Author's Note: Well, we've reached Episode Three at last. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed on the series so far – you are absolutely the best. I appreciate your comments immensely.
This episode occurs over the span of one day, and is mostly Romo Lampkin focused, and is…well, read it and you'll see :)
Enjoy!# # #
"We've had multiple attacks in the past few weeks, according to the reports I got two days ago. And with so few people that are experienced with handling weapons, patrols and hostile situations, we're losing people. A lot of people."
Romo listened as Dianna Eyrie; the current delegate for Beta – the second-largest settlement on this continent – spoke up in regards to the situation with the native proto-humans.
He sat with a quietly intent expression, fingers steepled under his chin, face seeming naked without his dark glasses on; lying on the table in front of him. Romo suppressed a yawn – an entire day of soothing tempers and trying to get the notoriously disagreeable Councillors to discuss the topics on the agenda without bloodshed. First were the monthly reports from Beta and Wideskies, next the issue of the ongoing hostilities with the natives, and then discussing the attempted assassination on himself, before finally getting on to the everyday issues that arose in running the settlement. It was going to be a very, very long day.
Gerard Taft, the delegate for Wideskies, interjected his opinion vigorously as Dianna Eyrie paused and shuffled through her sheaf of papers, Taft's Aerilon accent thick,
"It's the same for us. The messenger runner brought in the report four days ago, and it's the same situation for us. Wideskies is an open basket for the natives to plunder. We're stretched right down the river because of the need for our agriculture to be near water – but our position is indefensible spread out as we are. And we can't just cluster our homes together, because if we did that the natives would just raid our fields in the night, without us even being aware of it."
"Maybe you should do that. They're just crops, Mr Taft. What would you rather lose, crops or human lives?"
Romo's head swivelled to Terence Sheridan; son of an extremely rich entrepreneur on Gemenon, member of Landfall's Council, and a man with an inflated sense of his own importance. Himself, Terence had only ever achieved the position as the captain of one of his father's many ships but his upbringing unfortunately had instilled him with many qualities, and none of them good. Or so Manya had informed Romo. His gaze flicked to her, sitting opposite him and rubbing at her temples as though a headache threatened.
Gerard Taft did not take Sheridan's comment well, face slowly turning boiled red as he stared at Sheridan bulging-eyed with anger.
"Crops are human lives, you thick fool! If our food is gone, what do you suggest we eat? We're none of us hunters, and no one can live on meat alone anyway! We would love to not be getting raided, and wounded or killed by the savages every few days, but if we leave our crops undefended they'll be utterly destroyed by the natives! The savages destroy anything they can't take with them! Bastards."
Taft scowled at Sheridan and huffed a breath,
"If we spent the time and effort needed to abandon the homes we've built or tear them down, and build new ones huddled together, we'd just end up losing more of our crops than we already have. No. That won't work. What we need is need more protection."
"Then protect yourselves! What the frak do you want Landfall to do? Make ourselves more vulnerable to attack because you can't defend yourselves?"
Romo tapped the little gavel he had control of on the table, calling for silence before the meeting degenerated into outright argument, and inwardly wished for calm and patience. These meetings tried his bloody nerves. Once a fortnight they met, not counting any extra emergency meetings that might be called in a crisis, and this was Romo's first meeting since the attempt on his life almost two weeks ago. The Council had wanted to call an emergency meeting earlier – because of the attack – but Romo had rejected that suggestion, saying it could wait until the usual time. He had been in no hurry to return to this chamber, and the inane and petty disagreements that consumed it all too often.
The Council had protested of course, and met without his presence to discuss the issue of the dissidents, but without Romo there they could take no actions. His presence and vote were required for any motions to pass. At the end of the day, Romo Lampkin was the President, and if he wished to override the Council he could. Not that he had so far – one's political position would always be somewhat tenuous, and to insult the Council by dismissing their votes would be to turn them against him. And Romo had no doubt that if they could band together, the Council could find a way to have him legally removed from the Presidency. He had to step with care and tact, metaphorically speaking.
"Mr Sheridan, you are out of order."
Romo told the ex-Captain calmly, his face set in a mild and unreadable expression.
"The delegate from Wideskies is out of order if he expects us to risk ourselves because they can't adequately protect their own people!"
