Character Study #2 by rita (mommacita1@juno.com) Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just like to play with 'em. I walked in with him, of course. Actually, not *with*. He followed a half-step behind. It would be obsequious in someone else, but that's the way he really is now. The lecture room was three-quarters full - it's a required course. I explained about the loss of Sergeant Haynes, a fine veteran, who should have stuck to teaching when his reflexes got too slow. But I'm getting off the subject. Then I introduced him. Some of them had recognized him already, but most only knew the name. I asked if there were any questions, but of course there were none for the head of the Academy. I walked back up the aisle, leaving him behind the lectern on the dais. The door had not quite closed behind me when the buzz started. I caught it and listened. Some of it was quiet, innocent curiosity. But louder, and more insistent, were the derogatory comments, the unsubtle innuendoes, meant to be heard by the man at the front of the room. I reached to open the door. I meant to re-enter to restore order and lay down the law - of common courtesy, even on a Battlestar, if nothing else. But before I could, he moved. He limped to the center of the dais, and thumped his cane once, hard, on the polished floor. Those who weren't already staring at him as they made their vicious comments, turned and looked. And everyone stopped speaking. He looked over their heads, standing erect, just barely using the cane to keep his balance. And then he began speaking in a soft voice, unamplified, but one that carried through the silent room. "I don't expect - or deserve - your respect for myself as a person. But I do expect you to respect the position and the rank." The whispers started up again. The cane rose and fell once more, and the whisperers were hushed into silence. He acknowledged this with a small nod. "I ask that you hear me out. If you still feel that I'm unfit to be your instructor after I'm done, I will request reassignment." He paused, but there was no sound in the room. He pressed his lips together for a moment and continued. "What happened to me, what I did as a result, and whether I was sufficiently disciplined for it are irrelevant here. What makes me quite possibly the best instructor you could ever have is who and what I was before I was imprisoned. I was the best viper pilot on the Galactica." It wasn't a boast, simply a statement of fact, and the cadets all seemed to realize it. "I can show you how to be the best, all of you. If you want to learn that, credit me with the respect my experience deserves - respect the rank I earned by being the best. Respect the fact that, while we're in this room, or on practice runs, I am your instructor. Once we leave this room, off-duty, avoid me, curse me, spit on me if you wish. I won't either pull rank or report you. I have trouble living with myself, I certainly won't blame any of you." He paused and closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "But I cannot teach you if you cannot leave your personal feelings for me outside these walls." He leaned heavily on the cane with both hands now, head bowed, waiting. Finally, one of the girls from the "in" crowd rose from her seat, halfway up the ranks in the center section. He raised his head at the sound. She looked around, including the entire group in her statement. "We would be honored to have you teach us, Lieutenant." He straightened, nodded acknowledgement, and returned to the lectern. "In that case," he said, opening his notes, "let's begin with a review." I closed the door softly, and turned to find my father standing silently behind me. "They think he's a coward," I whispered, tears filling my eyes. But my father shook his head. "They may have thought that until now. But they just had a lesson in what real courage is."