Fic: The Black Ships, Part VIII
Title: The Black Ships
Author: Major Fischer
Universe: Battlestar Galactica/The West Wing Crossover
Pairings: Roslin/Adama, with some Roslin/Zarek
Notes: Many thanks to melyanna for inspiring me with her excellent (and highly recommended) west_gate series. This is a Facebook for those of you unfamiliar with one side of the crossover. Also thanks to alesia027 for her help making this more coherent.
Chronology: This takes place in BSG's second season after Epiphanies but before Sacrefices, and in the West Wing's mid sixth season. Spoilers beyond that point are unlikely.
Summary: A few weeks before Christmas, late in the Bartlet Presidency, a fleet of interstellar refugees arrive at Earth and changed the world. But is it the end of the saga, or the beginning of a much more complicated one?
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Exhausted, CJ had slipped out of the Oval Office after the rest of the people from the National Security Council. The FBI briefing had been sobering to say the least. There had been five separate plots against the Colonial delegation, and that was only counting the plots the FBI knew about. For the first time in seven years, she quietly thanked God that one of those freak DC snowstorms had hit them, shutting the city down. The weather had insulated them somewhat from the global reaction to the arrival of the Colonial Fleet, and given the Administration breathing room without riots in the streets.
Demonstrators in Los Angeles and Miami, angry that President Bartlet might be considering allowing the refugees from space to enter the country before their own relatives in Asia, Latin America, or Cuba, were receiving a great deal of airtime on CNN. All the cable news networks were featuring military analysts of dubious qualification arguing about how they could defend against the ships in orbit.
Across the globe, the protests had the usual, and not terribly unpredictable, anti-American flavor.
What CJ really wanted to know was why there were people dressed like dinosaurs in London protesting in front of Number 10 Downing Street. She supposed there was a cosmic significance to Barney, and she had no doubt that he was the incarnation of evil, but the symbolism seemed oddly misplaced to her.
The crowd she found most disturbing was the one behind the barriers at Blair House, the temporary Colonial Embassy. Even with the freezing temperatures, there were hundreds of people standing vigils: reporters doing live shots, immigration protesters, religious nuts of every flavor, UFO fanatics convinced that Laura Roslin had personally put tracking devices up their noses, and even the merely curious. A career in politics had made the White House Chief of Staff used to crowds, but this one was far too quiet for her own comfort. It was as if they were all waiting for the other shoe to drop.
**~**~**
Kate Harper stayed behind as the majority of the National Security team left the Oval Office. She had never said outright that she needed to speak to the President, but she had long ago found that she could communicate a great many things to Josiah Bartlet without articulating them. It was that kind of working relationship that had guided them both through what the conventional wisdom had always said was impossible, real peace talks between the Israelis and the Palestinians. He had called it chasing the that Nobel prize, and perhaps part of their bond was that she was the only person in the room willing to give him permission to do just that. Kate was introspective enough to admit that for all the shadowy things she had done for her country, things that she was proud of and not so proud of, working with the President on the peace talks was the moment that she was glad she would be remembered for. “Let the soldiers be the peacemakers,” Admiral Fitzwallace had once told her.
“Sir, I thought I should talk to you about the other night.”
“You, Abbey, and President Roslin?”
“Yes, sir.”
Bartlet took off his coat and laid it on the back of his chair, then walked around the heavy desk to sit opposite her. “You look concerned, Kate.”
“I am, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to bring it up in front of everyone. I’m not really sure I have that much of a reason to be concerned.” She fidgeted with her hands. There were few people in the world that could make Kate nervous enough to do that, and this thing with the Colonial leader was one of them. “She makes me uneasy, sir.”
“There are a lot of people who are uneasy right now, Commander.”
“No, I don’t mean the Colonials in general, I mean their President in particular. I feel like she is dangerous, and charming, and willing to lie through her teeth to get what she wants… and really the only thing I have to go on is that she made an off hand comment about throwing people out of airlocks.”
The President nodded. “You have an advantage over me. I’m not even sure I can articulate what about her has me concerned. She talks about politics in a very Machiavellian way, the uses of power and public opinion.” He smiled at Kate. “Maybe it’s the fact that she was a school teacher. Teachers always have a certain megalomaniacal streak. Says the son of a school head master.” The President gave her one of his ‘yes, I know I am being a smart ass’ looks.
