Disclaimers in Part One. Remember: REVIEWS equals MORE FANFIC!
For those still wondering:
English dialogue is in "".
Colonial dialogue is bolded.
Italicized dialogue indicates voices coming over the wireless.
With enormous (Basestar-sized) thanks to The Sidhe, who gave me one of the ideas appearing below. Check out "The Consequences of Not Being Polite" to see why. Thanks also to everyone who has written in so far; you're what keeps this story going!
THE LONG ROAD HOME
Book I: Promised Land
2150 Hours GMT
Their quarantine ended without formal announcement or undue excitement. Their isolation was interrupted only by the occasional visit of a Terran crewmember clad in full biohazard gear, and the further taking of blood and tissue samples. Taylor and Carroq passed the time with their card games, both winning as often as the other lost. Starbuck probed Athena with the sort of aggressiveness her earlier demand had only hinted at. Were it not for Tigh's own directive to hide nothing from her, Sharon would have taxed her not inconsiderable imagination to keep certain things unspoken.
As it was, she was privately grateful when quarantine ended. The surrounding plastic walls were taken down with practiced efficiency and two senior officers were escorted into sight by with a half-dozen Marines in fatigues wearing sidearms. The shorter of the two called out in strangely accented Colonial "Commander on deck." Taylor quickly got to his feet at their arrival, Starbuck following suit a beat later. Her eyes however did not leave Sharon's vicinity, equal parts disbelief and despair radiating from her at that point. Athena took the opportunity to look away from the devastation her news had wrought on her former shipmate in order to study the new arrivals.
The female Marine, who had originally announced their presence, moved in first carrying herself with the sort of barely-leashed aggression she had only encountered with Starbuck herself. However, she moved with such a predatory confidence that it made Sharon more than slightly nervous. Her tight expression weren't much more reassuring, though the nod she gave them all seemed intended to do so.
The man however dominated her attention the instant he stepped into sight. He gave a quick nod to both Taylor and Starbuck, snapping a formal salute that Sharon could see was more directed toward her than the rest. "Captain Agathon?" he asked calmly, but with an undercurrent of stern authority she usually associated with William Adama. Athena instinctively came to attention and returned the salute.
"Captain Sharon Agathon, Sir. My civilian colleague, Mr. Carroq."
"Commander Avery-Hunter, Captain, Mr. Carroq. With me is my Executive Officer, Lieutenant-Commander Callisto. Let me welcome you both aboard the Olympus." He offered her a tight grin and added, "I think I speak for both my crew and fleet in saying...we never dared hope to actually meet you."
Sharon didn't know how to respond to this, but fortunately was spared the need to as the Commander turned toward Taylor and Starbuck. "Major, Colonel. Welcome back both you. Major?"
"Sir."
"Have your report ready within the hour for review by myself and the XO. I believe Captain Chang also has some matter to discuss with you concerning your Marines. Please see to your business."
"Aye, Sir. Ma'am." Taylor gave Avery-Hunter and his companion a crisp salute then quickly quit the area.
"Colonel Thrace," the Commander nodded. Starbuck gave herself a small shake before she responded.
"Sir?"
"I believe you have some business to attend to. Please have your report ready for us by 0800 hours. Lieutenant Mahan is waiting for you back in your quarters."
"Er, yes, Sir. Um, with your permission?"
"Of course." With that, Starbuck walked-stumbled away, looking uncharacteristically lost. No sooner was she away than Callisto snapped her fingers towards the trio of Marines who had been hovering in the background. All three fell in behind the pilot. Sharon bit her lip, watching her leave.
The Commander's voice brought her attention back to their immediate surroundings. "I realize this has likely been a...stressful day for you both. May I offer you both quarters where you can rest for a bit before we continue discussions?"
Athena nodded after seeing Carroq offer an agreeing nod of his own. "That would be fine, Sir."
"Would you feel better in joint quarters or separate?" Callisto asked.
"Whatever you have available will be fine with us, sir."
"See to it, XO," the Commander ordered and saluted them again, then turned on his heel and marched away.
