Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica belongs to Ronald D. Moore and the Sci-Fi channel.
Chapter 11: Trouble in Paradise
Premiere Tiberius Blackwell regarded his new guests with a cautious eye. His second walked them into the room. The older man before him wore a stoic gaze that Tiberius himself could not see through. The younger smiled optimistically, but nervously. They were led to chairs in front of the premiere's conference table. Tiberius for all his confidence allowed himself to believe in luck. For him the table was lucky. It had been one of the first tables made from recycling the shrubs on the planet. A new process for making furniture had begun when they had exhausted the metal from their ships.
His second took a chair next to the older man. Tiberius had trusted him with his life on more than one occasion. With a tan and a descent physique that caused him to look as though he actually ventured outside of the building, he contrasted Tiberius. The premiere folded his smooth, ghostly white hands in front of him after making sure that his obsidian hair was not sticking out at odd angles.
The other man cleared his throat. "Shall we begin, Premiere Blackwell?"
He nodded. "By all means. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Premiere Tiberius Blackwell. This man here," he paused to gesture toward his second, "is Senior Chairman, Octavio Reynolds."
The man in the uniform spoke. "I am Admiral William Adama, of the Battlestar Galactica and the Colonial Fleet."
"And I'm Acting-Vice President Lee Adama," the younger man mentioned.
"I see nepotism survives," Tiberius remarked.
"Not exactly. Our president could not join us because she's recovering from an illness," Lee explained.
Tiberius fingered a pen at his desk. "Despite our abhorrence of some technology, our hospitals would be more than adequate for whatever she might have." Then he slammed the pen down on the desk. "But you probably already know that because you've been spying on us!"
Lee attempted to quell the premiere's tempter. "We meant no harm-"
"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Tiberius interrupted. "Your people invaded our world, and then you spied on us. I should declare you both planetary threats and have you shot, but I'm going to give you a chance to answer. And gentlemen, be brief, but concise."
Adama decided to speak. "You're right, and I apologize for our audacity in this matter. Our people are searching for a new home. Before we contacted your people, we wanted to find out if you were hostile or not. That's why we sent out recon missions. We're sorry for trespassing."
Tiberius looked over to Octavio. The other man shrugged. The premiere sighed heavily, turning back to his guests. "Who are your people?"
"We're the last of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol," Lee replied.
"Why do you know our Greek language?" Octavio drilled. "On this part of the planet we are what were once the Western people. We've gone back to our roots, only using four ancient languages: Hebrew, Latin, Greek, and Gaelic."
Adama rested his hands on his knees. "We could ask you the same thing. All of our people speak this language."
"Why are you in this part of space?" Tiberius questioned.
"Our homeworlds were destroyed, so we set out in search of the Thirteenth Tribe, a group that had separated from us thousands of years ago to find Earth," Adama mentioned.
Octavio stood behind Adama and Lee, frowning and shaking his head, giving Tiberius the 'this sounds like a bunch of crap' signal. "I don't know if I can believe that. However, I think the better question is how did you find this world, and did you find Earth?" Tiberius inquired.
"It's complicated as to how we found Earth, but we did. We found it nuked. Then we examined the next planet out and found a base. We got the coordinates for this world from there," Adama answered.
The old technology had returned once again to threaten their existence. Tiberius seethed, clenching his fists. After a moment he flattened his hands and spoke again. "Earth was destroyed by a war with the greater powers of the world. The people left after the carnage broke off into two groups. One group depended on technology and stayed on Earth in hopes of restoring it. The other group set off for another planet. They stopped on Mars temporarily to find out if it could be made habitable. Obviously the answer was no, so here we are."
"Why the aversion to technology?" Lee inquired.
Tiberius glared at him. "Did you not hear what I just said? Technology nearly wiped out humanity, or at least what we considered to be humanity until your people showed up. We live simple lives here. The only technology we use is in our hospitals, as well as basic electricity and minimal communications."
"If I may be blunt, Mr. Premiere, I'd like to know what I have to do to get my people back that you've insisted on holding hostage," Adama questioned.
The premiere stood, walking closer to the other two. "I never could trust a situation in which family got involved with politics. To be perfectly frank, I don't trust either one of you. I want to meet the top of the order."
"I am the fleet admiral," Adama insisted.
"I want to speak with the president, not the second-hand man appointed by his father," Tiberius insisted.
Adama sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll speak with her."
He and Lee were permitted to return to their Raptor. As soon as he was inside, Adama contacted the president. "What's going on down there, Bill?"
"The man's frakking around with us. He insists that he'll only speak to you," Bill complained.
