12 Years before cylon attack
William Adama age 52
Location: Caprica – Morrigan's Bar Outside Delphi Air Base Primus
Morrigan's usual assortment of working folk had been displaced tonight by half a squadron of drunken pilots. The air was clouded with the same cheap cigar smell and the drinks were still overpriced, but the background chatter had been replaced by roaring laughter and shouting.
William sat on a stool with his back against the bar counter in the midst of a circle of tables that had been allocated to storing glasses in varying stages of emptiness. Saul was on the stool to William's right, getting his drink refilled.
Three pilots in green fatigues, Getty, Bulldog, and Kicker leaned on each other for support while chanting something that William thought translated into; "Viper pilots in the sun, watch those Cylons run, grab your gun and watch 'em run!" but he couldn't be certain. Bushman and Redbone were inside the ring of tables arm in arm and dancing in circles in an attempt to make each other dizzy. Jackman and Arnold were at one of the left hand tables, doing shots with every round of Triad. Billyboy and Slavy had mysteriously acquired a Pyramid ball. They tossed it around near the back tables, darting in and out of the smoke haze.
Saul had turned around to watch the pilots with his full cup in hand. "Makes you miss being young eh?" he said with a nod toward them, but William only shook his head.
He knew better.
"Those days are over," he sighed. He set his untouched drink on the counter behind him. "They have been for a while now."
Saul's expression revealed a flicker of concern, but he didn't pursue it directly, instead he slid off his stool onto his feet.
"All right, you rabble!" shouted Tigh. "That's enough! Time for a toast!" The pilots all scrambled for the nearest glass with something in it, never mind whether it belonged to them or not. "I have seen some things in the service that you wouldn't believe, but I will tell you right now I have never seen a CAG as bad at paperwork as this man right here." He threw an arm across Adama's shoulders. "How you are going to survive as Columbia's XO—I will never know." The two veterans shared a brief smile and William suppressed both a chuckle and a spasm of anxiety. It's not really good-bye… yes it is.
"Here's to Bill Adama," continued Saul, "the worst CAG in the history of CAGs—and to the poor bastards who have him for an XO." There was a concordant shout from the pilots and they emptied their glasses.
William retrieved his whiskey off the counter behind him. Best to indulge them.
"I wouldn't have to do all that paperwork if I didn't have a squadron full of nuggetsthat can't fly!" he replied over their laughter. He lifted his glass to his mouth. "Honestly, you call yourselves pilots?" he said before taking a sip. While he downed the whiskey, another voice filtered through from the back of the room.
"I'll toast to that one," she said. The speaker emerged from the shadow of one of the corner tables and moved through the haze toward Adama. "We could out fly this whole sorry bunch."
Her voice wasn't quite the same as he recalled; it had lost some of its bite and she had on a brown leather jacket and plain clothes that were as near-civilian as he'd ever seen her. Her hair was no longer confined by a ponytail and was instead simply tucked behind her ears, giving her face a vaguely softer look. Even her old swagger was more subdued than he remembered, but William recognized her.
"Alexa." He smiled.
As she made her way toward the circle of tables, William glanced over his right shoulder and caught Saul grinning. Adama shifted his weight toward Tigh just enough to be heard over the general chatter.
"I'm gonna get you back," he said in low rumble, "for this whole thing."
Saul chuckled, "Sure Bill," and patted him on the shoulder before moving off to occupy the rest of the pilots with another story of how he or Adama had pulled it all out of the fire on some mission or other.
Alexa had paused to say hello to Danny, but when she reached William instead of shaking his hand, she hugged him in an uncharacteristic display of affection. There was a moment of hesitation before he returned the gesture.
"It's good to see you," she said when she stepped back.
