Foreword

This story is intended to sit alongside the main Hermes stories. As well as in "Faststar", the activities of Division 731 will resurface in later stories as the series progresses.

Before reading this story I would like to ask you all one question;

How far would you go if the cost of failure was annihilation?

That's what this story is about.

Excerpt from "Battlestar Hermes: Faststar". Chapter 13

Faststar Eurylade
Bridge
41 Days since 'The Fall'

"…It was the base of operations for the MoI's Division 731 before the project was disbanded," explained Galit Malka.

"What project was that exactly?" asked Imlay almost having to dare himself to speak.

Galit lifted her head up to face Artimus Bowman. She then stood up and walked up close to him, so close that he was sure that if he listened carefully enough he could hear her heart beating.

"I told you earlier that captured Cylon Centurions were experimented on at that base. Well that was only half of the truth. The other half is that Division 731 also experimented on other prisoners. Human prisoners!"

"What the frak does that mean?" uttered Bowman not sure he had heard her correctly. "What type of prisoners?"

"Convicts mostly," she explained. "Murderers, traitors, political activists, the list goes on."

"Gods!" gasped Imlay. "What kinds of experiments?"

"Division 731's purpose was to find a way to end the war with the Cylons as quickly as possible regardless of how that goal was achieved..."

Virgon
The First Cylon War
47 Years Earlier

A bitter cold wind brushed over the barren landscape as Virgon's southern winter took hold. It was just after midnight that the two sentries started yet another patrol of the northern fence line. Their whole bodies were covered over in thick protective winter clothing so that not a single piece of flesh was exposed to the elements. To do so would only invite frostbite the result of which could spell the end of a limb or worse. With rifles slung over their shoulders they marched their way along the perimeter checking in with base security every twenty minutes via their own coded personal wireless sets.

Phoran was located on Virgon's south eastern most continent and was built in the snowy Adad mountain range which sat over 4,000 meters above sea level. The base itself was built around an abandoned fortification constructed over 2,000 years ago at base of a valley where the high and jagged rocks on all sides provided natural protection from attack. The fence line that the sentries were patrolling had three separate layers each over three meters high with barbed wire curling along the top. Each layer of fencing was spaced a meter apart and buried into thick concrete that went deep into the ground. These measures were necessary for Phoran was home to Division 731 of the Ministry of Intelligence.

It was perhaps the most secret base in all the twelve worlds.

A scream echoed through the night air and into the snow capped mountains. It was a scream that would cause the heart of anyone who heard it to skip a whole beat. The sound was of a man in immense pain; a pain that cannot be described to be truly understood.

The two guards came to a sudden stop both looking back towards the main compound, the sound having emanated from behind the three storey building. They heard the scream again ringing through the air having perhaps an even greater effect on them than the previous time. The agonizing scream was suddenly drowned out by the sound of a pistol being fired. The compound fell silent once more.

"All sections report status as green."

The disembodied voice crackled in their wireless headsets. They didn't need to respond. They had heard similar sounds before and knew that they were to simply forget them this being standard protocol for the hand picked guards at Phoran. The two of them began to proceed onwards with their patrol when the quiet was once again disturbed, this time by a loud whistling sound being carried over the valley. Looking out through the fencing they saw a small object appear over the jagged tops of the mountains silhouetted by the white snow capped rock. Now in line-of-sight to Phoran the pilot of the small White Hawk tilt-jet transport activated his formation lights that blinked back and fore.

The White Hawk passed low over the heads of the guards kicking up snow as the two engines mounted on the extremities of its short wings tilted downwards bringing the craft to a sudden halt before holding it in the air just in front of the main compound. A bright white beam of light emanated from the bottom of the aircraft allowing the pilot to see what was directly below him before he reduced power to the engines and the aircraft slowly descended onto the ground.

MoI Lieutenant John Bledsoe peered through the blinds of his office at the craft landing outside. Like most members of Division 731 he had been apprehensive of seeing this particular aircraft arriving with its VIP onboard. Dr William Farrah was a special assistant to the President of the Twelve Colonies and had come to inspect the work that was being conducted at the base. He was a close and personal friend of the President who was entrusted with the secret of the experimentation being carried out there.

"Is that him?" asked the young woman sitting on a chair in front of Bledsoe's desk.

"Yep, that's him," uttered Bledsoe as he released the blinds that snapped back into place to cover the window.

Laid out on Bledsoe's desk were numerous components from a Cylon Centurion including the entire head unit. Much of it was charred and stained black from having been destroyed in combat with Colonial Forces.

"So where did you say this came from?" she asked.

