Outside the mess hall entrance, the passageway bulkheads were covered with blue and yellow match cards. About forty male volunteers had posted their blue legacy match cards on the left side of the hatch, and a similar count of women had posted their yellow ones on the right. Each card had a code number, but no name. Only the Paracelsus would know who was who.
With only four full days left and counting, two-thirds of the crew had already gone down to the planet. The two hundred and twelve chosen volunteers and about four hundred others were still aboard, working around the clock to prepare the Galactica for her final battle. But somehow amid all the work each day the men's stickers moved from the right side of the passageway to the left. Only a few empty spaces remained on the yellow cards, and almost all the stickers were gone from the blue ones. In a way, the cards were a sort of dating game minus the actual sex.
Standing among the mess hall furnishings stacked up in the passageway for offloading to a freighter and transport down to Zodiac, three enlisted women speculated about card owners. A woman leaning against an up-ended bench voiced her theory that card numbers beginning with "212" were officers.
That was pure bunk. There were only two of those. Kara had already checked. She stood apart from the knot of females, studying the display and fingering the card in her hand. She was trying to decide whether or not this was for her.
Because of her daily practice sessions in the Cylon drone, she'd been one of the last volunteer women to have her eggs harvested. They'd taken eight. Commander Lighter had been amazed the drugs had produced so many. "You are one fertile woman," she'd said. They'd given her a yellow card with eight blank spaces, one for each of her eggs.
On her way into Lighter's sickbay lab, Kara had glanced through an open hatch and had seen Chief Tyrol's adopted son Boxey rocking a baby-sized bundle of blue blankets. Tiny fingers had been wrapped around one of his fingers. "Hey, who's the man?" Boxey had cooed as she'd watched in fascination. "Who's the man, Stinger?"
It had been several weeks since Kara had last talked to him, not since before Boomer had gone frakkin' Cylon. Teetering between childhood and maturity, all hormonal and serious at the same time, Boxey had grown into a responsible young man. Lee had told Kara that Boxey was bearing up, but he hadn't said how. Maybe he didn't know.
As Kara had left the lab, Boxey had accosted her.
"Lieutenant Starbuck, Sir," Boxey had said, "I have a favor to ask. The Chief and me, we're looking to foster a bunch of the legacy kids, and I was hoping, that is, we wanted to offer … I mean, if you need someone …"
Boxey hadn't been able to find an end for his sentence so Kara had helped him out. It had been the least she could do to repay what he'd offered -- parents for her children. "I've seen you with the babies. You're good. Where do I sign up?" He'd written a citizen number across the top of her card -- presumably Chief Tyrol's since Boxey was still a minor until his sixteenth birthday -- and the word "foster." He'd looked back up at her, pointing at her first blank match space with his pen, "Can I?"
"Yours or the Chief's?" Kara had asked.
Boxey had blushed deeply, his fair skin almost glowing from the infusion of blood. "Mine. Doctor Lighter said I could 'cause I'm the only one left in my family."
"Then be my guest, Box." He'd written in his name as Boxman Valerii Tyrol. The kid was so sweet, and from what Kara had heard, she was supposed to kiss every guy who filled in a blank on her card. She'd given Boxey a peck on the cheek. It had brought back the blush.
So Kara had that taken care of -- parents for her legacy babies -- and good ones too. And one father. But there were still the seven blank spaces left to fill in with either a man's name, his citizen number or one of the blue donor stickers. If she so chose. She could also return the card as it was and the Paracelsus would take care of it for her. She'd never considered herself shy, but the thought of asking up to seven more men to father her children was a bit daunting, and she sympathized with those who'd solved the problem by anonymously posting their cards here outside the mess hall.
"I'll bet that one's Lee Adama," a young woman said pointing at a blue card with only one sticker left. It had originally had held ten, twice as many as the other cards.
Her older companion answered, "Nah, I heard that's one of the officers in CIC, Colonel Tigh, the Commander, somebody like that. That's why the stickers are all gone. Besides Serena wouldn't let Lee put his card up there. It would be just too, too, if you know what I mean."
Kara frowned. She hadn't meant to be eavesdropping, but the mention of Lee's name had caught her attention. She should move away, but she didn't.
The group of women was silent for a moment, looking at the cards, possibly thinking about the legacy babies, but more likely thinking about the upcoming battle and those who would die. The woman who hadn't spoken before said, "I heard they were divorced … down on the planet. I heard Lee just got fed up and made Serena do the declaration thing."
Divorced? Lee was divorced? They'd not been on the best of terms the last few days, and Kara had been busy spending hours arm-wrestling with the stupid Cylon drone, the controls of which she firmly believed had deliberately been reversed from human standard. Everything worked upside down. She'd only seen Lee in snippets, a few minutes at a time, and he'd seemed tired and distracted … but divorced?
"When?" she asked without thinking. "When was Lee divorced?"
All three women turned to stare at her. She didn't care. Long ago she'd learned how to stare almost anyone down. The rumormonger finally said, "I don't know, Lieutenant Thrace. It's just scuttlebutt." Her expression asked, Why don't you know already? I thought he was your friend.
Kara wanted to find out the truth immediately if not sooner. But Lee was off ship at the moment, out hunting with Keener for an asteroid of just the right shape and size to carry to the Cylon home world in the starboard landing bay. He wasn't due back for at least three hours.
