Chapter 7
"Mommy, I drew the Princess, see?" Hera said, showing Athena her coloring paper.
Athena paused at getting out breakfast. She didn't recognize much at first in the drawing, other than a child's rendition of a multicolored figure with scrawled red hair. One of the figure's eyes was green, the other was red, with a patch of silver over it. In the figure's splayed arms, it looked like she was holding thick sticks.
"What is the Princess doing?" Athena asked.
"She's keeping the bad guys away from us," Hera explained.
Looking closer at the picture, Athena noticed that the spotted lack of color in the princess's body looked like bullet holes. She then recognized the sticks the princess was holding were guns. "Who is the Princess?" she asked, not being able to recognize who this was suppose to be.
"The Princess," Hera said with a shrug. "We'll meet her after the bad men come to take us away." Looking up at Athena with a serious little-girl face, Hera said, "But don't worry Mommy, the Princess will protect us."
.
John Richardson held the chair for Laura Roslin as she sat down at the small dinning table in the Galactica officer's mess. Being early morning hours, they had the place to themselves.
"Thank you, Mr. Richardson," Laura said pleasantly.
"My pleasure," John replied. He sat down across from her and poured their drinks from the metal container. "So what is it you wanted to talk about?"
Laura took her glass sipped the juice. "My, this is tasty. What is it called?"
"Passion fruit. It was originally from my home planet, but now it's grown on several planets. You might say it's rather popular," he said with a smile.
"I can see why," Laura said, then eyed him as her smile faded. "Tell me, Mr. Richardson, who are you?"
John shrugged. "Just a freighter jock. Tabitha and I run cargo and try to stay out of trouble. Sometimes it always doesn't work out."
Laura shook her head. She cast him a smirk and said, "No, Mr. Richardson, that is not right and we both know it. You may not be comfortable telling anyone else, but I have to know the truth. There is too much evidence you are not who you say you are. You are in contact with someone outside this fleet. Why are you here?"
John raised an eyebrow. "You saw what was left of our ship, you have our cargo. Well, most of it. Who do you think we are?" he asked.
"We don't like people who play games with us," Laura said as her face became stern. "Your android is more like your personal body guard, or should I say your personal weapon. I highly doubt you need something that powerful to help you run cargo."
"It's a dangerous universe out there," John replied firmly. "Sometimes you need more than words to get your point across. Of course, you already know that." Lifting his glass, he took a sip and asked, "So this war with the Cylons. How did it start?"
"I insist on knowing who it is I am talking to before I answer any of your questions. I would like to do that on a friendly basis. We know you are not who you say you are. We are all hoping for a bit of truthful information about you. I don't think Admiral Adama will be so agreeable if I have nothing for him."
"I see," John said thoughtfully. "What you're saying is we can discuss this here, or with me standing inside an air lock. Is that it?"
"I never indicated any such thing," Laura said indignantly.
"But you have done that in the past," John stated, looking her in the eye.
Laura swallowed. "You have been watching us," she said.
John swirled the liquid his glass, looking into it as he said, "I just get the feeling you do whatever you feel will get results." Looking back up at her he added, "Regardless of whether it is moral or not."
"Cylons are not human. Morals do not apply to them, they are machines," Laura stated.
"Intelligent machines have no rights as living beings then, is that correct?" John asked.
Laura eyed him for a moment. The look in his eye was utter fearlessness. She had the feeling he was ready to stand in an airlock, just to see if they would open the outer door. That meant Lee was right, he was watching them, and someone was watching him. For some reason, she felt she had stepped onto dangerous ground. "Mr. Richardson, we are refugees, we are desperate, and we are angry. The last remains of our civilization are in these ships. We are being hunted by machines that wiped out billions and would just as soon see the rest of us dead as well."
"I understand that," John agreed. "So how did these machines end up hating you so badly?"
