Chapter 59 Call To Arms

The next day started better. Kara awoke feeling refreshed after a full night's sleep. If she had dreamed, it hadn't disturbed her rest—or thankfully—the Admiral's. Breakfast was a repeat of the previous day and she even managed some stilted small talk, asking about the fleet activities for the day. When Cally came to collect her with a cheery greeting, she was eager to go.

Both the morning Viper maintenance and lunch in the mess passed with a little more ease than the day before. Kara still felt eyes shift her way, but this time, their curiosity didn't make her want to deck them all. On her return to quarters, she found the training manuals and current contingency plans waiting for her on the Admiral's workbench. Never one much for reading textbooks, her curiosity was none-the-less stirred, especially since she was being asked to come up with alternatives to things that had always struck her as impractical or obsolete during her courses at Flight School.

When Admiral Adama entered his cabin hours later, she looked up from her position bent over the wooden table. She set aside the star system schematics and charts she'd been sorting as she glanced at the wall clock, surprised at how much time had passed.

"Sir," Starbuck briefly acknowledged as she straightened, craning her neck one way then other as she stretched muscles stiffened from hours spent pouring over the strewn papers and books.

Loosening his jacket flap, Adama said, "What do you hear, Starbuck?" As the well worn phrase slipped from his lips, she saw he immediately regretted his choice of greeting. Torn between giving an honest answer or one that she thought he wanted to hear, Kara looked away.

Stepping forward into the awkward silence, Adama moved to her side at the table and picked up several pages of scribbled notes. "Looks like you've got some ideas already," he said, sounding casual as he squinted at her scrawled writing.

"Yeah… Well, you know," she said as she neatened a stack of books, "just keeping busy."

"This is important," the Admiral said, waving the ink-covered sheets. "The Cylons always have the numbers on us. So, we have to be sharper…crafter than the bastards. I want to give the nuggets every advantage I can, and you," handing her the notes, "have a way of coming up with the craziest, brilliant ideas," he added.

Kara averted her head and quietly muttered, "Crazy is right," as she rubbed at the healing scars on her thigh. They were just getting to the itchy stage.

"Stop it," Adama admonished her. "We need you," he gruffly added, "And don't denigrate yourself in front of me, I won't have it. Understand, Captain Thrace?" he said, handing the sheets back to her.

"You don't know—" she started, hand unconsciously crumpling the slips of paper, but broke off as the Admiral held out his hand, silently insisting that she give him back the bunched notes. Carefully spreading the papers on the desk, he smoothed them out with his roughened hands, before stacking them before him.

"You have value. Value to the fleet," he declared, tapping the stack of notes, "and to me. Now you need to learn to value yourself, Kara."

Before she could respond, a knock sounded at the hatch and Mathias announced that their food had arrived, putting at least a temporary end to their discussion.

Halfway through dinner, the alert klaxon blared across the comm system, declaring Condition One and calling all hands to battle stations. The Admiral rose and, with a wave for Starbuck to follow, was through the hatch in seconds. The battlestar commander moved with brisk, confident strides towards CIC with Kara close on his heels as they passed hurrying crew members rushing to their own duty posts.

Kara saw Admiral Adama take a moment on entering CIC to run an evaluating eye over the assembled personnel, probably noting who was at what station and taking in the general feel coming off his people as they braced to face the enemy once again. Stepping up to the status display in tandem with him, Starbuck let her gaze scan the DRADIS contacts and locus, noting that the alert fighters had already been dispatched by the XO. The CAP was out of position for a least time intercept, the Viper pilots would only reach their targets a brief time before their reinforcements arrived.

"Tell Kat and Hotdog to group with the alert team and coordinate," the Admiral's brisk command cut through the under chatter of reports around the room. He turned to his navigational officer, "Mr. Gaeta, update and confirm all Fleet vessels are to prepare for emergency FTL," he ordered.

"Sir, Colonial One reports that they'll need at least six minutes to spool up their FTL. At the Admiral's questioning glare, Gaeta added, "They had a transgasket being replaced and were nearly finished when the alert went out, Sir."

Starbuck surveyed the incoming twenty-five Raiders and two Heavy Raiders, and made calculations of her own on probably losses and times of intercept. That many raiders had to be an advance force, she decided. Odds were, the fleet would have a Basestar come a knocking any time now. Kara grimaced. Six minutes was a frakkin' eternity when Raiders and nuclear missiles were bearing down on you.

