A Rumor of Peace

He hit the entry buzzer and waited, lifting his hands to straighten his beige uniform shirt tucked into matching beige pants, a dark brown jacket, with a weapons belt around his hips, the holster tied with a thin leather strap around his thigh to anchor it in place.  He then ran a hand through his dark thick hair, slightly longer than what was considered to be regulation as the ends curled at his neck and the collar of his jacket.

He even drew in several deep breaths, releasing them slowly in an attempt to calm his racing heart, but THAT was to be a lost cause as a deep muffled voice called out, "Enter."

He stepped forward, the pressurized door sliding open at his approach with a hiss.  He entered the large, brightly lit office, his combat boots making no sound as he crossed the carpeted floor toward the large, dark oak desk that sat before a wall of floor to ceiling windows, a stunning view of Caprica Bay behind them.

He halted before the desk, saluting sharply to the three men.  One was sitting, the other two, his eldest twin sons standing on either side of him, each leaning lightly against a corner of the desk.  The three men looked identical in black flight shirts tucked into black pants, and a scarlet jacket.  All three of them were dark haired, cut short to their heads, though the one sitting had hair that was just slightly longer, interspersed with grey.  The seated man had eyes of a dark, forest green.  The elder of his twin sons also has eyes of forest green, while the other had bright blue.

"Lt. Roark Peverell Potter reporting as ordered, Sir," he said, noticing two files on the immaculate desk, both open.  'One is probably mine,' he thought, but the other...The other he had an idea, but--A barely smothered chuckle sounded, drawing his attention back to the three, seeing an amused smile on the lips of the man to the left.

"Gabriel, behave," the seated man said in a slightly reproving tone, though he too was smiling.  "Relax, Roark.  Have a seat.  Dac, get Roark a cup of tea, please.  Have you had anything to eat today, Rory?"

He blinked, a questioning look in his eyes.  "I...don't understand," he said, looking from the Admiral, to Gabriel, then over to Dacian, who was now at the sideboard.  "Major Raphael ended our training session early to say that I had been ordered to report to you.  I thought it was official, so I came right away, and no sir," he went on quickly, seeing a dark brow raise.  "I had something about six hundred this morning, but nothing since.  I haven't had any time to eat yet."

"We made it an order because we needed this to look as official as was possible."  Admiral Roark Durin, patriarch of the current Durin hoard said with a warm smile.  "Dac, call down and get him some lunch as well, would you?  He has to be getting hungry by now."

Roark's stomach chose that moment to let out a rather loud rumble, alerting them that he was, indeed, getting hungry.  All three Durin's chuckled and Roark felt his face heat up.  "Sorry, Sir," he said, though he didn't sound, or look a bit contrite.

"Of course, Dad," he said, "and don't be sorry, Rory.  Eating as early as you did, you were bound to be getting hungry about this time, though I AM surprised it wasn't sooner."

"So am I," he murmured softly.

"Just in case someone was watching our movements," Gabriel spoke up, picking up from where his father had left off moments ago.  "It is, however, far more personal.  Ralph should have let you eat something before your class."

"Best not to eat anything before classes with him," he told them with a slight chuckle.  Then he sobered.  "Personal?" he asked, his head tilting slightly as he took a seat in one of the chairs before the desk, taking the steaming mug and sipping from it immediately, his eyes slipping closed with a deep sigh of appreciation as Dacian next reached for the com pad.  "Thank you, Dacian.  If I didn't want it to get back to Harry, I'd tell you your tea was better than his, but I don't, so I won't."