Wonderland Chapter 6
Surface Gloss
Part 2: Wonderland, Chapter 6
Rated T
NC 'canon' fic
While the presidential aide that had greeted him searched furiously for Baltar’s diary in amongst the several piles of paper hiding the surface of her desk, Bill covertly looked around the main office of Colonial One .
There were another four aides, all with desks in a similar state of disarray, and all with startlingly similar appearances. They were all female, all young, all blonde, and all wearing blouses that accentuated the ample size of their chests.
With a small cheer, the girl triumphantly held up a book that, it seemed, had been hiding beneath what looked like an eye makeup palette. She tapped her long bright red nails upon the open page and made a clucking noise at the back of her throat.
“Yes,” she finally said. “Mr Adama, won’t you take a seat. The President won’t be a moment.”
“Admiral,” Bill corrected her.
“Sorry?”
“It’s not ‘Mr’ Adama, it’s ‘Admiral’ Adama.”
She gave him a bland smile, before spinning on her heels and entering Baltar’s inner sanctum.
A few minutes later, a familiar tall blonde emerged from the office.
“Admiral,” she greeted him.
Bill nodded politely. “Ms Biers. You’re still achieving exclusive interviews, I see.”
“Of course,” she said, showing her perfect smile. “President Baltar is keen to maintain public support. You probably remember how effective the press is in realising this outcome.”
When he didn’t bother in answering, she opened a folder she was carrying and flicked through its contents.
“Here we are. Admiral Adama. Fourteen hundred hours. I’ll so look forward to it.”
Bill squinted. “Excuse me?”
“Founders Day. The President is holding a formal ceremony and he’s arranged for you to be interviewed at fourteen hundred hours.”
“I don’t-“
“I’ll see you there,” she said. Then, she airily waved in his general direction and marched out, leaving Bill a little more than slightly stunned.
He recovered with a low growl and strode, uninvited, into Baltar’s office. The aide, proving she wasn’t as oblivious as she seemed, scuttled back out to her own desk immediately after the first glance in his direction.
Baltar lounged in his office chair, staring out the window at the tent city.
“I’m not going to be interviewed by that woman again,” Bill snapped to the back of Baltar's head.
Baltar swung around, pushed his greasy hair back from his forehead with his glasses, and peered up at Bill with bloodshot eyes.
“Good afternoon is how civilised people usually greet one another, but I’ll let that go for a moment. I assume you’re here for a reason.”
Bill frowned at Baltar’s complete lack of organisation, but then remembered the standard of his aides, and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“You requested a meeting with me,” he said, his voice calmer than he’d imagined it was going to be.
“I did?” Baltar asked, the high-pitched tone of his voice grating like fingernails down a blackboard.
“Yes.”
The new president rubbed his temple.
“I did, I did…”
Opening the top drawer of his desk, he retrieved a bottle of pills, shook two out into his hand and swallowed them dry.
“What did I want to see you for?” he muttered, almost to himself.
“You never said. But now I can presume it has something to do with Biers.”
“Oh! Yes! Of course. Founders Day!”
“We’re celebrating it?” Bill asked. The only public holiday Laura had celebrated while she held the office of president had been Colonial Day. It was, she’d argued, the only celebration that all Twelve Colonies shared.
“Founders Day is only a holiday on Caprica,” Bill pointed out.
“Yes, yes, yes. And now, New Caprica,” he said with a smirk.
Bill kept his face solemn.
“I know that Roslin had some silly idea about holidays, but that’s another reason why people never voted for her. She couldn’t see that existing and surviving are different things than living. We don’t live for the drudgery of work. Everyone needs a semblance of enjoyment in their lives, Admiral. Even you, I believe.”
Baltar looked up expectantly, but Bill again never replied.
“We’ll be having a formal ceremony from thirteen hundred hours. I’ll need you to give a speech. You will attend. That isn’t negotiable.”
Baltar handed Bill a flyer. Bill read through its various announcements regarding the holiday.
“Groundbreaking?” Bill questioned. “We’re groundbreaking on Founder’s Day?”
“Yes. One of my aides has even found a ribbon for the shovel.”
Bill bit down on his tongue, resisting the urge to suggest to Baltar what he could use the shovel for.
“What are we building?” he asked with trepidation.
“A building, of course! The first step to permanent settlement! You can’t expect everyone to live in tents forever.”
“There’re still a lot of people in orbit--”
“We have another couple of weeks. I’m confident whoever is planning on settling will have by then.”
