Battlestar Galactica 2003 is a copyright of the Sci Fi Channel. Battlestar Galactica is a trademark and copyright of Universal Studios. Ron Moore re-imagined Glen A. Larson's original idea; but then again, most people who would be reading this already know that. My use is in no way intended to challenge or infringe upon any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.
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IV – Machinations and Confrontations"I'm going to start moving against Baltar at the next Quorum meeting," Zarek said, swirling his cup of coffee as he spoke.
"It's sooner than you wanted," Ellen pointed out, wondering why Tom had moved up his timetable.
"I heard rumors that he's thinking of disbanding the Quorum, or maybe just restructuring it. Also some support for the idea of a bicameral legislature of some kind. Whatever he does, there's no doubt he's doing it to cut away at some of my base of support and influence."
"Sounds too clever for him," Ellen commented. Baltar had proven to be extremely intelligent, but for weeks and months he had missed one opportunity after another to move up the political ladder, to accrue power equal to his station. But now that Roslin's dead, it's like he's a completely different person. It occurred to Ellen that perhaps it was not Baltar who had changed. Perhaps he's listening to some new people, the proverbial powers behind the throne. He's definitely getting advice from someone new, someone who understands the system.
"Clever or not, I have to deal with Baltar before he succeeds in hurting me somehow. That means I have to do something about Adama."
"What do you mean?" Ellen asked, not caring for Zarek's tone one bit.
"I can't fight a two-front war, so to speak," he explained. "While Roslin was alive, I had no hope of ascending to leadership so long as the two of them presented a united front – the military and the civilian government. There's no friendship, or maybe even respect, between Adama and Baltar, so that opens up some possibilities."
"Divide and conquer," Ellen said with a satisfied sigh.
"But even divided, the two of them could cause me trouble," Zarek explained. "I need a way to know what Adama is up to."
"You think he's up to something?"
"I'm certain of it," Zarek said.
"I haven't heard anything."
"And the silence is telling," Zarek said with a thin smile. "Adama has often let the civilian population know about things he's done to increase security. It lets people feel safe and go on with their lives; it helps give them an incentive to play by the rules."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, imagine what would happen if the people started to believe they were going to die soon, that there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it," Zarek said. "There'd be chaos. People would take what they wanted, from whomever they wanted, because there'd be no consequences. Social order starts with the concept of consequences, whether good or bad. Adama knows that, and so did Roslin."
"And you think he's up to something because he hasn't said anything?"
"He just dragooned the Aether into his military fleet."
"I've never heard of it," Ellen admitted.
"Because it's small, just a survey ship," Zarek explained. "Too small, in fact, to be of much military use. At least in a combat setting."
"So you're suspicious of why he selected that ship," Ellen surmised. "It's a decision that's completely out of character."
"Exactly. The Aether makes a superb reconnaissance ship, though. I think Adama's planning a military operation."
"An attack?"
"Or a defense. Either there's a threat out there posing an unavoidable danger, or he's planning to launch an attack of his own."
"Go on the offensive?" Ellen asked. That did not sound like Bill at all; she'd shared enough dinnertime conversations to know he realized the war was over, that humanity's only hope was to outrun the cylons, to find a new place to live where the cylons would never find them, maybe even to find Earth.
"It's just one of the two possibilities," Zarek said with a shrug. "Personally, from what I've seen and heard, Adama would never do something as foolhardy as launch an offensive. So that points to the other possibility as being the truth – there's something out there he doesn't think we can avoid. Maybe a cylon fleet that's starting to catch up, or which even got ahead of us. Maybe a cylon base that has supplies we can't pass up, that we'll eventually need if we're going to keep the fleet together. I don't know…"
"But it would be helpful if we did," Ellen guessed.
"Yes."
"I could try asking Saul," she offered.
"Unless that's what Adama is expecting," Zarek said. "Any significant military victory would energize the people and make Adama a hero, just as we're approaching elections and I'm about to start cutting away at Baltar's power. That would put Adama in a good position."
"And he did oppose Roslin," Ellen thought out loud. The frown on Zarek's face was enough to let her know that he'd already considered the possibility of Adama trying to use the Condemned Man prophecy for his own ends.
"So if he's planning on something, he might not tell Saul everything."
"I've heard several people tell me that Adama is used to keeping secrets, even from his officers and the civilian government, when he considers something to be need-to-know," Ellen said. "I remember Saul mentioning that. And the fact that anyone could be a cylon agent has only got to increase his tendency toward secrecy."
"We also have to accept the possibility that Adama knows you've been seeing me."
"I've been very careful, and--"
"He doesn't have to know what we've talking about – or doing – in order to be suspicious," Zarek explained. "He only needs to know that we've been seen together here on Cloud Nine, that we've spoken casually at the club."
