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The Passing of the Queen
by hossgal
Aboard Colonial One, 231 days after the end of the world
" - and light was drawn forth from the darkness, and the Lords did weave darkness into light, fall into flight, ash into fire, and life into death. And so shall each breath cease, and each light fade, and each life return to the darkness from whence it came. As life began elsewhere, so it shall go, at the end of all things ."
The priest's words faded away. The silence stretched on, broken, at last, by the fluttering hiss of the retreating scroll and the quiet, definitive click of the case halves closing.
Laura lay still, waiting for the shift of air and rustle of cloth that meant Annara was rising to leave. But the silence went on - one breath, two, three. When Laura opened her eyes, the priest yet knelt beside her, the fingers of one hand pressed to the bridge of her nose and both eyes closed. Laura tried to lift her hand but the sluggard flesh only lay on the coverlet, willful and sullen.
She swallowed twice before she could speak. "So say we all." The weakness in her voice made her want to weep with the priest, and she hated her unmoving body even more.
Annara dropped her hand. "So say we all." The lines lay deep around her eyes.
Now Laura's hand would move, and Annara's rose to take it. Laura felt her fingers tremble and willed into her eyes the strength she could not force into her grasp. "Thank you for coming. I know that you are very busy," she drew breath, held the cough back and went on. "And it means so much that you would come."
"Would I refuse, when someone needed me?" Annara smiled, warm and welcome, as if she had not refused President Roslin a score of times. "Rest, now. I will come back when I can." She leaned across the low table, reaching for the lamp control.
"No, leave it."
"It won't hurt your eyes?"
The pillow rasped against Laura's face as she shook her head. "Not now." There will be darkness enough, soon, she thought, but it disturbed the priest when she said such things. You are Prophet, Annara said, not seer, and it did not matter that any mortal could see that the President of the Colonies was dying.
The door slid open under Annara's hand. Before it closed, Laura heard Billy's voice, fretful and tense. "Is she -" The click of the latch cut away the rest of his question.
Billy, perhaps - Billy was one who could not see what was before him. Had she space to grieve another, Laura would weep for her aide, who refused death with the fierce conviction of youth.
But she had no grief to spare.
She slept then, or dreamed, which was not the same. In her dream the decks of Colonial One had been peeled away, and she descended, hand over hand, down the bare frame of the bulkheads. Down, down, down, deep into the hold, where a slow beat echoed like a drum. The darkness was full of bustling figures, laden with tools and beams, going to and fro in the half light. They jostled past her, bruising her shoulders, making her stagger. When she would push them away, her hands went through their bodies as though she pressed against mist.
The shifting crowd carried her deeper, to the heart of the ship. She thought they spoke to her, repeating some urgent phrase over and over, but the words were soundless, passing through her thoughts as her hands had passed through their bodies. There was only the boom of the drum - blow after blow struck against the sounding board of the ship's hull. She followed their urging none the less, and when she came at last to the center of the hold, she understood.
Hear, hear, hear. The queen has died, may the queen live long, rule justly. Hear, hear. The queen has died...
Heaps of lumber littered the hold floor - she had not thought so much wood remained in the fleet. Cut, shattered, torn - all about, castoffs and discarded scraps. In the center, the figures drew back from the structure they were constructing.
They were building a scaffold - an altar of execution. Hera demands life, demands death. The queen has died, may the queen live long...
She stepped forward, put her hand on the stair railing, and felt it jump under her hand as though struck by a hammer.
"Madam President? Madam President, wake up."
She blinked, shuddering against the light. "What - ah, the lamp, Billy -" The brilliance was abruptly eclipsed, then returned as sullen glow.
"I'm sorry. Is that better?"
She nodded. "Is it time for the next dose?"
"Yes, ma'am." She clung to his arm as he lifted her and shifted her pillows about. When he released her, she sank back with a sigh.
"Billy, what are they doing?"
He did not look up from the pills he was counting out. "What is who doing?"
"The noises - the banging." He looked at her blankly. Oh, Hera, I'm imagining it all. Then a muffled boom sounded, more felt than heard, carried on the frame of the ship, and comprehension swept over Billy's face.
"Oh, that. Expanding kitchen facilities in the hold. For the new government staff."
"Oh, of course." She watched his hands, sorting the pills. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, ma'am. Two now, one in four hours, then -"
"No, about the sound."
"What did you think it was?"
"A hanging scaffold?"
About to hand the pills to her, Billy stopped. "Ma'am. Don't be ridiculous."
"What? I can't make a joke?"
His face folded back into the seriousness he wore daily, now. "Take these."
She obeyed, opening her hand for the little trickle of capsules. "I'm not an infant, you know."
