"Baltar's alive." Xeno Fenner slapped the paper down on Carole's desk.

"Don't frak with me," Carole said tiredly. "I've got two hours before my ride comes, and I'm not missing my shift off. Let's get this meeting over with and get you back to the Hitei Kan without the bad jokes."

"I'm not joking, Hudson. Baltar's alive. Haven't you looked at a paper?"

Carole sighed and pulled the paper towards her. The picture on the front stopped her cold. There, in all his long-haired, bedraggled glory, was Gaius Baltar. "You've got to be frakking kidding me."

"Nope. They found him back on the algae planet, apparently. He's been on board since."

"And not out an airlock?" Carole scanned the article. It was an account of Baltar's discovery, arrest, and imprisonment, and plans for his future. "A trial? They're really giving him a trial?"

Xeno shrugged. "If they weren't going to, I don't think we'd know they had him in the first place."

Carole wasn't so sure about that. There were a lot of people in the Fleet who would love to know that Baltar had been pushed out an airlock, starting with herself. But on the other hand, it was rather reassuring that their government wasn't having criminals secretly killed. The Cylons had done enough of that. In the end it was what it was, and Carole had more immediate things on her mind.

"Well," she said, tossing the paper aside, "guess that's that. So what did you want to talk to me about? I assume it wasn't Baltar."

"No." Xeno looked more serious now as he sat down across from her. "It's the catalyst beds. Ours is shot."

Carole sighed and rubbed her temple. This was not what she wanted to be dealing with two hours before she was due to go back to the Cybele. Hell, this was not what she'd wanted to deal with ever. Two years ago, she wouldn't have had any idea of what a catalyst bed even was. But now she knew all too well. "Why are you talking to me about this? Why not Grayson? He heads the whole frakking operation over here, go bug him."

"Because I thought I'd soften you up first. Grayson listens to you."

Carole snorted. "About work schedules and line management, not about the technical side of things. It's the people I'm good with, Xeno, not the reactors."

"Whatever. Look, Carole," Xeno said, leaning in. "I know you've got two up and running. We need to borrow one until the hot shot chemist types over on the Persephone can synthesize enough of the zeolite for us. It will be four weeks, tops."

"So you say. And what are we going to do without it for four weeks? You think the Fleet's going to like it if algae processing slows down?"

"You think it'll be a good thing if fuel refining comes to a complete stop?"

Carole sat back heavily. This was going to be a long, miserable conversation that she wasn't going to win. For a moment she considered just conceding now, but then Fenner would think it was too easy to get what his ship needed. She surreptitiously looked at the clock. She had to argue for an hour, then she could start agreeing to things, then get off this ship and go home. With an inward sigh, Carole turned her attention to Fenner. One more hour, and then she was free.

***

The Daru Mozu had changed functions since the beginning of the journey, from tylium refining to algae processing, but the smell of tylium mingled with metal continued to hang in the air. Carole had always kind of liked the smell- it reminded her of her job in the engine factory back on Gememon, and had given her a sense of home. Her headache now reminded her of the first time she'd smelled it, and the resultant headaches she'd gotten until she'd grown used to it. That had been over twenty years ago. Carole rubbed her temples as she left the small, cluttered office and stopped by her quarters- a claustrophobic room that she shared with two other people. She grabbed the bag she had packed and then headed down to find Sam.

Sam lived in a cavernous room that had previously been used for storage. Instead of cots, thick canvas had been used to make hammocks. Carole headed for one in the far corner, where Sam was lying back in his hammock, hands on his chest and one foot on the floor, eyes closed.

"Sam." Carole nudged his foot with her own. "Sam. Sam, honey, wake up." She leaned over and shook him gently. She'd learned the hard way that Sam had a tendency to wake up panicked. "Sam. Come on."

Sam's eyes blinked open. "Huh? What's going on?"

"It's time to go. Finn will be here any minute."

"Oh." Sam closed his eyes again. "I'm not going."

Carole laughed. "Of course you're going."

"No I'm not. I told Jayla she could have my shift off and I'd work hers."

"Sam! That's the third time you've done this. You need a shift off."

Sam shrugged, eyes still closed. "Why? What's the point of taking a shift off? Rya's not here."

"But you still have friends and family who would like to see you, and you need the rest."

"I'll get sleep."

"But-"

"Carole, Jayla hasn't had a day off in two months. I'm going to work for her."

Carole bit her lip. On the one hand, Sam looked terrible. His cheekbones seemed more pronounced and he looked wan and tired. On the other hand, so did everyone else, and Carole knew the schedules weren't… well, they weren't ideal. Even her own shifts off had become a lot fewer and further between since New Caprica. She glanced at her watch. "All right," she said, capitulating. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure." Sam opened his eyes. "I'll be fine, Carole. Really."

"You'd better be." She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Make sure you get some sleep."

"That's what I was doing before you woke me up. See you in a few days, Carole."

"See you then."

***

"So he's not coming?" Finn asked.

"Not coming," Carole said, tossing her overnight bag into the back of the Raptor. "I'm worried about him, Finn."

"Because he's not coming?" Finn seemed confused.

"Partly. But he just seems… off."

"Yeah, well, he has ever since Rya didn't come back up."

"Before that, really." That damned detention center. It had messed up both Kurt and Sam. If Carole could go back to New Caprica and bomb the shit out of it, she would, even if the Cylons weren't in it. She sighed and changed the subject. "How are things over on Galactica?"

"Not bad, I guess." Finn shrugged.

"Any more talk about promoting you to lieutenant?"

"Not yet. But I've only been in the service three years, and I shouldn't have started at ensign. I mean, I never went to college or anything."

Which was a fair enough point. Of course, one could argue that that was exactly why promotion mattered so much anyway- it was the only reward that could be given. But Finn didn't seem too bothered, so Carole sat back and held her tongue. After all, she firmly reminded herself, it wasn't like she could promote everyone who deserved it on the Daru Mozu, either. She decided to change the subject. "How are things with Rachel?"

Finn grinned. "Good, I guess. Yeah, really good. Rachel's not as crazy from New Caprica as some people are, so things are good."

"Lovely, Finn," Carole said dryly. There were forms of revenge, though. "So. When am I going to be a grandmother?"

Usually, that question would have had Finn sitting bolt upright, eyes wide and panicking. But instead, Finn just shrugged. "We've talked about it."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. We've been together for a long time, and a lot of the stuff that was a problem on Gemenon just isn't anymore, I guess. But we want to get to Earth first. I mean, I know what it's like to not have a dad growing up, you know? As long as I'm in the service…." He trailed off, shrugging. Carole was glad. She really didn't need the visual.

"Is it bothering you?" Finn asked.

"Huh? What?"

"Your shoulder. You're rubbing it. Does it hurt?"

"Oh." Carole hadn't even realized she was doing it. "It gets a little sore sometimes, but not much. Just a nervous habit, I guess."

"What are you nervous about?"

"What's not to be nervous about?" Carole retorted. Finn snorted, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

***

The food on the Cybele left a lot to be desired, but the dining company was first rate. For a little while, Carole was able to forget about the Daru Mozu and all the problems that awaited her when she went back. No matter what changed, no matter how many shifts she worked, no matter what was taken away and how many Cylons chased them across how many galaxies, she still had her family. Carole was aware of just how profoundly lucky she was.

After dinner, Burt took Finn down to the New Directions room to see some of the others. Carole sat down on the couch next to Kurt. "How are you doing?" she asked, nudging him with her shoulder. Like everyone, he felt thinner than he had before, but he was still there.

Kurt shrugged. "All right, I guess, compared to where I was a few months ago. Dr. Wong is trying to ease me off the meds."

"Really? That's good, isn't it?"

"No," Kurt said with a sigh. "That's necessary. There's a limited supply of the meds left. I'm still having flashbacks, but I'm not having as many, so…." He trailed off and shrugged. Carole noticed he was rubbing his fingers together, a nervous habit that he'd picked up since he got out of detention. She stomped down hard on the compulsion to take his hands in hers and make him stop- she'd done that once before and the result had not been pretty.

"And what about… Puck?"

"Actually, I'm doing okay with that," Kurt said. "I mean, I miss him, like everyone else, but it's different than it was with Blaine or even Brit. Or maybe I'm just more used to people dying by now." He laughed lightly as if it was a joke, but Carole didn't think it was. "How's Finn handling it?"

"I guess all right. He doesn't talk about it much."

"How are you handling it?" Kurt asked, turning and facing her with such a direct look that it took Carole aback.

"Me? I'm sad, but I guess…." Carole trailed off and shrugged. "I don't have the luxury of not handling it." And not thinking about it much was the only way she could cope with having a son in the Fleet. "It's busy on the Daru Mozu."

"So I hear." Kurt was slipping out of stepson mode and into government. "Did I hear something about possible delays in output?"