"Mr Sheridan." Romo said warningly, and the man subsided back into his chair, still fuming but silent. Neither Sheridan nor Romo had any love lost between them, and Sheridan often opposed Romo's decisions merely because they were Romo's idea. Sheridan was a thorn in Romo's side. But the man had Weston Tercel and Finn Jeffries' continual support, which gave him just enough power to be dangerous.
"Ms Eyrie, Mr Taft…unfortunately, we here at Landfall have barely enough qualified people to cover our own patrols."
Looks of betrayal and unsurprised anger were directed at him by Eyrie and Taft; Romo had always been the first one to insist that Beta and Wideskies deserved just as much aid and support as Landfall. Romo continued calmly,
"But I move that we send Beta and Wideskies one – one – of our ex-military personnel Landfall Patrol Officers each, along with a small number of guns, and a good supply of the homemade bullets we have been laying in a stock of. The LPO's can train up a number of the Beta and Wideskies people, and then once they are satisfied with the level of training, return to Landfall."
There was a brief silence. Manya raised an eyebrow at Romo and he barely perceptibly shook his head 'no'.
"I second the President's fine suggestion." Kari Eldon spoke up in her brusque tone, hands folded neatly in her lap, looking every bit as dignified as ever. Romo smiled inwardly.
"Shall we vote, then?" There were nods; enthusiastic from some, reluctant from others.
"All in favour of sending a LPO to Beta and Wideskies each – until the local residents have been trained – along with weapons and a stock of Earth-made bullets, raise your hand."
Kari Eldon, Manya Yelizarov, Joseph Ababa, and Sarah, a Cylon Eight, were for the motion, along with Romo. Terence Sheridan, Weston Tercel, Finn Jeffries and Saul Tigh were against, their hands staying firmly down. Romo quirked a questioning eyebrow at Tigh, who seemed to ruminate for a second and then spoke up gruffly,
"I think we should send, and leave 'em there. Civilians just can't shape up to military standards. We won't really notice the lack of two men here, but it'd make a big difference to the people in Beta and Wideskies."
Romo didn't show his surprise at Tigh's suggestion. He had anticipated Tigh would be against weakening Landfall's defences, even if only slightly.
"Agreed, Colonel Tigh. All in favour of amending the motion?"
It passed, with only Sheridan, Tercel and Jeffries against.
The next on the agenda was the general threat from the natives, and how to deal with them. The current tactic was purely defensive, and Romo thought it was the only ethical option. It was a bad situation – the natives were in fact killing colonists, but Romo was unwilling to go on the aggressive and actively hunt down the natives. This land was the proto-humans territory, and the colonists were transgressing upon it – when seen from the natives' perspective, Romo couldn't in good conscience blame the proto-humans for attacking the colonists. In their primitive minds, they were doing the right thing defending their territory from the strange and dangerous interlopers.
Of course, ethics and good conscience didn't stop colonists from getting wounded or killed, and it didn't stop the natives from attacking.
"…They're growing more aggressive as time goes on. Lost their fear of us. They've seen we can be made to bleed and die, and they've declared godsdamned guerrilla warfare on our people. We can't let this keep happening. Something needs to be done." Tigh was speaking on the need to take further steps – to attack the natives in retaliation, and perhaps discourage them from their raids. Romo could see heads nodding around the table, but there was a lot of disagreement too. It was an issue that divided the Council – not much different from any other issue then. Trying to get the Councillors to agree on something, even something minor and administrative, was like trying to herd cats. Angry hungry cats.
"I agree. We need to be proactive. What is the expression…the best defence is a good offence? If we made an organised strike on the tribes, perhaps their large losses would persuade them to give up their attacks." Weston Tercel added, his eyes hard in his wrinkled face, cultured voice shaky with age but still carrying an aura of charisma and command.
Kari Eldon shook her head, steel grey hair not moving an inch, so tightly was it drawn back into the severe bun that was her trademark.
"I also agree that the current situation is not tenable, but I balk at the suggestion that we attack the tribes. I have no desire to emulate what was perpetrated on us by the Cylons – no offence intended Sarah –"
"None taken."
"– albeit on a smaller scale. If we attack the tribes on their home ground, there will be little way to avoid harming non-combatants – women, children and any elderly the proto-humans may have. Even if we do not directly harm them, the loss of their hunters would be a devastating blow. From what has been observed, the tribes live on the verge of starvation constantly. If we kill even half their hunters, it may well wipe out the entire tribe." Kari Eldon's decisions were always logical and well thought out, and influenced strongly by her concept of decency and ethics.
