Chapter Six
Kara tossed another card onto the scattered deck of them, and then another, creating a rhythm. Slap. Pause. Slap. Pause.
If the guard was half as irritated as he looked, she was satisfied with the results of her activity.
The clank of the hatch, however, distracted them both. Kara glanced up, only mildly interested. Could be a break out. Could be dinner. Could be that gods damned psychologist begging for punishment. Since so far the Admiral had denied her any other visitors, recent history told her to expect one of the latter.
The guard stood at attention as the President stepped over the ledge and calmly strolled into the brig, hands clasped behind her. She looked around for a moment, almost as if she'd expected to find something else behind the hatch.
Kara threw another card, the movement a little defiant, eyes on the older woman's face.
Roslin turned to her then, full force, "Captain."
"Madam President," no inflection. She dropped the cards, let them fall where they may and stood, dusting invisible dirt off her palms onto her pants.
A silence stretched between them and Kara wondered if this was because Roslin was trying to think of how to say what she'd come here for, or if this were some sort of intimidation tactic.
The formidable brunette crossed her arms and tilted her head, "It seems you have an ally on the outside." Her voice was smooth, no emotion showing through.
"As opposed to all the allies I have on the inside?" she smiled, a little frenzied gleam in her eyes, and gestured widely to the empty brig.
The President made that little humming sound that meant she wasn't going to dignify your statement with a reply.
"Major Adama came to see me. He has told me quite a tale about you…he seems to think I might be more receptive to it than his father."
Kara laughed. There was humor in the sound of it, but there was bitterness at its center and pain along the edges, "That shouldn't prove too hard."
Roslin gave the first hint of a genuine smile since entering the room.
"Maybe." So noncommittal.
Kara narrowed her eyes, "So if you don't believe him, why are you here?"
"Oh, I believe he believes it," Roslin took another step towards her, "And…I think it's possible that you believe it…"
"Why would I lie?"
"You tell me, Captain."
It was Kara's turn to not dignify her opponent with a reply.
"We found nothing at the Ionian Nebula. Not a road sign, not a marker, a beacon. Not so much as a large rock. Even the cylons turned away after going to the trouble of following us there."
"That still doesn't explain why you're here," Kara's fingers flexed, digging into the wall behind her.
"Oh, but you see, it does, Captain. Because that leaves us exactly nowhere on the way to Earth. Which means-"
"That even a cracked-up, delusional story from a burned-out pilot claiming she's been to Earth and back might be worth listening to?" The bitter words all but spilled out of her, pooling at her feet like poison she had to wade through to bring them the truth.
The President just raised a brow and smiled a bit. Touché.
"The Major claims you are responsible for our avoiding any loss of life at the Nebula-on three ships you mentioned by name to the Admiral," Roslin's eyes narrowed, as if she were staring straight through her to the back of Kara's skull.
What? Was that a bad thing now?
"I apologize," Kara shot back smartly, "It won't happen again."
The President's already hard look took on a meaner edge.
"He also claims you know the names of the Cylons that Baltar calls 'The Final Five.'"
"Why would you believe me about that, and not about Earth?" Kara pushed herself off the wall and took a step forward, growing more frustrated by the moment, "Who cares about the frakkin' Final Five when we can just jump to Earth and be done with it?"
"With those five Cylons in our fleet?" Roslin's voice was unnaturally calm now; dangerous.
Kara laughed again. She walked a fine line between fatigue and hysteria. This was all too much.
"Arriving at Earth with a few Cylons in tow might not be the end of the world you imagine, Madam President. Trust me on this one."
"Hmm," the older woman's eyes searched her face as if for proof of something, "Spoken like a true Cylon, herself."
Kara expelled a disbelieving breath, "Oh. Ok. Now I get it. That's what this whole thing is about. That's why you're here. Lee told you about me and you've decided it's somehow proof of my being a Cylon." She threw her hands up in the air, exhausted, exasperated.
"What is it withyou people and thinking I'm a Cylon? Maybe I just know the way to Earth!"
"You suddenly just know the way to Earth," skepticism dripped from the President's clipped words.
"You sound just like the Old Man," Kara bit out, pivoting away to pace.
Roslin stood calmly, following Kara's impatient movements with her eyes. "Tell me who the Final Five are, Captain. Prove yourself with that, and then we can talk about Earth."
Kara halted, mid-stride, "And how will you know if I'm telling the truth about The Five?"
Roslin held her arms behind her again, rocked forward on her right foot just a little. There was nothing restless or uncomfortable about her movements, on the contrary she seemed more relaxed, controlled than ever. It was like a dance with her. Each move a calculation for the upper hand.
