The people of Battlestar Galactica as seen through the eyes of a character
never seen in the mini-series. Glen Larson and Ron Moore own Battlestar
Galactica. I have stolen Author Haddenbock and his painting "The
Destruction of Scorpolios" from Lona. (Will my shameless pilfering never
cease?) I got some Baltar inspiration from Scotter Kitty's Flight of the
Bellerophon. (Nothing is sacred from my sticky fingers.) Of course the
Lenna Dell belongs to Crys (for now). If you are a Baltar fan I would
recommend not reading this. You have been warned.
Standard of Care by Lt Kathy "Doc"
Chapter 2: Dinner and Dr Baltar
Ahh. Sleep, a shower and I'm human again. Now what to wear on my "date" with the Commander? Hmmm, let's see, I have it narrowed down to my day uniform with the gold stud earrings or my day uniform with the birthstone earrings. Better wear the gold studs as they match my medical insignia, the caduceus. I look myself over in the small mirror. I see nothing special. Short brown hair with a few gray ones scattered at the temples, tired brown eyes, and more than a few laugh lines around the mouth and eyes. Time to leave.
As I close the hatch and begin my walk to the officers' mess I see the Commander heading in my direction. "Sir, what are you doing over in medico country?" I ask. "Since I ordered you to dinner, the least I could do would be to pick you up." And they say chivalry is dead.
Our conversation on the way to the officers' mess is general. I ask about his day and he asks how long I slept. I'm laughing about his description of a problem in CIC as we enter the mess. It takes me a few seconds, but I realize all conversation has stopped and all eyes are on me. Well, not really me, but the Commander. Sheesh, you'd think no one had ever seen the Commander eat dinner. A horrible thought enters my head. "Commander, how often do you eat in the officers' mess?" I ask.
"This is the first time. I usually eat in my quarters while.."
"...looking over reports." I finish.
He shrugs his shoulders and looks around the room. "Is there a problem here?" he asks.
Everyone promptly goes back to eating with a scattering of "No Sir". Even I can hear the capital letters.
We enter the food line. Thank the Lords that today we have real food and not the protein supplements. He begins to place some items on his tray. I have to admit the food is bad but his choice of the noodle soup with a few crackers is definitely not going to help. I put back his soup and crackers and neatly place a dish of Taurian carrots on his tray saying, "I got your blood work back. You have some vitamin levels that are low. Besides carrots are good for your eyes." Who knew I would eventually be reduced to spouting the home wisdom of my mother? I could have just stayed at home and not gone to medical school. I add what looks to be a chicken fillet with something green to his tray as well.
"Thank you, mother," he wryly states.
I shrug my shoulders. "You dine with your doctor, you pay the price. Here, you better take that apple for dessert."
"Are you going to tell me to wash behind my ears and brush my teeth next?"
"Your ears and teeth are fine. Your nutrition leaves a lot to be desired. And don't think that giving me the big brown eyes or using that bedroom voice is going to get you out of this." Oh crap. Did I just say that? To my commanding officer? I am so never going to go anywhere, with anyone when I am still sleep deprived. I pray for a medical emergency, but nothing happens.
He is chuckling as he answers. "Bedroom voice? Did I hear you right?"
Where are the Cylons when you need them? "Forget I said anything. I tend to speak first and think later when I am sleep deprived. Here, take that protein bar for a late night snack."
I have no idea why but he lets me off the hook. As we move to a table I notice several eyes following us. I do my best to ignore them. While we eat our conversation is general, and covers many topics. He is extremely well read and has a wide range of interests. He is currently trying to explain how a lowly commander came by an original Haddenbock. Not only an original, but one of my personal favorites, "The Destruction of Scorpolios". I had only managed to see it in books. I really want to hear this but for some unknown reason I happen to glance at Dr Baltar sitting alone across the mess.
