Ok. This is the final chapter in this story. I am thinking of a sequel.
This is a little more introspective from Kylen's point of view than usual.
Hopefully you'll like it. Please read at your own risk. Special thanks to
Lona who reads, reviews and beats me up if I don't send her a chapter (just
kidding). The Lenna Dell use to belong to Crys but is now mine.
Chapter 7: Epidemic & the Conversation
It's evening, Galactica time. I'm in Bill's quarters working on my new needlepoint based on a picture of the Kobol Mountain Range I took during my vacation to the Canceran National Park about three years ago. I'm sitting crossed legged on his couch, while he is at the desk looking over some reports. I hear him sigh again.
I look up and say, "Ok, spill it. That's the fourth sigh in less than fifteen minutes. Yes, I've been counting. It can't be that bad."
He turns and looks at me from over the tops of his reading glasses. "Just some reports I need to go over. Both Col.Tigh and I have to be at a 0800 meeting in the Wardroom with all branches the civilian government tomorrow. They want an update on weapons and military readiness."
I give him a smile and a sympathetic look. "Ouch. Poor Commander. Want me to go instead? I can get some of that command experience you threatened me with?"
He gives me a smile that reaches his eyes and says, "Now there's a thought. No, I wouldn't put this duty on anyone. Besides shouldn't you be discussing medical matters with the new Fleet Surgeon General?"
I wince. Dr. Lessing, the recently appointed Fleet Surgeon General is an ass. Dr. Dan Janner, the Chief of Staff on the Lenna Dell, and I have already had one meeting with him, after that he's been dodging both of us. Where they found this political hack with a medical degree is beyond Dan and me. Bill doesn't need more headaches right now so I refrain from voicing my opinion about our Surgeon General, and reply, "I tried to speak with him directly, but could only get his secretary. I had a complete report sent to him on the military medical issues and readiness."
"Did that report include the level four quarantine measures started last week after our discussion?" Bill can sometimes be like a daggit with a bone. He looks tired. He always has such a presence and vitality I forget that he is sixty years old, thirteen years older than me. I reply, "Yes it did. You worry about bullets and vipers; I'll take care of the band-aids."
As I watch him I have an idea. I put down my needlepoint and walk over to his desk. His eyes follow me. I must look like I have something nefarious in mind because he takes off his glasses, eyes my approach warily, and questions, "What?"
I'm in the process of turning his chair so he is again facing the desktop as I say, "You, always with questions. Well here's one. Did I ever tell you what I did in medical school to get some extra money?"
He thinks for a second then replies, "I don't think so. Was it something illegal?"
I smile. "Hmm, I'm surprised you don't already know. Your network must be slipping. Anyway, I did some part-time work at a rather exclusive Canceran spa as a masseuse. Now just relax and tell me what is so bad about government meetings. I thought you liked President Roslyn?"
Earlier he had taken off his duty uniform jacket and is wearing the regulation military tee shirts. This would be better if I had a real massage table, and no shirts, but for an impromptu stress reliever it should be ok. I tell him to lean forward over the desktop and use his crossed arms to pillow his head. He hesitates for a second then complies with my directions. For a second I'm not sure if he'll go along with what I have planned. While he's comfortable when he initiates physical contact, he does not always appreciate it when I do. I tentatively begin to work the muscles of his neck and shoulders. Lords, he's tense.
He sighs then talks, "President Roslyn is not the problem, or only a small part of it. It's dealing with the bureaucrats and all the petty politics. These people should be working together for the survival of the human race and the good of the Fleet. Most of the time it's political posturing." He grunts as I hit a particularly tense spot. "You have good hands."
I'm glad he seems to be enjoying this and decide to tease him a little. "I have great hands. On a military salary you could never afford a session with me. Come to think of it I should probably charge you. Never know when a few extra cubits may come in handy."
"You know, I've been discussing command training classes with Saul. He thinks it's a good idea too." Devious bastard, but I love the way his mind works.
"Have I ever told you that you have a devious mind?"
"On several occasions, although usually 'bastard' follows the word 'devious'. Seriously, Kylen, given the current state of the military, command training classes for all officers no matter what branch is just a matter of time." He is quiet for a second, and then continues, his voice a mix of contentment and almost accusation. "This is really good. You've been holding out on me. I've given you how many massages and only now you decide to return the favor? How come you've kept this particular talent a secret? "
That's a good question, and I don't have a good answer. Or at least one I want to talk about. But Bill deserves to know. "I wasn't keeping it a secret, I didn't think about it until just now. Bill, I haven't given anyone a massage in over twenty years. When I was in medical school it got out that I worked as a masseuse in my spare time. I started getting all sorts of propositions from fellow students, residents, and more than one attending. They thought masseuse was another term for prostitute. It made for a very uncomfortable situation. When I graduated med school, I jumped at the chance to join the service for further training at Picon Fleet Hospital. Once there I didn't tell anyone my secret. No matter how close to me." I stop for a minute and hope he understands.
I cannot see his face but his voice is without accusation when he replies, "Sorry, it must have been hard to be hassled like that, especially by people who had significant influence over your future. Although now that I think on it, if you keep this up I may let you out of command classes."
I smile. How does he manage to get right to the heart of the matter? I return to the other part of his previous statement. "About those command classes, if you think they're a good idea and want to start them I'll comply. However, I should warn you, I hate classes. I always sat in the last row near the wall in medical school. Once there were only about twenty people in a two hundred and fifty person lecture hall. The professor kept asking us to move down. I stayed in the last row."
"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" We both fall silent for a moment.
I decide to pursue my previous line of questioning. "So the politicians are protecting their little domains. That bothers you. Why?"
"Wastes my time. I feel like President Roslyn just wants me there as her trained military pet. You know, a show of power to let the other government branches know the Galactica backs her. I don't think anyone hears a damn thing I say. It gets annoying at times." I never knew he felt that way about her. In public he supports her unconditionally.
So, our president is using Bill as the stick to get her civilian government in line. I have to admit that is politically savvy thinking. I decide to ask, "Have you ever brought this up with the President?"
I feel Bill shift under my hands with that question. "No. And I never will. I would appreciate you not telling anyone either." That last statement hurts me. Bill should know I don't tell tales out of school. I must have reacted in some way because he continues, "Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I'm not sure if you understand the complexities in my dealings with our president."
"You want to explain them to me?" He sighs and continues on. "The President and I did not get off to a great start. It was actually her idea to run from the Cylons. I originally wanted to stay and fight." Bill is still talking but his attempt at clarification is very vague. I have the feeling there's a secret Bill and the President share. A secret I do not know. I decide not to push him, but I am curious.
"You could always declare martial law, take over the government. You're the man with the biggest ship and all the bullets." I already know the answer to this statement but it may help if he hears himself say it out loud.
"The people need a civilian government. Eventually they would rebel under military rule. Kylen, I know why we need a government, I just don't happen to like dealing with it. I've been in the Colonial Fleet all my life; I've never been interested in playing military or civilian political games." He continues on. I had always wondered why Bill was still commanding an out- of-date battlestar given his illustrious military career; anyone else would have been an Admiral. Now I know. Bill refused to play military political games.