Studying the fleet icons, a thought tickled along her nerves. She followed its path, working out logistics as she tuned out the hum about her. Feeling a presence at her elbow, she looked up and met the Admiral intent gaze.

"You have an idea, Captain?" he prompted her

Turning away from the images of the approaching warships, Starbuck hesitantly met his inquiring look. "What if we tuck Colonial One behind the Astral Queen—she's the nearest—and also big enough to draw the Cylons' fire first," Starbuck rubbed at an eyebrow as her thoughts raced ahead. "Task Kat and Hotdog to cover her flank. We jump the fleet, several ships at a time as they're targeted, and not before. Make the Toasters spread their fire." Now pointing at the advancing Viper vanguard, "Have Apollo go with Delta Silver, that'll screw with their DRADIS readings, keep them going in circles."

Adama considered her proposal only a moment before calling to the comm to hail Colonial One and the Astral Queen with new orders. As he snapped out instructions for the Viper squadron and the other fleet ships, he spared a small nod to her in approval.

As they stood observing the moving icons and listening to the pilots' battle chatter, Kara could tell the plan was working. Groups of Cylons were swarming towards several ships, launching their weapons, only to see their quarry jump before the missiles arrived.

"DRADIS contact, Sir!" Gaeta called out. "Confirmed. One Cylon Basestar inbound. Time to range…three minutes, Admiral."

"What's Colonial One's status?" asked the Admiral.

"Her captain says they've shave their time. Two more minutes and they'll be ready to jump, Sir," came the prompt answer.

Starbuck saw the Admiral rub his jaw and squint at the spider web of icons before them. Two-thirds of the fleet had already jumped out. And she could see that so far they'd been lucky; the Astral Queen and its shadow hadn't drawn any fire, but as the other vessels disappeared, Kara knew that was about to change. As if triggered by her thoughts, a group of five raiders swept in towards the position of the paired ships.

"Bring us into support range," the Admiral ordered, "I want Galactica's guns on those Raiders, XO!" Then to communications, "Tell the Astral Queen to wait for my mark then jump, and Colonial One to break down hard—towards us—when the Queen goes. Make sure Kat and Hotdog know they have the bogeys inbound and that the Queen's about to jump." As Starbuck watched the advancing force, she did her own mental counted down, then heard Adama's barked, "Mark! Get the Queen away. Apollo execute Beta One on all Vipers, NOW!"

The larger icon of the once-prison ship vanished from the screen, even as the smaller one broke towards the protection of the Galactica. The two Mark II Vipers suddenly streaked straight at the oncoming Cylon wave and towards the missiles that had been targeted at the larger vessel that had just jumped clear. Most of the missiles lost lock and wandered off harmlessly, but three swung towards the heat signature of the fiercely fleeing Colonial One and re-achieved lock. As Kat and Hotdog fought to bring their fire on the small, fast targets, one of the three exploded. The last two were detonated by Galactica's defensive cannon fire as the battlestar came into range.

"Yes!" Helo gave a shout of triumph, punching his fist in the air at the Cylon icons.

"Sir, Colonial One reports FTL's up… And she's away," came the relieved announcement from Dee. "All fleet ships have jumped, Sir," she confirmed.

"Get all birds on deck, we jump as soon as they're down. See to it XO," Adama said, eyes focused on the Viper icons as they turned to streak home. Starbuck did the same, taking tally, afraid that certain names would come up missing.

"Permission to go to the flight deck, Admiral?" she requested, eager to get below again.

"No, Starbuck. Return to quarters," the Admiral replied, then as she started to protest, "That's an order, Captain."

Bitterness flashed across Kara's face as she snapped to attention, "Yes, Sir," she said, her voice and salute shouting her hurt anger at his curt dismissal. Turning on her heels, she strode away, determinedly staring straight ahead and ignoring the questioning glances sent her way.

Striding through the corridor from CIC, Starbuck felt the brief flicker of contraction as the Galactica made its own jump to join the rest of the fleet. Grinding her teeth, she stuck her hands in her pockets, afraid she might strike out if anyone even looked at her sideways.

