5/20/04

Author's warning: While this story is not particularly graphic, it does deal with some potentially sensitive subjects. If you are easily offended or have a juvenile, fragile mind, please don't read.

ALL THE PRETTY LITTLE HORSES

The knock on the door to his quarters, interrupted Lee's morning routine. He had just showered and shaved and was in the middle of getting dressed. He had just pulled his flight suit on and belted the holster of his sidearm around his waist. For the moment he left the top half of the suit hanging down from his belt.

"Come in," he called out.

The hatch door swung open, admitting the Galactica's commanding officer, William Adama, who glanced around the small, cluttered room in dismay. It was still full of Spencer Jackson's belongings. Framed pictures of the man's family still sat on the desk. Books, papers, and bits of clothing lay scattered about. Knowing how almost obsessively tidy his son was, Adama knew that Lee was not responsible for this disarray. Frankly the commander was somewhat surprised that Lee had been able to tolerate it.

Adama made a mental note to himself to have someone come in and clean the room out. As well as contact the Galactica's small machine shop and have them make a new name plaque for the door. Granted he had a lot of other mental notes floating around in his head and he hoped he would remember these two new ones long enough to act on them.

He was aware that Lee was watching him expectantly, waiting for his father to speak. Adama was also very much aware of the awkward tension that hung heavily in the air between them. He noted that, while Lee was not quite standing at attention, the younger man's posture was far from relaxed or even natural. With a sigh, Adama wondered if this discomfort would ever pass from their relationship. So much had been said and so much more had been left unsaid, that he feared the rift between them was irreparable. They needed to talk. He knew this, but at the same time, he was afraid of what might be said. So, he kept finding excuses for putting that talk off just a little bit longer.

Glancing down, he remembered the reason for his visit. Stepping closer, he handed Lee the small stack of clothing he was carrying.

"I know you were only planning on being here for a day or two, so you probably didn't bring much gear with you," he said. "I thought you could probably use a spare uniform or two and maybe some other gear. I think the sizes will be alright."

"I'm sure they'll be fine. Thank you, sir," Lee said.

He had been about to ask where his father had gotten the clothes, but then decided that he really didn't want to know. More than likely, they had belonged to one of the pilots killed in the opening attack. Glancing at the uniform shirt on the top of the pile, he noted that the identifying name and serial number tags had been removed from the inner lining and his own name and serial number had already been sewn in. He was grateful that his father had arranged for this extra step.

"Thank you," he repeated quietly.

"You're welcome," Adama said, relieved. He had honestly been afraid that Lee would reject the clothing just as he had so often rejected his father's other offers of assistance in the past. He was surprised at how moved he was that his simple gesture had been accepted.

Emboldened by his small victory, he asked, "How are the inspections coming along?"

"Fine, I should be finishing up with the last of the ships today," Lee answered, referring to the inspections he had been making of the civilian ships for the past few days. "I should be able to get a full report to you within the week."

"Oh, that's alright, don't worry about that," Adama said quickly. "Take your time. I'm in no hurry for the report. I know you've been very busy... In fact, you don't need to do this. Someone else can finish this."

"Oh? Like who? You or Col. Tigh?" Lee asked. "Because, unless one of you is going to go, which I know neither of you can, it does need to be me. These people are feeling alone and abandoned. They need to see someone of sufficient rank to convince them that they're being taken seriously, that they haven't been forgotten about."

Adama nodded reluctantly. Lee's point was a valid one, but the commander was still uncomfortable with the situation. "I heard about the incident on board the Celestia," he said. "I think, perhaps, you should take a security officer with you."

"A bodyguard, you mean? No," Lee said firmly. "If I do that, they'll think that we don't trust them."

"I don't," Adama said flatly. "That man attacked you, Lee. He could have killed you."

"No, I was never in any real danger. He was just venting his anger. He and his wife had been on board one of the sub-lights that were part of the initial convoy of ships that Colonial One had rounded up. He was a mechanic. He had volunteered to leave his ship to help repair some damage on one of the FTL ships. When the Cylons found us, we immediately jumped. His wife got left behind with all the other sub-lights. Since I was the one who pushed to leave them behind, he holds me responsible for his wife's death."

Hearing the hollowness in his son's voice, Adama could tell that Lee did not disagree with this assessment.

"Lee, you did w-."

"I did what I had to do. Yes, I know," Lee interrupted quickly. "I'm alright."

It pained Adama immensely to know that his son was hurting, but he was also aware that the words he had been about to speak were empty and trite. Nothing he said or did would change what had happened, nor would they magically make Lee's pain go away. They all had to simply deal with their grief as best they could. As much as he might like to, Adama could not shield his son from this.

As the awkward silence slithered back in, Adama realized that it was time for him to withdraw. Venturing to give his son's shoulder a brief squeeze, he said, "Alright, just promise me that you'll be careful."

"Yes sir, I will."

----------------------------------------------

The Aquarion 492 would be the first of the ships that Lee would be inspecting today. It was a large public transport that carried inter-colony commuters. As such, its FTL system was heavily used and was badly in need of maintenance work. Lee made a note on his clipboard to have someone from the Galactica's engineering division come over and take a look at it. Other than that, the ship was in relatively good condition. Of course, as a transport, she had no offensive weaponry of any kind and her defensive capabilities were minimal.

Lee made notes about all of this as he followed the Aquarion's captain, Jotham Theron, on their tour of the ship. Capt. Theron was a tall, slender, fair-haired man in his mid-thirties. He had served as a Colonial pilot for a few years and he told Lee that if the Galactica needed pilots, he could still handle a Viper.

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you," Lee said, making a note of this as well.

Having just finished the brief tour, the two men were walking back to the transport's loading dock, where the Galactica's shuttle had landed. They were passing through the areas designated as living spaces for the ship's refugees. The people had removed most of the passenger seats to create more open space and had hung blankets and other strips of cloth from the ceiling for some semblance of privacy. This ship was not nearly as crowded as some of the others that Lee had been on, but that would probably change soon.

Pres. Roslin was also making her own inspections of the ships. While Lee's main concern was the state of the ships themselves, Roslin would be focusing on the welfare of the passengers. Once her inspections were complete, many people would be moved, as a means of relieving the overcrowded conditions on some of the ships.

