"Persephone's Partition"
by M.
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It presented a unique conundrum that the life she’d inadvertently chosen for herself had led to this moment. Standing in the private quarters of her current host, or more accurately captor, Laura Roslin mulled it over within her mind.

How does a schoolteacher president deal with a warrior queen?

It isn’t a question she had ever thought to answer. Not before the Cylons attacked and, in truth, not after. She had seen the lists for herself, knew that a strong percentage of the survivors in the fleet could claim Amazon heritage, and had not forgotten that fact. Nor had she forgotten the fact that the Queen and at least two of her daughters had made it to the fleet. It had simply been a remote possibility that the Amazons would ever attempt to exert any influence over the fleet. They commonly held more disdain for the Colonials than the Colonials did them.

But she’d seen the history for herself. That disdain was well-earned. The Colonials liked to pretend they are the innocents in the ages old conflict but she knew better. They’d shed more than their share of Amazon blood.

A fact that made her current predicament all that more precarious. Behind her she could feel Apollo shift his position. A smile ghosted over her features and she brushed a hand down her suit coat, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. He was adamantly opposed to this idea, raising all the objections that any Colonial officer would, objections born of the military’s natural suspicion of the warrior race they cannot tame. She understood his concerns but she still rejected them.

She was the President of the Colonies, despite any actions taken by the Commander, and if she wished to remain such she had to secure all quarters from threat. The Amazons had been a sleeping giant in the Fleet in the months since they had fled the Colonies, the Queen remaining typically quiet. Laura knew well that it was a trait of Delia’s. The reclusive Queen was not a woman given to saber-rattling or foolish acts of bravado. Rather, the Amazons’ ruler was rumored to be a calm and thoughtful but dangerous woman, one preferring to hold her piece and act only when it suited her purposes.

And that was Laura’s concern. Those purposes were a mystery to them all as Delia had avoided any involvement in the restructuring of the government. Historically, the Queen had always negotiated for her people with the fully assembled Quorum. She never sought involvement in its affairs and Delia had upheld that tradition, thus there hadn’t been much contact between the Queen and the Quorum.

It had frustrated her during the elections and it did so doubly now. She had almost no recent information to base her position on and the threat of the Amazons had not diminished. While they controlled many ships in the Fleet, some suspected to be better armed than they appeared, the true concern was the unknown number of their people scattered throughout the remaining ships. Not everyone who was born of the Nation claimed their heritage publicly. In the Colonies, those who were Amazon but did not make their homes in the segregated cities often kept it to themselves. It was not so much an act of cowardice as of intelligence. One that had concerned the Colonial government greatly. It was not the Amazons they knew that were the primary threat, it was the ones they did not. In the days past, the concern had been an Amazon coup.

The Cylon attack had not changed that fact. The Amazons scattered throughout the Fleet could, at the slightest word of the Queen, create all manner of havoc, even seize control of some ships, and though Delia had been quiet throughout the political upheaval there was no guarantee that she would remain so. There was a strong possibility that the Amazon Queen would be the one to decide the Fleet’s future. Her support thrown behind either the military or the civilian government could potentially tip the balance.

Bill had not made any communications or overtures toward the Queen in the time before his injury and as grim as it seemed, Laura had to take the chance which presented itself. She needed to speak with Delia, assure her cooperation or her neutrality, before anyone from the Colonial Fleet did.

Which brought her to her current predicament of standing in Delia’s quarters, waiting and wondering if the Queen would help her…or hand her over to Tigh. That was, of course, precisely the reaction Apollo was so concerned about and why he had warned against the meeting in the first place. But Laura knew she had to make the move that she had. Whether they had spoken or not, what intelligence she had been able to attain had hinted that the Queen respected Adama’s military leadership and that her perspective of Laura’s own…was not so generous. Amazons respected strength and Roslin knew only too well her leadership had not always projected such a quality. Circumstances she had been bound by had hinted at weakness within the Quorum and would potentially reflect back upon her in Delia’s eyes.

She held back the sigh which threatened to break free and betray her thoughts, turning instead to survey a painting - ancient steps ascending to a city wall.

“It’s the Western wall of Themyscira.” A softly pitched voice answered the unspoken question and Laura looked to the side to see Delia. It was the first time in many years that she’d even seen the Queen. The last time had been, if her memory served, when Delia had met with President Adar upon his election. She’d changed but little in the intervening time; there were a few lines where there had been none before, frame still lean and muscular, dark hair still worn long. She looked less like a queen today. The immaculate but expensive suit was gone and there were no signs of her office, she was just a woman in a comfortable shirt and pants.

The two women took the measure of each other and Laura resisted the urge to fidget as the Queen’s gaze appraised her.

“We’ve met before, have we not, Madame President?” Delia inquired respectfully, stepping further into the room, but giving no hint as to her opinion. It left Laura wondering what changes she had observed. As many lines on her face as had appeared on Delia’s own, clothing borrowed from a previous ship that had given her shelter, the image of a woman holding herself together by sheer force of will.

