CHAPTER 37

LULLABY AND GOODNIGHT

"You know, there are days when I really hate this job!" Anita was pacing furiously back and forth in the hybrid's chamber. She felt utterly ridiculous. "I mean, there I was … Anita Suarez, the CEO of Fremantle Industries. I was pulling down four million a year, and that's before the stock options. I had my own Raptor, a chauffeured limousine, the beach house on Argosy Bay … I was a high flier!" She shook her head in exasperation. "The Admiralty was financing our R&D out of some black ops budget, but Nagala had to know that I was sleeping with the head of procurement for the CSS. Why did I ever let Richard talk me into throwing it all away to become the gods damned Defense Minister?"

Caleb Adama looked at his wife, and rolled his eyes. They had both heard it all before, and Caleb found himself stifling a yawn.

Vice President Eve Six remained silent, but she shot her husband a warning glance. The President would soon run out of steam … if no one took the bait.

"Gods, how I miss Marcus," Anita murmured.

D'Anna Biers involuntarily winced. Richard Adar, Harlan Berriman, and Marcus Greene had been high value targets, and the rebel Cylons had gone to elaborate lengths to keep them safe. D'Anna had pleaded with the general to evacuate the Colonies the night before the attacks, but the now elderly head of intelligence had spurned her request outright. Everything had to seem normal, he had argued; Diaspora was a classic sub rosa operation, but its scale was breathtaking. Tens of thousands could be saved—but only if the Cavils didn't sniff out the truth.

A compromise had been reached. The bombs would not find the three human leaders at home or at their desks, but somewhere en route to their offices. D'Anna was reasonably certain that the three humans had made it off Caprica and Picon, but she also knew that they had never reached the rendezvous point. Cavil's Raiders must have shot them down, she surmised, but she would never know for sure.

"I am so far out of my depth," Anita confessed, "that I have absolutely no idea which way is up. The fleet's ready to jump, but we're not going anywhere because the hybrid is breast feeding her imaginary daughter. Or maybe it's Ariadne's bath time," she fumed. "Hell, for all I know this eccentric collection of pipes and conduits is sitting in a doctor's office somewhere in V-world, waiting for her first neonatal appointment!"

"Madame President," D'Anna stiffly objected, "my granddaughter is not a figment of the hybrid's imagination, and this has nothing to do with the pornographic filth from which Daniel Graystone derived such enormous profit. We Cylons heard the human female who was assisting in the delivery, and that was my son speaking."

John had said only three words, in a voice choked with emotion, but they were forever seared into D'Anna's consciousness. Their first born had emancipated the hybrid from machine slavery, and at some point the two of them had fallen in love. Ariadne was the product of their love, and a true child of God.

"D'Anna, I don't get out much these days, so if I'm being terribly unreasonable here I do apologize. But am I really the only person on this ship who finds the whole idea of avatars having virtual babies to be … well … a little bizarre? For the love of the gods … she's humming a lullaby!"

"It does take some getting used to," Leoben grinned. "But to be fair, it's only been four hours since she gave birth. The novelty hasn't worn off yet."

"Well, can you talk to her? Please, do something to get her attention … because it would be really nice if we could jump this frakkin' ship!"

"Madame President," Caleb remarked with a long suffering sigh, "Deirdre is still doing her job. I mean … have you ever heard a lullaby that randomly incorporates sensor read-outs from the recycling tanks, never mind her ongoing reports on micro adjustments to barometric pressure? Sure, the last few weeks have been frustrating; Deirdre has been moody, distracted, and at times downright uncooperative. But at least now we know why. It's not so much a question of a lack of focus as it is a shift in priorities."

"Precisely," Leoben agreed. "The hybrids have never experienced the universe in the way that we do. Should we really be all that surprised to discover that they can move effortlessly between what appear to be parallel dimensions? Madame President, we need to prepare for this. Within a year, there will be almost two hundred hybrid children in this fleet, and their gifts may be fully the equal of our First Born's. Humans tend to fear what they do not understand. We do not want our children to grow up in the care of parents who are afraid of them."

"So, you see this crisis as a teachable moment?" Anita looked at Leoben with renewed respect. Politicians were conditioned to regard crises as opportunities, but solely within the framework of their own self-interest. Left to her own devices, the President would never have made the connection between the birth of a virtual child and the fleet's own looming population explosion. But that, she mused, is why we have advisors!

"Your point is very well taken, Leoben, and I want you and Aurelia to put your heads together and figure out a way to turn this into an educational campaign. Because … if you're right … as the one adult hybrid in the fleet … won't Deirdre inevitably become a kind of matriarch for our little ones?" There was a note of uncertainty in Anita's voice, but they were all inching their way across unfamiliar terrain.

Eve blinked in surprise, and her hands went reflexively to her belly. She was in her twenty-fifth week, one of seven Cylon females due to give birth in little more than three months. The thought that her son might over time develop stronger attachments to the hybrid than to his own birth mother shocked her, but the logic behind Anita's intuitive leap was unassailable. Leoben's only seen half of it, she decided; it's going to be just as hard for Cylons to adjust as it is for humans.

