Chapter Twenty-Four
Ambassador Crispin's Residence.
As Crispin readied to relax himself for the evening his personal AI chimed for attention. He spoke into thin air. "Something for me, Nicholas?" At his words the image of a somewhat rotund figure wearing what looked like a modernised version of a 17th Century costume sprang into existence. The figure nodded and spoke.
"A message has come in from the Secretary of State's office," said Nicholas van Rijn. "It's marked urgent and for your eyes only."
Crispin nodded in return. "Encrypted?" he asked.
Van Rijn nodded. "Ambassadorial level," the AI said, "and wrapped inside it's own authentication software." Crispin's eyes rose at this piece of information.
"Nicholas," he said, "set up the authentication software, will you?" he said, taking a seat at the desk in the main room. As he did so the holographic plate in the desk activated to show the image of the 'courier': a man wearing the uniform of the people who were responsible for delivering secret documents to the various ministry offices. At the same time a retinal imaging scanner and a DNA sampler rose from the desk.
"Identification?" said the authentication program.
"Crispin, Richard, Ambassador First Rank," Crispin replied. The verification program ran, and then said, "Voiceprint match confirmed. Identification phrase?"
"'Policy making is like sausage making: it is never good to see what goes into its manufacture,'" said Crispin.
"Phrase confirmed. Please place eye against the retina reader and a finger into the DNA sampler," said the verification program. Crispin complied with the instructions. After the devices had read his retinal pattern and taken a sample of DNA and confirmed them against its record, the verification program said, "Identity confirmed. Releasing package now." The reader and sampler retracted into the desk.
After a short time the verification program's image was replaced by that of a dark-haired, fair-skinned woman. She looked out of the holoplate at Crispin. "Richard," said the woman, "I've just come from a meeting with the Cabinet over the encrypted message the Navy found inside the main message from these 'Cylons.' Combined with what intelligence on them has reached Terra it looks as though things are about to get interesting. The Intelligence people as well as the Psychological and Cultural Studies people from the Contacts Office believe there is evidence of a possible split starting to emerge in Cylon society. Any more intelligence that you can get us will be most welcome.
"Now, what I want you to do is to get in touch with both Templar and the Colonial leadership. Have Templar arrange for a reply agreeing to the meeting with the Cylon representatives. The message will state that they are to come to Sandoval Base. I suppose the Fleet will want them to simply jump into the outer system and to send a flash, although if they can be given the use of a sealed one-shot hypertransmitter to let us know when they are one jump away from Sandoval, so that the Navy can arrange for a suitable escort, that too will be acceptable. Instructions are being sent to Templar to cooperate with you in this matter, although I understand that the Secretary of State for Defence, the First Lord and the Prime Minister will not object if the message is delivered in a somewhat aggressive way. I believe the Prime Minister's words were along the lines of 'two can play at that game.' I think he was referring to the way the Cylon message was delivered.
"You are also to cooperate with President Roslin of the Colonies of Kobol and Admiral Adama of the Colonial Fleet. They are to be considered equals in the negotiations with the Cylons. However, do make it equally clear that the Imperium will not engage in a war to regain their home worlds and, unless provoked, will not attack these 'Cylons' on their behalf. However, also make it clear that the Imperium will regard an attack on the Colonial nation an attack on itself and will act accordingly.
"As to the issue of 'the Final Five' Cylon variants: the Cabinet has approved the approach you and Lady Cheshire have taken. The Colonial Government is to be kept informed of any developments regarding this, including the information of a potential split in Cylon society, not least because they are the resident experts on the Cylons. They may be able to provide some insights into the whole Cylon matter.
"As to Cheshire's offer to set the Colonials up in a system that we could have basing rights in: the Cabinet agrees that it is a good move. You are authorised to add any incentives you feel may make Cheshire's offer to them more attractive, within certain limits, which are attached to this message. This includes the use of 'loaner' specialists as well as financial aid. If they do accept it will free up our own colonisation groups to settle the occupied systems. Not that we were able to use this particular system right away, considering that our own colonisation groups are prepped to go into the occupation zone anyway, once the planets are secured. Of course, once the Colonials are settled into their new system you are to invite their leadership to come to Terra at their convenience, so as to both create and strengthen links between our two branches of humanity.
