Youth's Final Luxury, Part 9
Apr. 26th, 2009 04:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lls_mutantTitle: Youth's Final Luxury, Part 9
Author![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lls_mutant
Rating: PG-13ish
Characters: Tom Zarek and Felix Gaeta
Pairings: current Gaeta/Hoshi, Zarek/Racetrack; previous parts have Gaeta/Skulls, Gaeta/Baltar, and unrequited Zarek/Roslin.
Summary: The mutiny begins… and ends.
Spoilers: Through Blood on the Scales
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
The alarm beeped loudly, waking the entire room. Felix sat up and rubbed his eyes, pushing the privacy curtain aside. He glanced at the clock. 0500 hours. No wonder it felt like he'd only slept for two hours.
Of course, it wasn't terribly easy sleeping in Shark's empty rack, either.
Narcho swung down from the rack above him. "You need a hand?" he asked Felix, picking up a pair of towels and a sliver of soap.
"I think I'm all right," Felix said. He glanced around the room. There wasn't much movement yet, but Seelix was climbing out of Easy's rack and stretching. Racetrack and Skulls had camped out on the floor- Skulls pulled a pillow over his head. "Let's go." Felix said to Narcho, and picked up his crutch.
They were silent as they walked to the head, Narcho adjusting his steps to keep pace with Felix. There wasn't really much they could say. The showers weren't empty; a few others were up already. Felix looked at them with a kind of detachment. He wondered how many of these people would be dead by the end of the day.
Showering was still a difficult experience. Balance was hard, and despite the fact that no one stared, he felt self-conscious, disgusted by his own body. He finished as quickly as he could and then sat down on a bench to dress.
"I think Gage was going to get breakfast," Narcho said as he clambered out of the shower easily. "I think everyone had better eat, don't you?"
"Yeah. Big day ahead," Felix said.
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Narcho sing-songed. They looked at each other and burst into hysterical laughter.
"What's so funny?" Hot Dog demanded from a nearby stall.
"Nothing," Felix wheezed, looking up at Narcho. "Don't worry about it."
"It's not about sex anyway," Narcho said.
"Oh." Hot Dog turned back to what he was doing with a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and Felix turned his attention back to his own clothing.
He dressed carefully, making sure his seams were straight and his uniform was as immaculate as it could get. He shaved, another exercise in balance, and then made sure his hair was something resembling orderly. His pins and his shoe were shined, and his nails were trimmed and neat. Aside from the fraying of his uniform and the fact his hair was a little longer than it should be, he would have had no trouble passing an inspection. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Narcho was looking the same.
When they returned, their people were awake and moving. Felix stood in the doorway, surveying his crew. Racetrack was ready, alive with kinetic energy, walking around as she ate. Skulls and Gage were playing a hand of Triad, using protein bar bits as chips. Vireem was still in his bunk, eyes closed, but he was fully dressed and obviously not asleep. Seelix and two Marines were hunched over the table eating, laughing over some joke, letting off steam.
If Adama walked into this room right now, he'd never know what was really going on.
Felix sat down at the table and ate mechanically, reviewing all of his plans in his head. Everything had to be just right, everything had to be on. One mistake would not only be his death, but the death of everyone in here. The thought should chill him, but it didn't. It just made him more determined to do this right.
He finished his meal, and it was almost like a signal. When he pushed his bowl away, everyone turned to him, charged silence falling over the room.
"All right," he said, leaning forward. They came around the table like it was the war room, ready for his instructions. "Gage, Seelix, Vireem, Johnson… Cylons go into custody. Remember- no shooting unless you have to." He eyed Gage firmly. "Once that's accomplished, you report to the CIC."
"Yes, sir."
"Racetrack and Skulls, you know where to be. When you see my signal, be ready. We won't have much time, and I'm going to need what we've got just to get across the hangar deck."
"Yes, sir."
"Rominov, you've got the wire box. You remember exactly what you're doing?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. And Narcho, you do the crowd control down here, get people armed, and then get to your Viper to take care of anyone who may leave. Can I rely on you to shoot down anyone, no matter who it might be?"
Narcho met his eyes evenly. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Are there any questions?" They all shook their heads. "Good. Get your people moving as soon as you can, and as it starts, more will join us." He sighed. This was the place where Adama would launch into an inspiring speech, or at least a worthy quip that made them all remember what they were fighting for. But as he looked at their faces, he knew they knew it. He saw his own desperation and despair and resolve reflected back at him, and there was nothing he could say to that.
It was Seelix who broke the tense silence. "Mars," she began, her voice shaking. Next to Felix, Noel immediately bowed his head and clasped his hands, "we pray and beseech you that you be good and merciful to us, that with the help of the gods success may crown our work…."
One by one, each member of his force bowed their heads. Felix swallowed hard. He hadn't thought much about the Gods these days; had no idea if they existed or not. Didn't much care. But as he looked at the souls in this room and realized their blood was on his hands if they died, he found himself praying that they would succeed, that they would triumph, that the Gods would protect these people that served him. These were his men, his people, his soldiers, and this was his war.
And Gods help all of them if he lost.
***
The hatch swung open. Tom was already awake and dressed, and this time, the footsteps of the intruder were extremely distinctive. "Mr. Vice President," Felix said meaningfully.
Tom got to his feet and straightened his jacket.
Their pace had to be slower than Tom liked as they moved through the corridors. But they made it to the hangar deck with less effort than Tom ever expected, and his hopes began to soar. It wasn't that he'd ever lacked confidence in Gaeta's abilities; quite the opposite, really. But he knew enough to know that even the best laid plans only needed a single incident to completely unravel them.
There was a clatter, and Racetrack swore loudly. Something about a fuel leak. Tom noticed that everyone evacuated without question, and Gaeta limped across the hangar deck.
"Sitrep, Lieutenant," Gaeta said to Racetrack.
"Raptor's transponder's down for the count, and LSO's good to go, sir," Racetrack answered.
Gaeta nodded and beckoned Tom forward. But as Tom approached the Raptor, they were intercepted by a very angry looking mechanic whose name Tom couldn't quite remember.
"What the hell?" the mechanic demanded. "What are you doing? This ship's on hold for an emergency medical transport, not some bogus VIP shuttle." He glared at Tom, and Tom immediately knew this was not one of their guys.
"Oh, sorry, Chief, I assumed the LSO called it in." Gaeta was smooth and confident, and Tom almost believed him himself. "This bird's been cleared for launch, ASAP."
"No, I didn't get the order." Shit. Here was the first death, right here. Tom braced himself.
"New mission takes priority," Gaeta said. "The Admiral believes that Zarek may have an attempt on his life here on Galactica. Given the Vice President's controversial status, he's being transferred to Colonial One."
"All right. Soon as I confirm it with CIC."
"You have confirmation." Tom fumed silently. This was taking far too long, and Gaeta was dragging his feet. Every minute was costing them. "Laird," Gaeta insisted, at least distracting the deck chief while Tom picked up a heavy wrench, "the Admiral doesn't want this leaking out."
"Well, I'm sorry I can't take your word for it."
Tom swung, the impact sending dull vibrations up his arm. Laird dropped heavily to the ground, and Tom stared down at him for a second. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but… this was going to be their problem. This was his reservation about Felix Gaeta.
"Well, good riddance," Skulls said. "Frakker's been up Adama's ass since he transferred in from Pegasus."
"He won't be the last," Tom said, watching Gaeta's face. It was stricken, but he was already composing himself.
"Get on that ship," Gaeta ordered him.
"Not yet."
Gaeta grabbed him by the arms, a move oddly intimate within their new formality. He looked desperate, determined. "Damn it, I need you..."
"I know what you need." I've known it… I've always known it. I knew it on New Caprica, when I had to force your hand to cross Baltar. Wake up, Felix, and learn this right now. "I also know a little about revolution, Mr. Gaeta. Success doesn't hinge on some grand operatic ideal or the will of the people. It hangs in the cumulative moments, each one building on the next, and it could be lost with the slightest hesitation."
"I started this, and I'll see it through. Now get on that frakking ship."
Tom obeyed, and Racetrack and Skulls climbed in after him. "Let's go," Tom told them. Racetrack nodded and the Raptor doors began to shut.
"Racetrack," Tom said, once there was no chance of being heard, "you're in the command structure, right?"
