0o0o0o

For the first time, Gaeta regretted the lack of pains he'd taken with his
home, especially in regard to his bedraggled sleep area. He had to scrounge
for extra linens to cover the bed, not listening to Dee's protests when he
made himself a nest on the floor near the window, telling her it was for
lookout purposes. He was the lighter sleeper he told her, better for hearing
trouble coming and there must have been enough residual authority left in
his voice from his days aboard the Galactica for her to drop the
subject.

He could feel her eyes on him while he attempted to pull together a meal for
two -- instant soup rations and the dry biscuits he was able to choke down
on occasion -- but he tried his best to act nonchalant about it, not to let
her see how much her presence was affecting him -- and why.

Gods, he never thought he'd see her again. At least outside of his nightly
dreams, but now ...

"Do you want butter with your biscuits?" he asked quickly, pushing those
thoughts brutally aside. This certainly was no time for foolish daydreaming;
there was far too much at stake. "It's not really butter, I suppose, but
that's what we call it around here."

"No, thanks," she replied, her eyes still trained on him. Her expression was
a mixture of concern and suspicion and Gaeta didn't blame her for either.
Gone was that look of easy-going affection they'd once shared, but after how
they'd left off after the election and his subsequent banishment to this
hole, he couldn't expect things to be as they were. Or as he'd once hoped
they'd be.

"So what's it like working for the President?" she asked.

Gaeta's hand paused mid-stir and he shrugged. "Not that much different than
working aboard Galactica. I do what I'm told and I get to live
another day. Simple as that."

Dee frowned and Gaeta had to turn away, so not to see her dark
disappointment. "I've heard rumors that Baltar is actively working with the
Cylons, facilitating their tactics, encouraging them even. Is this
true?"

"Is this an interrogation?" Gaeta asked dryly. "Because I can always walk
over to the punishment camp and get one there."

Dee started a little. She quickly shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir, I just
.."

"Felix. It hasn't been 'sir' for a long time, Dee. Or, if anything, perhaps
I should call you 'sir'. How is your new position working out?"

Dee laughed, but it was a short, bitter sound, which surprised him. "Like a
security guard at a cemetery. And the uniform itches. You never told me
about that."

Gaeta handed her a bowl of soup, with a biscuit parked precariously on the
plate's rim. He sat down on the floor across from her, cross-legged and
pretended to sip at his own soup, even though the very smell of it nauseated
him. "You'll get used to it. If there's one thing I learned in the military
it's that you can get used to anything if you have to."

"I guess," she replied quietly, playing with her spoon and looking about as
hungry as Gaeta felt. She seemed so tense and for a second, he saw the Dee
he once knew, the sweet young reservist who wanted to do her best, but
wasn't always confident in her abilities. The sight nearly broke his heart,
especially when she said: "Felix, I really need your help. I thought I could
do this - I wanted to do this as an officer - but now that I'm here,
I think I might be over my head. Lee felt confident I could do it, but ..."

"I told you I don't want to hear about it," Gaeta interjected, his jaw
tight, hoping desperately she couldn't see the anguish her plea caused him.
He would easily die to help her, but covertly assisting in the rebellion was
simply more important than whatever cockeyed 'mission' his old superiors
were interested in completing. If Lee Adama was an actual commander, he
should have sent teams first to access the situation before allowing an
inexperienced junior "officer", no matter how stubborn -- and Gaeta knew Dee
could be stubborn -- to pluck pilots off-world and back to the battlestars.

Ridiculous, really. As if the Cylons were that stupid. Like a rat trap,
entering New Caprica was easy, but you left only when laid out in a box.
Unless he helped her ... but how?

Dee's lips pressed into a thin line. She put down her untouched soup. "I
see."

"You can hide out here as long as you need to." Gaeta's hands shook as he
put down his dinner, glad to get the stuff away before he threw up all over
it. "Beyond that, there's nothing I can do."

There was silence then, long, tortured minutes of it. "I wish I knew what
happened to you, Felix," she said sadly. "The officer I once knew would have
done the right thing. I can't imagine what's changed you so much."

"I could say the same thing to you," Gaeta replied, gathering up the plates
and scraping them before putting them in a small wash bucket. "But I think I
know the answer to that." He almost added "Lee Adama" to the end of that
sentence, but caught himself before he did. If anything would make Dee storm
from the house in a pique and get herself killed, that probably would be it.

