03 - Sagittarius is Bleeding (33 page)

“Madame President,” came Wolf’s voice. “Thank you for taking my call.”

“Thank you for calling,” she said formally.

“So… it appears we have a bit of a predicament on our hands.”

He didn’t sound especially threatening. They might just as easily have been
chatting about each other’s respective health. “I would categorize it as
somewhat more serious than that,” she said. “I hope you don’t think this is some
sort of game, Mr. Gunnerson.”

“No, Madame President, I most certainly do not. The most obvious difference
is that games have clear winners and losers. If matters spiral out of control,
we will have nothing
but
losers.”

Roslin wouldn’t have said it aloud, but Gunnerson was sounding amazingly
reasonable about it. It was hard to remember that he was the one who had set this entire fiasco into motion. Although
the chances were that he would have come right back and said that Adama was the
one responsible.

She knew perfectly well the reason that Adama had sent two of his people onto
the
Bifrost.
Adama had been most efficient in keeping her apprised of his
actions. The problem was that she had no way of knowing whether this entire
issue with the Edda was some sort of trumped-up maneuver to try and distract
from the business at hand. She wondered if Gunnerson even knew that they had a
possible Cylon agent on board, although admittedly she was still having trouble
believing that the boy was an operative. Roslin had to think that making no
mention of Boxey was the best way to go, particularly if Gunnerson didn’t bring
him up.

Zarek, hearing what Gunnerson was saying, nodded and gave Roslin an
encouraging thumbs-up. She tried not to roll her eyes at that. As if she needed
moral support and pep talks from Tom Zarek, of all people. “I’m pleased to hear
you say that, Mr. Gunnerson. This matter needs to be resolved immediately by the
release of the colonial officers.”

“I would love to comply with you, but I can’t at this time. Not until I know
what the status of the Edda is.”

“You have my personal guarantee, sir, that the two officers had nothing to do
with it.”

“And my people have my personal guarantee,” he replied, “that I will take
every step to ensure the Edda’s return. Releasing two prime suspects—whom I
assure you will not be harmed—would be counterproductive, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would say, Mr. Gunnerson, that if you have the slightest hope of the
Midguardians becoming members of the Quorum, then you have to release Admiral
Adama’s people. Certainly you see that your actions won’t sit well with the
Quorum.”

“That is only because I’m not making my case to the Quorum itself. Were I to
do so, I believe I could make them understand not only why I’m being forced to
take this action, but why we should be given our rightful place in the hierarchy
of the colonies.”

“I am making endeavors in that direction, Mr. Gunnerson, but they will be
completely undone if this is allowed to continue. All we have is your word that
the colonial soldiers will remain unharmed. You’ve no way of guaranteeing
that…”

There was no response from the other end.

“Mr. Gunnerson?” She flashed a look of concern in Zarek’s direction. He shook
his head, his face blank. Obviously he had no clearer idea than Roslin of why
Gunnerson had suddenly gone silent. “Mr. Gunnerson, are you still—”

“Sorry. Sorry, Madame President,” his voice came back, and he quickly added,
“And I’m sorry I interrupted you just then.”

“It’s quite all right.” She kept the relief out of her voice. “Go ahead.”

“I was just thinking: There’s an easy solution to this, other than freeing
the suspects.”

“It’s not readily apparent.”

“Allow me to come to
Colonial One
and address the assembled Quorum.”

She was startled at the notion. Zarek was quickly nodding enthusiastically,
but a silent look from her stopped him. She glanced toward Billy, who shrugged
noncommittally. “Mr. Gunnerson, we are not going to allow ourselves to be
strong-armed into meeting with you.”

“No one is strong-arming anyone, Madame President. I am volunteering myself
in what could reasonably be viewed as a hostage exchange. You are asking me to
place myself into a weaker position by releasing the suspects. I am instead
offering to put you into a stronger position by voluntarily coming over there.
Strong-arming? I would be counting on your good offices to allow me to meet with
the assembled Quorum rather than, say, turn me over to Adama to be tossed into a
holding cell.”

“I could still do that, you know.”