"Aye-aye. Captain, Mr. Carroq? This way, if you please?" Callisto gestured to a different direction than the Commander and the other had departed through. Knowing better than to ask the obvious, Athena and Carroq let themselves be led across the hanger deck. This not coincidentally allowed them see several flight crews working on fighters that bore strikingly close similarities to Mark VII Vipers, albeit ones looking far smoother and cleaner than they were used to. There were also several darker, even leaner looking ships further back.
The unspoken statement was not lost on either.
That was only the first of several subtle surprises waiting them as they moved through the Terran ship's corridors.
Carroq chose to break his extended silence a short bit later. He said to their guide's back, "I'd like to compliment you on your command of our language, Commander."
"Thank you, Mr. Carroq. Although I should clarify two things. First, your language is very similar to my native tongue. Which I should mention is not the 'universal' dialect of our world. And second my rank is actually Lieutenant-Commander, which is analogous to a Colonel in the Colonial rank structure."
This prompted Athena to ask, "Then why doesn't Starbuck have the same rank as you?"
"Ah, Colonel Thrace is a very...special case, shall we say. She is not technically a Fleet officer. Rather she's attached to the Fleet's Marine Corps."
"Your Admiral Rice made it sound as if she were, well, irreplaceable to your fleet."
"Oh, believe me, she is. No one in our Fleet can match her hours of experience in aerospace combat and operations. Normally she's restricted to flight instruction planetside. Her being up here at this time is more a personal favor to the Secretariat than a matter of policy."
"How so?" Athena asked.
"She promised to do bodily harm to both the civilian head and several senior ratings of the Service if she wasn't allowed to personally test the new Mark Fives up here."
"That sounds like Starbuck," Athena chuckled. Carroq broke a grin, having heard his own share of stories concerning the Fleet's most celebrated viper jock.
Callisto remained as serious as ever. "To be fair, Captain, it's a sentiment shared by most of the uniformed officers of our fleet and most of the civilian leadership. Most of us were hoping she would follow through on her promises to geld the Secretary of Defense." She paused and frowned slightly. "You are familiar with the term?"
"Yes," Athena nodded, trying hard to keep from laughing outright.
"Very well. If at any time I use terminology unfamiliar to you, please let me know. Our familiarity with Colonial Standard is purely through Colonel Thrace."
"Understood," Athena nodded and took a moment to glance about them right then.
The corridors looked eerily like those aboard the Galactica, but were far more sparsely populated and nowhere near as cluttered. The crewmembers moving here or there were dressed either in functional gray fatigues or in dark blue uniforms resembling her own dress blues. Everyone, however, was wearing berets of different colors, ranging from black to green to dark orange. The few who were bareheaded had their berets in clear display under their shoulder boards.
Athena had gotten a good look at the Olympus before they'd landed. After getting over her initial shock at how the ship closely resembled a Mercury-class battlestar, albeit a rather smaller one, she had tried to calculate just how many crew and Vipers it might carry. She had to give that up simply because she knew too little about how advanced the ship was in relation to either the Galactica or the Nemesis, for that matter. The lack of automation and computer networking meant the Galactica needed no less than 2,000 crew to keep her running. Nemesis could get by just under a 1,000 simply because they weren't utilizing the ship to its fullest capacity.
If the comparative lack of hustle-and-bustle here was any indication, either these people were risking the same mistakes that had destroyed the Colonial Fleet or they were a hundred times more efficient in their work than they looked.
She decided to risk another question to their guide. "How long have your people been in space?"
"Captain?"
"You said Starbuck has the most space combat within your fleet. That suggests you haven't had space travel for very long."
Callisto gave them a look that was equal parts smirk and scowl. "Hmph. Should watch my damned mouth," she chastised herself in English, and then continued in Colonial. "We've had extra-atmospheric flight capacity for a bit over one hundred years. It's only been in the last thirty that we've gotten over certain...political hurdles...that have otherwise impeded progress."
"Feuding colonies?"
"More like feuding continents." Callisto quickly added "I'd ask you save further questions for the diplomatic unit which is presently en route. I'm simply not the best person to answer these questions."
"You seem fairly knowledgeable," Carroq noted.
Athena said, "I believe the Lieutenant-Commander is more worried about security matters than anything else, correct?"