"That's about it. Cheshire, Templar and Kinga will be receiving despatches similar to this one. Lady Daphne Chatterley, Countess Langdorp and Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, signing off." The woman's image disappeared from above the holoplate.
Crispin called up the attached data containing not just his more detailed instructions but also further information that the Foreign Office had determined would be necessary to his assignment. Then he spoke to his AI. "Nicholas," he said, "contact Lady Cheshire, Admiral Templar and Undersecretary Kinga's AIs and set up a meeting for tomorrow. Then contact both President Roslin and Admiral Adama's staffs and coordinate a meeting time with them and Cheshire' Templar and Kinga's AIs." He then got up and, walking over to the liquor cabinet, proceeded to pour himself a snifter of a drink mix called Oberon Firewater. Once that was done, he turned down the lighting, turned on some classical music and sat down to relax before going to bed.
Joe's Bar, Several Hours Later.
Saul Tigh walked into the bar and looked about. Throughout the bar he could see a fairly healthy crowd enjoying the expanded facilities that had been provided to help the place cater to the Terran Navy and Army personnel who visited it, of whom there was a light smattering. Most of them were Navy yard workers from the massive spacedock that currently held Galactica, Nike and a couple of other vessels of the Colonial refugee fleet. He walked through the bar, still scanning the place as if he was looking for something.
At last, he saw what he was looking for, and headed off to a table that was set into a small area that could be used as a conversation nook; something that the area where the bar had been established on Galactica had been unable to properly establish.
On reaching the table he nodded to the two other people who already sat there. As he slid in, Tory Foster and Samuel Anders nodded back. "Glad to see you could make it," Tigh said. "Where's the Chief?"
Anders replied. "He's had to go back to his quarters for a moment before coming out here," he said. "Cally said that Nick was feeling a little ill, so they've taken him to see the doctors at the medical centre."
Tigh nodded. "I hope he manages to get here," he said, looking at the other two. "We have to decide what we are going to do." Both Foster and Anders said nothing, but nodded in agreement. Tigh looked at the glasses in front of them. "What are you drinking?" he said.
"Thought we'd give some of this beer a try," Anders said. "Tastes good and is made on this station."
Tigh thought about this for a moment, and then grunted. "What's it called?" he asked.
"New Gloucester Crack Shot," said Anders. "From what I can tell it's derived from a Terran prototype."
"Good, is it?" asked Tigh. Anders nodded. "Well," Tigh said, "I guess I had better go and get me one." He looked at Foster and Anders. "Want one?" Both nodded and Tigh got up and went over to the bar. "Three New Gloucester Crack Shots," he said to the bartender.
The bartender's eyebrows rose up. "Usually you get either ambrosia or one of the Terran whiskies," he said as he filled up three glasses.
"Usually you just pour the drinks without a running commentary," Tigh retorted. He paid for his drinks and took them back to the table. Just as he was setting the drinks down Tyrol came up.
"Sorry I'm late, Colonel," said Tyrol as he slid onto the vacant chair, "but I had to take Cally and Nick down to the medical centre. Nick's been fussing and not feeling well, and we thought, given what the Terrans said about their diseases, that we'd be better off being safe."
Tigh nodded his acknowledgement of Tyrol's statement. "Anything serious?" asked Anders.
Tyrol shook his head. "No, nothing serious," he said. "The doctors say it's an allergy of all things. Both he and Cally are down at the centre while the docs run a series of tests."
"How'd you manage to get away, Chief?" asked Tigh.
"I told Cally that I had to meet you here and discuss some things that had come up regarding the Fleet," Tyrol said. "When you think about it, I told her the truth. I just didn't tell her what it was we were talking about. She just assumed it was technical and told me to go and not keep you waiting."
Tigh gave Tyrol a sardonic grin. "Well, we are talking about 'something regarding the Fleet'," he said, turning the grin on Foster and Anders. "The fact that the Terrans have found out that we're frakking Cylons, and are about to show the President and Adama our doubles!" He took a swig from his beer, and put it down. "You're right," he said to Anders. "This is good stuff. But it doesn't help us work out what we can do about the situation we're in."
"I might have a solution," said Foster. She looked at Tigh. "After you left for the spacedock," she continued, "Admiral Cheshire told the President about their experience in one of the Terran Empire's 'side-wars' with another human civilisation."
"They've fought wars against other humans?" said Tigh. "Now that's interesting."
