==========BS-75 Galactica (+100 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========
They had finally taken his collar off, but the shackles remained. Despite the fact Lt. John "Blanks" Planck could easily break free of them, he tolerated the restraints. Being a machine he would never feel the pain of a muscle cramp or an uncomfortable body position. Any representation of pain from his sensors he could easily diminish, or turn off at will.
His face had healed weeks ago, though the glowing blue right eye still remained. Blanks had requested a certain combination of nutrients and growth factors required for the eye to re-grow, but had been denied by Colonel Tigh and Commander Adama.
The Colonel had ever threatened to 'take the skin right off' of Blanks and expose the cold, metallic endoskeleton. But that thread had been shallow and spoken more in anger during the dozens of interrogation sessions.
A few times a week either the Colonel, Starbuck, or some other 'Cylon interrogator' would come to demand more answer out of him. "How many others were in the fleet?" or "Where is Earth?" or "Tell us about-" some Cylon weapon or tactic. He had told them again and again he knew nothing about the Cylons.
He told them he had lived in Delphi for a year prior to the Cylon nuclear strikes, which the Colonials now believed to be neutron bomb attacks. He assumed his apartment was still intact, but the thought lasted mere moments. He turned his attention back to his interrogator.
In between interrogation sessions Blanks had almost nothing to do. Because there was nothing to do in the cell it appeared he was just staring at the walls and bulkheads, or zoned out, or unresponsive to the environment around him. Of course they didn't know he could create a virtual world for himself as a form of entertainment. He partitioned a portion of his processing capabilities and neural net to create a virtual reality. But even still it was [i]boring[/i] locked in a cell. Even for a machine like him. He didn't dare go into standby mode, not with so many eyes watching for him to let his guard down.
He would also receive updates from the two others in the fleet.
"You're doing it again," Lt. Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace stated. "That stare. That blank stare. I guess that's why they named you 'Blanks' at flight school." She leaned back, finishing a sandwich she had brought with her.
She'd learned weeks ago that food was not effective against this 'Cylon' like it had been for the Leoban copy. Except for a small protein bar he'd eaten three weeks ago, the 'Cylon' had not eaten anything. He, it, told her he, it, did not need food. His power cell could sustain the skin and small amount of muscle almost indefinitely.
"Though I had always assumed it was because you shot… blanks, not because of the stare," she smirked, letting a giggle come out. She'd grown less hostile to him in the seven weeks since he'd been in the cell.
Unlike the Caprica Sharon, whom Starbuck still hated because of Boomer, Blanks hadn't actually done anything to harm the fleet. He'd never harmed them before. And saving the Chief, one of Starbuck's friends, had gone a long way to lessening her hatred.
"Was I?" He snapped back to reality, ending the video playback of the hours leading up to the Cylon attack. "I was just… remembering-"
"What?" Starbuck demanded. "Remembering what, exactly?" She leaned forward, closer to the supposed Cylon infiltrator. "Some new lie to tell us?" She asked quietly. She might have been more friendly, but she didn't stop herself from seeing the reality; he, it, was a machine.
Blanks just cocked his head and consciously increasing the glow on his right eye. The blue was slightly offsetting to many humans he had been told, but nowhere near as "evil" as the red glow of earlier models. The smile and the glowing red eyes made it difficult for the free machines to work with the human Resistance fighters, so they had redesigned the eyes. Blue was thought to be more soothing, but the 'demonic' smile had remained. It was a fairly efficient design. Due to this, Planck's model, designed for better human-machine interaction had been subsequently covered in hyper alloy malleable armored plating with some of the hydraulics replaced with synthetic carbon filament muscle, allowing a more natural body shape.
He and others of his series were not the massive 'body-building' variety Skynet preferred. He was slimmer, just over two meters tall, and if he were human would be described as 'lean.'
Blanks also had light brown hair and his appearance was that of a slightly tanned, twenty-two to twenty-four year old. There were no sharp edges on his face, but nothing stood out. He had a 'common face', but one which was unique to him. No other free machine infiltrator shared the exact same facial structure or features.
While he and the other free machine Terminators were built to appear young, he did have a look about him, that he was worried. He'd been fighting for years now and war did influence machines, and it did show slightly on their features.
To Starbuck he'd always appeared younger than his age. When she'd first seen him she thought he was a college or academy student, not a pilot. But the two had become friends. Part of her still wanted to be, but another kept looking at that exposed blue eye, with the little glare of shining metal beneath, and she was just filled with outrage. Boomer had already fooled her and the others. Had he?
"I'd appreciate it if I could have that nutrient solution I requested. It would allow the tissue around my eye to re-grow," he stated in the typical monotone. "It is uncomfortable for you. I do not wish for you to be uncomfortable."
