Chapter Three
“I need to make an appeal to the people,” she said to Elosha. That was the only thing she was sure of. After
that, they would go to Kobol. That had to be the next step. Beyond that, she was at a loss. What came next?
“So make an appeal.” To Elosha it was simple. To Laura, it was Greek.
“How? How do I talk to the people with Tigh up there? I need to speak to all the people. They need to see that there
is another option. They don’t have to blindly follow the military as they lead us to nowhere.” She sighed and
tucked the parka tighter around her. “We have to have a destination. Sometimes, living for the day isn’t enough.”
“Then, say that.”
“I will, whenever I figure out how to reach them.”
Once they departed the transport, they met Tom Zarek, who led them to their newest locale. They would move every once in
a while to avoid detection by Tigh’s men. They were praying that Adama would wake soon, so that their nightmare might
be that much closer to an end.
Before entering a small alcove tucked away on the frigate Lasse, Zarek took the President aside. “I don’t
know if you’ve heard, but Zeus has awakened. And has returned to Mount Olympus, if my sources are right.” She
inclined her chin in acknowledgement. Though she was glad to hear such news, she didn’t particularly trust his sources.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“No particular reason. I simply thought that was something you’d want to know.”
She didn’t comment on his presumptiveness. “Thank you. Is it this way?” He nodded and followed her inside.
She rounded a sharp corner and paused at the many persons clad in rich red religious robes. Upon seeing her, they dropped
to their knees and bowed before her. She swallowed uneasily and descended the short flight of steps to their level, her parka
discarded at the door.
It was exhilarating, as well as humbling, to see them this way. She cleared her throat and released the stars trapped in
her eyes. “If you believe in the power of the Gods. Return with me to Kobol. Tell all those you know. If they believe
in the power of the Gods, follow me to Kobol.”
Their response was positive and unanimous. She had her followers. They would return to Kobol and find the temple of Athena.
Then, Earth would not be so far away. She looked back to Priestess Elosha, who only nodded. Events had been set into motion.
Now, they had to come to pass.
~~~
As he walked the corridors of Galactica his fingers trailed the panels of the walls lazily, picking up the pockmarks
and dents. Each one told a story, some similar, most awesomely different from any other. Every story had players, characters,
and regulators.
In this story, he played all three parts. He represented the military’s stake in all this. He was the warrior. He
was the hard-assed commander that so villainously opposed the meek, dying teacher thrust into a job she wasn’t fit for.
Also, he controlled every other role. He put every man or woman in their place. That was his job. They stayed the hell out
of his way while he tried desperately to hold them together, sometimes with his bare hands.
Which is why he was so thrown when another role was tossed into the fray? He was seeing things. When he laid his hands
on a surface, these odd images would flit across him mind to the exclusion of all other things. It would be random instants;
a snippet of a conversation, a sudden action, an observation.
He touched a rusted stain and he was standing unobtrusively in an unlit hall, with the ominous clanging of Centurions
screaming in his ear and shrieks of doomed comrades rising all over his ship. The booming steps grew closer and he found himself
defenseless in a battle zone. A single titanium soldier came into view and he took a step back in vain defiance of his impending
death. In the near darkness, he could see the sliding redness of his vision. For the moment, he truly thought he’d die…
As his intimidating arm took precise aim at Adama’s chest, he was frozen, but not with fright. No trepidation stunted
his movement. It was fascination; a dangerous emotion. The round did not come slow, nor flamboyantly. It impacted his chest
like an unforgiving fist and pierced his valiant heart. He backed into unknowingly into the nearby bulkhead, both hands clutching
where his lungs used to be. Stale, muggy air rushed into the wound and he gagged on air bubbles, the death rattle buckling
his knees and bringing him crumpling to the deck, eyes still trained on the object of his demise.
The steel monstrosity, seeing that it had failed to decimate its quarry, came forward with its other destructive limb,
machete-like fingers extending from within. Screaming was impossible, but he rasped, tasting blood and seeing Death out of
the corner of his eye, knowing he was waiting. Horror so filled him that there was little left for Man’s creation to
do once it reached him. He had terrified himself to death.
Her touch startled him. He bolted, and in the reflex his body was launched from it’s reclined position on the floor
as his basic defense training kicked in
He gasped as the motion tugged
mercilessly on his sutures and exacerbated aches he never knew existed.
“Dee,” he sighed in relief. He’d been sure she was a Cylon. She looked worried, which given how he must
look, he could understand. He circumvented any inquiry to his health. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t think so, sir. You were unconscious for a while.” She’d tried waking him a few times already.
“I was not unconscious.” It was as much to convince him as her.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you were.” She refused to back down on that point. “Maybe you need to see
Doctor Cottle.”
“No.”
“Sir!”
“Petty Office Dualla,” he returned sharply, “I’m fine. I needed to rest for a second and I must
have nodded off. That’s all. Drop it.” It wasn’t a request.
Grudgingly she backed up, but offered him a hand up from the deck, seeing his obvious difficulty rising. He took it unhappily.
Now-- wasn’t the time for shows of weakness.
His fingers closed around her small palm, to feel a shock race up his arm and cause him to jerk back, eliciting a strained
groan from his battered lungs. Guilt was a killer. Guilt and stress, and fear of what would happen next. He saw it all inside
of her. It pained him that he couldn’t ease her concern.
“Sir.” He held up a hand to keep her quiet. A slow exhale pushed past his lips, leaving the stinging taste
of iron in back of his throat. It was far too reminiscent of what he’d just envisioned. He shook off the lightning and
stood unaided.
“I need get to CIC.”
She kept her distance, but watched him with an eagle eye. “Yes, sir. When you didn’t arrive for your shift
Colonel Tigh sent me to find you.” Thanks a lot, Saul.
“Well, you’ll have to thank him for me.” It wasn’t a remarkably grateful platitude.
She dipped her chin in comprehension and led the way back to the CIC. If Adama lagged behind her at all, it was marginal
and could, at worst, be attributed to the fact that the man had just been shot. Not to mention that his entire fleet had collapsed
as he lay out cold.
She supposed that was as good a reason as any to slow down. It didn’t seem as though he’d get to do it again
any time soon.
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