M for Mature audience. Multiple warnings for this very long chapter. This chapter includes torture, abuse and attempted rape during cylon occupation of New Caprica. I avoided as much as possible explicit cheap details, which would not bring anything to the story. I wrote this chapter several times and I had several revisions. So I am very nervous about it. And it is long, because I did not want to cut it in the middle and leave you without a more positive resolution.

I am touching here a very difficult subject and a controversial one. I know that some will not agree with this turn of events. There is one indication in the series that Laura was in detention more than once. I believe that the first one was the most brutal one, before Baltar was able to prevent any more abuse. The reality of war, occupation and the detention of critical key persons in power -or having the power to lead an insurrection- would have made Roslin a particularly important target. She had enough power among the population to be an alternate leader, once Baltar surrendered and Zarek was arrested. I also believe that her trauma while in detention led to some of the decisions she makes further down the line in the series. And I will address those in this context later.

Thank you for all of those who take the time to review. Your opinion and thoughts are appreciated.

Chapter 15

Helena was astonished at what she had read. There were mention of word 'Cylon' several times in Laura's text but up until that point, Helena had no idea who they were. She had assumed a different ethnicity, a different tribe, population, aliens, or nation. She knew they could reproduce since Laura mentioned earlier in her diary a cylon fetus. But the text she had just translated was very obscure and she was not sure anymore what Laura was taking about. Were cylon an alien race? She said they created them, so that did not make sense. A new life form maybe? She was talking about them as sentient beings. They had space travel capacity. They had been at war with them before and what was a skinjob? What did it all mean? Was she wrong in her translation? Had she missed anything? If cylons were an alien race, or a created race, then how come the modern humans never heard of them? Where did they go? And did they still present a threat for modern humanity? She said they could not die. That was just impossible; no living thing is immortal. Laura talked about a download and coming back anew. This would apply more to computers and data stream than living things. What were the cylons? Computers? This definitely had to be elucidated and understood. Helena mentioned her findings during the next lab meeting; just like her, others were puzzled. The cylons had been a threat for years for these people and they were running away from them in space. From the text she could gather that there were two kinds of cylon, the centurion kind and the kind Laura called a 'skinjob'. There was the mention of Cavil, but Helena did not know if this creature was human or cylon. By her description, this Cavil was human; after all it had a conversation with her. He must have been some kind of leader of the cylons; maybe the cylon skinjob kind was a humanoid life form. Centurions might have been warriors, in a bodily armor maybe. Laura had called them 'war machines', but she could have meant soldiers, unless she actually meant it literally. Machines. Helena thought about it, machines. And what was a 'jump', that the ships seemed to be able to do to escape? Hyperspace jump? That technology was not invented here and most physicists considered this impossible, in the realm of science fiction. Her hypotheses were met with skepticism. A few jokes were thrown about a great army of clones, just like in Star Wars. Helena responded by citing the text.

"All I know," she said, "is what Laura has written in her diary. That is real. She was scared and obviously the cylons were a great threat to them. She mentioned that they were created by them, as war machines, and rebelled, that they were banished and came back with a vengeance. This does not sound like a fairy tale to me."

"We need more evidence. There are too many unknown to really understand what we are dealing with. But I agree with you, Helena, there is something there that needs explaining. We need to keep our minds opened to any possibilities, even if they do not make sense to us. After all, we are dealing with some extraordinary circumstances and likely a human population with a technology way superior to ours. This discovery has nothing usual and so far we have been surprised again and again. I have a feeling we may not be at the last of our surprises". That was the final word of Takashi Inoue, the team leader, concluding the meeting. Helena rushed back to her desk, wanted to continue her reading of the text, worried about what would happen to Laura. Helena was caught up in her story, thinking with awe that she was probably reading the most incredible book in the universe. She sighted. Laura would have loved that.

"Fourth day of the cylon occupation.