"Apparently," said Foster, "in this particular war they encountered humans who were 'programmed' to perform certain acts, such as sabotage and assassination. The Terrans, once they realised what was going on, managed to stop the 'programmed' people, usually by looking out for the signs of 'programming' and, get this, managed to 'de-program' them."
For a moment the other three were silent as they absorbed the impact of what Foster had said. Then, Anders said, "That is interesting." He casually looked about. "I wonder if the Terrans are watching us?"
"They are," Foster said. "Cheshire offered to the President to put 'unobtrusive traces' on us. Which means, most likely, that they are aware of this conversation we are having." She looked at the other three. Their expressions showed that they were not surprised at this information.
"I suppose they intend to pick us up somewhere where it won't be disruptive to our people," said Anders.
Foster shook her head. "Actually," she said, "from what the President told me, they're watching us just in case any 'programming' we may have is activated. If that happens, they swoop down on us and take us into custody."
"It wouldn't be a good idea to resist," said Tigh. "I saw what they did with that junk pile on Nike, back in that system where they found us. Plus I also saw just how efficient those Imperial Marines are." He looked at Foster. "You saw just how prepared Cheshire and the other Terrans were for mayhem back at the President's residence?"
Foster nodded. "The really frightening aspect about that whole situation was the way they were deliberately showing us they were ready for anything," she said. She looked at the others. "Since the Ionian Nebula I've been finding out that I have knowledge of such things," she said.
Tigh and the others nodded. "I take it you have a reason, other than letting us know about the traces the Terrans have put on us, in telling us about the Terran's little side-war?" he said.
"I do," Foster said. "The main worry we've had, apart from being unmasked as Cylons, is not knowing if we have any hidden programming that nay cause us to... carry out certain acts."
"Like Boomer shooting the Old Man," Tigh said.
Foster nodded. "Like Boomer shooting the Admiral," she said. "The Terrans say that they can find and neutralise any such programming. I propose that we surrender ourselves to the Terrans and ask for their help in preventing us from doing anything that may harm those we care about."
"Wait a minute," said Tyrol. "What would prevent the Terrans from using us as some kind of test subjects? And also, what would prevent them from taking my wife and son and doing the same to them?"
"Their laws," said Foster. "Remember, I've been working quite closely with Undersecretary Kinga's people on finding the Fleet a new home. Throughout the entire time I've been working with them I've managed to gain a fair knowledge of their legal system." She looked about at the others. "Remember their AIs?" she said. All present nodded. "Well, under Terran law, they have full citizenship rights."
"I remember now," said Tigh. "The Old Man told me about that after he and the President got back from meeting with 'Abal." He looked at Tyrol. "And remember the briefing we had in the Old Man's quarters? It was mentioned there as well. Plus, Athena said that 'Abal's AI referred to her as a person, and the Cylons as people, and the Terrans just accepted that as a given."
Tyrol's eyes glazed over as he replayed that briefing in his memory. "True," he said. "Which would mean that they would consider us people."
"They also have some pretty strict laws against unauthorised experimentation on 'sentient beings'," Foster added. "That term, as I understand it, would also include humaniform Cylons. In fact, from what I understand of their laws, if for some strange reason a whole base star of Cylons turned up and asked for refugee status, they would grant it. And if they asked to join the Imperium, they would, most likely, grant them that as well, because they do not see that they would be any different to them or their higher-level AIs."
Nobody spoke for a moment while they absorbed the information that Foster had given them. Then Anders spoke. "So you think that we should hand ourselves in to the Terrans on the hope that they could possibly help us?" he said. "Forgive me for sounding sceptical, but what makes you think they would be willing to help us? Who are, may I remind you, members of a race that attempted to exterminate one entire branch of the human race and who may have just pissed off the Terran branch of that same race?"
Foster shrugged. "They might not help us, based on that," she said. "However, the way that they're treating the Cylon prisoners gives me some belief that they will help us. Particularly when we explain to them that we have been keeping an eye on each other to try and catch any evidence that we have been programmed to carry out any hostile acts towards the Fleet." She looked at the others. "Remember, we made a conscious decision at the Ionian Nebula that we would remain at our posts, come what may, because we care about a lot of people in this Fleet."
"True," said Tyrol. He looked around. "So," he said, "are we going to do it? Turn ourselves over to the Terrans and ask for their help in seeking out any hidden programming?" Nobody replied.
