Chapter 133 Results
Adama thanked his steward when the youngster removed the breakfast tray from his desk. He frowned at the teenager's departing back though, wondering how he'd come to be surrounded by children. On the thought's heels came the reminder that it wasn't true, it only felt that way this morning because of the two people that were both currently…unavailable.
Worry deepened the lines above his brow as he wondered how Laura's first Doloxan treatment had gone. He had to believe that the cancer had been caught early enough this time for conventional therapies to work, for the alternative wasn't an option he was willing to consider. Too many souls lost already and he shied from the thought that Laura's reprieve had been only a temporary one.
A glance at the clock drew a frown.
Cottle had insisted on keeping his VIP patient overnight for observation in case there were side effects from the chemotherapy. But if the Doc gave her the all-clear, she was due to be released to return to her Presidential duties this morning. Adama admitted to himself that he had taken his time getting around on the hopes that she'd seek him out here where they could have a few words together in private.
Clouded blue eyes shifted to the suite's couch and an idea surfaced; Laura could use his quarters—specifically his bunk—while he took the couch. After all, the sofa had sufficed well enough for others. And then his mind immediately shifted to Kara and their confrontation the day before.
Shame abruptly bullied him to his feet to lean heavily on the desk's edge.
As the memory of the his palm striking Kara caused him to clench the offending hand, he silently berated himself. How could he hit her like that?! Guilt clamped a vise to his chest as Adama questioned what had possessed him? Sorting through the compulsion that had driven him in that instant, he still found himself bewildered by his reaction.
Adama knew that as a young man he'd been as hot-headed as the next, but had learned early to channel his aggression in suitable manners: audacity in the cockpit being a point in common he shared with Kara. Never had he even struck one of his children, let alone a person under his command. As if to contradict this thought, the image of Sharon lying on the ground beneath his throttling grasp abruptly sprang to mind.
That was different, he grimly told himself, then physically turned away to pace across the room.
Halting before the now-empty bar, Adama grimaced in acknowledgment that he'd been drinking heavily lately. Between the loss of Kara and the news of Laura's compromised health, over the past month he had sought to dull the sharp grief…and the fear of more to come, within a hazy of alcohol. Nothing on the scale of his XO's use, he assured himself, but he could now see that his reliance on its numbing effects had steadily grown. Would he have been so harsh, so judgmental, of Lee's choice to actively assist in Baltar's defense if he had been entirely sober? The thought added another layer of regret to the rift between he and his son.
Grimly he realized that there was no denying that his drinking had contributed to his recent behavior, but it wasn't an excuse. Laura's reprimand of his action shouldn't have ever been necessary. No. He knew that the alcohol had loosened his control, yet his choices had still been his own. The feeling of shame cut deeper as he realized how close he'd come to venting his rage on Laura. In that moment when she'd chastised him for striking Kara rather than facing the accusations against Saul, he had started towards her before jerking himself to a halt, blanching at how close he'd come to another violent response.
The decision to forego all alcohol was a mere field dressing for his self-disgust.
Now, scrubbing at his freshly shaved face with both hands, Adama sought to understand the anger that had caused him to hit someone so vulnerable to his actions. His hands stilled.
There was no use denying it.
He was profoundly angry with Kara.
His feelings were inappropriate, right? An ignoble response when he should be thankful that she had returned to them. Where was the gratitude he should feel that she had survived and appeared to be unharmed? But that was just it. Was she unharmed…or were fresh damages hidden away beneath her usual bravado? Appearances had deceived him before, and the thought of her suffering a repeat of her experiences on New Caprica was enough to nearly buckle his knees.
Fear of what the Cylons might have done to his surrogate daughter this time around caught at his breath…and nearly as quickly reverted to anger.
He still didn't understand this gut-rage.
Letting his hands fall to his side, Adama opened his eyes and swept the cabin for the answer he couldn't find within himself. His gaze came to rest on the back of a picture frame. He didn't have to see it to bring up the image of his two boys posed before a Viper. The loss of his youngest was a lingering dull ache, yet it was the circumstances of Zak's death that focused Adama's thoughts.