"I should think their reactions when confronted altogether- by surprise of course-should be incriminating enough. Barring that, there are lie detectors within the Fleet. I'm sure we could put one of them to use."
Kara merely shook her head, brows lowering. The better part of her couldn't even be bothered to care about this line of questioning, "And if none of that works?"
"It'll have to."
Kara began pacing again, "Let's say I did that-gave you the Final Five in our fleet. Let's say then that you're satisfied that I'm telling the truth about them. Then what? I have to jump through some more hoops? Or can I just finally frakkin' enter the numbers, because I am telling you Madam President…I know the way. Every moment that passes by is a moment wasted. A moment that could be spent building a new life on that planet."
"Or this could just be some sort of Cylon trick and you could jump us into the middle of an ambush. Or…" The dark-haired woman's expression turned softer, almost sympathetic, "You could just be very ill, Captain Thrace."
"If those are the options, then I ask you again-why even come here, Madam President? I'm sure you have better things to do with your time," it burned behind her eyes now, she knew her face was flushing. Just when she thought they couldn't touch her, couldn't hurt her anymore, the bitter shell cracked and failed her.
Roslin took a thoughtful moment before speaking, "I suppose…it's because I once asked you to believe in my 'delusional' rantings as well. And you risked your life to do so. I feel like I should at least try…to return the favor."
"So let me. Let me take us home," Kara said, quiet but insistent. She clenched her fingers into useless fists.
"I'm sorry, Captain. I can't do that." The softness was still there but it was wrapped in steel. "I want the name of those five Cylons."
Kara stared at her, weighing her options.
Revealing the names of the Final Five would only make things worse at this point, wouldn't it? We're people on this ship ready to know that the people they worked side by side with were Cylons? Last time there had been the promise of Earth wrapped up in the deal. This time, she knew better. The Final Five only knew the way to a destroyed planet. And even then it had been through her frakkin' viper which was no longer in play. Adama would be destroyed again. Roslin would be betrayed. Distrust and mutiny throughout the entire fleet. Anarchy. And for what?
What was the point?
"And if I don't give them to you?" Kara finally managed.
Roslin tilted her head to the side, it reminded Kara of a snake coiling to strike, "Don't ask me that, Captain. You might not want to know the answer."
Roslin rotated as if to leave.
"I know about the cancer."
The President stood very still.
"I know that it's returned," Kara took a tentative step towards her, pleading. Angry at herself for doing it.
Laura Roslin turned back to her very slowly. Her eyes glistened, sharpened, "How can you know that? No one knows that."
"Because it's happened before, " Kara spoke quietly, eyes intent on the other woman's face.
"Cottle must have told you," Roslin's voice trembled ever so slightly.
"You know he wouldn't do that, Madam President," Kara watched her with sympathy now, brow furrowed, jaw tight.
The President offered no reply.
"The sooner I get us to Earth, the longer you can enjoy it," Kara kept her voice whisper soft; like an apology.
Roslin tilted her head slightly from side to side, visibly gathering herself together.
"Madam President-"
"I'll take what you've said into consideration," she smoothed out her expression, "I trust you'll do the same, Captain."
Kara sank slowly down to the floor again after the President disappeared through the hatch. She began to pick up the discarded cards one at a time, stacking them in her hand.
When she had all the cards, she tossed one down. Then the next.
Slap. Pause. Slap. Pause.
Kara laid her head back against the brig wall with a bored thunk, legs stretched out before her and crossed at the ankles. She flipped the page of her book after staring sightlessly at the print for several minutes. How was she supposed to concentrate on some light reading while the Fleet wandered aimlessly through space like a roving bulls eye for cylon attack.
She slapped the open book down on her lap and shoved a hand into her scalp, pulling the hair away from her eyes.
The hatch clanked and the wheel spun. There had been no visitors since the President had come by for that friendly threatening session. Not even that plague of a psychologist.
Dear gods she hoped it wasn't him again. Though giving him hell for a while was usually diverting. Kara slid her eyes over to her guard. He stood and focused on the opening hatch door. He seemed even more thrilled at the thought of a break in the monotony than she was.
An arm all geared up and clad in black was visible across the hatch's midsection as it swung open, then the lean form of compact muscle slid past the marine and entered the room with a curt dismissal to the outside guard.
The hatch groaned and sealed once more.
Kara felt a pleased smile pull at the corners of her mouth. She couldn't help it. Lee always managed to look even better when you hadn't been subjected to all those classic, boyish good looks for a while.
He had his hands in the pockets of his green fatigues as he strode up to the bars.
"Hey, Kara."
She rolled her head back against the wall, watching him with a sad little smile in her eyes.
"Hey, Lee."
He rested his shoulder against the bars and crossed his arms, his eyes traveling over her slowly as if he were recommitting her to memory. And yet, his expression somehow conveyed that she'd already been spending plenty of time there of late.
