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A Disquiet Follows My Soul
The talk with Boyd hadn't been an easy one. Once he makes it back to Galactica, Gaeta needs a few minutes to sit in his rack, turning the words over in his head as he ponders his options.
Plan it better. That's the big one. Hard as it'd been to hear the bluntness to Boyd's advice, he knows he needed to hear it. And he can make a lot of assumptions right now, but if there's one thing Gaeta can do -- even now -- it's collect data and extrapolate concrete numbers.
Like how many people could be on board, conceivably, if he started the mutiny today.
He picks a time when he knows the mess will be reasonably crowded: the larger the sample size, the better. Food's one of the great common denominators, so everybody -- from ensigns to captains, Marines to deck hands -- will have at least one representative in the tables.
And...oh. Look at that. Seated among today's representatives is Captain Thrace, a hand shielding her face as she picks at her food.
Perfect.
The click-tick of his crutches and prosthesis sounds loud and clear as he makes his way over to her table.
Plan it better. That's the big one. Hard as it'd been to hear the bluntness to Boyd's advice, he knows he needed to hear it. And he can make a lot of assumptions right now, but if there's one thing Gaeta can do -- even now -- it's collect data and extrapolate concrete numbers.
Like how many people could be on board, conceivably, if he started the mutiny today.
He picks a time when he knows the mess will be reasonably crowded: the larger the sample size, the better. Food's one of the great common denominators, so everybody -- from ensigns to captains, Marines to deck hands -- will have at least one representative in the tables.
And...oh. Look at that. Seated among today's representatives is Captain Thrace, a hand shielding her face as she picks at her food.
Perfect.
The click-tick of his crutches and prosthesis sounds loud and clear as he makes his way over to her table.
no subject
He's welcome to. Stopping beside him, she bends until her mouth is near his ear. "And in case you were wondering" -- her voice is low, almost sweet -- "I will definitely hit a cripple."
As she straightens up, she glances around the room at their audience. "Or anyone else."
Without another word to any of them, she turns to leave.
no subject
And then he turns his head to call to Starbuck's retreating back, "So I guess a pity frak's out of the question, then?"
Ripples of laughter cross the room; Kara herself doesn't deign to respond as she exits the mess. He counts the smiles, counts the number of people who throw him looks of disgust before rising to leave with her. The former definitely outweigh the latter.
Good.
He breathes out, shoulders sagging infinitesimally as he scrubs a hand over his face. When he looks up, nearly everyone still in the room has their eyes turned to him, as if waiting to see what he'll do next.
"Somebody close that hatch," he says, a bit too loudly. Wrestling the nerves under control, he turns in his chair to meet the gazes, one by one. "Let's talk."
The hatch thumps closed, and if he says anything more, nobody outside the room hears it.