With the Weapons of a Woman
by Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction.
Author's notes: Yes, I know that canonically Cassiopeia was treated right after her arrival to the Galactica. I'm taking some poetic licence here to get the story into rolling.
Coda, according to Karen, is a small, deep red flower serving as the basics of a lot of medicines.
Also, Art Director John Chilberg originally wanted to have mullions in the big window, because he thought it looked unrealistic to have such a large window area unsupported structurally. However, Glen Larson liked the open, unsupported look better, so the mullions had to go. Chilberg won his battle for the pillars inside the bridge, though. In any case, I agree with him about the structural necessities and gave the window the mullions back. *g*
Chapter 06 – Unexpected Chances
In the next morning, Serina was preparing Boxey for his appointment with Life Station, when the doorbell rang. A sweet-faced young woman, presumably from one of the agrist colonies, stood at her threshold, with a corporal's rank pins on her blue-and-silver bridge uniform.
"Flight Controller Rigel," she introduced herself. "Colonel Tigh sent me to show you to Core Command. He wishes to speak with you on the Commander's behalf."
Serina was a little shocked by that piece of news. She knew Colonel Tigh from hearsay, of course – everyone did. Tigh was a legend of his own, almost as much as the Commander himself. He'd been through many battles with his Commander, first as Adama's wingman, then as his aide, and was famous of his brutal honesty. That had cost him the command of a Battlestar at least once, it was said. But unlike Adama, he was nigh invisible; few people had ever met him, save from those under his command, and no-one from the press. Ever.
"I'd be glad to do the Colonel the favour," Serina said, "but I've got an appointment with Life Station for my son, and I don't think they'd be able to reschedule, considering how much work they have right now."
"What time?" Rigel glanced at her wrist chrono. Serina gave her the exact time, and she smiled. "Oh, that will be all right then. You'll be able to keep your appointment. The Colonel is a man of very few words."
"But where can I leave Boxey in the meantime?" Serina asked in concern.
"Oh, I'm sure Corporal Kalliope will be happy to look after him for a while," Rigel said. "She's good with kids; used to be the oldest of six siblings; and she'll be off-duty as soon as I relieve him. Besides, as I said, it won't take long."
Serina was not that sure about the whole affair, but she really had no choice. So she took Boxey's hand and followed Corporal Rigel to the command deck of the Galactica, to see what the Commander's second-in-command might want from her.
This was Serina's first direct glance at Core Command, basically the bridge of the Battlestar, and she had to admit that the sight was sheer overwhelming. Alone the size of it would have made anyone breathless, and there was also so much to see there: the rotating command post, the monitoring stations, the helmsman's console, the flight controller's post, medical and communications stations, and so on. Not to mention a window area so large it had to be supported by mullions, which offered a real time view at the surrounding space. The interior of the immense, oval-shaped chamber was painted in that drab, military-issue colour known as "Battlestar grey", but that didn't make the place any less stunning. In fact, it helped to focus everyone's attention on the colourful monitors displaying necessary information about various things she couldn't even begin to understand.
A short, elegantly greying, dark-skinned man with the classical features only seen in very ancient Libran families stood at the railing of the rotating command post, the rank pins of a colonel on his silver-and-blue uniform. His dark eyes were watching the bridge chrono sternly and only eased a bit when Rigel, Athena and several other bridge officers came in, microns before the bell signalling the change of watches would sound.
"Omega," he said in a deep, somewhat hoarse voice often heard among Librans, "take over for me. I need to do something for the Commander. It won't take long."
A tall, dark-haired flag lieutenant rose from the central monitoring station and stepped up to the command post. Serina recognized him at once, although they'd never actually met in person. It was Orpheus, a younger son from the House of Lares – one of the richest, most influential patrician families of Caprica. Not that that would have counted after the Destruction, of course. But he was well-known for having Sealed with a commoner… it had been the newest scandal among Caprican nobility, even though his wife had come from a respectable family.
