THE LOST YEARS
by Soledad
PRELUDE: CROSSROADS
Disclaimer: see Introduction.
Rating: PG
Author's notes:
I'm very sorry that it took me this long to update. I've been distracted by other projects and by Real Life, and have found out that translating is a lot more time-consuming than writing directly in a foreign language. I hope you'll find that it was worth waiting. :))
I still don't have a beta reader for this baby, so be merciful. I've chased it through the spellchecker and the grammar checker, but we all know how reliable those things are.
The story of the destruction of the Twelve Worlds has been told following the one in Glen A. Larsen's various novelizations. It is at times slightly different from the episodes, and a lot more detailed.
CHAPTER 3: AN EXCHANGE OF INFORMATIONThe Galactica looked the same from the inside as she looked on the outside: huge, darkened and somehow... without any comfort, as if all the useless hope of the long years had covered the grey metal bulkheads with an invisible layer of doom. The unnaturally pale face of the bridge officers revealed the fact that they hadn't left their enclosed steel world for a very long time. The whole ship reminded Uhura of old 2D-movies from the twentieth century in which the crew of submarines, severed from their base, fought a hopeless fight of simple survival on a few square meters of cold iron.
On a somewhat heightened, circular pedestal of the core command station (which could have easily hosted the entire bridge of the Enterprise) a tall, slender man and a lovely young woman were sitting behind the controls. They wore a blue uniform with silver adornment, signaling that they were bridge officers. On the high collars of the black-belted tunics two small silver rank pins were gleaming. The long, thick single braid of the woman shone softly in the dim light of the bridge.
In the background of Tactical, in front of the magnificent star map made of a translucent material that Uhura didn't know, the commanding officer in duty stood. He was not very tall but slender and yet strong, his skin darker than even Uhura's, and his bearing demanded respect and obedience. He might have been some 40-45 standard years old, but his thick, curly hair was already interwoven with silver threads. Large dark eyes, a wide nose and full lips, pressed tightly together, gave his proud and noble face a Nubian look. On the silver clasp of his belt there was another symbol showing his high rank.
As soon as the officers of the Enterprise stepped out of the golden-shimmering transporter beam, the commanding officer stepped down from the circular pedestal and hurried to great them, with the spare, disciplined movements of someone who had spent his entire life in narrow cabins and even more narrow cockpits.
"Welcome on board," he said, and Uhura recognized the deep, throaty voice they just have heard through telecom a few minutes ago. "I'm Colonel Tigh, second-in-command of the Galactica."
Kirk stretched out his hand. To his surprise, Tigh didn't squeeze it but clasped his forearm in a manner that must have been the proper way of greeting among his people. After a short hesitation the Captain of the Enterprise returned the unusual gesture.
"Captain James T. Kirk. If I may: our communications officer, Lieutenant Uhura, our chief of security, Lieutenant Commander Giotto and our chief medical officer, Dr. McCoy."
"My pleasure, doctor... Lieutenant Commander," Tigh greeted the security chief and the doctor the same way as he had greeted Kirk only moments earlier, but he lifted Uhura's hand politely to his lips and kissed it, "Siress Uhura. Would you, please, follow me? Commander Adama is waiting for you in his briefing room."
"Sure, Colonel," Kirk nodded.
"Omega," Tigh turned to the tall bridge officer, "take over for me here, please. Should I be needed, you can reach me through the Commander's com unit."
"Understood, Colonel," Omega rose from behind his console. "Rigel, could you call in someone to relieve me?"
The lovely young woman with the long braid cast a disapproving look at Uhura's short uniform tunic, then she turned with her stool and bent over a stabile microphone. Tigh tore the steel headset from his head, threw it onto one of the disabled consoles and gestured to the visitors.
"Over here, please!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Commander Adama's ready room was adjoined with the bridge as it was necessary for the office of a commandant, and bore the same military simpleness as probably all other rooms of this huge battleship did. Thorough the whole Universe, a battleship was always more like a garrison than a home. And the whole build of the Galactica revealed that it wasn't originally built to have civilians on board.
