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New Caprica
26:00
Septembris (September)- month nine of occupation
Shrouded in the pale August veil, soft pinks and hushed violet provided a muted backdrop for the constant shower of falling leaves. Burnt and crisp, their violent exteriors braced fleeting winds to trail across the sky, settling at last in New Caprica's soil. The last of August settling - dry and dead on a world about to freeze. The sky fought back as sun slipped further in its shorter path around their home. Eventually all the colour drained - winds picked the leaves up and carried the colour elsewhere. Night - and another month, fell heavily onto New Caprica.
*~*
Laura struggled back in the dark cool of her tent. It was two hours until the new day though you could scarce believe it from the world outside. Winter, it seemed, was teething the edges of their world, the cold skipping seasons without care - thrusting the last of the human race into weak ice drifts. The tents they stayed in barely kept this cold out - it would be much better to be caged up in one of the few ships left in orbit. You didn't dare say that out loud though, it all but accounted for mutiny these days.
These days... Laura half laughed to herself. So this was the time they lived in. Today was the day, a mark in the new history - where they had officially been on the surface of New Caprica longer than they had run from the Cylons in space. And three months from now would be Baltar's one year anniversary as President of the Colonies. The people would celebrate - they had already begun to make preparations for the event. Kobol knows why. Funny though, a lot can happen in three months.
Laura, for one, certainly wasn't holding her breath for stability.
Another jolt of wind pushed inward on the tent. The darkness was well into ‘deep’ by now, unlike summer where night scarcely got a look in. The few candles in the corner lit the air enough for her to glance at her watch. No fire tonight – the hour was late and she didn’t want to draw any extra attention to her tent.
Ten past - he was late.
Their last meeting had been full of promise, if not surprise. Her official status in the Colony remained simply as Laura Roslin, Teacher of the children. Unofficially, people whispered her old title as she passed by - dared to call her 'Ma'am' when she purchased goods from the market, and watched carefully over her wherever she went in case word of her new rise to power inside the Colony should reach Baltar. The Admiral - Bill, had seemed pleased with this development, though perhaps that is too softer word for it. The Admiral was invigorated - drawing from her resurrection strength of his own. It was something unique to start anew - all the pent up strength that had grown under the suppression of Baltar's reign - so why wasn't he here already? They had so much to discuss, and, unless she was very much mistaken - they had grown closer in these past months. She wanted to see if for no other reason than to simply, see him.
Twenty past... This was late - even for him. If something had happened to his transport ship - then she would have known already. The night sky over New Caprica would have lit up like a beacon in the dark - and the settlement broken out into chaos. The still and the cold told her that this had not come to pass.
Someone's fingertips brushed the outer material of her tent, their feet sinking slightly into the freshly made mud. Laura felt her breath skip slightly, the movement of the person outside not that of the Admiral. She knew his walk too well - the way he rested his hand over the zipper just long enough to breathe in the free air he fought for but so rarely got to taste.
No - this person was not William Adama.
Two days after they had settled the surface of this gods-forsaken planet, Tigh had come to see her, make sure she had settled in. On this trip he had slipped a weapon under her pile of blankets, and though she protested he would not retrieve it.
"I am under orders from the top - you will thank me one day Madame President."
She was thankful now that she had left it there. Sliding over as quietly as she could, she pushed her hand under the pile of course haired quilts, her fingers curling around the edge of a Colonial Standard issue firearm as the figure outside her tent reached the entrance, kneeling slightly to find the zipper at the base.
This was always a possibility, after the events they had set into motion last month she had prepared herself for visitors, but she had relaxed after three weeks. Underestimating Baltar's skill – it seemed.
Devastatingly slowly the zipper undid itself. Laura slid the metal out from under the pile - a sharp 'click' as she released the safety, the only evidence of her existence. Hands shaking, she raised the weapon at the entrance, preparing herself to brandish the gods-awful thing, and, if necessary, fire its death into the poor soul. Something she distantly remembers swearing never to do.
But times change. And they had.
The clarity of night, but not the identity of the intruder peered through the opening, their figure still hidden behind the fragile material. Laura steadied the glock, desperate to stop it trembling in her hands.
