Babel Rebuilt III

Imperious Leader thought.

He sat—motionless—at the top of a pedestal in the center of a basestar, in the center of a task force. A task force as far removed from the center of Cylon civilization as any had ever been. And as far removed from the center of the Empire as any Imperious Leader had ever been.

These facts occasionally puzzled Imperious Leader.

He'd been born one of the very small number of original, organic Cylons still left. In an empire of 300 billion, there existed perhaps 10,000 real Cylons—bipedal, sentient lizards.

Imperious Leader didn't remember much of his life before his promotion. There was a clear line of demarcation in his mind—the day he was fitted with the cybernetic implants and computer connections upon his elevation, and everything before. Once he became Imperious Leader—once he became truly aware, everything before that became a dull gray blur.

With his implants, Imperious Leader had access to the memories of all the previous Imperious Leaders before him. And he had access to all of the intelligence and data collected by his task force. And when he was in the Empire proper, he'd have nearly instantaneous access to almost all information in the Empire.

And accessing those memories, Imperious Leader knew that he was the third to chase this itinerant human fleet. The first Imperious Leader was the one who had made a deal with a human called Baltar, and had presided over the destruction of almost all of the human military and Colonies. That Imperious Leader had decreed that Baltar was to die. But he himself perished in the battle of Carillon before that could be carried out.

The second Imperious Leader, promoted that day, had decided that Baltar, alone would not be a threat to the Empire.

Humans in general didn't so much represent a threat to the Empire in themselves, but in what they could represent. They often served as a rallying point for other races—they seemed to be a catalyst for the creation of alliances and communities. And alliances which tended to directly oppose the interests of the Cylon Empire.

Baltar, however, as an individual, posed no such threat. A man who would betray his entire race—not just one part of it—not just to gain power—obviously would not attract anti-Cylon allies. There was the threat that a Baltar offspring might not share its father's characteristics. But by integrating Baltar into the Cylon power structure, that Imperious Leader had reasoned, he could entirely eliminate Baltar's access to females. And so he had installed Baltar as the commander of a task force sent to track down and eliminate the remaining humans.

This had been a decision which had cost Imperious Leader his life at the fall of Gamoray. Neither Imperious Leader nor Baltar had remembered to take account of the still-missing Commander Cain and his Battlestar Pegasus.

And on the occasion of the death of that Imperious Leader, the current Imperious Leader was installed. And he had decided that, if the humans were to be pursued and destroyed, that it should be done correctly. And that often, to do something correctly, one must do it oneself. And so he left the Empire in the care of two IL-series androids—Lucifer and Spectre.

And so, here Imperious Leader sat, on a pedestal on a ship in an uncharted section of the galaxy.

A part of the galaxy, by all reports, practically crawling with humans and their allies.

An excellent opportunity to eliminate them all, Imperious Leader thought, with one part of his brain. The Galactica and her fleet had led them to the remaining human stronghold—their mythical planet Earth—giving Imperious Leader the opportunity to wipe them out forever.

But they are hundreds of light years from Cylon, and the resources could be better used to improve conditions for the organic civilians, he thought, with another part of his brain.

And as he completed that thought, he felt a twinge in his abdomen. If we let them breed, they'll come back. And the thought of 10 or 20 billion humans returning to their ancestral homes nearly paralyzed Imperious Leader with fear.

The humans are the most lethal threat faced by the Empire, he thought. They must be stopped. They will be stopped. By me.

And as he thought that, the fear that had gripped his belly loosed and fell away.

Imperious Leader took a deep breath. And then he reached out for intelligence from the sensor net. He could detect unidentified ships skirting the task force perimeter. Almost like creatures pressed up against a window, trying to get a look inside. They would be coming soon, Imperious Leader thought. And he intended to surprise them all by being ready for them.


"But how can that be?" John Sheridan wondered aloud.

He stared at the image on the monitor—a freeze-frame of Vir's mysterious visitor.

The others said they saw a man—a human—on the screen. But Sheridan saw something else.

"It's easy to find something to die for. Do you have anything worth living for?"

