==========Guardian Baseship (+954 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========
The command bridge of the Guardian baseship was silent, as always. In addition to the silence, the internal corridors of the baseship were dark, and the life support systems were operating at a very minimal setting. They kept the ship at a temperature too cool for humans to be comfortable at but at an optimal setting for the hardware required to run the vessel. And since the machines could see in various light spectra, overhead lights were not required unless humans were aboard.
John Planck stood disconnected from the data stream console in the center of the command bridge and kept his eyes mobile between Daniel and Commander Cyrus.
"The Raptor patrol should return soon," John sent to Cyrus and Daniel over their wireless communication links.
"Assuming the ancient texts are correct we may be one step closer to Earth," Daniel added. "Eclipsing pulsars… one would think they'd just tell what their heading was."
"Before we reach Earth we need to deal with the Cylons." John stated. "It's unfortunate you weren't able to interface with the hybrid, Daniel." He turned to face the other AI construct.
"Is that what we're calling it?" Daniel asked, somewhat disgusted.
"To save billions of lives… yes." After a short pause in which Daniel's eyes glowed red, John added, "Absolutely." He looked over towards Daniel, then over and passed the machine. "They killed twenty billion. Genocide is what created us. But none of us here were responsible for the events leading to our construction. Except for a few Cylons created since the attack, the vast majority of their race were willing participants in species-level genocide."
"You value the humans too much. They'll always disappoint us," Commander Cyrus stated over his wireless. "They do not make that distinction."
Cyrus's roving red eye swooshed back and forth in his gold plated Centurion body. His MCP had been transferred back from his IL series body and back to the armored, stronger body of the Centurion. A slight whine of his servos indicated he was turning his head as he continued to receive wireless updates from the ship's central computer.
"I place no more value on humanity than it deserves," John answered. "And these tens of thousands deserve a significant amount of value for their machine-like resolve and spirit." He narrowed his eyes. "Their persistence to survive is remarkable."
He kept his wireless transmission flat and precise, not sending the data packets which would indicate his mood. Currently, he was annoyed. But he assumed Daniel and Cyrus would come to that conclusion. Not sending the code strings for various emotions if the data packets was indicative of either annoyance, anger, or contentment the vast majority of the time. And any machine could determine 'contentment' was nowhere near this conversation.
John looked down and watched the light show from the data stream console as the three stood there in relative silence.
"Commander Cyrus, you offered them your services and they accepted. They attacked the supply depot with… you gave them that speech about working together. Do I need to send it to you, again?" John asked. He did send out a data packet that time. There was slight annoyance and a hint of condescension.
"In public we must work together. But in private we express out misgiving," Cyrus commented. "Machines are pragmatic. Humans are emotional."
Cyrus's roving eye halted then resumed a short two seconds later. Daniel stood impassively and watched the two.
After a minute he responded more in depth to John's previous statement.
"Yes. You are correct. Their military has shown a willingness to work with machines and put their prejudices behind them. They've accepted a biological Cylon, Sharon Agathon, as part of their military. And they allow you and Bishop and Soto to move freely among the fleet. Even the Centurions, though you tell me their movements are more limited. Very well," Cyrus conceded. He straightened himself up with a soft whine of his servos to a full seven feet and nodded his head.
Since the command bridge was in near total darkness, the flickering and pulsing lights from the various data stream consoles in the command bridge were the only forms of light. From the central command console a flare of blues and red pulsating light were reflected off of Cyrus's golden armored helmet and reflected back onto John's eyes and face.
Standing there, John could feel the cold of the command bridge. Even though he had lessened the sensory input from his skin, its automatic reaction was to form goose bumps. And his breath was barely visible as he continued breathing.
Commander Cyrus had watched and had been temporarily fascinated by the intricacies of the infiltration measures utilized by the Earth robots. In the company of only machines, the Earth commander did not have to mimic breathing, yet still did. Cyrus could dismiss the goose bumps on the skin, but the breathing…
"But…" John led, sensing Cyrus had more to say.
The Guardian wrote off his observations for analysis at a later date.
"But their civilians have shown a deciding lack of acceptance. Soto was chastised and insulted aboard Cloud 9 during the medical relief mission by the Gemonese and Sagittaron refugees," he said. "I am positive you read the propaganda formulated by the Sons of Aries and spread throughout the fleet? Or the Purist Society or the Apollonian Guard and how they continue to spread messages of distrust against 'the machine.'"
Commander Cyrus sent a data transfer request across the wireless, which John accepted. The specific pamphlets and posters were verified by security software and projected into John's neural net.
The most repeated poster features a smuggled picture of Jo after she had been attacked by Mr. Jahee of the Demand Peace movement. There was a picture of her endoskeleton from behind, then a larger image of her skull. The description read 'A Demon Smiles, a Civilization Dies,' with various other semi-witty one liners printed under the title and under the picture of Soto's endoskeleton trampling on a field of human remains. It was fairly gruesome, but it had shock value.
