Part II: Epiphanies
The first letter, she recalled, was an immense shower of fullness that swept the day's weariness from the classroom.
Dear Laura, it began and she rolled her eyes. Her father was a hopeless romantic, but what made him truly special was his ability to mock himself.
Dear Laura…or should I say, 'dearest' Laura?
No matter. These stupid letters are useless. I could probably just call you over the wireless but this is so much more fun, making life difficult by typing. I feel rather…classic, don't you?
I'm writing, quite obviously, from the Raptor and this Husker fellow has been spouting jokes like I'm not here. Pilot jargon is hard to follow but I imagine he and Lt. Cain are talking about a card game that involves vast amounts of personal belongings and even more self esteem. I doubt I can sit through it without unconsciously arranging my demise.
I've called Peleus about Helena Cain. She comes highly recommended and, no doubt, is the best candidate for an insider look on Tauron asteroid mines. Her father, apparently, is a mine leader on one of Tauron's tylium mines and a former Colonial captain.
She's got a temper, too. What more could I possibly ask for?
Michael Roslin
Consul
Colonial Diplomatic Corps
PS. Her credentials are monstrous. Absolutely monstrous. Fleet Command has been deliberating on whether or not Viper pilots could respect a sixteen-year old Captain. Husker certainly can.
She smiled and wrote back:
Dad,
I don't know if I should be happy or horrified to know that you'll be keeping company with card players but I suppose that now you're getting old, you'll need that youthful kick. As for Helena Cain, I honestly don't know what to think of her. She seems old and strangely inaccessible for someone so young. I'm not sure you can trust her.
Tell me more. I prefer hearing the news from you than the 'colored' versions on the wireless.
Laura Roslin
Assistant Professor
University of Caprica City, Caprica
Laura,
Atlantia is strangely comfortable for a huge hunk of metal. I've found out that everyone, including civilians, is welcome to play cards at the pilots' quarters. I've lost my watch while bonding with the crew, but I did acquire a rather aromatic coat from Husker's collection.
We arrived at Tauron yesterday morning and Atlantia's commander has left me with a military escort, commanded by no less than Helena Cain.
It's interesting that the mines here are held on an almost reverential note. Miners, in whatever form, are worshipped as Heroes. I recall a pantheon of gods down at the Tauron City. Vulcan was one of them.
We may have an uprising in our hands. There are close to twenty million miners and their families spread over a region of eleven parsecs. Only a few of these miners have family on Tauron itself. But the miner-worship persists, mainly due to the positive effect they've had on Tauron's colony for thousands of years.
These asteroid mines, considering that the Colonial government's defenses were sorely lacking towards the end of the war, took up arms (or already had arms) in order to defend themselves.
This is an interesting time, as the Articles of Colonization were drawn just a decade or so ago. The Styx operation may very well turn into a separatist movement and the Tauron local government refuses to concede full Styxian autonomy.
Doubtless, the miners have been done a great disservice by being left to themselves during the Cylon uprisings. The mines, in spite of and during the war, have been an enormous source of income and stability for the Colonials. But without the tylium from the Styx mines, we'll be crippling an eighth of our jump ability, commercially and in the military. Tauron itself will absorb the heaviest losses.
There are nasty rumors about nuclear war-heads hidden beneath the mines but we know how that particular thread of thought turns out.
Both sides are drawing terms, impossible ones I assume. I believe this may take the better part of a decade.
Michael Roslin
Consul
Colonial Diplomatic Corps
PS. They serve extraordinary steamed chicken at the kitchens. I was told I was lucky it was Friday when I went on board. They usually have rations all through the week.
Dear Dad,
I've posed the question of Styx autonomy to my students. Most of my first year students have little or no compassion for the miners' ordeal. Insurgents are insurgents, they say. I'm trying to teach them the finer points of media bias. They've been receptive and I can perhaps change the tide of opinion next meeting.