To general surprise, his family had accepted his low-born bride without any protests, it was said. A rare thing for Caprican aristocracy; but then again, he was the younger son of a younger son, so he could afford to be more… liberal than his older brothers. Still they had been all over the news a few yahrens ago, from their Sealing to the birth of their children. Serina wondered if anyone else of the family had survived. By the haunted looks of the man, they probably hadn't.
Colonel Tigh gestured her to follow him to the small conference area, separated from the main room by a beautiful, translucent star map.
"Serina, daughter of Lyra, I presume?" he began without preamble.
Serina nodded. "Colonel. What is this all about?"
"I've seen your application for a job with Central Data Services," at her surprise, he gave her the ghost of a smile. "Well, you sent it to the head of Services, and that happens to be me. As Commander Adama's chief aide, I am the one responsible for data storage and archiving. In any case, I've looked up your credentials. They're impressive."
"Thank you," she murmured demurely, because there was definitely a but coming.
"In fact, they're way too good for Central Data Services, and we both know that," he continued.
Serina started getting nervous. "It doesn't matter, Colonel. I need the job. I've got a dependant, a small boy of six yahrens, and…"
"I didn't say I'd reject your application," he interrupted. "But I want you to work for me – for us – in a different capacity."
"Which would be?" Serina asked suspiciously.
Tigh sighed. "We're on an epic journey through the great unknown, heading towards a mythical destination. This hasn't been done since our ancestors left Kobol, millennia ago. The Commander wants our journey to be documented, in minute detail, so that future generations – assuming there would be any – would know what we have done and what it cost us."
"You truly believe that there is a planet Earth?" Serina asked doubtfully. "That one day, we'll find the world of our origins and be reunited with our long-lost brethren?"
"I don't know; nor do I truly care," Tigh admitted with a shrug. "For all that I'm the son of a priestess and spent my childhood in the Old Temple of Arbor, I've turned out quite the agnostic, I'm afraid. But I believe in Adama; I always have, and he never disappointed me. Whether Earth truly exists or not, our people need hope. Adama is the only one who can give them that. The only one who can hold our people together."
Serina nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Yes, I can see that."
"Good," Tigh said. "Then you can perhaps also see why documenting our journey would be so important. We've lost everything that belonged to our past, and whether we're going to have a future is still uncertain. All we have is our present. We need new traditions; we need proof that we're indeed making some progress, no matter how slow it might be, for people to be able to go on."
"But isn't that what IFB is doing?" Serina asked.
Tigh shook his head. "No. IFB is building a cult of her worship around our warriors; not that they wouldn't deserve it. They deserve that and more. But what our people will need in the long run is the truth. Small facts, put together to make up the big picture with painstaking accuracy. You have the qualification to do exactly that. Do you have the will, too?"
"I can certainly try," Serina said, still a bit doubtful.
"It won't be as spectacular and satisfying as working for IFB," Tigh warned. "For the first yahrens, no-one would even know what you're doing here. And we can't offer much in exchange: a place to live, and a salary that's slightly better than if you'd work for Central Data Services. That's all we can do."
Serina gave the offer some thought. From a merely professional point of view, this wasn't what she'd hoped for. Despite the payment difference, Central Data Services would offer her better chances to gain access to all kinds of information she'd want. Perhaps that was the exact reason why they'd rather create this position for her: to utilize her talents without letting a nosy newswoman too close to sensitive information. She had to give them that: they were handing this very shrewdly.
On the other hand, this position would grant her access to social circles she probably wouldn't be able to reach. Working for the Commander directly, even if people didn't understand what it was that she did, meant an immediate rise in importance and reputation… plus, there'd be the inevitable chances to meet the de facto ruling family on a semi-regular basis, without going great lengths to make it look casual or accidental.
Yes, the social advantages definitely outweighed the professional setback. So the decision was an easy one.
"If I can have an office where I could work, even if it's only a walk-in locker, I'll gladly take the job," she said slowly. "My quarters aren't exactly fitting for such work. Especially not with a small child around."