But then, nobody needed to reply. The answer to Tyrol's question, in light of the decision they had made at the Ionian Nebula, was obvious.
After a while, Tigh said. "So we do it, then." He looked at the others. None of them contradicted him. Sighing, he took a sip from his beer. "It's going to be hard on quite a few people, what we are about to do," he said. "Especially those we consider friends, partners," this, with a look at Tyrol and Anders, "and... well, I suppose beloved chiefs," he said, looking at Foster. "I hate to think how the Old Man's going to react to the news."
"This is going to tear Cally up," said Tyrol. "But I don't see any way I can avoid this. I really don't."
"Kara's going to pitch a screaming fit," said Anders. "Especially after what that bastard Conoy was doing to her on New Caprica. I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to separate herself from me."
"I may have a solution to that," said Foster. All three men turned their eyes onto her. "It may not work," she said, "but it might make it easier for those who we care about accept what we will do, what happened to us at the Ionian Nebula." She looked at the three men. "We, each of us, write letters to those who we care for, explaining what we have done and why." She held up her hands. "I admit," she said, "it will sound mealy-mouthed, particularly in the light of what we are going to do, but it's the best suggestion I have."
"What do you suggest we put into these letters?" asked Tyrol.
Foster put her hand on her chin as she thought. "What exactly you each say is up to you," she said, "but I'm thinking that we should tell them everything. How we found out we were Cylons, and what steps we took to try and keep the Fleet safe from any hidden programming. I would also advise those we love," looking at Anders and Tyrol as she said that, " to go and speak to the Agathons. After all, you could say that they were in the same situation on Caprica as we are in now."
"True," said Anders. "Although their situation isn't quite the same as ours, it may provide some hope." He looked around at the others. "So, what sort of an excuse should we give our significant others when we go back and tell them that we have to leave again?"
"I wouldn't worry about Starbuck, Anders," said Tigh. "She'll be onboard Galactica readying herself to go on a flight around the station and spacedock. So be thankful that Apollo manage to get some flight time for the pilots." He looked at Tyrol. "You just tell Cally that something has come up involving Galactica that requires your presence there, and you have to go pretty much right away." He looked at Foster. "I suppose you will have a reason already worked out, assuming you need one."
"And what about you, Colonel?" asked Tyrol.
"I'll just tell the Admiral that I have to go attend to something that involves Galactica or Nike. He'll probably want to come along, but I'll tell him that I can handle it." He took another sip. "Besides, he should be busy with the President working on the latest proposal Cheshire landed in our laps. Gaeta can help him just as well as I can." He finished his beer and then stood up. "Well, we had better get going. The sooner this is over with, the better for us and the Fleet." He turned to go, but Tyrol spoke up.
"Where should we meet up to surrender ourselves to the Terrans?" he asked. "One of their watch stations?"
"Why not the administration building for that prison camp they have on the other side of the station?" said Anders. "Strikes me as being perfect, if you appreciate the irony of the situation. Besides, they may have facilities that could help us."
Tigh thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "Good enough for me," he said. The administration building of the prisoner camp. Say in two hours' time: should give us enough time to prepare ourselves. All agreed?" He saw no dissension to the suggestion, and nodded. "The admin building in two hours. I'll be expecting all of you." Without looking to se if the others were following him he strode out of the bar.
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"You get that?" said the Terran security officer who was sitting near the group.
"Yes. Shall I alert security?" answered the monitoring post.
The Terran though for a moment, and then replied, "Yes, but tell them not to move in unless they deviate from their intentions without any real visible cause. We still want to keep this quiet."
"Got it. Cover will still observe, but do nothing unless required."
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Admiral Templar's Office, Sandoval Hub.
Templar finished watching the last of his dispatch from the Admiralty, and then moved to palm the recording off. As the face of the Director of Fleet Operations faded from view that of his Chief of Staff, Vice-Admiral N'koma Wasane, took its place. "Interesting," said Templar. "What do you make of it, N'koma?"
Wasane rubbed the back of his close-cropped hair. "It looks like the Prime Minister has given you carte blanche to 'do unto the Cylons'," he said. "Show them what may come of annoying the Imperium unnecessarily, and all that."
"My take on it as well," said Templar. "I suppose I had better call Crispin and see if he has his message all worked out for us to hand over to the Cylons."