I keep one part of my mind on what he is saying, and reply at all the appropriate times. The other part is enjoying the feel of his skin and muscles under my hands. The tension in his neck and shoulders is finally gone. This would be so much better if he would lose the shirts. Be patient, Kylen.
I stop the massage, leaving my hands on his shoulders and ask, "Feel better?"
As he stands up and turns around to face me, my hands fall away. He is smiling and although he still looks tired, he seems more relaxed. "Thanks, that was amazing." He looks at the clock. "It's late. You'd better get going. I need to stay up a little longer and finish these reports. I'll walk you back to your quarters."
He's such a gentleman. I smile and say, "Stay here and finish up. I'll walk myself back. But don't stay up too late. Doctor's orders." I pick up my needlepoint and he gives me a quick kiss to my forehead as I leave.
******
My wake up alarm rudely takes me from my dream, another one about Bill and me. Damn, Kylen, that is the third time this week. In the hopes that reading trashy romances is the cause of my vivid dreams, I have given them up. It hasn't helped. I am in deep water, without a life vest and sinking fast. Oh yeah, I don't have coffee either.
I review the facts as I get up and get dressed. Bill and I spend a significant amount of time together in public and private settings. We dine and exercise together. Yes, I'm even boxing. I may begin to like it sometime next year. We continue to spend time off shift together in his quarters. So far I have gotten from him a few hugs, some fabulous back massages and the occasional peck on the cheek or forehead; I even had one real kiss (Ok, I kissed him).
I've come to know the signs when he prefers I do not get closer. We have not revisited "The Conversation". I would be all for a little more action and a lot less words, but for now, I'm letting him set the pace and tone. However I'm getting tired of this. I feel like I've lost control of my own life. Who's running my life? Him or me?
What do I want out of this relationship? Why am I pushing this? I have always had horrible luck in my romantic relationships. Being friends has always worked way better for me. If this was just about sex it wouldn't be so hard, at least I don't think so. I want more than just physical gratification with Bill. What is there about Bill that makes me want more? I want more so badly that I can't just be friends. I will have to walk away if this is as far as it goes. My heart (or my body) cannot take having him so close if he's going to post "keep off" signs.
Bill has become such a presence in my life I find it hard to picture how things were before. This will sound strange coming from me, but he's like a piece of me that was missing for a long time and now is back in place. He challenges me, gives me space when I need it, and has an almost psychic ability to know when I need him around. He has an amazing sense of humor, and while we come from different backgrounds, we both understand the stress of command. The fact that I am the CMO and a doctor does not intimidate him.
Somewhere in the course of knowing him I fell in love with Commander William Adama. I want him as more than a friend, I want to be able to spend time with him after a shift talking over the goings on in the Life Station or in CIC, I want to be there when he needs to let off steam because of bureaucratic crap, I want to be able to lean on him when things get hard. But I'm still not sure if he wants the same. I do know this, things cannot continue as they are. I can no longer be happy as a good friend. I can no longer stand the emotional limbo we seem to be floating in. If something doesn't change soon I will hand in my resignation from the Colonial Service and set up shop on the Dell. It would be the hardest thing I've ever done, but I will do it rather than live like this.
Damn, that sexy dream ruined my day before it even began. And we were doing so well last night.
The com interrupts my morning musings. Dee from CIC is relaying a message from the Lenna Dell.
I hear the voice of Dr. Dan Janner, Chief of Staff on the Lenna Dell. "Kylen, sorry to call at his time but I think we have a problem." Not good when the Chief of Staff of the main hospital ship has a problem, any problem. It usually means it will be my problem soon.
I reply, "Dan, does this have anything to do with the memo you sent me last week about reporting any cases of that flu-like illness? I know we've been looking and so far no cases. I even instituted level four screening protocols for all crew that have traveled to other fleet ships. What's up?"
Dan sounds somewhat relieved. "Good, good. At least you took the memo seriously."
I'm rather testy before I get my caffeine fix and state, "Dan, spill it. You know how hard it is for me until I've had my coffee, I mean that damn protein coffee substitute that is worse than dishwater."
"Sorry. You know, some of the guys in genetics are just as maniacal about coffee as you. They are trying to reverse engineer a coffee plant from DNA they extracted from a coffee bean."
"I know, Dan; I was the one who donated the last few coffee beans I had to the project. So what's up?"
"Our newly appointed Fleet Surgeon General, Dr Lessing, is an ass. He received my memo and did nothing about it. No warning to civilian ships, no screening, no isolation. Nadda, zip. I now have on my desk requests for transferring ten patients from four different civilian ships to the Dell because of deterioration in their condition from a strange viral-like illness. Kylen, one of the two patients we had from last week just died last night. The other one is critical. Nothing so far is working. In the hopes of slowing progression of the disease, we tried to slow down the body's metabolic rate and functions by placing the two patients in stasis chambers. It slows progression a little, but doesn't stop it. With these ten new cases, I'm afraid we may be dealing with the start of an epidemic."
If anything is going to wake me up, it's the word "epidemic", well that and trauma.
"Lords, Dan. Are you sure they all have the same disease? Has anyone on your team examined them?"
"I sent some people out when we got the heads up. The preliminary reports are all the same. The initial presentation began about two weeks ago as a flu-like illness, and then seemed to improve a little. Over the next week, the patients developed escalation in their breathing problems, high fevers, increased muscle aches and pains, severe headaches, and finally respiratory failure, eventually requiring mechanical support. Soon after that, the body started to shut down. None of the antibiotics or anti-viral agents we have tried works so far."
I am now wide-awake and very worried. "Have you tried recontacting Dr Lessing?"
I can feel the frustration in Dan's voice over the com as he answers. "You better believe it, several times in fact. I always get a 'he'll get back to you'. This morning I was informed he was in a meeting aboard Galactica and could not be disturbed for any reason."
"Ok Dan, here's the plan. I'm going to crash the meeting to have a discussion with our General Idiot. How do you want to handle this? We can use a hangar bay as an isolation ward here on Galactica if needed."
Dan thinks about what I've said then replies, "I'll take these first ten cases on the Lenna Dell, however, if this is as bad as my people are predicting, we may need that hangar bay. For now we'll use the Dell as the primary referral site and keep Galactica as back up. If more new cases crop up today, however, I may send a few your way."
"Sounds like a plan. If this is as bad as you say the Dell will need some back up. I'm off to speak with Dr. Lessing. Let's see if we can do this without spilling any blood. I'll be in touch."
I finish changing into my duty uniform. Thanks to my conversation with Bill last night, I know what time and where the President has her meetings. As I approach the Wardroom, I see two giant Galactica marines guarding the entrance. Do they select marines based on size? They are at attention and give me the crispest salute I have ever seen. The one on the right looks down at me and states, "Sorry, Doctor, there's a meeting in progress and no one is allowed to enter."
This would be so much better if I were taller. I look way up into his eyes, and give him my best "Medical Attending Stare" while saying, "Look, I'm here about a fleet-wide medical emergency. Given that, and my position as CMO, I can enter any meeting I want. That is unless you want to be directly responsible for thousands of civilian and military deaths." Ok, a bit dramatic, but I want to get things set up back in the Life Center and the longer I chit-chat here the longer I am not getting my team ready. If Dan is talking about ten cases that he knows of, there are more out there.
