The CAG moved on to the down-and-dirty details of the maneuvers they would be flying later that day.
It was a day that, for Lee, could not end soon enough.
Chapter 8
Caprica City, Government Center Plaza
Coming down the steps from the Defense Ministry, her arm draped over Baltar's shoulder, Natasi listened tolerantly as Gaius went on about the success of his latest project, the Central Navigation Program currently being deployed and tested in the Colonial fleet. Really—she loved him, and could barely keep her hands off him, but when he got going on his accomplishments, there was no shutting him off.
"It may interest you to know," he was saying, tightening his arm around her waist, "that the final results are in on the CNP project. It's working at close to ninety-five percent efficiency throughout the fleet." She half expected him to stop and take a bow, but instead he continued without a beat, "Hold your applause, please."
"No applause for me?" she asked, her head turned away from him. My, aren't you satisfied? "I doubt you would ever have completed the project without me." She finally looked at him.
Gaius casually drew a mouthful of smoke from his cigar. "Yes, well, you . . . helped a bit . . ."
"I rewrote half your algorithms."
"All right, you were extremely helpful." He peered at her through his dark glasses. "But let's not forget, you got something out of it. All that poking around inside the Defense mainframe should give you a huge advantage bidding for the contract next year."
She turned to face him. "You know that's not really why I did it."
He paused and looked away. "No, you did it because you love me."
She drew him back and allowed just flicker of a smile on her lips. "That, and God wanted me to help you."
A pained expression crossed his face, and he pulled off his dark glasses. "Right, he spoke to you, did he? You had a chat?" Now, instead of pained, he looked supercilious.
Deliberately and tolerantly, she said, "He didn't speak to me in a literal voice. And you don't have to mock my faith."
"I'm sorry," Gaius said. "I'm just not very religious."
To say the least. "Does it bother you that I am?"
He sighed, obviously groping for words. He put his arm back around her waist, and began walking again. "It puzzles me that an intelligent, attractive woman such as yourself should be taken in by mysticism and superstition." His voice suddenly turned lecherous. "But I'm willing to overlook it, on account of your other attributes."
She laughed, and turned to stop him with a hand to his chest. "I have to go. I'm meeting someone."
"Really? Who is he? I'm insanely jealous."
She leaned into him with a chuckle. "I doubt that."
Gaius looked slightly disconcerted. He put a fingertip to her nose. "So touchy today." Almost imperceptibly gathering his ego, he continued, "Well, as a matter of fact, I'm meeting someone, too—business. A new project at Defense I might do. So, uh"—he kissed her on the cheek—"you'll call me later. Right?" Without waiting for an answer, he sauntered away.
She watched him go, then turned to be on with her business. She stopped before she'd taken more than a step. Her entire mood and outlook changed as she greeted her colleague. "It's about time," she said. "I wondered when you'd get here."
Her contact nodded. "It is indeed. The time has almost come."
She drew a breath and sighed. So soon. The work is nearly finished. "All right, then. I'd like to be with him."
The other nodded again. "Of course. There is much for him to do yet. And one way or another, you will always be with him."
Chapter 9
Galactica, Port and Starboard Landing Bays
The giant warship Galactica boasted two complete landing systems—essentially, parallel runways enclosed in enormous tubes, one on either flank of the great spaceship. On the right, or starboard, side, the huge landing bay had already been turned into a huge museum hall. Twenty-odd older-model Vipers of various vintages had been brought in, and were in the process of being converted to display units. Various historical exhibits were being prepared, including actual Cylon Centurions, warrior robots captured during the Cylon War forty years ago. A scale model depicted the most dreaded of all war machines, the Cylon base star—the enemy's counterpart to the Colonial battlestar, but much larger, and in nearly every way more powerful. The work on preparing the exhibits proceeded quietly, steadily, and for the most part, outside the day-to-day awareness of the Galactica crew. It was far enough along, though, to make quite an impression on visitors for the dedication ceremony.
