7. superstar

Wilhelm Keikeya sighs deeply, takes off his reading glasses, and rubs at his eyes. He thinks he's probably been awake for something like fifteen years now. And that's only because he caught that nap when the remnants of the Colonial fleet landed on their little, uninhabited island off of Australia on Earth.

It had been a good stress-free nap that had lasted all of four hours.

Giving a deep sigh, he throws the glasses down and stands to stretch. He's having to do that more and more often these days. He'd never really paid much attention, all those years ago when his parents, or later Laura Roslin and William Adama, had made similar motions part of their regular routine.

Face it, Keikeya, he thought. You're old.

Which, in and of itself, was a bit of a surprise. Not a bad one, but still there.

Not as much of a surprise as ending up President of their new little colony though. That one still confused the hell out of him. He's still not even sure how his name ended up on the ballot.

Then again, it had been just after the former President Roslin had passed and his 'advisors' had more than capitalized on his rather public grief. It had been a hard lesson, but one he'd already learned long before.

Still, he can't stand to watch any of the pictorials run over the news channels on Remembrance Day. They always use the photos of him clinging to his wife and trying not to cry.

Remembrance Day is hard enough without seeing photos of yourself looking like you need a tissue plastered everywhere. Because for the Colonials, the day is more than a news event. It's a very bittersweet time to remember all of those who didn't make it. Who weren't here to enjoy the 300 cable channels and surplus of sugared drinks.

And he does miss them.

He doesn't miss the frantic adrenaline-laced pace set during that first flight from the doomed colonies. He does miss the people. So many gone now. Lost to accident or attack or disease or stupidity.

The only person who regularly keeps in touch is, oddly, Cally Tyrol. He'd even seen her the week before during one of the endless state dinners the Australian ambassadors had insisted upon. They'd even managed to share a few snarky comments on how they were sure their 'hosts' only held these to get a good look at the colony before she'd kissed him softly on the cheek and gone back to her son.

The advanced tech the Colonials had managed to keep going until that last push to Earth were of avid interest to other nations. Everyone from the former fleet was glaringly aware that advanced technology was pretty much the only reason they'd been allowed to land and settle in the first place.

It had been why President Adama, shortly before his resignation, had insisted on settling where they did. Billy still wishes the man had held out for an island with a bit less in the way of humidity.

Billy sighed, mentally raised a glass to departed friends, and picked his glasses back up. Such was the glamorous life of the President of the Island of Zodia, Earth.

Wilhelm picked up another report and started to read.