Volume One, Scene Eighteen
The settlement went smoothly under Tyrol's leadership. There were minor squabbles and arguments, but the lottery idea garnered support eventually, especially after Tyrol pointed out that a city of forty thousand people would be small enough that no one would be hopelessly separated from their people even if the Colonial groups weren't allowed to settle together.
"We're doing it as family groups," he announced at the press conference. "You register your family, you get your number. No non-blood related groups bigger than four - we're all in this together, folks. That means living near people you don't know, maybe, but gods know we've all been neighbors the last five years, and we'll all learn to live with it."
The crowd grumbled. "We don't want to live near Cylons!" someone shouted.
"You've all lived near Cylons before," Tyrol said, "and you'll do it again. You want housing, you sign up for the lottery. You could be living near Picons or Cancerons or Cylons or Gemenese - We've only got one planet. We all came from Kobol in the first place. We can all live together again."
"Our technology built the godsdamn city," Tory said, sotto voce.
"What would you know, Cylon?" someone else said. Everyone murmured and Tory glared them down.
"I've fought plenty for human rights," Tyrol said. "I have a record with the resistance and the the labor union. New Caprica wasn't that long ago. We're only doing this at the request of your - our - elected officials. Believe me when I say there are other things I'd rather be doing. The peace and comfort of the people who are left is our only priority."
Hoshi leaned into the microphone. "The Office of the President would like to remind you that this is a joint military-civilian-Cylon initiative. Everyone has been thoroughly vetted to ensure that there is not a repeat of New Caprica. The Cylons have submitted voluntarily to the authority of the civilian government. We are at peace. If you don't like it, well, there aren't any more tents, so you'll just have to build something on your own. We have enough living space for everyone to coexist. Please try to concentrate on the fact that we have a civilization to build and a place to live. Any complaints should be addressed to Commander Agathon and he'll convey them to the President."
The crowd grunted and whispered about that, shuffling their feet.
"Capricans are going to get better housing!" someone shouted.
"Everyone will have the same roof over their heads," Tory said, stepping up to the mic. "If anybody wants to complain about that, they can apply to me." She glowered and the crowd quieted.
"Thanks," Tyrol said under his breath. "I think."
"I'm not the sweet one," she whispered back. "I get things done."
"I almost remember," he said. "Gotta make this easy on people, though."
"Yeah, I guess living's hard enough," she said, looking away.
Tyrol reclaimed his podium. "Registration will be done on each ship. Settlement will commence as soon as we've got the buildings ready. Shouldn't be more than a couple of weeks, so start packing."
There was a little bit of a scandal with number-trading, but the captains' aides were firm and thorough in their record-keeping, and everything got straightened out. The buildings filled up from the top down, and people were petitioning for business permits before the ships were even cleared. For a while, the ships kept the messes open, until Tyrol's communal mess was open and the majority of the people were on the ground. The military took over some of the civilian fleet when a few of the captains resigned, and gradually things settled down as people grew used to living on the ground again.
And then, eventually, they were off the ships, living in their rowhouses and their barracks, the smell of recycled air almost a memory. People began to open shops and restaurants. The economy came off barter and there was money to spend again. Children went to school under an abbreviated curriculum that only Eliza lamented. Teenagers congregated in the parks. The religious went to temple; the non-religious lingered in bed listening to the wireless on Sunday mornings. The hospital maternity ward began to fill up. Weather became a normal topic of conversation. Lee looked out at his city from the windows of the Capitol and smiled to himself.
"Feels like home, doesn't it?" he said to Wren. "As close to home as we're gonna get."
"It's what we have," she said. "It's home. Well done, Mr. President."
"It took all of us," he said quietly.
"And for a long time, it still will," she replied, cupping her hands around her coffee mug. They stood together, staring out over the rooftops, until she sighed. "Gods, we're still unpacking."
"It's been months," Lee said. "Between you and Eliza, you aren't color-coded and neatly tidied away yet?"
"Some of us work, sir," she teased. "And don't have a Marine detail to help us schlep things around. You know, for having so little stuff, it still takes an age to get it all put away. It doesn't really help that there's shopping again, but a girl's got to keep up appearances, particularly with elections coming up." She shrugged.
Lee chuckled. "I'll let you get to that. See you tomorrow, Chief."
"Thank you, Mr. President," she said, and wandered away, leaving only the fragrance of her coffee and her perfume. Lee put his hands into his pockets and closed his eyes. He was here. He was home. His people had come to the promised land and found it barren and blasted, and he had helped to make it a dream again. If nothing else, he had that. It was enough.
He opened his eyes and picked up a folder from his desk. It was time to get back to the business of living. He'd go back to his apartment, have a drink, start enjoying things again. His society deserved a leader who was alive, not just going through the motions of duty. He would be that leader, for as long as the people chose to keep him around.