"D'Anna, you said that there was a human attending the birth." The President was eager to pull this conversation back to the here and now. "I don't see how a human could enter this dimension without a holoband. Can we locate the frequency and tap into it … get her attention somehow?" Anita was grasping at straws—and she would have been the first to admit it.

The three Cylons looked at one another, seeking a consensus that quickly formed.

"We have no knowledge of this technology, Madame President … but the Twos are good with gadgets. If there's a holoband somewhere in the fleet …"

Anita wheeled instantly on Caleb Adama. "Contact every single ship," she ordered, "and make sure that everyone gets the message. This is top priority."

Adama wholeheartedly agreed, and he left at once for the control room.

"Leoben, what about Major Bierns? Could we use Deirdre as a conduit … perhaps use the stream to contact him directly? Diaspora is a CSS project, and from what you've told me, he was in on it from the beginning. He won't have lost interest. He can help us, but we have to reach him first."

"Madame President," the Two doubtfully responded, "the hybrid is preoccupied, and with good cause. It won't be easy to attract her attention."

"Damn it, Leoben, there are a thousand of you in the fleet! Why don't you get every copy to dive into the stream and try it the old-fashioned human way … you know … 'on three'?"

"It's worth a try, brother," Eve urged. "Anita's right; we can't sit out here forever."

. . .

"So," Larissa asked sympathetically, "how are you holding up?"

"I feel overwhelmed," John freely admitted. "Gods, Larissa, does everyone react the same way, or am I just being pathetic? The sense of responsibility is crushing!"

Ariadne was wrapped in a swaddling blanket, and John was cradling her against his chest. He was sitting in a chair in the master suite of his virtual home, and he was literally afraid to move. So far, he hadn't been able to get anything right. He was so inept that he didn't even know how to hold his daughter. Larissa had just finished explaining how important it was to support her head so that the undeveloped neck muscles would not be unduly taxed. At the moment Ariadne was sleeping peacefully, but the spook feared that she would awaken if he so much as moved a muscle.

"Welcome to fatherhood," Larissa laughed. "And you're doing fine, John—both of you are doing great. But, Deirdre, you and I still have a lot of work to do. Breast feeding is an exact science. Ariadne has to be positioned properly every single time or she won't get the milk she needs and you'll end up with cracked nipples. Believe me, that's no fun at all."

"I understand, Larissa, and words cannot convey how grateful we all are to you." Deirdre was resting on one side of the bed, but she was watching her daughter like a hawk. Her four sisters were happily chattering on about the baby's looks. It was agreed that Ariadne had their eyes, but everything else was currently subject to debate. Larissa privately suspected that Ariadne would grow up to be a taller and more slender version of her formidable Cylon grandmother, but she was content to sit back and listen while the hybrids engaged in this timeless and eminently human discussion.

The five statuesque females with their flawlessly beautiful features and mounds of chestnut hair dominated the chamber. In a room full of goddesses, the nurse felt clumsy and misshapen- but for the time being at least, the goddesses badly needed her expertise.

She was still trying to come to grips with what she now thought of as the revelation. Deirdre was her patient, and relying upon the sacrament of doctor-patient confidentiality, John had decided that she needed to know the truth. Deirdre was thousands of light years away, guiding a second fleet to a still unknown destination. The exodus had been planned, and the plan had been implemented, by humans and Cylons working together. The stunning disclosure had profoundly affected the young nurse. The baseship was her home, and for months she had been interacting with the cylon life form on a daily basis. A dedicated professional, Larissa had done her job and she had done it well, but she had been careful to keep her emotions in check. She had never permitted herself to develop personal attachments, although the opportunities had been boundless. A steady stream of potential Cylon lovers, men and women alike, had approached her, but she had rejected every overture with polite and calculated indifference. She would tend their wounds and offer them her counsel because the Physician's Oath imposed this duty upon her, but it did not require her to love her enemies. She had never forgotten the maltreatment that she had suffered at cylon hands, and she had never forgiven. She especially loathed the Sixes, but after her outburst against Thalia, she had gone to elaborate lengths to lock her feelings away. But now, with just a few carefully chosen words, John Bierns had robbed her of the comfortable sense of righteous indignation with which she had cloaked herself throughout. She could no longer deny the obvious: Cylons were people, and a lot of them were good people. Thousands had defected, and hundreds more had been ruthlessly slaughtered when they dared to oppose the Cavils' genocidal plans.

It was hard to let go of the past, but Larissa now knew that she would have to try. From now on, she vowed, she would clasp the hand that was held out to her in friendship.

. . .

"Well, that was different," Kara rather lamely remarked. "But everything's fine," she hastened to add.

Lacy Rand bowed her head in prayer, and offered thanks to God. Kara remained respectfully silent, but she was looking enviously at the holoband that had whisked Larissa Karanis off to Galatea Bay.

"You know, Lace," she playfully observed, "a few more of these gizmos would really come in handy. Have you by any chance got the odd spare stashed away down on the planet?"