It was ridiculously easy to get killed on New Caprica. If she were found in
the house with him, it would end slowly for him, as their Cylon occupiers
were almost obscenely fascinated with the extent they could make human
beings suffer for their sins. After the torture would be a very public, very
gory execution, as a warning to anyone else harboring ideas of rebellion or
escape.

Obviously, Dee had no idea what kind of viper's nest she'd stepped into. Not
the slightest clue.

Still, her disappointment stung. Especially as it was undeserved, but he
knew the importance of keeping his cover, even to her. It was safer that
way, for both of them, for Gods forbid she were caught and interrogated, she
couldn't divulge something she didn't know.

Dee sighed, obviously resigned. "I suppose there's not much more I can do
this evening."

"No, you can't. It's better we turn the lights out anyway, in case they've
been keeping track of when I usually turn in," Gaeta said, glancing at his
chrono. "Like most computers, they're good at the mundane details." He
pulled aside a curtain and peered outside. No Centurions nearby, but there
was a Six model across the way, looking strangely out of place in her
glamorous clothing and perfectly coifed blond hair, a beautiful woman
standing in the middle of the dark and empty street.

Her appearance didn't fool him, however. He'd seen enough of that model in
action to know it was a ruthless killing machine, almost sadistic in the
pleasure she took in torturing and executing the hapless humans who refused
to fall into line with the Cylon Peace Agenda.

All he could do was pray that he ... and Dee, gods, his poor Dee ...
wouldn't end up being one of them.

Nervously, he reached over and clicked off the lamp. Darkness immediately
covered the room, with just enough light coming in from outside to let Dee
settle into the bed. He thought about wishing her a 'good night', but
sighing, Gaeta silently crawled beneath the blanket on the floor, resting
his head on his arm. Sleep was as likely to come as a fleet of battlestars
and tomorrow he had little to look forward to except a visit to a Cylon
'doctor' who as likely kill him as cure him, if it became suspicious enough
to start questioning him.

He took some small comfort in listening to Dee's breathing turn slow and
steady indicating she'd fallen asleep. At least she'd be safe for one night,
he thought. Vaguely he wondered what in hells Lee was thinking by letting
her come down here, how any man who claimed to love a woman would allow her
to enter into such a volatile situation by herself, but Gaeta shook away
that train of thought.

Their relationship was none of his business. Dualla had made her choice and
Gaeta hadn't been it, even though he would have locked her in a storage room
before letting her run headlong into such danger.

He shut his eyes. Gods, what a damned fool he was. A fool for being honest
at the wrong time, for not speaking out when he had the chance, for not even
trying to tell Dee how he felt -- he had no one to blame but himself.

And now he was going to pay the price for his mistakes, perhaps with his
life.

The least he could do was make sure Dee wouldn't pay with hers.

0o0o0o

The morning came as it always did on New Caprica, with a gray sky and
morning prayers to the Cylon God blasting over loudspeakers all over camp.

Some people, perhaps hoping to curry favor with their occupiers, made a show
of publicly praying along with the Cylons, but most stayed inside their
houses, stubbornly refusing to come out until the spectacle was over. It
only last a few moments, but it was as good as any alarm clock and Gaeta
rubbed his aching eyes before sitting up, wincing at the stiffness in his
back and shoulders.

There was a strange smell coming from the kitchen and Gaeta jumped up,
thinking he'd left something on overnight. He was relieved when Dee walked
out carrying two steaming mugs filled with hot coffee.

"I hope you don't mind, but I had trouble staying asleep, so I helped
myself," she said, handing him a mug.

Gaeta accepted it with a nod of thanks. "Are you kidding? This is the
highlight of my year. Was there actually coffee in there? I don't remember
storing any."

"In the freezer," she replied. She tilted her head to one side, peering at
him. "There are a whole batch of frozen rations that are untouched. It seems
you haven't been doing a lot of cooking." She reached out and ran a hand
down his decidedly thinner arm. "Or eating, from the looks of it."

He flushed with embarrassment and wrapped his hands around the mug,
appreciating its warmth. "It's ... sort of stressful around here," he
admitted reluctantly. "I don't have much of an appetite." Hesitantly, as the
less Dee knew, the better. Even about his personal situation. "Speaking of
food, feel free to help yourself to anything that's in there. I'm sure
you'll have better luck than I would of making it edible."

She glanced down. "Felix, I appreciate the hospitality, but if you can't
help me ..."