Dr. Baltar. No one can deny the man is brilliant. Watching him now I begin to wonder if anyone can say he is entirely sane. On his initial visit to my office he was nervous but otherwise ok. Since then Dr. Baltar had been coming up on the medical radar more often. Usually through gossip with the techs swearing they heard Baltar talking to someone when no one was around. More recently others have noticed this behavior. Last week a concerned Lt. Gaeta from CIC came down to report that Baltar had definitely been talking to himself but when questioned denied everything. Dr. Baltar also missed his appointment with me 2 days ago.
I covertly watch Baltar. His long hair is unkempt and I know I look better post call than he does now. What I find more disturbing is his conversation. He is talking to himself. I use the term conversation loosely; it's more like a heated argument complete with hand gestures and head shaking. Now we all talk to ourselves. I'm as guilty as the next. But this goes beyond the norm. He talks and then stops for long periods, as if listening to a speaker answer. His eyes are definitely focused on his "invisible" partner. Just when I think things cannot get weirder I watch his face turn to panic and then slowly relax into an expression of (dare I say?) bliss, his eyes glazing over. From where I sit I can count his increasing respirations, and watch as his head falls back, and perspiration and a flush cover his face. If I didn't know that he was alone and in the mess, I would swear that he is getting a great lap dance from one of those top class strippers in the Caprica City red district. This is beyond my knowledge of post-traumatic stress disorder, and right in the weird category. When a doctor starts thinking weird, you know it's not good.
I jump as the Commander touches my arm. "I am sorry to be such a boring dinner companion. I tend to get carried away. You were miles away just now."
"You're a great dinner companion and the conversation so far has been wonderful. Sorry my attention wandered, but I was just looking at Dr. Baltar."
The Commander gives me a tuned down version of "the stare" that passes into a "go ahead and explain" look.
"What's your opinion of him?" I ask.
"Am I to assume you are asking this for purely professional reasons?"
Where did that come from? He can't think I'm interested in Baltar. Yech. I almost gag at the implication I would be asking about Baltar for anything even remotely close to personal reasons. There is no comparison between Dr. Gaius Baltar and my current dinner companion. How do I make this better?
"Sorry to switch to business. My interest is strictly professional. His behavior of late is concerning and seems to be deteriorating. I want your input."
He relaxes back in his chair and gathers his thoughts. "He has always struck me as high-strung. Very nervous and, ... there's something I can't put my finger on. He is brilliant that's not in doubt. He was the one who recognized that the Cylons were using his CNP program to infiltrate the battlestars and vipers. He also devised a way to detect human appearing Cylons and was instrumental in finding a Cylon spy on my ship. Would I want him by my side in a firefight? No. Would I want him backing me up with his intel? ...." He trails off, looking disturbed. His quiet speaks more than anything.
"I'm concerned about his mental health. I want to do a re-evaluation and I may want a specialist from the Lenna Dell to talk with him. But that's enough about business. Would you mind if I ask you a question?" He waves his hand in a go ahead gesture, although I get the impression the Dr. Baltar topic is not done, but rather filed away for future reference.
"Well, I've been wondering, how is it that you always manage to show up when I'm making coffee?" There, it's on the table.
He laughs and leans forward. "I don't know if I should be revealing all my secrets. Let's just say that sources have told me when you've just finished an overnighter, you usually start grinding beans at about 0600, if you're just starting a shift you usually start making coffee at about 0900. I make it my business to know what happens on my ship, and someone who has Picon Mountain Blue and grinds their beans themselves is information worth knowing." He leans back a satisfied smile on his face.
I am shocked at the completeness of his intel. The man must have spies everywhere. He laughs as I remain speechless. Which earns us a few more glances from the other diners. I finally give up and smile. I look over his tray and find he has finished everything. He gives me a questioning look. To my everlasting shame I yawn. He laughs and says, "It seems someone still needs some sleep."
We pick up our trays and walk to the door of the mess. I see that Dr. Baltar is gone. I silently say, tomorrow Baltar, you and I are having a little conversation, even if I have to bring a straight jacket. The corridors of Galactica are quiet and all too soon I find myself outside a familiar door. "It's been a pleasure, Commander."