"Well what's the problem with that?" Tigh growled, and Manya shot him a shocked look, provoked into anger – very unusual for her,
"You surely can't be promoting the idea of committing genocide!"
"Well why not? They aren't any good to us. The talk when we made landfall on Earth was of intermixing our genes with theirs, expanding the gene pool, helping them evolve. Living in harmony." The last few words were dryly mocking,
"But I can't see that happening, now, Ms Yelizarov."
"They are sentient beings! We can't just wipe them out!"
"I agree with Manya. Genocide is not ever an acceptable option." Everyone looked at Sarah, and she blushed, looked down and then back up around the room at the staring faces,
"Well I should know, shouldn't I?" She answered their unspoken remarks defensively, and then fell silent, head bowed as though she wished she'd never spoken.
It was not easy for Sarah to be the only Cylon on the Council. Her presence, had in fact, been protested vehemently by everyone other than Tigh, Kari and Manya – and of them, only Manya had spoke in outright support of the Cylon. But Romo had felt it was important, as a gesture of good faith, and to ensure the Cylons knew that there would be a voice speaking out in protection of their interests.
Romo cleared his throat to speak, to moderate the tone of the discussion and calm the tense atmosphere, but was overridden by Tigh,
"The idea was to interbreed with them – and stupid frakked up idea that was in my opinion. But at any rate, it certainly isn't going to happen now. Approach one of their women – or men – and you're gonna get yourself speared through the chest. Besides, who's actually going to want to frak one of them savages?" Tigh shuddered and shook his head,
"So what do we do? Huh? We sure as hell ain't frakking them, so why let them keep attacking us and holding back on attacking them? I reckon we attack their little home villages and deal them a blow. Might be enough to force them to go find new territory, away from us. And there, problem solved."
A general chaos of protests erupted, people yelling over each other, the meeting dissolving into a hubbub of voices. Romo gritted his teeth. He would not get irritated. He would not get irritated. The pains that still ached at his abdomen did not help Romo's patience, and he drew a deep breath, silently counting to ten.
"No! That's unacceptable!" Sarah.
"Hang on now, the man makes a good point." Terence.
"We can't seriously be considering this, Mr President?" Manya.
"It is unethical to the highest degree! If the motion is brought, I will not vote in favour." Kari.
The noise grew and grew, until all that could be heard was general anarchic squabbling. Romo felt as though he were in charge of a kindergarten.
"Order!" Romo rapped his gavel but the sharp noise was lost in the din.
"Order!" He demanded louder, a headache stirring to pounding life. Gods, these people were bloody insufferable. He wondered, as he tried in vain to return order to the table of arguing Councillors, why he just hadn't just enacted a dictatorship. It would be so much more peaceful.
# # #
The morning sun was shining in through the cabin's opened shutters, and the room smelt of dates and figs, a warm breeze whisking in the open door. Lee stood with his hands deep in a bucket of hot water and dishes, searching around for the soap-root that was lurking somewhere in the bucket, to scrub the few mugs and plates. Kara had made a batch of strangler fig jam and several bottles of date palm wine this morning. Lee wasn't quite sure how the jam was going to turn out – Kara wasn't exactly known for her cooking skills – but the scent of it filled the air, and Kara was sitting at the table eying the dozen glass jars full of fresh-made jam proudly. She had insisted they use glass jars – the jam would keep the longest in them, and Lee hadn't wanted to argue the point, even though he felt self-conscious and hypocritical using technology from the Fleet. No, Lee didn't want to argue with her. Things were fragile enough without picking a fight.
Lee reminded himself that he should just be happy that Kara had come back. The day after they had frakked – the day he had threatened Paulla; gods he hated remembering that – Kara had sought Lee out at the logging site, and told him she wanted to try again. At the time she had seemed more resigned than happy or hopeful, and a part of Lee's mind had wondered if it was the right decision – but he couldn't say no. He couldn't help it; he loved her. In the week since, Kara had been a little distant, and okay, so they hadn't had sex again yet. But she curled up in bed with him every night, and she didn't disappear into town as often as she used to. She seemed…subdued, but Lee hoped that the awkwardness would fade. Things had been tough for both of them lately, and they had a lot of stuff to work past – but given a bit of time, Lee knew things could get better. After all, they still loved each other. He knew that for a fact; Kara had told him that she loved him at the logging site, and he had looked into her serious eyes and believed she was telling the truth. Sometimes he just wondered if that was enough.
