Fic Update: Book of Jason - Interlude, Part 2
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2.
Three sectons after his son Apollo graduated from the Caprican Military Academy, Adama, commander of the battlestar Galactica and thrice decorated Hero of the War of Cylon Aggression, heard a rumor. It was only a rumor and it concerned no one currently under his command, so he let it alone. Rumors were a necessary evil of military life and often the best source of information, but with so many flying about he had to be selective in which he quashed and which he encouraged. Rumors about Liberty Station were often relegated to the end of the line to be laughed about and discussed, perhaps, over the third bottle of ambrosa and usually including the phrase ‘but who can really tell when it’s Agamem?’
Station Commander Agamem had been a classmate of Adama’s at the academy, and one of the more unimpressive ones in Adama’s recollection. That he moved swiftly up the ranks, out of combat and into the more managerial side of the military only convinced Adama that water sought its own level after all, that the Lords looked out for fools, and that he’d chosen right when he ignored Agamem’s invitation that one night in their third Yahren and instead gone out behind the library with the daughter of his Galactic Navigation professor.
For he had and, while that particular affair ended poorly, he hadn’t been with Agamem and Agamem had found someone else to blackmail and the yahrens passed and Adama almost never had cause to think of the other man. Until those rumors came around, like clockwork, every five or so sectons and, like clockwork, he’d sit with his second in command or, if he were lucky, with one of his oldest friends, like Cain or Telemachus, and they’d drink and laugh and guess at the sordid things rumor failed to describe.
This particular time would have been no different except that Adama was returning from a fairly successful encounter with the Cylons, there was no Cain or Telemachus in the vicinity, and his good friend and former second in command had retired with a debilitating illness to an island on Aquaria. There was only his newest second, a warrior named Tigh.
Tigh had a solid reputation as a coolheaded strategist. A graduate of his home planet’s military academy, the Tauran Centers of Learning United, he was well-versed in the practicalities of troop movements, critical thinking, philosophy of war and the history of every major and many minor battles in the Colonies’ collective history. He was a sharp-witted, deliberate, intelligent man and Adama looked forward to getting to know just how his new second’s mind worked.
The offer made, Tigh favored him with a pleased grin, a regal nod, and agreed to meet Adama in his quarters after evening meal. He arrived on time bearing a jug of Tauran lager.
Their conversation went surprisingly well for all Adama’s concerns that his Tigh might be too cerebral to unwind at all. By the time they opened the earthenware jug of lager, talk had turned to discussion of the recent rumors out of Liberty Station.
“Oh, yes,” Tigh said with a small smile. “I heard that the new boy there is quite a beauty, for those who like such things. Blond hair, blue eyes, strong build. Not like that rather effeminate Leonid I once caught sight of on a transport to Scorpio. I would have sworn I was looking at a female.” Tigh shrugged. “But some like that sort of thing. I don’t see the appeal myself. If I’m going to bed a female, I want her to be a female.”
Adama chuckled.
Tigh leaned closer. “I don’t know where he finds them, these boys. An effeminate Leonid? What are the odds?”
“Only Agamem,” Adama agreed. “Even back in the academy, we knew he had a special talent for finding and exploiting weakness. If only he used his powers for good, as my youngest son is fond of saying. We might have a better shot at ending this war with the Cylons.”
“Weakness, hm? You think the boys who end up working for Agamem are weak?”
Adama shrugged and passed his cup of lager back and forth between his hands, warming the liquor properly. “Perhaps that’s a bit strong, but cowardly at least. They’re supposedly warriors, and yet they don’t fight. What else would you call it?”
Tigh regarded him for a moment, a shrewd look in his eyes. “Caught up in circumstances beyond their control?”
“How so?” Adama frowned. “Do you think Agamem is kidnapping these boy of his?”
“Not entirely, not exactly, no. But forcing them all the same. I’ve done some checking. That Leonid, and this current flavor, are orphans pressed into service.”
“So? A good third of all warriors are. Orphans, that is.”
Tigh shook his head. “You miss my point. Orphans rarely have anyone backing them, overseeing their career, keeping them from predators like Agamem.”
“Predators?” Adama laughed. “Agamem’s harmless. He’s no predator. You make him sound like a Sagittan felix!”
“Harmless? Hardly.”
“Those boys are not mistreated. If anything, they live better than our pilots do. For one thing, they don’t have any Cylons to worry about.”
