2ND TRY: Constructing Reality (BG2003, adult)
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica 2005
Pairing: Roslin/Zarek, but not in this segment
Rating: adult overall, although this particular section is tame
Distribution: How much do I owe you for hauling it off?
Spoilers: Up to and including KLG2
Email: exfilia at livejournal dot com
Disclaimer: if I owned them, they'd have a lot more fun
Constructing Reality
by Exfilia
He sat at Gaeta's usual console, uncomfortable with daytime bridge duty even with the Lieutenant peering over his shoulder from his new position at Tigh's right hand. Gaeta was obviously uncomfortable in his role as acting executive officer. He didn't have the temperment to play the Captain's pit bull, and Tigh didn't need one of those, anyway. How many people had to die, be arrested or be needed in their cockpits before they got down to Gaeta? It was almost as unlikely as Laura Roslin becoming president, although that was a parallel he hoped no one else was making. Being like Roslin was not a positive career move, at least not on Galactica, not for Gaeta and especially not for him. He had an insane urge to bleach his dark auburn hair, although he didn't believe anyone had noticed that it was exactly the same color as hers. At least, he hoped no one had.
"Obviously there was a miscommunication," she was saying on the tiny viewscreen. Her thin voice, attenuated by the tiny speaker, barely carryied across the bridge, and the crew sat in silence, straining to hear. "I don't believe for a moment that Commander Adama intended to overthrow civilian government and institute martial law over a minor bypass of the chain of command on my part. I'm not a soldier. It didn't seem odd to me to ask a pilot directly to undertake a reconnaissance mission. I'm told I should have gone through her commanders, and I will in future, but it's important not to blow this out of proportion, particularly as Commander Adama is unable to explain his thinking for us at the moment."
"But is it not true, Madame President, that you were taken by force from 798? That Colonial Marines bored through the hull of the liner and removed you at gunpoint?"
"The Marines were armed, but then, they usually are. We should remember, here, that no one was hurt, and that Colonel Tigh permitted me to leave and to bring Captain Adama with me."
Everyone jumped at the thud, then identified it as Colonel Tigh's fist hitting the command console. While he had been silent on the subject, it was a fair guess that he'd known nothing about Roslin leaving until Zarek's broadcast announcing that she was his guest on the Astral Queen. Someone's head was going to roll. Even with everything else that had been happening, a warship in a combat zone shouldn't be that easy to rob, and Tigh had been in a particularly evil mood ever since. In fact, he had just turned on his heel and stormed off the bridge, muttering something about revisionist nonsense. Gaeta grinned and drifted over toward his normal position. It was impossible not to speak to him, and equally impossible to talk about anything but the broadcast.
"Does she believe anyone buys it?" he ventured.
"No one has to buy it," Gaeta answered. "She's just giving us an opening."
"An opening?"
"A way to back down without losing face, so we don't wind up with an insurrection on our hands as well as a war. Bringing her back here...."
He couldn't help it. He narrowed his eyes in exactly the way his mother had once done when his father had displeased her, before they'd displeased her once too often and she'd vanished from their lives.
"I don't know," Gaeta said, "what was in Adama's mind when he gave the order, but I know the president's escape was absolutely the best outcome to the situation. Just be thankful she's being reasonable about it."
"What will the colonel do about Thrace?"
"She had an order from the president. I assume she was told not to inform her superiors."
"Doesn't that blow the 'lack of understanding of the chain of command' theory out the lock?"
Gaeta shook his head.
"If Starbuck was told not to tell us," he explained, "we don't have to arrest her and throw her in the brig and wait for Zarek to bust her out, too."
"Oh." The man's mind had more curliques than a medieval illumination. "But for the colonel, throwing Starbuck in the brig is a good thing."
"We'll have to convince him otherwise. The fleet's survival is at stake. If the Cylons come upon us while we're fighting among ourselves, we're doomed."
He thought again how unlikely it was that a group of convicts who'd been successfully confined to a penal colony for years or decades could rob a the brig of a battlestar on red alert, and he looked up at Gaeta.
"Just how did President Roslin escape?" he whispered.
"Thinking about that is totally unprofitable," said Gaeta. "Don't waste time on it. Concentrate on deciding whom we can blame for the president's 'misunderstanding.'"
"Sir, Colonel Tigh was the one who...."
"Yes, and if Adama were concious he could throw Tigh in the brig for it and that would be that, but he's not, and I absolutely do not want to command anything in a combat zone, much less a relic held together by its own rust. What, do you?"
He couldn't form the words, but he shook his head as vehemently as he could manage.
"You sure? You could make it a family affair."
The words still wouldn't come, and now in their place an amphibian fought for freedom in the tight confines of his throat. He felt his face burning, and believed everyone on the bridge must see and know his secret.
"Did you really think we didn't know?" asked Gaeta. "Just because you use your father's name and she doesn't...."
Finally he forced his voice to work.
"I hoped...." was all he could manage. Gaeta looked him in the eye, then shrugged and turned back to the console.
"All right," he said. "Do you see any way we can hang the entire thing on the Cylon that shot Commander Adama?"
