It wasn't every day an Admiral in the Colonial Fleet woke up facing insubordination charges. Although, the waiting was like a punishment delivered early. The sickening expectation of judgment made Bill Adama's body feel as though he'd stepped over a cliff as soon as he awoke.
A distant memory tugged at his mind.
"Yell at me, I don't wanna get out of bed," Bill grumbled with his head under the pillow. Why would he want to get out of the embrace of his warm bed where Laura's perfume still lingered on the sheets? Staying where his still tired body could find solace was more enticing than reporting to the Secretary of Defense and watching his career go up in flames. He listened to Laura drifting through the room and cracked a small smile when her rich voice slipped through the pillow.
"You're asking the wrong person. I'd rather go back to bed," she murmured. He could have hidden like a hermit under the covers all day, but her troubled voice caused him to stir and emerge.
"How are you doing?" he asked, slipping his head out from under the pillow. He observed her in the dim light of the early morning, and she gave him a soft smile in response.
"I'm fine. Didn't even dream last night. I'm a bit more concerned about you right now," Laura replied gently, tilting her head to watch him. Bill wasn't the type to resist the pull of daytime. "Are you gonna be OK?" Even though her tone was light, she couldn't hide the undercurrents of worry in her voice.
"I don't wanna face them," he grumbled, laying back and letting his pillow mold around his head. Peripherally, he saw Laura bend and reach under a cream lampshade to flip the light on, giving their room a warm glow. He was thankful they both preferred the gentle luminescence of lamps instead of harsher overhead lights. His breath caught in his throat when the light caught the cascade of tumbling red tangles which fell around her shoulders, and he watched as she moved to sit next to him. Whatever happened today, when the sun set this was what he would come home to, and there was comfort in that.
"Well, if you need to be yelled at, I think I can give you some volume," Laura offered, remembering the conversation as well. Bill snorted in disbelief and raised an eyebrow at her.
"Give it your best shot," he challenged, but her feral grin made him question challenging Roslin. Hadn't he learned better by now? He watched her slowly bend over him. Her breath brushed across his ear, and a shiver ran up his spine at not knowing what to expect.
"Get out of that bed," she whispered, carefully forming each word and nipping at his ear playfully. She pulled back slightly, and he found a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"That's your best shot?" he growled, more tempted to pull her back into the disheveled blankets alongside him rather than standing to face the day. At least he was pleasantly distracted by the siren he'd married.
"Get your fat, lazy ass out of that bed, Adama!" she ordered, and her sharp increase in volume so close to his ear caused him to violently jump. In the process, his body collided with Laura's, and she was unceremoniously knocked onto the floor. Laura's giggles filled the air, and he glared at her from over the edge of the bed.
"I remember being distinctly nicer to you when you called," he huffed.
"You said give it your best shot," she shrugged innocently and stood.
"Touché, Roslin," he growled. Admittedly, he was now far more alert, so he stood and stretched, catching his wife's laughter still very much present on her face. His heart was touched at her subtle attempt to lighten his mood. Pulling her to him, he kissed her gently, feeling lighter at seeing her mirth. Her reserves of strength and courage boosted his own in that moment, and he was thankful for the thousandth time that he'd found a real partner to face life with.
"Don't let 'em see you sweat, Bill," she murmured as he rested his forehead against hers, his own advice from years long past echoed back to him. Maybe he would get through this day after all.
…..
Don't let 'em see you sweat. Her warm words of advice stayed with him as did her confident smile. No doubt had clouded her face that morning; she seemed convinced that everything would be alright. It was a comforting mental image to clutch in his mind.
He shuffled through the ostentatious capital building of the Twelve Colonies. The shining marble was blinding, and the lingering scent of too-sweet cologne assaulted his nose. He wasn't oblivious to the stares he got from the men and women striding past him in their power suits. Hadn't they ever seen an officer in a Colonial uniform before? Their lingering eyes and his overwhelmed senses made him feel like an intruder in their polished world. This was Laura's battlefield not his.
