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15 June 2006 @ 11:25 pm
 
WHO: William Adama (and anyone else who can join in)
WHAT: Bill receives his morning briefing from the XO before heading to CIC
WHEN: A few days into the ice drilling expedition - before the Commander makes his way to CIC.



The sound of air being sucked in over his teeth filled the relative quiet of the compact head. Bill looked down at the dull razor blade and then at the series of pin prick holes along his throat that were starting to enthuse red. Dipping the razor in the cup of water he was using to shave Bill stretched the skin over his Adam’s apple as tightly as he could and drew the blade along the grain of his beard scraping the previous night’s growth away. A knock at the hatch made him glance down to where his pocket watch lay open beside the empty sink. Breakfast was on time, these arrangements were just making him slower than usual. Dipping his head out of the doorframe he called out for the steward to come in and carried on scraping the last of his stubble away. Satisfied with the results he wiped away the remaining thin traces of soap foam and turned out the light before stepping out into the main return of his quarters. The man in the white tabard nodded in reply to Bill’s thanks before leaving and as the wheel of his hatch spun to lock the combing back into place he was crossing to the recessed locker by his rack. Passing the intricately carved antique wooden table that stood prominently on this side of the partition, where the Steward had, as usual set two places and a coffee pot between.

His movements, as he pulled a fresh undershirt over his head, may have been calm and measured as usual. But Bill Adama’s mind was racing, calculating the odds of their long term survival and then ruminating on some desperate way to beat those same slim odds. He wondered if indeed they would make it, before screwing his eyes tightly shut and asking himself ‘make it where?’ Saul, despite his rough hewn sensibilities, had summed it up perfectly; ‘the universe is a pretty barren place when you get right down to it.’ The fleet’s long term survival hinged on the nigh-on impossible task of finding an astral body with a planetary system that could support life, which was unknown to the Cylons, easily defensible and capable of supporting life in the long term.

Not much if you said it fast.

He was snapped from his meditation by the customary wrap on the hatch followed by the sound of the wheel cracking the hatchcombing before the heavy door swung outwards and Tigh stepped over the threshold. “Morning.” he drawled before depositing a set of octagonal stock prints beside the coffee pot and rubbing the bridge of his nose as Bill finished doing up the buttons of his tunic and coming to take the chair opposite.

“I want you to know,” Bill began while pouring a cup for each of them. “that I appreciate you standing an extra watch, we’re seriously undermanned as you know-“

”Enough said.” Saul was obviously uncomfortable accepting the recognition and his behind the strong black brew. For his part Bill just smiled as he donned his glasses and lifted the pile of print outs Saul had brought with him. “What have we got?” he asked beginning to leaf through the transcripts.

”Comm chatter from Midwatch” Saul managed to reply as he chewed, having stirred the bowl of re-hydrated oats and unceremoniously stooping his head to meet the first spoonful. ”Civvies still on the warpath.” he quipped before taking another spoonful.

Bill let his eyes drift down the report in question. There was rising civil disobedience on a variety of ships. The announcement that Raptor surveys had found a new water supply had only staved off dissent for a while. The civilians were apparently dissatisfied with the time it was taking to extract the ice cores, and transport the water back to Galactica’s storage tanks. “We might have to be the policemen here after all.” Bill commented as he read yet another report detailing civil unrest in the fleet ranging from outspoken criticism of the President to full scale threats to take control of ships and stage an embargo of the Galactica until water supplies were replenished.

”What?” Tigh asked not being privy to the reference.

“Never mind, I’ll deal with this when I get to combat. Anything else?”

Bill reached for his coffee as Tigh finished the remnants of his breakfast and nodded.

” Well whatever their planning it might get worse before it gets better.”

He looked over the rims of his glasses in response, prompting the Colonel to continue.

”Surface team reported that they ripped another drill head during the night, we’re looking at an additional twelve hours.”

Bill sighed heavily as he put the pile of papers down and picked up his own spoon. “I’ve a feeling we used up our ration of luck just finding that rock.”

”Well if it were too easy,” Saul reclined in his seat. ”Anyone could do it.”

Bill allowed himself to breathe a quiet laugh at the brevity but the brief moment of light heartedness was cut short as the overhead speakers gave out their familiar hail.

”Attention, oh-six-hundred revallie onboard the Battlestar Galactica. Day watch personnel thirty minutes to duty stations.”


Saul rose from his seat and stretched, the additional hours spent in CIC were ingrained on his ashen face. Bill finished his coffee and took up the print outs again as he rose to head toward the hatch. “Get some rest Colonel.”

