Chapter 109 Shifting Figures

Bill slowly got down on his knees and stretched to reach under the chair to pick up the little figurine from where it had skittered after braking loose from the model ship. He had already cleaned up the rest of the destroyed replica days before but hadn't gone in search of the statuette until now. Grief, still heavily seasoned with anger and a small measure of denial had kept him from looking. A part of him regretted destroying the galleon in the fit of grief, but it had been his sole outlet for the pain of Kara's loss and he'd held it walled away until the night of her memorial.

The two days immediately following their jump through the radiation field had been spent overseeing the press of fleet duties as well as making sure that the harvesting planetside had progressed as quickly as possible. Plus, he'd taken the precaution of shortening shift rotations as people, exhausted by starvation, lost focus on their tasks. The situation with the pilots was the most precarious as those not involved in the escort duty attempted to cover for those who were pulled from flight readiness due to radiation sickness.

Then, at the end of their second day in the system, everyone was treated to meals of processed algae. A day later there had finally been time for the crew to pay their respects to Starbuck and remember her with toasts and stories at the wake that followed. On his way back to his quarters afterward, Bill had been surprised to be waylaid by an unsteady Kat and informed that she'd found Major Adama passed out in the observation lounge. After assuring the young woman's silence, he'd gone to find Lee himself.

Seeing his son so awkwardly slumped against the window and lightly snoring, the grief he'd held back for the past few days, had threatened to burst free. Unknowingly mirroring his son, Bill gazed out at the void while trying to come to terms with the knowledge that he'd never see that cocky smirk or hear Kara's distinctive laugh ever again. He'd faced the near certainty that she'd never return before. First, after she'd crashed on the moon, and then again when she'd gone back to Caprica. Yet this time had a finality to it that mocked the turmoil of emotions he'd felt before.

A snort and Kara's mumbled name had shifted his attention back to his son where he was restlessly stirring. Shoring up his barriers once again, Bill had managed to get an arm around Lee and lift him to his feet. Partially carrying and partly dragging, he'd taken him back to the Admiral's Quarters. There he'd laid Lee out along the same sofa that Kara had occupied and covered him with the blankets he'd since kept tucked underneath the couch. A moment of watching his son's face contort as Lee dealt with whatever dreams tormented him was all Bill could stand. He'd turned away and gone over to the side table where the naval ship was nearly finished. Reaching into his trousers' pocket, he had pulled forth the figure of Aurora and, with meticulous care, attached it to the front of the model.

It had fit as if foreordained.

A perfect figurehead for the replica's voyage into an uncertain future.

Yet, it was just a piece of metal; just as the ship it led was a poor imitation that would never brazen any sea.

Staring at the model that had taken him so many hours to carefully construct, the grief had come again—but this time the levies of duty had failed to hold back the flood. As the waves of bereavement swamped him, Bill had brought his fist down, crashing through the balsawood mid-ship, crumpling its fore and aftercastles inward. With raged loss, he'd torn the ship apart and tossed it aside as tears streamed down his face.

That night, something within him had crumpled as surely as the model. He'd gone through the following days in such a numbed stupor that Saul had taken him aside, obviously worried. He'd shrugged off his friend's concern and gone on, performing his role as the Admiral despite feeling like he was a distant observer.

And in grief, he'd unknowingly mirrored his son again.

Now, on their fifth day in-system, he traced one of Aurora's wings with a blunt finger and wondered how anyone could put stock in the gods. So much lost…and for what purpose?

A knock at the door pulled him to his feet and he gripped the statuette in his palm behind his back.

"Come," he called out.

The guard opened the hatch and held it while Kat, closely followed by Showboat, entered his quarters. He took a moment to look the pair over, really seeing them for the first time since the last jump and noting the lingering fatigue and evidence of illness in the dark circles under their eyes. Concern stirred and he waved both to matching chairs and took the seat behind his desk with his hands clasped together.

He saw Kat fidget and glance to the side at the other woman. At Showboat's slight nod, his pilot seemed to draw herself straighter and met his eyes.