"We're down a catalyst bed. Not much we can do about it, so I'm told."

Kurt sighed. "You know that's not going to go over well with the President."

"I know. But what can you do? If the President wants to come over and run the lines herself, she's more than welcome." Carole decided to change the subject back to what really worried her. "Kurt? Are you sure you're going to be okay? Going off meds?"

"I guess. I don't have much of a choice, and Dr. Wong said if I get worse, he'll make my case to go back on." He smiled and laid his hand over hers. "I'm not going to kill myself. The most that will happen is I'll descend into madness, with elegant smoking and maybe some drug use, ala Caroline Houston." He laughed lightly. It was a terrible joke, and really quite tasteless if you thought about it, but Carole was relieved. Maybe Kurt really was getting better. She squeezed his hand.

"Just take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will."

***

One of the nicest things about coming over to the Cybele was the way that New Directions often met up at the end of the day, just to sit around and play cards or chat. Right now, a killer game of double-deck Dirty Hearts was in progress in the New Directions room with the Cohen-Changs, Burt and Carole, Will, Shannon, Artie, Quinn, and Kurt. Carole was fairly certain that a lot of cheating was going on.

"So Artie. How are things going with Natalia?" Quinn asked, a sly smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she laid her card.

If she expected Artie to be embarrassed, she was wrong. "How do you think?" he practically purred. "She knows where it's at." Everyone at the table laughed, and Artie's smugness only increased as he played a card that added substantial points to the trick "And I'm sure you're picking up your share of homies over on the Rising Star."

"Hardly." Quinn smirked. "Pain isn't exactly attractive."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure there's got to be someone worth finding over there," Tina said, nudging Quinn. "At least worth finding for a little bit."

Quinn sat up primly. "I hardly think-" she began, but was cut off by a sharp knock on the door. Two armed Marines barged in before anyone could answer. Instinctively, Carole lurched to her feet.

The oldest Marine centered in on his target." Quinn Fabray, please come with us."

Quinn didn't stand up. "I'm sorry, what's going on?"

"You're wanted for questioning."

"For what? What did I do? And why are the Marines here? I have nothing to do with the military!"

The Marine's face gave nothing away. "We have our orders, Miss."

Quinn's face hardened. "I'm not going anywhere until I know what this is about."

"You're wanted for questioning on the Galactica. Let's go." The Marine grabbed Quinn's arm and pulled. Quinn struggled against him.

"Get your hands off her!" Carole said, stepping forward. Another Marine blocked her way. "You can't do that!"

"Ma'am, I can, and if you all don't stop interfering and let us do our jobs, we'll have no choice but to arrest you, too."

Carole didn't even look at anyone else. She dodged around the Marine blocking her and tried to get nearer to Quinn. "Let go of her." The Marine ignored her, pulling Quinn, who was crying now. Rage swelled up in Carole. "Let go of her now!" She didn't think- she just pushed the Marine.

She didn't push that hard- at least, it didn't feel like it. But the Marine grabbed her wrist and twisted, and before she knew it, there were a pair of cuffs around her own wrists. "I told you to step back," the Marine growled as he grabbed her by the arm. "Now let's go before this becomes an even bigger mess."

"Wait!" Burt jumped to his feet. "That's my wife!"

"And she's interfering with the keeping of the peace."

"It's all right, Burt." Carole tried to calm herself down. The last thing they needed was both of them sitting in some jail cell. "I'll be okay."

"The Vice President will be hearing about this, I assure you." Kurt found his voice, whipping out a pad and jotting something down. Carole viciously hoped he was getting the Marines' names off their uniforms. "And when he does-"

The Marine snorted. "The Admiral gives us our orders. Zarek means nothing. Come on." He pushed Carole. Her eyes met Burt's as she passed him and she smiled as reassuringly as she could. Burt's lips were pressed together so tightly that they were almost invisible, but Shannon had her hand on his shoulder. She'd take care of him. That eased Carole's mind a little, and she let the Marine push her out of the room and to the docking bay.

"Are you all right?" she asked Quinn once they were in the Raptor.

"I'm all right." Quinn took a deep breath and wiped her face with her cuffed hands. "But what could they possibly want with me?"

"I don't know," Carole said, although the word Cylon was definitely coming to her mind. That was ridiculous (although it would explain so much about Quinn's behavior in the past), but there were still five models out there. If that was what Adama thought, it was just as well Carole had come along. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

***

Waiting was exactly what they did. The Marines led them through a maze of corridors and to a holding cell. It wasn't as bad as it could have been; there was a bed, a toilet, and a sink. Quinn relaxed a little, too. "It's not like the cells on New Caprica."

That piqued Carole's interest. Quinn had never talked about the time between when the Cylons arrested her and when she'd been shipped off for execution. "They put you in a cell?"

"Only for a few hours. That was enough." Quinn sat down on the bed.

Carole sat down next to her. She had always wondered just how much the Cylons had questioned Quinn about her involvement in the Resistance, but this was not the time to ask. She decided to focus on the now. "Do you have any idea what they would have arrested you for?"

Quinn shook her head. "I know some of my antibiotics went missing a while ago" she finally suggested. "Although it seems odd that the military would get involved in that."

"It seems odd that the military would get involved at all. There is a civilian peace-keeping force." That was one of the things that was really bothering Carole about all of this. "Would Dr. Robert know?"

"I don't know. He's actually over on Galactica because of the Thera Sita going down. They're bringing everyone onto the Galactica, and they asked Dr. Robert to help with the transition. I haven't seen him in a week." Quinn looked defeated.

Carole wished she could tell her it would be all right, but it scared her that they both had no idea why Quinn was there. But the two of them sat in the holding cell, the minutes ticking by into hours.

Finally, the door opened and Admiral Adama stalked in. Carole had rarely seen the man in person, but anyone in the Fleet would be able to recognize him, especially in his uniform. His lined face was hard and distinctive, and maybe even a little bit scary. He was accompanied by Colonel Tigh. Carole almost didn't recognize him at first; he looked so different than he had on New Caprica. He was wearing his uniform, his hair was neatly trimmed instead of long and wild, and he had a patch over his missing eye instead of a dirty bandage. He drew back in surprise when he saw her inside the cell.

"What the frak are you doing here, Hudson?"

Adama consulted the clipboard he was carrying. "By the looks of it, she was interfering with the Marines doing their job." He handed the clipboard to Tigh and focused his attention on Quinn. "You're Quinn Fabray."

Quinn drew herself up, folding her hands in front of her neatly. "I am. And I would like a lawyer present before I answer any other questions."

Carole had to admit that she was impressed at her composure. Adama wasn't someone that you argued with lightly. He fixed his piercing blue eyes on Quinn and frowned. "I don't have time for that."

"But I don't even know what you're accusing me of!" Quinn protested.

"You're being accused of murder."

"Murder?!" Carole jumped to her feet. She'd been prepared for any answer except that. "What the frak-"

"I didn't murder anyone!" Quinn said, her face pale.

"Dr. Robert did."

"He wouldn't!"

"Yeah, that's what we said," Tigh said. "We were wrong."

"I don't understand," Quinn said, looking back and forth between them. "Who would he kill?"

"Patients," Adama said shortly. "Specifically, Sagittarons."

"Sagittarons?" Quinn shook her head. "What do you mean? I know he doesn't like them, but he's never- I mean-" she shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about." She was on the verge of tears. "I don't understand."

"Quinn didn't murder anybody," Carole said with great certainty, putting her hand on Quinn's shoulder.

"Yeah, well, we'll see," Tigh said.

"We're just keeping her here until we can sort this out. I'm not letting her loose on unsuspecting patients," Adama said. "Not until I know that she's completely safe."

"I don't believe this. You really think that she's been killing people?" Adama's face didn't change, so Carole turned to Tigh. "Colonel, you know this is ridiculous. She worked for the Resistance!"

"Yeah, well, that doesn't make someone innocent," Tigh said, glaring at her. "Dr. Robert worked for the Resistance as well. Patched me up after the toasters took my eye. That doesn't mean he wasn't down there injecting Sagittarons full of poison."

"I didn't do that!" Quinn protested, in tears now. Carole couldn't blame her. "I didn't do it!"

"We'll see," Adama said darkly. "Fabray. Let's go." He opened the cell door and ordered Quinn out with a look. Quinn looked back at Carole with panic, but obeyed. Adama closed the grating with a clang and led Quinn out of the room.

"Saul," Carole said, reaching out and catching the sleeve of his uniform. "You can't really think she was killing patients. She's a kid!"

"She's twenty-one. Not much of a kid, Hudson." Tigh pulled away, although not roughly. "Look, we know there's a good chance she's innocent. But we thought that Dr. Robert was innocent, too, and it cost some people their lives because we made that mistake. We can't make that mistake again. We're not letting her go until we're sure."

