Well. Here we are again! My apologies for being so slow - I prefer the two chapters a week thing, but life just isn't co-operating...Thanks to those putting up with the delays and reading anyway.

Disclaimer: I hate repeating myself. So I won't.

Too High a Cost
By: Mariel

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Chapter 18

Revive

"They're not listening, Madame President," Lee said.

Roslin frowned. Tory had informed her during their morning briefing that there had been more reports of pilots refusing to fly needed supplies to certain ships. A meeting had been hasitly arranged, and Tom Zarek had been given instructions and quickly dispatched to speak with them. Disappointingly, he had returned several hours later shaking his head. Valerant, the pilot's appointed leader, had said little and had ended the meeting abruptly. No headway had been made in resolving the issue.

Now, both Tigh and Lee Adama sat beside her hospital bed, trying to find a reasonable solution to the growing problem. So far, they hadn't come up with anything workable. Laura knew that the refusals to fly, however, had to stop. People were suffering - and beginning to panic.

"Well, they'd better start listening," she said in a decisive tone. "Tell them if they don't start flying to all ships in the fleet, their flight privileges will be taken away."

"Who will be left to fly supplies if we do that?" Tigh objected. "The military can't and won't take over civilian runs. We don't have the manpower - a number of our pilots are ill from this stuff too, remember, and we can't leave the fleet exposed by taking pilots off CAP."

She paused to think. He was right. They'd already lost both military and civilian pilots to the bacterial infection, so to deliberately remove more from the roster would only exacerbate the problem of having too few people to move supplies.

Tigh sighed heavily. "We need to send in troops and show them who's boss. First thing we can do is arrest their leader. Vice President Zarek got nowhere with him today, so it's obvious he doesn't want to listen, let alone think about the repercussions of what he's doing. The man's nothing but an alarmist and a malcontent. Get rid of Valerant, and the others will fall into place."

Roslin was prevented from commenting when the phone installed beside her bed rang just as a knock came to the door. Lee rose to respond to the knock while she reached over to get the phone. As she handled a very one-sided conversation, Lee returned and passed Colonel Tigh a note that had been handed to him at the door.

The President hung up the phone just as Tigh looked up from reading the note.

"Gentlemen," she said, "we appear to have a growing crisis on our hands. We've received reports of ships loading all passengers showing signs of bacterial infection onto passenger shuttles for immediate removal. The Aurora Dawn has already filled four transport shuttles with people and has sent them out into the fleet. All the ships they've approached have refused to take them, saying that they don't have the supplies or medicines to care for them. They now appear to be headed towards the Galactica."

"What do they expect to accomplish by sending their sick out into the fleet?" Lee muttered.

"The Aurora hasn't had medicine or other supplies shipped to her for five days. According to Tory, the captain is afraid that if they don't get rid of their ill, pilots will continue to refuse to deal with them," Laura told him. "His situation is becoming critical: he needs repairs done if he's going to make the next jump with us and none of the repair crews are willing to come; he needs food and medicines, and he's not getting them. He tried sending out a transport of their own to pick up supplies, but it was refused docking privileges. The captain of that ship cited a concern of increasing the contagion. The only thing the Aurora could think of to do was to get rid of the people preventing the ships from landing."

Lee frowned. The Aurora Dawn had been one of the ships most heavily hit by the bacteria. It had been labelled 'the plague ship', and had been the first to be blacklisted by transport pilots. It only made sense that at some point not only would people not want to go there, they wouldn't want visitors from there, either.

"But shipping out their sick won't get rid of the problem; anyone still left can begin to show symptoms after the others have left," he pointed out.

"You're expecting logic," Laura said. "This is a knee-jerk reaction. Right now, people are panicked. They need supplies that aren't coming, they've got sick people they can't help, and they've got healthy people scared for their lives. Since they can't leave the ship - they know how valuable a resouce that is - their first impulse is to try to dump what they regard as the immediate problem and hope for the best."

Tigh held up the note Lee had passed to him. "Well, the people they're dumping are about thirty minutes away. All five hundred of them," he said gruffly.

Lee's eyebrows shot up. Now truly afraid that the situation was spiralling out of control, he exclaimed, "Five hundred shoved into four commuting shuttles? They're treating them like cattle! What are they thinking?"

"I think we've covered their reasoning already," Laura pointed out.

"They're crazy."

Roslin shrugged. "Our problem is what happens when other black-listed ships follow suit and start sending their sick here." She looked at Tigh. "How many of these people can Galactica handle?" she asked calmly.