“But the sex…”
“What boy that age doesn’t like having sex? It’s all they think about.”
Tigh huffed a sigh. “They may think about it a lot, but it’s another thing entirely to have no say over whom you lay down with. Or what you do when you get there.”
Adama made a dismissive gesture. “I doubt anyone’s complaining. Unless they’re just that prudish. And not even my son Apollo is that prudish.”
“Well, I don’t know your son so I won’t speak to that, but I do know something about being caught up in circumstances beyond one’s control. You feel hopeless, helpless, unable to make the choice you really want to make. It’s a terrible thing, being caught like that.”
“And you think this orphan of Agamem’s was caught up?” Adama ignored for the moment Tigh’s revelation that he had once been in desperate circumstances to focus on the issue at hand.
“It’s possible, yes.”
“Based on what?”
“Based on… based on nothing, I guess. It just seems… wrong, somehow. Not that I’ve ever been invited to Liberty. I’m only basing this on rumor. If the rumor’s blown out of proportion, that’s one thing, and I’m prepared to accept that I’m seeing shadows where there’s only sunshine.”
“If it were a bad thing, working for Agamem,” Adama said slowly, “then surely there would be complaints. Charges. An investigation. Something.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“It could all turn out to be, as you said, sunshine instead of shadows.”
“Entirely possible.”
“And this current boy of Agamem’s is probably quite happy where he is, safely out of harm’s way.”
“I’m sure this boy Starbuck knows how lucky he is.”
“Starbuck?”
“Mm-hm. That’s Agamem’s new boy. Starbuck. He’s a graduate of the CMA. Sergeant Boomer, that new pilot who did so well in the last battle, was in his class. So was your son Apollo, I believe.”
“Yes,” Adama said slowly. “Blond hair, blue eyes and a strong build, you said? That sounds like him.”
Tigh looked up at him. “Then you’ve met?”
“Yes. He spent a few sectons in our house in Natacapra. Nice young man. I rather liked him.”
“But cowardly, no doubt. Or at least sex-crazed. I’m sure you must be correct. This boy Starbuck chose his assignment. Case closed. No further investigation necessary.”
Adama forced a smile. “Colonel Tigh, I’m sure you’re right. More lager?”
On to part 3!
Or click for part 2 of fic.
Go on -
2.
Three sectons after his son Apollo graduated from the Caprican Military Academy, Adama, commander of the battlestar Galactica and thrice decorated Hero of the War of Cylon Aggression, heard a rumor. It was only a rumor and it concerned no one currently under his command, so he let it alone. Rumors were a necessary evil of military life and often the best source of information, but with so many flying about he had to be selective in which he quashed and which he encouraged. Rumors about Liberty Station were often relegated to the end of the line to be laughed about and discussed, perhaps, over the third bottle of ambrosa and usually including the phrase ‘but who can really tell when it’s Agamem?’
Station Commander Agamem had been a classmate of Adama’s at the academy, and one of the more unimpressive ones in Adama’s recollection. That he moved swiftly up the ranks, out of combat and into the more managerial side of the military only convinced Adama that water sought its own level after all, that the Lords looked out for fools, and that he’d chosen right when he ignored Agamem’s invitation that one night in their third Yahren and instead gone out behind the library with the daughter of his Galactic Navigation professor.
For he had and, while that particular affair ended poorly, he hadn’t been with Agamem and Agamem had found someone else to blackmail and the yahrens passed and Adama almost never had cause to think of the other man. Until those rumors came around, like clockwork, every five or so sectons and, like clockwork, he’d sit with his second in command or, if he were lucky, with one of his oldest friends, like Cain or Telemachus, and they’d drink and laugh and guess at the sordid things rumor failed to describe.
This particular time would have been no different except that Adama was returning from a fairly successful encounter with the Cylons, there was no Cain or Telemachus in the vicinity, and his good friend and former second in command had retired with a debilitating illness to an island on Aquaria. There was only his newest second, a warrior named Tigh.
Tigh had a solid reputation as a coolheaded strategist. A graduate of his home planet’s military academy, the Tauran Centers of Learning United, he was well-versed in the practicalities of troop movements, critical thinking, philosophy of war and the history of every major and many minor battles in the Colonies’ collective history. He was a sharp-witted, deliberate, intelligent man and Adama looked forward to getting to know just how his new second’s mind worked.