In the middle of the room stood a light-coloured table, surrounded by some armchairs; on the table there was a computer-terminal of unknown design and the small statue of a bird, made of steatite or some similar material; its shaping reminded Uhura of the foundlings from Ancient Egypt.
Aside of the old fleet commander there were four other people present: a slender, dark-haired woman in the blue-and-silver uniform of the bridge officers; a stout, balding, round-faced civilian with the unmistakable scent of antiseptics on him, and two younger men, in cream-coloured uniforms and brown jackets, in the holsters strapped to their thighs heavy laser pistols. One of them had a great likeness to the blue-uniformed young woman while the other was as dark-skinned as Tigh, but obviously a lot younger and of lower rank.
Commander Adama rose from behind his desk to greet his visitors. The others stood as well, to express their respects.
"Welcome on the Galactica, Captain Kirk", Adama clasped forearms with Kirk the same way as Tigh had done. "I invited some of my leading officers to this meeting; I hope you don't mind."
"Not the least, Commander."
"If I may," Adama continued; "my daughter and second bridge officer, Lieutenant Athena; Dr. Salik, Chief of the Life Center; and two of our squadron leaders: Captain Boomer from Red and my son, Captain Apollo from Blue Squadron. The others are currently patrolling."
Kirk introduced his officers as well, then they sat down around the table, so that Kirk got to Adama's right and Uhura on his left. Without any further invitation, a fair-skinned young woman came in, wearing an eccentric, cinnamon-coloured gown and a jewelled broche in her light blonde hair. She carried a few bottles of some liquor and silver tankards on a plate. She gave everyone a tankard and put down the crystal bottles in front of the commander; then she, too, sat on the empty chair between Dr. Salik and Dr. McCoy.
"Thank you, Cassiopeia," Adama nodded, and rising one of the bottles he turned to Kirk. "This is ambrosia, Captain, one of the most desired products of the colonies of old. Unfortunately, it is way beyond the quality that we were used from our home. But even this rather mundane sort has become a rarity in the meantime, since the fruits it was made of are no longer available for us; we can't use the small resources of the agroships for that. Well, here is to an effective co-working then."
"Not bad, Jim!" Dr. McCoy declared. "I won't give a true Kentucky Bourbon for it, but it almost has the electric tingling of Romulan ale."
"The doctor is an expert when it comes to drinks," Uhura remarked, "though to my regret I have to emphasize that Romulan ale is absolutely prohibited stuff."
"Why's that?" the handsome, dark-skinned Captain Boomer asked.
"Firstly because we have no trade agreements with the Romulans, so all Romulan products automatically are smuggled wares," Uhura explained. "Secondly, the stuff is so incredibly potent that it lessens the efficiency of most humanoids drastically, both physically and mentally. That way nobody could speak of rally fair chances in a negotiation. Although I must admit that the taste is excellent," she added with a grin.
"So you have tried it, after all?" Athena laughed. "How did you get it?"
"The good doctor let me have some," Uhura twinkled. "For medical reasons only, of course."
All laughed. Colonel Tigh, seated due to protocol to Uhura's left, took one of the bottles and refilled her goblet. Giving it back to her, their fingers touched for a moment, and Uhura felt a strange tinge, like a slight electric jolt. Those long, dark eyes remained on her face steadily – not intrusively, but with an intensity that she hadn't been looked at with by any man, ever since she left Africa.
Old memories were awaken in her: the ecstatic days of the first khemmer, the rhythmic thumping of the oba-drums, used on the initiation ceremony, echoing her own heartbeat, the languid sounds of the ceremonial siva-horns, that made one's blood boil – and the dances, the pulsating of those ecstatic dances, so cosmic and eternal like the very pulsation of the universe, that lasted seven days and seven nights…
She told herself to stop – this was not the right time for memories. They had a lot of work to do, organizing the whole situation of the fugitives; she couldn't allow herself to be distracted. She cast a chastising look at the man next to her who managed to distract her thoughts from her work so thoroughly.