"No ma'am, you're a very ill President of the Colonies, and if you don't take your medicine, I will have your security hold you down and feed them to you."
"Treason. I'd order them to arrest you." They were bitter in her mouth, and she took the glass Billy offered. The cold water made her cough.
She swallowed it down, drank again, meeting Billy's eyes over the rim of the glass.
"Well?"
"Well?"
"What will you do -" she had to stop and cough. He reached out and brushed the hair away from her forehead. "When I have you arrested for treason, what will you do?"
"I'll call Doctor Cottle."
She snorted, and that made her choke in earnest. She clutched at the damp glass, terrified of dropping it. "You fight dirty, Billy Keikeya."
"Yes, ma'am." His touch scorched her as he eased the slick tumbler from her fingers. Her hand spasmed, clutching after it. Billy set the glass to one side and gave her his hand to hold instead.
"You should go back to sleep now. I'll be right here."
She shook her head, but her eyes were sliding closed already.
When she came back to the hold, it was silent, and brightly lit. The railing, where she touched it, was only wood, with the warmth and strength of old oak. The steps were slick with rain-dark leaves, and when her feet slipped under her, the stones beneath were cold and white.
"Madam President, take my hand." And like that Lee Adama was there, lifting her effortlessly, holding her close. She pressed her face against his chest, felt the uniform shift as his arms came about her - a young man's scent, a young man's strength.
She could have stood there forever, but when he said, "Can you go on now?" she nodded and stepped up again.
"I'll be right behind you," he promised. She nodded, kept climbing.
At the apex, the tower was flat - a sheet of stone, polished like glass. And so high up. There should be a breeze, she thought, to stir the banners. And there were banners - hundreds of them, hung from the platform's edge. But the flags hung limp, unmoving, and she remembered that she was in a spacecraft.
Some of the banners she knew - historical, scriptural, some no older than the Articles of Confederation. Others were strange, with fantastic beasts and unfamiliar stars stitched upon them. She turned to ask Lee if he knew the places the banners represented, but the young pilot was not there. The stairwell was empty, all the way down.
Her feet slipped on the slick stone as she stepped out on the platform. Knees trembling, she made her way to the center.
When she looked down, the stone beneath her feet shimmered into transparency. She could see all the way down, out to the skin of the ship, and beyond. The starfield glittered.
The door was cracked open a slit and she pressed a hand to her face against the light. Drifting voices followed the gleam.
"- sleeping again. But she could, at any time -"
"I know." A rumble of regret, of resignation.
"If you like, in thirty minutes, -"
Oh, Gods, the time. She had been asleep too long. Had missed the jump.
"Where - where -" The words came out in a croak. The voices fell silent. She coughed, tried again. "Where are we? What time is it?" The slit spread, opened around Billy's head and shoulders. Behind him, another, light glinting on collar, chest.
"Ca - Captain Apollo? What time is it?"
She waited for an answer, and when none came, wondered if she had spoken at all. Then Billy's shadow moved aside, and the lamp picked out the rim of spectacles.
"It's 1400 hours, Madam President. On Election Day."
She let out a huff that might, once, have been a laugh. "Commander Adama."
It was not a summons, but Billy took it so. "Not for long, Commander."
Adama shook his head. "No, not long. Just for a few moments." The door closed, leaving her as blind as had the light.
In the darkness, Adama, still standing, cleared his throat. "Does he order you about as much as he does everyone else?"
She did laugh this time. "Worse. He went easy on you - must think you'll get him in trouble with his wife." Adama chuckled. Her sight cleared enough to see the brief smile that went with it. "Everyone stands over me. Sit down."
He found a chair - his hands loud on the worn fabric - and obeyed. She shifted her head on the pillow to consider him - solid, still, but weary. He wore the glasses at all hours. She could remember when he had not.
She could remember when his hair had been more black than grey, too. Difficult, now, awake, to look at him and see his son instead.
"Lee's out on courier patrol. He was here, earlier."
I don't remember, she thought to say, but the dream came back to her in fragments. Too much to explain. She groped after simpler things.
"Courier? They're bringing in the ballots, then?"
"Yes." A pause. "Astral Queen requested him specifically."
"Astral - they what?"
"Demanded him, actually. Either 'Captain Apollo' collected their ballots or they wouldn't submit their votes." By his tone, Adama would have regarded this as no great loss.
"What fools." Adar's voice, years past, full of scorn. The ballot box is the only place where a boycott loses you everything. An old memory, from the time when all defeats were political, and transient. And hard on that, soldiers in clear face shields, dark armor.
"Has it been - has there been any disturbance?" She thought of Lee, going alone into the Astral Queen, of the long corridors, the tight turns. Anything could happen.
"No. All quiet. The worst news was off the tech ships."