Kara's decision back then to put her feelings above military protocol may not have directly killed his son, but it had been an undeniable factor. Narrowing his eyes, Adama wondered if he still subconsciously blamed her. Sampling his feelings, he could definitely taste the stale tang of an anger that lingered, but he shook his head. No, it wasn't specifically that incident with Zak, yet…
Yet it was a pattern that she continued to repeat.
She had once again chosen to ignore her duties to go haring off on a quest more likely the result of a hallucination than anything real. Hadn't she learned better after the her unauthorized trip back to Caprica? A residual of betrayal also still clung to those memories. He'd thought he had lost her that time, too. And, as his gaze shifted to the empty space on his worktable where the galleon model had once rested, the recent rending loss threatened to choke him again. The ship hadn't been repairable; its remnants, evidence of his grief-induced rage, had been swept up and tossed.
Was this then the source of his anger; Kara's insistence on following her own course of action, careless of the consequences to not just herself, but to those that cared for her? She might be the daughter-of-his-heart, but she was also a Colonial Officer.
Damned time she started behaving like one!
With that thought came the memory of Saul's gruffly admitting that he was a Cylon.
Adama's guilt—somewhat assuaged by his internal reasoning of legitimate causes for his anger—abruptly returned. Regardless of how he felt about her past actions, it had been her attempt to tell him that his longtime friend was a Cylon that had unjustly earned her a slap and accusations of lying.
He dropped his chin to his chest as the realization that it hadn't been his feelings about her reckless decisions that had broken his control, nor his overindulgence of alcohol; it had been her assertion of Saul's Cylon nature.
Despite his XO's confession, Adama still found it nearly impossible to accept that a man he has known for so many years, been through so much with, wasn't the person he believed him to be. Side-eying his feelings, then finally facing them directly, he was forced to admit that his sense of betrayal engender by Saul's confession was as much directed at Kara as his ex-XO.
In that moment, the adage about blaming the messenger took on new meaning.
It was unacceptable—contemptible.
Grinding his teeth, Adama acknowledged that as wrong as Kara's actions may have been, as painful to him personally, she didn't deserve the sort of treatment he'd dealt out. Another scene replayed in his mind now: Kara standing in a cell built for their enemy and accusing him of being just like her parents. His shame deepened now at having proven her correct.
The Admiral straightened. If there was one thing he'd learned from his years in command, it was that there was no way of changing past mistakes; only of owning up to them, mitigating the fallout and trying like hell not to repeat the same ones again.
He owed her an apology.
Whether she would forgive him…he could only hope so.
Another glance at the clock and he debated whether to send for her now. He hesitated, thinking that he really should relieve Captain Agathon in CIC where his new XO was now going on a third shift without a break.
Before he'd come to a decision, a rap on the hatch sounded. The Admiral automatically called out permission to enter before the guard even had a chance to announce the visitor. As the blonde figure in BDUs stepped over the threshold, Adama realized that his attempt to make amends was going to have to come first.
Choosing to face the issue between them head-on, he immediately stepped forward and enveloped Kara in a hug. Her surprise was evident by the stiffening of her posture within his arms, but he held the embrace until he felt her relax. Still, her arms didn't lift to return the clasp. With a mental sigh, Adama knew that this was likely to be as difficult as he feared.
Moving back a half-pace but maintaining their connection with a hand on each shoulder, he gave Kara a searching look. Seeing her split lip, he mentally winced at the physical evidence of his violence. He forced himself to take in the rest of her appearance and felt some relief that the heavy exhaustion visible in her eyes yesterday had eased. She still had a worn edge to her wary expression, but he hadn't expected anything else. After a month's captivity and his own harsh reception, he was afraid that it would take more than simple rest to regain the ground she had made in her recovery before her disappearance.
"Sir, I—" she broke off, obviously unsettled by his greeting.
Taking a breath, "Starb—Kara, there was no excuse for striking you," he began, then paused as she retreated a step herself, breaking his light hold. She looked away then, arms crossing before her as she shrugged.
"Doesn't matter," her neutrally-spoken reply.
"It does. You didn't deserve that."
Another shrug and still she refused to return his gaze.
