Chapter 104 Identity
Partially hidden by a bracing strut, Kat watched the slow exit from the holding area of the last group of refugees. These people were truly refugees now because of her. She doubted any of them had considered the Carina their home, but they'd at least had a settled place, come to know the folks around them, formed bonds and a sort of community. That little bit of normal was gone now; the fragile sense of belonging to a group torn away as they were parsed out amongst the remaining ships and faced the likely resentment of being forced on an already overcrowded populace.
And it was her fault.
Her stomach again twisted and bile rose in her throat. Kat swallowed convulsively, replaying the moments in the radiation field. She remembered the brief glimpse she'd seen of her assigned transport ship just before her Raptor had been buffeted by the waves of the cosmic storm. Then it had been lost in the harsh light and shifting haze. If only she'd been quicker. Not so exhausted.
Maybe if she'd taken the stims…
The weight of her guilt threatened to collapse her shaking knees.
Grinding her teeth against the taste of failure, Kat forced her legs to hold and watched the stragglers finally trail out, then she stepped clear of her spot by the wall. She couldn't fix what had happened, and when the medics had seen that her badge was completely black they'd pulled her from the last jump, so there would be no opportunity for redemption either.
There was nothing for her in this empty hold.
As Kat hugged herself, she knew that she'd had worse moments since joining up: her crackup while on stims…and the guilt of letting her fellow pilots down afterwards, the messed up drills in preparation for the evacuation of New Caprica, and more recently…the realization that the past had caught up with her.
A small voice mocked her for pretending that she was all tore up over losing a ship when wasn't it the truth that she just couldn't stand to face the real issue? The dilemma Enzo presented still had her locked her at an impasse. There was no way she'd agree to go along with his plan to use her access to shuttles to run contraband throughout the fleet. Her smuggling days had been abandoned on the shattered worlds of the Twelve Colonies and she refused to reclaim that life.
Sasha was as dead as everyone else they'd left behind.
Joining Galactica's crew, excelling as a Viper pilot, hacking out a place for herself within the great ship's framework of family, this was who she was now. The betrayal Enzo presented wasn't even an option to Captain Louanne "Kat" Katraine. Yet, her whole identity was based on a lie…and she knew how the Old Man felt about being deceived.
Thinking about Adama's likely reaction to learning her secret was enough to push the nausea over the edge. Kat steadied herself against the wall as the heaving doubled her over. She swiped a hand across her mouth, grimacing at the aftertaste of acid.
With her recent failure and the press of impossible choices still dragging at her, she exited the hold with bent head, too sick of body and heart to do more than shuffle onward.
The brisk slap of boots approaching lifted her weary gaze.
Just great. Starbuck…and on a tear from the looks of her grim expression.
Kat tried to dredge up the energy to straighten as the keyed up tension of the blonde pilot registered. There was no way it was natural. Starbuck was wired up on stims and that could only mean that she was expecting to go out on the last jump. Everyone knew that the CAG had grounded Kara, and though they'd all been too tired to speculate the reason outloud, it hadn't taken much imagination to guess that she'd done something to convince Apollo that she was too unstable to trust for the remaining trips. Kat had mentally grumbled that it seemed Starbuck should have been able to handle a few Raptor jumps. It wasn't like they'd been fighting Cylons for the past twenty-four hours!
A part of her really resented this new, brittle, Starbuck.
It wasn't that Kat hadn't already seen Kara waver under pressure before; her excessive drinking while they were dealing with Scar had shown that she was as susceptible as anyone else. But her breakdown after New Caprica had been on an entirely different level. And that was what scared Kat. There were so few of them left. What would happen if—when—those in key positions cracked? Kat wasn't a fool. She knew how precariously the whole fleet was balanced and that there was no way to replace certain people. That fear stirred an unreasoning anger in her as Kara came to a halt before her.
"Had a good nap, Captain?" she taunted before Starbuck could say anything.
