Thirteen

Chapter Forty-Five

Boarding Up The House and Awaiting The Hurricane

Commander Saul Tigh knew they were coming. He knew that it was just a matter of time before the Cylons and Drakh attacked the station as well as the Colonial fleet. His crew on board the Galactica was undergoing drills like mad, preparing for the almost inevitable attack. They were worried, scared, and uncertain of what was to come, but they were also determined, confident, and ready for anything that the enemy would throw at them.

During his time interacting with the Earthers, he had come across a very interesting saying, "You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." While he still snapped at his crew from time to time, he had eased way back from the way he had been when he served as executive officer under then-Commander William Adama. Now that he was Admiral Adama, Commander Tigh had to learn to adapt some of the lessons he learned from his old friend to handle the burdens of command.

There were still many who resented him for the martial law declaration, but he didn't have time to worry about that now. Besides, the civilians were as safe as they could be on the station. Thanks to President Hollifield, the station's defenses had been upgraded significantly. Admiral David Rissen had drilled his crew as relentlessly as Tigh had, and each knew they were as ready as they could be for what was to come.

Earthforce had rotated ships in the Episilon sector, so now the Excalibur awaited the joint Cylon/Drakh fleet along with Warlock-class destroyers Merlin, Thor, and Phoenix, as well as Omega-class destroyers Arapaho, Palomino, Missouri, and Southampton. A plethora of carriers, dreadnaughts, and frigates from the Earth Alliance joined the collection of Minbari and other Interstellar Alliance ships.

The other Colonial battlestar, Pegasus, was preparing just as hard. Commander Jack Fisk and his crew worked just as hard as Galactica to get ready for the attack, and the ship's new Viper IX fighters sparred with the station's Starfuries along with the Thunderbolts from the other Earth Alliance ships. Adama oversaw it all, maintaining his calm demeanor throughout the preparations. Tigh knew he was worried, but that he was confident that his fleet would manage to pull through.

Tigh hadn't moved into Adama's old quarters on board Galactica yet, even though he was entitled to do just that. The admiral wouldn't have blamed him for doing so, but Adama was glad to be able to sleep in his old bed from time to time. Technically, it was Saul Tigh's ship, but even Tigh admitted that Galactica still belonged to Adama, and that bothered him not in the least.

"You've done a good job getting the crew ready, Saul." Adama told Tigh as they sat in the admiral's quarters. The two of them were drinking coffee shipped over from Babylon 5. It was the synthetic brand the station personnel were used to, which tasted bland as hell, but did a damned good job of propping their eyes open and sustaining them through the marathon days they had in their commands.

"Well, it does help that you trained them as well as you did!" Tigh replied, lifting a toast to his commanding officer.

"Skip it! You were there to help whip this crew into shape, and you did a damn good job of that. I just wonder if it'll be enough, even with all we have."

Tigh set down his cup on the coffee table and admitted, "I know. We're sitting ducks out here. But at least we've girded ourselves with some damned fine weaponry!"

"And how! I was in one of those new Vipers the other day!" Adama let out a long whistle. "They make even the Mark VII's seem like their flying against the jet stream."

"I hear ya!" Tigh changed the subject. "So how's the president?"

"On the outside, good. Inside, I think she's concerned and scared." Adama snorted. "Funny, I feel the same way, but we're stuck here now. Best to dig in and fight like bastards when the time comes."

"The timing sucks, with the election just days away. Funny thing is that the attack has helped quell all the political debates that were starting to divide the crew."

Adama nodded. "Democracy is a noble thing, and I'm glad we have it, but, Gods, does it have a bad side! The campaign's getting ugly, to say the least."

"What'll happen if Zarek wins?" Tigh asked.

"I don't know. Sheridan and Garibaldi don't know either. We've talked and decided that, in case Zarek wins and decides to sack me, I'd become the Interstellar Alliance liaison to the Colonial fleet. Means I'd have to change uniforms, but Zarek would still have to deal with me."

Tigh laughed ruefully and added, "He'll probably want my head too, the bastard." He shrugged and said, "If that's the case, you can always hire me on as your assistant!"

Adama laughed out loud and smiled, saying, "Damn right I would, and Sheridan and Garibaldi would go along with it. They're staying out of the campaign and being as impartial as they can, I'll give them credit for that, but it's as plain as the nose on your face as to who they want to win the election!"

