Galactica Actual

Sun, 13 Sep 2009 06:00:16 GMT

Go here and reload until you get five quotes that sum up your philosophy or outlook, then post them.

Reputation is what other people know about you. Honor is what you know about yourself.
Lois McMaster Bujold, "A Civil Campaign", 1999

You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do.
Eleanor Roosevelt (1884 - 1962)

The man who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them.
Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)

First weigh the considerations, then take the risks.
Helmuth von Moltke (1800 - 1891)

Everyone has his burden; what counts is how you carry it.
Joe Brown and David Brown

Stolen from nearly everyone

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 08:13:25 GMT

I've given my characters a healthy dose of Veritaserum and now they have to tell the truth. What does this mean for you? Ask my characters questions about anything and everything and they will truthfully answer it. So, go ahead and ask what you want. He can't beat around the bush with half-truths.

OOC RP meme!

Mon, 11 May 2009 03:44:10 GMT

I have a meme over here open to anyone who has roleplayed with Bill or any of my other characters. Feel free to answer as many or as few of the questions as appeals to you, since not all of them will apply to everybody. ^_^

Thu, 19 Feb 2009 22:27:13 GMT

RP LOVE MEME

Seen in several muse journals ...

Tue, 23 Dec 2008 04:16:18 GMT

If you could force me to write anything, what would it be?

(TM) 253. Hope

Wed, 03 Dec 2008 22:42:09 GMT

What do you hope for?

To hope for something you must both want it and believe in it. Hope is both beautiful and treacherous, an object of both reverence and suspicion. It is the doctor for our ills, the controller of our fears, the liar in which so many still trust. Faith, operating independent of logic and reason, reaches out a hand in the dark and offers hope.

And you want to know what I hope for?

For these past few years, if anyone had asked me that question, I would have said, “Nothing.” Not for myself. Since the Exodus, I've dedicated my life to keeping alive the hopes of others. Hope for survival against the Cylons, hope of sanctuary on Earth, hope for a life no longer on the run. I could keep my private cynicism, not having to believe or want so long as I could make those possibilities real for those under my command and in my charge. Focus on their needs, not my own.

After so much loss, of love, of one son to death and another to estrangement, topped off by the loss of billions of lives and the worlds that birthed us when the Cylons destroyed the Colonies ... I didn't want to hope again.

But hope can also be a patient, stealthy bastard, sneaking up on us when we least expect it. I sent Kara off in the Demetrius in the hope that her insistence that she knew the way to Earth wasn't an illusion. I stood by Lee's side and saw him sworn in as President of the Twelve Colonies, hoping that his steady resolve would be enough to keep the fleet from dissolving into chaos. But real as those hopes were, I still held them for the fleet, not for myself.

But when I decided to wait in a Raptor while the rest of the fleet jumped away, I couldn't fool myself any longer. There I sat, alone in space, hoping-- a hope against hope, that one –that a base star which logic said was probably destroyed along with the Cylon resurrection hub would make it to the rendezvous point. Hoping that Laura Roslin was on that base star, safe and well. Hoping.

This hope, however, was for no one but me.

When I saw the flare of light that announced the base star's arrival, my hope flared as well, almost painfully strong. When my Raptor's hatch lowered to reveal Laura, standing alone at the foot of the ramp with tears of relief in her eyes, I knew then that hope doesn't always lie.

But not until I pulled her close and heard her whisper I love you did I realize ... sometimes hope gives you more than you asked for.

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 453

Pardon my sheepishness ...

Mon, 17 Nov 2008 02:53:46 GMT

RP LOVE MEME

Post a CONFESSION Meme

Sat, 15 Nov 2008 00:57:30 GMT

The How's My Driving? Meme

(TM) 253. Awe

Fri, 14 Nov 2008 23:39:21 GMT

Awesome

Awe. A feeling of reverence, wonder or dread. Possibly a combination of all three.