"Correct, Captain. While Colonel Thrace is inclined to give the benefit of the doubt to your people, I am not." She gave Athena a very hard stare. "Do we understand each other?"
"Perfectly, ma'am." Athena had the momentary urge to salute the shorter woman.
"Very good," Callisto nodded and turned away. The rest of their short journey was silent, although a not uncomfortable one. The atmosphere between them was more one of a mild anticipation than anxiety. Callisto struck both Athena and Carroq as the sort of officer Tigh and even Admiral Adama would get along with. The same with her superior.
Both hoped they would have the opportunity to see for themselves soon.
2230 Hours GMT
CCAW Quarters
It took Starbuck several long moments to remember what happened to her.
The fact she was lying on her side on a rather cold surface was her first clue. The way her throat felt raw and her stomach churned unpleasantly was another.
Her vision cleared enough after a few more beats, letting her see she was in her cabin's private head. More specifically, she was wedged at an angle between the wall and the toilet, which explained why her neck was in such pain.
Carefully moving herself upright, Kara searched her memories for some explanation of how she ended up in this position. Her memories were fairly clear up to the time when they'd landed back on the Olympus, and how she'd calmly left everything after quarantine was terminated. It was a bit fuzzy between these two bookends, as well as when she'd managed to return to her cabin.
Oh, yeah. She'd been talking to Athena. But about what? Something about the Galactica...no, no. About the Nemesis. She hadn't entirely bought that story about finding it derelict. There had to be more to it than the toasters getting careless with their basestars.
And she'd been right. There had been more to it.
Now if she could just remember what it was.
Something about more skinjobs first being found in the Fleet. Two of them. Athena had tried to dodge identifying who they were and almost managed it, nearly distracting her by telling her about Baltar's trial and his pet skinjob trying to get in good with the Admiral.
Kara had gone along with it simply to see how serious Athena was about avoiding it. She stood a better chance of beating her in Triad holding nothing but a two pair against full colors.
She ultimately got the names of these new skinjobs. She didn't know Tori Foster beyond her name, so it wasn't nearly a shock. But the other one...for some reason her mind shied away from recalling it. Started with an "S". Diana Seelix? No, it was somebody's first name. Whom did she know who fit that description?
Saul Tigh? That was a laugh. Nobody in the Fleet, herself included, hated the toasters more.
The name came unbidden. Sam. Sammy. Sam Anders.
Her husband.
It was like an explosive round going off inside her head.
She kept her eyes shut. If she didn't open her eyes, she wouldn't have to acknowledge where she was, or what she'd been told.
It hit her gut a heartbeat later, leaving her doubled over the toilet again. There was nothing left for her retch up, causing her to moan more than cough. She stayed there the nausea abated.
Kara took a breath to thank the gods she'd ordered Mahn to leave the minute she'd marched through the door. She was alone.
She stayed there, holding her breath, waiting for unconsciousness to hit again.
It proved a short wait for her.
2322 Hours GMT
CO's Quarters
"Enter," Commander Avery-Hunter barked out as his door chime sounded. He didn't take his eyes from his desk's viewscreen, where he was watching the Road Runner watch Willey E. Coyote falling from yet another mesa in the desert. His XO stepped inside as he scribbled a few notes onto an already heavily scribbled-over manuscript before him.
"I thought the CMO ordered you to rest," Callisto said to him as soon as the door shut. Avery-Hunter didn't even blink at her words or disapproving tone.
"I am resting."
"Working on your dissertation is rest?"
The CO simply shrugged and paused the recording, catching Willey E just as he was climbing aboard an oversized catapult stamped 'Acme Super Sling'. "Just catching a few extra insights."
He hadn't been the only one ordered to rest by the flight surgeon. The fact was both of them had been on the Bridge since Thrace had launched on her first patrol and this insanity began nearly 23 hours ago. At this point, they were both holding themselves upright by sheer force of will and entirely too much caffeine. The ship's CMO had been present when Major Taylor had handed over his two-page report recounting their time aboard the Nemesis. He promptly ordered the three of them to retire to their cabins and not even think about returning to the bridge until 0700 hours tomorrow.