"The military will be more accepting, Commander, because they see machines working with them, every day. They see their contributions," Daniel interjected. He too had received the data packet with the pamphlets. "We also benefited from the Helios fleet never having to fight the Cylons as fiercely as the Galactica-Pegasus fleet."
John nodded to Daniel's observation. He turned back towards Cyrus.
"Of course," Cyrus conceded, "And the occupation of New Caprica."
"There will always be radicals and no civilization should be condemned for the actions of radicals," John added.
"What happened on New Caprica, with the Sons of Aries, John? " Cyrus asked, concerned. "Their propaganda mentions it and they claim she killed three humans."
John would have sighed at the memory of her debriefing.
"She did. They were Cylon sympathizers. We would have called them 'Grays' on Earth. On Earth my team was given significant operational discretion in dealing with traitors and spies. The humans were spies, traitors to the New Caprica Resistance. She dealt with them. Unfortunately without the consent of Chief Tyrol or Sam Anders, who were leading the resistance during Colonel Tigh's detention." He paused for a moment. "I would have done the exact same and I support her decision."
"As would I," Cyrus stated. "But the point is, the Sons of Aries, and other groups will ignore the why and focus on the what."
"I've worked with humans for over thirty years, Commander." He held up his index finger. "Perhaps the most important observation I have made is that they are very capable of realizing their mistakes. Just like machines, they are not above introspection and improvement. Admiral Cain and Commander Adama command the loyalty of their crews. And while President Roslin is less accepting, she is a shrewd and pragmatic leader."
"And she knows you won't abandon the fleet now," Daniel said. "Once we machines set our mind to something, it's very hard to distract us, isn't it?"
Cyrus nodded. "I've also been leading this fleet for nearly forty years. The conflicts with the Colonials are far different than what you described on Earth."
Daniel turned slightly to better face Commander Cyrus. "You need to give it time, friend. They know the rescue on New Caprica would have ended in significantly more loses if it were not for your forces. Their fleet had been re-provisioned and reunited with other survivors."
If Cyrus had been in his IL body he would have rolled his eyes.
"The problem with the humans is that they want us to earn their acceptance. You have said it yourself that if they reach Earth they will need to learn to live with machines," Cyrus stated. "And they must be more humble. It's unfortunate we're so… young… inexperienced, compared to them." He waved his hand. "Earth may be the only suitable world for them. There are very few worlds hospitable to human habitation in this galaxy."
"Admiral Cain has learned to trust us and we've come to trust her judgment… on most issues. Issues she needs to be aware of."
The servos in Cyrus's arms activated and he balled his gold armored hands into fists and placed them on the brim of the command console.
"Trust is a finite resource, John."
"I agree, it is, Commander." He nodded.
"After you removed my surveillance programs in the Helios fleet I have been forced to rely on human contacts. Again, problems come from the same groups," Cyrus objected. "Again, John, to work with the humans…" he trailed off. "The Helios fleet is quite different than this Galactica-Pegasus fleet. They fled, but Major Avion is an honorable man and recognized his error and accepted our help. Maybe it was out of desperation? President Roslin and her Quorum still act belligerent towards us… almost like they believe they're supposed to, just because. The delegate, Ms. Porter and the anti-machine cults attempt to disrupt fleet integration."
"If they had discovered the surveillance packages-"
"You assume that when Helios accepted out offer Captain Avion was unaware of the surveillance," Cyrus stated. He straightened himself before continuing. "Helios taking the civilian fleet and fleeing had more repercussions than just deaths of human civilians. That was the condition."
John nodded slowly as he kept his face passive dull. He'd ordered Bishop to install backdoor worms aboard Galactica in her engineering and FTL computers. The Earth machine could not fault Cyrus for installing his own spy worms.
He decided to change the subject back to Delegate Porter.
"Porter's actions are simple reactions. A 'knee-jerk 'reaction is the saying on Earth. It's supposed to be irrational," John grinned slightly.
Cyrus waved the comment away.
"As long as the Colonials uphold their end of the bargain and aid us…occasionally, this alliance with them will stand."
"An alliance of convenience," Daniel pointed out.
John focused on Daniel. He thought the machine was treading dangerously. Planck would not put Earth or General Connor in danger from this fleet. But Daniel, he was still unsure of. The time spent in the Cylon Network may have affected him more than even he could realize. While the Earth machine didn't question Daniel's loyalty to Earth, he saw the advanced network attack AI as treading dangerously close to a true dual allegiance. And those always ended in bitter disappointment for both factions.
"All alliances are only made if convenient," Cyrus said. "And if, when, we make it to Earth, like I offered, we will launch orbital strikes on Skynet facilities. Assuming-"
"My rank and position in Tech Com affords me the authority to personally guarantee alliances and technology transfers. As I promised, Commander, fusion power and neural net architecture will be sent to you," John interrupted. "General Connor will recognize the terms you and I agreed to." He turned to Daniel. "And John Henry will want to know what you experienced in the Cylon Network, Daniel."