It snowed, heavily. Children, of course, were happy running around and throwing snowballs in the few hours between the curfew. The cold, the wind and the snow really hampered our effort to locate wounded and those who had disappeared in the few days after the cylons' arrival or organize ourselves to fight. In a blizzard, I made my way for news to Dr. Cottle's makeshift hospital, with the already made excuse that I was getting medication in case I got caught. Meetings of more than five persons were forbidden. We lacked wood, food, and the water pump froze. We had to get water by melting snow or run to the river at great risk to be caught on thin ice or by the currents. Tents collapsed under the heavy weight of the snow and we started to have a system to shake the snow off the fabric every few hours as it was coming down rapidly. Most of our day time was used to gather supplies to heat up, food and poking at the tent fabric to make the snow slide down and prevent the fabric from tearing or tent poles from breaking. I heard from Cottle that dozens, mostly young men, had been killed by the cylons. They were those who tried to fight or were caught up outside after the curfew. They left the bodies outside in the streets as a warning. Some people had escaped and, he heard, had run out in the forest in hiding. Cottle was running out of supplies to treat bullet wounds. Kara Thrace was the first one to disappear, he told me, right before the snowstorm. She came to find antibiotics for Sam, her husband, who had pneumonia. The cylons came; she just vanished. Nobody knew where she was. She was last seen with colonel Tigh and his wife, and then the chief. Then nothing. She was not the only one. It seems that the cylons arrested individuals, which they feared would be most likely to participate to an insurgency. Cottle told me to go see colonel Tigh and I did. Through the snow, I walked to his tent. I was greeted by a loud: 'Well, look who's there! Madame President'

'I wish everyone would stop calling me that.'

'Better that frakking Baltar'

'Zarek is the vice-president. So if Baltar is incapacitated, the presidency goes to him.'

'Another frakking terrorist. What brings you here?'

I sat down on the chair, shaking the snow out of my jacket.

'I was coming for news.'

'I heard a Cavil came to your tent to talk to you.'

I looked at him.

'He did'

Tigh sat down across from me on the table an Ambrosia bottle in his hand.

'Drink?'

I shook my head, although the prospect of alcohol seemed really appealing at that moment.

'What did he say?'

I swallowed a painful lump.

'He said that the Galactica and the Pegasus had been destroyed.'

'That is a frakking lie!' He exclaimed with anger.

'Because?'

'You did not believe it, did you?' He looked at me 'You did…' He laughed and continued. 'Gullible and naïve. Well, the cylons will have a field day with you. We have a source in Baltar's government that let us know that the rest of the fleet, Galactica and Pegasus, jumped right after the cylons arrived in orbit. That was the plan, if those bastards ever came back. The rest of us here will get organized to be ready when the old man comes to rescue us.'

I let a long breath of relief out.

'The old man will not let us down. You can count on that.'

Tigh did not have to tell me. I knew that the only thing that would prevent Bill to come back was death. If he was alive, then he would come back sooner or later, but he would not let us. I never doubted that.

'What are you planning to do?' I asked, all business, the leader, again.

'The less you know the better' he answered abruptly and continued 'For your protection.'

'What can I do?'

'You should get everyone to practice evacuation drills, so that people do not panic when they come and get us. Get organized so that people have ways to find each other and evacuate as calmly as possible. We do not know when and where that is going to happen, so we have to be ready. Set up meeting points for families. Set up signals to let everyone know what is going on. Be careful, I am sure some will be more than happy to inform the cylons. Do not trust anyone. You should go now.'

He shook my hand and I made my way back in the blizzard to my tent. I was relieved beyond belief. The snow looked less dreadful and the wind less cold. I made it just in time before the curfew. I had now a goal set, a plan of action. With it, I could fight. I could do something. That night, for the first time since the cylons arrived I allowed myself to think of the tender times Bill and I had in those past months. It was only a few weeks ago, but it felt like an eternity, when we were carefree, innocent, and liberated of our duties. I closed my eyes and snuggled in the fleece blanket, that he had wrapped around us while we made love, and the sweatshirt and pants he had given me. I had given the other blanket to Maya, who had none. I swear I still could smell his scent in the fabric."