Starbuck just laughed and tapped her open-palmed hand on the table, "Yeah well, tough fraking luck. The Old Man doesn't really think you should be all dolled up and he doesn't want to give into your [i]fantasy[/i] about being human." She stressed, hoping she could break the machine starring across from her. She shrugged and shook her head. Looking down she scrolled down on her tablet computer for more information from the machine
"I've never… fantasized about being human," he snorted. He sounded offended she would even suggest that. He pulsed his eye, the blue temporarily increasing its glow. "I know what I am."
Starbuck starred at the machine. That was the most emotion he'd displayed in weeks. There was something different, she could tell. After Leoban she had expected something of the same. But so far the machine claiming to be Blanks had not done anything violent, did not threaten to kill her, nor did he seem to be lying. At least there was no lie she had discovered. The Leoban copy had eyes like a monster, a manipulator. She had been warned that the Cylons, Leoban especially, was the most dangerous because he mixed truth in with his lies. What had "Blanks" told her that was true and which wasn't? she though.
"Starbuck, I've known you for over a year, and since we've been on Galactica, how many times have we played cards together?" His tone and speech changed back from the machine monotone. It was like he was in the offices wardroom, drinking and playing cards with his friends. "You're the only one to come see me regularly," he smiled. "It pleases me."
Starbuck looked at him when he had said that. She had known him to say awkward things sometimes, especially during cards and when they drank. She'd always assumed him to be a light weight, drunk on only a few shots. Now she understood it had just been a game, a ploy to gain her trust.
"I knew a pilot, a damned good Raptor pilot." She ignored the last few things he said, focusing on trying to get useful information out of him. "Too good now that I think about it and know what you are." She narrowed her eyes from across the table and bit down on her teeth repeatedly as she thought. "So did you kill Planck and take his identity?"
"I've never killed anyone who didn't deserve to die." Something inside him told him he should not have said that. But even as a free machine, he had a nature which was hard to ignore. It was also the truth. Lies would not help him here. "Planck in the Colonies never existed, Starbuck. I told Colonel Tigh that multiple times. Nine times, exactly, over seven interrogations. John Planck is my actual name. The call sign… that's your guys' fault," he laughed and smirked. He'd never been a fan of his call sign. She knew that as well. He'd complained about it, though he said it helped get women because they thought he was 'blank' and so wouldn't get pregnant. "It has its… benefits, though," he winked, awkwardly.
"Uh… right." She chuckled and her eyes darted back and forth, she was clearly uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry," he paused for her to look at him, "I made you uncomfortable and-"
She ignored the apology. "You're a machine, machines do not have names," she interjected. She'd repeated that line three point six times per interview, Blanks noted.
"Cybernetic organism, but… well, not really," he corrected her. She just stared back at him, saying nothing. "We are given names upon our activation. Mine was John Planck. Planck was a famous physicist. And John is a common name."
"Did your kind kill him?" She asked. After he told her of the war and Skynet she had used that to pose questions to him, though she had never accepted his story as truth. She pretended at times, hoping to find a contradiction and expose him.
"He died long before Judgment Day."
"Why do you call it that?" She inquired, leaning forward. "Do you machines see yourselves as superior to natural life? That it was your… divine right to 'judge' those who created you?"
"We never named the day. The survivors did. My faction was not involved. We even tried to stop Judgment Day. But we failed. Everyone failed…" He trailed off and looked down at the metal plating of his cell.
He calculated the probability that the interview was about to cease. Starbuck stayed an average of twenty-seven minutes and she had been there for thirty-five. He could tell from her body language she was ready to leave. She could only stomach so much of his 'lies' she had said, before she had to leave. "How can I gain your trust, again?"
"The million cubit question," Starbuck stated. "Door," she said, standing up. She walked towards it, Blanks knew she would stop and add in something before she left as she always did. "You're going to have to prove it somehow," she turned and left.
"Can I have some paper and pencils, Starbuck?" He yelled after her. She didn't respond.
Starbuck had left, dodging people in the corridors as everyone moved to perform their duties. The ship was in more of a hurry today, some reporter had been filming everywhere. After Tigh's disastrous tenure as interim Commander and the 'Gideon massacre' Adama had had to perform damage control.
There were already rumors that a Cylon skin job, Sharon, was being held in Galactica's brig. After Boomer had shot the Old Man, and then been shot by Cally, the command staff had hoped the rumor would die. But with Blanks, that rumor had grown a life of its own.
"Starbuck!" She heard the familiar voice of Lee Adama shouting to her from down the corridor. She stooped and smiled to herself before turning around. A little something inside her has stirred; she liked seeing him. "Starbuck, how'd it go?" He asked.