The offer made, Tigh favored him with a pleased grin, a regal nod, and agreed to meet Adama in his quarters after evening meal. He arrived on time bearing a jug of Tauran lager.
Their conversation went surprisingly well for all Adama’s concerns that his Tigh might be too cerebral to unwind at all. By the time they opened the earthenware jug of lager, talk had turned to discussion of the recent rumors out of Liberty Station.
“Oh, yes,” Tigh said with a small smile. “I heard that the new boy there is quite a beauty, for those who like such things. Blond hair, blue eyes, strong build. Not like that rather effeminate Leonid I once caught sight of on a transport to Scorpio. I would have sworn I was looking at a female.” Tigh shrugged. “But some like that sort of thing. I don’t see the appeal myself. If I’m going to bed a female, I want her to be a female.”
Adama chuckled.
Tigh leaned closer. “I don’t know where he finds them, these boys. An effeminate Leonid? What are the odds?”
“Only Agamem,” Adama agreed. “Even back in the academy, we knew he had a special talent for finding and exploiting weakness. If only he used his powers for good, as my youngest son is fond of saying. We might have a better shot at ending this war with the Cylons.”
“Weakness, hm? You think the boys who end up working for Agamem are weak?”
Adama shrugged and passed his cup of lager back and forth between his hands, warming the liquor properly. “Perhaps that’s a bit strong, but cowardly at least. They’re supposedly warriors, and yet they don’t fight. What else would you call it?”
Tigh regarded him for a moment, a shrewd look in his eyes. “Caught up in circumstances beyond their control?”
“How so?” Adama frowned. “Do you think Agamem is kidnapping these boy of his?”
“Not entirely, not exactly, no. But forcing them all the same. I’ve done some checking. That Leonid, and this current flavor, are orphans pressed into service.”
“So? A good third of all warriors are. Orphans, that is.”
Tigh shook his head. “You miss my point. Orphans rarely have anyone backing them, overseeing their career, keeping them from predators like Agamem.”
“Predators?” Adama laughed. “Agamem’s harmless. He’s no predator. You make him sound like a Sagittan felix!”
“Harmless? Hardly.”
“Those boys are not mistreated. If anything, they live better than our pilots do. For one thing, they don’t have any Cylons to worry about.”
“But the sex…”
“What boy that age doesn’t like having sex? It’s all they think about.”
Tigh huffed a sigh. “They may think about it a lot, but it’s another thing entirely to have no say over whom you lay down with. Or what you do when you get there.”
Adama made a dismissive gesture. “I doubt anyone’s complaining. Unless they’re just that prudish. And not even my son Apollo is that prudish.”
“Well, I don’t know your son so I won’t speak to that, but I do know something about being caught up in circumstances beyond one’s control. You feel hopeless, helpless, unable to make the choice you really want to make. It’s a terrible thing, being caught like that.”
“And you think this orphan of Agamem’s was caught up?” Adama ignored for the moment Tigh’s revelation that he had once been in desperate circumstances to focus on the issue at hand.
“It’s possible, yes.”
“Based on what?”
“Based on… based on nothing, I guess. It just seems… wrong, somehow. Not that I’ve ever been invited to Liberty. I’m only basing this on rumor. If the rumor’s blown out of proportion, that’s one thing, and I’m prepared to accept that I’m seeing shadows where there’s only sunshine.”
“If it were a bad thing, working for Agamem,” Adama said slowly, “then surely there would be complaints. Charges. An investigation. Something.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“It could all turn out to be, as you said, sunshine instead of shadows.”
“Entirely possible.”
“And this current boy of Agamem’s is probably quite happy where he is, safely out of harm’s way.”
“I’m sure this boy Starbuck knows how lucky he is.”
“Starbuck?”
“Mm-hm. That’s Agamem’s new boy. Starbuck. He’s a graduate of the CMA. Sergeant Boomer, that new pilot who did so well in the last battle, was in his class. So was your son Apollo, I believe.”
“Yes,” Adama said slowly. “Blond hair, blue eyes and a strong build, you said? That sounds like him.”
Tigh looked up at him. “Then you’ve met?”
“Yes. He spent a few sectons in our house in Natacapra. Nice young man. I rather liked him.”
“But cowardly, no doubt. Or at least sex-crazed. I’m sure you must be correct. This boy Starbuck chose his assignment. Case closed. No further investigation necessary.”
Adama forced a smile. “Colonel Tigh, I’m sure you’re right. More lager?”
On to part 3!