"From the fighting in the Euryale Forest on Gemenon," explained Bledsoe as he sat on the other side of his desk. "The Marine techs who analyzed it said they had noted several unusual features in the design of the arm mechanism. I've had Dr Xander take a look at it."

"So what's unusual about them?"

Bledsoe picked up the specific piece that had sparked the Marines' interest and looked at it closely once more having spent much of the afternoon analyzing at it with Dr Cyrus Xander, one of the original scientists who had developed the Cylons at Graystone Industries and was now a member of Division 731. After a few seconds he simply dropped the small shoulder mounted arm motor onto the desk as he grumbled, "Frak all! Some over zealous Marine who don't know a can opener from a…a toaster thinks he's got something interesting so it gets sent to us to waste our time with."

"Are you ok? You've been on edge all day," she said to him noticing how stressed and short tempered he had been. "Is this because of Farrah?"

Bledsoe sighed.

"Ainsleigh's been fired up all day," explained Bledsoe referring to Deputy Director Shane Ainsleigh, the head of Division 731.

"Does he think Farrah will try and shut us down?"

"Almost certainly," said Bledsoe rubbing his tired eyes. "People just don't understand what's going on out there, Angela. The press is being kept on a tight leash regarding the truth about this war. Gemenon. Tauron. Sagittaron. They're turning red with blood and not just soldier's blood; women and children too. Even their dogs and cats for frak sake! The Cylons are just killing for the sake of killing. Our work here will help to reverse that. They've got to be stopped and soon."

"Then we've got nothing to worry about have we?" said Dr Angela Levinstein, one of the most senior doctors at Phoran and close friend of Bledsoe. "This guy knows the score as well as any of us."

"Twenty one years," sighed Bledsoe.

"Twenty one years," repeated Levinstein confirming what she had been referring to as 'the score'. "Given our current attrition rate in combat the Human species will be extinct within twenty one years. That is of course providing the Cylons don't unleash some new bio-weapon before then. Why they haven't done so already is anyone's guess. I would if I were them. Why get your hands dirty killing people the old fashion way when you can just unleash the old silent enemy on a population and wait for them to just…expire?"

"Then let us be grateful you are on our side," said Bledsoe in a joking kind-of-way.

"At the end of the day, John," she started waiting for his full attention before continuing. "The one thing about facts over opinions and educated guesses is that you cannot ignore them."

"If only that were true."

"He did get a briefing on some of the work we do here so he's not exactly walking into this blind," she said trying to relax him.

"Yeah?" said Bledsoe disbelievingly. "Once I went paragliding on Scorpia. On the flight there I read a one hundred and twenty seven page long magazine all about it but it didn't even come close to preparing me for how frakking scared I was leaping off that cliff with what looked like a broken tent above my head."

Levinstein started laughing and soon Bledsoe joined in. Their laughter was short lived however as the door to Bledsoe's office suddenly burst open. An old looking man in a gray suit stormed in and stood infront of them as Bledsoe and Levinstein shot to their feet.

"Director!" greeted Levinstein with a nod.

Deputy Director Ainsleigh ignored her greeting and turned to Bledsoe. "Are you finished with this crap?"

"Yes sir," said Bledsoe.

"And?"

"Nothing of any significance to report," said Bledsoe.

"Very well," said Ainsleigh. "The two of you had better get ready for the baseline briefing for Farrah. I'll introduce you to him. Don't speak unless you are directly spoken to. Clear?"

"Yes Director," said Bledsoe and Levisntein in unison.

"We only need to tell Farrah what he wants to know. There's no need for anything else."

With those words ringing in their ears, Ainsleigh turned and left the room leaving the two of them feeling distinctly unsettled – a relatively pleasant experience compared to some of the other emotions experienced by people at Phoran. The two of them looked at one another and knew they had to move quickly.

"This is Lieutenant John Bledsoe," explained Ainsleigh as he and Farrah entered the projection room where they were about to view some of the work that had been conducted by Division 731. Farrah held out his hand and he and Bledsoe shook once. Farrah was quite an unimposing looking man. He was in his early forties with a skinny, almost frail looking body. His hair parted on the left side of his head and was showing signs of gray along the roots. "The Lieutenant is my aide. That's a rather nice way of saying I dump most of my crap on his head. And this is Dr Angela Levinstein, head of our biological research department."

"I see," said Farrah shaking hands with Levinstein. "So, much of this work is your idea?"

"Some of it, yes," she explained with a slight and pride filled smile. "The rest builds on work conducted by several leading biochemistry and medical labs throughout the colonies."

