The younger woman sat across from him, wearing her own wire-rimmed glasses and sharp suit, looking and acting superior to him in several ways. It was an amusing display to Adama. He was the Commander of the Fleet and some woman he’d never heard of presumed to cow him.

She wasn’t striking in any unique way, but she was attractive. Her eyes were gray and reminded him of the President’s. She wore black heeled boots that disappeared beneath her charcoal gray pants. She was aloof, but not uncompassionate. It was easy to see that she was about business, and not about to tolerate the runaround.

“Why are you here, Commander?”

“I imagine Dr. Cottle spoke with you.” He wasn’t in a rush to tell her anything.

She scolded him over her glasses with her eyes. “You imagine incorrectly. He told me that you might come. However, he didn’t tell me why. Why don’t you tell me why?”

He tugged the hem of his jacket and stiffened his back. “I have visions.”

“I don’t understand.” And yet she continued to make notes.

“I’ve been seeing things, whenever I touch someone or something. I see things. I sense feelings. It doesn’t make sense and I know -- I know it sounds bizarre, but I live these moments.”

She didn’t comment, but made more notes on her clipboard. “Is it any surface?”

“Pretty much.”

“How about the chair you’re sitting in?” He looked down at it balefully. He hadn’t paid attention to it, but now that he did…He shook his head to keep it all away. “Anything?”

“Yes, but I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“That‘s fine. You don’t need to go into detail, but if you could give me a general idea of what you sense and feel we could go from there.”

“All right, fine. When I became aware of this chair,” he laid his hands on the armrests, “I saw other people in my place. You were there. Sometimes, they would cry, or yell. Other times, they were expressionless. They felt different things; anguish and defensiveness. Most weren’t feeling anything. They were lost.” He was disturbed at how well he’d just described himself.

She nodded, but said nothing. It wasn’t anything probative; only a vague assumption anyone could infer from the given circumstances. “Anything else?”

“Individual things. Memories and pieces of conversations. Tactile sensations.”

“Old ones?”

“Old and new.”

She finally set down her pen, and removed her glasses. “Commander, I’ve talked to more than my fair share of crewmen and civilians over the past few weeks and I have to say that I haven’t heard of this one yet. I’m not saying that I don’t believe you, but it would be enormously helpful to me if you could…exhibit this ability for me. I’d like to see exactly how it works if that’s all right.” She’d also foremost like to prove whether or not his ability existed.

“That’s fine. I just want to know how to make it stop.” He couldn’t function if he had a hallucination every time he touched someone. It wasn’t like he could walk around with his hands in his pocket all day. Contact was essential to feeling alive, especially now.

“Well, in that area, I hope I can be of some help.”

“I hope you can, too.” He reached for her hand, but halted halfway. “May I?”

She nodded reluctantly and let him take hold of it. It was complicated at first, but he felt his way through the moving picture. She was running over the hillside of Geminon, a young child tripping in her attempt to keep up in the crush. As the present crush met another wave of frightened settlers, she was separated from the tow-headed preschooler and pushed towards the waiting shuttle.

She was secured on the shuttle, which lifted from the surface to return to its home ship, the Olympic Carrier. He dropped her hand and widened the distance between them as far as possible. “You had a daughter or a sister?”

She came to attention at that. “I did. She was lost --”

“On Geminon, I know. Someone found her and put her on a shuttle.”

Not wanting to believe, but not able to help herself, she leaned forward in anticipation. “To which ship?”

He hesitated and looked away, not wanting to see her face at his answer. “The Olympic Carrier.”

“The-the one that’s gone?” There was only one.

“Yes.”

“Not one that’s still here?” She already knew; part of her had known all along.

“No. It was that one.” He would have to be the one to give her the bad news.

“You could be wrong.”

He nodded his head. “I could be, but you asked.”

“Yes, I did,” she smiled repentantly. She wished she never had. “However, I realize that that doesn’t prove your ability. You could’ve heard about her from anyone. Tell me something else.”

He could‘ve chosen to take offense, but he didn‘t. He‘d made enough enemies of late. “Her name was Jerrica.”

“It was,” she admitted. “But someone could’ve also told you that before you came in here.”

“True, except no one other than Doctor Cottle knows I’m here.”

She remained unconvinced. “Try again.”

He was getting tired of having to justify his condition. “Doc Cottle smokes filtered cigarettes, because despite what he wants people to think, he doesn’t want cancer either. You’re a former smoker, and a vegan. You spend forty-minutes of every hour wondering if your patients are Cylon sleepers or whether they’d kill you if you turned your back on them.”

