And then there were Rene's suspicions that started as a low whisper in his thoughts, then turned into a high pitch squeal in his ear. As the cycles passed and they found no other accomplices to the attack on the boys, he couldn't ignore the injustice of the situation that blared like a klaxon. Jake was a different person since the attack, quieter and always on the defensive. The kid was losing what little trust he'd begun to have for the Galactica crewman. He kept to himself, growing quieter by the day while Rene voiced her concerns loudly that Security wasn't even trying to solve this.
If fleet security couldn't get the guy to talk, maybe Starbuck could. Pain often loosened tongues and if nothing else, Starbuck reasoned, he could get a little bit of revenge for his new brother. All he had to do was break in to the brig. He had broken out of it, so getting in shouldn't be difficult.
The hard part was not telling Rene and having her along. He just couldn't risk it. With her rage, she was unpredictable. He knew she wasn't above terminating a stunned man in the face, so he made a command decision that he might regret later and thought it was best she not know what he was up to. He had a thousand justifications for not telling her, not the least of which is that he kept lecturing her that she needed to trust in the system, when he obviously didn't. He couldn't exactly tell her to do the right thing, when he knew what he was doing was wrong, but dammit, he couldn't just sit back and watch the idiots in security screw this up. His word was his bond. He had promised life would be different in the fleet, better, and by the Lords, he'd make it so.
Breaking in to the brig alone seemed too chancy, so he recruited Max for the job. He was one of the more stable Rats, but still had a healthy disregard for rules and regulations. Max offered to do the job on his own reasoning that if he was caught, he could be busted in rank and it wouldn't bother him. But Starbuck wanted to face the man and send the message, no one messed with his family, no one. This was personal. Apollo had been his role model for how to approach any mission. If you wanted it done right, you did it yourself.
Well, it's not like he wasn't going to bring some help with him. One of the perks of his promotion had been gaining access codes to all kinds of compartments, including the weapons lockers. He found a whole section just for crowd control. It was very tempting to liberate the suppression gas for use on the pilots for when they were extra whiny, but he resisted. He did find a nice club, one that would sting like a swarm of bees, and some brass knuckles that might help him encourage the man to talk. He would get one shot at this, and he'd be risking it all, but he owed it to Jake. Its what brothers did.
Time was short, as Starbuck had learned first-hand when he had his own tribunal. Justice in the Colonies had always been swift, but since the destruction, they had gone by martial law, which besides the vipers was the only things swift about the service. He had one night to get this done.
No problem, he told himself. It's not like the guards in the brig were bright. Max easily distracted them claiming to be doing maintenance in the area, and coming by with a gift of some extra java and pastries. He got them chatting while they drank down the drinks laced with sleep aids. Starbuck slipped in a centaur later to find the two men kicked back in chairs snoring away. Max had already lifted the key to the cell. Pickpocketing was another one of the rats' many skills they had taught each other.
Starbuck had a moment's hesitation as he looked in on the man sleeping in the cell. Once he keyed that lock, he was technically committing his own crime. The he remembered back to the night before his own tribunal for a crime he hadn't committed. Sleeping had been impossible. Instead he had spent the night pacing the small compartment, escaping to launch to Lord's knew where, arguing with Apollo, threatening to shoot his oldest friend, and then back to the cell where worry kept him awake until it was time to face the court.
If this man could sleep, it was only because he thought he was going to go free in the morning and get away with what they had done. The rage roared inside him, and Starbuck nearly punched the key into the lock.
The man woke in surprise as the door slid open, and Starbuck stepped in, letting the door close behind him. Starbuck hadn't really planned beyond this point, only that he was going to confront the man and demand he talk, but now that he was here, Starbuck realized the man could simply yell for help, and it would be up to Max to stun the guards and block the door, and then what?
"Frak," Starbuck thought as he ground his teeth against uttering the curse out loud, as Zethus slowly got to his feet. The surprised look on the man's face was gone, replaced by suspicion.
Starbuck slapped the club in his palm a few times waiting for the man to ask him who he was, why he was here. Zethus said nothing.
"You messed with the wrong warriors. Now you're going to tell me who else was with you and who had you do it." As the man let out a sigh and looked down, Starbuck took his first shot, hoping it would be the only one he'd need to take. He swung the club and it connected with the man's shoulder. Zethus hunched over, groaning before mumbling, "Please just make it quick."