So many things you've seen in your lifetime. So many even in just the few years since the word came that your home worlds had been decimated by the Cylons. Sights whose scope and majesty fully deserve the labels awe-inspiring, awesome.

Massive nebulae, lit from within by storms or the radiation of birthing stars. A very few fragile, blue-green worlds, isolated pockets of life defying the sterility of space. Brutal interstellar battles, destruction glittering and flaring in the silence of hard vacuum. An aging star going nova, lighting your way in its death throes.

And none of it, not even the most soul-affecting of splendors, can move you so much as the awe roused by your people and their dogged fight to simply keep going. Military and civilian, men, women and children doing whatever it took not only to stay alive, but to keep each other alive. Long hours drowned in hard work and exhaustion ... the past three years have been a testament to humanity's will to live, for each other, for something larger, but most of all to live.

(Ships vanishing off the DRADIS as they jump from Ragnar across the red line, a Cylon raider carrying a Colonial pilot almost written off for dead, constellations gleaming overhead in the Tomb of Athena, a functional Viper coming together under the hands of his deck crew, pinning lieutenant's insignia onto a Cylon who offered humanity her loyalty, Pegasus diving in to rescue Galactica over New Caprica. Another pilot returning from the dead, and another for the second time ...)

That any of them, let alone most of them even made it this far is a frakking miracle.

You've watched their struggles, inner wars to match the outer one. You've seen Lee's self-doubt and frustration gradually give way to his determination, his certainty of the value of human rights even in the face of threats to human survival, and his ability to lead. (Dad .... It's gonna be okay. I'll take care of it.) Saul Tigh's battle against his inner demons turned into a fight to remain a Colonial officer in spite of his very nature ... how could a Cylon be so human? (I am one of the Final Five. D'anna will back down if you threaten to flush me out an airlock.) Laura's fierce, unbending will only won her a brief reprieve from her cancer, but her unrelenting drive to guide the people of the Twelve Colonies makes a mockery of any thoughts of pity for her illness. (Bill ... this is it. This is everything we have been working for.)

And Kara ... neither her own self-destructive impulses nor even seeming death could snuff out her fire. (Something's orchestrating this for a purpose .... Call it whatever you want, but it seems to want us to find Earth with the Cylons.)

She did it. Along with three of the Final Five, she gave you the way to Earth, where you stand now.

Blasted, irradiated, dead Earth.

You can see it in the eyes of those around you; this place that should have inspired reverence and wonder holds only dread. The refuge you've struggled toward for three grueling years is instead a wasteland. Can humanity's will to live possibly survive this?

Can yours?

(This is the end of the line. We've got nowhere else to go.)

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 491 (not including direct quotes)

(TM) 250. Biography

Fri, 17 Oct 2008 12:07:57 GMT

Write page 57 of your 300-page autobiography.

Note from the mun: William Adama has no interest in writing an autobiography. We're talking none whatsoever. The following is therefore an excerpt from the kind of book that might be written by a historian a generation or so in his future – assuming humanity survives long enough to have future generations, let alone record the history of the Exodus.

... that the discharge of a Viper ace who'd served with such distinction was both an insult and a mistake, it must be remembered that Adama's demobilization was simply not that unusual at the time. The military, gearing down from wartime status, had discovered that the qualities of top fighter pilot often didn't make their owners well-suited for peacetime service.

Adama himself acknowledged this in one of the rare interviews he gave before his death. “I could have seen it coming. Should have, really. But I was a cocky-ass kid who refused to pull his head out long enough to see that the Fleet of the time no longer needed me as much as I needed it. Viper jocks like me were becoming superfluous.”

Comedown from lofty heights or not, Adama's subsequent work as a hand on a series of freighters gave him the chance to acquire certain qualities that would prove invaluable in his post-reinstatement military career. Chief of these were an understanding and common touch with the enlisted under his command; ground pounders and knuckledraggers respected a CO who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty.