Bill read the pamphlet again. “I thought the more permanent settlement was going to be closer to the river; that the tent city site was temporary. This party will be almost in the centre of it. Quite a way from the river.”
“There will be other buildings further afield. But we’ve decided to build some permanent structures here as well.”
“What sort of permanent structures? What will the buildings be used for exactly?”
Baltar cleared his throat and stared at his desk. “There’re a few possibilities to choose from,” he finally replied, only adding to Bill’s growing frustration.
The President then opened his top drawer and brought out the bottle of pills again. He poured the contents out onto his desk and began to count the rainbow coloured pills.
“I’ll send you a list with the complete order of ceremonies as soon as possible,” he murmured without looking up from his task. “That will be all,” he added, dismissing Bill with a wave towards the door.
Bill stood there for a minute longer, but Baltar carried on as if he had already left.
As Bill turned to go, he was speaking into his telephone. “Candace,” he was saying, “bring me in a medical requisition.”
Bill left Colonial One and immediately headed towards the hospital tent. He’d need to find out how many pills Baltar was demanding.
As he neared the larger tent, he could see a queue winding around in a snake-like fashion from its entrance.
Ishay was working her way down the line, scribbling furiously on a clipboard.
“Specialist,” he said, gaining her attention. “May I speak to you for a moment?”
“Yes, sir.”
He could feel the speculative looks following them both as he led her a little away from anyone wishing to listen into their conversation.
“Specialist, am I correct in guessing Cottle and you are running a medical clinic on the planet?”
The medic, who was usually so forthright, avoided his eyes.
“I can assume this was my CMO’s idea?”
“We didn’t actually advertise anything.” She looked back to the line and shrugged helplessly. “Word has got around.”
“Indeed,” Bill noted.
“Most of the complaints are minor, Admiral.”
He nodded, understanding. “Things that have been put on the backburner since the attacks,” he guessed.
“Yes, sir.”
Bill sighed and deliberated the line again. A young woman caught his eye. She was shifting her toddler from hip to hip while they waited their turn. The child was sniffling, and scratching at a rash on his legs.
He looked away from the distressed look on both his and his mother’s face.
“One week,” he agreed gruffly. “After that I expect you both back on Galactica.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Bill checked his watch.
“Where’s your nearest dining tent?” he asked.
“Next block.” Ishay motioned in the appropriate direction. “The Rising Star dining tent.”
“Okay, make sure Cottle finishes up tonight in time to meet me there at 1800 hours.”
“I’ll tell him it’s an order, sir. Otherwise he’ll still be insisting on seeing patients at midnight.”
Bill was still chuckling as he walked off towards the school tent. He had no real business there, but he hoped Laura wouldn’t insist on any prerequisite to visit her.
*
Laura drew the baby close and inhaled deeply.
“There’s nothing sweeter than the scent of a baby,” she murmured.
At the back of the school tent Maya laughed quietly.
“I’ll bring her back when she needs to be changed.”
Laura laughed as well and lowered Isis down to cradle in her arms.
“Your mother’s being deliberately rude about you,” she cooed softly. She offered her finger and, by reflex, the baby gripped it strongly. “She’s doing so well.”
“She is,” Maya agreed. “She’s such a good baby; so content. It’s almost as if she’s been here before.”
Laura closed her eyes and bit down hard on her bottom lip at Maya’s offhand comment.
“Here it is!” the young woman cried.
When Laura opened her eyes again, Maya was standing by the desk passing her the book she’d been searching for.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. But now, I’d better get this one back to my tent for a nap.”
Laura touched her lips over the child’s cheek gently and handed her back to her mother.
Maya hesitated at the tent’s exit.
“Thank you, Laura…for this gift.” Maya kissed Isis on the forehead. “She makes every day possible.”
Laura sat at her desk after they left, Maya’s words evoking tears.
The young woman had no idea that she’d spoken the truth. Indeed, every day was possible because of that baby - whether she be known as Isis or Hera - and Laura would be forever grateful and connected to her as such.
And even if it cost her her own life, she’d always need to protect that baby.
Suddenly, a thumb brushed across her cheeks, gently wiping the tears there.
Startled, she looked up into familiar blue eyes. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief.
“I guessed that,” Bill said, giving her a concerned look. “You okay?”
“Yes.” She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I was just being a little bit silly.”