Studying her, he couldn't tell if she was angry at him, or perhaps worse, that Kara might actually believe that she had earned the blow. Uncertain at how much of the trust he had rebuilt between them had been sundered by that moment, he tried to find words to convey how much he regretted his reaction. At the very least, he owed her a real apology.
"Still…I'm sorry."
She shifted to her other foot before giving him a jerky nod. On an inhale, she finally met his eyes and Adama felt that she was weighing his sincerity. He saw her eyes narrow slightly as she made a decision.
"If you mean it, then give me a Raptor," she said, her tone challenging, and he stiffened in response.
He should have seen this coming.
Pushed aside by the reveal of the remaining Cylons' identities, he'd hadn't given Starbuck's claim to having found Earth any further thought. Additional evidence of how poorly he'd recently performed his duties, he grimly realized. Recalling Kara's passionate insistence that she'd discovered the goal of their forced odyssey, and then her building frustration at his and the President's dubious response, he should have known that she wasn't about to let the matter drop.
The same doubts he'd had the day before quickly returned. Her relating of how she'd flown her Raptor through some sort of space anomaly and found Earth on the other side sounded incredibly far-fetched. A more logical explanation was that she'd had a hallucination brought on by a combination of radiation sickness, stims and her own history of flashbacks. At what point she had been captured by the Cylons was still unclear, but Adama also couldn't ignore the possibility that they might have suborned her memories in some way.
But to what end?
Of their offer of an alliance, the Cylons had to know that he'd suspect a trap.
Was this their plan then? To dangle the bait of Kara's claim of finding Earth as an alternate hook if he refused to rise to their first cast? Was she meant to lure the Fleet into an ambush? Regardless, he was going to have to make a decision soon.
His gaze slid briefly to the hatch, wondering when he could expect a recommendation from Lee on the alliance proposal. Then, chiding himself for wishing for an excuse to shelve this conversation, Adama shifted his attention back to the woman before him. For, as much as he wanted to believe in her, show his support, he wasn't willing to risk her on such an implausible mission. Not after only just getting her back!
He realized he'd taken too long responding when he saw Kara's expression hardened.
"That's what I thought," she sneered, then added, "Afterwards, my momma always said sorry, too."
He couldn't hide the flinch at her comparison, but then his eyes narrowed as he considered whether she was purposefully trying to use his guilt to manipulate him. Her face didn't reveal any answers and he was left with the sour knowledge that it didn't really matter: he wasn't about to change his mind.
Choosing to ignore her remark, "Depending on Lee's assessment of the Cylons' offer, a diplomatic team may be dispatched to the rendezvous point," he said, then mentally kicked himself when she went rigid. "You won't be expected to go," he hurried to assure her, then watched as her arms dropped to her side and she surreptitiously wiped her palms on her cargo pants.
But when she shifted her hands to her hips and her lips lifted in a tight smile, Adama knew she hadn't been distracted from her purpose.
"Then I'm available to go back."
"You want to search for this…this mandala or…wormhole you said you went through?"
"It was there," Kara said. Then, voice rising, "I saw it. Flew into it twice. It was there…and I can find it again, find Earth," she defensively insisted. She saw the pitying skepticism he wasn't quite able to hide and her tone took on a desperate edge. "I thought that's what we wanted. A way to Earth?!"
The pleading note that had slipped into her voice hurt, for he wasn't willing to give her what she wanted. Not when he didn't really believe that she'd found their goal. Not when it meant risking her again so soon.
Unfortunately, he knew how his answer would be taken. Seeking to shift a portion of the burden of refusal to the battlestar's physician, "You know Cottle won't clear you for anymore radiation exposure," he stated.
Flicking that argument aside with a negligent wave of a hand, "I'm fine," she said, then sardonically added, "And it's not like that bothered either of you before."
As the accusation chilled the air between them, Adama grimly recalled his meeting the evening before with those affected by his decision. The Ready Room had been uncompromisingly silent in the wake of his confession, but the betrayed look in his pilots' eyes had spoken volumes. Not only had he sanctioned a mission that had left most of them probably sterile, he'd done so without their knowledge. They had given him their trust and he should have trusted his people in return. The disillusionment in their expressions made it clear that he'd changed that equation.