"I am writing here the account of my detention. I have not been able to write it until now, nearly two weeks after I was released. I find that writing is incredibly therapeutic. They came in the middle of the night. Jerked awake by hands covering my mouth, wire binding my wrists and a hood pulled over my head, I screamed but the sound got muffled. I was dragged bare feet in the snow, shivering, for what seemed for ages. I fell, got picked up brutally and forced to walk, blind, pulled by arms, so many arms and hands reaching me. Then the ground changed under my frozen and numbed feet, I knew I was by the buildings. I heard screaming, I heard crying. I heard gunshots. Key in a door, the loud screeching of hinges, we were out of the snow, on cement concrete. They pushed me some more until they stopped and removed my hood and my bindings. I was in a cell. The white light was blinding, unforgiving. There was a bucket in the corner, nothing else. Far up a small window, or I should say hole in the wall, as there was no glass to close it, but only bars, let a corner of night sky in. There were stains of dry blood on the floor, marks and scratches on the wall. It smelled of urine and death, despite the cold. Two guards, hooded, were watching me. I imagine they had to be humans or they would not need to hide their shameful faces. We knew who the cylons were. We knew there are eight cylons skinjob models, even if we never saw the seventh. Only humans would not have the courage to expose that they were traitors to the human race and hide their features as not to be recognized. I looked in their eyes, defiant. Cavil entered the room.

'Take off your clothes'

I did not move and the guards raised their guns at me.

'I am not going to say it again.'

I had a goal, we needed to survive until Bill came and get us. I removed my sweatshirt and my pants.

'Everything'

So that was it: humiliation, pain, torture. I stared at a spot on the wall right behind Cavil's shoulder, as I stripped of my t-shirt and panties. I stood straight without looking at him, while I was feeling their looks on my bare body. I prayed.

'I heard you met with colonel Tigh.' I ignored him, closing my mind to his words.

'He is here too. Right next door, as a matter of fact. I have to say, his body is a lot less attractive than yours.' I focused on my breathing while watching a spot on the wall in front of me. One breath in, one breath out. One breath in, one breath out... Cavil walked right to me.

'You are so beautiful, do you know that? Tell me, what did you talk about with Tigh?'

'One breath in, one breath out. It is going to be ok, just breathe' I thought, as I felt his hand traveling down on my body and his lips close to mine. I shivered uncontrollably when he touched my breasts. I hated my body for reacting to his touch. I knew it was just a physiological reaction. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard that I tasted my own blood. His fingers lingered there touching me and he whispered in my ear.

'You can get out of here, if you tell me what I want to know. What plans they are having? The admiral is dead with everyone else. Nobody is coming. I thought I told you this already. This resistance will only bring you pain. I have no plans to harm you, Laura.' He looked at me, his face close to mine.

'God says that the union of two bodies is a blessing.' I could not help but gasp as his hand traveled down my abdomen lower and lower.

'What are you planning with colonel Tigh?'

I could feel my heart racing in fear, as his hand continued to go down.

Without removing his hand, he turned around and called up the guards.

'Come and look, isn't she lovely? Enjoy the show.'

I caught the look of one of the guards behind his mask, and what I saw was not enjoyment or cruelty, but sadness and shame. I decided to focus on his eyes.

'Look at me', I thought, 'look at what you have agreed to'. He was the first one to break our silent visual exchange, lowering his eyes.

'Hold her' He ordered and both guards grabbed my arms painfully.

'Do you know what you do to me? I've been waiting for this moment for quite some time.' he whispered, bringing his mouth close to mine.

'I am going to play with you a little, until you decide to talk. Madam President.'

He addressed the guards, 'Hold her legs open.'

I screamed a loud shriek, when I felt their gloved hands suddenly pushing me forward against the wall, my cheek and chest scraping the cold and rough concrete. One guard held me behind my neck and shoulders. The other tried to spread my knees open. I resisted and kicked back with all of my strength and hit one of the guards, who, surprised, let go of me. I fell on my back and hit my head on the ground. Pain spread to my head and I was confused for a moment. When I came back to my senses, I realized I was pinned down on the cold floor on my back, by the guards, wide opened, completely exposed. Cavil was unbuckling his pants.

He chuckled to the guards. 'You can have her after me'.

He waited a couple seconds for effect.

'Still not talking?' he said as he started to lower himself on me, his stale breath by my mouth. I screamed at the top of my lungs.

