Spring was never waiting for us, dear!

It ran one step ahead as we followed in the dance.

Between the parted pages and were pressed

In love's hot fevered iron like a striped pair of pants.

-'MacArthur Park'

Jimmy Webb

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Old Pings

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Frak!

"Sir, are you alright?" gasped Cally.

Tryol clenched his knuckles slowly in response to landing on his fist, and then freely flicked them in exuberance. That really hurt, but he was glad nothing felt broken.

"Sir?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Cally," he assured her.

"Thank gods!" she exclaimed.

Tyrol looked at her. He was inquisitive about her, lately. She seemed to act differently.

Specialist Cally Henderson, the deckhand, shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "Just worried, sir. We couldn't do without both your hands, sir."

Tyrol managed to find humor in that. He smiled and chuckled. Cally lightened up and smiled herself.

"It's been one heckeva two weeks…" he murmured.

"Yes, sir."

He then took a long look at his semi-finished project: a Viper Simulator. Lieutenant Thrace had been demanding for one for a long while; the nuggets were almost destroying Galen's Vipers. Both knew they would be pissed if their limited Vipers were busted by nuggets. The Chief and Cally both had been working on it since 0712 hours; it was now 8:30.

Cally herself was keeping a clipboard and a list of things the two were overlooking on the Simulator; demo programs, flight situations, battle scenarios, leadership decision missions— the works. The programs seemed to be alright; it was operating the frakking thing that was causing the problem. Tyrol was just fixing a few technical problems under the Viper Simulator machine when he got up, stumbled and fell on his hands. One of them happened to be clenched in a fist.

Tyrol started rubbing the hand he was clenching. I'll probably get Dr. Cottle to look at it… ach—that smarts.

"How's everything under there, sir?"

"It's okay. Not better, but not worse."

"What's the main problem?"

Tyrol sighed. "The main problem is that I can't get it to frakken do what it's supposed to do when turned on— turn on."

Cally's face went pale. "So, all those programs we've been working on those past weeks—"

"Oh, no, no, no," Tyrol assured. "Those programs are fine. They're logged in the memory; they'll be there alright."

Cally was relieved, wiping her forehead. She personally helped program those files.

"That's good!"

"Yeah, it is," Tyrol twitched when he tried locking his fingers. "It'll be way better if we could get the damn thing to work."

Cally noticed him flinch. "Are you alright, sir?"

"Huh?" he looked at her.

"Is your hand alright?" she said, pointing her pen at the hand he injured

He pursed his lips as he tried twisting his fingers again. "It's touchy. I'll get Dr. Cottle to look at it."

"You should probably get it checked now, sir, with all do respect."

He shook his head. "Nah, I can still use it; I'll see Cottle later."

"NO, sir," Cally said, getting a little overworked; "please, get it checked."

Tyrol looked at her again. Why was she acting so… compassionate towards him?

"Specialist, I'm fine," he said, firmly. "Now tell me what else we have left on the list."

Cally paused for a moment. She then blinked her eyes numerous times, and then got back onto the checklist.

"Well, we've got nothing left. Except for those kinks you keep coming across; not turning on, turning off all of a sudden, emitting a buzzing sound. The only other thing left is the, uh, wha? The music…" she looked at the word carefully.

"What?" Tyrol looked over Cally's shoulder, grabbing the edge of the clipboard and placing his thumb on the line that said 'Music……… Yes/No'.

"What frakking music?" he cursed.

"I believe that was Starbuck's suggestion."

Tyrol shook his head. "She thinks this is an arcade game…"

"I believe so, sir."

"…well, I don't have any kind of taste for music whatsoever."

"Well, I kinda played band while in school— but, um… that didn't work out."

Tyrol didn't inquire about that issue. He deduced that the band members were probably more sexually active than rabbits at that point in her life.

Funny notion, though.

"Hmm… who else has a good taste for music?" Tyrol thought aloud, discarding his disbelief at Starbucks incredulity.