As the two men picked their way carefully between the two rows of people, Lee was aware of the eyes that followed his passage, eyes that frequently held expressions of varying degrees of hostility. It was not an unusual reaction and he supposed he should be used to it by now. The people were bored and angry, an often dangerous combination. Feeling trapped and helpless, many focused their anger on their perceived jailors, the military forces of the Galactica. Lee always felt very conspicuous and exposed in his flight suit among the civilians and, despite what he had said to his father earlier, he was grateful for the sidearm strapped to his right thigh. He and Capt. Theron were about to leave the passenger area, when Lee's pre-occupied thoughts were interrupted by the high-pitched, joyous voice of a child.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"

Lee turned in time to see a little girl, about six years old, hurtling down the aisle towards him. With another squeal of delight, she flung herself at him to wrap her arms tightly around his left thigh. Too shocked to do much else, Lee just stared down at the child attached to his leg. As she turned her face up to him, he saw the jolt of shock pass through her wide, brown eyes as she realized that he was not the person she had thought him to be. To his surprise, however, she did not release her hold on him.

"Alanna! Alanna, what are you doing?"

Lee looked up to see a pretty, young woman with short, dark hair approaching him. She appeared quite embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry, Captain, if my daughter has bothered you," the woman said. "Her father was also a Colonial pilot. She must have recognized your flight suit... Well, and from a distance, you do somewhat resemble my husband," she added softly.

Leaning down and gently disengaging the child's arms, Lee knelt down beside her. Taking her small hands in his, he said, "I'm sorry, Honey. I'm not your daddy."

"Do you know my dad?" she asked, apparently unperturbed by his statement. "His name is Lt. Robert Moran. He's a pilot on the Battlestar Triton."

Feeling his chest tighten, Lee whispered, "Uh, no, I'm sorry. I've never been on board the Triton."

"Oh, that's okay, you can meet him tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow's my birthday. I'll be seven and dad promised me months ago that he would be home on my birthday. He said he'd take me to the zoo. He'll be here tomorrow. He promised," the girl said, with all the confidence of her nearly seven years.

Lee was at a complete loss as to how he should respond to this statement. He glanced up at the girl's mother and saw the woman shake her head sadly.

"I've told her, repeatedly, but she refuses to hear me," the woman said softly. "I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow when he's not here."

Turning his attention back to the girl, Lee was aware of the faces of the people around him, watching, listening, and waiting for him to fix this situation. He swallowed uncomfortably.

"Your name is Alanna?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," the girl said, nodding. "Alanna Moran and that's my mother, Sarah Moran. What's your name?"

"Lee Adama."

"This means that you're a captain, right?" Alanna asked, touching the rank insignia pinned to the collar of his flight suit.

"Yes, it does. You're a very smart girl."

"Yeah, I am," she agreed.

"Alanna!" Sarah Moran whispered.

"Oh yeah, I mean, thank you."

"You're welcome," Lee said, smiling.

Glancing up at Sarah again, he saw the pleading look in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, he said, as gently as he could, "Alanna, I don't think your dad is going to be here tomorrow. The Battlestar Triton was destroyed by the Cylons."

"Yeah, I know, that's what my mom said. But Dad wouldn't have been on the Triton. He would have been in his Viper, so he would have gotten away. Don't worry, he'll find us."

Again, Lee was left speechless in the face of her unshakable belief in her own child's logic. Feeling that there was nothing more he could do, he gave a reluctant nod. Standing, he glanced at the mother and gave a helpless shrug. As he turned and started to move away, Sarah Moran's voice called him back.

"Thank you for trying, Captain," she said softly.

He nodded to her and turned to rejoin Capt. Theron, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. He felt as if, in failing to make the child accept her father's death, he had somehow failed her. But there was nothing else he could do for her. Rationally, he knew this, but it didn't make him feel any better.

As if reading the younger man's thoughts, Capt. Theron said, "You did your best."

"Yeah," Lee said quietly. "And it wasn't good enough."

-------------------------------------------------------------

After visiting two other ships, the shuttle's next stop was to a CPS (Colonial Parcel Service) delivery freighter. Lee was sitting in the back passenger area of the shuttle. His pilot today, as he had been yesterday, was a young Specialist named Cornwell, who was evidently very intimidated at the idea of acting as pilot for the CAG/commander's son. He had barely spoken a word to the captain during the entire day yesterday and didn't seem any more inclined to talk today. This was fine with Lee, as it left him free to concentrate on his notes, rather than trying to make small talk, in between stops.

Landing the shuttle inside one of the freighter's loading docks, Lee left Cornwell behind and disembarked to meet with the pilot. She was a petite young woman about Lee's age, with dusky skin and black hair that she wore swept up in a loose bun. She introduced herself as Indira Sahkri.

The tour of the freighter was very brief. It essentially consisted of the cockpit, a small crew area, which had one bathroom, and the six individual cargo bays. The crew was made up of Sahkri, her co-pilot, and two dock hands whose job was to load and unload the freight. Since the ship had been on route back to its distribution point, three of the cargo bays were empty and one was only half filled. There was plenty of available space; unfortunately the ship simply did not have adequate facilities to accommodate any additional passengers.

"Since, obviously, none of these packages are going to be making it to their intended destinations, my men have been opening them up, to see if there's anything useful in them," Indira informed Lee as they were looking at the cargo bays.

"And did you find anything useful?"

"Yes, actually we have. As you can see, we've been trying to sort them into lots. We've found a lot of clothing, computers, computer parts, some engine parts and things like that."

"Has Pres. Roslin visited your ship yet?"

"No, sir, not yet."

"She'll probably be more interested in most of this stuff. But I'll take a quick look at the engine and computer parts."

"Well, there were several very large crates that I think you will be very interested in," Indira said with a mysteriously smug smile, leading the captain toward the last of the cargo bays. "They were all supposed to be delivered to a ranchstead somewhere in the Leon outback. Look..."

The young woman positively beamed at Lee as she gestured to the open crates and the equipment scattered about the bay. None of the long, metal tubes or shallow trays meant anything to the pilot.

"Uh, what am I looking at?" he asked.

"It's a complete hydroponics system! It's got everything here to start a hydroponics garden, grow lights, watering tubes, trays... It's even got starter seeds and a few live plants!"

"Oh, this is fantastic!" Lee said, crouching down to examine the equipment closer, although he couldn't make heads or tails of the foreign agricultural parts.

"Isn't it? We figure that we can set it up in one of the empty bays. Within a couple of weeks, we should be able to start growing some plants."