"Do you intend to embarrass me, Colonel?" she asked, too quietly for anyone else to hear.
Tigh frowned – he was even a little bewildered . "What do you mean, Siress Uhura?
"You are staring at me as if you've never seen a woman in uniform."
His gaze slid down to Uhura's shapely legs, left almost completely bare by the red tunic of the Support Services. "That is supposed to be a uniform?"
Uhura shrugged. "I did not select the design – however, I'm glad that I don't have to wear the old, ugly unisex uniforms any more. By the way, I don't understand your problem. Nobody seems to be taken aback by your blonde beauty running around half naked."
"Cassiopeia is a civilian," Tigh replied; "and I am not the least taken aback. On the contrary: I'm impressed that in your Fleet female officers were able to remain true women, despite the demands of duty."
Uhura shrugged again and tasted her drink carefully. Indeed, the ambrosia reminded her a little of the ale of the Rihannsu, even though it was less potent... and, quite frankly, less aromatic, too. Anyway, it served its purpose by distracting her thoughts from Tigh and helping her to concentrate on her work again.
"The war with the Cylons began more than a thousand yahrens ago," Commander Adama answered a question of Kirk's that – due to her short conversation with Tigh – Uhura had not heard," without a warning, without any formal declaration of war. They proceeded like pirates: camouflaged under false symbols they fired upon our merchant ships and destroyed thousands of them, without a warning shot. Their only purpose was to kill and to destroy. A whole fleet of their base ships (we call them basestars) approached secretly our twelve colonies..."
"In their arrogance, they could not imagine that we would face them in open battle," added Captain Boomer. "Well, we were ready... and we spent the next thousand yahrens in never-ceasing war."
"And yet you were beaten," Kirk half asked, half stated, "or else you weren't fleeing right now."
"A thousand yahrens are a very long time, Captain," replied Adama slowly, "even counted the time leaps of interstellar spacefaring. We had... forgotten how treacherous the Cylons could be. We became slaves of our own myths instead. We thought nobody could beat us. We thought we had limitless reserves of strength. We were a people that loved freedom above all and had great delight in adventures."
"There's nothing wrong with that," McCoy said mildly.
"No, there isn't," Adama nodded. "Not as long as the clear view of truth isn't clouded by it. And yet, as the Cylons offered us a peace treaty, just as suddenly as they had started the war on us, we have forgotten that we must not trust them. We accepted the offer with great hope; we happily expected to finally put an end after ten centuries of unbroken war. Please understand us: we had built our whole existence on the basis of peace. Peacefully had we explored thousands of worlds. Peacefully have we built the societies on the Twelve Worlds that became our main colonies... and we hoped to be able to live in peace once again. So grew the joyous expectation in our hearts with every passing day."
"Those of us whose lives were consumed by the war should have known better," Colonel Tigh commented bitterly. "We should have known that the joy filling our hearts had strategic value. The farther behind we left the facts that made up the very structure of our existence, the more like the politicians we have become: like those men and women, whose minds were so clouded by the words of power that they could not see through the lies of the powerful when these offered us peace with a false smile."
"I keep saying we should have known better," Adama added, with the same bitterness, "but that's just a democratic commonplace. I should have known better. It has always been one of my personal talents, to measure an alien intelligence that could not be understood by human logic alone. The Cylons have deceived me once. After that I've sworn never to give them another chance."
"Could you give us a strategic summary of the war?" Lieutenant Commander Giotto asked. "I don't need any details, only the general trends, so that we can work out our own tactic, in case we should need it."
"Certainly," Adama nodded. "Lieutenant Athena will show you the visual records. It's not much, but it'll give you an overall picture of the destruction."