"Child, I know what you're thinking, but there are bad ideas, and then there are really bad ideas. This one definitely falls into the latter category."

Kara looked at her blankly.

"Gina's dead."

"What?"

"The Cylons were pressuring me to give them access to the technology. They wanted to see Galatea Bay for themselves … and who could blame them? Against my better judgment, I agreed to loan them one of the few working bands that we have left. It was ferried here a couple of hours ago, and with Caprica and Sam down on the surface Gina argued that she was the logical choice to try it out. Since she and John have been through so much together, the others agreed. Kara, there was nothing wrong with the band … nothing at all … but it instantly short-circuited, and it may well have fried every relay in Gina's brain. She was gone before she hit the floor. Simon is conducting an autopsy, so we'll know more in another hour or two, but I'm not letting you anywhere near a holoband. You're more than half cylon; the risk is too great."

"Oh, my gods," Kara gasped. "Did Gina download? Is she okay?"

"I don't know how to answer that question, Kara. Yes, she resurrected, but I'm told that the download was only partially successful. So many files were corrupted that, after talking it over with the nursing Eights, Cynthia decided to box this copy and try again. The last I heard, the Eights were going to reboot Gina's personality and memories from her previous download, and then hook her up to a data storage unit in order to fill in the blanks. Fortunately, it's only been six or seven weeks since her last death, so getting a memory graft from one of the other Sixes on her baseship shouldn't be too traumatic."

A smug yet sadistically cruel look suddenly spread across Kara's features. Lacy looked at her curiously.

"Did anyone," Kara wanted to know, "have the presence of mind to set the band aside for further analysis?"

"What do you mean?"

"Lacy, something in that holoband … an electromagnetic pulse … a band of high frequency radiation … something fried Gina's brain! If we could isolate the source and duplicate it … build some kind of amplifier …"

"A weapon," Lacy whispered as she pursued Kara's train of thought. "Dear God on high, Cavil's Raiders … the centurions … even the baseships themselves … he wouldn't stand a chance!"

. . .

Deirdre jerked, and then she sat bolt upright in bed. John was so startled that he almost dropped the baby. He passed her to Larissa a bare second before a star seemed to go supernova inside his brain. Somewhere in the background, he could hear Reun moaning.

"It's the Twos," Deirdre spat; "all of them!"

"What the ... tell them to go away!"

"They want me to jump the ship," she said through gritted teeth.

"So, what's the problem?" The supernova had come and gone, but the electric cattle prod that had taken its place wasn't much of an improvement.

"I want them to say 'please'."

"Uh … sweetheart …"

"Husband, don't you dare take their side! I am sick and tired of being taken for granted! For years, they've ordered me around like some kind of witless machine! It's time they showed me a little respect!"

John looked desperately at Larissa. "Postpartum depression," he asked anxiously.

"Irritability is one of the classic symptoms," the nurse acknowledged. "You can also expect her … uh … libido to be … somewhat reduced."

"Oh, he won't suffer," Deirdre yelled. "The Eight will see to that! But, if she should have an off day there's always Natalie … and my brain dead husband still hasn't said 'no' to the Six with the goo-goo eyes! He's got a nice, warm bed waiting for him on the Virgon Express anytime he wants it!"

"Deirdre, that's unfair!" John felt like a centurion had just landed an uppercut to his jaw.

Deirdre abruptly started crying, and that was Ariadne's cue. She woke up, frowned, and then started to scream at the top of her lungs. His daughter's banshee-like wail made the electric cattle prod that was busily carving a hole in the middle of John's head pale into insignificance.

Chuckling, Larissa Karanis gently deposited Ariadne in her mother's arms, and guided her hungry little mouth to the waiting teat. The nurse had seen and heard it all before. She started to tell the punch-drunk CSS agent that the temper tantrums would fade with time, but then she thought about Helo and what a handful Sharon had turned out to be. How does that song go? Something … something ... 'I can't get no relief'? Knowing that the poor spook was likely to get hammered twice, she began instead to hum the half-forgotten melody under her breath.

This sort of thing never happens to Rex Caesar, John silently lamented. Why can't real life be more like the movies?

"Jump," Deirdre suddenly screamed.

A contented smile brushed across the hybrid's lips. Her daughter was suckling at her breast, and she felt at peace with the universe.

. . .

"Was that supposed to happen?" Anita knew that no one had given the command verbally, but with a thousand Leobens in the stream, anything was possible.

The Two simply shrugged his shoulders. His confusion matched the President's.

"Well," she asked, "are we where we're supposed to be? Does the fleet have these coordinates?"

There was an equally blank look on every cylon face.

Anita sighed heavily. "D'Anna, find out where we are, and send a Heavy Raider back to fetch the fleet."

The President stared wonderingly at the temperamental hybrid. Thirty seconds earlier, she had been glaring resentfully at everyone in her chamber, and now she looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary.

There are days, Anita Suarez swore to herself, when I really, truly hate this job!