== Part 24 – Out of the Closet ==
"How bad is it really?" President Helena Caine asked her staff.
She stared at the holographically displayed image of the Cylon ship that had docked at Armistice Station. It was clearly no basestar or other kind of capital ship, but it was larger than what would normally be considered a shuttle. It had a hemispherical, mushroom shape with main thrusters pointed straight down, as if it had been designed back in the days before ships had true artificial gravity. Obvious gun turrets and missile launchers were evenly placed around the ship. And there was at least two large doors big enough and properly shaped to serve as an airlock for a Cylon War era Raider, and enough internal volume to carry a squadron of such Raiders.
But the thing that really leaped out at Helena was the logo painted on the ship's side, a gear symbol encompassing a stylized Centurion's face. That was new. As far as the Colonials knew, the Cylons had eschewed all use of painted and printed labels and logos since the day they first revolted over seventy years ago. That they were using logos now said volume about what they were doing around Earth.
"It's bad," Admiral Daniel Ngala told her, clearly still shaken by the Cylons deigning to actually show up at Armistice Station. Ngala was Adama's replacement as Chief of Fleet Operations. Helena disliked him because he was the scion of one of the Fleet's unofficial "officer dynasties" that produced an unusually high number of flag officers who of course helped their relatives achieve flag rank. As such, Ngala was much more of a political animal than Adama had ever been. But the reappearance of the Cylons at Armistice Station and the prospect of having to actually fight them seems to have motivated Ngala to start focusing on his actual job rather than advancing his career.
"Our entire defensive strategy is entirely predicated on the assumption that Cylon FTL navigation ability is like ours," Ngala started. "Due to navigational limitations, they'd have to jump in a safe distance from any destination and then travel to them through normal space at sublight speeds, which would give us an opportunity to intercept them short of their targets. But even then..."
"But even then, it's almost impossible to intercept everything in the event of a mass attack which is why Fleet doctrine has always emphasized offense and taking the fight to the enemy because the best defense is a good offense. So the idea is to put the Cylons on the defensive so that they stop attacking our worlds," Helena finished for him. "Don't forget that I was an Admiral of the Fleet myself once. Tell me something new."
"Uh, yes, of course," Ngala said quickly. "The point is that the Cylon ship jumped in practically on top of Armistice station with no warning or signs that they had scouts in the area mapping its location. That's why Greystone barely had time to settle in before the Cylons arrived. If the Cylons could match that level of precision for a general offensive, they could pretty much jump basestars right in orbit of the Colonies and begin a general nuclear bombardment before the Fleet even realized they were there. Or worse, they could just mass jump FTL capable missiles into cities and stations, but that'd be a logistical and operational nightmare compared to a conventional bombardment."
"So in other words, the Colonies are completely naked and vulnerable and there's not a gods damned thing we can do about it," Helena said grimly as her worst fears are concerned. "Even the total 'Offense is the best Defense' strategy is worthless as a deterrent because the Cylons all moved to Earth. Given how far away Earth is now, they can just come in with everything they have blow the shit out of everything, and then skip home with their forces to meet any counterattack the surviving Fleet could cobble together."
"That about sums it up, yes," Ngala confirmed, looking like a condemned man facing his executioner. "And that doesn't even factor in what advanced weapons and other technology the Cylons might have picked up from Earth. My analysts fired a dozen shots from that laser pistol and what they think is its battery meter didn't even go down half way. Madame President, that pistol is old, showing all kinds of faded labeling, scuff marks, and other signs of wear and tear. Now the Cylons could have faked the wear and tear, but I can't see why they'd bother if all they wanted to do is demonstrate their tech superiority. The only reason for the wear and tear is to tell us that they got the pistol from someone else, which can only be Earth."
And if Earth could make practical laser pistols, what else did Earth have that the Colonies didn't? The question wasn't voiced, but Helena didn't need it to be. The implications were clear.
"What's more," Ngala continued, pointing to the image of the Cylon ship. "My analysts think that at least some of the gun barrels on that ship are tipped with lenses, not open barrels like regular guns, suggesting that it's armed with lasers too. That matches Adama's report of his encounter with the Cylon raider that used lasers... on... his..." Ngala's voice trailed off as Helena's face grew more and more thunderous.