While the old commander was ordering his thoughts Athena linked the viewscreen of the conference room with the tactical archives of the Galactica in order to illustrate what was about to be told. That was a report Uhura had to record for Starfleet Command.
"Commander Adama," she said, peeling the strap of the tricorder from her shoulder, "would you allow me to record your story for the Federation's data archives?"
"Be my guest, Lieutenant! " Adama nodded in agreement. "Do you need some time to prepare your recording device?"
"Only a standard minute for fine-tuning sir," Uhura replied. "The background waves of your instruments do interfere a little with this device, but that's easy to filter out."
"What kind of instrument are you using?" Athena asked.
"It's called a tricorder," Uhura answered. "It's a sort of mini-computer, capable of recording a great amount of data. Everything I'm recording will be transferred to our library computer, of course, for data correlation and for Starfleet's Central Archives, processed into easily accessible blocks of information... save those classified as non-public data, of course. "
She tuned the smart little instrument some more than looked at Adama with a smile. "I'm ready, Commander. You can start any time you like."
She switched on the tricorder and after some more thinking Adama started telling the sad tale of the destruction of the colonies and of their flight through long years and unknown star systems. It was a story full of suffering and loss. He spoke of the long and bloody war against the Cylons that consumed all strength of the Twelve Colonies, of Lord Balthar's treason, of the fake peace conference the only goal of which had been to lure the humans into a false sense of safety, of the blind and stupid optimism of the senators and of the merciless slaughter of the unprotected population of Caprica and the other colonies. There were records of the latter event in the Galactica's archives, recorded during their pointless effort to reach their homes in time, and Athena showed these records their new allies so that they could see for themselves what kind of enemy there were up against.
Adama told the tale of the flight of their rag-tag fleet from the enemy's huge flying bases, he told of bitter defeats and short-lived, pointless victories. He mentioned those strange, powerful begins they had met on their way; beings that out of some peculiar sense of morality weren't able (or willing) to interfere and thus refused to help them.
The four Terrans listened to his slow, thoughtful words, shaken to the core. Only the faint summing of the tricorder broke the deep silence for a long time after he was done.
"Twelve planets!" Dr. McCoy murmured in utter shock, his blue eyes glowing with anger. "Twelve whole civilizations... all destroyed, without any fathomable reason, just for destruction's sake! Just to satisfy their own warped sense of order..."
"And countless little, lonely colonies strewn widely in the surrounding star systems," Colonel Tigh added bitterly. "Things have calmed down a little since we'd crossed the Great Void, but as long as this rift in the time-space continuum exists, we can't feel safe. And neither can you."
His deep voice had a strange effect on Uhura's nerves: whenever he spoke, she felt a slight shiver running down her spine, as if the approach of khemmer had touched her. Could it be that they were in another Great Year as her people back on Earth counted time? Could he have gotten so estranged from her own roots that she'd forgotten which era in the Temple of Munguroo was counted?
"Well, the time of fleeing should be over now," Kirk was saying. "There are enough star systems with unpopulated class M planets within the borders of the Federation, and since you are obviously human, the Federation Council would most likely offer you one of those. Or even more than just one. We have too many systems inside our own territory that we haven't been able to colonize yet."
"Does it mean that we're going to be integrated?" Colonel Tigh asked, apparently disliking the idea a great deal.
"The Federation gives all its members the free choice of customs and forms of government," Kirk replied, "while societies that favour slavery or a caste system are excluded, of course. The Federation Council is some sort of coordination tool; all members delegate an ambassador who works in the interest of both their own world and the whole Federation. We'll provide you with a copy of the Federation Charta, for further studies, if you want."
"I most certainly do," Tigh said with emphasis. "And so will Sire Solon, our chief lawyer, no doubt."
"What about your Fleet?" Adama asked. "Who is in charge of it? Who has supreme command?"