“Who doesn’t?” Good question.

“How many examples do you need for me to prove to you that I’m imagining this? I just want it to stop. Can you help me?”

“I don’t know, Commander Adama, but I believe I need to run some tests on you.”

“What kinds of tests?” He dreaded returning to the Life Station.

“CAT scan and an MRI. I’d like to see if there are any intercranial anomalies that may be contributing to this…condition. Perhaps some increased blood flow to commonly unused areas of the brain.”

“Can it be reversed?”

“Depends on whether it was a random occurrence or due to your injury. After we determine that, we can go from there.”

He grudgingly submitted that the tests had to be done. “When can we do the tests?”

“When’s a good time for you?” Never, he thought.

“Any time except now. I go on duty in half an hour.”

“Oh, it won’t take long. If we go now, you’ll be five minutes late tops.” And from the sincerity in her eyes, he believed her.

Until an hour later when he was still lying on his back in some damned contraption way too reminiscent of a coffin for his liking. It was making weird, sweeping laser noises around him, further pissing him. He had to learn to stop trusting mildly attractive intellectual women with beguiling gray eyes. It was beginning to making him look ditzy.

Finally, the tray he was lying on began sliding mechanically towards the opening near his feet. He exhaled as the as a stale breeze stroked his face, misted with sweat. The thin gown he was wearing clung annoyingly to him and uncomfortably to his bandages. He tugged it away only for it to snap back upon being let go. It was cheap, and itchy enough to prove it.

She hadn’t said anything about changing until they’d arrived. That’s when he first began to suspect he was being screwed over. By the time he could hear the lingering strains of Tom Zarek’s voice over the wireless, he knew he was being screwed over.

As soon as he was able, he swung his legs over the stretcher and stood up, swaying a little unsteadily at first but remaining upright.

“Was that Tom Zarek?”

Her eyes jerked up to meet his through the plate glass window separating the main room from the control center. She hadn’t expected him to be up so quickly. “Of course not, Commander. Why would--” He cut her off with a sharp retort.

“Cut the bull, Doctor. I’d know that voice anywhere. What are you up to?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She made an honest attempt to look flummoxed. He was less than impressed.

“Doctor--”

“I‘m not up to anything, Commander. Councilman Zarek just happens to be a friend of mine.”

She met his gleam head on and stood her ground. Without another word, he could have her arrested immediately, but he knew that would garner nothing. What could he do? He had too much on his hands as it stood.

“You are on thin ice, Miss Mason. Tread lightly.” She didn’t respond and he disappeared behind the changing screen to dress. He was completely aware of her as he did so. He no longer trusted her motives. If she was colluding with Tom Zarek, then her allegiances were obviously suspect.

Their time together was through. However, she still had his test results and only she would have any idea what was happening to him.

~~~

Tom Zarek listened to his contact with a perplexed furrow in his brow. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t personally familiar with the Book of Pythia but he had made it his business to know the crucial portions of it. What the good doctor was saying to him was coming completely out of the blue. No one, not Elosha nor the President had mentioned a second leader rising after the other.

If what he heard was to be believed, they’d just discovered him. His touch shall trigger that vision. Adama would succeed Laura Roslin.

Hanging up the wireless, he paced the brief space he shared with High Priestess Elosha, trying to decide how he was going to salvage his place in the chain of command. If it was discovered that Commander Adama was the one who would come next, surely others would use that as reason enough to endorse a reconciliation between the splintered leadership. And that was the last thing Tom Zarek wanted.

There was little chance of him getting control of the entire fleet with Adama back in charge. With Tigh, it was only a matter of time before they’d take anyone else in command before Colonel Tigh-One-On. Now, he found out that the Commander had been as ‘prophesied’ as the President herself, whom he already thought was insane.

That notion gave him pause and he -- having learned, over the years to follow his notions -- trailed it to its origin. Once he arrived at it, he laughed and sank onto some cushions nearby. It was ingenious, even for him.

If the entire fleet thought he’d gone insane, and Tigh was the only other option, he could certainly insinuate himself somewhere near the head of the table. Make Adama crazy.

Thanks to the loyal communications of his informant, Eve, it looked as though his job was more than half done.

President Tom Zarek of the Twelve Colonies, he cracked a smiled at that. Yes, he liked the sound of that.Thanks so much, Captain Apollo.

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