03 - Sagittarius is Bleeding (25 page)

“Then what
…?”

“The reason Admiral Cain wasn’t killed by Kara Thrace… was because Sharon
Valerii made me feel as if I wasn’t living up to the promise of humanity. I was
as willing to kill the admiral… as the Cylons are to kill us. In that moment,
she was more human than I… and I was more machine than she. No wonder we
can’t determine, even through autopsy, what the differences are between us.
There are times when the line blurs so much, I’m not sure where it is anymore.”

“I remind you, Admiral, that it was a Cylon who cold-bloodedly killed Admiral
Cain after you, in your humanity, declined.”

“I am aware of that, yes.”

Laura could almost see the wheels turning within his head. “May I ask what
you’re thinking?”

“I’m thinking that either Sharon Valerii is one of the most brilliant
actresses of her age… or there may be some sort of actual dissent within the
ranks of the Cylons. If there’s one Sharon who truly believes in humanity…
there may be more. And it’s possible that somehow down the line, we might be
able to exploit that.”

She arched an eyebrow in interest. “You mean foster some sort of civil war
within the Cylons themselves?”

“The notion of having them invest their talent for homicide into obliterating
each other rather than us is an appealing one, wouldn’t you say?”

A slow smile spread across Laura’s face. “Do you think it’s possible?”

“As we’ve established, when it comes to the Cylons, anything is possible.”

Laura nodded in agreement. “The bugs in the rooms,” she said after some
consideration. “They have to come out.”

“No.”

“Admiral…”

“It’s a military matter, Madame President. A military decision. I stand by it
and until we get this sorted out, they’re staying where they are.”

She scowled. “I want your word that they’re gone once things are ‘sorted
out’.”

“You have it.”

“And be certain to tell Colonel Tigh that I’m not happy with him at all.”

There was a knock at Adama’s door. “Yes?” called Adama.

“Do you have a minute, Admiral?” came Tigh’s voice.

Adama’s eyes flashed with amusement as he looked at Laura. “By all means,” he
said.

Tigh pushed the door opened, walked in and stopped when he saw Laura. “Madame
President,” he said in surprise. “An unexpected honor.”

“We were just talking about you,” Adama told him.

“Really. Nothing good, I hope,” said Tigh.

“The president wished me to inform you that she’s not happy with you at all.”

Tigh didn’t look the least bit bothered. “Then my hope was fulfilled.” Before
either Adama or Roslin could explain specifically what it was that Tigh had done
to draw the president’s ire, his voice grew serious and he continued, “Doctor
Baltar has come to me with a situation.”

“Is this about the matter that we heard him muttering to himself over?” When
he saw Tigh’s surprised gaze flicker over to Roslin, he added, “She knows about
the bugs. And she knows that I knew from the start. Colonel Tigh,” he said to
Roslin, “suggested that I claim ignorance of the program to spare me your ire.”

“Did he.”

“Yes.”

“Huh,” she grunted. “That was very noble of you, Colonel.”

“Thank you, Madame President.”

“Doesn’t make me any happier with you, though.”

“Understood. Admiral,” he continued, looking as if the president’s happiness
with him wasn’t of particular importance, “the doctor wishes to meet with you.
He believes that the boy may in fact be a Cylon.”

Roslin’s cheeks pinked slightly at the prospect of another Cylon being
identified. “Boy? What boy?”

“Andrew Boxman. The pilots call him Boxey,” said Adama. “He was caught having
a private conference with Sharon Valerii.”

“Naturally he was checked over to make sure he wasn’t a Cylon himself,” Tigh
told her. “Baltar originally gave him a clean bill of health… but now
apparently he’s having second thoughts.”

Laura started murmuring the name “Boxman” to herself. She frowned a moment,
trying to figure out why it sounded familiar, and then she remembered. “Wasn’t
the officer who was killed at the meeting station when the Cylons first attacked named Boxman…
?”

“Boxey’s father. He’s orphaned.”

“We know who his parents were, and we still felt it necessary to check if he
was a Cylon?”