"I see," said Farrah before moving along to the third and last person standing in the line-up. Farrah held out his hand and greeted the man in a rather cold tone of voice. "Dr Xander I presume?"

"That's correct," replied Cyrus Xander, a man who had become used to the scorn of others having been one of the leading scientists who designed the Cylons second only to Daniel Graystone himself. As one newspaper on Sagittaron had written shortly after the war had begun he was one of the 'architects of the apocalypse'.

"Dr Xander is in charge of our Cybernetic warfare team," added Ainsleigh.

"I see," said Farrah. "Well then, shall we begin?"

"Of course," said Ainsleigh directing Farrah to a seat at the front of the descending rows of chairs that lead to the projection screen.

Ainsleigh and Bledsoe sat either side of Farrah deliberately making the President's assistant feel quite boxed in. This was a deliberate effort on the part of the MoI officers who were masters at the Psychology of their game. They were in control here and they wanted to make sure Farrah knew it. With a guard positioned outside the closed door the highly classified briefing began as the lights lowered and the screen glowed blue with white words emblazoned across the front.

Farrah read them with his eyes;

Ministry of Intelligence File#26710-C. Division 731. Baseline test.

Levinstein and Xander stepped up to the front taking positions to the left of the screen. It was Levinstein who took the lead while Xander merely stayed silent and out of the way. She picked up the handheld controller for the projector before turning to face her audience. She cleared her throat before proceeding to begin her briefing.

"Division 731 was formed three years ago as a think-tank to meet two basic aims set out by the President of the Twelve Colonies and the Director of the Ministry of Intelligence. The first aim was to establish what went wrong with the Cylons? What caused them to rise up against us? Was it some computer virus or was it something to do with their basic programming that gave them sentience and with it the desire to break free? The unfortunate truth of this matter is that we are no closer to figuring that out now than we were three years ago despite the best efforts of Dr Xander and his team. While we are continuing our research in this field it is in achieving our second aim that we have made the greatest advancements. Division 731's second goal was to try to improve the physical and biological capabilities of our fighting forces in the field. Now at first our efforts remained theoretical but after Ostarsis was invaded by the Cylons we were authorized to proceed with human testing."

Angela licked the 'NEXT' button on the controller and the screen changed to footage of three men standing in what appeared to Farrah as a room inside any standard hospital. Their hands were bound behind their back however and hoods were placed over their heads. Apart from their underwear they were completely naked. Each one was physically fit looking with no apparent injury or illness.

Dr Angela Levinstein soon appeared on the screen and began inspecting the men before turning them around to allow the camera to view them from every angle. As the video played out she continued to explain.

"These three test subjects represent our baseline test models. Before we could begin our work we had to establish a set of basic results with which to compare future results. These test subjects were selected because they physically represent the majority of our still male-dominated armed forces in the field. These three were all found guilty of deserting their units on the frontline. They were sentenced to death but it seemed a shame to waste them."

As he watched and listened Farrah noted that this was the only time she had referred to them in a personal way. Otherwise they were simply referred to as test subjects. On the screen, one of the men seemed to resist being manhandled by her and a guard appeared from off camera before beating the unruly 'subject' on the back with a truncheon. There was no sound emanating from the muted recording but Farrah speculated that Dr Levinstein was unhappy with the guard for reprimanding the prisoner this way.

Levinstein pushed 'NEXT' once again and the video changed to footage of the same three men being run around the main building of the compound during the daytime. Their hands were still bound and their hoods were still in place. Each one of the test subjects had two guards assigned who ran alongside them to keep them moving and upright.

"Before we could proceed with the main experiment the subjects were exercised vigorously to represent the kinds of physical stress they would encounter on the battlefield. They were then taken to the rear of the building where we had set up this apparatus."

The screen changed to a platform that had been built with a pole protruding from the top. At the bottom was a large funnel with a pipe that ran into a container at the bottom. In the middle of the pipe was a small wheel about the size of a coin that looked similar to the type found in old fashioned mills.

The first subject appeared on the screen and the two guards handcuffed him to the pole over the funnel. Farrah braced himself knowing that the main experiment was about to begin. The guards then strapped what appeared to be an old belt under the subject's armpits and around the pole before fastening it. Farrah was glad the man's face was still hooded as he waited for what he suspected was coming next. He listened to Levinstein as she continued with her briefing.

"The purpose of the baseline test was to recreate the exact level damage sustained from the impact of a Cylon bullet. From this we could then compare results of other tests as our program continued."

The guards stepped away from the bound man. The clip stopped and Levinstein clicked for the next clip to be played. The screen was parted into three sections. Each section had one of the three subjects bound to the apparatus. A few seconds passed without anything happening.

