Fic: Do Cylons Dream of Chrome Sheep?, Part V
Galactica, Earth Planetary Security Patrol
Helo hadn’t been aboard Galactica in nearly six months, but it always seemed like home to him. It hadn’t been before the war started, but the smells of grease, sweat, and aviation fuel spoke more of home than the solid ground of Earth did. He had been standing outside Admiral Adama’s quarters for half an hour, waiting to be called in, and watching the ship's crew pass back and forth in front of him. Most of them were still in Colonial blue or green, but these days there was a smattering of uniforms from Earth militaries. Mostly Americans and European. Part of the rules that Adama and Roslin had set down in training Earth militaries was that they would only do so with democratic societies. It had been controversial, at least on Earth, but from the high ground of space it had been relatively easy to keep a hard line on that sort of thing.
Helo sometimes wondered if they were being more than a little hypocritical about that sort of thing. But he usually kept his reservations about his government to himself.
After what seemed like forever Colonel Tigh finally left, giving Helo his usual contemptuous look, before jerking his head back towards the door by way of telling him to go in. The Admiral was sitting at his desk, reading maintenance reports and absently cracking walnuts in one hand. Helo came to a stop in front of his desk and clicked his heels to let Adama know he was there. He remained at attention staring at the bulkhead just over the admiral’s head and he began to feel like he was being left to stew.
Which of course he expected, as that was the Admiral’s normal mode of operation. The madder the Admiral was, the quieter he got.
When he finally looked up from the reports he hesitated before grumbling an “At ease.” Taking off his glasses and setting them to the side, he kept cracking the walnuts, and Helo wondered absently if he ever ate any of them.
“Sir, I …”
“For once, it would be in your best interest not to open your mouth, Captain.” Helo knew better than to argue at that point. “The President can’t decide if she wants to hand you over to the Americans for trial as an accessory to murder, or put you on trial herself for treason. I think she’d rather do the latter as we have the death penalty.”
“An airlock is the President’s solution to inconvenient people,” Helo commented sarcastically.
“You are already on thin ice, Captain. I am not entirely sure I disagree with her. I am not sure if I can prove it, but given that your friend Dr. Bartlet was found helping Sharon escape you seem a fairly obvious suspect. And you might remember that whatever your political feelings you are an officer with an oath to obey the orders of your superiors, especially the President.”
“Is this the same oath that you violated when you launched a military coup against her?” Helo shot back. “With respect, sir, you are hardly the person to throw around my oath as an officer.” Adama’s eyes narrowed, and Helo knew he’d stepped over a line. But once committed, he might as well go all the way. “I take my oath very seriously, including my duty to oppose illegal orders. That woman…”
“The President of the Twelve Colonies?” Adama supplied with a raised eyebrow.
“… that woman’s sense of morality is about as firm as a bucket of pudding. She’s more dangerous to our society than Sharon is. If you’d just listen to Sharon maybe you’d see that she isn’t a threat to us.”
“I do believe you’ve been listening to her a bit too much.” There was still a low anger in Adama’s voice, but it hadn’t exploded yet and Helo counted himself lucky. “Whatever your political feelings, you will treat the President with respect, Captain, or you won’t be wearing that uniform much longer.”
The Admiral cracked another walnut with a particularly load snap.
“That should be easy, I don’t have to deal with her…”
“You will now. For the duration of this crisis you are being placed on temporary duty assignment to the President’s office. There you will help the President’s staff in damage control.” Adama got up from his chair and Helo noticed that he wasn’t looking at him. Never a good sign.
“I am not sure the right person for that job…”
“Probably not, and I’m sure she won’t think you are, but I hazard to guess that the President’s staff will be able to keep an eye on you. And who knows, you might get a passing understanding for how hard her job is.”
“Does she know this?”
“She will find out when you show up for work tomorrow.”
“What about Sharon? Where is she?”
“It’s time you worry about yourself, Mr. Agathon.” The lack of rank made Helo suddenly realize that he was very close to being kicked out of the service. As much as he knew the admiral was angry, he was feeling betrayed and angry himself.
Doing the right thing never paid.
~~**~~**~~**~~
Josiah Bartlet hadn’t flown by commercial airline in close to a decade, but these days he didn’t have the resources of either a Presidential Campaign or the Federal government to give him a private plane to go wherever he wanted to go whenever he wanted to go there. As it was they were lucky to get the flight they did, on short notice, and needing seats not only for himself and Abbey, but also for their Secret Service detail.
Detroit’s International Airport was on the Michigan side of the border still, though from his seat on the plane as it taxied he could see a line of space ships parked on the far end of the field. It had always been a busy hub for air travel, but now there were few places in the country that could boast the kind of traffic they had, between military and civilian flights from around the world, and its use as a major spaceport. Add to that the construction that was going on all over the terminal and it was a minor miracle when he saw CJ Cregg standing on the other side of the security checkpoint.
“Aren’t you a little busy these days to be playing driver, CJ?”
The ambassador smiled. “I just left a meeting with the governor and I made my minions clear my schedule for the afternoon. Liz says hello, and she’ll be around to see you later tonight.”
“That’s good to know, where is my other daughter?” CJ looked like she wanted to play dumb, but he pushed on without giving her the chance, moving quickly despite the fact that he was walking with a cane today. “You know, the one who decided her true calling was as a Hollywood stuntwoman. I was hoping I could get a refund from her for the cost of her medical school tuition.”
“Sir, we’re still trying to work out what happened.”
“What’s to work out? I thought it was reasonably clear over the phone. What part of Ellie was arrested as the driver in a car chase with police is murky? Perhaps she just didn’t look in her rear view mirror? Was she rushing some grievously wounded person to the emergency room?”
CJ winced at the degree of sarcasm in his tone. “Well, for one I think it was more a car chase with a space ship.”
“And that’s better?”
“It is in that it’s technically not illegal for her to run from a space ship… if not the brightest move she ever made in her adult life.”
“Her adult life? I’m thinking this one is probably one of the dumber things my extremely bright daughter has done since she was six years old and decided to cut her own hair. You avoided the question, where is she?”
“She’s at the embassy, sir. I thought that was best until we had a better idea of what was happening.”
“And what does Nicola Machiavelli have to say about this?”
CJ paused for a moment as she was walking after him and then caught up again after she had figured out what he meant. “President Roslin was evasive about the details but promised to look into it.”
“Roslin? Evasive? Never.”
“Sir, this might not be the time for your finely honed wit…”
“It isn’t the time to patronize me either, Claudia Jean.”
“Yes, sir.”
… To Be Continued …