He suddenly found himself feeling like he was meeting her for the first time all over again. Lurking in her chocolate brown eyes and her guarded smile, he could see clearly the junior officer who had joined the S.O. Division ten years ago and who had yet to know the loss of comrades or fear of death. At the same time, he saw the Alexa who was older now, who had been afraid, who had followed him off the precipice into an ill-fated quest for vengeance, and whose fanaticism had been tempered by grief. Still, no matter how much she had changed he felt the same warm sentiment, the sense of regained familiarity that comes with seeing old friends again.
He wished, for the first time that night, that he didn't have to leave.
"It's good to see you too," he said.
-xxx-
William unbuckled the restraints across his chest while the door to his Raptor lifted open. He sighed before easing out of his seat. So much for my flying days. He grabbed the duffel bag behind his seat by the strap and slung it over one shoulder on his way out. The rest of his possessions would follow in a day or two, but even in the four years since the divorce, he hadn't acquired much of anything that he couldn't carry in his duffel.
He paused at the exit and snapped to attention.
"Colonel William Adama, reporting for duty, sir," he said with a salute to the commander standing on the deck in front of him. "Request permission to come aboard."
"Granted," replied Commander DiMarco around the lit cigar in his mouth. If there was one word to describe Julian DiMarco it was blocky. From his cropped blonde hair, his square jaw and shoulders to the square frames of his glasses, DiMarco was a man composed almost entirely of right angles. "I'll walk you to your quarters," he said as soon as William retrieved his duffel and stepped off the Raptor onto the deck.
"I didn't know I warranted this kind of personal attention," said William. A chuckle escaped DiMarco's throat along with a puff of smoke from his cigar.
"I'm not one for sitting at my desk," he replied without elaborating. They made their way off the hangar deck into the sleek corridors of the battlestar Columbia. "I saw in your record that you were in Operation Raptor Talon."
"Yes, sir. It was a helluva way to end the war." Even now, William remembered his wingman, Banzai over the radio, his panicked "Columbia's gone!" mixed with the intermittent screams that were cut short as the original Columbiawas consumed in a flash of white and orange light. It was an eerie sensation, a slight prickling of the short hairs on the back of his neck that remained with him as he walked through her successor's halls, even though he knew the ships shared nothing more than their names. "I'm half expecting to run into a ghost here."
"I wouldn't be surprised if you did." William cast a sidelong look at his commander, but DiMarco's attention was elsewhere while he returned the salutes of a passing group of pilots. The two men turned down another corridor. "How much of a briefing did you get on The Program?" he asked. William suppressed a frown at the sudden change in subject.
"I was told it was experimental, but legal." The interrogation program was the reason that the new Columbiahad been built. In the belly of the ship was a network of cells, observation and interrogation rooms reserved for extracting information from prisoners whose high security status required them to be mobile. William didn't tell his commander that he had reservations. He didn't say that the inherent secrecy of The Program chafed against the democratic ideals that his father had instilled in him of civil liberties and due process of law. I'm a good soldier who does as he's told.
Instead, he listened without comment while DiMarco outlined the basics of their "unofficial" assignment and William's duties as XO, until they finally reached Adama's new quarters.
"Here you are." DiMarco waved the cigar in his hand toward the hatch. "I have to be in CIC before we start jumping out toward Ragnor. I'll see you tomorrow, morning watch, oh four hundred," he said.
"Yes, sir." William saluted then opened the hatch to his quarters.
The room had all of life's necessities, a bunk, desk, chairs, a head in the back, and storage space practically everywhere. He gently set his duffel down onto the floor. His new quarters were more living space than he'd ever had all to himself in his entire life and he found himself unsure of what he was going to do with it. He did the first thing that occurred to him; he unpacked the small collection of framed pictures he had stowed away in his duffel and arranged them on his new desk.
The first picture was of Lee with his arm over Zak's shoulders, smiling at the end of a day at the beach. There were a few more of his family and one of him and Tigh. The last picture he removed didn't have a frame yet. The bartender had taken it the night before, at Morrigan's. It was of him and Alexa laughing amid the crowd of pilots who had gathered for one last round of drinks before departing.