"Do you need me to have someone from the Galactica come over to help you set this up?"

"No, I don't think that'll be necessary. Look, it even came with complete instructions on how to set it up and get started. Uh, we will need the water though. Our ship's reservoir doesn't hold as much as this is going to require."

"Not a problem," Lee assured her. "I'll tell the Galactica to be expecting a transmission from you. When you get this thing up and ready, let us know and we can send over a supply ship with all the water you need."

"Thank you, Captain," Indira said, still beaming.

"Oh, no, thank you. This is the best news I've had all week."

------------------------------------------------------------------

The Bird of Paradise was a large, luxury, vacation starliner, which took the rich and elite on leisure cruises through the twelve colonies. Her captain was a tall, muscular man in his late thirties, with a thick head of wavy brown hair and perfect teeth. It didn't take Lee long to come to the conclusion that the man had been hired more for his looks than his abilities as a pilot. The ship's on board computer systems were so sophisticated that it practically flew itself. Lee feared that his father would suffer heart failure when he found out about this.

As they made their way through the opulently decorated decks, from the bridge down to the engine room in the lower levels of the ship, Capt. James Adonis explained to Lee that the Bird of Paradise had her own security team and quite formidable shield generators, as many of her guests were high profile people. And indeed, many of the people they passed in the corridors were quite richly dressed and Lee even recognized a few faces as prominent politicians and entertainers.

The Paradise's engine room proved to be as technically advanced as her bridge and, in many ways, both surpassed the Galactica. The chief engineer was a short, stocky man in his early sixties, with a pronounced limp which he had evidently acquired when he was injured while serving in the Colonial Corps of Engineers during the Cylon Wars, forty years ago.

Luther Vulcanus stumped heavily forward to shake Lee's hand with a firm grip and immediately launched into his description of the ship's engines and life support systems. He was quite knowledgeable about his field and Lee quickly realized that here was the real authority on board the ship, not its largely ornamental captain. He was quite sure that when the Cylon crisis had first come to their attention, it had been Vulcanus that the crew had turned to, not Capt. Adonis.

While Lee and Vulcanus spent nearly a half hour discussing an intriguing idea Vulcanus had of converting some of the liner's empty exterior cabins into housings for guns, thus making the liner an additional offensive threat, Capt. Adonis stood silently by looking vaguely bored. Realizing that he still had several more ships to inspect, Lee broke off the discussion with some reluctance. He found that he had greatly enjoyed talking to the gruff, old engineer and was sorry to have to end their conversation.

"Well, I can't guarantee that my father will approve of arming a civilian vessel, but I'll have someone from engineering get in touch with you," Lee promised the man, making another note on his clipboard.

He followed Capt. Adonis back up through the corridors to The Paradise's large botanical garden, which was roughly the size of two city blocks. As they stepped into the open, airy space, lit by huge, banks of grow lights, they found Pres. Roslin and her assistant Billy Keikeya already there. The president appeared to be arguing with the head gardener, a slender, nervous-looking woman in her middle years.

"You cannot ask me to simply dig up all my flowers!" the woman was saying in a shrill voice. "I have spent years cultivating them. Many of them are very rare specimens, some even near to extinction!"

"I understand that and I am very sorry," Roslin was saying patiently, "but unless they are also edible and nutritious, they're going to have to go. We're going to have to feed our people and yours is the only ship with the space, soil and equipment necessary to grow crops. And we are going to need every square inch of soil available to us."

With a barely contained sob, the woman turned on her heel and fled from the garden. With a heavy sigh, Roslin rubbed at her temple, obviously nursing a severe headache. As she turned to address Billy, her eyes fell on Lee.

"Ah, Capt. Apollo, it's nice to see you," she said, smiling wanly. "I was wondering when our paths were going to cross."

"It's nice to see you, too, Madam President," Lee said. "Having a bad day?"

"Oh, I'm sure it's been no more difficult than yours."

"Well, I do have some good news for you. You need to stop by the CPS ship and talk to her pilot, Indira Sahkri. She found several crates of hydroponics equipment on her ship."

"Oh, thank the Lords for that! Yes, I'll make sure I speak with her today, thank you... Um, Captain, if you have a moment, I have a favor to ask of you..."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I don't know if Capt. Adonis has discussed this with you or not, but several of the passenger cabins are empty. There are also several large suites, many of which have only one or two occupants. This is a horrendous waste of space, especially when so many of the other ships are dangerously overcrowded. I'd like to shuffle some of the passengers around. We have families who could make better use of those suites than a single person."

"I agree, that makes perfect sense," Lee said. "But what does this have to do with me?"

"Well, there is a particular passenger who is being... less than cooperative about giving up her suite," Roslin said, exchanging looks with Capt. Adonis.

"Ah, you must mean, Ms. Corscin," Adonis said, nodding.

"Yes," Roslin confirmed. "I'd rather not have to get The Paradise's security teams to forcibly escort her out, so I was wondering if perhaps you could talk to her, Captain."

"Me?" Lee asked. "Madam President, if she won't cooperate for you. What makes you think she'll cooperate for me?"

"Let's be honest, Capt. Apollo, we both know that, at this point in time, my authority is still fairly tenuous. Ms. Corscin is not a stupid woman, she knows this too. I think, she believes that she can go over my head. She's been demanding to speak with Commander Adama."

Lee gave a short, derisive laugh.

"Yes, I know," Roslin said, smiling, "I tried to explain to her that she had about as much chance of being struck by lightning, right there in her state room, as she had of speaking to the commander, but she seemed to think that her odds were significantly better. Now, as I said, I would like to resolve this as quickly as possible, with as little unpleasantness as possible. I'm hoping that, perhaps, since you share the same last name as the commander and you are a Colonial officer, she might listen to you."

"Very well," Lee said, with a reluctant sigh, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Captain. I am in your debt."

Turning to address his counterpart, Lee said, "I assume you can take me to her cabin?"

"Oh, yes," Adonis said, without enthusiasm. "I know right where it is. Follow me."

Within minutes, they stood outside a white-enameled, metal hatch door bearing a plaque which read, Presidential Suite. Adonis rapped smartly on the door and, after a moment, a low, female voice called out, "Yes?"

"Ms. Corscin, it's Capt. Adonis. May I come in, please?"