"Oh?"
"After Baltar declared himself as an independent, there were some...spirited discussions, over the merits of supporting his candidacy. High Endeavor and Venture's Wing aren't talking to each other, and are routing all their communications through Galactica."
"Dear Gods." She gasped, choked on the laugh. Then her throat closed up and she groped for the glass. His hand was there first, guiding her fingers. Another arm under her shoulders, holding her upright. When the coughing fit passed, he eased her back on the pillows but remained where he was, within easy arm's reach.
This close, she could see the marks his glasses had made on his nose, smell him - old sweat, a hint of fresher cologne, all under cut with a faint, musty scent that she associated with Galactica herself.
His eyes searched over her face as she considered him, and it was Adama who dropped his gaze first.
Turning to put the glass to one side, he noticed the square lump on her bedside table. Picking it up, he asked, "Is this what I think it is?"
"A wireless relay? Yes. It doesn't work anymore."
He turned it over in his hands, thick fingers cradling the lump of plastic and bent metal. "This isn't the standard model."
No time left for secrets. "I used to - I had them rig a receiver, for the military channels, to my office. Back, after, well, after Kobol." He nodded, face closed. She drew a breath, went on. "Sometimes, at night, I would sit and listen to the, the com traffic." Strange how the words came hard to her again, as if she was just learning them for the first time. "Listen, and try to put faces to the voices. I - it fell, about two months ago. Hasn't worked since."
"Ah." A long pause. He was sitting very still. Then he turned where he sat, settled with his shoulder against her bed, his head at a level with hers. Flipped the receiver end for end, noting the crack on one side, the broken knob.
"I had the best scientific mind in the Colonies look at it, and he couldn't get it functioning again."
Adama snorted. "The best scientific mind in the Colonies is currently running a distant third in the polls. Indulge me." He pressed something and was rewarded with a pop and then a hiss. "There. Can you hear that?" He held the com between them - a bulky box, larger than his joined hands.
"No..."
He punched at a button and they both jumped when the first voices came through loud and harsh.
- tesser five niner niner oh do you copy galactica
- thats an affirmative raptor two four good hunting
She felt her face stretch into a smile. "Dee. Who is she talking to?"
"Lt Tanzee, from Leo, he's one of our new Raptor pilots - we just had the graduation four days ago."
"What's he doing?"
Adama listened a moment to the voices. "CAP support. We're rotating the shifts early today, the other pilots will be coming shortly. We adjusted the schedule so everyone could vote."
She started to frame a question - didn't we arrange for held ballots - but was interrupted by a familiar voice.
- galactica this is apollo on approach to point flame on official business request clearance to dock over
- apollo galactica you are fourth in queue hold your position until advised to approach acknowledge over
- copy that galactica apollo standing by
Adama looked up at her. "Busy out there."
She smiled back, laid her head against the pillow. "Busy is good." Another voice, this one new to her.
- galactica this is hatman flight four nova we have station on my mark two one mark relief is clear to return
- copy that hatman over kat you are cleared to return to base acknowledge
The relief flight acknowledged. "That was Kat," Adama said.
"And before her?"
"Hatman - Lt Jensen - older man, from Troy. Tells horrible puns, or so I'm told."
She let her hand drop, trailed fingers over his shoulder.
"You know a lot about them. About all of us."
He shrugged, made the epaulets move under her fingertips. "Comes with the territory."
"What else do you know? How long until we get results on the election?"
A hesitation. "I'm sure Billy can tell you these things."
"I know. Indulge me."
"Nineteen hours, twenty five at the most, assuming no problems with the count. Which there will be."
"And the result? No, I know," as he shifted uncomfortably, "You don't like to guess." She squeezed his shoulder.
"Right."
Another voice came over the wireless, hailing Golden Hind. "And that one?" she asked, leaving her hand where it was.
"Racetrack, on courier run."
After a time, he reached up and clasped her fingers in his. The wireless hissed and popped. Eventually, Dee gave Apollo authorization to approach and off-load his ballot boxes. Laura let her eyelids slide shut then, against the sudden brightness in Adama's eyes.
His voice went on, quiet and unaffected, naming the voices dancing amid the stars, translating the void-cant into something more pedestrian. But she scarcely needed it now - with her eyes closed, it was easy to pretend that she was drifting out in the darkness as well.
Down in the hold, the glass platform had spread, until it covered up the whole of the decking. Laura made her way carefully to the center; bare feet placed precisely, her back straight. The crowd had returned, but they were still as she took her place in the center of the platform. She turned to them, nodded.
"It is time," she said, and the echo returned from the distant walls. It is time.
Beneath her feet, the scattered points of light were very bright. The glass trembled, then gave way, and she went down to meet the stars.
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