"What sort of a force are you thinking of using to 'deliver' the Imperium's reply?" asked Wasane.
Templar leaned back in his chair, hands in a prayerful attitude, and though for a moment. "I think I'll send a scouting group," he said. He leaned forward and called up Sixteenth Fleet's list of scouting groups. "Twelfth and Eighteenth Scouting Groups are scheduled for sweep patrols," he said. "I'll send Twelfth to that system the captured base star's data cores indicate is their main base, while Eighteenth can sweep the system we found the Colonials in. While they're there they can deposit the beacon with the message in it."
"Both systems?"
"Of course," said Templar. "We'll work out the mission specifications for the scouting groups after I've spoken to Crispin. Which I had better do now." With that, he called up his personal AI. "Heinrich," he said to his AI, "call Ambassador Crispin's residence will you. Tell his AI that I need to speak to him urgently."
"Jahwohl, Herr Flotten-Admiral," replied his AI, which was based on a combination of Jurgen Prochnow's character of "The Old Man" from the 20th Century movie Das Boot and the person the character was based on, Kapitan-Leutnant Heinrich Lehmenn-Willenbrock, the real-life commander of U-96. "However, Ambassador Crispin's AI has been in touch and has asked to arrange a meeting with both the Ambassador and Lady Cheshire for tomorrow at 10:00 hours, after which you are to meet with President Roslin and Admiral Adama at 11:00 hours for final consultation on the message to be sent to the Cylons."
Templar leant back in his chair as his AI relayed that information to him. "Well," he said, "if Crispin thinks it can wait, then it can wait," he said, looking at Wasane's image.
"And the mission specs should not be too difficult," said Templar's chief of staff. "Eighteenth just sweeps that system and leaves some message beacons for the Cylons to pick up, while Twelfth carries out a 'recon in force' in the system we suspect the Cylons were establishing themselves in."
"Yes," said Templar. "That should work quite nicely. It should also satisfy the Prime Minister's wish as..." Suddenly, a small area of the holographic display began to flash red. "Just a minute," Templar said. As he said that the image of his AI came up. "Something urgent, I take it," Templar said.
"I have just received a flash from Security," said Heinrich. "It appears that the four Cylons they have been keeping watch over have met and they have decided to turn themselves over to us."
Templar's eyebrows nearly crawled off his forehead and under his hairline at this news. "Where are they now?" he asked.
The image of the AI frowned in concentration as his communications subroutine interrogated the Security AI that had flashed him the news. "At present, they are still under observation," he finally said, "but are going to their separate quarters. Apparently they are going to write letters to selected individuals explaining both the situation and their actions. Then they intend to turn themselves over to us at the POW camp."
"Now that is interesting." Templar looked at Wasane's image. The Chief of Staff had overheard the exchange and wore an expression of astonishment which, Templar suggested, strongly mirrored his own. "The mission specs will have to wait," Templar said. "Tell you what: you write up what you think the specs should be and send them to my desk. I'll review them in the morning and make any changes I feel are appropriate."
Wasane nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "Sounds like you may have a rather busy evening tonight."
"And an even busier day tomorrow," Templar replied. "I'll speak to you later. Templar, clear." As Wasane's image disappeared Templar turned to that of his AI. "Heinrich, contact both Lady Cheshire and Ambassador Crispin. Tell them what has happened and that I want to speak to them now," he said. "We're going to have to prepare things very carefully for our meeting with the Colonial leadership tomorrow, especially in the light of this development." As he spoke he walked over to where a dispenser stood. He poured himself a cup of hot, black coffee. "And have security send me a copy of the surveillance footage now," he continued. While he waited for his AI to make the necessary contacts, he began to sip his coffee. Looks like a long night for all of us, he thought to himself.
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"Well, this is an interesting development!"
Lady Cheshire nodded at Ambassador Crispin's statement. "'Interesting' indeed," she said. "Do you mean in the Occidental manner, or do you have the Chinese meaning in mind?"
"At present, I'm not too sure," Crispin replied. "I do know that this has the potential to complicate things even more. Roslin is almost certain to demand that we turn them over to the Colonials, which we can't do. They turn themselves over to us, we have to extend the Imperium's protection to them. Which includes not turning them over to an authority that has a tendency to throw beings like them out the nearest airlock!"
"They seem to have accepted that Cylon officer as one of theirs," said Templar.