"Madame President?"
She gripped the base of the weapon tighter. A trap?
"Laura - are you in there?"
The voice lowered, a hesitant whisper - vaguely anxious in delivery. Its owner somewhat familiar.
Around the edge of the opening, Commander Adama, the younger, carefully ducked inside the ex-president's tent - checking the area outside for Baltar's spies before zipping it closed in one swift movement. Turning, he found the cold of Laura's weapon trained squarely on his face. He had never seen Laura this way - her eyes completely frozen and unwavering.
"Laura - for frak's sake, put that down." Lee reached forward, gently altering its aim with his hand, repeating his request.
"Oh - I'm sorry. I thought - " She lowered the weapon and switched the safety back on. "It's just - "
"No need to explain ma'am. These are dangerous times for all of us." He smiled reassuringly at her, there was something comforting in knowing that she was back, and that she was ready to fight.
"Is everything alright? I was expecting your father but he hasn't shown yet."
"He's not coming, not tonight. Baltar's having him followed at the moment. He's damn lucky, after delivering that letter of yours the rumour was that Baltar was going to have him stripped of his title."
"It would never stand - Baltar may be President, but Bill will always be the Admiral - he's nothing short of a god to the Colony."
"Baltar knows this - he doesn't want to get into a power struggle with Dad, especially when he can't be sure of victory." Lee paused. "The Admiral sent me here to make sure you were okay, he knew you'd be waiting for him. He has not forgotten you." Lee added the last part, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Something had changed between his father and Ms. Roslin, not since their decent to New Caprica - long before that. After her miraculous recovery things had been different - he wouldn't be half surprised if they were...
"Thank you Lee. I admit I was a little concerned."
"The gun to my head was a hint Madame President."
"Sorry about that."
"Don't be - it's a good sign. You've come a long way since the end of the world."
"Haven't we all." Haven't we all she repeated to herself, briefly reminiscing over the lives that they had all left.
To her surprise, she and Lee talked well into the next day. It had been a while since either of them had sat down and had a good conversation about their respective lives - to anyone. Lee talked about Dee - apparently the Viper Jockey needed some motherly advice after all, and Laura, keenly mourning the loss of her dear Billy, needed to mother someone. By the end of it, they had bridged just about every topic they could find and found a deeper sense of friendship with each other. It was strangely surreal, almost a reminiscence of her first few months drifting through space.
"I have to go." he said finally, as they finished another bout of quiet laughter over some trivial event. "I only took leave for three hours, it is well beyond that now."
"Oh frak - I have to get the classes ready for tomorrow, oh, today..."
Lee grinned. "You know, there was a time when you would never take a word in vain."
"That was the time I became President of the last humans left alive in the galaxy - let's just say I changed my speech habits a little."
"Ah." They both held their faces serious - for a moment anyway, before breaking out into smirks quickly followed by deep laughter.
*~*
Sweeping the outmost layers of atmosphere of New Caprica, Bill stood on the observation deck. Cusps of clouds edged forth from the planet's surface and stretched as far as they could into the darkness of space. He could almost feel the ice they held laden and heavy in their form. Snow encroached from the upper pole, creeping through the deep gashes of valleys and trailing the higher mountain ranges down toward the settlement. They had not experienced true winter - not yet.
The year threatened to come full circle shortly, everything happening again as it had done a thousand times before. The world, existence, tumbling through in frustratingly infinite circles. And he was up here, removed - isolated. Finding himself cut off from the one thing he wanted most in what was left of this life. They say a man goes down with his ship, well then, Bill resigned himself to be a child. He didn’t want to go down – not yet, with or without his ship.
Galactica's tired hull groaned under the pull of yet another turn about the world. What were they fighting for now? Sometimes Bill didn't even know. He was so tired of fighting. He wanted to rest - relax and live out the remainder of his life with the woman he had come to love. But destiny wouldn't let him do that - not yet. He could feel the approaching storm below - he could feel it all around him.
Author Notes:
Set after A Meeting With the President chapter 5