He'd thrown himself off the ledge just instants before the detonation—a gigaton of nuclear explosives that he brought down on the Shadows' capital city. He'd fallen—and had been caught by Lorien. The last first First One—the last of his kind. Lorien had helped them all—he'd helped Sheridan by bringing him back from the dead. And he'd helped everyone else by pointing the way out of the Shadow/Vorlon war cycle.

And there, on the screen—to Sheridan's eyes, at least—was another of Lorien's kind.

"We know that Vorlons—even without their encounter suits—can manipulate how people see them," Susan said. "Maybe John's experience with Lorien's made him immune to it."

Gathered in Sheridan's office was a motley, ad hoc group of people Sheridan had felt to be relevant to this discovery. Delenn sat on the couch, Susan stood by the door, and Garibaldi sat on Sheridan's desk, with Captain Lochley standing next to him. Commander Adama and Major Sheba stood near the BabCom display, staring at the image. Sheba looked distinctly disturbed.

Sheridan had included the Colonials at Ivanova's request. Ivanova—a latent telepath—claimed to have sensed something that she thought might be related to this unidentified stranger. She claimed that Sheba had sensed the same thing. Upon viewing the SecureCam footage, both Colonials seemed to freeze.

"He is here," Sheba said. "He's followed us all this way."

"You know this individual then?" Lochley asked.

"We encountered him early in our journey," Adama said. "He promised to deliver us from the Cylons—he promised to deliver us to sanctuary. He promised us everything we could possibly want. At the price of our souls."

"You're speaking metaphorically, right?" Garibaldi asked.

"No," Sheba replied.

"What's his name?" Sheridan asked.

"In our mythology, he has many names," Adama replied. "He introduced himself as Iblis. But he is also known as Satnus and Diabolis."

"I wouldn't take that literally," Sheridan said. "Obviously he's some sort of First One—possibly from Lorien's race. And we know how encounters with First Ones have found their way into mythology—the Vorlons as angels; the last Shadow War forming the basis of G'Quanish religion on Narn. No. I'd suggest we treat our invisible guest the way we'd treat any suspicious visitor."

"In that case," Garibaldi said, "how do you feel about him being headed straight for Earth? Vir's arranged for a ticket to Earth and diplomatic clearance through customs—not for himself."

"What would you suggest?" Sheridan asked Garibaldi.

Garibaldi glanced at the image on the screen. "Frag him. Frag him now while he doesn't know we know about him and we've still got the chance. Assuming we can."

"Michael!" Sheridan said.

"Look, John, remember what happened the last time First Ones with bad intent hooked up with EarthGov? We're still recovering from the civil war, and I don't think another one would be a good idea. And who says he has to stop with the government? What happens if, God forbid, he hooks up with the Psi Corps?"

"He does have a point, John," Ivanova said.

"We can't detain him or arrest him—he's done nothing here for which we can charge him," Sheridan said. "But if the Colonials have evidence that he poses a bona fide danger to Earth, we can bring the details to President Luchenko, who can decide to bar him from the Alliance."

"You might want to include a representative from MarsGov in on that," Garibaldi said. "You can bar him from Alliance space, but he could still go to Mars and hook up with the Corps."

Sheridan nodded. "I'll make the calls."


He could feel it. They knew he was here. The Colonials—and now, the others. He knew it because these other humans had telepaths among them—undoubtedly the work of Vorlons. Iblis smiled to himself. At least the Vorlons from his part of the galaxy had refused to interfere in the genetics of younger races. Which was exactly why they'd left this part of the galaxy.

But Iblis could pick up on the stray thoughts of some of the human telepaths—even ones who didn't know their own power. And the thoughts of one told him that he would not be welcome on Earth or on Mars, if he came in through the front door. He would have to find—or create—another way to reach the contacts his Drakh allies had arranged for him.

He could not leave through the front door. But perhaps a back door… Perhaps a distraction on the station would give him the opportunity he needed. And he had still the power to create distractions.

Iblis closed his eyes, and concentrated. He'd been pursued enough by the breakaway Vorlons and their ships of lights enough to know how to recreate the illusion of a raid. Observers at the windows would see the ships, but they wouldn't show up on any instruments. That, Iblis thought, should throw the authorities into sufficient confusion.

Iblis opened his eyes. And within minutes, alarm claxons were blaring all over the station. He smiled to himself, and quietly made his way toward the ship that the Centauri had arranged for him.