The man I am talking to gets really wide eyes, looks at his partner, reaches for the hatch and opens it. The Wardroom is filled with President Roslyn, her aide and cabinet members, the Commander and Col. Tigh, and the Quorum of Twelve members. Oh and Dr. Lessing, our soon to be deposed Fleet Surgeon General – if I have my way. All eyes are on me. I guess no one expected the CMO to join the party.
President Roslyn is looking better lately. She has lost the pale drawn look and has put on some weight. The chemo treatments on the Dell are working. She gives me a questioning look over her reading glasses and states, "Doctor, this is a government meeting, I'm afraid any medical issues will have to go through Dr. Lessing our Surgeon General."
"Sorry, Madam President, but this can't wait. I just received a com message from the Lenna Dell about a possible epidemic in the fleet. This needs to be addressed now." Despite being CMO on Galactica, I can't make the civilian fleet do squat. I can, however, make military medical decisions. I figure the civilians will do whatever Galactica does. Sometimes size does matter and Galactica is the biggest ship in the fleet.
I turn and look at the Commander and Col Tigh. I give Bill a salute that he returns. I bet I'm the only one who caught his look of surprise at that salute. I begin to speak. "Commander, I just got off the com with Dr. Janner on the Lenna Dell. Based on information he relayed to me this morning, I am issuing a Level-one medical emergency for all military vessels. We are upgrading quarantine measures. No one leaves the Galactica for another ship unless they have hazmat gear, and when they return I am subjecting them to a complete physical and blood tests. I am also putting a hold on any traffic to and from Galactica unless it gets command approval. Anyone coming to Galactica will first go through Level 1 quarantine and a complete medical exam. Oh, the Dell is going to need to borrow a few shuttles to transfer the sick from the civilian ships, and if more cases are reported I may need to set up an isolation ward in one of our hangar bays."
Bill is looking at me; he has an idea of what's going on. In addition to our discussion last night, a week ago over our morning cup of synthetic dishwater, I mean "coffee", I explained Dan's memo and what I wanted to do. He listened to about half of it then interrupted saying, "Kylen, you know your job better than I do. If you feel it's necessary then we'll do it."
It's Col. Tigh who asks, "You think it's that serious?"
I move my head to include the Colonel in the conversation. "Last week two patients were sent to the Dell for treatment of a flu-like illness. Their condition progressed despite intensive medical therapy. So far everything the Dell has thrown at the two patients hasn't worked. One died, even in stasis, and the second is in critical condition. This morning the Dell received reports of ten more similar cases. It's that serious and going to get worse. "
President Roslyn is a good woman, but she can't be expected to make the right decisions if she doesn't have all the data. And obviously her new Surgeon General hasn't been giving it to her. She looks both horrified and irritated at the same time. The rest of the cabinet and the Quorum of Twelve are all muttering in the background. She has to almost shout to be heard over the dim of conversation. "Doctor, are you sure this is necessary? The civilian ships follow what Galactica does very carefully. A move like this will send panic through the fleet. Not to mention the effect on morale, it's been about a year since the destruction of the colonies and our escape at Ragnar. Only recently have people begun to live again. I also want to know how come the Fleet Surgeon General was not informed."
A rather portly, balding man stands and throws me an evil glance. Good. Dr Lessing has finally decided to throw in his two cubits, "This is the first I have heard about any fleet illness. I received no memo about any precautions. Madam President, Dr Salik and her friends on the Dell have been obstructionary ever since I was appointed to this post. They are secretative and.."
I've had it with Dr. Lessing, and interrupt his medical conspiracy theory. "President Roslyn, a memo was sent out from the Dell last week regarding two cases of a particularly virulent viral illness to both the Galactica and the Fleet Surgeon General's office. The memo recommended instituting some screening procedures, limiting travel in the fleet for a few days, and watching for any similar viral-like illnesses. The Commander can tell you we discussed this memo last week. I cannot say why Dr. Lessing has not done the same with you. Dr. Janner on the Dell notified me this morning about the death of one patient, and ten potential new cases. He also told me he tried to reach Dr. Lessing several times. I would strongly recommend the same procedures be instituted throughout the fleet now. As I've said, this is bad, Madam President, and it's going to get worse."
I turn to look at Dr. Lessing and say, "Both Dr. Janner and I are going to set up a meeting with you once we stabilize this situation." As I leave the room I can hear President Roslyn begin questioning the good doctor.
***************************
It's later that morning and I'm in the Life Station. All my team has been briefed. Dee has set up a secure communication line between the Dell and Galactica. The Fleet Surgeon General is nowhere around, so Dan and myself are overseeing quarantine procedures for the civilian fleet. I would bet a whole bag of coffee beans, if I had any, he has isolated himself until this is over. I hope the president fires him. Dan would make an excellent Surgeon General. The ten cases are on the Dell but our Life Station will be getting the next few new ones. Dan has already called me about another four.
The doctors on the Dell have traced the origin of the infection to the Intersun Luxury Liner that now serves as a vacation resort for the fleet. Not good. As people come and go over there all the time lots of people will have already been exposed. Dan is on the com. My staff and I listen as he updates us on the ten patients previously transferred to the Dell this morning, and what his team has been able to find out about this illness. They have already started the autopsy on the first victim to try and get some clues on how to fight this. He has also sent a team to the Intersun to see if there are any extraneous factors, which could be playing a role. Most of his patients already have respiratory symptoms. One is in stasis. As the call ends and my staff leave, I see a familiar figure at my door and wave him in. The Commander walks into my office and closes the door.
He is looking tired and frustrated. I bet that frustrated look is because of me.
He takes a seat, and with a sigh begins speaking. "That was quite an entrance you made, Kylen. Dr. Lessing is playing you up as the ringleader in a plot to make him look bad. I think more than.."
His words are not unexpected. Bill hates surprises. In hindsight, I should have told him what an idiot Dr. Lessing is but for the life of me I can't think of anything he could have done to rectify the situation. I will give Bill the "boiled down" version on Dr. Lessing so I can deal with the epidemic. If he still wants he can chew me out later. I interrupt him, "Look, Bill, he was given the memo same as I was. He did nothing to institute precautions. The man is a quack. He got the job because he knew people not because he is an even average physician. Ok, I was abrupt but it had to be done otherwise if this illness runs throughout the fleet we may have no humanity to protect."
He looks surprised at that. I remember he's a military man, accustomed to fighting a known enemy. He could quote me all the stats for casualties and expected losses from a battle, but he has no clue how bad this may get. He needs to understand just what type of disaster we may be dealing with here.
I lean forward in my chair and start speaking. "Bill, do you know how many people died in the last Caprican flu epidemic about 5 years ago?"
I watch him thinking until he comes to a decision and finally says, "Not really, a few hundred."
I shake my head at such naiveté. "Bill, in three weeks that virus wiped out 50,000 people among the 12 colonies before it was stopped. This is just as bad as the Cylons, probably worse. We can't FTL away from it, and we have nowhere near the medical resources we once had. Not to mention we are over-crowded together on ships with limited atmosphere."
I watch as he absorbs the information. He looks frustrated, and I can understand why. This is a battle he can only stand on the sidelines and watch. Not something he's accustomed to doing. From nowhere a thought enters my head that I could use a hug right now. If I were braver I would ask him for one. We both stand, but instead of leaving he walks up to me and wraps his arms around me. WOW who knew I had ESP? It feels good and for a few minutes I don't think and just enjoy. My guy can be one really sweet devious bastard when he wants.
