Thank you for all your great reviews! We are going to enter some pretty dark times for some chapters. I hope it does not scare anyone off. War is never pretty. I tried to make this as realistic as possible, having heard many real occupation stories during the second world war from my family and relatives.

Chapter 14

Helena was preparing for her trip, working with the maps. She received a set of detailed military grade satellite pictures of the region by email, and spent a lot of time going through these, almost pixel by pixel. The pictures were not too helpful, as the dense forest canopy covered most of the ground. In higher altitudes, above the tree lines she could see faint trails, but no visible structures. She also was busy working with the technicians so that they would actually pack all of the equipment for a long sustained mission, find the local tribes and work with them on the translation. The whole team was well organized and Dr. Inoue had delegated the organization of the trip to each member, responsible to put together a list of supplies and equipment they needed for their field of study. She had finished translating the second set of text from Laura and was moved beyond anything she ever experienced working on a document. The testimony of Laura, Laura's voice, was genuine and true, it resonated full of love and strength of this woman, who led her people, who forgave her people, who took her responsibilities until the end, sacrificing her life and her love for her duty. Helena wanted to hear more of Laura's voice; she wanted to communicate to the world the testimony of this strong leader. Helena would bring her translation to the people of the tribes who were said to have similar legends. The trip would take place a week later, and Helena wanted to get further into the translation before they left.

"A couple of months passed and the rain stopped finally, letting cold and windy air taking its place. When the clouds would clear, I would step outside at night despite the bitter cold, wrapped in Bill's warm sweatshirt and jacket, and look for the Galactica among the stars. There was no possible way for me to communicate with Bill, as radio transmission was controlled by Baltar's government. And I was not going to sneak into a ship to radio the Galactica just for small talk. Soon the weather stabilized into cold, and the temperatures dropped down below freezing. School was reopened, when all danger from the storms had been cleared and part of the village had been rebuilt, and again I was busy with teaching, my heart still aching for my students, the three children who died in the mudslide. Life continued and was busy. Still my visions of destruction continued to haunt me at night. I was helpless against such visions and I would only find refuge in soft memories of good times shared with Bill. I was grateful that Bill had brought down some clothes for me and I was waiting for his return, as he would bring more supplies for the people to fight the cold weather."

"It was a quiet day, cold and overcast, as it had been for the past few weeks. Nothing was really different about that day. I heard that Bill was scheduled to come down to bring supplies to the people on the ground. I was happy to welcome him back. I was teaching the class mid-afternoon, when I heard the characteristic noise of multiple ships entering the atmosphere and then flying low. I recognized them. I stepped out of the school to witness what my heart knew already. And in a trance, I pushed the children back inside. They did not need to see this. Cylon raiders. They had found us. In a few seconds, it was as if my life had been drained out of me. I knew it was over. I could not feel the ground under me, nor the cold air on my skin. All I could do was to look up at the sky and stayed staring up without moving, in shock. I am not sure what I was expecting, a battle, vipers chasing the raiders, explosions. But no rescue came, nothing. The cloud cover masked any signs of combat in high altitude. The only noise to be heard in the deafening silence of the population gathered in the streets was the buzzing of raiders flying low and landing. Centurions spilled out of the raiders, and started to march in the streets, taking position, patrolling around. As they stopped in front of us, I closed my eyes and sent a last thought to Bill, a prayer. But the gunfire and the death I fully expected did not come and the centurions continued to march, soon followed by skinjobs and trucks. Suddenly my premonition became clear and my mind was wiped of all fear, a revelation. I was not scared anymore. I could not scream or cry, I just remained there, empty, looking at the clouds, before someone, I am not even sure who, took me by the arm and walked me back to my tent."

"Today was the first day of cylon occupation.

I did not think we would stay alive for very long and I was ready to face my death. When it did not come, I wondered why we were spared. It would have been so easy to take advantage of our surprise to exterminate us. Nothing really mattered anymore. If the cylons were keeping us alive, then that could not be for any good reason: maybe to make us suffer, or to toy with us for their enjoyment. We created them as war machines for our greed and to become the weapons of our intolerance and our lack of compassion. They rebelled against us and decided to kill us. We had inflicted our devious morals in them, our hate, and we used them for hate. So we seeded the beginning of our destruction. We created with our politics the first cylon war and banished them. And we did not learn. We continued provoking, hating and discriminating, and then, they came back. Bill told us in his speech, the very first speech I ever heard from him, that we never wondered why humanity deserved to survive. Gods, Bill! He was so right. They came back and exterminated us. Why did they not kill us today on New Caprica? There are already so few of us left."

"In my tent, as darkness settled, I kept on straining my ears for signs of rescue, or battle. But silence enveloped us like a shroud. Galactica's vipers were nowhere to be seen. I dared a peek out in the night and saw only blackness in the sky. Nothing came. Children had been gathered back to their homes with the parents. Sitting on my bed, alone, not aware of cold or hunger, I was just waiting. I did not know what I was waiting for, news, information, anything. I just waited. I must have slept, because I woke up later as darkness surrounded me and cold had crept in, shivering at the unmistakable distant sound of gunfire. It was coming from several directions at once and from the ground. It did not stop until the next morning."

"The next day, trucks rolled in and skinjobs were blasting news out of loud speakers. Not surprisingly, Baltar had surrendered. It occurred to me that if I had been president, I probably would have been dead, since I would never have surrendered. Curfew was declared and people were allowed out only for a few hours each day to get food, water and wood. School was closed, the market was closed and all activities were suspended. Anyone found in the streets outside these hours would be executed. Any resistance would be eliminated. Several, who had tried to fight, had been killed during the night. They kept on repeating the same message over and over again. I stayed in my tent, built a fire and elaborated all kinds of possible plans of escape in my head. I knew they were mere hopes, delusions, as without Galactica's or Pegasus' help our chances were slim. Cylons cannot get killed. They download and come back just as new. We needed something else, another chance. I was lost in my thoughts, when I heard the clunky metallic noise of centurions walking outside my tent, and my heart nearly stopped. The flap of fabric got pulled and a Cavil entered flanked with two centurions. He was smiling.