She exhaled a small breath, relieved that he hadn’t walked in earlier and seen Isis. She hated being dishonest with Bill now, and was afraid her face would unwittingly reveal the identity of the baby. And even if it didn’t, Bill wasn’t stupid, and he could, potentially, ask some uncomfortable questions.
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Baltar requested I visit him today.”
She giggled. “I bet that was fun.”
“Disturbing actually,” he admitted.
She gave him a sharp look. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Bill sighed and lowered himself into one of the chairs beside her.
“His staff are...I’m not sure how to describe them actually.”
“Incompetent?” she suggested.
He snorted. “To put it mildly. He didn’t seem to know why he’d summoned me. Couldn’t seem to remember. It appears he’s taking drugs.”
“Drugs?”
“Some sort of uppers, I presume.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t start having visions soon,” she murmured facetiously.
“Not funny,” he chided, the corners of his mouth twitching nevertheless.
“It is funny,” she argued. “When you think about it. Considering you had to put up with me and my drug problem.”
He chuckled. Then, casually, he leaned over and kissed her directly on the lips. “I’d gladly put up with you and your drug problem.”
She held his gaze, as always glad it wasn’t only her that missed their former relationship.
Finally he looked away, and dug out a piece of paper from his pocket.
“This is apparently what he wanted to talk about, albeit briefly.”
Laura donned her glasses and scanned the flyer.
“Several sites will be established across New Caprica with a direct comm link to, and provision of entertainment immediately following, the main ceremony. No settler will miss out on the honour of celebrating this auspicious day,” she quoted.
“Yeah. He’s obviously confident the remaining communication towers will be ready in time.”
“Is this really the best use of our resources?”
“I’m sending Gaeta down tomorrow. Baltar’s asked me for his services on more than one occasion, and after seeing those kids he has helping him today, I’m finally giving in.”
“You have no choice.”
“On anything,” Bill growled, rising from his seat to pace. “That seems to be the problem; every day it’s another small relinquishing of command on my part. Today alone I’ve agreed to Gaeta leaving the service, Cottle and Ishay extending their stay for another week, and being interviewed by D’Anna Biers after giving a speech at a Groundbreaking Ceremony. If I think back over the past week, I can tell you I’ve let Chief Tyrol work at the tent making facility again, Chief Laird assist at the sewerage plant, and three other deck specialists are camped out at the new food processing plant.”
“Bill…”
“Everything is snowballing. I’m beginning to feel powerless; out of control. Saul used to say I let you dictate to me too much, and I used to laugh it off. But now, I’m letting Baltar dictate to me as well, and it’s not so funny. I have no honour.”
She was the one who had done things without honour. She was the one who’d made his children turn against him, who’d told a baby’s parents it had died, who’d tried to cheat in the polls to win an election…
Laura stood and shoved Bill’s chest. “I’ve never met a man with more honour than you, William Adama, and don’t you forget it.”
Bill studied his boots, scuffing his heel in the dirt floor of the tent.
She lifted up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
“If you’re not in a partnership with Baltar, I have no doubt in believing he’s to blame, and not you.”
She started pacing now. She was suddenly so angry, not with Bill, and not even with Baltar, but with herself.
“If I hadn’t made you stage the coup, made things so difficult that you had to throw me in the brig, we could have some recourse with Baltar now,” she ranted. “But no one would tolerate you attempting to overtake the government twice in the row. And as annoying as I find Baltar, I can’t tell you to assassinate him like I did with Cain.”
“No. He might be dangerous, but not her type of dangerous.”
She stilled, facing Bill with her hands on hips.
“We need to look at this logically. What’s our biggest objective?”
“Survival.”
“Agreed. So, what’s the biggest threat to that?”
“Cylons.”
“Agreed. So, we start there. We work out what we’re going to do if they return.”
“I might have a few ideas there,” he said, digging his toe into the dirt.
She grinned. “I knew you would, Admiral.”
Bill checked his watch.
“You have a date, Admiral?” she teased.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact.”
She raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“At the Rising Star dining tent with one usually cantankerous member of my crew.”
“Your CMO?”
He nodded.
“He might be more agreeable if a pretty lady joins us.”
“Bill, did you just call me pretty?”
He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.
“Yeah, very pretty.”
She just grinned, unwilling to acknowledge the way her heart was beating faster after his compliment and chaste kiss.
He took her smile as a ‘yes’ apparently and a moment later they were walking along the New Caprican laneway arm in arm.