“The problem is, sir, that I don’t know how to interpret her. It seems to me that putting the Colonials in our social context is a mistake…”
“At the moment, we take them at face value, because I can’t think of anything else to do either. Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to keep your ear to the ground. We need more of the puzzle pieces before we can see the big picture.”
**~**~**
CJ paused at one of the dozens of televisions around the West Wing and listened for a moment before poking her head into the Communications Bullpen. She asked of no one in particular, “Is that Colonial pilot really flirting with Wolf Blitzer on CNN?” The question provoked no reaction from half the people and the other half looked up with a chorus of responses that they had MSNBC on in the room. “Well, it’s good to know that this White House is well informed.”
“And if she was, CJ? Would you really begrudge Blitzer the thrill of having a fling with a cute blond alien?” asked Bonnie.
“They’re humans, not aliens, though if she was flirting with him I’ll reserve judgment on their humanity despite what the boys down at Bethesda said.” There were a couple of chuckles from the room and CJ turned around to run smack into Toby.
“Have you talked to the President this morning?”
“I talk to him every morning. Several times.”
“Did he mention the thing at the place?”
“If by that you mean the invitation the First Lady extended to President Roslin to attend Mass with the family, yes, it came up.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea…”
“I suppose we could arrange for her to go to temple with you, but wouldn’t Andi be jealous?”
Just then Josh came striding up, a pile of papers with Donna’s scrawling handwriting scribbled all over them in one hand as they turned into the outer office of the President. “I don’t like this idea of them going to the Basilica of the National Shrine.”
CJ sighed and looked between the two as though to ask if they had conspired to gang up on her. “Any particular reason that I can take to the President before I have to start an interstellar incident?”
“Beside that Mrs. Bartlet’s political sense ranks right up there with Idi Amin?” asked Toby.
Someone in the group might have responded except the door to the Oval Office opened at that moment. Jed Bartlet came out with all the fury and amusement of a father having caught one of his children doing something he shouldn’t. “I don’t believe my wife has his taste for flamboyant military uniforms, among other things. Though she might want to be dictator for life…”
Behind the President, Kate Harper stifled a smile.
“Come on in, children, I’m only twenty minutes behind schedule and you can all explain to me why I shouldn’t take a visiting dignitary to see High Mass in the Basilica of the National Shrine.”
“Sir, the unease around the country is escalating and it’s getting a lot of air play on the cable news networks…” Josh began, stating his case.
“Where is a missing blond haired young woman when you need one?” CJ mumbled. It had been the bane of her existence that the 24-hour news cycle gave a lot of airtime to stories, if they had new information or not, and if they were truly important… or not.
Josh continued, “I don’t like the picture that is going to be painted by images of you with aliens…”
“Colonials,” provided Toby.
Josh gave Toby a look, and CJ shrugged. “He’s on a ‘calling things by their proper names’ kick. Next thing you know we’ll be going to Mumbai in two months instead of Bombay.”
“We’re not going to Bombay? Where is Mumbai?” Josh suddenly looked confused.
“India, Josh.” This was one of the times CJ wondered how Josh had made it through two Ivy League schools.
“At any rate, I’m not thrilled with the picture of the Colonials in front of a cathedral.” Toby said bringing them back to the subject at hand.
“Next argument,” Bartlet called out, dismissing the concern.
“Is anyone else worried about exposing these people we barely know and don’t fully trust to our religious systems?” Josh wondered aloud.
“What are you afraid they might do with the information?” CJ didn’t see the validity, if any, in Toby and Josh’s objections.
“They could be offended or become hostile if their beliefs clash with ours. Religious warfare has started over sillier things.” Toby wasn’t yet willing to give up on his argument.
“Certainly religion has been the cause of war before, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the Christmas story being the catalyst.” The President shook his head.
“The Puritans weren’t big fans of Christmas,” Will Bailey shot from across the room.
“And people with big shoes and belt buckles on their hats are good examples of rational behavior?” CJ asked.
“Children…” The low warning tone from the President brought the bickering staff back down to a manageable level.
Just then Debbie, the President’s Executive Secretary poked her head in. “Sir, the Surgeon General is here to see you.”
President Bartlet nodded. “Sit down, people, I think I’m about to get a lesson in genetics. I’ve always hated biology and I’m going to share the pain.”
