Chapter 5
Chief Tyrol wanted to throw up. His hands were still shaking, his heart was pounding, and he still didn't know if he'd done the right thing, or if he'd screwed the kid up even more than she'd been before.
But she was alive, and right now that was enough.
He had nearly fallen apart when he'd seen her pick up the weapon and walk off with it. When he found the idiot that had left it sitting there he was going to rip somebody's head off. It had probably been found in the Raptor and set aside to be put away later, or maybe one of the pilots had been working on his spacecraft and had taken it off to make working easier. Tyrol really, truly didn't care. Too many of his kids were too close to the edge to give them any opportunities.
He had been doing this job for fifteen years, and in that time one of the things he'd had to learn to do was to take care of the kids. Maintenance in general had a quick turnover, and the Galactica in particular was known for breaking in the rooks. No longer really set up for fighting, and one of the lowest level ships technologically, the Galactica had been a training ground for at least the last seven or eight years. With the decommissioning, nearly every man on board was new to his or her job. Tyrol had a few older rookies — specialists that had been with him for between three months and a year — but still they were relatively young and in no way ready for a war.
In his years as a chief, one of the first things he'd learned is that when kids came in he was often all they had. He was parent, nursemaid, counselor, and occasionally priest. It wasn't deliberate, but they were simply his kids. Many men in the military didn't take the position seriously, but to him being the Chief Petty Officer was as much a calling as a job. He was here for the planes, yes; but he was also here for the kids.
And he'd had a few kids over the years that had a particular look that he'd come to recognize. In the past, his job had been testing them out and seeing who needed to go back home and who was solid enough to keep. Now it was more than that. There was a look — part desperation and part sadness — that served as a hell of a warning to anyone who was looking. What scared the crap out of Tyrol was that most of his crew had that look. They looked hopeless, broken, beaten and there wasn't a frakking thing he could do about it except to try to nurse them through it. And he didn't feel like nursing anyone through anything.
He'd told them to keep an eye on one another, and he'd been busy doing the same. That was probably why he'd managed to catch Cally standing against a wall of the bay for more than an hour. Her hair had been down, she'd been deathly pale, and her duty uniform wrinkled. He knew how hard it was to sleep, and he knew what she'd seen and lived through — he'd done it right beside her — but he had hoped she would be okay. He often came to the bays himself when he needed the peace of a familiar place, so he hadn't really considered asking her to leave. When he'd seen her pick up the blaster, he'd known she was in trouble.
Thank the Lords he'd thought to have security called before he went into that tube. He probably should have waited, but one of the things he'd been trained in was crisis management. Cally had definitely been in a crisis. He hadn't had time to think or wonder or plan; he'd had to go in by the seat of his pants and try to figure out what she'd needed to hear. In retrospect, he'd done everything wrong.
Never approach someone with a weapon when they're contemplating suicide. That was what he'd been taught. If they don't care about their own life, they sure as hell won't care about yours. But he'd walked right up to her, settled in next to her, and damn-it he'd made it personal because it was. Okay, so he'd used guilt. He would have used more than that if he'd had it available. Even though a part of him wanted to throttle her for even thinking she could be expendable, another part was hurting right along with her.
There was guilt, too. Survivor's guilt was common following a battle, and Tyrol had it in spades. For all he had lost — and yes, he had lost a lot — he still had what was most important to him. He had his work, his Commander, a purpose, and he had Sharon. Thank the Lords he had Sharon, because if he hadn't had someplace to hide from this for a stolen moment here and there he probably would have been thinking about using that damned gun on himself. Even with a kid to dodge, and rank to juggle, he and Sharon had managed to be there for one another for a minute here and a minute there over the last few days. Just knowing she was there, even when he didn't get time with her, was almost enough.
Sharon was down in his bays quite a bit working on the Raptors. She knew them pretty well, and maybe he'd spent a little more time in recent months training her in maintenance than was strictly necessary. It had served him well, and she was holding her own on the repair crews. So he'd see her throughout the days, even if it was only in passing. It made things easier. It also made them harder, because they still couldn't really announce how they felt. Partly that was rank and fraternization and career, but the other part was that it simply wasn't appropriate to have anything to be happy about when so many had lost so very much.
