blond girl running up to the man next to him. She climbed up on his lap without asking, and he had to smile at the expression on Billy's face; it was somewhere between pleased and embarrassed.
"Princess, this is Captain Adama," Billy told the girl. "Sir, this little princess is Katee."
"It's nice to meet you Katee," Lee said, extending one hand. The child was having none of it, instead climbing from Billy's lap to his own and giving him a huge hug. He couldn't help but smile. Billy was on the verge of laughter.
"What'm I 'posed to call you?" she asked earnestly.
He looked into blue eyes that contained sparkly white spots and appeared slightly tilted. She had gorgeous eyes. "How about just Lee," he told her softly. "That's what my friends call me."
She nodded with a seriousness that was at odds with both her actions and speech. "Mr. Lee," she agreed.
"Just Lee is fine," he corrected, but she shook her head.
"Nope. You're a grown up, so you have to be a mister. That's what my daddy always said."
"Were is your daddy?" Lee asked curiously, wondering what the girl was doing running about the ship alone.
"I don't know," she told him with a furrowed brow. "He's with my mommy, I think. Do you know my daddy?"
"I don't think so," Lee answered, confused by the odd look on her face. "What's his name?"
She shrugged one shoulder, "Daddy."
He nodded. "Well, um. I know a lot of daddies," he said simply. "Is your dad a mister something?"
She shrugged again, settling onto his lap for what appeared to be the duration of his wait. He wished he could mind, but the girl reminded him so much of the kid his father had brought home from the garbage cans that he couldn't quite take his eyes off her. Maybe it was the dark blond hair, although it was neatly trimmed and combed, as opposed to Kara's wild tangle. Maybe it was just that pure innocence that reminded him of what Kara had never had. Most likely it was that edge of confusion. He had the distinct idea that her parents hadn't survived the war, whether she knew it or not. He wasn't sure where the sad thought had come from.
"Do your parents live on this ship?" he asked her gently.
Katee shook her head. "They went away when the bright lights came," she told him softly. "I miss 'em."
His heart broke. Looking over at Billy, he saw the same emotion that he was feeling. It was a combination of sadness and pure rage that this child should be all alone. "Where do you live?" he asked.
"Here, silly," she said with her smile returning at full force. "I'm Princess of the Dell."
"I'll just bet you are," Lee agreed.
His conversation with the girl was cut short as the door before him opened and a technician stepped out accompanying President Roslin. She looked absolutely awful. Her face was somewhere between gray and green, eyes sunken and lips pale. She looked like walking death. He was taken aback at this change from the vibrant woman he had met only months ago.
"There's the Princess," the President said softly. Her voice was faint, but audible.
Katee immediately hopped off his lap to give the President an oddly gentle hug, if her reaction to him had been an indication. She definitely seemed to know that gentleness was called for. President Roslin hugged her back, frail arms grasping only slightly.
"Captain Apollo," she said with a barely perceptible nod. "I'm grateful that you're early. I would very much like to get back to my quarters on the Galactica."
"Yes, Sir," he said softly, wondering how she could even stand when she looked so ill. Again Kara popped into his mind, and with her the memory of a stubbornness bordering on stupidity at times. She was horrible when she was sick. He was grateful that it didn't happen often. "I'd be happy to leave as soon as you're ready."
"What do you say, Princess," she asked the girl softly. "Can you walk me to my plane?"
Katee smiled broadly and carefully took the President's hand. "Is your tummy better now?" she asked her.
"A little bit, Princess," the President replied. "Still kind of yucky."
Katee nodded her understanding. "So we should walk slow," she decided.
"That would be fine."
Lee and Billy stepped in behind the President and her small escort. Lee watched for stability as they made the short trek to the ship, and stepped forward to take one arm as they reached the steps to the docking bay. She didn't wave him off, but leaned on him heavily as she made it up the several steps with difficulty. She would have done so with more ease if she'd had her other hand for the rail, but she didn't seem inclined to let go of the small girl's hand. He really couldn't blame her.
Once aboard the small shuttle, Katee ushered the President to a seat that reclined and watched her sit heavily. Then she looked around until she found a pillow and blanket, and carried them carefully to her charge. It was almost comical watching the child spread the blanket over the President, and tuck an unnecessary pillow behind her head. Roslin's smile stayed intact, though. Not natural, but intact.
"There you go," Katee said proudly. "If your tummy gets sick again, you can use one of those bags," she informed the President. "That's what I had to do when my tummy was hurting."
"Thank you," President Roslin replied earnestly. "I couldn't have gotten back here without you. You be sure to come see me the next time I'm here."
"Next week, like before?" Katee asked.
"Next week," Roslin confirmed. "Have a good week, Princess."
Katee's smile could have lit half the ship. "You feel better," she commanded. And Lee thought that if anyone could command an illness to retreat, it would be this little scamp. He couldn't keep his own smile off his face as he watched her go back out through the door, walk carefully down the stairs using both hands on the rail, and then take off skipping down the hall.
"She's something," Lee said to no one in particular.
"She's beautiful," Roslin confirmed. Billy was behind her, gently taking away the pillow that had her head pressed forward so that her chin was resting on her chest.