The Tauron students raised an interesting debate and believe that the Styx mines deserve the following (yes, I took notes): the right to self-determination, territoriality, language and culture, financial autonomy, and police forces. Colony secession of this kind may push all the possibilities provided by the Articles of Colonization.
Styx and several other mining colonies have been mining since the Twelve Colonies arrived in this solar system, created their own sub-culture, built their own cities in these asteroids. My students are apprehensive; this may instigate a mine-wide call for political and even economic autonomy.
Funny, we may return to the age of colony-states soon enough.
What does Lt. Cain have to say about this?
Laura Roslin
Assistant Professor
University of Caprica City, Caprica
Dear Laura,
Since you're so interested…Cain pulled a rabbit out of the hat. Her father is Gastor Cain, operations leader (and effectively the mayor) of Gideon I a few light years away. She has taken the initiative and convinced him to act on the behalf of the Colonial government in negotiations with Styx III, but she did this in a purely professional capacity. She dislikes the man.
Gastor Cain is also interested in the more flexible nature of the Articles' norms regulating the autonomous State.
Remarkable. I didn't know the girl had a knack for diplomacy or surprise. It inadvertently pulled the terms in our favor. Gastor has provided indispensable information about the mine's inner workings. Helena isn't pleased but she understands that Gastor's contributions can have bi-lateral implications.
I've been telling her about your teaching stint at university. For someone who has been flying Vipers, she's very well-learned. She can be talkative when drunk and she's been asking about scholarships in Colonial Planetary Policy. In effect, she's been asking a lot about the teachers there and about you.
I told her that you took after me, just to be safe.
I will convince her to write to you about any entry-level courses she can take. I don't think that a brilliant mind should be wasted on Vipers and endless reconnaissance at what is now being called the Armistice Line. She needs an outlet besides Husker, rogue Cylons, and the rest of the ruffians.
Michael Roslin
Consul
Colonial Diplomatic Corps
Dad,
You like to rub shoulders with Husker and the rest, too. And don't you deny it.
My room sprung a leak yesterday. I'm moving to your room and messing the sheets. The handy-man is arriving this afternoon.
Are you flying Vipers now?
Love,
Laura
Laura,
Date the handy-man. Or I can set you up with Husker. I just hope they at least know Monclair's hefty contribution to art.
Vipers are efficient and deadly machines. I am in love with them.
Your rogue of a father,
Michael
Dad,
I'd sooner date the nearest Tauron.
Stay away from Monclair. He's a bad influence.
Love,
L.
L,
Is that what my teacher-daughter has been reduced to? A capital letter?
Speaking of Taurons, Helena Cain has been an unprecedented necessity in these negotiations; she is now my (unofficial) adviser.
Economic relations between the mines and Tauron itself are simply that: economics. There are little if no commonalities in culture and the politics are a permutation of Tauron governance (or lack thereof); some aspects of their culture can be downright heathenous.
Helena calls this politismos, and I've had my share of politismos and mine-identity in the Mercury conferences.
Helena's intelligence reminds me of you but her expedient views, especially her analysis of preventive warfare, are an interesting ballet of intelligence, political pragmatism, and a woman who has seen too much. I'm afraid you'll like her; rather, you'll be forced to because I'll be too busy the next few days and she'll be writing to you for me.
Yes, I've made her my personal aide in a most humiliating sense; I'll have her write long-winded letters to my daughter. I'm willing to bet you my socks that she'll abhor it but would rather jump out an airlock than disobey a direct order.
Dad
PS. Helena Cain knows Monclair, she hates Monclair. Apparently, the Monclair painting in Husker's possession has been a point of debate between those two. Thank the gods for cultured pilots! The handy-man be damned!
Dad,
I've read about politismos and I won't pretend that I know everything about it. The mines created such a complicated identity that one couldn't cram it into books. You had to experience it for yourself.
Laura
PS. Your aide is underage. It's enough that my entire first-year class can't stop staring at my back-side. Stop teasing. Viper pilots are cocky, bull-headed little fraks. You are a slave driver. Spare her, please.
That didn't stop you during your senior year.