"It's not enough to survive," he said to himself, then shook his head and left the office, turning off the light as he went.
"We're doing it as family groups," he announced at the press conference. "You register your family, you get your number. No non-blood related groups bigger than four - we're all in this together, folks. That means living near people you don't know, maybe, but gods know we've all been neighbors the last five years, and we'll all learn to live with it."
The crowd grumbled. "We don't want to live near Cylons!" someone shouted.
"You've all lived near Cylons before," Tyrol said, "and you'll do it again. You want housing, you sign up for the lottery. You could be living near Picons or Cancerons or Cylons or Gemenese - We've only got one planet. We all came from Kobol in the first place. We can all live together again."
"Our technology built the godsdamn city," Tory said, sotto voce.
"What would you know, Cylon?" someone else said. Everyone murmured and Tory glared them down.
"I've fought plenty for human rights," Tyrol said. "I have a record with the resistance and the the labor union. New Caprica wasn't that long ago. We're only doing this at the request of your - our - elected officials. Believe me when I say there are other things I'd rather be doing. The peace and comfort of the people who are left is our only priority."
Hoshi leaned into the microphone. "The Office of the President would like to remind you that this is a joint military-civilian-Cylon initiative. Everyone has been thoroughly vetted to ensure that there is not a repeat of New Caprica. The Cylons have submitted voluntarily to the authority of the civilian government. We are at peace. If you don't like it, well, there aren't any more tents, so you'll just have to build something on your own. We have enough living space for everyone to coexist. Please try to concentrate on the fact that we have a civilization to build and a place to live. Any complaints should be addressed to Commander Agathon and he'll convey them to the President."
The crowd grunted and whispered about that, shuffling their feet.
"Capricans are going to get better housing!" someone shouted.
"Everyone will have the same roof over their heads," Tory said, stepping up to the mic. "If anybody wants to complain about that, they can apply to me." She glowered and the crowd quieted.
"Thanks," Tyrol said under his breath. "I think."
"I'm not the sweet one," she whispered back. "I get things done."
"I almost remember," he said. "Gotta make this easy on people, though."
"Yeah, I guess living's hard enough," she said, looking away.
Tyrol reclaimed his podium. "Registration will be done on each ship. Settlement will commence as soon as we've got the buildings ready. Shouldn't be more than a couple of weeks, so start packing."
There was a little bit of a scandal with number-trading, but the captains' aides were firm and thorough in their record-keeping, and everything got straightened out. The buildings filled up from the top down, and people were petitioning for business permits before the ships were even cleared. For a while, the ships kept the messes open, until Tyrol's communal mess was open and the majority of the people were on the ground. The military took over some of the civilian fleet when a few of the captains resigned, and gradually things settled down as people grew used to living on the ground again.
And then, eventually, they were off the ships, living in their rowhouses and their barracks, the smell of recycled air almost a memory. People began to open shops and restaurants. The economy came off barter and there was money to spend again. Children went to school under an abbreviated curriculum that only Eliza lamented. Teenagers congregated in the parks. The religious went to temple; the non-religious lingered in bed listening to the wireless on Sunday mornings. The hospital maternity ward began to fill up. Weather became a normal topic of conversation. Lee looked out at his city from the windows of the Capitol and smiled to himself.
"Feels like home, doesn't it?" he said to Wren. "As close to home as we're gonna get."
"It's what we have," she said. "It's home. Well done, Mr. President."
"It took all of us," he said quietly.
"And for a long time, it still will," she replied, cupping her hands around her coffee mug. They stood together, staring out over the rooftops, until she sighed. "Gods, we're still unpacking."
"It's been months," Lee said. "Between you and Eliza, you aren't color-coded and neatly tidied away yet?"
"Some of us work, sir," she teased. "And don't have a Marine detail to help us schlep things around. You know, for having so little stuff, it still takes an age to get it all put away. It doesn't really help that there's shopping again, but a girl's got to keep up appearances, particularly with elections coming up." She shrugged.
Lee chuckled. "I'll let you get to that. See you tomorrow, Chief."
"Thank you, Mr. President," she said, and wandered away, leaving only the fragrance of her coffee and her perfume. Lee put his hands into his pockets and closed his eyes. He was here. He was home. His people had come to the promised land and found it barren and blasted, and he had helped to make it a dream again. If nothing else, he had that. It was enough.
He opened his eyes and picked up a folder from his desk. It was time to get back to the business of living. He'd go back to his apartment, have a drink, start enjoying things again. His society deserved a leader who was alive, not just going through the motions of duty. He would be that leader, for as long as the people chose to keep him around.
"It's not enough to survive," he said to himself, then shook his head and left the office, turning off the light as he went.