01 - Battlestar Galactica (7 page)

That brought a giggle from the woman, who glanced at her nearest neighbor.
“Huh! Never would have guessed!”

Billy’s face burned with embarrassment. Two women entered behind him and went
into toilet stalls.

“Never been in a unisex head before?” the woman asked.

“Uh—no, not really.”

She nodded. “Well, there’s not much privacy on a warship. So the first rule
is, don’t get your panties in a bunch at being seen. Second rule is,
don’t
stare.”

Which, he realized with a lurch, was exactly what he’d been doing. Again.
“Um—sorry.” He looked quickly away from her.

“C’mon,” she said, zipping up her jumpsuit. “Let’s
get you home.” She grabbed his elbow and propelled him out the door. As she led him
down the passageway, she glanced at him with a grin. “What’s your name?”

He swallowed, trying not to be dazzled by her smile. She had a great smile.
“Billy.”
And I’m not really a complete dolt, I just look like one right now.

“Hi, Billy. I’m Petty Officer Dualla, Crew Specialist.”

“Hi—Petty, uh—”

Her grin widened. “How about just Dualla. Better yet, call me D.”

“Hi, D.,” he said, blushing, but feeling much better already. He had a
feeling he’d just made his first friend on
Galactica.

“The answer’s no,” Commander Adama said, walking with Laura Roslin and Aaron
Doral through the D-Deck passageway. They had met in the corridor and Adama had
turned aside from his immediate destination to walk with them for a few minutes.
Unfortunately, Laura had brought up what apparently was a very touchy subject.

“It’s a
visitor’s guide,”
she said, amazed that a pleasant
so-good-to-meet-you conversation had turned so tense, so quickly. “It tells
people where things like the restrooms are. Or what the lunch special is in the
cafeteria. Or how to buy a
Galactica
t-shirt.
Galactica is
going
to be a museum, after all.”

Adama shook his head. “What you’re talking about is an integrated computer
network, and I will not have it on this ship.”

Laura stared straight ahead as they walked, and tried not to sound derisive.
“I heard you’re one of those people. You’re actually afraid of computers.”

“No, there are many computers on this ship. But they’re not networked.” Adama
stopped and faced her.

Laura tried to maintain a polite smile, but it was difficult in the face of
such obstinacy. “A computer network would simply make it faster and easier for
teachers to be able to teach—”

He interrupted impatiently “Let me explain something to you. Many good men
and women lost their lives aboard this ship during the Cylon war, because
someone wanted a faster computer to make their lives easier—but you know what
happened. The Cylons took control of every computer network in the Twelve
Colonies.” He was starting to lecture now. “I’m sorry that I’m inconveniencing
you or the teachers, but I
will not
allow a networked computerized system
to be placed upon this ship while I’m in command. Is that clear?”

Stunned by the sudden display of authoritarianism, Laura managed a tight,
indignant smile as she said, “Yes,
sir.”

Adama nodded. “Thank you.” And with that, he excused himself and strode away.

Laura glanced at Doral, who was obviously feeling a little flustered at the
abruptness with which feelings had gotten out of hand. Well, she didn’t have
time to worry about the PR guy’s feelings now. Nor Billy’s, she thought as she
saw him come around the corner with an attractive female crewmember. “Where you
been?” she murmured, not really caring.

“Uh—I got lost, but—D., here, helped me out,” Billy said, gesturing
awkwardly. D. smiled briefly and walked on.

“Fine. Good.” Laura raised her chin and said to Doral, “Would you be so good
as to show us to our quarters now?”

The brig was a small compartment, which always surprised Kara Thrace when she
thought about it. She guessed there weren’t that many frak-offs like herself
getting themselves locked up for stupid reasons. That was why there was just one
guard, who had nothing to do but sign in visitors and let the food come through at mealtime.
The place was grungy as hell, too. The walls were lined with ugly, composite
pegboard,
probably to absorb the sounds of screams—of boredom. The whole
place, including the bars on her cell, needed a good paint job, and the mattress
on the bunk smelled pretty ripe. It definitely wasn’t the cleanest compartment
on the ship—which she particularly noticed when she got down on the metal floor
to do push-ups. Which was precisely what she was doing, trying to stay in some
semblance of shape, when she heard a voice from the past.
Oh frak, not now.