”Aye Sir.” he replied rendering a hand salute and headed for the hatchway.
 
 
 
adama_bsg_75adama_bsg_75 on June 15th, 2006 11:27 pm (UTC)
Adama answered the salute of the Marine on guard outside CIC as he rounded the intersection of the Promenade deck and promptly turned through the starboard hatchway to the command centre.

"I have the deck." he announced as he descended the short set of steps to the pit. "The Commander has the deck." affirmed the senior NCO of the watch from the Core tier, letting him know that the time was noted in the watch log. When he approached the central table Adama gave the dradis column a cursory glance and satisfied himself as to the dispersal of the fleet and the relative positions of the Combat Air Patrol.

“OOW, all sections readiness report.”

”Aye Sir.” The junior officer began making connections to the various decks and departments via the internal communications system so each in turn would advise of any problems not so far declared when the Day watch personnel took up their duties.

Adama looked in the direction of the communications post on the first tier. “Signal Colonial One, inform the President’s staff that I’d like to speak with her at her earliest convenience.”
presidentroslin on June 16th, 2006 07:31 am (UTC)
The luxury of sleep was not something many could afford these days. However, Laura had remained awake until nearly 03:00 hours just finishing correspondence she wanted to be on other people's desk by the next office morning. Besides, getting to sleep wasn't much easier than staying there right now. However, she had gotten most of her work finished for the late hours. Mainly responce on the water rationing times and the promise of supplies when they could be found. Too many demands, not enough concrete answers. It would only bring more demands, but she had to try.

And so, when the call came in just shortly after 06:00 hours, most was still quite upon Colonial One. The governmental ship didn't -quite- keep the hours that the military did, all of them quite used to their more comfortable 9-5 lives. Even if that didn't really exist any longer. A very tired Wallace Gray managed to pick up the phone, hopefully before it woke Billy or anyone else. A few exchanged words with the on duty comm officer from Galatica and he was dragging past the privacy curtain of Laura's bed area. He knocked on the door.

"Madame President, you've a call, from the Commander." He gave her a drowsy, wiry smile, as if it say how dare such pressing business wake him from his beauty sleep. It was also the smile he'd been giving her almost every single time he called her 'Madame President'. Roslin blinked drowsily awake, having been lingering between half asleep anyway, and she nodded to him.

"I'll take it in here, Wally. Go back to sleep." She waved him out of her room and sat up out of the plush, if makeshift, bed. Her slender hand reached over, pausing a moment so she could clear some of the sleep from her throat before she picked up the emergency phone in her quarters and patched through to the open comm line.

"Commander. This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you at... 06:13 in the morning?" Yes, there was just a bit of drowsy jesting to her voice, half self mocking her less than military hours and half razzing him for the very, very early call. They all needed to make a little lightness in their lives, for it certainly didn't come otherwise.
adama_bsg_75adama_bsg_75 on June 17th, 2006 10:51 pm (UTC)
"Commander?"

Bill looked up from the backlit table where he was updating navigational charts to the Petty officer who had spoken.

"Colonial One Sir, priority frequency."

Adama nodded and dropped the crease pencil he had been using in favour of lifting a handset from the fascia of the central table. He was surprised that any response had come so quickly. "Madame President, I'm sorry if you were disturbed.”

"Commander. This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you at... 06:13 in the morning?"

It wasn’t that Adama didn’t detect the note in her voice, it was that he just didn’t quite know how to interpret it and decided the best policy was to tactically ignore it. “I thought you should know that we’re looking at an additional twelve hours on the projections for water uptake.”

He didn’t have to spell it out for her the further delays would pout fuel on the fire that was already fanning out throughout the civilian fleet.
presidentroslin on June 18th, 2006 06:49 am (UTC)
For the moment, Roslin was glad that she remained alone in her private quarters on Colonial One while she took this phone call. Normally, business was done infront of others in her office. Even if it was just Billy there, organizing papers or helping her with a press release, he would be there to see her face. Her motions. Every little reaction. She would have to hide all body language and emotion from her eyes, remaining as cold and serious as stone so she might not worry him. Might not give the game away that still, sometimes, the President didn't feel very Presidential. But she was learning.

And, sometimes, she got to be alone. She allowed herself to be human, only her voice over the phone to moderate for the Commander's ears. Roslin sunk back into her bed again, one hand coming up to run back through her hair, the other cradling the phone close against her ear. "12 hours..." She whispered out, allowing silence to linger over the headset for a heartbeat or two longer after she said that.