So many like Cally. She'd been with him for nearly six months, so he knew her better than most of the rooks. He knew that she and Prosna had been close, although whether friends or lovers he had no idea. It didn't really matter at this point. He knew she was the type to try to mother those around her. He knew that she'd had a father back home that she really looked up to, and that he'd been in maintenance as well. He knew that she could fix just about anything given enough time to puzzle it out. And he knew that she had a very soft heart. What he didn't know was whether or not she was strong enough to get through this.
He'd managed to get the gun away from her, although he hadn't known what he should or shouldn't say. He'd had all the classes — both hours every year - but mostly they were directed at managing situations with strangers, and of course the statistics among military personnel. Cally was both a coworker and a friend of sorts, so it changed the rules. There was very little objectivity when someone you liked was ready to die.
The only rule of crisis management that he had truly followed was to stay calm. He had done that. He'd made promises he couldn't keep, he'd put his hands on a loaded weapon, and he'd held her for twenty minutes while she bawled like a baby. None of those things were approved in the handbook. What was more, it had taken all his strength not to cry right along with her.
Still, when security had shown up, he was glad that he'd had the gun away from her and they'd had no reason to threaten her. She'd been through enough without that. He had gestured for them to stay put, and whether because they understood or they were just too tired to argue, they had complied.
God, the look on her face when she'd seen them there had been almost enough to push him over the edge. She had looked so betrayed, and from her perspective he supposed she was. He still wondered if calling them had been the best idea, but it was standard procedure when someone potentially unstable had a weapon. And in the end they had done what he could not; they had taken her to the Life Station and she'd gone to the head of the line for care. As a cry for help, it had been damned efficient.
Tyrol had left the bays unsupervised while he'd come with her to the Life Station. He couldn't just leave her to security. Lords, she was barely more than a child, and she was scared. The doc had looked her over and slammed an IV in her faster than Tyrol could blink. Apparently she'd been pretty bad off, whether from not eating or not sleeping he couldn't be sure. But at the very least the doctor had said it was no wonder she hadn't been thinking clearly, and that had helped. Maybe she wasn't as far gone as Tyrol had feared. Maybe she wasn't mentally unstable, but rather physically exhausted. They all were. He liked that answer better than thinking that she really, truly didn't want to live. It was the only comfort he'd had as they had shooed him out of the treatment bay to wait in a crowded hallway.
And now he supposed he should leave, even though he'd asked the doc to let him know as soon as he could see her. There were friends of hers on the deck that would be anxious to know how she was, and there was more work to get done than they could ever accomplish. Now he had one less man doing it, but that wasn't what was worrying him. What worried him was that she might not make it back, and at one point he had known that she loved her job. He hated to see anyone this low.
When Captain Adama made his appearance outside the Life Station, it was all Tyrol could do not to turn his back on the younger man. He had actually looked forward to meeting the Commander's son, and he'd been both shocked and angered that the flyboy was no more than a spoiled, rude brat. The last thing he'd wanted was for the new CAG to upset Cally even more.
"Chief," the Captain now said. Tyrol had nodded back, but had no desire to speak to the man, whether he was CAG or not. "How is she?" he asked.
"Alive," he replied.
Captain Adama nodded, then leaned back against the opposite side of the corridor outside the Life Center. He didn't say any more. But he didn't back down either, and Tyrol had to give him credit for his tenacity.
"You don't have to stay," Tyrol said a few minutes later. "I'm just waiting to see if they're going to keep her here or stick her in the brig."
The Captain's eyebrow went up, but he didn't speak immediately. "I don't think she'll wind up in the brig," he said, almost conversationally. "Although at least she'd be supervised there."
"Is there something you're trying to say?" Tyrol asked. He didn't like the implication that he wasn't watching his crew, or that they weren't watching one another. Supervision was adequate. Cally was here — she was alive — because he'd been watching her.
"Nothing you don't already know," he answered. "This isn't the first attempt and it won't be the last. I lost two pilots yesterday morning to the same thing. It's hard to watch everyone, and we have no way of knowing who's going to"
"That much is true," Tyrol said in a tired voice. "I'm sorry about your pilots."
The Captain closed his eyes, and for a minute he looked very much like his father: tired, worn, and very sad. "I didn't even know them," he said softly. "But I wish they'd had someone they could've talked to. I can't help but wonder if their CAG had been around"
Tyrol couldn't think of an answer to that. He didn't really want to offer comfort to the man he saw as the enemy. Thankfully he was saved from the situation by the physician's arrival.
