"How much time do I have?"
There was something about that sentence which made Laura uncomfortable as she said it, but, busy as she was stuffing her face before the press conference started, she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
Tory looked at her watch. "Two minutes." She tapped her foot. Laura wasn't sure whether this movement was unconscious or if Tory was doing it to emphasize her point.
"Hmm. Guess I don't have time for dessert." She reached for her cup of water.
"I still don't understand why you won't eat on the Galactica," Tory complained.
"Oh, I will." Laura wiped her mouth. "I'll manage a nibble here and there, between being accosted by various members of the crew and the government, and then eventually I'll get more than half a minute to myself and I'll turn around and all the food will be gone." She stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in her suit. "Do I look presentable?"
Her aide looked her over. "There are breadcrumbs on your sleeve."
Laura tutted at herself and brushed the offending morsels away. "Better?" she asked.
Tory nodded. "Ready?"
"As ever." Laura smiled. "Let's go."
The curtain was pulled back, and Laura stepped up to the podium to face the crowd.
Bill Adama was in the front row, with Apollo and his wife farther back, standing now with the others to applaud; with Galactica more or less stationary at the moment to oversee mining operations Laura supposed Bill had thought he could safely let – make? – them attend. She donned her presidential smile as she surveyed the room, spotting a couple of members of the Quorum of Twelve in the second row behind Tom Zarek and mentally rehearsing things to say to them when their paths inevitably crossed at the party.
The flashing of the press' cameras died down and Laura allowed her audience to sit before addressing them.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began. "Today we celebrate Colonial Day..."
--
"Nice speech," said a voice behind Laura as she stepped away from the podium. She turned around to find Tom Zarek looking at her with that air of subtle smugness he always seemed to have about him.
"Thank you," she replied, offering him a small smile. "But Tory deserves most of the credit."
"Hmm, no," Zarek said. "No, she may have written it, but you're the one who made it all sound so... inspirational."
Laura let her smile stay in place, even though this was one of those many instances when she wasn't sure if her vice president was mocking her or being genuine; although it was usually, she had decided, a rather intricate combination of both. "Well, I hope I've inspired you to do a good job holding the fort here tonight."
"As long as you don't drink so much that I'll have to hold it tomorrow as well. I do have my own business to attend to as well, you know."
"I know all too well, Tom. In fact I seem to recall one Colonial Day where your chief order of business was to have me assassinated." She raised an eyebrow.
"Now now, Laura." He wagged a finger at her. "You never proved that."
"Hmm." She narrowed her eyes. "So long as you don't try to stage a coup in my absence."
Zarek grinned. "Don't worry, Laura. I don't think the fleet is ready to accept me as President just yet."
"Oh, so you do aspire to the presidency?"
"Maybe." He smirked. "But tonight I'll be busy trying to keep the press entertained. The facilities here are somewhat... lacking, you know."
"As opposed to the Astral Queen?" Laura said.
"Good point," he conceded, nodding. His demeanor changed to something more resembling seriousness. "I'm sure I can make do."
Laura allowed herself a real smile. "Don't drink too much and do something scandalous; my government's actions reflect on me, you know."
Zarek smirked again. "Same goes for you, Madam President. Have a good time, though."
"I will certainly do my best." She turned and began to make her way towards the airlock, following those who had already departed. "Oh," she said, turning around just before she walked out of sight, "And don't sit in my chair."
Zarek's answering salute was typically jocular.
--
The shuttle Laura and the dozen or so other people going back from Colonial One to the party on Galactica were sharing for their short trip was almost spacious. The seats in the passenger area weren't as comfortable as the ones on Colonial One, it was true, but there was a bathroom containing an actual bath, and real cooking appliances in the medium-sized kitchen opposite.
There was also a small cabin meant for the captain and his co-pilot to share on longer flights, which Laura had been offered the use of. Unfortunately she knew that, as this was not one of those longer flights, she had no excuse to hide away in there instead of mingling. Which would have been fine, but the Quorum representative from Aerolon who was currently demanding her attention was such a bore...
"Of course, that brings up the issue of whether or not we should be promoting the breeding of the sheep rather than the goats, which would bring its own complications…" he droned.
Laura smiled and nodded and tried to look interested.
"Mr. Gillan, might I borrow the President for a moment?" Bill Adama appeared at her elbow and she shot him a grateful smile.
"...Of course," Gillan replied after a second's hesitation, though annoyance flashed in his eyes as he turned away.
Bill grinned and leaned closer to her to say in an undertone, "You looked like you needed rescuing."
She nodded, returning the grin. "Thanks."
"All part of the service, Madam President." He gestured towards a pair of vacant seats near the buffet table – and why did they need a buffet table anyway? The trip was going to take all of ten minutes – and raised his eyebrows. "Care to join me for a quick meal of whatever they're trying to pass off as gourmet cuisine today?"
"I'll pass on the cuisine, but the champagne looks enticing."
