CHAPTER

8

Billy Keikeya poked his head into the section of Colonial One that served as Laura Roslin’s office. “Sarah Porter is here, Madam President.”

“Thank you, Billy,” Laura said. “Show her in.” Billy ducked back out and President Laura Roslin pulled herself upright in her chair. Gods, she was so tired. Gravity pulled at every limb with twice its normal strength, making every movement a struggle. And she ached all the time, whether she was awake or asleep. It was a deep, cold feeling, as if an icy dragon were gnawing at her bones. One day it would bite all the way through them, and she would keel over like a tree with severed roots. It had been going on for so long, she had forgotten what it was like to be pain free. Laura wanted nothing more than to pull on some old sweats, wrap herself in a soft bathrobe, and lie on the couch watching something mindless until she drifted into a restless sleep—or death. Instead she found herself on a chilly ship, an unwilling leader to the last remaining shreds of humanity left in the galaxy while implacable enemies chased them from sector to sector.

A wan smile crossed her face. Playing the martyr again, Laura? she thought. She had had several opportunities to hand the reins of government over to someone else and had waved aside every one. Hell, she had fought to remain president. Like all teachers, Laura had been trained to lead, but it wasn’t her preference. She would much rather let someone else handle all the stress and nonsense while she worked quietly in the background. In her teaching days, she never chaired committees—unless no one else was willing to take the job. Or was qualified for it. She remembered the day Nick Liaden, her department head, had announced his retirement and Helga Upton had announced her intention to take over his position. Horrified, Laura spent her prep period running from classroom to classroom to see if anyone else planned to challenge Helga. Everyone refused. The thought of cold, officious Helga in charge made everyone unhappy, but no one was willing to step up. This one worked two other jobs and didn’t have time. That one was pregnant and would be going on leave soon. A third was a new teacher, completely unqualified. So Laura had strode into the principal’s office to announce that she wanted the position. He had been all too glad to give it to her, and Laura had spent four years in that capacity. Her experiences had given her many skills that she still used today.

Except none of those experiences had given her the skills to cope with dying. Laura reached for a pencil, intending to toy with it, then decided it wasn’t worth the energy. Sometimes she felt as if she had accepted her impending death, other times she felt a gut-twisting terror that kept her awake late into the night. The concert two days ago had bolstered her spirits for a while, returning her to a time when her biggest worry was whether her students’ math scores were going up or down. The boost in her mood hadn’t lasted, however, and now, frankly, she was feeling pretty shitty all around. The last person she wanted to talk to was Sarah Porter. But duty called.

The curtain that covered the doorway parted and Sarah strode into the room like a thunderstorm laden with hail. She was a dark-skinned, full-bodied woman who preferred short hair and favored chunky gold earrings. Currently, she represented Geminon on the Quorum of Twelve, and Laura had mixed feelings toward her. Geminon had a well-deserved reputation for conservative political parties that tried to mix religion into government, and Sarah represented her people well. She had been one of Laura’s most vociferous opponents early in her presidency, then had abruptly become a firm supporter once the Scrolls of Pythia had revealed Laura to be the fabled dying leader who would lead humanity to its new homeland. As an experienced politician, Laura was always willing to accept a supporter, but as a human being, Laura had a hard time pretending to like someone who had once professed to hate her.

And behind her…

Behind her came a tall, dark-haired man with the look of someone who had once been hard and handsome but had now gone rather to seed. Lines softened his sharp features, and his nose looked a little too big for his face. His expression was as bland as a mayonnaise sandwich, but Laura Roslin wasn’t fooled for a moment.

“Tom Zarek,” she said. “I thought my appointment was with Sarah alone.”

“I asked to come,” Tom said. “As a witness.”

“Witness to what?” Laura asked.

“What transpires here,” Sarah said.

Laura didn’t like the sound of that at all. She briefly considered calling Billy in to throw Tom out, then dismissed the idea. Tom had spent considerable time in jail for inciting riots—and worse. He was an old-school revolutionary who distrusted all government on principle and who had a distressing amount of charisma that he could turn on and off like a light switch. It was currently set to “off,” but Tom could fire up a crowd like no one Laura knew—except perhaps Peter Attis—and she envied Tom that talent even when he used it against her, as he had done. He had started a revolution among his fellow prisoners on the Astral Queen, a process that had ended up with Tom not only being granted his freedom, but also grabbing a seat on the Quorum of Twelve as the representative of Sagittaron. If Laura tossed Tom out of this meeting, he would raise hell about it in the media, and there was no way Laura could come away from it without looking bad.

