Appearances Can Be Deceiving
Chapter 1
"Thank you for agreeing to see me, sir," said Samuel Anders as he entered Admiral Adama's office.
"No problem Mr. Anders. What can I do for you?"
"Please; call me Samuel. And actually, sir, I think there may be something I can do for you."
"What would that be?" Adama inquired as he motioned for Anders to take a seat as he himself sat down.
"I haven't been here very long, and already it has become apparent that you have Cylon skinheads moving freely among the fleet." Just since his arrival two 'Brother Cavel' models had been thrown out an airlock and a suspicious nuclear detonation had blown up the ship Cloud Nine.
"Yes. We are aware of the problem. Unfortunately the only method of Cylon detection we have is time-consuming and requires a blood sample of any suspects."
"That's where I was hoping to be able to help. There were several models moving around freely on Caprica. I know what they look like; I could identify them for you."
Adama considered the man and the offer before him. It was pretty obvious that Kara had strong feelings for this man. She was practically blushing from excitement when she introduced them to one another, and blushing was not something he was used to seeing coming from Kara. If Kara trusted this man, that was good enough for him.
"What are you proposing?" asked the Admiral.
"My teammates and I could put on some exhibition pyramid games on each ship. I'd be able to scan the crowds very inconspicuously. We keep a few military guys around supposedly for crowd control. Then, if I spot a Cylon, I tell them and they quietly bring him or her in for questioning after the show. We keep it low key so no one panics. It might also help boast morale in the fleet – give people a taste of something from home."
Adama mulled over the idea. Considering the fact that Baltar was the one to develop the current Cylon detector and Laura Roslin had confided in him her doubts about Baltar's loyalties, he had often wished for another method of detection. Baltar's apparent unconcern about investigating the cause of the explosion also gave him reason not to trust the new president.
"Sounds like a good plan. How soon could you start?"
"As soon as I can make the arrangements; my teammates said they would be willing to participate. President Baltar wants civilians to start going down to the planet as soon as possible, and I'm sure you don't want the Cylons to spread down there."
"Agreed," he said as he stood up and extended his hand to Anders. "I'll have a list of contacts aboard different ships sent to you. You can work out the details with them. Anything else I can do to help?"
Anders stood as well and accepted the Admiral's outstretched hand. "Thank you, sir. I would like to make sure the number of people who know the real reason for the exhibitions be kept as small as possible; I learned on Caprica the importance of surprise." He didn't want Kara to know; she had enough to worry about without thinking he might be in danger.
"Very well; only myself, my XO, and Commander Adama will be aware of your true mission."
"Thanks again, sir."
"And Samuel?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Good hunting."
The first exhibition match had taken Samuel less than a week to arrange. It was being held on board the ship Celestra. If the buzz of anticipation on board the Galactica was any indication, the event would be an instant success. Samuel's only regret was having to start dealing with the way people were treating him again - whispering in the corridors when he passed by, asking him for his autograph, wanting him to give a play by play of some past game. It was the part of being a professional pyramid player that he liked the least.
It was only about a half an hour before the first exhibition was to take place. A make shift court had been set up in the cargo bay and stands to hold about four hundred people were in place. They were already starting to fill up, and the noise level was getting louder and louder. It was a lot smaller arena than he was used to playing in, but it would make it easier to see everyone's faces. The captain of the Celestra had personally come by to welcome him and had insisted on sharing a drink of his finest Ambrosia. Normally Samuel didn't like to drink right before a match, but he made an exception in this case since it was only an exhibition.
He was also supposed to be interviewed right before the match, but the crowd noise was getting louder and louder so they had asked him to wait in an office off to the side. He was looking at the pictures on the wall when the door opened behind him.
"Sorry I'm a little late. Shall we get started?" said a woman's voice as he heard the door close.
He knew he had heard that voice before. He turned around slowly and found himself staring at a Cylon model #3.
She stood facing him with an unreadable expression on her face. Does she know that I know she's a Cylon? Her face suddenly broke into a smile as she extended her right hand.
"I'm D'Anna Biers, fleet reporter," she said. "I'm here to interview you?" she added questioningly when he didn't say anything.
Samuel still wasn't sure what to do. If she really didn't know, then the safe thing to do would be to go ahead with the interview and inform the guards immediately afterwards.
He didn't want to get too close to her without some way to defend himself, though. He surreptitiously grabbed a letter opener off the desk beside him with his left hand as he extended his right hand out to hers. As their hands clasped he saw a flash of hatred in her eyes as her hand began to crush his. He had the answer to his question.
She may have had superior strength, but pyramid play had made him quite agile. He managed to knock her feet out from under her, but she grabbed his shirt, ripping it in the process, and pulled him down with her. He pulled the letter opener up to stab her with it, but she grabbed his wrist. He could do nothing but pound her hand into the wall behind her head to try and get her to release her hold. He could hear bones crunching in her hand, but she still would not let go. She bit into his shoulder, and he cried out in pain. He rolled over to try and get away from her mouth. His movements jostled the table beside them, knocking over an open bottle of Ambrosia which spilled down upon them. His rolling over had freed her other hand, and she was able to use both her hands to wrestle the letter opener from him. He looked around desperately for something else to use as a weapon. He grabbed her microphone which she had dropped when crushing his hand in hers and started beating her savagely about the head with it. With what little strength she had left she plunged the letter opener she still had in her hand into his chest. He gasped in surprise, hit her one more time, and passed out on top of her forcing the point of the letter opener all the way through his chest and out his back.