Suddenly and silently, each man's abdomen seemed to rip open with a large gaping hole. Flesh and blood began to pour from the wound as the men wriggled and writhed in pain. For just over a minute they each shook and trembled as the blood continued to pour from the wound until finally they stopped and slumped forwards being held upright by the belts under their armpits.

Farrah's chest was rising and falling quite rapidly as his breathing quickened but his face remained still and desperately trying to hide his disgust. Both Ainsleigh and Bledsoe remained quite calm by comparison while Xander stared blankly away from the screen.

"As you can see from this demonstration," said Levinstein, "just one bullet from a standard Cylon rifle is particularly devastating against unprotected Human flesh. This is thanks to both the power at which the rifle can hurl the projectile and the design of the bullet itself which is smaller and thinner than normal bullets but incorporate a series of folding spikes that pop out once the round leaves the chamber. Instead of a simple puncture wound the bullet lacerates as it rotates through the target making a Field Medic's job all the more difficult thanks to the heavy bleeding such a wound produces. Much of our work here involves developing more effective means of treatment. Our current efforts have produced results approaching the fifty-five per cent success range as opposed to the current forty-seven per cent."

"Yes," interrupted Farrah after nervously clearing his rather dry throat. "The results are impressive and the President is pleased with that but my assignment is to assess your work here and see how it is you have achieved these results."

"The President receives a full report from the MoI Director on a weekly basis," added Ainsleigh looking at the visitor to his base through the corners of his eyes.

Farrah's courage was slowly deserting him but he plucked up what little he had left to reply, "The word 'full' is open to debate. Your results are in full, of that the President has no doubt, but it is to the extent of the research you have conducted here to achieve those results that the President has decided to dispatch me."

"Just what exactly does that mean?" asked Ainsleigh. "Does the President feel that he is being deceived?"

"A lie of omission is still a lie," said Farrah carefully.

"Dr Farrah!" started Ainsleigh rising slowly to his feet to look down upon the visitor. "The President is aware of the work we do here as does the Director of the Ministry of Intelligence, the Secretary of Defense and several select members of the Quorom of Twelve. We have hidden nothing."

"In that case," said Farrah standing up to confront the head of Division 731. "You would have no objections to me staying for a few days to observe your work first hand?"

Bledsoe and Levinstein looked at one another sharing looks of both shock and amusement. It was quite amusing to see a bureaucrat such as Farrah trying desperately to hold onto his courage infront of the iron willed Ainsleigh. Xander remained motionless, almost catatonic.

"No," replied the Deputy Director with mild sarcasm. "No objections. Lieutenant Bledsoe will make arrangements for you to be put up in the guest suite. If there is anything you need then please speak to him. I assume there will be no need to waste our time with any further briefings this evening?"

"No," said Farrah. "No, I uh, wouldn't want to keep you or your team away from your work any further."

"Well considering that the local time is now fast approaching 0200 hours my team's work mostly consists of sleep. I suggest you do the same. Good night to you."

"And you," stammered Farrah as Ainsleigh walked away.

John Bledsoe walked upto Farrah and held out his right arm, "This way, sir, we have some quarters on the other side of the compound that are reserved for visitors."

"Thank you," said Farrah before quickly turning to Levinstein and Xander and wishing them both a good night.

Thirty Minutes Later

Lieutenant John Bledsoe started to unbutton the top of his jacket as he neared his quarters located on the east wing of the main compound. With the tight fitting grey shirt now loosened around his neck he felt his stress levels easing off just slightly before he turned in for the night in preparation for the next day. The corridors of the compound were stone and painted light beige in colour that had faded over time. Ainsleigh didn't care how the building looked as long as the work inside was completed at optimum efficiency – he was quite utilitarian in nature.

Bledsoe placed his key into the thick wooden door of his quarters located in a corridor that resembled an old prison. It served as a reminder of the sheltered life he and his colleagues were forced to live as members of Division 731.

As the door opened he quickly walked inside and closed it behind him only to find that someone was occupying his bed. The naked woman sat under the blanket holding a glass of Virgon Wine she had poured from a bottle that sat on the floor next to the bed.

"For frak sake, Angela!" gasped Bledsoe. "If Ainsleigh were to catch us-"

"I won't tell him if you don't. Come on, hurry up and get in! It's freezing!"

Most nights Bledsoe wouldn't have needed much persuasion to join her but tonight he seemed somewhat reluctant much to her annoyance. He slowly continued to undress in front of her causing her frustration to rise. After he threw his shirt onto the back of the chair sitting opposite him in an aggressive manner she chuckled at him, mockingly.