'Good morning Laura Roslin,' he said with a hint of mockery, 'I was coming to share with you some information, just in case you were tempted to reclaim your presidency. As a courtesy, I hope you appreciate this. I really would like to spare you a most painful death. You have, I am afraid, already experienced a close encounter with death, so I am sure you will be grateful.'

I stood in front of him, straight, silent and immobile, trying not to betray the dread that had entered my heart. He looked at me, pausing for a few seconds, judging his effect on me. 'Fighting is not necessary, really; no rescue is coming. Our basestars have destroyed completely the Galactica and the Pegasus, and all of their crews, as well as any remaining ships in orbit. There were no survivors. They did not have the time to jump. I know you had close friends on board. I am really sorry. God may have mercy on their souls.'

He smiled at me.

'If you want to spare the life of the others, it would be wise to let them know. God wants us to live in peace, all of us, together.'

He left and I stayed immobile in the middle of the tent as I heard them walking away. For minutes I could not move as his words made their way slowly within my consciousness, like a knife burying. I was shaking inside, as my mind disconnected from my body. I saw myself putting my hand in front of my mouth as if to stop a silent scream. I saw the tent spinning around me slowly and a dark cold penetrating me. In slow motion, I saw myself fall and shadows took me away. I welcomed them."

"I did not want to wake up. I wanted to remain unconscious, but as I formulated this very thought, I realized that I already had lost the comforting absence of awareness. I began to hear voices around me whispering, felt my bed under me, and the warmth of blankets around me. Reality rushed over me like a wave, a tidal wave of horror. I kept my eyes shut, fighting out my memories. I just was inside a bad nightmare. The cylons, the raiders, Cavil, Lee, Bill… oh my Gods, Bill. I opened my eyes to see the concerned faces of Dr. Cottle, Tory and Maya nearby. I attempted to get up. I am not sure what I really wanted to do, go out maybe, fight, get in touch with those who I knew would fight.

'I've got to go' I said to them.

Cottle pushed me back down with a gentle hand.

'You are not going anywhere, young lady. You had a hell of a shock and you need to rest.'

'Doctor, we've got to fight.'

'There will be plenty of time for that, once everyone gets organized. You are not going to go and get yourself killed in the process. Your people need you more than ever.' He mumbled.

Tory came over and started to question me.

'What did the Cavil say to you? What did he come for? We saw them leaving and heard you scream.'

I just closed my eyes and shook my head, ignoring her question. Cottle turned over to Tory and Maya and without preamble pushed them out.

'You better let her rest, you two.'

Then he came back to me and put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

'So?'

'I can't talk about it' I whispered, unable to put the words in my mouth and say them.

'Alright, you need to sleep, Madame President. Take this and find some rest. I will be back tomorrow.' He handed me a pill and a glass of water. I scoffed at him.

'I am not president anymore, in case you haven't noticed.' I took the pill, as he turned, faced me and said

'Oh yes, you are. You are president now, if in not in title, in spirit at least. Gaius Baltar forfeited his position when he surrendered to the cylons. Vice-president Zarek is nowhere to be seen.'

Then he left and I lay back on my bed looking up at the fabric of the tent. Ironic how we battled the cylons for so long, and we finally thought we were at peace for months, only to be shocked awake with strong dose of crude reality. We were at war. It never ended. As much as we wanted to believe in fairy tales, the reality always came back. They had found us. Why couldn't I cry? Tears would not come. I wanted to cry, needed it, instead I remained immobile, yet restless in my mind, until the drug induced sleep took me.

When I woke up the next day, I found Cottle near me. I felt guilty to have retreated into numbness to avoid the pain of loss, as if I was running away. I shuddered at my cowardice. He examined me and told me that I was fine physically, blood pressure a little low maybe. Then he sat down next to me.

'How are you feeling?' He lit up a cigarette and stared at the distance, not making eye contact with me.

'We're alone' I just said. 'They are not coming back. They're dead.'

He remained silent for a long while, puffing on his cigarette.

'That's what he said?' It was less a question than a statement. I nodded, even though Cottle was not looking at me. Then he started to mumble, as if he was talking to himself.

'We are born alone. We die alone. We are alone in our bodies with our pain. The only thing that makes this bearable are the connections we make with others.' He paused again and took the last puff of his cigarette before crushing it in one bowl I was about to wash.

'Look at me, Laura.' His voice was gentle, yet firm. He turned towards me and I looked at his old wrinkled face. Cottle was not one to sugarcoat the reality. I trusted him because he always told me the truth, as painful as this truth had been in the past, such when he informed me of the progression of my cancer and that I would die. I was not expecting him to tell me anything but the truth today.

'There is no evidence that they are dead. Therefore, they are not, until you see the evidence with your own eyes. Cylons know that without hope, we will not fight. He told you this, so you can tell others. Coming from you… well, such news are much more believable.' I looked in his eyes.

'I sure hope you are right.' I barely could talk, a painful lump caught in my throat.

He got up and started to pack his bag.

'If Cavil had any evidence, he would have made a point to show it to you. But he did not, did he? You will see Bill again.'

I looked at him surprised.

'How do you…'

'What? Do you think I am blind? That would be the day!' he interrupted. He left the tent smiling, puffing on his cigarette."

I am going to work on this fiction this weekend (and incidentally some other 'real world' writing I am doing). I love to read your comments, so please review. Thanks :)