"No, you may not! I have already told you that I am not leaving this suite, so go away and harass someone else!"

"Uh, ma'am, I have someone with me from the Galactica. Capt. Adama would like to speak with you for a few minutes."

"Captain Adama?" The voice asked in some confusion, with emphasis on the first word.

"Yes ma'am, the commander's son."

"Uh, just a moment..."

After several long minutes, the hatch door swung open and a young woman, with sandy brown hair, in a plain gray dress, with a short, white apron, opened the door and beckoned the two men inside. The main sitting room of the suite was quite large and very comfortably furnished. There were, at least, two other rooms which branched off at opposite ends from this main room. Directly across from the doorway, artfully lounging on a long divan was an auburn-haired woman who appeared to be in her late- forties. It was evident that, in her youth, she had been a beautiful woman. But now, in her middle years, she was desperately and rather pathetically, in Lee's opinion, trying to stave off the effects of time.

Her hair was quite obviously dyed and her face bore the unmistakable evidence of having been "touched up" several times. The flimsy, shimmery, peach-colored robe she wore had been very carefully arranged to offer tantalizing glimpses of impressive cleavage and shapely calves, while at the same time, strategically camouflaging the small bulge at her midriff and the slightly too-generous thighs.

"Uh, Ms. Corscin, this is Capt. Lee Adama, from the Galacatica," Adonis said.

Lee inclined his head slightly to the woman, trying not to notice the way her eyes traveled slowly up and down his body or the appreciative half- smile that curled at the corners of her mouth. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she turned her attention back to The Paradise's captain.

"Well, it's about time you found someone with some real authority to talk to me," she said smugly. "You may go now, James." She dismissed him with an imperious wave of her manicured hand.

Adonis gave the younger man a slight sympathetic shrug as he turned to leave. Lee watched him go with a small flare of panic. He truly did not want to be left alone with this woman.

"Please, Captain, sit," she said, gesturing gracefully to an overstuffed armchair near the head of her divan. As he did so, perching himself nervously on the very edge of the chair, the woman turned back to the young maid and said, "Emily, be a dear and fetch some of that Picon champagne."

"Yes ma'am," the girl said, moving quickly to obey.

She returned a few minutes later with a silver tray, on which sat a magnum bottle of champagne in a matching silver ice bucket and two delicate crystal flutes. She set the tray on the small table in front of the divan and filled the glasses with the shimmering, pale liquid. Replacing the bottle in its bucket, she quickly withdrew to an inconspicuous corner of the room. Leaning forward, Ms. Corscin took one of the glasses and offered it to Lee.

"No, thank you, ma'am, I'm on duty," he said quickly.

"Oh, nonsense," the woman said. "One little glass won't hurt a thing. I absolutely insist and I won't hear another word about it."

With a sigh, Lee accepted the glass. When the older woman had picked up hers as well, he took a small sip. He had to admit, it was very good champagne. As he lowered his barely touched glass, he noted that Corscin had already nearly drained hers. Glancing around, he noticed that there was another empty magnum bottle tucked away on its side under the divan. Looking at the woman more closely now, he saw the telltale flush on her cheeks and the slightly bleary look of her eyes. She was drunk.

"Uh, ma'am..." Lee began, but before he could get any further, Corscin raised a hand to cut him off.

"I must inform you that I have a few rules that I like to live by, Captain. And one of them is that I never discuss serious matters with people whom I am not on a first name basis with. If you wish to continue this conversation, I must insist that you address me as Catherine and I shall call you... Lee, wasn't it?"

"Yes, m- uh... Catherine."

"There, you see how much more friendly everything is now?" she said, smiling.

"Yes ma'am... Uh, Pres. Roslin asked me to come here and talk t-."

Catherine cut him off again, flapping her hands at him frantically. "No, no, no!" she cried, her voice taking on a slight edge of hysteria. "We're having such a nice little visit. I don't want to talk about anything unpleasant. I mean, here I am sitting, drinking champagne with an attractive, young warrior... Now, tell me something pretty."

"Tell you something... pretty?"

"Yes, you know, lavish me with compliments, recite poetry to me, that kind of thing."

"Oh, uh, I don't know any poetry and... Could we, please, stay on topic?"

"And what topic would that be; the one where you try to screw me over?" Catherine asked, abruptly standing. She began pacing about the room, clutching the open flaps at the neck of her robe together, suddenly extremely agitated. "Why is it that all you men do is take from me and treat me like some kind of imbecile? All I have ever asked for was to be treated with a little dignity and respect. But no, obviously that was asking too much!

"First my husband has an affair with a younger woman. He leaves me and yet the courts give him almost all of my money in the divorce. And then he takes my children! The judge, a close personal friend of his, by the way, decided that I was an unfit mother! Can you imagine it? Me, unfit?"

Yes, actually I can imagine that, Lee thought to himself dryly, as he watched the woman stumble drunkenly about the room, sloshing champagne, as she gestured wildly with her half-filled glass. He glanced over at Emily, the maid, and saw a look of deep sympathy etched in every line of her face and body. Seeing this reaction, it occurred to him that perhaps there was more going on here than he realized. This little rant had a much practiced air about it. This was an obviously old and long-festering wound.

"How long ago did it happen?" he asked. "How long ago did you lose custody of your children?"

"Ten years ago and I haven't seen them since. That bastard would never even let me visit them. Do you have children, Lee?"

"No."

"Then you have no idea of the sheer torment of losing them."

"Oh, I don't know, I think I have an idea," Lee said quietly, thinking of his father.

At these words, Catherine turned to face him. Slowly, deliberately, she moved closer. Setting her glass on the nearby tray, she knelt in front of the younger man and placed her hands on the tops of his thighs. Lee's body tensed slightly, but he didn't push her hands away.

"I know that I'm being very difficult," she said softly, her voice low and slightly breathy. "But frankly, at this point, I don't care. In fact, I haven't cared for a very long time. I rather enjoy making other people's lives difficult. After all, they took everything away from me, everything. And now, I refuse to give up anything else, to anybody."

She had leaned closer to him and Lee could see the desperation in her eyes. He knew that the "they" she was referring to was not the Cylons. He could see how fragile her hold on sanity was and it was a hold that had been slipping long before the destruction of the Colonies. Hell, Lee wondered if she was even truly aware that it had happened. She was so caught up in her own private misery, she probably hadn't even noticed the changes around her.