The past several days had gone past in awkward domesticity. Both of them were trying to be considerate of the other, walking on eggshells, and never really relaxing. It was frakking exhausting, to be honest. Lee pulled himself out of the downward spiral of depressing thoughts and shook of the cloud of tension that hung over him. Made an effort to be bright and cheerful and forget about the negatives. Dwelling on them wouldn't help.
"So, what shift are you working today?" Lee stacked the dishes on the wooden plank bench and dried his hands on his pants, turning around. Kara sat with a beam of sunlight hitting her, blonde hair shining and skin browned and glowing. Gods, she was beautiful. She glanced up, edgy,
"Um. I, ah, I'm not."
"Oh, really? So I get you all to myself today, then?" Lee sauntered up behind her and draped his arms around her, kissing the back of her head. Kara wriggled uncomfortably and he let her go without a word. She wasn't much for touching these days. Lee accepted it as best he could, and just kept telling himself things would get better. Occasionally he wondered if he was fooling himself.
"I don't know. I thought of maybe taking a few jars of fig jam into Landfall and seeing if I can swap them at Trader's."
She got up and began storing the jars in the rough little cupboard that made up their pantry, leaving half a dozen on the table. Lee stood by the table and watched her, gnawing on his lip.
"You want me to come?" He asked at last, and she froze in the process of stacking the last few jars on the shelves, her back stiff and radiating tension. Lee's heart sank.
"I'd… There's no need to. I'm sure you've got work to do around here."
Here she said, not home. Lee caught the wording and wondered if it was a slip or if he was reading too much into it. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, and sighed.
"No, not really. Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. I'd be happy to go with you." Lee took away Kara's excuse, wondering what she'd do – if she'd keep coming up with reasons why he couldn't go with her, or if she would be glad that they could spend the day together. Lee managed a tight, humourless smile. He was pretty sure he knew what Kara was going to do.
She closed the cupboard doors and turned slowly to face him.
"Oh."
"So, should I come? We could go to Joe's, have a drink?"
"I don't know..." Kara's eyes were darting about as she searched for an excuse, and Lee felt like shit, standing there like an idiot while Kara tried to think of reasons that would get her away from him. Gods, how pathetic was he?
"Frak it. Just go, Kara. I'll stay here." He stomped sulkily over to her packet of baccy on a shelf by the windowsill and rolled up a smoke clumsily, unaccustomed to doing so. He was sick of fighting a frakking uphill battle, with Kara edging away from him every step he took. He knew she had feelings for him, but…maybe that wasn't enough.
"Lee… Don't be like this."
"Like what, Kara?" He stuck the mangled cigarette in his mouth and lit it, the smoke curling harshly into his lungs. He wasn't a smoker himself, except for the odd rare indulgence, but he needed to take his anger out on something, and long, angry draws on the cigarette – the nicotine in the native tobacco flooding his system – seemed to oddly relax him.
"You're angry." She crossed the room and touched his arm, looking up into his face. He didn't shift his gaze, just stood staring through the small window over the forest sloping down to the plains and Landfall – visible from this high up on the ridgeline. He wanted to look at her. Wanted to kiss her. Wanted to frak her.
"Why shouldn't I be?"
"I just need some time to myself. It's not you…"
"Bullshit." He glanced sharply at Kara and then back out the window, eyes squinting into the sun.
"You get 'time to yourself' all the godsdamned time. Even when we're home together one of us is usually in the house and the other outside working in the garden or something." He inhaled sharply, tobacco smoke tasting strong and strange in his mouth.
"It's an excuse, Kara, and we both know it. You just don't like being around me."
"I – I do."
"Then let's go to bed. Hell, we don't even have to go to bed. Frak me, Kara – right here. Come on. Right by the window – just bend over. No one'll be watching." Lee's voice was swamped with bitterness. He realised that there was no way in hell she would take him up on that offer, even if he had asked less crassly. Besides, Kara had never cared about crass before. Even a month ago, that proposition would've gotten him laid, but not today.
Instead Kara gave him a pained look, and Lee grimaced, nodding as she affirmed what he had already known.
"See."
"I just…that's not it! Godsdamnit Lee, don't you ever think of anyone but yourself?"