Neither of them were fool enough to argue and their Operations Officer, Lieutenant Commander Grossman, was more than capable to standing in for them for a few hours. Neither of them were the sort to sit idle, either.
Callisto gave a loud sigh and the nearest chair. "Still pushing the whole civilization-versus-nature angle?"
Avery-Hunter grunted and wrote another note. It never ceased to puzzle and amuse Callisto how her commanding officer had decided to write his doctorate on a history of animated cinema, the central thesis being it was a reflection writ large of the inherent tension between the chaotic power of 'nature' and humanity's constant struggle to subdue and 'civilize' it. He'd somehow managed to fill some three hundred pages making the case that Willey E. Coyote was, contra to first impressions, the literate and tool-using product of a coherent social hierarchy, and therefore 'civilized'. The Road Runner by contrast was nothing more than a wild animal, completely oblivious to the chaos it leaves in its super-sonic wake and possessing neither opposable thumb nor the slightest hint of culture, and therefore was 'uncivilized'.
Of course, it was never clear precisely why the Coyote was so fixated with that hyperactive (and anorexic) bird anyway. Or for that matter why every rocket and catapult he got from the Acme Corporation malfunctioned so spectacularly. The same could be argued with pretty much every other human endeavor this side of the discovery of fire and construction of the wheel. The Blight was proof enough of that; Callisto wondered if that bit of social commentary was going to be in the final printing.
She noticed Avery-Hunter had switched the viewscreen off and was watching her expectantly. She'd come with Taylor's report in hand and took the silent hint.
"If this is a Cylon trick, it's got to be in the running for the Rube Goldberg prize of strategies." Callisto shook her head and glanced over the pages. "If, however, we believe what Taylor is reporting…then something very, very bad happened out there. And we have no fuckin' clue what it was." She sounded tired now.
"What about the recordings from while they were in quarantine?"
"ISA says it'll take another six hours plus to isolate and transcribe the respective voices. Collins has given it red priority."
"There's that. Impressions on our guests?"
"Agathon's sharp. She kept her questions general and just watched everything. Carroq too."
"Well they are supposed to be observers. Given what we know about Tigh, he wouldn't go sending idiots."
"Maybe so, but there's something about these two…"
"What?"
Callisto sighed and gave herself a small shake. "I'm not sure. They're just…"
"What?"
"Don't know. Just got a bad feeling here." A yawn escaped her otherwise firm control.
"Or you're just exhausted as I am." Avery-Hunter stood and scrubbed his face with both hands. "Where'd you put them?"
"The quarters on C Deck."
"The standalones?"
"Yup. No direct data connections with the rest of the ship, and the callbox is strictly hardwire." Another yawn escaped. "Sorry, Sir."
"Off to bed with you. That's an order. I want at least one of us to have a clear head when Starbuck gives her report."
"I'm worried about her," Callisto stated as she headed for the hatch.
"You always are."
"Can't argue that." She grinned as she let herself out.
Commander Avery-Hunter remained where he was for several more beats, with both fists resting on his desk. He drummed his knuckles on the papers there, tapping out an uneven beat, then moved off to his own rack and some much-needed shut-eye.
2312 Hours GMT
Guest Quarters, Colonial Basestar Nemesis
Admiral Rice sat on the simple cot in the simple quarters he and his men had been given for the night. His legs were outstretched before him, with his feet (sans boots) resting atop the latched black carrycase containing the 'party favor'.
Sergeant Guarland had insisted standing first watch outside the door, agreeing that Lewis would relieve him in four hours time, the latter lying in a second cot near the room's only door. The Colonials had appeared understanding about this, with Commander Tigh going so far as to order the corridor outside cleared and all personnel relocated elsewhere. The presence of the 'party favor', despite the fact no-one identified the large case the Terran Marines had carried between them to their shared quarters, seemed to cast its own shadow here.
Rice found himself unable to sleep, his mind awhirl in too many directions. He could only wonder at the pace at which things were developing here. It was the same heady mix of anticipation and dread as when he'd first laid eyes on the massive find in Alaska over twenty years ago…as well as when he'd watched the fire control and rescue teams ease that limp body out of that burning Viper on the Nellis runway just 25 months ago.