This period also saw the meeting between Adama and the man who could arguably be said to have helped shape his future: Saul Tigh. Many have difficulty believing that there was truly no indication of the fact that the man was in fact a Cylon, but Adama addressed this as well, with his usual bluntness.

“Of course I didn't know. How could I? His service record was public, and the idea that a Cylon could not only look but act human enough to drink and brawl like Tigh was beyond ridiculous. If I'd had any clues, I wouldn't have reacted so badly when hit with the news decades later ...”

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 359

You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have ...

Wed, 08 Oct 2008 05:35:27 GMT

... a couple of memes, anyway. ;)

♥THE RP LOVE MEME♥
V2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

RPG CONCRIT MEME

(TM) 256. The Art of Negotiation

Fri, 19 Sep 2008 06:26:03 GMT

What are the five steps to a successful negotiation?

Steps? We're not talking about a frakking dance here. Commit yourself to some fixed set of steps in a negotiation and you'll find yourself knocked on your ass by an opponent who's allowed himself more flexibility than you did.

But if you want guidelines, those I can give you.

1. Learn the opposition. Learn them in detail, their strengths, weaknesses and routines. Even a minor detail may prove more useful than it seems. Never underestimate those who appear weak, nor overestimate those who appear strong.

2. Learn the field. The field, in the context of a negotiation, is that which is being contested. Learn its importance, not just to the two sides contesting, but to anyone else with an interest.

3. Never make any claims you're not prepared to back up. This does not mean don't lie, bluff or otherwise bullshit. Just be prepared for the consequences if the opposition finds out about it.

4. Watch your opportunities. There may be more than one way to achieve your goal, or even more than one goal that will suit your purposes. Never get so focused on one process that you blind yourself to other possibilities.

5. Know when to cut your losses ... or allow your opposition to cut theirs. Of course, the man who taught me always claimed that if you followed the first four directions well enough, you'd never have any losses to cut. Most of the time he was very annoyingly right.

The man who taught me all of the above, by the way, was not some instructor of military strategy in officer's training. No, I absorbed those guidelines half-unwillingly, by growing up as the son of the master of persuasion and verbal tactics, Joseph Adama. When I was a kid I swore I'd never put myself in a position to have to use those lessons.

Funny how things work out.

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 313

Passing it along ...

Mon, 15 Sep 2008 03:32:06 GMT

Pass a Secret Note ✘ Meme

From campjesus by way of abbytude

Thu, 04 Sep 2008 23:50:15 GMT

OOC: This is the "how's my driving?" meme.

I don't know anyone who doesn't feel like they aren't getting enough feedback. So... let's give some. What do you like about my muse Bill? What do you think could be improved? What things about him do you not understand that you'd like elaborated on?

Only one word. Should be interesting.

Thu, 21 Aug 2008 23:59:30 GMT

Describe ME in one word.....just one single word. Post it in my comment section. Then put the same request in your journal so we can visit you… and do the same thing… and see how many strange and interesting things they say about you.

This one's been making the rounds, again. ;)

Sun, 17 Aug 2008 22:24:27 GMT

If you want to know what His Admiralness thinks of your muse, comment here to find out! Can be first or third person, a'course.

(TM) 242. Bad News and Worse Fallout

Tue, 12 Aug 2008 04:06:30 GMT

Write about a time that you were the bearer of bad news.

Carolanne stared at the neat stack of paper on the table in front of her. "What the frak is this?"

Bill took a long sip of coffee to brace himself. "That should be pretty obvious."

Early as it was, her hand held a tumbler half-full of ambrosia, and he watched her fingers tighten on it as she read aloud, "Joint Petition, Agreement, and Judgment and Decree for Marriage Dissolution With Children."

Her smile was as tight as her grip on the glass, and far less genuine in emotion. "So that's why you were so enthusiastic about having the boys visit their grandfather this weekend. Gods forbid you should actually have to deal with them, after all."