"Then I'll just have to go down there," Roslin stated.
"But it could-" he attempted to dissuade her.
"Lives are at stake here, Admiral. I'm coming down," she told him.
Half an hour later, the admiral presented Laura to Tiberius. "This is our president, Laura Roslin."
Tiberius nodded respectfully and shook her hand. "It's good to meet you, Madame President. I am Premiere Tiberius Blackwell."
She recognized the political tactic of being polite. "You as well, Premiere Blackwell."
The man then turned toward the others. "You may leave us for a while."
Bill touched Laura's upper arm and whispered, "I don't think you should trust him."
She turned back to him, also whispering. "It might be the only way to do this. I'll be fine. I'll scream really loudly if I'm not."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" he asked.
"No. I just don't think he's going to try anything," she responded.
He let her go reluctantly. "Be careful."
As Adama and Lee left the room, Laura turned back to the premiere. "The admiral is protective of me. I am recovering from an illness and he worries that this negotiation might wear me out."
Tiberius walked over to the table and pulled a chair out for her, allowing her to sit before he pushed the chair back in. "I wouldn't dream of wasting your time like that. We'll keep it strictly business."
Laura folded her hands on the table as he took his seat across from her. "I understand your position as leader. You have your people to think of, and you're willing to do anything to protect them. If our positions were reversed, I'd be just as suspicious as you are."
Perhaps she did understand his position. In contrast to his views on the other two people he had met, Tiberius found that there was something about Laura Roslin that he genuinely liked. "I'm glad you see my reasoning."
"Now, what do we need to do in order to get our people back?" Laura tossed at him.
He smirked. "You don't beat around the bush, do you?"
"I find that a direct approach is sometimes best," she replied.
"Fair enough. I want a signed paper from you, and the admiral, and the acting vice-president that your people will not harm us in any way, or destroy our planet," he told her.
She nodded. "Done." Then she stood. He walked her to the door. Before he could open it though, she turned back to him. "I hope our acquaintance doesn't end here."
He raised an eyebrow. "Madame President, with all due respect, I don't want to deal with your people any further."
Folding her hands in front of her, she met his gaze. "As you have to look after your people, I have to look after mine. There are over 39,000 of us, all that remains of the Twelve Tribes of Kobol. We can't live on our ships indefinitely. They're already falling apart. We set out to look for a new home, and possibly other humans."
"I am sorry for your situation, but I don't see how you could stay here," he expressed.
Deciding to try again, she walked back over to his table. "Our people would only need land. We could hold our own, grow our own food-"
"No," he replied.
She sighed resolutely, placing her hands on the table before turning around to face him. "Perhaps there's something we can trade, something we can do for your people to earn our keep."
He paused in thought for a while, then grinned broadly. "I like you, Roslin. We've had technology controlling the weather here on the planet to make it habitable. Over the last two months, we've noticed weather fluctuations. We'd fix it ourselves, but so many of us have lived simply for so long that we don't know how to use the technology. If your people can fix the control system, along with some of our other technology, you may stay."
Laura smiled back and the two shook hands. "Thank you, Mr. Premiere." Then she turned back to the door.
"By the way, you're welcome to use our medical facilities while you're here," he added.
The president smiled politely. "Thank you. That's very generous of you."
Tiberius shook his head. "It's not generosity: it's prudence. An exchange of medical knowledge would benefit both sides. And I will not have a new group of sick people infecting my planet."
"Ah, a true pragmatist," Laura remarked.
He smirked as he opened the door. "No, a true politician."
She left the premiere, heading back to Bill and Lee. "Laura, are you-"
"I'm fine, Bill. Premiere Blackwell and I had a reasonable discussion. All you, Lee, and I have to do is sign a paper saying that we won't harm his people and we can have our people back. He'll also let our civilization stay here if we agree to fix some of their technology," she explained.
Bill raised an eyebrow. "I thought he didn't have technology except for the hospitals."
"He mentioned something about a weather control system that they don't know how to operate. Apparently their ancestors programmed it, but the current people here didn't take the time to learn it for themselves."
"I wish we didn't have to deal with him," Bill grumbled. "What I'd like to know is how you ended up having a reasonable discussion with him."
Laura rested a hand on his shoulder. "He's a politician. He just needed another politician to talk to. You are military and unfortunately not the most diplomatic. Lee comes from a military background and hasn't yet learned some of the subtleties of politics."
"I still don't like it, but if it's the only way, then we might as well work with him," Bill acquiesced.
The admiral and the president signed what the premiere required. Then he released the recon team to them. Wanting to better relations between the people, Bill sent Cottle down on a mission of medical exchange.
