" I can't say I'm surprised," Cottle said dryly as he looked over Gaeta's unconscious body in sick bay. He looked up at Adama. " I assume you didn't really have a pressing need to inventory the drug locker either?"
" What?" Adama shook his head. He hadn't yet explained to Cottle the circumstances that led to Gaeta being in his office. The doctor looked at him, cynical amusement on his face.
" He was inventorying the drug locker earlier today. He had some questions about the drugs. I made sure to direct him to the less lethal items available." Cottle shook his head. " I didn't think he'd try so soon. He hadn't even seemed depressed but then again, I hardly see him." He gestured to Gaeta's sleeping form. " He's going to wake up with a hell of a headache and then I'll give him the lecture on how suicide is not the answer." The doctor looked at him curiously. " Aside from the fact that he passed out in your office, is there a reason you're hanging around, Admiral? If you're worried, don't bother. He'll live."
" That's not the concern I have. Can we speak privately?" Adama looked at the two marines. " If he so much as moves, I want one of you to come and get me immediately."
Cottle's eyebrows raised in surprise but he said nothing until he had Adama in his small cramped office. " So," he said as he lit a cigarette, " I understand how a suicide attempt might be upsetting but I get the impression something else has you in my office."
" Unfortunately yes." Cottle was trustworthy. It was simply difficult to discuss openly. " Lt. Gaeta said some very disturbing things before he lost consciousness. Things that have to be taken seriously, even if there are other explanations."
Cottle took a seat at his desk. " People who are suicidal often try to cut ties. They think it's less painful for the living if they say or do things that make the people around them angry."
"He said that he was a Cylon." Adama said gruffly.
" I figured as much when you insisted on guards," Cottle said after a long pause. " You know that it is next to impossible to confirm whether someone is or isn't a Cylon from medical testing." He smiled slightly. " I assume you have some doubts as well since you didn't just put a bullet in Lt. Gaeta's head."
Adama nodded. The problem was exactly as Cottle had outlined. " There is a possibility that he is telling the truth, but there is also the possibility that he's having some sort of breakdown." He described what had taken place, leaving nothing out.
Cottle hesitated before he spoke. " You have a problem, Bill. If he is not actually a Cylon, then he is very ill and has been for some time. I'm not a shrink, but I do know a little about the subject. That is an extremely complex, detailed, and internally consistent fantasy."
" Meaning?"
" If he's not a Cylon, he's really crazy." Cottle breathed out some smoke. " He's not fit for duty. He's certainly a danger to himself. And frankly if it gets around that he's a Cylon, someone will eventually oblige him with a bullet in the head. If he really believes that he's a Cylon, then he's psychotic. We're not equipped to handle that, and in the best of situations, it's controlled not cured. On the other hand, if he's a Cylon…. That's an entirely different problem."
" What do you think?" Adama asked. He trusted Cottle. The man's opinion was one he respected.
Cottle took a long drag. " He's a Cylon. It's possible that he's having a psychotic break, and he certainly is bright enough to come up with something uniquely bizarre for a fantasy, but the delusion would not allow him to be highly functional for very long. His behavior, up until the last twenty four hours, has been as normal as mine. You would have seen changes in his behavior long before this. Now, that's an opinion. I would hope that you would have Dr. Baltar run the Cylon test on him."
" It will be done again. He did pass the first time." Adama stepped back towards the door. " Until that test is done, I don't want this possibility discussed publicly."
Cottle shrugged. " People are going to talk about the armed guards. And the hard restraints. That's not how I normally handle suicide attempts. I also assume you don't want him to have visitors. It'd be safer for everyone if you could find a plausible reason to insist he be placed in the brig." Cottle chuckled. " Technically, you could jail him for damaging colonial fleet property."
Adama almost smiled. That had been a joke back when he had been a young cadet, that getting hurt on duty was a punishable offense. Then again, there hadn't been so many suicides that hadn't resulted in a dead body that he couldn't get away with it. " That's not a bad idea, Doctor."
He tried to hold his breath. If he took a breath, that meant he was still alive and that was the last thing that he wanted. He was fairly certain that Cylons didn't go to the Elysium Fields. If he was waking up, then one of two things had happened. The best option as far as he was concerned was that he had simply frakked up the number of pills, and Admiral Adama had hesitated to kill him. It was worrisome, but not insurmountable. The admiral would soon involve the president, and the president would not hesitate. It was harder on him, he didn't relish the walk to the airlock with friends looking on, but it was necessary.
The worse option was that he was about to wake up somewhere else. Where exactly he didn't know. That, along with so many other things, had never been adequately explained to him. Maybe Caprica, maybe the Cylon homeworld, or some basestar. He had never gotten a straight answer, just that he should be happy to know that he was immortal in comparison to the humans that surrounded him.
It didn't make him happy. The last six months had been miserable. Standing watch, following orders, and trying desperately to save the last remnants of humanity while a voice in his head told him to do terrible things….
