"We discussed this," Stengler began. "Before bringing it to the rest of you, and, as a whole, we're divided. Captain Adama breaking Roslin out is, if what the Secretary says is true, is his second act of outright mutiny."

Moore and Mitchell both avoided my gaze at the word "divided." A layer of sweat formed on my forehead, even though I stood under an air vent. I had an idea where this was going, but I wanted it broken down for me.

"Divided, how? Are you saying you're not sure if we're going?"

Moore nodded. She almost never spoke during these meetings I was privy to with the khaki shirts. Jeffers' glare made her stumble upon her words as she began.

"Well… if we leave Galactica's umbrella, we're in trouble. Even armed ships in this fleet have only weak countermeasures, to keep pirates off their backs. We can't even hold off one raider."

Mitchell nodded as she spoke, and I could tell that the flight crew was divided right down the middle whether to join Laura Roslin at magic hour or stay. I wished Stengler would have used his authority to make a decision one way or the other, but it wasn't.

"So why are we basically doing a jump prep without calling it jump prep," I asked them.

"Because we're going to bring it to a vote after dinner whether we should go or stay. Galactica is already going ship-to-ship, starting with Cloud Nine. We have a couple days before they finish up, there. That's why we decided to cut off the portion of the message with the departure time," Stengler said.

I nodded, trying to remember I belonged there, that I had a right to speak my mind.

I wanted to go. Sure, Roslin sounded crazy, but the military was evidently unraveling. If the news was true, Bill Adama up and around again wasn't the beacon of hope I wanted it to be. Saul Tigh would have to still carry the load, for a while, any way. Military collapse could mean another Gideon, or worse. Time slipped away on us coming under Galactica's all-seeing eye. The President imploding seemed far less lethal, in the short term.

"Well, the gang Down Below seems divided, too," I began, trying to find a happy medium between sugar coating and honesty. "A lot has happened, and we still have some hot crates from the Prometheus, and enough firepower to make Galactica nervous--"

"And having Thalyka aboard makes us a prime target," Jeffers interjected. "It will undo everything we've built up, so far." I glared at him, and I let too much emotion show, evidently. "Since we gave our word to protect her, that's key in our decision."

Damned if we do, damned if we don't. We leave Galactica behind, we're possibly helpless until whatever end. If we stay, it could only be a matter of time until the hard eye of the military fell upon us.

"If they wanted her, Mr. Jeffers, they would have come knocking, already. If Roslin leaves, and we stay, we could be in the clear."

Stengler shook his head. "We all took high school history. It could be the worst thing in the world to stay, if Roslin and anyone else bolts with her. Thalyka would be the last of the old government, and a potential threat to martial law. She may not seem like much now, but she'll be the very symbol of everything that could tear the house down. If we're going to be her shield, we have to protect ourselves, too."

If? If? I had one hell of an "if" for Stengler. If he was the captain of this tub, he should make a decision. There wasn't New Castle's central office planetside, or the dispatch in orbit around Libron to make decisions for him anymore. Jeffers ran the daily operations, I ran the knuckledraggers and trade with his rubber stamp. He finally had to take decisive action, yet he was stepping out of the way.

The only thing that put my mind at ease was that all four of them were leaning strongly toward letting Diana stay, even though Moore and Mitchell weren't crazy about making the jump.

"So what are we gonna do?"

Stengler stuck out his chest a little, as if body language would cover his abundant lack of leadership. I almost wanted Jeffers to take over. Whatever he decided, at least he would tell us what was what. Then again, he was such an asshole, mutiny would almost be inevitable.

"We're going to meet after dinner, the entire crew, and we'll put it to a vote."

"A vote? But--"

"I don't want mutiny, Krenzik. And that's why you're not being told the departure time. You'll have plausible deniability if things get hairy."

"What? Why am I even there, then? If I'm running trade as well as upkeep and I'm supposed to be a part of this so-called team I--"

"Decision's been made. Tell your men. I figure them staying busy will make it easy enough to wait until 1900 hours."

All four of them stared back at me. They couldn't agree on staying or going, but they were sure of one thing. I needed to just shut my cakehole and follow orders. I had no choice but to be a good soldier. Telling them what I was thinking, about the lack of spine at the top would do nothing except knock me out of the loop, on which I hung by the very edge.

"You got it, Cap'n."

