Thank you for the very nice comments, I have received with the last two chapters. It really means a lot to me.

Chapter 26

Helena was thankful for this passage of Laura's diaries, which documented a government organization on the Caprica planet. She was interested in learning more about that society and its structure. She knew that she would learn more with Sharon on the trip. She did not want to question her directly, as Sharon was still unaware of their discovery, and raise any suspicion. Yet, she knew that Sharon's culture held the answers to their questions. Interestingly, it looked like corruption was the rule on Caprica, that there was a president, and that the military had planned a conflict. This looked way very familiar and similar to some of the problems encountered on Earth. Helena understood the humans had created the cylons and that somehow they had evolved into self-generating machines, with a resurrection technology enabling them to download into genetically engineered bodies. And those had evolved into androids with a human-like physiology and possibly the ability to reproduce. They had human appearance with the ability to learn and better themselves. Killing machines with the ability to learn and no compassion, manipulated by a military power, certainly would be dangerous if they escaped control. Self-replicating and immortal! This seemed to be exactly what happened. A cautionary tale if any.

"Frustrations were high in the fleet and as we traveled on our way to the nebula, time seemed endless. We would spend days at task, working without breaks, trying to find a place for everyone. The population had nothing to look forward to. I had not seen Bill in a while and I was wondering if he was over his feelings of guilt. That is when I heard about the 'dance', a boxing match that the soldiers organized. I had not been invited, but I used to watch boxing with my father and he took me to matches. I decided to attend. Bill was surprised to see me there and explained to me it was a private tradition, some way for the crew to release their frustrations over long hours of duty. Certainly after all of the events of New Caprica, there was a lot of that in the air. People would throw their name tags in the box and partners would be drawn to fight against each other. The hangar bay where the ring had been set up was loud and hot. Smoke was clouding the air and it smelled of human heat and sweat. It was deafening, the metallic hull of the hangar bay reverberating the screams and cheers of the crowd. The tension in the air was palpable, as the fights went on and on, and betting money was exchanged. Bill had not thrown his tags in the box. He was not planning on fighting, but in a sense, I think he also needed to vent his frustration, his guilt and his pain. He was looking at me intensely, close to me and isolated by the noise and attention of others drawn to the ring. Suddenly it was as if we were back there, by the lake, when he kissed me, and later in the night, laying down bodies entwined. I knew he was feeling it too. He looked around, at his family, all of these soldiers, and crewmembers, who he cared for so much and handed me his glasses. I did not know what I was starting, when I encouraged him to go up. I did not know how seriously he would take it. He went out to fight Tyrol. Bill was old; he had been shot in the chest and had this major surgery to save him. I started to get very worried when he took the fight to an unexpected level of intensity and both men started to hit each other hard. Blood splattered. I climbed up on the ring during the break and held ice on his bruises. I was there supporting him the best I could. He did not want to give up the fight. He knew he was going to lose; worse, he wanted to lose. Tyrol demolished him and knocked him out. All of a sudden, I realized what he was doing: he wanted to pay in his body what had been done to us. He wanted the beating because he had not been beaten up on New Caprica, like the rest of us. He wanted to be even.

'When you fight a man, he is not your friend. Same goes when you lead men' he declared aloud to his crew after the game, barely standing up, his face bleeding.

'I let each one of you become too close'. That was for me too. 'I let this family disband and we paid the price in lives'.

With the admission of his guilt, that his softness had led to disaster, that he led his emotions control his reason, he stepped down the ring and with a curt 'Madam President' he leaned on me, 'Admiral' I answered my throat tight under the emotion I felt, and I led him back to sickbay my hand on his back, offering small comfort. Dr. Cottle followed us and would have to stitch him up. Bill was feeling responsible for New Caprica, for the disaster of our stay there and for not preventing us to settle. He felt responsible for not getting us out of there fast enough. I walked with him in silence. He was in physical pain. I was in emotional pain. I let Cottle take care of him without saying a word, tension between us like an invisible dense tie.