"Just fine. Thanks for asking…Kat." Starbuck's smirk took on a mean edge. "How bout you. Been catching up with any old friends lately?" Paling as the question sunk in, Kat's eyes darted down the empty corridor as Kara continued, "Say…maybe an old boyfriend?"
"Been kinda too busy for socializing," she hedged, still hoping that her fellow pilot didn't really know anything. Anxiously trying to deflect the direction of the conversation, "Some of us still have missions to fly," she snapped out.
Kara jerked back as if struck and Kat spun away, desperate to make an escape while she had Starbuck on the defensive.
"Hey Sasha."
She stopped. The name echoed along the metal hallway, mocking her attempt to become someone else. Someone of worth. She swayed back, unbalanced now that who she was—what she was—had finally caught up with her.
"Oh, what?" Kara mocked. "You always got something to say... Talk," the voice behind her ordered, low and hard now.
The air huffed out of Kat in short gusts as she deflated, sagging onto one of the crates lining the wall.
Her secret slid forth from chapped lips, "I took the name Louanne Katraine from a girl who died two days before the attack on Caprica. Got me through the background checks," she confessed, blinking slowly as she wet parched lips. As steps drew near, she held her line of sight rigidly forward, avoiding Kara's condemning gaze.
"Yeah, keep going." At this, she forced her eyes up.
"I was a drug runner. Enzo was my supplier." The censure in Kara's eyes was every bit that she had expected. She turned defensive. "What do you want. We were truckers, ok! We just moved stuff."
"People," more a statement than a question. "You see…some think that that's the way that the Cylons infiltrated Caprica," Kara paused and Kat stared, confused until she continued, "They seeded themselves throughout the outer colonies. Then they used criminals to get them into the Capital." With growing horror she listened. "Anyone who's found guilty of helping the Cylons is considered a traitor."
Shaking her head in denial, "We didn't carry Cylons," Kat said, the thought twisting her barely settled stomach.
"How do you know?"
"Because nobody knew they looked like us," she vehemently protested.
Voice raised, "Then how do you know you didn't?" Kara demanded, her face now within inches.
Kat sought some protest, some way of denying that she'd been responsible for assisting in the invasion of her home planet. She had no answer, and Starbuck's expression was merciless as she placed a hand to the wall beside Kat's head.
"How do you know?" Kara whispered. Her contention was more damning than any yelling she might have done.
"You think I'm a traitor?" she asked, searching the face before her for some semblance of understanding. She harshly demanded again, "You think I'm a traitor?" There was a slight easing in the hard lines of Kara's expression.
"No. I don't think you're a traitor," she conceded. "You're a smart, young woman. That's what the Old Man said." Kat's gut clenched and tears stung the corner of her eyes as she was reminded that there was still another she had to answer to. She fought to hold herself together as Kara continued. "You're just not smart enough to accept who you are. You see, you lied your way into the company of good people."
A moan escaped her now as the last verbal blow shredded the thin veil that Kat had laid over her sense of self. Her lips quivered as the tatters parted and she was faced with the truth. Sasha was who she was. Whom she would always be. Sniffling back a building sob, her eyes implored Kara for forgiveness, and if not that, then at least forbearance.
"Starbuck, don't tell the Admiral," she pleaded. "Please. Please don't or I—" her voice cracked even as she was interrupted.
"Or what?" Kara scoffed.
Marshalling her remaining courage, "Starbuck, just let me tell him myself. Please just let me. Can you do that?" she begged, seeking some portion of pity from the relentless person before her. Kat watched conflicting emotions flicker across Kara's face as she considered the request. With a last grimace, Starbuck pulled back and strode away, leaving Kat unsure of what to make of her silence.
Her breath hitched into a sob and she buried her face in her hands and let the tears come.
[ I I I I I ]
As Kara walked away without a backwards glance at the crumbling figure, she felt the familiar voice mocking her for not dragging Kat's ass to the Admiral right then and there. The younger woman had lied. Been lying since she came on board.
And all this time she'd had the nerve to be calling Kara out on her behavior?
Frakkin' hypocrite!