"She earned that," replied Undersecretary Kinga. At Crispin's request they had contacted Kinga and told him about recent developments. "Which could be said for all four of these Cylons. Especially given how they have been watching each other for any hidden programming. They quite clearly feel they have strong personal links to the Colonials."
"Hmmm," said Crispin. "There seems to have been some sort of subtext about the shock of finding out that they weren't human after all." He looked at the others. "Think we could use that to 'soften the blow' somewhat?"
Kinga nodded. "Yes, we could," he said. "I'm quite sure that President Roslin is going to have some severely conflicted feelings about this. After all, the only person who was closer to her than Foster is Adama. And I'm guessing that he's going to have some major problem himself. His oldest friend a Cylon and, therefore his enemy!'
"Y'know, there's something rather fishy about this whole setup," said Cheshire. She looked at the others. "Virtually every Cylon the Colonials have found has been some kind of deep cover agent. They have either carried out acts of sabotage or attempted assassination. Then there's the whole New Caprica situation, plus the evidence we've been getting from observing the POWs of a possible split in Cylon society. Now, we get this: four Cylon deep cover agents who, having found out that they are Cylons, decide to stay loyal to humanity, to the extent that they watch each other for hidden programming. It's beginning to sound like somebody is playing games with these people."
"Or playing God." Kinga looked at Cheshire. "You think there's a Precursor involved in this?" he said.
"Or several," said Templar. "We could have stumbled on another round of the Precursor War. With people as the weapons." He frowned at that thought, as did the others.
One of the greatest taboos that Terran society had created was also their strictest law: No one has the right to play God with the lives of lesser-advanced people. The strictures that enforced this law were also the fiercest. The Terrans did not execute people. Rather, they exiled them to selected planets that were all chosen for one characteristic: they lacked the resources to allow people exiled there to progress beyond a Bronze-Age level of technology. They also sterilised any exiles, so that the sins of the parents could never be passed on to any possible offspring.
And of all the offences that were punished by exile, the one that was the most strictly enforces was the law against playing God with the lives of sapient beings.
"If it is a Precursor that's involved in this affair," said Cheshire, "then it raises this matter to a whole new level. And that will not go down at all well. Especially if it's a particular Precursor." Much had been speculated on the possibilities of the Imperium ever encountering live Precursors. Some had even speculated that the Imperium might have to fight at least that faction that had supported the Raptor part of the Precursor "intelligence project," while others had speculated on if the Precursors would even accept Terrans as their equals. Technologically, it was possible that the Terran Empire was, in a broad sense, the equal of a Precursor faction and had, in certain areas, even outstripped them.
This situation, which on reflection, had all of the hallmarks of an operation by a particular Precursor, was one that the Terrans found quite distasteful, considering the way in which their most strongly held taboos were being violated. It was, however, not the first time the Terrans had found traces of this particular Precursor's presence.
For a moment, nobody spoke, as they were all mulling over the implications of what Cheshire was saying. Then, Kinga heaved a great sigh. "Well," he said, "from where I sit I see that we have no choice. We have to inform the Imperium that we think we've found another example of his," said with a great amount of distaste, "handiwork."
"If we do," said Crispin, "it means involving the Inquisitor General's office."
"Are you saying we shouldn't?" asked Templar.
"No, I'm not," said Templar. "I'm just reminding everyone what it will entail. As if we really need any reminding," he finished darkly.
"You do realise that if it is as we suspect," said Cheshire, "then both the Colonials and the Cylons are equally victims. Somehow, I don't think that idea is going to go down well with the Colonials."
"And speaking of the Colonials," said Crispin, "what do we tell them about the four Cylons in their midst? Do we tell them who they are, or do we wait?"
"I think we wait," said Kinga. "It seems clear that they intend to surrender themselves to us, but also wish to explain to those people who are close to them about their situation. I do not see that we should make things any more difficult for all involved."
"I agree," said Cheshire. "We wait, and, since these four wish to write letters to those people they care about, we deliver them when we reveal their identities. It may not be perfect, but I feel that it's the best that we can do at this point in time."
"Put that way, I have to say I agree, My Lord," said Crispin. Templar said nothing but inclined his head in agreement.
"So we are agreed then? Good," said Cheshire. "Now, since we are all 'gathered together', what do we do about the message we intend to send to the Cylons?"