Ice and Fire
I have plenty of time to write - thanks public transit - but seemingly little time to publish. Even the editing takes less time since I don't need access to the internet. In any case, trying to remember how to do this. Here goes. A little Star Wars Awakens certainly helps.
In any case, just re-watched Home and my heart is full. So I'm posting this piece. I wrote it a year ago, with Tom Zarek's voice in my head. All standard notes apply - when it comes to writings on BSG RDM owns the characters and stories, though our words are our own.
On that note, the final line is not mine but Galatea's, from her work, No Place Like Home. It inspired the whole piece, for which I am grateful.
Spoiler wise - for any newbies, although its not quite accurate but it is simple. If you haven't hit Home yet, don't read the following.
Enjoy!
They’ve been dancing around each other for months now.
Ever since The Fall, apparently.
I’d heard the rumors, even as I was rattling around in my cell in the bowels of the Astral Queen. We all had, those rumors of the legendary conflict between the school-teacher turned President and her battle-tested Commander.
Even then we heard the stories. Of Zeus, of Mount Olympus, of the Ice Queen, and their fight for control of the Fleet.
Don’t be fooled by Roslin’s mild-mannered persona. Don’t let her quiet voice and the glasses blind you. She’s more than a match for Adama. She’s proved that. We had bets, those first weeks, as to how long he would let her play at being President. No one won; she outlasted even the longest odds.
(You’d have thought we would have had more substantial matters to concern ourselves with, but when you’re living in an eight by eight cell on a prison ship fleeing a Cylon armada at the end of worlds, you often have time on your hands. We bet on everything. The ones with the most action involved how long it would take for a Cylon baseship to end us all.)
So yeah, we’d heard the rumors regarding our glorious leaders. Of Laura Roslin, whose steely resolve belied her hidden frailties. Of William Adama, whose iron control belied his quick temper. So, I wasn’t surprised that they’d reached an equilibrium. They are equals in every way, even with their contrasting styles. Still, simply because they’d come to an understanding, it didn’t mean they’d ceased jockeying for position.
This isn’t the world Before, with its clearly established protocols regarding the civilian control of the military. That type of relationship wouldn’t work here. (I’m not sure it ever would have, to tell the truth. She’s not that type of leader; he’s not very good at following.)
It’s deceptive, really. The two of them have been open about their disgust for playing politics. It’s one of the few things they seemed to have in common. They are both clearly lying. Either that or they are fooling themselves. No one could survive that long in Adar’s inner circle without the skills to prop up their position, and the Byzantium nature of Colonial fleet internal politics are legendary.
In any case, even when they made it clear their partnership was a priority, even then, we were always waiting, waiting for the day when the test would come.
When they would fail.
It was inevitable, really. The details are fuzzy, but they don't really matter. Roslin was always going to Kobol, and Adama was always going to take out that baseship. I’m not surprised they both succeeded, albeit separately, though I’m not sure any of us could have foreseen the cost.
Still, they’ve brought us this far, and even separately, they’re determined to bring us all the way to the end. They’ll find a way to make it work.
If he survives.
I haven’t lasted this long without knowing when people have secrets. I saw Roslin’s face when I told her Adama woke up. She plays her cards close, the Ice Queen, but every once in a while the warmth underneath seeps through. She depends on him, that much she'll admit. He’s her rock. He’s just not very happy with her right now.
They’ll find a way to make it work again.
As long as he survives.
Given what I know of him, I’m not betting against it. Given what I’ve managed to pry from Starbuck and Apollo, I’m not betting against him showing up, either. He’s all fire, and I’ve got his entire family snuggled up tight on my ship. Trust me, he’s showing up. It may take a while, but he’s showing up.
The Galactica might as well be in another dimension, but I can still feel him looming.
I’m aware my position is temporary. Laura and her Captain Apollo may be stuck with me for now, but I’m aware I’m only a means to an end. If we make it back from Kobol… If Adama finds survives... if he finds a way to forgive them... My utility ends. That’s a lot of what-ifs, but given our new realities, what-ifs may be the only certainties.
Roslin fails to trust me with her plans, let alone her inner thoughts. The Fleet, both this truncated one and the one I’m sure we’re going back to, will follow her lead. And I don’t have time to gain her trust, not the way she’s looking. She won’t tell me how long she’d got, but I can tell it’s bad. It’s a shame. Even now she’s a force of nature.
I would have liked to have seen her before the cancer began hollowing her out from the inside.
I should be grateful we have such leaders at the end of worlds. By herself, Roslin simply moves through opposition as if it isn’t there. Meanwhile, Adama’s ability to overcome obstacles which would have destroyed anyone else is legendary. Without these two we’d probably already be dead, our corpses joining the billions of those left to rot, orbiting the system we once called home. They are remarkable.
If only they’d let me in.
So far, Roslin and Adama have blocked me at every turn.
Separately, they’ve managed to muddle through, even as they’ve spent more time than they should, dancing around each other. Fighting each other. Separately, they’ve headed off all opposition, foreign and domestic, kept the Fleet alive, and held off our annihilation.