He turned the corner sharply and stared unblinking at the door behind which his fate would be handed down. Heat pulsed through his whole body and every muscle tensed, but he didn't break his stride. Don't let 'em see you sweat; frankly, it was good advice. So, Adama stood tall and proud. Head upright and chin level. He gave a firm and loud knock on the door.
The two men already in the office stopped talking the instant Adama entered and instead watched him with narrowed eyes. Even the commendations and awards, all perfectly framed and aligned on the walls, seemed to stare out in judgment, weighing Adama's insubordination against the perfection and order they represented. Dark ebony bookshelves filled with books on military history framed the Secretary of Defense, lending him an aura of power. Adama accepted the prestige the office conveyed on behalf of its inhabitant; after all, Hector represented the proud lineage of the Colonial Fleet within the government. Adama had always worn the uniform with pride, pledging to defend the Colonies against all threats against it. He believed in his oath, which was why each step further in the office felt like torture. These men questioned his loyalty, and that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Or maybe the bitter taste came from seeing the President of the Twelve Colonies positioned in the office as well. By the window, Richard Adar stood with his arms folded in front of the grey, heavy clouds suspended in the skies above Caprica City. He openly seethed at Adama, but the stoic military Admiral didn't flinch.
Internally, Bill raged at the President's presence. Even the idea of explaining himself to Adar disgusted him. The President and Secretary waited. Adama knew what was expected. He came to attention, maybe slower than he might normally, and saluted. Sometimes, military protocol could go frak itself, Adama thought. It definitely could anytime he was forced to salute Adar the Moron. He wasn't saluting Adar, Bill reminded himself. This honor rendered was for the Presidential office, and not for the man himself.
Adar's cold eyes remained trained on him, but he didn't acknowledge Adama's salute. Still, the Admiral refused to let go of his dignity or pride. He continued to hold himself tall and proud in an impeccable salute. Unwavering. No emotion crossed his face, even when neither man saluted back. It was a petty way to showcase their displeasure. Contempt. Disrespect. They finally nodded at him, and the Admiral was ordered to stand at ease.
"You're a problem Adama," Secretary Hector stated. The accusation hung in the air, like the blade of a guillotine, hovering until it was time to strike. "What are we supposed to do with you?" Gone was the charismatic and kind Secretary of Defense Adama had met at Lee's graduation. This was a man who'd been appointed because he could wage a war against Cylons. His words were just one of the many weapons now at his command. He used them effectively.
"I'm prepared to face the consequences of my actions," Adama replied, his fierce blue eyes trained on Hector's. He felt fire running through his veins, reminding him of his own power and strength. The two men tried to stare him down as if to make him shrink back, but Adama remembered that he could be a dangerous man too.
"Are you? Are you really ready to face a court-martial? To be discharged out of the service? That stigma will follow you forever, a stain on an otherwise illustrious career. It would never be blotted out," Hector pushed and then pushed some more. He wanted to see the flash of understanding in Adama's eyes. He needed to see the man realize the shame he should feel at disobeying his orders in front of his crew.
"I understand," was all Adama offered in response. Hector's jaw clenched in disappointment.
"That's it?" Adar finally spoke up, his voice incredulous.
"Yes," Adama kept his answers simple. Don't let them see you sweat. Heavier clouds rolled into the sky outside, making the office appear even darker than it should.
"Why'd you do it?" Adar demanded. He spat the question out. "Why disobey your orders?" He opened his mouth to say more, ready to bury Adama under a barrage of questions and accusations. Then he seemed to think better of that idea and closed his mouth.
"It's done now," Adama growled, irritated at the idea of explaining his command decisions to Adar.
"Indulge me," Adar ordered. Adama felt his jaw clench in protest but forced himself to relax and answer. Adar was still his Commander and Chief.