"But you have no evidence! There's nothing you can hold her on! This can't be legal!"

Tigh shrugged. "The Old Man figures that it's better to detain one person until this is sorted out than to risk someone else dying. And he figures it's better to keep someone who's possibly knowingly defending a killer under watch, as well."

Carole's mouth sagged open. "But I-"

"That's the orders, Hudson." Tigh raised his eyebrows. "And I sure as hell hope you're right about her, or you're both going to be needing that lawyer." With that he turned and walked out, and let the door slam shut behind him.

***

"I didn't do it."

Quinn had been crying for an hour. Carole sat beside her, rubbing her back and trying to find clean portions of the sheet for Quinn to wipe her nose on. She really, really hoped that neither of them were going to have to spend the night in that bed.

"I didn't do it," Quinn repeated. "I would never do something like that."

"I know," Carole said. "You don't have to convince me, Quinn. I believe you."

"Why?" The word practically exploded out of Quinn. "No one else in here does. Why would you?"

"Because I know you," Carole said, refraining from pointing out that 'no one else in here' consisted of Admiral Adama and Colonel Tigh.

"Yes, but you've never liked me. Not that I blame you." Quinn sniffed. "With everything with the baby-"

"That doesn't mean you'd kill someone. It was also a long time ago." Over four years ago, Carole realized with a start. If Beth was still alive, she would be four. "Surviving a nuclear holocaust and an occupation makes you let a few things go."

Quinn was silent for a long time. She'd never been a girl who really let people know what she was thinking, but Carole was sure there was a lot going on inside her head. Finally, she took a deep breath and wiped her face one more time, and Carole knew she had herself under control again. "I wonder how long they're going to keep us here. I had patients to see this afternoon."

"And I have to be back over on the Daru Mozu in a few hours," Carole said. "But somehow, I don't think they're going to be overly moved by either of those arguments."

"Carole?"

"Mmm?"

"What's going to happen? If Dr. Robert really did… that and he convinces them that I did, too?"

"They won't believe it."

"What if they do?" Quinn pressed. "They've airlocked people before."

"Not many. We'll get you a lawyer, Quinn. They can't actually do anything to you without a trial." Carole was going to make damn sure of that.

"You don't know that," Quinn said darkly. "After the Exodus from New Caprica-"

"Those are only rumors," Carole said, putting her hand on Quinn's arm. "The stories about people who disappeared… think about when they came, Quinn. Right after New Caprica. Everyone was still scared then. I don't know what's going to happen with this, but we will get you through it, all right? I promise."

Quinn nodded, but Carole could see that she was still terrified. Not that she blamed her, really. After all, they were still sitting in this cell. She sighed and wrapped her arm around Quinn's shoulders. They'd get Quinn out of here, Carole was sure of that, but she might need some help. Fortunately, she had an idea of exactly who to ask.

***

Quinn was asleep when the holding cell door opened, but Carole was on her feet immediately.

"Saul, I want to speak to the Admiral."

Tigh looked up from his keys. "Thought you might say that. Come on." With a clang, he opened the cell door and inclined his head, indicating that she should follow him. With a quick glance back at Quinn's sleeping form, she did.

Tigh led her through the corridors until they came to a door. He didn't bother to knock, which made Carole realize that the Admiral had sent for her before she could demand to see him. Interesting. Also interesting that he hadn't come down to the brig to see her. Tigh led her inside the study, where the Admiral stood up from his desk to greet her.

"You can wait outside the door," the Admiral told the Marines who'd escorted her. He also nodded to Tigh, who slipped out as well. Carole turned and faced the Admiral.

Up close, he looked even more intimidating than he did on television. His eyes were a bright, piercing blue, and there wasn't the slightest trace of a smile on his face.

"Hudson," he said, finally. "I've heard the name before."

"It's a common name," Carole said evenly, determined not to give him anything. Adama's stare didn't waver, and she capitulated. "My son Finn is a Raptor pilot."

He grunted. "Thought so. Have a seat." He gestured to the chair before his desk and sat back down at his own chair. Carole sat slowly.

"We talked to Robert about Quinn Fabray," he said finally, reaching out to pour two drinks. "I'd like to hear your opinion of her."

"My opinion. And considering I got myself arrested protesting her arrest, what good would that do you?"

Adama raised his eyebrows. "I'd still like your opinion, please."

You couldn't argue with Adama. "Fine. Quinn is intelligent, manipulative, sometimes very selfish, and has a history of doing some crazy things. I was never very fond of her. But I'm quite positive that she would never kill anyone." Carole thought about that last point and frowned. "Well, at least not anyone who didn't deserve it. I could certainly see her killing someone in self-defense. But I think even that would bother her."

"Because of the baby?"

A jolt passed through her and she sat up straight. "You know about Beth?"

"I didn't know her name was Beth, but I know about the baby. Dr. Robert told me. He said that Quinn had confided in him that she had a baby at age sixteen and given her up for adoption rather than terminating the pregnancy, and that she did it for religious reasons."

"Yes." Carole felt a flash of hope. "That's all true. I'm surprised he told you that."

Adama snorted. "Let's just say he was rather dismissive of the idea." He picked up one of the tumblers and took a sip. "He told me that after finding that out, he knew she didn't have the guts to make the hard decisions."

"The hard decisions?"

"About who gets the medicine when the medicine runs out. That was his logic- that the stores would run short and the medicine should be saved for those who served the Fleet, not Sagittarons. And a girl who couldn't even see the wisdom in terminating a pregnancy that she was in no way ready for would not be have the steel to make life and death decisions in a case like this."

"Amazing how he can make the simple morals of not killing people sound like a flaw," Carole said sourly.

Adama cracked a smile. "That's what I thought. But despite his disdain- or perhaps because of it- he convinced me. He never told Quinn what he was doing."

Carole let out her breath. "Good."

Adama raised an eyebrow again. "You look like you could use a drink." He pushed the second tumbler over to her.

Carole took it, but didn't drink. "So if you're so convinced of Quinn's innocence, why am I here?"

There was a folder on Adama's desk. He tapped his fingers on it, but didn't push it over. "When you were arrested, Saul told me who you were. He had a lot to say, especially about your Resistance involvement. He also mentioned that you were associated with that singing group."

"New Directions. Yes. But they don't have anything to do with this. Quinn was the only one with contact with Dr. Robert." Carole realized she'd spoken more sharply than she'd intended. "I'm sorry. It's just that they're kids- well, not kids anymore- but they've been in my care. I'm protective."

"They're your kids," Adama said. "I understand that." He sighed and tapped the folder. "And you were wrong before. That's what I want to talk to you about."

Carole's brow furrowed. "What was I wrong about?"

"That Quinn Fabray was your only kid with contact with Dr. Robert." Adama slid the folder across the desk to her. Carole took it, puzzled. It was a thin manila folder that looked like a doctor's records. In fact, that was exactly what it was. When she opened it, the name hit her like a slap across the face.

Anderson, Blaine.

"Did he… oh my gods." Carole scanned the pages frantically. Most of it was gibberish to her, but one section stood out. Colony of Birth- Sagittaron. "Oh my gods. He didn't-"

"We don't know for sure," Adama interrupted her. "We couldn't get Robert to confess to anything."

"Quinn was so convinced he'd recover." Carole stared at the file. "If he was…."

"Doc Cottle remembered the case," Adama said. "If it's any comfort, he says there really wasn't much of a chance, and that it very well could have been the radiation poisoning that killed him anyway. We don't know for sure. But we certainly suspect."

Carole kept flipping the pages of the charts back and forth. "I don't know what I'm going to do with this," she said. "I don't know what to tell Kurt…."

"Well, given that Zarek already knows about this entire mess, I'm sure that your son does, as well. That's why I told you."

So she could be prepared. So she could deal with Kurt. Because he understood this desire to protect her kids, even if they weren't her biological children, although Kurt was close enough. Carole nodded blindly. "Thank you, Admiral."

"You're welcome." He stood. "Saul went down to get Dr. Fabray out of the brig. I'll walk you to the landing bay."

***

Carole didn't go straight to the Daru Mozu, even though she knew she should. She went back to the Cybele, and although it was the early hours of the morning, she made her way to the common area. She hadn't eaten anything since their interrupted meal almost twelve hours ago. When she got there, she was glad she hadn't gone straight to bed, because Kurt and Burt were sitting together at a table, and one look at their faces told her that Kurt knew, and they'd obviously been talking about it for a while.

"It's just how much more can I take?" Kurt asked plaintively. "I thought I was over Blaine's death, but to know that he could have survived if some racist cretin hadn't decided he needed to die because of what planet he was from. Like it mattered!" Carole sat down with them and Burt shot her a look of pure panic.