“Yes, but I would believe you if you said you wouldn’t. I would take your
word for it. I am that determined to have my chance to speak to the Quorum and
make my case on behalf of my people.”

Zarek gestured that she should put Gunnerson on hold a moment so that he
could speak to her. Her immediate instinct was to ignore him. It wasn’t as if
she needed Tom Zarek to tell her what to do. On the other hand, she
had
brought him here as the Sagittaron representative, so it probably wasn’t going
to hurt to hear what he had to say. “Mr. Gunnerson, please hold on,” she said,
placed him on hold and then said brusquely, “What?”

If Zarek was put off by her tone, he didn’t let it show. “What have you got
to lose?” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “We both know we’re on the clock.
Adama may be—”

“Admiral…
Adama,” she corrected him. She had been the one who had given
him the rank, and she found she didn’t like Zarek simply referring to the
fleet’s CO simply by his surname. It struck her as disrespectful.

Taking it in stride, he amended, “Admiral Adama may be willing to wait, but
he’s not going to do so forever. If Gunnerson is here, that could well buy us
more time. The longer a hostage situation goes on, the better chance there is
having it ended with words instead of casualties.”

“And you would know.”

“Yes,” he said crisply, “I would.”

She tapped a thoughtful finger on the desk, and then took the call off hold.
“Mr. Gunnerson, are you still there?”

“Still here, Madame President.”

She realized she was rolling the dice with the Quorum. She was counting on
Sarah Porter and Tom Zarek, of all men, to make this happen. As president she
could call a meeting of the Quorum but she was not constitutionally empowered to
force them to show up. It was part of the checks and balances built into the
constitution, to guarantee that the president would always have to use tact and
diplomacy in her dealings rather than strong-arming the representatives of the
people. Of course, the constitution—or at least the original copies of it,
preserved from its original drafting—had been blown to bits by the Cylons. Its
spirit, however, lived on. “If you come here to
Colonial One,
I will ask
the Quorum to assemble. You will be allowed to present your case to them. But
what this will buy you, Mr. Gunnerson, is twelve hours. After twelve hours,
barring credible evidence that they have committed some sort of crime, I will
insist that officers Thrace and Agathon be released. And by credible evidence, I
am ruling out confessions. I am not going to give anyone over there incentive to
try forcing admissions of guilt out of them. If the officers are not released by
that point, I will indeed turn you over to Admiral Adama, at which point, gods
help us all.”

There was another pause, but this time Roslin said nothing, allowing time for
a response to come.

“Very well, Madame President,” said Gunnerson finally. “Your terms are
acceptable. I will take a transport to
Colonial One.
You will assemble
the Quorum and I will speak my piece over allowing my people to be given
official representation. In return I guarantee the safety of .the colonial
officers for twelve hours, as of which point they will then be returned, hale
and hardy, to the
Galactica.”

It still didn’t answer the issue of Boxey, but her priority at that point was
ending the immediate situation without bloodshed. That was especially important
to her. She knew to what extent Adama was willing to ensure the safety of his
people. Furthermore, although she knew Adama didn’t place higher priorities on
some lives than others, she was aware that there was a particular bond between
Adama and Kara Thrace. If anything happened to her while she was in the hands of
the Midguardians, Roslin didn’t even want to think what the ramifications might
be. She was reasonably sure that Adama wouldn’t simply turn the big guns of the
Galactica
on the
Bifrost
and blast it to pieces… but on the
other hand, she wasn’t interested in finding out.

“Very well. I will see you shortly.
Colonial One
out.” She hung up the
phone, looked over to Billy and said, “Send a copy of that recording to Admiral
Adama immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Billy headed out, and Tom Zarek was promptly on his feet. “Madame
President… we’ve had our differences… but I just want to say, I thought you
handled that quite well.”

“Tell me, Councilman,” Roslin said, “in your honest opinion… what chance
do you think there is that the Quorum will vote to give the Midguardians a seat
on the Council?”

“There’s always the chance that—”

“Honest. Opinion.”

He hesitated and then admitted, “Very slim. Almost negligible.”

“Yes. I agree. And do you think that Wolf Gunnerson knows that?”

“I think he’s hoping otherwise, but I think he knows that, yes.”