“As you like,” she said. “Please sit.”

They did. Tom’s face remained neutral, but Sarah wore an angry expression Laura knew well because it had often been pointed in Laura’s direction. Laura tensed, which took energy she couldn’t really spare.

“I hate to bother you with this,” Sarah said, “but I don’t know what else to do.”

A wary bit of relief threaded through Laura. Porter wasn’t here to cause Laura trouble, then—at least, not directly. So why Tom’s presence?

“What’s on your mind, Sarah?” Laura asked in her sympathetic voice.

“A fringe group that calls itself ‘the Unity’ has been causing problems,” she said. “Especially on the Tethys and the Phoebe.”

“Problems?” Laura asked. “What sort of problems?”

Porter’s expression was set like stone. “They’re spreading like can—like weeds. They stand in the corridors and local gathering places and preach.”

“What do they preach?” Laura noticed the switch from “cancer” to “weeds”, but pretended not to. Sudden exhaustion swept over her, and she had to fight to keep from slumping in her chair. Uh-oh. The day was turning into a bad one. Her treacherous body did that to her, switching her from functional to exhausted without warning.

A look of disgust crossed Porter’s face. “They wear red masks so we can’t tell who they are and they preach that all the gods are merely multiple aspects of a single god. They preach that the single god is a being of love and kindness and that nothing else exists. This is heresy, Laura! Heresy and blasphemy! The Scrolls are very clear on—”

“I don’t need a lecture on comparative spirituality, Sarah,” Laura interrupted gently. “Though I have to say the ideas as you’ve presented them make me… uncomfortable. And they sound familiar.”

“Of course they do,” Porter spat. “Peter Attis sings about it. His songs are all over the radio now, especially that ‘You’re the Only One’ song. These Unity people have taken it as some sort of spiritual call. Haven’t you heard him? It seems like he shows up somewhere on the radio four or five times an hour.”

“I haven’t noticed,” Laura admitted. “I went to the concert, and I have to say I enjoyed it very much”—until the escaped Cylon showed up, she added mentally—“but I really haven’t had time or inclination for the radio lately.”

Throughout this exchange, Tom remained silent. Laura’s attention was on Sarah, but she was aware of Tom, much like the way a feeding rabbit remained aware of a hawk wheeling overhead. His presence made no sense, and it nagged at her like a hangnail that had almost come free. She was dying to ask what his real purpose was, but knew that would be a mistake. It would put him in the position of holding information she clearly wanted. Better to let him think she didn’t care, rendering his information worthless and forcing him into a position of lesser power.

“Keeping in mind that we do have freedoms of speech and religion in the Colonies,” Laura said carefully, “I need to ask—have the Unity people broken any laws?”

Long pause. Still Tom didn’t speak.

“No,” Porter said at last. “Their demonstrations have been peaceful and orderly so far. And so far they’ve agreeably moved out of the way whenever someone has asked. A few fights have started, but never by the Unity. Other people always hit first.” She folded her arms. “People get upset and angry wherever the Unity goes. Perhaps we can arrest them on the grounds that they instigate unrest.”

Alarm bells rang in Laura Roslin’s head. Early in her career as president, Commander Adama and Colonel Tigh had accused her of instigating unrest and tried to force her out of office. She had resisted and eventually won her position and their respect, but the situation had been dicey for a while, and Laura had lived in fear that what remained of the Colonies was heading for a military dictatorship. Now Sarah Porter looked to be heading down a similar road, one that led to a religious dictatorship. But how should she turn Sarah aside? It was always best to convince rather than dictate, whether you were teaching or governing, but Laura was so damned tired. Her mind flowed like a slushy stream, and she couldn’t get herself to focus.

Wake up! she told herself sternly. You can sleep when you’re dead, and the way things are going, that’ll he right soon. So get your work done, woman.

The room wavered like a desert mirage. What was the last thing Sarah had said? Something about arresting Unity members as dissidents. A small part of Laura agreed with Sarah’s sentiments, wrong-minded as they were. Maybe she could use her own sympathy to get Sarah’s and bring her around. Dammit, she hated this. It was like being forced to work under the worst case of flu in history A drain had opened and strength was rapidly flowing out of her. She could barely sit up now, but she had to find the strength to speak somewhere. Laura took one deep breath, then took a second. But before she could speak, Tom raised a finger.

