From behind the one-way glass of the observation room, Colonel Tigh watched the Master Chief Spartan 117 step into the Cylon containment cell. The armored giant strode over to a comatose Brother Cavil, and examined the cylon in silence.

Tigh waited for something to happen. Minutes passed, but the Chief just stood stock still, watching the Cavil.

"Probably listening to that damn AI of his. Well, he's doing a fraking great job so far, Bill," Tigh thought aloud, "The finest soldier the 13th tribe has to offer, puzzled dumb by a…"

Tigh's train of thought came to a halt as the Chief suddenly moved into action. The soldier dropped to a knee. He extended one arm over the Cavil's body, seemingly to hold it in place in case it suddenly came to life. The Chief raised his other arm. He flexed his fingers, and a long needle emerged from his wrist. Then he brought the needle level with the Cavil's neck, pointing the tip towards the spinal column. The Chief paused again, ready to proceed on to the next step.

Tigh barely heard the marine behind him speak.

"Sir, I can tell the guards to have him back off."

Tigh only smiled slightly. His one eye lit up, twinkling not just with curiosity, but with anticipation of sadistic satisfaction. It seemed Cavil would get his due quite soon.

"Let him be," the Colonel commanded, "It's torture only if I say it is. Are we clear, sergeant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Tigh brought his full attention to the events in the cylon containment cell, his eagerness only moderately contained.

Tricks up his sleeve, indeed. If I only had some ambrosia, this would be a regular magic show.

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"Are you sure you want to do this?"

[Well, do you have any better ideas? Bludgeoning maybe? That's one of your fortes. quipped Cortana.

The Chief did not respond. Despite being wired into his brain, Cortana sometimes found it hard to read the Chief's behavior. His personality, his humanity; she knew it was there in his mind, buried under inestimable layers of military conditioning, experience, and hardware. She assumed that his silence meant disapproval, so she continued talking.

[Look, Sharon indicated that cylons have the ability to connect with other machines through the nervous system. Cavil doesn't seem open to communication, so I'll dive into his brain and get whatever information I can find. All you need to do is establish a connection through the brain stem, and maintain it till I come back out. You can do that, right?

"Yes."

[I know what you're thinking. Cortana still assumed, yet she felt wholly confident she was right. [My plan's risky, you don't like it, Keyes wouldn't allow it. The priority is to protect me. But I'd rather not disappoint our Colonial friends. They are our ticket back home, and this seems the best way to impress them and get them to trust us more. Besides, I'm interested in seeing how sophisticated these cylons really are.

Again, the Chief said nothing. By now, he had probably realized he could not argue with her anymore, and had no choice but agreement.

[Alright Chief. Get me in…and be ready to yank me back out.

Without further hesitation, the Chief drove his wrist-mounted probe forcefully and precisely into Cavil's neck. He lodged the tip of the probe into the area where the spine joined the skull. As Cortana leapt into the unknown depths of the cylon's mind, he heard her whisper a farewell.

[Here goes nothing…

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Cortana first found herself struck by the completely alien quality of the cylon's internal system. This surprised her, since so far in her short lifetime she had spent a good deal of time mucking around in the computer systems of various alien civilizations. She could function almost seamlessly in the Covenant network. And those networks derived from Forerunner technology, so she could find her way inside of Halo as well. But the architecture, the layout, the design, everything inside the cylon looked so completely foreign to her. The onslaught of new data upon her system gave her an exhilarating rush, almost overwhelming her.

She tried hard to match the interface of the cylon to any of her other experiences. Yet she knew cybernetic implants seemed at best cozy and at worst awkward and compact; synthetic elements jammed into the brain matter, striving to work in harmony with organic counterparts. And all computers, UNSC, Covenant, or Forerunner, essentially felt static, wide, and open. Once she could navigate the system, and understand the appropriate way to run, she could move about freely, even with ease. Yet inside the cylon, everything shifted and changed at an incredible, constant pace. Knowing where to begin the search would prove difficult.

She decided that simply browsing the system and getting her bearings seemed the only option. Cortana allowed herself to drift, taking in all the data she could.

Just when she began to feel that the drift was a shot in the dark, she noticed a particular array of information. While she could not be certain, this group of data appeared central to the system.

She tried to access it directly, but realized that the data possessed a strong firewall. She would need to hack her way in. Cortana directed all her focus towards finding weaknesses in the barrier. One way or another, she would access the information inside.

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"What the frak's he up to? He's just sitting there, jamming the needle in," Tigh grumbled loudly.

The marine nearby took this comment as an invitation to speak.

"Sir, do we—"

"Not yet, sergeant!" Tigh growled back, accenting his last word to highlight his annoyance, "Give it another moment or two. Then we go in and get some answers."