Sliding her hands further up his legs, she began massaging his inner thighs with her thumbs. "Come now, Lee," she breathed. "Surely there's something we could work out, just between the two of us, that would allow me to keep my rooms?"

Before her hands could slide any further toward there intended destination, Lee grasped them and scooted further back in the chair, away from her. "If you're that intent on staying, I suppose we could work something out," he said neutrally. "But I'm afraid you would have to share your rooms with others."

"Share?" Catherine said, pulling her hands away from him and sitting back on her heels.

"Yes, there are a lot of orphaned children on the other ships. Many of the captains don't know what to do with them. They need someone to look after them."

"Children? Come here?" Catherine said softly.

"Well, you have a lot of extra space here. I don't see why six or seven children couldn't live here comfortably with you. Emily, of course, would have to be willing to help out," he said, glancing in the other woman's direction.

The younger woman stepped forward quickly, throwing a grateful smile to him. "Oh, yes, of course I'll help out!" she said, smiling. "Wouldn't that be wonderful, Ms. Corscin, to hear the sound of little ones laughing again?"

"Oh, yes, that would be so lovely," the older woman said, in a slightly dreamy voice.

"But, Catherine?" Lee said sternly, capturing her full attention again. "You have to promise me that you'll stop drinking. Neither Pres. Roslin nor Commander Adama will agree to place children in the care of someone who drinks."

"Oh, no, no, of course not, that would be terrible," the woman said quickly. "Emily, have all the champagne sent back to the kitchens."

"Yes ma'am, right away," the girl said.

Standing, Catherine glanced down at herself, suddenly realizing the inappropriateness of her attire. "Oh, I need to take a shower and change. There's going to be so much to do before the children get here."

Absently running a hand through her hair, she left the room, without even a backward glance at Lee. After she had gone, the maid, Emily, grasped one of the captain's hands and squeezed it between her own.

"Thank you, Captain, thank you so much!" she said earnestly. "She'll be alright once she sobers up. And, don't worry, I will get her sober. She needs this. You have no idea how badly she needs this. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, smiling and beginning to feel a little embarrassed by her effusiveness. "I didn't really do much."

"No, you did! You listened to her and you treated her with dignity. That ridiculous oaf of a captain just came in here barking orders, which is never a good way to deal with Ms. Corscin. So, when she refused to follow his orders to leave the room, he just yelled louder. Everything went down hill from there. By the time poor Pres. Roslin got here, Ms. Corscin was so worked up, she was in no fit state to listen to reason...

"She wasn't always like this... you know, the drinking and the promiscuous behavior. She's just been so unhappy for so long. I think she tried to use all these various vices to dull the pain, but it never worked. But you've given her back her dignity and given her a reason to live. I'll take care of her. I'll make sure that she's up for the challenge."

"Good, because she's going to need your help," Lee said. "This isn't a done deal. Pres. Roslin has to approve it. And this isn't going to be easy, you know. A lot of these children are traumatized."

"I understand. We'll be ready."

Lee gave her hands a squeeze and turned to leave, but Emily pulled him back. Rising up on her toes, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thank you again," she whispered.

To his horror, Lee felt himself beginning to blush. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded to the young woman and left the room. Returning to the Paradise's shuttle bay, the captain found Pres. Roslin and her assistant preparing to board their own shuttle as well. Seeing him approach, Roslin paused to wait for him.

"So, how did it go with Ms. Corscin?" she asked when the young pilot had joined them.

"I think we've reached an acceptable compromise," Lee said.

"Oh?"

"Yes, it seems that Ms. Corscin is extremely fond of children. I suggested to her that she could remain in her rooms, if she agreed share her suite with some of the orphans from the other ships and she was quite open to the suggestion."

"That's excellent, Capt. Apollo! You know, I had already considered moving many of the orphans here to The Bird of Paradise. The ship has plenty of space, it already has play areas for children and its staff includes several qualified child care workers, but of course, the children would need places to live and people to watch over them... Uh, she will be sober at that point, won't she?"

"Yes. I have the assurances of her maid, Emily, that Corscin will be ready."

"Well, I'll just pay the ladies another visit in a few days before I make any final plans. You handled that very well, Captain, very diplomatic. You know, we might actually make a politician out of you yet."

Roslin laughed as Lee gave her a look of mock horror, but her amusement was cut abruptly short as a wave of nausea washed over her. Lee quickly reached out and steadied her as she swayed slightly on her feet. The dizziness passed quickly enough, but it left her feeling exhausted and drained. Pressing a slightly shaking hand to her temple, she took a deep breath and gently pulled away from the young captain.

"Are you alright, Madam President?" he asked, his concern quite plain on his face.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. I'm just a little tired and I'm afraid I didn't eat much this morning. It's very silly of me really, but thank you. Well, I'm sure our paths will cross again soon. Until then, have a good day, Captain."

Lee gave her a hand to help her step up and across the threshold of her shuttle then watched her disappear inside. As Billy went to move past him to board also, Lee put a hand on the younger man's arm, stopping him.

"Is she alright?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Billy said. "She's just had a long and difficult day. I'm sure you know how it is."

"Unfortunately, I do," Lee agreed.

Leaving the younger man to rejoin the president, Lee turned to board his own shuttle. He still had a few more ships to look at and the day wasn't getting any longer. Stepping onto the shuttle, he settled himself into one of the passenger seats.

"What's our next stop?" he asked Cornwell.

The young man checked a clipboard lying next to him on the co-pilot's seat and said, "The Sylph, sir. She's a charter transport."

---------------------------------------------------------

The Sylph was not a large ship, nor did she look particularly graceful, as her name misleadingly implied. As she had no shuttle bays or loading docks of any kind, Cornwell was forced to engage the shuttle's retractable air lock, sealing it onto the ship's main hatch. Sliding the hatch door open, Lee stepped into the transport's main compartment. The small, open space was deserted. He knew that the captain had been notified that his ship would be inspected some time today, so why wasn't the man here to greet him? Surely the ship's on board sensors had picked up the shuttle's approach?

Stepping cautiously further into the ship's interior, Lee began to feel uneasy. Where was everyone? He couldn't even hear any sounds of movement. Opening the door at the far end of this main compartment, he stepped into the passenger area. His attention was immediately drawn to the figure of a man lying unmoving in the center aisle which ran between the two rows of empty seats. Moving quickly to the man's side, Lee saw that he had been worked over pretty thoroughly. His face was a mask of blood and bruises. Placing two fingers against the side of the man's neck, Lee felt for a pulse. He found it quickly, strong and steady. The man was alive, thank the Lords.

