Trophy on Your Wall
For lorrainemarker, who request a sequel to Paperwork. Sorry this didn't turn out to be the happy pornbattle entry I'd planned.
Summary: You never know what you might get when you fill out a requisition form.
Time frame: The Captain's Hand
Rating: T+
Warning: Unpleasantness
"Raptor from Colonial One docking, sir."
"Thank you." The admiral turned to Dee and asked for the folder with items for the meeting.
"I'm sorry; it's not ready sir. There was some late comm traffic from the Gemenese about that girl. I'm waiting for the printouts."
"The president is going to be waiting for me, and those folders, in my quarters."
"I know, sir. I'll bring them to your quarters in five."
Five minutes alone with Laura, five minutes in which they had nothing official to do. It wasn't a lot, but it was more than they usually got. By the time he'd greeted her, poured them each a drink, and shown her a few books from the back of his bottom bookshelf, Dee was knocking on his hatch with the reports.
"Well, it was a nice vacation while it lasted," Laura sighed. "Back to the tyllium mines."
Bill sat down and opened his folder. "You might want me to freshen your drink. The Gemenese stowaway."
Laura started pacing. "Could we just table that discussion? It's a civilian matter."
"You're the one who advocated for having babies, as I recall."
"And it's a lovely goal to advocate. But face it, Bill, no one is going to force you or I to give birth to a baby we didn't want."
"I'd like to see them try to force me." He shot her his most serious death glare and had her trying to swallow her giggles.
"This is every political science lecture rolled into a single hot mess," Laura continued after a deep breath. "Religion. Federalism vs. colony rights. The individual's rights vs. her obligations to the human race. When I leave here, I'm going to go talk to Baltar."
"One of the most serious issues of your administration and you're going to make a decision based on a talk with Gaius Baltar?" Bill asked, incredulous.
"Well, I thought I'd ask his advice and then do the opposite. Let's just move on to the next item, OK?"
"The food shortage report from Cloud 9," Bill said.
Laura sat and looked into her own folder. "I don't have that one."
"Funny, this form is triplicate."
"Never mind, I vaguely recall reading it. Liquor shortage, right? Think you could get Colonel Tigh to restock them?"
"He'd rather send over Ellen than his liquor."
"Forget that, then. There's a prophylactics shortage already, and the last thing we need is an outbreak of venereal disease. Ask Lee to handle it; he's the one who let the black market continue."
"You're not going to let me live that down, are you?"
"Not as long as that black market still operates. Next."
"Tyllium ship's still short workers."
"Wasn't Zarek supposed to supply them?"
Bill's snort let her know what he thought of Tom Zarek.
"I'll talk to him." Laura reached across the desk for one of Bill's pens. Her shirt gaped open slightly as she moved.
"Nice shirt. New?"
"Yeah. Got some new aides, and we've started an unofficial clothing swap. Girl gets tired of wearing the same three suits all the time."
"I could send some of our stuff over --- sweats, fatigues," he offered.
"Thanks, but no. Last thing we need is for the fleet to think the government's crawling into the military's pants."
"Next issue," Bill squeaked.
"Fuel requisition reports. Same old, same old."
"Then let's just sign 'em and get on with it."
They did so, and turned to the next page in the folder.
"Personal weaponry requis--" Bill's reading was cut off as Laura made a grab for the sheet of paper. He reached out for her wrist, held it. "What's that?"
"Nothing. It shouldn't have been in there. I don't know how it got in there."
"Let me see that."
"No."
Bill leaned forward, put some of his weight on the desk with his free hand. "It's a Galactica form. That's my ship. Let me see it."
"It came from my office, and it was a mistake," Laura insisted, shifting her own weight forward.
"Don't make me make you show it to me."
"Like you could."
"Madame President, I don't know what you taught, but let me clue you in to some simple facts of biology. I'm a man, you're a woman. That means I'm bigger than you, I'm broader than you, and I outweigh you. I most definitely could."
"You wouldn't."
Bill grabbed her other hand and tugged them both, throwing her off balance. She reached out to steady herself and Bill took the opportunity to retrieve the requisition form. He quickly sat down and leaned back in his chair, out of Laura's reach, reading.
Laura waited until he looked up. "I can explain."
"Yes, please do, Madame President. You're trying to requisition a very rare military asset…"
"Rare?" Laura scoffed. "I believe you'll find hundreds like it on every ship in the fleet."
"But you're trying to requisition one specific one."
