The Last Iteration: All This Has Happened Before ... Chapter 9
The Last Iteration: All This Has Happened Before …
Chapter 9: Balanced on Night’s Edge
That gut-wrenching nausea in the aftermath of a jump will never get better, Laura decided. After three years and thousands of jumps, she still wasn’t used to it.
Her eyes automatically went to her office porthole. Galactica appeared exactly where she expected her to, and she slowly let out the breath she didn’t realise she was holding. Tearing her gaze away, she brought her attention back to the other occupant of the room.
I hate that insufferable smirk, she thought irritably as she met her vice president’s knowing expression.
She schooled her own expression to one of bland indifference, but his quiet chuckle told her that he didn’t buy it.
Frak! When had Tom Zarek, of all people, learned to read me so well?
As her assistant, Tory, entered with a tea tray, Zarek said, “Shall we continue, Madam President?”
Frakker! Laura thought as she accepted a cup of the pungent root tea from Tory. She sipped it, grimacing at the heavy, earthy taste that robbed it of any pleasure it might have had, but it was better than nothing.
“Next item on the agenda-the Saggitaron representative has lodged a protest,” he continued as her ever-efficient assistant handed her the appropriate file.
“Oh great!” She didn’t bother to censor the distaste from her voice or her expression. “What now?”
“What else but complaints about your fine admiral, Madam President?” Zarek replied with the same hint of humour colouring his voice. But she heard his insinuation loud and clear in the way he said “your fine admiral”.
“Or rather, Admiral Adama’s presence among Baltar’s judges.”
“It was a fair lottery,” Laura said tiredly.
“You’re not that naive,” he said pointedly, humor gone now from his eyes. “You were never that naive, Laura. It only requires the appearance of impropriety for people to start talking. Jacob Cantrell feels that Adama should recuse himself from the proceedings, and Saggitarons represent a large enough fraction of our population that if he starts to rile them up, it could get very ugly very quickly. And that doesn’t even take into account the Geminese.”
“So you think that he should just drop out,” she said in a flat, hard voice.
Surprisingly, he shook his head. “No, it’s already come too far for that,” he replied. “Perhaps if he’d done it within a few hours of his name being picked, it would have worked, but we’ve already had preliminary discoveries and motions ruled on. Leaving now would only make him-and by extension, you-look weak, cede to Cantrell and your critics the high ground. I’m just saying that you need to make sure that Adama understands that there can’t be any irregularities on his part that could be construed as bias.”
Laura nodded; she didn’t fail to notice that by saying “your critics” he’d made it clear that he was distancing himself from the situation. This was her problem and subsequently Adama’s.
After everything had died down following the disasterous attempt at colonisation-which Zarek and Baltar had pushed-and Adama’s brave rescue of their population from New Caprica, she’d expected Zarek to revert to type as one of her staunchest political adversaries, and though he’d made some compromises to smooth her way into the presidency again, she could feel him in the background watching and plotting for another opportunity.
“I’ll speak to the Admiral,” she promised. “And perhaps you could speak to Mr. Cantrell, remind him that he was all for Baltar’s policies and that he wouldn’t want his people to dig too deeply into his dealings with Baltar-and therefore the Cylons-during the occupation of New Caprica.” He looked at her with deepening respect. “Let him know that although the general amnesty regarding collaboration with the Cylons on New Caprica will be upheld, some people have long memories of things he wouldn’t want shared with the press.”
He nodded, smiling predatorially. “I’ll just do that, Madam President,” he said before moving on to the problems in the food-supply chain.
As usual, human greed was mostly to blame there, but their gradually dwindling supply of algae was also a huge problem. If they couldn’t increase the production yields of the agro-pods and algae-growing vats, they would soon be in trouble. It wasn’t the agro-techs’ fault ... no one’s fault really except the Cylons who’d recently destroyed one vat-ship and damaged another.
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After Zarek left and she’d dismissed Tory for the evening, Laura sat back in her chair and tried to relax. Four non-stop hours of wrestling over fleet problems with Zarek had worn her down and it was late, but she had a number of files and reports to go through before she could sleep.
Her gaze fell on Galactica again, and inevitably, her thoughts turned to wondering what Bill was doing for the evening. Glancing at the clock told her that he’d be just coming off-duty; barring emergencies, she knew his daily schedule as well as she knew her own. She glanced at the phone, debating whether to call him. After all, they had an early morning meeting to discuss the food situation and possibly detouring to investigate a planetary system some light years off their projected course. Perhaps it was time for some preliminary discussions.
