Part 8 – Choices

Dr. Salik was tired. He was tired physically and emotionally from having failed too many of his patients. He walked out of the Sterile Room and leaned against the door, looking around the ill-equipped Life Bay. At one time, he had access to the most advanced medical instruments and treatments available in the Colonies. Now he was relegated to reusing instruments that had never been intended to be used more than once and improvising other instruments when the need arose; he was learning to use herbs and other medicinal plants instead of merely sending patients to the dispensary for medicine; anesthesia and painkillers were in short supply and used only when absolutely necessary. Loraio was only the most recent in a long line of patients he had not been able to do anything for now. If he had the resources available to him that he had before the Destruction…

Cassiopeia had just spent four centars helping him remove the useless limb.

The nerve regenerator hadn’t worked. He had given the leg time; more time than he normally would, but eventually he had to face the fact that there was no possibility of its usefulness returning. The expression on Loraio’s face when he told him was one of resignation and bitterness. The young man had said nothing else.

“How did it go, Doctor?”

Adama had stopped down in the Life Bay to check on Loraio. Apollo had informed him before he left on his patrol that the leg would be coming off today.

“Right below the knee. He’ll be able to walk. We’ll fit him with a mechanical limb once he’s well enough again, but it will take time for him to get used to it.”

“That’s not what you’re concerned about, is it?”

Salik shook his head. “No, not at all. Physically, he’ll be fine. Mentally… We kept him away from scanners as much as possible, but he’s seen the IFB reports raking him over the firefields. Langley came down to see him, and Loraio hammered him until he admitted that he was suspended indefinitely from work detail and denied security clearance. He’s heard the Councilors demanding he be tried for war crimes. War crimes!”

“I know Doctor. Tinia and I are both fighting them, but Sire Domra is determined to make him a scapedaggit not only for Baltar, but also for their ineptitude that led to the whole incident.”

“Divert the focus from questioning their judgement and place the blame squarely on an innocent,” Salik began removing the operating gowns. “It’s the last thing he needs right now.”

“I know Doctor. I’ll try to force the Council to resolve this – favorably – as soon as possible. In the meantime, is there anything else we can do?”

“Pray.”

Apollo had returned from his patrol, tired and ready for a cycle of sleep. There was a message that his father wanted to see him at once, so after decontamination, he headed to the Commander’s quarters.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Come in, Apollo,” Adama greeted him. “Everything went well?”

“Routine,” he nodded. “Were still tracking the signal from the Eastern Alliance Destroyer. It should lead us right to Lunar Seven with no problems.”

“Good. Good.” Adama was pleased.

“That’s not what you wanted to talk to me about, is it?”

“No.” Adama hesitated, trying to think of the best way to phrase the concerns he had. Though it had been in his thoughts for some time, he was still unsure how to approach the subject with Apollo without sounding accusing or biased. “I’m wondering, lately, just how much of our personalities are under our own control.”

Apollo frowned. “I don’t understand…”

“My father commanded this battlestar, I command this battlestar. I’m hoping one day you will command this battlestar -“

“Father -“

“Is it our destiny?” Adama continued, ignoring Apollo’s interruption. “Do we have control or is it inevitable what we will become?”

Apollo waited a micron, seeing if his father was asking a rhetorical question. “I take it you’re not talking about us, specifically.”

Adama smiled. “No. I am thinking of Loraio.”

“If you mean that simply because his father is Baltar that he’ll do something as heinous as what that… that… traitor did, there’s no way.”

“Perhaps, yes. If he had simply been allowed to live his life the way he had been, I don’t think he presented a threat. Things have changed, Apollo.”

“No, I can’t believe that.”

“Chances are, Apollo, in one way or another he will be persecuted his entire life. Even when – if – we clear him of the Council’s charges, do you honestly believe he will be accepted into the Fleet? Do you think all of the people will freely accept Baltar’s son as a part of our citizenry?”

Apollo pursed his lips, understanding what his father meant.

“And how will that make him feel?” Adama continued. “Will he be able to stand up to all of that acrimony? I knew Baltar for a very long time before the Destruction, and as much as I found him insufferable and pompous, I never would have thought him capable of such actions.”