"Right."
"Who's Gaeta got lined up for his XO? Hoshi?"
"No, sir, Hoshi's not in on this."
"You're kidding." He thought about it. "Probably for the best. I'm assuming," he said dryly, "he's not planning on shooting him."
"Shouldn't have to," Skulls said, doing something on his keyboard. "Unless Hoshi decides to play hero when Gaeta takes over the CIC."
"He won't do that," Racetrack dismissed it confidently. "Heroes didn't survive the Pegasus CIC, from what I heard." She glanced back at Tom. "He's got Narcho. Lieutenant Allison."
The square-jawed, angry pilot that had visited Felix in sick bay and agreed passionately with everything Tom had to say afterwards, adding in a few rants of his own. Tom nodded approvingly. "Good. Listen… I know Felix, and I know what's coming, and I can promise you he's going to hesitate. If he does, we're lost. The people of the Fleet are lost. I need you and Narcho to make sure that doesn't happen for me."
"We can do that," Racetrack said, "but I think you're underestimating him."
They were docking at Colonial One already. Tom smiled and shook his head. "No. I don't think I am." He gathered himself together. "Wait here. You've got another job."
He left the Raptor and headed to the conference room, where he could hear Lee Adama's voice. From here, it sounded high-pitched and whiny. Tom wondered idly if it had always sounded that way to him, or if it was mere disillusionment.
"Now, these Cylon FTL drives are essential if the Fleet is going to move on." Tom stepped into the room, and Lee turned around, his jaw falling open. "Mr. Vice President."
"Don't look so surprised, Lee." Tom smiled benevolently. "Even your father knows when he's holding a losing hand." He glanced covertly around the Quorum, trying to take in all of their reactions before they could school their faces into whatever emotion they wanted to convey. "The Admiral," he stressed to the waiting Quorum, "has not changed his mind. He still continues to insist on these FTL drives, no matter what the people of the Fleet want.
"But we need those drives," Lee insisted.
"Why?" Tom asked bluntly.
"They'll triple our jumping range-"
"So the Cylons say. But why should we trust them? Oh, I have no doubt that the technology is capable of doing what they say. But let's ask a few questions. Can the structure of the ships themselves withstand that kind of jump? Will the integration of the Cylon networking affect any of our own technologies, like our navigation systems or our…" he stopped for a moment, closing his eyes and drawing the scientific words Gaeta had given him from the recesses of his brain, "our communications software? These sorts of questions have answers and they may very well prove to be satisfactory. It would be easy to find answers; simply install the technology on one small ship first, and perform the tests while its people wait safely on another ship. And yet, the Admiral wants to install the technology without even considering these simple measures to insure our safety.
"And once the drives are installed, what then? The Cylon known as Tyrol has admitted he knows nothing about how this technology works. I certainly don't understand the first thing about Cylon technology, but I do know that it is possible for Cylons to download the memories of others. Can Cavil and his Cylons gain access to our drives and control them? Even if the answer is no , we know that this sort of communication between the same model is possible, and Cavil has an Eight with him. Could she gain access to our drives, then? These are questions that need to be asked."
Tom took a deep breath, looking around. He saw people nodding, agreeing, and it buoyed him.
"But there are other questions that need answering. They tell us that the Cylons were created by man, and that they rebelled. That they fight, that they exterminate us out of revenge. That these slaves were backed into a corner, and that there was no other option available to them. That they tried to destroy our people because reason doesn't work, because logic doesn't work… because only violence works. Only violence allows them to accomplish their goal. We've all seen first hand evidence of that. And we've seen how that hasn't changed; we all lived through the hell that was New Caprica.
"The Cylons believed in their cause. Every last one of them. And now, when they need something, we're being told that these rebel Cylons have had a change of heart."
"They gave us the Resurrection Hub," Lee burst out. "You can't deny that."
"No, Mr. Adama, I can't. But I can ask why? Why did they give us such a prize? Why are they giving us this technology now? Can you answer that, Mr. Adama?" Lee gaped like a landed fish, and Tom rushed on. "And if the Cylons are so trustworthy, why did an Eight murder three humans?" That comment brought out a burst of questions. Tom held up his hands for silence. "A matter of days ago, a Raptor was lost in space, a Raptor carrying four humans and a Cylon. The Cylon murdered Specialist Kevin Brooks, Lieutenant James Finnegan, and Ensign Andrea Esrin, and would have murdered Lieutenant Felix Gaeta, had he not killed her first. Lieutenant Gaeta has been serving aboard the Galactica as the Senior Officer of the Watch and navigator for the Fleet since his return; the Admiral obviously believes that he did not kill the humans. And yet, the Admiral does nothing. A Cylon kills three humans, and the Admiral does nothing. Nothing but allow these things to board our ships and tamper with our FTL drives!"
"That's ridiculous!" Lee shouted over the uprising babble. "There's no way my- the Admiral-"
"Oh no?" Tom said. "Ask Lieutenant Gaeta, who was there. Ask Lieutenant Edmondson, who found the stranded Raptor and saw the carnage inside." At those two names, he saw Lee back down, at least enough to listen. "This should have been investigated, Lee. Even you must admit that." The other delegates were nodding enthusiastically.
"Adama and Roslin are asking too much. No, they are ordering too much. They form an alliance with a group of genocidal robots, and then when the Fleet exercises their rights- those explicitly protected by the Articles- to disapprove and resist this alliance, they trample over them. Why are we pretending this is a democracy? Why don't they just declare martial law, declare themselves dictators, and be done with it?"
That comment set off a flurry of voices and anger, just as he'd intended it to. He watched the Quorum arguing, agreeing, affirming their own views within each other's doubts, and he didn't risk the smile that threatened to spread over his face. They were ready, standing on the edge, and the only thing that was tethering them to Laura Roslin was Lee Adama.
He didn't like what needed to be done, but as he looked at Lee, frantically trying to soothe and to pacify, he knew that there was no other choice.
The meeting finally dispelled, and he decided to give Lee a few minutes to make the phone calls Tom knew he would make. Gaeta would brush him off, Tom had absolutely no doubts about that. He walked down to the Raptor, his shoes tapping out a sharp staccato.
Racetrack and Skulls looked up from a hand of Triad when he entered. "Everything okay?" Racetrack asked.
"It couldn't have gone better," he said, not able to help the smugness that crept into his voice. "Lee should be coming soon. Gaeta told you about that, right?"
"Not in so many words," Racetrack temporized.
He studied her face, and decided to play it safe. "All you have to do is get him over to the Galactica. Charlie Conner will meet you there and take over."
Skulls got it. He could see it in the solemn nod of the man's head. Racetrack didn't… or she didn't want to. It was odd, how you could see someone deliberately shutting something out of their mind. She studied her cards, rearranging them. Tom decided to change the subject before she could think any more on it. "I told the Quorum about Raptor 718," he said.
"You did?"
"I had to. Not only should they know what lies Adama and Roslin are telling, they need to have Gaeta's name fresh in their minds, especially as a sympathetic hero character. It will make the transition smoother and their acceptance will come more easily."
Racetrack nodded complete understanding at that. "Okay. So I should tell Lee everything I know?"
"I trust you to know what to tell him." He rubbed his chin. "Although I didn't tell him about Hoshi's involvement. I'm not convinced Hoshi would tell Lee the truth if questioned." He smiled then, easy and light. "You're doing a very courageous thing, fighting for your principles like this," he told them. "I'm glad we have people like the two of you, people we can trust and we can count on." The praise obviously sat well, and he nodded a goodbye and walked down to Lee's office with the feeling of a job well done.
***
Felix knew he'd arranged this perfectly, but every time someone spoke his breath still hitched… or at least, it felt like it.
He abandoned us on New Caprica. He lied for years about Earth. He didn't even have a back-up plan. The mantra ran through his head, over and over, lending him strength.
The worst was every time Adama looked his way. He didn't suspect a thing, and in some convoluted way, that made Felix feel even worse. They'd worked together for so long… couldn't the Admiral see? Didn't he know what was going through his head? But he didn't. It was written all over his face, in his cursory orders, in the way he automatically took everything Felix said for truth.
No investigation of the Demetrius. No search and rescue mission. No need to care about three dead humans. Dee.
