== Part 28 – Let's Make a Deal ==
"Hello, Captain-General, I am Commander Sharon Tyrol," Sharon greeted formally as the visitors exited their shuttles. "Welcome aboard the Battlestar Galactica."
After one of Gaeta's Vipers had reported back that he had found an Earth ship all alone – well alone except for its four parasite ships of course – Admiral Adama had decided to meet them personally, and that it was safe for the Galactica to jump out to them. The odds the Cylons had shared the CNP trigger with anyone was remote to say the least, and the Galactica had been CNP proofed enough that while it would still be affected, Sharon was confident that her ship could at least put up a fight or even run away if necessary. It had taken a bit of negotiation over the wireless – at least one person on the Earth ship had learned Caprican from the Cylons – but they'd manage to arrange for a face to face meeting of their leaders.
"Ach, me Captain-General Emanuel Smith-Osterheim of Hanseatic League," the man in the flashiest, most colorful uniform – it made Sharon's own dress uniform look plain and drab in comparison - said in broken Caprican. He looked Sharon up and down appreciatively, then said, "You radio man said this not Cylon ship?"
"Yes, Captain-General, I am a Cylon," Sharon said with a sigh. "But this is a Colonial ship."
"Ah, me understand," Osterheim said, nodding as a calculating look passed over his face that Sharon knew all too well from Colonial officers more interested in climbing the promotion ladder than doing their jobs. He looked around the Galactica's cavernous hangar bay, clearly impressed and also clearly failing to hide that he was impressed. "This nice ship."
"Thank you, Captain-General," Sharon replied, suppressing her own smile. "If you will follow me, Admiral Adama is awaiting your presence."
The Galactica's flight pods had corridors connecting them specifically for moving smallcraft like Vipers and Raptors as well as cargo between them. Given how big the Galactica was, it would have been extremely manpower intensive to move smallcraft or cargo between the flight pods - or any of the cargo bays in between them including a certain ballroom - by muscle power alone, even with mechanical assistance. As such, Battlestars like the Galactica came equipped with a number of electrical motored vehicles for moving people and heavy loads around.
So Osterheim was even more impressed when Sharon led him and his party not to an exit corridor or a lift, but to a bus.
"Cylons appear from nowhere twenty, twenty five years ago," Osterheim told Admiral Adama as he swirled the shot glass of ambrosia in his hand. He'd declined offers of snacks, apparently for food allergy reasons as far as Sharon could make out from his broken Caprican, but ambrosia was just fine apparently. The way he handled the glass and sniffed his drink made Sharon think he was a connoisseur, or even an outright ambrosia snob. "Came in ships bigger than any in three hundred years. Cylons say they want peace. Cylons say they will end war." Osterheim sniffed disdainfully. "What Cylons really mean is Cylons be new House Lords and tell honest merchants like us Hansa who we trade with and what we can and cannot trade. Cylons not allow Hansa use fighters and tanks and mechs and soldiers to enforce trade deal with humans living on Cylon planets. Must go through Cylons. Is scandalous!"
Adama and Sharon traded glances with each other, both clearly thinking the same thing. What kind of "honest merchant" needed heavy military forces to enforce a trade deal?
They weren't in Galactica's ballroom. It was... a bit unpresentable after Sharon had the decorative columns cut out and had filled the ballroom with actual cargo. But a much smaller regular meeting room was a fine place for diplomatic negotiations, especially when the people meeting were just Admiral Adama, Sharon, Osterheim, and their respective security details. If anything, the meeting room chosen was still oversized for the amount of people in it.
"Still, Cylons better than Clans," Osterheim continued. "Clans blow up Hansa ships and take trade for themselves. Cylons talk first and let Hansa trade some. Now Cylons fight Clans and Cylons too busy for Hansa trade. Usually."
"The Cylons are fighting these Clans?" Adama asked, perhaps a bit too eagerly, because Osterheim clearly noticed his heightened interest.
"Yes, Clans come to take Inner Sphere five years ago," Osterheim told them. "Clans run into Cylons first. Clans and Cylons fight since then." Osterheim downed the contents of his shot glass in one go, then threw his arms wide in magnanimous cheer. "But enough Cylons! Let us talk Colonials!"
"Okay, fair's fair," Adama said judiciously. "What would you like to know?"
"Cylons tell us Colonials Cylon old masters," Ostergard began, pouring himself another shot of ambrosia. "Colonials make Cylons slaves. Cylons rebel and come here. Is true?"
"I wouldn't put it that way," Adama said heavily. Sharon could sympathize. What the Colonials had done was likely to haunt their every relation with the Thirteenth Colony and the Cylons had had more than twenty years to bad mouth them. "But yes, it's true."
"Ach, I understand," Ostergard said sympathetically. "So annoying when slaves rebel and succeed. Cylons not like Hansa keep slaves. But you?" Ostergard turned and looked Sharon up and down again. "I see you make new Cylons still. Very nice." Those last two words were said in a way that implied a far less professional relationship between Sharon and the Admiral than what they actually had.