"Of course," Tigh replied; clearly having taken that aspect of the job under consideration. "The Commander's personal yeoman, sadly, died at Cimtar, and since there won't be any correspondence to do in the foreseeable future, he won't need a new one. You can use the yeoman's office in the Commander's anteroom. I'll send someone to show you the way – after you've had your appointment with Life Station."
It was clearly a dismissal if Serina ever head one. So she thanked the Colonel for everything and left, understanding that there weren't many things aboard the Galactica the Commander's aide would not know about. That was an important thing to remember.
She picked up Boxey, who was having an animated conversation with Corporal Kalliope (who seemed awfully young to be in service already) about daggits. Apparently, the corporal's father had used to breed them, which meant for Boxey that she must have been a nice person. She also seemed to enjoy being with small children; another thing Serina made a mental note of, in future uses when she might need a babysitter.
She asked for directions and took Boxey to Life station. A harried-looking med tech created medical files for them, as like most civilians, they hadn't been registered in the Battlestar's medical archives. Again, Serina found it better to give his own son's data, in the hope she'd be able to correct the birth yahren later. If not, that shouldn't be such a big problem, either. Small children ought to look malnourished after having spent sectares in an emergency shelter, after all.
When all administrative steps were made, Boxey was taken to one of the examination rooms by a middle-aged, balding doctor with a round, deeply lined face, whom all medical personnel seemed to respect a great deal. He must have been Dr. Salik, Serina decided; and he seemed used to be obeyed without being asked any questions. Such was his natural authority that Boxey went with him without the usual protests when manhandled by strangers.
The med tech asked Serina to wait in the locker area, as Dr. Paye was still with another patient. Serina wasn't particularly excited about meeting Patroclus so soon, but that couldn't be helped. Besides, they would have run into each other sooner or later. And in any case, Patroclus was a fair and discreet man. He might not wish to patronize her any longer, but he wouldn't throw any stones into her way, either.
So she did as she'd been asked, peeking into the examination room carefully, as she was curious who the other patient might be.
Well, it certainly wasn't anything she'd have expected to see aboard a Battlestar.
She spotted Patroclus first in the brightly-lit room rooms. Working gently, the doctor was positioning the broken arm of his patient inside a transparent cylindrical tubing which was connected to a larger, more impressive set of medical machinery. But the machinery wasn't what caught Serina's attention. It was the patient – a tall, slim blonde, with blue eyes and a hairdo one would expect to see in chancery or in one of the expensive, shady bars. She was clearly a Gemon, wearing a flowing, translucent gown made of some reddish gauze, adorned with a gold fringe on its hems. It left her neck, arms and entire back bare, while there were shreds of the same fabric wrapped around her upper arms.
Patroclus finished placing the arm, then he touched it carefully.
"Do you feel any pain?" he asked.
The blonde shook her head, looking at him through her long eyelashes with almost-convincing admiration.
"Not at all," she replied in a child-like voice. "My arm feels… numb."
"As it should be," Patroclus replied.
Now that he had the arm in place, he drew out something that looked like a trio of gun barrels from inside a cavity of one of the machines. After each gun barrel had been pointed at a different area of the arm within the tube, he pressed a series of buttons and faint, laser-like beams came out of the gun barrels. As soon as the beams had penetrated the transparent surface of the tubing, they were diffused, entering the arm at several points.
"What are you feeling?" he asked. "Is the arm still numb?"
"N-no," the blonde said, biting her lower lip. "It's a… a sharp, tingling sensation."
"Good," Patroclus pressed the buttons again, and the gun barrels retracted back into the machine. "It means the bone has knitted properly," he removed her arm from the transparent tubing and smiled at her, with a not-entirely-professional interest. "Better?"
The blonde stretched the arm, and then folded it. "Feels like it hadn't even been broken," she said happily.
Patroclus scanned the arm with a small, hand-held device and nodded contentedly. "The bone has been fused whole," he said, his voice more professional now. "It's probably even stronger than before."