He had to be more careful in lying to Louis. Even over the phone between their stations, Louis knew his voice well enough to pick up shades of doubt. But he kept the conversations short and looked busy, and Louis didn't seem to notice a thing.
Just as well.
Those thoughts could only be allowed to flit across his mind. He got an angry, worried call from Lee, which he took great joy in fending off. And there was an even angrier call from Starbuck, which made him think that maybe this idea of tossing people out airlocks had some merits after all.
They killed them all, my family, my friends, the Academy, everyone I ever loved, everyone I ever even knew. And he turns a blind eye, ready to hand them the rest of us. After years of hard decisions, after years of putting humanity first, he gives us this.
A few times he almost jerked out of his seat too early. But he held himself steady, waiting… waiting for the moment… the signal.
And it came.
Private Jaffee jogged back into the CIC, young and worshipping and completely blind, in Felix's disgusted opinion. "Admiral," he said breathlessly, "I checked the array. The equipment's been jury-rigged..."
"Sergeant of the Guards, get your Marines in here! Nobody gets in or out!" Felix hauled himself to his feet as quickly as he could, anger giving him speed. Adama whirled on him.
"What the hell are you doing?! What is this?!"
The Marines charged in, and the gunshot echoed through the CIC. It was a haze of shouting, smoke, and blood, but the chaos only hardened him into the leader he knew he had to be.
"Hold your fire!" he shouted, brandishing his crutch like a weapon. "Nobody fires without my order! Admiral! Get your staff to stand down."
Tigh, so betrayed, so angry. For a moment something in him threatened to care, but then he remembered Tigh was a frakking toaster and he went cold. "You son of a bitch!" Tigh growled, but Felix only locked his eyes on the Admiral.
"Stand down, Colonel!" Adama ordered. "Everyone! Stand down!" He knelt down, and Felix finally saw that Jaffee had pushed the Admiral aside. Dead. "You killed this boy."
Felix spared a brief glance for the private on the floor. Success doesn't hinge on some grand operatic ideal or the will of the people. It hangs in the cumulative moments, each one building on the next, and it could be lost with the slightest hesitation. "Admiral Adama," he said, ignoring the corpse, "I am removing you from command of this ship. I am taking you into custody on the charge of treason."
"You swore an oath when you put that uniform on. You pledged to defend this ship and her crew."
"You swore the same allegiance," Felix ground out, his mantra of wrongs still pounding a rhythm in his head. "What happened to your oath? For seven years, I have done my frakking job and for what? To take orders from a Cylon? To let machines network our ship? No, you... you are not the leader that you were when we started. You're just a sad, old man that has let his heart and his affection for a Cylon cloud his judgment!"
"I want you all to understand this!" Adama shouted, taking in the entire CIC. The obligatory speech now, the guilt trip. Felix had been prepared for this. "If you do this... there will be no forgiveness. No amnesty. This boy... died honoring his uniform. You... you'll die with nothing."
Nothing. He felt nothing, damn it. Absolutely nothing. "Sergeant of the Guards, take the senior staff, put them in a holding cell, place Admiral Adama and Colonel Tigh under arrest." He glanced over and saw Louis standing slowly, shocked and pale and angry and oh Gods…. It's for the best. He looked away, not only because he couldn't allow emotion but because the situation was far too unstable for sentiment. The Marines were hesitating. "Do it!" he ordered.
The Marines led Adama and Tigh away. You'll die with nothing… Felix slammed his hand down on the war table.
"Right," he said. "Specialist Gage, take your station. Let's get this ship operational again."
***
The phone rang, shattering the stillness. Tom lunged for it, heart in his throat.
"Mr. Zarek," Gaeta's voice said, and he allowed himself to breathe, "I've taken command of Galactica.. The admiral and his senior staff are in custody."
"Adama's still alive?"
"You sound disappointed."
Well, yes, Tom wanted to say. That was the point. "It's a loose end," he told Gaeta sternly. "I'm sure you have your reasons. Still, congratulations are in order. With the future of the Fleet at stake, you've done a very courageous thing."
Gaeta didn't sound impressed. "We can fine-tune our rationalizations later. I'm still bringing communications back online. And the Fleet's in an uproar."
"Don't worry," Tom reassured him. There was the sound of disturbance in the background, but no panic. "They'll fall in line," Tom continued, "especially after I shower them..."
But Gaeta cut him off. "What the frak? Tom, are you hearing this? Turn on your wireless."
Confused, Tom leaned over and did so. And as he did, the very last voice he wanted to hear flooded the room. "Of all the decisions..." Laura Roslin was saying.
"Where's this coming from?" Gaeta was asking someone in his ear. He heard Gaeta calling for someone but ignored it, turning up his wireless.
"…Assuming the presidency, none was more frightening or more difficult than agreeing to this alliance with the Cylons. But we have come to a crossroads in our long and painful journey. Cylons and humans have been at war for generations. We know nothing else. And we have been locked in a struggle that has seen both sides suffer unspeakable loss. But with our supplies running low and our options limited, our former enemies may represent our last, perhaps our only hope. To those in the fleet and on Galactica who would reject this alliance, I am asking you... No, I am begging you to reconsider and place your trust back in those who have brought you this far, and to reject those traitors who would use your fear of the Cylons to destroy Colonial civilization... " The wireless erupted into static.
For just one moment, Tom had felt himself leap up like a little lost puppy dog, his soul wagging its tail. He so desperately wanted to believe in something, in someone, and Laura Roslin had been such a leader at one point. But he closed his eyes and reminded himself of everything he'd suffered, everything the Fleet had suffered. Because without her prophecies and her lies, Laura Roslin was no leader at all.
Surely the people would see that. Surely the Quorum could see that.
He pushed aside doubt. This was the course they were decided on, because this was right. No matter what she said over the wireless, it was all pretty words and phrases, designed to cover up the fact that Laura had no heart for her duties and no desire to relinquish them.
"Sir?" the voice over the phone said. "Lieuten… Comman.. Mr. Gaeta for you."
"Commander Gaeta," Tom informed the nameless voice. Gaeta took the phone again. "The broadcast is taken care of?"
"It is. We've traced the signal down to Baltar's storage bay, which means she's probably gone from there by now."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm sending Marines down to secure the area," Gaeta said coldly, in a voice that for some absurd reason reminded Tom of Admiral Cain. "We'll capture her. Laura Roslin is your loose end."
"She won't be for long." Tom glanced down at his desk, where petitions and pleas waited for his attention. "And Commander. If circumstances dictate that you can't take her alive…"
It hung on the phone, heavy between them. But Gaeta just said, "Yes, sir," and privately, Tom wondered if maybe he should kill Adama and leave Roslin to Felix. Somehow, he thought it might be less complicated that way.
***
Complicated. Felix rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying not to even think the word. Not even hours had passed since he'd taken control, and there'd been reports of thirty-eight dead. He knew the number would only rise. His leg was hurting abominably, and Baltar's phone call had thrown him off his game for a moment. He'd almost been grateful for that damn rogue Raptor, even if it meant that people who were meant to die had escaped.
It wasn't the command that was hard. He'd trained for this, worked for years for this. Commanding a battlestar was what he'd wanted all his life, although he'd be the first to say this wasn't how he wanted to get it. He might not like the circumstances, but he was ready for them.
Thirty-eight. The number scratched itself into his head and his soul, and he knew he'd be changing it until he died. Even once they found that planet… he looked at the electronic image of the Fleet, his fingers ghosting over the lighted images. He was in command now, and that meant these lives all were on his shoulders.
He heard boot steps, the CIC doors opening, and stood up. The Marines marched Adama to him, and for one second he had to push away the memory of when he'd wrecked the car at fifteen, and the absolute fury that had been his father. But Adama's glare was nothing like his father's. There was no love there, only anger and hate and disappointment. He smiled bitterly.
"Welcome back. I had a feeling you wouldn't be on that Raptor."
"I care too much for this ship to let it be overrun by rats."
Rat. "Right," Felix said sourly, and he couldn't help adding, "If only you cared as much about the people on it."
"You have no frakking idea."
Since slapping the bastard with his crutch wouldn't do any good, Felix just stared him down. "Well, then show me. You want to save some lives? Get on the radio and call Roslin. Tell her to come back and surrender."
"No."