He didn't dare let his thoughts drift further, childhood injunctions against pride coming to mind. While not particularly religious, Theodore Rice wasn't fool enough to think there wasn't…something…larger than them all Out There. And damned if he was going to think for even a minute that he could divine it all.
Therefore, he sat there and let himself wonder at it all.
And, in time, he too drifted off to sleep.
2330 Hours GMT
Secure Command Center 'Babel', Earth
Undersecretary Robert Cornwell watched the main display screen pensively while his aide collected and summarized the latest status reports from the workstations around them. He could only sit back and watch as the staff he had handpicked and trained for precisely this eventuality went about their jobs. In a real sense, he was utterly superfluous to the work going on and knew it.
"What the hell are you doing to me, Ted?" Cornwell muttered to himself for Gods-knew-how-many-times in the last six hours. His heart hadn't quite settled since receiving word from Olympus reporting Rice had in effect given himself over as a diplomatic hostage to the Colonials, if indeed that's who they really were. Starbuck was evidentially withholding final judgment on that score, and nobody in the Secretariat was willing to override her.
Just about the only good news in all this was that Starbuck herself was back aboard the Olympus. Secretary of State Richards was already en route aboard the Bouhuchan and likely already knew that bit of happy news. He'd been a terror since learning Starbuck had slipped off-planet last week without him knowing about it first.
He looked at the main board again, noting to himself that the Olympus, Bouhuchan, and Asgard were all where they should be. Sub-screens gave updates on the installations on Luna and Mars, both in the green and as ready as they could be.
If all went according to projections, Richards would be aboard the Olympus by seven tomorrow morning and take over matters.
Cornwell almost found himself wishing he could be there for the fireworks. He had to swallow a nervous laugh at the prospect before Marcel gave him another look. The last thing he wanted or needed was to infect the rest of his staff with his anxieties.
2335 Hours GMT
Commanders Quarters, Colonial Basestar Nemesis
As soon as he'd seen the Terrans settled into secure quarters, with the customary dire promises to the Marines detailed to keep them safe, Tigh had gone directly to his cabin and left the ship in Helo's capable hands. Agathon was a good man and a good officer. He'd do right by the crew.
As soon as he reached his quarters he stripped completely down and went into the head, his sidearm in one hand and both pillows from his bed in the other. He stepped into the show and pressed himself against the cold wall, carefully covering his gun hand with the pillows.
"C'mon you frakking drunk coward," he hissed to himself, barely able to keep his shaking hands under control. "Do something right for a change!"
There was nothing else for it. He'd tried to think of another way, any way to avoid this since hearing Starbuck's voice over the wireless. Unsurprisingly, nothing had come to mind. No brilliant plan or ideas from outside the tiny, tight little box he lived in.
He'd be damned by Hades himself before he'd risk leading the Cylons here. Oh, he and the Chief had a very, very good idea what happened aboard this ship before they chanced across it. But there were no guarantees those other…two…would keep them at bay forever.
No, better to remove the danger entirely. Or try to at least.
"Lords of Kobol," Tigh whispered to himself as he pressed the barrel to his chest. "I know I'm not one of your children, and a damned lousy excuse of life itself, but…please protect for your…protect my people here…please let this work…"
He shut his remaining eye and concentrated on keeping his hands still.
Had anyone been passing in the corridor outside the door, they might have heard a muffled "crack", and an equally muffled "thud" coming from the Commander's quarters.
But no one was in the corridor to hear such things.
2345 Hours GMT
CCAW Quarters, Battlestar Olympus
Starbuck came to with a start, head aching but otherwise not in any real pain. She looked about as she struggled to sit up, and felt not a little relieved that there was no blood in evidence with her little breakdown. She was still more relieved to find she was still alone, having no wish to try explaining this to her personal mother hen.
Only once she regained her slightly unsteady footing did she notice there was someone else there with her. Leoben was staring at her from inside the shower, brawny arms crossed and a disapproving frown on his face.
"I don't want to hear it," Kara growled with a glare and stalked out of the head. She quickly went to the travel fridge in the stateroom and cracked open an icepack, pressing it against her aching head. Turning around she found Leoben now reclining on the loveseat nearby, still frowning.