Apollo rose from the seat and looked out of the viewport in Adama’s quarters. Apollo could sympathize with the young man. He had felt great pressure, being the son of a man so revered through the Colonies, and now the Fleet. It was hard to fathom what it was like to be the son of someone so universally hated.

“How did the operation go?” Apollo asked without turning around to look at his father.

“About as well as can be expected. Dr. Salik took the leg off below his knee.”

“He’s a good man, father. I honestly believe that.”

“As do I. But we cannot protect him from the feelings that are out there in the Fleet for the remainder of his life.”

Apollo turned from the viewport. “So what are you suggesting? Are you suggesting that we just dump him off somewhere because we’re afraid of what he might do one day?”

“No, no. Not at all. It’s just a concern,” Adama replied soothingly. “I honestly do not know what to do with him Apollo. On one hand, I do recognize that he is not the same as Baltar and don’t think he should be treated as such. On the other…”

“On the other, you’re wondering – between losing his leg and the ferocity of the protests about him living amongst our people – if that will change him somehow.”

“I do not have the answers Apollo. I am merely wondering if certain personality traits or can be inherited.”

“I don’t know, Father,” Apollo admitted. “But I think Trev… Loraio is a good person.” He hesitated, unsure of whether or not he wanted to hear the answer to his next question. “Have you had any reaction from Baltar?”

“I send the reports over there, Apollo. Whether or not he chooses to read them, or what his reactions might be are none of my concern. I am only doing that because I know that if it were me, my first and only concern would be for my son. I don’t believe Baltar shares that concern, but I do think he has the right to know.”

“And you don’t think…” Apollo trailed off. “You don’t think there’s any hope that Baltar could change with his son?”

“Not after what I witnessed in the shuttle. If he hasn’t changed up until now, I doubt that he ever will.”

“I guess I’m just looking for something to motivate him; something to give him the desire to tough all of this out in the Fleet.” Apollo was pacing the room. Suddenly, an idea dawned on him.

Loraio awoke slowly and felt his thoughts slowly clear. Nothing felt any different, though Dr. Salik had warned him about the “phantom” feelings that his leg was still there. Liquid was still being pumped into his arms. Slowly, he boosted himself up onto his elbows and saw that his right leg was indeed gone below his knee. With a groan, he flung himself back down on the bed.

Why couldn’t he be dead right now? He had been resigned to it when the Alliance Enforcer had pointed the weapon at him; he would have welcomed it. Instead he was still alive, crippled and persecuted. Soon he would probably be sent to live the rest of his life with his father on the Prison Barge.

The thought made his blood run cold. ‘No, that will not happen,’ he decided. He began pulling out the tubes from his arm.

“Loraio!” Cassie shouted as she came running across the room. “What are you doing? Stop it!”

“Getting out of here! Getting out of this fracking place. Just let me die! Why didn’t you just let me die!”

Cassie put a hand on him trying to stop him from pulling out the last of the tubes, but he flung her hand away, nearly causing her to lose her balance.

“Loraio, stop,” she said simply. She knew what was about to happen – it had happened before, with other patients – and it was a scene she never grew used to.

“Frack off!” he shouted at her, and tried to stand up. For a micron, he wobbled on his good leg, then crashed to the floor.

For a few microns, he started to crawl, then finally gave up and loud, wrenching sobs overtook him.

“It’s all right.” Cassie knelt down and took his head in her arms, holding him and comforting him. “It’s all right.”

“What did I do wrong? It’s not my fault! I never wanted to be his son! I hate him! I hate him!” Cassie held him and they didn’t move. “Why did this happen to me? What did I do wrong?” Dr. Salik walked over, panicked at seeing some traces of blood near where the leg had been taken off, but Cassie motioned him away. Loraio needed this right now.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his anguish began to slow down.

“Think you can help me get you back into the bed, Loraio?” Cassie asked.

He looked up at her, wiping the tears from his eyes. He nodded his head and held onto her as she slipped herself under his arm on his right side. Together they stood up. She helped him back into the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Cassie said soothingly. “You needed to get that off your chest. After what you’ve been through, I think you have the right to a little explosion. Can you let us check you over and put this stuff back in you?”

Loraio nodded. Everything that had been building up for sectars had been loosed just now, and in a way he did feel a little better.

“Well, you didn’t do any more damage, thank the Lords. I put a lot of work into closing that off nice and neat, you know,” Dr. Salik scolded as he examined Loraio.