'What is going on in here?' A Number Six cylon walked rapidly inside the prison cell by Cavil and looked down at me. I closed my eyes and turned my head to the side, humiliated. The guards let go of my body. I scurried and curled away into a ball in the furthest corner of the cell, shaking. At the same time, I heard a piercing scream from the cell next to me. Tigh!

The Six was arguing loudly with the Cavil. I am not sure what they were saying; I was unable to focus on their voices, my head throbbing. He left and she ordered the guards to bring me some clothes. They dropped a dirty jumper on top of me. I did not move. I did not want to expose more of my body to them. I took the clothing and held it in front of me, not looking up, hiding my head in my knees and against the wall. I wished in this instant I could disappear from this life, become invisible. The Six dismissed the guards.

'Are you hurt?' She kneeled down by me and ran a comforting hand in my hair.

I shook my head.

'Did they..?'

'No' I managed to say, chocking on my tears. She nodded with a sigh and stood up.

'Give them something, anything. They will let you out.'

'No' I replied. Then she turned her heels and left, shaking her head.

I waited a long time before I moved. I checked and made sure everyone was out and put the jumper on. I was cold. I looked around. Things were a bit blurry without my glasses. Suddenly, I was taken by a bout of nausea and I stumbled to the bucket where I vomited, heaving in spasms. I, then, sat, wishing for water as the smell of my own vomit was sticking to me. I heard noises, I did not know where they were coming from, bangs, screams, some close, some distant, loud sobbing. I wondered how many were tortured at this instant. Despite this aborted rape, I felt I was more lucky than most. I had not been beaten, wounded or physically tortured. I was unharmed physically. I only had a bad bump on the back of my head. They never turned off the light and its constant bright glare blinded me, amplifying my headache. I did not know how much time passed, and I had closed my eyes and hid my head into my folded arms to cast a shadow. I jumped each time I heard a noise or steps in the corridor outside of my door."

"When the door finally opened, I almost screamed in terror, but it was just one guard who put on the floor a bowl full of an indescribable mush and a cup of water. It tasted horrible. I ate it and drank all of the water. I had to go to the bathroom. I did not dare to call out. I paced like a lion in a cage. That is what the bucket was for. I had to pee in there. It still smelled of the contents of my stomach. Worse, I had to undress to pee. I had nothing under my jumpsuit. I paced and paced until I could not take it any longer. We were reduced to the status of animals, peeing in a hole, naked, without dignity. I unzipped, pulled the jumper off my body, and went, my eyes squeezed shut, hoping that no one would open the door at this instant or would peak in the cell. I was just glad that nobody came and I promptly retreated to the far side of the cell. They kept on bringing food at irregular times. There was no way for me to tell how much time passed. I completely lost track. Time went by again. Nobody bothered to empty that bucket. I was numb. I had to use it over and over again, the smell turning my stomach over."

" I was using the bucket, when I felt the pain in my lower back and hips. It was dull throbbing pain. I could not see where it was from without a mirror. My hands searched on my body. They found sore bruised spots and raised painful and swollen lines on my lower back, hips and buttocks. Some of them had scabbed over. They must have bled. The inside fabric of my jumper had a few distinctive bloodstains on the back. Troubled, I could not remember where they were coming from. I put the jumper back on, puzzled. I tried to lie down on the floor, but I got too cold and the pain was shooting from my lower back to the rest of my body. Why didn't I feel that pain earlier? I felt like my senses were waking up from dullness. I took my usual position, folded on myself in the far corner. I tried to keep track of time, but nobody came except to bring food. I did not know how many days passed. I wished I had some kind of control over my mind, but I could not even count the days. I tried to pray, but prayers would not come. I tried to count the many times they brought food, but it was irregular and I lost the count. The screaming in the other cells continued days after days. I thought of Bill. Bill kept me sane, his voice, his laugh, his smile. I relived moment by moment every minute we had spent together. Bill would come and get me, and that hope kept me alive.

When the door opened I did not pay attention, did not move. I did not want to disturb the wonderful thoughts I was having. I assumed it was food. I was wrong. A Doral came, bringing me back to reality with a single kick with the point of his shoe.