Reconciled? They would be unstoppable.
In any case, just re-watched Home and my heart is full. So I'm posting this piece. I wrote it a year ago, with Tom Zarek's voice in my head. All standard notes apply - when it comes to writings on BSG RDM owns the characters and stories, though our words are our own.
On that note, the final line is not mine but Galatea's, from her work, No Place Like Home. It inspired the whole piece, for which I am grateful.
Spoiler wise - for any newbies, although its not quite accurate but it is simple. If you haven't hit Home yet, don't read the following.
Enjoy!
They’ve been dancing around each other for months now.
Ever since The Fall, apparently.
I’d heard the rumors, even as I was rattling around in my cell in the bowels of the Astral Queen. We all had, those rumors of the legendary conflict between the school-teacher turned President and her battle-tested Commander.
Even then we heard the stories. Of Zeus, of Mount Olympus, of the Ice Queen, and their fight for control of the Fleet.
Don’t be fooled by Roslin’s mild-mannered persona. Don’t let her quiet voice and the glasses blind you. She’s more than a match for Adama. She’s proved that. We had bets, those first weeks, as to how long he would let her play at being President. No one won; she outlasted even the longest odds.
(You’d have thought we would have had more substantial matters to concern ourselves with, but when you’re living in an eight by eight cell on a prison ship fleeing a Cylon armada at the end of worlds, you often have time on your hands. We bet on everything. The ones with the most action involved how long it would take for a Cylon baseship to end us all.)
So yeah, we’d heard the rumors regarding our glorious leaders. Of Laura Roslin, whose steely resolve belied her hidden frailties. Of William Adama, whose iron control belied his quick temper. So, I wasn’t surprised that they’d reached an equilibrium. They are equals in every way, even with their contrasting styles. Still, simply because they’d come to an understanding, it didn’t mean they’d ceased jockeying for position.
This isn’t the world Before, with its clearly established protocols regarding the civilian control of the military. That type of relationship wouldn’t work here. (I’m not sure it ever would have, to tell the truth. She’s not that type of leader; he’s not very good at following.)
It’s deceptive, really. The two of them have been open about their disgust for playing politics. It’s one of the few things they seemed to have in common. They are both clearly lying. Either that or they are fooling themselves. No one could survive that long in Adar’s inner circle without the skills to prop up their position, and the Byzantium nature of Colonial fleet internal politics are legendary.
In any case, even when they made it clear their partnership was a priority, even then, we were always waiting, waiting for the day when the test would come.
When they would fail.
It was inevitable, really. The details are fuzzy, but they don't really matter. Roslin was always going to Kobol, and Adama was always going to take out that baseship. I’m not surprised they both succeeded, albeit separately, though I’m not sure any of us could have foreseen the cost.
Still, they’ve brought us this far, and even separately, they’re determined to bring us all the way to the end. They’ll find a way to make it work.
If he survives.
I haven’t lasted this long without knowing when people have secrets. I saw Roslin’s face when I told her Adama woke up. She plays her cards close, the Ice Queen, but every once in a while the warmth underneath seeps through. She depends on him, that much she'll admit. He’s her rock. He’s just not very happy with her right now.
They’ll find a way to make it work again.
As long as he survives.
Given what I know of him, I’m not betting against it. Given what I’ve managed to pry from Starbuck and Apollo, I’m not betting against him showing up, either. He’s all fire, and I’ve got his entire family snuggled up tight on my ship. Trust me, he’s showing up. It may take a while, but he’s showing up.
The Galactica might as well be in another dimension, but I can still feel him looming.
I’m aware my position is temporary. Laura and her Captain Apollo may be stuck with me for now, but I’m aware I’m only a means to an end. If we make it back from Kobol… If Adama finds survives... if he finds a way to forgive them... My utility ends. That’s a lot of what-ifs, but given our new realities, what-ifs may be the only certainties.
Roslin fails to trust me with her plans, let alone her inner thoughts. The Fleet, both this truncated one and the one I’m sure we’re going back to, will follow her lead. And I don’t have time to gain her trust, not the way she’s looking. She won’t tell me how long she’d got, but I can tell it’s bad. It’s a shame. Even now she’s a force of nature.
I would have liked to have seen her before the cancer began hollowing her out from the inside.
I should be grateful we have such leaders at the end of worlds. By herself, Roslin simply moves through opposition as if it isn’t there. Meanwhile, Adama’s ability to overcome obstacles which would have destroyed anyone else is legendary. Without these two we’d probably already be dead, our corpses joining the billions of those left to rot, orbiting the system we once called home. They are remarkable.
If only they’d let me in.
So far, Roslin and Adama have blocked me at every turn.
Separately, they’ve managed to muddle through, even as they’ve spent more time than they should, dancing around each other. Fighting each other. Separately, they’ve headed off all opposition, foreign and domestic, kept the Fleet alive, and held off our annihilation.
Reconciled? They would be unstoppable.