"I'll ask you one more time, Admiral."
"Admiral," Adama scoffed. He took off his rank pins and tossed them on the table, and Felix almost cringed. "You're the Admiral now," Adama said scornfully. "So you call up Roslin. Make her laugh."
The Dradis beeped, and Felix looked up to see what was happening. The baseship was moving.
"All hands to battle stations. Set condition one. Gun battery, stand by. Target bearing..."
"Sir," Gage said, "the baseship. They're moving into the fleet."
Felix swore, and Adama humphed with appreciation.
"They're hiding in the fleet."
As a tactical move, it was brilliant, Felix had to admit that. But the fact of the matter was that the supposed President of the Colonies was now using the people she swore to protect to protect the Cylons and herself. But Felix wasn't going to play her game. Laura Roslin didn't understand what this was truly about. He looked around. "Battle stations, stand down. Marine launch, blue squadron have them quarantine the base ship. Gage, spin up our FTL. Alert the ship captains to do the same. Kelly, prepare for Mr. Zarek's arrival."
Automatically, he glanced at Adama. Adama's face was unchanged, still bitter and hating. "Now you're going to shoot me, Mr. Gaeta," he prompted.
Felix nodded. The marines took him away, and it took all the strength that Felix had in him not to turn around and watch.
***
"Tom."
Tom looked up to see Jacob Cantrell in his doorway, with several other Quorum members ranged behind him. "Yes?"
"What the frak is going on? Have you heard this mess over on Galactica?"
"Of course," Tom said smoothly. "Adama is being… replaced."
"Replaced." The delegates exchanged glances. "You're talking mutiny."
"No," Tom said, standing up at his desk. "I'm talking revolution. Funny, how they're really the same thing, isn't it? What it really depends on is the outcome. If those who are fighting for change win, it's revolution. Those in power win, it's mutiny."
"It's all a play on words," Cantrell accused.
"It is," Tom agreed. "The reality of the situation is that Adama was determined to ignore the will of the people. To stomp on democratic decisions, to impose a martial state when he didn't get his way. Like a spoiled child. Like a terrorist. Adama showed us he's willing to use violence against our own citizens in order to silence any opposition when he forcefully boarded the Hitei Khan. This, my friends, is a revolution."
Reza Chronides crossed her arms. "And who is replacing him?" she demanded.
"Felix Gaeta," Tom said, straightening up. To his surprise, he saw confusion on some of the faces, and something that almost looked like anger on a few of the others. Before anyone could question, he dove in. "Gaeta has been third in command on the Galactica since the beginning of this wretched journey, except for our time on New Caprica. He worked for the Resistance, risking his life to feed them information. He has calculated jumps, navigated our course, and sacrificed more for humanity than any living person I know."
Cantrell put a hand on Tom's arm. "Tom," he said, and he knew it was his friend Jacob talking, not the Sagittaron representative, "we all know that's true. And I know you're very close with him, and know his strengths well. But he's also a man who's had his leg amputated and then nearly been killed again in the space of two weeks, and from what I understand lost his best friend, as well. There is no way that this guy is drinking from a full bottle of ambrosia."
Tom shook Cantrell's hand off. "He took the Galactica from Admiral Adama," he said. "Frankly, that speaks volumes to me of his ability. You need further proof? We're docking at Galactica in five minutes. Give us a little bit of time to get Gaeta over here, and you can meet him. You'll understand what this man is capable of, and you'll see the difference between him and Adama."
"What about Laura Roslin?" Orimosis demanded. "We heard her broadcast."
Something in his voice was dangerous… loyal. Tom narrowed his eyes. "Laura Roslin," he said slowly, leaning heavily on his desk, "is cozied up in the Cylon base star. Laura Roslin is using civilian ships to protect her Cylons. And Laura Roslin has not been seen or done one damn thing to help anyone in this Fleet since Earth! What about Laura Roslin?"
He saw it then, anger and frustration, betrayal and fleeting disappointment. He didn't admit it, but he saw it, and he drew himself up.
"If you'll excuse me," he said. "I have a meeting with Commander Gaeta. There's a lot of work to be done."
They parted and let him pass. And he wondered if that was the most dangerous sign of all.
***
They met in the Admiral's study. Tom couldn't help but notice that Felix looked distinctly uncomfortable here, and it wasn't just the pain in his leg, although that was clearly growing worse.
"I have a net over the base ship, you know," Gaeta said in way of greeting. "You didn't have to bring the whole Quorum with you."
"You're insisting on the trial," Tom said.
Gaeta was even. "I'm insisting."
"Then I want them where I can keep an eye on them. Look, I know you want to do the right thing."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Gaeta said sarcastically. "I was under the impression that you did too."
Tom wanted to close his eyes wearily. Felix in full-on bitch mode was the last thing he needed right now. Instead, he stepped closer. "I do. But we need to move on."
"We can't move on until people have answered for what they've done," Gaeta almost hissed, his eyes blazing. "Which begins with Adama. One world at a time, Tom."
Tom stepped back, shaking his head. "They're bringing the lawyer in now," he said, glancing at his watch.
"Good."
The mask of righteousness faded a bit, and as it ebbed Tom felt tired. This wasn't what they should be doing. This was costing them… did Gaeta really think that their position was that secure that they could bother with a phony trial? While ruling by fear wasn't something Tom condoned, it got the job done until true trust could be reestablished. They needed to show everyone they meant business.
If this was Lee standing here, Tom would have said all of that. He would have argued, he would have gone ahead, and he would have just executed Adama himself, even if he had to pull the trigger.
Tom steeled himself, and realized he needed to show everyone they meant business. Including Felix Gaeta.
He watched the mockery of a trial unfold, Gaeta's frustration with Adama becoming palpable as they butted heads, as Adama refused to listen. He shifted impatiently, because every moment of this was lost time, their security slipping away.
Tom was long out of the habit of praying, but some god must have been watching over him when Romo Lampkin asked for some time alone with Adama. He took advantage and almost dragged Gaeta out of the room.
"Nothing you say is going to get through to him. Can't you just admit that?" he hissed, fingers tight around Gaeta's arm. Gaeta glared at him, and Tom sighed. "Fine. Look, I'm going to use this time to go address the Quorum." He glanced at his watch. "Start down in ten minutes. They need to see you in command, to hear you address them. They need to understand."
Gaeta nodded, and Tom patted his shoulder. "We're almost there," he said. "Once you get past this, it will be easier." He left before Gaeta could respond.
The Quorum was waiting, agitated and angry. When Tom entered, Cantrell stood up immediately. "Sit down, Tom."
Tom looked at the faces staring at him. And just looking at them, he already knew what they were going to say. "I think I'll stand, Jacob."
Cantrell nodded. "You fought for this Quorum. You fought for this government. You wanted to ensure democracy within the Fleet. What you have done over the past four years…" he cocked a half-grin, "well, let's just say you and I have always known your contributions have been underestimated.
"But now, now that things aren't going your way, now that the democracy you were so desperate to implement is not responding to your vision, you're throwing it away. What Lieutenant Gaeta is doing is mutiny. There is no other word for it. William Adama is still the Admiral of this Fleet. And Laura Roslin is still alive, still active. Laura Roslin is still the President. Whatever madness this is, Tom, it has to stop. Now." Cantrell softened. "Please, Tom. I'm asking you as a friend. Stop this."
Tom bowed his head for a long moment.
"The world's upside down. And someone has to turn it right side up again. Felix Gaeta said that to me. He believes he's that someone. I believe he's that someone. But he has very big shoes to fill. I brought you here because I wanted him to meet people who refuse to give up, people who have the courage to voice their dissent." He looked at the Quorum disgustedly. "But at the end of the day, you still stand by your President."
Cantrell's face set into hard lines, and Tom knew that he was thinking any friendship between them was now over. "I think you should leave now. Mr. Vice President," he said, choosing his side. The Quorum murmured their assent.
For a trembling moment, Tom felt like he was Felix, standing before a task he didn't want to do. He understood the hesitation, the fear, the desperate desire to talk and to convince and to just lock everyone up and get on with it.
But then he'd always understood that. He'd always wished it could be that way. And he'd always known it couldn't. The world didn't work like that, and Tom Zarek knew it.
He nodded at them, and walked out of the door. When he came to the Marine outside, his voice was hard and determined.