'Laura Roslin' he called. That must have been my name, some time ago. I lifted my head and looked at him.

'Are you ready to tell us your plans with colonel Tigh?'

I did not reply and looked at him, unable really to understand what they wanted.

'What are the plans of the resistance? Who else is in charge?' and questioning went on and on. I looked at him and muttered.

'I don't know'

'I have a little present for you.' He took a tissue out of his pocket, put it on the floor by me and unfolded it. I was a while ball, glossy, with some dirt on it and brown marks. I could not figure out what it was. I was about the size of an egg, but rounder. He turned it and then I saw it: the iris, brown, the hole of the pupil, splattered blood vessels. I screamed and jumped back, my hands covering my face, my stomach heaving in nausea.

'Yes, this is colonel Tigh's eye. Let the others know what happens to those who resist, Madame President.'

Taking back the eye, he left. The door remained opened. A guard called me out and handed me my sweatshirt, t-shirt, panties and pants.

'Get dressed' he ordered and this time, I did not care about pulling my jumpsuit down and I got dressed as quickly as I could. They bound my wrists again, covered my head and walked me in corridors, until I felt the outside cold air. I was freed and they removed my hood and I walked out in the snow, bare feet as I came in."

"I was greeted by Dr. Cottle, who wrapped me in a jacket.

'How did you know I would be here?' I whispered as he put a comforting arm around my shoulders.

'They release prisoners everyday at about the same time. I just come everyday and provide medical care for those who need it. I was hoping you would be out soon.'

'You've done this for weeks?'

'Yes, Laura, you have been there four weeks.'

'Four weeks? Are you sure?'

'Four weeks'

'I thought I had been there only for a week, maybe two' I replied, confused.

Cottle hushed me to the hospital tent.

'Why are we going in there?'

'I need to examine you. I am treating and documenting injuries that occurred during cylon detention.'

'Dr. Cottle, I was not tortured or injured. I was not beaten up. I was just questioned.'

He led me in an examination room and closed the curtain behind me.

The brightness of his lamp made me look for the darkest corner to escape to. He must have seen me, because he immediately lowered the intensity of the light.

Cottle had one of the few tents, which had electricity coming from the main buildings. 'Just let me take a look at you, then.' He moved to me and, involuntarily, I retreated.

'Madame President! Let me examine you.' That was an order.

I backed off, unable to control myself, ashamed and humiliated. In a sudden panic, I wrapped my arms around myself and sank down to the floor.

'I want to wash off. I need to wash off right now.'

'Laura', his voice was gentle now, 'were you abused?'

'No. He did not have the time.'

I turned away and hid my face against the fabric of the tent, my eyes closed.

'He?'

'Cavil. I was naked. He touched me.' I paused, shaking, feeling dirty and hiding my face down in my arms. 'He touched me everywhere.' I swallowed; my dry throat was hurting.

'He unzipped. I struggled and fell. Hit my head on the back. He was about to… when a Six came and stopped him.'

He sighed and made one small step in my direction.

'Let me look at your head, then. When was that?'

'Right at the beginning. I don't know. I lost track of time.'

He carefully pushed strands of my hair aside.

'Show me where.'

I pointed to the region on the back of my head. And he bent to look at it.

'Did you lose consciousness? And did you throw up?'

'Doctor, I am fine. Yes, I threw up and I can't remember if I passed out'

'You have still a nice bump there. I want to do a CT-scan and make sure you do not have a concussion. Just to make sure. I am sure you are fine. Meanwhile, I have some water here for you to clean up.'

He went to the stove and poured warm water in a basin and handed me a washcloth and soap.

I noticed how he did not leave the room, but simply turned around.

I lifted carefully my shirt and rolled my sleeves up. I washed my chest and arms. I pulled my sweat pants off and washed my legs.

'Are those bruises on your arms and knees?'

I was angry with him for looking at me. I nodded in response. My legs and my arms were still black and blue from my struggle. I had more recent ones too and a stiffness and ache on my back and legs.

'Any other injuries, I should know about?' Defeated, I lifted my shirt and turned around.

I must have had a nice large bruise on the back where the Doral kicked me.