"All Federation members are entitled to send cadets to Starfleet-Academy," Kirk answered. "The same opportunity is offered to allied worlds that aren't members of the Federation. However, not all of them use these opportunities in the same extent."
"And what do you intend to do in case the Cylons manage to follow us through the singularity?" Captain Apollo asked, joining the conversation for the first time.
"We have already informed Starfleet Command and asked for reinforcements," Kirk replied. "Two heavy cruisers and a Dreadnought-class destroyer are already on their way, and more will be sent here as soon as possible. I assume Starfleet wants to keep this sector under constant surveillance for the time being. The rift can open again, and we're not so eager to have an uninvited visit from unknown conquerors. We have enough problems with the Romulans and Klingons as it is."
The old commander sighed. "It seems we have a lot to learn about your world."
"This is now your world as well," Kirk replied, "and we have to learn about you just as much. Speaking of which, we could make good use of our time until Ambassador Sarek and other diplomatic personnel arrives."
"Meaning?"
"I suggest an exchange of information. My first officer and chef engineer will come aboard the Galactica and check your data storage capacity. Then we'll transfer the minimum of crucial Federations knowledge into your database, assumed they can handle it, to make it easier for you to adapt. After that, your XO can come aboard the Enterprise," at that, Kirk shot a glance at the silently watching Colonel Tigh," to make himself familiar with Federation technology, and we'll repeat the whole process in the other direction: your data into our databases."
Adama gave his aide a questioning look. "What do you think, Tigh? Would you like that?"
"Sure, Commander," Tigh nodded. "You know it yourself: I've been restricted to this ship for over twenty yahrens – a little distraction would do wonders for me."
"All right then, Colonel" the old commander agreed, "You are hereby officially assigned to this mission; you've deserved it. Take Cassiopeia with you for communication and Boomer as an expert for technology when our guests are done here. And look into it that they are given proper quarters."
"We don't want to become an inconvenience," Kirk said. "Our people can beam back to the Enterprise after each shift in mere seconds."
"I don't doubt it," Adama said with a smile, "but we'd like to show our hospitality. Do us the favour an accept it – we haven't had many opportunities for that in the last yahrens."
Kirk laughed and shrugged. "As you wish, Commander."
"Captain," Uhura said quietly, "permission to stay here as well. Mr. Spock could use my limited knowledge of Sanskrit. Besides, I'm familiar with the newest archiving methods. It could come handy."
"You are needed on the bridge, Lieutenant!"
"Unlikely, sir. Lieutenant Palmer can handle the standard procedure with Starfleet Command just as well as I; she deserves her chance. As for me... I could finally do true, independent research here. Such an opportunity is offered only once in a lifetime for a communications expert. Captain, please..."
Kirk raised both hands in a defensive gesture. "All right, all right, Uhura, I understand that this would be your big chance to make yourself a name in your area of expertise. But we shouldn't stretch Commander Adama's hospitality beyond the borders of politeness. You have to understand that."
"I understand that very well, sir, "Uhura replied dryly, swinging the strap of the tricorder back onto her shoulder. "But you should understand as well that I'm a little more than just a skilled telephone clerk. A great deal more, to be accurate."
"Captain Kirk," Colonel Tigh intervened calmly, "if this is the only reason why you deny Siress Uhura the chance to stay aboard the Galactica, I'd be happy to offer her my personal guest right."
"I'd like to know what's that supposed to mean, " Kirk said.
"All flag officers are entitled to have personal guests on board their ships," Commander Adama explained, "at least to a certain extent. As Colonel Tigh hasn't used this privilege of his during our whole flight, it's his right to provide Siress Uhura a stay of at least two of your standard months in the guest quarters."
"My motivation is not entirely selfless," Tigh added seriously. "Archiving is one of my responsibilities here, and to be honest, I find it really boring. I hope to make it a lot simpler if I can learn your methods."
"All right then, " Kirk gave in, albeit a little unwillingly, "have everything you might need beamed over, Lieutenant. You are hereby assigned to do research aboard the Galactica. You can include Lieutenant Palamas from the A&A if necessary."