Carole was usually a very honest person. But there was something to be said for lying, especially when it protected a child. What good would it do Kurt to dwell on if Dr. Robert had killed Blaine, or if had been radiation poisoning? Kurt had already had the wound of Blaine's death reopened once, and it had not gone well with him. This time, with New Caprica lurking in the near past and the therapist taking him off his drugs, Carole thought it would go even worse. She made a quick, firm decision.

"Honey, I talked to Dr. Cottle myself. He remembered Blaine and he read over the file. He told me that Blaine wasn't going to make it."

"But Quinn said-"

"Quinn's young, and she learned everything on the job. She's never worked with radiation poisoning. She thought Blaine would live because she wanted Blaine to live. More than one doctor looked at Blaine when he came on board the Galactica, and they were pretty sure that Blaine was too sick. They tried." Carole laid her hand over Kurt's. His eyes were desperate, hopeful. He wanted to believe her.

"But Dr. Robert still-"

"No. They got a confession out of him, Kurt, and he didn't start doing this until New Caprica." Carole was making it up as she went along, and she desperately hoped that none of this would be contradicted in the trial. "Blaine died from radiation poisoning. Okay?" She gripped his hand tightly, willing him to believe. Kurt nodded tentatively, and Carole smiled. "I know what Dr. Robert did was horrible, but it didn't happen right away. Blaine wasn't murdered, sweetie, and it's going to be okay."

Kurt took a deep breath, then another, and then gave Carole a watery smile. "Thanks, Carole."

"You're welcome." He'd believed her. Carole sat back with an internal sigh of relief. Another hurdle overcome, another crisis averted. But she knew she'd better remember to call Finn and make sure he told Dr. Cottle exactly what she'd told Kurt, in case Kurt ever came asking the source. That was if it all didn't come out at the trial.

***

Carole went back over to the Daru Mozu, late and desperately needing to get caught back up. "Where the hell were you?" Grayson asked as soon as she walked into the management office.

"Jail," Carole said succinctly. "Take it up with the Admiral."

"What the hell does Adama have to do with anything? Perkins had to cover your shifts, and Xeno Fenner's been over here riding my ass about something with the Hitei Khan."

Carole sighed. "What's he want now?"

"He wants us to support him in his request for more workers."

"So? Why didn't he talk to you about it?"

"He did. But with your son working for Zarek, he thought your name might have a little more clout."

"Like that's done us so much good so far," Carole said dryly. She sighed and picked up the stack of papers that had been left on her desk, sifting through them. "It's the same old song, everywhere in the Fleet. Not enough workers and too much…." She trailed off, her brow furrowing as she looked at something.

"What?"

Carole held up the sheaf of pages that was in her pile. "Did you see this?" The top page said My Triumphs, My Mistakes. The words were typewritten, but on the first page there was a hand-written note in vaguely familiar handwriting. I thought you would like this.

"Oh. That." Grayson ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. "Actually, I did."

"What is it?"

"It's the first pages of Gaius Baltar's book."

Carole snorted and pushed it away. "Right. What a waste of paper."

"Surprisingly enough, not really."

Carole looked at him skeptically. "You're joking."

"I know. I would have said the same thing." Grayson shrugged.

Carole sat down and scanned the pages. Although we are purported to be a democracy, we are for all intents and purposes an aristocracy, one that is ruled by those that we once revered. Consider, for example, that the last formal election was Roslin v Baltar. Although the results of that election might not be the ones you choose to remember, there has been no election since. The voice of the people has once again been silenced in the name of "what's best for the people." And the people stay silent, because this authoritarian dictatorship has taken the form of a benevolent tyranny in Roslin and Adama.

"It's Baltar," she said, tossing the pages away. "Do you expect he'd ever have anything good to say about President Roslin?"

Grayson shrugged. "Read the whole thing," he insisted. "It's worth it. You know as well as I do that there's some very real problems in this Fleet."

"There are," Carole agreed. "But it's not exactly an easy situation. President Roslin's doing what she can."

Grayson eyed her shrewdly. "You're a lot more tolerant of Roslin than you were of Baltar on New Caprica."

"Of course I am. Roslin is actually trying. She's not wallowing in booze and floozy interns. I'm betting that Baltar wrote this with his dick."

Grayson cracked a smile. "If he did, it's one hell of a smart dick. Seriously, Carole, read it. There are a lot of good points in there."

"Right." Carole barely refrained from rolling her eyes. He was her boss, after all. "So when's Xeno coming over next?"

"This afternoon. This one's going to be tough- we've got a lot to go over."

"Don't we always?" Carole said with a sigh. She tossed My Ego, My Dick or whatever it was called aside and turned her full attention to Grayson. "Let's get planning, then." There were a lot more immediate problems than Baltar.

***

"Look," Grayson said two hours later, frustration coloring his voice. "We've got to stop pitting ourselves against each other. I know we're in competition for a lot of the same resources, but the problem isn't here." He gestured to indicate the three of them and Marshall Cabot, who'd come over with Xeno. "The problem is out there."

"What, the Cylons?" Cabot didn't look impressed with that concept. "We aren't going to be able to make the frakking toasters go away just because we've got too few people working shit jobs on the lines."

"No. Not the toasters. The Fleet." Grayson leaned forward. "Look, we've got to accept that the Cylons aren't going away, right? That this Fleet, this here-" he gestured again- "is how it's all going to be until we find Earth. And at the rate we're going, that could be years."

"We can't last years," Xeno said. "Not like this. Our people can't last."

"That's my point."

Cabot's brows furrowed. "What are you getting at?"

"Government derives from the mandate of the masses. Those in power are and should be held accountable for their actions."

"You sound like a high school textbook," Cabot scoffed.

"Maybe," Grayson said. He fished a pamphlet out of his vest. "I'm quoting." He handed it to Xeno, who looked at the pages with interest.

"This isn't Baltar's ode to himself again, is it?" Carole asked with deep suspicion.

"He's written more," Grayson continued, ignoring Carole. "And I've got to say, he hit the nail on the head. I can't stand Baltar, but if anyone understands exactly how the Fleet is screwed up, it's the guy who made a lot of the mess."

Xeno took the papers. "Someone gave me a copy of this. It's really worth reading?" Grayson nodded. "Huh. Maybe I'll have to give it a go."

"There aren't going to be solutions in there," Carole pointed out, unable to believe anyone was taking this claptrap seriously. "If Baltar had solutions, he wouldn't have made such a mess out of New Caprica."

"Carole, right now if a toaster told me how to fix the problems we've got, I'd kiss them." Xeno reached for his hat. "I don't care who's talking sense, as long as it can get some results."

"It's not going to! A treatise on why Roslin is wrong doesn't change anything!"

"Maybe not, but right now even a jumping off point is something. Come on, Cabot. We've still got to see Azu over on the Demetrius about our recycling schedule before the day's done. Grayson, Hudson." He tipped his hat to them, and the two men from the Hitei Kan headed off.

Carole waited until they were gone before she turned on Grayson. "Really? You're getting other people to read Baltar now?"

"Nothing wrong with reading, Hudson. You ought to try it sometime." He sighed. "Come on. We've got a lot to do on the floor as well. We'd better get to it."

Carole glanced at her watch as she followed him. There were still almost twelve hours before she was off shift. It was going to be an extremely long day.

"Mrs. Hudson?"

Carole looked up- the numbers in front of her were beginning to blur anyway. Jayla Henson was standing in the doorway. Her gut told her this couldn't be good. She put her pen down and beckoned to the girl. "Come on in. What's going on?"

"I got some news," Jayla said, and the way she smiled told Carole the news before she said it. "I'm pregnant."

It should have been good news. Jayla was in her twenties. She was healthy, she was at a good age, and Carole seemed to remember that a boyfriend was in the picture. Babies were good, but beyond that, they were necessary. But the words "I'm pregnant" settled around Carole like a heavy weight, and before she could stop herself, she heard her own voice saying, "Oh, frak."

Jayla's eyes narrowed as she glared at Carole. "Excuse me?"

Oh frak was right. Carole pulled herself together. "I'm sorry. Congratulations."

"Thank you." Jayla's voice was much colder than it had been, and she stood straighter. She wasn't apologizing anymore. "As I'm sure you realize, I am going to have to request a transfer to a different ship."

"Of course." Carole restrained a sigh. "Of course you do." She dug through her papers and found the necessary forms. "Fill these out and get your doctor's signature, and I'll put them through for you."

"Thank you." Jayla defrosted slightly as she took the forms. "I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. And congratulations." Carole watched Jayla leave. There was no question that her step was lighter, like she was escaping.

The Daru Mozu wasn't a fun ship to be on. But everything was worn and beaten down- nothing was the same anymore. Everyplace sucked. Carole tried to tell herself that over and over. But she kept seeing the lightness in Jayla's step, and she couldn't shake the idea that there was someplace to escape to. It was a very troubling thought.