So Kara went to the next best source of information. She went to Lee's father, figuring that one way or another he'd know the truth. Nothing on the Galactica escaped the Commander for long.
First she checked in CIC. The Commander wasn't there, although with all the torn up consoles and technicians everywhere it took Kara a few minutes to be sure. And her usual source of information, Specialist Dualla, was already down on Zodiac. She hadn't wanted to go, but she was three months pregnant and her husband Presidential Advisor Billy Keikeya had insisted she leave early. No pregnant or nursing women had been allowed to volunteer.
Kara was about to leave when a dusty and disheveled Lieutenant Gaeta popped out from behind the tactical display and said, "Looking for somebody, Starbuck?"
Kara gratefully turned back. "The Commander."
It was funny to see Gaeta dirty. Somehow his wife Melinda had kept him regulation perfect, proper and pristine over the last three years even after everyone else had started looking ragged. Today he seemed just a little bit desperate. The rewiring must not be going well. "He's in quarters putting papers together to ship down to Zodiac," Gaeta said quickly then disappeared again.
A few minutes later Kara knocked on the Commander's hatch, and the familiar gruff voice said, "Come in." Commander Adama stood at his desk with a nicked and battered photo frame in each hand and a box at his elbow. "Lieutenant Thrace, to what do I owe the honor?" he asked as she stepped inside.
Closing the hatch behind her, she leaned back against it. "Kinda wanted to ask you something, Sir." He didn't answer.
She stood uncertainly while the Commander put the pictures away in the box, put a lid on it and set it among several others on top of the low table. Waving at the brown leather couch, he invited her to sit as he did so himself. Seen up close, the Commander's scarred face had little of its usual energy and his features hung on his bones in tired folds. His uniform looked about the same as everyone else's, frayed at the cuffs and loose around the buttonholes. A carefully mended tear marked where he'd been knifed in an assassination attempt in their second year. His ship boots were down at the heels and scuffed. Even the Commander had run out of boot wax.
This wasn't going to be easy, Kara thought, especially with the Commander looking so sad and worn. Realizing that she still held the yellow match card in her hand, she put it on the couch between them. The Commander's eyes followed the card down then quickly came back up. He had an unreadable expression, one she'd never seen before.
"It's about Lee, Sir," Kara said, but after hearing herself speak, she suddenly didn't want to go further. It had been stupid of her to come here. If Lee's father didn't know about the divorce, it wasn't her place to tell him. She was tempted to excuse herself and leave, but she'd already said Lee's name. It was probably too late now.
"You've heard the scuttlebutt," the Commander said, "and you want to know the truth, if he's really divorced."
"Yes, Sir." Kara wondered if she looked as surprised as she felt. As a senior officer, the Commander had to be a good judge of character and tactical situations, but sometimes he seemed almost psychic.
Sighing deeply he leaned back. "It's true, two days ago down on Zodiac."
He looked so sad that Kara automatically said, "I'm sorry."
"Are you really?" he asked, his eyes searching her face for something, she wasn't sure what. Maybe the truth. "I don't think I am. Rashen always had poor taste in women, but I was hoping Serena could make Lee happy. I was wrong."
"You were trying to honor Colonel Woolcott's memory, Sir." And Lee was trying to make you happy, she silently added.
The Commander's sad smile animated his face a little. "Memories shouldn't make us miserable." His hand moved towards where her yellow card lay on the couch. He asked, "May I?"
"Certainly." After all, there wasn't much for the Commander to see, just Boxey's name and seven blank spaces.
Looking at the card, the Commander chuckled and shook his head. "Boxey got to you first, eh? He's an enterprising boy, isn't he?"
Kara nodded her head then shook it. She was confused. Boxey had got to her first? Still holding Kara's card the Commander stood up and went back to his desk. He pulled a blue card out of a pile of papers, removed a long adhesive strip and put it in Kara's second blank space. Stroking his hand across the paper in a caress, he smiled to himself then his dark brown eyes came back up to hers. "Thank you," he said.
Too surprised to speak, Kara watched blankly as the Commander returned to stand over her. He held out the yellow card, now crossed by a bright blue stripe.
"I believe you owe me a kiss," the Commander said.
Kara looked up at him. All she could see were his steady eyes. Forgetting to take the card, she stammered, "I guess that's the deal." But this was the Commander. It would be like kissing a holy Lord. Standing up, Kara closed her eyes, puckered her lips and waited uncertainly.
At the sound of the Commander's throaty laugh, Kara dared to look. He had a smile from ear to ear as he said, "You look just like a little girl waiting for her grandpa to kiss her." Taking her hand, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers.
"Good luck with Lee," he said as he tucked the yellow card into her captive hand. "You're going to need it. He's a mess. Just make him happy, okay?"
There was no use pretending that she didn't understand what he meant. Kara nodded. "Thank you, Sir. I'll try."
Out in the passageway she stood for a moment, fighting for emotional equilibrium. Lee had been divorced for two days and had been avoiding her ever since. There must be some reason he hadn't told his best friend about the drastic change in his life. Did Lee think she'd rag him about it? Or did he know that she loved him and was avoiding her because he didn't love her back? She wouldn't be surprised if Lee knew. Subtlety wasn't one of her finer skills.
Turning on her heel, Kara trotted off to the rec. room. She'd persuaded the moving crew to leave behind a punching bag. It was time to put it to use. Better to hit it than Lee.