Chemically-enhanced anger dueled with a slowly building shame as Kara yanked open the nearest hatch, thankful that it was an empty storage unit. Between the stimulant in her blood and her own emotion-charged adrenalin, she was finding it hard to think clearly, to decide what to do with her new knowledge. As she prowled the small room, Kara had the uncomfortable realization that a chunk of her agitation was due to how much she identified with the younger woman. Kat hadn't been the only hypocrite in the hallway just now.
Hadn't she herself felt a fraud from the moment she had joined the military? How often had she been told—then gone on to prove—that she wasn't up to her mother's standard, the academy's…the Adamas'?
Self-loathing surged past the barrier of her anger.
She had to go to the Admiral she reluctantly decided. Tell the Old Man about the truth of Kat's past, confess her own recent relapse into nightmares and flashbacks, let him judge them both because she couldn't. She didn't trust herself anymore.
Within ten minutes she was standing just outside CIC silently cursing the foolish decision to take the stims so far in advance of the last jump; her nerves were jittering like she had downed seven coffees in a row and here Kara had wanted to appear calm before the Admiral. It was going to be hard enough without coming across as some a hyper loony.
On a breath, she tried to steady her resolve and moved into the command center to catch the Old Man's attention by the Dradis console. One bushy eyebrow raised questioningly as he noticed her. A slight tilt of her head signaled her request for a word with him in the wardroom. Relief and apprehension vied within Kara as he gave a nod and led the way. After a confirming glance at her, he shut the hatch to give them some privacy, then turned to face her.
Meeting his gaze, Kara's nerve broke.
Now that she was here. Now that he was looking at her with a discernible glint of concern in his eyes. She couldn't do it. Couldn't confess that she might not be able to do her job. Couldn't disappoint him again.
A sense of deja-vu fed her dread as her gaze desperately flitted about the room searching for some alternate excuse for her visit.
"Starbuck, Whatdaya hear?" The gently spoken question jerked her eyes back to him and she was startled that her response came so easy.
"Nothing but the rain."
"Then grab your gun and bring in the cat."
His customary reply a warm balm to her flayed emotions, she flicked him a two fingered salute as she said, "Wilco, Admiral."
Her eyes widened then, startled as he stepped close and pulled her into a tight hug. Kara instinctively tensed, drug-sensitized nerves reacting at the still unfamiliar act, then she yielded to the equally new feeling of being cherished and returned his embrace. Her doubts and fears of the moment before were eclipsed by the arms encircling her.
When something sharp pressed into her ribs, she abruptly remembered the figurine the oracle had gifted to her.
As Adama released her, Kara fumbled at the pocket of her flightsuit, fingers curling around the object and she pulled it free. Rubbing a thumb along a wing, a flicker of disquiet twitched her grip tighter as the accuracy of the prophet's prediction registered.
The woman had said when the time came she'd know what to do with it.
And now she did.
There was a feeling of rightness as she extended her palm to Adama. "I have something for you." As he took the proffered statuette, "I thought it would be a nice figurehead for your model ship," she said.
"Aurora. Goddess of the Dawn," he said, identifying the miniature idol.
"She brings the morning star and a fair wind. A fresh start." Kara gave a shrug, abruptly feeling awkward at the sentimentality of her gift.
Sensing her discomfort, he quietly said, "Thank you" as he gave a small nod, then turned to moved over to the strategy table. Tokens denoting Galactica, her Raptors and the civilian ships of the fleet were spread across the board and the Admiral seemed to be studying them a moment before saying, "I understand that Apollo has you scheduled for the last run."
What? Why would Lee…
Her confused thoughts broke off as she realized that of course the Admiral would have known she'd been grounded, and Lee must have been forced to reinstate her because Narcho was too sick to go after all…and informed his dad of the change.
"Yes, Sir," she replied briskly to cover her initial hesitation.