Carole shook her head and turned back to her work.

***

The dining hall was crowded. Carole nudged her way through workers, deflecting questions here and ignoring mutterings there. She spotted an empty seat beside Sam and headed over, plunking her bowl of algae mash onto the table. "Mind if I sit here?"

Sam looked up, startled. "No. That's fine."

Carole sat down, took a deep breath, and began to eat her food. It still wasn't great, but she'd found it was better if you ate quickly when you were hungry. Sam didn't seem to share her views- he was stirring his, clearly loathe to eat the stuff. Carole couldn't blame him. "How are you doing?" she asked, because she needed distraction.

Sam shrugged. "All right, I guess."

"Are you coming back to the Cybele this time?" Carole asked.

Sam shook his head. "Nah."

"Sam, you need a rest."

"So do a lot of other people. I'm not going to die if I don't get one, Carole. There's people on this ship that haven't gotten off half as much as I have."

"Yeah, but they weren't in a Cylon detention center for a month, either."

Sam made a face. "Whatever. I'm fine."

Carole decided to change the subject. "Did you hear about Jayla?"

As soon as she spoke, she kicked herself. Sam's face didn't really change, but she could see the defensiveness in his posture. Sam and Rya had been married long enough and been such a good couple that Carole often forgot how that marriage had begun. Not for the first time, she wondered exactly how Sam felt about that abortion. But she knew better than to ask.

"I heard," Sam said before Carole could retract her question. "Good for her." He stirred his algae. "Hey. Have you heard of this book?"

"What book?"

"This My Triumphs, My Mistakes thing."

"Oh. That. Are you really reading Baltar's book?"

"I tried. It wasn't my sort of thing." Sam shrugged again. "But people are talking about it a lot on the line. A lot of people."

"Oh."

"Just thought you should know." He scooped up his mostly-full bowl. "I've got to get moving. Whistle's gonna blow in about five minutes, and I need to hit the john."

"Okay." Carole watched him go, and then turned back to her own food. It wasn't good that more people were reading this claptrap that Baltar was writing. Maybe she should read it, just so she knew what they were talking about.

As if this day wasn't bad enough.

***

Carole could see why Sam couldn't get through My Ego, My Dick. The language was flowery and elaborate, and several times she had to stop and reread sentences just to get their meaning. Baltar clearly was not used to talking to normal people.

She hated the tone of the book. It was humble, self-effacing. Baltar talked openly about what he'd done wrong on New Caprica, and Carole had to admit that he was right on the nose about a lot of things. But the humility struck her as fake, and that grated on her nerves. There was a good dose of humor, too, all at his own expense, but that just made her think he was trying too hard to ingratiate himself with the Fleet. Nevertheless, every now and then she found herself smiling against her will.

Baltar always had been charming.

And all right, Baltar had points here and there. The Fleet probably never would be led by anyone other than an Adama. But it wasn't like there was a school of Colonial officers, schooled in battle and ready for command. And yes, Laura Roslin hadn't been officially elected to the Presidency again. But who was Baltar kidding? If an election had been held (with the minimal resources available in the Fleet), who else did he think people would vote for right after New Caprica? Tom Zarek? He was the only person who could possibly challenge Laura Roslin, and there was no way he would win. Even Kurt would admit that.

Carole finished reading with a sigh of relief. She didn't put any stock in anything that Baltar had written, but she was glad she'd read it. At least now she knew that there was no threat, thank the gods.

She put the papers aside.

***

Denied.

Carole stared at Jayla's transfer form, her brow furrowed as she waited on hold on the phone. How the world could end and there could still be hold music was a mystery to her, but somehow, it had happened. Finally, the music cut off and there was a voice on the end of the line. "Hello?"

"This is Carole Hudson, over on the Daru Mozu," Carole said, her voice snappish with impatience. "I'm holding a denied transfer form for Jayla Merkins."

"Well, I'm sure the office reviewed her case and made the best decision."

"They didn't," Carole said. "She's pregnant. There's no way she should be working on the lines."

"And I'm sure she's not expected to," the voice said. "A denial of transfer does not require that she remain in a dangerous job."

"Well, what's she supposed to do on this ship?"

"I'm sure you've had this problem before."

"Yes, and I've always been able to transfer the woman to a different ship. Why is it any different now?"

"In order for a ship transfer to be approved, there has to be someone willing to transfer to the ship the applicant wants to leave. I can only assume that there is no one willing to transfer to the Daru Mozu at this time."

"In almost forty thousand people?" Carole asked incredulously. "You've got to be kidding. You can find someone!"

"No applications list Daru Mozu as a transfer option at this time," the woman said firmly. "I'm sorry, but it can't be helped. The best I can suggest is that you find someone in the Fleet willing to change places with the applicant."

"Why do I have a feeling that's going to be harder than you make it sound?" Carole grumbled. She sighed. "Thank you very much." She hung up the phone, resisting the urge to slam it into the cradle. Now all she had to do was get someone to transfer to the Daru Mozu. Great. That wouldn't be hard at all.

Right.

***

"The Daru Mozu? I'm sorry, but I've already got a good job here over in the engine room on the Zephyr."

"I have children. The Daru Mozu is no place for a three-year-old. Their father? He died on New Caprica. I'm on my own."

"Refinery work? I don't know the first thing about it. I'd be useless."

"The Daru Mozu? Lady, not if you paid me."

"Well, maybe I could transfer, but… why? I mean, it's a dangerous job and a hard one. I'd get more rations or something, right? No? I'm sorry. I don't think I can help you. I'm sorry, but I've got people to think about."

"No."

"No."

"No."

"I'm sorry, but the answer is no."

Sometimes, Carole really hated being right.

***

"How's the search for a replacement for Jayla coming?" Grayson asked her toward the end of her shift as they walked along the line together. There wasn't much space for them to walk side by side, and Grayson had to shout for Carole to hear him from three feet away.

"Not so good. I haven't come up with anyone."

"What about your husband?"

"Burt?" Carole hadn't even considered that.

Grayson shrugged. "Why not? He's a mechanic, right? He'd figure out the work quick enough. And then you two could be on the same ship and you wouldn't have to keep disappearing over to the Cybele."

"We have kids on the other ship."

"Who are all twenty. Besides, isn't one of your kids here? Sam? Hell, what about one of them?"

"They all have jobs already." Which was true. The kids were all gainfully employed, and in ways that served the Fleet more than them just being line workers.

"Well then, more reason for your husband not to be over on the Cybele," Grayson said. "And what about those others? Aren't there three other adults in your group?"

"You do not want Sue Sylvester on the line," Carole said firmly. "Trust me on this."

"That still leaves you with two other people," Grayson said. "Come on, Hudson. This isn't rocket science. We've got to get Jayla out of here. Get on it."

***

Burt. Carole decided that Burt would be the first one she asked. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Grayson was right about Burt being the best choice in terms of abilities, and it would be nice for them to be on the same ship all the time. And given that she was one of the line foremen, they'd have a small measure of privacy. The more she thought about it, the more she convinced herself it was the right thing to do. She just had to figure out how to do it.

Burt was waiting for her when she got off the shuttle, and right away she knew this wasn't a conversation that she wanted to have. He looked extremely agitated.

"What's wrong?" Carole asked as soon as they'd greeted each other. "No one's dead, are they?"

Burt cracked a smile at that. "No. Nothing that serious. I got this." He dug a letter out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Carole spread out the folds and read it, her brow furrowed as she deciphered the official-sounding language. "I don't understand," she said. "This sounds like a draft notice."

"It's not." Burt grimaced as he took the paper back from her. "I mean, not really. They need me to come and help out until this guy who hurt his back can come back. I don't really have an option, but it's not a draft notice. It makes it sound like I can come back to the Cybele in a few months' time if I want."

"Will you be on the Galactica full-time?"

"Guess so." Burt smoothed the letter again. "Don't really like not being able to keep an eye on Kurt, though."

"He's doing better."

Burt's glance was direct. "You know as well as I do they're taking him off his meds before he really should be. It's not gonna be pretty, Carole. And I'm leaving him here with Schuester and Sue."

"And Shannon." Carole clung to that. "She'll keep an eye on him. And he's hardly ever here anyway- he spends so much time on the Astral Queen and Colonial One."

"Yeah." Burt shoved his hands in his pockets. "Don't know what I'm getting so worked up about, really. With everything that's happened, this is no big deal. I've gotta do what I can, and working with Galen on engines is far from the worst thing that can happen. I've just been knocking around here a bit anyway. It'll probably be good for me, to be over there and working." He was trying to convince himself it didn't matter, but Carole knew better. This was the man who had clung to his own business on New Caprica, even after the Cylons invaded. Burt's business was a part of himself, and handing that autonomy over to someone else was going to be hard. Carole was suddenly very, very glad that she wasn't having to ask him to come over to the Daru Mozu.

