Chapter 3

Starbuck gave a look around the briefing room, taking inventory of the expressions on the faces of all her pilots. They were sharply attentive this morning, much more so than usual. She knew they were waiting for news. "Good morning," she announced.

The reply came back from the group as expected, "Good morning Sir."

"All right," Starbuck declared, "first order of business kiddies: rumor control. Before the speculation and gossip get totally out of hand -- and you all know what I'm talking about -- these are the facts."

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"I'm only going to say this once, so listen up people," Chief Tyrol announced to his deck crew, who were all huddled around him for their morning assignments. "Forget the gossip. These are the facts. Shortly after midnight last night, Captain Adama was discovered to have attempted suicide."

There were several gasps and shocked exclamations. Tyrol saw Crewman Specialist Cally clasp a hand over her mouth. He continued in as business-like a manner as possible.

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"Paramedics succeeded in partially resuscitating him at the scene before transporting him to sickbay," Starbuck announced with calmness in her voice that was in total contrast to the turmoil raging in her gut. "He remains in critical condition at this time." The grim silence in the briefing room was almost overwhelming.

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"As you know, Commander Adama was to have resumed active duties this morning," Tyrol said. "But as you might imagine, Colonel Tigh will remain in active command of Galactica until further notice." Disgruntled looks, groans, and murmurs of disappointment circulated through the crowd on the flight deck.

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"Obviously," Starbuck informed her pilots, "you will also have to continue putting up with me as acting-CAG for a while longer. So... are there any burning questions still lingering on the subject, or any wild absurdities that I can dispel?" The pilots looked around at each other, shifting in their seats. Kat finally raised her hand. "Go ahead Kat," Starbuck told her.

"It's not that I really want to know, but... you know, rumors and all that..."

"What's the question Kat?"

"Did he leave a note Sir... explaining why?"

Kara was glad that she was standing behind a podium, so that none of the pilots could see that her hands were shaking. "No," she said simply. "There was no note."

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"How did he do it?" Specialist Tyler asked. "Bullet in the head? Overdose? What?"

Cally spun around toward her crewmate. "You morbid asshole," she spat at him.

Tyler replied defensively, "Hey, we're hearing all kinds of shit. I just want to know..."

"You want pictures and diagrams too?" Cally interrupted harshly.

"Cally...Tyler, knock it off!" Chief Tyrol called out, declaring an end to the dispute. "Actually Tyler, I'm glad you asked, though you could have done it with a little more tact. The whole point here is to put an end to the rumors. The fact is that Captain Adama used the Red Needle from his Mark VII Viper. Now, we have no idea when he removed it and how long he's been carrying it around, waiting to use it. Typically, inventory tracking of personal gear, survival supplies and such, including the Red Needle has been left up to the pilots. We take care of the ships. The pilots take care of themselves. Well, as of now, that kind of thinking is over with people.

"If you take a look at your pre- and post-flight checklists, you will notice a few more items have been added. From now on, we will be backstopping all of our pilots on the inventories of their personal flight gear. It will be up to us, just as much as them, to make sure they have everything they need before they leave this ship, and everything is in its proper place when they get back. And don't even think about giving me the whine-and-moan over this! I know damn well how much we already have to do! Those pilots put their lives on the line every frakking time they launch from this ship. They put their lives on the line for us! Captain Adama has personally flown over 400 missions, protecting us, in just the few short months since he first set foot on this ship. Well, I'm not going to allow even one more pilot to die because we weren't willing to take a few extra minutes with our checklists.

"Now, I know there's been a lot of paranoia since we found out that the Cylons look human. There's been a lot of talk and grumbling about how it's every man for himself... about how you can't trust anybody. Well frak that! From now on, we are all looking out for each other. Every one of us. No more just looking out for #1. 'Cause the sad fact is... that if we'd been doing a better job looking out for each other before now... we would have noticed... that there was a Cylon walking around right among us." The Chief had to stop and swallow his own visible regret. After a deep breath he added, "And we would have noticed that the Red Needle was missing from Apollo's Viper. If we'd just been paying attention, we could have prevented tragedy for two men, to whom we all owe our lives."

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"Hotdog" Costanza asked, "So, what's the prognosis?"

"Uncertain," Starbuck answered. "Apollo is currently on life support, but there is hope that the poison can be neutralized enough for his body to resume function." Kara cleared her throat before continuing. "Basically, it's a wait and see situation right now. Any of you who may be so inclined as to offer a prayer on Apollo's behalf, I'm sure the Commander would appreciate it."