"For me as well. I never knew following a doctor's orders would be something I wouldn't mind. Perhaps we can do this again"
"If our schedules mesh, I would enjoy dinning with you anytime. Remember, you still need to take some down time and exercise, but I'll take what I can get. Good night, Commander."
"Good night, Doctor."
As I enter my compartment I turn and watch him walking away. The word that comes to mind is complex.
The next day I am in my office. It's 0900 and my hands are itching to start grinding the coffee beans. I refuse to do so. Yes, I am being perverse but I just want to see if I can break the habit. There's a knock outside my office and I look up, surprised to see Dr. Baltar.
"Uh, Doctor, I just wanted to stop by. I was looking over my, ahh, appointments and realized that I, ahh, missed our meeting. I am sorry but I was involved in some very, umm, delicate research and lost track of time." He stammers through this while continuing to stand at my door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and occasionally running his hand through his long hair.
"I understand completely, Dr. Baltar. You more than anyone have a lot to do. Why don't you come in and sit down? I have some free time now. This shouldn't take long," I answer in a soothing voice.
He hesitates then stammers "I, .. I was thinking about some time next week. I really am busy. I have some, ahh, experiments that cannot wait."
"Look, doctor, this really shouldn't take long. I just want to go over some things."
He wanders into my office and begins to look around, almost as if he expects someone else to be there, someone other than me. He sits in a chair and gives me a gracious smile while saying, "Please call me Gaius. What is it you wish to know?"
I have been in practice long enough to know that whatever is going on with Dr. Baltar is more serious than I originally thought. "I want you to know that I'm doing follow-up on all Galactica personal in high stress positions. We've all been through a lot over these last few months and I'm just making sure everyone is doing ok." He nods as I continue. "There were some slight lab abnormalities I just want to follow up on, Gaius, nothing to worry about, but I just want to recheck a few things."
The change in him is quick and so subtle that if I was not watching him I might have missed it. There's a slight turn of his head, then a small tip back, almost as if someone else has entered our conversation and is now running their fingers through his hair. He jerks a shoulder and shifts in his seat. I can almost "see" someone placing a hand on his shoulder and then sitting in his lap. His eyes dart to his "companion" and then settle back on me. "I feel fine, Doctor. While I do understand the responsibility placed on me, this is not the first time, and I dare say it won't be the last." That might have worked if this statement had not been followed by a sharp glance to his "companion" and then a slight jerk of his head. Am I in caffeine withdrawal or did someone just blow in his ear?
"Look, Gaius, let me be blunt. There has been some concern over your current behavior, and..."
"My behavior?" he interrupts then goes on. "To what behavior are your referring?"
Damn, psych was never my strong suit. Well, here goes. "Gaius, there have been some reports of you talking to yourself. I know the stress you're under. Lords, most people would have been living here in the Life Station long ago. We're all over-stressed. I just want to make sure nothing serious is going on. Please understand, I have to ask- Are you hearing voices?"
The soft "No" is more a movement of his lips than any sound. He clears his throat and states, "Doctor, I have never heard voices. This is ridiculous. Who, who is saying this? I daresay it's someone jealous of my accomplishments or my current position." He gives a sudden slight head jerk and I think I make out, "... no proof."
I decide to retreat a bit. "I have to admit these reports are vague and I believe they will amount to nothing. However, in my capacity as CMO on Galactica I would be remiss if I didn't at least address these concerns. I hope you can understand the difficult position I'm in." Lords I hope he buys that bunch of felgercarb.
There is another slight jerk of his head, a dart of his eyes and I think a whispered, "... never go that far," and Dr. Gaius Baltar suddenly gives me the full wattage smile complete with overwhelming charm saying, "Forgive me, Doctor, I understand your position completely. I didn't mean to be difficult. I assure you I haven't been hearing voices, and while I have had some problems sleeping, there is nothing out of the ordinary." Which makes me wonder what Dr. Baltar thinks is ordinary.
I play along. "Thank you, Gaius, I knew you would understand. All I am asking for is to repeat some blood work and a brain scan." I hurry on before he interrupts, "Just to be on the safe side. You know, some hard data to back up that everything is OK. Both you and I know that a brain scan can still miss several things but most lay people think it's a gold standard." Please Lords, let him buy this crap. I promise never to miss Mother Elosha's services again.