"Shoot them."
***
On to Part 2
Author
lls_mutantRating: PG-13ish
Characters: Tom Zarek and Felix Gaeta
Pairings: current Gaeta/Hoshi, Zarek/Racetrack; previous parts have Gaeta/Skulls, Gaeta/Baltar, and unrequited Zarek/Roslin.
Summary: The mutiny begins… and ends.
Spoilers: Through Blood on the Scales
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
The alarm beeped loudly, waking the entire room. Felix sat up and rubbed his eyes, pushing the privacy curtain aside. He glanced at the clock. 0500 hours. No wonder it felt like he'd only slept for two hours.
Of course, it wasn't terribly easy sleeping in Shark's empty rack, either.
Narcho swung down from the rack above him. "You need a hand?" he asked Felix, picking up a pair of towels and a sliver of soap.
"I think I'm all right," Felix said. He glanced around the room. There wasn't much movement yet, but Seelix was climbing out of Easy's rack and stretching. Racetrack and Skulls had camped out on the floor- Skulls pulled a pillow over his head. "Let's go." Felix said to Narcho, and picked up his crutch.
They were silent as they walked to the head, Narcho adjusting his steps to keep pace with Felix. There wasn't really much they could say. The showers weren't empty; a few others were up already. Felix looked at them with a kind of detachment. He wondered how many of these people would be dead by the end of the day.
Showering was still a difficult experience. Balance was hard, and despite the fact that no one stared, he felt self-conscious, disgusted by his own body. He finished as quickly as he could and then sat down on a bench to dress.
"I think Gage was going to get breakfast," Narcho said as he clambered out of the shower easily. "I think everyone had better eat, don't you?"
"Yeah. Big day ahead," Felix said.
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Narcho sing-songed. They looked at each other and burst into hysterical laughter.
"What's so funny?" Hot Dog demanded from a nearby stall.
"Nothing," Felix wheezed, looking up at Narcho. "Don't worry about it."
"It's not about sex anyway," Narcho said.
"Oh." Hot Dog turned back to what he was doing with a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and Felix turned his attention back to his own clothing.
He dressed carefully, making sure his seams were straight and his uniform was as immaculate as it could get. He shaved, another exercise in balance, and then made sure his hair was something resembling orderly. His pins and his shoe were shined, and his nails were trimmed and neat. Aside from the fraying of his uniform and the fact his hair was a little longer than it should be, he would have had no trouble passing an inspection. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Narcho was looking the same.
When they returned, their people were awake and moving. Felix stood in the doorway, surveying his crew. Racetrack was ready, alive with kinetic energy, walking around as she ate. Skulls and Gage were playing a hand of Triad, using protein bar bits as chips. Vireem was still in his bunk, eyes closed, but he was fully dressed and obviously not asleep. Seelix and two Marines were hunched over the table eating, laughing over some joke, letting off steam.
If Adama walked into this room right now, he'd never know what was really going on.
Felix sat down at the table and ate mechanically, reviewing all of his plans in his head. Everything had to be just right, everything had to be on. One mistake would not only be his death, but the death of everyone in here. The thought should chill him, but it didn't. It just made him more determined to do this right.
He finished his meal, and it was almost like a signal. When he pushed his bowl away, everyone turned to him, charged silence falling over the room.
"All right," he said, leaning forward. They came around the table like it was the war room, ready for his instructions. "Gage, Seelix, Vireem, Johnson… Cylons go into custody. Remember- no shooting unless you have to." He eyed Gage firmly. "Once that's accomplished, you report to the CIC."
"Yes, sir."
"Racetrack and Skulls, you know where to be. When you see my signal, be ready. We won't have much time, and I'm going to need what we've got just to get across the hangar deck."
"Yes, sir."
"Rominov, you've got the wire box. You remember exactly what you're doing?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. And Narcho, you do the crowd control down here, get people armed, and then get to your Viper to take care of anyone who may leave. Can I rely on you to shoot down anyone, no matter who it might be?"
Narcho met his eyes evenly. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Are there any questions?" They all shook their heads. "Good. Get your people moving as soon as you can, and as it starts, more will join us." He sighed. This was the place where Adama would launch into an inspiring speech, or at least a worthy quip that made them all remember what they were fighting for. But as he looked at their faces, he knew they knew it. He saw his own desperation and despair and resolve reflected back at him, and there was nothing he could say to that.
It was Seelix who broke the tense silence. "Mars," she began, her voice shaking. Next to Felix, Noel immediately bowed his head and clasped his hands, "we pray and beseech you that you be good and merciful to us, that with the help of the gods success may crown our work…."
One by one, each member of his force bowed their heads. Felix swallowed hard. He hadn't thought much about the Gods these days; had no idea if they existed or not. Didn't much care. But as he looked at the souls in this room and realized their blood was on his hands if they died, he found himself praying that they would succeed, that they would triumph, that the Gods would protect these people that served him. These were his men, his people, his soldiers, and this was his war.
And Gods help all of them if he lost.
***
The hatch swung open. Tom was already awake and dressed, and this time, the footsteps of the intruder were extremely distinctive. "Mr. Vice President," Felix said meaningfully.
Tom got to his feet and straightened his jacket.
Their pace had to be slower than Tom liked as they moved through the corridors. But they made it to the hangar deck with less effort than Tom ever expected, and his hopes began to soar. It wasn't that he'd ever lacked confidence in Gaeta's abilities; quite the opposite, really. But he knew enough to know that even the best laid plans only needed a single incident to completely unravel them.
There was a clatter, and Racetrack swore loudly. Something about a fuel leak. Tom noticed that everyone evacuated without question, and Gaeta limped across the hangar deck.
"Sitrep, Lieutenant," Gaeta said to Racetrack.
"Raptor's transponder's down for the count, and LSO's good to go, sir," Racetrack answered.
Gaeta nodded and beckoned Tom forward. But as Tom approached the Raptor, they were intercepted by a very angry looking mechanic whose name Tom couldn't quite remember.
"What the hell?" the mechanic demanded. "What are you doing? This ship's on hold for an emergency medical transport, not some bogus VIP shuttle." He glared at Tom, and Tom immediately knew this was not one of their guys.
"Oh, sorry, Chief, I assumed the LSO called it in." Gaeta was smooth and confident, and Tom almost believed him himself. "This bird's been cleared for launch, ASAP."
"No, I didn't get the order." Shit. Here was the first death, right here. Tom braced himself.
"New mission takes priority," Gaeta said. "The Admiral believes that Zarek may have an attempt on his life here on Galactica. Given the Vice President's controversial status, he's being transferred to Colonial One."
"All right. Soon as I confirm it with CIC."
"You have confirmation." Tom fumed silently. This was taking far too long, and Gaeta was dragging his feet. Every minute was costing them. "Laird," Gaeta insisted, at least distracting the deck chief while Tom picked up a heavy wrench, "the Admiral doesn't want this leaking out."
"Well, I'm sorry I can't take your word for it."
Tom swung, the impact sending dull vibrations up his arm. Laird dropped heavily to the ground, and Tom stared down at him for a second. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but… this was going to be their problem. This was his reservation about Felix Gaeta.
"Well, good riddance," Skulls said. "Frakker's been up Adama's ass since he transferred in from Pegasus."
"He won't be the last," Tom said, watching Gaeta's face. It was stricken, but he was already composing himself.
"Get on that ship," Gaeta ordered him.
"Not yet."
Gaeta grabbed him by the arms, a move oddly intimate within their new formality. He looked desperate, determined. "Damn it, I need you..."
"I know what you need." I've known it… I've always known it. I knew it on New Caprica, when I had to force your hand to cross Baltar. Wake up, Felix, and learn this right now. "I also know a little about revolution, Mr. Gaeta. Success doesn't hinge on some grand operatic ideal or the will of the people. It hangs in the cumulative moments, each one building on the next, and it could be lost with the slightest hesitation."
"I started this, and I'll see it through. Now get on that frakking ship."
Tom obeyed, and Racetrack and Skulls climbed in after him. "Let's go," Tom told them. Racetrack nodded and the Raptor doors began to shut.
"Racetrack," Tom said, once there was no chance of being heard, "you're in the command structure, right?"
"Right."
"Who's Gaeta got lined up for his XO? Hoshi?"