-x-
"So, did they finally kick you out?" asked William as he and Alexa grabbed chairs, sat down at one of the relatively clear tables and appropriated a Triad deck. Danny and Saul took up places beside them.
"Got promoted," she replied with another broad smile. She shuffled the cards in her hands with quick, sure movements. "And transferred. I'm doing prototype testing on Picon."
"Finally got away from that prick Marcus then?" asked Danny. There was a brief grimace around the table.
"Not exactly," she sighed. "He's my CO on the mark six project." She dealt out the cards to each of them in turn. "I'm not sure if he's a sadist or a masochist in requesting me, but it's better than flying a Raptor."
"Sooner or later everyone settles down," responded William coolly to her verbal jab. "A restless spirit like you? Never thought you'd take a planet-side assignment, but here we are."
She paused to check her cards. "I just got tired of sucking down recycled air."
"We gonna play, or what?" demanded Tigh. They all laughed and finally turned their attention to the game. In lieu of cubits, they bet shots and soon enough it evolved into a drinking contest more than a round of Triad.
-x-
A month later, William sat in his quarters aboard the Columbia finishing Tom Zarek's recently published manifesto, The Revolution Within.
My voice cannot be silenced. Nearly everyone has a price…the prison guard with a taste for little girls, the secretary who wishes her ex-boyfriend would simply 'disappear,' the delivery boy with a crippling indiscretion on his police record. Loyalty is made available in exchange for convenience. The universe provides.
William closed the back cover.
The picture Zarek had painted of the Colonies that William so faithfully served was not one of unity and democracy, but a set of tribal, divided states, held together by a common fear, a common enemy that went by the name of Cylon. Adama had seen first hand the truth of Zarek's words, but true words or not, Thomas J. Zarek was still a terrorist. Removing men like Zarek from civilization had brought peace to Sagittaron, it would quell the periodic uprisings on Aerelon, and it would keep the Taurons from crossing the line. That was what Adama believed. It's what he had to believe in order to keep serving. It was all he had left.
He set the book aside and took off the reading glasses that he loathed wearing. The glasses were another reminder of why he was here, sitting at a desk, spending his days in CIC instead of in a cockpit, he was finally at that point where he could no longer deny his age.
The transition from pilot to command staff had been difficult. Instead of the ache of hands, legs and chest at the end of a mission, he spent four hours a day staring at Dradis readouts until the muscles in the side of his neck cramped and spread in lines of tension down his shoulders into his back. When he listened to the wireless during the squadron's training exercises he would sometimes experience a sudden pang of nausea in the pit of his stomach. It was as if his body expected him to brace for high Gs, but because he was standing still, the conflicting information was causing some kind of reverse motion sickness.
Outside his duties in CIC he spent another two hours a day below decks, listening to smugglers, arms dealers, and mercenary captains, scream and cry and confess their sins under the attentions of Columbia's interrogators. He relieved all his pent up stress by boxing with Commander DiMarco twice a week, drinking himself to sleep a least one night a week and by reading books.
Unfortunately, wading through Zarek's pessimistic rhetoric was not relaxing. William sighed and leaned back in his chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger and closed his eyes.
A few moments later, there was a knock on the hatch.
"Colonel Adama?" asked an unfamiliar voice.
"Come in," he called.
The hatch opened and in stepped a young officer who was obviously not a part of Columbia's crew, but Adama recognized him by the blue sash across his chest. He was the type of officer who would find you wherever you were and that no one wanted to meet; Colonial Honor Guard. His cobalt blue eyes and sharp features made him the image of a perfect soldier, combined with his unadorned dress grays he looked as if he had been carved out of stone. Between his white gloved hands was a folded Colonial flag. He snapped to attention and saluted. William stood up and tried to fight down the rising tightness in his chest.