And now he faced the same consequences with Kara. She was daring him to trust her judgment, to back her in recompense for his earlier deception.
Only…he couldn't—wouldn't.
His answer must have been visible in his expression, for the corner of her mouth lifted in a sneer even as pain darkened her eyes.
"Right," she ground out, then straightened into an attention stance. "Permission to be excused, Sir," her harsh emphasis making it clear she was putting him on notice that his refusal had negated his earlier apology.
Not willing to let their interaction end like this, he said, "Not quite yet, Captain," and watched her lips thin. Clasping his hands behind his back, he regarded her levelly. "I want your opinion on this Alliance offer."
Her nostrils flared and he carefully studied the emotions that flitted across Kara's face. Incredulity was quickly replaced by resentment, undoubtedly spurred by his asking for her input after having just disregarded it moments ago, he guessed. Then an uncertainty he hadn't expected made her glance away. She licked her lips before sharply responding.
"What's it matter what I think?"
He heard the evasion in her reply, despite the derision she'd used as a cover. So…what was she covering for? What had happened to her over the past weeks? Where was her head?
"If I offered to have the Cylon prisoners executed, would you want that?" he cautiously probed, and she blinked in surprised reaction. As she hesitated, his gaze narrowed and he wondered if she was thinking of her husband. Thoughts of the ex-Pyramid player had Adama questioning how she could have never has suspected anything…yet, even in that moment, a mocking inner voice taunted him about his own ignorance as to Saul's true nature. Shying from that lance of betrayal, he refocused on Kara and watched as her arms again rose to cross defensively in front of her before she answered.
"You'd airlock the lot of them?" her tone a mix of disbelief and an undefinable emotion he couldn't pin down.
"Is that what you want?"
Even as his words slipped into the space between them, Adama realized his mistake.
"You know what I want," she stated, her hard gaze challenging again.
Choosing to ignore the implicit demand, "Do you trust Anders?" he asked instead.
Again her eyes flitted away before returning to his; her only answer this time a non-committal shrug. He studied her another moment before grimly admitting that Kara was shutting him out. His recent actions had opened a chasm between them, and he knew that, despite his apology, he'd failed to bridge that gap; that his denial of a Raptor had in fact widened it further. Deterred by the knowledge that no matter how he tried to explain his refusal, she was going to see it as proof that he didn't trust her, he decided to put aside this struggle for another time.
He was just going to have to evaluate the Cylons' proposition without her assessment.
Speaking of which…his gaze shifted to the hatch and he wondered again at the delay in Lee's reporting his recommendation. He must have finished his interrogations by now, Adama thought to himself. He didn't regret choosing Lee for the task, acknowledging in part that he'd done so as a sort of olive branch, but the dominant reason had been his son's powerful—and bluntly legitimate—testimony at Baltar's trial. It galled Adama to know that the smarmy scientist was free and now residing with a group of devotees in a small hold on B deck. Yet, he couldn't deny the pride he felt at Lee's feat in standing up to a board composed of senior officers and exposing the hypocrisy inherent in the charges against the ex-President. At the conclusion of his son's impassioned speech, the senior Adama had seen clearly—perhaps for the first time—how much Lee had matured; growing into a man that was willing to face unflinching a cold examination of his own faults as well as those of others.
Now, as Adama's gaze moved from the clock back to Kara, he had trouble accepting that it had been less than forty-two hours since the end of the trial; so much had happened since.
His mind briefly replayed his encounter with two other blondes the night before. He had had first Caprica Six and then Ellen Tigh brought to his chambers so he could question them individually—and without Lee's knowledge. It wasn't that he didn't trust him to properly debrief the pair, he had just wanted to get a feel himself for what they had to say. He had sought the Six's opinion on her siblings' offer, partially testing her and also figuring that there hadn't been time for the others to fill her in on any treachery they planned.
And then there was Ellen Tigh.
Adama had known he wasn't up to facing Saul, and certainly not mentally ready to impartially evaluate his story, but he'd known Ellen a long time, too. Her methods of manipulating were old hat to him and, having seen her use them often enough in the past on her husband and others, Adama felt he'd be in a better position than Lee to get a proper read on her motivations now.