He gives a light kiss to my forehead and pulls back saying, "Are you and your staff ready for this?" I give him a quick nod of my head. "I'm going up to CIC. There are isolated reports of panic among the civilian fleet about the epidemic. I may need to use the marines to keep things calm. We'll speak later." He turns, opens the door and leaves.
I sit for a minute. I know he tends to let his actions speak for him, especially with regards to US. I sigh.
I will deal with this crisis. If we all live, I plan on having "The Conversation part II" with Bill. While I am sure it will be the kiss of death, I do not plan to wait anymore. One crisis at a time, Kylen, one crisis at a time.
********
The next few hours we get the four new patients transferred from the civilian fleet, even worse, a lieutenant from Starbuck's viper squadron has come down with similar symptoms. Hopefully we've isolated everyone he was in contact with. It turns out he had won a pass to the Intersun in a card game and his name had not been on the crew roster for "shore leave". That is not good. It means the crew has been exposed to this virus. Damn, I was hoping the screening measures would be enough. I have never been lucky.
Over two weeks more new cases appear both in the fleet and on Galactica. The Dell and Galactica medical personnel are working non-stop either treating the victims, or working on identification the virus and any medication that might be effective. Since the Dell has the most up-to-date laboratories, the basic science research on the virus and possible ways to fight it is being done there. Here on Galactica, we are doing everything we can to keep the patients alive. I try to remember the last time I saw Bill. I may have spoken to him on the com a few hours ago but I cannot be sure. My focus has become the isolation ward in the hangar bay, the Life Station and the Dell.
Among the civilian fleet, the total infected is about one thousand. A quarter of Galactica's crew has been affected. To date, there have been one hundred deaths, several more are being kept barely alive in stasis, and the rest are in various stages of the disease. Besides the isolation ward in Galactica's hangar bay we also set up two smaller auxiliary isolation wards among the larger civilian ships. Dan and most of his team have relocated to the Galactica to help. On top of this, we still have to deal with the day-to-day health issues. Needless to say, all the medical staff are being pushed to their limits.
The majority of affected crew are from the pilot's wing and among the deck crews. Starbuck's legendary luck is holding as she remains still healthy. Some of that luck must have rubbed off on Lee Adama as he is also well. From my occasional girl-talk with Starbuck, I know she and Lee are closer, and she seems happy so far. Of course with many of the trained pilots sick, she has been flying a lot of patrols and probably only sees Lee through the cockpit window of a viper.
From what I hear, Bill, at President Roslyn's request, has dispatched some marine units among the fleet to help keep order. Bill must have his hands full, between crew shortages and maintaining civil order.
I come out of the isolation ward on the hangar deck leaving Dan in charge, and slowly make my way to the Life Station. I just want to crash on my office couch a few hours and then I can go back. I notice the lights are off in my office but that my door is open. As I peek in, I see Cassie and Mark asleep on my couch. My tired mind goes off on a tangent thought. They make a cute couple. I wonder if they spend off time together. It's scary to think that between my thoughts about Bill and this epidemic I may have missed something right under my nose. I'll have to question Mark; Cassie would never crack under pressure. Damn, now I have to walk all the way to my quarters. I leave the Life Station and begin the journey. Next time I'm calling dibbs on the couch.
I jump as a familiar low voice comes from behind me. "You look exhausted."
"Good, I would hate to look better than I feel." Bill is a sight for sore eyes. He looks a little tired too, but gives me a smile as he comes alongside me and says, "Come on." He starts to guide me through the Galactica. We are heading to his quarters.
Why are we heading to his quarters? I really only planned a two-hour break. "Look, Bill." I begin in a soft voice. We are in public after all. "I'm only taking two hours off then back to the ward. You shouldn't be around me anyway. We aren't really 100% sure that the hazmat suits will protect us."
He continues to direct me toward his quarters saying, "I'll take my chances. You need to get something to eat. Come on."
He ushers me into his quarters and proceeds to force a sandwich down my throat along with some juice and a cup of synthetic dishwater, I mean "coffee". I'm just sitting on his couch. I should get back to the isolation ward, but I can't seem to move. When did his couch become so comfortable? I'm trying to keep my eyes from closing as I watch him move around. He turns on some soft music and then comes over to where I am sitting and holds out his hands to give me a pull up.
"I should really be going back to work. Thanks for the food." He looks at me with his patented "Command Stare" and says, "You're not going anywhere except to get some sleep." He then proceeds to maneuver me toward his bunk and into his bed.
"Lie down, Kylen. You need to rest. You look ready to fall over."
I lie down and he rolls me until I am on my stomach with my head on his pillow and my arms crossed beneath it. His hands begin to rub my tired shoulders. He gives the best massages, almost as good as mine. I really don't remember anything else after that.
I slowly become aware that I'm warm and in a bed. How did I get here? Where is here? There's someone in bed with me. Who? Recollection sweeps through my fuzzy mind. Bill. I last remember lying on Bill's bed while he massaged my shoulders. We are under the covers and I'm not wearing my sneakers. He must have taken them off. My head is using his chest as a pillow and I can hear the steady beat of his heart. Bill is holding me close with an arm around me. I am practically lying on top of him. When I move, I can feel my leg slide against his. I should really find out the time and get back to work. His arm tightens around me and I feel a soft kiss to the top of my head, then no more. I think he is sleeping. I'm not the only one who has been keeping long hours. Ok, ten more minutes, then I get up.
A soft low voice awakens me. Bill is in his duty uniform and on the com, "She's here but still asleep. I can..."
"I'm up. What is it?" I'm out of his bed and moving as I speak.
It is Dan calling from the isolation ward, "Kylen, I just got off the com with the virologists and pharmacology guys. They may have found something that at least seems to slow the progression in the ten cases it's been tested in. It's not a cure by any means. But this is the first success we have had since this disaster started."
"Great news, Dan, best I've heard all day. I'll get a shuttle over to pick up some of this wonder stuff. How are things in the ward?"
"About the same as when you left six hours ago. The Dell has not had any new cases. I am getting similar reports from the other two auxiliary isolation wards in the fleet."
"Well, that's something. I'm not ready to break out the ambrosia yet. I'll be coming down to relieve you."
"Ok, I could use some sleep and a shower. I'd better get back." Dan is strangely quiet when he finishes speaking.
Oh yes, that's right. All the rumors are confirmed now that the Commander is in his quarters answering his com while I am sleeping in his bed. When this crisis is over Bill and I are having a long talk.
Dan signs off. I turn to Bill and say, "Thanks for the food and the nap time. I better get going. I had only planned for a two-hour nap." I want to be mad at Bill and blame him for my over-long break, but somehow I can't. I really need to get back to the isolation ward.
"I have fresh scrubs for you. I'm heading up to CIC. Take a shower before you go back there. Anything else I can do?"
"No. And thanks." I give him a smile, a hug, and a quick kiss on the lips. He doesn't ask for more before he leaves. I wish he would. I take a shower and change into the scrubs. Hey! Where did he get my clean undergarments from? Was he rummaging around in my locker? Now that's an interesting picture, the Commander looking through my locker and drawers for underthings. I have to smile. Sweet devious bastard. I will have to remember to ask him later. I leave his quarters and walk to the hangar bay.