"It will be if you just tell me who else was with you? Who put you up to this?"
The man shook his head as he said softly, "You don't scare me."
Growling, Starbuck swung taking another crack in the same spot. The club he had liberated was heavy, but a little flexible. It would leave more damage than it did marks, and Starbuck felt the satisfaction of having hurt the man as the Zethus bit back a howl of pain, turning it into a groan.
The sound was all too familiar to Starbuck, and it brought back the image of Jake being dragged off that shuttle by a bruised and battered Nik. Those kids had lost their fight, and they were not defenceless. He'd played Triad with them and in comparison, Ortega's playing was just love taps. Jake utilized every dirty trick in the book, and if cornered, Starbuck knew he would have whipped out all his teeth and claws. Then there was the fact that this man hadn't just beaten him, he'd humiliated him.
Starbuck took another swing before snarling, "Who else was with you? Name them!"
The man straightened slowly, meeting Starbuck's gaze, before speaking softly, "I was alone. I did it. No one else."
Without hesitation, Starbuck swung the club again. The hit felt good, and he gave the man another one as he began to picture how the attack on Jake must have played out. Starbuck knew all too well how many it took to subdue a man if he chose to fight back. In the dark corners of an orphanage it took at least three of the older boys to pin him down, and still he'd been able to inflict his own wounds back on them. In a locker room of the sports facility when he was in secondary, it had taken six, and one was a teacher. Hazing, that's what the incident was put down as, and didn't really count as an attack as he still wanted on the Triad team. He got his revenge on the courts during practice as one teammate after another earned vicious body checks into the court wall.
In a dark alley of Caprica when he was at the Academy, it had taken four, well five if you counted their lookout. It had taken sectons for his broken arm to heal, but it was a small price to pay to keep his cubits and his dignity. If Apollo hadn't come looking for him, he might have lost his life.
Over time, one learned to avoid the dark corners of the world. Jake's sense of survival was even higher than Starbuck's. He wouldn't have been waiting outside of the docking lounge as security claimed he and Nik were doing. No, Zethus and his goons had to drag the kid to a dark corner and then hold him down. It took time to get clothes off someone who was fighting he'd learned from just trying to get the toddlers dressed. Yes, Jake was scrawny, but so had been Starbuck and he'd always said that what he lacked in weight he made up for in speed.
It had taken more than four, possibly eight. That's how many it had taken when Starbuck had gone to that party he'd been invited to by a girl from another secondary school. When he'd shown up, most of the rival Triad team was there, and he came alone not wanting competition for the gal he had his eye on. It had been a mistake. The guys had waited until he and the gal had wandered into a dark corner of the party. All eight of them had descended, dragged him into the front yard and pummelled him into unconsciousness, then woke him up to do it again. He wished he could say that he had finally fought his way out of the situation, but he didn't often lie to himself. He'd lost and the only thing that probably saved him was the gal he'd come for felt guilty for luring him there. She was able to talk the boys back into the party. As he tried to stand and limp away, he thought she might come check on him, maybe call security or at the very least a cab. He never saw the girl again. He left a trail of blood and vomit on his long walk back home.
Seven or eight, that's how many names this man owed him. He hit him again and again until Zethus dropped to the deck, his defiance just one more blow in a long list that had been racing through Starbuck's mind since he'd stepped into the cell.
"How many? Give me names!"
Zethus moaned before he said softly again, "Just me. I was alone."
"That is a pile of mong! Just tell me." Looming over him menacingly, Starbuck snarled, "Everyone knows you're lying, so who are you protecting?"
The man shook his head slowly. "No one. I work alone."
In anger, Starbuck hit the man again as hard as he could. The man grunted in pain and Starbuck pulled back for another blow, but the man didn't fight back, just raised an arm to block the blow as he looked up to him, fear in his eyes as he mumbled, "Don't kill me, please. You don't want that. I didn't kill them, I could have, they wanted me to, but I didn't."
Starbuck hesitated. Hades, he wanted this man to pay for every humiliation suffered by any outnumbered and persecuted guy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the man was right. He could have killed Jake, and the kid's physical wounds were healing. It was what was done to his psyche that had him more worried. It was just one more abuse added to a long list of harm done. But justice might go a long way in easing that pain, or maybe it was his own pain that Starbuck was thinking of.