One of the new things installed in the admiral's quarters was a communication from the station. Dee Dualla came on screen and said, "Sir, we're getting a message from the station. Shall I patch it through?"

Adama nodded, and the screen switched from the face of the young, dark-skinned Dualla to the older, human Lt. Col. Sharon Valerii. No matter how hard he tried, the sight of her still gave him a chill up his spine. He managed to hold down the remembered feeling of those two slugs being fired into his chest by the now-deceased copy of Boomer.

"Admiral, we've just picked up activity from tachiyon beacons in sector 328. The Drakh fleet is on a course for the station, and we assume that the Cylons aren't far behind. Best estimates are that they'll be here in five days' time."

"That's election day." Adama said, to which Valerii nodded.

"Damned inconvenient, but that's what it looks like to us, sir. We'll have a better idea in a couple of days when they get closer to the station. We've got some Whitestars coming in to join the fight, and the Narn are sending in two more cruisers." Valerii added.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel." Adama said, and the signal clicked off. "Well, we're in for it now!" he said to Tigh ominously.

"We're ready for them." Tigh said.

Adama smiled and patted his friend's shoulder, saying, "Indeed we are!"

John Sheridan remembered what it was like the eve before the final battle of the Shadow War at Coriana 6. He hadn't been able to sleep, as fear and excitement clashed against each other in his soul, keeping him awake all night. He'd always had that feeling before conflicts, and it intensified as he grew older. He wasn't worried about his own life, because that was to end soon anyway. Sheridan worried more about the people on the station and the crews of the ships orbiting Episilon 3.

The excitement would always be there for as long (or, in his case, as short) as he lived. He'd always had a knack for adventure since he was a kid, and he couldn't help that he got excited as the battle drew closer. Of course, he would not be fighting the battle this time, as he would be in a shelter with the Colonial leaders when the time came.

He sat at his desk, absentmindedly tapping a pen on his desk, lost in thought, when Michael Garibaldi, his former chief of security when he commanded the station, entered the office. Without waiting for an invitation, Garibaldi plopped down in a chair opposite from Sheridan, asking him, "Penny for your thoughts?"

Sheridan was roused from his reverie and looked over to Garibaldi, replying, "I'm getting to old for this, you know!"

"Join the club!" Garibaldi said. "All of us are. Ivanova, Franklin, Hollifield, Delenn…God, look how far we've come! All we've seen!" He shook his head and chuckled. "This should be old nature to us by now!"

"Yeah, it should. Doesn't make it any easier! Hell, makes me glad I don't have much longer in this life!" Sheridan mused.

"Ever thought about…what'll happen when you do die?" Garibaldi asked.

Sheridan smiled surprisingly and said to his old friend, "After all these years that I've known you, I never thought you'd go deep on me!"

"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises! So, have you given it much thought?"

Sheridan paused for thought and took in a breath, then exhaled and said, "I hope that there is an afterlife. I would like to think that, somehow, I could look back into this universe and see how my life's work has transpired. Fact is, I haven't anymore idea about it as you have!"

Garibaldi nodded, "Knowing my luck, I'll come back as a perky female supermodel!"

"Now there's a thought I'd rather not have!" Sheridan remarked and the two laughed. He grew serious again when he said, "You don't have to be here, ya know? You don't technically work for me. You could go back to Mars, be with Lise and Mary."

Garibaldi thought for a moment, then shook his head, saying, "Nah, that's not my style. Besides, if this place were to fall, I want to be here and fall with it. I was here at the beginning. Just as well as I'm here at the end."

Sheridan asked, "Wonder what Valen would do in a bind like this?"

Garibaldi laughed, knowing that Valen was his old friend Jeffery Sinclair, first commander of Babylon 5. "He'd probably be doing what you're probably doing: wanting to jump into a Starfury and take out as many Cylon raiders as he could. I could see it now: you two keeping track of how many raiders you'd splashed!"

Sheridan shared in the laugher, then walked over to the window that looked out from his office and into the interior of the station, and grew serious. "If she doesn't make it, better she go out with a fight than with a whimper."

Garibaldi joined him at the window and looked out as well, finally adding, "Only fitting it'd be this way!" They stood there for some time, looking out, lost in their own thoughts.