The End
Pairing: Roslin/Zarek, but not in this segment
Rating: adult overall, although this particular section is tame
Distribution: How much do I owe you for hauling it off?
Spoilers: Up to and including KLG2
Email: exfilia at livejournal dot com
Disclaimer: if I owned them, they'd have a lot more fun
Constructing Reality
by Exfilia
He sat at Gaeta's usual console, uncomfortable with daytime bridge duty even with the Lieutenant peering over his shoulder from his new position at Tigh's right hand. Gaeta was obviously uncomfortable in his role as acting executive officer. He didn't have the temperment to play the Captain's pit bull, and Tigh didn't need one of those, anyway. How many people had to die, be arrested or be needed in their cockpits before they got down to Gaeta? It was almost as unlikely as Laura Roslin becoming president, although that was a parallel he hoped no one else was making. Being like Roslin was not a positive career move, at least not on Galactica, not for Gaeta and especially not for him. He had an insane urge to bleach his dark auburn hair, although he didn't believe anyone had noticed that it was exactly the same color as hers. At least, he hoped no one had.
"Obviously there was a miscommunication," she was saying on the tiny viewscreen. Her thin voice, attenuated by the tiny speaker, barely carryied across the bridge, and the crew sat in silence, straining to hear. "I don't believe for a moment that Commander Adama intended to overthrow civilian government and institute martial law over a minor bypass of the chain of command on my part. I'm not a soldier. It didn't seem odd to me to ask a pilot directly to undertake a reconnaissance mission. I'm told I should have gone through her commanders, and I will in future, but it's important not to blow this out of proportion, particularly as Commander Adama is unable to explain his thinking for us at the moment."
"But is it not true, Madame President, that you were taken by force from 798? That Colonial Marines bored through the hull of the liner and removed you at gunpoint?"
"The Marines were armed, but then, they usually are. We should remember, here, that no one was hurt, and that Colonel Tigh permitted me to leave and to bring Captain Adama with me."
Everyone jumped at the thud, then identified it as Colonel Tigh's fist hitting the command console. While he had been silent on the subject, it was a fair guess that he'd known nothing about Roslin leaving until Zarek's broadcast announcing that she was his guest on the Astral Queen. Someone's head was going to roll. Even with everything else that had been happening, a warship in a combat zone shouldn't be that easy to rob, and Tigh had been in a particularly evil mood ever since. In fact, he had just turned on his heel and stormed off the bridge, muttering something about revisionist nonsense. Gaeta grinned and drifted over toward his normal position. It was impossible not to speak to him, and equally impossible to talk about anything but the broadcast.
"Does she believe anyone buys it?" he ventured.
"No one has to buy it," Gaeta answered. "She's just giving us an opening."
"An opening?"
"A way to back down without losing face, so we don't wind up with an insurrection on our hands as well as a war. Bringing her back here...."
He couldn't help it. He narrowed his eyes in exactly the way his mother had once done when his father had displeased her, before they'd displeased her once too often and she'd vanished from their lives.
"I don't know," Gaeta said, "what was in Adama's mind when he gave the order, but I know the president's escape was absolutely the best outcome to the situation. Just be thankful she's being reasonable about it."
"What will the colonel do about Thrace?"
"She had an order from the president. I assume she was told not to inform her superiors."
"Doesn't that blow the 'lack of understanding of the chain of command' theory out the lock?"
Gaeta shook his head.
"If Starbuck was told not to tell us," he explained, "we don't have to arrest her and throw her in the brig and wait for Zarek to bust her out, too."
"Oh." The man's mind had more curliques than a medieval illumination. "But for the colonel, throwing Starbuck in the brig is a good thing."
"We'll have to convince him otherwise. The fleet's survival is at stake. If the Cylons come upon us while we're fighting among ourselves, we're doomed."
He thought again how unlikely it was that a group of convicts who'd been successfully confined to a penal colony for years or decades could rob a the brig of a battlestar on red alert, and he looked up at Gaeta.
"Just how did President Roslin escape?" he whispered.
"Thinking about that is totally unprofitable," said Gaeta. "Don't waste time on it. Concentrate on deciding whom we can blame for the president's 'misunderstanding.'"
"Sir, Colonel Tigh was the one who...."
"Yes, and if Adama were concious he could throw Tigh in the brig for it and that would be that, but he's not, and I absolutely do not want to command anything in a combat zone, much less a relic held together by its own rust. What, do you?"
He couldn't form the words, but he shook his head as vehemently as he could manage.
"You sure? You could make it a family affair."
The words still wouldn't come, and now in their place an amphibian fought for freedom in the tight confines of his throat. He felt his face burning, and believed everyone on the bridge must see and know his secret.
"Did you really think we didn't know?" asked Gaeta. "Just because you use your father's name and she doesn't...."
Finally he forced his voice to work.
"I hoped...." was all he could manage. Gaeta looked him in the eye, then shrugged and turned back to the console.
"All right," he said. "Do you see any way we can hang the entire thing on the Cylon that shot Commander Adama?"
The End