“Briefly.”

“Hmm…I thought as much.” The Queen’s gaze went to the man standing behind her and one dark brow lifted in silent question.

”Captain Lee Adama,” Laura offered in answer, turning slightly to gesture to him, “my…escort.” She glanced back with just a hint of a message in her eye, cautioning despite herself.

She need not have worried. Lee’s disapproval of the mission had vanished behind the shield of his duty and he stepped forward to nod sharply at the Queen, his manner as respectful and as official as though he were in full dress grays and standing on Galactica’s deck. “Your Highness.”

“Ah yes, Captain Adama,” Delia nodded back, a smile of private amusement dancing about her lips, “your fellow fugitive.”

Laura didn’t miss the subtle inflections in the words nor the impression they were meant to convey any more than she did Lee’s quick glance her way. It was more than an implication and less than slander, carrying with it a strange sort of approval. She allowed a faint smile in response as she awaited the Queen’s next move.

That came when the other woman crossed the room and took a seat. “Please,” she offered politely, nodding toward the other chairs, apparently content to play at civility despite the true intent of the meeting. Her play-acting, however, stopped there as she quickly got down to the matter at hand. “My grandmother was fond of saying the gods were as fickle as the winds of the Cyrenian seas…I’ve found myself thinking of those words often lately. Particularly, Madame President, when Mr. Zarek’s errand boys delivered your message. The President of the Colonies currying the favor of an Amazon queen…” She shook her head ruefully, amusement carrying through every part of the action. She was enjoying this and, truth be told, so was Laura, if only for the rather funny expressions crossing Lee’s face. Gods above but he was squirming like a schoolboy.

“Or paying her the respect that is due someone in her position…” Laura put forward with a quirked brow. “Not all Colonial politicians agree with the treatment of your people, your Highness, and I number myself among them.”

That made Delia snort lightly. “With all due respect,” which of course meant none at all, “you’ve numbered yourself with mutineers and terrorists. Hardly company I think I want to find myself in.”

Sitting back on the comfortable chair, Laura resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. She’d known it would come down to that and she let it sit for a moment before she lifted her gaze to meet the Queen’s. Arguing the point was useless. If she examined the situation from Delia’s perspective, which she had, there were any number of valid reasons to object to her own recent actions. “We do what we have to do when the lives of the people we are responsible for are on the line. Beg, borrow, steal – ”

“- make deals with murderers.” Delia interjected coolly.

The Amazons had their history with Tom Zarek too.

“Even that,” Laura agreed, her voice equally cool, equally composed. Revealing nothing and asking for nothing.

It was her counterpart’s turn to sit back now, considering it, and Laura inwardly cursed the laws and history which kept the Amazons separate. What a partner in this she would have made, certainly more competent than the quite unstable Doctor Baltar. The gods truly were a mercurial lot, forcing her to her entrust her people’s future to a man like Baltar while those like Lee and this woman were resigned to fringe roles in their little melodrama.

She considered that while Delia considered her words and both seemed to come to their own realizations at the same moment.

“Proclaiming yourself messenger from the gods was a shrewd move.” The Amazon said finally, grudging approval again in her voice. “Adama must be having a fine fit.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Laura agreed. “I was never a particularly religious woman, your Highness, but even I have to acknowledge the evidence. It’s quite compelling.” She betrayed none of her own inner speculations about the prophecy as she spoke, knowing Delia was looking for them. “I’m surprised you approve.”

”I wouldn’t ordinarily.” Delia said in acknowledgement. “However, we both know your presidency has been shaky at best on more than one occasion and with someone like Tom Zarek as the only other viable option…” She laughed softly. “I’d declare myself the modern incarnation of Hera before I’d give up power to that man.”

Her words dented the tension that had been a constant undercurrent of the conversation and even evoked a strangled laugh from Lee, though he did his best to disguise it with a cough.

Both women regarded him with equally serene expressions and almost solicitously, Delia looked over at Laura, “Does your man require water?”

“Perhaps he does. The air is a touch dry in here.”

“That it is. We have had difficulties with the system.” She sighed ruefully at the admission and rose to pour the offered water while Laura snuck a little grin of amusement Lee’s way.

He looked back sheepishly, cheeks tinging with a blush, and she had to resist another laugh. She had missed the feeling these meetings had always evoked in her. The game of politics and negotiation had been lost in the mad scramble for survival and the near-deification of prophecy. Delia didn’t give a flying frak about Pythia or Laura’s role in her words and that fact was strangely refreshing.

“So, Madame President,” Delia continued, passing the glass to Lee as she returned, “you wish my co-operation with staying in power, clearly. Our allegiance would certainly tip some scales in your favor…”

“They would.” Laura accepted a glass as well. “We’re going to Kobol…Lieutenant Thrace is likely to soon return with the Arrow and your ship being seen to jump back with ours…”

“- would send quite the message to Galactica.” The other woman again finished for her, the look of consideration back on her sharp features. “I’m not going to land my people in the midst of a civil war to protect your presidency, Madame President… not for one moment. You have your duties and I have mine. My ship jumping with yours would put me solidly in your camp and as much as you have gained my respect in this, Commander Adama has not lost it.”