Four days later Cottle entered the office building that Kara had directed him to. On the first floor of the three-story building, he spotted a woman who appeared to be in charge sitting at a desk. She bent over reports, writing furiously. He cleared his throat and received no acknowledgment. Finally on his third attempt she growled, "What?" still without looking up.
Cottle placed his hands on the desk to get her attention. "I am the Chief Medical Officer from the Galactica."
She looked up at him, his glare having no affect on her as she raised an eyebrow, her bright green eyes studying him carefully. "Name?"
"Major Jack Cottle," he said evenly.
Folding her hands together on the desk in front of her, she told him, "I need to your identification papers."
His eyes widened as he stared at her. "What! In all my years as a doctor, I've never been asked for my ID like this!"
She sighed before standing. "Since that ship showed up four days ago, I've had three different people coming to me, claiming to be Galactica's CMO, all with different names, in order to steal medicine."
Her jaw set tight, he could see that she was serious. Curly copper hair with a few gray streaks mixed in was held at bay in a ponytail. By the dark circles under her eyes, I'd say she's had a long week. "Would a word from Admiral Adama help?" Cottle acquiesced.
"Yes," she conceded.
He pulled out a two-way radio. "Cottle to Galactica."
"Galactica Actual here. What do you need, Major?" the admiral asked.
"Their CMO wants verification on who I am because there have been some imposters since we arrived," Cottle relayed.
"Let me talk to her," Adama stated.
Cottle passed the radio to her as the admiral spoke again. "Now, Doctor …"
"Morgana Sorenson."
"Dr. Sorenson, I assure you that Dr. Cottle is legitimate. He is there to compare your medicine to ours, not to take anything from you. Is that acceptable?" Adama mentioned.
She spoke, looking at Cottle. "Yes, Admiral. That would be fine. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."
Handing the radio back to Cottle, she sank down into her chair. "You know, it's okay to be wrong once in a while," Cottle told her.
"It's not that. Despite our lack of technology on this planet, we do use telephones and televisions. When I was a little girl, I was left alone at my uncle's house when he and my aunt had to get something from the store. I remember the noise the rain made, like a hundred people marching. Anyway, I heard a horrible noise at the front door later on in the evening. My uncle had forgotten his house key and, thinking that I had gone to bed instead of staying up to watch television, he was trying to jimmy his own lock," Sorenson explained.
Cottle cleared his throat. "You're going somewhere with this, aren't you?"
She smirked. "Of course I am. I heard the noise from the door and naturally thought someone was breaking into the house. I screamed and called the police. They arrived just after my uncle got the door open. Needless to say, I was in trouble up to my ears. My point is that your admiral made me feel like a little girl again. I assume he can be rather intimidating at times."
The doctor nodded. "That's putting it mildly." He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, offering it to her. "You look like you could lose one."
She snorted. "A doctor offering me nicotine. That's one for the books."
"Everybody has their habits," he stated, setting the pack between them on the desk.
Staring at the pack, she lifted a cigarette out. "Yes, and a particularly nasty habit this is." She twirled it between her fingers. "I mean it smells terrible, turns your teeth yellow," she raised it to her nose, "not to mention the numerous health problems these things cause."
"You want a light?" he asked.
Immediately she slammed the cigarette down on her desk. "No! Dammit, you almost made me fall off the wagon!"
He raised an eyebrow. "What wagon?"
Putting the cigarette back into the pack, she pushed it as far away from her as possible. "When you conquer a habit, but then you start the habit again, they call that falling off the wagon. I quit ten years ago, and I have no intention of staring again today!"
"Sorry," he responded, taking the cigarette that he was planning on smoking and putting it back into the pack. Then he stuck the pack in his coat pocket, out of sight.
"No, I'm sorry. I have had an awful week, and I took it out on you," she mentioned.
He shrugged. "Everyone's entitled to a bad week now and then. I'd recommend a cup of tea and a good night's rest."
"Can said cup of tea include gin?" she asked with a grin.
He raised an eyebrow. "What's gin?"
"Alcohol," she replied.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Boy, you're just full of bad habits."
She laughed heartily. "Perhaps I could do with a good night's sleep."
"And I'll get back to the reason I stopped by," Cottle commented as he stood.
"Allow me to assist you," she offered.
They spent the rest of the day comparing inventories and notes. "I should be heading back to Galactica. Thanks for your help," Cottle told her.
She smiled politely as she walked him to the main door. "You're welcome. Good day, Dr. Cottle."
"Good day, Dr. Sorenson," he told her as he left the office.
(My thanks to carolann for reviewing :D)