Link to chapter 7
Part 2: Wonderland, Chapter 6
Rated T
NC 'canon' fic
While the presidential aide that had greeted him searched furiously for Baltar’s diary in amongst the several piles of paper hiding the surface of her desk, Bill covertly looked around the main office of Colonial One .
There were another four aides, all with desks in a similar state of disarray, and all with startlingly similar appearances. They were all female, all young, all blonde, and all wearing blouses that accentuated the ample size of their chests.
With a small cheer, the girl triumphantly held up a book that, it seemed, had been hiding beneath what looked like an eye makeup palette. She tapped her long bright red nails upon the open page and made a clucking noise at the back of her throat.
“Yes,” she finally said. “Mr Adama, won’t you take a seat. The President won’t be a moment.”
“Admiral,” Bill corrected her.
“Sorry?”
“It’s not ‘Mr’ Adama, it’s ‘Admiral’ Adama.”
She gave him a bland smile, before spinning on her heels and entering Baltar’s inner sanctum.
A few minutes later, a familiar tall blonde emerged from the office.
“Admiral,” she greeted him.
Bill nodded politely. “Ms Biers. You’re still achieving exclusive interviews, I see.”
“Of course,” she said, showing her perfect smile. “President Baltar is keen to maintain public support. You probably remember how effective the press is in realising this outcome.”
When he didn’t bother in answering, she opened a folder she was carrying and flicked through its contents.
“Here we are. Admiral Adama. Fourteen hundred hours. I’ll so look forward to it.”
Bill squinted. “Excuse me?”
“Founders Day. The President is holding a formal ceremony and he’s arranged for you to be interviewed at fourteen hundred hours.”
“I don’t-“
“I’ll see you there,” she said. Then, she airily waved in his general direction and marched out, leaving Bill a little more than slightly stunned.
He recovered with a low growl and strode, uninvited, into Baltar’s office. The aide, proving she wasn’t as oblivious as she seemed, scuttled back out to her own desk immediately after the first glance in his direction.
Baltar lounged in his office chair, staring out the window at the tent city.
“I’m not going to be interviewed by that woman again,” Bill snapped to the back of Baltar's head.
Baltar swung around, pushed his greasy hair back from his forehead with his glasses, and peered up at Bill with bloodshot eyes.
“Good afternoon is how civilised people usually greet one another, but I’ll let that go for a moment. I assume you’re here for a reason.”
Bill frowned at Baltar’s complete lack of organisation, but then remembered the standard of his aides, and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“You requested a meeting with me,” he said, his voice calmer than he’d imagined it was going to be.
“I did?” Baltar asked, the high-pitched tone of his voice grating like fingernails down a blackboard.
“Yes.”
The new president rubbed his temple.
“I did, I did…”
Opening the top drawer of his desk, he retrieved a bottle of pills, shook two out into his hand and swallowed them dry.
“What did I want to see you for?” he muttered, almost to himself.
“You never said. But now I can presume it has something to do with Biers.”
“Oh! Yes! Of course. Founders Day!”
“We’re celebrating it?” Bill asked. The only public holiday Laura had celebrated while she held the office of president had been Colonial Day. It was, she’d argued, the only celebration that all Twelve Colonies shared.
“Founders Day is only a holiday on Caprica,” Bill pointed out.
“Yes, yes, yes. And now, New Caprica,” he said with a smirk.
Bill kept his face solemn.
“I know that Roslin had some silly idea about holidays, but that’s another reason why people never voted for her. She couldn’t see that existing and surviving are different things than living. We don’t live for the drudgery of work. Everyone needs a semblance of enjoyment in their lives, Admiral. Even you, I believe.”
Baltar looked up expectantly, but Bill again never replied.
“We’ll be having a formal ceremony from thirteen hundred hours. I’ll need you to give a speech. You will attend. That isn’t negotiable.”
Baltar handed Bill a flyer. Bill read through its various announcements regarding the holiday.
“Groundbreaking?” Bill questioned. “We’re groundbreaking on Founder’s Day?”
“Yes. One of my aides has even found a ribbon for the shovel.”
Bill bit down on his tongue, resisting the urge to suggest to Baltar what he could use the shovel for.
“What are we building?” he asked with trepidation.
“A building, of course! The first step to permanent settlement! You can’t expect everyone to live in tents forever.”
“There’re still a lot of people in orbit--”
“We have another couple of weeks. I’m confident whoever is planning on settling will have by then.”