The gracious man is back in place as he says, "Of course, Doctor. Whatever you say." He is still smiling but I get an impression that there is another conversation going on, and that a decision has been made. A decision that I cannot hear; and if I did, probably wouldn't like. He gives a quick almost imperceptible jerk of his head in a "no" gesture.
I rise from my chair and walk into the Life Station. For once there is no one around. I suddenly remember that Cassie is off today, and the other techs are doing inventory. My colleague Dr. Sands is over on the Lenna Dell. I realize that I am alone in the Life Center with a man I believe is schizophrenic at best and who-knows-what at worst. This is not good. I find myself wishing a certain coffee-scrounging Commander would walk through the doors. I never have been lucky. I only hope my gross stupidity will not result in my death and that I can stall Dr. Baltar until others show up.
I lead Baltar over to a bed and ask him to role up his sleeve so I can draw some blood. The fact that he still has those head jerks and seems occasionally to be looking at another person is unnerving. I move to gather the supplies needed to draw blood and suddenly hear a sound and movement behind me. As I turn, I see Baltar about to hit me with a medical scanner! It's wand shaped and not especially large but it is metal and weights about 3 pounds. I think I put up an arm to try and block it. My last impressions are of overwhelming pain in my head and right arm, the sensation of breaking bones, and then oblivion.
**************************************************************
My first impression is sound. The sounds of the Life Station are all around me. Well I am a doctor and this is my domain. The next impression is pain, pain blunted by medication. Through the haze it seems to localize in my right arm and my head. For a minute I panic and send a prayer to the Lords of Kobol: please let my hands be ok. I'm a surgeon. My hands are my life, if they're gone I can only be a shadow of what I was. I want to ask questions and begin to pull at the restraints. I slowly become aware of voices. Voices talking to me.
"Dr. Salik, you're ok. You're in the Life Station. Everything is all right. You are on a respirator. You have a severe concussion and a broken arm. Please relax and let the respirator do the breathing for you."
"She's starting to fight it."
"Cassie, give her another bolus of fentanyl."
"Why is it doctors make the worst patients?"
I note a discomfort in my throat, and a feeling that someone else is in charge of my breathing. I want to fight it, and ask about my hands, but the team has me well medicated. Thank the Lords they're using the good stuff. I drift off to sleep.
I swim up through a fog. I am aware of the usual Life Station sounds and smells. I have a mask over my face, and the pain in my head is gone. I open my eyes and look at my right arm and hand. A light splint covers my forearm. From the itching sensation I feel, a bone knitter has been used recently. My hand, to my relief, looks ok and I can move all my fingers. From a distance I hear, "She's awake."
I now see Cassie and Dr. Mark Sands come into view. "Welcome back to the land of the living," says a smiling Cassie.
Mark chimes in, "Welcome back, Kylen. You had us worried for a while. Now quit slacking and get better."
I try a few times to speak but my voice is soft and scratchy. I clear my throat and try again. "What happened?"
I may still be under some sedation, but even I can see the significant glances between Mark and Cassie. I repeat, "What happened? The last thing I remember is ...." My voice drifts off as suddenly I am not entirely sure of what I last remember. "...is talking to Dr. Baltar in my office. Then it's all a blank."
A familiar voice picks up where I left off and Commander Adama comes to my bedside. "You were attacked by Dr. Baltar. We're not sure of all the details, but he was trying to dispose of a rather heavy container of hazardous waste. Some Galactica personnel offered to help but then noticed what looked to be blood on the lid and wanted a look inside. Dr Baltar refused, and then got violent when the crewmen insisted. Security had to arrest him. He is currently in the brig. He alternates between screaming it's not his fault and that Cylon spies have planted a device in his brain, and carrying on a conversation with someone he refers to as 6. From what I understand, there are more than a few people on the Lenna Dell that want a look at Dr. Baltar."
"What was in the bin?" I ask.