"It's wonderful!" were there actual tears in those blue eyes? Damn, Serina thought, but she's really good! "Thank you, doctor!"
"With equipment like this, I'm just a mechanic," Patroclus replied with a tolerant smile. "A talented mechanic, to be sure, but just a mechanic. Anything else I can do for you, Cassiopeia?"
Cassiopeia? Where had she heard that name before? Patroclus' offer seemed to mean more than mere medical attention – did he know the woman from before? Serina gave that pretty face a good, hard look, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember where they might have met in the past.
The woman raised an artfully plucked eyebrow at the doctor. "I sense a price tag," she said bluntly. "Would you be this helpful if I weren't a socialator?"
A socialator! Now Serina recognized the gold fringe decorating that very revealing garb; not only a socialator, but one of the high-class escorts that had – or had used to have – a respected status within the Labyrinth. Whatever Capricans might think about them, socialators were an important part of Gemoni religion and society. How did one of them, and one of considerable importance by the sight of her, end up right here?
"I might," Patroclus answered her question with his customary self-confidence; he might have been a third son, but he still belonged to one of the Great Houses. "Then again, I might not."
"Very well," she said, sounding strangely business-like all of a sudden. "You know my intercom code. Make an appointment. But be discreet. I'll need the support of Lieutenant Starbuck to remain aboard this ship."
Starbuck! Wasn't that the name the two female pilots, Deitra and Brie were mentioning? Serina's curiosity was piqued. Now, perhaps she'd learn who that is!
From her hiding place, she could see the socialator leave Life Station. In the corridor outside, a young pilot was waiting for her, leaning laconically against a wall, still in flight gear. He had tousled, tawny hair, killer cheekbones and incredibly blue eyes – a ladies' man if Serina had ever seen one. The socialator went to him with carefully displayed hesitation and laid a slim hand upon his chest.
"You're going to take me back to the Gemini freighter, aren't you?" she asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
The pilot shrugged. "It isn't easy to cop a ride around here," he said.
She turned away from him, the blood visibly draining out of her pretty face. "I dread returning to that ship," she whispered.
Serina couldn't blame her for that. Like all other ships, the Gemini freighters where crowded with hungry, sick and disoriented people. And if some of them happened to belong to the Otori sect, they would easily pick a socialator – someone they would consider dirty, worse than daggit meat – as a convenient sacrifice for their frustrations. The pilot seemed to understand that, too, because he patted Cassiopeia's freshly healed arm encouragingly.
"Look, maybe I can check around, see if there's anyplace else you can stay. There're better ships, might even be space aboard the Galactica."
She looked at him with some doubt. "And you're going to do this out of the goodness of your heart?"
The pilot rolled his eyes. "Look, really, I just want to help you. Nothing personal."
"nothing personal?" she repeated doubtfully.
"Well, something personal," he admitted. "But I'll still locate some quarters for you. And that's all," he flashed her a smile that was positively blinding. "You can broke my arm if I'm lying. 'course it might be worth a broken arm…"
"All right, all right," the socialator laughed.
The pilot raised an eyebrow. "It's a deal then?"
"I think you've made a terrible deal," she replied, "but all right."
The pilot smiled genially as he took her arm, the one that Patroclus had just repaired at the Life Station, and led her down the corridor. Serina felt something akin to envy, watching the game played out with such professionalism. Of course, socialator training had to pay out, one way or another. Compared with this woman, even she counted as an amateur.
An amateur who could still play in the upper league, though. And now that she had identified a possible threat, she could plan her moves more carefully. The computer in her future office would have access to the ship's database. She'd be able to find out something about this woman… and her possible connections to Sire Uri and his friends. She was not about to let her chance being ruined by a socialator, of all people.
Right now, however, she had to get through her own physical, and the sooner she faced Patroclus again, the faster could she get out of Life Station. To say that the doctor was surprised to see her aboard the Galactica would have been an understatement; shocked would have been more accurate.