Love always,
Dad
Dad,
I'm going on a proper date tonight with one of the faculty because you've forced my hand.
Laura
Laura,
It must be the stagnant Battlestar air and the fact that Persephone Base is far away from a decent pub. Please do not date that ape Keisler. I will personally see to it that he doesn't get anything published if you do.
Send pictures. I want to see the look on his face when you tell him your father's Michael Roslin of Colonial fame.
Dad
Dad,
I told him. He didn't seem fazed.
The date didn't go too well last night; I'm off to school. You were right. Humanity would be better off if his papers weren't published.
Sending pictures now.
Laura
She did not get any messages after the last one so she kept her attention on the nightly reports over the wireless. There were three Styx asteroid mines and she concluded that her father was probably too busy with the negotiations for each. Protestors had already gathered at the gates of Persephone Base on Tauron. The Styx mine colonies themselves were uniting under a common leader.
She loved her father, perhaps a little too fiercely, but that could only be excused. Laura's mother died in his arms and it was the same day she had graduated and left home, installing her self at the new office the university had provided. Half-way through her very first lesson plan, fate dealt Laura a terrible hand and took it all away.
Her father had called her then, his voice strangely monotonous as Laura's hands trembled over the transceiver while she ran through the corridors of the university, drowning in the ululation of students who saw their own kin and faculty scattered and dead on the steps of the main hall.
Michael Roslin usually kept to himself during a crisis; war reminded both of them of what they had lost and it was usually during those times that they both kept silent.
So it was a surprise, three days later and deep into what was being dubbed the Persephone Accord, that she received a note under her father's heading.
To Laura Roslin,
Your father asked me to write you the latest developments. These include the state of breakfast; we had scrambled eggs, tasteless sausages, and what looked like fried green tomatoes. Michael told me to tell you that he'd rather touch Lt. Husker than touch those.
He's currently in a closed door conference with several of the Styx's leaders. Negotiating disarmament has been a long and painful process, details of which none of us can share right now. The Styx Statute of Autonomy is currently being re-drawn although Michael warns that for the moment, even as the autonomous framework is underway, certain issues may still not be dealt with in the hope that they will be tackled later. The statutory text itself necessarily possesses vague precepts, which is deliberate because of the unclear Article-Statute relationship.
I'm told you're an assistant professor at the University of New Caprica. I was wondering if you can tell me more about a bachelor's degree in Colonial Planetary Policy.
He also insists that I disprove all your assumptions about Viper pilots; namely, that they are cocky and bull-headed. I'm not sure if I'm up to the task.
Sincerely,
Lt. Helena Cain
Battlestar Atlantia
Colonial Military Fleet
PS. He lost your pictures and his tie on the betting table. Please send new ones.
To Lt. Helena Cain,
I have new pictures attached to this message. Feel free to peruse them yourself.
Dad has a penchant for losing at games because he never, ever likes to lose on the negotiating table. On a more serious note, I'm surprised you would still like to learn planetary policy in university even as you're probably learning more than my students by being at my father's side.
Experience is the best teacher and Michael Roslin the Diplomat is an experience you won't likely forget.
Isn't my father at all concerned of the legal imprecision of the statutory text, if what you say is true?
Laura Roslin
Assistant Professor
University of Caprica City, Caprica
PS. I still insist that Viper pilots are cocky and bull-headed.
The next letter left Laura a bit dazzled by the sixteen-year-old's eloquence and the fact that at so young an age, she had no qualms about addressing her matter-of-factly and as an equal.
It shouldn't have been a surprise, actually. Helena Cain worked with people who were five, even ten years older than she was. More experienced than some of them, she would likely be in command; she out-ranked even the deck chief and was second only to the CAG.
It was new to Laura, though. Teaching first-year undergraduate classes hardly prepared her for a literate, worldly Viper pilot below the legal age limit.
Dear Laura Roslin,
The Gideon, Mercury, and Styx Statutes of Autonomy were the first approved by the Articles and necessarily lack a frame of reference or model of comparison. One must take into account the haste with which they were also drawn and made official, principally due to the need to resolve speedy political demands for autonomy.