"Help you snag pilots for shipment back to the fleet?" he sighed. "To help
in the takeover effort from above?"

Dee gaped at him. "How did you ..."

"Guess those years I spent training as a tactician were good for something,
huh?" Gaeta interrupted. "Your plan is very textbook, very officer-like,
which is precisely why it's not going to work. The Cylons have made it so
that any protocol-based thinking isn't going to fly in this situation. I'm
surprised the Admiral didn't realize this and authorized such a mission
anyway."

"Um, he didn't authorize it, not at this time anyway. Lee was the one who
wanted to get this done right away," she replied, looking somewhat abashed.
"It was sort of on the sly, as Lee thought his father was taking too long
and since he couldn't abandon his command of the Pegasus, I
volunteered to do it for him. He was very hesitant at first, but I insisted.
Besides, it had to be done. There aren't a lot of people left aboard the
fleet who'd know the personnel by face anyway."

"Ah." Gaeta nodded knowingly. "That explains a lot."

"Lee's been very ... impatient to get his pilots back," she said, scratching
her thumbnail along the coffee mug's side. "Especially Starbuck." Somewhat
bitterly said, and Dee took a vicious swig of coffee, swallowing it grimly.
"Is she still around?"

Gaeta blinked. Starbuck. Suddenly the pieces were tumbling into place, with
a solution possibly presenting itself. "No idea," he lied with a shrug. "All
I can say is I hope not, as she's a wanted felon."

"Wanted felon?"

"Yep, for the crime of rebellion, along with most of the pilots. If rumors'
to be believed they've taken to the far hills and if they return, they'll be
interrogated and likely executed. So I hope they don't come back, for their
sakes."

"And you'd go along with this?" she said, her eyes narrowing. "With torture?
With injustice? With the murder of your crew mates by the Cylons?"

He shrugged again, his throat tight. "I just follow the rules, I don't make
them."

"Even when they're that ... that ... insane? By the gods, Felix ..."

"I like staying alive." As coldly as he could muster, and gods, it hurt to
see the disgust in her eyes. "Is that such a crime? I don't go out of my way
to report anyone, but I'm not going to be an idiot either. If these are the
rules the Cylons want kept and they have the muscle to back it up, who am to
argue?"

"Who, indeed?" Dee glared at him. "You know, Felix, maybe the Admiral was
right about you after all -- you're a little too in love with the rules for
your own good. As well as the good of everyone else."

Now that hurt. Gaeta pulled himself up and reached for his jacket.
"If you're smart and interested in living, you'll stay here. I'll see what I
can do about this ... situation. But I'm warning you, if you think you'll be
able to go traipsing around town without ending up in the punishment
barracks, you'll be sadly mistaken. And once you're in there, I can't help
you."

"Can't or won't?" she asked sharply. She waved him off with a
dismissive gesture. "Don't answer that, I'm pretty sure I know which one it
is."

"Stay away from the windows," he ordered quietly from beneath the door
frame, which he held onto with whitened knuckles. "I'll be back this
evening. I ... " He paused, before letting his voice trail away entirely.

She didn't say anything else.

He left the house on leaden legs. The coffee churned in his stomach, but he
slogged on toward Colonial One without glancing back. Every nightmare he'd
ever had since the day of the holocaust seemed to be coming true. He was
unable to fight, except in the most menial ways, unable to run with a clear
conscience -- even unable to die with dignity. Too many people needed him,
even Dee, who now was part of that nightmare, despising him as a coward
while he ...

He shook his head. He couldn't think about this right now. Later, he'd think
it about it then.

Or else lose his mind completely.

0o0o0o

"I'm concerned with your appearance, Mr. Gaeta." The large, black skinned
Cylon male looked at him intently. " I want you to wait here in the exam
room while I run some tests. Don't get dressed. I may want a specialist to
examine you." The Cylon took the various blood samples he had drawn with
him.

This is bad, Felix thought as he sat on the exam table, wearing nothing but
boxer shorts. He couldn't kid himself about faking it through a medical
exam. There were a lot of things that, over the last few months, he had
excused as stress. The way the Cylon looked at him though, he had the sudden
cold fear that he just might be sick. Really sick, and not just stressed.

Of course, it didn't help that his stress levels were through the roof. Just
the very fact that he knew that Anastasia Dualla was at his house was making
his hands shake, and his stomach roll. It was a good thing he had left the
house with nothing but a cup of coffee in his stomach, that he had spewed
into a drainage ditch before presenting himself at Baltar's office.
Otherwise he probably would have vomited when the Cylon had touched him.