"And so would I," Kara thought to herself. "So would I."

"No more questions?" Starbuck quizzed her squadron. No more hands were raised. "Good," she said. "'Cause we all still have a job to do.

Dr. Cottle finished securing the bandage around the crewman's hand, offering the young man a withering scowl. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to run while carrying sharp objects?"

"Yes Sir," the young crewman replied, wincing. "But these days, Chief Tyrol outranks Mom."

"Then at least try harder not to fall down," Cottle grumped. "Keep that dry and come back in two days." He sent the crewman off with a glower then turned to see who was next in line. "You again?"

President Roslin wasn't in the mood to be baited into a verbal sparring match. "Good morning to you too," she said simply. "I'm here to inquire about Captain Adama. I just heard the news a short while ago. Is it true?"

"Depends on what you heard," Cottle replied dryly.

Laura crossed her arms, looking very troubled. "Was it really suicide?"

"No," Cottle told her.

"No?" Her expression marginally brightened.

"It was attempted suicide."

Laura rolled her eyes. "For Lords' sake Doctor, just talk to me straight, please. It was reported to me that he used some kind of suicide needle?"

Cottle nodded. "It's referred to as the Red Needle. All pilots are issued one."

"Why?"

"Some people would consider a quick, relatively painless death as a preferable alternative to slow, agonizing torture."

Laura closed her eyes to hold her temper in check. "What I meant was, why did he do it?"

"You'll have to ask him that, if he wakes up."

"Will he wake up?"

"I don't know."

Laura spoke haltingly, and uncertainly, still unable to fully comprehend the circumstances. "And... you are certain that's what happened to him... that he really used this... Red...?"

Cottle frowned at the President. "He was found in his rack in a state of full cardiac and pulmonary arrest only minutes after leaving the rec room. A Red Needle was found in his rack by paramedics... used. We have confirmed that the used needle has traces of his blood on it, and the Chief did verify that the Needle from the captain's Mark VII Viper is missing. The welt from the injection point is still visible on his right forearm and he is most definitely suffering the effects of andropine poisoning. What does the math tell you?"

The President still appeared skeptical. "Did anyone see him use it?"

"No," Cottle replied. "Lieutenant Thrace came across him just after the fact."

"Then we know that he was injected with this needle... but we really don't know how."

The doctor shook his head dismissively. "Whatever. My job is still the same."

"Has anyone called for an investigation?"

"I don't know. That isn't my job."

Roslin pondered the situation, and then asked, "Can I see him, just for a minute?"

"Station 15," the doctor told her, pointing toward the curtained partition. "But... he already has company."

"Commander Adama," she guessed. "Has he been here long?"

"Aside from a quick trip to the head about an hour ago, he hasn't left."

"At all?"

Dr. Cottle shook his head. "Won't budge. Stubborn old bastard."

The President walked toward station 15, hugging her arms about herself. She stepped around the edge of the curtain, which had been left drawn slightly open. The commander was in there, seated and leaning his head wearily against one hand, his elbow propped on the edge of the bed. His other hand was settled lightly on his son's arm. Laura just watched the commander for several seconds, and for the first time since she'd met him, she saw no sign of the stalwart military leader. This was simply a father, anxious and afraid for the well-being of his child.

Laura cleared her throat lightly to announce her presence before she stepped inside the curtained partition. "I don't mean to intrude," she said gently. "I just wanted to see how he's doing." She stepped up to the side of the captain's bed opposite from where the commander sat. An expression of deep concern fell over her face. "Has he been awake at all?" she asked.

"No," William Adama answered hoarsely. He watched warily while Laura Roslin reached a hand down and gently stroked Lee's forehead. Resentment began to simmer beneath his calm demeanor.

"When Billy told me the news," she said quietly, "I thought it had to be some sick joke at first... except that Billy would never joke about something like this. I just couldn't believe it." She still couldn't believe it. Captain Apollo had always been so strong, even when everything and everyone else around him was falling to pieces. But now her brave, young champion looked so utterly frail and helpless that it broke her heart.

She shook her head. "I saw him just yesterday morning," she said.

"Did you?" Adama muttered.

"Yes," she replied. "He was tired... very tired. He's been carrying an overwhelming burden lately, but... he seemed all right, hopeful even. He was so relieved that you were coming back on the job and he'd be able to hand off some of the work load soon. I thought he was looking forward to it. Gods, I had no idea he might be hurting so much."