“This seems familiar,” said Captain Lee Adama, gripping the bars and looking
in on her.

Kara got to her feet, allowing a guarded smile. She felt a rush of
complicated emotions at the sight of the man. She didn’t know
what
to
feel. Here was the handsome, chiseled-featured, cocksure, all-star pilot who
would have been her brother-in-law, if it were not for…
Let’s not go there
now, shall we?
There was something about him that always got her going. It
was probably a good thing they didn’t see each other often.

Sighing, resting her hands on her hips, she approached the bars. “Captain
Adama, sir,” she said finally. “Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you with the rest
of the squadron.” A mischievous grin tried to find its way to her face, but she
held it off. “Did they kiss your ass to your satisfaction?” Her poker face
finally broke, and she felt as if they were picking up a conversation right
where they had left it yesterday, instead of—who knew how long it had been.

Lee rewarded her gibe with a pained half-smile. He looked up at the ceiling.
“So… what’s the charge this time?”

She laughed to herself and shook her head. “Striking a superior asshole,” she
said, grinning openly now.

“Ah!” He rocked back with a chuckle. “I’ll bet you’ve been waiting all day to
say that one.”

She thought a moment, nodding. “Most of the afternoon.” She laughed and drew
closer, leaning on the bars. “So, how long has it been?”

“Two years.”

“Two years!” She shook her head. “We must be getting old. It seems like the
funeral was just a couple of months ago.” Her voice started to crack, and she
could feel herself starting to tear up.

Lee nodded, longer than necessary. He was obviously holding in his own
emotions. “Yah,” he said at last.

Pull it together now.
She drew a breath. “Your old man’s doing fine. We
don’t talk about it much—maybe two, three times a year.” She peered at him,
trying to gauge his reaction. Guarded, very guarded. Old Lee wasn’t letting
anything out. “He still struggles with it, though.”

Lee looked away. “I haven’t seen him.”

Damn. I knew it.
“Why not?”

Long pause. No answer. She let out a sigh of exasperation.

“Kara. Don’t even start.”

“How long are you going to do this?” Exasperation giving way to annoyance.

He pulled back uncomfortably. “I’m not doing anything.”

Oh frak. How long is this going to go on?
“He lost his son, Lee.”

“And who’s responsible for that?”

Kara winced in pain at the memories
that
brought up.
Let’s not go
there, either.
She shook her head in disbelief. “Same old Lee.” She tried to
find words. “You haven’t changed, either.”

He flared with anger. “Zak was my brother.”

“And what was he to
me?
Nothing?”
Only the man I was going to
marry.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know what—”

“You know what, you should go,” she interrupted. She thought a moment longer. “I’m getting an urge to hit another superior
asshole.”

Lee looked startled, but only momentarily. He nodded, and almost smiled.
She’d gotten under his skin, at least temporarily. He looked as if he was trying
to think of something to say. But then he simply turned and did as she’d asked.
She watched in silence, alone behind the bars, as he left the compartment. And
she sat on the bunk, in silence, and thought about all the things that had gone
before. Things she could never forget—but didn’t really want to remember.

The funeral. And before that, the smoke, the wreckage of the Viper…

The death. Of the man… and of her hopes for the future.

The House of Gaius Baltar, South of Caprica City

In the still of the early morning, the one known as Natasi sat in a chair by
the window, with the sun and the water at her back. She noticed neither the
water nor the sun. She saw only the bed on the other side of the room. “Gaius,”
she said softly.

Across the bedroom, there was no response.

“Gaius.”

This time she got a reaction. Gaius Baltar’s head appeared from under the
comforter. A moment later, the head of a very beautiful, and very naked,
brunette appeared. The brunette, seeing Natasi in the shadows, hastily yanked
the covers up to her neck. Gaius simply looked flustered and embarrassed.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” he asked.

The brunette was more direct. “Who the hell
are
you?”

Natasi allowed no emotion to show. “Get out,” she said.