Starbuck hit the man again, but it wasn't with the same force as before. As the club connected with the man's arm, he grunted and raised both hands in an attempt to protect himself. The man began to talk, only it wasn't what Starbuck wanted to hear.
"Look, you want your revenge, I understand, but I can't give you any names. If I do I'm dead. You can beat me, rape me even, just please don't kill me. It's not what you want."
"How do you know what I want?!" Starbuck snarled as the man winced, cringing in fear. Cursing, Starbuck lowered his arm, considering his own words. "I want him to hurt and I want him to tell me what he knows," he thought in response, wondering if he spoke the words aloud as the man looked at him in confusion from where he was curled up on the floor awaiting his punishment. By the Lords, Starbuck could do it. He could kill this man and maybe even get away with it. Shaking his head, he remembered Rene coldly and casually shooting two unconscious men in the face. He understood why she had done it, but the image had haunted him. He knew from her dreams, it haunted her. Neither of them could deny, it hadn't been right. She had become what even she hated, the very picture of the man she was trying to escape, Dante.
Standing over an unarmed man cowering on the floor at his feet, was Starbuck any different now? He was armed, not just with the club. He could so easily terminate this man, but he'd sworn an oath long ago to protect humanity, even those who like himself had been judged unworthy of saving.
A termination wasn't what he wanted. If he wanted revenge for what was done to Jake and Nik, it was mission accomplished. Only when he stood back and analysed it, he realized that he had nothing that he actually came here for. Initially, there had been some gratification, but now he only felt repulsed by his actions. Worse, having achieved nothing but terrorizing this man, he would likely face the consequences for assaulting this man who was supposedly under the protection of Colonial Law. He swallowed down bile at the image of Rene alone with the child in her arms, looking at him through the security glass of the cell.
"I'm not going to kill you," he said hoarsely, "You're going to rot on the prison barge, but if you tell me who put you up to this, your sentence could be lighter. I can make your time easier on the prison barge if you tell me something. Just give me a name."
The man shook his head slowly mumbling, "I can't."
"Sure you can," Starbuck said. "I just want a few names. And if you won't tell me, you can tell the judges who put you up to it, make a deal with the court. You might even walk free tomorrow while those who are really behind this finish their miserable lives on the prison barge. Now talk!" Starbuck swung the club again, trying to find some satisfaction, but the wave of anger had receded, replaced by self-disgust and recriminations.
It took a few more moments before the man looked up at him. It wasn't fear in his eyes, it was resignation. He shook his head, mumbling, "They'll kill her," before he curled back up into a ball.
The words froze him like a sudden wind on Death Point Plateau, Arcta. The man was protecting someone alright, only it wasn't his friends or Dante's daggits. It was someone he loved, someone he would die for.
Swiftly the deck under his boots shifted, and he was there in the too white cell, trying to get to his feet, crawling towards the door while the centurions dragged his wife from the room as pain lanced through every nerve of his body. What he would have given to save her was even more than his life. He remembered back to what he had offered up to the Lords as he dug her out of the dirt, trying to breathe life into her, and the blessed relief when she came to.
"Frak," he muttered as he reached up to wipe the sweat from his eyes. The man would never talk, not if he thought she was still in danger. He'd take a beating, maybe even die. Starbuck would have. He still would. He was pulling every string he could with his position to see what he could do to keep Rene safe. He had no intentions of taking the Zakar to fight the enemy. He was planning on having her take them to Earth, or any number of other worlds that were free from the Cylons, to leave her there safe while he went back to decimate the enemy.
"Who is she? Give me her name. I can get her over to the Galactica and safety, just give me some names of your accomplices, her name, anything!"
But the man remained mute on the floor. Starbuck raised the club again, then let it fall to the floor. In frustration, Starbuck stood over the man, unsure what he should do next. This wasn't getting him what he wanted, no matter how good it felt to exact revenge.
"Starbuck! Come on, I can't keep the vids off for much longer!" Max hissed at him from the other side of the cell door.
Grumbling in dissatisfaction, with himself and with the boray at his feet, he tried one more time.
"Zethus, look, these guys almost killed my brother. They're obviously threatening someone you care about. If you keep quiet, then you're protecting them as much as you believe you're protecting her, whoever she is. Is that the man you want to be? A protector of tyrants? I realize I haven't exactly given you reason to trust me, but I'm just like you, trying to protect the people I love. If we walk our own paths on this, they're going to win. If we come together, we can beat them and prevent them from persecuting others."