To be continued....
Chapter 7: Epidemic & the Conversation
It's evening, Galactica time. I'm in Bill's quarters working on my new needlepoint based on a picture of the Kobol Mountain Range I took during my vacation to the Canceran National Park about three years ago. I'm sitting crossed legged on his couch, while he is at the desk looking over some reports. I hear him sigh again.
I look up and say, "Ok, spill it. That's the fourth sigh in less than fifteen minutes. Yes, I've been counting. It can't be that bad."
He turns and looks at me from over the tops of his reading glasses. "Just some reports I need to go over. Both Col.Tigh and I have to be at a 0800 meeting in the Wardroom with all branches the civilian government tomorrow. They want an update on weapons and military readiness."
I give him a smile and a sympathetic look. "Ouch. Poor Commander. Want me to go instead? I can get some of that command experience you threatened me with?"
He gives me a smile that reaches his eyes and says, "Now there's a thought. No, I wouldn't put this duty on anyone. Besides shouldn't you be discussing medical matters with the new Fleet Surgeon General?"
I wince. Dr. Lessing, the recently appointed Fleet Surgeon General is an ass. Dr. Dan Janner, the Chief of Staff on the Lenna Dell, and I have already had one meeting with him, after that he's been dodging both of us. Where they found this political hack with a medical degree is beyond Dan and me. Bill doesn't need more headaches right now so I refrain from voicing my opinion about our Surgeon General, and reply, "I tried to speak with him directly, but could only get his secretary. I had a complete report sent to him on the military medical issues and readiness."
"Did that report include the level four quarantine measures started last week after our discussion?" Bill can sometimes be like a daggit with a bone. He looks tired. He always has such a presence and vitality I forget that he is sixty years old, thirteen years older than me. I reply, "Yes it did. You worry about bullets and vipers; I'll take care of the band-aids."
As I watch him I have an idea. I put down my needlepoint and walk over to his desk. His eyes follow me. I must look like I have something nefarious in mind because he takes off his glasses, eyes my approach warily, and questions, "What?"
I'm in the process of turning his chair so he is again facing the desktop as I say, "You, always with questions. Well here's one. Did I ever tell you what I did in medical school to get some extra money?"
He thinks for a second then replies, "I don't think so. Was it something illegal?"
I smile. "Hmm, I'm surprised you don't already know. Your network must be slipping. Anyway, I did some part-time work at a rather exclusive Canceran spa as a masseuse. Now just relax and tell me what is so bad about government meetings. I thought you liked President Roslyn?"
Earlier he had taken off his duty uniform jacket and is wearing the regulation military tee shirts. This would be better if I had a real massage table, and no shirts, but for an impromptu stress reliever it should be ok. I tell him to lean forward over the desktop and use his crossed arms to pillow his head. He hesitates for a second then complies with my directions. For a second I'm not sure if he'll go along with what I have planned. While he's comfortable when he initiates physical contact, he does not always appreciate it when I do. I tentatively begin to work the muscles of his neck and shoulders. Lords, he's tense.
He sighs then talks, "President Roslyn is not the problem, or only a small part of it. It's dealing with the bureaucrats and all the petty politics. These people should be working together for the survival of the human race and the good of the Fleet. Most of the time it's political posturing." He grunts as I hit a particularly tense spot. "You have good hands."
I'm glad he seems to be enjoying this and decide to tease him a little. "I have great hands. On a military salary you could never afford a session with me. Come to think of it I should probably charge you. Never know when a few extra cubits may come in handy."
"You know, I've been discussing command training classes with Saul. He thinks it's a good idea too." Devious bastard, but I love the way his mind works.
"Have I ever told you that you have a devious mind?"
"On several occasions, although usually 'bastard' follows the word 'devious'. Seriously, Kylen, given the current state of the military, command training classes for all officers no matter what branch is just a matter of time." He is quiet for a second, and then continues, his voice a mix of contentment and almost accusation. "This is really good. You've been holding out on me. I've given you how many massages and only now you decide to return the favor? How come you've kept this particular talent a secret? "
That's a good question, and I don't have a good answer. Or at least one I want to talk about. But Bill deserves to know. "I wasn't keeping it a secret, I didn't think about it until just now. Bill, I haven't given anyone a massage in over twenty years. When I was in medical school it got out that I worked as a masseuse in my spare time. I started getting all sorts of propositions from fellow students, residents, and more than one attending. They thought masseuse was another term for prostitute. It made for a very uncomfortable situation. When I graduated med school, I jumped at the chance to join the service for further training at Picon Fleet Hospital. Once there I didn't tell anyone my secret. No matter how close to me." I stop for a minute and hope he understands.
I cannot see his face but his voice is without accusation when he replies, "Sorry, it must have been hard to be hassled like that, especially by people who had significant influence over your future. Although now that I think on it, if you keep this up I may let you out of command classes."
I smile. How does he manage to get right to the heart of the matter? I return to the other part of his previous statement. "About those command classes, if you think they're a good idea and want to start them I'll comply. However, I should warn you, I hate classes. I always sat in the last row near the wall in medical school. Once there were only about twenty people in a two hundred and fifty person lecture hall. The professor kept asking us to move down. I stayed in the last row."
"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" We both fall silent for a moment.
I decide to pursue my previous line of questioning. "So the politicians are protecting their little domains. That bothers you. Why?"
"Wastes my time. I feel like President Roslyn just wants me there as her trained military pet. You know, a show of power to let the other government branches know the Galactica backs her. I don't think anyone hears a damn thing I say. It gets annoying at times." I never knew he felt that way about her. In public he supports her unconditionally.
So, our president is using Bill as the stick to get her civilian government in line. I have to admit that is politically savvy thinking. I decide to ask, "Have you ever brought this up with the President?"
I feel Bill shift under my hands with that question. "No. And I never will. I would appreciate you not telling anyone either." That last statement hurts me. Bill should know I don't tell tales out of school. I must have reacted in some way because he continues, "Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I'm not sure if you understand the complexities in my dealings with our president."
"You want to explain them to me?" He sighs and continues on. "The President and I did not get off to a great start. It was actually her idea to run from the Cylons. I originally wanted to stay and fight." Bill is still talking but his attempt at clarification is very vague. I have the feeling there's a secret Bill and the President share. A secret I do not know. I decide not to push him, but I am curious.
"You could always declare martial law, take over the government. You're the man with the biggest ship and all the bullets." I already know the answer to this statement but it may help if he hears himself say it out loud.
"The people need a civilian government. Eventually they would rebel under military rule. Kylen, I know why we need a government, I just don't happen to like dealing with it. I've been in the Colonial Fleet all my life; I've never been interested in playing military or civilian political games." He continues on. I had always wondered why Bill was still commanding an out- of-date battlestar given his illustrious military career; anyone else would have been an Admiral. Now I know. Bill refused to play military political games.
I keep one part of my mind on what he is saying, and reply at all the appropriate times. The other part is enjoying the feel of his skin and muscles under my hands. The tension in his neck and shoulders is finally gone. This would be so much better if he would lose the shirts. Be patient, Kylen.