"Which we have," Ellen admitted.
"Exactly. So Adama might give misinformation to Saul, knowing you'll get it from him and pass it to me."
"Maybe you're over-thinking this," Ellen suggested. None of this really sounded like the Bill she knew; she found it hard to imagine him withholding vital tactical information from his XO, or deliberately lying to his XO on the off-chance that maybe he would mention something to his wife, just in case the wife was conspiring with a man who could be considered an enemy should Adama abandon all previously known traits and aspire to political power. No, that's not at all like Bill.
"I have no doubt that I am over-thinking it," Zarek admitted. "Most of this is farfetched. But over-thinking is far preferable to taking things for granted and having our plans blow up in our faces later."
"Okay," Ellen responded with a nod. "Then I think I may have a way to get sensitive military tactical information without having to go through Saul."
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"Starbuck, have a seat," the Admiral said, gesturing to a chair as he sat down, himself.
"Not that I suspect an ulterior motive, but why did you call me in, Sir?" she said with a smile.
"You don't think it's possible I just wanted to talk?" he replied.
He's being too friendly, Starbuck decided. He wants me to do something. Something dangerous… Dangerous enough so that he feels guilty bringing it up. "No one calls me in just to talk, Sir," Starbuck responded. She was still smiling, but now it was a forced expression intended to make the Old Man feel better about what he was about to do. Whatever that is.
"Okay, Starbuck – I need something done." Adama sighed and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes as he conspicuously avoided looking at Kara.
"Something dangerous," she added.
"Yes," Adama admitted. "Something incredibly dangerous. And extremely important."
"You don't have to say the last part, Admiral," Kara assured him. The fact that he was meeting her like this already told her all she needed to know about the importance of the mission. "What do you need?"
"How's that stealth ship of Tyrol's working out?"
"Better than I think even he thought it would." Starbuck's stomach lurched slightly; her gut was already warning her where the conversation was headed, and she didn't like it one bit.
"When's the next test flight?"
"Tomorrow, 0800."
"I need you to violate your orders and try out the FTL drive," Adama said.
"That's not on the test flight plan."
"I know," Adama said. "But no one is going to be surprised if you go and decide to try it out on your own while Tigh and I pace around C.I.C, cursing your impulsiveness."
"Yes, sir," Starbuck said with a nod, remembering the last time she made an impromptu test of a ship's FTL drive. That time she'd done so against the Admiral's orders. At least this time I won't come back to an ass-chewing.
"Where am I going?"
"Colonel Tigh will give you the coordinates," Adama explained. "Once you're there, I want a full tactical recon."
"Understood."
"No one can know about this, Kara."
"Yes, sir."
"Not even Lee."
"Yes, sir." She nodded, but kept her surprise hidden. What the hell is he up to that he doesn't even want the CAG to know?
"And especially not Baltar or anyone else over there on Colonial One. This is strictly classified and compartmentalized."
"Of course."
"Dismissed."
Starbuck turned on her heel and walked out, hoping that Colonel Tigh would at least give her more details as to what she could expect whenever she got wherever it was she was going. And why the hell doesn't he want Apollo to know?
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"Everything's clear out here," Apollo reported in to Galactica from the edge of the fleet. He banked softly and veered out toward the Archimedes, a quick fly-by giving him a full view of what appeared to be some large-scale construction. What the hell is that? he wondered, cutting his main engines and maneuvering closer.
The Archimedes was a Zero-G construction vessel, primarily used for major repairs of starships and space stations. From the first day of their flight, the ship's crew had been busy repairing combat damage sustained by almost every ship in the fleet. But that was obviously not the case now.
They aren't repairing anything, Apollo decided. They're building something. He maneuvered still closer, able to make out the smooth lines from the machine tools used to craft the freshly mined ore. Apollo counted four large modules, two on each side of the Archimedes. One of them caught his eye; its construction was further along, and the nature of the long cylinder attached to the module was unmistakable.
What the hell is he up to? Apollo wondered, unable to take his eyes from the unexpected sight.
"Come in, Galactica," Apollo muttered over the wireless.
"Yes, Captain?" Dee's voice answered. Apollo could tell from her voice that she was smiling, and he couldn't help an involuntary grin of his own in response, despite the rapidly rising anger he felt as he looked over the Archimedes.
"I want to speak with Actual," he said.
"The Admiral isn't in C.I.C.," Dee replied. "Do you need me to get him?"
"No, I'm coming back. Launch one of the alert fighters to take my spot in the CAP." Apollo rolled away from the Archimedes and headed back to Galactica. He could only hope he would get the answers to some questions he wished he didn't have to ask.