"Well, Starbuck does, obviously," said Cally.

"Need help, Chief?" said a familiar voice behind the two crewmembers.

Both turned around to see a face they had seen so many times before. A face Tyrol had seen so up close, so intimately.

It was Sharon.

"Sir," Tyrol acknowledged her. "We've got this handled."

Sharon didn't budge. "No, seriously, what's the problem?" she was insistent that she get involved.

Tyrol knew she wouldn't go away at this rate;he really wanted her to.

"It is none of you concerns, I believe, Lieutenant. Aren't you supposed to be with Racetrack?"

"Why would I—" she thought for a second, and then realized it at last. "Oh, right… well, Racetrack's not around, and I have nothing else to do."

"Then why don't you spend our time in the rec room?"

"Haven't you heard? It's been shut off for the rest of the week."

"Well, then I'm sorry, I cannot facilitate your sense of boredom, Lieutenant. NOW, I am trying to construct a simulator for our future pilots and it is frakking irritating me, and if you ever so happen to distract me further, I'll have no more alternative than to have a Marine escort you off my deck before I get frustrated. IS that understood, Lieutenant Valerii?"

Sharon's eyes widened like saucers. She really did not expect that kind of reaction at all, especially from Tyrol. She even felt humiliated.

Cally herself was shocked at the Chief's reaction.

Sharon took a moment to herself, trying to convalesce. "I… I—"

Tyrol was impatient. "Is that understood!" he said more forcefully.

"Yes!" she finally blurted out. She was obviously hurt, and also angry. "I understand, Chief." She glared at him a moment, and the next she was walking away, obviously trying to hide some tears.

The chief, without further ado, looking at Cally, who was staring at him in shock, carried on his mood.

"Anything you would like to add on any further, Specialist?" he requested.

Cally shook her head. "No, sir…" she softly said.

Tyrol nodded. "Good."

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Knock, knock.

"Boomer?" inquired Racetrack's voice behind the door.

Boomer heard her coming into the officer's bathroom before. Boomer was seating in a stall with the door closed. She wiped her eyes before she responded.

"What is it, Kat?"

"I've been lookin' all over for ya, girl. Where've ya been?"

"Nowhere…"

"What's the matter, Boom? You sound a little bit like you've been crying."

"I haven't…"

A slight pause. "Come on out, Boom. Lemme see your face, will ya?"

Boomer sniffled, hesitating for a moment. She really did not want her ECO to see her like this.

"I don't want you to see me like this," she admitted.

"Ooooooh, so you have been crying."

Boomer could feel the tears starting up in her eyes again. "Yeah…"

"Well, come on, Boom, can't you at least tell me about it? You don't have to let me see you if you don't want me to…"

"…okay."

"There ya go, hun. Now, tell me, what's the matter?"

Boomer took a breath. "This guy, um…" she didn't want to say his name. "um… it was on the deck, and, um… well, I offered to help him with some falty on the Raptor, but, he didn't want it. And I… I really like this guy, but I've said done some things in the past to make him angry at me… so… I kept on asking if I could help, and, finally, he yelled at me. I never thought he would yell at me… I just thought he'd gimme a cold shoulder…"

Boomer felt like crying again. In fact, she let out a sob and immediately took a swab of toilet paper to wipe her eyes.

"Awwww, poor Boom," said Kat, sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, hun…"

Boomer let out another sob, the tears now coming out again. "Yeah… everyone's so sorry… for poor Boomer." She couldn't hold a few sobs after that.

"Aw, please, Boom, don't cry… what'll Chief Tyrol think?"

Oh my frakking gods…

Boomer then let out a barrage of sobs and weeps. She couldn't even get herself to say anything.

Racetrack obviously felt bad for her. "Never mind, never mind, bad thing to say… anything I can do to cheer ya up, girl?"

Boomer shook her head. "I doubt it."

"This guy hurt you bad?"

Boomer nodded. "But… I've hurt him before, so, this is probably his revenge."