Looking like he was about to speak, the man opened his mouth to speak, but then shook his head as he mumbled, "They outnumber us. They always will."
"We could even those odds, we could…"
"Starbuck, give it up, unless you want to rot with him on the prison barge!" Max hissed keying the door and dragging him from the room. He didn't resist, his mind swirling with the implications of the man's words, echoing Boomer's assessment of the fleet, as well as Gage's voiced concerns that no one had ever clarified what Dante had been up to, including what deal he had made with the enemy. Instead of finding answers, Starbuck had opened up a Pandora's box of problems.
There were no solutions to be found in that cell and he let Max lead him away as stunned, he scrambled to find some solution other than leaving the fleet behind.
No, he didn't get what he wanted that night as the thrill of revenge faded quickly, followed by a sense of shame the next morning. It should have faded with the knowledge that he'd gotten away with it, but it didn't. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed.
The man stayed silent, barely speaking at his tribunal the next day. He didn't even mention where the fresh bruises had come from when he was asked by his protector and the judges. He stayed silent as to who were his accomplices, only uttering softly that he acted alone. Jake didn't have much to offer in testimony unless you counted a pissed off glare at the whole proceedings. Zethus only got a few months just because of the genetic markers found on Jake. He was acquitted of the robbery.
Rene had been too stunned to say anything when the verdict was read, but her eyes said enough as she looked at Starbuck accusingly and ground her teeth. The system had let her down again and there was nothing he could say to her because he felt the same way.
It didn't take long for the shock to wear off, and Rene had been angrier than Jake, justifying Starbuck's decision not to bring her to his private interrogation of the man. The kid, well, Jake didn't look like a kid that day. He looked so damn old, resigned to never getting a fair shake in life. Starbuck was glad that he'd had Jake staying with them in their quarters so he could keep an eye on him, because as Rene railed and ranted about the unfairness of it, Jake just sank into a stupor. Nik disappeared into his quarters and wasn't seen for a few cycles, although Dara said he was okay.
But even with all that, Jake and Rene had stayed clean. Not sober, no, that was hard to do in their quarters. Nightmares were a nightly occurrence now for at least one of them a night, if not all three. It was true that Rene slept a lot more than she'd ever had. Her duties kept her busy and the baby she was carrying began to sap her energy. Her nightmares were fewer and easier to soothe away than before Caprica.
But his and Jake's night terrors had gotten worse. But the two had come to an unwritten pact between them that they would help each other as quietly as they could without waking Rene. Ambrosia was the silent solution, and Starbuck didn't ask who kept refilling the bottle in the kitchen.
Jake would let him know if the doc was giving him the real truth on the ambrosia and pain killers. He was pretty sure the kid would be honest with him about anything right now. They'd shared a lot in the last few sectons. Those nightly conversations, plus watching Jake stepping up in his involvement with his kids had softened Starbuck's idea that he should stay behind on the Galactica when they made the move in a few cycles to the Zakar. Jake was good with the kids, still a bit distant. Although with Starbuck's encouragement, he was spending more time at home than on the Eaglebash. They needed him on the Zakar. Rene would want her friend when they settled somewhere safe from the Cylons.
As Starbuck tried to block out just how bright and white the Life Center was, he knew he'd need more than a drink or two if he was getting any sleep tonight. He appreciated the cloth Giselle threw over the needles, not realizing he'd been staring at them until they were covered.
"You alright, Bucko?" Crius asked, putting a hand on the back of his neck, the Rat move to sense how tense someone was. Starbuck shook it off and took a slow steady step towards the door.
"Yeah, I'm good. Why wouldn't I be? Are we late for Triad?"
"They may have started without us, so you might want to sit it out. We can watch though," Crius said following Starbuck out of the Life Center and to the courts on the Galactica for the squadrons.
Unlike on the Rising Star, the gallery to watch the games on the Galactica was just a walk way, no seats. He thought he would find Rene there, but it was just Lizbet with all the kids. The younger ones were chasing triad balls that Kiff was tossing for them. Crius greeted his wife with a hug, and Starbuck looked around for Rene, horrified to find she had suited up for Triad, her growing belly pronounced in the uniform.
"She's going to get hurt doing that," he said, turning to go down and get her, but Crius reached out a hand for him.
"The exercise is good for her. She's fine, in fact, I think she's beating them," he said as Rene lined up another long shot, dodging Jason's grip as she launched the ball that sailed effortlessly into the goal.