'That was today' I said.

"What is this?" He pointed where angry red scars, still swollen, marred my hips and lower back. They felt numb now; nothing like the throbbing pain I had when I first discovered those. I knew I had bled; it must have hurt like hell at the time. How come I could not remember when those injuries happened? I had noticed the pain but could not remember when and how this happened. When did this happen? Everything was a blur. Cottle looked very upset by those marks on my body.

'Put a gown on and lay on the table. Then, we will need to clean these wounds properly. It is going to sting. You are not going to like it, but you know I have to do a pelvic exam.' It was a gentle order and, suddenly exhausted, I had no strength to fight him. I did undress, put the gown, lay back and closed my eyes, wishing for emptiness. And he did a full exam on me, while I could not stop my tears. He confirmed I likely had not been raped, and apologized gently for needing to check. I turned around and he cleaned the wounds on my back, hips and buttocks, while I kept on crying. I was confused and more than the pain, I felt like a part of me had been stolen. I could not remember. There were gaps, somewhere, holes in my memory. I could not remember my full stay in the prison. I had lost it somewhere, it was as if something was missing, had been erased. I did not know when or how and it was driving me crazy. Cottle gave me pain medication, antibiotic ointment for the scars, and cream to put on my bruises, to reduce the swelling and ease the pain. He handed me a warm wet towel and gently said:

'You can finish washing up, if you'd like. Then I will stick you in the CT scan for a minute.' This time he left me the privacy I needed.

There were two MRIs and CT scan machines on the fleet, one set had been on Galactica, the other one was on one of the ships docked nearby. It was powered and used only for emergencies. I suspected that Cottle really wanted to keep me close for a while. I really did not think I had been hit that hard.

I dressed back and he took me to the CT scan. He did a quick exam and helped me up again. He told me I indeed had a mild concussion and needed to rest. We sat quietly on the deserted ship, while he lit a cigarette.

'Doctor, right before they released me they showed me...' I closed my eyes in horror, nausea invading me.

'They showed me an eyeball. They said it belonged to colonel Tigh.'

Cottle looked at me. 'Gods' he whispered.

'People are getting tortured out there. I heard screaming. What happened to me was nothing compared to what I heard.'

'Thanks for the information. I will let the others know. I am going with you to your tent and I will make sure that you get well taken care of.'

He released me with the promise I would come back every other day for him to check in the healing of my wounds. We walked back. He had given me an old pair of boots to walk back in the snow. I was exhausted. I ate a bit and I went right to sleep as soon as I stepped in."

"Nightmares would creep in for nights, slow agonizing and terrifying nightmares. Flashes of faces, hands on me, pain and bright lights. I would wake up shaking, drenched in sweat, screams still resonating in my mind. Cottle wanted me to rest during the day, but I refused; I felt that I needed to spend my energy helping others. Being idle would have been far worse. Then the mind starts wandering into dark corners, parts of my memory I wanted to erase and other parts I wanted to remember.

Tigh was still incarcerated and we had no news whether he was still alive or had been killed. I carried on drill exercises in the school, as he told me, and taught the children what to do if we had to evacuate. We set up meeting points where families would gather and regroup. I knew the resistance had plans, I knew they were concealing weapons and raising an army. But, I did not know any details, and I was glad not to. After what happened in the prison, I did not trust myself. I worked with Cottle in cataloguing torture victims and everyone's condition when they were coming out of jail. The injuries we saw were sickening. Water boarding was used, sleep deprivation, electrical shocks, burning, rape and various levels of humiliations. I thought that if they wanted to extract information out of me, they probably would be able too. Did I? Did I give them any information? I had been beaten and wounded and I had no memory of it. I would not trust myself to hold on under such pain. At the beginning, when I first saw the first victims and helped Cottle with bringing prisoners back to the hospital, it was unbearable. We would find people between life and death, so damaged that if their bodies healed, their minds would probably be hurt forever. It became imperative to establish a system for people to report those missing and making a census of the missing or the dead. I continued to write, as I felt liberated by putting on paper my feelings. I was unable to face what happened to me, aside from writing it. I couldn't talk about it. After my conversations with Cottle, I never mentioned it again. Nobody, but him, knew. But writing about the horrors I went through helped me recovering from it. As I wrote, I started to realize that my diary would carry critical information if fallen in the wrong hands, so I started hiding it whenever I was not writing in it."