I stop the massage, leaving my hands on his shoulders and ask, "Feel better?"
As he stands up and turns around to face me, my hands fall away. He is smiling and although he still looks tired, he seems more relaxed. "Thanks, that was amazing." He looks at the clock. "It's late. You'd better get going. I need to stay up a little longer and finish these reports. I'll walk you back to your quarters."
He's such a gentleman. I smile and say, "Stay here and finish up. I'll walk myself back. But don't stay up too late. Doctor's orders." I pick up my needlepoint and he gives me a quick kiss to my forehead as I leave.
******
My wake up alarm rudely takes me from my dream, another one about Bill and me. Damn, Kylen, that is the third time this week. In the hopes that reading trashy romances is the cause of my vivid dreams, I have given them up. It hasn't helped. I am in deep water, without a life vest and sinking fast. Oh yeah, I don't have coffee either.
I review the facts as I get up and get dressed. Bill and I spend a significant amount of time together in public and private settings. We dine and exercise together. Yes, I'm even boxing. I may begin to like it sometime next year. We continue to spend time off shift together in his quarters. So far I have gotten from him a few hugs, some fabulous back massages and the occasional peck on the cheek or forehead; I even had one real kiss (Ok, I kissed him).
I've come to know the signs when he prefers I do not get closer. We have not revisited "The Conversation". I would be all for a little more action and a lot less words, but for now, I'm letting him set the pace and tone. However I'm getting tired of this. I feel like I've lost control of my own life. Who's running my life? Him or me?
What do I want out of this relationship? Why am I pushing this? I have always had horrible luck in my romantic relationships. Being friends has always worked way better for me. If this was just about sex it wouldn't be so hard, at least I don't think so. I want more than just physical gratification with Bill. What is there about Bill that makes me want more? I want more so badly that I can't just be friends. I will have to walk away if this is as far as it goes. My heart (or my body) cannot take having him so close if he's going to post "keep off" signs.
Bill has become such a presence in my life I find it hard to picture how things were before. This will sound strange coming from me, but he's like a piece of me that was missing for a long time and now is back in place. He challenges me, gives me space when I need it, and has an almost psychic ability to know when I need him around. He has an amazing sense of humor, and while we come from different backgrounds, we both understand the stress of command. The fact that I am the CMO and a doctor does not intimidate him.
Somewhere in the course of knowing him I fell in love with Commander William Adama. I want him as more than a friend, I want to be able to spend time with him after a shift talking over the goings on in the Life Station or in CIC, I want to be there when he needs to let off steam because of bureaucratic crap, I want to be able to lean on him when things get hard. But I'm still not sure if he wants the same. I do know this, things cannot continue as they are. I can no longer be happy as a good friend. I can no longer stand the emotional limbo we seem to be floating in. If something doesn't change soon I will hand in my resignation from the Colonial Service and set up shop on the Dell. It would be the hardest thing I've ever done, but I will do it rather than live like this.
Damn, that sexy dream ruined my day before it even began. And we were doing so well last night.
The com interrupts my morning musings. Dee from CIC is relaying a message from the Lenna Dell.
I hear the voice of Dr. Dan Janner, Chief of Staff on the Lenna Dell. "Kylen, sorry to call at his time but I think we have a problem." Not good when the Chief of Staff of the main hospital ship has a problem, any problem. It usually means it will be my problem soon.
I reply, "Dan, does this have anything to do with the memo you sent me last week about reporting any cases of that flu-like illness? I know we've been looking and so far no cases. I even instituted level four screening protocols for all crew that have traveled to other fleet ships. What's up?"
Dan sounds somewhat relieved. "Good, good. At least you took the memo seriously."
I'm rather testy before I get my caffeine fix and state, "Dan, spill it. You know how hard it is for me until I've had my coffee, I mean that damn protein coffee substitute that is worse than dishwater."
"Sorry. You know, some of the guys in genetics are just as maniacal about coffee as you. They are trying to reverse engineer a coffee plant from DNA they extracted from a coffee bean."
"I know, Dan; I was the one who donated the last few coffee beans I had to the project. So what's up?"
"Our newly appointed Fleet Surgeon General, Dr Lessing, is an ass. He received my memo and did nothing about it. No warning to civilian ships, no screening, no isolation. Nadda, zip. I now have on my desk requests for transferring ten patients from four different civilian ships to the Dell because of deterioration in their condition from a strange viral-like illness. Kylen, one of the two patients we had from last week just died last night. The other one is critical. Nothing so far is working. In the hopes of slowing progression of the disease, we tried to slow down the body's metabolic rate and functions by placing the two patients in stasis chambers. It slows progression a little, but doesn't stop it. With these ten new cases, I'm afraid we may be dealing with the start of an epidemic."
If anything is going to wake me up, it's the word "epidemic", well that and trauma.
"Lords, Dan. Are you sure they all have the same disease? Has anyone on your team examined them?"
"I sent some people out when we got the heads up. The preliminary reports are all the same. The initial presentation began about two weeks ago as a flu-like illness, and then seemed to improve a little. Over the next week, the patients developed escalation in their breathing problems, high fevers, increased muscle aches and pains, severe headaches, and finally respiratory failure, eventually requiring mechanical support. Soon after that, the body started to shut down. None of the antibiotics or anti-viral agents we have tried works so far."
I am now wide-awake and very worried. "Have you tried recontacting Dr Lessing?"
I can feel the frustration in Dan's voice over the com as he answers. "You better believe it, several times in fact. I always get a 'he'll get back to you'. This morning I was informed he was in a meeting aboard Galactica and could not be disturbed for any reason."
"Ok Dan, here's the plan. I'm going to crash the meeting to have a discussion with our General Idiot. How do you want to handle this? We can use a hangar bay as an isolation ward here on Galactica if needed."
Dan thinks about what I've said then replies, "I'll take these first ten cases on the Lenna Dell, however, if this is as bad as my people are predicting, we may need that hangar bay. For now we'll use the Dell as the primary referral site and keep Galactica as back up. If more new cases crop up today, however, I may send a few your way."
"Sounds like a plan. If this is as bad as you say the Dell will need some back up. I'm off to speak with Dr. Lessing. Let's see if we can do this without spilling any blood. I'll be in touch."
I finish changing into my duty uniform. Thanks to my conversation with Bill last night, I know what time and where the President has her meetings. As I approach the Wardroom, I see two giant Galactica marines guarding the entrance. Do they select marines based on size? They are at attention and give me the crispest salute I have ever seen. The one on the right looks down at me and states, "Sorry, Doctor, there's a meeting in progress and no one is allowed to enter."
This would be so much better if I were taller. I look way up into his eyes, and give him my best "Medical Attending Stare" while saying, "Look, I'm here about a fleet-wide medical emergency. Given that, and my position as CMO, I can enter any meeting I want. That is unless you want to be directly responsible for thousands of civilian and military deaths." Ok, a bit dramatic, but I want to get things set up back in the Life Center and the longer I chit-chat here the longer I am not getting my team ready. If Dan is talking about ten cases that he knows of, there are more out there.
The man I am talking to gets really wide eyes, looks at his partner, reaches for the hatch and opens it. The Wardroom is filled with President Roslyn, her aide and cabinet members, the Commander and Col. Tigh, and the Quorum of Twelve members. Oh and Dr. Lessing, our soon to be deposed Fleet Surgeon General – if I have my way. All eyes are on me. I guess no one expected the CMO to join the party.