“I need to interject here, Sarah,” he said. “I feel duty-bound to remind you that it’s the government’s job to protect its citizens, and regardless of how we”—and Laura instantly caught Tom’s careful use of we instead of you—“might feel about them, it sounds like the Unity members are actually victims who need protection. As government officials, we don’t have the luxury of deciding who is worth protecting and who isn’t. If the Unity is attacked, it’s our job to defend its members.”

Laura stared, unsure of her own ears. Tom was taking her side? Why?

But even as she asked, the answer came. Tom was all about the rights of the individual, no matter how difficult or inconvenient those rights might be. That included the rights of a religious minority. Laura had automatically assumed Tom was out to make trouble for her, but instead he was helping. She glanced at him with a small measure of respect, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I should defend heretics?” Porter’s face was hard. “Tom, Geminon has a long history of careful adherence to the laws set down by the Lords of Kobol. These Unity people are damning themselves by their preachings and their beliefs.”

“Then it’ll be up to the Lords of Kobol to deal with them,” Laura said. The words came with aching slowness, as if she had to pull them out of thick mud. “But in the meantime, we can’t tell them what to believe or what to say.”

“They’re dangerous! Just listening to their lies turns my stomach and makes me fear for my soul.” Porter got up and paced around the tiny office like an angry wolf. Laura envied her easy power, her fluid vitality. What would it be like to have strength to spare for pacing? She felt herself slump a little more. In minute she was going to collapse, she could feel it. Laura had to wrap this up, get Sarah out of her office before that happened.

“How can I let them spread such filth around Geminese ships?” Sarah continued, oblivious to Laura’s distress. “They threaten everything Geminon stands for, and they need to be exterminated.”

And then the words came to Laura. She murmured, “That sounds like something the Cylons would say.”

That stopped Sarah Porter. She stared at Laura for a long moment, then turned and gazed out the window. Laura never could bring herself to call them “portholes.” Stupid thought to have right before you were going to collapse. She needed to speak, but her energy was gone. The floor rocked slightly—a bad sign—and the words wouldn’t come.

Tom came to her rescue. His charisma was in “on” mode now, and his presence filled the room like a brewing thunderstorm. “If you want another assessment,” he said, “think of it this way. We’ll turn the Unity into martyrs if we muzzle them or arrest them. It would probably be better to take the tone of a parent indulging the whims of a silly child. You know what I mean—‘It’s a phase. He’ll grow tired of it and come around.’ And if there is no truth to what they preach, the Unity will eventually collapse. Then you can look merciful and magnanimous by accepting its former members back into the fold.” He flashed a grin. “Everyone wins.”

Sarah continued staring out at the cold stars. Laura was holding herself upright now by sheer strength of will, and even that was fading fast. But if she dismissed Sarah now, it would look like Laura was ordering Sarah to agree with her instead of letting it happen naturally.

Please, Laura begged silently. See it my way. Our way. Then both of you can go and I can collapse.

“All right,” Sarah said at last. “We’ll try it that way. Thank you, Madam President. Tom.”

Laura nodded acknowledgment. Her head weighed a thousand pounds and the motion almost broke her neck. Sarah left, and Tom was at the curtains. Her energy was gone, but somewhere she found a tiny spark that let her speak.

“Tom,” she said. Her voice was soft partly out of calculation and partly out of necessity.

He stopped at the doorway and turned, eyebrows raised.

“Why?” She was whispering now. “Why take my side?”

Tom paused, and for a horrible moment Laura was sure he was going to say he had helped because she was dying. She didn’t think she could stand the pity of someone like Tom Zarek.

“It’s never been about you, Laura,” he said softly. “It’s been about the people.”

He left. The moment the curtains fell shut behind Tom Zarek, Laura collapsed over her desk blotter. She lay there, half-conscious. In a minute she would have the strength to get up and move to the couch, but for now…

“Madam President?” An urgent hand shook her shoulder. “Madam President, are you all right? Should I call the doctor?”

Laura managed to raise her head enough to look into Billy Keikeya’s eyes. “Doctor Cottle can’t do anything, Billy. I just need to sleep.”

“At least let me help you to the couch,” he said. “Come on.”

She was only vaguely aware of Billy’s solicitous hands guiding her to the couch and helping her lie down. His presence comforted her more than it should have, and she wondered, not for the first time, what their relationship might have been if they hadn’t been separated by multiple decades and several lines of professionalism. “Billy,” she said. “I’m glad for your help.”