"Come on," she said, slipping her arm around her husband's waist. "We don't have that long before we head back off- let's go make the most of it."

***

"Come on, Will. I know you've been teaching, but-"

"But Tauron language education just isn't that important anymore, right?" Will's smile was sad.

"I didn't say that." Carole was trying to maintain her tact. "But we need another worker."

"One worker isn't going to do much, Carole."

"Especially if it's you," Sue said, wandering in to the New Directions room and munching on an algae bar. "You're not exactly the most effective work force there, Rosie."

Will rolled his eyes. "Wasn't asking you, Sue."

"I'm not expecting you to…" Carole fumbled for the words. Change things. Make things better. Save the world. "We just need someone to take Jayla's place so she can get off the ship. Come on, Will. We're desperate. And you'd get away from Sue."

Sue snorted.

Will slumped in his seat. "All right. Fine." He lifted one hand helplessly into the air and then let it drop. "I'll do it."

"Thank you."

Will grimaced and stood up. "I'd better go make some arrangements. I'm guessing you want me over there in a few days?"

"More like a few hours, if it's possible. The shuttle comes soon."

He pressed his lips together and headed out of the room. Carole watched him go. His shoulders were slumped, his once-crisp button-down shirt was worn and limp, and there were badly mended runs in his vest. His hair had gotten longer, and he wasn't as fastidious about shaving as he used to be.

"He looks like shit," Sue said, voicing Carole's thoughts.

"I suppose we all do," Carole said, pushing self-consciously at her hair, which was now a ragged mop again instead of the gleaming coifed style that Kurt had helped her obtain.

"Eh, I'm not talking about that." Sue waved her hand dismissively in Carole's general direction. "He's useless."

"No he's not."

"Sure he is. People like Will don't know how to function in this world. They think that everything's still operating under the same rules as it was on the Colonies. They can't cope with the fact everything's gone."

"He's still going," Carole said crossly.

"Only because people like you and me are pulling him along." For once, Sue wasn't smirking. "You're going to have your hands full with him over there on the Daru Mozu."

Carole suddenly felt exhausted, both with the conversation and her lot in general. "No, I won't. I just need a warm body to get a pregnant woman off that ship. He'll learn the work fast enough."

"It'll break him. You think someone like Will Schuester can keep going in a job like that? Where no one's depending on him and he's just another piece of the machinery?"

Just another piece of the machinery. Carole turned away, annoyed for a reason she couldn't fully articulate. "It's just until we find Earth." Sue snorted, and Carole steadfastly ignored her. "He'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."

"You can't drag every single one of them across the finish line here, Algaebreath. You've got your hands full enough."

"Algaebreath?" Carole regarded her dubiously. "Really, Sue? That's the best you've got?"

"I'm running out," Sue admitted. "It's been a long few years."

"Hasn't it, though." Carole pushed herself back to standing and sighed. "I'd better get ready to go back to the Daru Mozu myself. Good luck with the kids."

"Good luck with Schuester. Believe me, you're going to need it more."

***

The shuttle docked on the Daru Mozu, and Will tightened his grip on his bag. Carole glanced over at him. "Relax. It's not that bad."

"I know. This is just… new to me."

"Yeah, well, you'll get used to it. Everyone's new to it at some point. Come on." The shuttle was opening, and Carole hopped out.

It was strange to see the deck of the Daru Mozu with Will beside her- sort of like seeing it again for the first time. "It's a lot bigger than the Cybele," Will said.

"Wait until you see the rest of the ship. Come on." Carole led him onwards.

As they made their way through the crowded halls, she could see reality sinking in on Will's face. The Cybele was hardly the height of luxury, and their own room had been set up originally for sixteen people to sleep in. But the Daru Mozu, with its narrow halls and cramped quarters, was even more crowded. Chemical smells hung in the air, even away from the production floor, as well as the smell of, well, people. Will looked a little overwhelmed, and for a moment, Carole felt sympathy for him. But then, this was how people lived now. She found the dorm she was looking for and pushed the door open, and then led Will back to a corner.

"Sam!" Sam looked up from a mending job he was doing, and Carole pulled Will forward. "Look what I found. Think you can help him settle in?"

Sam smiled, a quick, tight smile. "Mr. Schue! Sure. I can help him." He put his mending aside and stood up. "Come on. We'll get you set up with a hammock and a crate and then I can show you around."

"Uh, great. Thanks, Sam."

"Well, that's settled. If you have any questions, you know where to find me, but Sam can get you started. Your first shift starts tomorrow morning. See you then." Carole smiled and patted Will on the shoulder, then left the dormitory.

Everybody had to do their part if they were going to get to Earth and if they were going to survive the Cylons.

***

There was a message for her, in a sealed envelope, clearly marked from Colonial One. Carole was certain that it must be about testifying against Dr. Robert. She tore it open with a mix of reluctance and eagerness, and then stopped. The message had nothing to do with Dr. Robert. It was something even better. Workers would be conscripted from those with relevant backgrounds on other ships to work on the Hitei Khan, the Daru Mozu, the Demetrius, and several other ships. The factory ships.

She should have known that Roslin would come through for them. Carole folded the message with a definite sense of relief.

***

Grayson didn't see it that way. "It's not enough, Hudson! It's too little, too late, and at best it's a stop-gap to fix a deeper problem!"

"It's a step," Carole told Grayson firmly. "These things can't be fixed all at once. President Roslin is making a step to meet us, and a strike will risk everything that we stand to gain! And since when are we talking strike, anyway?"

"Why shouldn't we? It's not like they can fire us!" Grayson shot back, pacing his small cluttered office in agitation. "They can't even get people over here without a direct order and threat of jail time! How else are we going to make our voices heard?"

Carole glared at him, frustrated. "Our voices are being heard. They're getting us workers!"

"Did you hear what happened to Fenner?"

"No."

"Tossed in jail. For quoting My Triumphs, My Mistakes at Roslin."

Carole's first thought was that Xeno must have been incredibly stupid to quote Gaius Baltar at Laura Roslin. Her second thought was that there was no way that could be true. "No," she said, shaking her head. "She wouldn't jail him just for reading a book."

"Wouldn't she?"

"No. No! She wouldn't!"

"She banned abortion."

"That's entirely different! You don't see the difference there?"

"There were rumors she tried to steal the election."

"From Gaius Baltar. And you lived on New Caprica! Was she wrong? If she'd stolen the election, we would have never been there!"

"Where would we be now? Earth, Carole? Where is Earth?"

Carole stepped back. "What the frak does Earth have to do with any of this? What does it have to do with a strike?"

Grayson took a step back as well, and the lines of his face softened a little. "Because everyone keeps believing that this is temporary, that we could find Earth tomorrow. And as long as people keep thinking that, there's no need to make changes. And we keep going on like this, thinking that salvation will come tomorrow, and the people on this ship and the Hitei Khan and the Demetrius and the others keep doing all the shit work, without a break. Earth's got a lot to do with this, because things won't change unless we admit that this Earth thing might not be real. And Carole, things have got to change. We can't go on like this much longer. You know I'm right. That's why you count the hours until you can go back to the Cybele, where things are better."

Carole tried not to wince. "I have family there."

"That you've never moved over to the Daru Mozu, even though we could use them. Why have you never moved your mechanic husband over here, Carole? Why haven't you ever tapped that group of kids for workers, until you were forced to? It's not the work over here- you were a factory worker on Gemenon. It's because it frakking sucks."

There was no answer to that. Carole knew it- it was all laid out for her. She sighed heavily, running her hands through her hair. "A strike still isn't the answer."

"Yeah, well, a strike is what they're going to get. The Hitei Khan went on strike a half hour ago, and we're joining them." Grayson's face was set. "They'd better be ready, because they have no idea what they're dealing with."

***

Strike. Carole remembered a cold day standing in a tent, chanting the word. Strike.

On New Caprica, it had been a good idea. Here in the Fleet….

There was no denying that things needed changing. Carole knew that. She'd seen the cramped quarters, the bad rations, the lack of time off the workers on her ship had. She knew it. The problem was, how were things supposed to change without resources? This wasn't Gemenon or even New Caprica, where there were ways to make things better. Machinery was breaking, people were wearing out, and there just wasn't much that could be done to change things. President Roslin was stuck.

Of course, she could have conscripted workers a long time before this. That one wasn't rocket science.

But conscription took away freedom. Kurt had always been against the idea for that very reason, and in principle, Carole agreed with him. But when people were free to choose what they did and didn't choose to do what needed to be done, what then?

Her head began to hurt, despite the silence of the machinery.