Unable to do anything more for him at present, the captain stood and unsnapped the safety strap on the holster of his sidearm. Although he left the weapon where it was, he rested his hand on the grip as he continued down the aisle to another door at the other end of the compartment. He had only taken a couple of steps when he heard a woman's scream and only a few seconds later, the door he was headed toward burst open and a young woman ran into the room, nearly colliding with him. Lee caught her before she could push past him. She was very young, perhaps 18 or 19, with long blonde hair that was quite disheveled and clinging to her bruised, tear-stained face. Her blouse was torn in several places, bearing mute evidence that someone had tried to tear it off of her. As he reflexively pulled her close, in what was meant as a comforting gesture, she cowered in his arms, whimpering like a child, obviously expecting mistreatment at his hands as well.

The sound of the door banging back against the wall drew his attention, and he felt the girl flinch violently. A very large and, very obviously drunk, man towered in the doorway, swaying slightly and brandishing a nearly empty bottle of ambrosia. The man took a heavy step into the room and eyed Lee belligerently.

"Tha's mine, Boy. Get'cher own," he slurred, gesturing to the girl.

"I don't think so." Drawing his weapon in a swift, fluid movement, Lee aimed the barrel directly between the man's eyes. "Kneel. Cross your ankles and put your hands behind your head."

The man blinked a few times and stared stupidly at the gun. There had obviously been entirely too many instructions given for the man's pickled brain to follow.

"Kneel," Lee repeated forcefully, simplifying things.

After a moment's consideration, the man lowered himself ponderously to the floor.

"Hands behind your head."

As he complied, Lee released the girl and moved cautiously closer to the man. Moving around to stand behind his prisoner, Lee removed a very long, white, plastic strip from a compartment of his gunbelt with his left hand. Holstering the gun, he wrapped the plasti-cuff around the man's beefy wrists and "zipped" it tight. He had begun carrying plasti-cuffs with him very early on, as this was not the first time he'd had to subdue someone during his inspections.

Lee allowed the man to lower his arms and move to a sitting position. He seemed to be docile enough, now that he was immobilized. Lee looked over at the girl, who was still crying and clutching the remnants of her blouse tighter around herself.

"This man tried to rape you?" he asked, speaking very gently and calmly.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Where are the captain and the co-pilot?"

"He's the captain!" the girl said, pointing at the man for emphasis. "And that's the co-pilot," she added, gesturing to the unconscious man. "He tried to stop Capt. Burgess from attacking me."

"Oh," Lee said, at a complete loss. "Uh, where are the other passengers?"

"They're all down in the lower levels."

"Are they alright?"

The girl shrugged noncommittally. "More or less, I guess."

"What's your name?"

"Krista."

"Okay, Krista, my name is Lee Adama. I'm a captain on the Galactica. Can you tell me what happened to you?"

"I worked as a receptionist in a law firm in Caprica City. The firm had chartered this transport to take several of us to Pollux, on Geminon, for a meeting on some big business merger. We were headed back to Caprica when the Cylons attacked... After the fleet made the jump to this place, someone found a case of ambrosia. I guess it was supposed to be for a celebration of the merger. Anyway, we were all bored, so we started drinking. We've all been steadily working our way through it ever since...

"Captain Burgess has been staring at me for days. Watching me and making rude comments. Then all of a sudden, he just... grabbed me and dragged me up here."

"Didn't anyone try to stop him?" Lee asked incredulous.

"Just Kevin here," she said, indicating the wounded man. She dropped to her knees and touched his face tenderly. "Is he going to be alright?"

"I think so. Listen to me, Krista. I need you to go through that door and go to the ship's main hatch. That's where my shuttle is. You'll find Spec. Cornwell waiting there. Tell him that I sent you. Tell him what happened to you. Tell him to contact the Galactica and have them send over a medical team and a security team. Tell him that I'm going to check on the rest of the passengers. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Yes sir," the girl said and rose a bit unsteadily to her feet to carry out his orders.

Glancing back down at his prisoner, Lee saw that Capt. Burgess seemed to have passed out, his head lolling against the armrest of the seat beside him. Lee prodded him tentatively with one foot. The man grunted, but didn't wake. Reasonably sure that his prisoner wasn't going anywhere, the captain moved through the door at the end of the compartment. He found himself facing another compartment, identical to the one he had just walked through. This one was empty as well. Moving quickly through it, he exited out the far door, where he found a narrow, spiral staircase, leading down to the lower level.

Stepping into a large, open space with several small tables and chairs, which had all been pushed to one side, Lee found the other passengers. The room smelled heavily of stale ambrosia and vomit. Lee had to cover his nose with the back of his hand for a few minutes before he became accustomed to the smell. Several people, both male and female, lay sprawled on the floor, apparently passed out drunk. Some even lay in pools of their own vomit. There was one man who was still conscious, sitting in the middle of the floor, muttering incoherently to himself and rocking back and forth. Ignoring him, Lee gingerly checked everyone's pulses and found that no one appeared to be in any immediate distress. When the medical team arrived, they could deal with the alcohol poisoning better than he could.

There were a few small rooms that branched off this main one and Lee began exploring them as well, wanting to make sure there was no one in any more serious distress, like Krista had been. So far, Lee hadn't seen any children, for which he was eternally grateful. The situation on board The Sylph was bad enough without adding traumatized children to the mix.

In the second room he looked into, he found a nude couple who both appeared to have passed out while in the middle of having sex. Whether the sex was fully consensual or not was impossible to tell at this point. The security team would have to figure that out later. With a shake of his head, Lee left them alone. He really had no desire to take a closer look and they both appeared to be breathing alright.

Hearing a strange sound coming from one of the other side rooms, Lee headed that way to investigate. As he neared the room, the sound grew louder. Stepping into, what appeared to be a storeroom, half-filled with boxes and more furniture, he found a woman, kneeling with her back to him, beside the body of a man in his middle years. There was a hideous, deep, vertical gash along the veins of both of his wrists. There was a broken ambrosia bottle lying nearby. He had evidently cut himself with a chunk of the glass. From the amount of blood surrounding the body and its unnatural pallor, the man was obviously dead.