She declined to even acknowledge his presence. Instead, she sat at her desk to begin the report that was due to the CO in eight hours. The words came surprisingly easy to her. Certainly it made it easy to ignore the glowering phantom just a few paces away.
The door chime sounded, causing her to look up and call out, "Yes?"
"Lieutenant Mahn, Sir."
Kara stood and looked around, making sure Leoben truly was gone from sight, then went to the door and flipped the lock. As expected, Lieutenant Mahn was waiting at attention.
And she wasn't alone.
2352 Hours GMT
Guest Quarters, Deck C, Terran Battlestar Olympus
Captain Sharon Agathon lay on her back on her almost-too-comfortable bed, staring at the bare ceiling of the simple cabin she and Carroq had been assigned.
She stared upwards, and silently counted to one hundred. It was her third such repetition.
The only sound in the cabin was Carroq's throaty snores. Only her Oath as an Officer in the Colonial Fleet kept Athena from crushing the man's windpipe like cardboard.
She sighed, threw an arm over her eyes, and began counting again.
2359 Hours GMT
CIC, Terran Battlestar Olympus
Lieutenant Commander Pieter Grossman stood at the planning desk, glancing among the various AEGIS displays and mentally noted the positions of the ships being tracked.
He took a single long sip from his coffee mug and typed into a smaller screen set into the desk, making the necessary entry into the ship's logs.
0001 GMT / 21-July-2069
Recording: Lt.Cmdr Grossman, Senior Officer of the Watch
Case ZULU-Beta still stationary, no sign of hostile launches
Ship remains at Condition Two/Alert Two
Gold Wing on CAP 1; Silver Wing on Alert Deck
First Watch remains on elevated alert
Anticipate rendezvous with Bouhuchan by 0700 GMT today
This chore done, Grossman closed the log terminal and turned his attention back the main displays. "Twelve o'clock and all is vell," he muttered to himself with his typical Bavarian humor.
21 July 2069 Common Era
0755 Hours GMT
Conference Room Delta, "D" Deck
Terran Battlestar Olympus
Wearing a fresh uniform and her beret carefully perched atop her head, Colonel Kara Thrace marched into the long conference room normally reserved for meetings of all department heads. She'd seen it only once, when she and Rice had first come aboard seven days ago and the CO had seen fit to throw them a casual reception. It actually seemed far bigger back then, even when it was stuffed to the gills with officers and enlisted.
Walking in right then, seeing the three people occupying it, it suddenly felt a small as a Viper's cockpit. That Commander Avery-Hunter and Lieutenant Commander Callisto were both there was no surprise. The surprise came in the form of the third person, a civilian in a dark suit and loosened tie, his bright eyes focusing upon a transcript sitting before him.
Starbuck was fooled for a second by his seeming calm. After over a year-and-a-half of virtual co-habitation, she knew him entirely too well.
She quickly came to attention and snapped off a parade-worthy salute. "Commander. Mr. Secretary."
"Stand at ease, Colonel," Avery-Hunter nodded, his attention remaining fixed on the civilian, who continued to page through the transcript. Callisto just looked uncomfortable, which was unusual for her, to say the least.
Secretary of State Benjamin Richards turned yet another page and asked, "Is that your report, Colonel?"
"Yes...sir." Starbuck flinched at her momentary hesitation, momentarily stunned by the implications of Richard's presence.
She'd known the Secretariat was sending in senior people; Lords knew she'd been consulted regularly enough about what to do if and when her people ever actually made it into sight of Sol. It shouldn't have been that much a surprise really. Benjamin had been the linguist who had talked her down from doing anything stupid when she'd first woken up inside Nellis, and had stayed with her, teaching her about the new, maddenly complex world she'd landed in. Now he was much, much more than just a talented linguist.
But...forgetting it was Benjamin for a moment...what did it mean to have the Secretary of State himself come out here, as opposed to one of his minions as she'd always suggested? Never mind make it here as fast as he clearly had? Also, there wasn't anyone uniformed or otherwise from the Octagon present. Clearly, some serious decisions had been made very quickly back planetside.
Starbuck wasn't sure she wanted to know what they were at this point.