“I heard that, Mr. President,” Surgeon General Millicent Griffith swept into the room, a set of folders under her arm. “If you keep talking like that I’ll call Ellie in from NIH and get her to do this.”
“Always trying to turn my children against me, Millie,” the two exchanged good natured jabs, “I take it those are the genetic test results.”
“They are… and Jed, they’re damn strange.”
“What about this situation isn’t?” CJ questioned.
Dr. Griffith looked around the room. “I don’t suppose any of you know much about evolutionary biology?”
Kate tilted her head to the side. “I thought it was just a simple matter of seeing if they had human DNA or not?”
“Nothing is quite that simple when you are talking about genetics.” The Surgeon General sat down and prepared herself to deliver a genetics lesson to the President and his staff. “There are basically two schools of thought in modern evolutionary theory; either a new species branches away from the parent like a tree, in a gradual change, or they immediately jump away and become completely different in one leap of great change. Something like a tree versus a subway map.”
“Millie, you can tell you're from New York when you compare things to subway maps…” the President teased.
Were she not in uniform and they not standing in the middle of the Oval Office the President’s comment might have heard him a quick comeback from the Surgeon General, but this was the Oval, and they were discussing a serious matter and she didn’t joke in this room when here on national business. “Once two groups from the same species are separated geographically so they are no longer interbreeding, genetic drift will dictate that speciation should take place.”
CJ nodded slowly, as if to pretend she was following. “So even if we started out as the same species our genes would be different.”
“Should be,” the Surgeon General confirmed, “but they aren’t. Not only do we share a genetic ancestor with those people… we share most of our genetic stock as well. It is as if they haven’t changed at all. Either by punctuated equilibrium or by gradual speciation, given the three thousand year span they describe, we should be different species in the same genius. But with the exception of one anomaly in one of the tests… they seem to be Homo sapiens.”
“What was the anomaly?” the President asked.
“We’re still running more tests on it…”
“Millie…” CJ could tell that the President was picking up on the Surgeon General’s deflection.
“President Roslin’s blood chemistry doesn’t seem to match the other volunteers.”
The President looked over at Kate with a raised eyebrow. “The plot thickens.”
... to be continued ...
Next Chapter: Part IX
Author: Major Fischer
Universe: Battlestar Galactica/The West Wing Crossover
Pairings: Roslin/Adama, with some Roslin/Zarek
Notes: Many thanks to melyanna for inspiring me with her excellent (and highly recommended) west_gate series. This is a Facebook for those of you unfamiliar with one side of the crossover. Also thanks to alesia027 for her help making this more coherent.
Chronology: This takes place in BSG's second season after Epiphanies but before Sacrefices, and in the West Wing's mid sixth season. Spoilers beyond that point are unlikely.
Summary: A few weeks before Christmas, late in the Bartlet Presidency, a fleet of interstellar refugees arrive at Earth and changed the world. But is it the end of the saga, or the beginning of a much more complicated one?
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Exhausted, CJ had slipped out of the Oval Office after the rest of the people from the National Security Council. The FBI briefing had been sobering to say the least. There had been five separate plots against the Colonial delegation, and that was only counting the plots the FBI knew about. For the first time in seven years, she quietly thanked God that one of those freak DC snowstorms had hit them, shutting the city down. The weather had insulated them somewhat from the global reaction to the arrival of the Colonial Fleet, and given the Administration breathing room without riots in the streets.
Demonstrators in Los Angeles and Miami, angry that President Bartlet might be considering allowing the refugees from space to enter the country before their own relatives in Asia, Latin America, or Cuba, were receiving a great deal of airtime on CNN. All the cable news networks were featuring military analysts of dubious qualification arguing about how they could defend against the ships in orbit.
Across the globe, the protests had the usual, and not terribly unpredictable, anti-American flavor.
What CJ really wanted to know was why there were people dressed like dinosaurs in London protesting in front of Number 10 Downing Street. She supposed there was a cosmic significance to Barney, and she had no doubt that he was the incarnation of evil, but the symbolism seemed oddly misplaced to her.
The crowd she found most disturbing was the one behind the barriers at Blair House, the temporary Colonial Embassy. Even with the freezing temperatures, there were hundreds of people standing vigils: reporters doing live shots, immigration protesters, religious nuts of every flavor, UFO fanatics convinced that Laura Roslin had personally put tracking devices up their noses, and even the merely curious. A career in politics had made the White House Chief of Staff used to crowds, but this one was far too quiet for her own comfort. It was as if they were all waiting for the other shoe to drop.
