Laura awoke with a start at the insistent ring of the telephone, swept away by a fleeting moment of disorientation. Her mind whirled as it catalogued her surroundings: Apartment. Fandom. Earth. Must've fallen asleep at the desk -- Phone! Reaching across her desk, she snatched up the receiver. "Please tell me it's not morning already, Bill," she ( Read more... )

Laura awoke to the insistent ring of the telephone, followed by the gravelly voice of Bill Adama. "This is your wake up call, Madam President," he said. His tone was not without amusement.

( 'What if I don't want to move?' )

Several hours later found Roslin seated in the front row of the observation lounge. She had long since been left alone, the usual gathering crowds either left behind on New Caprica, or busily pursuing their duties aboard Galactica. She stared out to the stars ahead, a rapidly cooling cup of coffee cradled in her hands, her knees drawn to her chin. ( Read more... )

“Ms. Roslin!”

( The cheer went up simultaneously from the entire back row of students... )

Darkness on New Caprica descended quickly, especially away from the bustle and commotion of the tent city. Laying on her back on a sandy beach along the river, Laura Roslin stared upward at the still unfamiliar stars that punctuated that darkness. A brief smile flickered across her lips with a soft chuckle.

( 'What's so funny?' )

"You're sure you have to go?"

Bill Adama's voice was quiet, solemn, as he stood just inside the flap of her tent. His thumb was hooked on the buckle of his belt and the lantern lights flickered off his silver-framed glasses. ( He watched her pack; she avoided his eyes... )