Coming to the intersection leading to the living quarters, Starbuck stopped and glared down the side corridor that lead to the flight deck instead. Hands flexing in her pockets, she paced back and forth between the branching halls.

Frak-it!

She should be down there—with them—not sent to her room like a grounded teenager.

Thrusting her chin forward, she started down the familiar passage, the distant voices of the crew channeling to meet her. After five defiant strides, she slowed her forward progress, and instead began pacing again from side to side across the width of the hall. Pulling her hands from her trouser pockets, Starbuck was tempted to punch the wall in her frustration. Instead, she laced her hands behind her head not trusting herself not to lash out. With her chin still aggressively tilted up and elbows splayed out, she took three more passes between the walls. Then, letting her hands drop to her side, she abruptly turned away from the voices and retraced her way back up the hall.

Without even acknowledging Sergeant Mathias, who had stayed at the Admiral's cabin entrance and looked surprised to see her come back alone, Starbuck stormed inside, ignoring the guard as the woman followed her in and shut the hatch behind them. Kara threw herself in the first chair she came to. After a few seconds though, too angry to remain still, she got up and prowled the suite, careful not to touch anything, pretty sure she'd give in to her teeming anger at the Admiral's unfair dismissal and smash whatever she touched.

Her circuit brought her around until she was within a few feet of the blandly watching Marine. Starbuck's hands twitched at her side and something about the woman abruptly reminded her of Leoben. She froze in place, feeling her heart race as her breathing quickened. As Kara retreated a step, Mathias must have seen something of her building panic for the woman raised a hand and moved towards her.

"No! Get the frak—" Kara stopped. Taking a gulping breath of air and shutting her eyes, she forced herself to stillness. On Galactica. On Galactica. On Galactica, she silently chanted, slowing each repetition and making her breaths match. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Mathias had moved a distance away and she sourly hoped it was to give Kara some space and not that the woman was afraid whatever was wrong with her was catching.

Yeah, like a case of Leobenistis was contagious.

The idea was ridiculous enough to help her shake loose the last of the panic attack and she turned away from the wary Marine.

Finally ending up in front of the bar, Kara leaned against the counter, scrutinizing the various bottles on display. With her left hand, she reached over and snagged a tumbler as her right latched onto a partially full bottle and slid it near. Sloshing the golden fluid into the glass, Starbuck filled it to the rim before setting the bottle aside.

"Want a shot?" she offered to Mathias. "Promise I won't tell the Admiral." At the other woman's headshake, Kara put the bottle back in its spot. Turning to face her own personal guard dog, "Sorry. Just…you're always watching me. Just like he did. And I guess it freaked me out there for a second," she brusquely explained.

"He? The Cylon on New Caprica?"

Kara was surprised at the question. The Sergeant usually made a point of maintaining her silence unless asked a direct question. She took a sip from the overly-full tumbler before answering, "Yeah, him. The frakker spent the first week yammering on and on about his visions and my place in them. Eventually even he must have grown tired of hearing himself talk, cause he just took to watching me after that." Kara fought down a shudder before pushing on, "I can do silent if I have to. Most people don't know that." She glanced over, expecting to see skepticism, but Mathias just looked mildly interested, so she continued, "My mom taught me how to keep quiet for days at a time. Trick is to pretend you can't talk. After awhile it's like you forget how…or never learned."

Feeling suddenly exposed, Kara took a deep draft and let the burn ease some of the tightness that bound her chest.

"Talking's not a weakness, Kara."

She looked up, startled by Mathias' use of her name. It was the first time she could remember the older woman ever addressing her by anything other than her rank in all the time they've known each other. She gave a brief nod, not necessarily in agreement, but as an acknowledgment of their shared moment.

Kara took her drink and carried it across to her seat to wait for the Admiral's return.

[ I I I I I ]

As Adama stepped through the hatch to his quarters and the guard excused herself, he saw Starbuck slouched in one of his chairs near the bar. She was staring down at the amber liquid in a half empty glass, and didn't bother raising her eyes at his entrance. Her expression was shadowed as she slowly swirled the contents of the tumbler before lifting and tossing back the remaining liquor in one long swallow. It was only then that she turned a challenging stare his way, daring him to comment on her helping herself to his store of alcohol without permission.