Bill's jaw clenched, but his voice stayed level. "I didn't think Lee and Zak needed to be in the middle of this ... talk." And if said talk degenerates into a fight, it won't be because of me. "I'll speak to them when they get back, try to explain things."

"Explain?!" Carolanne knocked back half of her drink before continuing, her voice taking on an even harsher edge. "That'll be a neat trick, explaining to two young boys that they and their mother don't matter worth a damn to their father any more. Can't wait to see how Husker Adama pulls off that maneuver!"

"That's not true!" Damn it, she was pushing his buttons again, but it wasn't-- he wasn't-- "You don't want me here, Carolanne. You make that more and more obvious every time I come home!"

"Don't tell me what I want!!!" He had to flinch to one side to avoid the glass she threw; it flew past to take out the mirror hanging on the wall. She drowned out the crash of shattering glass as she yelled, "Years of marriage, years of following you around from base to base after my family got you back in the frakking fleet! I gave up everything for you and the boys, and now that's not good enough anymore?! You've been running away in slow motion for years, and now you're finally out the door, frakking bastard coward!!!"

Bill retreated into stony silence as Carolanne's excoriation went on and on and on. He knew by the simple fact that she hadn't already shoved the petition in the garbage that she'd eventually sign ... but not before she extracted her verbal pound of flesh. Her punishment.

He thought about their years of marriage. He thought about Lee and Zak.

He probably deserved it.

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 416

(TM) 238. Freudian Slip

Thu, 24 Jul 2008 00:05:30 GMT

Freudian Slip

"You know, I am so busy I hardly ever make it down to this end of the ship, and now I'm going to be living here for gods know how long until they repair the bulkheads."

"If the quarters become cramped, you're always welcome in one of my beds."

The moment that last word fell from my lips, I felt the wince starting. When Laura's head pulled up and I caught her widening eyes in my peripheral vision, I felt a heat on the back of my neck that thankfully didn't spread to my face.

Admirals aren't allowed to blush, after all.

After my belated and probably unnecessary mutter of "In a manner of speaking," my wince turned into a wry smile at my slip. I'd said beds. Not racks or bunks, the military terms I normally would have used. Beds. Only a tiny change, but I knew Laura would notice.

Her expression's shift from surprise to a grin with more than a touch of a smirk to it confirmed that she had indeed picked up on the slight nuance in the (really) perfectly innocent offer. Had we been alone, she might have gotten in some subtle, Roslinesque little dig, but of course we weren't. Her staffers circulated around us, setting up Laura's interim office so that business as usual could continue while Colonial One underwent repairs to the damage caused by the Raptor impact.

Business as usual ... Just as Laura asked about the cause of the accident, I mulled over the fact that not one of the people within hearing distance of my telling remark had done a double take. There were no scandalized looks, not even an arched eyebrow or a knowing snicker. Everyone acted as if it were perfectly normal for the Fleet Admiral to invite the Colonial President to "his" bed.

Damn. And here I thought I'd been so careful.

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 260 (not including direct quotes)

(TM) 235. Finding a Home

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 05:33:15 GMT

Show us where you live.

Bill Adama sat slumped at his desk in his quarters, staring at the right hand he'd driven into his own mirror not long before. The white bandages covering his lacerations shaded to gray on the palm, discolored with faint traces of the black soil he'd scooped up on Earth's surface. The soil was as blasted as their hopes, the gray as pallid as his mood.

Leaning his head against the back of his chair, he scanned the tightly enclosed space he'd called home for years now. He'd started to allow himself to dream of something larger, airier, with walls and floors of wood to replace all this metal. A cabin ...

But what they'd found on the planet below turned all such hopes to literal ash. The Thirteenth Tribe of Kobol had indeed found Earth, settled there, and eventually destroyed it and themselves. The nuclear wasteland they'd seen tripped rad meters too heavily to be fit for long-term exposure, even if anyone could have been persuaded to linger among the twisted cities and blasted vegetation, both equally dead.