Michael and the Colonial diplomats have been given half a year to work over the terms. He says that of course, he is concerned but he believes that the Statute's dynamic nature already has a clear potential for extension, especially for historical territories.
Sincerely,
Lt. Helena Cain
Battlestar Atlantia
Colonial Military Fleet
Dear Lt. Cain,
I assume the diplomatic corps has listed the statute's fundamental aspects, which will be changed?
And I truly am interested in knowing why you're interested in a university education, seeing as you have a bright military career ahead of you.
Laura Roslin
Dear Ms. Roslin,
I've attached the preliminary documents which include nationality, historical rights, territoriality, language and culture, material competencies, citizenship and economic contracts.
I entered university when I was fourteen, before my brother came home from his first tour of combat. Leaving the Gideon mines, I took a few courses in political science. Call it a compulsion to irk my father. He was a bit disappointed, in much the same way he didn't like how I took after ravenous reading habits and my mother's unerring belief in the mine politismos.
I was hoping to play diplomat amidst the Tauron mine dilemma and the Colonial government when I was in university. This problem of 'insurgency' existed even before the Cylon war.
My father pulled me out of school when my brother died on his third tour and by the time the Gideon unrest ended, I was already serving aboard the Atlantia. I guess this is only to say that Viper pilots are the way they are for a reason. Cocky and bull-headed will probably keep you alive longer than the opposite qualities.
It's odd that I should share this but Michael swears by his writing tablet and says that writing to you in particular is therapeutic. I am sorry if I took an entire week to reply. I write flight rosters not letters and I'm hardly used to talking about myself to strangers.
Sincerely,
Lt. Helena Cain
Helena,
Don't believe everything my father says. He's a diplomat and therefore, he's rigged.
How long have you been flying? It surprises me that you entered Colonial service at such a young age.
Laura Roslin
PS. Please tell Dad to eat his vegetables. He always neglects his diet off-planet. Threaten him on account of his teeth falling out.
Dear Ms. Roslin,
I hate my greens as much as he does. I'd be a hypocrite to insist.
As for your questions, I've been flying mine Raptors since I was eight and I've always been a talented pilot. My brother's death and the destruction of the mines at Delta Aris sealed my fate with the Fleet. We all suffered from the unrest and my father was very supportive of flight school. He was so eager to see me fly that I sometimes thought he wanted me dead. I was shipped in with Battlestar Ragnarok and then transferred to Atlantia shortly after.
How long have you been teaching? I hope I'm not being too forward. I've picked a few bad habits from the card tables and the Gideon mine wasn't much help, either.
Sincerely,
Lt. Helena Cain
Lt. Cain,
I graduated five years ago. I was teaching at Athena's Hall during the Massacre at the Steps and the near-nuclear strike on Oasis, when the virus wiped out the entire net. I lost my mother then.
Just curious but don't you ever get lonely out there in the black?
Laura
Dearest Laura,
It's your father, finally. I found Helena all silent and cold-like, and my compulsion to write you just overtook all my notions for laziness. She's a teenager in some ways and her angst is stifling me.
What in the gods' numerous names have you done? Well, not that I question your tact but… Did I never teach you anything?
This Accord is proving to be a head-ache. Pioneering colonial secession was never part of the plan.
Love always,
Dad
Dad,
Are you sure the problem's with me, not her? And humanity was born for change. Live with it.
L.
It took days for the next reply to arrive, with a whole insert about how her father insisted on cooking for the entire diplomatic corps and how the Persephone Accord seemed to be moving in infinitesimal steps. It was obvious that Michael had prompted the response, mentioning Helena at random intervals until Helena herself wrote back:
Dear Laura,
No. Flying's my life now and I've got my team.
There were too many things I left behind on Gideon I. Persephone Base is bearable because Michael makes everything look new and his writing tablet is a comfort.
Helena Cain
Helena,
I'll tell you a secret.