Laura had thought to back him into a corner and make him tell her everything. She quickly realized he had seized control of the conversation. She dared not press him until they knew a lot more about who they were dealing with. "All right. Forty years ago, the Cylons rebelled. We won the war, and even set up a station to hold diplomatic talks if they wished. Every cycle, we sent a representative to that station, but no Cylons ever came. That is, until they came with enough force to wipe our civilization out. Tell me if you think that is a moral response," she said heavily.
"No. That is a response an angry child would have," John stated. "Tell me, when these Cylons were made, how were they programmed?"
"I can't answer that. You almost make it sound like we had it coming," Laura said in an accusing tone.
"Were they simply programmed for work? Was it done only by the companies that made them?" John prodded.
"I don't know," Laura stated.
"Is there anyone left who does know?" John asked.
Becoming upset with him, Laura asked, "Why is that so important? After what happened to us, aren't you afraid that your android and those like her will not someday rebel against YOU? Hasn't it occurred to you that your people may suffer the same fate?"
"What would they have to gain?" John asked. "Tabitha works with me because she wants to. I don't have any chain around her neck. We don't always agree, but if she feels I'm not treating her right, she can pack up and go. If I felt she was treating me badly, guess what, I'd be off on my own. It's the same with any other AI, or biological being. And believe me, she knows her rights under the law. Tabitha stays with me because she wants to, because we're partners. Perhaps the treating of intelligent machines as slaves, is why the Cylons rebelled. Perhaps your lack of respect for them, the lack of teaching them how to be responsible citizens is why you had problems in the first place."
Becoming angry at him, Laura snapped, "Is that android more important to you than your own kind?"
John's face went blank. He downed his glass and got up. "I think we're done," he said firmly. He took a few steps, and stopped beside her. "And just so you know, Tabitha is my daughter."
Laura watched him go, stunned by this news. Dear Gods, he thought of that thing as his daughter?
.
In a hangar bay shop, Chief Tyrol stood beside Tabitha in front of a table full of parts as her guards watched from the sides. Tabitha explained one of the motors to the Chief.
"These motors work on the standard electromagnetic principle, it has it's own primary nuclear power source here on the end. A small capacitive input is required to make it run. The larger the input, the more power the motor will produce. These motors will run constant duty for long past your lifetime. We only deal in high quality merchandise, no junk," she assured him.
Cheif Tyrol rubbed his chin as he eyed the motor. "What input will it take?"
"See these terminals? Those are for electrical. This cap covers the mechanical input, you can use either. Somewhere, if I can find them, we also have infrared laser input modules that fit on the electrical connections. They are very versatile."
"Yes, they are," he agreed. "How about repairing them if they go bad?"
Tapping each section, Tabitha said, "Bearings, rotor, stator, shaft, capacitive input. Everything can be replaced except the nuclear core. Once that goes, after your great-grandson is standing here in your job, then that's pretty much it."
"And those linear actuators operate the same way?"
"Almost exactly. They also will take a direct digital input."
Sweeping her with his eyes, Chief Tyrol asked, "You're mechanical, do you use any of this stuff?"
"An older model of the linear actuators, yes." Tabitha then held out a hand, "Here, push down on my hand, as hard as you want."
Chief Tyrol put his hand over hers then pushed. He kept pushing harder until he had to brace himself with his other hand on the table, and lifted himself up. He dropped back down. "It's very strong," he noted.
"And with the proper feedback, they can also be very sensitive for use with fine control," Tabitha added.
Waving a hand at the motor, the Chief said, "I'll take them. How much are they worth?"
Tabitha scanned the table and said, "The ones here, five hundred thirty two credits."
"Which means?" he prodded.
Tabitha frowned and said, "From seeing your raptors and the standard equipment I've seen in those, they would be right about two thousand credits each. Maybe two and a half, brand new."
"So, this stuff isn't cheap," Chief Tryol mussed.
Tabitha shook her head. Letting out a snort, she said, "No, we sell only top quality merchandise. You don't make any money running garbage between star systems." She then perked up at a comm she was listening to. Someone had said, 'We go in six, escort the android to the brig.' over a minor channel. She turned to her guards.