What would Caff do? He knew Jeffers longer, and there was more of a mutual respect between them. He could have been more up front than I--Mr. Foreman-Since-36-Hours-Ago. Once again, my experiences on this boat and elsewhere in my life gave no precedent, no path to follow. Nick Sorg was on the cusp of outright mutiny himself. Eddy Coursen was his complicit pal in nearly all things. Toby wasn't sure about me, any longer. Who the hell knew what Marty would do? Mangan was going with the flow, as usual, but who knew what he was capable of? Briar, Bobby, and Dan hung their heads, seemingly willing to go with the dominant opinion.

I looked back at each and every face that stood in the circle with me around the main turbine. The only thing I knew is that Nick hated my guts. Beyond that, familiar faces were strangers.

"So what time we leaving, if we do, Krenzik," Nick posited to me, stepping out a little from the rest. I had no idea just how much he was speaking for the rest of them. Mangan was my second, and I expected more out of him. Sometimes, even before the attacks, he was one to recede and wait for a right time to give his input--a time of his choosing.

I told him, and everyone else, the truth. "I don't know. Stengler's not coughing it up. Not to me, anyway. We vote on it after dinner."

Nick tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

"Would you tell us if he did?"

Everyone stared, anticipating, now. Beyond his question, I was basically being called a liar. Caffrey would never have gotten this treatment. Then again, he was gone before it came to this.

"Yeah, I would, Nick, if I was allowed. It's my engine room but it's his ship."

He sneered in return. "Your engine room, right…"

"If you," I began, sweeping my eyes over the rest of them. "all of you need to say something, just get it out, okay? More shit's gone down in the last week than in all the months since the bombs dropped. You need to unload, then unload."

Stone silence was my reply. I wiped the shit-eating grin off Nick's face, though.

"Okay, then. Back to work. Meeting in the mess at 1900."

Everybody rumbled in for dinner at 1800. Diana sat to my left, again, and she did her best to start casual conversation, asking Toby, me, or Marty about how the ship worked, etc. She was met with courteous, but strained responses, which immediately shifted back to faces staring at plates. Ed and Nick talked among themselves, with Mangan and Briar interjecting occasionally.

I told Diana about the plan, before we ate. She crossed her arms, shaking her head. Sure, she should have been in on that meeting, and yes, Stengler should have had more backbone. There wasn't a damn thing either one of us could do about it, though. We did agree on one thing: we thought we should leave. The longer we stayed in Galactica's shadow, the more dangerous it got.

I tried to remember that, and hoped the others did too.

Some of the guys returned down below to grab a smoke, before 1900 rolled around. After an eternity of minutes, we all sat before the flight crew. Everyone had one vote including the cooks, and the nurse. Sixteen of us, and I had no idea how the vote would end up. We all went with what would keep us safe first, but what was that these days?

"We're just going to cut to the chase," Jeffers began. "You heard it. We all did. And we are going to put it to a vote to stay, or join those that go to Kobol, and wait for the Arrow of Apollo to arrive. I know you have plenty of questions, but we need to decide, now. As you know, Adama has sent marines to Cloud Nine, to start with, looking for Roslin and his son. We may only have a week or so before they come here."

Everyone stirred, restless. We all had something to say. I fought the urge to look over to Diana. I was sure she sat up straight, with her chiseled Colonial One mask on, the one for all unpleasant occasions. Jeffers continued.

"We'll pass around a bucket and slips of paper. Write "yes" or "no" on it. And we'll count it up, right here."

Milt Jeffers didn't waste any time getting the paper and pens passed out. They wanted to get this over with as fast as possible. Ram it down our throats before we could think. Diana's eyes met mine, as the XO clearly didn't pass out either to her. Whatever would come, now, she had no say. She coolly stood, picked up her chair, slid it away from the table, and reseated herself--a tangible yet quiet show of her displeasure. She didn't have a voice here, but I did. Nick had no problem saying what he thought, why should I?

"Mr. Jeffers? Shouldn't we talk about this, first? If it's up to everybody, shouldn't we all be heard?"

I didn't expect any sort of reaction, but I wanted to smile, as my men looked to me.

"How long till Galactica gets to us," Mangan began.

Jeffers glared at me. Hell, I was part of the "management team" now. What was he going to do? Send off a memo to personnel?