President Roslyn is looking better lately. She has lost the pale drawn look and has put on some weight. The chemo treatments on the Dell are working. She gives me a questioning look over her reading glasses and states, "Doctor, this is a government meeting, I'm afraid any medical issues will have to go through Dr. Lessing our Surgeon General."
"Sorry, Madam President, but this can't wait. I just received a com message from the Lenna Dell about a possible epidemic in the fleet. This needs to be addressed now." Despite being CMO on Galactica, I can't make the civilian fleet do squat. I can, however, make military medical decisions. I figure the civilians will do whatever Galactica does. Sometimes size does matter and Galactica is the biggest ship in the fleet.
I turn and look at the Commander and Col Tigh. I give Bill a salute that he returns. I bet I'm the only one who caught his look of surprise at that salute. I begin to speak. "Commander, I just got off the com with Dr. Janner on the Lenna Dell. Based on information he relayed to me this morning, I am issuing a Level-one medical emergency for all military vessels. We are upgrading quarantine measures. No one leaves the Galactica for another ship unless they have hazmat gear, and when they return I am subjecting them to a complete physical and blood tests. I am also putting a hold on any traffic to and from Galactica unless it gets command approval. Anyone coming to Galactica will first go through Level 1 quarantine and a complete medical exam. Oh, the Dell is going to need to borrow a few shuttles to transfer the sick from the civilian ships, and if more cases are reported I may need to set up an isolation ward in one of our hangar bays."
Bill is looking at me; he has an idea of what's going on. In addition to our discussion last night, a week ago over our morning cup of synthetic dishwater, I mean "coffee", I explained Dan's memo and what I wanted to do. He listened to about half of it then interrupted saying, "Kylen, you know your job better than I do. If you feel it's necessary then we'll do it."
It's Col. Tigh who asks, "You think it's that serious?"
I move my head to include the Colonel in the conversation. "Last week two patients were sent to the Dell for treatment of a flu-like illness. Their condition progressed despite intensive medical therapy. So far everything the Dell has thrown at the two patients hasn't worked. One died, even in stasis, and the second is in critical condition. This morning the Dell received reports of ten more similar cases. It's that serious and going to get worse. "
President Roslyn is a good woman, but she can't be expected to make the right decisions if she doesn't have all the data. And obviously her new Surgeon General hasn't been giving it to her. She looks both horrified and irritated at the same time. The rest of the cabinet and the Quorum of Twelve are all muttering in the background. She has to almost shout to be heard over the dim of conversation. "Doctor, are you sure this is necessary? The civilian ships follow what Galactica does very carefully. A move like this will send panic through the fleet. Not to mention the effect on morale, it's been about a year since the destruction of the colonies and our escape at Ragnar. Only recently have people begun to live again. I also want to know how come the Fleet Surgeon General was not informed."
A rather portly, balding man stands and throws me an evil glance. Good. Dr Lessing has finally decided to throw in his two cubits, "This is the first I have heard about any fleet illness. I received no memo about any precautions. Madam President, Dr Salik and her friends on the Dell have been obstructionary ever since I was appointed to this post. They are secretative and.."
I've had it with Dr. Lessing, and interrupt his medical conspiracy theory. "President Roslyn, a memo was sent out from the Dell last week regarding two cases of a particularly virulent viral illness to both the Galactica and the Fleet Surgeon General's office. The memo recommended instituting some screening procedures, limiting travel in the fleet for a few days, and watching for any similar viral-like illnesses. The Commander can tell you we discussed this memo last week. I cannot say why Dr. Lessing has not done the same with you. Dr. Janner on the Dell notified me this morning about the death of one patient, and ten potential new cases. He also told me he tried to reach Dr. Lessing several times. I would strongly recommend the same procedures be instituted throughout the fleet now. As I've said, this is bad, Madam President, and it's going to get worse."
I turn to look at Dr. Lessing and say, "Both Dr. Janner and I are going to set up a meeting with you once we stabilize this situation." As I leave the room I can hear President Roslyn begin questioning the good doctor.
***************************
It's later that morning and I'm in the Life Station. All my team has been briefed. Dee has set up a secure communication line between the Dell and Galactica. The Fleet Surgeon General is nowhere around, so Dan and myself are overseeing quarantine procedures for the civilian fleet. I would bet a whole bag of coffee beans, if I had any, he has isolated himself until this is over. I hope the president fires him. Dan would make an excellent Surgeon General. The ten cases are on the Dell but our Life Station will be getting the next few new ones. Dan has already called me about another four.
The doctors on the Dell have traced the origin of the infection to the Intersun Luxury Liner that now serves as a vacation resort for the fleet. Not good. As people come and go over there all the time lots of people will have already been exposed. Dan is on the com. My staff and I listen as he updates us on the ten patients previously transferred to the Dell this morning, and what his team has been able to find out about this illness. They have already started the autopsy on the first victim to try and get some clues on how to fight this. He has also sent a team to the Intersun to see if there are any extraneous factors, which could be playing a role. Most of his patients already have respiratory symptoms. One is in stasis. As the call ends and my staff leave, I see a familiar figure at my door and wave him in. The Commander walks into my office and closes the door.
He is looking tired and frustrated. I bet that frustrated look is because of me.
He takes a seat, and with a sigh begins speaking. "That was quite an entrance you made, Kylen. Dr. Lessing is playing you up as the ringleader in a plot to make him look bad. I think more than.."
His words are not unexpected. Bill hates surprises. In hindsight, I should have told him what an idiot Dr. Lessing is but for the life of me I can't think of anything he could have done to rectify the situation. I will give Bill the "boiled down" version on Dr. Lessing so I can deal with the epidemic. If he still wants he can chew me out later. I interrupt him, "Look, Bill, he was given the memo same as I was. He did nothing to institute precautions. The man is a quack. He got the job because he knew people not because he is an even average physician. Ok, I was abrupt but it had to be done otherwise if this illness runs throughout the fleet we may have no humanity to protect."
He looks surprised at that. I remember he's a military man, accustomed to fighting a known enemy. He could quote me all the stats for casualties and expected losses from a battle, but he has no clue how bad this may get. He needs to understand just what type of disaster we may be dealing with here.
I lean forward in my chair and start speaking. "Bill, do you know how many people died in the last Caprican flu epidemic about 5 years ago?"
I watch him thinking until he comes to a decision and finally says, "Not really, a few hundred."
I shake my head at such naiveté. "Bill, in three weeks that virus wiped out 50,000 people among the 12 colonies before it was stopped. This is just as bad as the Cylons, probably worse. We can't FTL away from it, and we have nowhere near the medical resources we once had. Not to mention we are over-crowded together on ships with limited atmosphere."
I watch as he absorbs the information. He looks frustrated, and I can understand why. This is a battle he can only stand on the sidelines and watch. Not something he's accustomed to doing. From nowhere a thought enters my head that I could use a hug right now. If I were braver I would ask him for one. We both stand, but instead of leaving he walks up to me and wraps his arms around me. WOW who knew I had ESP? It feels good and for a few minutes I don't think and just enjoy. My guy can be one really sweet devious bastard when he wants.