"Come on, Bill. I just want to borrow it once in a while. It's not like I'm planning to keep it."
"You sure, Madame President? There were times, early on, I could have sworn you wanted my balls handed you on a silver platter. Would make a nice trophy for your office."
"That was back when I wasn't sure you had any, Admiral."
"And now?"
"You gonna approve that requisition or not?" Laura asked, cutting to the chase.
"You still haven't convinced me it'd be better off with you than where it's currently at."
"Oh, I'm sure its current owner's got a lot of hands-on experience, but I know a few more sophisticated maintenance techniques."
"I have no doubt of your considerable expertise at handling personal weaponry, but I do have to wonder -- other women who've asked for its use haven't wanted to keep it for long."
"I don't see my need for it diminishing anytime soon. I mean, who else would I ask? Tom Zarek?"
"I'd airlock him if you did," Bill growled.
"Airlock me if I did. That's an order, Admiral."
"Duly noted, Madame President. But back to the topic…"
Laura's tone took on a precise, presidential note. "OK, here's the truth. This is what's going on. I don't know what woman frakked you up so bad, none of my business. I want you, and from what I can tell, you want me, too. But I don't do Special Ed. You want me, you're going to have to do some of the heavy lifting, too. Or I can get up and walk out that door and we never mention this again, no harm done. Your choice."
"At least you realize that you're heavy lifting."
"Excuse me?"
"You think you know what's going on with me, in my head? Well, let me tell you what's going on in your head, Madame President. You want a convenient frak. You have a thing for men with power. Like you said, who else you gonna ask?"
Laura said nothing, just watched him over the top of her glasses.
"And if another Battlestar popped out of nowhere, some man in charge who had seniority on me and wasn't a homicidal maniac, would you run after him? I'm not going to let some power junkie use my dick as a step up the ladder."
"You think you're a step *up* the ladder?" Laura taunted.
Bill sat back in his chair. "Lady, I'm the top of this particular ladder."
Laura stood, hands on hips. "I'm the one who made you admiral. And I'm the one who could demote you."
"You probably could," Bill chuckled. "But you won't." He took his pen and wrote something across Laura's form before pushing it back at her. "Request denied. Now get out of my quarters."
The president gathered up her papers and headed for the hatch. With one foot out the door she stopped, turned around. "Congratulations, Admiral. I think you've finally grown a pair."
Summary: You never know what you might get when you fill out a requisition form.
Time frame: The Captain's Hand
Rating: T+
Warning: Unpleasantness
"Raptor from Colonial One docking, sir."
"Thank you." The admiral turned to Dee and asked for the folder with items for the meeting.
"I'm sorry; it's not ready sir. There was some late comm traffic from the Gemenese about that girl. I'm waiting for the printouts."
"The president is going to be waiting for me, and those folders, in my quarters."
"I know, sir. I'll bring them to your quarters in five."
Five minutes alone with Laura, five minutes in which they had nothing official to do. It wasn't a lot, but it was more than they usually got. By the time he'd greeted her, poured them each a drink, and shown her a few books from the back of his bottom bookshelf, Dee was knocking on his hatch with the reports.
"Well, it was a nice vacation while it lasted," Laura sighed. "Back to the tyllium mines."
Bill sat down and opened his folder. "You might want me to freshen your drink. The Gemenese stowaway."
Laura started pacing. "Could we just table that discussion? It's a civilian matter."
"You're the one who advocated for having babies, as I recall."
"And it's a lovely goal to advocate. But face it, Bill, no one is going to force you or I to give birth to a baby we didn't want."
"I'd like to see them try to force me." He shot her his most serious death glare and had her trying to swallow her giggles.
"This is every political science lecture rolled into a single hot mess," Laura continued after a deep breath. "Religion. Federalism vs. colony rights. The individual's rights vs. her obligations to the human race. When I leave here, I'm going to go talk to Baltar."
"One of the most serious issues of your administration and you're going to make a decision based on a talk with Gaius Baltar?" Bill asked, incredulous.
"Well, I thought I'd ask his advice and then do the opposite. Let's just move on to the next item, OK?"
"The food shortage report from Cloud 9," Bill said.
Laura sat and looked into her own folder. "I don't have that one."
"Funny, this form is triplicate."
"Never mind, I vaguely recall reading it. Liquor shortage, right? Think you could get Colonel Tigh to restock them?"
"He'd rather send over Ellen than his liquor."
"Forget that, then. There's a prophylactics shortage already, and the last thing we need is an outbreak of venereal disease. Ask Lee to handle it; he's the one who let the black market continue."