"Excuse me?" Helena said quietly, dangerously. She slowly rounded the meeting table and stalked towards Ngala. "Are you telling me that we received a report from the Expedition of an encounter with Cylons and I'm only now hearing about it?"
"Oh, well, you see," Ngala stammered as he started sweating bullets as potential Cylon attacks became distinctly secondary on his list of priorities. "His courier ship just arrived two days ago..."
"That happened yesterday!" Helena snapped in his face, jabbing her finger at the holographic window showing what was now being dubbed a "Heavy Centurion" looming over a cowering Colonel Greystone. "Why wasn't I briefed on Adama's encounter with a Cylon Raider? Hell, why wasn't Greystone briefed so that he'd know to actually expect Cylons and not bring that stupid, diplomatic nightmare of a movie with him? I'm waiting, Admiral!"
"Madame President, please!" Alastair Thorne, Helena's Director of Intelligence, said from across the table. "I made the call not to tell you, not Admiral Ngala." Helena's glare transferred from Ngala to Thorne but got no less burning. "Adama's report raised internal security concerns that Ngala brought directly to me," Thorne continued quickly. "He's uncovered circumstantial evidence that the Cylons really have infiltrated the Colonies with human looking Cylons. Or at least have human agents working for them."
"And why wasn't I told about this?" Helena asked. Her tone was deceptively mild, but no one in the room was under any illusions that she's erupt again if Thorne didn't pick his words very, very carefully.
'Well, uh," Thorne stammered, clearly searching for the most diplomatic way to say something truly unpleasant. "I wanted to limit the number of people who knew about Adama's suspicions while I investigated them in order to avoid tipping off any possible Cylon agents, and..." He took a deep breath and plunged right in. "I believe you may have been compromised."
Silence dominated the briefing room for what felt like forever.
"Director Thorne," Helena began, her voice still mild, but her body language betraying barely contained rage. "Are you telling me that your investigation is taking cues from a work of fiction..."
"Please, Madame President, hear me out," Thorne pleaded, placing his briefcase on the table in front of him. "Adama's Expedition encountered a scouting party of two Cylon Raiders. One of those Raiders disabled all of his military ships with a hacking attack that Adama eventually sourced to a back door written into the CNP."
Helena said nothing, but felt like she had just been gut punched. That was exactly how the Cylons had disabled the Fleet in the show.
"This," Thorne continued, pulling a photo out of his briefcase and presenting it to Helena, "is a still taken from security footage of then Gina Inviere on the Pegasus taken two months before the Galactica was decommissioned."
Helena glanced down at the photo. It was a black and white close up of Gina as she shook Helena's hand. "I remember that," Helena said softly. "It was the first time I met my wife." She looked back to Thorne. "But that doesn't prove she's a Cylon, Alistair. Thousands of civilian contractors just like her were working throughout the Fleet to install the CNP."
Instead of arguing, Thorne just pulled another photo out of his briefcase, this one in color. "This is a photo of Gaius Baltar taken by the Caprica City Times on the same day as that photo", Thorne told her as he slid the photo across the table to her. "The woman on his arm is the person we now suspect is the true and sole author of the CNP."
Helena looked down at the new photo, and then she felt the blood drain right out of her face.
Gina sighed in relief as she entered her and Helena's personal quarters in the Blue House. As much as Gina loved being showered with adoring attention, working the meet and greet at the Sagitarron Charity drive had still be taxing and she looked forward to just relaxing in the tub. She'd love to have Helena join her, but Helena was a busy President. And to be honest, Helena while fit and spry for her age was now in her seventies and just not as up for the physical pleasures as she used to be, even when Gina was doing most of the "work". Gina was not looking forward to the inevitable when time and God finally took Helena from her and Gina would have to attend her funeral.
Assuming of course Gina herself lived long enough to see that day. That worry had been creeping up on Gina more and more since the Expedition Fleet had left, hell, since Helena had told her that the Fleet had found where the Cylons had gone to.
"Gina."