“It’s what I’m here for, Madam President,” was all he said.

The still hissed quietly to itself. Helo remained frozen, his head still sticking into the space behind the grating that hid the little machine. Sharon knelt beside it, looking almost serene. She wore a bulky gray jumpsuit she must have scavenged or stolen from somewhere. It looked warm, and it completely hid her rounding stomach. Helo couldn’t even tell she was pregnant.

“Frak,” Helo whispered. “Sharon, are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” she said. “Though now that you’ve seen me, I may have to kill you.”

Helo went cold all over. Sharon could do it. He had seen her move inhumanly fast before, and she was strong as a steel spider. “You wouldn’t,” he said, hoping he sounded braver than he felt.

“Actually, I haven’t decided yet. That’s why you’re still alive, Helo.”

“Why…” Helo swallowed. “Why did you kill the guard? You could have just knocked him out. Hell, why escape at all?”

Sharon snorted. “You have to ask?”

“I do. Dammit, Sharon, you’ve done nothing but help us before. Why run now?”

“The reason’s standing in front of you, Helo,” Sharon scoffed. “But you’re too stupid to see it. After everything I’ve done for Galactica, you still kept me in a cage. You treat me like an enemy.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, no,” Sharon admitted. “That’s true. But you haven’t tried to persuade Adama to release me, either.”

“How do you know what I have or haven’t done?”

“If you really tried—really, really tried—you could get me released. So frak it. You treat me like an enemy, I’m going to act like one. It’s a hell of a lot more interesting than sitting in a cell all day, Helo.”

“How did you get out, anyway?”

“Please,” she snorted again. “That little box you call a jail? Not even close. I only pretended that cardboard brig could hold me. Adama would have spaced me if he had known otherwise.”

“But now you’re in worse trouble,” Helo pointed out, trying to remain calm and reasonable. Sharon sat serenely, but he saw coiled springs and sheathed claws in her body language. He felt like he had found a tiger in his closet, or maybe a time bomb. “Half the ship is hunting for you.”

“Like they’ll ever find me.”

“I did.”

“Because I let you.”

“The platoons—”

Sharon waved this off. “You’re not creative enough to look in all the places someone could hide. You just look in the places where you think someone could hide. I’m a lot more bendable than a human. You guys don’t bend—you break.”

“What about our baby?” Helo said. “Didn’t you think of that before you escaped?”

“The baby,” she repeated. “Yes, I thought about it. I decided it would be better for it to die free than live in a prison.”

“Commander Adama would never imprison a baby,” Helo protested.

“Oh, sure. And she’d have a fine life, right? A half-breed, living among humans. You have a great track record for love and tolerance. Admit it—you think of the baby as half Cylon.”

“As opposed to?” Helo asked, a bit of anger edging past the fear.

“Half human.”

That stopped Helo. He had to admit Sharon was right. He thought of the baby as half Cylon, meaning he focused on the nonhuman aspect. And the baby was his own. How would other people react to such a child? Would they see a child or a creature that was half enemy? The answer was obvious.

“How would your people see the baby?” he countered. “As half human?”

“We want babies, Helo,” she reminded him almost gently. “This one would be precious—the first baby born to a Cylon ever.”

“But your people killed babies,” Helo shot back. “Thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands.”

“Are you trying to guilt me into turning myself in?” she asked. “It won’t work. I’m not going back to that cell. It’s more interesting out here. There’s more to do, causing trouble for the Fleet. And you don’t have a hope of catching me. Even if I decide not to kill you, I’ll be long gone before you can call the marines.”

“And what about when you’re too pregnant to get around well? Or when the baby is born? You can’t hide a crying baby.”

“I’ll worry about it then.” She leaned toward him over the still, and Helo had to force himself not to draw away. Abruptly she grabbed his face with both hands and yanked him into a long, hard kiss. Her lips were cool. He forced himself not to struggle—she could break his neck. Maybe she was planning to.

A part of Helo wondered if he looked ridiculous, with his ass hanging out of the vent space and his torso pulled over a still. Then Sharon released him.

“So that’s what it’s like,” she murmured.

Helo blinked to clear his head. It was buzzing. “What do you mean?”

“Just Cylon talk,” she said. “You’d better get going now. I’m not going to kill you.”

“Yeah?” His tone was slightly sarcastic. “Because I’m a good kisser?”

“Because someone else just might do the job for me.”

Before he could respond, alarms blared all over the ship.