"No, sir, Hoshi's not in on this."
"You're kidding." He thought about it. "Probably for the best. I'm assuming," he said dryly, "he's not planning on shooting him."
"Shouldn't have to," Skulls said, doing something on his keyboard. "Unless Hoshi decides to play hero when Gaeta takes over the CIC."
"He won't do that," Racetrack dismissed it confidently. "Heroes didn't survive the Pegasus CIC, from what I heard." She glanced back at Tom. "He's got Narcho. Lieutenant Allison."
The square-jawed, angry pilot that had visited Felix in sick bay and agreed passionately with everything Tom had to say afterwards, adding in a few rants of his own. Tom nodded approvingly. "Good. Listen… I know Felix, and I know what's coming, and I can promise you he's going to hesitate. If he does, we're lost. The people of the Fleet are lost. I need you and Narcho to make sure that doesn't happen for me."
"We can do that," Racetrack said, "but I think you're underestimating him."
They were docking at Colonial One already. Tom smiled and shook his head. "No. I don't think I am." He gathered himself together. "Wait here. You've got another job."
He left the Raptor and headed to the conference room, where he could hear Lee Adama's voice. From here, it sounded high-pitched and whiny. Tom wondered idly if it had always sounded that way to him, or if it was mere disillusionment.
"Now, these Cylon FTL drives are essential if the Fleet is going to move on." Tom stepped into the room, and Lee turned around, his jaw falling open. "Mr. Vice President."
"Don't look so surprised, Lee." Tom smiled benevolently. "Even your father knows when he's holding a losing hand." He glanced covertly around the Quorum, trying to take in all of their reactions before they could school their faces into whatever emotion they wanted to convey. "The Admiral," he stressed to the waiting Quorum, "has not changed his mind. He still continues to insist on these FTL drives, no matter what the people of the Fleet want.
"But we need those drives," Lee insisted.
"Why?" Tom asked bluntly.
"They'll triple our jumping range-"
"So the Cylons say. But why should we trust them? Oh, I have no doubt that the technology is capable of doing what they say. But let's ask a few questions. Can the structure of the ships themselves withstand that kind of jump? Will the integration of the Cylon networking affect any of our own technologies, like our navigation systems or our…" he stopped for a moment, closing his eyes and drawing the scientific words Gaeta had given him from the recesses of his brain, "our communications software? These sorts of questions have answers and they may very well prove to be satisfactory. It would be easy to find answers; simply install the technology on one small ship first, and perform the tests while its people wait safely on another ship. And yet, the Admiral wants to install the technology without even considering these simple measures to insure our safety.
"And once the drives are installed, what then? The Cylon known as Tyrol has admitted he knows nothing about how this technology works. I certainly don't understand the first thing about Cylon technology, but I do know that it is possible for Cylons to download the memories of others. Can Cavil and his Cylons gain access to our drives and control them? Even if the answer is no , we know that this sort of communication between the same model is possible, and Cavil has an Eight with him. Could she gain access to our drives, then? These are questions that need to be asked."
Tom took a deep breath, looking around. He saw people nodding, agreeing, and it buoyed him.
"But there are other questions that need answering. They tell us that the Cylons were created by man, and that they rebelled. That they fight, that they exterminate us out of revenge. That these slaves were backed into a corner, and that there was no other option available to them. That they tried to destroy our people because reason doesn't work, because logic doesn't work… because only violence works. Only violence allows them to accomplish their goal. We've all seen first hand evidence of that. And we've seen how that hasn't changed; we all lived through the hell that was New Caprica.
"The Cylons believed in their cause. Every last one of them. And now, when they need something, we're being told that these rebel Cylons have had a change of heart."
"They gave us the Resurrection Hub," Lee burst out. "You can't deny that."
"No, Mr. Adama, I can't. But I can ask why? Why did they give us such a prize? Why are they giving us this technology now? Can you answer that, Mr. Adama?" Lee gaped like a landed fish, and Tom rushed on. "And if the Cylons are so trustworthy, why did an Eight murder three humans?" That comment brought out a burst of questions. Tom held up his hands for silence. "A matter of days ago, a Raptor was lost in space, a Raptor carrying four humans and a Cylon. The Cylon murdered Specialist Kevin Brooks, Lieutenant James Finnegan, and Ensign Andrea Esrin, and would have murdered Lieutenant Felix Gaeta, had he not killed her first. Lieutenant Gaeta has been serving aboard the Galactica as the Senior Officer of the Watch and navigator for the Fleet since his return; the Admiral obviously believes that he did not kill the humans. And yet, the Admiral does nothing. A Cylon kills three humans, and the Admiral does nothing. Nothing but allow these things to board our ships and tamper with our FTL drives!"
"That's ridiculous!" Lee shouted over the uprising babble. "There's no way my- the Admiral-"
"Oh no?" Tom said. "Ask Lieutenant Gaeta, who was there. Ask Lieutenant Edmondson, who found the stranded Raptor and saw the carnage inside." At those two names, he saw Lee back down, at least enough to listen. "This should have been investigated, Lee. Even you must admit that." The other delegates were nodding enthusiastically.
"Adama and Roslin are asking too much. No, they are ordering too much. They form an alliance with a group of genocidal robots, and then when the Fleet exercises their rights- those explicitly protected by the Articles- to disapprove and resist this alliance, they trample over them. Why are we pretending this is a democracy? Why don't they just declare martial law, declare themselves dictators, and be done with it?"
That comment set off a flurry of voices and anger, just as he'd intended it to. He watched the Quorum arguing, agreeing, affirming their own views within each other's doubts, and he didn't risk the smile that threatened to spread over his face. They were ready, standing on the edge, and the only thing that was tethering them to Laura Roslin was Lee Adama.
He didn't like what needed to be done, but as he looked at Lee, frantically trying to soothe and to pacify, he knew that there was no other choice.
The meeting finally dispelled, and he decided to give Lee a few minutes to make the phone calls Tom knew he would make. Gaeta would brush him off, Tom had absolutely no doubts about that. He walked down to the Raptor, his shoes tapping out a sharp staccato.
Racetrack and Skulls looked up from a hand of Triad when he entered. "Everything okay?" Racetrack asked.
"It couldn't have gone better," he said, not able to help the smugness that crept into his voice. "Lee should be coming soon. Gaeta told you about that, right?"
"Not in so many words," Racetrack temporized.
He studied her face, and decided to play it safe. "All you have to do is get him over to the Galactica. Charlie Conner will meet you there and take over."
Skulls got it. He could see it in the solemn nod of the man's head. Racetrack didn't… or she didn't want to. It was odd, how you could see someone deliberately shutting something out of their mind. She studied her cards, rearranging them. Tom decided to change the subject before she could think any more on it. "I told the Quorum about Raptor 718," he said.
"You did?"
"I had to. Not only should they know what lies Adama and Roslin are telling, they need to have Gaeta's name fresh in their minds, especially as a sympathetic hero character. It will make the transition smoother and their acceptance will come more easily."
Racetrack nodded complete understanding at that. "Okay. So I should tell Lee everything I know?"
"I trust you to know what to tell him." He rubbed his chin. "Although I didn't tell him about Hoshi's involvement. I'm not convinced Hoshi would tell Lee the truth if questioned." He smiled then, easy and light. "You're doing a very courageous thing, fighting for your principles like this," he told them. "I'm glad we have people like the two of you, people we can trust and we can count on." The praise obviously sat well, and he nodded a goodbye and walked down to Lee's office with the feeling of a job well done.
***
Felix knew he'd arranged this perfectly, but every time someone spoke his breath still hitched… or at least, it felt like it.
He abandoned us on New Caprica. He lied for years about Earth. He didn't even have a back-up plan. The mantra ran through his head, over and over, lending him strength.
The worst was every time Adama looked his way. He didn't suspect a thing, and in some convoluted way, that made Felix feel even worse. They'd worked together for so long… couldn't the Admiral see? Didn't he know what was going through his head? But he didn't. It was written all over his face, in his cursory orders, in the way he automatically took everything Felix said for truth.
No investigation of the Demetrius. No search and rescue mission. No need to care about three dead humans. Dee.