"Sir, I think," another glance sideways, "we think a SARs team should check out point Alpha." As his brows rose questioningly, "Starbuck could be there. She could be stranded. If we could just—"

"No," he sharply interrupted, resentful at having to have this painful discussion again.

Showboat leaned forward and drew his gaze.

"I could do it, Sir." As his jaw tightened, Showboat rushed to explain. "The Doc's cleared me. I haven't maxed my radiation level. I could do it. Especially if I'm not slowed down by a civie this time. Four quick jumps and we'd know for sure."

Bill forced himself to sit back and consider her words. Lee had suggested the same thing before, but at the time it hadn't been feasible. Now… A part of him desperately wanted to believe that there was a chance, slim but still real, that Kara was alive. What if she had jumped back for whatever reason? Could she be waiting, possibly in a disabled ship, for a SARs team to come find her?

He dropped his gaze and stared down at the burnish figure in his palm.

If there was a chance…

His throat closed up at the thought of Kara floating somewhere alone these past days. The Raptors were equipped for long reconnaissance missions, but their fuel cells and air scrubbers had a maximum duration of a week. A pilot might be able to add another twenty hours to that figure by drawing on her flightsuit's air supply, but after that, well, if she was out there, Starbuck had maybe another day of life support left.

If

And that was the really issue. There was no reason to believe that Kara had ever made it out of the radiation field, let alone gone back to their original coordinates.

Lifting his head, he scrutinized the ex-Pegasus pilot. Showboat had shown herself a capable CAG under Lee's command and she had settled in well with Galactica's crew after New Caprica. But her offer still surprised Adama since she didn't have that long of a history with Starbuck. He was abruptly glad that she'd been pulled from the escort duty before receiving a full exposure dose—and not because of her current offer. Guilt drew his eyes to where Kat sat, stiff and anxious as she waited for his decision.

No. He couldn't do this, even though it twisted his heart to turn away from any possibility. The woman sitting before him was owed her own chance. The decision had been made once. He and the President had decided the fleet's needs trumped any individual's, yet he couldn't do it again. Not for one person, even if that person were Kara.

As he smothered the flash of hope their words had stirred, he was left with ashes on his tongue. "No one goes back. Kar…Captain Thrace is gone." Both pilots started to protest. "Enough," he snapped out, rising to his feet as they did. "You're dismissed."

Their shoulders slumped in unison as they both turned to leave, but Kat's head jerked up as she swung back around.

"Sir, can I speak to you in private?"

"I've made my decision, Captain," he replied, harsher than he intended.

"It's about something…something else. It'll just take a minute."

He saw Kat wet her lips and flick a guarded look to where Showboat stood irresolutely watching. Whatever Kat had to say, she obviously didn't want to do it in front of the other woman.

"Captain Case, see to your duties," he said, and the woman gave him a nod and cast Kat a curious look before stepping out.

This time Adama didn't offer a seat as Kat returned to stand before his desk. Her gaze flitting about, not meeting his questioning stare as he waited. Something in her manner caused a familiar unease. It reminded him too much of how Kara had faced him, scared of his response and sure that he was going to hate her. What could Kat possibly have to say that filled her with such dread? Well, he was growing impatient at her dithering.

"You had something to say, Captain?"

Despite her darker coloring, he saw her cheeks heat and his gut tightened further as she swallowed repeatedly before answering. He obviously wasn't going to like it, whatever it was.

"Sir, I…" She took a breath and tried again. "I lied. My name's not Louanne Katraine." He frowned, but held his silence and waited for her to go on. "It's Sasha. Sasha Temerman. I changed it so no one would know who I was…what I-I did." Her words faltered to a halt and he could clearly see the fear in her eyes now as she finally met his.

"What? What did you do?" he asked, tone going low as he flashed back to another time when a young woman stood in this very chambers and confessed her sins.