The encounter had been a surprise.
The woman he'd confronted was undoubtedly the same he'd disliked for years, yet…
He remembered sensing a calmness—serenity almost—that had been previously missing in the past from the ambitious spouse of his XO. And as she'd related waking on the basestar and the reclamation of her blocked memories, it had come to him then that she must have always felt that there was something important missing in her life. He gut said that she'd been completely forthcoming as she'd told her story and answered his questions. And so, when he'd given instructions for her and Caprica to be held separate from the remaining prisoners afterwards, he hadn't done so from fear that she'd taint the others' stories, just that he hadn't wanted Lee to learn that he'd chosen to do a separate debrief. Last thing he needed was his son thinking that he didn't have full confidence in his judgment.
His thoughts circled back around to the young woman that stood stiffly regarding him, and he hoped that Lee was having better luck patching up things between Kara than he was himself. Despite all the issues he'd been faced with when Lee had first escorted Kara from sickbay for her initial debrief, Adama had still been aware of the underlying anger she'd directed at his son. Whatever the problem, perhaps the pair had resolved it since.
With a somewhat impatient sigh, the Admiral pushed thoughts of the labyrinthine relationship between the two aside and straightened.
"I understand Lee's given you his quarters," he began, noting the way her eyes softened at the mention of his son and yet at the same time the line of her jaw tightened. "That's acceptable for now." As her gaze warily narrowed, "You'll continue with Sergeant Mathias as an escort until this issue with the Cylons has been concluded," he informed her.
"Concluded?" she drawled.
"Until we see how this Alliance settles out," he clarified, quickly grasping that she had determined that the resumption of a Marine guard was a sign of his distrust.
Dammit, it's for her own good!
He'd meant the Sergeant's presence to prevent a repeat of what had happened after New Caprica. He knew Mathias would discourage inquisitive crewmembers from pestering the 'returned-from-the-dead' Starbuck, while being a stabilizing personality for the emotionally charged young woman. By his reasoning, the assignment had the added benefit of providing him with an objective barometer of Kara's mental state.
The fact that Kara would interpret the Marine's presence negatively wasn't something that he could help. She was just going to have to accept it.
Deciding that it was useless to make further attempts at repairing matters between them when Kara was so obviously ready to read all his actions in the worst possible light, he dismissed her and watched a she swiveled and strode towards the hatch. As the metal door swung inwards at her tug, over her shoulder he saw Doc Cottle standing beyond, speaking with the Marine guard.
The physician's expression on seeing Kara was startled—and Adama thought he noted a hint of guilt before the doctor gave the Viper pilot a nod of greeting. Adama couldn't see Kara's face from behind, but it wasn't difficult to interpret the extra distance she put between them as she moved passed the ship's doctor.
Adama grimaced as he realized that this was another relationship damaged by his decision to withhold information from his people.
As Cottle stepped into the cabin and the door clanged closed behind him, the Admiral forced his hands to unclench, but, on seeing what Cottle held, his hands immediately fisted again at his side. The familiar manila of medical folders sent a stab of fear along his spine. The physician must have Laura's tests back already and, judging from the doctor's bleak expression, the results weren't good.
Delaying the moment when he'd have to hear the news, Adama moved around the desk and sat. He gave a short nod toward the opposite chair and tried to keep his breathing steady as Cottle hesitated before taking the indicated seat. The Admiral studied the man, watching as one age-spotted hand make an aborted motion to his overcoat pocket before returning to clasp the medical records before him.
Both men sat in apprehensive silence then, neither quite willing to meet the eyes of the other. Finally, Cottle gave an irritable shrug and leaned forward to place the two folders on the desk between them.
On looking down, Adama eyes widened in confusion as he read the names identifying the records. Quickly shifting his gaze back to Cottle, he frowned, perplexed why the Doc had brought Kara and Saul's medical histories to him. And why the man looked like he'd rather be any place but here right now.
"I ran the damned test three times," Cottle finally said, his own gaze dropping to the twin folders. Then he lifted his eyes to meet Adama's. "The results are conclusive… Kara Thrace is Saul Tigh's daughter."