He gives me a significant look. "You. Now get some sleep and we can talk later about your tendency to schedule appointments with mentally unstable people when no one is around."
I feel a slight sting in my arm where the IV is and then the pull of sedation. As I drift off to sleep, I realize I am going to have to find out the times of Mother Elosha's services.
End.
Standard of Care by Lt Kathy "Doc"
Chapter 2: Dinner and Dr Baltar
Ahh. Sleep, a shower and I'm human again. Now what to wear on my "date" with the Commander? Hmmm, let's see, I have it narrowed down to my day uniform with the gold stud earrings or my day uniform with the birthstone earrings. Better wear the gold studs as they match my medical insignia, the caduceus. I look myself over in the small mirror. I see nothing special. Short brown hair with a few gray ones scattered at the temples, tired brown eyes, and more than a few laugh lines around the mouth and eyes. Time to leave.
As I close the hatch and begin my walk to the officers' mess I see the Commander heading in my direction. "Sir, what are you doing over in medico country?" I ask. "Since I ordered you to dinner, the least I could do would be to pick you up." And they say chivalry is dead.
Our conversation on the way to the officers' mess is general. I ask about his day and he asks how long I slept. I'm laughing about his description of a problem in CIC as we enter the mess. It takes me a few seconds, but I realize all conversation has stopped and all eyes are on me. Well, not really me, but the Commander. Sheesh, you'd think no one had ever seen the Commander eat dinner. A horrible thought enters my head. "Commander, how often do you eat in the officers' mess?" I ask.
"This is the first time. I usually eat in my quarters while.."
"...looking over reports." I finish.
He shrugs his shoulders and looks around the room. "Is there a problem here?" he asks.
Everyone promptly goes back to eating with a scattering of "No Sir". Even I can hear the capital letters.
We enter the food line. Thank the Lords that today we have real food and not the protein supplements. He begins to place some items on his tray. I have to admit the food is bad but his choice of the noodle soup with a few crackers is definitely not going to help. I put back his soup and crackers and neatly place a dish of Taurian carrots on his tray saying, "I got your blood work back. You have some vitamin levels that are low. Besides carrots are good for your eyes." Who knew I would eventually be reduced to spouting the home wisdom of my mother? I could have just stayed at home and not gone to medical school. I add what looks to be a chicken fillet with something green to his tray as well.
"Thank you, mother," he wryly states.
I shrug my shoulders. "You dine with your doctor, you pay the price. Here, you better take that apple for dessert."
"Are you going to tell me to wash behind my ears and brush my teeth next?"
"Your ears and teeth are fine. Your nutrition leaves a lot to be desired. And don't think that giving me the big brown eyes or using that bedroom voice is going to get you out of this." Oh crap. Did I just say that? To my commanding officer? I am so never going to go anywhere, with anyone when I am still sleep deprived. I pray for a medical emergency, but nothing happens.
He is chuckling as he answers. "Bedroom voice? Did I hear you right?"
Where are the Cylons when you need them? "Forget I said anything. I tend to speak first and think later when I am sleep deprived. Here, take that protein bar for a late night snack."
I have no idea why but he lets me off the hook. As we move to a table I notice several eyes following us. I do my best to ignore them. While we eat our conversation is general, and covers many topics. He is extremely well read and has a wide range of interests. He is currently trying to explain how a lowly commander came by an original Haddenbock. Not only an original, but one of my personal favorites, "The Destruction of Scorpolios". I had only managed to see it in books. I really want to hear this but for some unknown reason I happen to glance at Dr Baltar sitting alone across the mess.
Dr. Baltar. No one can deny the man is brilliant. Watching him now I begin to wonder if anyone can say he is entirely sane. On his initial visit to my office he was nervous but otherwise ok. Since then Dr. Baltar had been coming up on the medical radar more often. Usually through gossip with the techs swearing they heard Baltar talking to someone when no one was around. More recently others have noticed this behavior. Last week a concerned Lt. Gaeta from CIC came down to report that Baltar had definitely been talking to himself but when questioned denied everything. Dr. Baltar also missed his appointment with me 2 days ago.
