Battlestars, being confined places surrounded by the deep dark vacuum of space, lacked much in the way of privacy. One could no longer experience the peaceful everyday moments of quiet as an average citizen of the Colonies. All the pilots had seen each other in almost every state of undress imaginable, including naked in the shower and dressing in the cramped bunks. But it wasn't just what everyone saw; sounds traveled through air and walls, smells filled rooms, and there was always the sound of creaking metal, humming engines, and bunkmates doing things their compatriots would rather not hear.
Everyone usually did their best to live with each other in attempted harmony.
Of course, some events disturbed the equilibrium. Everyone on Deck 13 Section Beta knew when Lee and Kara were being intimate, the pilots knew to be ready to evacuate the mess hall when Hotdog ate beans, and Kat always left hair in the head.
And everyone knew when the Admiral and President were having one of their infamous arguments from within their quarters on the command deck, rare though they were. The command deck contained decent soundproofing to protect confidential conversations within their walls, but the muffled sound of raised voices could still be heard.
"Adama," Corporal Leeson whispered to his fellow sentry stationed outside the hatch. They fell quiet as a crewman hurried past with a barely concealed glance of curiosity at the hatch.
" Don't… you… around… object… " the two corporals picked out some of the more intelligible words.
"Roslin," Corporal Venner said, casting his vote for the winner when the crewmen disappeared around the corner.
"You sure? Old Man sounds pissed," Leeson said, shifting his rifle strap on his shoulder. It got heavy by the end of the first watch, no matter how many he'd stood. Both he and Corporal Venner had been around long enough that little Miss Evelyn knew their names and waved at them. They'd also been around long enough to have witnessed enough of the rare rows between the two most powerful people in the Fleet, and they thought they could guess the winner.
President Roslin said something unintelligible and wasn't backing down.
"She's got him on the ropes. That's why he's yelling so much."
Leeson looked doubtful. "You wanna put a wager on that?"
"You know I don't bet," Corporal Venner said for the hundredth time. The staunchly religious Gemenese man rolled his eyes at the huff of irritation from his fellow guard. Leeson always asked; Veneer always said no. They found what entertainment they could on the confined Battlestar.
" ...being so… worked up… be fine!" Roslin said, but it wasn't enough to learn the problem.
"Bet you're just afraid Adama will win this little domestic," Leeson muttered.
They fell silent when another crewman passed, glaring at the girl when she hesitated around the hatch. While the sentries gossiped amongst themselves, they considered discretion a crucial part of their job. They also guarded their leaders' privacy almost as much as their physical safety, believing it was both a matter of security and duty and their way to thank their leaders. They had first-hand knowledge of the toll their position took.
" ...dangerous!" they heard Adama yell.
"Like that's gonna stop Roslin," Venner said. The sentries had witnessed this recurring argument between them. Roslin visited the different ships in the Fleet, but not all of them had the most secure conditions. She went anyway despite the risks and Adama always protested. At least her Secret Service guarded her then; no one wanted to risk Adama's wrath should Roslin get hurt.
The hatch clanged open, and their President stepped across the threshold. The guards snapped to attention as she breezed past them, curls bouncing with each step. Her heels clicked against the metal floor as she strode off with purpose while Adama stomped out after her—at least as much as Adama ever stomped or betrayed how he felt. The two sentries guarded him enough to recognize his tense, irritated movement.
Venner and Leeson followed the pair to a secured area of Galactica recently converted into a lab, passing another pair of sentries who snapped to attention. Bigger and better labs existed on other vessels in the Fleet, but Adama and Roslin had ordered the unknown object discovered a few days ago brought aboard the flagship. The move seemed a bit controlling and secretive to some, and a few reporters openly grumbled about it, but most people were excited. The discovery of a beacon, something built and not naturally formed, caused many to conclude that the Thirteenth Tribe had left it. Speculation ran rife in the Fleet.
"Don't touch anything," Cottle said in an irritated voice when he spotted the new people in the lab. He put down what he was doing before trudging over to them, and the sentries didn't catch all of what he said.
Corporal Veneer eagerly eyed the artifact, which sat on a metal table in the middle of the lab, subjected to Doctor Baltar's poking and prodding. The look on Veneer's face as he took in the Beacon was akin to reverence, and Leeson had noticed him look at the scriptures and even Roslin in the same way. Leeson wondered if his counterpart really believed in all that… stuff. He didn't understand how people venerated Roslin as a prophet or hailed Adama and Roslin as the gods' chosen leaders that were foretold in some dusty religious texts.