"People were living in the constant terror of random arrests. Fear was present at every step. Tents were searched randomly. The only place they would leave alone was the temple. I went there often praying at the light of the candles, reading the book of Pythia and repeating mantras again and again to gain back the courage to continue fighting, I can't remember ever praying that much in my entire life. There was something soothing in the light of the candles, the scent of incense and the repeated verse and words. It was putting my mind at peace, when nothing else would. I needed to clear the constant chatter of thoughts running wildly in my mind: Pictures, words, memories, either pleasurable or terrifying."

"My mind would take me unwillingly to Bill, slipping often from the reality to a dream-like fantasy. I tried to push away those thoughts, focusing only on reality. It was a time when dreams were dangerous, painful and way too emotional. I could not afford to break down now. I could not afford to feel more pain. His memory was both comforting and painful. I had to remain cold and detached not to risk suffering from the raw pain of having my soul peeled alive by the longing of those moments long gone. My detention revealed to me strength, I never thought I had, I was still alive and I needed to use it for something. I needed to help others even more. So I buried myself in action, in organizing, teaching and planning. I distracted myself because thinking was too painful. My nightmares often brought back the eyes of the guard of my cell, his compassionate and kind eyes, full of pain, when he had to execute orders against me. Yet, he obeyed the orders. I would see his eyes in the eyes of men in the street, wondering, paranoid, if the person I just passed was him, wondering if those eyes were the ones who saw me naked and humiliated and, yet, still followed orders. Anger would build like a fire pit in my stomach and nausea would invade me until I could not take it anymore and had to run and retch in a latrine hole behind a tent. The cylons were destroying our souls, turning us against each other. Was that the intent? To hurt us by showing us the weaknesses of the human mind? The worse possible side of the human mind? Or was it just to bring us down to our knees, to beat us into submission? The slaves conquering their masters, and inflicting to us the humiliation we once inflicted to them. We created them. They are just machines. They might look human, feel human, but they are machines, machines with enough hate of us to kill us all. Why? Did we program them with the inability to feel compassion? We did. They were war machines, violent, used to carry our worse deeds. Yet, the Six saved me. She might not have done it for me. She might have had an agenda to prevent my complete degradation, but she did prevent it. I was ready to die at that moment. I would have preferred death than this humiliation. Whatever her reasons were, and I was too stunned to focus on her words, she showed compassion to me. I am grateful for that."

Helena closed her laptop and got ready for the night in her tent. In the darkness she thought of Laura, in this world ravaged by war. There were wars in Africa, and poverty and women abuse. Not much had changed, except maybe for the cylons, she was talking about, being not human. Obviously, from Laura's description, Helena thought they were human enough, but not quite. They had numbers. There were eight of them All of those eight being skinjobs. Laura referred to a woman called 'Six'. They were created and functioning like humans, potential artificial life form, computers or androids, maybe biological or maybe mechanical, or part of both. The technology existed on earth, and systems' integration between the mechanical and biological was started to get implemented. But these cylons were human enough to rape and torture and know how to inflict pain, yet be unable to die. Helena's affection went to Laura, the woman she would never meet, yet whose connection with her was more intimate than any friend she had. Laura was a woman who had suffered a tremendous trauma and exhibited an extraordinary strength. The African wind was blowing on the mountain. Helena, on her cot, let the tears flow, thinking of her. She needed to have answers and she started to think that the tribe in the mountains might hold some of them. She was hoping they would. Helena needed the confirmation that her story was translated correctly, anything, a validation that the assumptions she was making while decrypting the text were correct. On this fantastic journey, with a story likely as epic as the Greek poems or the Icelandic Sagas, Helena needed more physical proof to show this actually happened. Chemists were already placing her outside of earth and validated her hypothesis of space travel, but Helena needed more. What she wanted was a cylon.

Please, review... Thanks. I may post the next chapter this weekend, since we have Monday off.