“Then why risk his personal liberty to pursue such a hopeless cause?”

“There are some people,” said Zarek, “who consider the hopeless causes the
only ones worth pursuing.”

“Hmm. Yes,” replied Roslin, sounding distant. “At the same time, pursuing a
hopeless cause can mean someone feels they have nothing to lose. And people who
have nothing to lose can be very…” She turned her attention back to Zarek.

He was bleeding out his eyeballs again.

“…dangerous,” she sighed.

Saul Tigh had commandeered a private room and sat there for hours upon hours,
listening to the tapes that had been made by the recording devices he’d
implanted in various rooms. Aside from the matter involving President Roslin
that he had brought to Adama’s attention, he had absolutely nothing to show for
the hours of time invested. Not only that, but he had come to a depressing
realization: Most people, when left to their own devices, were astoundingly
boring. The amount of time they spent discussing completely trite and trivial
subjects—it boggled the imagination.

It almost made him wonder what it would be like to bug get-togethers of Cylon
agents. Did they spend it discussing far-reaching plans of galactic domination?
Or did they just hang out discussing fashion, hair styles, and gossip? He was
starting to think that scientists were wrong, and hydrogen was not in fact the
most common element in the universe. No. It was banality.

The only one who seemed to spend any time at all concentrating on important
matters was Mr. Gaeta, which was ironic considering he was one of the key people under suspicion. He didn’t seem to
have any social life at all. Instead he spent his off-duty hours in his
quarters, going over calculations, making new ones, planning, always planning.
He’d spend hours muttering to himself while he worked things out. Tigh might
have been inclined to think that Gaeta was actually conversing with other
Cylons, except that he was alone in his room. His room could have had a Cylon
listening device in it, but Tigh—as he had done with every other room—had
already swept it to make sure it was clean of bugs before he had placed his own
in.

Tigh leaned back in his chair and removed the headset he’d been wearing to
listen to the recordings. He rubbed his eyes, feeling the fatigue.

The pressure was getting to him. In trying to track down Cylons, he was
starting to feel as if there were no safe haven. Cylons were invading peoples’
lives, their very minds.

It made him start to wonder about…

“Anything?”

Tigh started slightly and looked up to see Adama standing in the doorway. He
shook his head. “Nothing. Not since the earlier things we discussed.”

Adama pulled up a chair and sat. “Getting to you, isn’t it.”

“I think it’s getting to all of us.” He rubbed his eyes. “If Roslin thinks
she hasn’t been sleeping well, she should get a load of me. How about you?”

“I sleep like a rock.”

He opened his eyes narrowly and stared at Adama. “Technically, rocks don’t
sleep.”

“There you go.”

Tigh chuckled, but then grew serious. “What if…”

“What if what?”

“What if we find Earth… and it really isn’t a safe haven? What if the Cylons track us there? Hell, what if the Cylons are waiting for
us? What the hell is our Plan B, Bill?”

“Finding Earth
is
Plan B,” said Adama. “Plan A is keeping humanity
alive. Everything else is open to negotiation.”

“That’s a hell of a thing.”

“Believe me, I know.”

Tigh wrapped the wire around the headset and placed it in a drawer, along
with the recorder he’d been using to listen to the recordings that were stacked
neatly on the table. “Speaking of negotiations… what’s happening with our
people on the
Bifrost?”

Adama told him what Laura Roslin had just relayed to him. Tigh’s eyes widened
as he heard about Gunnerson’s heading over to
Colonial One.
“In fact,”
said Adama, glancing at his watch, “he’s probably already over there.”

“My gods, what are we waiting for?” Tigh demanded. “Let’s go get him. Let’s
take charge of the bastard and start issuing some ultimatums of our own.”

“Not yet,” Adama said coolly. “We’re going to see how it plays out on both
ends.”

“Both ends? What are you…?” But then he understood. “Oh. You mean the
Cylon and the lawyer.” He shook his head, a grim smile on his face. “There’s
poetic justice in that, you know. A Cylon and a lawyer in a cell together. I’ve
dealt with a lawyer or two in my time. Hard-pressed to see the difference.”