"Apparently you don't know him as well as you'd like to think," Adama said bitterly.

Laura looked across at the commander. She hadn't wanted to cross swords with him, but she'd never been one to cower away either. "So you expected this to happen, did you?" she asked with a notable twinge of sarcasm. "You, of course, know him so well; you must have been waiting in anticipation for this."

William glared and slowly rose to his feet. "Get your hands off him," he growled. "And from now on stay away from him. He's done with you."

Laura faced Adama sternly and said, "That's not for you to decide."

"Like hell it's not."

"Like hell indeed! Captain Apollo is a grown man."

"His name is Lee."

"And Lee will decide for himself where he goes and who he sees. Who the hell do you think you are that you still believe you have the right to single-handedly take over control of everyone's life?"

"Not everyone, but I do have a say when it comes to my son."

"Only so far as he agrees with you. For the rest, he'll make up his own mind, which he does do, in case you've failed to notice!"

"You are not his mother!"

Laura's eyes opened wide and she let out an abrupt laugh. "Thank you for the revelation." Then the laughter faded and she piercingly asked, "But since when were you ever a father?"

If Lee's bed hadn't stood between them, William knew he would have taken a swing at this audacious woman right now. Instead, he clenched his fist in fury and just glared.

Laura faced him without flinching, but her voice dropped considerably in volume. "You're right, I didn't have any idea he was considering this... but don't blame it on me that you didn't either. Neither one of us did anything to save him when we had the chance."

"Children..." Dr. Cottle interrupted the argument. "That will be enough bickering. Both of you, knock it off right now, or take it outside."

"It's all right Doctor," the President said calmly. "I'll be going now. The Commander can stay and look after his son, for a change." Before walking away, however, she leaned down and gave Lee a kiss on his forehead, saying gently, "Rest up and get strong, Captain Apollo. I know that you can."

The commander didn't bother looking after the President as she left. He stood staring at Lee's somnolent face with a churning turmoil of emotions fighting for dominance in his gut. Anger. Betrayal. Guilt. Failure. In the end, it was Fear that won out. He sat back down, clasping his son's hand tightly. As much as he might have liked to pretend otherwise, William knew in his heart that Laura Roslin was NOT the great barrier standing between him and his son. William had laid the foundations for that barrier himself, when Lee was still only a child, and long, long before Laura Roslin ever entered their lives. Over the years, both father and son had built up that wall, until it became so tall that they could barely see or hear each other on the other side. So William sat clutching Lee's hand in deep fear that he would lose his son before ever managing to break down that wall and set things right.

"Cally... what are you doing?"

Specialist Cally flipped up her welding mask and glanced back over her shoulder to see the Chief peering at her from around a rack in the tool room. "I'm... making something."

"I can see that," the Chief said stepping closer. "What are you making... other than a mess of course?"

Cally had a couple of piles of metal tubing, various bolts, screws, and an assortment of metal scraps lumped onto the floor in front of her where she was sitting. "Well... if this works... it should look like a uh... a bouquet of flowers."

Tyrol's eyebrows lifted. "Flowers?"

"Well we don't have any real ones to pick, and we can't just call the florist now can we?" She flipped the mask back down, and fired up the welding torch.

Tyrol crouched down behind her and tapped her shoulder. "Cally?"

She flipped the mask up again. "What?"

"Flowers?"

After a brief hesitation she said, "For Captain Apollo."

Tyrol looked a long time at Cally's face, and then he just nodded. "Just clean up when you're done," he said, pushing himself back to his feet.

Cally settled the mask back in place and returned to her artistic labors.

Laura greeted each member of the Quorum's Finance and Economics committee as they joined her on Colonial One: Scorpia's Eladio Puasha, Sagitarron's Tom Zarek, Libra's Maree Santini, and Picon's Elliot Martin. They gathered into what had been the upper level passenger lounge of the Colonial transport. The lounge now served as the President's conference room. Settling into plush leather chairs, Laura Roslin passed a small stack of papers to each member of the committee.

"I've added one item to the agenda that was sent to each of you yesterday," Laura told them. "We've had another incident of inaccurate inventories being reported by a fleet vessel to the Resource Management Team. I think we need to look into the prospect of centralizing this function sooner that we'd originally planned. The probability that vital supplies are being secretly hoarded throughout the fleet is looking more and more likely."

