“Attention on deck!” Hamish ‘Skulls’ McCall barked as Mathias entered the berthing compartment to which the visiting pilots had been assigned. “As you were,” the Commander said as the pilots and ECOs quickly stood and came to attention. “Which one of you unlucky bastards is Fuzzy?”
Suddenly, one pilot’s face drained of blood and Mathias bared his teeth—if sharks could smile, it might charitably be called such. “The rest of you . . . OUT,” he commanded and the other pilots and ECOs quickly departed; Mathias closed the hatch behind them.
“Lieutenant Jarrell Kief,” Mathias said as he walked up to the pilot, still showing his teeth. “How did you get that call-sign of Fuzzy, Mister Kief?”
“M-my mustache,” he stammered as he stood at attention, his gaze fixed on the far wall. “My flight instructor said it looked like a fuzzy caterpillar, Sir.”
“You don’t have a mustache now, do you?”
“Still have problems growing a mustache, Fuzzy?”
“Then where is that mustache, Mister Kief?” Mathias asked in a very quiet voice.
“I-I shaved it off, Sir.”
He looked down, and mumbled something.
“What was that?”
“The girls didn’t like it,” he said quietly.
“I see. Would that be the civilian
girls or the ‘girls
’ that wear the uniform of a Colonial officer, such as my niece
“I-I . . . ,” he stammered, and his voice trailed off.
Mathias leaned in close to him. “Yes, Mister Kief, I believe it would be in your best interest to think
about your answers to my questions. What are your intentions regarding my niece, Mister Kief?”
He looked up and there was pure horror in his eyes. “My intentions?” he yelped.
Mathias just stood there.
“Oh, we aren’t in a relationship
, Sir, we were just blowing off steam,” and then he closed his eyes as he realized just how that sounded.
“So you decided to crawl into a rack with my
niece, not because you love her, but because she was a good lay
“Well, we never actually finis- . . .,” he began.
“Are you saying that my
a good lay, Mister Kief?” the Commander snapped.
The poor pilot just groaned and sweat began to pop out on his forehead. Mathias stepped back and he put his hands on his hips.
“My niece is a grown woman, Mister Kief. And she has every right to have intercourse with any man she chooses. Of course, given her limited options for partners, that gave you probably your best chance to have a one-night stand with my niece. Because otherwise, I would imagine she wouldn’t give a scrawny, fuzzy, miserable, ugly-ass pilot such as yourself a second glance. Am I correct, Mister Kief?”
“Sir, she’s had worse!” And then his eyes grew even wider and he began to sway.
“Did you just mean
to imply that my niece is a slut
, Mister Kief?” Mathias asked in a pleasant sounding voice—that was utterly and completely belied by the coldness in his eyes. “That she is a loose woman of no morals who will hop into bed with anyone for any reason? Tell me that you did not
just imply that slur upon her character to my face
, Lieutenant. And for the sake of all the Gods, unlock your knees before you pass out on my deck.”
Mathias waited and he got only silence. “Ah. You are learning that sometimes there is no right answer and that sometimes the best thing to do is keep your fracking mouth shut and your fracking trousers zipped
—is that correct, Mister Kief?”
“Yes, Sir!” he barked.
“Good. Now, I have a piece of advice for you. You will be going back to Galactica
soon—but until then, you are on my
ship. Which means . . . what
, Mister Kief?”
“I’m not to touch your niece in any way whatsoever, Sir?”
Mathias smiled. “See, you do
learn. Mister Kief, I will promise you this—you hurt Margaret in any way, shape, or form, and I will
make certain that Admiral Adama gives me your ass as part of my air group. And I will make you pay
for those sins until Tarterus is closed due to ice. Do you understand me?”
“Good. Now get out of here and stay out of my sight while you remain on my ship,” Mathias growled—and the pilot literally bolted from the berth.