At first he had thought that he had gone mad. It wasn't normal to hear voices. It especially wasn't normal to hear voices claiming to be God, the only God. The Cylon God. The voices said that he wasn't crazy, that he was one of the chosen ones, that he had a special purpose in the plan. He just didn't believe that his purpose in life was to kill everyone he knew. That was why he hoped he was about to open his eyes and see an armed marine from the Galactica pointing a gun at him. If he was on Caprica, he figured the Cylons had ways of getting the information they wanted. That scared him a lot more than the idea that he was a Cylon.
Felix Gaeta opened his eyes. The ceiling was dark grey, metallic and patterned like the deck on the Galactica. He let out the breath he was holding. He raised his head. He was lying on a cot, and there were metal bars in front of him. The brig, he thought with relief. He was in the brig of the Galactica. That was better than the alternative, although he still dreaded the execution that was coming. It was for the best, he understood that, but he would have preferred the oblivion of a drug overdose. He started to move but was stopped by heavy metal chains. He was shackled at the wrists and ankles.
That was for the best.
He could just see the guard moving to the phone as he sat up. Good, he thought. He didn't want it to drag on. The decision had been well thought out. He knew, he assumed it was instinctive, that he would wake up among Cylons if he died. God had made that clear and he did believe it on that point. But he could also sense that the Cylon upload capability had been compromised. He could die, without being reborn. The Cylons wouldn't be able to use his knowledge.
He realized that he was right about the guard calling. The marine stared at him, but not in a hostile manner. That was also good. The admiral may not have told everyone. He doubted it could be kept a secret but there would be a panic when it was revealed. He was the one who calculated almost all of the fleet jumps. People had a right to be scared.
The admiral walked into the brig, followed closely by President Roslin. Adama was calm but he could see the anger in the older man's eyes. Roslin, in contrast, was much easier to read. It relieved him. President Roslin was going to have him killed and it was coming sooner than later. He had always thought that she was smart.
"You may leave," Adama said to the marine. He waited until the marine had closed the door before he spoke again. " We have a problem, Lt. Gaeta."
" I think I told you how to solve that problem, sir." He didn't want to make the man angry, but at the same time, he had to do what was right for everyone. He didn't like it, but he had made his choice long ago. He doubted that he would have gotten a warm welcome among the Cylons any way. The voice that said it was God wasn't happy with him.
" You won't be executed until we're sure that you're not suffering from some sort of mental illness," Adama said after a moment. " Dr. Baltar is also retesting your blood. I doubt we're under such time constraints that you need to be killed within the next five hours. While we're waiting on the test results, I have a few more questions."
" I'm not mentally ill, sir." He had expected that. When people heard voices in their head claiming to be God and telling them to kill, certain assumptions were made.
"We're not concerned about that," Roslin said after a moment. " I'm curious to know how long you've known you were a Cylon." She smiled slightly, a chilling cold visage.
He had expected that question. " I knew at Ragnor Anchorage. When I was calculating the jump away from the station, a voice kept telling me that my real mission was to plot the fleet into a trap, that I would survive but it was my duty to eliminate the risk." He hesitated. " I though then that maybe I was having some sort of stress reaction to the war, but it just got worse as we kept jumping. I kept saying no, asking why…." He hesitated again. It had been a difficult time. " The voice wouldn't explain why I had to kill everyone I knew, everyone that was left, just that I would understand and be allowed to know more once it was done. So I didn't do it." It was a relief to say it out loud.
" I don't explain my orders to you, Lt. Gaeta." Adama seemed faintly amused.
" You've never ordered me to murder thousands of people, sir. It does make a difference." Gaeta waited patiently. He was sure that there were more questions.
" How many other Cylons are there in the fleet?" Roslin asked. Her tone was cold.
" I honestly don't know." He knew they wouldn't accept that, but it was the only answer he had. " They don't trust me. I haven't done what they want. I was supposed to destroy the Galactica by jumping it into an ambush and then the fleet would have been mopped up by the basestars that were tailing us. They want information but I never get any from them because I won't trust them. So I don't give them information."
Roslin and Adama looked at each other. Finally Roslin asked, " Why are you doing this? I know you understand the consequences. If that test of Dr. Baltar's indicates that you're a Cylon, you will be killed. Why did you tell us?"
He knew she knew the answer. " I won't be the reason that everyone dies. Without the resurrection ship, there's a good chance that I will just die. If I just die, then the knowledge I have concerning the fleet dies with me. I am not anxious to die, Madame President, but if I do die right now, I won't have the death of everyone in the fleet on my conscience. I don't understand why the Cylon detection test didn't find me out before, but I am sure that it will this time. Don't hesitate." He wasn't really worried about her, he could see in her eyes that he was a dead man already. It was Admiral Adama who had already flinched at the task.
Roslin smiled at him. " I assure you, Lt. Gaeta. If that test is positive, you'll get your wish. There won't be any hesitation."