"We can't violate a treaty we ourselves agreed to." It was the simple truth, and why he'd pulled the plug on the black ops mission.
"How naive can you be?" Adar spat, turning to look back out the window eyeing the ever-darkening clouds.
"So, you're ready for a court-martial, and everything that will entail?" Hector shook his head and chuckled cynically. Adama still didn't flinch. But then the conversation took an unexpected turn, and it felt like an iron weight had been dropped on Adama's stomach at Hector's next words.
"What about Secretary Roslin?" Hector let her name echo around the room. The charged atmosphere became heavier and heavier as seconds ticked by after the mention of Adama's wife. "What about Secretary Roslin?" Hector asked again, and Adama thought of his wife. The conversation's unexpected and sharp turn left the Admiral reeling. What about her?
"You are aware," Hector began, he spoke in a carefully measured tone. The Secretary made sure each letter, each breath, each pause carried a punch. "You are married to a senior member of this government, right? What do you think would happen if we put the spouse of a high-ranking member of the government through a trial for insubordination?" Hector asked. Bill's heart skipped a beat. Laura herself had once warned him that things like trials and tribunals had a way of hurting the people we least expect. On his finger he felt his wedding band, now starting to become worn after a decade of wearing it every day. Don't let them see you sweat; she'd said. Adama felt a cold sweat overtaking him.
"Like it or not, you aren't just another Admiral in the Colonial Fleet. If this gets out, the public will rip you apart, and your marriage gives them an opening to come after her next," Hector promised him. Adama knew this wasn't a threat. This was a reminder of how their world worked, and part of him hated himself for forgetting that. His family's connection to the mob was already enough fodder for the news sometimes. How could he have forgotten how what he did could impact her? And yet, his heart knew he'd done the right thing. He'd trusted his gut.
"They'll come after the whole government. It gives the public and the news an opening, and you are smart enough to know they'll pounce on it," Secretary Hector continued, and saw the impact his words had on Adama. The brief flinch, the tiny widening of the eyes, and the shift in the Admiral's stance; it all told the Secretary of Defense that the man standing before him was taking what he said to heart. Finally. Hector had seen the way the two interacted with the other at their son's graduation. He knew on those observations alone what Adama's greatest strength and greatest weakness was - Laura.
"You see what you've done?" Adar hissed without turning from the window.
"You're worried about covering for the government?" Adama snapped, more harshly than he intended. His anger was real though. Richard Adar knew the attacks were coming. He knew there was a bigger threat to worry about than him. Besides, he didn't want to think about Laura and the truth behind Hector's words. So, he deflected.
"The government, which includes your wife!" Adar yelled, whirling around to face him, and taking a threatening step toward Adama.
"I'm aware," Adama's voice raised slightly, and the gravely timbre in it became more pronounced. Too much emotion was slipping out for his tastes though, and Bill pulled his stoic armor tightly back around him.
"There's an election coming up. All of us are under a microscope. They'd love a scandal, and it would be domino effect. What happens when wolves smell blood?" Hector asked. His eyes flashed. He paused for a moment and delivered another bomb. "And if this administration is replaced, what good is the information you and Secretary Roslin possess?" Hector asked. Bill's eyebrows raised, and Hector nodded. He knew everything.
"You see the problem. Your actions can affect her and the rest of us. Hmph. You're just another fleeter, looking down on us politicians," Adar spat, getting closer to Adama. He made no show of hiding his contempt. He missed the look of irritation Hector shot him. "I think if you weren't going to respect that she's a public figure, you shouldn't have married her," Adar snarled. Adama felt his heart constrict painfully at those words, and Adar pressed on. "We're at the mercy of the public, and they love it when a good scandal breaks out. They love to question our judgment and tear us apart."
"What if that mission had provoked a war?" Adama asked, hating that there was some truth to Adar's words. He watched Hector shift behind his heavy desk, and its carefully ordered piles of papers, clearly owned by a man who liked clear answers.