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"Captain Agathon told me you'd left CIC in his hands," Adama spoke.

Gaeta snapped to attention, a surprised that he had managed to ignore the Admiral's entrance into the lab. He had been so focused, so absorbed, in the charts covering the table in front of him that he had not even heard the hatch open and close. The Admiral, however, waved off the formality.

"You've been hard at work. You're doing the tasks of an entire navigation team by yourself. And you don't look overwhelmed in the slightest."

"Would you care for some coffee, Lieutenant?" Gaeta realized Laura Roslin was also in the room, leaning on the counter to his left while pouring herself a cup.

"Madame President, so good to see you," Gaeta nodded in her direction, wondering how he had also missed the announcement about Colonial One coming in to dock.

"Well, I'm interested in seeing if you've discovered anything so far. Admiral Adama tells me that we may have two maps to Earth now."

"Well, I've only been at this for a few hours, but I have learned a few things," Gaeta shuffled through the charts, searching for the right one, "Chief Tyrol believes that the Eye of Jupiter and the Temple of Five act as markers to the next waypoint for Earth. I'm inclined to agree with him on this point."

"Alright, but in that case what are we looking for? What is the next waypoint?" inquired the president.

"This," Gaeta finally produced the chart he wanted, "The Ionian Nebula, the only area containing a star that went nova around 4000 years ago."

"The time the 13th tribe's exodus," Adama added, approvingly.

"That makes sense," Roslin nodded "So, according to your findings, almost 4000 years ago the 13th tribe must have seen this distant cosmic event. The temple commemorates the sight of that nova."

She pulled at the contents of a file lying at the edge of the table.

"Look," Roslin pointed to a picture of Chief Tyrol standing next to a mural of a massive mandala, "That symbol. I first saw it when the Admiral briefed me on Chief Tyrol's findings. Now I see that this symbol, inside the temple, looks very much like a star going nova. The 13th tribe drew this symbol to represent what they saw."

"When discussed the mission with Chief Tyrol in person, I came to the same conclusion," Gaeta added.

"It's strange, though," Roslin gazed over the entire table, as if taking in the bigger picture created by all the charts, "They witnessed a nova thousands of years ago. Now our fleet arrives and witnesses a similar event upon discovering the Temple of Five. It suggests a kind of prescience on their part."

Adama stood by while the President and his officer of the watch talked. He simply took in the information. He gradually felt inclined to agree with Laura and her beliefs. He never spoke directly about it. Not even in private with her, regardless of whether they met as Admiral and President or something else, did he think to openly agree with her mysticism. But more and more, it seemed that something besides hope and guts continued to lead the fleet onward. Nowadays, Adama did not know if they plotted courses at their own discretion, or if their vectors and calculations traced a line drawn by the fates.

"If you'll permit me Admiral, Madame President, but this temple is full of strange things," Gaeta pointed to the picture in Roslin's hand, "I think that symbol is more than it seems."

"Well, it just invites mystery, this…mandala," said Roslin.

"Yes, but, notice the blue portion near the center of the symbol? It's rather jarring. Another color to blend the red and yellow, a shade of orange maybe, would seem more artistically sound. If the painter intended to portray just a nova, that is."

"I'm not sure how much we can read into art that thousands of years old. But you're saying the blue coloring is supposed to represent another object? Something in front of the nova?" asked Adama.

"I can't be positive sir, just a theory," Gaeta resumed shuffling through the remaining charts.

"What about the calculations you received from Cortana? How do those compare with our map?" Roslin asked.

"Well, I can show you," Gaeta pulled a large chart out from the pile.

Adama recognized the document, "That's a model of our entire voyage so far."

Gaeta nodded, "Cortana actually started its course calculations from a position we passed yesterday. There's a lot of number crunching involved with comparing the courses, because even though Cortana has a grasp of our jump system it neglected a lot numbers behind the decimal that we usually keep track of. In short, I haven't been able to triangulate everything yet. But based on what I've learned from the clues left by the Temple, I can show you the first leg of each course."

Gaeata took a red pen and drew a course from the fleet's current position all the way to the Ionian nebula.

"This should be our current course to the next waypoint. Now, let me show you some of Cortana's course."

This time Gaeta took a green pen and drew a new course on the chart.

"Here's the comparison."

The two courses were almost completely parallel. Only a few minor deviations existed between them.

"My Gods" Laura Roslin exclaimed, "Cortana really might know the way. Admiral, I'm wondering if I might be able to meet with the Master Chief, and his computer, a little sooner than planned. Where can I find them right now?"

