Fic - "Going Native part 64"
Part 64 - yes yes almost done! Swear to god! This is where nice things start happening for people. BSG/STNG crossover, mostly Gaeta centric - really it's kinda long but there are tags.
Lee stepped into the small quarters that had been given to Roslin for the duration of the treaty talks. “Madame President? The Admiral wanted you to know that the new delegation will be arriving in two hours.” The new delegation was the more formal group of diplomats who were going to finalize the treaty with the Twelve Colonies. He was also fairly certain, from Serena, that Felix Gaeta’s parents were on the USS Nautilus with the batch of diplomats and that was likely to cause some consternation among the more religious in the fleet. It was already going about that Gaeta had used “godlike powers” to save the Galactica. Having his mother, who according to the records he had read and according to Serena, was much more gifted had the potential to be awkward.
Roslin stepped out of the tiny bedroom, wearing a blue dress that he had never seen before. It was a color that suited her, he thought suddenly, and he hadn’t seen her look so carefree in years. Ever, really. “How do I look?” she asked, a smile on face.
“Stunning,” he said. “Like the president of the Twelve Colonies, ready to negotiate. Where did you get this?”
“It was a gift from Ambassador Troi. It was thoughtful of her so I wanted to make sure I wore it for the treaty signing today.” She smiled slightly. “You look sharp in your uniform, Captain Apollo.”
He smiled, remembering how they had met. “Did you ever think, the day we met, that it would end like this?”
Roslin smiled, but it was a dark look. “I never thought it would end like this, Lee.” She stepped forward, her expression serious. “What do you plan to do now? Now that we’re settling on a new planet and you don’t have to be a viper pilot anymore?”
“I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “ I don’t…. I don’t see any reason to stay in the military. As near as I can tell… being a viper pilot is soon to be an obsolete skill. I was thinking… of opening a bar.” But he didn’t go further on how it would be a classy pilot themed bar for political players. He sensed there was more at play.
Roslin grinned. “If I told you that I had something in mind for you that wouldn’t… make that impossible… would you be interested?”
“What are you thinking of?” He had some idea. It had already occurred to him that Roslin might be looking for a new presidential aide. He wasn’t sure he wanted the job. It seemed like a position that was more work with less freedom than he wanted.
“In six months, we’re required to have a new election for all positions. The president, the vice president, and the entire Quorum.” She looked at him intently. “I intend to run for president and I want you to run with me, for vice president.”
He blinked in surprise. “What about Zarek?” he said, just to buy time.
“I am sure that Tom is already building the opposition,” she said easily. “But there is a lot of rebuilding we need to do and… you would be an excellent partner in getting things done.” Her eyes glittered in amusement. “I’m not going to lie, Lee. There’s political reasons for asking you to step up. You’re a hero, a Viper pilot that saved our lives more times than I can count, you’re Admiral Adama’s son and he saved our lives more than I can count and, most importantly, you’re a natural diplomat.”
“I’m what?” he said with surprise.
“A natural diplomat,” Roslin repeated. “You’re… completely natural and in situations that I could only imagine when I first entered politics. That’s a gift, Lee. A gift our people need. Please, tell me you’ll at least consider it.”
After a moment he nodded. It was an intriguing offer, if only because he could see what Roslin meant. “I’m honored, Madame President, but I do have think about it and discuss it with the Admiral. We do still have a military to worry about.”
“I think that’s a fine idea,” Roslin said, her expression suddenly amused. “But don’t take too long deciding. We’re going to need to send political emissaries to Earth, and you’re my first pick.”
Which made the offer incredibly tempting but… “Wouldn’t you want to go? President has more impact than vice-president in political circles and I get the impression that some of the people in the Federation are sticklers for protocol.”
“You’ll have to muddle along without me,” Roslin said. She smiled slightly at his surprise. “Lee, the prophecy is that the leader of the people dies upon seeing Earth, or just before reaching Earth, or on the way to Earth, depending on the scroll and… I don’t see any need to tempt the gods, Lee. That would be foolish, don’t you think?”
He could only nod in agreement.
~*~ “You look fine,” Tigh said. He took a seat on the worn leather couch. “That uniform isn’t going to get any better looking, the more you play with it.”
“It’s not every day I greet Federation ambassadors,” Bill said easily as he adjusted his rank pins. “I’ll be glad when this part is over and we’re at this new planet, getting the settlement built.” He was surprised at how he was looking forward to it. It was hard to believe that the years of running were really over, but there they were, getting ready to start rebuilding.
“It’s going to be good, this time,” Tigh said after a long moment. “The new colony, I mean.”
“How do you know that?” He agreed, if only because they weren’t going to be scratching in the dirt, scrabbling for supplies. The new colony world had a better climate overall, much more similar to Caprica. He was just surprised to hear Tigh say it out loud.
“It feels different.” Tigh looked at him. “You know what I mean. I think it helps knowing that the Federation has those big guns to back it up. And that the Cylons are… What are they up too?”
“One of them has assumed temporary command of the Cylon ship, until they have elections.” Bill adjusted his uniform one final time and walked over to his desk. “She calls herself Natalie Six and she agreed with me that the Cylons should have a separate meeting with the Federation.” He grinned. “She actually said that she wasn’t interested in dodging a bullet.” She had also calmly stated that she doubted that either side was ready to shake hands and play nice, that time was needed to heal the wounds both sides had inflicted on each other. He had been polite about it. According to Picard, there were only 973 human variant Cylons left alive in the basestar. With the resurrection ship, they could still reanimate their dead, and apparently the Three model was being resurrected, but ultimately the Cylons were in the same position they were. They couldn’t return, and they were in a much worse situation from a population standpoint. He didn’t feel sorry for them, not really, but he could see how difficult the next few years would be for them. “They’re going to accept a treaty with the Federation as well. They’re taking the planet that was our third choice.”