Running a tired hand through his graying hair, Adama mentally grimaced. Ok, he knew she'd be upset by his refusal to allow her to go greet the returning pilots. No surprise there, he silently admitted. Now, how to explain to her his reasoning. He didn't believe she was ready to face the emotional buffeting of the other pilots as they came down off the adrenalin high of combat. And he certainly in hell didn't want her involved in a fight.

Giving her a non-committal nod, he crossed and poured himself a large serving of his own preferred poison. Taking a mouthful, he swished it around his gums and teeth, enjoying the burst of flavored heat before finally swallowing. Then he finally swiveled to face his recalcitrant pilot, eyes narrowing as he noted for the first time that she was rubbing at her thigh where he knew a light bandage still covered the multiple cuts she'd made into her skin.

The image of her huddled between crates, fearfully waving him off with the blood-caked knife, flashed in his mind. He tried to keep the pain of that memory from his face, but Kara must have seen some of it for she straightened in her seat, concern flitting across her own features.

"When you hurt yourself," jabbing a finger towards her leg so she knew what he meant, "you hurt me…and all the others that care about you."

Kara glanced down and abruptly stilled her hand. "Sorry," she said, meeting his penetrating stare for a moment before dropping her eyes again beneath his troubled regard.

"Don't be sorry, be different," he said.

"Right… Be different. Don't be such a frak-up, Thrace," she muttered. "Heard it all before, Sir. But it's what I am." She stood and turned away. "You, of all people should know that, Admiral."

"Damn it, Kara," he growled. That's not what I meant."

Setting his drink on the table, he marched over and took hold of her hunched shoulders, turning her to face him, distantly noting that she hadn't flinched away from his touch this time. "What I meant," he firmly corrected, locking her eyes to his, "is that you need to learn a new way to deal. You're all fight or flight… And I understand," giving her a small shake, "But there are other ways. Ways that don't hurt so much," he tried to explain.

Kara's wide eyes searched his. She was apparently reassured by whatever she read in them, for he could feel her relax slightly in his grasp.

"You're off balance," he started, then seeing the tiniest jerk of her head, clarified, "I said off-balance, not unbalanced, Kara. Don't twist my words." At her reluctant nod, he continued, "When most people stumble, they reach out for support. Not you," he said, hoping she'd understand what he was trying to explain, "You strike out, bouncing off those around you. Sure it keeps you upright, yet you never really get your balance. You're ricocheting about, hurting yourself and others." His voice lowered, "And it stops now."

"What do you want from me?" she demanded, her words quivering just the slightest. "I already said I'm sorry!"

"I want you to let us help you," he answered gently now. "Reach out for a change, Kara," he urged, then impulsively pulled her into a hug. Within his arms, he could feel her automatic stiffening. As he held on, he was rewarded when she slowly relaxed into his embrace, burying her face into his uniformed shoulder.

"I-I don't know how…" He could barely hear her muffled voice, yet he understood what she'd said just the same. Reflecting on what he had learned about her childhood, the Admiral realized that Kara literally meant what she'd said. She'd never learned how to ask for help…how to let others carry some of her burdens. She had learned a long time ago that the only one she could rely on was herself.

"Six wanted me to beg," Kara ventured in a small voice, still with her head pressed against the rough cloth of his jacket.

"The model from New Caprica?" he softly prompted.

"Roslin told you!" accused Kara, starting to pull out of his arms, obviously feeling betrayed that her previous night's discussion had been shared with him.

Adama wasn't having any of it. He tugged Kara back against him. Resting his chin on the head of his surrogate daughter, he sought a way to reassure her that the shared secrets were being held safe. "I told you that I required a debriefing, Captain. For security reasons, I must know anything that you have to tell us about the Cylons," he firmly stated. "Laura only divulged bare details that she judged that I needed to know."

He felt the head beneath his chin nod in acceptance of his explanation. Gently easing her away so he could see her face, he searched her eyes and was somewhat reassured.

"Do an old man a favor, will you? Just talk with Laura tonight. Get whatever those bastards did out into the open. Flush the enemy out and take 'em down, Captain." He waited a beat for her to nod again before releasing his hold.

With that, he snagged a sheaf of documents off his desk and headed out the hatch as Mathias stepped back in.