"I was a smuggler. Ran shuttles between the colonies. Drugs and-and…stuff," she said, stumbling over her answer. Then, "Starbuck found out. Found out that my old partner came on Galactica with one of the transfer groups. She kicked his ass off and I promised…" She took another shaky breath and Adama could see the struggle for her to continue as her lower lip trembled. "I promised tell you the truth, Sir."

He watched her through narrowed eyes, the vision of a younger woman he'd never known superimposing over the one before him now; someone named Sasha that didn't care who she harmed with the poison she spread. New anger warmed his blood. Bill had thought he knew his people, yet it seemed they were strangers that constantly their truths and deceived him. Grinding his teeth to hold back a flow of flaying words, his eyes dropped to where Kat's hands were clenched at her sides. It was then that he noticed the pain in his own palm as the wings of the statuette gouged into his flesh. And he was abruptly reminded of how his harsh condemnations had driven another daughter of his heart into actions that had nearly destroyed her. The first time when Starbuck had turned to face eight Raiders over a desolate moon, and then later when she'd spiraled into a mental abyss after New Caprica.

Twice was enough, he decided, determined not to repeat the mistake with another. Bill purposefully relaxed his grip and felt the taut bow of his anger ease without letting loose its quarrel. Sasha was an unknown to him, but he knew Kat. He'd watched the girl train and struggle and find a spot for herself in the hierarchy of his crew. He could list her faults and strengths as easily as read a star chart. Whoever she was before she came aboard Galactica didn't exist for him.

Bill came around the desk, and felt a flash of pain when Kat couldn't hide a flinch as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He ignored it, though, to focus on the pair of brown eyes that beseeched his forgiveness. There had been too many losses. The past would have to be happy with the sacrifices it had claimed, for he wasn't going to add another.

"Who are you," he asked.

Her gaze searched his questioningly, but she answered, "Sasha Temerman." Then, as he shook his head, "Louanne Katraine?" she cautiously offered instead.

"And what are you?" he firmly demanded this time. She hesitated until he tapped the pin on her collar. "Captain Louanne Katraine?" He tilted his head forward, nudging her for more. "A…a Captain in the Colonial Fleet," she added, voice growing more assured at his nod.

"And what do you do, Captain Katraine?" Adama took a half step back as the officer before him snapped to attention.

"Fly Vipers and kill Toasters." His expectant look spurred her to add, "I protect the fleet, Sir."

"Then I suggest you go do that. Dismissed, Captain." He turned away to circle his desk, resuming his seat without looking up as the hatch closed behind the young woman.

Once alone, he settled back into the chair and lifted the talisman and found an uncertain prayer on his lips, whispered words of souls gathered into the embrace of the Mother and soothed with milk and honey. He reached forward and reverently placed Aurora so she leaned against the picture of him and his two sons.

The grief came again, but the bitter edge had been blunted. Which was fortunate because Bill knew that he'd have to face the next hurdle that evening when Laura came over for dinner. He'd avoided her since they'd made the last jump. It hadn't been difficult with so much to do, but he'd finally relented and agreed to meet in private tonight. It wasn't that he didn't want to see her—the gods knew he missed her this past week—but Bill also knew she'd expect him to share Kara's loss, and it had all been too raw before now. Perhaps it had been selfish; after all, he knew how attached she had become to the younger woman during these last months. Yet a small voice within wanted to blame Laura for Kara's death.

He took off his glasses, rubbing at eyes that stung as he faced what a foolish old man he was, blaming the woman he loved for fixing his daughter and thus inadvertently causing her death. Then there was the President's insistence that the pilots not be informed of the consequences of their repeated trips through the radiation field. In the end, he'd agreed with her, but it had another layer of guilt to his already heavy load.

That was why, as much as he had wanted to pursue any chance that she might have survived, he had refused Showboat's offer to search for Kara. He was responsible enough for what harm he'd sanctioned, he refused to cause further.

The battle klaxon pulled him to his feet and he heard Dualla's voice call out Condition One. As Bill hurried from his quarters, he left behind the figurine…and the last vestige of hope…for he knew that the Fleet would have to jump away.

And Kara didn't have their next set of coordinates.

If she was out there somewhere, she was on her own.