"That's going to ruffle a lot of feathers," Puasha said. "People tend to get very territorial when they have very little left."

"There can't be any distinction any longer between the have's and the have-not's," Tom Zarek said. "We are all in the same dire circumstance now. What belongs to one must belong to all."

"Property ownership is not a crime," Puasha countered.

"Gentlemen," Roslin interjected, "I realize this is a complex issue, but it also resides at the end of our agenda for today, and we have a lot of previous business to attend to first. The charts that I have just provided for you contain the survey results that were requested last week. Please take a minute to look them over and we will try to answer any question you may have."

The committee members all shuffled through the stack of papers the President had provided them, all except Tom Zarek. "Pardon me Madame President," Zarek said, "before we get too invested in the committee's work this morning and it slips my mind, I was hoping that you might be willing to do me a favor."

"A favor?" Laura Roslin asked, keeping her face as neutral as possible.

"Yes," Zarek replied. "Commander Adama remains reluctant to accept direct calls from the Astral Queen, so I was rather hoping that you would be so kind as to extend to the Commander my deepest condolences over the tragic loss of his son."

"Pardon me?" Maree Santini of Libra inquired, "The Commander's son has died?"

"Yes," Zarek told her and the other stunned members of the committee. "Captain Lee Adama died last night, of apparent suicide." The committee all expressed shock at the news. "I assume," Zarek added, "that under the circumstances the Commander has delayed his return to active military service?" He looked to the President for confirmation.

Laura Roslin measured her tone very carefully. "Colonel Tigh does remain in active command at this time due to an incident on Galactica last night, however your condolences are unwarranted Mr. Zarek. Captain Adama is very much alive."

"Alive?" Zarek questioned her.

"Thank the Gods," Maree Santini declared.

"Yes," Roslin confirmed. "I saw him myself just a few hours ago." She kept her expression as neutral as possible, while studying Tom Zarek's face intently. "Who told you that he was dead... and by suicide no less?" she asked.

Zarek replied smoothly, "It was a rumor, and a false one apparently. Well, thank the Gods. I should know better than to buy into gossip so easily."

Roslin looked around at the rest of the committee. "None of the rest of you heard any such rumors?" None of them had. Laura smiled, masking her suspicion. "Well, that's good. Apparently the gossip mill has been limited to the Astral Queen on this matter. But, should any of you receive any inquiries, please pass along that Captain Adama was involved in an undetermined event last night, which is still being investigated, and he is undergoing medical treatment , but he is indeed alive and likely to remain so."

She picked up her stack of briefing charts, still watching Zarek out of the corner of her eye. "Now, as for the disposition of action items assigned at our last meeting, please turn to page 3."

William watched the dancing light on the monitor that tracked his son's slow heartbeat. The beep accompanying each peak on the display had blended hours ago with the quiet whir and click of the respirator into a commonplace soundtrack of William's existence. For hours he had scarcely heard the sounds at all, but now as the day drew to a close, and the moment of truth drew near, he was vitally cognizant of all the indicators that his son still lived... for the moment.

"Commander?" Doctor Cottle said delicately. "We can wait a while longer yet before going ahead with this. There's no necessity to do it now."

"Would it change the outcome?" William asked.

"Probably not."

The commander nodded. "It's been 24 hours. If the anti-toxins were going to work, and enable him to live without the machines, they'd have done their job by now. That's what you said."

"Yes," the doctor confirmed.

"Then there's no point in delaying, is there?"

"You've had no sleep, and hardly anything to eat since this all started. You're exhausted. You don't have to go ahead and face this right now." The doctor placed a hand on his commander's arm, and felt the trembling that Adama was attempting to conceal. "Get some sleep. This can wait."

"No," Adama shook his head. "This isn't about me, Doc."

"It won't hurt him any to put this off until at least morning."

William offered the doctor a tired smirk. "Do you really think I'll be able to sleep... while anticipating this?"

The doctor studied his commander's face. "No, I suppose not."

William drew a deep, shaking breath. "Then... take him off the machines," he said, with the gravity of a man condemning his child to death.

Dr. Cottle nodded. Adama stepped back from Lee's bed and Sergeant Wallace stepped in to assist while the doctor threw a switch, disabling any assistance from the respirator. The clicking and whirring ceased. The doctor reached over and disconnected the respirator from the tube extending down Lee's throat.

Adama crossed his arms to still the trembling. He stared at Lee, anxiously watching and awaiting the inevitable.