“We know that an Alex Boxman existed at some point,” Tigh said. “We’ve no
idea whether the one who came aboard
Galactica
—in the company of Sharon
Valerii yet—is the original item. Alex Boxman may well be dead and this one is
an imposter.”

“Do they do that? Impersonate other people?”

“We don’t know,” Tigh said stiffly. “But it’s preferable not to take
chances.”

“Yes. Yes, of course, you’re right. Do we know where he is now?” asked
Roslin.

“We’ve been keeping tabs on him, just in case,” Adama said. He was sifting
through some notes on his desk and produced one that had been delivered to him
recently. “According to child protection authorities, he’s taken up residence on
the
Bifrost,
under the guardianship of—by astounding coincidence—Sharon
Valerii’s lawyer, Freya Gunnerson.”

“Gunnerson…?”

He noticed the uptick in her voice. “You know her?”

“I suspect I know a relative of hers. How old is she?”

The question surprised him mildly and he glanced over at Tigh. Tigh shrugged.
“Mid-twenties, I’d make her out to be.”

“Probably her father, then.” She laid out as quickly as she could the details
of her encounter with Wolf Gunnerson.

Adama took it in, considering every word she said. “Hell of a coincidence,”
he said finally.

“I don’t like coincidences on general principle,” said Tigh.

Standing up and coming around his desk, Adama said, “Let’s go have a chat with Doctor Baltar and find out what the hell is going
on. Madame President, would you care to join us…?”

“I think it would be better if I got back to my ship,” she said, rising as
well.

“If I may ask, what are you going to do about the Midguardians?” asked Adama.
“Are you seriously considering their request for statehood?”

“I’ve ruled out nothing,” said Roslin. “I generally try to keep my options
open until I see how things pan out.”

Tigh scowled and said, “If you ask me—which you didn’t, but anyway—if you ask
me, elevating those heathens to parity with the Twelve Colonies, you’re asking
for trouble, with all respect.”

“That may be, Colonel,” replied Laura Roslin. “But I’ve noticed that trouble
tends to show up, unasked for or not. So I might as well do what I feel is right
and let the consequences fall as they may.”

Billy Keikeya looked as if he were about to go into shock when Laura Roslin
told him the outcome of her discussion with Admiral Adama. He was literally
trembling with indignation, and as she sat in her office and watched his
mounting mortification, she never felt quite as badly for him as she did at that
moment. Billy took his responsibility as her aide and—ultimately—confidant very
seriously. It was at times such as this that she remembered just how young he
truly was, because his face was stricken with an expression that would have been
at home on one of her students who had just been informed he’d been caught
cheating. Except in this case, of course, Billy was innocent of any criminal
intent.

“They had her quarters
bugged?”
he asked in disbelief. When she
nodded, he demanded, “Did Dee know about this?”

“Dee…? Oh. Dualla. No, I’ve no reason to assume she did.”

“I’ve got to tell her…”

Billy started to stand but Roslin firmly gestured for him to sit. “You’re to
tell her nothing. You’re not to tell any of them anything. You and I may find
the concept repulsive, but Adama and Tigh make a convincing argument. These are
difficult times, Billy, and difficult decisions have to be made to get us
through them. These include decisions we don’t always agree with… but have
to live with.”

“But Madame President, with all respect… it’s wrong,” he said, still
looking upset but nevertheless sitting as she indicated him to do. “Shouldn’t we
take stands on things for no other reason than that?”

“I’m not so sure it’s wrong.”

“How can it not be?”

“Because we can’t afford to be naive, Billy,” she said firmly. “We’re dealing
with an enemy that will stop at nothing to destroy us. So if extreme measures
need to be taken to avoid being destroyed, then that’s what we do.”

Billy stared at her for a long moment, and she wasn’t sure what was going
through his mind. “You have something to say, Billy?” she asked.

“It’s…” He paused, and then said, “It’s not my place. I’m sorry…”

“Billy, your place is where I say it is. If you have something to say, then
let’s hear it.”

“Madame President, you’ve been through a lot… it really wouldn’t be fair of
me to—”

Annoyance flashed across her eyes. “Billy, I don’t give a damn about
fairness. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

He studied her for a long moment, and then he said, “You never used to be the
type to back down, that’s all.”