“The one out near Bajor?” Tigh seemed amused. “I wouldn’t want to live there. Too cold and too wet… too much like New Caprica.” He eyed Adama shrewdly. “Are you all right with that?”
“No, not really, but they’re going to be pretty far away, and we’re in no position to complain.” And because of their history with genocide, they would be refused weapon technology for a much longer period than the colonial people. And their children would be considered fully human and that was something his own grandchildren would have to make peace with, but there were worse endings to the tale than that. He looked at Tigh. “Are you all right with that?”
“I’d still like to blow that base star out of the sky,” Tigh said after a moment. “But I haven’t.”
Which was a level of restraint that Bill hadn’t thought possible of Saul Tigh just after the rescue from New Caprica. But before he could comment, the hatch door opened and Picard stepped in. Adama tried not to smile. Starfleet dress uniforms looked… decidedly unmilitary to his eyes, and Picard almost looked like a man wearing a skirt.
“I wanted to let you know that we’re on schedule.” Picard said quickly. Adama nodded. That meant in approximately two hours, the official treaty talks would begin. Picard looked at the two of them and smiled pleasantly. “If you have any questions on protocol, or Federation customs, I’d be happy to answer them.”
Smooth, Bill thought with some appreciation, Jean-Luc Picard was smooth. Of course they had questions, and Picard was making sure to not *make* them ask questions, but instead was offering the information as a matter of course. A diplomat, for all that he seemed formidable in battle. And the more he read of Starfleet and Federation history, the more he knew that Picard wasn’t just the run of the mill officer commanding a ship. “I know I wouldn’t mind some pointers.”
It helped that Picard wasn’t the blowhard that his first officer was.
It was only a few minutes into the lecture that Picard had clearly prepared for them, when he heard the tell tale sound of a transporter. He made a point of not looking surprised. Lee had remarked on how some of the people from Starfleet could be a little condescending and he had noticed that tendency himself. But he was surprised that someone was transporting. As he watched, a short middle aged woman materialized. She was wearing a Starfleet dress uniform, with the rank of admiral and the blue color that indicated that she was involved in the sciences in some way. Her long blond hair was nicely done, and she was slight and petite, and very fair.
Admiral Apollonia Gaeta, Adama realized with surprise. He’d seen pictures but…. “I thought you’d be taller.”
She looked at him and smiled wryly. “I had the same thought about you, Admiral Adama.”
“Admiral Gaeta,” Picard said easily, stepping forward. “The formal meeting is scheduled for two hours from now and I thought it was understood that transporters weren’t to be used since the colonial people haven’t been fully briefed.”
“I don’t care,” Admiral Gaeta said. “I really could care less about this treaty or where these people plan to go.” She glanced at Adama and Tigh. “No offense, of course.”
“Of course,” Bill said, suddenly amused.
“I’m here to see my son for the first time in ten years.” Admiral Gaeta said bluntly to Picard. “I pulled every string a retired admiral from medical services can in order to get out here this fast. I frankly don’t care if we’re hosting the Klingons, Cardassians, and Romulans in a great big drunken square dance down on the deck of this flying scrap heap. I’m not waiting two hours so that I can see my son for the first time in ten years during a dull, lengthy, overblown diplomatic mission. I’m not. That’s simply unacceptable.”
Picard didn’t flinch at her tone, which impressed Bill, but he also didn’t cower despite how obvious it was that the woman wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’m surprised you didn’t just demand we transport him to your ship, Admiral. Or transport him yourself.”
“I considered that but apparently he’s not wearing a combadge, and I didn’t want to be rude and randomly kidnap people from this ship, and then interrogate them as to my son’s whereabouts.” She smiled slightly at Picard. “Then I thought, why not scan for him? After all, Pollux genes stick out… But pretty much everyone on this ship has Pollux genes in some variation and it would be wrong to abuse the Nautilus‘s short range scanners. So I pulled everything I had learned from reading little girl mystery novels and decided the best way to find what I want is to ask the people who know. Now where is my son? I am trying not to lose my patience, Captain.”
That was pointed and direct, Adama thought. He wondered about her comment about Pollux genes though.
Picard nodded. Adama didn’t blame him. He personally didn’t want to get in between a mother and her child after a ten year absence. “I believe,” Picard said softly, “that your son is currently in the Galactica’s medical facility.”
Admiral Gaeta frowned. “He’s in sick bay?”
“I’m told he may have overexerted himself while using his natural talents to save these people from Romulan boarders and should fully recover,” Picard said. Adama could see that Apollonia Gaeta was struggling to be patient and he was reminded of the many times he had worried about Lee and how devastating a missing in action notice would have been.
“Admiral Gaeta, it would be my pleasure to escort you there.” He held out his arm. “Your son has been one of the finest officers I’ve ever commanded, and I am sure that you have waited far too long already to see him.”
He just hoped, as she took his arm, that Cottle and his assorted horde of Starfleet medical officers had Gaeta up and about and not looking like death warmed over.