"Colonel Adama," began the senior lieutenant in a dull tone that suggested he had recited this litany too many times already, "I am sorry to inform you that Captain Alexa Ciazo has perished in the line of duty." The young man brought his hand down to rest on top of the flag again and continued without even blinking. "As a representative of the Colonial Fleet, it is my honor to present you this flag as a symbol of gratitude for her devoted service to the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."
William swallowed hard and went to reach for the flag in the young man's grasp, but his body refused to obey. This couldn't be true, it couldn't be. "If you remain in the S.O. Division half of you will likely be dead inside of five years. The remainder will be damn lucky if they make ten." Alexa had been like Danny, like him, one of the lucky ones. He had seen her just last month, happy, smiling, alive. He glanced down at the picture on left corner of his desk, of the two of them laughing.
-x-
"Okay, okay, one last toast, come on." Danny reached for a full shot of Ambrosia in the middle of the table and knocked over a few empty glasses in the attempt. Saul and Alexa scrambled to keep any of them from falling or breaking. "To pilots," he said.
Saul grabbed a whiskey shot and joined Danny. "To those of us left," he said soberly, "the lucky ones."
William paused with a look to Alexa and Saul before he leaned forward and picked up a glass. "To friends."
Alexa's glass joined theirs. "To family."
-x-
Adama stared at the folded colors still held between the pristine gloves, trying to make his tongue work. "What about her family—"
"You were listed as her next of kin, sir."
William remembered the first day they'd met. Piconese, born and bred. Knew how to get a job done. She had never shared more about herself than that. While the rest of them had spoken of families back home Alexa had simply spoken of Picon as home. In hindsight, it made sense to him. She had been so devoted because she had nothing else, no one else.
He was her family.
He finally reached over and took the flag. The fabric was smooth and cold under his palms.
"Thank you, lieutenant," he said, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper.
"Sir." The officer saluted. William returned it. He looked down at the flag in his hands while the young man turned to leave.
"Uh, lieutenant," said William without looking up, "I don't suppose you can tell me how she—how she died?"
"I'm sorry sir, that information is confidential."
"Thank you. That'll be all, lieutenant." He was alone again when the hatch clanged shut. William set the flag down gently onto the desk in front of him. His hand shook as his fingers ran over the fabric. Something wasn't right about this. He didn't know what it was, only that the man with the answers was Marcus Adar. He would at least know how she died, if nothing else. William remembered the promise he had made to Marcus, all those years before… "If one of my pilots ends up dead because of you or one of your team I'll geld you with a rusty pair of scissors."
He left his quarters in order to find Commander DiMarco. It was time to ask for a favor.
-xxx-
A week later, William stepped off a transport onto the solid ground of Picon. He had been granted a couple days leave because, as Commander DiMarco had said, loyalty worked in two directions. "Men like you, men like me, we have to give as much loyalty as we get. I chose you for that singular reason Bill, not your flight record. I won't stand in your way on this one. But I know you've been, uncomfortable, with some of what we do here. When you come back I expect you to be fully committed to this program."
It didn't take long until William found Marcus' office. It wasn't an impressive space to William, but it seemed that Marcus was concerned with impressing others as evidenced by his hardwood desk, his opulent leather chairs and his prominently displayed commendations, not that were very many to display. The man himself was busy with paperwork and the only thing William could see was the top of his balding head.
"I was wondering how long it would be before you showed up, Colonel," he said without looking up. "You're not going to do this for all of your pilots, for the rest of your career are you Bill? It's not healthy. You should learn to let things go."
"I just want to know what happened," said William calmly. He strode across the carpeted floor and stopped in front of Marcus' desk. Marcus didn't reply at first, instead he finished signing the paper in front of him before he even bothered to look up.
"Have a seat." William didn't sit.
"There's something I want you to know." Marcus leaned back in his chair. His voice while he spoke, his entire demeanor, was dispassionate. "That little stunt you pulled a few years back— Hyperion was the flagship in the mission to capture Zopyros. Do you have any idea how your inside man ingratiated himself with the crew of that pirate? He exposed two of our operatives, cost us the entire mission and practically ruined Commander Stark's chances for Admiral. Now I don't know if they were given a swift execution or if they had to scream for hours as they were tortured to death. I don't care. It's the reason I have these," he gestured to the commander pins on his collar, "and you don't."