"Aye, sir... and thank you. You too, Colonel."
"No need for that, Siress Uhura," that soft light appeared in Tigh's large eyes for a moment again; then it disappeared. "As I said, my motivation is rather… egoistic."
"Captain Kirk, " Dr. Salik said, "does your exchange of information include medical data?"
"Sure. Why do you ask?"
"Well, I'd be more than interested in your medical procedures. Would it be possible for your chief medical officer to remain here for a while as well or is he needed in your infirmary at the moment?"
Kirk shot his friend a questioning look. "Your decision, Bones."
"Right now we have practically nothing to do," McCoy replied merrily. "M'Benga is a capable physician, and should he not manage sickbay without me, which I very much doubt, you can beam me back anytime. Maybe it is better when I stay, Jim... if only in case that our pointy-eared friend gets the colic from the local food. You can never know with that weird metabolism of his."
"He means Mr. Spock," Uhura added helpfully.
"This first officer of yours..." Adama said warily, "He isn't human... is he?"
"Mr. Spock is Vulcan," Kirk explained. "A member of a humanoid species, living in the Y Eridani-system, which is twelve light years from Earth."
"And unbeatable in getting on one's nerves! " the doctor added with emphasis.
"Vulcans are a honourable species," Kirk continued with a frown, "even though some of their customs seem strange to us Humans. They are in many things our superiors: physical strength, intellectual abilities and a lot more. The greatest difference is that several thousand years ago they decided to abandon emotions, which they find rater harmful, and let their lives be led by rational logic alone. The only emotion they tolerate is scientific curiosity, which is the reason why they are such excellent researches and explorers."
"There is one more thing you must remember," Uhura added. "You shouldn't touch a Vulcan, unless it's absolutely inevitable. Direct physical contact triggers their telepathic abilities, and they find the confrontation with the undisciplined thoughts of other species particularly unpleasant."
"You mean they could read our minds?" Captain Apollo asked warily.
Uhura nodded. "Yes, but only if they touch you. And even in that case they would try their best to avoid your thoughts. It's tiresome for them to deal with the thoughts of others."
"Why?"
"Well, mostly because these usually are a lot more imprecise, illogical and trivial than their own," Uhura laughed. "Vulcans are not the least interested in spying around in other people's minds. They are content among themselves."
Captain Apollo didn't seem like someone whose doubts had been put to rest, but his father interrupted the fruitless discussion.
"Very well; it seems that we've reached an agreement. Captain Kirk, I assume you want to give the necessary orders..."
"Of course, Commander. Can I establish contact with my bridge from here?"
Adama gave his daughter a cursory glance. Athena tuned something on a rather primitive-looking console and called the other ship through her head microphone.
"Galactica to Enterprise. Enterprise, come, please!"
After some static, the blonde head of Lieutenant Palmer appeared on the small screen. "Bridge here. How may we help you, Galactica?"
Athena looked at Kirk. "You can speak now, Captain Kirk!"
Kirk leaned over the table. "Here's the captain speaking. Give me Mr. Spock, Lieutenant!"
The image trembled a little. The blonde bun of Lieutenant Palmer vanished, giving room to Mr. Spock's angular face, spotlessly groomed black hair and long, pointy ears.
"Spock here," his deep, grave voice filtered through the distortions of unfamiliar technology. "Are you having a problem, Captain?"
"Not exactly, Mr. Spock. However, I believe you will have the chance to prove your diplomatic skills in the not too far future."
"Does the captain prefer to… joke?" the Vulcan asked with a stiffness uncommon even for him.
"I wouldn't dare to do so, Mr. Spock. It's about scientific cooperation, and for that you are the best-qualified person aboard, I believe."
"You are probably right, sir," Spock answered calmly, "nevertheless, I would appreciate if you could tell me some details about what is expected from me."