He bristled at that. He'd spent every moment ever since they got together on this damned planet thinking about Kara. Thinking about her needs – about how he had to not push commitment. How he couldn't bring up the idea of having children. How he could never question where she went, alone, so often. He had bent frakking over backwards for her, and she never did a godsdamned thing for him. He was sick of trying so hard and getting nothing in return.
And he lost his carefully held temper and told her so, finishing with the topper,
"Don't you ever think of anyone but yourself? What about me? You can't deny I frakking do things for you, what do you do for me, huh? What have you ever done for me?"
Kara flinched and took a step back, undisguised hurt flashing over her face.
"Shit, I'm sorry, Kara. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just… It's hard, all right?"
"That's not a good enough excuse any more, Lee. It's hard for me too, but I'm not the one snapping your frakking head off every time you do something I don't like. I do things for you. Of course I do, and you know it. It's just…okay, so you do more – is that my fault? It comes with the territory, Lee. I'm a package deal – me and my frakking baggage. If you can't deal with it and can't be with me, that's…well I'll cope, but if you accept me, baggage and all, then you have to stop frakking treating me like shit when I make requests or you need to make allowances for my…baggage. Okay?"
Lee was stunned. That made sense – everything she had just said was perfectly fair, and perfectly sensible. He suddenly felt like an unfair bastard for yelling at her. She was right. Lee stared at Kara. Grabbing a bag out of the corner and carrying it to the table, hair falling over her face in a corn-silk coloured fall, bare arms wiry and skin smooth, and dark hollows under her eyes. He was at least partially responsible for those dark circles.
"Okay. I – I can do that. I'm sorry I've been a demanding ass." He agreed hastily, then quietly added on,
"But…Kara? Do you want to be with me? I mean, really?"
Kara looked at him contemplatively for a long moment.
"Yes." She told him, and started shoving the half-dozen jars of fig jam for Trader's into the leather bag. Lee stood by the window, breeze on his face, cigarette burnt down to a butt, feeling oddly calmer. Although it could have been just the nicotine. He stubbed it out on the sill, making sure it was completely snuffed before he tossed it out the window – not taking care was the way you started a fire that burnt your home to ashes.
"I'm going." Kara stated bluntly, face defiant on him, just waiting for him to protest again,
"You're not going to make a huge frakking fuss about it?"
Lee stayed calm as she verbally poked at him, smiled at her,
"No. I'm not."
Kara wanted to be with him. She'd had to think about it, but she had thought about it and decided that yes, she wanted to be with him. That counted for a lot right now. What with Romo, the dissidents, Paulla…everything…it was nice to still have one thing that was genuine and mutual, however difficult and fragile that one thing might be.
"Good. Thanks, Lee." Her tone and face softened as she looked at him, and then strode over to where he was standing, and kissed him gently and long on the mouth. It had been so long since they'd done, well, anything, that even a lingering kiss was like a mouthful of water to a dehydrated man – heavenly, and all too brief.
"Bye." He said, grinning like an idiot as Kara disappeared out the door, and she called back to him with a teasing laugh in her voice,
"Oh! That reminds me! Don't cook dinner – we'll be going out."
"What? Where? Joe's?" Lee stuck his head out the door, calling after Kara, but she had already hurried out of view – probably on purpose, if her teasing tone had been any indication. Godsdamnit, he hated surprises. They would be going out?
"Damnit. Now what the frak is that supposed to mean?"
# # #
"Shouldn't we be making arrests? We surely can't leave the dissidents unpunished. We need to make it clear that we will not suffer such acts of violence."
"An understandable reaction, Mr Tercel, but who exactly are we supposed to arrest? And what good do you think that will do?" Romo leaned back in his chair at the head of the table, head pounding in time with the pulse in his temples. He thought he had managed to keep his face smooth and blank, but Manya made a sympathetic expression from the other end of the table. She always noticed those sorts of things more than others. A big part of it was probably the psychology and sociology that the twenty-nine year old university professor had lectured on back on Libron. She noticed little things that the other Councillors– hopefully – didn't notice. Romo didn't want to look anything other than cool, calm and totally in control in front of the Council. Too many enemies. And of course, Manya Yelizarov knew Romo better than the others. They had known each other before the attack on the Colonies. Gods that seemed so bloody long ago now. Another lifetime.