The quiet in the Daru Mozu made it seem like a foreign place. She was so used to the sounds of the machinery, the clanks and the gears and the squeals and shouting, that without it, she couldn't concentrate. The ship wasn't silent- she could hear voices and laughter and people. So many people on this ship. She could hear children playing and babies crying. She closed her eyes. Children and babies, on a factory ship. And yet, what was the option? To separate families?

She made her way to her own office and sat down heavily. As if her desk knew her mind, a copy of My Triumphs, My Mistakes mocked her from the top of a pile of papers. How had it gotten to the top, anyway? Carole shook her head and picked it up, flipping through the pages. It was trash, written solely by Gaius Baltar to make trouble in the Fleet. And yet….

I wash my hands of the phony democratic system; I will never let myself be distracted by the placatory crumbs that the Caprican elite led by the Roslin administration toss into the barnyard every now and again. Many of the oppressed have realized the truth and are ready to take action, even ready to take arms….

She didn't think it had anything to do with Caprica, but the fact that it was so difficult to get Jayla off this ship, when it should be so easy….

She shook her head angrily and shoved the papers away. Gaius Baltar was the last person she needed to think about right now, and the last person who could help them. This strike would force Roslin to make some changes- not as many as they needed, but that was life- and the Fleet would go on. Carole rubbed her temples and looked back down at her paperwork. Once this strike was over, she was going to have to get back into action fast- she'd be smart to be ready.

She stared at the paperwork without seeing it at all.

***

The strike ended almost as quickly as it began. Of course the administration couldn't give the workers everything they wanted- that was impossible. They couldn't give them back the life and society they'd had before the attacks. But the union was reformed, Galen Tyrol was reinstated as union president, and changes were going to be made. Carole felt vindicated- she knew President Roslin would come through for them. It just took time, that was all.

Everything was going to be okay.

***

The alarm went off. Carole was on a catwalk, and she could see where the line stopped immediately. She thundered down the thin metal stairs, hoping it wasn't who she thought it was.

Frak. It was Sam.

"What happened?" Carole demanded before she even got there. Sam was huddled in on himself, holes in his clothing. There was a puddle nearby, and the wall looked wet.

"I'm not sure," Will stammered. "The pressure just started skyrocketing and then-"

Carole grabbed Sam by the shoulder and yanked him to his feet. "Clear a hole!" she shouted, and pushed him towards the emergency shower. She shoved him in and pulled the lever, and water gushed down.

The water dripped to a stop and Sam emerged, soaked and sputtering. "Thanks," he gasped, wiping the water away from his face. He winced as he moved, and Carole could see where the chemicals had splattered on his arm.

"We'd better get you over to the Rising Star right away," she said.

Sam tried to wave it off. "I'll be fine."

"Nice try. Come on." Carole knew she was right when Sam cradled his arm, and there may have been other damage done as well. She led him out through the production floor, Will trailing after them. "Will, go get some cold, wet cloths," Carole ordered. Obviously eager to be of use, Will hurried off.

"We really don't need to go," Sam insisted. "There's first aid supplies here and I'm not burned that bad. We can take care of it." The pain in his voice spoke otherwise.

"The one good thing to come out of this whole damn apocalypse is that medical care is free to anyone in the Fleet," Carole said. "You're going. No more arguments." Sam's shoulders slumped in defeat.

The regular shuttle wouldn't come for another three hours, so Carole called Finn. Within an hour they were in the Galactica's infirmary, and a nurse was checking Sam in. She looked tired, and it occurred to Carole that she probably hadn't had a day off herself in a long time. There were young people like Quinn who had been training as doctors or nurses, but that took a long time, and in the meantime, there were no new doctors. She remembered her words about free health care and bit her lip, vaguely ashamed.

But there was no time for that. The nurse was asking questions, and Sam needed medical care. No matter what he said, the chemical burns looked nasty, and Carole knew enough to know they could continue to get worse. Finally, the nurse led them to the back of the infirmary and pointed out a bed. Sam was just taking off his shirt when the doctor approached.

Carole froze. It was Dr. Robert.

Her immobility only lasted a split second, until she realized that Dr. Robert was headed for Sam, chart in hand. With two swift steps she was between them, arms crossed and glaring.

"Carole?" Will grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?"

Carole shook him off easily. "What the frak are you doing here?" she demanded of Dr. Robert.

Dr. Robert looked surprised at the moment, but she could see the moment when the pieces fell into place and he knew she knew. But he blustered forward anyway. "This man needs a doctor," he said, trying to step around her to get to Sam. "That's what I'm here for."

"You think I'm going to let you touch one of my kids? Get the frak away!"

"Um, Carole?" Will asked hesitantly. "What's going on? Sam needs medical treatment- that's why we're here."

"Not from him." Carole shook her head fiercely. "He's a murderer."

"Carole, that's ridiculous," Will snapped, with a lot more force than Carole would have expected. "He's a doctor. I know that you were in the Resistance on New Caprica and that you people tend to think of anyone who collaborated as a murderer-"

"Now hold up, I never collaborated with the Cylons!" Dr. Robert said. "I was in the Resistance as well."

"Oh, that's great. I'm real proud of you," Carole said sarcastically. "That makes such a difference."

"Listen, lady¸ I don't know what your problem is with me-"

"You were killing Sagittarons! That's my problem with you!"

"You're crazy!" Dr. Robert pulled away. "I don't have to listen to this. You want this kid treated? Find another doctor."

"You're not getting anywhere near him anyway!"

"What the hell is going on over here?" Dr. Cottle came over, pulling them apart. As soon as he saw Carole's face, he sighed. "Get the hell somewhere else, Robert," he ordered. "I'll take care of this one." Dr. Robert scurried off. "All right. What have we got?"

Carole was too angry to speak, so Will went through what he knew had happened. Cottle half-listened, but he was examining Sam's shoulder and arm and starting his work already. He looked worried, but Carole had the suspicion he had one of those faces that always looked worried. Besides, right now she was in no mood to be concerned. But reason was reasserting itself enough for her to realize one thing- she did not want to talk about Dr. Robert's crimes in front of Will or Sam. If either of them figured out that Blaine had been murdered, they might think honesty was the best policy or something and decide to tell Kurt, and that was something that Carole didn't want.

Cottle finished with Sam, and before Carole could explode, he gestured for her to follow him. Will stayed with Sam, and Carole stalked angrily to his office.

"What the hell?" she demanded as soon as the door closed. "I know what he did. What the frak is he doing here? That man should be dead- or at least in jail. He murdered people! By his own admission! What possible justification could you have for having him in here?"

"You done?" Cottle asked when Carole paused for breath. He didn't give her a chance to answer. "Good. He's here on Admiral's orders, and I don't like it any better than you do. But gods know we need the doctors, and Dr. Robert is damn good at internal medicine, which we need. So you and I have to shut up and deal."

Carole had no intention of doing that, but she recognized the point that Cottle wasn't responsible for this. She controlled her temper. "Fine," she bit out. "What do you need to see me for?"

"Says here on Sam's chart that you're both his supervisor and his legal guardian."

"Yes. Will he be okay?"

"The burns will heal. He needs some rest and some fluids and some time, but the worst of it's over."

"Then I take it that's not what you want to talk to me about."

"I'm concerned about his weight."

That took Carole by surprise. "His weight?"

"Yeah. His weight." Cottle put the chart down on his desk and lit a cigarette. "He's underweight for his height."

"Aren't most people anymore? Algae's not exactly the most fattening diet. And Sam does a lot of physical labor."

"You could be right. It could be nothing. It could also be a sign of something else going on."

"Like an illness?"

"Or a psychological issue." Cottle looked at the end of his cigarette. "I can give you some information as to what to look for, but it's a realistic concern."

Carole sighed heavily. "Do you think it is?"

"Hell if I know. I'll do a quick work-up just to rule out some medical possibilities, but if something else is going on, he should probably see a psychologist."

"Who in this Fleet shouldn't see a psychologist?" Carole asked.

"Tell me about it. Anyway, I'll be in touch."

"Thank you." Carole hesitated, then left. Cottle had a lot of information, but he wasn't the one she needed to see. Not by a longshot. She needed to see the Admiral, and she knew just who to enlist to get her there.

***

"You're not just going to barge in, are you?" Finn asked anxiously. Despite his long legs, he was having to scurry to keep up with Carole. "You just don't do that, Mom."

"You don't do what he's done, either," Carole growled. Just the thought of the guy who'd killed one of her kids still loose in the Fleet… she wasn't sure if she was going to be sick or punch something. She stopped at a door. "This it?"

"Yeah. This is it." Finn lurched around her. "Mom, listen. I know you're pissed, and I don't blame you, okay? But at least let me go through protocol, or they'll toss you in the brig before you can even say anything." Carole nodded tightly. Finn straightened up, straightened his uniform, and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Carole shoved the door open. It was thick and heavy, but it still made a bang. The Admiral looked up.