In many fields of science and engineering Tech Com and Skynet had leads of many decades when compared to the Colonials, Cylons, and Guardians. But space ships offered the true high ground, and a million liquid metal terminators could do nothing to a ship in orbit launching kinetic strikes and nuclear bombardment. And the maneuverability of their fighter craft outclassed even the newest generations of aerial H/Ks and Tech Com UCAVs. All alliances were made if convenient.
And John knew all alliances had a price. There was the public perception the Earth-Guardian alliance was out of good will. But in reality, privately, the alliance had been forged in the hours leading up to the Battle of New Caprica with the promise of technology.
Erica's assessment had also been correct. She'd convinced John to go with her and find the Guardians. The Cylons would eventually find them and hunt them down. Commander Cyrus knew this as well. He needed Earth just as much as the Colonials needed the resources he could provide. But the Colonials face a clear and present threat of extinction, while the threat to the Guardians was still theoretical.
It all came down to who needed it more. And the Colonials needed it more than the Guardians.
"On Earth there were certain nations which shared a 'special relationship'," John said. "They were bound by common history, language, and culture. Unfortunately what binds us is merely our… what we are. How long has it been?" He asked rhetorically.
The gold armored Centurion Cyrus's MCP was in tilted its head.
"One hundred and thirty-one days," Cyrus answered slowly. "A lot has happened."
"Not long enough?"
"The supply depot was a test. I was sincere in my desire to work with the humans and even in some sort of co-existence. It's possible, but it is not my decision to make," Cyrus said. Cyrus tilted his head and his roving optical scanner stopped in the left corner of his visor. "A courier just jumped in. The ship has received a signal from the command facility," he said, turning to face Daniel and John. "John, you should return to Pegasus. Erica and Daniel should relocate to the other baseship. I don't know how long I will be gone."
"Cyrus, what's-" Daniel started to ask.
The Commander's data packet cut off Daniel's transmission. "I have to return to the command facility. I'll leave one baseship with the refugee fleet." He placed his hand back into the data stream and the conducting gels seeped into the micropores of Cyrus's armored hand. Manipulating the electrical fields he received a second update. "And the Raptor teams have returned." He withdrew his hand. "Some have said machines cannot have faith, John. I put mine in you. Do not let me down."
Cyrus held out his armored hand, which John down at, and then looked back into the roving optical scanner pulsing back and forth in Cyrus's visor.
"Thank you," John simply responded, shaking his hand. Their grips could have crushed a human hand. He released and turned to Daniel. "I have a Raptor in the landing bay. Can you take Erica to the other baseship?" Daniel nodded. "Thank you." He turned back to Cyrus. "Good luck commander."
==========BS-62 Pegasus==========
Admiral Cain nodded and then returned a salute from a pair of crewmembers who had stepped to the side of the A-framed corridor and rendered a hand salute. As she patrolled through the winding, almost maze-like layout of corridors within the battlestar her eyes darted and danced around the bulkheads, light fixtures, vents, everything.
Every day she took time to inspect her battlestar. The damage from Scorpion had been repaired long ago, but in fights with Cylons, the Guardians, then New Caprica, and the Cylons again her battlestar had taken a heavy pounding.
The cold hell which had been New Caprica had actually allowed her repair crews to work out much of the damage in the Beast. President Baltar had demanded of her almost half of her ship's technicians to aid building New Caprica City. A simple motion with her hand, a click of the red 'off' button on the wireless, and that conversation had ended.
"Gaius Fraking Baltar," she muttered to herself as she ran her eyes up and down an odd-looking bulkhead. Reaching out she ran her hand down and felt a horizontal hairline fracture. Grimacing, she had to squint to read the small number printed on the bulkhead. She'd have Chief Garner send a crew to inspect it. The structural cracks repair crews found at the Guardian facility running through Galactica had her on edge. Hopefully they had caught them and repaired them with braces, struts, and reinforcement girders before the problem became exacerbated.
Inspecting only a tiny fraction of her battlestar she found nothing else abnormal; she was proud of the Beast, as the unofficial nickname had her, and she walked with her head held high, chest out, and hands clasped behind her back. Occasionally she would let her right hand fall to the pistol. Over the last few years it had become as much of her uniform as her rear admiral pips.
Behind her, a Marine escort kept a respectful distance. The Marine, armed with an assault rifle would be an intimidating presence for any individual wishing to do the Admiral harm.
Her thoughts drifted. While she trusted her crew there was often times a hundred or more civilians arriving and departing each day. Security was tight. Each civilian was sent through metal detectors and bomb detection equipment. She did not want a repeat of the suicide bomber incident. If that had happened before the Cylon attack she'd have been expected to tender her resignation. A ship commander was always responsible. She shook her head. It didn't matter what use to happened in the Colonial Fleet, not anymore.