Once again becoming aware of the sound that had initially drawn his attention, he saw that the woman's head was thrown back and she was singing, quite loudly now, in a wordless song of grief. Her low voice was beautiful in its pain, a moaning, keening expression of complete despair that wrenched at the young man's soul.

His family, including his mother, had never been ones to demonstrate strong emotions. Lee's own uncharacteristic and public outburst of anger toward his father at Zac's funeral had been all the more shocking because of this.

This open, undisguised, and uncomfortably raw, demonstration of pure emotion at its most basic level was deeply disturbing to the young captain and it left him shaking and struggling to draw breath. It was as if the very air around him had been charged with the power of the woman's grief. It was thick in his throat and Lee felt as if he were drowning in it.

Feeling like he should do something to try and ease her pain, he realized that he had no words of sympathy, nothing, to offer her. He found himself suddenly terrified that if she turned and saw him standing there, she would expect something from him, some help, some comfort. And he had nothing. He could do nothing for her. He was simply not equipped to deal with this situation, not in terms of his training and not in terms of his emotional make-up. She would only drag him down with her.

Feeling like a complete coward, he backed slowly out of the storeroom. Once back in the narrow hallway, he leaned against the wall, gulping in air and trying to calm his racing heart. He pressed a shaking hand to his forehead, which was beginning to throb mercilessly. Lords, but he couldn't wait to get off this blighted ship.

By the time he had finished looking around and had returned to the shuttle, he found that the second shuttle had already arrived. As Lee's ship was blocking the only entrance to The Sylph, the others had to wait for him to depart so they could take his place. Once back on board, Lee radioed over to the other shuttle and spoke to Capt. Kelly, who was in charge of the security team, and briefly explained the situation to him.

Turning to address Krista, who was sitting huddled in an emergency blanket, Lee said, "There's a medical team on board the other shuttle. Do you need to be treated by them?"

"No!" the girl said quickly. "I'm not injured. You stopped him before he could hurt me and I don't want to go back on board that ship, not even for a few minutes. I don't ever want to set foot on that ship again!" she added vehemently.

All in all, Lee couldn't blame her. Frankly, he thought he would be quite happy to never set foot on board The Sylph ever again himself and he had only been there for a little more than an hour.

"You don't have to," he assured the girl. "I'll find another ship for you, even if it means taking you back to the Galactica with me."

"Thank you, Captain," she whispered, visibly relieved.

"Is there anything you need or want from the ship? I can go and get it for you."

"No, there is nothing I want from that ship."

"Okay." Turning his attention to the shuttle's pilot, Lee said, "Mr. Cornwell, how many ships are left?"

"Just one, sir, The Amazon."

-----------------------------------------------------

The Amazon was a large, privately-owned and operated freighter. She was a squat, bloated-looking vessel that reminded Lee somewhat of a beetle with a gland problem. They had no trouble landing the shuttle inside her spacious loading dock and Lee left Krista with Cornwell when he disembarked. Waiting for him in the bay, he found a tall, broad woman in her early sixties, with short, steel-gray hair, wearing baggy, grease- stained coveralls. The stub of a cigar was clenched between her teeth. Lee couldn't help wondering if this was what Starbuck would look like in another 30 or 40 years.

"Names Margaret Hippolyte," the woman said brusquely, striding forward and thrusting a dirty, big-knuckled hand toward him. "But just call Migs, everyone does."

"Okay. I'm Capt. Lee Adama."

"Pfft, I'm not calling you captain. You're not old enough to be a captain," she said gruffly, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "What's your call sign, Son?"

"Um, Apollo."

"That'll do. I'll call you that."

"Fine," Lee said numbly, too tired to even feel annoyance, much less express it.

"Are you alright, Apollo? You look a little pale," Migs commented, scrutinizing the young man.

"I'm fine. It's been a long day."

"You sure you're up to this?"

"I'll be fine. You're the last ship I have left to inspect," Lee said as he looked around.

With the doors to the loading dock closed once again, many of the passengers had drifted back into the area. He immediately noted that they were all female. Most of them appeared to be in their mid and late teens and were wearing matching dark blue skirts and white blouses paired with gray cardigans. There appeared to be a crest of some kind sewn on the upper left side of the sweaters.

"Are all of your passengers female?" Lee asked.

"There are a couple of male children on board, but that's it. When the Cylons first started their attacks on the Colonies, I had just taken off from the docking port in Centauria on Saggitarion. Seeing what was happening, I knew better than to try and dock again. I knew I'd probably be safer in space. But then I remembered that there was a large girls' school not far from the capital. I had a niece that had graduated from there. Anyway, I couldn't stand the thought of all those children dying, so I made an illegal landing on the school's athletic field and started taking on as many children as I could.

"Well, I swear, within minutes of my landing, I was surrounded by panicking people wanting to get on too. I took all the kids and any mothers with babies. When I'd taken as many as I dared, I got my ass out of there and headed for deep space."

Remembering Boomer's description of her encounter with the mob on Caprica, he asked, "How did you manage to keep the crowd from overrunning your ship?"

Migs reached into one of the numerous pockets on her coveralls and produced a large, high-caliber handgun. "I'm a damn good shot and I don't hesitate to use it," she said matter-of-factly, returning it to the pocket.

Lee knew that he really should confiscate the weapon, but after what he had seen on board The Sylph, as well as some of the other ships, and knowing that this woman had so many women and children in her charge, he decided to let her keep it. In fact...

"Uh, do you have room for one more?" he asked.

"One more?"

Holding a hand up to stall her, he turned and went back inside his shuttle. He returned a moment later leading a young woman with a bruised, tear-streaked face and a torn blouse. The girl looked to be in shock.

"This is Krista," the young man explained. "She was attacked by the captain of her ship... Krista, this is Captain Hippolyte."

"Call me Migs, Child," she said gently. "Welcome to The Amazon."

With a sob, the girl surged forward into the older woman's arms. Migs held her as she cried, rubbing her back comfortingly and murmuring gentle words.

"It's alright, Child, it's alright. You can stay here." Migs looked over her shoulder to one of the uniformed girls. "Bethany, can you take her? See if you can find her another shirt or something."

"Sure, Migs," Bethany said, stepping up to gently disengage Krista from the older woman. "Come with me and we'll find you something to change into."

After watching the two young women disappear out of the bay, Migs turned back to the captain and said sadly, "What's happened to us? How sad to think that our basic sense of decency, our humanity, could be so easily stripped away.