With a dissatisfied grunt, he drove himself to his feet and paced his cabin. Sitting around brooding on might-have-beens only fed despair. He needed to think. Unfortunately as he circled the warmly lit room, passing his rack, table, bookshelves and leather furniture, all he could think was that most of the fleet lived in harsher conditions and wouldn't deal well with the news that those conditions would be prolonged. So many had so much riding on finding this, their destination, and the truth about Earth's devastation might well trigger an equally devastating reaction from the refugees.

A thump on his hatch broke through his thoughts. "Enter."

His marine guard swung the hatch open to admit Laura, Saul, Lee and Kara. With a few nods and murmurs they took seats at the large table. Bill turned to his XO first. "How's the survey coming?"

Saul Tigh still looked slightly boggled at the fact that he still had his rank and position, even after revealing his Cylon nature. "The Raptors just launched, along with seven small civilian ships. Our Cylon allies--" The boggled look deepened for a moment. "--have detailed another ten ships to work with ours. If there's a piece of that planet that looks habitable enough to support us, we'll know within the next forty-eight hours."

At a glance from her CO, Starbuck smoothly took over. "The Cylons are also coordinating with our CAP. Between their birds and ours, we should have plenty of warning if the Ones, Fours and Fives decide to show up." She chewed her lip briefly. "Though Leoben and D'Anna both agree that they're more likely to hang back for a while, now that the Hub has been destroyed." Kara's expression, like her tone, was outwardly steady but inwardly brittle. After everything she'd been through in the push to find Earth, the thought that her destiny had led them all to a charred cinder clearly weighed on her.

Adama nodded before turning to his son. "And the civilians?"

"The President's address seems to have calmed the initial panic." Lee's steadiness carried all the way through, even more so since his brief time at the President's desk. "The ships' captains are currently holding things together for right now, and every hour they do so means a decrease in the risk of mass hysteria. Gods know we don't need some stampede for the surface." He swallowed before adding. "There have been fourteen suicides reported, though."

Likely with more to come, if they didn't catch some kind of break soon. After a brief rub at the bridge of his nose, Adama turned to the woman at the head of the table. "Madam President. Any further orders?"

No one had been hit harder by the truth about Earth than the woman who had driven them all so fiercely, herself most of all, to get there. But as was typical for Laura Roslin, she'd kept her initial bout of grief and bitterness short and private. Only Bill had seen any of it.

Now determination gleamed in the eyes behind the glasses. "After everything we've been through in the past three years, I know this outcome seems like a massive cosmic joke at our expense. It's up to us to turn it into something else." Laura folded her fingers together, resting her wrists on the edge of the table. "I still believe that there's something here for us, some reason events have pushed us all the way to the Thirteenth Colony. Call it faith, divine will, wishful thinking, whatever you like. We may not find the home we hoped for here, but if we don't find some indication of the next step we should take, we'll lose the entire fleet to despair after all. I refuse to accept that outcome."

"So say we all," muttered Kara. Lee remained silent, his attention absolute. Saul gazed at Laura keenly through his one eye. "Any ideas on what that next step might be, Madam President?" Time was when the XO's question would have been loaded with sarcasm ... but that time was long past.

Laura gave him a wry answering smile. "I am more than open to suggestions, Colonel. But the way I see it is ..."

Five heads bent together as the discussion began in earnest. As he flexed his hand against the bandages, Bill Adama gazed at the faces of the four people he loved most in this existence.

Cabin in space or cabin by a lake, it didn't matter. They were his home.

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 930

I was skeptical about this one ...

Sat, 07 Jun 2008 00:22:19 GMT

But I can't argue much with the results.

(TM) 231. Passing Time, Holding On

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 05:50:26 GMT

"Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live." Haruki Murakami.

I can't.

I can't live like that, not right now. One day, yes, one of us will have to face the reality of loss. Chances are it will be me. But right now, today ... I have to hold on. No matter what.

Because I can't live without her.