"You're not going to let me live that down, are you?"
"Not as long as that black market still operates. Next."
"Tyllium ship's still short workers."
"Wasn't Zarek supposed to supply them?"
Bill's snort let her know what he thought of Tom Zarek.
"I'll talk to him." Laura reached across the desk for one of Bill's pens. Her shirt gaped open slightly as she moved.
"Nice shirt. New?"
"Yeah. Got some new aides, and we've started an unofficial clothing swap. Girl gets tired of wearing the same three suits all the time."
"I could send some of our stuff over --- sweats, fatigues," he offered.
"Thanks, but no. Last thing we need is for the fleet to think the government's crawling into the military's pants."
"Next issue," Bill squeaked.
"Fuel requisition reports. Same old, same old."
"Then let's just sign 'em and get on with it."
They did so, and turned to the next page in the folder.
"Personal weaponry requis--" Bill's reading was cut off as Laura made a grab for the sheet of paper. He reached out for her wrist, held it. "What's that?"
"Nothing. It shouldn't have been in there. I don't know how it got in there."
"Let me see that."
"No."
Bill leaned forward, put some of his weight on the desk with his free hand. "It's a Galactica form. That's my ship. Let me see it."
"It came from my office, and it was a mistake," Laura insisted, shifting her own weight forward.
"Don't make me make you show it to me."
"Like you could."
"Madame President, I don't know what you taught, but let me clue you in to some simple facts of biology. I'm a man, you're a woman. That means I'm bigger than you, I'm broader than you, and I outweigh you. I most definitely could."
"You wouldn't."
Bill grabbed her other hand and tugged them both, throwing her off balance. She reached out to steady herself and Bill took the opportunity to retrieve the requisition form. He quickly sat down and leaned back in his chair, out of Laura's reach, reading.
Laura waited until he looked up. "I can explain."
"Yes, please do, Madame President. You're trying to requisition a very rare military asset…"
"Rare?" Laura scoffed. "I believe you'll find hundreds like it on every ship in the fleet."
"But you're trying to requisition one specific one."
"Come on, Bill. I just want to borrow it once in a while. It's not like I'm planning to keep it."
"You sure, Madame President? There were times, early on, I could have sworn you wanted my balls handed you on a silver platter. Would make a nice trophy for your office."
"That was back when I wasn't sure you had any, Admiral."
"And now?"
"You gonna approve that requisition or not?" Laura asked, cutting to the chase.
"You still haven't convinced me it'd be better off with you than where it's currently at."
"Oh, I'm sure its current owner's got a lot of hands-on experience, but I know a few more sophisticated maintenance techniques."
"I have no doubt of your considerable expertise at handling personal weaponry, but I do have to wonder -- other women who've asked for its use haven't wanted to keep it for long."
"I don't see my need for it diminishing anytime soon. I mean, who else would I ask? Tom Zarek?"
"I'd airlock him if you did," Bill growled.
"Airlock me if I did. That's an order, Admiral."
"Duly noted, Madame President. But back to the topic…"
Laura's tone took on a precise, presidential note. "OK, here's the truth. This is what's going on. I don't know what woman frakked you up so bad, none of my business. I want you, and from what I can tell, you want me, too. But I don't do Special Ed. You want me, you're going to have to do some of the heavy lifting, too. Or I can get up and walk out that door and we never mention this again, no harm done. Your choice."
"At least you realize that you're heavy lifting."
"Excuse me?"
"You think you know what's going on with me, in my head? Well, let me tell you what's going on in your head, Madame President. You want a convenient frak. You have a thing for men with power. Like you said, who else you gonna ask?"
Laura said nothing, just watched him over the top of her glasses.
"And if another Battlestar popped out of nowhere, some man in charge who had seniority on me and wasn't a homicidal maniac, would you run after him? I'm not going to let some power junkie use my dick as a step up the ladder."
"You think you're a step *up* the ladder?" Laura taunted.
Bill sat back in his chair. "Lady, I'm the top of this particular ladder."
Laura stood, hands on hips. "I'm the one who made you admiral. And I'm the one who could demote you."
"You probably could," Bill chuckled. "But you won't." He took his pen and wrote something across Laura's form before pushing it back at her. "Request denied. Now get out of my quarters."
The president gathered up her papers and headed for the hatch. With one foot out the door she stopped, turned around. "Congratulations, Admiral. I think you've finally grown a pair."