He had to be more careful in lying to Louis. Even over the phone between their stations, Louis knew his voice well enough to pick up shades of doubt. But he kept the conversations short and looked busy, and Louis didn't seem to notice a thing.
Just as well.
Those thoughts could only be allowed to flit across his mind. He got an angry, worried call from Lee, which he took great joy in fending off. And there was an even angrier call from Starbuck, which made him think that maybe this idea of tossing people out airlocks had some merits after all.
They killed them all, my family, my friends, the Academy, everyone I ever loved, everyone I ever even knew. And he turns a blind eye, ready to hand them the rest of us. After years of hard decisions, after years of putting humanity first, he gives us this.
A few times he almost jerked out of his seat too early. But he held himself steady, waiting… waiting for the moment… the signal.
And it came.
Private Jaffee jogged back into the CIC, young and worshipping and completely blind, in Felix's disgusted opinion. "Admiral," he said breathlessly, "I checked the array. The equipment's been jury-rigged..."
"Sergeant of the Guards, get your Marines in here! Nobody gets in or out!" Felix hauled himself to his feet as quickly as he could, anger giving him speed. Adama whirled on him.
"What the hell are you doing?! What is this?!"
The Marines charged in, and the gunshot echoed through the CIC. It was a haze of shouting, smoke, and blood, but the chaos only hardened him into the leader he knew he had to be.
"Hold your fire!" he shouted, brandishing his crutch like a weapon. "Nobody fires without my order! Admiral! Get your staff to stand down."
Tigh, so betrayed, so angry. For a moment something in him threatened to care, but then he remembered Tigh was a frakking toaster and he went cold. "You son of a bitch!" Tigh growled, but Felix only locked his eyes on the Admiral.
"Stand down, Colonel!" Adama ordered. "Everyone! Stand down!" He knelt down, and Felix finally saw that Jaffee had pushed the Admiral aside. Dead. "You killed this boy."
Felix spared a brief glance for the private on the floor. Success doesn't hinge on some grand operatic ideal or the will of the people. It hangs in the cumulative moments, each one building on the next, and it could be lost with the slightest hesitation. "Admiral Adama," he said, ignoring the corpse, "I am removing you from command of this ship. I am taking you into custody on the charge of treason."
"You swore an oath when you put that uniform on. You pledged to defend this ship and her crew."
"You swore the same allegiance," Felix ground out, his mantra of wrongs still pounding a rhythm in his head. "What happened to your oath? For seven years, I have done my frakking job and for what? To take orders from a Cylon? To let machines network our ship? No, you... you are not the leader that you were when we started. You're just a sad, old man that has let his heart and his affection for a Cylon cloud his judgment!"
"I want you all to understand this!" Adama shouted, taking in the entire CIC. The obligatory speech now, the guilt trip. Felix had been prepared for this. "If you do this... there will be no forgiveness. No amnesty. This boy... died honoring his uniform. You... you'll die with nothing."
Nothing. He felt nothing, damn it. Absolutely nothing. "Sergeant of the Guards, take the senior staff, put them in a holding cell, place Admiral Adama and Colonel Tigh under arrest." He glanced over and saw Louis standing slowly, shocked and pale and angry and oh Gods…. It's for the best. He looked away, not only because he couldn't allow emotion but because the situation was far too unstable for sentiment. The Marines were hesitating. "Do it!" he ordered.
The Marines led Adama and Tigh away. You'll die with nothing… Felix slammed his hand down on the war table.
"Right," he said. "Specialist Gage, take your station. Let's get this ship operational again."
***
The phone rang, shattering the stillness. Tom lunged for it, heart in his throat.
"Mr. Zarek," Gaeta's voice said, and he allowed himself to breathe, "I've taken command of Galactica.. The admiral and his senior staff are in custody."
"Adama's still alive?"
"You sound disappointed."
Well, yes, Tom wanted to say. That was the point. "It's a loose end," he told Gaeta sternly. "I'm sure you have your reasons. Still, congratulations are in order. With the future of the Fleet at stake, you've done a very courageous thing."
Gaeta didn't sound impressed. "We can fine-tune our rationalizations later. I'm still bringing communications back online. And the Fleet's in an uproar."
"Don't worry," Tom reassured him. There was the sound of disturbance in the background, but no panic. "They'll fall in line," Tom continued, "especially after I shower them..."
But Gaeta cut him off. "What the frak? Tom, are you hearing this? Turn on your wireless."
Confused, Tom leaned over and did so. And as he did, the very last voice he wanted to hear flooded the room. "Of all the decisions..." Laura Roslin was saying.
"Where's this coming from?" Gaeta was asking someone in his ear. He heard Gaeta calling for someone but ignored it, turning up his wireless.
"…Assuming the presidency, none was more frightening or more difficult than agreeing to this alliance with the Cylons. But we have come to a crossroads in our long and painful journey. Cylons and humans have been at war for generations. We know nothing else. And we have been locked in a struggle that has seen both sides suffer unspeakable loss. But with our supplies running low and our options limited, our former enemies may represent our last, perhaps our only hope. To those in the fleet and on Galactica who would reject this alliance, I am asking you... No, I am begging you to reconsider and place your trust back in those who have brought you this far, and to reject those traitors who would use your fear of the Cylons to destroy Colonial civilization... " The wireless erupted into static.
For just one moment, Tom had felt himself leap up like a little lost puppy dog, his soul wagging its tail. He so desperately wanted to believe in something, in someone, and Laura Roslin had been such a leader at one point. But he closed his eyes and reminded himself of everything he'd suffered, everything the Fleet had suffered. Because without her prophecies and her lies, Laura Roslin was no leader at all.
Surely the people would see that. Surely the Quorum could see that.
He pushed aside doubt. This was the course they were decided on, because this was right. No matter what she said over the wireless, it was all pretty words and phrases, designed to cover up the fact that Laura had no heart for her duties and no desire to relinquish them.
"Sir?" the voice over the phone said. "Lieuten… Comman.. Mr. Gaeta for you."
"Commander Gaeta," Tom informed the nameless voice. Gaeta took the phone again. "The broadcast is taken care of?"
"It is. We've traced the signal down to Baltar's storage bay, which means she's probably gone from there by now."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm sending Marines down to secure the area," Gaeta said coldly, in a voice that for some absurd reason reminded Tom of Admiral Cain. "We'll capture her. Laura Roslin is your loose end."
"She won't be for long." Tom glanced down at his desk, where petitions and pleas waited for his attention. "And Commander. If circumstances dictate that you can't take her alive…"
It hung on the phone, heavy between them. But Gaeta just said, "Yes, sir," and privately, Tom wondered if maybe he should kill Adama and leave Roslin to Felix. Somehow, he thought it might be less complicated that way.
***
Complicated. Felix rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying not to even think the word. Not even hours had passed since he'd taken control, and there'd been reports of thirty-eight dead. He knew the number would only rise. His leg was hurting abominably, and Baltar's phone call had thrown him off his game for a moment. He'd almost been grateful for that damn rogue Raptor, even if it meant that people who were meant to die had escaped.
It wasn't the command that was hard. He'd trained for this, worked for years for this. Commanding a battlestar was what he'd wanted all his life, although he'd be the first to say this wasn't how he wanted to get it. He might not like the circumstances, but he was ready for them.
Thirty-eight. The number scratched itself into his head and his soul, and he knew he'd be changing it until he died. Even once they found that planet… he looked at the electronic image of the Fleet, his fingers ghosting over the lighted images. He was in command now, and that meant these lives all were on his shoulders.
He heard boot steps, the CIC doors opening, and stood up. The Marines marched Adama to him, and for one second he had to push away the memory of when he'd wrecked the car at fifteen, and the absolute fury that had been his father. But Adama's glare was nothing like his father's. There was no love there, only anger and hate and disappointment. He smiled bitterly.
"Welcome back. I had a feeling you wouldn't be on that Raptor."
"I care too much for this ship to let it be overrun by rats."
Rat. "Right," Felix said sourly, and he couldn't help adding, "If only you cared as much about the people on it."
"You have no frakking idea."
Since slapping the bastard with his crutch wouldn't do any good, Felix just stared him down. "Well, then show me. You want to save some lives? Get on the radio and call Roslin. Tell her to come back and surrender."
"No."
"I'll ask you one more time, Admiral."