"Men are so unbelievable… they could harbor something for something in the past for such a long time… it's kinda childish, really."

Boomer shook her had. "Nah… I deserved it…"

Racetrack did not quite know what to say to that.

"Well… I ran all over the ship like a Raptor, if you wanted to know?"

Sniff. "…oh?"

"Yeah; don't mean to sound mean or anything, but, you sure know how to hide."

Boomer shrugged. "Made myself hide when I didn't get along with the crew on Galactica."

"Ahh… well… if it makes you better, I'd hide myself. We all need a time to hide with ourselves. It's not weird or anything; it's just human."

There was a short silence.

"Boomer?"

Finally, the door opened. Boomer's eyes were evidently recovering from crying.

Racetrack studied her. "You alright now?"

She nodded, not saying anything.

"Up for patrol?"

Boomer's eyes widened. "Oh! Oh, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…" she started shaking her head, closing her eyes and smacking the side of her head with a fist. "What the frak is the time?"

"8:30."

Boomer grimaced. "Frak."

Racetrack smiled. "Hey, I'll cover you. I'll say no one informed you."

Boomer lightly smiled. "Thanks, Track."

"No prob, Boom. Now, let's go see what we can eat in the mess hall before we head out; I haven't had a decent meal."

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"The President!" repeated Adama.

"Yes, sir," replied Dualla. "Her ship is requesting to dock"

"Has the President given a reason for her sudden arrival?" Adama requested.

"No, sir."

"Patch me through to the President."

"Yes, sir."

As soon as they got a connection, the old Commander picked up the receiver, and then halted. He thought for a moment, and then he spoke into the receiver.

"Madame President," he began.

"Commander Adama," acknowledged the President.

"Why are you docking in my ship without further telling me, sir?" he asked.

"There is a time in the life of a civilization and in the President's term that he wishes to speak out to the military in support and recognition of their gains and accomplishments; and right now, I want to see how everything is doing well."

"Things are going smoothly, Madame President," Adama insisted. It seemed as though he did not want the President on his ship at all, right now. Yet he knew the President was a very persistent woman. She would continue this conversation until he said yes.

Everyone at CIC was watching him.

"But we appreciate you coming, sir."

"Thank you, Commander. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone on the Galactica again."

"And I am looking forward to that meeting."

Tigh and several others in the room noticed his pronoun usage. Tigh was most curious.

The President seemed to pause for a moment on the other end.

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it too, Commander."

"Until then, Madame President."

"Same to you, Commander."

And then the connection was broken.

Adama took a sigh, and looked at the DRADIS. No Cylons. No danger.

Tigh came to his side, looking at him oddly. "So, what's it going to be: Reception on the docks, or just a regulatory meeting in the briefing room?"

Adama once again was silent for a moment, thinking to himself.

Two weeks… she finally comes back.

"Gaeta," Adama said.

Gaeta immediately went to attention. "Yes, sir."

"You have CIC. I am requesting to have Colonel Tigh along with me to receive the President. Everyone else, remain at your posts."

"Sir," said everyone at CIC.

Adama and Tigh were just heading into the docks as one of them spoke.

"Would you like to explain that little miss-hap during your friendly conversation with the President, Bill?" Tigh asked.

"Explain, Saul."

"I mean saying that you were looking forward to meeting her, as opposed to we."

"Are you that discomforted that I left you out, Saul?"

"This is not about my well being or the rest of the ship's, but you seemed to say that you were most interested in seeing her. Am I right by saying you are?"

Adama stopped walking and looked at the Colonel.

"Let's just say that, after two weeks, maybe I do need someone of higher authority to boss me around." And then Adama proceeded to walk.

Tigh shook his head. "That doesn't sound like the old Husker. Sounds more like a romantic, if you ask me."

"I didn't, however."

"I apologize."

"You are forgiven."

"I just hope this is not going to be one of those welcomes where she bosses us all around. I had enough to deal with back at Ragnar."