"Serina!" he said. "What are you doing here?"
"I've been relocated to the Galactica for Boxey's sake," she replied with her sweetest smile. "Courtesy of Captain Apollo. He found that the boy was dangerously weakened and needed medical assistance."
"Captain Apollo, eh?" Patroclus raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "You're playing in the upper league now?"
"Actually, I am," she answered calmly. "I'll be working for Commander Adama, as the chronist of the Fleet's journey, effective today."
Patroclus whistled. "By Sagan, that was fast! I'm impressed. Well, I guess congratulations are in order. You've come for your physical, I presume?"
Serina nodded. "They told me it would be obligatory for everyone who comas aboard a Battlestar."
"It is," unexpectedly, Patroclus smiled at her. "And since you're here, and we have all the necessary equipment at hand, let's do it properly. It will take time to run all the tests, though; where have you left the kid?"
"His name's Boxey, not the kid," Serina said sharply. "And he's having his own tests right now."
"What did you tell Captain Apollo, who he is?" Patroclus asked, preparing his instruments.
"The truth," she answered simply. "He found it… commendable that I'd take in a child who isn't even my own, it seems."
Patroclus shook his head in tolerant amusement. "You always land on your feet, don't you? Just like a felix."
"And I don't have any other weapons to fend for myself and for those who depend on me than my wits and my skills," she retorted. "Just like a felix, surrounded by vulpines."
"True enough," Patroclus admitted. "Well, I wish you the best of luck… and don't worry about me. I won't do anything to make things more difficult for you."
She smiled at him. "I know that; you're an honest man; and we did have a good time, didn't we?"
"The best," he agreed. "Well then, let's get you through the examinations, so that you can continue on your way to greatness. You deserve to succeed."
To his credit, he did a thorough job. He ran every test Serina had ever heard of; and even a few she hadn't. One of the tests required taking a bone marrow sample, and it was quite painful, which she told him in not uncertain terms.
"I'm really sorry," Patroclus apologized," but there's no other way to do this."
"What do you need a bone marrow sample for?" Serina asked.
"I want to test it for Pluton poisoning," he answered grimly.
Serina blanched. "Why? Do you think I might have been exposed to Pluton weapons?"
"I hope not," he said in honest concern, "but you did spend sectares on the bombed-down Caprica, and we've already found one patient among the survivors with suspicious symptoms. So… better safe than sorry, I'd say. The little discomfort is worth making sure that you're all right."
Serina nodded glumly. He was right, of course, but that didn't make her feel any better.
"Who's the patient… the one with the symptoms?" she asked.
Patroclus shook his head. "You know I can't tell you that; besides, we aren't even sure yet that it's indeed Pluton poisoning. The tests are complicated and take sectares to be completed. That's why we only make them when there are suspicious symptoms… or in case of old acquaintances and family members," he added with a small smile.
"Which category did that blonde socialator fit?" Serina asked. "The one who'd just tried to get into your pants? Or was it you, trying to get into her pants?"
"Neither of those things," he answered with a shrug. "She's a high-class socialator, with an academy-level education. Women like her were trained in arcane techniques of healing; techniques that are very effective in minor cases of malady and discomfort, and they don't require any medication… which, as you might know, is on the short side right now. Until they can harvest the next bunch of coda, we won't be able to produce medical supplies."
"You want to offer her a job?" she asked in surprise.
Patroclus nodded. "Yeah, why not? Medical personnel is hopelessly overworked; we need more people here with all the patients coming in from all over the Fleet, and socialators are generally good with people. Would there be more of us, we might be able to set up other clinics on other ships, but as things are right now, we can barely man the Life Station of the Galactica."
"And you really think that a high-class socialator would be willing to serve as a med tech aboard a Battlestar?" Serina couldn't really imagine that. Given their importance in Gemoni society, socialators, especially high-class ones, usually considered themselves celebrities and only accepted the richest, most important customers from other colonies.
