Title: Shut the Door

Chapter 2: The Plan

By: ellymelly


It was suffice to say that as the door finally opened for the Admiral to exit the President's office - victory was hers for all to see...

-but that was okay because Adama had a plan - oh yes, and more than that, it was a good one. Rock solid in every way - fortification so thick no army in the known universe could penetrate it. Well, galaxy at least considering they hadn't really gotten very far through the universe yet. Hell, there was a lot of universe out there after all.

Anyway, that wasn't even close to the point.

After their last meeting it had become clear that the two leaders, the President and the Admiral had declared a war of sorts. This was fine, both were used to wars and both had fine tuned war instruments ready for the plucking. "Especially me." thought Bill to himself.

Like every war, this one had a prize - and a cost, where the first one to surrender would be subject to - Bill paused, momentarily confused as his train of thought hit a tunnel wall.

"The first one to surrender would - ah", he thought quietly on the matter as he gave an almighty 'push' to the locking mechanism of his door, his eyes watching closely as the metal bars spun - chasing each other until the final click. Satisfied that his quarters were unlocked, Adama entered the room with the kind of mad drive that only a seasoned warrior could command.

"The first one to surrender - loses!" He declared triumphantly swiping a ready poured glass of Ambrosia on his way.

He moved stealthily to his control centre, smooth and quick across the floor - if he had been wearing one of those cool capes it would have billowed out to full volume, dark folds disappearing beneath the fabric's edge. Instead his uniform clung close as war hardened hands slid open the desk's most secret draw - seeking within, his faithful black, leather bound diary.

He'd written it all down, yes he had! That way he figured he couldn't possibly forget any of his vital strategies.

The war was his.

Bill removed the object, stroking the cover lovingly - the book appearing exactly as he'd left it. The journal had been his faithful friend for eight years, and buried deep within its contents were some of his darkest, smartest, (most embarrassing) moments along with his brilliant - fame worthy mission tactics. It was a document that could bring about the human races' downfall if it fell into the wrong hands.

That's why he kept it hidden in the safest, most secret place.

Bill had to admit that the President's demonstration so far was up there with the best defense and offence that he'd seen. She appeared to have it all, power, manipulation, drive and a set of legs to melt armies. However, neither her fortitude nor the length of those ass kickingly awesome legs could conquer him now.

Not now that he had this plan written down.

Bill opened his journal and flipped to where he had left off - failing to notice that the deep purple bookmark had been slightly readjusted without his permission...

The Admiral stopped, mouth agape.

On the blank page following his faithful plan was a message, neatly scrawled in its centre.

In pink pen.

It read:

This diary has been borrowed for a period of twelve hours, read thoroughly and returned to its owner.

It is advised that said owner either consider revising the impending covert attack or surrender during the next meeting to be held tomorrow evening.

Regards,

Your Superior

ps. You need to learn to hide your stuff better.

Adama's nostrils flared.

This wasn't happening... Gritting his teeth he absently flipped to the bookmarked page, expecting to find the wisdom of his favourite passage from a famous Caprican warrior where he had painstakingly copied it down - its words always soothing even in dire situations like this.

Instead he found his, 'if all else fails - the dirt on the new president' list - now annotated with comments like; 'wrong', 'wrong again', 'interesting', 'wow, you got that right' and, 'how is my shoe size relevant? - come to think of it, what's your shoe size?'

The Admiral blinked.

The Admiral narrowed his eyes.

Ashort time later on Colonial One

Laura played with her pen, content to let it fall casually across the back of her hand and back into her fingers. A shamefully large smile had applied itself to her face and simply refused to leave as she mentally checked off her goals for the day.

Objectives:

Steal very secret journal to signify start of war.

Pretend to have read it.

Anotate with annoying and suggestive comments.

Also consider taking item of clothing for extended leverage.

Plan for tomorrow.

The grin got wider.

"Check, check, check, definitely check and will do as soon as I finish congratulating self on success of objectives."

Adama's quarters, several hours later

Bill searched and searched but to no avail, it was if they simply did not exist - like his favourite boxers had decided to go for a field trip out the air lock into space.

Out the airlock. What did airlocks remind him of?

"No," he thought firmly, "she wouldn't."

Convincing himself that he'd probably sent them in with the laundry, Admiral Bill Adama managed to settle in for a decent night's sleep.

A sleep he would need because tomorrow all hell would break loose and revenge would be exacted.

TBC...