"It didn't," Secretary Hector cut in, casting a glance at President Adar as if to tell the other man to stand down. Adar got the message, and he backed away from Adama.
"So, it's clear we can't court-martial you; too much negative press too close to an election. Retirement so soon after a promotion? Not elegant either, and you might still be useful," Hector explained. Adama felt his heart hammering in his chest. The truth was, he didn't want to leave the Fleet. The Cylon threat was out there still, and he wanted to help see it through to the end. He waited to see what would happen, preparing the final card he had to play if he needed to.
"You're a problem Adama," Adar's words sliced through the air, aimed to hurt the man he now completely despised.
"You're being reassigned," Hector cut to the chase, before either Adama or Adar had a chance speak. "The Galactica, she's scheduled to be decommissioned. When she's done with the service, you will be too," Secretary Hector pronounced. The sentence was passed. Judgement handed down. All this has happened before, and all this will happen again. Now, Adama would find himself on the Galactica once more.
"Yes sir, " he replied.
"Make no mistake Adama, if you weren't connected to Roslin and the other thing wasn't a factor," Hector began, alluding to Adama's memories. "You'd be out of the Fleet. I don't tolerate people who can't follow orders." Hector snapped, his tone lashing out like a whip.
"What orders? There's no record of any orders," Adama asked, and both men stared at Adama, shocked that he hadn't retreated with his tail between his legs. This was the card that Adama could play that he'd kept close to his chest. The truth blazed out now; what could they do to him in reality? The mission never officially happened, and Bill's defiance didn't change that fact.
Hector crossed his arms and leveled a look at Adama. Before he could speak Adama continued.
"My court-martial, one you pointed out you can't easily cover up, would show the public that this government wanted to violate a treaty and risk war. No wonder you are worried," he challenged them. Neither of the two men knew how to respond, but it was becoming clear Adama was a dangerous man. He continued speaking.
"You implied my wife's name is keeping me safe? She's keeping you safe too. Without her you damn well better believe I would face the music and see what the public really thought of this government risking war with the Cylons," Adama countered, his deep voice carrying an ominous note. He stood tall and watched the two men react in disbelief. They weren't used to someone pushing back. This was a dangerous game, but Bill wouldn't be played, and Laura's name wouldn't be used as a weapon to keep him in line.
"The Cylons are the threat," Adar yelped, remembering what Adama and Roslin had relayed to him. This man knew the danger of the future.
"Doesn't mean we have to help invite them back," he responded. That was the heart of why he had aborted the mission in the end after all. Adama watched Hector flinch at the idea that they could be prompting the Cylons to attack. He leveled a gaze at both of them. "You have no idea what they are capable of. The destruction they can cause. I won't be part of any plan that provokes them."
"Get out of this office," Hector ordered, his patience clearly snapping as he growled each word out. The counterpoint Adama had played for the two men had sparked a potent mix of irritation, anger, and fear to surge through the office. It caused the atmosphere to shift and morph, becoming unsteady. A ticking time bomb. However, Adama didn't need to further prove his point, so he chose to listen to Hector. He'd made his position clear, and the reassignment was... tolerable. The Galactica was a fine ship after all. And, apparently, she was destined to always be Adama's ship.
"Yes sir," Adama replied and the tension was released. He turned to leave.
Adar quickly paced over to the Admiral before he could reach the door. The scorn the man dealt out with every movement he made only served to prove Adar's own ego to Adama.
"I don't know what Laura sees in you, but I know you don't deserve her," Adar muttered in a low voice. Whatever pretense the two men once had at civility between them was gone, and Adar's eyes burned into Adama's. It was clear as Aquarian glass that this man the Colonies had elected utterly and completely believed his bold claim. But, what did it matter? Adama raised an eyebrow but chose not to reply. Instead, he left, carrying himself with the same dignity that he had when he'd arrived. Politics, as exciting as war; he was still standing.