I left home when I graduated. That was the same day the Massacre happened, and then the strike on Oasis. I thought I'd never enter the Halls of Athena again.
After the war, Dad took me back to Detron Bay and surprise of surprises: I'm teaching. I think that if you face your past head-on, things just fall into place.
Let me apologize for being forward. I hope I didn't offend.
Laura
Dear Laura,
The universe must be playing a big joke on me; I'm working closely with both your father and mine in this Accord.
Gastor has been a frequent fixture on my personal wireless these days, but he barely existed in my life during the Cylon war and even two years ago. It looks like negotiating peace through the Accord has afforded me my own retrospection.
Thanks for that bit of wisdom. Your secret is safe with me. And I took no offense. I look forward to our correspondence.
Helena
Hey,
I'm sending you an entire schedule for fall classes at Caprica University, and another set from the University of Tauron City. I got in touch with my contacts; they'd be thrilled to have you. War heroes aren't plenty in the learned halls of the academe.
Entrance exams will be in three months.
And that's what teachers are for: Wisdom. And may I mention Beauty?
Always,
Laura
To Laura,
I wouldn't contest your beauty. Or your wisdom. Your father talks very highly of you. I sometimes think he's an extraordinary story-teller of very tall tales.
Helena
PS. Thank you for the forms.
Helena,
I'll help you with admissions and hopefully, the military will be willing to let you go.
I'd like to talk to you about wisdom and beauty when we next meet.
Can you please ask my dad how much longer he intends to stay? It's been nearly a month into the Accord and the wireless reported a cease-fire. Can you appraise me of the situation please?
Laura
To Laura Roslin,
I've neglected to update you. The negotiations recently halted for the Three Days of Rest in celebration of the winter solstice in Tauron; there will be a month-long ceasefire.
Michael has asked to 'borrow' me for two weeks days under the pretense of research. I'm now under orders from Fleet Command to personally oversee Michael Roslin's safety. (I think he's going to jump back to Caprica for a quick visit to the President.) The Statute of Autonomy will need more than a quick re-drawing. Michael insists that a bill will likely be authored and brought to the People's Council and effectively, to the Quorum of Twelve. It is going to be a long and bloody process.
He says to expect him and me for dinner tonight.
Sincerely,
Lt. Helena Cain
Battlestar Atlantia
Colonial Military Fleet
Laura stared at the message just as another started blinking on her screen. Tonight? She slowly sank into her chair, her lesson review forgotten on her desk. Classes were to start in twenty minutes, at thirteen-hundred hours. Students were already roving the vast quadrangle in front of Athena's Hall.
The entire afternoon was hardly enough time to contemplate a visitor.
She opened the next message as she tried to shake off her uncertainty and the queasy feeling of being caught off-guard.
Dearest Laura,
As Lt. Cain has probably informed you, I'll be arriving this evening. Let's just say that we, all three of us, will be together for the evening. I'll have a nice rest 'til the next day, and eventually meet the President for a private audience on the morrow. My only regret is that Gastor himself will be absent. Maybe it's for the better. He's very much unlike his daughter; Helena is probably more of the idealist at her age, more innocent.
Tell me you're excited. The girl's become somewhat like family already, don't you think?
The Taurons have been resolute and refuse to budge on no uncertain terms. I thought a vacation was in order before I jumped back into the fray. Helena and I could use your opinion; dinner with the winsome lady (that's you and hardly the lieutenant) would be a welcome reprieve.
It's so nice to have Arko Peleus for a friend. Pulling strings has never been so easy.
Michael Roslin
Consul
Colonial Diplomatic Corps
The bell indicating the start of classes sprung to life, and she typed up a quick letter.
Dear Dad,
I hate surprises and you will have to suffer the consequences. I have consultations until a little later this evening. Make yourselves at home; I was never good with food to begin with and I've been starved of your fish dishes. This will force you to cook sea bass.
I'm looking forward to an invigorating debate.
