Volume I, Scene Fifty-Eight
Laura was already waiting in the conference room when Wren arrived, poised at the head of the table like Lee was only borrowing the President's chair from her.
"Madam President," Wren began, stopping abruptly when Laura half-raised a hand at her.
"Dolly gave me the impression that this was some kind of world-ending scenario, so I do hope there's an excellent reason for pulling me away from the tender hands of Sienna."
"There's never an excellent reason for that," Wren told her, pulling up a chair and crossing one booted leg over the other. "We do have a bit of a situation that calls for your particular expertise, however."
Laura slowly raised one eyebrow. "Oh?"
It occurred to Wren at that moment that she might have this job for the next thirty years and still not be able to pull off that expression. She cleared her throat, a tad more imperiously than she intended, and opened a file folder, trying vainly to regain some conversational equilibrium. Asking Laura for a political favor reminded her far too much of the professors during her first year of law school, only this was much more horribly personal. "I don't know if news of our dear Dr. Brennan's impromptu press conference has reached you, but, ah, she wants to go to Kobol," Wren said, giving herself a mental pat on the back for only stumbling over one word. It was so much easier to talk to Laura about personal matters than professional troubles. She felt like that ought to be odd. "We think that's a terrible idea."
"What a waste of resources," Laura agreed, leaning back in her chair.
"Our thoughts exactly," Wren said, a wry twist to her smile as she considered the staff's earlier conversation. "Naturally, we'll have to talk to Zarek. We don't want the People's Council jumping on Brennan's bandwagon. Waste of resources," she parroted.
"I see," Laura said.
Wren cleared her throat again and decided firmly that next time, Lee was handling this. "We were hoping that you could, ah, talk to him."
"I see," Laura said again, in that way that she had that made Wren fight the urge to squirm like an errant schoolchild.
"We thought you'd be more persuasive?"
"And what exactly do I get in exchange for this little favor?"
"Honestly, ma'am, I was sorta hoping you'd do it because you liked me," Wren told her impulsively.
Laura smiled dangerously at her. "Or I could like you, and you could push for lower taxes on the little herbal cigarette project that Dr. Gabriel and I have been working on."
"In the alternative," Wren proposed, thinking quickly, "we could, ah, take the tax revenue we've generated from the sales of that little project and start the...Laura Roslin Arts Initiative." Wren thought that she noticed the slightest quiver of interest cross Laura's excellent triad face.
"And what exactly would that entail?"
"Eliza has been lamenting to me of late how woefully deficient our curriculum is when it comes to the arts," Wren explained. "I agree with her, and so does the President. I think it's high time we fixed that," she said, grinning at her own pun. "And I can't think of anyone more fitting to name it after. Generations of Earth's children will benefit from this opportunity to express themselves creatively."
"Hmm. A program like that would take awhile to implement. You'll need the approval of the legislature."
"Most of them are parents," Wren pointed out. "That helps. Think of all the video discs of dance recitals and choir concerts they'll be able to force on their childrens' prom dates."
"True," Laura said. "What about Tom? He'll want something to do with it."
"I figured I'd let him stand next to you at the ribbon-cutting ceremony," Wren said, grinning again. "That may pacify him."
"You'll need some good people to run this program," Laura told her. "I don't want my name on something that Devin Blazer could have thought up."
"Perish the thought. As a matter of fact," Wren told her, staring with interest at her empty coffee cup from Jaffee's, "I have a couple of people in mind."