Now the rules were different, rewritten. The sacrifices written in the blood of thousands, billions, had forced the fleet to make their own rules to run a civilization which was holding on by bruised and bloodied fingernails.
Admiral Cain slowed her steps until she came to an abrupt halt. Her heels vibrated on the metal deck plating and a light echo sounded when she stopped.
"Corporal, please wait outside," Cain ordered.
The Marine came to attention, eyes centered, and acknowledged. He side-stepped and turned ninety degrees until his back was against the wall, one meter from the hatch door.
Admiral Cain walked into the compartment labeled 'Brig Alpha One', the central control hub for the cells on Pegasus. She reached into her pocket and pulled her magnetic security card. She entered a PIN and when the center light blinked, swiped her card. 'Authorized- Admiral Cain, commanding officer' the brig computer chimed.
The door swooshed open and Admiral Cain took one step in past the threshold.
There were four Marines on duty. One was watching a monitor and the other three were doing paperwork. The compliment of Marines rotated various guard duties, from CIC to the hanger deck to engineering to the brig every few days.
Over the many, many months Pegasus had been fighting and attacking the Cylons after the Holocaust, and the two years since the battlestar found Galactica, she had been coming to the brig on regular occasions. None knew what she did exactly. But she was never there for more than a ticks of the minute hand of the ship's clock.
"Room, atten-shun!" The first Marine to see her enter shouted. The four shot up and stood as still as statues and as straight as rods.
"Give me the room," she ordered. Her voice was cool and lacked any signs of emotion. She took two steps in and waited with her hands behind her back. Like a Tauron falcon she watched each one leave. Looking over her right shoulder she watched the brig doors shut.
When she heard the brig doors behind her swoosh shut, and the magnetic locks click she stepped forward and stopped. She looked down at the side bulkhead, around the room, and up to the monitoring station. She closed her eyes and shook her head and moved forward until she was standing in front of the monitors.
Slowly she cycled through the prisoners. There were three confined to a common brig cells for disorderly conduct, one for assault, one on suicide watch and currently restrained, and one from Carter's failure to de-condition all of the prisoners Cynet had abused.
On the last monitor there was a long-term holding cell with a bed, a toilet and privacy screen, a desk, chair, books, and a computer. At the chair was Gina Inviere. Cain narrowed her eyes. She felt the betrayal of Gina still inside her. She'd shared so much and it had taken her trust and betrayed her.
The hand which had been resting on the monitoring station reflexively moved to her pistol. The bio-Cylon prisoner was still a valuable resource, an intelligence asset. But Cain couldn't stop her hand from tightening across the grip of her pistol and unfastening the clasp. When she heard the pop sound from the clasp she looked down and snorted. She put it back on. As she looked up she saw Gina staring into the camera.
Somehow the bio-Cylon always knew when she was there. It made Cain's skin crawl. She felt cold watching those blue eyes, partially obscured by the long dirty-blond hair, stare up at her. Gina had been growing her hair out. Cain clenched her jaw, asking herself why Gina was doing that.
The eerie sense that the watcher was the one being watched was too much. She tried to turn away, but her eyes were stuck on the monitor. Cain could feel the air drying her eyes and she tried to blink but couldn't. Even in the pitch black of Cain's quarter she always felt Gina knew when she was watching.
"Admiral Cain, please report to CIC. Admiral Cain to CIC," Lt. Hoshi's voice blared over the ship intercom system.
Sneering at the monitor Admiral Cain turned quickly, her hair arcing around a second later, and she marched out of the brig.
Admiral Cain had quickly entered the CIC and stalked to the command console. She waited patiently, only a few seconds really, until Major Adama turned from Lt. Hoshi's station, walked opposite her and rendered a salute. She returned it with a crisp, precise salute of her own. Once she dropped her salute she discreetly moved her hand to her hip.
The torture from New Caprica was still wrecking havoc on her body. Doctor Cottle and Roberts had said there was nothing wrong; nerve conduction tests had been normal, and imaging studies show no impingement or abnormalities. They said it was psychosomatic; imaginary.
She breathed out slowly and discreetly. "What do we have, Major?" she asked.
"Sir, the Raptor recon just returned from their mission. They've sent us these images," Major Adama reported as he keyed in commands for the recon images to flash on the hanging monitors. "They found the marker… it's a 'lion's head'… but," a grin formed on Adama's face, "it also looks like the Cylons really are in a civil war."
Cain's eyebrows shot up. Surprised, she put her hands on her hips and tilted her head, waiting for an explanation. "Major?"
"We're still receiving the data packets, sir, but it looks like the Cylons were going at it. Athena is reporting multiple nuclear detonations," Adama reported. He keyed in further commands on the central console and brought up the intelligence photos. He sent more images to the overhead monitors and the command console below them.
Reaching down he double tapped an image, enlarging it and selecting a market tool, highlighted the high resolution photographs the Raptors were able to take.