"She lives on board?" Lee asked.
Billy answered for the President, who had closed her eyes and effectively tuned them out. Lee couldn't blame her. "Yes," the young man said. "The doctors and technicians have pretty much adopted her. They didn't want her sent to the orphan ship."
Lee nodded at that. He was glad there was someone looking out for the child.
"Will she need anything before we go?" Lee asked.
"I'm fine, Apollo," she answered by herself. "I'll manage until I'm back in my room."
Lee didn't see how she could, but he didn't argue. He simply made his way to the front of the ship and began preparations for the smoothest takeoff he had ever attempted. He managed it well, and the flight was quick an uneventful. He again exercised his ability to be precise as he landed the shuttle on the Galactica without so much as a bump. It was tiring, but not so tiring as landing a Viper hands-on.
By the time he had systems shut down, Billy had Roslin half way down the ladder to the Galactica's flight deck. He thought of following, but decided it wouldn't be welcome. If it were him that was sick, he certainly wouldn't have wanted an audience. He finished clearing out his paperwork before handing his clipboard to a deck hand and walking the distance to his office. Instead of going in, he detoured to his father's office, unsure whether he would be there. Adama and Tigh alternated shifts of command, and while they were frequently seen there together, just as often one was trying to recover from the exhausting twelve hours of life and death decisions.
Lee got lucky, and heard his father's, "Yes?" when he knocked at the hatch.
"Just me, Sir," he said as he eased the door open. "Do you have a minute?"
As it turned out, his father was just getting ready for work. He was in his undershirts and pants, but hadn't yet gotten to the upper half of his uniform. Wiping his face on a towel, Adama gestured for Lee to come in.
Seeing that the bed was not yet made, Lee began quickly arranging the covers in the usual military style. It took him only a couple of moments to have the bed made with its requisite military corners, and tight enough that a coin would have bounced a foot.
"You haven't lost your touch," his father said with a grin, now pulling on his uniform shirt.
Lee gave him a sheepish grin. He hadn't even been thinking, just moving to keep his thoughts at bay. Now he sat down on the edge of the neatly made bed and faced his father. "You've had me making beds since I was three," he remarked. "It's a habit."
"I'm sure it is. And thank you; I'm running behind this morning."
"Finally get more than an hour's sleep?" Lee asked with an attempt at sarcasm. It fell flat, because there was more truth than joke in the words.
"Forgot to set the alarm," he said with embarrassment. "If Lieutenant Gaeta hadn't called to check on me I'd still be sleeping. Thank the Lords Saul doesn't have anywhere to go."
Lee grinned at that. "He probably would have let you sleep the day if you'd asked," he suggested. "It might be a good idea. Nothing much is happening now."
His father sat heavily on his chair and reached for a boot. "That's the problem," he admitted. "What needs to be happening is some Tylium processing, but there isn't any to process."
"We could always jump back to a known location," Lee suggested. "It might be a good idea before we get too low to jump."
Adama looked up sadly. "We already are," he admitted. "Not the Galactica, of course, but most of the ships. I won't leave them without some kind of protection. We simply have to find a source in this quadrant. I have Vipers looking because our Raptors are down, but then you know that."
Lee nodded. He made the schedules. He knew what the missions were. "So it's getting tight?"
"We're not at a crisis point yet," his father said firmly. "We'll find a way. We don't have a choice."
"Well, I'd better let you get ready for work," Lee told him as he stood.
"Didn't you want to see me for something?" Adama asked.
Lee really didn't want to bring it up given his father's current burdens, but he couldn't see a way around it now. "President Roslin," Lee admitted. "Are you aware of how sick she is."
"Yes, I am," Adama said quietly.
"Don't you think something should be done to speed up the process of appointing a government?" he asked. "She looks like she may not make it to morning, much less through an election."
"If she becomes incapacitated, she has asked that I act in her stead until she recovers," Adama said simply. "I won't do so unless she orders it, or is unable to order anything. We don't have a lot of checks and balances right now, but we need them. We have to pray that she recovers."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Then we do our best to create a civilian government on our own," he admitted. "The general population won't tolerate military leadership for long. They are too used to freedom and having a voice, and that isn't possible while maintaining military discipline. There has to be a final word. It's simply how things work."
"I would think you'd be happy not to have her opposition," Lee said in confusion. "Not that I think you'd wish her ill, but if she were unable to continue I'd think it would be counterproductive to appoint someone else to replace her."
"It's what I'll do, Son," Adama told him firmly as he tied his second boot and stood. "Was there anything else?"
"No, Sir," Lee admitted. "I just wanted to be sure you understood how sick she really is."
Adama nodded gravely. "I check in to see her at least twice a week, with or without official reasons. There aren't many people who know, and that's the way it has to stay, but I would assume she needs someone around her for encouragement. As you now know the situation, you should probably do the same. It's bad enough being sick without being lonely too."
Lee nodded. His father had a point. He would be sure he dropped in to see her on occasion, even if it was just to let her know that he was thinking about her. She was a nice person. Again it occurred to him that nice people tended to get a raw deal in this world.