"Your point?"
Marcus stood up and paced from one end of his desk to the other, his hands clasped behind his back. "Well, how do you suppose your man knew who they were?" he asked. "Who do you think had that information?" He turned to lean forward and rested his palms on the desk. "Alexa betrayed two of her fellow crew so that you could have your revenge." Now William could detect an under current of bitterness in Marcus. "If not for Kearney calling in favors to get the paperwork 'lost', Alexa, and you as well, would have been court-martialed and probably stripped of your citizenship. The point is that if I was as reckless and vengeful as you are, I would have had that traitorous bitch of a—"
William grabbed Marcus by the front of his uniform. "Watch your mouth," he snarled. Marcus glanced down at Adama's fist wrapped in the fabric of his jacket, nonplussed.
"I would think, very carefully, about what you're doing here." He looked William in the eye. "My brother is governor of Caprica, so if you don't let go right now, and step back, I will see to it that you never set foot on that planet again."
William fought down the urge to shove Marcus back and released him instead. Adama took one step back. Marcus straightened his uniform and returned to his chair.
"As much as she was a thorn in my side, Alexa was the best," he said. "That and she was crazy enough to take the job." Marcus pulled another sheet of paper in front of him and picked up his pen. "It was an accident. She was test flying the mark six prototype, there was a system failure in the main thrusters and the plane turned into a falling brick. She was coming in too hot, thought she could stick the landing anyway. Something she no doubt learned from you. It was a live fire exercise and something must have clipped a line. Her plane was spraying tylium fuel everywhere," he said with a glance up. "One spark and the whole plane went up. Literal blaze of glory ending for your girl."
"An accident?" pressed William. "After everything you told me, you expect me to believe that?"
"It doesn't matter if you believe me or not. There's nothing you can do about it." He signed the bottom of the sheet in front of him and grabbed another. "That plane Alexa was flying was worth more to me than her life and I'm not going to lie and say I wish she wasn't dead, but accidents happen in the service, even to the best. You're going to have to accept that."
"If I don't?"
"Sooner or later Kearney is not going to be there to protect you anymore," he replied without looking up. "Take this as a lesson and walk away. If you aren't careful about the choices you make, good people die, accidents happen, and you acquire powerful enemies. You reap what you sow, and if you can't let go of your attachments you'll never survive. Now get out of my office, Colonel, before I call security."
He wanted to tell Marcus to go frak himself, to go ahead and call security because he'd need it after William got through with him, but Adama clenched his teeth together and turned around. Marcus had made himself clear. He'd had his revenge. And there was nothing William could do. He left Marcus' office and reported back to Columbia the next day.
You reap what you sow were the first words of Zarek's book and their source did not dilute their truth, but that was not the part of lesson William learned. All he learned was that it was time to let go of all of the things that kept holding him back.
Not long after he got off the shuttle he stood in Commander DiMarco's quarters.
"I'm committed," he said, reaffirming the words he had spoken ten years prior in Commander Corman's office. "I will do whatever it takes to keep the Colonies safe." Even if it meant taking orders he didn't entirely like, casting aside his reservations, and participating in secret interrogations that he knew in his gut probably weren't anywhere near legal.
William thought that if he let go of enough maybe he could save himself from any more hurt.
He would learn to be carved out of stone.
AN: It's been ages, but I'm back (more or less). Despite some long delays, the story will get finished, I promise. School will be out again soon and I'll have plenty of free time after that. Thanks to everyone who has been so very patient.
For anyone curious the "quotes" from The Revolution Within are borrowed from the great and fantastic Zarek comics. I highly suggest giving them a read, they're very well done and full of interesting back story on our favorite terrorist.