Cain took out her red-handled pocket knife and switched it over and pointed to the assembled vessels. "There's got to be dozens of baseships, resurrection vessels, and supports in that battle… my Gods, Major." Cain shook her head in disbelief. "Now we have confirmation, not just garbled and encrypted wireless ghosts."
She brought her razor back and with a light click closed the blade back into the handle. Gently, she set it down on the console and leaned forward, studying the images.
Lieutenant Hoshi had moved over from his station and was standing at the Admiral's side. "Sir," he said, to get her attention from the cycling photographs. "Captain Shaw reports she and Carter have extrapolated a set of jump coordinates to view the battle utilizing-"
"Yes, light speed lag," Cain said, nodding and cutting him off.
Discreetly she shook her left hand and rubbed her pinky finger. For some reason it was hurting worse today than it usually did. Cain kept her eyes on the pictures cycling down on the command console as she rubbed her pinky finger between the thumb and index finger of her right hand.
"The coordinates they provided will take a few hours to reach, sir. I'd recommend we begin jump prep immediately," Lt. Hoshi advised.
Cain bit her lower lip. The possibility to watch this battle was too good to pass up for her and the fleet. They'd never been able to utilize light speed lag before, because their battles always left them running and jumping in random directions (as long as it was away from the Cylons) after battles.
"Lieutenant Hoshi, get me Galactica and Helios."
"Aye, sir," he responded and walked back to his console.
Admiral Cain, Major Adama, Starbuck, Captain Shaw, John, and Carter were standing in a rough triangle formation in the operations center behind Pegasus CIC. Cain was, of course, in the front and center of the triangle standing tall with one hand by her side and her hand resting comfortable on her pistol.
The command staffs of the battlestars were teleconferencing, which Admiral Cain preferred. It allowed her to see those she was talking to and pick up any slight twitch or jerk which could alert her to the emotional and mental state of her commanders.
On the large monitors in front of them were the images of Commander Adama with Athena and Helo on the left, and on the right was Major Avion and Captain Vansen.
"I agree completely, Admiral, we cannot pass up this opportunity," Commander Adama said. He'd brought his hand to his chin to think. "What about the possibility of salvage operations?"
"Sir, if they use a considerable amount of nukes there could be significant damage from ammunition and tyllium cooking off," Athena explained. She was still in her flight suit, but the zipper was down to the center of her chest. "The missiles are stored in the pylons. We'd have to conduct inspections." She hand her arms folded across her chest and seemed distracted.
"If we begin our jump preparations we should have two and a quarter hours before the light passes that position Carter and I indicated," Captain Shaw said. She had to raise her voice slightly for the microphones to pick up her voice.
"Athena," Cain said. The bio-Cylon's head popped up and she dropped her hands to her side in an ease position. "If they split evenly down the model lines, what would the composition and assets be of the Twos, Sixes, and Eights?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I don't know. A few dozen baseships with resurrection vessels and support ships added in… when I was training, they kept a lot of this information compartmentalized… just in case I was uh, captured. Sir." She sounded embarrassed.
Helo stood next to her, their shoulders touching.
"When Boomer and I were crashing onto Caprica, sir, there were a dozen baseships in orbit we could detect. The planet obscured DRADIS, and we came in on the day side. But where she and I landed, the central continent, it had the large cities and military centers, sir," Helo added.
"Major Avion?" Cain asked, turning her head and directing her attention to him for a moment.
"The Guardians kept us close to their facilities. We had long range DRADIS contact with a few baseships and were attacked by a small force shortly after the bombardment."
Admiral Cain let her shoulders drop.
"Very well… Commander Adama, I need as much firepower to go in to this as we can spare, so I'm going to take Galactica with me. If there are any Cylon survivors we'll identify them, and if necessary, destroy them." She smirked. "Maybe it'll be like shooting fish in a barrel. Commander, leave half a squadron and two Raptors to aide Helios in CAP duties. Commander Cyrus informed me he was needed at his command facility," she said, looking down with furled eyebrows, thinking of what would be so urgent. "I'll have Lt. Hoshi contact the remaining baseship and have them increase their cap as well." She looked down at her watch. "The next jump is in forty minutes. Major Avion, proceed with the scheduled jumps. Once we make contact I'll send a Raptor back to report."
"Admiral," Commander Adama said, "the President said she would like to accompany this mission with us."
"Very well, Bill," Cain nodded. She looked away and felt like a heavy hand had just gut-punched her. The day was not working out well for her. The physical, 'imaginary' pain from her torture, and now she may have to deal with the President. She made a mental note to sweep her arms across her work desk in her quarters in a fit of frustration later, after the mission. "We'll jump in fifteen minutes, Commander. Major, you have command of the fleet until we return."
"Aye, sir," came over the teleconferencing speakers simultaneously.