Patroclus shrugged indifferently. "Perhaps not right away. But the Labyrinth is gone, and she can't count on the support of the high priestesses, since she was a commercial socialator, not a sacral one."
"You know her?" Serina asked in surprise. She hadn't thought him to be one to patronize paid company.
"Not personally," he replied. "But I've seen her several times in the company of Commander Caine. She used to be his permanent escort; they even made it onto the front page of society magazines a few times, if memory serves me well. And before him, she'd been seen with Sire Geller, too, on parties organized by Sire Uri."
"All elderly, or at least mature men," Serina said thoughtfully. "What would she want from such a young pilot then? And from one without an old and respected bloodline? That's not her usual prey schema."
"Perhaps she simply can't afford to be choosy," Patroclus replied cynically. Then he gave her a questioning look. "Are you afraid that she might ruin your plans?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "Should I?"
Patroclus thought about that for a micron; then he shook his head.
"No, I don't think so. Captain Apollo is a very serious-minded young man, with clear – you could even say a little rigid – moral principles. He'd find patronizing a socialator morally unacceptable for his rank and his status as the heir of the Adamans. As for the Commander – he is not Caine. He's a deeply religious man; a devout Kobolian who's still mourning his wife. Neither of them is inclined to seek out such distractions."
"Nor would they find some of my former… choices acceptable, I'm afraid," Serina murmured. "I know you won't tell anyone, but a lot of people around Sire Uri knew that I used to be your dependant… and the people in the shelter, after the bombing of Caprica, must have at least guessed what kind of price I paid for Sire Antipas' favour."
"You need not to worry about Antipas," Patroclus said grimly.
The tone of his voice startled Serina. "Is he dead?"
"No," the doctor said. "At least not yet… but he's in a bad shape. We're not sure we'll be able to save him."
"His arm… the infection.." Serina trailed off.
"Among other things, yes," Patroclus sighed. "Doctor Salik had to remove the arm, and we're currently fighting the blood poisoning, but… it doesn't look good."
"That's a shame," she said, and she meant it. "He wasn't a bad one as politicians go; saved a lot of people during the bombing. I hope he makes it."
"We all do, although what kind of life he could hope for, crippled and with no useful skills, is everyone's guess," Patroclus said. "In any case, if you're concerned about certain… aspects of your former life being revealed, you can do but one thing: tell Captain Apollo the truth. If you present it the right way, who know, he might even be able to deal with it."
"Or turn his back on me in shock and disgust," Serina said.
"Hardly," Patroclus replied. "He's already covered you in Boxey's case, so he's probably not as stiff as he sometimes seems. Also, he might be idealistic, but he's not naïve. He'll know that favours always have their prices. It would be a daring gamble, for sure, but the winnings could prove high… if your final goal is to get Sealed to him."
"I'm not sure yet myself," she admitted. "I prefer my men on a more mature side; and things are happening so fast anyway, I can barely keep up with all the changes."
"Then go slowly," he suggested. "Find out what you want and what you're willing to pay for it. I know you've always valued your freedom, but right now, having protection would be perhaps better for the immediate future."
That was a statement Serina couldn't really argue with; besides, as much as she valued her independence, she'd never set it before comfort. Still, if she truly wanted to ensnare Captain Apollo for life – something she wasn't entirely certain about yet – she'd need a plan very carefully and take multiple aspects under consideration. Aspects that couldn't always be brought under the same hat. Like winning Commander Adama's trust while supporting his daughter's ambitions to take her fate under her own hands, for example.
Which brought up the delicate question whether she ought to tell Athena that her… significant other was dallying with a socialator. Because – unlike the Commander's daughter – Serina knew men well enough to see that Lieutenant Starbuck was definitely interested in that blonde tramp. Caprican men usually had an unhealthy interest for things their official religion condemned, even if they weren't particularly religious; and Lieutenant Starbuck certainly didn't seem the religious type. Although one could never know, of course.