"...12 hours. Alright. Alright... alright..." The word just repeated and spilled from her lips in a breathy quiet utterance as she ran through the scenarios in her mind. The ship names. The water left estimates. None of it calculated good. Her eyes shut as she lay there, body slumped and tired even as her voice was alert.

"The Colonial Heavy 264 will be out of water before then and also..." It took a few moments, her brain waking up and she didn't have the exact manifestos before her, "The Delilah's Cross. The Gideon was having water issues as well, but... I don't think they were running out quite yet. We'll need to find a to share a bit of water with those ships while they wait the extra time. And... explain to the fleet... about the delay. I'll do that. That's my job. I'll handle it."

Roslin paused a moment, drawing in a bit of air. "12 hours... Can I ask... why?" Yes, she wasn't entirely sure if that was a President's perogative in a situation like this, but she wanted to know, so she didn't let it hold her back.
presidentroslin on June 18th, 2006 10:11 pm (UTC)
(Finished in an IM RP, so enjoy!)

Bill listened as President Roslin effortlessly listed the names of the ships who were in most dire need. Even with the tiredness evident in her voice it was clear she was inherently, instinctively acting like a leader. Weighing up the situation and assessing all the implications. "Practical considerations," he began in answer to her question as to the causation of the delay. "The surface team reported that another drill head was sheared during the night, it's going to take time to effect the necessary repairs." As a crewman approached with fuel requistion form Adama gripped the reciever betwen his shoulder and chin to sign the documentation. "It might be hasty to start further dividing water stores at this juncture, I recommend that we hold what water rations we have in reserve in case there is a further delay. Besides the time it would take to initiate such a plan might outwiegh the actual lead time on the surface operation, but i thought you'd like to know, especially with the growing civil disobedience."

Roslin listens silently, still stretched out in her bed, an oddly incongreous position in which for her to be, considering her usually alert, straight up nature tense and perfect in constantly working, but the work she was doing right now was here in her hand, on that phone, and so she remained laying down. She would get up to field the difficulties of all of this in just a few minutes after the conversation ends. "...I realize that further dividing water supplies will hurt more ships than just the few I listed, Commander, but we're not just talking about more rationing for those ships. We are talking about their being out of water, period. None for the sick, or the young or old. No showers, no where to wash hands. No toilets to flush. The threat of disease spreading alone might necessitate getting these people some sort of water." They never really saw eye to eye on many issues, but on this one, Roslin knew she was right. Her voice did not sound quite so tired any longer. Just strong, determined, and dead serious.

"I'm going to order further rationing of Galactica's water reserve, as a contingency. Those ships in most dire need can tank off us when we get into that final twelve hours. From a military standpoint Madame President I'm concerned about what might happen if there is an attack and we have further divided our remaining rations needlessly early. We may infact end up losing most of that water and have to abandon the drilling operation."

That stopped Roslin for a moment. As usual, Galatica would sacrafice herself for this fleet. A faint smile cut across her lips as she sat up slowly in bed and cleared her throat. "Very well, Commander. And... on behalf of the civilians on those ships... Thank you. I know your people want to shower and drink as much as anyone else. I know what you're giving up for those ships, so... Thank you, Commander. And thank everyone on Galatica for me as well." Her voice was utterly honest there, a bit more relaxed but filled with a quiet, earnest sort of grace and gratitude.

adama_bsg_75: adama roslinadama_bsg_75 on June 25th, 2006 05:52 pm (UTC)
Adama's face remained unchanged. He didn't doubt the sincerity of the President's sentiment but he wanted to assauge her of any concern that she needed to court his support and by extension that of his crew. At the same time he knew the pressure of appearring resolute and as if in possession of limitless resource. His expression may have been the same Impenetrable visage "Thank you Madame President." But his voice tried to convey that he understood the pressures she faced and that he respected the way she rose to the challenge. "However, there is still the question of possible rioting. This extra delay is only going to inflame the dissenters."

"I... I don't want to send the military in yet, Commander. That will only insense people further. Let me handle it, I'm going to have a press conference soon. If things do not calm, then we will talk again. Now... Now I need to go start my day. Thank you..for the wake up call. It was nice to hear your voice, Commander." And with that, after a brief exchange of farewell, Roslin hung up the phone. She shut her eyes for just am moment, breathing through her nose and thinking about the day ahead. She could do this. She would. And with that brief moment of rest, she stood up from her bed and headed to grasp her robe so she might quickly shower, dress, and start the day. No rest for the weary.