A/N: This is my first piece of fan fiction. Enjoy and please provide constructive comments. Thank you.
The soldier tending to the button pressed it upon signal, engulfing the airlock chamber in a flashing red light and a repeatedly blaring alarm. A bright white light shined into Leoben Conoy's face as he stared straight ahead, knowing the doom to come. The metal door, the only barrier between himself and the great emptiness of space, no longer served as a guardian as it lowered, bringing on a great rush of wind as the contents of the chamber were forced out of the ship. The cyborg, reduced to equal status as the unwanted trash the humans set to have dumped, launched backwards, slamming against the floor of the ramp, sending him spinning head over heels into the coldness of space.
Starbuck turned to face Laura Roslin, President of the Twelve Colonies and betrayer of the nearly human being just sent out to his death.
"Do you have something to say, Lieutenant?" the President asked, observing the obvious confusion on the young woman's face.
Knowing the gravity of her position in comparison to the leader of the colonies standing before her, Starbuck refrained from speaking her mind. "No, sir," she stoically returned, turning to head towards her locker.
"And Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir?"
"Be sure to keep this stream of events within this room."
"Yes, sir." She continued to her locker, the past few minutes continuously running through her mind. We killed him. I didn't make the order, but I had a direct hand in his murder. And worse yet, why does this affect me? He was a Cylon. He deserved to die. Didn't he?
The lifeless body of the man hung in the coldness of space, surrounded by Battlestar ships. The human that was Leoben Conoy died the moment that space could be witnessed without the protective measure of glass in between. The human that was Leoben Conoy withered away as soon as the oxygen was sucked from his body, leaving a dried out shell for space to consume. Leoben Conoy was dead, but Number Two was far from dead.
With his mechanical parts jumping alive to maximum use, the cyborg shoved his cold, dead eyelids open. He looked around through synthetic eyes, calculating any escape route from his current predicament. He removed his outermost shirt, wadded it into a tight ball, and hurled it away from him, propelling himself in the opposite direction. Reaching out at the precise moment, he latched onto a rivet with a grip unattainable by any human movement, now fixed to the side of the ship.
"I'm alive," the robot of a man muttered to himself. "Or at least as alive as they will allow me to be."
Number Two surveyed the area of the ship he was holding onto, searching for any way to make it to the inside. The outer wall of the ship showed no evidence for the ability to climb along its perimeter, making the task at hand only more difficult for the cyborg. Instead of waiting for the possibility of the ship to approach a planet and have his circuits fry during the entrance into its atmosphere, Number Two decided to make his own way. He raised his free hand high away from his body and returned it at an inhuman speed. His fingers bore into the metal, shredding the flesh from his fingers. While the pain receptors sent pulses of great pain coursing through his body, his mechanical grip still clutched onto the rivet. He raised his hand away from the hole and slammed his fingers into the hole, digging deeper into the metal surface, and tearing more of the synthetic flesh from his hand to reveal the robotic core beneath it.
Within the ship currently having a hole drilled into its side, a soldier ran through the hallway, trying to locate the origins of the sound. The Botanical Cruiser was never used to activity since the only inhabitants were the agricultural products of the Battlestar fleet. As the banging continually increased in frequency and volume, the soldier discerned that the disturbance in the ship's silence came from above his head, the outer shell of the ship: the only barrier between him and the space beyond. Frantically, knowing the welfare of the ship and all of its contents- human and food supplies- were in great peril, the soldier searched for the nearest emergency button to notify the rest of the crew of his findings. Just as he headed in the direction of his hopeful rescue a metallic hand drilled its way through the last pieces of scrap in the shell. The vacuum of space began tearing at the inside of the Botanical Cruiser, forcefully clearing the hallway of any signs of life. The unfortunate soldier was among these signs of life, being ripped out of the safety of the ship and into the dark void where he met a quick, painful death. The invader reached out with all his mechanical strength could muster, fighting against the pull of the space, the reminder of the recent events. He tore the hole wider, only clearing the hallway of life all the quicker. The cyborg would not relent, managing to fit his body through the gash in the side of the ship and get a good holding on the walls within.
The hallway was completely void of life, the vacuum of space reaching deeper into the ship, clearing it of life. All that remained was Number Two, and the blaring of the alarms as the ship was well aware of their situation. The powerful cyborg reached across the hallway to the opposite wall, tearing a large chunk from it. Pulling it back towards him, he positioned the scrap metal over the hole, creating a new seal between him and the outside. Assuming others would come to inspect what the cause of the disturbance once, Number Two crammed his body into the small cave where the piece of wall once was.
Moments later the hidden cyborg heard heavy footsteps running towards in his direction.
"What in the gods' names happened here? That is a fracking big piece of metal missing from the wall," one of the two observed. He stepped toward the small wall that Number Two was hidden behind as the cyborg backed as far into the torn wall as he could.
"I sure don't know, but at least it was gracious enough to cover its work," the other replied.
"That makes no difference. We could possibly have a Cylon on board our ship. If it gets to our food supplies, it could starve the Battlestar fleet until we are able to land."
"A Cylon this far out? The only one I know of is that Leoben character they have locked up over on the Gemenon Traveler. Whatever it was that forced its way into our ship must be powerful, and we don't have the manpower to take care of it. Get in contact with Gemenon, they've definitely seen one Cylon. They can help us determine if this is another one."