Leeson rolled his eyes. The beacon was old and probably useless, and he expected something that generated so much fuss to be bigger.
He still looked at the beacon with fascination. It had blinking red lights and metal plates to protect its insides. Near what he guessed was the top, its creators used clear paneling to give a window into the device's core. The windows were corroded and murky, but light still pulsed from inside.
A piercing shrill ripped through the air without warning, emanating from the beacon. Everyone clapped their hands over their ears while the beacon vibrated from the force of the sound it emitted, and Doctor Baltar scrambled to undo whatever he'd done. Cottle and Adama both glared at him, far more effective than simply telling him to hurry up and fix whatever he'd done. Jamming his fingers into the section of the beacon where he'd removed a panel, Baltar pressed around until he stopped the noise.
"There goes even more of my hearing," Cottle said, fishing out his ever-present pack of cigarettes and lighting one.
"Was that it?" Roslin asked with excitement. "Was that the message you found in the beacon?"
Adama huffed, clearly unimpressed.
"Yes, yes," Baltar said, eyes darting from the beacon to around the room before settling on Roslin. "Yes, that was a transmission still in the memory core of the beacon. As you heard, we are having some difficulty recovering it. There are definite linguistic patterns to the sound, but we can't recognize the language. In fact, I think this device is more of a transmitter than a beacon, one element of a communications network, based on how most of its systems seem dedicated to data transmission," he explained, puffing up more than a little as he delved into explaining his scientific process in more than enough detail for everyone in the room.
Weird nerd, Leeson thought.
"Can you play the message for us again?" Roslin asked, stepping closer to the beacon with fascination written on her face.
"Laura," Adamas said, a warning note clearly in his voice.
"Oh, she's quite safe, Admiral. We've done tests," Baltar said.
Adama glared at him. "I've heard that from you before, doctor. I'd prefer to play it safe."
Baltar blushed scarlet and looked down at his shoes while Cottle took a long drag of his cigarette, almost finishing it. Roslin looked behind her, meeting the Admiral's eyes. They shared one of their quintessential looks, an unspoken communication which the sentries had seen pass between them hundreds of times. After a moment, Roslin took a small step back with a tiny nod.
Leeson glanced at Venner, who rolled his eyes. That did not count as an Adama win.
"The message, doctor?" Roslin asked, snapping the doctor out of his thoughts.
"Right," he mumbled and returned to the beacon. He acted as fidgety as ever as he fiddled with the machine. For Corporals Venner and Leeson, scenes like this weren't uncommon. They didn't always know what anyone was talking about, Baltar sometimes acted like a shady mad scientist, Cottle always smoked, and the two leaders sometimes communicated best without words.
"I warn you," Baltar said, looking up and over the beacon to the two leaders. "I have no idea what language this even is. I'd like to send it to the Baseship or out to the fleet and see if anyone can understand it."
"Absolutely not. Until we know what it says, whatever the beacon says does not leave this ship."
"Is that a military decision, Admiral?"
"It's the sensible decision, Madame President. Who knows what information a 3,000-year-old message from the thirteenth colony contains."
"I agree," Roslin said, clearly having enjoyed riling up Adama. She turned to Baltar. "Play the message when you are ready."
"I think I've cleaned it up more. Here we go," Baltar said, flicking something on in the machine.
This time, a garbled but unmistakably female voice filled the space. Bits of the message cut off, and sometimes there was nothing but static, but then her voice emerged. The party listened intently.
"Madame President," Corporal Venner said, scrunching his face in concentration. Leeson's head swiveled to his partner, startled at him. They never spoke unless addressed or addressing a security breach. Roslin and Adama looked at the guard.
"Yes?" Roslin said as the transmission continued in the background.
"That's ancient Gemenese. That's the language of the original sacred scrolls. I recognize some of the words," he said.
"You're sure?"
"Yes. I think the message is for you, Madame President. Detnionna redael means 'anointed leader'."
The president's eyes widened with shock, and she turned back to the beacon. The woman's voice continued in the transmission, and Venner froze. He spoke the last phrase with her, his voice cracking but matching the transmission word for word in the ancient dialect of the Colonies. Veneer looked at Roslin and translated.
" All this has happened before. And all this will happen again."
Laura turned to Baltar and spoke in a level voice although the knuckles of her hands were white from how tightly she clasped them in front of her, "Call Elosha. She'll help translate."
...
Author's Note: Who wants to hear what the beacon has to say? Much love to all my readers, and a special shout-out to the guest reviewers who I can't message my thanks. All of you are fabulous.