"What?" he asked angrily.

"I assume you've put Farrah to bed for the night?"

"Yeah, I put him over on C-floor East. Nothing really goes on over there."

"Ainsleigh is still all fired up about the little frakker. I guess in this case the giant was beaten by the pen rather than the sword."

"Farrah hasn't beaten Ainsleigh yet!" he declared.

"Well he's certainly won the first round," she said which gave him cause to look at her quizzically before she explained; "He's still here isn't he?"

He didn't answer. He just watched as she rather calmly took another drink from her glass.

"You're quite calm all things considered?" he asked her.

"What's there to worry about?" she replied taking another drink. Watching her callously consume the sweet tasting wine as if nothing was wrong turned his vision red. He threw himself at her and yanked the glass from her lips before smashing it against the wall.

"What the frak is wrong with you?" he yelled as he took hold of her wrists and pushed her down onto the bed. "Do you have any frakking idea what will happen to us if knowledge of this place gets out into the public? Do you?"

"Well that's better," she said smiling at him as he maintained his hold on her. "Keeping things bottled up was never your style."

"All Farrah has to do is go crying back to the Quorom and we will find our heads in a noose," he spat angrily trying to emphasize his point to her.

"If that is the case then we will have lots of company now won't we? The Director of the MoI. The Secretary of Defense. The President! No, we are perfectly safe. Secrets like ours get buried very deeply by the people who are the ones lining up to thank us."

He started to release his grip on her wrists.

"Nobody is beyond reach," he stated.

"From whom exactly? Look at you all screwed up like this. Fear doesn't become you sweety," she teased. "I didn't take you for a coward."

In one quick move he found his hands suddenly reach around her neck but he held off from tightening them as he realized what he was doing and that she was only playing with him. Even with his fingertips causing small bruises to appear on her neck her lips continued to smile seductively. She loved the danger. She feed on it. He couldn't understand how she could be so relaxed but strangely her confidence was somehow rubbing off on him. He was being pulled in by her emerald green eyes and slowly his anger and fear began to subside.

"Come on," she cooed. "You know it relaxes you."

He leaned down and started to kiss her lips, getting lost in her touch as he did so.

Through the two round transparent plastic eyepieces of his green protective suit, Ainsleigh looked upon the pathetic figure of a man stretched out on the bed in the corner of the small room. His skin was exposed from the waist upwards to reveal several hideous black boils that was slowly consuming his flesh. The smallest were no bigger than a postage stamp while the largest was the size of Ainsleigh's hand including the one that occupied the right side of his face. He was trying to scream from the pain but the infection had spread to his throat and had all but destroyed his vocal chords. Only a plastic straw inserted into his neck allowed him to breath.

Ainsleigh looked down at this failed 'experiment' with complete indifference. He may as well have been looking at a piece of old meat in a butcher shop. To him these were not people but materials to be used in developing new ways of treating injuries or fighting disease which was still taking its toll on the Colonial Forces without any help from the Cylons. A legendary Tauron General once wrote; for every casualty sustained in battle, times that number by four to include those killed from sickness and disease and you reach the actual cost of war.

Peering through the eyepieces at the chart that hung across the cold metal frame of the bed Ainsleigh silently cursed his misfortune. This had been the seventeenth time this particular experiment had been conducted in an effort to develop an injection that would help fight off radiation sickness. All had failed and ended in this way.

Ainsleigh dropped the chart onto the man's legs causing him to shudder in pain. He then walked over to a small box located on the wall of the room and took out a key that was hooked onto the belt of his protective suit. He unlocked the box to reveal a small syringe filled with a clear liquid.

Taking the syringe back to the man on the bed he took the protective cap off the top and proceeded to stab it into the man's right arm before pushing the plunger down and injecting the liquid. He removed the needle quite crudely causing the tip to break off and remain in the man's arm. The man shuddered terribly before his eyes went blank and his body became motionless.

Tossing the empty needle into the 'sharps' bin he turned for the door leaving the body for the nurses outside to dispose of. Before leaving he took one last look at the body on the bed not as the end of a human being's life but as yet another roadblock this particular project had hit upon.

"Just have to try again tomorrow."

Notes

Division 731 derives its name from the real-world Imperial Japanese Army Unit 731 who conducted medical experiments on Chinese, Korean and Allied prisoners during World War II. Many of those who participated in such experiments were never brought to trial since they were granted amnesty by the United States Government in exchange for passing on the data they had collected during these experiments.

The 'experiment' at the end of this chapter is to develop the radiation meds that we see being frequently used in BSG during the Caprica scenes of Seasons 1 and 2.