"We've agreed to have an exchange of information, Mr. Spock. You, Mr. Scott, the doctor and Lieutenant Uhura will come aboard the Galactica, in order to fill the database here with the most necessary pieces of information. After that, Colonel Tigh and his people will do the same on the Enterprise."
"A most logical effort to use the time until the arrival of the diplomatic corpse," Spock agreed. "Very well, Captain. Since I'm having the bridge right now, I find it necessary to await your return. However, approximately 12,4.3 standard minutes after your arrival I'll be able to beam over. Spock out."
The face of the Vulcan vanished from the screen and Kirk rose from his seat. "Well, if we want Mr. Spock to arrive here any time soon, I have to leave now. I hope to be able to welcome you aboard the Enterprise in a later occasion, Commander."
"I'd like that," Adama replied and, according the customs of his people, clasped Kirk's forearm. Kirk returned the gesture, and then he stepped back and switched his communicator open.
"Kirk to Enterprise. Beam me aboard, Mr. Kyle! Energize!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Less than fifteen minutes later the transporter beam summed again. Three golden columns of energy took shape in Adama's office; the dancing particles whirled around, thickened and put themselves together to the solid forms of Commander Spock, chief engineer Scott and Christine Chapel, head nurse of the Enterprise.
"The captain ordered me to pack your stuff, Uhura," Chris Chapel handled a large but surprisingly light metal suitcase to the communications officer. "I hope everything's there what you might need... including civilian clothes," she added with a sly wink.
Uhura laughed and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you, Chris, you are a jewel!"
"You should repeat that within the earshot of my boss more often," Chapel grinned, handing McCoy a freshly filled medkit with an exuberant gesture. "Your weapons, doctor."
"Uhura should stop directing the general attention towards your unique abilities," the doctor grumbled. "These people might try to lure you away from me."
"Sorry, no chance," Chapel shook her head with mock regret, "I have to leave again, in order to loan Dr. M'Benga much-needed authority through my presence. Young doctors need the support of an experienced head nurse."
Still laughing, she tapped on the 'Return' taste of her communicator and disintegrated into glimmering energy.
"First officer Spock," Adama turned to the Vulcan, "welcome aboard. How are Starfleet officers in your position properly addressed?"
"I own the military rank of a Starfleet commander, but I am rarely addressed by my rank," the Vulcan explained, "only in occasions of outstanding formality. People usually address me as Mr. Spock, which is satisfactory."
"You are a commander by rank and still only second in command?" Colonel Tigh asked in surprise.
"Starfleet hierarchy follows the old naval tradition of Earth and the chain of command reaches from an ensign to a rear admiral," Spock answered patiently. "Therefore a full commander stands one grade under a captain."
"I see," Adama nodded. "Well, Mr. Spock, Captain Apollo will escort you to our chief scientist, Dr. Wilker; accidentally, he's aboard the Galactica right now. Chief engineer Scott, I'll assign Captain Boomer to you; of all our younger officers he's the one who knows the most about our technology. Dr. McCoy, we'll give you temporary quarters next to our Life Center; Dr. Salik and Dr. Paye are eager to compare their experiences with yours. Lieutenant Commander Giotto, you'll stay with me, so that we can discuss matters considering tactic. And Colonel Tigh will take care for his personal guest, Siress Uhura, I presume."
"It'll be my greatest pleasure, Commander," Tigh replied; then he rose. "If I may, Siress Uhura... I'll show you to your quarters."
"My pleasure, Colonel," Uhura stood, too, and followed her host across the huge bridge, out into the so far unknown parts of the great warship.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The corridors they went along were long, grey and listless. The unpainted metal walls echoed their every step, and this monotone sound strangely increased the impression of hopelessness the ship was causing anyway. It seemed to Uhura that it took them hours until they reached the wing where the quarters of the staff officers were placed. The colonel's "suite" was at the end of a corridor, containing a tiny computer room, two even smaller bedrooms and a so-called hygienic unit. The latter had two independent, column-shaped shower cabins, a small sink and a toilet. Nothing else, not even a mirror. Uhura wondered how Tigh managed to save under these circumstances.