"Well," she continued, giving herself a mental shake, "let's get on with this. I'm sure you have many other things to do."

The tour was quite brief. Migs had dumped all of her cargo back on Saggitarion, so that she could take on more passengers. Her engines and FLT system had recently been over-hauled, so both were in very good shape. Her life support systems and water supply were holding up for now, but were being heavily taxed by the extra passengers. Lee made a note to have the Galactica's supply ship make a stop here. As for the over-crowding, that would be Pres. Roslin's headache.

At the end of the tour, as Lee followed Migs back toward the loading dock, he once again, heard the sound of a woman singing as they passed through the cargo areas. This time though, the voice was singing a clearly distinguishable song. In fact, he recognized it as a Libron lullaby that his mother used to sing to him and Zac.

Stopping and moving towards the voice, Lee went to stand in the doorway of the nearest cargo bay. Sitting apart from the other women in the room, was a young woman in her mid-twenties. She was holding a blanket- wrapped baby in her arms and was rocking it gently, singing.

Hush a-bye, don't you cry,
Go to sleep-y, little baby,
When you wake, you shall have,
All the pretty, little horses,
Dapples and Grays,
Pintos and Bays,
All the pretty, little horses.

Way down yonder, in the meadow,
Poor little baby, cryin' 'Mama',
Birds and the butterflies, flutter 'round his eyes,
Poor little baby, cryin' 'Mama.'

Hush a-bye, don't you cry,
Go to sleep-y, little baby,
When you wake, you shall have,
All the pretty, little horses,
Dapples and Grays,
Pintos and Bays,
All the pretty, little horses.

The woman had a lovely, alto voice and the maternal scene was one of such tenderness and affection, especially after everything that Lee had seen on board The Sylph, that he found himself drawn closer. But as he approached, he became aware of a slight foul odor.

Finishing her lullaby, the young woman looked up at the captain. Smiling, she eased a flap of the fuzzy, pink blanket aside to show him the child. The foul odor hit him fully now. The child's body was unnaturally stiff and its skin, a sick gray color and clearing showing early signs of decomposition. The baby had obviously been dead for several days. It had probably died shortly after the Cylon attack.

"Isn't she beautiful?" the woman said, in a soft, dreamy voice. "And she's such an angel. She never cries or fusses... Such an angel..."

Looking into the woman's eyes, he saw that they were empty and completely devoid of sanity. She had become a hollow shell, as dead inside as her baby. Lee clamped a hand over his mouth and desperately fought down the urge to vomit. Turning on his heel, he left the cargo bay at a fast walk.

Migs caught him by the shoulders as he went to push past her. "Come on, let's sit you down," she said firmly.

"No, no, I'm alright," Lee insisted, although barely managing to choke the words out.

"Mmmhmm, right," she said dryly. "Sorry, Son, but save the testosterone-fueled, stoic routine for someone who'll buy it. Come on."

She led him down the corridor and into a large area that was obviously her own private quarters. Pulling a chair out from a small table, she pushed him onto it. Reaching out, she pulled the zipper of his flight suit further down.

"Head down between your knees," she said, emphasizing the order by grasping the back of his neck and pushing down, forcing him to bend over. "Take deep breaths."

Moving away from him, she went to a small bathroom, just off from the larger room. She returned a moment later with a dampened washcloth, which she laid on the back of his neck. As the cool cloth touched his skin, Lee realized that he was sweating and felt slightly feverish.

Pulling out another chair, she sat down across the table from him. After several, long minutes, Lee had once again gotten control of his stomach and breathing. He sat up slowly, the movement still making him slightly dizzy, and laid the cloth on the table.

"Better?" Migs asked.

"Yes, thank you," he whispered weakly. He supposed that he should be embarrassed by this less than manly behavior, but at the moment, he was too numb to care. Lords, it had been an incredibly long and emotionally draining day.

"I'm sorry about that. I should have warned you about Tara."

"What happened to the baby?"

"We're not really sure. It was alive when she came on board and crying fit to burst. And it kept on crying. She kept trying to quiet it down. Eventually it stopped making noise altogether. Frankly, I think she accidentally smothered it herself."

"Oh, Lords," Lee moaned.

"Yeah and now we can't get her to let go of it, can't get her to accept that it's dead. You saw her; she won't eat, won't drink, and doesn't sleep. She won't last much longer herself. And maybe that's for the best anyway. I just wish that I'd have known in advance that she was the quitting kind. I could've taken someone else on board, someone stronger, someone who'd have had the will to survive... Oh, well."

"That's kind of cold, don't you think? Weren't you the one who was just lamenting about lost humanity?"

"Oh, I think we all have an obligation, as humans, to be decent and civil to each other, but I also think we have an obligation, as humans, to fight to survive, as a species. People like Tara, they're lettin' down their end of the bargain and I just don't have much use for people who give up without a fight.

"Anyway, you, young man, look like death warmed over. I suggest you return to your ship and get some sleep. In fact, that's an order, from one captain to another," Migs said smiling.

"Yes, sir," Lee responded, giving her a mock salute.

"Good answer," she said, getting to her feet. "Come on, I'll walk with you back to your shuttle."

-----------------------------------------------------

Lee had never been so happy to finally see the Galactica appear in his viewport. The thought of climbing into a warm, reasonable soft bed and sleeping for a week straight sounded like paradise at the moment. But then he remembered just whose bed he would be sleeping in and suddenly the thought was less appealing. And then, of course, there was the report on the inspections that he needed to get finished. After all, he had made a lot of promises to those captains and he needed the commander's approval before any of them could be acted on. He also had a patrol first thing in the morning. No, sleep would probably have to wait.

As he was leaving the shuttle, fully intending to go straight to his room to begin work on the report, he was surprised to find his father standing in the middle of the hangar deck, evidently waiting for him. It was a fairly unusual sight. The commander did not often have a reason to be down here.

"Sir, is something wrong?" Lee asked as Adama approached him.

"Capt. Kelly called in to report on the situation on The Sylph. Are you alright?"

"Yes, sir, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You look pale."

"I'm fine," Lee repeated firmly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No sir."

Adama nodded sadly. "Alright. I want you to get some sleep. Don't worry about that report, just go get some sleep."

"Yes sir," Lee said, knowing full well that he would not be getting any sleep any time soon.

THE END