"It could be a while," Stengler replied. "They just started on Cloud Nine. That could take as long as two days. After that, they'll most probably want to hit vessels where she has plenty of room to hide, like the luxury liner, or the refinery ship, should their crews choose to give the President safe haven."

Nick stood up then, he was almost giddy with the chance to let it out.

"Me an' some of the guys were thinkin', right? We gotta protect what we got here, so why don't we just turn over Miss, uh, Thalyka before they come over? It isn't like they're gonna kill her or anything."

Eyes wandered over to Diana, who lifted her chin, and regarded everyone with antiseptic decorum and cool. I stood, then, locked eyes with Nick.

"Sure, they may not…that's may not kill her. Even if they don't, she'll end up rotting in a cell indefinitely--"

"Hey, Krenzik, I don't know if you're thinkin' with the right head!"

I didn't think the room could get any quieter, but it did. The only thing breaking the silence was the hum of the air circulator and a low whistle that escaped Marty's lips. This made our fight on the Pyramid court look like paddycake. I had to tell myself that I was the boss, the foreman, so I could keep my voice calm and radiate the authority vested in me. Of course that didn't mean Nick or anyone else would see it.

"You got something to say, Nick. Flat out say it. This isn't the time for your song and dance shit."

He just looked at me for a second, regarding me as if I was a big strange dog in his yard who had yet to show his fangs, but didn't wag his tail either.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace, Sorg. Get it out, or sit down."

"Caff wouldn't stand for this shit, Krenzik! He always looked out for us first and you--"

"Caff's dead. I'd give anything to have him here. But he's gone. And don't you ever question my loyalty again. Good or bad, you're in my engine room. You don't like it, there's plenty of ships that'll take you on. Cap'n said she stays, so she stays. And that's what I say."

Everybody looked up at me now, if not to me. A surge of pride washed through me, if not happiness. For the first time, I voiced my newfound authority, and it was working. Nick looked to the flight crew in front of us.

"Hey, Cap'n," he grumbled, face flushed. "He can't tell me that shit he--"

Stengler just glared back as I cut him off.

"You're my guy, Sorg. If the Cap'n wants to tell me who to hire and fire Down Below, he can run it and the business end, too. I'll stay up here and suck back coffee all frakkin' day. Now secure that shit, and let somebody else speak."

His fists clenched and relaxed at his sides, but he finally sat back down. As soon as his backside returned to the chair, the room erupted in crosstalk and pleading questions to the warm body who was supposed to run this tub.

II

It was a madhouse—it reminded me of some of the worst Quorum meetings I had attended these past few months, or of the pandemonium on Colonial One, after they took the President away. Now, like then, no voice erupted to control the chaos—the chaos of a leaderless government, or in this case, a leaderless ship. Because that's what it was, really. From his slacking at the meeting I had attended, excluding me from the one I should have gone to, and his lack of response to this, Stengler had proven it at every turn. He was not fit to lead, and frankly, he did not lead, in anything more than name.

Those first few moments, all I could do was stare, the overlapping voices impossible to decipher, and serving here, as they had in so many other places, as the soundtrack of our doom. Slowly, though, it became clear that no one else—not even straight-laced Jeffers—was going to put an end to this, while Stengler sat silent, uninvolved.

This couldn't be allowed to continue. This wasn't going to continue. I vaulted up from my chair, and took several steps forward, raising and modulating my voice to be heard above the din.

"Please! People, please!"

They all stopped in mid sentence, then, within seconds, and turned to me, shock in their eyes and on their faces. Unfortunately, Nick chose that moment to open his mouth—again.

"So. You never answered me. Why don't we just turn you over, and be done with it?"

"Turning me over would change nothing for you, in the long run. You cannot delude yourselves into thinking you will be safe, simply for no longer having me aboard. Remember the Gideon."

"Gideon was Tigh's frak-up. Adama's back now."

"Yes. Yes, he is. And what has he done, since his return? Has he rescinded martial law, and reinstated the Quorum? Has he relieved Tigh of duty? Launched an investigation into the massacre that occurred? Even bothered to issue a statement apologizing about the Gideon? No. And what HAS he done? He started pulling ships out of the fleet, flying a CAP around them, boarding them, searching them, and separating them from the rest. Tigh is still on duty, with no apparent repercussions, and Adama is all too happy, it seems, to let Tigh continue that way….and let his decisions stand. Turn me over, and you might be safe for a day, a week, perhaps even a month."