“I’m sure you did,” Loraio said with a trace of a smile. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. You aren’t the first patient we’ve had in here that’s insisted on trying to walk out before he’s ready, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

“How’s our patient this morning, Doctor?”

All heads turned to see Apollo walking into the Life Bay. Inside, Loraio was thankful that the Captain hadn’t been a witness to the last scene here.

“Doing as well as can be expected.” Dr. Salik smiled at Loraio. His secret was safe. “I have real patients to attend to, if you’ll excuse me.”

“What brings you to this bastion of happiness?” Loraio’s tone was joking, but there was an edge of bitterness still present. Apollo could understand what had caused Adama to have doubts about the young man.

“Wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’ll be hopping around in no time… literally. I can hop all the way to the inquisition they have planned for me.”

“Trev -” Apollo stopped suddenly. It was such a reflex, to use the name he had first known the young man by. “Loraio, you’ve got to understand that the people who are screaming for your head right now are the people who have the most to lose. The Council made some very bad decisions, which led to the whole incident. They’re trying to cover it up, that’s all.”

“And thanks to Baltar… thanks to my father,” he corrected himself, “they have a perfect scapegoat.”

“There are lots of us who know – and appreciate – what you did. If it wasn’t for you leaving open the communications channel in the Raider, we might have tried to board at the wrong time. Baltar could have blown up the shuttle.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Apollo, but right now that looks like a pretty good option… For me, anyway.”

“So that’s it then? You just give up and die?” Apollo’s voice was rising, and getting attention from other people in the Life Bay.

“What choice do I have Apollo? I can’t fight who my father is. I tried to hide it, tried to live a somewhat normal life, and it didn’t work.”

“He haunted you…”

“Yes, he haunted me. Everywhere I went in this Fleet, he haunted me.”

“Langley said you had some pretty terrible dreams,” Apollo was trying to get him to open up completely.

“Yeah,” Loriao agreed. “I had some pretty terrible dreams. Unfortunately, everything I was frightened of is coming true. Once I was found out, everything changed. It didn’t matter that I was a good worker who did more than his fair share. It didn’t matter that I was a model citizen of this Fleet. All that seems to matter to anyone is who my father is. And now what do I do? I’ve been denied my job -“

“You’ll get it back!”

“Really? When?” Loraio waited a beat before continuing, not really expecting an answer from Apollo anyway. “And how am I going todo it anyhow? Have you ever tried crawling in the walls of this ship? I can assure you, you need two good legs to do it. A mechanical one just won’t cut it.”

“We can find something -“

“And I don’t want anyone’s pity!” he fairly screamed. “Just leave me alone.” Loraio turned away from the Captain.

For a few centons, Apollo was silent.

“My father asked me today just how much of our lives I thought we had control over. Did he become a Commander of this battlestar simply because his father did? And will I follow that same path simply because of who my father is?”

Apollo waited a few microns, but there was no response.

“Loraio,” he took a deep breath, “I can’t tell you what to feel. I’ve never walked in your shoes, no one has. But you have a choice to make, and you have to make it soon. You can choose to get on with your life and stand up to everyone who wants to persecute you for things you had nothing to do with and forge your own destiny, or you can let all of this hate and anger and bitterness consume you until you become no different than the man you profess to hate more than anything else in the universe.”

The words hung in the air. Still, there was no reaction from the young man in the bed.

“And I think there’s someone who is really counting on you to make the right choice.”

Apollo walked away without another word. Loraio turned, wanting to say something as he left.

Standing right next to the bed was Lira.

Her head was not even level with where he was sitting, but she was staring up at him with the beautiful blue eyes he had always seen on his best friend’s face.

“My Trev.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m not your Trev anymore.”

Lira seemed to regard him suspiciously. “My Trev,” she said again, more insistent.

Through the tangle of tubes running into his arm, he managed to lean over and pick her up. She sat on the edge of his bed, regarding him.

“Loraio.” He pointed to himself. “Loraio.”

“Ray-o?” she asked with a light lilt that made him smile.

“For you, Ray-o it is.”

“Ray-o! My Ray-o.” She looked down at his leg where all of the bandages were. “Broke?”

For a micron, Loraio was tempted to laugh. “Yeah, I’m broken. In more ways than one, I’m broken.”

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