The Admiral lifted one of the Raptor icons and turned it over in his free hand. As he suddenly closed his fist about the small model, his knuckles whitened from the intensity of his grip and Kara stiffened, unsure how to interpret this new shift in his mood. She watched as he seemed to clench in on himself, shoulders hunching slightly forward in the dress blues.
Kara stood locked in place by a fear of unleashing the storm she saw churning within Adama. At the same time, the urge to flee was gathering momentum as she assumed that the change was in some way her fault. Gut roiling as she waited for him to twist around and lay new recriminations upon her, Kara wet lips gone dry in anticipation and sought to hold herself steady.
Then the tension seemed to drain from the man before her. Still, Kara flinched as he turned. Something must have shown in her expression because concern quickly replaced the sorrow she thought she'd seen in his eyes.
"Kara?"
She mentally shook herself, trying to control the need to put distance between them as she wondered if he thought she hadn't just witnessed his little…moment.
"Sir?" she replied as if uncertain of the question.
"Are you alright?"
"Of course, Sir. Why wouldn't I be?"
She saw his eyes glance back towards the ship models before returning to her. Understanding lifted his brows and he started forward. Without conscious thought, Kara retreated an equal distance. He halted, and while others might find his granite mask hard to read, the flicker of dismay and guilt in his expression were apparent to Kara. It added to her confusion and she worried her lower lip.
"I'm not angry at you, Kara," he said. It was her turn to glance beyond him to the table. A sigh drew her gaze back as he took a cautious step towards her again. Kara didn't withdrawal this time, even as one of his large hands settled on her shoulder, the other still gripping the golden figurine. "I am not angry at you," he repeated slowly as he gave her a gentle squeeze for emphasis. Searching his face, she relaxed as she read his sincerity.
"Sometimes being the Admiral sucks?" She was surprised her voice sounded so normal.
"Yes…sucks big time, I believe you'd say," he agreed, the corners of his mouth lifting, though a shadow still lurked in his eyes. He released her and looked down at the statuette. "Kat's been pulled." Her brows lifted, but he continued before she could ask. "She stayed too long during the last jump trying to locate the ship she was assigned. Jumped back when her badge turned black. Cottle had no choice but to pull her. So, between losing her and Showboat, we need you for this last run," he explained.
"I'm fine, Sir."
"Kara," his voice held an edge of warning.
"Ok, maybe not fine exactly," she grudgingly admitted. "But I'm good to go." At his challenging look, "Really, Sir. Doc's pumped me up on his special mix of pills and fluids. I'll have to pee the entire time, but I'll get the job done."
Giving a quick mental tally, Kara realized that the numbers didn't match.
"Sir, what about Narcho?"
"He's ok. He'll have to fly Showboat's bird, but Cottle gave him something for the nausea." Again, an almost furtive look clouded the Admiral's eyes. Kara was distracted, though, by what he'd said.
"Chief having trouble with Narcho's Raptor?" she asked.
"It took…all of them are taking a beating. They're hardened against radiation, but the specs were never meant for this type of repeated exposure," he explained, lips thinning further. "Narcho's electrical system's showing signs of failure and Chief Tyrol doesn't trust it for another trip."
"So, counting me, we have just enough ships and pilots to fly them," she said, not even seeing his reluctant acknowledgment as relief surged through her.
An implacable pressure had been growing over the past hours. She needed to make this last run. Originally she'd thought it was just to prove that she could do her job, prove that Lee was wrong in grounding her again.
Yet now…
Kara felt a stir of unease as the pull to enter the radiation storm became something different. She had to be out there, was certain of it, and as the strength of that compulsion grew, an indiscernible fear also took root. Struggling to keep her expression free of betraying emotions, Kara snapped to attention, hand at parade-correct salute as she faced her Admiral.
He took a moment to study her before lifting his own hand in acknowledgment of her sign of respect.
"Good hunting, Starbuck," he said, and if there was just an undercurrent of worry still in his tone, Kara chose to ignore it.
"Wilco, Boss." Her hand came down as she gave him a cocky smile. "See ya on the other side," she tossed out as she spun on her heels and headed off to find the CAG.