24 Days After Cylon Attack
Coordinates Unknown
She moved through the empty corridor ahead with the halting steps of someone who was lost. Everything looked the same. The walls had the same repeating columns, the same evenly spaced incandescent lights that cast an amber glow over the same stretches of red carpet. When she came to a junction, where the only options were to go left or right, she didn't know which one to choose.
It didn't matter.
She wandered to the end of one corridor only to continue down another and another. All the same. And all the while she had the distinct feeling that she should already know where to go, that this place was somehow familiar to her, that she had been here before.
It was all wrong.
The walls of the corridor should have been metal, along with the floor, and the lights cold fluorescents that bathed everything in a blue tinge. And the heavy double doors that had appeared in front of her should have been a hatch with a seal. The inconsistencies didn't seem important now that she'd the found the doors. She opened them and stepped through, squinting in the bright lights beyond, barely able to make out the silhouette of a man in the center of a vast round hall.
His back was to her, but she knew him. She missed him…
"Madam President. Madam President?"
Laura woke with a start and sat up from her slouched position in one of Colonial One's padded seats. She didn't remember dozing off.
"Yes? What?"
"Uh, Wallace Gray is here," said Billy. "He's waiting in your office."
"Right. Right." Wally had scheduled a mid-morning meeting to review the fleet's rationing system. "Ah, I'll be just a moment. Thank you."
Her aide lingered in the doorway. "Madam President, are you—?"
"I'm fine," she replied. "Just a little tired today." When he continued to hesitate she pointedly dismissed him. "Thank you. Billy." He nodded and left.
Alone again, she got up and took a deep breath in an attempt to clear her mind. The vivid dreams she was having of late she attributed to stress, but the persistent fatigue could not be dismissed so easily. The only thing that seemed to help was the chamalla that Doctor Cottle had found and prescribed with no small amount of grumbling as to its unproven effectiveness as a treatment.
She knew that the chamalla wasn't likely to halt the spread of her cancer, but she'd witnessed the alternatives and the devastating side effects that had done little more than extend her mother's suffering. Besides, if I'm going to fight a futile war it might as well be the one against the Cylons. And so Laura filled a glass with water, downed one of the pills that left a bitter aftertaste on the back of her tongue and went to meet Wally.
"Sorry about the wait," she said as she entered her office and settled into the chair behind her desk.
"Our meetings never started on time before, why mess with a tradition?" he replied with a smile. Wally had made himself comfortable in the empty room with his feet propped up on a chair and an open folder of papers sprawled across his lap. "By the way, that aide of yours, he's too efficient by far with these reports of his. You sure he's not a Cylon?"
An expression of fear framed as a joke. Wally often tried to use humor in an attempt to ease his anxiety.
It usually made things worse.
"Let's hope he's not," she replied, "for all our sakes." The thought that the young man who kept her secrets and looked after her was a Cylon was not one she wanted to entertain even casually. "The two Cylons we know of have caused enough trouble by themselves and the fleet already has enough to reasons to tear itself apart." No need to add to them.
Leoben and Doral had both tried to kill Commander Adama for one thing and in the week since the confirmation of rumors that Cylons appeared human, incidents of violence and accusations had been multiplying with alarming frequency. Just this morning she'd received a notice from Galactica that Gaius Baltar was under investigation, having been accused of treason.
"Colonials need a reason to tear each other apart?" Wally's expression had sobered. He tossed one of the report pages onto her desk. She picked it up and started to scan down the bulleted list while he talked. "This ration system we have isn't going to give them less of one. Most of the food supplies we have are perishable and are gonna go rotten before we run out of them. Kimba Huta has the largest freezers, but they're at capacity and we're still trying to find others with secure storage. Then there are the complaints.
"The Dahshur wants exemption from the random distribution and a guaranteed supply line because it has both the area and environmental parameters needed for agricultural production. The Gemini wants a higher water ration for religious cleansings. The Rising Star says it should keep most of its medical stores because it's caring for the majority of the fleet's civilian wounded. Tarbedek and Persephone want to trade directly for water and fuel from the tankers and refineries instead of supplying off Galactica. None of them care that I've already told them no."
"If we start making exceptions then it isn't much of a system and we'll be drowning in accusations of favoritism." Laura pulled off her reading glasses and rubbed away a spot of tension that had started to form behind her temple. "I'll set up a conference for the captains who have objections, but they're going to have to accept no for an answer."
"Since we don't have any carrots to offer, it might help if you can get Commander Adama to back you up," suggested Wally. "We're not much of a government right now without the military to use for a stick."