He was sitting at his desk, and as luck would have it, he was talking to the President and Tigh. Tigh stood up, frowning. "What the hell is going on here?" His question was addressed to Finn.

"She wanted to see the Admiral, sir," Finn said nervously.

"So you just brought her up here?"

"Well, yeah. She's my mom, sir. You try saying no to her."

"Pretty sure I can manage it, Ensign." Tigh turned his attention to Carole. "What the frak are you doing here?"

"What the frak is Dr. Robert doing here?" Carole demanded. Tigh pulled back. She turned to Admiral Adama. "You showed me the records. You held one of my kids for almost twenty-four hours in case she was an accomplice. He told you she wasn't, not because he hadn't done it, but because she didn't have the guts to kill people. He killed one of my kids. What the hell are you doing?"

Adama looked angry, but Roslin laid a hand on his arm, and then stood to face her. "Carole Hudson, right? From the Daru Mozu?" Carole nodded tightly. "I am not often in the habit of explaining myself, but your outrage is entirely justified. And believe me, this is not a decision I am comfortable with. But it is necessary."

"How can it possibly be necessary?" Carole felt like her heart would rip out of her with the question. "He murdered one of my kids. Blaine survived that hellhole on Caprica, and when he got up here, where he should have been safe-"

"I told you that we don't know that Dr. Robert killed Anderson," Adama said. "That was never confirmed."

"Because there was never even a trial, was there?" Carole looked from Roslin to Adama. Neither of them looked away, but neither of them hastened to reassure her, either. "There never was a trial. You never made him answer for his crimes?"

"He's answering," Adama said.

"How? How the frak is he answering for what he's done?" Carole's voice rose to a shout. "He's waltzing around in there as free as a bird-"

"And going back to the brig every night," Roslin cut in. "If he's not working, he's incarcerated."

"It doesn't matter. He should have had a trial. He should have been out there and condemned and… damn it, people should know!" Carole hadn't realized how close she was to tears.

"And if they knew, what would happen then?" Roslin took a few steps closer, her arms crossed, her face hardened into an expression of stern sympathy. "You're on one of the factory ships. You know how desperate some of our work situations are. Can you imagine how desperate we are for doctors? For people who have real medical training and experience? If we allow ourselves to lose that, we are shooting ourselves in the foot. Like it or not- and believe me, Carole, I don't like it- Dr. Robert has skills that this Fleet needs to survive. He's cost lives, but he's saved them, too."

Tears flooded Carole's eyes, and she blinked them back. "I have lost three of my kids," she said, stepping back so she could address both Admiral and President. "Three of them. One we lost in the service, which I understand. He died fighting the Cylons, and I can accept that. But one was killed by a suicide bomber on New Caprica, and one was murdered by a racist doctor with a grudge. They were both killed by humans. More of my kids have been killed by humans than Cylons. That's not right."

"No," Laura agreed. "It's not."

"Blaine deserves justice." Carole choked on the words. "All those people Robert killed, they deserve justice."

"They do. But the people still living deserve survival even more."

On some level, Carole understood it. But she couldn't fully accept it- or even that this was happening. She stared at Adama and Roslin, tears caught in her eyes.

"Mom," Finn said quietly, putting a hand on her arm. "Let's go."

"You have kids like I do," Carole told Adama. "Would you be able to sleep, knowing someone who murdered one of them was walking around free?"

"You assume I don't have to do that already."

Carole closed her eyes. Finn took advantage of her silence and tugged more insistently. When she opened her eyes again, Laura Roslin was still watching her. There was pity on her face- pity and understanding- but it was clear that she was not backing down from this. Carole capitulated and let Finn pull her from the room.

"Don't think you aren't flying extra sweeps, Hudson," she heard Tigh tell Finn as they left.

"Yes, sir." Finn propelled Carole out of the Admiral's study and into the hall, shutting the door behind them. "Mom?"

"There should have been a trial, Finn. People should know what he did."

Finn glanced uncertainly back at the closed door. "Yeah, and we do. At least over here on Galactica. Word gets around. And that's mostly the people he's treating."

"But a trial! A real, actual trial and some sort of justice and…" Carole broke off. "It was Blaine, Finn! He murdered Blaine, and he's just walking around and-"

"Mom, calm down." Finn caught her hand and glanced around. "Let's head down to the deck, okay? Burt's on shift. And you kind of stormed out of the infirmary- Sam and Mr. Schue are probably wondering what's going on."

"All right." Carole had the feeling that it wouldn't go well for her if she tried to burst back in there. She couldn't change this one, at least not right now. She followed Finn down the hall.

***

It was strange to see Burt in his orange coveralls and without his hat, but as soon as he smiled at her, waving across the deck, Carole felt a little more grounded. "Hey," he said, coming over. "What are you doing here? You aren't in the brig again, are you?"

"Very funny. Sam's in the infirmary," Carole said, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Burt? Have you been down to the infirmary at all?"

The expression on his face told her he knew, but he held his hands up defensively. "Before you get all angry at me, I only just found out about it the other day," he told her. "I was going to tell you, but it's not the kind of thing you talk about over the phone."

Carole deflated. He was right about that. And besides, it wasn't Burt she was angry with anyway. "Do you think they're doing the right thing?"

Burt rubbed his chin. "Right? I don't know about that. But what makes sense? Yeah, I guess. Although if it was up to me, I'd only bring him out for emergencies. And make him stay on the Astral Queen instead of here. Ship full of Sagittarons would be the place to imprison him."

"He probably wouldn't be alive by the end of it," Finn pointed out.

"That's the point," Carole said sharply. Finn wisely shut up, and then disappeared when another pilot hailed him.

"Come on." Burt draped his arm around her shoulder. "There's nothing you can do about this one, Carole. You've got a half-hour until the shuttle leaves. Let me show you around."

Carole relaxed into Burt's embrace. "All right. Show me your kingdom."

There were a lot of familiar faces as they traveled around, a lot of people that Carole recognized from the union on New Caprica. A lot of faces she didn't recognize as well- people who had stayed on Galactica. But what was universal was the air of exhaustion. People did their tasks and filled their duties, but they just looked dirty and grimy and tired.

"It's not that different from the Daru Mozu," Carole remarked to Burt when they were waiting in the bay again. "I hope the union restarting helps things."

"Yeah, we can hope."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "You don't sound too sure of that."

Burt shrugged. "It's kind of like New Caprica, in its way. What good is a union when there's nothing for us to fight for? What everyone needs is Earth, and we need it soon. It's the only thing that's keeping a lot of people going."

Fear choked her throat. "Is it the only thing keeping you going?"

"Nah, I've got you and Kurt and Finn. But you should hear…" he shook his head. "Hell, even just how Finn talks about it, how once we get there he can think about getting married and just be done with all this…."

"Yeah." Carole sighed. "Once we get there, all these hard decisions will be over." She closed her eyes and leaned against Burt. "I really hope it's soon."

***

There was wisdom in leaving Dr. Robert alive. President Roslin knew what she was doing. Carole repeated that over and over to herself as she rode back to the Daru Mozu.

She knows what she's doing. She got off the shuttle and made her way through the crowded corridors, past dorm rooms that housed thirty workers each and people who worked every day without a day off. Through the haze of odors that never went away and the loud noise on a ship where no one came by choice.

She entered the office and shut the door, sat down at her desk and closed her eyes. She knows what she's doing. Carole understood that. You had to make hard decisions, decisions people didn't like. Frak, that's what she did herself, every single day. Someone always felt like they were getting screwed, someone always got the short end of the stick. But you did your best to make up for it, make it worth their while. President Roslin had listened. She gave them a union again, recognized that things needed to change.

Of course, time would see how much did change. A union was all well and good, but what was the lesson of New Caprica? A union couldn't change the world. Not when the world was so dismal to begin with. A union wasn't a solution- it was a way of making the people feel like they had power. But they were still as powerless as before, because they were still in these ships being chased by Cylons and surviving on algae. A union was a gesture, a feeble attempt to make things better. Dr. Robert not having a trial was the way things really were.

Carole sat down, looking at the work on her desk. A sheaf of paper caught her eye, and she pulled it out.

My Triumphs, My Mistakes.

"My Ego, My Dick," Carole said softly. She flipped it open. Baltar was still a narcissistic ass and still utterly incompetent when it came to government, but….

But….

She flipped the pages. I wash my hands of the phony democratic system; I will never let myself be distracted by the placatory crumbs that the Caprican elite led by the Roslin administration toss into the barnyard every now and again. Many of the oppressed have realized the truth and are ready to take action, even ready to take arms ...

It was Baltar, but maybe… maybe he had a point buried somewhere in this steaming pile of crap.

Carole settled back in her chair and began to read.