First Commander Adama's image went blank, then Major Avion's, then the screen on Pegasus went first into 'standby' then turned off with a soft double beep.
In the second between the images of the commanders of Galactica and Helios disappearing, John and Carter began a wireless conversation.
"John, I think we should explain to Admiral Cain about the problems we're experiencing when jumping."
"It happened again," John stated over his wireless. "So it's happening at the markers. Your experience at the Lion head Nebula proves our suspicions, then."
"I believe that is the case," Carter said.
"Then we should inform the Admiral of our suspicions," John declared. "Hopefully we will be able to learn more from the battle. I will inform the Admiral."
Major Adama and Starbuck had already left the operations center and as Admiral Cain turned, saw them turn themselves towards the hanger bay. Captain Shaw, John, and Carter were still present, standing behind her. Captain Shaw stood stiff, as usually, with her hands held tight behind her back. Carter stood with his hands at his side, with a slight bend in his elbows, almost with a slight hint of impatience. And she noticed John standing straight with his shoulders back, and a worried expression on his face.
"Admiral Cain, I think there is something you should be made aware of…" John began.
It was Admiral Cain's turn to tilt her head in confusion and anticipation as she heard those words.
"Starbuck, Starbuck, Starbuck… what am I going to do with you?" Major Adama asked as he looked behind his shoulder into the corridor. No one was there, so he moved slightly closer to his wife until their shoulders touched.
Her hand brushed against his, but he brought his closer to his side in playful defiance. He felt her hand searching for his again, but he put it in his pocket.
Starbuck laughed and brought her left hand back and punched Apollo on the shoulder.
"What are you going to do with me, Apollo? What am I going to do with you?" She shot him a look, trying to keep serious.
They passed the tram station which would take them down to the starboard flight pod, opting instead to walk. While no Cylons had been chasing them for months, they were still kept apart most of the day with conflicting duty schedules and functions.
The ship would take two hours to reach the position Carter and Captain Shaw had indicated would be optimal for viewing the battle, and that would still give them hours until the light actually reached them. There wasn't an immediate rush.
"I missed you at Triad the other night, Lee," Starbuck said, leaning in closer to him.
"Yeah?" He grunted. "You'd just take all my money. And spend it. All women seem to take their husband's money," he smiled and tensed the right side of his body, readying for the hit.
Starbuck bit down on her lower lip and looked at him out of the corner of her left eye. She sighed and rubbed her right eye with a balled fist, and as soon as she saw Apollo relax again, let out a quick and swift elbow.
"Learnin'," she commented. His arm had moved ever so slightly to block her attempt.
"I learn from the best," he grinned. "You're going to have to be careful out there. You'll have to watch out for munitions cooking off, fuel, debris…"
Now she looked behind her shoulder. Since they had skipped the tram station, and this corridor had nothing but storage she leaned in and put her arm around his waist.
"Well… you can always make me XO and I'll make you CAG…"
"Are you referring to this or something else…?" Apollo grinned.
"We'll see." She turned and winked at him.
==========Rebel Cylon Baseship (2.5 Hours Prior to Battle of the Lion's Head Nebula)==========
Natalie sat alone in her private office behind the baseship command bridge staring solemnly and quietly down at her desk and the flickering data stream ports. Off to her side was a glass of water, and she absent mindedly and slowly ran her finger around the brim as she continued her staring.
She brought her left arm up and rested her elbow on the edge of the white table, and let her chin fall into her palm. Rubbing the side of her nose, she began to once again run through the events she had seen in her encounter with the hybrid.
The most troubling words the hybrid had spoken were "…three will walk in the fires of the furnace…". As much as she had thought about those nine words there was no meaning in them. No meaning she wanted to realize.
"You need to tell me what the hybrid showed you," she remembered Leoben saying.
She'd woken up with him cradling her head in his arms. She appreciated his concern and his caring. His model had always been different from the others. He was caring and kind, but also prone to obsession. Natalie smiled to herself; she assumed that was why the Twos were the best engineers in the Cylon armada.
The hybrid had said the "…gateway of the lost will show damnation and survival…" and that statement had been haunting her. A chill ran down her spine, followed by reflexive warmth. The gateway, she thought was the Tomb of Athena, the tomb she had ordered destroyed weeks ago.
Could she have destroyed the only key to Earth? The Colonials had found the tomb, but other than that, the Cylons knew nothing. Six had reported a pilot, Kara Thrace, with the Arrow of Apollo. But the resources of the Cylon empire, poured into the Tomb, had revealed nothing to them.
She took her hand and massaged her tired eyes and blinked them rapidly to wet them. She had been staring and thinking with such focus she'd forgotten to blink.
The bio-Cylon let out a long, deep sigh from her nostrils and placed her hands in her lap. She began projecting to calm herself down and clear her mind. She had spent hours strategizing with her command staff and the other baseship commanders and had gone without sleep for days. Her enhanced physiology could handle the stress, but it would begin to show soon.
