GrammarMaven, I promised, so here it is... a quick update! Donna, you're going to smile when you get near to the end of this; your wait is almost over...Sandy: it'll take a while longer to find out if you're right...But knowing you, you are...

Many thanks to those still reading and who take the time to let me know you're still out there! It had been so long I wasn't sure there'd still be an interest. Author insecurity...it's a terrible thing...

Disclaimer: Nothing's changed. sigh

Happy Monday...

Too High a Cost
By: Mariel

Chapter 27

Rail

"Gods...You don't trust each other; why would I trust either of you?"

Valerant paused to watch Roslin and Adama exchange glances once again. Neither of them had been quite what he'd expected; nor had they acted as he'd thought they might. It didn't take a genius, however, to see that although they didn't appear to be feuding, they were definitely very aware of one another.

He didn't know if that were a good thing or a bad thing.

He sighed inwardly, wishing that his missing brother-in-law were here to help him decipher the two people sitting across from him. Jason DeCourt had never made any attempt to hide his admiration for either of them, but he'd also had a keen eye for character, and Valerant would have appreciated his honest insights. Everyone had heard of the changes in both leaders. Would Jason still have described Adama as a hard-ass with a heart? Would he still have regarded Roslin as a woman hell-bent on ensuring the survival of the human race no matter the cost?

Lately, his brother-in-law hadn't said much about them, and even when asked, he'd seemed reluctant to speak. "I dunno...Being back together has been a difficult adjustment for everyone; I guess they're no different," was the closest he'd come to saying they'd changed.

Jason hadn't been his only source of information on the two leaders, however. Rumour after rumour had raced through the fleet about the disturbing change in the Admiral and the coldness between him and the President. And rumour after rumour had reached him about dissention, lack of communication, and the creation and carrying out of plans with no consultation between the two leaders.

The rumours alone would have been cause for concern, but then the Admiral had left for Kobol in search of his son and Kara Thrace. And then the President had quickly followed. Tumbling along with those events had been the eruption of the bacterial infection, a series of jumps away from their leaders, and the ensuing pilot unrest.

Now their leaders were returned, and he was charged with settling things for the pilots. It was a job he took seriously, and because he was a thinking man, a job he approached in a thorough manner. He'd come up with his own theory as to why the fleet had reacted to this series of crises the way it had; why, even, the pilots had reacted in the way they had. Today, he would confront the President and Admiral with it.

When Adama and Roslin finally turned from each other and looked back at him, he drew a deep breath and launched into his attack.

"The way I see it, the difficulty I have in negotiating anything with you is pretty much indicative of the problem the whole fleet is having with its leadership at the moment."

He looked directly at Adama. "We've trusted you with our lives since the beginning, sir. Even when things were at their worst on New Caprica, we knew you'd come back to rescue us, and you didn't let us down. But since then, something's gone wrong. We heard rumours you'd changed, but a couple of weeks ago you turned your back on us and left. No warning, no explanation - and if rumour has it right, with no intention of returning." Sensing Roslin's shocked surprise at his last comment, he changed his position slightly and without giving either of them time to respond, said to her, "And a couple of hours later, you followed him! We had the two most important people in the fleet chasing around on a planet we already know exacts too high a price on those who return! And then," he said, his voice gathering in speed and volume, "the entire fleet jumped and left you both behind!" He swept a hand towards Bill. "On your orders! That sort of thing doesn't fill people with confidence. What are we supposed to expect from you? Rumours are all over the fleet about what's going on at the top, and none of them are good. And this last explout almost got the two of you killed. Have you never stopped to think about the consequences of some of the things you do?" He shook his head. "The fleet is a mess right now, but it's because the people no longer trust their leadership."

Adama face was a stony mask, and there was no mistaking his displeasure when he moved to speak.

Unconsciously, Valerant held his breath.

"Mr. Valerant," the Admiral said in a quiet, dangerous rumble, "you are over-stepping your bounds. These are not issues on the table for discussion. We are here to deal with a very real and immediate crisis that's far more relevant to the fleet's well-being. I suggest you keep your focus on that."