**~**~**
Kate Harper stayed behind as the majority of the National Security team left the Oval Office. She had never said outright that she needed to speak to the President, but she had long ago found that she could communicate a great many things to Josiah Bartlet without articulating them. It was that kind of working relationship that had guided them both through what the conventional wisdom had always said was impossible, real peace talks between the Israelis and the Palestinians. He had called it chasing the that Nobel prize, and perhaps part of their bond was that she was the only person in the room willing to give him permission to do just that. Kate was introspective enough to admit that for all the shadowy things she had done for her country, things that she was proud of and not so proud of, working with the President on the peace talks was the moment that she was glad she would be remembered for. “Let the soldiers be the peacemakers,” Admiral Fitzwallace had once told her.
“Sir, I thought I should talk to you about the other night.”
“You, Abbey, and President Roslin?”
“Yes, sir.”
Bartlet took off his coat and laid it on the back of his chair, then walked around the heavy desk to sit opposite her. “You look concerned, Kate.”
“I am, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to bring it up in front of everyone. I’m not really sure I have that much of a reason to be concerned.” She fidgeted with her hands. There were few people in the world that could make Kate nervous enough to do that, and this thing with the Colonial leader was one of them. “She makes me uneasy, sir.”
“There are a lot of people who are uneasy right now, Commander.”
“No, I don’t mean the Colonials in general, I mean their President in particular. I feel like she is dangerous, and charming, and willing to lie through her teeth to get what she wants… and really the only thing I have to go on is that she made an off hand comment about throwing people out of airlocks.”
The President nodded. “You have an advantage over me. I’m not even sure I can articulate what about her has me concerned. She talks about politics in a very Machiavellian way, the uses of power and public opinion.” He smiled at Kate. “Maybe it’s the fact that she was a school teacher. Teachers always have a certain megalomaniacal streak. Says the son of a school head master.” The President gave her one of his ‘yes, I know I am being a smart ass’ looks.
“The problem is, sir, that I don’t know how to interpret her. It seems to me that putting the Colonials in our social context is a mistake…”
“At the moment, we take them at face value, because I can’t think of anything else to do either. Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to keep your ear to the ground. We need more of the puzzle pieces before we can see the big picture.”
**~**~**
CJ paused at one of the dozens of televisions around the West Wing and listened for a moment before poking her head into the Communications Bullpen. She asked of no one in particular, “Is that Colonial pilot really flirting with Wolf Blitzer on CNN?” The question provoked no reaction from half the people and the other half looked up with a chorus of responses that they had MSNBC on in the room. “Well, it’s good to know that this White House is well informed.”
“And if she was, CJ? Would you really begrudge Blitzer the thrill of having a fling with a cute blond alien?” asked Bonnie.
“They’re humans, not aliens, though if she was flirting with him I’ll reserve judgment on their humanity despite what the boys down at Bethesda said.” There were a couple of chuckles from the room and CJ turned around to run smack into Toby.
“Have you talked to the President this morning?”
“I talk to him every morning. Several times.”
“Did he mention the thing at the place?”
“If by that you mean the invitation the First Lady extended to President Roslin to attend Mass with the family, yes, it came up.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea…”
“I suppose we could arrange for her to go to temple with you, but wouldn’t Andi be jealous?”
Just then Josh came striding up, a pile of papers with Donna’s scrawling handwriting scribbled all over them in one hand as they turned into the outer office of the President. “I don’t like this idea of them going to the Basilica of the National Shrine.”
CJ sighed and looked between the two as though to ask if they had conspired to gang up on her. “Any particular reason that I can take to the President before I have to start an interstellar incident?”
“Beside that Mrs. Bartlet’s political sense ranks right up there with Idi Amin?” asked Toby.
Someone in the group might have responded except the door to the Oval Office opened at that moment. Jed Bartlet came out with all the fury and amusement of a father having caught one of his children doing something he shouldn’t. “I don’t believe my wife has his taste for flamboyant military uniforms, among other things. Though she might want to be dictator for life…”
Behind the President, Kate Harper stifled a smile.