Which wasn't truly fair to the Cylon. He didn't get to work with the model
who examined him very often. Number Five was one of the male Cylons, but
like many of the Cylons, it had a human name as well, no doubt to try and
make humans feel more comfortable. Dr. Simon, the Cylon had called himself,
and to be perfectly fair, it had been quite gentle with the blood drawing
and the exam. The clinic was also quite nice. The equipment was modern and
new. Hardly the horror show that the punishment camp was, but he didn't let
it lull him into complacency. It was pleasant for a reason, to mislead and
pacify. The Cylons insisted that they wanted to preserve the remnants of
humanity and he knew from his work that medical care had improved a lot,
much the way the food and housing situation had improved.

Still, if Dr. Simon had been a human being, his expression would have
indicated a serious problem. A real illness, a serious one… it would just be
the icing on the cake for him. Maybe it's cancer, he thought darkly, maybe I
can just die slowly and unpleasantly from that. No need for the electric
cattle prod games that some of the Number Threes, and Sixes, amongst others,
liked to play.

Dr. Simon came back in, carrying charts and medical equipment. " I want you
to lie down on the exam table, Mr. Gaeta. Another doctor will join us in a
few minutes but I'd like to get this started as soon as possible."

"Get what started?" Gaeta said nervously. He didn't lie down. He was
President Baltar's aide after all, and that meant that the courtesy of
explanations was usually extended. Usually. " Is there something wrong?"

" Fortunately," Simon said as he began unwrapping more alcohol wipes, "
there's nothing serious wrong, yet. But you aren't well, and that needs to
be dealt with before there's any permanent damage." The Cylon looked at him
intently. " You're underweight, and malnourished, and your blood sugar is so
low, I don't really understand how you haven't fainted. I am going to give
you an intravenous drip of glucose, and nutrients. I want you to lie down
because you look very tired, and I've had human patients pass out in these
circumstances before. There's no need to add insult to injury. Now would you
please lie down?"

He did as he was told, trying not to react to the sting of the needle in his
arm. He didn't like the idea of accepting medical care from a Cylon, but he
was the president's aide. It would seem suspicious if he refused. " Is this
going to take long? I do have work."

" Dr. Baltar agreed to let us have you for the morning, longer if
necessary." Simon looked down at him. " Dr. Baltar was quite concerned. He
said he found you vomiting yesterday, and it hadn't been the first time he
had noticed it. Has this been happening a lot?"

Felix considered lying but only for a moment. It was true, and lying would
only make the Cylon suspicious. " Lately it's been every day. Everything I
eat seems to make me nauseous."

Simon made some notes. " The malnutrition most likely began during the time
the fleet was running from us, and the tests indicate you have several
stomach ulcers. Those are usually caused by a bacterial infection, which you
were open for since your immune system was already weakened. It's a vicious
cycle because the vomiting makes the malnutrition problem worse, which makes
your immune system worse." The Cylon paused. " You're not the first I've
seen with this sort of health problem. What we need to do is stop the
cycle." He began writing down more notes in his file. " The IV is to get you
out of the immediate danger zone. You should be feeling the sedative any
time now."

" What? What sedative?" But suddenly, he felt a wave of exhaustion seem to
roll over him. It felt like he was falling, and his limbs were too heavy to
move, his eyelids too heavy to keep open….

He came back to awareness slowly. First, that he was still lying on the exam
table, and hands occasionally touched him, touching all over and he couldn't
move at all. Then the faint murmuring got louder. There was someone in the
room with Simon, one of the Sixes, and they were talking over him.
Frightening, but also an opportunity, as it was clear they thought he was
unconscious.

"No, there's no permanent damage," Simon said. " Give him about a month, and
he'll be able to participate in your project. I do think it's a risk though.
I can pin physical causes to his illness, but it could also be psychological
and we won't know that until we see how treatment affects him. He may not be
suitable."

Suitable for what, Felix wondered.

" He meets the standards set for prime heritage stock." The Six spoke low
and coldly. " There are very few among the surviving humans that are viable
for the project. His suitability has already been determined. You're
concerned about stability, and that is a potential problem," Felix felt a
hand rest on his chest and he willed himself to breath normally. " But
stability can be enhanced with drugs, and I have been surprised with how
adaptable the more intelligent ones are."