"But she was right, then. She's right, now."

Tigh looked at Adama especially. "Yes, sir."

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"Commander on deck!" shouted Tyrol, assuming the position of attention.

Immediately, at the Commander's presence, all on deck had gone to attention. The Commander had the Colonel with him. Tigh kept glimpsing at Adama warily several times; Adama ignored him.

The Commander stepped up to the Chief. Tyrol had his hand up to his brow in a salute.

The Commander returned the salute. "AT EAST," he said, and everyone resumed their duties.

"Chief," he began.

"Sir!"

"I would require you and several deckhands on the dock. We're receiving the President this morning."

"Yes, sir," Tyrol replied firmly. The President? After two weeks?

Adama nodded. Tyrol saluted him again, and then gathered Cally and several other deckhands as they proceeded to the docks.

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"Good morning, Colonial One," said Dualla on the intercom.

"Galactica," replied the captain. "This has been one smooth landing in the port flight pod, and we are ready to settle."

"Thank you, Captain, and welcome aboard."

"Glad to be aboard, Lieutenant," Captain Anjin replied. He looked at his copilot.

"If glad is the word," his copilot said.

"Thrilled, actually," Anjin said to himself. "Two weeks and nothing but flying the ship. It's good to get a little rest."

"Yes… and at least the President gets to walk around more space, you know?"

"Yeah. Two weeks…"

"You said it."

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Laura felt she was well received on the docks. She particularly enjoyed seeing the Chief and his deckhands. It was, however, always inconvenient to meet Colonel Tigh.

She felt it was always beneficial to see Commander Adama. Always.

"Commander," she said with a smile.

The commander gave a half-smile back. "Madame President."

Both shook hands with each other, looking at each other intently for a moment.

Go ahead, smile. Please, she thought. I really don't mind.

"Welcome aboard, sir."

"How has everything been, Commander?"

"Over the past weeks?"

"Yes, over the weeks."

"We are doing fine. There been some slips, but they have been dealt with."

"Anything I should be worried about?"

"Not at all, Madame President."

She smiled. "Good."

He fully smiled back.

Thank you, Adama.

"How long are you planning on staying, Madame President?" inquired Colonel Tigh. "Just out of curiosity."

Since he needs a professional answer…

"Probably till tomorrow morning, Colonel," she assured. She wanted to stay here for a while.

Standing next to her was Billy Keikeya, a fairly good looking young man who served as the President's Aide. Oftentimes he was unkempt, mostly from being overly nervous. He had been that way since the Cylon attacks. But he kept his mind in the right set, and continued to serve the President.

It's good I'm staying a day. It would give Billy a chance to be with Dualla.

The Colonel frowned, but said no more.

"Would you like to get settled first, Madame President?" Adama inquired.

She smiled. Suddenly, she felt the pain. Her eyes closed briefly as she tried to not let it show. Oh gods…!

It actually took her a few moments to get it under control.

The Commander looked worried. "Madame President?"

She had to fight it. She had to, so that no one would know. No one had to know.

She opened her eyes, smiling at the Commander. "Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Commander."

Hesitant for a moment, the Commander smiled back and had things taken care off on Colonial One.

The Presidents things were placed in the guest quarters. Laura found herself sitting at the edge of her bed in thought. Billy was in the room making notes and etcetera on his notepad.

"What are planning to do, if I may ask, Madame President?" Billy asked.

Laura's head was somewhere else just as he asked that question. That pain was an utter nuisance, especially at the docks.

She comprehended the message a few seconds later. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Madame President, what exactly are you on board here for, if I may ask?" Billy was curious.

She looked away for a brief moment, and then sighed. "I do not think it was to see how things were going. I don't sound professional right now, I know… but I just felt the urge to get away from the old things; go somewhere. Here was the most obvious solution."

Billy looked at her. "Speaking off record, I think it's a good idea."

She looked at him. "Why, Billy?"