“You won’t come?” Lee spoke up then, surprising both women. “Your Highness, I understand the choice you have before you but you have to consider the further implications. Relations can be restored…The Tomb of Athena can tell us the way to Earth…”

“Eager little thing isn’t he?” Delia asked suddenly, turning her attention back to Laura swiftly. “How do you put up with them?” She smiled that smile again, the one which hinted at suspicions unspoken and secrets unrevealed. “I am in a rather unique position, Madame President. Without any wish on my part, I’ve been pulled into a political situation where there is very little benefit for me or my people. Either way, my decision will place the onus upon the Amazons as to the success of either the Commander or yourself and the citizens of the Colonies have very little love for us as it is.” She sighed, swirling the water about in the glass she held. “I had hoped to avoid it but...”

Laura felt the opportunity slipping away and inclined her head. “It is to my regret that I have to involve you in this, your Highness, but you can appreciate the fact that I have little choice in the matter either. I’m trying to lead both our peoples to Earth and I cannot do that unless we go to Kobol...”

"So you say." Delia agreed. "There is, of course, also the matter that as soon as he as able, I'm sure the Commander will be making an effort to discuss these matters with me as well. Avoidance is no longer an option I may avail myself of." The Queen pursed her lips thoughtfully then lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Very well, Madame President, I propose this, my ship and half of the others under my command will jump with you. Half will remain here with the Galactica.” She offered, acknowledging the compromise for what it was. “Persephone’s partition…it would seem to apply in this situation would it not?”

Laura inclined her head in the barest of nods. “It would.” In truth, though she had planned toward it, she had never truly believed she would gain the Amazon queen’s respect. The most the President of the Colonies could hope for when dealing with the Queen of the Amazons was refined disdain and she felt just that much smug. Adar would never believe it but, on the whole, it made sense.

“Captain,” she began calmly, looking over at him, “would you mind waiting outside?”

Lee opened his mouth to object but Delia, perhaps having picked up on Laura’s wish for privacy, did not give him opportunity. “Why Captain, I must apologize, we’ve had you sitting here listening to all this staid political babble when you could have been enjoying a tour of the ship.” She got up and went to her desk, pressing the intercom. “Leda, would you join us?”

The door through which she had entered opened again to admit a slim, raven-haired woman. She nodded respectfully at Laura then looked at the Queen, awaiting the reason for her summons.

“I’ve been remiss in not offering Captain Adama a tour of the vessel.” Delia explained. “Captain, this is my daughter, Leda. She’ll escort you around. Please, enjoy your tour.” She smiled widely and Laura resisted the urge to snicker. Gods, she hadn’t had this much fun in quite some time. She hardly remembered fun if she were honest with herself. For as many romantic delusions as people had cast upon her flight from Galactica with the dashing young CAG, all conveniently leaving out the presence of Elosha and Zarek, she’d hardly had a moment where her thoughts had been upon anything but her destiny. And wasn’t that a word she’d never thought she’d need to use.

There were many words in Laura’s vocabulary that she’d never expected to need.

She shook off the melancholy to find Lee staring at her helplessly, just barely holding in his frustration at being shepherded from the room, but she merely smiled politely.

Leda took a step forward, gesturing for him to move ahead of her, “After you,” she said, her gaze almost daring him to argue the point. It seemed the Queen’s daughter had very little time for Colonials and not as much experience as to recognize the potential in them, “by all means.”

Reluctantly, Apollo stood and allowed her to lead him from the room.

“He’s so very protective.” Delia observed, her smile fading to a calm expression, none of the earlier implications present in her voice. “Privacy is a rare commodity for women like us these days.” She sat down again. “I thought you might enjoy some…well, as much as can be had with my presence.”

“It is appreciated.” Laura surveyed the patterns etched into the glass in her hand. “When I was a very little girl…I wanted to run away to Themyscira and become an Amazon.”

“I’d almost say pity you didn’t. You would have made a fine one. Though,” her host gave her what she had a feeling was an honest smile, “there are Amazons that are born to the Nation…and then there are those who are Amazon in their soul. Not always is it both. The dreams of childhood, I find, speak to the truth of the women we become.” She paused then added, one woman to another, “No matter to whom we place our allegiance.”

Laura nodded again, considering her words and the meeting itself. So much had been said without actually speaking the words, the deals made had little to do with Kobol or Galactica, answers given to the question she’d walked in with but had not asked.

“I look forward to our next meeting, Your Highness.” She said, putting her thoughts aside.

”As do I, Madame President, as do I.” Delia allowed another smile. “The gods, I
suspect, do not…and won’t that make things interesting.”
 

finis