"I agree." It was difficult for her to rely on Adama for her legitimacy with the fleet's captains, but ever since she had committed to a division between military and civilian matters, he had bowed to her authority and enforced her decisions when necessary.
"You mentioned the Dahshur is capable of supporting agricultural production, can any of those perishable supplies be repurposed for crops?"
"I found a botany intern and a couple of science majors. I've had them going through ship's inventories looking for possibilities, but almost all the produce out of Aerelon and Tauron is seedless so we're concentrating on any stores from the other colonies. We won't know what's going to grow, much less yield anything edible for—" He sighed. "For a long time."
"Well at least we can use Cloud Nine in a similar capacity once its repairs are finished, that might speed things up some. I'll have a copy of this report along with your current assessment submitted to Commander Adama and see if any of his officers have any additional ideas." She paused and tried to blink away a sudden flare of pain from a rapidly forming headache. "See what we can do to prioritize the perishable supplies so that they're not wasted."
"I will."
"Thank you, Wally." Dear Lords her head hurt. "If that's all…"
"A president's work," he replied with another smile as he collected his papers and got up to leave.
No sooner was Wally gone than her phone rang. A call from Galactica, Doctor Baltar requesting to speak with her. A president's work is never done.
-xxx-
Bill was at his desk reviewing files that had been confiscated from Gaius Baltar's lab and to be honest, he was having a hard time deciphering the scribbled notes and vague reports. Science had never been one of Adama's strong suits, but he suspected that his current lack of comprehension as to what it was Baltar had been doing over the last few weeks had more to do with the good Doctor's questionable sanity than anything else.
He was more than happy to abandon his efforts at making sense of it in preference of whatever crisis accompanied the buzz of his nearby phone.
"Adama."
"Sir, urgent transmission from Colonial One requesting Doc Cottle."
"What for?"
"President Roslin has collapsed."
What!
"Put Cottle on a shuttle immediately. Notify me the moment there's anything to report."
"Yes, sir."
Bill frowned and felt a sudden chill wash over him as possible causes were eager to suggest themselves. Heart attack. Stroke. Poison. This was not good. Not good at all. Not now. The fleet could not afford to lose its president, and he hated the thought of what would happen if they did.
And then he remembered…
A few weeks back Roslin had requested an appointment with Cottle. Allergies she'd said. He hadn't had the time then to question or wonder, but maybe he should have. Leoben had used that excuse too. Adama's concern threatened to transform into suspicion until he reminded himself that it might very well be something as simple as an allergic reaction. If it wasn't food, it could be environmental. The closed air systems on space ships made filtration a nightmare and if Colonial One's scrubbers weren't working optimally, well, it certainly wasn't unheard of for people to have respiratory problems. It could also be fatigue and stress. Gods knew he'd endured enough of both lately that he'd nearly passed out a time or two himself.
He was just going to have to wait for an update, but oh, how he hated waiting. It seemed to be all that he was doing lately. Waiting for the Cylons to attack. Waiting during hostage crises. Rescue missions. Investigations. He was frakking sick of waiting. But that's what command was mostly, giving orders and waiting.
Instead of pacing uselessly in his quarters Bill got up and headed for CIC in the hopes that there would be some new piece of information available by the time he arrived. He paused outside one of Galactica's gyms where several pilots were running through hand-to-hand and sparring drills, Lee among them.
A few rounds of boxing might do me some good if I could find the time…
"Apollo," he called with a nod toward the corridor.
Lee waved off his opponent and told Crashdown to take over as he made his way for the door.
"Starbuck run you out of sickbay too?" he asked. When his father didn't respond Lee's expression turned dour. "What happened?"
The commander waited to answer until he'd resumed his walk toward CIC and they were out of earshot of anyone nearby.
"Cottle's been dispatched to Colonial One. The president."
"Frak."
"You don't seem surprised," prodded Bill when his son didn't ask for any details. Know something I don't?
"Given what we've been through lately? At this point if it's bad news, it's not really surprising is it? Besides, it's probably just stress."
"Let's hope so. The presidency is a great deal of responsibility. Lot of pressure, limited resources, Cylons after us. If she isn't up to it, it could compromise the safety of the fleet." You'd tell me if that were the case, wouldn't you?
"Roslin's tougher than she looks," countered Lee. "She can handle it. I'm sure she'll be fine."
They crossed the threshold into CIC before Adama could press Lee for more information. When Saul caught sight of them, he gestured for them to pick up the nearest handsets. A live feed was coming in from Colonial One.