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The darkness consumed her, surrounded her, drowning out sound, smell, taste, and touch as completely as it did sight. But the woman knew she was not alone. She drew a deep breath, prepared to call out to the person who was with her, but thought better of it at the last moment.
I have no idea who's out there, she told herself. There's no guarantee that whoever it is is friendly. Fear washed over her then – fear of the dark, of the unseen and unknown; fear of being alone; fear of not being alone. She remained perfectly still, initially fascinated by the fact that she her senses were so entirely smothered that she could not even tell if she was sitting, standing, or lying down.
But fascination quickly mingled with her fear; terror flashed to life in the woman's heart. Terror of the unknown, of the dark, and what was lurking, unseen, gods only knew how close to her.
She took another deep breath, noting that she could not hear the air pass through her nose, that she could not feel her chest expand. Where am I? What is this place?
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Unbelievable, Baltar thought, impatiently drumming his fingers on the top of his desk, paying scant amounts of attention to reports explaining the reason it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain enough operational Vipers on Galactica. He glanced at the clock, surprised to find that it was only two minutes later than the last time he'd looked. Feels like at least twenty minutes. Where the hell is she?
Rarely had he ever wanted Six to appear, but this was one of those times. Several hours of impatient waiting were finally rewarded when he felt slender fingers grasp the back of his shoulders.
"You seem tense, Gaius," she commented, kneading sore muscles and bringing an immediate release of tension to muscles Baltar didn't even know he had.
"I've been thinking a bit, lately," Baltar said.
"And rarely does any good come of it when your thoughts lead you to use that tone with me," Six responded.
"Funny how this tone keeps popping up," Baltar commented. "One would think I was starting to grow suspicious of your motives."
"What, exactly, do you mean?" Six asked, leaning down over Baltar's shoulder, whispering the question in his ear. A chill ran down his spine, but he ignored his sudden desire.
"You seem extremely willing to follow many of the prophecies," Baltar pointed out. "And every time I seem irritatingly willing to strike out in a direction of my own choosing, you end up either warning me that my decision may anger god, or just calling my decisions blasphemous. Any time I demonstrate even the slightest hint of an inkling of doubt, I get the same tired sermon about trusting in god's will."
"God does have a plan for you, Gaius."
"But what interests me is that the Condemned Man is part of the same set of prophecies you invoke whenever convenient," Baltar retorted. "So it seems to me that I'm a simple stop-gap in the master plan, a nobody who'll be forgotten once Tom Zarek assumes control of humanity's caravan of the heavens."
Six laughed in Baltar's face, though there was no malice in her voice. "Gaius, you proceed from false assumptions."
"You don't say."
"Prophecies can be tricky things," Six cooed. "For example, nowhere in the prophecy does it say when the Condemned Man will assume leadership."
"So you're telling me that it could be years before Tom Zarek takes my place in your plans."
"Oh, Gaius," Six answered. "You really are cute when you're being insecure. Who ever said Tom Zarek is the Condemned Man?"
"Excuse me?"
"I seem to remember you spending time in Galactica's brig, falsely accused of the crime for which you're actually guilty."
"So you're saying I'm the Condemned Man?"
"You're saying you doubt it?"
"Well, there's the passage about how the Condemned Man opposed the lost leader," Baltar reminded Six. "I don't remember ever facing off against President Roslin."
"Have faith, Gaius," Six said, reciting her familiar refrain. "Haven't I proven that God has a plan for you? Why do you continue to doubt that? Why do you continue to search for the slightest flaw in the prophecies? Be at peace, and trust in God's plan, in God's love for you."
"Faith," Baltar spat. "Trust. Love. Your god asks a great deal."
"And He'll reward you for your devotion," Six assured him. "You will sit at God's side, an example to all those who struggle with faith."
"That sounds like a fancy way of saying I'm going to die," Baltar quipped.
"We all die, Gaius," Six responded with a casual shrug. "It's best if you keep in mind that there is a life beyond this one, and in that life you will reap what you've sown."
"Of course," Baltar muttered, suddenly not liking the sound of Six's promises. Reap what I've sown, he thought with a shudder. Just what might await a man who's responsible for the near-total annihilation of his people?
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"Put that down and come with me," Starbuck said evenly, standing in the doorway to the CAG's office, tapping her foot impatiently. "This is no time to be doing paperwork."
"What do you mean?" Lee asked.
"I mean I heard all about that workout session you had a little while ago," Starbuck answered. "Dee told me all about it. Sounds like you worked her pretty hard."
"Huh?" Apollo asked quickly.
Too quickly, Starbuck decided. What the hell is he trying to hide? "You don't remember the intense sparring session followed by pummeling the heavy bag? Just what did that poor bag ever do to you?" she asked.