"Who would we arrest? Lee Adama, for one. He's the leader of the dissident movement – if we take him away, we're cutting off their head, so to speak. And as for what it would accomplish, well, it would show that we won't allow the dissidents to get away with things like the attack on your life, Mr President." Tercel responded in a measured manner, and Romo pulled his mind back to the present.
"Hmm." Romo tapped his fingers on the table. Fiddled with his glasses – made Tercel wait for a response. It was a way of signalling his position of authority, maintaining his place as being above Weston Tercel's in the hierarchy. Tercel shifted, annoyance flickering on his wrinkled features.
"Unfortunately, Mr Tercel, the dissident movement is somewhat of a Hydra. Cut off one head, and it will grow two more. At the moment, Lee Adama is the Hydra's head – and a moderate one, at that – arrest him, and you allow the more…fanatical members of the movement to take his place. The movement would not be cowed by Lee Adama's arrest – in fact, I believe it would be energised." Romo paused and when Tercel opened his mouth to speak, Romo held up a hand for silence. Tercel frowned and subsided reluctantly, mouth down turned and hooded eyes sharp.
"As to your second point, Mr Tercel, I respectfully remind you that creating martyrs is not the most efficient form of subduing a movement. As far as Colonel Tigh," A nod to the glowering Colonel,
"…could ascertain, Lee Adama was not involved in the attack on myself last week. We suspect that members of the movement, other than the young man who attacked me, were involved, but there is no way to prove involvement. No, arrests at this point would only fuel the fires."
There was a low murmur around the table, which sounded like dissatisfaction and disagreement.
"I think we need to make some godsdamned arrests, myself, Mr President. We need to show that we aren't to be frakked with, or they'll just do it again." Tigh burst out, striking a fist on the tabletop to emphasise his point.
"I agree. You could've been killed Mr President. Will they stop with one attempt, or will they try it again?" Finn Jeffries added. A bluff logging company owner from Virgon, he was similar to Tigh in his level of ability to comprehend tact.
"My level personal security has been raised. I have either Colonel Tigh or another LPO with me at all times. The level of security within and around Landfall has been lifted as much as possible, and LPO's have been warned to keep a particular eye on visitors from the dissident movement."
"Shouldn't be allowing them in town at all." Jeffries' complained to himself and Romo ignored the interruption, continuing,
"Not to mention we are expecting an attack now – we are on our guard. I think it unlikely that another assassination attempt will succeed in the near future, and I think the dissidents are smart enough to realise that, and thus will not attempt one."
"We can't just leave it! We have to make a show of force, or their impression will be that we are weak – easily walked over." Sheridan added to the protests. Where were all Romo's allies on the Council board, to speak up and add their weight to his side of the problem? Answer: he had none, except for Manya. Sheridan, Jeffries and Tercel had allied themselves, and usually voted together on an issue. Sarah leaned toward Romo's position, and the remaining Councillors voted neutrally, without thoughts of alliance.
Romo raised an eyebrow at Manya. He didn't like calling on her as his first supporter too often – it looked suspicious – but he needed at least one voice in support, to tip the undecided Councillors to his point of view. Romo did not want Lee Adama to be arrested. Paulla could not be allowed control of the dissidents.
"If we are seen to be persecuting those who cannot be charged of any crime, the colonists within Landfall will become distrustful of us. The people will think – 'if the Council can throw the dissident colonists in jail on mere suspicions, who is to say we will not be next?' To make arrests will only undermine our position with our own people. And as you said yourself, Mr Jeffries, we cannot afford weakness at this juncture." Manya spoke clearly and with the calmness of perfect self-assurance, an earnest expression moulding her extremely symmetrical features.
"And what good will it achieve? As the President so insightfully pointed out,"
Here Romo gave her a disbelieving expression and mouthed, 'insightfully?' That was laying it on a bit thick. Manya's lips quirked and her eyes glittered playfully.
"…arresting Lee Adama will not dissolve the movement, only incite it."
"I agree. I think moderation is the wisest course of action for now. I move that we table the issue for now, and return to it at a later date. Say, in two months time – unless any developments occur between now and then." Kari Eldon, voice of logic added her two cents, and Romo smiled secretively to himself. Perhaps he could swing this and keep the dissident movement out of Paulla's greedy claws.
Discussion moved swiftly in a surprisingly orderly manner, until Kari Eldon's motion was ready to be voted upon by the Councillors. The result was unsatisfactory, and Romo wished he had hair long and lush enough to be torn out.