Bill read the pamphlet again. “I thought the more permanent settlement was going to be closer to the river; that the tent city site was temporary. This party will be almost in the centre of it. Quite a way from the river.”
“There will be other buildings further afield. But we’ve decided to build some permanent structures here as well.”
“What sort of permanent structures? What will the buildings be used for exactly?”
Baltar cleared his throat and stared at his desk. “There’re a few possibilities to choose from,” he finally replied, only adding to Bill’s growing frustration.
The President then opened his top drawer and brought out the bottle of pills again. He poured the contents out onto his desk and began to count the rainbow coloured pills.
“I’ll send you a list with the complete order of ceremonies as soon as possible,” he murmured without looking up from his task. “That will be all,” he added, dismissing Bill with a wave towards the door.
Bill stood there for a minute longer, but Baltar carried on as if he had already left.
As Bill turned to go, he was speaking into his telephone. “Candace,” he was saying, “bring me in a medical requisition.”
Bill left Colonial One and immediately headed towards the hospital tent. He’d need to find out how many pills Baltar was demanding.
As he neared the larger tent, he could see a queue winding around in a snake-like fashion from its entrance.
Ishay was working her way down the line, scribbling furiously on a clipboard.
“Specialist,” he said, gaining her attention. “May I speak to you for a moment?”
“Yes, sir.”
He could feel the speculative looks following them both as he led her a little away from anyone wishing to listen into their conversation.
“Specialist, am I correct in guessing Cottle and you are running a medical clinic on the planet?”
The medic, who was usually so forthright, avoided his eyes.
“I can assume this was my CMO’s idea?”
“We didn’t actually advertise anything.” She looked back to the line and shrugged helplessly. “Word has got around.”
“Indeed,” Bill noted.
“Most of the complaints are minor, Admiral.”
He nodded, understanding. “Things that have been put on the backburner since the attacks,” he guessed.
“Yes, sir.”
Bill sighed and deliberated the line again. A young woman caught his eye. She was shifting her toddler from hip to hip while they waited their turn. The child was sniffling, and scratching at a rash on his legs.
He looked away from the distressed look on both his and his mother’s face.
“One week,” he agreed gruffly. “After that I expect you both back on Galactica.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Bill checked his watch.
“Where’s your nearest dining tent?” he asked.
“Next block.” Ishay motioned in the appropriate direction. “The Rising Star dining tent.”
“Okay, make sure Cottle finishes up tonight in time to meet me there at 1800 hours.”
“I’ll tell him it’s an order, sir. Otherwise he’ll still be insisting on seeing patients at midnight.”
Bill was still chuckling as he walked off towards the school tent. He had no real business there, but he hoped Laura wouldn’t insist on any prerequisite to visit her.
*
Laura drew the baby close and inhaled deeply.
“There’s nothing sweeter than the scent of a baby,” she murmured.
At the back of the school tent Maya laughed quietly.
“I’ll bring her back when she needs to be changed.”
Laura laughed as well and lowered Isis down to cradle in her arms.
“Your mother’s being deliberately rude about you,” she cooed softly. She offered her finger and, by reflex, the baby gripped it strongly. “She’s doing so well.”
“She is,” Maya agreed. “She’s such a good baby; so content. It’s almost as if she’s been here before.”
Laura closed her eyes and bit down hard on her bottom lip at Maya’s offhand comment.
“Here it is!” the young woman cried.
When Laura opened her eyes again, Maya was standing by the desk passing her the book she’d been searching for.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. But now, I’d better get this one back to my tent for a nap.”
Laura touched her lips over the child’s cheek gently and handed her back to her mother.
Maya hesitated at the tent’s exit.
“Thank you, Laura…for this gift.” Maya kissed Isis on the forehead. “She makes every day possible.”
Laura sat at her desk after they left, Maya’s words evoking tears.
The young woman had no idea that she’d spoken the truth. Indeed, every day was possible because of that baby - whether she be known as Isis or Hera - and Laura would be forever grateful and connected to her as such.
And even if it cost her her own life, she’d always need to protect that baby.
Suddenly, a thumb brushed across her cheeks, gently wiping the tears there.
Startled, she looked up into familiar blue eyes. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief.
“I guessed that,” Bill said, giving her a concerned look. “You okay?”
“Yes.” She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I was just being a little bit silly.”