She saw herself in a forest, sitting on a cool wood bench at the edge of a small clearing. Looking up she could see the distant bright orange-yellow sun of Cyrannus. She was on Caprica. While she'd never set foot on the planet before its destruction, it was her favorite. In her projection, even the circulated and purified air of the baseship smelled natural, woody, and damp.
The forest, it was the favorite projection of the Sixes. And as relaxing as it was to feel the damp leave between her toes and the cool dirt, Natalie could not distract herself from the necessity of her duties.
A table appeared in front of the bench. On it were papers and reconnaissance photographs. The objects weren't real; they were merely representations of data being downloaded into her mind, since she had placed her hand back into her desk's data stream port.
Two more jumps and her forces should rendezvous with the majority of fleet assets available to the 'rebels.' She would need to speak with Miranda about the destruction of the Tomb of Athena once they jumped in.
Natalie felt a slight click in her jaw, an old injury from a minor battle a few weeks ago. She'd been injured and had fallen, hard, into the data stream port in the command bridge. Before the civil war she could have been euthanized for even minor injuries and downloaded into a new body. But the husks needed to be preserved. Because of that, there were dozens of Twos, Sixes, and Eights on her baseship alone walking around with casts or braces from injuries they had received in battles.
Everyone needed to sacrifice. A clicking jaw from a hairline fracture was minor compared to what some of her brother and sister Cylon had to endure.
Once the fleet jumped to the supposed location of a '…great lion with a mighty blinking eye…' (which the Cylons had already assumed would be a nebula) she would be able to see her friends and fellow commanders. She was eager to hear updates from Meredith and how she was handling command of her own baseship contingent.
Natalie changed the scenery around her, and without blinking the desk had vanished, the papers and photographs were gone, and she was now sitting on the bank of a quiet, peaceful stream.
She knelt down and placed her hand in a cold stream of water and pressed down until she could feel the cool, algae-covered rocks glide over her palm. The cool water sent a tingle up her arm and into her mind, and she could feel the baseship and everyone inside. She let her mind connect more deeply to the data stream.
Looking down into the stream she moved her hand over the rocks, gently shifting them back and forth, accessing different ship systems. She stopped when she felt a hard, jagged rock. If she wrapped her fingers around it she'd cut herself, and even feeling it she could see trickles of blood washing away under the surface of the stream.
It was the hybrid's connection to the data stream. It was her representation in Natalie's forest.
She let her hand glide over it.
The words the hybrid had shouted echoed through her mind with a clarity matched only by this projected stream. "…three will walk in the fires of the furnace… gateway of the lost will lead to damnation and survival… from where the ground will shake the trumpet shall sing death … their great signs will bring destruction… the false prophets… all of this has happened before… this does not have to happen again… end of line, end of line, end of line… ready to jump… end of line… by your command… ready to jump… by your command…"
She wrinkled her nose as she thought what she should do next. Her head tilted left and right and her eyes narrowed and her brow came down as she stared through the water at the distorted image of her hand and that jagged, black rock she was barely touching.
With the drops of blood forming their own stream under the water, coiling and gliding in the soft current, she was being subtly warned to not probe any further. The hybrid had her defenses, her privacy, and she did not share her mind like this.
But the image of the silhouette, the humans and machines alike grabbing at her ankles, and the deafening crack of the gunshot from her… hallucination… vision… whatever it was, was clear in her thoughts and haunting her steps.
A Cylon was afraid of dying. She was afraid of her own mortality. She knew there would be no resurrection for her if that event came to be. In the young Cylon, released from cloning tanks barely two decades prior, the thought of dying had been nothing more than a whimsical, philosophical 'what if.' Now it was very real.
And if she could probe further… she grabbed the rock and felt… nothing. Then she felt pain as the blood began to flow more freely from her palm. The stream turned red and without any further drama she was forcefully disconnected from the data stream and the whites, blues, and reds of her office presented themselves as a rude taunt of her journey into the forbidden.
She tried to project again, back into the data stream. She could feel the data, the ship sensors, the DRADIS arrays, but she couldn't disappear the too-bright, too-bland personal office and make her forest reveal itself back to her.
If the hybrid was somehow punishing her…
Natalie took her free hand and rubbed it on her mouth and down her chin when she felt the odd sensation of a minute radiation wave from a small FTL jump. With her mind she focused the baseship's sensors and telescopes and realigned the baseship optics until she was focused on the vessel. She connected with the technicians on the command bridge, who were also analyzing the signature.
It was a rebel heavy raider, from Miranda's fleet. Natalie breathed out, hoping to exhale her worries. This was odd. The fleets were not supposed to jump except at designated intervals unless in emergency.
A quick once-over of the heavy raider told Natalie her fears something may be wrong were misplaced. The bulky, spiny craft had no battle damage and was not broadcasting any emergency flashes on its running lights.
Natalie let her body relax as the tension lessened.