You’re pathetic, she told herself sternly. You just want to hear his voice. A small, quiet moan escaped her involuntarily at the thought of his voice. His gorgeous bedroom voice, as she’d come to think of it; the voice he used when he spoke to her over the wireless from the privacy of his quarters, not the admiral’s tones he used when in CIC. A subtle difference, maybe, but … oh what a difference!
She chewed on her bottom lip as she continued to stare out the porthole at the metal behemoth that was the guardian of the fleet, her mind dwelling on Galactica’s master. He definitely wasn’t the usual type of man she was attracted to, but then, Bill Adama wasn’t the usual type of man-period. In the last few months, although they’d still clashed over a lot of issues-including her confession that she’d hidden Hera Agathon from her parents-he’d done a lot to help her get past the pain and the memories of the Cylon occupation, much of it without even knowing that he had. It was just the way he was.
Quickly turning from those dangerous thoughts of the New Caprica occupation, she focused again on Adama. For such a hardened military man, he was a gentle man and really rather sweet. She giggled softly to herself-sweet was really the only word to describe the man beneath her admiral. Well … there is cute, her little imp reminded her, and sexy … and those deep, deep, blue eyes … and that mouth-oh Gods, that kissable mouth!
She remembered that one kiss they’d shared-just one gentle, tender kiss, but it was enough for that fleeting taste to linger and become indelibly stamped on her memory. Sighing deeply, she wondered if the rest of him would taste of sweet-spice and ambrosia. She wished she’d taken the initiative and made love with him during that night they’d spent cuddling beneath the stars, sharing the cigarettes she’d made from the mild euphoria-inducing plant she’d found and talking till the sun came up. But it had seemed as if they’d had plenty of time to explore that deeper connection blossoming between them and she hadn’t wanted to damage it by moving too fast.
So now she was haunted-haunted by his eyes … by his lips … by his voice … and by the thought of what he’d do with his hands-
The shrill ringing of the phone shattered the pleasant spell her imagination was just starting to weave for her and she nearly jumped out of her visibly flushed skin. Gathering her wits as the phone rang again, she picked up the receiver as she brought her breathing under control.
“Yes, what is it?” she said rather irritably to her assistant.
“Sorry to disturb you, Ma’am, but I just spoke to the landing bay,” Tory replied. “Doctor Cottle has just arrived on the evening shuttle from Galactica and he insists on speaking with you.”
Laura sighed; she wasn’t in the mood for any medical shortages to be piled onto the food shortage, but she was president and the fleet’s problems didn’t just stop because she was tired … or horny, her impish inner voice whispered, laughing, and she smiled ruefully.
“All right, send him right in when he gets here.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Tory said briskly. “Do you need me to stay?”
Laura knew that the younger woman had plans on Galactica with someone, but was reluctant to speak about it. Laura hadn’t pushed. Although they’d exercised together a couple of times now, Tory wasn’t like Billy Kiekeya, her first assistant; a shy, awkward boy who’d seemed barely out of his adolescence when they’d first met and literally wore his heart on his sleeve. She could tease Billy about his love affair with Anastasia Dualla-Galactica’s communications officer-whom he’d fallen head over heels for right after the holocaust had claimed the Colonies.
But Dualla had broken Billy’s heart by dumping him in order to pursue Lee Adama. Apollo. And Laura’s poor boy couldn’t compete with the young god of the fleet. Laura looked sadly at the picture of herself and Billy, perched on the right-hand corner of her desk. In the end, Billy had died to save the woman he loved, and Lee had won Dualla, a woman he didn’t love but married because he couldn’t have the one he did love … Kara. Starbuck.
Laura shook off the bitter thought and returned her attention back to the conversation at hand. “No, you go ahead, Tory,” she said smoothly. “If there’s a problem with the medical supplies, I’ll get the preliminary reports from Cottle and we’ll deal with it in the morning. I doubt there’ll be much we can do about it tonight.”
“Understood.”
“Before you go, could you please call down to the kitchen and have them send up another tea tray, perhaps with a few sandwiches or something for the doctor?” she requested.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Tory replied.
Laura hung up the phone and walked briskly to the washroom. It wouldn’t do to have Cottle come in and catch her in a state of arousal, no matter how mild. She chuckled softly again; the old doctor was just too observant for her liking.
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To Chapter 10