Laura
The excuse was useless. She finished all her classes by four in the afternoon, opting to mill at the quadrangle while a Caprican student began a tirade on Styxian foolhardiness. He gathered a sizeable crowd. She could hardly stomach his words and left just as the sun began its slow descent into the horizon.
The shuttle took her to the foot of the cliff on which the Roslin summer house stood. She walked appreciatively up the gravel road, thinking about her arguments for when her father grilled her opinions. Then, belatedly, she remembered that this would probably be the best time to convince Helena Cain that the University of Caprica City was her best option.
She arrived at the front lawn, catching the eye of a figure seated comfortably on the divan at the porch. Lt. Cain had stripped down to her dark green and white tank, the dog tags shining as she moved to stand and leaned on the front door's frame. It didn't help that she struck an impressive figure as the bare skin on her shoulders and arms stretched with muscles, moving in languid motions of barely-hidden strength.
Her father emerged from inside the house, handing his guest a glass of what looked like lemonade. He waited for Laura with both hands on his hips.
Laura went up the steps and gave him a long, hard hug. "Am I glad to see you," she gushed. She beamed and dropped her bag on the floor.
"Well, you took long enough," he admonished.
From the corner of Laura's eye, she could see that the lieutenant had picked up the bag from the floor and looked embarrassed by them both. Helena was self-consciously sipping on her lemonade but this lasted only a few seconds because she opted to watch them with a blank expression instead.
When Laura broke free from her father's embrace, she noticed that her dad had stepped aside to give Laura some berth. Helena pushed against the door frame, only to stand properly in front of her.
"Hi," Helena said.
There was a strangely awkward moment as Laura smiled back and tried to think of what to do next.
"Oh, uh…well. Here." Laura reached towards her and pulled her into a loose hug. Helena stood limp in her embrace for a while before a decadently warm hand wound around Laura's waist and climbed up her back. "I didn't think I'd see you again under these circumstances," Laura said, a little more quietly.
"Likewise," Helena said.
They disentangled themselves from each other, unaware that Michael watched the entire exchange with amusement.
He led them all inside. "The sea bass is simmering," he informed Laura. "I filched some wine from the vineyards on the Tauron hills of Pullo. Lt. Cain, if you would kindly open a bottle while I truss up the young professor with our wrongdoings."
Helena excused herself and went hunting for the proper tools. The hallway to the open foyer was empty but for Michael and his daughter.
"So what's the game plan?" Laura asked her father.
He blew out through his lips. "Well, let's see. Caprica City tomorrow and probably the whole week. Then back to Tauron on my private Raptor with my personal pilot soon enough." He really was mischievous, Laura thought; she couldn't leave him alone without him using the military for his own ends.
"I'm going to miss you when you do. Again."
Her father laughed. "She will, too. Miss you, that is."
"You're wicked, do you know that? Wicked. You don't know that."
He gave her a non-committal shrug. "Laura, Laura, Laura" he chided, before he heard Helena's voice from the kitchen.
"Michael, where do you keep your cork-screws?"
"Near the left drawer by the sink!" he shouted. Then pensively, his voice lowered and he told his daughter, "See now, if I were to lecture you on soldiers, she's the kind of girl you bring home to your parents. Not some half-witted Captain or an irksome professor who likes to hear himself speak. She's honest to herself, meant for great things." There was a very long pause. If it weren't for Michael's thoroughly serious look, she would have raised her eyebrow in question.
"I'm just a teacher, Dad."
Her father leavened the atmosphere with his wide smile, his warm eyes. "A teacher who will probably be a Fellow in two years. Believe me when I say…you just might be President someday." Michael nodded towards the direction of the kitchen, to the invisible figure that was now popping a wine bottle with her very capable hands. "And then she'll be an Admiral. It'll be a perfect match."
It was silliness, she was sure of it. "Be careful what you wish for," she said. "You never know; it just might come true and by then, the world would have turned inside out."
He put a finger on her cheek and the tenderness with which he said his next words made her certain that she could not possibly let him down, whatever it was she became.
"It just might," he said. "You'll see."
TO BE CONTINUED...