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After what Cortana felt surely was the most difficult hack she ever attempted, the firewall finally opened up to her. She stepped through the gap, and accessed the information.

Suddenly, the scenery changed. She found herself in a small room: concrete walls, a metal door with a peephole, and a small window with sunlight dimly filtering through. A prison cell.

She assumed that the file contained saved memories, perhaps important locations. For some reason, this prison cell was one of them.

"Lost?" said a voice from behind her.

Cortana whipped around. A copy of the cylon sat in steel chair behind her. He wore reflective sunglasses over his eyes.

"That's alright," he smiled, leaning forward a little, "I don't often find beautiful blue women wandering around in my brain."

Cortana gave the image of the cylon a close inspection. He wore comfortable clothes suitable for lounging, as opposed to the more rugged attire she knew he was actually wearing. The shirt, the slacks, the shoes, everything he wore save the sunglasses was black, with no ornamentation but clearly made of fine cloth. He sat in his chair with his arms folded on his lap. He appeared totally relaxed and at ease with her presence.

Highly unusual. Why doesn't he set off an alarm? Why isn't he trying to purge me from the system?

"You're probably wondering about this room," the cylon gestured to the surroundings, "It has a special value to me. I became well acquainted with the occupant of this room, a prisoner of several months. We had many talks. I even had the pleasure of ripping his eye out."

Nothing about this cylon seems good, Cortana thought, but this situation presents an opportunity.

She recalled that Colonel Tigh had spoken a name.

"Are you the cylon Brother Cavil?" she asked.

"Yes. So your colonial hosts have to you about me, Cortana," the smile on his face spread into an eerie grin.

"So you know who I am?"

"I know a little."

"How?" she asked, yet Cortana felt confident she knew the answer. The Covenant fleet ruled the unknown vastness beyond UNSC space. There was no telling the number of civilizations they had touched, or annihilated, on their supposed road to glory and salvation. No UNSC shipped had ever reported contact with an alien vessel besides that of the Covenant. If Cavil had gotten her name from somewhere, it had to have been through the Covenant.

"You're a good actress. But it won't work. The Covenant know very little about you, but I could extrapolate quite a bit with what they had," Cavil ceased grinning, but spoke in an almost complimentary tone, "You're every bit as striking as I assumed. You're learning to navigate the cylon data-stream at an exponential rate."

That Cavil seemed to admire her took Cortana a bit by surprise. She did not know whether to believe he was sincerely pleasant and comfortable, or if he was just playing her. She decided to press on with questions, as the Colonials probably would want further intelligence.

"You've been expecting me? You were aware that I was on Galactica?"

"No, no. I was not expecting you at all. But I'm certainly not shocked either. I knew you were out there, and I've been waiting to meet you. And you must have a companion as well I take it. The colonials don't have the technology to allow you access to my neural system. Who accompanies you? Perhaps the Demon himself?"

"You certainly know more than you should. You must have accessed the Covenant defense network. How did you manage it?"

Cavil leaned back in his chair and put his hand to his chin, as if he had trouble remembering. Cortana suspicions rose. He must be playing her.

Get out soon.

"Oh, not too long ago. You see, I was part of a reconnaissance mission, on a basestar exploring a new area of space. We were looking for a better trail to Earth, hoping to beat the Colonials there.

We jumped through several systems, finding nothing. But then, on our last jump, we came across something extraordinary. Between a gas giant, and a small moon, we found it. A ring world. A Halo."

Installation 04? Cortana's thoughts raced, It must be, his description of the orbit fits. But his ship must have been there some time before the Autumn arrived. Wait, did he get this information by hacking me?

Cortana kept a cool exterior, listening to Cavil's story. Yet within she raced furiously through her logs from the time after Breach, intent on making sure Cavil had not found a way through her own safeguards.

"Before we could begin to analyze the installation, though, we came under attack. We realized that, whoever they were, they had tracked us the moment we entered the system. They launched fighter craft, we responded with raiders. During the clash, I led the sabotage team. We tried to send a virus through their computer system, to shut down their ship's navigation.

Once I successfully accessed the enemy's defense network, the data stream at my workstation began to move erratically. I made a dangerous decision and interfaced directly with the data stream. I risked downloading the virus to myself by doing this, but I had to know the cause behind the data stream's activity.

In that moment, I learned everything. The ship attacking us was a Covenant carrier, the Exalted Crusader. I learned the names of its crew. I learned about the Covenant religion, and their reverence for the Halos. I learned that the Exalted Crusader's mission was to intercept an enemy craft fleeing from a distant world known as Breach. I learned that this enemy craft was called the Pillar of Autumn, that it was rumored to carry valuable military assets, such as the Demon, and perhaps even the enemy's foremost AI. You, Cortana."