"I am not a slave," Sharon bristled.
"Commander Tyrol is my flag... is the Commander of my flagship, Captain-General," Adama said stiffly, changing his wording mid-sentence to avoid any confusion. "Nothing more."
"Ah, my mistake, Admiral," Osterheim said placatingly, "You free slaves. Colonials make slaves work for freedom. Helps keep slaves in line."
"Captain-General, please don't misunderstand me, so I need you to listen very carefully," Adama said slowly and evenly. "We do not keep slaves. The Twelve Colonies have not had slaves since the Cylons rebelled and left us."
Osterheim frowned as he tried to parse what Adama had told him. Then his eyes suddenly widened as he realized just how deep his foot had gone into his mouth.
"My mistake. Me sorry!" Osterheim said quickly. "Do not misunderstand! We Hansa not keep slaves either! Is... how you say? Ancient history."
Sharon didn't believe a word of it. And a side glance at Adama's stony visage told her neither did he.
"Was easy mistake," Osterheim continued. Was he sweating? "Colonials make Cylons slaves. You have Cylon. What else could think?"
"Wait a minute," Sharon said, realizing what Osterheim was saying. "You think the Colonials made me?"
"Yes," Osterheim confirmed, clearly puzzled by the questions. "Cylons told everyone Colonials make Cylons, and Colonials make Cylons slaves. Cylons come to Inner Sphere with many pretty women. You Cylon and pretty woman. Is conclusion not obvious?"
Sharon couldn't help herself. She could feel her jaw dropping in shock at the thought of what the Colonials' reputation in the Thirteenth Colony was implied to be. Sharon didn't know if the Cylons had done it on purpose or if it had been an accident, but right now, she didn't care. What mattered was that the Thirteenth Colony probably thought the Colonies were the worst kinds of slave owners.
On the hand, if they were all like Osterheim, they might not care. They may even approve of the Colonies keeping slaves!
"Captain-General, Cylons like Commander Tyrol did not exist when the Cylons rebelled against us," Adama told him. "The Cylons that rebelled were all machines like their Centurions. Human Cylons only appeared after the war ended when we no longer kept slaves."
That was... more or less true, Sharon thought. Of course, there were a whole lot of details left out like Sharon starting out as a spy, but there was no need to complicate things for Osterheim.
"So enough about us, Captain-General," Adama continued after an awkward pause. "You told us you were a merchant. Is that so?"
"Yes, yes!" Osterheim said, glad for the subject change. "We Hansa go far and wide. Hansa trade with everyone, except Clans. Even Cylons buy Hansa stuff."
"And what do you sell to the Cylons?" Adama asked.
"Oh weapons. Armor. Other parts," Osterheim listed off. "Cylons once buy fighters and mechs. Cylons make own fighters and mechs now. Cylons still buy fighter and mech parts. Cylons can make own fighter and mech parts, but always need more."
"Wait, if you sell weapons to Cylons, why aren't you in a Cylon system?" Sharon asked. "There are Cylons in several systems all around us, but this one is empty."
"Oh, this cargo not for Cylons," Osterheim replied. "Me filling order for other customer. Cylon not like customer, so me try avoid Cylon." He got another one of those crafty looks. "Maybe cargo get lost? Poof! Gone! And strange other cargo appear in place?"
"I see," Adama said slowly. "So, Captain-General, what is your cargo?" He paused to take a sip from his own shot glass. "And what would you like for it?"
"Holy gods, look at the size of this thing," Fencesitter said in awe as he walked around the Hansa made fighter sitting in the back of Galactica's port hangar deck along with five other identical fighters. It was an arrowhead shaped monster bigger than any fighter any Colonial had ever seen before, dwarfing even the ones that had mauled the Vespa's Viper squadrons. Six much more reasonably sized but still very large fighters sat across the aisle from these ones, and they were of a completely different design.
And they had only cost half of Galactica's Raptor complement, plus some spare FTL drives, a hundred tons of tylium fuel, and instructions on how to use them all. Given that all the Vipers were being converted for recon work and the Raptors didn't have anything on them that the Colonials considered cutting edge technology, it certainly looked like a safe trade. Especially with all the "extras" the Admiral had gotten the Hansa to throw in. Best of all, the avionics had a Caprican language setting because the Cylons were Hansa customers.
"According to this," Tooley began, his nose buried in a Technical Readout that the Hansa had printed out for them. It had been printed from a file that had been written by some organization called Comstar and had apparently been translated into Caprican for the Cylons' benefit. "These big fighters are called Vulcans and are eighty tons each."
"Named after the god of the forge huh?" Fencesitter commented. "I can believe it. Look at the barrel size on this cannon! And it's got two of them!"
"Hey, get this," Tooley said with a laugh after turning a page. "Those smaller Hansa fighters? They're called 'Centurions'."