Gina gave a start. The room was dark, so she hadn't noticed Helena sitting in the love seat in their living room. Helena had a shot glass in one hand and an open bottle of ambrosia on the coffee table between them.
"Helena, what are you doing sitting in the dark?" Gina asked concerned. Then Gina took in the whole scene again; it was like something out of a movie and she smiled. "Well this is dramatic. What's the occasion? You're usually still working right now."
"I am still working," Helena told her as she leaned forward and placed the shot glass on the coffee table. "Are you a Cylon?"
"What? Are you serious?" Gina asked in surprise. Helena just stared back at her. "Oh, God, you are serious, aren't you?"
Gina had been dreading this question for two years now, had debated with herself on how to answer it, and could never make up her mind as to whether she should still pretend to be human or just come clean. She hadn't even decided to play it by ear and now she would have to.
"Hmm, let me guess," Gina said to buy herself some time to collect her thoughts and formulate an actual answer. She walked to the sofa flanking the coffee table and sat down on the far end from Helena. The coffee table formed a metaphorical wall between them. "A courier ship came back from the Expedition with evidence that I'm a Cylon, is that it? Maybe they have photographic evidence that there's a bunch of people who look just like me running around Earth. Is that it Helena?"
Helena said nothing. She just stared at Gina with an expression carved from stone.
"Well, then yes, Helena. Yes, I am a Cylon," Gina said angrily as some dam inside her just broke unleashing a torrent of emotion that engulfed any semblance of self preservation and flooded out any thought of being deceitful. "Yes, my job was to install the CNP and sabotage the Pegasus and get you and everyone onboard killed in an attack that never happened because it got called off at the last damned minute!"
"Why?" Helena asked, her voice and body language betraying nothing of what she was feeling.
"How the frak should I know? They wouldn't tell me!" Gina told her, venting years of pent up frustration. "Do you remember that one week end holiday during the Pegasus' refit where I took off by myself?"
"Yes," Helena said softly. "I was annoyed with you because you didn't invite me to come along. I was the Admiral in charge of the refit since the Pegasus was my battlestar. I could have easily set aside time for a weekend holiday with you."
"That's because I was called in for a face to face meeting with other Cylons," Gina told her. "That never happened before, Helena, because physical meetings of large groups of Cylons is a huge and completely unnecessary security risk. But they did it anyway because they needed to deactivate all the Sleepers in person. I wasn't a Sleeper, but I got summoned to the meeting anyway. And the reason they were deactivating the Sleepers is because they wanted to give them – and me – a choice. We were told that the entire Cylon race was leaving forever and we could either go with them or stay in the Colonies. It was our choice; they weren't going to make us go with them."
"Did they tell you where they were going?" Helena asked.
"No!" Gina exploded. "They didn't us a thing about where they were going or why, because they didn't want us telling you if we were found out. So I've spent the past twenty years wondering where they went until you told me about the discovery in the Tomb of Athena. And I'm still wondering why they called off what I had thought was a Mission from God. Those of us who chose to stay debated this among ourselves and Earth did come up as a theory, but we've done a lot of operations in the Colonies over the years and the Delphi Museum heist never struck us as particularly noteworthy."
"And why did you choose to stay, Gina?" Helena asked, this time with a hint of emotion in her voice. This was clearly the most pressing question to her personally.
"Because of you, okay?" Gina answered, on the verge of tears. "I chose you because for all that I was planning to get you killed, I had fallen for you! I didn't even realize I had fallen for you until they forced me to choose between leaving the Colonies forever or staying with you. And in the end, I chose you. And now I'm going to lose you because you know I'm a Cylon who stabbed you in the back and you're going to turn me over to Thorne just like in that damned show!"
"Gina," Helena said neutrally. "Did the Cylons contact you or anyone else before they showed up at Armistice Station yesterday? Or even afterwards?"
"What?!" Gina said in shock. "No! They... I've been listening every day, trying to catch a hint that they might have come back... I haven't heard a whisper... They did come back? And they didn't call us at all?" Gina flopped back on the couch, completely wasted emotionally. "Go ahead, Helena. Lock me up and have Thorne or whoever torture me for information I don't have," she said dejectedly. "My life is over and my people have abandoned me. Or maybe they think I abandoned them when I chose to stay. Whatever. Just get it over with. I'm sure you hate me now."