I covertly watch Baltar. His long hair is unkempt and I know I look better post call than he does now. What I find more disturbing is his conversation. He is talking to himself. I use the term conversation loosely; it's more like a heated argument complete with hand gestures and head shaking. Now we all talk to ourselves. I'm as guilty as the next. But this goes beyond the norm. He talks and then stops for long periods, as if listening to a speaker answer. His eyes are definitely focused on his "invisible" partner. Just when I think things cannot get weirder I watch his face turn to panic and then slowly relax into an expression of (dare I say?) bliss, his eyes glazing over. From where I sit I can count his increasing respirations, and watch as his head falls back, and perspiration and a flush cover his face. If I didn't know that he was alone and in the mess, I would swear that he is getting a great lap dance from one of those top class strippers in the Caprica City red district. This is beyond my knowledge of post-traumatic stress disorder, and right in the weird category. When a doctor starts thinking weird, you know it's not good.
I jump as the Commander touches my arm. "I am sorry to be such a boring dinner companion. I tend to get carried away. You were miles away just now."
"You're a great dinner companion and the conversation so far has been wonderful. Sorry my attention wandered, but I was just looking at Dr. Baltar."
The Commander gives me a tuned down version of "the stare" that passes into a "go ahead and explain" look.
"What's your opinion of him?" I ask.
"Am I to assume you are asking this for purely professional reasons?"
Where did that come from? He can't think I'm interested in Baltar. Yech. I almost gag at the implication I would be asking about Baltar for anything even remotely close to personal reasons. There is no comparison between Dr. Gaius Baltar and my current dinner companion. How do I make this better?
"Sorry to switch to business. My interest is strictly professional. His behavior of late is concerning and seems to be deteriorating. I want your input."
He relaxes back in his chair and gathers his thoughts. "He has always struck me as high-strung. Very nervous and, ... there's something I can't put my finger on. He is brilliant that's not in doubt. He was the one who recognized that the Cylons were using his CNP program to infiltrate the battlestars and vipers. He also devised a way to detect human appearing Cylons and was instrumental in finding a Cylon spy on my ship. Would I want him by my side in a firefight? No. Would I want him backing me up with his intel? ...." He trails off, looking disturbed. His quiet speaks more than anything.
"I'm concerned about his mental health. I want to do a re-evaluation and I may want a specialist from the Lenna Dell to talk with him. But that's enough about business. Would you mind if I ask you a question?" He waves his hand in a go ahead gesture, although I get the impression the Dr. Baltar topic is not done, but rather filed away for future reference.
"Well, I've been wondering, how is it that you always manage to show up when I'm making coffee?" There, it's on the table.
He laughs and leans forward. "I don't know if I should be revealing all my secrets. Let's just say that sources have told me when you've just finished an overnighter, you usually start grinding beans at about 0600, if you're just starting a shift you usually start making coffee at about 0900. I make it my business to know what happens on my ship, and someone who has Picon Mountain Blue and grinds their beans themselves is information worth knowing." He leans back a satisfied smile on his face.
I am shocked at the completeness of his intel. The man must have spies everywhere. He laughs as I remain speechless. Which earns us a few more glances from the other diners. I finally give up and smile. I look over his tray and find he has finished everything. He gives me a questioning look. To my everlasting shame I yawn. He laughs and says, "It seems someone still needs some sleep."
We pick up our trays and walk to the door of the mess. I see that Dr. Baltar is gone. I silently say, tomorrow Baltar, you and I are having a little conversation, even if I have to bring a straight jacket. The corridors of Galactica are quiet and all too soon I find myself outside a familiar door. "It's been a pleasure, Commander."
"For me as well. I never knew following a doctor's orders would be something I wouldn't mind. Perhaps we can do this again"
"If our schedules mesh, I would enjoy dinning with you anytime. Remember, you still need to take some down time and exercise, but I'll take what I can get. Good night, Commander."
"Good night, Doctor."
As I enter my compartment I turn and watch him walking away. The word that comes to mind is complex.