She felt a brief flare of temper, and she had to remind herself that she had
pushed Billy into saying what he was thinking. “I don’t believe I agree with
your assessment.”

“Yes, Madame President.” He seemed suddenly anxious to get the hell out.
“That… well, that’s fine. You’re right.” He started to stand once more, and a
single imperious gesture from her caused him to plop down yet again. She didn’t
say anything; she just stared at him, making no effort to prompt him, certain
that the ongoing glacial look she was giving him would be more than enough to
get him talking again. As it turned out, she was right. “Okay, look… with all
respect… what you said just now. You ‘don’t believe’ that you agree. It
sounded less definitive.
You’ve
been less definitive. Less sure of
yourself.”

“If that’s true—and I’m not saying it is, but if it were—certainly don’t you
think some of that can be attributed to the fact that I haven’t been sleeping
much lately? That might have something to do with it.”

“Something. Maybe. But not all of it.”

“Then what—?”

“Madame President,” Billy said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, “I
really… really think it’s inappropriate for me to be discussing this with
you…”

“Billy,” said Roslin, her voice softening slightly, “I don’t know if you’ve
noticed… but you and Lee Adama are the only two people I’ve known I could
count on from the moment I became president… and, frankly, even Lee has been
shaky every now and then, since he’s got a bit of a conflict of interest.”

“That’s understating it,” muttered Billy.

“You’ve seen me at my worst and at my best… or at least what passes for my
best. You, of all people, should know you can speak honestly with me.”

“All right.” He lowered his head and interlaced his fingers, looking as if he were working to find the best way to put it. “I think it’s
more than just the dreaming… the sleeplessness. You’ve seemed more tentative
in your decision making, in your attitude… in everything.”

“Really.” She maintained her pleasant tone, although it was not without
effort. “And why do you think that would be?”

“Well… if I had to guess… it’s because as long as you were convinced
you were going to die, you had nothing to be afraid of. I mean, what’s the worst
that can possibly happen to someone? It’s death, right? And because you had
adjusted to the idea that you didn’t have much time left, you were determined to
do everything you could before your time ran out because you figured, you know… you had nothing to lose. You weren’t in it for the long haul. You weren’t a
marathon runner; your life was boiled down to the hundred-yard dash. You just
ran with everything you had, head down, arms pumping, and anything that got in
your way, you ran right over it. But now… now you’ve got something to live
for. A lot to live for. And you no longer have the—it’ll sound weird—you don’t
have the ‘comfort’ of knowing that you won’t be around for much longer. Now you
can afford to take your time in trying to get humanity to Earth because you
actually have a chance of seeing it yourself. Plus you’re considering every
single aspect of everything because you have time to think about all the
ramifications, all the sides, where before you just… well, it seemed like you
just went with your gut.”

“That was never the case, Billy. I always considered every aspect.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think you gave everything equal consideration, the way
you do now. I mean, hell,” and he almost laughed, “there were times when it
seemed like you were spoiling for a fight more than Adama, and he’s the soldier.
Lately you’ve been more cautious. More… politic.”

“Well, I am a politician.”

“No, Madame President,” he said firmly. “You’re a leader. There’s a
difference. A huge difference. A politician cares what people think, and they
hate her for it. A leader tells them what to think, and they love her for it.”

“I think you’re selling me a little short as a politician, Billy.”

“And with all respect, Madame President, I think you’re selling yourself
short as a leader. I think you weren’t afraid of dying, but now you’re…”

“Afraid of living?”

“Not afraid. Just… concerned.” He paused and then looked down, feeling
ashamed. “I said it wasn’t appropriate for me to say stuff like this.”

“Billy,” she said slowly “I may be many things… but the one thing I
remain is your president. If you, of all people, can’t communicate with your
president… what hope does any of the rest of my constituency have?”

“You’re not upset then.”

“No. I don’t agree with what you have to say, but I respect that you said
it.”

“Thank you, Madame President. Is that all?”

She nodded and yet again he rose from his chair. He started to head for the
door and then Roslin called, “Billy… I know you graduated with degrees in
political science and government. But before that, did you study psychology at
all?”