What are you going to do about Laura, if you ever find her?

I still don't know, Saul. A lot will depend on her, and she probably won't be too happy with me when she finds out what I've done. But I do know I couldn't do any differently. Right decision, wrong decision, this is the only decision I can make. I have to wait for her, be there for her.

That's what we do, isn't it? Hang onto hope, in every hopelessly irrational way we can. I always imagined you a realist, Admiral. Not one to indulge a vain hope at the cost of lives. But then everyone has his limits.

My sine qua non, Lampkin called her. That without which life becomes meaningless. My reason for living.

And he was absolutely right. She's woven into my life, my being, on levels too deep to ignore. I've spent too long trying to ignore them. Giving her books, when what I was really giving was myself.

But Lampkin was also right about the costs. No one else should be asked to die for the sake of my reason for living.

Why are you doing this?

Because I can't live without her. And Laura's going to get to the rendezvous point. I have to believe that.

Lee said my plan sounds like suicide, and looked at objectively, I know it does. I'm sitting alone in a Raptor in deep space. I have no support, no backup, limited supplies and oxygen ... and I'm waiting for a woman last known to be on a Cylon base star that may have been destroyed. I have absolutely no guarantee that I'll find her and even less that I'll be able to get back to the fleet. Frak, I know exactly what it sounds like.

But what I'm doing feels like anything but suicide to me. Suicide is searching for death. I'm reaching for life.

Because at the end of it all, life boils down to this. Even the most hardened, pragmatic realist eventually has to breathe deep and trust to faith. Take the leap. Because if I can't, if I don't ... I might as well be dead.

What made you change?

You. You made me believe.

I believe in you, Laura. And in what I have to say to you.

I'll see you soon.

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 348 (not including quotes from "Sine Qua Non" and "Faith")

(TM) 229. Getting a certain someone drunk ...

Sun, 11 May 2008 10:07:09 GMT

If you could get anyone drunk, who would it be and what would you do?

Interesting phrase, getting someone drunk. It implies that whoever's getting boozed up has no choice, which we all know isn't true. Even during the most raucous military initiation parties and promotion celebrations I ever attended-- and I've attended more than I want to admit to --the person headed for a power drunk and a nasty morning after always could have said no. His or her comrades just provided the opportunity.

... okay, the opportunity, most of the alcohol and a massive load of peer pressure. Still.

These days those with any inclination to get hammered don't need much in the way of persuasion, so getting someone drunk is hardly needed. But there are always exceptions. If I could provide a consequence-free method and opportunity to any one person in the fleet, it would be Laura Roslin. Not to lower her inhibitions (I respect her too much for that), nor to provide escape from the realities of her position and her illness.

No, I'd get Laura drunk simply because she deserves the chance to lash out at me the way I lashed out at her the last time I was under the influence ... whether she takes that chance or not.

And if she declines, maybe I could get her to laugh again like she did on New Caprica ...

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 217

(TM) 255. No words possible ...

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 03:20:09 GMT

"Do not the most moving moments of our lives find us without words?" Marcel Marceau.

"Lee's alive."

It was a good thing Saul had already said those two words to me, otherwise I would've thought I'd slipped it completely, walking through the hatch to my quarters to see my son standing there. Ever since our sensors reported Colonial One destroyed by a nuke and Lee with her, I'd walked around feeling like I had a knife lodged between my ribs. But there he was, breathing and looking in better shape than I did ... and I relearned the fact that a knife hurts just as much getting pulled out as it does going in.

Not the kind of pain I was ever going to complain about, though.

He glanced up from the picture he was holding, surprise flickering in his eyes when they met my face. I wasn't sure the surprise was for the bandage and blood on my face or because he'd expected me to look worse after hand-to-hand with a Cylon. Neither of us spoke, and only seconds passed before we dropped our eyes to the old framed photo in his hands, a more comfortable alternative to looking at each other just then.