"I believe it may boost everyone's morale, here. Since we've had no Cylons for two weeks, it's possible everyone here is slacking off; discipline growing low. Maybe you could alleviate that just by being here."

She thought that was a good idea. "It would make my reason for being here sensible."

"Well, there you go, sir," he said encouragingly. "And, if I may say so, Commander Adama seemed very content to have you aboard."

Laura smiled. "No doubt it's just a show; trying to humor me because I am the President."

Billy did not know how to quite answer that. "Um, I guess so, Madame President…"

"Do tell me, what time is it, Billy?"

"9:40 A.M., Madame President."

The pain is still there…

"I'm probably going to take a lie-down for a couple of hours."

"Did you not get any sleep last night?" Billy asked. He looked tired himself.

"I doubt anyone get much sleep, Billy," she said; "If you would, please check on me in thirty minutes."

Billy nodded, motioning to the door. "Yes, sir."

"Why don't you…" Laura started, taking her heels off. "Go see how Dualla is?"

Billy froze slightly. He obviously did not expect her to think Billy was looking forward to seeing Dualla. It surprised him.

Laura smiled, "Go ahead, kid." She winked.

Billy flushed. "Thank you, Madame President…" and then he closed the hatch behind him as he left.

Laura looked at the wall, concentrating on fighting the pain. "Gods… Oh Gods… when will it end?"

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Laura actually woke herself up a few minutes before Billy knocked on her door. She found herself waking from a nightmare.

"Madame President?" Billy's voice echoed through.

Laura also found herself sweating incessantly. She was also shaking a bit.

"Don't come in," she said; she was not decent to be seen. Then she just remembered she had locked the door. But, still.

"It's been two hours," said Billy.

Laura sighed. "Yes, thank you, Billy…"

Silence.

"What is on the agenda, Madame President?" he asked.

Laura knew she smelt bad, and she needed to take a shower. "Let me take a shower. I'll be outside in a while."

And when she finally came out almost a half hour later, Billy was dozing on the wall.

Laura put a hand on Billy's shoulder. "Billy."

He jerked awake. "OH, uh, yes, Madame president?"

"Go ahead and take a nap. You must be tired… how was Dualla?"

"Um… She was fine, thank you, sir." Laura could tell the two had a nice meeting.

She smiled. "Go and take a nap. I'll see how the morale is around here."

Just as she said that, Commander Adama had just arrived to check up on her.

"I assure you," he said, making his presence known. "That the morale around here is fine, Madame President."

"Is it?" she said, looking to him. "Well, if it is alright, I would like to make a quick visit to the brig. I hear some soldiers were thrown in there for a fight last night."

Adama's lips came to be a straight line and he looked grim. "Yes."

"May I at least see how they are doing?"

Adama was against it, clearly. But he could not go against such a little decision. "Fine."

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He had been on guard duty for a while. He took a break or two, but, nothing more. Corporal Gavin Venner took a brief sigh, wanting to so get to bed. He had not slept last night.

He looked at Private Wyvern Kelso, who kept drifting on and off into a doze.

"Hey, Wyvern," he said.

Wyvern's eyes blinked away and he took a sigh. "Gods…"

"They're with you, trust me," Gavin said. He was highly religious, being a native from Gemenon.

Wyvern cleared his throat and said nothing more.

The prisoners— sorry, detainees were in their cells, still angry and saying anything to each other. The two privates were sitting with their backs facing each other, Lieutenant Thrace was doing situps on the floor and using the bunk to pull her to chest to her knees, and Captain Adama was doing nothing but tracing his finger across the back of his other hand. Gavin had been watching them all intently.

Poor souls.

He heard footsteps, and the hatch opened and the first face to appear was that of a woman. The President.

Both Marines came to attention and saluted to the President.

"At ease, sirs," she said.

The detainees knew that face, and all their eyes came upon her.

Gavin and Wyvern dropped their salutes.

Laura smiled at Gavin for a brief moment. They knew each other.

"How are you doing, Corporal?" she asked.