Tigh cleared his throat. "Nothing near the number that could end up here. I'd need Cottle to confirm it, but I believe fleet-wide, there is presently something like four thousand people in various stages of infection."

Lee gave a low whistle. "If even half of them showed up here..."

Tigh shot him a look. Whistling on a ship was bad luck. "It'd be a disaster," he said.

"We have to force them to return to their ship," Lee said in a low voice. "We have no choice."

The three fell into silence, each envisioning the disaster of the Galactica defending itself against what could basically be considered civilian refugees.

"And if they refuse to return?" Roslin asked.

"Then we send out vipers to warn them off," Tigh said decisively.

Lee didn't like the direction Tigh's thoughts were headed. "Perhaps simply closing the pod doors would be less confrontational," he suggested.

"And the pilots coming back from CAP? Where do you want them to land?" Tigh asked.

Looking down at his hands, Lee knew Tigh had a point. Though he didn't like the idea of sending out vipers to warn the shuttles off, he saw no other recourse. Having all those people - all those sick, contagious people - setting up shop on the ship responsible for defending the Fleet was simply not an option. Galactica already had the fleet's most seriously ill in her Life Station, and their medical resources were strained as it was. To fill up with a thousand or so more...

It ws time to make tough decisions. Reluctantly, he said, "You're right. Showing some muscle might make them back down. We don't know if the Aurora will take them back, though. We'll need to talk to the captain. It's imperative that they understand we mean what we say."

Roslin frowned. The media were going to have a field day with this. Imagining all the sensationalism they would manage to wring out of the situation, she felt a momentary panic. Things were devolving too rapidly into a scenario that could destroy her administration, delay, or perhaps even put a halt to their journey to Earth, and cost the lives of innocent people in the process.

A throat cleared, then a voice rasped, "No. No vipers. You need to talk to Valerant."

The three froze, then Laura scrambled out of bed. She beat the two men to Bill's side by a nose.

"Ohmygods, Bill."

Lee barely had time to briefly acknowledge his father before Roslin turned to him and said, "Get Doctor Cottle!"

Not registering any of the shock and flurry of movement around him, Bill focussed on Tigh and continued in a low tone, "Valerant can get the transports resumed. He stopped them; he can start them again." His voice hoarse from disuse, he said, "You just need to talk to him."

Gripping his forearm tightly and not taking her eyes off him, Laura's mind screamed, 'He's all right!' over and over, while her voice calmly told him, "We sent Tom Zarek to talk to him already. He got nowhere."

Adama grimaced and swallowed dryly.

His voice deep, and sounding as though it were being dragged over sand and gravel, he said, "Of course he got nowhere. Tom Zarek's a terrorist and a crook. Richard Valerant is many things, but he's neither of those. Send someone trustworthy, and he'll listen."

His words made Laura recoil.

Glancing at the President, Tigh moved closer to the bed. "Don't worry yourself, Bill; we'll handle it okay," he said in a reassuring tone. "You shouldn't be talking. Glad to see you back with us, though." He placed a heavy hand on Bill's shoulder. Relief coloured his voice as he said, "We thought you were signing out for good, Old Man."

Adama looked at his friend. "Guess you were wrong," he said wryly.

Tigh grinned. "I can handle that kind of wrong."

Adama felt his hand being squeezed. He turned his gaze to his left and acknowledged Laura formally. "Madame President."

She fought back tears. "Bill." She reached out a hand to run her fingers through his hair, then stopped abruptly when Bill turned his head away and looked at Tigh.

"Someone going to explain what happened and how I got here?"

Tigh blinked. Quickly understanding that Bill had attended to business upon waking without having any idea what had happened to him, he said, "You and the President were shot on Kobol. I came down to pick you up. Cottle came, too. Good thing, as it happened, because you and the President were in rough shape. It was touch and go with you both for a while."

Bill frowned as bits and hints of memory began to return. Feeling disorientated, he said, "You and Cottle, eh? I'm starting to think there's a real shortage around here of people who can follow orders."

His eyes travelled the room and he tried not to think too much about the woman standing beside his bed or the way her hand felt against his skin. Tigh had said she'd been shot. Relief that she was up and okay segued into a flash of dark memory... of rain and pain and a weight against his chest. Startled by it, he asked, "How long have I been here?"

"Better than a week," Tigh said.