"…is conscious, she is resting—" Billy's voice was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of questions. "She's receiving treatment." Another garble of noise from what Adama assumed was the press corps. "Asked and answered. We don't know, we think it's the stomach flu—"
"Just what we need now, contamination problems or a godsdamned epidemic makin' everyone sick," grumbled Tigh after the transmission ended.
"For now it's an isolated event," replied Lee. "We'll have to wait for Cottle's final report before we start getting pessimistic."
Always more waiting to do.
"In the meantime we continue standard security and quarantine protocols for ship-to-ship transfers. Keep an eye on Astral Queen as well as any other ships that've been causing trouble lately. We don't want anyone trying to exploit the situation by spreading fear or sparking more riots."
"Yes sir. I'll have a Raptor team of marines prepped for launch, just in case."
"Anything new concerning the investigation into Doctor Baltar?"
"No sir, but I did tell that Godfrey woman to stop hovering about. I think she went looking for you."
Adama sighed. He felt like he was going in circles today.
"I wanna see some progress somewhere. Check on our Cylon Raider and have something to report by the end of the day," he ordered. Lee and Tigh both nodded.
Bill left CIC to eventually find Miss Godfrey waiting for him in his quarters. When he stepped through the hatch, she sprang to her feet from her spot on his couch.
"Commander Adama, I hope you don't mind that I—I thought it would be safe here." Your first officer seemed to find my presence distracting."
"It's fine Miss Godfrey." That Colonel Tigh might have found Shelley Godfrey distracting was certainly a case of stating the obvious. Saul was not the only one with a weakness for blondes and Dr. Amorak probably didn't choose Miss Godfrey as his assistant based solely on her intellect. "Can I get you anything?"
"A glass of water would be nice." She resumed her seat and waited in silence for him to return with the water she had requested. "Thank you."
"Baltar's correct...," began Adama as he sat down next to her, "about the convenience of it all. Amarak just happens to bring you the key piece of evidence just before he dies..."
"Something was going on. He was almost paranoid. Kept saying that the Olympic Carrier had been infiltrated by the Cylons. He wanted me to take some things off the ship for safekeeping."
"Why did he give it to you?"
"We were friends."
"Friends." Bullshit. Adama took a sip of water to cover his reaction.
"I loved him. I loved him very much." Her voice wavered, filled with emotion that he didn't quite believe. She rested her head on his shoulder. "There are times when I just feel so alone now." She was leaning against him. "Times when I just want so much to be held again." Close enough that he could feel her breath. "You understand that, don't you?"
"Of course."
"There must be times when...when you feel alone. When the thought of another body next to yours seems like something out of a dream."
He made the mistake of turning to look at her. She made the mistake of kissing him.
"I'm sorry—" she sputtered when he stood and walked away from her. "I—"
"I think you should go," he suggested.
She stared up at him with an expression of contrived distress. When it failed to elicit any reaction from him, she left without protest.
He picked up the nearest handset and waited to be connected to Colonel Tigh.
"Do not, under any circumstances allow Shelly Godfrey to leave this ship," he ordered. "Put her under surveillance, discreetly. I want to know everybody she's talked to and everywhere she's been." His suspicion was not because she had attempted to seduce him. He understood that emotional distress made people do strange things. It was that every instinct he had told him that something about her simply wasn't sincere. The same way that Gaius Baltar's evasive way of speaking made him seem perpetually guilty of something. "And Saul, find Doctor Baltar. Have him to report to my quarters."
"Aye sir."
-xxx-
"When I spoke to Doctor Baltar he accused Miss Godfrey of being a Cylon with no evidence to back up the charge. I've had Miss Godfrey placed under surveillance, but it hasn't turned up anything. After he failed to persuade me, Doctor Baltar tried to sabotage the results of the photographic analysis. I had him taken into custody. He's in Galactica's brig and his laboratory has been quarantined. We're compiling a list of people for further questioning, but we caught him in the act, he's the man in the photo, his guilt is more than clear."
"My gods, Baltar, a traitor…"
"It would appear so."
"I'll be on the next shuttle."
"As you wish, Madam President."
Riding in a shuttle and enduring the jostle of a manual landing on Galactica's deck was the last thing that Laura Roslin wanted to do, but she didn't have much choice. She wanted to see Baltar for herself and she needed to allay any concerns that Commander Adama may have about her health. With any luck Captain Apollo had kept her secret and all she had to do was suppress the waves of nausea that were the primary side affect of Cottle's recent treatment.