"Very well, thank you Madame President," he said.

She had come to respect the Marine. Both of them had met during a Cylon attack, and Gavin asked her to pray with him. Since, Laura had been making frequent prayers to the Gods.

"Were all of these persons involved with the fight last night, Corporal?" the President asked, glancing at the prisoners individually. She did not know the privates, but she did know Kara and Lee. Both Kara and Lee stood up. But, however, both were not acknowledging each other.

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"MOST of them, Madame President," the marine replied. "Three officers are serving their punishment differently."

Laura nodded. Wonder why.

Commander Adama was standing outside the door, waiting for her to be done. Laura concluded that because she said 'quick visit', he was waiting for her to be done.

It's probably because he doesn't want to see Lee, no doubt…

"Thank you once again, Corporal."

"You're welcome, Madame President."

Laura then stepped close to the cell bars. She glanced at each prisoner, giving them a personal acknowledgement. She wanted it known she was not going to be scolding or whatnot.

But Gods, I don't know what to tell these people…

She took a breath. "I hope the game was fun while it lasted," was what she started with.

The soldiers slightly grimaced, but did not mean to show it to her.

"I don't want to dwell on the matter of what happened last night," she said; "instead I want to thank you all for what you have done so far; making sure the Colony is lasting. It is not easy being the President… and I am glad that I have such soldiers such as yourselves. Although I think it was not the wisest decision, I do not blame you for playing a game of cards during the night, while everyone is sleeping. We've been out in space for two weeks, lost and losing our grip. Let last night be a reminder that we are all still alive, and we should at least acknowledge that before we jump down each other's throats."

It seemed to be catching everyone's ears. They all listened with heart, taking in the President's words of wisdom very wisely. They knew she was talking true.

Laura smiled briefly. "I hope you get out soon." She nodded to them, and then she left. As she went through the door, the Marines saluted her once more, and then when the hatch closed, everyone was back where they were before.

But now, they were thinking harder.

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"You are very kind, Madame President," said Adama.

The President stepped out and that was the first thing he said. Personally, he couldn't have done it. He still wanted to give Lee space.

Laura looked at him, expecting him to further his point.

"But these are Viper pilots," Adama continued. "I think they can live with the fact they are detained."

"Commander," Laura said very quickly; "I am here to support the well-being of your officers and soldiers. I felt that those people needed some support; they looked very miserable."

"With all due respect, Madame President, I do not believe they minded."

"I believe they did."

Adama was halted by that.

"With all due respect, Commander, I believe you need to be democratic in your leadership. It is obvious you came down hard on these persons. All I did was to alleviate the burden of feeling some a stifling shame."

"They should feel shame," Adama countered. "They played a game of triad in the middle of the night and then broke out into a fight. They are more controlled than that."

"But like you said, they are Viper pilots," said the President. "From what I've learned, Viper pilots are willingly diminished of self-control when they have nothing better to do. We have been out in space for two weeks, and we have had no Cylon contact. Do the math, Commander."

Adama stiffened at that remark, but refused to debate. Nothing was more uncomfortable or more miserably time-consuming than to debate with the President.

He cleared his throat. "Where would you like to go now, Madame President?"

Laura looked down the halls for a moment. "CIC?"

Adama nodded. "I think we can permit that." And he lead the way.

All the way there, Adama couldn't stop thinking about how the President had made him feel. He felt mad, threatened, frustrated, and insubordinate. He hated feeling insubordinate.

But he reminded himself; he used to take orders, once: he took orders very well. He never questioned an order, and carried it out to the best of his abilities.

No matter what, he would take orders from a higher authority and respect it.

But this is an inexperienced woman; a schoolteacher! It is like taking orders from a very foolishly frivolous young teenaged girl…

As he got to think about that notion, though, he could not help but wonder if she was this way with everyone… or just him.

She does often undermine my authority often. I've even seen it to appear very teasingly. Maybe even playfully.

He took a hidden glance at her.

Funny woman.