knowthyexits | [For Gaius]

She's dallied too long.

At first, Sarah could almost consider it acceptable because of her leg, but then she had started to have nightmares about her inaction. She sits around all day and researches the history of this strange place she's in and considers seeking help because she's imagining a place with dinosaurs, but the last time she looked for a therapist...well, that's one story she's sure kids won't ever hear at bedtime.

She lowers her hairbrush and looks at her reflection in the mirror. All prettied up and barely looking like she's been shot less than a week ago. She touches the clasp in her hair lightly and smooths her hand over the ankle-length black skirt and blouse she's put on. She's waited too long. There are things at play on this strange Island she's been taken to and while she might not know where John is and while she might not know if Derek is protecting him, she does know that she can't stop fighting.

She'll start with the call-box system, see if it's a threat. There are other concerns, but she's only one woman and she has to start here. She slides into a pair of low-slung heels just outside the lab where people tell her that Gaius Baltar usually works. "Dr. Baltar?" she remarks, waiting to be noticed.

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Gaius Baltar was bored.

Horribly, painfully bored, truth be told, and she caught him dozing over a stack of notes on God knows what, left behind over the years by doctors and scientists there for too short a time to finish them.

Chin propped up in one hand, his head was beginning to tip over to one side, his eyes drooping shut, but at the sound of his voice, he jolted upright, his eyes falling on her a bleary moment later.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Can I help you?"

Sarah offers a kind smile, trying to appear warm. The sort of person that you don't immediately lock up. "I'm Sarah Baum, I'm new here," she admits, sticking with honesty as her best policy. "I was actually wondering if I could ask you a few questions on your call-box system?"

"Oh, hello. Yes, of course," he said, puffing up almost immediately. While even a genius such as himself would've rather chatted about something a little less academic, he always enjoyed it when a beautiful woman took interest in his work.

"What would you like to know?"

She's still smiling as she pulls out her paper and pen and makes a little show that she's going to start taking notes. She tries to be as casual as possible as she slides into a seat, her leg still aching the longer she stands on it. "Well, like I said," she starts with a gesture, "I'm new. So I haven't done much but the seeing and hearing. I was hoping to write an article about it, though. What's your final goal with this project?" she asks curiously. "If all goes well, what would a perfect design look like?"

"You're working for the Times?" he asked, suddenly even more pleased at the attention. It had been quite some time since he'd had an article written about him.

Well, there had been plenty, but most of those at least implied him to be the destroyer of all mankind. Hopefully this would not be the case this time.

"Well, ideally, this was to be a fully functional communications network. Telephone, data exchange, the works. But unfortunately, this isn't a perfect world. Right now, we're looking at nothing more than a simple two-way radio system, all routed to a base station in the IPD offices. We've installed upwards of thirty call stations already, all strategically placed in both high traffic, and more secluded areas of the island. I can show you a map, if you'd like."

She's jotting down quick notes as he speaks and she only glances up every now and again to check things like facial tics and to give her interest. "Well, if the Times will have me," she lies smoothly, though she doesn't think it would necessarily be a bad idea to send in a little puff piece. "And I would love a map. Would you mind if I kept it? I'd like to do some visits out to the sites."

Two-way radio system sounds safe, but a fully-functional network of communications? Even if this place seems safe, Sarah knows that Judgment Day is coming and she cannot let up, no matter what.

"I'm sure I could find you a copy," he said, pushing to his feet and moving toward a desk in the corner. Halfway there, he paused, turning to look at her and arching a brow.

"Why the interest, if you don't mind me asking? Apart from the article, of course. I'm under the impression this sort of system is a regular fixture at educational institutions just about everywhere. To be honest, it's all quite boring."

"Well, I'm pretty new," she says again because when it comes down to it, that's her reason for a lot of her curiosity. "Imagine my surprise when I turned up on a desert island surrounded by huts, paradise, and apparently someone ingenious enough to start a system like yours," she continues. "And it might be boring, but it's news to me. Everything here is news to me. I think my next article might just be on the orchard and that strange field of pot."

Because yes, she has noticed that and she's still not entirely sure how that came to be. "I don't suppose you're the agricultural expert too?" she asks with faint bemused hope, trying to tamper down her panic at his interest in her interest.

"Well, I do come from a family of farmers," he said with an amused tilt of his lips. In the past, such an admission would have been a cause for great embarrassment and distress for such a prideful man as Gaius Baltar, but he was learning not to hide those parts of himself.

There simply wasn't much need for it anymore.

She comes from a family of soldiers. She's not sure that she ever will be able to get far enough away from that, but a part of her always wants to try. "So tell me more about your system," she coaxes, tapping her pen firmly against the paper. "What kind of power does each station require?"

[For Gaius]

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