"So…how are they treating you?"
Kara rolled her eyes to the ceiling, lips pulling into a smirk, " Oh, you know... three squares a day... a visit from the doc...the occasional interrogation by the President of the Colonies…it's like my every frakking dream come true."
He tried to smile for her but he clearly wasn't buying it, "It took me this long just to convince my father to let me in to see you."
She looked down at her book again then glanced up at him through her lashes, chin tucked, "Are you going to stand out there the whole time?"
Lee shifted his jaw, "Admiral's orders," his acerbic tone painted a clear picture for Kara of what that father/son confrontation had been like.
"He says I'm too close to the situation. That I've compromised my perspective and lack focus," Lee ended the recitation with a sarcastic pull of his lips and a nod.
Kara felt a pang of guilt, unhappy to be the cause of a rift between two of the most important men in her life. None of that showed in her expression however as she lifted her brows, "Wow. Is that all?"
"Actually, no. I also have let my personal feelings cloud my better judgment-both as CAG, and as a colonial officer."
Kara bit into her lower lip and stared down at her lap. He had her to blame for that. No matter how well meaning her intentions, she always managed to frak Lee Adama up in one way or another.
"Kara, don't."
She looked up to meet his knowing gaze. She bristled under the weight of it. She hated being an open book.
"Don't what?" she muttered.
"Don't blame yourself."
She shrugged, uncomfortable.
A tense moment stretched out before them. Lee shifted a little on his shoulder after a while. She finally glanced up at him. His coaxing expression was so manipulatively endearing it was frakking impossible for a person to stay in a foul mood. Kara rolled her eyes again and gave in.
"I just wish you would have given me some warning you were coming, Lee. I could have been doing some pushups or something so you could say this seemed familiar," she joked, hoping he would play along.
He did.
"I don't know… me standing here… and you behind bars," he frowned lightly, "Feels pretty familiar."
Kara glanced down at her book to memorize the page number and swung her legs over the side of the cot. She laid the book down on the blanket and walked towards him.
He nodded in the direction of her cot, "What were you reading?"
She came to stand in front of him, hands curling around the bars on either side of his shoulder.
Kara lowered her tone and gave her words a bit of grandeur, "That would be Caprican Art: Masterpieces Predating the Articles of Colonization." She dropped her head to the side, "Your father lent it to me, along with several others."
"That was nice of him," Lee looked down to his left. Kara's gaze traced over the smooth curves and crisp slashes of his profile.
"Maybe I'd believe you, Lee, if your jaw wasn't so tight a bullet would glance off of it."
Lee stole a look at her out of the corner of his eyes, "Maybe I'd think it was nice of him if he wasn't the reason you were sitting in the brig in the first place."
Kara pulled a face and shrugged. He had her there.
Another long silence passed between them, but this one was familiar, comfortable. Kara leaned her head against the bars, that much closer to him.
"So a guy walks into a brig…" she teased.
Lee cocked his brow as she'd seen him do a thousand and one times before, meeting her gaze. Exasperation and superiority and tenderness. Lee.
"And there's this…this bad ass blond…," she frowned, still joking, "Stop me if you've heard this one before-"
"I think I have. A few times actually."
Kara narrowed her eyes, grinning a bit, "Oh yeah? Then how does it end?"
His eyes took on a serious glint, "I don't know yet."
The nostalgia and sense of weariness that lay over him like a bittersweet blanket of memory slowly wrapped around her as well. She licked her dry lips, "Do they end up happy, you think?"
He abruptly turned all the way towards her, oblivious to their audience of one, and leaned in, wrapping his hands over hers where they grasped the bars. Their eyes met like hands clasping or lips meeting. Like a spark of connection that predates a fire.
His voice was low, "I hope so."
When the guards came for her, she was past the ability to be surprised. Truth be told, she halfway expected them to drag her to the airlock first thing.
So the CIC was at least a cut above that, even if she was standing in the center of it with her hands bound behind her.
It was almost amusing the way the lights and sounds of the computers and the crew went on as if it were just business as usual.
Printouts slid out of machines. The consistent whir of dradis kept time with her breathing. Or perhaps she was keeping time with it.
She remained outwardly calm and waited. Inwardly, the rope pulled tighter, fraying, ready to snap.
Roslin indicated the FTL station, only feet away from where she'd been positioned.
"It's right there, Captain, according to you. The way to Earth."
Kara never blinked. In her mind's eye she lay back on that green grass and shut her eyes against the sun's warm rays, sweet winds' whispers all around.
"I'm not the one you need to be explaining that to, Madam President."
The older woman paced around her in a wide circle, watching. Behind her, the Admiral looked down at the ground.