Of the ten Councillors and Romo, there were five for, five against – supporting the immediate arrest of Lee Adama – and one abstaining.
Dianna Eyrie refused to vote, saying that as the delegate from Beta, the affairs that only affected Landfall were not her right to vote on.
Then Sheridan and Tercel insisted that Gerard Taft – the delegate from Wideskies, who had voted to let the matter of the dissidents lie for now – be disallowed from voting, for the same reasons Ms Eyrie abstained. Taft refused, vehemently protesting that just as it was Ms Eyrie's right to abstain, as a member of the Council, he had every right to vote. He believed that what affected Landfall, would eventually come to affect the other settlements, and as such, had a vested reason to vote.
Kari Eldon – Romo's side – tried to pressure Ms Eyrie into voting, but Eyrie dug her heels in and refused, although between Sheridan's shouting and Eldon's cold insistent logic, she was near tears within minutes.
Romo sat back and watched chaos envelop the table for the…he figured in his head…fourth time this morning, if you didn't count the spat over when they should have their morning tea break. He no longer had the energy to intervene. It was easy to forget while sitting comfortably that he was less than two weeks out from a gut wound, and still recovering. He rapped the gavel on the table,
"Quiet!"
Nothing happened – the din too loud for them to hear him. Manya was the only one who was not involved in the squabble to some degree, and she cast him one of her enormous supply of sympathetic looks. She indicated herself, then him, raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. Romo, of course, understood exactly what she was inferring, and nodded his head, mouthed, 'please'.
Manya stood; a short woman she was barely taller standing than sitting. She cleared her throat, looked around the table of bickering Councillors, took a deep breath and yelled,
"Silence! At once!" Her voice carried the authority of a teacher, and the din halted for a moment, and Manya seized the opportunity.
"Be silent, everyone! You are behaving like children. Look at you; you are badgering Ms Eyrie, trying to intimidate Mr Taft – shouting at each other. If this were my classroom…well, my students would never behave with such a lack of common decency and decorum." Romo admired Manya's skill at cowing the room of disagreeable adults like they were the young adults she used to teach. For such a tiny woman, she had an extremely loud and frightening voice. She smiled sweetly, said,
"Mr President?"
And sat down again, with a small nod around the room at her fellow Councillors, most of whom sat obediently silent in some degree of shock. Tigh, who was seated nearest Manya, was digging at his ear and squinting, as though Manya had deafened him. Romo would not be surprised.
"Thank you, Ms Yelizarov. Your…carrying…voice must have been a great aid to you as a lecturer." He made his tone dry and light, hoping to ease the tension that filled the Council room like a thick fog. No one laughed, but Sarah smiled and the tension eased noticeably.
"We are obviously not getting anywhere on this topic, and I would rather not spend all day arguing this one matter, and taking up all our valuable time. In the interests of moving on to other issues, I suggest we adjourn for lunch now, table the issue of the dissidents until tomorrow, and resume our usual schedule after the lunch break."
"So we'll just vote on it again tomorrow? How will that help if we're deadlocked?" Sarah asked nervously.
"Perhaps between now and tomorrow, with some thought on the topic, a Councillor might change their mind." Romo held up a hand to halt protests,
"However, if I hear that anyone has been coerced or in any way influenced toward changing their vote, there will be a full investigation of the accused, and sanctions if found guilty, will be severe." That removed any objections.
"All in favour of tabling the dissident issue until tomorrow?"
Thank the bloody gods, the motion passed.
Manya winked at Romo as they all filed eagerly out of the meeting room.
# # #
Author's Note: Right, so, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, and if so – please, leave me a review. They are a big part of what motivates me to keep writing regularly, and as I have had the worst writer's block lately I need all the encouragement I can get.
This episode, as I said in the above Author's Notes, is focused on Romo, and revolves a lot around the political workings of Landfall and the surrounding settlements. It won't go hugely, dryly in depth, but will give a good idea of what the Council does etc.
It also focuses on general character development, and has some setting up/foreshadowing for later character and plot arcs. Original characters too! Let me know how they've turned out! Anyone get the references in a couple of the Councillor's names?
It's been the hardest episode to write so far, especially as my chapters seem to be getting ever longer (this one was 6,358wds *sigh*), and I've kind of lost sight of whether it actually works or not. So constructive criticism and feedback is positively begged for (Review! Review! Review!)
The next chapter should go up on Thursday/Friday.