WARNING: MILD LESBIAN SEXUAL ACTIVITY

CHAPTER 10

ROUND UP

Shelly Godfrey had earned their respect, and deserved her shot at the brass ring; on this Adama and Bierns wholeheartedly agreed. They both recognized that she could supply invaluable intelligence about the enemy: she possessed a lot of technical knowledge about the baseships, and she seemed more than willing to share it. She could give them insights into Cylon psychology, and school them in the enemy's preferred tactics. Adama also hoped that she would be able to shoulder some of the load that now fell squarely upon the much beleaguered Felix Gaeta. Calculating jumps was an exact science; it would be good to have two minds working that problem rather than one. Bill was planning to give her a desk in the War Room, and find ways to test her loyalty; if she passed muster, he would introduce her to the CIC and slowly integrate her into Galactica's family.

The two men disagreed about everything else.

Adama wanted to restrict the Six's movements; Bierns vigorously objected. They had settled on a compromise that pleased neither man. Shelly Godfrey's movements would indeed be restricted, but the basis for the said restrictions would be her standing as a civilian, not the fact that she was a Cylon.

Adama wanted everybody else in the brig; Bierns wanted to release the one Cylon that was already under arrest. Another compromise followed. The Six with no name would remain in her cell, and the marines would find Leoben and give him a new home down the hall. Both would be told that, for their own safety, they had been placed in protective custody. Neither would be mistreated, or even interrogated. This earned Bierns one of those patented Adama stares, but the spook had patiently explained to the commander that there was very little point in asking questions when you had absolutely no way to verify the answers. Misinformation, Bierns had bluntly reminded his counterpart, was far worse than no information at all. Trust Shelly Godfrey, he had urged the skeptical commander, but for the moment at least … no one else.

Bierns insisted that Adama suspend judgment about the Six on the Virgon Express until they had a better handle on the situation. There had been no mysterious accidents or deaths on the liner, so Bierns wanted gingerly to test the waters and find out whether Lydia Sextus was another Shelly Godfrey in the making. The spook also wanted to treat the Cylon medic and the mysterious Eight who had sabotaged the water supply with extreme caution. Medical expertise was in short supply, so Bierns would go over Simon's file with the proverbial fine tooth comb. If it turned out that the Four had been murdering patients in his care, he would go straight out the airlock. Otherwise, Bierns recommended a quiet chat with the Cylon, and loose surveillance. The Eight was the most delicate issue of them all. Bierns had promised Shelly Godfrey that they would do everything in their power to kill off her programming, and this was a promise that he intended to keep. Bierns had spotted Sharon Valerii the moment he first set foot on Galactica, but the spook had chosen to withhold the information from Adama and everyone else. Now that decision would pay a neat dividend. He would take Shelly Godfrey on board his Raptor, sit her down in front of an imposing stack of personnel files, and watch what happened when she reached the V's. If the Six was a legitimate defector, she would hand over the Eight. If not … Bierns didn't want to think about what would inevitably follow.

After the fleet had completed its next jump, two Raptors departed the battlestar. One carried a squad of marines to the Gemenon Traveller; the other was bound for the Virgon Express.

. . .

Bierns did not favor sending armed marines onto civilian ships. In close quarters, all those guns were an accident waiting to happen. He much preferred a less melodramatic approach. His first stop was a courtesy call on Captain Sibyl Janks. He introduced himself, and calmly informed the captain that intelligence had recently come to light which suggested that a member of her crew was a Cylon infiltrator. He asked to see the personnel file for one Lydia Sextus, confirmed for the captain that she was indeed a Cylon, and inquired about her current whereabouts. She was probably in the crew mess, Janks told him, before asking if the major would require armed assistance. No, Bierns told her, he did not think that he would need any help, armed or otherwise.

Bierns turned to leave, thought better of it. "One last thing, Captain. Have there been any disciplinary issues … any unfortunate incidents that, in hindsight, you would attribute to her?"

"No, Major," the baffled Captain replied. "Miss Sextus has been an exemplary employee."

The captain politely offered to show John Bierns the way to the mess. What awaited him there was an auburn haired beauty. Lydia wore her hair long; at the moment, it was swept rather elegantly over her left shoulder, touching her breast. She was attacking an unappealing plate of noodles and greens; it looked as if she hadn't eaten in days. Her hair glistened in the light, like the finest silk: John's first thought was that it had to be in direct violation of company rules.

Lydia had a table to herself. John walked around it, pulled out a chair, and sat down to face her. He was careful to keep the chair well back from the table.

"Miss Sextus? My name is Bierns, Major John Bierns of the Colonial Secret Service. I apologize for interrupting your meal. When you are finished, I would very much appreciate it if you would give me a few minutes of your time."

The Cylon said nothing, but her eyes narrowed, became wary. Without conscious thought, the spook shifted his center of gravity, and prepared for a possible assault. This one's a predator, he thought, a very dangerous killing machine. He was confident that he could parry the first charge, but he was well aware that Sixes were not to be trifled with.