Rather than ponder these dark thoughts further, she turned her attention back to the pair of slate-gray eyes that had finally deigned to look up from their reading and address her directly. Starbuck handed the pages across the table to Avery-Hunter, who took them without comment.
"Is there anything substantially different from Major Taylor's account?" Richards asked. "I presume you've read it."
"I glanced through it after completing my own report this morning. The only substantive addition is a short conversation Admiral Rice and I had with Major Agathon that neither Major Taylor nor either of his men were present for."
"Major Agathon being the husband of our guest?" Callisto asked.
"That is correct, XO." She moved to hand the pages over to the Commander, only to have it immediately intercepted by the Secretary. Avery-Hunter did not offer any vocal protest at this, although Callisto's scowl communicated all that was needed.
"Anything of note from that discussion?" Richards prompted as he scanned the report.
Starbuck shook her head. "Just the confirmation that the Old Ma...that Admiral Adama is still in command of the Fleet."
"Nothing else?"
"I...didn't feel that moment was appropriate to play catch-up concerning my former crewmates."
Richards nodded and motioned her to sit. "I commend your restraint. If it were me, I'd be demanding to know all sorts of things." He sat forward, eyes narrowed. "Like if there's a new President of the Colonies or not. Like how many ships we can expect. How many refugees are aboard those ships."
Starbuck met his stare with one of her own. "My mission aboard Nemesis was to assess if the ship and its crew posed a direct military or environmental threat to Earth. Not to play one hundred questions. Sir." She gave him the nastiest glare she could summon. "Why am I answering to you any way, Mr. Secretary? Shouldn't one of the U-Secs from the Octagon be here?" She was referring to the four Undersecretaries who were the civilian heads of the uniformed defense services. In truth, she was grateful none of them were present as her relationship with each of them tended to be on the...cantankerous side.
"Cornwell is running things from under the Octagon right now. Kearns and Wiu were both still off-world as of yesterday and the Secretary General wanted someone out here ASAP to represent the Secretariat here."
Starbuck hesitated a moment before asking, "What about...?"
"Baker has been under sedation since you declared Case ZULU."
Starbuck didn't know what to say to that. Clearly, neither did either Avery-Hunter or Callisto. Richards took advantage of their momentary shock. "Commander? I'd like a moment alone with Colonel Thrace." Despite his tone, it wasn't a question or even a polite request. Both Avery-Hunter and Callisto looked ready to refuse it all the same. A short, sharp nod from Starbuck stopped either from responding.
Both officers stood and quit the room, both registering their protests silently as they left. Once the hatch closed behind them, the Secretary of State turned his eyes directly on the Commander, Combined Air Wings of the Terran Fleet.
"I don't know what I'm more pissed off at, Colonel," Richards stated bluntly in perfect Colonial. "The fact you got off-planet without my knowing first, or you're still being out here with Case ZULU declared." He gave a deep sigh and redirected his eyes to the ceiling. "Where's Shan?"
"Lieutenant Mahan is in a secured location, Sir," Colonel Thrace reported woodenly.
"Fine. I don't want to know precisely where." He took another fortifying breath, an ugly grin turning his lips about. "The Lords of Kobol are right jokers aren't they?"
"I wouldn't know, Sir," Starbuck shot back.
Richards simply nodded. He folded his hands in front of him and looked at her directly. "Are you prepared to offer a firm opinion on all this?"
She met his eyes for just a moment, and then refocused on the table. "No, Sir."
"Figured as much. I'm going to be meeting with Captain Agathon and Mr. Carroq after this. I am not going to talk to them about this." He tapped a finger on the transcript. "That's between you and them alone. Lewis and the rest understand this is all 'Eyes-Only' and will find themselves out an airlock if they breathe one word of it.
"What I am going to talk to them about is what comes next. Any suggestions how to approach them?"
"Sharon's sharp. Plus she's married with a child, so she's motivated to..."
"I get that, and you know that's not what I'm asking. Give me your eyes, Kara. Please." Kara had to struggle to meet the request. She saw the same unflinching, simple honesty there she'd always come to expect from the man.
"What does your heart tell you?"
She took a single, deep breath.
Then told him.
To be concluded.