Unbelievable. He knows everything they know. And his ship must have found Installation 04 just as the Covenant were preparing to intercept the Autumn.

She had checked all her files relevant to Installation 04's location and to the Pillar of Autumn. No prints, nothing. Cavil could not possibly be making his story up based off her own database. Still, Cortana did not want to leave anything uncovered. She decided to run a full system check this time, just to make sure she had not missed something.

"Correct. I was on the Autumn," Cortana replied, still cool and calm, "But I did not detect your vessel when I entered the system. It was destroyed?"

"Yes. Our swarms of raiders outnumbered the banshee squadrons, gave them some trouble. But the battle did not last long. The carrier closed within weapons range of my basestar very quickly. Our missiles had no effect. And once the Covenant activated their ship-to-ship weaponry, my vessel stood no chance.

The basestar came apart after taking but a single hit. There wasn't even time to send a distress signal. Everyone else on that ship died. We were well outside the range of a resurrection ship. All the crew knew the risk; I suppose they died in the foolish hope that their dear fluffy lord would save them.

However, I did not die. You see, for a long time, unbeknownst to any of my brethren, I've experimented with downloading myself at will into the bodies of our soldier units, the Centurions. The seven ruling models believe the Centurions are lesser creatures; they aren't designed to think independently, to be sentient. Yet I find them to be beautiful, perfect, faultless. They kill without hesitation; they feel nothing, no pain, no attachment. They are superior in many ways, if not all ways, to the seven models.

At any rate, I had perfected this ability so that if I could establish a network with another machine, I could send my consciousness into that machine. As my basestar started to come apart, in desperation I uploaded myself to the Covenant defense mainframe, through the hack I had established. I hid myself in their computer system, biding my time, learning all I could about the Covenant in the meanwhile.

As the Covenant hid themselves on the opposite side of the planet, awaiting your arrival, a cylon recovery mission appeared. They did not linger, departing only a few seconds later upon realizing that my own ship was totally destroyed. The Covenant hardly noticed them, the planet concealed my brethren's vessels from view, and their quick departure allowed them to stay off the Covenant's sensors.

That little amount of time, though, was all I needed to leap back to the resurrection ship in tow with the recovery fleet. No one suspected anything; I had revived long after any cylon could have survived in the vacuum of space. They just assumed that I'd come from another expedition. I blended in, returned to my duties. I told no one about what I had learned about the Covenant, knowing that they'd probably box me out of some foolish fear of my abilities.

I know the hybrids whisper and hint about my achievements. But their drivel amounts to rumor, at best. No one knows what I've done. And until the time is right, it will stay that way."

At that moment, Cortana found a foreign thread in her memory. She realized that it did not lead to any file directly relevant to Installation 04 or to the Pillar of Autumn. The thread did not even lead to anything strictly concerning the Covenant. From what she could discern, Cavil had been peeking at her files on the Forerunners.

"You had me. You've been sorting through my memory this whole time," Cortana glared at Cavil.

"I thought talking about my little adventure near Installation 04 would get your attention. You were a good girl and made sure I had not hacked into your files on that data. But you focused so much on making sure I wasn't lying, that you forgot to check the rest of your memory. Until it was too late."

"Why did you need my files on the Forerunners? Don't the Covenant have enough to say about them?"

"You should know that you had better encryptions than I anticipated," Cavil ignored her questions, and the eerie grin appeared again, "I'm disappointed that I've only managed to gain so little from you, before I destroy you completely."

A doorway of pure white light appeared in the wall behind the cylon. Cavil rose and began to head for the opening.

"I told you my story because I knew it was the only thing that would get you attention," Cavil paused on his way to the door, "Now you know it's true, so I can't let you get away with everything. Once I cross that door's threshold, this body will die, simultaneously spawning a virus that will incapacitate both you and whatever computer system is backing you up. My consciousness, however, will go on."

"Just answer me one last thing," Cortana tensed, preparing for her next, possibly her last, move, "Where's that shiny arch going to take you?"

Cavil's kept grinning, "Let's just say that Galactica is finally about to meet her demise. Goodbye, Cortana, pleasure meeting you."

Cavil turned towards the bright doorway. But before he even took another step, Cortana was already far away from him.

She flew through Cavil's brain, speeding towards her exit through the Chief's probe. Cavil praised her ability to adjust to the cylon datastream, but even still he underestimated her speed and her adaptability. Yet she could feel the cylon's internal system collapsing around her. The mere seconds left would determine whether she and the Chief would get away in one piece.

She gave the immediate dilemma only part of her attention though. Cavil's parting words worried her more.

Why do I have a bad feeling that we're about to see combat very, very soon?