Sequel to 7 Points
By Chaoseternus
Chapter 2: Founding
Adama walked swiftly out of the plastic prefabricated shed that served as headquarters for the small colony, and sighed, breathing deeply in the moist, fresh air of a world as yet untouched by pollution, with it fragrance of pollen, flowers and freshly turned soil after the rain.
Lords, it was a beautiful bouquet of a smell, something to truly treasure about this new world.
Smiling, he walked slowly along the newly gravelled road through the centre of the hastily constructed town, acknowledging with a nod and as smile the cheerful greetings of Colonials and Tau'ri alike.
For him, this had become a treasured tradition. Everyday since they had first set foot on the world they know called 'Freedom' he had taken the time to walk the colony, often accompanied by President Roslin, listening to the people, hearing their questions and requests.
Today, he was alone, and all he was hearing was messages of luck for the ailing President. Today, Roslin was starting her course of chemotherapy at the three-story hospital that was the sole permanent concrete construction within the town, overshadowed as it was by the massive bulk of the allied Ha'tak, Del Shakka Mel , its master, Enerina, not yet cleared by the doctors to leave the hospital.
Adama smiled, Enerina was out of danger, had been for a while, something he had every reason to be grateful for, she had returned Boomer to them, she had shown that the Cylon human models, or at least those with Human as well as cylon personalities could be returned to society. Indeed, today Boomer was taking her first flight since her operation under the watchful eye of Starbuck.
And since then, at least eight more cylons had been revealed by the Tau'ri, including the unusual case of Doctor Baltar who appeared to be some sort of cylon variant, something worthy of study. His implants had no connections to his motor functions, the implanted cylon could affect his perception of reality, in itself a dangerous skill, but could not physically control Baltars body. Why the cylons had chosen to torture Baltar in this fashion was unknown, but Adama was very interested in finding out, though he had his suspicions.
He had seen the psyche profile Colonial Intelligence had originally drawn up on him, which had stated all to clearly that Baltar was a security risk, something which seemed to have been ignored because of the mans all to evident brilliance. He couldn't tell the other members of the newly re-formed Council Of Twelve that he believed Baltar responsible for the destruction of the colonies without serious proof though, for obvious reasons.
He smiled as the entrance to the hospital came into view, its steps littered with wild flowers and small trinkets left by well wishers, guarded over by a pair of grim faced Tau'ri, their cap badges declaring them to be of the SGC.
Nodding to him, they swiftly opened the door for him, ignoring the disgusted comments of the crowd of well wishers who had been trying to enter, to wish their president well all day.
For Roslin was popular, for the most part she had been the one to organise the civilians, she had been the one to organise their escape to Galactica, and she had been the one to lead them even as his Galactica shielded them, as best she could.
"I'm sorry Commander, Roslin is already in surgery" the nurse on the front desk said as he walked in, her uniform declaring her to be a Colonial Nurse, presumably either from the hospital ship or one of the largest passengers liners, all of which were required to carry a small medical staff aboard at all times.
Adama nodded, he would not want to be Roslin at this point, surgery, chemotherapy and the alien hand devices were going to be thrown at her system and if that failed, well, the Tau'ri said they knew of a sure fire cure but one with something of a sting the Roslin might not like.
Adama wasn't sure he liked the comment about 'having some left over after the gatecrasher op', even if he didn't really understand it. It spoke of a certain contempt for the thing that could cure the leader the civilians needed so much.
Yes, they looked to him for protection but they didn't see him as their leader; that was reserved for Roslin, something he found himself grateful for in many ways, still…
Nodding, Adama left the hospital behind, heading for the small airfield that was being constructed at the edge of the growing town. This small field was to be the start of a renewed colonial military, something the Tau'ri had not even attempted to take from them.
So far, all they had was there Vipers , most Mark IIs, a single Raptor and the Hells Runner, but that would start to change. Galactica herself was largely Tyrols bird at the moment as she was prepped for refit, and if the Tau'ri's information was correct, and he had no reason to doubt it, Galactica would be of little use against a Goa'uld attack but the Vipers and Hells Runner they were assured would be more than capable of tearing Goa'uld Udajeet apart whilst the Raptor provided an 'AWACS' capability the Tau'ri lacked. Adama rolled the unfamiliar word around his mouth, 'AWACS', an unfamiliar and inappropriate word and yet it seemed to have stuck, even starting to be used by the Colonials themselves, strange. Adama chuckled; there was probably a popular science paper in that.
Their military would grow, already there were Tau'ri designed Airheads, Shunters and Paladins on route, ready to be transferred to the Colonials. Already, several of their larger vessels had been released to the Tau'ri for the Sol/ Alpha Centauri run, mostly the Liners and Cargo vessels that were in the best condition. The rest were being redlined, awaiting future refit or disassembly.
Soon, they would have their own warships again. Already, they had negotiated for a full squadron of MTB's to be constructed for their use, to defend the Alpha Centauri and Sol Systems and as soon as they began to build capital ships, maybe they could go on the offensive again.
Adama had a feeling, as he watched the Raptor lift from the airfield with a practised grace that could only mean Boomer was at the helm, that he would live to see the day the Colonials stood on their own two feet again.