fandomhigh | Interstellar Relations, Monday, 6th Period

Laura stood at the front of the classroom, clad in a bulky grey sweater, her hair having air-dried to a very natural wave. She clutched a coffee cup in one hand as she hugged herself in an effort to keep warm. It might have been readily apparent that she hadn’t been resting well.

“Good morning,” she said, forcing a presidential smile. “I’m glad to see each of you made it through the weekend safely.” She didn’t mention that she had spent the weekend holed up in her apartment, trying to make sense out of the reality she found herself in. Logic and order had eventually won out – but not before it had caused her a few sleepless nights.

“Because we didn’t get everything done, we’ll be continuing from last week’s group activity. Well, with one slight alteration: As some of you might have guessed, the Cylons have followed the Colonials to Earth. They are not firing yet; their major demand is that you turn over the Colonial fleet. Beyond this, they say they only come in peace. It is up to you to determine your policy and help shape the policy of the galaxy.”

A wry grin twitched at the corners of her lips, lighting shadowed eyes. “No pressure, right?” Taking a sip of her coffee, she stood in silence, regarding them for a moment. “Okay, kids. Go to it.”

[OCD threads ~~coming~~ up. Don't blow up any small planets!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What're you gonna do? We can't fight either side, here."

"You have a better idea?" asked Anders, more belligerently than the situation probably warranted, but then he was still kind of mad at her. "I'm just the military guy. One of you diplomat types talk it out with the Thirteenth Colony, if you want, but when they start firing . . ."

"Yeah. We abandon the ships, hit the surface, and blend in. No one can frakking tell the difference between us physically, right?"

"But the Cylons'll be pretty obvious," Anders conceded, and yep, still glaring. "Once they figure out that we look the same, though, what's gonna stop 'em from trying to kill all of us?"

"Well, frak," Cally said. "My plan didn't think that far."

"I don't think 'Thanks for letting us hide out on your planet, now we're gonna get you all killed' goes over too well," Anders said.

"Yeah," Cally said. "...you think they'd actually leave the planet alone if we turned ourselves over?"

"Honestly? Not a frakkin' clue. I don't know what they're really like, just thirdhand stories and stuff."

"Cause, well, either we say no, and we all die, or we turn ourselves over and they lied, and we all die, or we turn ourselves over and save Earth..."

"And then they kill us. Fun times," Anders said. "Death, death, death, ~~death, death, death, death, lunch~~ everywhere you turn."

"Yep. So, we're doomed," Cally said. "Yay."

"Maybe President Weir has a better idea?" Anders suggested. "'cause all mine involve things blowing up, really."

"We can hope," Cally said. "I got nothing."

"Yeah. Good thing the survival of the Colonies isn't really up to us," Anders replied flatly.

"If it was, we'd all die," Cally said with a nod.

"Sucks to be us, then." Anders? Still glaring? Yeah, a little bit.

"...okay, what the frak are you glaring at?" Cally said.

"Nothing that needs to come up in class," Anders replied. "Just . . . come find me later, or whatever. Something. Not now."

Cally rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Sam."

He had no idea why it got to him that much, but Anders hissed abruptly, "You do not get to call me that."

Cally stared without saying a word.

Anders silently turned away and started scribbling in his notebook.

Interstellar Relations, Monday, 6th Period

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