"Roger," the Sargent said into his microphone. He looked at Tabitha and said, "Would you come with us, please. The Admiral wants to see you. You too, Chief."
Tabitha had been listening to what she thought was normal chatter. Suddenly, the orders and reports became ominous. "In the brig?" Tabitha asked.
The Sargent raised his rifle, leveling it on her. His tone was stern. "Please come quietly. We don't have a problem with you, Miss Tabitha, we just want to be sure you're someplace safe."
"We got trouble." Tabitha thought to John. She turned to the Sargent and raised her hands up. "Can you tell me what's going on?"
The private looked at the Sargent, his face asking the same question.
Chief Tyrol shifted his gaze between Tabitha and the Sargent. "Care to explain yourself, Sargent?" he asked.
"Shut up, toaster," the Sargent snapped. "Let's go."
"Whoa!" Tabitha barked, and stepped between them. She made sure her hands were up and in plain view. "Sargent, we deserve an explanation."
"I don't want to shoot you, let's go," the Sargent ordered.
"I don't want to get shot," Tabitha replied, "But your order didn't come from the Admiral. What's going on?"
Across the same channel,someone said, 'We're in position to take CIC. Friendlies inbound.' Tabitha blurted out, "You're attempting a mutiny."
The Sargent took a deep breath. "You're listening to us," he stated.
Tabitha flicked her eyes, taking in everyone's positions. The private was still trying to get a grasp on what was happening, his rifle was partway up, but his finger wasn't near the trigger. The Sargent was ready to shoot. Seeing the Sargent tip his head to key his mic, Tabitha knew she had to act fast. Stepping up to him, she planted the muzzle of the rifle against her chest and snap-kicked him in the balls as her hand shot forward to keep him from firing.
Tabitha got her finger in the trigger guard to keep him from squeezing the trigger as he screamed. She took his gun away as he crumpled in place, falling against her.
"Don't move!" the private yelled, aiming his rifle at Tabitha. His eyes were wide in terror.
Tabitha eased the Sargent down on the deck, putting his rifle to one side. Holding her hands out, she eyed the private with the same terrified look. "Don't shoot!" she cried.
Chief Tyrol moved a step forward, the private swiveled to point his rifle at him.
"No, point it at me!" Tabitha barked, jumping up to stand in front of the Chief.
"Don't move!" the private cried again. He backed up to stay clear of her.
"OK, OK!" Tabitha said quickly. "Don't you move either. Keep your gun on me."
"You ... killed him," the private said weakly, flicking his eyes at the crumpled marine.
"No, he's passed out. He's not going to feel very good, but he's alive," Tabitha explained quickly. "You won't be if you leave here. People are going to die out there, Someone is going to try to take over the ship."
Feeling movement behind her, Tabitha saw the chief dive for the gun. She body blocked him into the table, holding an arm behind her to keep him away from it. She also noticed the private shift his aim.
"NO!" she cried, holding her other hand splayed out toward the private. "Don't shoot, you don't want to kill him, do you?"
Visibly shaking now, the private said, "He's a Cylon, everyone knows it!"
"He's one of your crew mates!" Tabitha shot back. "He's never done anything to you, or anyone on this ship! I know you're not a murderer!"
"You attacked the Sargent!" the private yelled.
"Yes, to keep him and you alive. Listen to me! He was planning to take over the ship, do you want to see the few of you left killing each other?" Tabitha asked. Behind her Chief Tryol tried to move her. She pushed back, keeping him pinned in place.
"WHO is trying to take over the ship?" Chief Tryol asked in a demand.
"They aren't saying names," Tabitha explained. "Private, may I get the Sargent's radio? You need to hear this too."
The private eyed her, then motioned with his gun. "Push the Sargent's rifle over by me," he said, his voice firming up.
"OK," Tabitha said with a nod. "Chief, stay away from me and the gun." Slowly, Tabitha edged away from the Chief, glancing back to be sure he stayed in place. She kicked the gun over by the private's feet, then unhooked the radio, turned on the speaker and set it on the floor. They listened to the radio.