In any case, the question remained: should she warn Athena that she was about to lose her suitor to a socialator or not? Deitra seemed to think the relationship was doomed, but even if that was true, did she, Serina, want a skilled socialator worm her way into the extended family of the Adamans, via one of Captain Apollo's best friends? It was said that the Commander saw Lieutenant Starbuck almost as a son; should Cassiopeia manage to claw him, she'd gain access to the de facto ruling family of the entire Fleet. Did Serina truly want that kind of competition?
On the one hand, it would be an interesting challenge to test her skills against those of a professional – and what a trained socialator didn't know about men was not worth knowing, plain and simple. On the other hand, if she didn't play her cards right, she might lose the game, and that wasn't something she could afford.
She was still uncertain about what she ought to do when she picked up Boxey – who was declared physically healthy, just a little malnourished – and took him to Rejuvenation Centre for midday meal. To her surprise, there she ran into Lieutenant Athena, who seemed to be alone… and promptly asked if she could join them.
"Of course, Lieutenant… I mean, Athena," Serina corrected herself hurriedly. "This is my son, Boxey, by the way."
Athena smiled and held out her hand to the boy. "Hello Boxey, I'm Athena, the sister of Captain Apollo. I understand you know my brother?"
The boy took the proffered hand, looked at her with big brown eyes and nodded. "Are you a pilot, too?" he asked.
"Yes, I am, but not a Viper pilot like my brother," she explained readily. "I fly shuttles; but most of the time, I work on the bridge. See my uniform? Bridge officers wear blue, you know."
The boy gave said uniform a thorough look; then he shook his head. "I wanna be a Viper pilot," he declared. "Like Captain Apollo."
Serina wanted to kick the kid in the shin; fortunately, Athena took no offence.
"Wouldn't we all," she murmured, with just a hint of bitterness in her voice; then she turned to Serina. "Actually, I came with a message from my father: he'd like you to have dinner with us tonight. In his quarters. Nothing formal; he just wants to know you a little better. To tell the truth, so do we all."
"I'm flattered," Serina said, "Although I can't think of a reason why you should, truly. I've never been in your league."
"Perhaps," Athena replied, "but the courage you displayed while transmitting the pictures about the Destruction, and later the way you calmed down the angry mob on Caprica, have impressed both Father and Apollo. That was part of the reason why Father had Tigh offer you a job."
Serina blushed, which rarely happened to her. "I'll do my best to prove worth the Commander's trust," she said. "But I'm afraid I don't have anything to wear for an occasion like that. We didn't exactly have the time to pack before leaving the planet."
"I'll take you to the Wardrobe, as soon as I've got off-duty," Athena promised. "We'd had… casualties, and their personal belongings were stored, unless they had surviving family that would claim their things. I know it sounds a bit like grave robbery, but…" she shrugged. "Throwing away valuable resources would be a criminal waste, especially as the Textiles Ship hasn't begun producing yet. For a while, we'll have to shop second-hand, I guess."
"There are worse things," Serina, who'd been forced to do that before by financial means, replied. "Do you think Child Care Centre could send me a babysitter for Boxey? I wouldn't like to leave him alone in our quarters."
"You don't have to," Athena said. "Father wants the boy to come, too. Apollo told us the whole story," she added in a low voice, "and Father decided he wanted to meet him."
"We're truly honoured," Serina answered. "And we thankfully accept, of course."
They made arrangements for the shopping tour, and then Athena left, returning to the bridge. Serina got lunch for Boxey and for herself, but she was so nervous and excited that she could barely eat. All that sudden good luck almost frightened her. She wasn't superstitious by nature, but didn't they say that too much good luck usually had a very high price afterwards?
Boxey, blessed with the ignorance of a small child, didn't notice her near-anxiety. He was happy and excited by the chance to meet his hero, Captain Apollo, soon. Now that he'd overcome his sullen mood, he was a truly charming kid; Serina only hoped Commander Adama would be of the same opinion.
~TBC~