Richard Valerant shook his head and bravely ignored the warning in Adama's tone. "This is relevant. This is very relevant," he said stubbornly. Like every other person in the fleet, he'd had his life torn apart when the cylons attacked the home worlds. Since then, he'd done everything possible to create stability and hope for himself and his new family. Unable to trust in a future that was uncertain, he struggled to maintain faith in the present - and in his leaders.

He took a deep breath. "The morale of the entire fleet is in shambles," he told them, "and the responsibility for that lies in your hands. The fleet may have been reunited, but our leadership hasn't. In all appearances, it's fractured and untrustworthy. You've asked me to negotiate with you. First I need to be convinced that I can trust you."

Finished, he sat back and waited for a reaction.

-xxx-

The silence that followed Valerant's speech lengthened almost unbearably as Adama struggled with his temper. A roil of anger coursed through him, making him want to stand up and toss a chair, to roar at the pilot until he was cowed. How dare he pass judgement? How dare he suggest that trust-

He stopped when he thought the word.

Trust.

Some of his anger ebbed. Moving past the shock of the man's blatant audacity, he was forced to take pause. There was a ring of truth running alongside the temerity of the pilot's words that he didn't like hearing, an echo of his own all-too-familiar plaint of living with trust betrayed. Feeling Laura's gaze, he turned as realisation struck him. The loss of trust had gone far deeper than just between him and her; it had spread further than just between him and those he had held close. Their actions - their reactions - had created harmful repercussions throughout the fleet.

"Trust."

He said the word softly, with meaning.

She held his eyes with hers, but remained silent. Looking into their emerald depths, however, he found what he was looking for.

Regret. Understanding.

Trust had been broken on any number of levels.

It needed reapair.

It was that simple; it was that complicated.

Changes would need to be made, and the changes would need to start with them. They would have to move forward.

Thinking of the ships that idled in formation around Galactica and the citizens who peopled them, he sighed inwardly.

They had no choice.

Finally, he looked at Valerant. His voice low, he said, "Mr. Valerant, we understand your concerns, but I honestly can't speak to them, except to say that the President and I are talking and will continue to talk. Though the incident concerning Kobol was unfortunate, it served a purpose we cannot at this point address." He paused at the mention of Kobol and looked at Laura with dark eyes.

Memory flickered, then failed.

He shifted heavily in his chair and winced slightly in response to a sudden, sharp stab of pain that lanced across his temple. Resisting the urge to press his fingers against his forehead, he forced himself to focus and continued, "I assure you that the President and I are committed to the Fleet. It's our priority." Inhaling abruptly, he said, "And I have to ask you to trust that now that the President and I are back you will see the kind of changes you feel are necessary. Right now, though, the crisis we have to deal with involves your pilots. The President and I are both here because we need them flying. You and the other civilian pilots are the fleet's lifeline."

Roslin chimed in softly. "Admiral Adama and I are here together, asking for your help to get things in the fleet back on track. Surely that's a solid indication that we're working together."

Valerant sat wordlessly for a moment.

Nothing the Admiral had said explained anything about the choppy leadership of late...but his instincts wanted him to take them at their word. He looked at them, trying to assess their position. As the President had pointed out, they were both here, and they were certainly communicating, though perhaps more by looks than by words. Whatever, it was a step in the right direction. He'd done what he could to shed light of the problem. Now it was up to them. Praying to the gods he wasn't being played for a fool, he slowly inclined his head and gathered his last remaining shreds of trust about him.

"Then let's talk about the pilots," he agreed.

-xxx-

Adama nodded his thanks. Raising fingers to his forehead, he gently massaged his temple for a brief second, then leaned forward and rested his arms on the table in front of him. His gravelly voice was tightly restrained and conveyed his sense of urgency when he said, "We need to fix this situation quickly. To do that, we need to get things back to normal. If you could outline the pilots' concerns..."

He slowly sat back as Valerant outlined his agenda. Most of the demands dovetailed with what the pilots were going to be offered and sounded more than reasonable; some items would need to be rejected as out of hand. When the younger man was finished speaking, Roslin asked a question, and all three settled more deeply into working out an agreement.

The dull throb that had settled behind Adama's eyeballs increased in intensity, and he reached for a drink of water.

End
Chapter 27