The Enforcement Agent
Chapter 1
I do not own anything to do with Battlestar Galactica or Miami Vice. This is an amateur work and I derive no profit from it and intend no rights infringements.
This is obviously set in an alternate universe and early on in the series. This is an incomplete work and I have no idea if/when it will ever be completed.
"It is very troubling."
Laura Roslin set her glass of water on the low table before her, careful to keep it away from the books scattered across its surface. She could not recall a time she had been in Commander Adama's quarters when there had not been old volumes stacked on the table, or even cluttering the couch. She smiled, despite the subject they'd been discussing. The commander, on the surface a tough military veteran, had his soft side and it had been her privilege to catch a glimpse of the hidden Adama here and there during the times they'd spent working out solutions to problems or, all too often, arguing heatedly. In different circumstances…
"An understatement, Madam President."
She used to think he was mocking her when he called her that, but she had recently come to understand he was not. It was his way of showing deference; it was his way of keeping their relationship clear. At times, she wished they could skip the formalities, but was afraid of where that might lead. His respect was a gift she could not bear to lose, and there were days when she her sanity depended on having a friend to confide in, as well as a peer who understood.
Of the almost fifty thousand souls left alive after the Cylon attack, only Commander William Adama, the ranking military member thrust into command of the fleet after the Cylon's devastating attack on the Twelve Colonies, could comprehend the pressures she endured. From her recent personal experience, she in turn identified with the tremendous weight on his shoulders. Forty-third on the list to become President in the event of the unthinkable, Laura Roslin had found herself taking the oath of office in a crowded transport ship, barely able to control the shaking of her hands.
Among his senior staff, there might be one or two officers who had an inkling of the burden Adama bore, but only from an outside, operational point of view. She doubted very much if even the Commander's son, Capt. Lee Adama, truly appreciated the burden his father carried…and how much the fleet owed to his father.
There was no other person she could confide in and be certain they could cope with the issues, no matter how disturbing they might be. Adama listened attentively, usually without emotionally charged reactions. He offered advice at times or simply asked questions that made her think. On the occasions they had disagreed heatedly, Adama had not hesitated to later admit when she was right and he was wrong. With that, he had earned her trust. He had also earned her respect and she took his suggestions seriously.
"A formal police force is necessary." He looked at the water in his glass and she waited. "I don't like my men being used to regulate civilian affairs."
"I know, Commander, but I would like to say your men have performed admirably and we are extremely grateful," Roslin replied. He had objected strongly to her request and her insistence was why Adama agreed to allow his troops as enforcement.
He nodded, accepting her thanks. "Where did you find this man?"
"I had Billy send out a survey to all ships asking about everyone's professions, skills, and so on. It's been an invaluable resource for us. On his ship's manifest, the captain noted that one of his passengers was an Enforcement agent."
He nodded again and gave her one of those half smiles that said he was impressed. She looked away, fiddling with her glass, hoping she had not blushed.
"I instructed Gaeta to bring the Lieutenant here when he arrives. You have spoken with him, already?" he asked, getting up for more to drink. He lifted the carafe, his raised eyebrow questioning. She shook her head, her auburn hair brushing her shoulders.
"No, he was always unavailable and never returned my calls over the past few weeks- although he did come to Colonial One once while I was away. He didn't leave a message- he just came then left." Roslin sounded a bit perturbed. "His ship is a small private cruiser -the Lancer- and my pilot said they docked due to an emergency. It was damaged during one of the earlier Cylon attacks. "
She paused, blinking quickly, remembering the report Billy had given her in the harrowing days of their flight from Caprica. After a moment, she continued, softly. "The Lancer was carrying a group of young children who'd been removed from Alram."
"Alram?" Shocked, Adama jerked around to face her and frowned. As a battlestar commander, he had little to do with the enforcement of Colonial law other than to render support should an agency call upon the military for assistance -and that rarely happened. But, he was privy to the security briefings the Colonial Department of Justice issued and in all honesty, he was glad he'd never been ordered into the sector.
Alram, at the most outer edge of the Colonial space, was known for it's total disregard for Colonial law. Fully two-thirds of the smuggling, thievery, prostitution, gambling, illicit drugs, and other vices plaguing the Colonies were controlled from deep within the nebula. This natural shield kept out unwanted visitors and severely limited any surveillance from afar.
If the harsh location wasn't sufficient, the fierce fighting between the embedded factions was enough to discourage any outsiders from venturing in. A perpetual power struggle raged deep in the quadrant of glowing plasma and leaders rose and fell as fast as loyalties shifted. He knew of no mission that had infiltrated the region and returned. He knew, however, of several dozen that had failed. Alram was a law and world unto itself.
From what he'd heard, regional Colonial leaders were often suspected of connected to Alram by providing financial support, directing activity from outside, or by taking payoffs in exchange for looking the other way. When the outcry from citizens became too loud, law agencies sent units to the sector and a show was made of raids on ships carrying smuggled goods. They might slow the illegal activities for a short while, but they never stemmed the flow of drugs and contraband from the area.
Adama pulled his attention back to Roslin and walked slowly back to where they were sitting as she continued.
"All but five of the children died when their compartment partially decompressed and the ship lost all but one of her crew. The lieutenant has been filling in, helping the first officer- the new captain- keep everything under control. Seems the lieutenant is ex-military, so had some flight training." Laura paused, thinking the commander was going to comment, but when he didn't, she continued. "Perhaps that is why he has not contacted me, other than acknowledging our request for this meeting."
Adama's eyebrows lifted slightly and he wondered why the man had not answered the Galactica's call for those with flight experience. Weary from spending much of the night in the CIC and the morning in meetings with his staff, he sank into the comfort of his couch. Rank did have its privileges, and his quarters were evidence of that. "He agreed to take the position?"
"No, but I didn't mention it in my message, I asked only for a meeting. And, no- I don't know anything more about him than what I've told you." With a satisfied smile at the commander's expression, Roslin sipped her water.
Adama pressed his lips together and twirled the water in his glass. He hated when she anticipated his next question. Simply following the logical train of conversation, he told himself, but it felt as if she was reading his mind…and William Adama let no one inside his thoughts. No one.
Laura Roslin had surprised him. During a time when most people would have fallen apart, she'd shown leadership and decisiveness. Moreover, she'd shown courage; she had stood up to him several times…and had been right.
He'd never met anyone like her.
He knew little of Roslin beyond the official blurb on the ceremony program when the Galactica was turned over to the Department of Educational Services for use as a museum. His gut still tightened at the thought. The Galactic had been deemed a relic, a simplistic fossil useful only for sightseers looking for a glimpse of how the Fleet had moved backwards in technology. The visitors would have glanced over the display cases with half an interest and bought souvenir t-shirts and key rings all the while unaware of the heroic efforts that had taken place on her decks.
Now, Galactica was the only one left, her sophisticated sisters felled by their very complexity and progress.
His phone buzzed and he reached behind him to answer. After listening for a short moment, he thanked the caller and replaced the set.
"We'll soon find out more. The Lancer is in Hanger One and he's on his way." He reached for a folder and handed it to her. "In the meantime, perhaps you might wish to see our readiness figures…"
Ten minutes later, there was a knock on his bulkhead.
"Come," Adama called. He set his drink down as the door opened and Lt. Gaeta entered, followed by another man, several hesitant paces behind.
"Sir," Gaeta said, "this is Lt. Martin Castillo.