“Come on in, children, I’m only twenty minutes behind schedule and you can all explain to me why I shouldn’t take a visiting dignitary to see High Mass in the Basilica of the National Shrine.”
“Sir, the unease around the country is escalating and it’s getting a lot of air play on the cable news networks…” Josh began, stating his case.
“Where is a missing blond haired young woman when you need one?” CJ mumbled. It had been the bane of her existence that the 24-hour news cycle gave a lot of airtime to stories, if they had new information or not, and if they were truly important… or not.
Josh continued, “I don’t like the picture that is going to be painted by images of you with aliens…”
“Colonials,” provided Toby.
Josh gave Toby a look, and CJ shrugged. “He’s on a ‘calling things by their proper names’ kick. Next thing you know we’ll be going to Mumbai in two months instead of Bombay.”
“We’re not going to Bombay? Where is Mumbai?” Josh suddenly looked confused.
“India, Josh.” This was one of the times CJ wondered how Josh had made it through two Ivy League schools.
“At any rate, I’m not thrilled with the picture of the Colonials in front of a cathedral.” Toby said bringing them back to the subject at hand.
“Next argument,” Bartlet called out, dismissing the concern.
“Is anyone else worried about exposing these people we barely know and don’t fully trust to our religious systems?” Josh wondered aloud.
“What are you afraid they might do with the information?” CJ didn’t see the validity, if any, in Toby and Josh’s objections.
“They could be offended or become hostile if their beliefs clash with ours. Religious warfare has started over sillier things.” Toby wasn’t yet willing to give up on his argument.
“Certainly religion has been the cause of war before, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the Christmas story being the catalyst.” The President shook his head.
“The Puritans weren’t big fans of Christmas,” Will Bailey shot from across the room.
“And people with big shoes and belt buckles on their hats are good examples of rational behavior?” CJ asked.
“Children…” The low warning tone from the President brought the bickering staff back down to a manageable level.
Just then Debbie, the President’s Executive Secretary poked her head in. “Sir, the Surgeon General is here to see you.”
President Bartlet nodded. “Sit down, people, I think I’m about to get a lesson in genetics. I’ve always hated biology and I’m going to share the pain.”
“I heard that, Mr. President,” Surgeon General Millicent Griffith swept into the room, a set of folders under her arm. “If you keep talking like that I’ll call Ellie in from NIH and get her to do this.”
“Always trying to turn my children against me, Millie,” the two exchanged good natured jabs, “I take it those are the genetic test results.”
“They are… and Jed, they’re damn strange.”
“What about this situation isn’t?” CJ questioned.
Dr. Griffith looked around the room. “I don’t suppose any of you know much about evolutionary biology?”
Kate tilted her head to the side. “I thought it was just a simple matter of seeing if they had human DNA or not?”
“Nothing is quite that simple when you are talking about genetics.” The Surgeon General sat down and prepared herself to deliver a genetics lesson to the President and his staff. “There are basically two schools of thought in modern evolutionary theory; either a new species branches away from the parent like a tree, in a gradual change, or they immediately jump away and become completely different in one leap of great change. Something like a tree versus a subway map.”
“Millie, you can tell you're from New York when you compare things to subway maps…” the President teased.
Were she not in uniform and they not standing in the middle of the Oval Office the President’s comment might have heard him a quick comeback from the Surgeon General, but this was the Oval, and they were discussing a serious matter and she didn’t joke in this room when here on national business. “Once two groups from the same species are separated geographically so they are no longer interbreeding, genetic drift will dictate that speciation should take place.”
CJ nodded slowly, as if to pretend she was following. “So even if we started out as the same species our genes would be different.”
“Should be,” the Surgeon General confirmed, “but they aren’t. Not only do we share a genetic ancestor with those people… we share most of our genetic stock as well. It is as if they haven’t changed at all. Either by punctuated equilibrium or by gradual speciation, given the three thousand year span they describe, we should be different species in the same genius. But with the exception of one anomaly in one of the tests… they seem to be Homo sapiens.”
“What was the anomaly?” the President asked.
“We’re still running more tests on it…”
“Millie…” CJ could tell that the President was picking up on the Surgeon General’s deflection.
“President Roslin’s blood chemistry doesn’t seem to match the other volunteers.”
The President looked over at Kate with a raised eyebrow. “The plot thickens.”
... to be continued ...
Next Chapter: Part IX