On the opposite side of the ship, the port landing bay was still very much in use. In fact, it was busier than usual, what with the arriving vessels and the fact that it was now doing the work of two bays. The large passenger transport coming in just now looked like a toy boat as it settled to a stop in the long cavern of the landing bay. It was carrying the chief VIP for the dedication ceremonies, the Secretary of Education for the Twelve Colonies.
"Colonial Transport Seven-Niner-Eight heavy, welcome to Galactica. Please stand by, and keep your passengers seated, while we bring you down into the hangar deck."
"Galactica, Colonial Seven-Niner-Eight heavy, roger."
It took a little longer to get the large transport squared away than it did a small Viper, but eventually its doors opened, and people started streaming out. They were escorted across the hangar floor by the deckhands, and shown the way to the ladders that would take them down to E Deck, where their guides awaited them.
Billy Keikeya was first down the ladder, but the well-groomed man in civilian dress who waited to greet them called first to Laura Roslin as she was still negotiating the ladder. "Secretary Roslin?"
"Yes." The secretary stepped off the ladder and turned.
After greeting her, the man finally spoke to Billy. "Mister Krekare?"
"Keikeya," Billy corrected him.
"Oh—sorry. My name's Aaron Doral." Shaking hands with both of them, Mr. Doral spoke quickly as he continued, "I'm from Public Relations. I'd like to welcome you aboard Galactica."
"Thank you," Laura said.
"If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters."
They set off through the corridors, and Billy was almost at once overwhelmed by the new sights and the bustle of activity, with ship's crew members striding purposefully through a bewildering series of intersecting corridors. The whole look of the place was surprisingly clunky and old fashioned compared to the transport he'd just come in on—or to just about anything on Caprica. The passageways were blocked off at regular intervals by bulkheads and huge metal hatches with rims, or coamings, that one had to step over to get from compartment to compartment. Storage lockers lined the walls everywhere, filling just about every nook and cranny. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought he was on a submarine.
Overhead speakers kept coming alive for announcements. At one point, the announcement was to welcome the Secretary of Education to the Galactica. Billy was tired, but intrigued. He paused at one intersection to look around. His eye was caught by an attractive, copper-complexioned crewwoman with long dark hair in a ponytail, and he turned to watch her pass. It was only when she turned to look back at him with a sharp, captivating gaze that he realized he was staring. He returned to his senses with a start, and hurried after the Secretary and Mr. Doral.
The only problem was, they were out of sight. He whirled this way and that, trying to figure out which way they might have gone. Too many choices. "Madame Secretary?" he called. Taking a guess, he chose a passageway branching off the right, followed it a short distance, then halted, suddenly uncertain. He started down another, turned a corner, and realized he was now completely lost. Sweating, feeling like a dunce, he tried a different direction. Great. If they didn't already think you were too young for the job, this'll clinch it. "Madame Secretary!"
He moved more quickly, down a hallway that at least seemed large enough to be a main corridor. There wa
s an announcement tone overhead, and the intercom voice, saying, "Attention all hands. There is an EVA in progress outside the hull. Do not radiate any electrical . . ."
Billy found himself in front of a large hatch. Well, maybe they'd gone this way, and that was why they couldn't hear his calls. Taking a breath, he pulled it open. To his complete embarrassment, he found himself standing in the doorway to a large bathroom, in which about a dozen men—and women—were in various stages of undress while showering or washing at sinks.
The nearest woman, dressed only in a black bra and the bottom half of a jumpsuit, glared up from the wash basin and said, "In . . . or out!"
"Excuse me?" He realized, dizzily, that this was the same dark-complexioned woman he had seen just a few minutes ago in the corridor.
"Get in or get out. Shut the hatch," she said, continuing to scrub at her face with a washcloth.
"Oh—sorry!" he said, reaching to pull the hatch closed behind him.
The woman looked up at him with tolerant exasperation. She had gorgeous eyes. "Where are you trying to be?"
He struggled to find his voice. "Uh—visitors' quarters." He winced, stepping aside for more people coming into the room. "I'm a visitor."
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 d
oing 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.
Chapter 10
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?"
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