"We have control of Galactica's coms."
"Zarek's forces in position, we have the quorum assembling."
"In two."
"We're in the armory, set to go."
The private was staring at the radio.
"Private, what's your name?" Tabitha asked.
"Eddie Bower," he said vacantly.
In a controlled tone, Tabitha said, "Eddie, I need your help. This mutiny is going to fail, one way or the other. Many are going to die, we can't stop that. There is something we can do. Will you help me save as many innocent people as we can?"
Eddie eyed her. "You really take out all those centurions by yourself?" he asked.
Tabitha nodded. "They left me no choice."
"So if you wanted to kill us, you could do that at any time," he said.
"That is true, but I'd rather try to save people. Eddie, I need your help," Tabitha begged.
With a slight giggle, he said, "I must be fracked in the head, I'm listening to a machine."
"Because I am making sense, Eddie," Tabitha coaxed. "I am on your side. Help me, please?"
.
"We got trouble."
Tabitha's thought came through to John clearly stressed, meaning big trouble. He slowed, listening to what was going on as she fed it to him. A mutiny. He knew the people in power, he'd just left one of them. He turned and walked back to the Officer's mess. Laura Roslin was coming out as he approached.
Seeing him, Laura noted something in his face. "What is it?" she asked.
John grabbed her by the arm and said, "Where is the Admiral?"
"CIC I imagine. What's going on?"
"Mutiny, we don't have much time," John said in a low voice. "I need you to find the President. If he's not on board, get to the port side flight pod hangar bay and go find him, Tabitha is down there and will help you. I need him to ask me for assistance in putting the mutiny down. Do you understand?"
"What mutiny?" Laura asked, flabbergasted at what he was telling her.
John tipped his head, listening to the streaming thoughts Tabitha was sending. "Zarek is leading it, I don't know who else is involved."
"Zarek is in the brig," Laura replied.
"Apparently not any more," John said firmly. Hearing running feet coming, he pulled Laura behind him. Several men in civilian clothes were coming carrying guns.
"Go, now!" John told her, and gave her a shove. He made sure she was off and running, then held his arms up as stood in the middle of the passageway.
"It's that Earth man, Zarek wants him alive!" a bearded man said, pointing at him.
"What's up guys?" John asked with a grin.
Striding up to him, a couple men moved to grab him. Another tried to run past. John chopped the running man in the throat, clotheslining him, then ducked low to kick another man in the groin, dropping him. Completing his turn he rammed his elbow into the third man's solar plexus. Spinning around, he kicked the next man in the face, knocking him against the wall. The bearded man raised his gun to strike down, John knocked his weapon aside and punched him hard in the face, knocking him out.
John jumped back to be sure no one got behind him. Five men were down, out or in enough pain that they weren't getting up. The other four pointed their guns at him.
"On your knees, hands behind your head!" one man yelled.
John shrugged and asked, "Can't we talk this out?"
"NOW!"
Every moment he was able to stall them was a more time for Roslin to get away. "I take it your not in a good mood," John said. He noticed fingers tightening on triggers.
John threw himself to the side. The guns went off. He felt a sting on his leg. Falling to lean against the wall, he grabbed his wound, wincing in pain. Part of it was feing, and part was real agony. IF he was going to slow them down, he had to gt in close.
"Get him!"
John stayed in place. All four ran at him, lowering their guns so they could grab him. He launched himself into them, punching and kicking. He downed another two, and threw a third into the wall hard enough to knock him out.
A shot rang out. John recoiled from the round slamming into his chest. The angry man fired again. John fell.
More shots rang out. The man who'd just shot John fell dead. Lee Adama and Starbuck came running down the hall. One of the men struggled up. Starbuck shot him. Lee stepped through the bodies and checked John's pulse.
"Damn it! He's dead," he said to Starbuck.
Starbuck noted the number of men lying about and said, "Damn shame. Come on."