"They're going easy on her aren't they?" Starbuck asked Lizbet.
"Actually, they're playing by the 'no tackling' rules the IFB are suggesting for the upcoming tournament. Seems someone finally figured out that pilots are playing Triad, and if they get hurt, they can't fly. I think it was Barton's concussion that did it, or was it Greenbean's elbow to Moore's eye, not that he didn't have it coming," Lizbet explained. Starbuck remembered Greenbean's hit had popped Moore's eyeball out of its socket, a gruesome shot for live audiences during an evening broadcast, but otherwise not a scarring injury. There was some talk about the games being too violent for children to watch. Starbuck had stated that the no tackling rules were an insult to the tradition of triad. Now he might have to take those words back as Rene, with Lara as her teammate, showed the boys that Triad wasn't just about bashing into people, you had to be able to make a shot or a block. The game required thinking and strategy. He watched as the teens were becoming frustrated as the gals racked up another goal.
"Nik and Jake are suiting up," Lizbet offered. "Jolly, Giles, Max and Boomer are just now coming off a detail someone assigned them." Lizbet rubbed it in once again that Starbuck was in charge and making everyone's life miserable.
"Yeah yeah, comes with the promotion. Someone has to do the job," he replied. "I don't hear anyone complaining about the extra pay I'm bringing in. Okay Crius, let's go show them how it's really done," Starbuck said elbowing his wing mate.
"You sure about that, I mean, you just…"
Starbuck didn't let him finish the question, heading for the locker room and quickly suiting up. When he came out on the court, everyone cheered and it was better than the roaring crowd on the Rising Star. Rene gave him a hug, but her smile was still tinged with concern for him.
"I'm fine," he answered her unspoken question. "Get off the court. We're going to play rough. You and I can play rough later."
"Challenge accepted," she said, tossing him the ball.
The Triad had been a mistake too, but his bruises and aches were worth it for the comradery. The boys beat him and Crius only because he was injured. That was his story and he was sticking to it. He enjoyed the glow on Cain's face at the victory. The glow increased as the evening went on. After dinner, they had presented Cain with a flight jacket patch Lizbet had sewn of an angry rat chewing on a raider. Rene had given him a copy of a different holo than Starbuck's, one of the whole family that even included Apollo, Sheba and Adama in the shot that was taken at some point during the reception when they were all more relaxed, he and Rene front and center of the group.
"Home is where you make it," Rene said to him as she presented it and even Starbuck found himself tearing up a little.
He broke the mood reminding them, "He's just going to be down the corridor. Once he's a full-fledged ensign, we'll add him to the squadron. You're all acting like he's dying or something. Come on, I have everyone waiting in the OC. You made a promise to the Commander, but you need to make one to me. Please for the Love of Sagan, keep the fraks to a minimum, can you do that?"
"No fraking way," Jason said grinning, easily ducking as Starbuck took a swipe at him.
To Starbuck's surprise, Dara stayed behind to watch the kids rather than wanting to hear the band.
"I can order someone to take over. I think Blue Squadron could use the exercise chasing these terrors," Starbuck offered, but Dara declined.
As the rest started to gather up instruments, Starbuck tried again. He had never quite figured out how Dara had wound up married to Nik, and Rene had always avoided questions about it, just saying that Nik and Dara had a lot in common. He didn't see it. What he saw was that Dara let Nik get away with murder, and covered for him when she probably shouldn't. The only thing Starbuck thought Dara got out of the relationship was that Nik loved his kids, a little too much. He spoiled them rotten, letting them have mushies for breakfast, and sleep clothes as school uniforms. Dara never had to change a nappy, or worry about who was getting the kids ready for bed. Any trouble Nik got into was well after bath and story time.
While the others were packing up, Starbuck leaned close to Dara. "I'm serious. I can get someone to watch the kids for a few centaurs. You should come."
She shook her head before she whispered, "It's okay Bucko. The music is his past. I don't like to see his past. Together, we focus on a future."
The answer was as cryptic as their relationship, but Rene caught his eye and flashed at him to let it go. As they headed to the OC, he asked his wife what was going on.
"The Commander made a request, and," Rene shrugged, "things may get deep tonight. Dara doesn't want to see that. You might get a different Nik if we can get him from behind the drums."
"Kind of like how I get a different Rene when you sing?" he asked.