Of course, Bill got reprimanded by the old doctor.

'What good would you do to us dead? May I ask?' Cottle went on grumbling, while Bill was grimacing under the pain. 'I am not wasting painkillers on you. If you want the pain, take it.'"

"Back in his quarters, we sat in silence, heavy of the words he said in the ring. I took the glass of alcohol he gave me and he sat next to me on the leather couch, sipping quietly from his own glass, not making eye contact. I was upset. I was upset he did this, that he took the pain for us, that he regretted his softness and his attachment to his crew. We all needed to be human once in a while. He had been human, had let his people enjoy life, and had let me see another side of him. We had been human. Because of him, I had allowed myself to be a woman again instead of the cold-hearted leader with only one goal in mind, surviving. 'Why?' I said looking at the amber liquid in my glass.

'Because I let my guard down and people got hurt. You got hurt.'

'We, you and I, made the decision together not to steal the election. The people voted. It was their choice too. Baltar gave us up to the cylons. The cylons did this, not you or I. People wanted to settle down, what would you have done? You could not have prevented them and imprisoned them on these ships in orbit. You had to let them settle. It was their choice. The cylons came. They tortured us with the help of some humans. They did, not you.'

'You had the right instinct. Stealing the elections to prevent a disaster.'

'Did I? Survival... No matter what the price is... Even, if we have to lose our souls? Stealing elections, killing people for survival, genocide! Where does it stop? I felt mass killing the cylons was different, I guess. Even if they are not human, even if their only goal is to destroy us, I know it is still killing.'

It was a true ethical struggle for me. I kept on going back and forth on that decision. I just had been perfectly fine with the idea of committing genocide against the cylons. It did not happen, but I made the decision to that effect.

I shook my head and sighed. 'What is the price to pay, Admiral?'

He stayed silent for a while, then added,

'We could have come earlier.'

'True, you could have. But, Admiral, at the end, you came. We are here. That is all that matters.'

But he remained head down on the couch, sulking. This strong man still felt he had to take all of the guilt of the universe on his shoulders. I finished my glass.

I got up and removed my suit jacket carefully and neatly put it on the back of a chair. Then, I slowly unbuttoned my green blouse.

'Madam President, what are you doing?'

Without an answer, I turned around and slipped the shirt off my shoulders, baring my back to him. Below the strap of my bra, I knew, I felt, laid long horizontal scars crisscrossed with angled ones, some fainted, some already pearly white, a few others still red and a bit swollen, marring my lower back, my waist and continuing under my skirt on my hips and buttocks. It would take months for these to disappear, if ever. The skin was still green and yellow in some places from old bruises fading. I could feel his look sliding on the skin of my back, stopping at the waist of my skirt, wondering maybe if the skin covered by the fabric was even worse: the scars, I would not show him. I leaned on the table lowering my head. I could not look at him.

'We are even. You wanted to know, Admiral. You interrogated the private for information. You invaded my privacy. Yes, I still have scars. Yes, I was sexually abused and almost raped. These are nothing compared to the abominations Cottle and I witnessed. Today, you have gotten your scars too. You did not understand why I wanted to completely destroy the cylons. You called it genocide. What do you call this? Do not try to get beaten up to match this, Admiral; it will not work. All of your crew, they are your family and will always be. And no matter whom you are trying to convince, I will always be your friend. You cannot erase what happened between us, Bill. We are allowed to be human. You know what? I survived. I am here, and we will continue our journey to find Earth.'

He took a long look at my skin, but never met my eyes when I turned to face him, buttoning my blouse back. Fists tight, jaw clenched, rage building, he threw his nearly empty glass against the bulkhead where it shattered. Undisturbed, I put back my jacket and approached him as he stayed with his head buried in his hands. With a soft caress in his hair and a whispered 'take care of yourself, alright?' I left his quarter and headed back to the shuttle."

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