Number Two listened as the footsteps rushed off into the distance with the same heaviness and hurriedness as they had when coming towards him. "There must be some sort of control panel here. I need the schematics of this ship," he muttered to himself, heading off in the opposite direction as the footsteps went. He quickly came across a console in an emptied room, most likely emptied of its contents to the outer space. He set to work hacking into the system, accessing the schematics to the Botanical Cruiser. The map showed the hatch room to be two rooms over. This was the room he needed to be in to get to the Gemenon Traveler, and to Starbuck.
Admiral Adama received word that the Botanical Cruiser was to board his ship on grounds of an unknown invasion. We've just rid ourselves of one Cylon. Must they complicate our day with another one, his thoughts were grim.
"Prepare the Gemenon for the board of the Botanical Cruiser," Adama ordered. He left the war room in search of the one person he needed to call on again to help deal with the possible threat of a Cylon in the Fleet.
As the Gemenon Traveler neared the Botanical Cruiser the ships prepared for boarding, extending the connection to anchor the two together as well as the air hatch to safely allow the crossing between ships. Number Two tucked himself tightly behind a wall of crates labeled with the various ships and stations these supplies were to be sent off to. He watched the commotion as the soldiers became too preoccupied with their task at hand to remember the immediate threat to their ship. The Gemenon Traveler would solve all their problems. The telltale hiss of the latch sounded as the interlocking room pressurized to allow life to safely pass into this ship, to move from the safe haven back into harm's way. But it was for the good of the Fleet so Adama could not hold back the orders to send his crew into this danger.
The hatch swung open, revealing the woman Number Two had been waiting for. Limping along on her injured leg, Starbuck made her way to the commanding officer of the Cruiser in need of the details of the situation. The cyborg watched with unblinking eyes – unblinking from expectant concentration as well as the deadness of his eyelids. The officer quickly briefed Starbuck from the noise to the hole in the side of the ship and started her off to the hallway of the occurrence. He ordered a handful of soldiers to follow her which she quickly refused with the reasoning that no amount of soldiers could help if it's the Cylon she anticipated that it was. She had to go alone.
Using the commotion as a veil, Number Two made his way back to the hall that saved his life, knowing that Starbuck would help his situation if he could only get to her. He walked with such lightness that he almost seemed completely human, despite the torn away flesh at his hand. Starbuck, however, sensed his presence, knowing his tricks and cunning and spun around to face the gruesome image of the man she had watched get forced to his death. The two stared at each other for a moment, understanding the pain and confusion streaming between them at the reappearance of a corpse.
"You died," Starbuck calmly spoke, breaking the silence.
"No Starbuck. The man you knew as Leoben died. Your people, the ones you consider the superior species, betrayed him. All that remains is the robot," Number Two replied.
"Whatever happened to be like us? To being human," Starbuck asked with her witty confidence, trying to gain the advantage against the machine.
"I tried. And you know that. I suffered through your many hours of torture, nearly dying because I wanted to experience a human's suffering. I was promised my freedom and equality by your wise and just ruler, President Roslin. Yet my humanity was denied."
"I know," Starbuck turned her face towards the makeshift cover to the hole in the ceiling. "It was difficult to watch, but there was nothing I could do about that and you know it."
"I don't blame you Starbuck. I ultimately have no one to blame. It was just the order of the things. The way life must be. I tried to live free of the technology that allows me my very survival. While I may have artificially created human organs, it remains just that: artificial. I tried living free of my technology as you try living free of your past Starbuck. However, it came back to me when I needed it most. In space, there is no chance for life. But I am not entirely alive as you have pointed out to me. You should know those aspects died the moment I could feel the pull of space. You need not worry of my desires to achieve humanity anymore, Starbuck, because I have only my circuitry to survive."
"But this is not what you want. You would not have subjected yourself to those many hours of torture to simply fall back to being just a robot," Starbuck responded, bringing his hand close to her for the inspection of the robot that was once Leoben Conoy.
"Of course not. The gods created Cylons to be above mere machines. I hold a vast amount of knowledge that I have developed myself, without the need for programming to control my thoughts. I have battled over the meaning of life and my place in the universe countless times. Even out in space, where thoughts are difficult to maintain against the overwhelming realization of the nothingness I was drifting in, I wondered whether or not to allow myself to simply drift on," he took his hand back slowly and backed away a step from Starbuck. "But you and I both know I could not subject myself to that torture. The human was already killed away, and all that remained was this body. It needs to end. I cannot go on living without my humanity. I have pondered too many thoughts and stirred too much emotion to remain as a mere machine. I don't want my technology to be all that keeps me alive. Please Starbuck, you are the only one I can trust to give me my justice."
The cyborg, having lost everything that gave him his unique identity, stepped back to Starbuck, reached for her sidearm, and prompted her to take up her arm.
"I cannot do that," Starbuck solemnly replied.
"You must. You could not stop it before. But now I need you to end it. If you have any respect for the soul that I know you believe in, please aim your weapon wisely and pull the trigger."
Starbuck grabbed hold of her gun, brought it level to face of the man she knew was Leoben Conoy. He turned around to give her best aim to the main system keeping him alive. She squeezed, propelling the bullet forward to end the misery of the robot who was stripped in dignity and in flesh of his humanity. The cyborg went limp, losing all function, falling to the ground to meet his darkness fondly. It was over. Now he need not live on with only the machine to grasp onto.
The sound of the firearm traveled through the Cruiser, notifying the crew of the disturbance. The commanding officer and several soldiers ran to the hallway to find Starbuck standing over the dead robot, firearm still in hand.
As she stepped around the body to make her way back to her own ship the only explanation she could give to the awestruck soldiers came in two soft, emotionless words.
"It's over."