She exhaled a small breath, relieved that he hadn’t walked in earlier and seen Isis. She hated being dishonest with Bill now, and was afraid her face would unwittingly reveal the identity of the baby. And even if it didn’t, Bill wasn’t stupid, and he could, potentially, ask some uncomfortable questions.
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Baltar requested I visit him today.”
She giggled. “I bet that was fun.”
“Disturbing actually,” he admitted.
She gave him a sharp look. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Bill sighed and lowered himself into one of the chairs beside her.
“His staff are...I’m not sure how to describe them actually.”
“Incompetent?” she suggested.
He snorted. “To put it mildly. He didn’t seem to know why he’d summoned me. Couldn’t seem to remember. It appears he’s taking drugs.”
“Drugs?”
“Some sort of uppers, I presume.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t start having visions soon,” she murmured facetiously.
“Not funny,” he chided, the corners of his mouth twitching nevertheless.
“It is funny,” she argued. “When you think about it. Considering you had to put up with me and my drug problem.”
He chuckled. Then, casually, he leaned over and kissed her directly on the lips. “I’d gladly put up with you and your drug problem.”
She held his gaze, as always glad it wasn’t only her that missed their former relationship.
Finally he looked away, and dug out a piece of paper from his pocket.
“This is apparently what he wanted to talk about, albeit briefly.”
Laura donned her glasses and scanned the flyer.
“Several sites will be established across New Caprica with a direct comm link to, and provision of entertainment immediately following, the main ceremony. No settler will miss out on the honour of celebrating this auspicious day,” she quoted.
“Yeah. He’s obviously confident the remaining communication towers will be ready in time.”
“Is this really the best use of our resources?”
“I’m sending Gaeta down tomorrow. Baltar’s asked me for his services on more than one occasion, and after seeing those kids he has helping him today, I’m finally giving in.”
“You have no choice.”
“On anything,” Bill growled, rising from his seat to pace. “That seems to be the problem; every day it’s another small relinquishing of command on my part. Today alone I’ve agreed to Gaeta leaving the service, Cottle and Ishay extending their stay for another week, and being interviewed by D’Anna Biers after giving a speech at a Groundbreaking Ceremony. If I think back over the past week, I can tell you I’ve let Chief Tyrol work at the tent making facility again, Chief Laird assist at the sewerage plant, and three other deck specialists are camped out at the new food processing plant.”
“Bill…”
“Everything is snowballing. I’m beginning to feel powerless; out of control. Saul used to say I let you dictate to me too much, and I used to laugh it off. But now, I’m letting Baltar dictate to me as well, and it’s not so funny. I have no honour.”
She was the one who had done things without honour. She was the one who’d made his children turn against him, who’d told a baby’s parents it had died, who’d tried to cheat in the polls to win an election…
Laura stood and shoved Bill’s chest. “I’ve never met a man with more honour than you, William Adama, and don’t you forget it.”
Bill studied his boots, scuffing his heel in the dirt floor of the tent.
She lifted up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
“If you’re not in a partnership with Baltar, I have no doubt in believing he’s to blame, and not you.”
She started pacing now. She was suddenly so angry, not with Bill, and not even with Baltar, but with herself.
“If I hadn’t made you stage the coup, made things so difficult that you had to throw me in the brig, we could have some recourse with Baltar now,” she ranted. “But no one would tolerate you attempting to overtake the government twice in the row. And as annoying as I find Baltar, I can’t tell you to assassinate him like I did with Cain.”
“No. He might be dangerous, but not her type of dangerous.”
She stilled, facing Bill with her hands on hips.
“We need to look at this logically. What’s our biggest objective?”
“Survival.”
“Agreed. So, what’s the biggest threat to that?”
“Cylons.”
“Agreed. So, we start there. We work out what we’re going to do if they return.”
“I might have a few ideas there,” he said, digging his toe into the dirt.
She grinned. “I knew you would, Admiral.”
Bill checked his watch.
“You have a date, Admiral?” she teased.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact.”
She raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“At the Rising Star dining tent with one usually cantankerous member of my crew.”
“Your CMO?”
He nodded.
“He might be more agreeable if a pretty lady joins us.”
“Bill, did you just call me pretty?”
He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose.
“Yeah, very pretty.”
She just grinned, unwilling to acknowledge the way her heart was beating faster after his compliment and chaste kiss.
He took her smile as a ‘yes’ apparently and a moment later they were walking along the New Caprican laneway arm in arm.
Link to chapter 7