As she predicted, Commander Adama met her at the airlock. It was a small blessing that she had decided to board Galactica alone, if only because Billy's over attentiveness was likely to make Adama skeptical that what was happening to her was more than a simple case of exhaustion or stomach flu or whatever the hell excuse he'd been told.
"Hope you're feeling better, Madam President. You gave us quite a scare."
"It's been an exhausting few days. I'm still here though," she replied with a smile that she had to force in an effort to hide an intensifying urge to throw up. "I'm sure I'll be all right in a day or two."
He nodded and thankfully dropped the matter in favor of offering to escort her to the brig where Baltar was being held. As she followed him Cottle's warning kept her watchful for any sign that her poise was slipping. "A time is going to come when you are not going to be able to hide what you're going through." She wished that day would come later rather than sooner, but it was beyond her control and she highly doubted that if she followed Cottle's advice to pray that it would make any difference whatsoever.
They didn't make it far before an announcement came over Galactica's speakers.
"Attention: Pass the word to Commander Adama, Commander Adama please report to Delta Lab."
He led her through several more corridors before stopping outside a hatch labeled brig.
"If you'll excuse me, Madam President, I'm apparently needed elsewhere," he said. "A Marine is stationed here and can arrange an escort for you to the lab when you're finished."
"Thank you, Commander." She stood outside the hatch until Commander Adama disappeared around the corner. Once he was gone, she leaned against the doorway and took a few deep breaths to try and calm her stomach. Eventually the latest bout of queasiness subsided and she entered the brig.
The Marine guard stood from his chair in front of Baltar's cell and acknowledged her with a salute. Gaius Baltar was lying on a cot, staring at the ceiling. He looked nothing like the vain, self-assured scientist that Laura remembered on the day when Richard had introduced him to her. It was at the Caprica City Symposium. Baltar had been on the eve of receiving his third Magnate Prize and he had offered a distracted handshake before wandering off in the direction of the nearest governor's wife.
It came as no surprise that he didn't show any signs of having heard her enter the room until she spoke.
"Doctor."
His gaze locked onto her like a falling man reaching for a rope. He pushed himself up from the cot and shuffled toward the bars.
"Madam President."
"I'm so sorry." So sorry that I trusted you.
"Thank you." He reached out, but she didn't take his hand and instead sank onto the guard's vacant chair. It made it easier to hide her current condition and it made him suddenly uncertain. "You are here to free me, right? To bring this travesty to a close, because... you know I'm innocent."
Innocent? That would have been the last adjective she would have ever used to describe him, even before he'd ended up here.
"Just tell me, so I understand, because I want to understand why. Why you did it."
"I didn't do it." Was the undertone of panic in his denial one of guilt or desperation? "It wasn't me. I'm being framed!"
"Why would she do that?" She decided it was the former.
"Because she's a Cylon."
"She's a Cylon." If that was the only thing he could muster in his defense it was going to be a short trial. That was if he even got a trial...
"You are going to have to believe me."
"I wanna believe you." That much was true. "I wanna believe that I haven't made such a profound error in judgment in trusting you, in asking your advice. But here's where we are, Doctor. If anyone can be a Cylon, and it's hard to tell us apart then we only have one thing left to trust. Our instincts, our feelings. And the moment they told me it was your face in the photo I knew I believed it. I believe you were involved in the attack... somehow. I feel it."
"You'll forgive me, Madam President," he replied, his voice steady for once, "if I don't wish to be executed based solely on your gut feeling."
"May the Gods have mercy on your soul."
And yet, it seemed that the Gods did have mercy on him because when Laura found her way to Delta Lab it was only to discover Lieutenant Gaeta had concluded that the photograph was a fake. Doctor Baltar had not planted a bomb in the defense mainframe after all.
By the end of the day, Laura Roslin was back on Colonial One, in front of the press, shaking hands with Gaius Baltar again.
"Doctor Baltar, it gives me great pleasure to exonerate you publicly and to recognize you o nce again among us, as a scientist, a leader and a friend."
Though she smiled and declared him innocent, it didn't matter to her that he'd been proven not guilty of one particular crime. He was guilty of another. She could feel it. When she looked into his eyes, she saw it and she had to turn away because it sickened her in a way that had nothing to do with her cancer or the side affects of its treatment.
Just knowing that he was free and on her ship…It was nearly half the night before she could even fall asleep. But even dreams failed to offer any respite as she wandered down empty corridors, through a creaking hatch and out into a lush forest where a man was waiting...
AN: I'm still at it. And thanks to my dear readers, for their patience and reviews!