He gives a light kiss to my forehead and pulls back saying, "Are you and your staff ready for this?" I give him a quick nod of my head. "I'm going up to CIC. There are isolated reports of panic among the civilian fleet about the epidemic. I may need to use the marines to keep things calm. We'll speak later." He turns, opens the door and leaves.
I sit for a minute. I know he tends to let his actions speak for him, especially with regards to US. I sigh.
I will deal with this crisis. If we all live, I plan on having "The Conversation part II" with Bill. While I am sure it will be the kiss of death, I do not plan to wait anymore. One crisis at a time, Kylen, one crisis at a time.
********
The next few hours we get the four new patients transferred from the civilian fleet, even worse, a lieutenant from Starbuck's viper squadron has come down with similar symptoms. Hopefully we've isolated everyone he was in contact with. It turns out he had won a pass to the Intersun in a card game and his name had not been on the crew roster for "shore leave". That is not good. It means the crew has been exposed to this virus. Damn, I was hoping the screening measures would be enough. I have never been lucky.
Over two weeks more new cases appear both in the fleet and on Galactica. The Dell and Galactica medical personnel are working non-stop either treating the victims, or working on identification the virus and any medication that might be effective. Since the Dell has the most up-to-date laboratories, the basic science research on the virus and possible ways to fight it is being done there. Here on Galactica, we are doing everything we can to keep the patients alive. I try to remember the last time I saw Bill. I may have spoken to him on the com a few hours ago but I cannot be sure. My focus has become the isolation ward in the hangar bay, the Life Station and the Dell.
Among the civilian fleet, the total infected is about one thousand. A quarter of Galactica's crew has been affected. To date, there have been one hundred deaths, several more are being kept barely alive in stasis, and the rest are in various stages of the disease. Besides the isolation ward in Galactica's hangar bay we also set up two smaller auxiliary isolation wards among the larger civilian ships. Dan and most of his team have relocated to the Galactica to help. On top of this, we still have to deal with the day-to-day health issues. Needless to say, all the medical staff are being pushed to their limits.
The majority of affected crew are from the pilot's wing and among the deck crews. Starbuck's legendary luck is holding as she remains still healthy. Some of that luck must have rubbed off on Lee Adama as he is also well. From my occasional girl-talk with Starbuck, I know she and Lee are closer, and she seems happy so far. Of course with many of the trained pilots sick, she has been flying a lot of patrols and probably only sees Lee through the cockpit window of a viper.
From what I hear, Bill, at President Roslyn's request, has dispatched some marine units among the fleet to help keep order. Bill must have his hands full, between crew shortages and maintaining civil order.
I come out of the isolation ward on the hangar deck leaving Dan in charge, and slowly make my way to the Life Station. I just want to crash on my office couch a few hours and then I can go back. I notice the lights are off in my office but that my door is open. As I peek in, I see Cassie and Mark asleep on my couch. My tired mind goes off on a tangent thought. They make a cute couple. I wonder if they spend off time together. It's scary to think that between my thoughts about Bill and this epidemic I may have missed something right under my nose. I'll have to question Mark; Cassie would never crack under pressure. Damn, now I have to walk all the way to my quarters. I leave the Life Station and begin the journey. Next time I'm calling dibbs on the couch.
I jump as a familiar low voice comes from behind me. "You look exhausted."
"Good, I would hate to look better than I feel." Bill is a sight for sore eyes. He looks a little tired too, but gives me a smile as he comes alongside me and says, "Come on." He starts to guide me through the Galactica. We are heading to his quarters.
Why are we heading to his quarters? I really only planned a two-hour break. "Look, Bill." I begin in a soft voice. We are in public after all. "I'm only taking two hours off then back to the ward. You shouldn't be around me anyway. We aren't really 100% sure that the hazmat suits will protect us."
He continues to direct me toward his quarters saying, "I'll take my chances. You need to get something to eat. Come on."
He ushers me into his quarters and proceeds to force a sandwich down my throat along with some juice and a cup of synthetic dishwater, I mean "coffee". I'm just sitting on his couch. I should get back to the isolation ward, but I can't seem to move. When did his couch become so comfortable? I'm trying to keep my eyes from closing as I watch him move around. He turns on some soft music and then comes over to where I am sitting and holds out his hands to give me a pull up.
"I should really be going back to work. Thanks for the food." He looks at me with his patented "Command Stare" and says, "You're not going anywhere except to get some sleep." He then proceeds to maneuver me toward his bunk and into his bed.
"Lie down, Kylen. You need to rest. You look ready to fall over."
I lie down and he rolls me until I am on my stomach with my head on his pillow and my arms crossed beneath it. His hands begin to rub my tired shoulders. He gives the best massages, almost as good as mine. I really don't remember anything else after that.
I slowly become aware that I'm warm and in a bed. How did I get here? Where is here? There's someone in bed with me. Who? Recollection sweeps through my fuzzy mind. Bill. I last remember lying on Bill's bed while he massaged my shoulders. We are under the covers and I'm not wearing my sneakers. He must have taken them off. My head is using his chest as a pillow and I can hear the steady beat of his heart. Bill is holding me close with an arm around me. I am practically lying on top of him. When I move, I can feel my leg slide against his. I should really find out the time and get back to work. His arm tightens around me and I feel a soft kiss to the top of my head, then no more. I think he is sleeping. I'm not the only one who has been keeping long hours. Ok, ten more minutes, then I get up.
A soft low voice awakens me. Bill is in his duty uniform and on the com, "She's here but still asleep. I can..."
"I'm up. What is it?" I'm out of his bed and moving as I speak.
It is Dan calling from the isolation ward, "Kylen, I just got off the com with the virologists and pharmacology guys. They may have found something that at least seems to slow the progression in the ten cases it's been tested in. It's not a cure by any means. But this is the first success we have had since this disaster started."
"Great news, Dan, best I've heard all day. I'll get a shuttle over to pick up some of this wonder stuff. How are things in the ward?"
"About the same as when you left six hours ago. The Dell has not had any new cases. I am getting similar reports from the other two auxiliary isolation wards in the fleet."
"Well, that's something. I'm not ready to break out the ambrosia yet. I'll be coming down to relieve you."
"Ok, I could use some sleep and a shower. I'd better get back." Dan is strangely quiet when he finishes speaking.
Oh yes, that's right. All the rumors are confirmed now that the Commander is in his quarters answering his com while I am sleeping in his bed. When this crisis is over Bill and I are having a long talk.
Dan signs off. I turn to Bill and say, "Thanks for the food and the nap time. I better get going. I had only planned for a two-hour nap." I want to be mad at Bill and blame him for my over-long break, but somehow I can't. I really need to get back to the isolation ward.
"I have fresh scrubs for you. I'm heading up to CIC. Take a shower before you go back there. Anything else I can do?"
"No. And thanks." I give him a smile, a hug, and a quick kiss on the lips. He doesn't ask for more before he leaves. I wish he would. I take a shower and change into the scrubs. Hey! Where did he get my clean undergarments from? Was he rummaging around in my locker? Now that's an interesting picture, the Commander looking through my locker and drawers for underthings. I have to smile. Sweet devious bastard. I will have to remember to ask him later. I leave his quarters and walk to the hangar bay.
To be continued....