(no subject)

Jun 04, 2007 20:30

Her hands are trembling, she notes, and when she looks in the mirror Roslin sees that her face is drawn. "I look like--"

A dying woman. She stops that train of thought quickly.

"--a crone."

They've just finished the two hundred and fifteenth jump and restarted the countdown clock. She'd made an excuse to Billy and stepped into the privacy of her quarters for a few minutes, to splash some water on her face in an attempt to wake herself up.

It's been days on end, and the Cylons just keep coming. Every thirty-three minutes, like clockwork. Like the machines they are.

Of course, machines don't need sleep.

Roslin sighs and goes to her closet to get out a change of clothes. What she doesn't yet know as she reaches for the door is that the constant, rapid FTL jumps have combined with an undetected instability left as a lingering side effect from the pseudo-explosion that Apollo had triggered to open a small pocket in the fabric of space and time.

Give that she's just opened her closet door on a bar instead of her second dress suit, however, it may not take her too long to figure that out.

raven, bill adama, george luz, laura roslin

Previous post Next post
Up