Rene's steps slowed at the question before she met his gaze with stormy eyes. "He…m...m…made a re…request," she stammered. "I can't say n…no."
"You haven't had a problem saying it before," he quipped as her eyes grew darker.
"Maybe I don't want to say no. He…he has a point. We…Me…I haven't let many see the real me. I mean, I'm not even sure anymore who that is. And unless I can talk you into letting me take the Zakar to Earth, well, I'm going to be here a while."
The words troubled him. Had she been thinking of leaving? With what she could do, it was a possibility.
"You'd leave me? I thought we agreed to do this together."
She looked away. It troubled him and he found himself apologizing, "I've been busy I know, with the enemy and…I'll be home more, I promise, and soon we'll be on the Zakar and we can take the trip together."
"Starbuck," she sighed. "I'm not going anywhere without you. I just hadn't planned on taking the whole fleet with us I guess, and," she shrugged before rolling her eyes. "Everyone is growing on me. I don't want to leave them behind."
"Huh," he said a little shocked at how his innocent question had opened up a much deeper topic. "Starting to like it here? See, I knew I could win you over." He winked at her, not wanting to dive into the deep end of Rene's emotions, not tonight. He wanted to keep it light. He wanted a good evening with a happy ending.
"Maybe," she said with a slight smile tugging at her lips. "I was thinking of bringing a few more kids over from the Orphan Ship. That okay with you?"
His eyes went wide. She hadn't asked before. He'd been surprised and annoyed at first with the addition of Cain. The kid had turned out to be good for everyone and Starbuck regretted the doubts he'd had at first. Plus, this time she was asking, no more importantly, including him in the decision.
"Yeah, we can talk about that. We have room on the Zakar. You'll have more time once the baby is born, and I wouldn't turn down some extra hands to change diapers and corral toddlers. Yeah, we could do that."
Rene nodded. "Apollo is coming tonight I think. I asked him."
Starbuck blinked. That was even more surprising than Rene granting a request of the Commander's. "Thanks," he said, feeling his heart warm at the gesture. He found himself apologizing again, and cursed himself as to why he couldn't just enjoy the fact that Rene was looking out for him. "I'm sorry I've been so busy. It will get better, I promise."
"I know," she said as she shifted a guitar case.
He reached to take it from her, resisting the urge to lecture her again about lifting too much. "Are you singing tonight?" She nodded and he couldn't help asking, "Is it going to be like last time?"
Rene chuckled as she raised an eyebrow. "Only if it gets me the same adulation I got last time."
Raising his own brow back, he remembered back to that night and her apology song in the OC. Later in their quarters, Starbuck felt for the first time that maybe Rene was more worldly than he was. The balance in their relationship had definitely shifted with that one song and the new facets to her personality that she allowed him to see.
"I've been amazed by you from the moment I couldn't shake you from my tail," he winked. "You don't have to sing for me to worship you."
"Oh, is that so?" she bantered back. "Well, maybe I'll sing just one for you. I had planned on a couple. Nik's going to sing a couple too."
"Oh, that should be…interesting," and he meant it. The few times he'd seen them play, Rene had let Jake do most of the singing. Nik stuck to his drums, adding his voice only as a background. "Anything with a more upbeat tempo?" He teased as they both knew he found their music more raucous than what was popular on the Rising Star. He liked it, but it was unruly and loud.
"Of course," she winked at him. "I brought earplugs for the old man."
He grimaced at the moniker for the Commander. "That was uncharacteristically kind of you. And will that concern extend to limiting your descriptive language?"
"You know, you worry too much. You are not our Strike Wing Captain tonight. You are just Starbuck, got that?"
"And the Commander? He's just Adama now, is that it?" He narrowed his eyes, waiting for her acknowledgement that she'd either accepted Adama as part of the family, or she hadn't yet.
Rene's nose crinkled, while she squinted her eyes, but the smile was still genuine. "He said I was in charge tonight of the Officer's Club. That makes me Commander and he's just…I can't call him Adama, so he's either 'grandpa' or 'old man'. I thought 'old man' at least showed some respect."
"Old man it is. You're in charge. So what kind of salute do we give in the OC? In the past it was raising a drink, but it's you, so rude hand gestures?" he said, enjoying the grin on her features as she flipped him one playfully, a common hand sign given on the flight deck. He laughed at it. She was finally settling into the Galactica and he almost reconsidered their move. Almost.