01 - Battlestar Galactica Read Online Free Page B

floor. Stunned, and more than a little dizzy, he fought
his way back to his feet, fighting off the helping hands of nearby crewmen.
Thrace had been pulled back by Boomer and Helo, but she was struggling to break
free. “I’m fine—I’m fine,” she snapped. After a moment, they let her go. She
pushed her hair calmly back out of her face, then lunged for him again. Helo
grabbed her, and this time pushed her well clear of Tigh.
    The colonel gathered himself, summoning all of his faculties to speak clearly
through the alcohol haze. At last he had her where he wanted her. He pointed a
finger at Thrace, a deliberate calm tightly wrapped around the steel anger in
his voice, controlling the quaver that threatened to betray his real condition.
“You have finally gone too far. And now you’re done.”
    She sneered.
    “Lieutenant—consider yourself under arrest, pending charges. Report to the
brig.”
    Thrace never dropped the sneer, but she did give him the satisfaction of
looking surprised. She bent down, picked up her fallen cigar. Obviously making a
deliberate effort to look unperturbed, she glanced around the room with a slight
smile. “Gentlemen,” she said and, jamming the cigar between her teeth, turned
and swaggered from the room.
    Tigh watched with scarcely contained fury. This time he had her. This time he
would break her for good.
     
    The photographers would be arriving soon, and Commander Adama had to get
ready. He pulled a clean dress uniform jacket out of his closet. “Are you really gonna press charges against Kara?” he
asked, turning to look at Colonel Tigh.
    Tigh was sunk into an easy chair in Adama’s stateroom. He looked anything but
at ease. “For striking a superior officer? You’re damn right I am.” Tigh pushed
himself up and walked across the room to Adama’s desk.
    Adama grunted and refrained from saying a few words that came to mind. “I
heard you started the day off pretty early.” He was increasingly worried about
Tigh’s drinking problem. If they weren’t both so close to retirement, he would
be forced to do something about it. Saul had always been a drinker, but until
the last few months, he had managed to not let it get in the way of his duties.
Of course, until the last few months, his wife Ellen had been a lot more
discreet about her infidelities.
    Tigh picked up the framed photo that Adama had received from the hangar crew
earlier in the day. “I wasn’t on duty,” he said with quiet defensiveness. He
studied the picture as he carried it back to the easy chair. “Now, where did you
get this?” he asked in amazement.
    “Tyrol’s deck gang scrounged it up.” Adama still found it hard to believe. He
sat on the edge of his bunk and began taking off his boots. “I couldn’t talk you
out of it, could I?”
    Tigh gave one of those silent snorts that Adama could have heard in the next
room. “Not a chance. She’s insubordinate, undisciplined—”
    Adama interrupted. “She’s probably one of the best fighter pilots I’ve ever
seen in my life. She’s better than I am. Twice as good as you.”
    “Like hell,” Tigh growled. He tapped the photo. “How long ago was this?”
    Adama shrugged, wiped his face and neck with a towel. “Must’ve been about
twenty, twenty-five years ago. I don’t know.” He put the towel down. “Listen. I’m not going to defend what she did.
Especially the crack about your marital problems. But you did kick over
the table first.”
    “I did not…” Tigh stopped suddenly and paused in thought. “Unless I did.”
    Adama just looked at his old friend for a moment, thinking of the long years
they’d been together—of all the bar fights, all the Cylon fights, all the
battles with military bureaucracy. Tigh had always been the one with the
incendiary temper, and Adama the one to intervene with a cooler head. “You did.
What do you say you drop the formal charges and just let her cool her heels in
the brig until we’re