I felt my hands move in the familiar gestures, emulating those who had the best in my field before the bombs fell. To my surprise, they listened raptly.

"But eventually, something will happen again. And unlike the Gideon, you will not have the hope of Adama's return, to provide solace then, and hope for the future. He has already proven, with his return and his actions and lack of them, that he is not what you hoped he would be, what we hoped he would be. Turn me over, and remain here…and he will defend you against the Cylons. But with Tigh still on duty, and Adama seemingly indifferent to what occurred…Who will defend you from them, that day in the future, when they decide you have something they want, or have done something to which they do not agree?"

I met as many pairs of eyes as I could, and was pleased to see Toby nod his head a little, and see something emanate from Milt Jeffers other than condescension.

"It's easy to turn a blind eye, when it is others who they come for. That it was only the President. That it was only the government, only the Quorum. That is was only the Gideon, only a search and quarantine of every ship in the fleet—But think about that! Each time, they dared take more, do more, disband or abuse more. And there is no reason to believe they will stop there. If you do not get away now…Who will be left to protect you, someday, when they come for you?"

I ended with my eyes fixed to the center of them, so that it might appear to each as if I were looking at them alone.

The blond man, with the tattoos, Toby, raised his hand, and I nodded for him to go ahead.

"Look, I know what you mean, right? I don't like it. At all." Then his eyes slid over, for a breath, glaring at Nick. "And I don't wanna see you in the brig, but what'll we do without a battlestar to protect us from the toasters?"

"The biggest question, Mister Dempsey, isn't what you will do without a battlestar to protect you from the Cylons. It is what you will do without anyone or anything to protect you from the battlestar. At least with the Cylons, they have to find you, first. Galactica, her guns, and her marines will be an ever-present shadow…and the day that shadow decides to envelop you, it will not have to seek you out, it will not have to find you, it will not be something you can run from. It will already be there. It will know your schematics, it will know your location, it will know your emergency jump coordinates. The greatest, most dangerous enemies are never from without…they are from within."

Another of them spoke, then—the man who had been smoking under the "No Smoking" sign, the first time I visited this ship, seemingly so long ago.

"You know, you been telling us we shouldn't stay with Galactica, but why the hell should we go with Roslin, either? Seems to me she's out of her godsdamned mind. I mean, all that Kobol and Arrow shit? A lotta Priests don't even believe in Earth. And how do we n know we're even going to Kobol?"

"I know we're going to Kobol, because I was privy to knowledge that it had been located. Knowledge that both the President and Commander Adama agreed upon, in fact. We found Kobol. That much I promise you."

"Yeah? So what if we did—Why should we go there?"

Excellent. I appeared to have steered him away from the 'insane President' line of thinking. Because I knew I couldn't really answer that one. Not when I too believed she was just as insane as they all seemed to be thinking. I thought for a moment about attempting to persuade them, attempting to gloss it over, pretend we might indeed find a way to Earth. But I couldn't. All I could do, I found, was lay it out straight for them…No lies. No half-lies. No sugar coat. All that I believed…All my own reasons. I made sure to look at each of them in turn. Let them see my eyes, my face, as I spoke. Let them see the mask fall, and know I spoke the truth.

"Because of what I just laid out, Mister Mangan. Perhaps there is an Earth to be found….Perhaps there is not. Either way…It is indeed Kobol. And there is safety to be found there, for at least for a time. More safety than you are likely to find now, or in the future, under Galactica's guns."

Most of the engine room crew just sat there, their expressions ranging from thoughtful to blank to annoyed (in Nick's case), though I thought I saw, for some reason, a smile pulling at the corners of Jay's lips. The flight crew looked fairly the same—every eye in the room was on me…but no one made a sound. After a few moments of this, I backed up, as gracefully as I could, and sat back down in my chair, pulled back against the wall, without so much as another sound of my own, either. They stayed silent like that for several moments following my departure, as well, until finally, their Captain (or what their excuse for a Captain was, at any rate) cleared his throat and spoke—finally.

"Alright, everyone. If that's it, then we vote. I'll count the votes myself."

He would count the votes. Well, no one could object to that, I suppose. After all, who better to fairly count the votes than a man who couldn't make a decision or form an opinion if the entire universe depended on it?