Lee, Zak and Carolanne, a long time ago in much happier days. I'd been behind the camera. Our eyes met again for another few seconds, and I spoke the only words I could come up with. "I'm sorry." Sorry for the loss of his mother, his brother ... the loss of the family we'd once been. Sorry for the arguments, the not-being-there, for catching him at this emotionally vulnerable moment. For all of it. I'm sorry.

Something in him flinched; I could see he was having as much trouble finding words as I was. More perhaps, since he set down the picture, said, "I, ah ... gotta go," and turned to do just that.

My hand shot out to catch his shoulder as he started past. Once again we looked each other full in the face, too much raw emotion vibrating between us to even be classified, much less spoken aloud. I knew I couldn't let him walk out without giving him something, but my throat was too tight for words.

So I stepped forward, pulled him into my arms, and hugged him. Hugged him tight, as I hadn't done for more years than I wanted to think about. I hugged the boy he'd been and the man he was and tried my damnedest to tell him without words how much it meant to me to have him back.

For a long moment Lee just stood stiff at attention. It would have been easy to step away, break my hold, but I didn't let go. I felt a faint tremor run through him, his arms slowly came up ... and then he was hugging me just as hard.

When we finally stepped back, all the emotion and awkwardness still filled the air between us; we still couldn't speak. But something had changed, even if we couldn't put a name to it then. Lee nodded and left. I stood there, grateful beyond words that I had another chance.

Even if I didn't know what the frak I was going to do with it ... I had it.

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 533

(TM) 222. Sleeping on the Couch

Tue, 01 Apr 2008 03:07:17 GMT

Sleeping on the Couch

She looked so pale lying there.

The aftermath of Baltar's trial had been forcibly set aside in the rush of new crises. Cylons. Starbuck's return. Battle and escape. The demands pelting both President and Admiral over the past days had allowed them only a bare minimum of time to rest. Just as the insanity began to calm slightly, Laura had been forced to remove herself from the center of events to undergo another Diloxin treatment.

Events had pinned Adama in CIC for several hours longer, but once free he'd gone immediately to sickbay to check on her. Cottle informed him that she'd refused to stay there one minute longer than necessary, instead ordering herself escorted to his quarters after the mandatory observation period. No doubt she'd intended to discuss the fleet's situation on his return, but when Bill arrived he'd found her sound asleep in his rack. Her shoes sat next to the bunk; her jacket was draped neatly over the back of a nearby chair.

He stood silent beside her, watching for long minutes. With clothes rumpled and auburn strands trailing over her forehead, Laura in sleep showed more disarray than she usually allowed her waking self. She lay on her back with one hand curled up by her cheek and the other draped over her stomach, silent testimony to drug-induced nausea. The treatment drained her far more than the early-stage cancer could manage.

At that moment Laura Roslin looked far too fragile to carry the burdens on her shoulders. Bill Adama knew better, even as every protective instinct he owned rose up at the sight of her sleeping and vulnerable. He felt grateful as well that she'd chosen to come here, whether to rest or to talk. Even after her stunned dismay at his vote for Baltar's acquittal, she wasn't shutting him out.

At last he moved, gently tugging the bedclothes up from her waist to her shoulder. Any talk between them would have to wait for morning; he refused to disturb her tonight. After a moment's thought, he collected her jacket and hung it neatly in his closet, then stripped off his tunic and hung it beside. Dimming lights as he went, he adjourned to the couch, removing boots, socks and glasses before lying down with a slow exhale.

The leather felt comfortable and familiar. After another long look in the direction of his rack and its occupant, he slipped into sleep.

******

Dear Gods, but he looked tired.

Laura Roslin had started awake in what passed for the very early hours of the morning in deep space. After a minute's confused disorientation at the dimmed lights and her sleep-logged body, she'd sat up and spotted Bill stretched out on his couch. Drawn by curiosity and other things she wouldn't name just now, she'd slipped out of his bunk and padded over to watch him sleeping.