"How's she doing?" the Chief asked, directing his question towards the doctor.
"She's stable now," he admitted, and he seemed more tired than anyone else was. The Chief figured that he must be, but that didn't lessen his concern for his troop. "We have her hydration level and blood sugar back up where they should be, and her electrolytes are leveled out. At least I'm not worried about heart failure or hypoglycemic shock, both of which were possibilities when you brought her in. She's coherent now, as well. She wasn't making a lot of sense before, but that could have been either the blood sugar or sleep deprivation. I'm amazed she was still conscious."
"Can we see her?" the Captain asked. Tyrol scowled. He didn't want the bastard anywhere near Cally, but it wasn't like he could say anything against it.
"Actually, I need you to get her out of here," the doctor admitted. "We don't have the space for anyone who isn't critical. She'll need to be watched constantly, even going to the bathroom, until we can get a thorough psych evaluation done. I don't know when that will be."
"There are a lot of people back in quarters that are worried about her," Tyrol said slowly. "I'm not sure she'll be able to handle that right now."
The doctor shook his head, but the Captain cut him off. "Can you keep her here until morning?" he requested. "We need time to set up the supervision, and she'll probably do better if you can get a little more fluid in her, right?"
The doctor still looked doubtful, but Apollo added, "I'd be happy to clear it with my father if you'd like."
Reluctantly, the doctor nodded. "Until morning," he allowed. "If you'll excuse me, I have other patients."
With that, the physician was gone. The Chief was left stunned, and very uncertain of this rude and obnoxious man who had just plaid a trump card on the doctor. Days before, he'd been unwilling to admit he had a father on the ship, and now he was using him to pull rank. It didn't make any sense.
But the Captain wasn't standing around. He was walking back through the doors that led to a room full of sick and injured people. Tyrol followed, still unwilling to trust the officer's apparent change of heart. When they reached her, she was lying on a cot with an IV in one hand, and Tyrol was pleased to see that she had a little more color than she'd had before. She was awake, and alert enough to see them approaching. The fear in her expression made him furious. Why the hell did the Captain have to pick now to get involved with his men?
But as they got closer, Apollo stepped aside and gestured for Tyrol to precede him. The Chief didn't ignore the opportunity to place himself between the two of them. If he Captain chose to ream her out for being human, he was going to have to go through him to do it.
"Hey, there," Tyrol said softly as he approached her. She looked so damned scared; it was worse than seeing her sad.
"I'm sorry, Chief" she began, but he cut her off.
"Don't worry about it," he told her with a forced smile. He didn't really have a clue what to say to her. "Just feel better."
She nodded, and he was left with a silence that was horribly awkward. The Captain broke that silence by stepping forward. "How are you feeling?" he asked Cally.
The fear flashed in her eyes once more, but Tyrol couldn't see a way to get in the middle of this without being insubordinate. As Apollo moved closer to Cally, Tyrol shifted to the foot of the cot. He wasn't getting too far away.
"Better, Sir, I guess," she answered softly. "I'm not dizzy now."
"I'm glad," the Captain said, and then he did something that floored Tyrol between one heartbeat and the next; he reached out and took Cally's hand in his and just held it. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
She shook her head, but the fear was fading and that made the Chief feel better. "I'll be okay," she told him, even as another tear slipped down her cheek. "I just things were a little messed up for a while. They still are, but I'm not going to you know."
"I'm glad," Apollo told her, and was that actually a smile on his face? "We don't have enough decent mechanics. You're probably the only one who will put up with me."
She almost smiled. Almost. "You didn't do too bad," she said. "You'll get the hang of it."
"Maybe." They stayed that way, neither of them talking for a moment, but the silence wasn't the same as it had been earlier. It wasn't tense, but simply there. "I know how you're feeling," Apollo said softly. "Or pretty close. A couple of years ago I lost my brother in an accident. Afterwards I didn't know if I wanted to live or not. It took a while to get my head back together."
Cally seemed to think about that. Tyrol was frankly shocked.
"Were you really close?" she asked. When he nodded, she swallowed heavily and asked, "Does it get any easier."