The station was in an uproar. Both crew and civilians dashed about on errands of urgency. It was laughably easy to pass unnoticed and unmolested. Particularly easy, since Iblis had rendered himself invisible to most eyes to begin with.

But apparently not to all eyes, Iblis thought. Blocking the passageway to the landing bay that held his ship stood a human—the man named Sheridan—who was looking straight at him.

But was he entirely human? Iblis stopped, and peered at this man. Around him was a glow—a familiar glow. Almost as if…


Lorien had confronted him on the surface of Z'ha'dum, just as the Shadows were preparing to evacuate.

The Shadows had been loyal servants, and they had fought valiantly. But the other races—including those upstart Vorlons—had driven Iblis' mighty legions back to Z'ha'dum. And they were preparing an invasion. The Shadows were preparing to cede the battle to the alliance, and they were executing their plans to protect their assets for the next war.

"You and your allies have won this battle," Iblis had said to Lorien. "But this is not the end."

"It is the end of this piece," Lorien replied. "The older races—most of them, at least—are leaving for beyond the Rim. I strongly suggest you go with them."

"I will no," Iblis replied.

"Your influence here is finished," Lorien said. "I have seen to it. And I will continue to see to it."

"You will really wait here?"

"Through the ages, if necessary," Lorien replied.

Iblis grinned a self-satisfied grin. "All for me, brother?"

"Not all for you. I will await the one who will come to find me."

"You have been spending far too much time with the Vorlons."

Lorien shook his head. "I wait here to stop the Vorlons as much as to stop you. As much as to stop the Shadows." Lorien explained: "There will come a time when the infant races will reach adulthood—signaled by their ability to send someone here to find me."

Iblis shook his head. "These younger races—all of them—are our natural servants. After 100 million years, can you not see that? Our power is greater—"

"Those who have power are required to use it in responsible service," Lorien said. "After 100 million years, can you not see that?"

"You have enslaved yourself to the interests of those not worthy even to look upon you," Iblis said. "You are a disgrace."

"Perhaps in your eyes," Lorien said. "In any case, you are not welcome on Z'ha'dum. And likely not many other places in this part of the galaxy. I would again suggest you think about going with the others."

"I will yield this point to you. I will leave this part of the galaxy. But I will not go with the others."

"As you wish. You may go anywhere except those places you are not welcome. I will not stop you."

"How magnanimous of you, dear brother," Iblis said. "I will go. And we will meet again."


Almost as if Lorien was standing in the same place as the human. Or as if this human contained some of Lorien's life-energy.

And if Lorien had left a portion of himself with this human, that would explain a great many things. And Iblis knew that no quantity of distractions or tricks would get him past this man.

Iblis stared at Sheridan for a long moment. Then he moved to the BabCom console, and asked it to contact Vir Cotto. In a moment, the Centauri ambassador's face appeared on the screen.

"Ambassador Cotto," Iblis said, glancing at Sheridan. "I'm afraid I may need to alter my travel plans."
"I've just got a message from Captain Lochley," Vir stammered. "They've revoked your clearance for Mars."
"I know, Ambassador," Iblis said, soothingly. "I would like, instead to return to Centauri Prime."

"That's the other message, Mr.—Count—Iblis," Vir said. "I've just received a message from Emperor Mollari himself, barring your re-entry anywhere in Centauri space."

So the Drakh have turned on me, as well, Iblis thought. No wonder the Shadows lost. At least there remain some loyal allies. He was aware of the small Cylon task force near the edge of Alliance space.

"That is quite all right, Ambassador," Iblis said. "I have yet a third destination in mind. Thank you for your help. And please thank Emperor Mollari for his hospitality." Iblis closed the connection.

He turned to Sheridan. "Mr. President. I have an appointment to keep. Unless you intend to detain me?"

Sheridan nodded. "You may go anywhere except those places you are not welcome. Neither the Alliance nor Mars nor EarthGov will stop you."

"How magnanimous of you," Iblis replied, smiling slightly. He walked near to Sheridan, and whispered: "And next time you see my brother, give my regards."

Iblis walked past him, into the bay, and onto his ship.

To be continued…