He nodded to Mr. Jeffers, who in turn handed a small plastic bucket to the nurse, Joe Pinklon, who passed it down, after depositing his slip. One by one, by put their folded pieces of paper into the bucket, like the Quorum had that day a few weeks ago, casting their votes for Vice President. Only this time there would be no President waiting to cast the tie breaking vote. Any tie here would result in chaos, chaos I strongly suspected they would be unable to reign in. And with tensions running so high, respect running so low, and loaded weapons in the possession of everyone except myself, would most likely turn to outright mutiny and a microcosm of civil war. And for that reason, as much as I found myself praying that they would choose to go….I found myself praying first and foremost that they would simply choose, one way or the other, and spare themselves that end.

Finally, the kid, Marty, deposited the last piece of paper, and brought the bucket forward, handing it over to Stengler in total silence, which continued as Stengler dumped the contents of the bucket onto the table in front of him, and began to read the papers and separate them into two piles. I kept my eyes focused sharply on his hands, although I had no idea which pile was which. One in that pile, one in the other, one in that pile, two in the other….Finally, he looked up.

"The decision is 9 to 7. Early tomorrow at the appointed time, we will jump to Kobol."

9 to 7. No tie.

Jump to Kobol.

I felt the tension slide out of my body like water off waxed paper. No tie. I was staying aboard. And she was free. And we were going to Kobol.

But just as quickly as it had left me, it returned. She was free, and we were going to Kobol. But she was insane…and I would be reunited with her, soon.

One by one, they stood, and filed out, starting with Stengler, Jeffers, and the flight crew, followed by the nurse, and then most of the engine room crew. Nick gave me a venomous glare as he walked past.

I waited until everyone else had exited (except for Lina and Neil, who returned to the back to finish the dishes), and stood, before noticing that Jay was still seated at the table.

"Well done, Madame Secretary."

So many things I wanted to say, in reply. Half of them—like my concerns about Stengler—which he most likely already knew. Not much I could say in public, though, so I simply shrugged slightly, and gave the only reply I could give without giving too much away.

"You all looked like a damn Quorum Session, you know. I guess it was instinctive."

Despite the joking tone I put into my voice, however, I was sure he could see through it, and my words, to what I really meant.

"You oughta see it when our meetings turn really ugly,"

Really ugly? They got uglier than that? Why, that was sheer chaos, screaming, rudeness, no decorum, no control, and no attempt to exert it! And here he was, saying they got WORSE than that?

I found I could say nothing in return, given our current public venue, and simply shook my head, instead, with a jerk of my chin at the start of the shake indicating the seat where Stengler had sat. He looked confused for a moment, but then, understanding suddenly crossed his face, as he looked from my face to the chair, and then back again.

"I get you. We should talk. Elsewhere."

I nodded my agreement, and gestured for him to go ahead of me, leading the way out of the mess and down the corridor. We walked in silence, until we reached the door leading to my current accommodations. I entered immediately, but noticed that he hesitated for a second or two before following, and hesitated again, before accepting my invitation to join me at the table. He stayed silent, even then, waiting until I spoke.

"He isn't a leader. You must know that, by now. Even when it all hangs by a thread, he cannot even summon the courage to silence his own men. And worse yet, no one will step in for him."

No except me, that is. But I didn't really count. Because I wasn't a member of the crew, here…And once we reunited with the President…I would most likely be departing this vessel.

He nodded, and finally spoke.

"I knew that years ago. He's not cut out for this, without the company to back him up. You have to remember, though, I run Down Below, but going against him means going against Jeffers, Moore, and Mitchell. They'll stick by him. You saw that with the whole vote mess."

"Yes. No one will raise their voice to stop or prevent a catastrophe, until he does. And he never will. And you all carry guns. The chaos I saw could have so easily erupted into violence, had it gone further. I just…I know, what you mean, about going against him, and the others. All I want you to remember is…"

I struggled to get my next words out. It was not tears that choked me, nor confusion…simply the fact that I did not wish to say it. Not aloud.

"This is a whole world gone mad. And the day may come when it hangs by a thread again, and no one will speak. When we jump to Kobol, I will most likely be leaving here to reunite with her. I won't be here to stop things, the next time they start to unravel. And if Stengler won't, and the flight crew won't, someone will have to, or lives will be lost. Even if it means stepping out of one's place."

"I'll protect my guys. This is about the only home we have, and if it comes down to it, we'll do what we gotta do. Everybody knows Stengler's not a strong leader. Why else would Caff have been running all our trade outta here, like I'm going to do if things ever cool off again? He's just been a rubber stamp ever since Bertrand got us going."