"I'm afraid I can't offer you much luxury," the colonel made a vague, sweeping gesture, his tone apologetic. "We'll have to share the computer room; fortunately, there are several terminals, and I spend most of my time on the bridge anyway, whether I'm on duty or not. At least as long as we're still not safe from the Cylons, that is... and I doubt that we ever will."
He opened for Uhura the apparently long unused bedroom, the whole furniture of which were a narrow bed and an unpainted metal cupboard. Then he pointed out the door seal to her.
"You can seal your door with this panel; choose any code you wish, the mechanism will accept it. I won't take it as an insult. After all, you don't even know me."
"Not yet," Uhura corrected.
"Well, let's hope we'll find the time to change that," Tigh fished a code card from his belt and handed it to her. "This card will give you access to my computer, so that you can use it independently. The database doesn't contain any restricted military information, so feel free to download anything that catches your interest."
"I thought we were supposed to work together," Uhura said with well-played innocence. Tigh took her hand and lifted it to his lips.
"I certainly hope so," he answered and kissed her palm, right under the thumb. "But it wouldn't be practical if you were dependant on my presence. My duty hours are rather long."
The gesture was unusual and not entirely neutral, either; once again, Uhura felt her nerves tremble from the heat of the approaching khemmer and was grateful for her dark complexion that made her unable to blush.
"Tell me something, Colonel," she said quietly. "Why have you supported my application so strongly?"
Tigh gave her a thorough look, without letting go of her hand.
"It has been my impression that this is very important for you," he answered slowly. "I mean, independent research is important for you, isn't it?"
"Of course," Uhura nodded. "Communications experts rarely get the chance to do that. And I'm very good in my area of expertise. Too damn good to let such a chance slip away. You've done me a great favour, Colonel."
"You are mistaken," Tigh replied calmly. "Your presence on this ship is important for me. As I said, my motivation was purely egoistic. Which means, you don't have to feel like you'd owe me a debt."
With these words, he lifted her hand to his lips again and kissed her palm.
"If you say so," Uhura firmly kept her friendly, but not overly personal tone. "May I have my hand back now? I'd like to unpack my suitcase first."
"Oh... naturally. Please, forgive me," Tigh let go of her hand, albeit reluctantly. "My behaviour was unacceptable. It won't happen again. My only excuse is that I'm no longer used to the company of such charming women. The war had taken us more than just our homes..."
Uhura smiled, and giving in to a sudden urge, she bent over to him and kissed the hopeless bow of his mouth.
"Have faith, Colonel! You are heading straight towards civilization again. Have you come over the culture shock, you'll see that on many worlds of the Federation there are women who are a lot more charming than I am."
"I dare to doubt that," for the first time, on Tigh's face appeared something akin a smile, "but let us discuss this later, shall we? I have to return to the bridge now. May I escort you to the Officer's Club when I go off-duty?"
"Commander Adama said that you should take care of me," Uhura replied, smiling. "And since I find your company pleasant, I appreciate his orders."
"So do I," Tigh replied, kissing her hand one more time – then he turned to leave.
However, he turned back from the threshold, a little embarrassed, as if he didn't know how to say what he had on his heart.
"There is one more thing... Please, don't be scared, should you hear someone scream in the middle of the night."
Uhura's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"I suffer from irregularly returning nightmares," the colonel shrugged. "Probably a reminder of all the horrors I have seen as a Viper pilot. The doctors have examined me repeatedly but found nothing bad with my nerves... though nothing that could help me, either. Sometimes I awake screaming in the middle of the night. It doesn't happen frequently… at least not that frequently any more. But the walls aren't soundproof, and I don't want to scare you after you've decided to accept my invitation."
TBC