The next day I am in my office. It's 0900 and my hands are itching to start grinding the coffee beans. I refuse to do so. Yes, I am being perverse but I just want to see if I can break the habit. There's a knock outside my office and I look up, surprised to see Dr. Baltar.
"Uh, Doctor, I just wanted to stop by. I was looking over my, ahh, appointments and realized that I, ahh, missed our meeting. I am sorry but I was involved in some very, umm, delicate research and lost track of time." He stammers through this while continuing to stand at my door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and occasionally running his hand through his long hair.
"I understand completely, Dr. Baltar. You more than anyone have a lot to do. Why don't you come in and sit down? I have some free time now. This shouldn't take long," I answer in a soothing voice.
He hesitates then stammers "I, .. I was thinking about some time next week. I really am busy. I have some, ahh, experiments that cannot wait."
"Look, doctor, this really shouldn't take long. I just want to go over some things."
He wanders into my office and begins to look around, almost as if he expects someone else to be there, someone other than me. He sits in a chair and gives me a gracious smile while saying, "Please call me Gaius. What is it you wish to know?"
I have been in practice long enough to know that whatever is going on with Dr. Baltar is more serious than I originally thought. "I want you to know that I'm doing follow-up on all Galactica personal in high stress positions. We've all been through a lot over these last few months and I'm just making sure everyone is doing ok." He nods as I continue. "There were some slight lab abnormalities I just want to follow up on, Gaius, nothing to worry about, but I just want to recheck a few things."
The change in him is quick and so subtle that if I was not watching him I might have missed it. There's a slight turn of his head, then a small tip back, almost as if someone else has entered our conversation and is now running their fingers through his hair. He jerks a shoulder and shifts in his seat. I can almost "see" someone placing a hand on his shoulder and then sitting in his lap. His eyes dart to his "companion" and then settle back on me. "I feel fine, Doctor. While I do understand the responsibility placed on me, this is not the first time, and I dare say it won't be the last." That might have worked if this statement had not been followed by a sharp glance to his "companion" and then a slight jerk of his head. Am I in caffeine withdrawal or did someone just blow in his ear?
"Look, Gaius, let me be blunt. There has been some concern over your current behavior, and..."
"My behavior?" he interrupts then goes on. "To what behavior are your referring?"
Damn, psych was never my strong suit. Well, here goes. "Gaius, there have been some reports of you talking to yourself. I know the stress you're under. Lords, most people would have been living here in the Life Station long ago. We're all over-stressed. I just want to make sure nothing serious is going on. Please understand, I have to ask- Are you hearing voices?"
The soft "No" is more a movement of his lips than any sound. He clears his throat and states, "Doctor, I have never heard voices. This is ridiculous. Who, who is saying this? I daresay it's someone jealous of my accomplishments or my current position." He gives a sudden slight head jerk and I think I make out, "... no proof."
I decide to retreat a bit. "I have to admit these reports are vague and I believe they will amount to nothing. However, in my capacity as CMO on Galactica I would be remiss if I didn't at least address these concerns. I hope you can understand the difficult position I'm in." Lords I hope he buys that bunch of felgercarb.
There is another slight jerk of his head, a dart of his eyes and I think a whispered, "... never go that far," and Dr. Gaius Baltar suddenly gives me the full wattage smile complete with overwhelming charm saying, "Forgive me, Doctor, I understand your position completely. I didn't mean to be difficult. I assure you I haven't been hearing voices, and while I have had some problems sleeping, there is nothing out of the ordinary." Which makes me wonder what Dr. Baltar thinks is ordinary.
I play along. "Thank you, Gaius, I knew you would understand. All I am asking for is to repeat some blood work and a brain scan." I hurry on before he interrupts, "Just to be on the safe side. You know, some hard data to back up that everything is OK. Both you and I know that a brain scan can still miss several things but most lay people think it's a gold standard." Please Lords, let him buy this crap. I promise never to miss Mother Elosha's services again.