Suddenly, he leaned towards me, and fixed his eyes upon me.

"Why would you join Roslin once we're in orbit? No matter what you told them, you have to see that she's nuts."

Did I ever. I believed in her, once. Recently, even. I had believed in her like a starving woman believes in food, when they first sink their teeth into it. But now…How could I? I had seen it all fall apart. I had heard her message, the things spoken in it. And now, I didn't know how to feel. She was free…but she was insane. But insane or not, I had little choice. Because in the grand scheme of it all, she was less damaging, at the moment, to the people, to our society, than Galactica was. And because my oath swore meto the legitimate government of the Colonies…and if she was free, that is exactly what she was, once more.

"Of course I do. I mean…chosen of the Gods?"

I shook my head sadly.

"I've been protecting you ever since you came aboard, I can't let anything bad happen to you, now. We've...we've been through too much already."

The way he looked at me changed, then, and made me feel strange, though I could not quite figure out why, or how.

"Nothing is going to happen to me. Not once we get away from Galactica."

"The message she sent was from the Astral Queen—"

"Nothing is going to happen to me. Tom Zarek values his new power as a Quorum representative. Perhaps even moreso, now."

"Yeah, but come on. You can't trust Tom Zarek, especially on his turf. Say they get the arrow, and Zarek decides that he doesn't need Roslin around anymore? Where will that leave you?"

I shook my head again, and I could only wonder what the expression on my face must have been, at that moment.

"He will always need her. The people believe in her. And if he should someday decide he does not…Where will it leave me? It will leave me where I stood a few hours ago, once more, albeit at the mercy of a different man. The last one standing. Again."

He looked as if he thought what I was saying was only slightly saner than the President's message a few hours before.

"Till he takes you out, too? Or whatever he might choose?"

My voice dropped, then, and I looked straight into his eyes, as if doing do could somehow make him understand, for the first time, the oath I had sworn, the promise I had made, the things that I felt, deep inside.

"Until the bitter end, Jay. To whatever end, at whomever's hands. Forever. No matter what."

He reached out a hand, cradled one side of my face.

"I can't stop you from going, as much as I want to, but here, I'll keep you safe."

III

She was going to actually go. Diana would wrap herself in the Colonial flag once again and march, head high, into the monster's jaws. I felt her lean a little bit into my hand as it lay against her cheek. Her eyes showed the conflict to me that she could hide from the others. For some reason, she could let a little through, for me. I wanted to offer to pack up an assault rifle and join her. She would need a bodyguard, after all. I was the foreman on this ship, though. I had to protect my mechanics, and maybe everyone else, since Brad Stengler was acting like a complete jellyfish.

"Diana…" I said, feeling myself ease closer, until I felt her body against me. "I just want you to stay."

"I can't…you know I can't. I..."

Her forehead was so warm, and she tilted her chin up to me, lips parted to meet mine, then opening wider. My hand slid around her waist pulling her tight against me as our tongues gently touched.

Ever since the last of us jumped beyond the Red Line, I had wanted to survive. Now, for the first time since then, as I tasted her, I wanted to live.

I slid my hand under Diana's jacket, her white blouse, and slid her shirt up, my fingers finding the small of her back, the delicate indentation of her spine. She arched into me more, as my other hand slid her jacket from one shoulder, and she helped me free one arm, then the next, letting the coat drop to the floor.

Eager fingers clutched my shirt as her mouth slid to my neck, bit. Buttons popped loose and she ran her hands against my chest. I worked the front of her blouse out from her slacks, feeling a little more of her stomach as each button slid undone. She pushed back, toward the bed, as I shrugged out of my work shirt, and tossed hers away.

Her breath was hot in my ear.

"Jay…" she said, as she undid my belt buckle. "Don't let go of me. Don't…"

A whimper escaped her lips as my fingers ran up her spine, found her bra clasp. Her hand reached into my pants, worked earnestly in my lap. I dropped her on the bed, as she helped me out of my pants, then slid out of hers as I kicked my boots off.

Then, it was just us, no foreman, no Secretary--just a man and a woman consumed in one another, not caring that the stars looked upon us with indifference. The universe was here, and now, as her legs sinuously wrapped around my waist, and she clutched my face in both hands with strength I never knew she had, her mouth open and inviting.