Part 1, Battlestar Galactica, Finding Humanity: Learning To Become Human Again

Chapter 4

IV

President Gaius Baltar was where he was almost all the time: sitting in the confines of Colonial One. The honest fact was that, unless he was surrounded by a phalanx of Centurions, he couldn't leave Colonial One. His own people, the ones he presided over, would tear him to shreds if they got the opportunity. They knew it. And since D'Anna, who was the actual ruler of New Caprica didn't always feel like surrounding Gaius with a phalanx of Centurions, he often just stewed in his office.

To be sure, he was thankful, in many ways, not to be able to go anywhere. It had saved his skin a year ago, when a citizen had strapped himself with explosives, and blown a roomful of humans to Kingdom Come, and a dozen Cylons to the nearest Resurrection ship. He had been planning to attend, but simply didn't feel like it that day. It had saved his ass.

He hated the job. Absolutely hated it. Why had he wanted to be President? The meetings with his Cylon overseers. Negotiations-held with Centurions all around-with Galen Tyrol's quarrelsome Union. An occasional protest delivered personally by Laura Roslin, or Saul Tigh, wondering why The Cylons had cut off the hot water, or why no food had been delivered.

He wasn't kidding himself. He knew why he wanted the job: because Laura Roslin had occupied this very chair, and she detested him; because it gave him hot young women from New Caprica, who would rather spend a night or two fraking the Colonial President, and staying in a warm, comfy bed, than hanging out in a cold, draft tent outside; because it gave him an unlimited supply of booze. All of this, just as long as he did The Cylons bidding.

Deep down, he was shamed at what he had become. He had felt that shame since the destruction of the Twelve Colonies, and his part in bringing it about. Unfortunately, up to this point, Gaius Baltar's shame wasn't as strong as his will to live, even if it meant living a subjugated life. He wasn't a courageous soul, and he knew it.

The only thing that gave him any comfort in his existence was Caprica. For some godsforsaken reason, she truly loved him. He had no idea why. Even though she could be resurrected-had been resurrected since the occupation, she was as courageous as anyone among The Cylons. She didn't like this occupation, and she made it known.

His large highball glass of ambrosia was only half gone, even though it had been in front of him since early in the morning. It was almost the end of what "the working day", as humans would call it. There was no clocking in or out for Gaius, however, but at 1700, his day was done. Only a few minutes to go.

His Chief-of-Staff, Felix Gaeta walked into his office. "Mr. President", he said stiffly, "I have a few papers that require your signature, then I can file them with the Quorum."

"Oh, for frak's sake, I hate this incessant paperwork." He removed his glasses, pinching his nose as he felt another headache coming on. Or maybe that last headache had never left, he wasn't sure. He rubbed his eyes, put the glasses back on, and took a large sip of his alcohol.

"What do you have for me to sign, Felix? It's almost quitting time, you know."

Felix gave him a sarcastic smile. "Ah, Gaius, the work of the government never ends."

"Who told you that slogan, Roslin? It would be so like her."

Felix put the papers in front of the President. One was for a work order to reinforce and clean the sewer system, and upgrade the fresh water system. He signed that, Gaius wanting clean water as much as the next person. The second one was a parole request for a citizen being held in prison by The Cylons for a theft that had occurred a month ago. He read it over carefully, and signed off on the parole. D'Anna had the final say, but, oddly enough, she rarely over-ruled him on human-only business.