"Admiral," Adama scoffed. He took off his rank pins and tossed them on the table, and Felix almost cringed. "You're the Admiral now," Adama said scornfully. "So you call up Roslin. Make her laugh."
The Dradis beeped, and Felix looked up to see what was happening. The baseship was moving.
"All hands to battle stations. Set condition one. Gun battery, stand by. Target bearing..."
"Sir," Gage said, "the baseship. They're moving into the fleet."
Felix swore, and Adama humphed with appreciation.
"They're hiding in the fleet."
As a tactical move, it was brilliant, Felix had to admit that. But the fact of the matter was that the supposed President of the Colonies was now using the people she swore to protect to protect the Cylons and herself. But Felix wasn't going to play her game. Laura Roslin didn't understand what this was truly about. He looked around. "Battle stations, stand down. Marine launch, blue squadron have them quarantine the base ship. Gage, spin up our FTL. Alert the ship captains to do the same. Kelly, prepare for Mr. Zarek's arrival."
Automatically, he glanced at Adama. Adama's face was unchanged, still bitter and hating. "Now you're going to shoot me, Mr. Gaeta," he prompted.
Felix nodded. The marines took him away, and it took all the strength that Felix had in him not to turn around and watch.
***
"Tom."
Tom looked up to see Jacob Cantrell in his doorway, with several other Quorum members ranged behind him. "Yes?"
"What the frak is going on? Have you heard this mess over on Galactica?"
"Of course," Tom said smoothly. "Adama is being… replaced."
"Replaced." The delegates exchanged glances. "You're talking mutiny."
"No," Tom said, standing up at his desk. "I'm talking revolution. Funny, how they're really the same thing, isn't it? What it really depends on is the outcome. If those who are fighting for change win, it's revolution. Those in power win, it's mutiny."
"It's all a play on words," Cantrell accused.
"It is," Tom agreed. "The reality of the situation is that Adama was determined to ignore the will of the people. To stomp on democratic decisions, to impose a martial state when he didn't get his way. Like a spoiled child. Like a terrorist. Adama showed us he's willing to use violence against our own citizens in order to silence any opposition when he forcefully boarded the Hitei Khan. This, my friends, is a revolution."
Reza Chronides crossed her arms. "And who is replacing him?" she demanded.
"Felix Gaeta," Tom said, straightening up. To his surprise, he saw confusion on some of the faces, and something that almost looked like anger on a few of the others. Before anyone could question, he dove in. "Gaeta has been third in command on the Galactica since the beginning of this wretched journey, except for our time on New Caprica. He worked for the Resistance, risking his life to feed them information. He has calculated jumps, navigated our course, and sacrificed more for humanity than any living person I know."
Cantrell put a hand on Tom's arm. "Tom," he said, and he knew it was his friend Jacob talking, not the Sagittaron representative, "we all know that's true. And I know you're very close with him, and know his strengths well. But he's also a man who's had his leg amputated and then nearly been killed again in the space of two weeks, and from what I understand lost his best friend, as well. There is no way that this guy is drinking from a full bottle of ambrosia."
Tom shook Cantrell's hand off. "He took the Galactica from Admiral Adama," he said. "Frankly, that speaks volumes to me of his ability. You need further proof? We're docking at Galactica in five minutes. Give us a little bit of time to get Gaeta over here, and you can meet him. You'll understand what this man is capable of, and you'll see the difference between him and Adama."
"What about Laura Roslin?" Orimosis demanded. "We heard her broadcast."
Something in his voice was dangerous… loyal. Tom narrowed his eyes. "Laura Roslin," he said slowly, leaning heavily on his desk, "is cozied up in the Cylon base star. Laura Roslin is using civilian ships to protect her Cylons. And Laura Roslin has not been seen or done one damn thing to help anyone in this Fleet since Earth! What about Laura Roslin?"
He saw it then, anger and frustration, betrayal and fleeting disappointment. He didn't admit it, but he saw it, and he drew himself up.
"If you'll excuse me," he said. "I have a meeting with Commander Gaeta. There's a lot of work to be done."
They parted and let him pass. And he wondered if that was the most dangerous sign of all.
***
They met in the Admiral's study. Tom couldn't help but notice that Felix looked distinctly uncomfortable here, and it wasn't just the pain in his leg, although that was clearly growing worse.
"I have a net over the base ship, you know," Gaeta said in way of greeting. "You didn't have to bring the whole Quorum with you."
"You're insisting on the trial," Tom said.
Gaeta was even. "I'm insisting."
"Then I want them where I can keep an eye on them. Look, I know you want to do the right thing."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Gaeta said sarcastically. "I was under the impression that you did too."
Tom wanted to close his eyes wearily. Felix in full-on bitch mode was the last thing he needed right now. Instead, he stepped closer. "I do. But we need to move on."
"We can't move on until people have answered for what they've done," Gaeta almost hissed, his eyes blazing. "Which begins with Adama. One world at a time, Tom."
Tom stepped back, shaking his head. "They're bringing the lawyer in now," he said, glancing at his watch.
"Good."
The mask of righteousness faded a bit, and as it ebbed Tom felt tired. This wasn't what they should be doing. This was costing them… did Gaeta really think that their position was that secure that they could bother with a phony trial? While ruling by fear wasn't something Tom condoned, it got the job done until true trust could be reestablished. They needed to show everyone they meant business.
If this was Lee standing here, Tom would have said all of that. He would have argued, he would have gone ahead, and he would have just executed Adama himself, even if he had to pull the trigger.
Tom steeled himself, and realized he needed to show everyone they meant business. Including Felix Gaeta.
He watched the mockery of a trial unfold, Gaeta's frustration with Adama becoming palpable as they butted heads, as Adama refused to listen. He shifted impatiently, because every moment of this was lost time, their security slipping away.
Tom was long out of the habit of praying, but some god must have been watching over him when Romo Lampkin asked for some time alone with Adama. He took advantage and almost dragged Gaeta out of the room.
"Nothing you say is going to get through to him. Can't you just admit that?" he hissed, fingers tight around Gaeta's arm. Gaeta glared at him, and Tom sighed. "Fine. Look, I'm going to use this time to go address the Quorum." He glanced at his watch. "Start down in ten minutes. They need to see you in command, to hear you address them. They need to understand."
Gaeta nodded, and Tom patted his shoulder. "We're almost there," he said. "Once you get past this, it will be easier." He left before Gaeta could respond.
The Quorum was waiting, agitated and angry. When Tom entered, Cantrell stood up immediately. "Sit down, Tom."
Tom looked at the faces staring at him. And just looking at them, he already knew what they were going to say. "I think I'll stand, Jacob."
Cantrell nodded. "You fought for this Quorum. You fought for this government. You wanted to ensure democracy within the Fleet. What you have done over the past four years…" he cocked a half-grin, "well, let's just say you and I have always known your contributions have been underestimated.
"But now, now that things aren't going your way, now that the democracy you were so desperate to implement is not responding to your vision, you're throwing it away. What Lieutenant Gaeta is doing is mutiny. There is no other word for it. William Adama is still the Admiral of this Fleet. And Laura Roslin is still alive, still active. Laura Roslin is still the President. Whatever madness this is, Tom, it has to stop. Now." Cantrell softened. "Please, Tom. I'm asking you as a friend. Stop this."
Tom bowed his head for a long moment.
"The world's upside down. And someone has to turn it right side up again. Felix Gaeta said that to me. He believes he's that someone. I believe he's that someone. But he has very big shoes to fill. I brought you here because I wanted him to meet people who refuse to give up, people who have the courage to voice their dissent." He looked at the Quorum disgustedly. "But at the end of the day, you still stand by your President."
Cantrell's face set into hard lines, and Tom knew that he was thinking any friendship between them was now over. "I think you should leave now. Mr. Vice President," he said, choosing his side. The Quorum murmured their assent.
For a trembling moment, Tom felt like he was Felix, standing before a task he didn't want to do. He understood the hesitation, the fear, the desperate desire to talk and to convince and to just lock everyone up and get on with it.
But then he'd always understood that. He'd always wished it could be that way. And he'd always known it couldn't. The world didn't work like that, and Tom Zarek knew it.
He nodded at them, and walked out of the door. When he came to the Marine outside, his voice was hard and determined.
"Shoot them."
***
On to Part 2