Apollo appeared to think that over. "It doesn't hurt any less," he admitted. "But after a while you get used to it. You start remembering the good stuff, and that helps some. I'll never be glad it happened, and I'll always miss him, but in a way I'm glad he didn't have to see this."
Cally nodded her head as though she understood. "Prosna he was a good friend; my best friend. He died in the fire. I miss him." There were more tears now, but not the uncontrolled sobbing she'd had earlier. It bothered Tyrol almost as much.
"It's hard," the Captain admitted as he reached out to brush away one of her tears. "But it will get easier. And if he was a good friend, I know he wouldn't want you to hurt yourself. He'd be glad you survived, wouldn't he?"
She nodded slowly, and once more there was a comfortable silence. He still hadn't let go of her hand, and that surprised Tyrol for some reason.
"You look tired," the Captain said. "You should sleep some."
"I can't," she admitted, and her voice was shaking as she did so. "When I close my eyes, he's there after."
Apollo nodded again. "You can't stop remembering him, but you can try to remember better things. If he's going to be around when you're sleeping, try to think of the good stuff you remember." When Cally appeared uncertain, he continued, "How did you two meet?"
She did smile at that. "In basic," she said. "We were in the same flight. I was horrible at the run, though. I couldn't keep up, and the first few runs my TI did nothing but scream at me. Then Prosna just started running behind me. When I'd slow down, he'd stick his hand in my back and push. He wouldn't let me drop out. At first it bugged me, but then I realized he was just trying to help. He kept getting in trouble because they thought he was as slow as I was, but he kept doing it anyway. It's the only thing that got me through the PT in basic."
"Sounds like he was a really good friend," Apollo said gently. "Was he always looking out for you?"
"Most of the time," she admitted. "But I looked out for him, too."
"Did you ever date?"
Cally shook her head. "We weren't that kind of friends," she said, but she didn't seem to take offense at the question. Tyrol thought that must be because of how casually it had been asked. And she wasn't crying any more.
"So, how much trouble did you keep him out of?" Apollo asked her with a wink, and once more she smiled. And then she started talking.
Tyrol listened as she told of the short friendship that had been so deep. She spoke of their time in basic, and the last six months on the Galactica, which had been the only duty assignment for either of them. He remembered some of the antics she mentioned, but others were new to him.
He knew that he should leave — he'd been off the deck too long, and it was obvious that the Captain wasn't going to drag her to the brig — but it was good to see someone smiling, even if it was just at memories. Gradually, her voice became softer and then slowed to a stop. Her eyes were finally closed, her features relaxed, and she was sleeping. Tyrol turned to leave then, walking towards the exit of the Life Station. When he heard footsteps behind him, he looked over his shoulder.
Apollo was right on his heels. At his questioning look, the Captain shrugged. "I need to get back to the deck," he admitted. "Why don't you go by quarters and let her friends know she's okay or as okay as she's going to get. You said they'd worry."
Tyrol nodded; he'd forgotten about her friends for the moment. "Why?" he asked, although he hadn't meant to ask.
The Captain didn't pretend not to understand. "She's a sweet kid," he finally said. "We had to rebuild the skids on my Viper, and she pretty much walked me through it. She cried the whole time, but she was never impatient or angry. Just sad. She's about the same age as" He broke off then and cleared his throat. "Let me know if she needs anything. I mean that."
Tyrol nodded. He believed him. "I don't think she would have talked to me that way," he said softly. "But I think she needed it. Thank you."
"She's not out of the woods," he said gently. "None of them are."
Tyrol smiled faintly. "But now she may have the time to find her way out."
The Captain stood there for a moment more, and then with a faintly embarrassed expression he asked, "What's her name?"
"Cally," Tyrol answered, only now realizing how personal the conversation had been for two people who had not even been properly introduced. "Margaret Cally."
"That's right," Apollo said, as though he'd known and simply not remembered. It was probably the case. Truthfully, the Captain had to have a lot on his mind, and it both surprised Tyrol that he'd taken time out for Cally and in a way pleased him. She needed someone to look out for her, and Tyrol hadn't done that good of a job so far.
"I'll see you on the deck," Tyrol told him. "I won't be long."
Apollo nodded, and with no more than that he was gone.
The Chief took a couple of deep breaths, and then turned to go in the opposite direction. He needed to go by quarters and let them know how she was. The Captain was right; Cally had a lot of friends. Tyrol could only hope that they were enough.