Impossible, Bill thought. He opened his mouth to say so, but before he could, Cottle came into the room in a flurry of white coat and cigarette smoke. Lee followed close behind.

As Tigh stepped back to give him room next to Bill, Cottle grumbled, "Gods. Everything happens at once!" Shooting a glance at the President, he said briefly, "I just got off the phone; the lab is getting all excited, thinking they're maybe on to something." Looking at Bill, he said, "And now you're awake. And I was just getting used to the peace and quiet!"

"Sorry," Bill said with a weak smile.

"Don't be. It's real good to see you." Reaching for his stethoscope, he looked in the President's direction and lifted one shaggy eyebrow. "I'm sure there are a couple others who would agree."

Still focussed on Bill, Laura didn't respond, so Cottle spoke to her directly. "Ma'am," he told her, "You might want to put on a robe before you get chilled."

Roslin looked down at herself and resisted the urge to glare at one of the most irritating men left in the universe.

"Of course, Doctor. Thank you," she said in a not very sweet tone.

Moving to her bed, she lifted the robe hanging over the end of it and slipped it on. Sliding her feet into slippers, she returned to Bill's side. Tossing her hair behind her shoulders, she planted herself firmly, silently daring Cottle to suggest she move.

Cottle ignored her and got on with his examination.

While the doctor pressed his stethoscope here and there over his chest, Lee came into view and Bill remembered his original train of thought. Speaking around Cottle, who continued to examine and prod, he began, "Have Jason DeCourt speak to Valerant."

Lee, who had moved in close enough to put a hand on his father's shoulder, frowned. "Who's he?"

Cottle paused and narrowed his eyes. Looking up at Tigh and Lee, he said, "Gentlemen, I can't hear a thing! I need you all to shut up and back off. Whatever you're talking about can wait. My patient is now resting under medical supervision, and will be for the next hour, at least. Then I may let you resume whatever conversation was so important that the Admiral here felt he had to wake up and participate in it!"

Tigh opened his mouth to object. "We-"

"No, I said shut up!" Cottle interrupted.

Tigh tried again, "Listen, you-"

"Shhhh!" Cottle ordered. Holding up a hand, he said, "Not a word! I mean it. Now clear out of here and let me do my job."

As Tigh closed his mouth and stepped back, Lee moved.

Cottle glared at him. "That goes for you, too. You've seen him awake, you know he's okay, now get out," he said, gesturing with his hands. "I'll tell you when you can come back. I don't care what the crisis is, this man's got to have some peace and quiet while I observe him, or he'll be no help to you at all."

Laura stepped away while Cottle admonished the two officers. She couldn't help but let a smile cross her features. She'd be staying. She belonged here, and Cottle couldn't order her out - there was nowhere for her to go.

"I'll just go lie down for a few moments," she said sweetly.

"Yes, you go do that," he rasped, hating that she was acting like she'd won a battle he hadn't even declared yet.

Tigh and Lee looked at one another. Both wanted to object. After a look at Adama, who now had his eyes closed, and then at Cottle, who looked determined to have his way, they decided against it.

"We need to talk to him as soon as possible, Doctor. It's important," Lee said.

"Of course it's important. It's always important," the doctor groused. "Right now, I don't care," he grumbled as he turned his focus onto Adama. "Unless the world's coming to an end again, I want the Admiral's ass out of the woods and feeling right as rain before he starts saving the fleet."

Feeling oddly removed, Bill lay quietly while the tug of wills went on around him. He kept his eyes closed and ignored Jack Cottle's mixed metaphors. Breathing deeply, he felt a stab in his upper chest, and winced.

He felt as though he'd travelled far, but couldn't remember where he had been or what had happened. Whatever it had been, however, was causing him some pain. He searched his recent memory. Tigh had said he'd been shot...In a flash, he remembered Laura's weight thrown against him, remembered falling and holding her tightly against himself...

..and he remembered the rain on his face and the warmth of where she lay on him...

His hand had searched and found hers...

He drew back from the memory. She was okay. She was here. Mustering his concentration, he tried to figure out the when of it. He didn't know if he'd been unconscious an hour or a dozen.

But wait. Saul had told him more than a week.

How could it have been that long?

He heard Lee say goodbye and knew Cottle had won the battle...

Tired of thinking and forgetting the urgency that had brought him to consciousness, he relaxed. He could take care of things later.

Later...

The thought jolted him. How would he approach living a life he had thought was over and now wasn't?

End
Chapter 18