"I want the names of those cylons in our fleet, Captain Thrace. Give them to me, and once we've found a way to verify what you've told us, you'll be released and brought back here. Mister Gaeta will step aside, and you will do us the honor of jumping us to Earth."
Kara turned her head slowly to meet the President's gaze, "Tempting… But I'll pass."
"Why?" the word, spoken so softly, would have seemed innocent coming from any other person. Coming from Roslin, it lashed like a whip. It tore through Kara's daydream, dispelling all thoughts of lush planets and peaceful futures.
Kara narrowed her eyes. She wasn't going to give up Sam, or the Chief, or Tigh, or even Tory for that matter for a bunch of people who didn't believe in her anyway. Trust went both ways.
"Because it will do more harm than good," Kara looked the older woman in the eye, they stared at each other, fire met steel. "I've thought this through, Madam President. Knowing that those we serve side by side with are cylons will only bring down morale, incite mutiny," Kara couldn't stop the disgusted look she shot Lt. Geata out of the corner of her eye. "Everything will go to hell in a hand basket while you figure out what to do with them. By the time you allow me to jump us to Earth-if you even do-there won't be much left to jump. Trust me, I know."
"But I don't…trust you…Captain Thrace." Laura Roslin gave the condemning words an almost lyrical rhythm, "That's the problem."
Kara thought about how lovely it would be to just turn around and show Laura Roslin her back as she strolled away, bound hands and all. Just leave the President standing there in the CIC to toil and spin her web without her to wrap at the center of it.
Roslin tightened the circle, pacing a little closer, "I think you're protecting them, because you're one of them."
Kara looked around a little. Maybe she should find out. Of course, there was the little matter of getting so far as the communication station without getting a bullet to the back.
Her aimless gaze fell on Saul Tigh. He was watching from the background with great interest though he was trying very hard not to show it.
"You're wrong," Kara returned simply, eyes on his. His eye widened considerably at her direct, knowing look. She returned her gaze to Roslin.
"The Final Five are of no threat to us. Knowing they're Cylons hasn't changed the fact that they've been human for as long as they can remember. They don't know any other way to be. Betraying us would be like betraying themselves…"
Kara felt less certain of this concerning Tory, but for the sake of Sam, Chief, and the old Colonel, she decided not to elaborate.
She shifted her eyes back to Tigh, "They're not like Boomer, Madam President. There is no hidden switch, some secret agenda programmed into their software. They're not sleeper agents. They're just…like us."
Tigh blinked and stared at her face as if she had just given him a gift. Kara had never seen that kind of look on the old Colonel's weathered face before. Certainly not directed at her. It was almost comical if she thought about it too long in the state she was in.
But it was all there, in his face. How could they not see it right before them? Tigh thought about it, constantly. He went to bed worrying about whom he would kill or betray, and he woke up hoping today wouldn't be the day that he did it.
There was a measure of satisfaction in knowing she had at least done this one thing right.
The sound of the President clearing her throat brought Kara out of her short-lived reverie.
"They're just like us." The way Roslin repeated her words didn't inspire Kara with confidence. She remained silent, cautious.
"An interesting message, Captain," a flick of her hand brought the guards to Kara's side, "And now I'm afraid you've forced me to send you a message as well."
Kara narrowed her eyes. Whatever was coming next, she knew she wasn't going to like it.
The President sounded genuinely regretful, "Guards, please escort Captain Thrace to the launch tube."
The Admiral glanced up quickly, clearly startled or putting on a good show of it.
Kara burst out laughing in the President's face, a nervous reaction, "You're going to airlock me? How is that going to help anyone?"
"I have reason to believe you are a Cylon, Captain. If you realize that you are out of choices and choose to reveal who the Final Five cylons in the Fleet are, then you will be released, unharmed. If you choose to keep your secret, you leave me no choice but to believe that I have at least eliminated one out of five." Roslin nodded sharply to the marines, "You have your orders."
A guard on either side of her took an arm in hand, Kara tried very hard not to panic as the realization of what was happening set in. Kara Thrace did not want to die. Not again.
She could barely hear Adama's low, broken voice over the blood rushing in her ears as they led her away. He and the President were following behind.
"And what if she's just suffering from a breakdown? What if she doesn't even know what she's saying? Then what? You've sentenced her to die for what? What crime? Burning out while serving the fleet?"
Kara didn't hear the President's reply. She was too far away; two more guards closing in behind her as she was hauled through the hatch and down the corridor without further ado. A man in uniform came alongside the guard latched onto her right arm. She glanced over with burning eyes and saw the XO.
Tigh stared at her, and an understanding passed between them. She hadn't sold them out; he owed her one. And he was coming along.