“Gaius, who is this woman?”

Stammering, he managed, “She’s just a friend.” And immediately realized that
that
was the wrong thing to say. “Well—more
than a friend—when I say friend, what I—”

“Get—out.”
Natasi raised her voice only a little, but it was
enough to cause the other woman to rethink whatever might have been on the tip
of her tongue. She turned to Gaius for support.
Spineless.
He gestured
helplessly.

With a sigh of disgust, the woman rolled out of bed. “This is
just…
great.”
She gathered up her clothes and stalked from the room.

“Bye,” Gaius called after, in a little boy’s voice. A moment later, there was
the sound of the front door shutting.

Gaius turned slowly and looked at Natasi guiltily, shamefacedly. He made
another helpless gesture. He’d been caught red-handed, and he clearly felt—for
the moment—bad about it. Natasi could see the wheels turning in his head. He was
obviously trying to decide on a strategy, and his decision was to plead for
mercy. “Look, it’s me. It’s
me,
all right?” He rolled out of bed on the
other side. “It’s totally me. I—I screwed up.” He pulled on a pair of
loose-fitting sweatpants and stood up. “I
am
screwed up. Always have
been.” He shrugged on a robe. His gaze became very thoughtful, as though he were
peering deep into his own soul. “It’s a flaw in my character that I have—I’ve
always hated, and I’ve tried to overcome—”

“Spare me your feigned self-awareness and remorse,” she said sharply.
You’re such a child, Gaius. Is that why I love you? “I
came here because I
have something to tell you.”

For a moment, he looked startled, then relieved. Then scared. “Oh.” He sat
back on the edge of the bed, his voice very small. “Okay.”

Natasi gazed at him pensively for a few long moments. Then she stood and
turned to the window, staring out at the daylight creeping over the sound, illuminating the tops of the trees. “Gaius,” she
said without looking at him. “I’d like you to consider something.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I’d like you to consider the relationship of a child to its parent.” She
turned back to him.

Gaius rolled his eyes with a sarcastic laugh. “Philosophy—at five in the
morning?”

She said nothing. She simply looked at him.

“Which is
fine,”
he said hastily. “Great. Fine. Absolutely.”

She continued, very quietly and seriously. “Children are born to replace
their parents. That is God’s plan.” She waited a moment to see if he would
react, or make some crack about God and his plans.
No? Good.
“God plans
the death of a child’s parents, the very act of death itself, to be a critical
part of a child’s development into adulthood.”

Gaius was looking very nervous now. He reacted, as always, with a bad attempt
at humor. “Nothing worse than parents who hang around too long,” he said,
clapping his hands together. “Mine certainly did.”

Again, she said nothing. But her gaze was withering.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

She would keep trying. “God wants children to grow and develop on their own.
He wants them to reach their fullest potential. And so… it is… that all
parents
must die.”
She paused to let that sink in. “But parents who stand
in the way of God’s plan, parents who defy his will…” She paused again and
gave him half a smile. “They don’t just die. They must be struck down.”

That hit a nerve, and he jumped up, twitching. “Where the hell are you going
with this? Natasi, what are you talking about?”

Her smile was full now. “The world is changing, Gaius. The world is changing.
…”

Galactica,
Officers’ Wardroom

The wardroom was crowded with photographers and people with microphones, and
the PR flack Aaron Doral, who was in charge of keeping order. Commander William
Adama, stiff and uncomfortable in his full-dress uniform, waited in the shadows
in the back of the room, glancing around, trying not to think about a lot of
things. This room was usually used for briefings and planning sessions—not photo
ops. The walls of the wardroom were lined with pictures, plaques, flags, and
other mementoes of
Galactica’s
long service to the Twelve Colonies.
Several of the photos included Adama himself.

Usually the commander derived a feeling of family from looking at those
pictures—the family of his brothers and sisters in uniform, those he had served
under and over and with, those who had moved on to other lives, those who had
stayed, those who had died. Right now, he didn’t get much of that feeling.
Because right now, a member of his real family was approaching, and he didn’t
get much of a feeling of family out of that, either.