" I hadn't realized intelligence was one of the standards for the program."
Simon said.

" Long term planning suggests that it's better that we encourage the healthy
and more intelligent to be the primary source of repopulation. We both know
that some Cylon models aren't… remarkable for their intelligence, or
quality. The same is true for humans. The hybrid attempts have been too
random and with poor quality humans…. Is it any surprise that there have
been massive failures? Besides, it will take several generations to breed
the humans necessary for serious attempts. Until then, we'll need
administrators and trustworthy upper level workers…"

"Loyalty can't be bred. For example, while I think Mr. Gaeta puts on a very
good show for us, I doubt he would stay if he had a choice, a real choice. I
wouldn't be surprised if part of this nausea and lack of appetite is a
reaction to the stress of masking his real feelings towards us." That was
far closer to the truth than Felix wanted to think about

Six laughed. " The key phrase is real choice. He has no choices but the ones
we give him. That's why intelligence is an important trait to breed for. Why
does Mr. Gaeta work for us and not against us? Because he understands that
he has no choice, that we won. He may have difficulty coping with that, but
that's why intelligence is important. The foolish ones are the ones throwing
themselves on our swords. The smart ones are adapting. This can't be the
worst case you've seen."

"No… this is fairly mild. And you've read my reports on this. And my
recommendations."

" We won't be allowing indiscriminate breeding forever. Once the minimum
numbers are met, you'll be allowed to sterilize the less desirable elements.
But that's a few years away. Right now it's our job to get all the
designated prime stock into good condition. We'd better stop. He should be
starting to come around."

" Probably not for a little bit yet." He could hear them as they stepped
around the exam. A hand brushed against his face, and it took all of his
will power not to move or change his breathing.

" They're so innocent looking when they're asleep." Gaeta could feel the
female Cylon's breath on his face, and her hands gently massaging his
shoulders. He was suddenly glad that the doctor had tricked him into
sedation. Without the drug, he would have been screaming.

"Individually, they're quite charming," Simon agreed. " A few generations
from now, raised by parents who are educated by us and not by their savage
parents, and we'll have truly won." The feminine hands left, replaced by a
sudden shaking. " Mr. Gaeta, you need to wake up now."

Felix continued to fake sleep, even letting the Cylon pry open his eyes and
shine pen lights in them, before he started to feign groggy awareness. It
helped that he did feel groggy and lightheaded. " What's… what's going on?"
he asked as the Cylon helped him sit up. The Six model was smiling at him."
We were talking and…."

" There was a light sedative in the IV I gave you. It hit you harder than I
expected. You've been asleep for five hours. How are you feeling?" Simon
asked.

Maddeningly, he felt better. " Okay. Tired, and a little fuzzy." They expect
you to act a little messed up, he warned himself.

" I'm giving you a special requisition pass for certain items from stores."
Six spoke coldly. " You need to take better care of yourself, Mr. Gaeta.
You're very important to this society. This is a prescription for
antibiotics for the ulcers, and these are requisitions for some special
dietary foods… some protein drinks and nutritional supplements."

"If you're not able to keep those down, you need to report it," Simon
warned. " And you need to come back in seven days so we can examine you
again."

"I've already made the appointment," Six warned.

He took the papers she handed to him. " I'll….get these things today."
Because they would check. It was too soon to think about the implications of
what they had discussed while he was asleep, but he was certain they would
check. Six always checked. He knew that from working with her. "There's
three hours left to my work shift…. I'd better get going." It dawned on him
that he had a great excuse to wander into places that he wasn't supposed to
be in. He made a point of stumbling a little and swaying as he got off the
table.

Simon grabbed him by the arm. " Perhaps you should go home early."

"No, I should at least check in," he said. He saw the way in. " I should let
Dr. Baltar know that I'm all right at least." It helped that he could also
wander, while in a drugged stupor, into the ID area and perhaps drop some
cameras and stuff some id makings into his pockets. He could help Dee. She
needed help. An id would help her get around, and he was supposed to contact
Starbuck soon anyway with an update. He could, if he tried hard, convince
Kara to use the system to get Dee out. If Dee got out, she could at least
tell the resistance fighters how to find the fleet.

He was going to try to forget everything else he had heard and just focus on
getting Dualla out of this hell hole, he decided. Everything else… He wasn't
going to be a pawn in the Cylon plans. That was simply not going to happen.

He would get Dualla out, and if he died trying… that was all well and good.

o0o0o