Fatigue was written in the smudges under his eyes and the tension in the line of his neck. Had the lines on his brow and around his mouth been that deeply graven when they met before the decommissioning? She didn't think so, though with a face as rough-hewn as his it was hard to say. But underneath the weariness and age, she fancied she could still see the determination and composure that lay at the core of the man. Whatever their disagreements, she could only be glad that he was there, for the fleet's sake and her own

The rest of his body was composed in a line that ensured no limbs would drape off the couch. Laura blinked for a moment at his bare feet, remembering the last time she'd seen them on New Caprica. A surprisingly soft snore drew her attention back up to his face. Smiling, she slipped back to the rack, stripped off the blanket and brought it back to drape over him.

He woke at even that light touch, blinking up at her blearily in the low light. "Laura?" he husked in a sleep-raspy voice.

She drew the blanket up to his chest and let her fingers rest briefly on his shoulder. "Go back to sleep, Bill. The morning will come soon enough."

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 701

(TM) 219. A Life in Headlines.

Sun, 09 Mar 2008 02:11:05 GMT

Headlines

Deep in one of Galactica's holds, a storage box sits. Deep in that box sits a thick, dusty scrapbook with William Adama's name on the inside cover. All of the similar books holding family pictures reside in his quarters, but this one contains dozens of newspaper articles spanning three-score years ...

A NEW GOVERNMENT FOR ALL

On a date that will henceforth be commemorated as Colonial Day, representatives from each of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol signed into law the Articles of Colonization, which will unite all of the Twelve Tribes under one government for the first time in ...

CYLONS RAZE MINOS COLONY

In a chilling display of mass violence, the Cylon workers of Minos Asteroid murdered virtually the entire population of the mining colony by incinerating the climate-controlled domes in which ...

TRABEN WINS VICTORY

In a case that sets a landmark precedent for Sagittaron civil rights, the justices of the Caprican Supreme Court today declared unanimously that Kenneth Traben was indeed the victim of prejudice based on his colony of origin when he was denied employment as an instructor at Delphi University. Chief counsel for the plaintiff, Joseph Adama ...

SCORPIA FALLS

Fleeing refugees have confirmed the horrifying news that Scorpia's twenty largest cities have been decimated by a combination of Cylon space bombardment and ground attack. Forced to fall back ...

COLONIAL FORCES VICTORIOUS ON CANCERON

Jubilation reigns today on Canceron after the prolonged joint efforts of both ground and space forces forced the Cylons to withdraw from their aggressive attack on the planet. Three battlestars, the Atlantia, Columbia and Galactica, were called ...

WAR OVER!!!

Twelve and a half years of grueling conflict came to a close today with the signing of the Cimtar Peace Accord, officially ending human-Cylon hostilities. The signing comes after a cease fire of three weeks ...

BORASNOS TO GO FREE

Shouts of outrage were heard in Caprica City's main criminal court today when the case against suspected triple-murderer Charles Borasnos was thrown out due to lack of evidence. Joseph Adama, the lawyer in charge of Borasnos' defense ...

NEW CLASS OF BATTLESTAR UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Construction has begun at the Colonial Fleet's Picon shipyards on the new Mercury-class battlestar line, the design of which was approved by the Admiralty last year. The expense of the new ships was called into question by ...

GEMINON KEEPS PRISONERS

In what some are calling a disheartening return to the conflict that divided the Colonies before the signing of the Articles, the Geminon government today refused to authorize the extradition of twenty men and women accused of organizing raids of ships traveling in Virgon space. The Virgon response has been ...

GALACTICA TO BECOME MUSEUM

Colonial Fleet Headquarters today announced the decision to decommission the Galactica, the last remaining of the battlestars that saw service during the Cylon War. Rather than being broken down for parts and materials, however, the proud ship will serve a more peaceful purpose ...

The pages after this last article are conspicuously blank.

Muse: Admiral William Adama
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica '03
Word count: 497