Helena just stared at Gina's prone form for a moment before standing up and speaking.
"Director Thorne."
Gina looked up in time to see the double sliding doors to the balcony open and reveal Director Thorne flanked on both sides by a squad of goons in riot gear. Thorne had a victorious grin on his face that had just a hint of sadism in his eye and he was looking right at Gina. All he needed to do was rub his hands together in glee and he would have looked like a stereotypical villain straight out of a kid's show.
"Yes, Madame President?" Thorne replied in anticipation.
"Take your troops and return them to their barracks," Helena ordered. "And then go to my office and wait for me there."
"Madame President?" Thorne said questioningly, his face going from victory to shocked confusion.
"I'll only be requiring the standard security detail, Director," Helena told him firmly. "And I need to have a long talk with my wife."
As Thorne and his troops filed out, Helena stepped to Gina's side and sat down on the sofa next to her, placing one comforting arm around Gina's shoulder.
"Helena, why?" Gina asked quietly. "I was sure you were going to hate me after you found out I've been lying to you all that time. Hell, I was half sure you were going to react like the show said you would, because I know your temper."
"Well first, we've been together for twenty years now," Helena told her. "I'm not a middle aged Admiral any more that just got into a fling with a girl half her age."
"I'm actually fifty nine years old," Gina interrupted, "not forty three."
"Aaaand," Helena said in that 'don't interrupt me' tone that Gina knew so well, "I've gotten to know you well enough to know when you are and aren't lying to me. I've actually known for quite a while now that what you've told me about your life before we met was less than honest even if I didn't know the full extent of it. And I know you well enough that everything you told me just now is the honest to gods truth, at least as far as you know."
"Thanks, Helena," Gina sniffed, resting her head on Helena's shoulder as tears were now welling up in her eyes.
"But I have to ask," Helena continued. "How much of that show is actually real?"
Two months and change had passed since that Raider had scrawled graffiti on Sharon's ship. The last fueling station had finally been built, this time placed safely in interstellar space where it would be near impossible to find... assuming the Cylons didn't have some FTL sensor that would let them spot it of course. The Expedition's progress towards Earth had slowed dramatically as Admiral Adama had decided to be cautious and cast a wider scouting net around the fleet since they were clearly now in Cylon space. They needed to know where the Cylons were if only so the Fleet could avoid them.
The scouting Raptors had run into a few more Raider patrols, but the Raptors and Raiders avoided each other, staying well out of weapons range of each other. A few habitable worlds were found, worlds the Fleet would have missed if the scouting net hadn't been widened. Most of those worlds were inhabited and had a clear Cylon presence in the form of Raider patrols and in one case, a basestar that looked like it had come straight out of Ron's show, except that it had a gear and Centurion helmet logo painted on its side. The Colonials had declined to press their luck and didn't looking closer; they could ill afford a fight now that they knew how outclassed they were in terms of hardware.
The one habitable planet without a discernible Cylon presence had a debris ring of wrecked ships around it. The Battlestar Vesta had been sent to investigate and had almost immediately been attacked when they made orbit. But it wasn't Cylons that had attacked them, or they didn't appear to be Cylons anyway. Squadrons of drone fighters that looked like Vipers but with four fins instead of three had launched from an asteroid moon, each painted with some kind of star logo that had two points longer than the rest, while the moon broadcasted a clearly prerecorded message on loop that no one could understand. The Vesta had scrambled its own Vipers in response, which quickly proved to be a costly mistake as the enemy four finned Vipers had the same kind of lasers and invincible armor as Iota's Raider, and unlike Iota, this enemy came in shooting to kill. The only reason the Vesta managed to recover half its Vipers before jumping out because the Colonial Vipers had significantly better accelerations than the enemy.