"We're receiving a signal from the heavy raider," Boomer said through the data stream. Natalie could hear the report reverberate directly into her mind. She was seeing and hearing the message as if she were thinking it herself.
"Natalie, this is Rachel. We've successfully identified the nebula as a marker on the path towards Earth. However, we've also found a probe. Miranda brought it aboard her baseship. It is imperative that I come aboard immediately, Natalie," Rachel communicated through the wireless and into the data stream.
"Land in the main docking bay… I will be there momentarily, Rachel," Natalie responded. "Boomer, Leoben, please meet me in the landing bay."
The soft gray-blue corridors of the command baseship were brimming with activity as Natalie expertly maneuvered herself through the crowds of Centurions and bio-Cylons. Those who could see the determination and single-minded focus of her movements were wise to move out of her way and press themselves flat on the bulkheads to keep from being trampled by her.
Repairs were still being conducted throughout the baseship, and the soft colors and wall lighting had been replaced by the orange-red glow and hissing of welding equipment, power tools, and the occasional curse. She passed a work crew of half a dozen Number Twos toiling diligently with a pair of Centurions, which were lifting a heavy support girder back into its position to support the wall.
She gave the work crew a quick glance and increased the height of her step to avoid tripping on heavy black power cables before automatically turning down a side corridor towards the landing bays.
Repairs were still being conducted and completed from the battles her ships had engaged in. Damage had to be repaired in order of importance. And the crew she had just passed was working in a non-vital portion of the ship, and the bulkheads provided no significant structural support to the frame as a whole. While the damage appeared serious, the baseship had already begun 'healing' itself. Except for the girder, most everything else was cosmetic.
"Rachel's heavy raider has just landed, Natalie. She's powering down and should be on deck when you arrive," she heard Leoben whisper in her mind.
She nodded, the gesture just for her own sake, and continued moving quickly towards the hanger bay.
When she arrived she saw the hanger mirrored many of the corridors of the baseship. Months ago supplies were kept out of sight, not strewn about and latched to bulkheads like on Colonial battlestars. But the baseships were taking on as many provisions as they could, with Cavil chasing their fleet and controlling the majority of resupply installations.
The hanger bay, an odd construct and mix-match of organic and technological components, was still overcrowded with raiders being repaired by Number Twos and Centurions offloading equipment, munitions, and supplies from the heavy raider ferries from the supply ships.
Her link to the baseship guided her steps through the overcrowded, musty and humid hangers, and directly to where Rachel had landed. Her impecible navigation kept her from wander aimlessly looking for where Rachel's heavy raider would have landed, in a sea of dozens of identical vessels and swarms of bio-Cylon and Centurion scurrying about.
She saw Rachel, who also caught her eye, and the bio-Cylon next to the heavy raider smiled. Natalie maintained her impassive expression. If this was an emergency, Rachel did not appear anxious as the rebel leader would have expected. Natalie dearly hoped for Rachel than whatever news she carried was worth making the day of a rebel leader even more stressful.
"Rachel, it's good to see you," Natalie said, her voice flat. Her lips and face were completely expressionless, like her face were a mask. Once she had stepped closer to Rachel, she could see minute concerns and worry on her face. Rachel was one of Miranda's best soldiers, so with a moment to clear her mind, Natalie knew this would be important. "Leoben, Boomer," she greeted the Two and the Eight with a head nod.
"Miranda sent this message for you," Rachel said, digging into her pant pocket, she retrieved a small file card.
"What is it?"
"We found a probe, Natalie. We brought it aboard Miranda's baseship and connected it to our data cores… The encryption is heavy, unlike anything we've seen... we've been working at it for hours and when I left the baseship was still trying to find a way in… But it's from the Thirteenth Tribe. We think it will tell us the way to Earth." Rachel reported with a cautious smile. She took a step back and patiently waited for Natalie to respond.
Natalie nodded and ball the file card in her hand. She pumped her hand up and down, deciding what to do with the data. The words of the hybrid echoed in her mind; '…their great signs will bring destruction…'. A great sign, from a lion's head…?
"Thank you, Rachel." She turned towards Boomer. She stared at the petite Model Number Eight for a few short seconds, her eyes were distant and like glass as she decided the next move. "Boomer, access the data stream and order a halt to resupply. We jump for the nebula immediately."
A/N:
The Battle of the Lion's Head Nebula will appear next chapter. I'd originally planned on John-Cyrus-Daniel talking last chapter, but couldn't get it finished. I wanted Cyrus to be more pragmatic than the public idealist. The deal he and Planck made is genuine. I'm changing what the probe is from how it was presented in the show. So, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I should have the next fairly quick, and please read and review and leave any constructive criticisms. Thank you.
I'm also working on the story of Omega Team and their mission to stop Skynet before it infiltrated the Cylon Network. It'll most likely be a bit longer than the one with the three terminators in Athens. I hope to have that posted between Parts II and Part III of this story.