The gracious man is back in place as he says, "Of course, Doctor. Whatever you say." He is still smiling but I get an impression that there is another conversation going on, and that a decision has been made. A decision that I cannot hear; and if I did, probably wouldn't like. He gives a quick almost imperceptible jerk of his head in a "no" gesture.
I rise from my chair and walk into the Life Station. For once there is no one around. I suddenly remember that Cassie is off today, and the other techs are doing inventory. My colleague Dr. Sands is over on the Lenna Dell. I realize that I am alone in the Life Center with a man I believe is schizophrenic at best and who-knows-what at worst. This is not good. I find myself wishing a certain coffee-scrounging Commander would walk through the doors. I never have been lucky. I only hope my gross stupidity will not result in my death and that I can stall Dr. Baltar until others show up.
I lead Baltar over to a bed and ask him to role up his sleeve so I can draw some blood. The fact that he still has those head jerks and seems occasionally to be looking at another person is unnerving. I move to gather the supplies needed to draw blood and suddenly hear a sound and movement behind me. As I turn, I see Baltar about to hit me with a medical scanner! It's wand shaped and not especially large but it is metal and weights about 3 pounds. I think I put up an arm to try and block it. My last impressions are of overwhelming pain in my head and right arm, the sensation of breaking bones, and then oblivion.
**************************************************************
My first impression is sound. The sounds of the Life Station are all around me. Well I am a doctor and this is my domain. The next impression is pain, pain blunted by medication. Through the haze it seems to localize in my right arm and my head. For a minute I panic and send a prayer to the Lords of Kobol: please let my hands be ok. I'm a surgeon. My hands are my life, if they're gone I can only be a shadow of what I was. I want to ask questions and begin to pull at the restraints. I slowly become aware of voices. Voices talking to me.
"Dr. Salik, you're ok. You're in the Life Station. Everything is all right. You are on a respirator. You have a severe concussion and a broken arm. Please relax and let the respirator do the breathing for you."
"She's starting to fight it."
"Cassie, give her another bolus of fentanyl."
"Why is it doctors make the worst patients?"
I note a discomfort in my throat, and a feeling that someone else is in charge of my breathing. I want to fight it, and ask about my hands, but the team has me well medicated. Thank the Lords they're using the good stuff. I drift off to sleep.
I swim up through a fog. I am aware of the usual Life Station sounds and smells. I have a mask over my face, and the pain in my head is gone. I open my eyes and look at my right arm and hand. A light splint covers my forearm. From the itching sensation I feel, a bone knitter has been used recently. My hand, to my relief, looks ok and I can move all my fingers. From a distance I hear, "She's awake."
I now see Cassie and Dr. Mark Sands come into view. "Welcome back to the land of the living," says a smiling Cassie.
Mark chimes in, "Welcome back, Kylen. You had us worried for a while. Now quit slacking and get better."
I try a few times to speak but my voice is soft and scratchy. I clear my throat and try again. "What happened?"
I may still be under some sedation, but even I can see the significant glances between Mark and Cassie. I repeat, "What happened? The last thing I remember is ...." My voice drifts off as suddenly I am not entirely sure of what I last remember. "...is talking to Dr. Baltar in my office. Then it's all a blank."
A familiar voice picks up where I left off and Commander Adama comes to my bedside. "You were attacked by Dr. Baltar. We're not sure of all the details, but he was trying to dispose of a rather heavy container of hazardous waste. Some Galactica personnel offered to help but then noticed what looked to be blood on the lid and wanted a look inside. Dr Baltar refused, and then got violent when the crewmen insisted. Security had to arrest him. He is currently in the brig. He alternates between screaming it's not his fault and that Cylon spies have planted a device in his brain, and carrying on a conversation with someone he refers to as 6. From what I understand, there are more than a few people on the Lenna Dell that want a look at Dr. Baltar."
"What was in the bin?" I ask.
He gives me a significant look. "You. Now get some sleep and we can talk later about your tendency to schedule appointments with mentally unstable people when no one is around."
I feel a slight sting in my arm where the IV is and then the pull of sedation. As I drift off to sleep, I realize I am going to have to find out the times of Mother Elosha's services.
End.