"Not now, Starbuck," Lee muttered, turning back to his paperwork. "I'm not in the mood."
No kidding, Starbuck thought, reflecting on what Dee had told her. Apollo had apparently gone straight from his CAP to the admiral's quarters, and from there down to the gym, where he followed rough hand-to-hand training pounding away on the heavy bag until he was barely able to hold up his hands anymore. She knew that Lee had likely been chewed out for something, and she saw it as her personal mission in life to cheer him up.
"Dismissed," Lee said, clearly irritated by Starbuck's continued presence.
"Not until you tell me what happened," she countered.
"I just gave you a direct order, Lieutenant."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm serious."
"I don't doubt it. But are you prepared to call the marines to take me down to the brig if I refuse to obey?"
"I don't need the marines," Lee assured her. There was a gleam in his eye, something that momentarily reminded her of Zak. And of the Old Man when I told him about Zak. Lee was looking for a fight, and Starbuck had just given him all the excuse he needed.
"You're usually all about talking things out," Starbuck said. "At least when it's other people's issues. You don't get to clam up now that you're the one who's cranky."
"That's it, you're grounded."
"No I'm not."
"Excuse me?"
"You're not grounding me," Starbuck responded, crossing her arms defiantly.
"I just did."
Starbuck waited silently for a few moments before she said, "No."
"No?"
"I'm not letting you ground me." She wished she had a camera to take a picture of the look on his face. She'd never seen such an absolutely amusing combination of fury and bewilderment before, and she doubted she'd ever have the opportunity again.
"You have five seconds to walk out of here," Apollo said. "After that, I will call the marines."
"I thought you said you don't need the marines."
"Five."
"If you want me out of here, you're gonna have to do it yourself, Lee."
"Four."
"Don't think I'm bluffing, either."
"Three."
"And if you think I' gonna pull my punches just because your daddy is the admiral, you're sorely mistaken."
"Two."
"In fact, I think I'm gonna make sure I give you a black eye so you'll have to explain to your dad how a girl beat you up and took your lunch money."
"One. Fine, have it your way, Kara."
"Bring it on, tough guy," Starbuck said as Lee stood up and started to cross toward her. He looked absolutely murderous, and something in the back of Starbuck's head warned her that maybe she shouldn't be so cavalier. That voice helped her wriggle free when Lee reached for her, producing a set of shackles, seemingly from thin air.
"What the frak, Lee?"
"It's either me or a team of marines, Kara. Which way you want it?"
"The handcuffs are going a bit far, don't you think?" she asked, pushing him back and taking a small step into his office, closing the door behind her. She had no interest in letting people see the CAG get roughed up by a junior officer. Besides, if Tigh comes along, it'll be harder to court martial me if he doesn't actually see me knock Lee on his ass.
"You just had to keep pushing, didn't you?" Lee asked, still holding the cuffs in front of him. "How many times do you stalk through the hallways, enraged at one thing or another? You expect everyone to leave you the hell alone, but the one time I'm in the same kind of mood, you just have to keep pushing my buttons. Why can't you ever leave well enough alone?"
"Why can't you ev--" Her words were cut off when she sidestepped to her left, leaping up onto Apollo's desk to get away from him when he lunged at her. "Seriously, what the frak is wrong with you?"
"Get down from there!" he ordered.
The inanity of the situation drained Starbuck's anger instantly, and she found herself laughing hysterically at Lee's irate expression as she gazed down at him. And it's not like he's gonna be able to write me up too easily, either, since I'm standing on his folder of blank reprimand forms.
"Lieutenant, I'm giving you to the count of three to get down from there."
"Only three this time?"
"One."
"Seriously, Lee, what happened?"
"Two."
"Fine," Starbuck relented, throwing her hands up in surrender as she stepped down, finding herself standing behind the desk, with Lee between her and the door. "Now will you talk about it?"
"Get out," he told her. "Now."
"Fine, Lee. If that's what you want, fine." Starbuck started to push past him, and just when she realized his guard was down about as much as it would be, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward, kissing him before she even knew for certain what she was doing, to say nothing of why she was doing it. Several seconds later, when she finally came up for air, she looked at Lee's face. The anger was gone, but the bewilderment that had been there minutes earlier was still there. And it seemed to be joined by a healthy dose of panic.
"Kara, what the frak…"
"Shhhh," she replied, placing her finger on his lips. "You had your chance to talk, Lee."
"But what the frak!"
"Three," Starbuck said with a giggle, finishing Lee's counting for him. "See you later, Mr. CAG, sir," she added, half-saluting, half-waving goodbye as she walked out of the office and down the hall.
To be continued……………………………