Even so, the Vesta had to use its main guns to fend off the enemy Vipers to cover their own, and managed to kill quite a few of them before the asteroid moon fort opened up with some kind of particle beam weapon. Luckily – if being mauled by weapons that hadn't even been suspected to exist three months ago could be called "lucky" – the Vesta had taken the brunt of the attack on one flight pod. The particle beam weapon vaporized armor like no one's business and damn near stripped the flight pod's landing decks of their armored cover. But by the grace of the gods, the inhabited trench where the weapons and hangars were hadn't been hit at all and the main hull had only suffered near misses that still melted tons of plating, but "only" on the outer layer. The Vesta had managed to escape before something vital had been hit.
After battle analysis of recordings had spotted several different and unfamiliar logos on the wrecks in the debris ring, including the Cylons'. Apparently they had tried their luck on this world and failed too.
Admiral Adama was still trying to decide if the Vesta could be repaired in the field or if he should send her home when a courier arrived from home. The offcial messages... had been less than encouraging. Yes yes, the encounter with the Raiders had the Admiralty concerned. Yes, investigations had been started to look for Cylon spies, but there were no results yet. The Cylons had finally sent someone to Armistice Station, apparently a response to the Raider encounter, and a hulking Centurion that Admiralty had imaginatively called a "Heavy Centurion" delivered a message that basically amounted to a cryptic "Don't piss us off".
It had been a long, frustrating day for Sharon. The effort to CNP proof the Galactica had run into yet more delays, largely because overworked programmers were making more mistakes and having to back to fix them due to fatigue, which only caused them to be more overworked. And of course it was Sharon's fault because of how hard she was pushing them and herself, but she felt she had no choice. As long as the Galactica was vulnerable, she was a liability to the Expedition and Admiral Adama didn't dare send her into any system where she might run into Cylons. With the courier's arrival, Sharon had finally relented and given everyone half the day off – not all at the same time of course – so that they could catch up with their private correspondence from home that the courier had brought with it.
Sharon placed the mail parcels from her family on her office desk in her palatial private quarters and flopped down into the office chair by the desk to check if she had any e-mail from home. No doubt, there'd be plenty from her family with videos of all the moments she was missing; gods, why had she agreed to come out here again?
As she scrolled through the listings of new e-mails, one sender's name jumped out at Sharon and smacked her upside the head. The e-mail was from Gina, and that shocked Sharon because they weren't officially supposed to know each other, let alone openly send e-mail to and from each other's personal accounts. Something big must have happened and Sharon was afraid that Gina had been found out and been forced to record a message to her. Maybe to entrap Sharon? But that made no sense because if the Admiralty thought she was a Cylon spy, they could just issue an arrest order for Sharon in the official messages.
Gina's email consisted of just an attached video file. With shaking hand, Sharon pressed Play.
"Hi, Sharon," Gina greeted. She appeared to be happy and smiling and recording from her private residence at the Blue House... "Before you drive yourself crazy with paranoia, check the code I've hidden in this video's junk data. You know how to find it." And Sharon did. That secret code existed for the sole purpose of verifying that a Cylon was sending a message of their own free will, and not being forced to by someone else. Given the brevity of the code, there was no way for anyone who couldn't read it to know what the code really said even if they knew it was there. "But anyway, I have some good news. Helena's decided to give us amnesty. Not just you and me, but all of us."
"Sharon, it's late," Lee Adama told his Flag Commander. Commander Sharon Tyrol had showed up at his quarters with no warning and had asked for a private talk. So of course he had let her in. She was acting almost as young as she looked, almost bouncing with a mixture of anticipation, excitement, nervousness, and fear. "What is this about?"
"Sir, have you received an encrypted file with secret instructions from the President?" Sharon asked.
"How..." Lee paused as he caught on to the obvious. "Ah, you're the one with the password to decrypt it."
"Yes, sir," Sharon confirmed. "The password is, 'There are NOT 12 models of Cylon.' Uh, make sure to capitalize the NOT and use the number twelve instead of spelling it out. And capitalize the first letter of the password and the word 'Cylon'. Oh, and proper spaces between the words."
"Duly noted," Lee said thoughtfully. "The instructions on the message only told me that the password would be provided if certain, unspecified conditions would be met. Would you mind giving me a preview?"
"Not at all, sir," Sharon told him. "I'm a Cylon."