Lydia assessed her situation. She calculated distances and angles, and didn't like the results. She took note of the major's tensing muscles, and glanced to her left at the hatchway. Sib was standing just inside the hatch, with her right hand concealed behind her back. Lydia had a pretty good idea what she was holding; the anguished look on the captain's face spoke volumes. Not good … not good at all. Lydia was confident that she could overcome the major, but CSS operatives had a nasty reputation. It would take time … time that she didn't have. And afterwards, what would I do next?

John tried to defuse the situation. "Lydia," he said in what he fervently hoped was a reassuring tone, "obviously we know what you are, but I am not here to arrest you. I'm here to help you. There are two Sixes currently on Galactica; we're doing our best to keep this quiet, but I am very much afraid that their identities will be all over the fleet before the end of the day. This ship is no longer safe for you. I want to take you back to Galactica while there's still time. Please … don't do anything rash."

Lydia thought it through. She shrugged her shoulders, made a visible effort to relax, and without a word returned to her meal. When she was done, she looked at the major. "Should I bother to collect my belongings?"

"By all means….Captain, are her quarters nearby?"

"Quarters? Is that what we're calling a bunk and a locker these days? Quarters?" Even Galactica's brig, she thought, might be an improvement over her current situation—though she would badly miss the captain. . . .

"I'm curious about one thing," the major said while she was packing, "the name Sextus. 'Six' in the old Kobolian tongue? That's pretty insecure. Your handlers were either incredibly stupid, or cursed with a really weird sense of humor … maybe both. Did the Ones pick you for this assignment?"

A half-smile stole across Lydia's face. "It's only insecure, Major, if you know what you're looking for." She was not prepared to give him any more than that.

"Have you seen Cavil lately?"

Lydia was putting the last of her things into a small suitcase. She did not look up. "Just once."

"When he gave you your marching orders? Something along the lines of 'find a way to blow up the ship'?"

"Something like that," Lydia softly replied. The half-smile was back on her face.

"And did you? Or were you waiting for explosives that never came?" John's voice was equally subdued.

Lydia ignored the major; her gaze travelled beyond him, to the captain, lingered there. "I wasn't prepared to let it come to that." She wanted Sib to know that she would never have let it come to that.

"I understand," Bierns offered. "Well, you might be relieved to learn that Cavil won't be pressuring you any longer…. One of your sisters tossed him out of an airlock earlier today. She's asked for asylum, by the way … and we've granted it."

Lydia wheeled to confront the CSS officer. When she saw that he was serious, a look of profound relief swept across her features. "That's good news," she said. Bierns wasn't sure whether she was referring to Cavil's sudden demise, the refuge that they had granted Shelly Godfrey, or both.

"In all seriousness, Lydia, you are not under arrest because there doesn't seem to be anything on which we can charge you." John wondered whether he should start printing handbills (IT IS NOT A CRIME TO BE A CYLON). "If you wish, I'll attempt to repatriate you, and some of the others, under a flag of truce. If you have done anything to sabotage the Express, please tell us now. We'll fix the problem, and pretend that it never happened."

Lydia shook her head vigorously in denial. "I told you, I haven't done anything." Her tone was emphatic. "What do you mean … repatriate me?" Her voice had changed again, become heavy with suspicion.

"Return you to your own people." Now it was the spook's turn to be puzzled. "That is what you want, isn't it?"

Lydia looked at the major as if he had suddenly acquired a second head. The thought appalled her. "Why would I want to go back? My future is here." She was looking once again at the captain, thinking of nights when angels' kisses mingled in her brain with the pounding of surf. Sib was inventive—and she never held anything back. In comparison to the nights that she had spent in the captain's arms, the baseship would feel like a crypt. . . .

Sibyl Janks accompanied them to the Raptor, said nothing when Bierns pulled out a pair of handcuffs and ordered the Six to put her hands behind her back. He didn't want her to try anything stupid on the ride back to Galactica.

Captain Janks walked up to Lydia Sextus, and looked deep into her lover's eyes. Both hands came up gently to grip the Cylon's cheeks. She liked the handcuffs; they gave her some very interesting ideas. The captain kissed her lover hard, forcing her tongue into the Cylon's mouth, where it had gone so many times before. A low moan rewarded her efforts. When she was finished, she pulled away and looked at Bierns. "Major," Sibyl Janks asked, "would it be all right if I came over to Galactica on occasion, to see how Lydia is doing?"

"Whenever you can get away," Bierns replied, his expression deadpan. "If Adama consents, I'm planning to house Lydia in my quarters. I can bunk in my Raptor by night, though I'll need to use the space during the day. In any event, we'll have to find something for Lydia to do." The major treated the two women to an expression so bland that only a professional spook could pull it off. "Your privacy is assured, but be advised that the rumor mill on Galactica never stops churning. Your reputation, captain, might take a serious hit."

Sibyl Janks was willing to risk it. She looked longingly at Lydia. Damn right I'm willing to risk it. The two women looked at Bierns: it was open to question which of them was the more grateful.