They exchanged another smile and Laura took a seat, allowing Bill to get her a glass of champagne before joining her. He was nibbling a tiny sausage skewered with a cube of cheese on a cocktail stick.
"How's the food?" Laura asked wryly, sipping her champagne.
Bill swallowed, looking at his cube of cheese distastefully. "They try to make it fancy by putting it on a little stick, but in the end it's still just meat and cheese." He bit the cheese off the stick and chewed. "Not very good cheese, either."
"Ah, but when was the last time you had very good food anyway, Bill?" Laura said, inwardly asking the same question of herself. Probably not since that restaurant she'd visited the day before the attacks for a working lunch with Richard... She blinked and snapped herself back to the present. "No offense to Galactica's galley, of course."
"Hmm," Bill replied, tactfully not commenting on that last. "Last month. It was Lee's birthday. Dee cooked a meal." His gaze wandered to the far side of the cabin, where his daughter-in-law was engaged in conversation with Tory. "It was pretty good." He sounded wistful.
Laura decided not to remark upon his tone, nor on the decidedly stand-offish behavior she had seen between Apollo and his wife lately. "In that case," she said instead, "I'm quite jealous of you. You'll have to smuggle me out a portion next time."
"And go hungry myself?" Bill's eyes twinkled as he shook his head, though there was still some hint of melancholy beneath it. "There are many things I'd do for you, Laura, but that's not one of them." He paused. "Unless you want my cheese on a stick," he added, holding a second piece out to her.
She laughed. "Like I said, I'll pass on the—"
She was interrupted by a loud CRASH which shook the ship and almost threw both herself and Bill out of their seats. Looking around the still trembling shuttle as Bill jumped to his feet and hurried to the cockpit, she was glad she hadn't been standing; some people had clearly been thrown across the cabin and several looked like they had been injured, though none seriously that she could see.
Apollo offered Dualla his hand to help her to her feet but she waved him off. They both followed the Admiral towards the cockpit and Laura made to follow.
"Madam President, are you alright?" said Tory's voice from behind her, and Laura stopped in her tracks and turned to face her assistant, stumbling as she did so when the ship shook again.
"I'm fine," she said briskly. "We need to find out what's—"
A Cylon raider flitted past the window not fifty yards away.
"...happening," Laura finished weakly.
The Admiral came back into the cabin. "We're under attack," he announced. "We're going to try an emergency landing on Galactica as soon as the Vipers have been launched. In the meantime hold tight – we'll be performing evasive maneuvers."
Laura barely had time to reclaim her chair before another explosion rocked the ship – and she found herself floating upwards and away from the chair in ricochet.
"Frak it," Bill muttered. "The grav generator's gone." He was floating lengthwise in midair, having only just managed to grab the arm of the chair before they'd been hit.
Tory had not been so lucky, Laura saw – her nose was bloodied from colliding with something and she was now being helped to a seat by some of her fellow passengers, the rest of whom were prudently fastening seatbelts. Laura followed suit.
Bill seemed about to do the same when Dualla appeared at the door to the cockpit. "Sir?"
Laura thought she sounded worried. Bill evidently agreed, because he propelled himself over to Dualla – with remarkable grace, considering how long ago his zero-gravity training must have been – and answered her in a hushed voice. Then they both disappeared back into the cockpit.
All in all, this was rather unsettling.
Laura tried to think of something she could do to help, but the shuttle seemed to be accelerating, forcing her back against her seat, and she had to conclude that the best thing she could do was to stay there and set a calm, composed example.
Gods, she hated doing nothing in a crisis.
Her fellow passengers seemed remarkably composed, as well; at least dealing with somebody else's panic attack would make her feel like she was contributing, but really there was no help she could provide for these people...
The acceleration seemed to pick up even more, and Bill and Dualla came flying hurriedly out of the cockpit, heading for the closest free seats. Bill reclaimed his place next to Laura.
"That last hit knocked us into the gravitational pull of one of the asteroids," he said to her in an undertone. "Our propulsion system's half-frakked, so the best we can do is try to make the landing not too bumpy."
"You mean we're going to crash?" Laura asked, somehow needing confirmation of what he had in as many words just told her.
"Yep." Bill grinned, fastening his seatbelt. "Will this be your first crash landing, Madam President?" he asked, in the same tone as one might ask if it was her first visit to Picon.
"Yes it is, Admiral," she replied, trying hard to play along with his joviality. "Would you please advise me as to the proper customs to be observed for this occasion."
"Certainly, Madam President." He looked at her; his steady gaze was somehow comforting. "You hold tight and pray."
Laura managed a laugh despite herself. "Right," she said. "Right. I think I can do that." She reached out to squeeze his hand, seeking some kind of physical comfort as well. He smiled back.
"Brace, brace!" the pilot yelled from the cockpit.
Laura's stomach flipped as they plunged downward, and she held tight and prayed.