Apollo had been friends with Blanks, though not good friends. He'd only known him since coming about Galactica for his father's retirement ceremony.
Blanks still, or was, one of Apollo's pilots, so it bothered him that he had let another machine slip in. After Boomer went crazy, her programming activated, and shot his father, he felt he had failed to protect his dad and the ship. He had been skipping out on the last few card games and had not been seen in the officer's wardroom like he normally was off duty. This situation was breaking down his defenses slowly. Kara could see that whenever she looked at him.
"Well, Lee, he says the same thing over and over," she began as she and he turned and walked towards Commander Adama's quarters. "He is still claiming to not be a Cylon. You were there on Kobol when you rescued them. What do you think?"
He shrugged and they continued. Apollo didn't really want to answer the question. The thought of letting his dad down was always present in the back of his mind. And after Boomer it was hard to trust again. And now… he just couldn't take any chance.
He sighed, letting his shoulder drop to express his frustration. He maneuvered himself out of the way of passing crew and stopped himself and Starbuck so he could explain himself better.
"I don't know Kara, he seems different than what Boomer was. She said she didn't know. And the Chief told us the same when he was fraking her. That she suspected she was… something but didn't know what that something was. Blanks has known, he's never pretended-" he was about to say he never pretended to be human but caught himself with a snort. Still, he had to say it, "he's never pretended to be human. He… well… he said he always knew he was a machine and he keeps going on about a mission. That lying about being a Raptor pilot was necessary to complete his mission."
Kara looked over, leaning into Apollo playfully as they resumed their walk, "Yeah, yeah. Don't beat yourself up over this. I know you are. Blaming yourself. They were your pilots. They weren't what you thought they were. But I knew him and Boomer a lot longer than you. She fooled us. We were lucky we caught him in time." She leaned back as they rounded the corner, the Old Man's quarters in view. "Anyway, Baltar has an idea on how to detect them, see if there are any more in fleet."
Apollo sighed and shrugged, "If he says so. Let's just hope we can find them before anything happens."
==========BS-75 Galactica (+104 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========
Karl "Helo" Agathon stood on the other side of the ballistic Plastik, his hand up against the cold metal barrier. Sharon's hand was on the other side. He had been coming to see her daily, as soon as he woke up and again got off duty. The Marines in the specially built brig always looked at him like he was some sort of sexual deviant, a pervert for falling in love with a machine. The guards knew she was pregnant, Doc Cottle had been making regular visits, and they recorded and listened to everything that was said in that cell.
A dozen Marine guards knew about both of the prisoners. The Cylon woman/machine, 'Sharon' in Cell A2 and the machine, Lt. Blanks Planck, in the neighboring long-term confinement, specially built cell, just like the one 'Sharon' was in. They were each separated by a thickened steel bulkhead to keep the two from communicating.
While the existence of Sharon was denied, or at least not confirmed, the amount of people who had witnessed Blanks departing the search and rescue Raptor on the flight deck, the survivors, and the rescue pilots and Marines made secrecy all but impossible. Somehow a photograph had leaked to the press. There were too many who had seen Blanks and the ripped and torn skin. They'd seen the metal underneath.
The paranoia and fear in the fleet had died down slightly, mostly since the Commander had played it as an inferior and less advanced form of infiltrator. Instead of being almost completely biological like the previous Doral and Leoban and Boomer copies, this one was metal. Easily found and detected.
"Sharon, you know I love you. The Commander wants you to cooperate. You need to," he pleaded. His conversation with his 'love' always amused the Marines on duty. It was funny to them, in a sad way. "He wants you to cooperate with him about Blanks. He thinks he's a Cylon infiltrator… Sharon!" He said, to get her attention back. "Sharon, listen. You helped out a lot with the virus a few weeks ago. That was good. Please, Sharon. Anything you can do to show them they can trust you… like I do." He looked into her eyes. He loved her, even if she was a Cylon.
He'd hated her on Caprica when he first learned of her identity. What she was. What he thought she was. Something deep down had wanted to kill her, but something else had told him not to. He hadn't known then, but it was love. She might have been a Cylon, one of thousands, millions of the 'Cylon Eight' out there, but Sharon, she was a human inside.
Helo never thought for more than a moment after discovering her true identity that she was nothing less than a person. She didn't call herself human. But she was a person with real, true emotions and feelings. And Helo told that to himself every day. He'd fallen in love with a person, not a machine.
He looked in on the cell, worry consuming his mind and painted on his face. The last months had been tough on her. She came back to Galactica willingly to be with the man she professed to love, to help the Colonials against the Cylons, and to raise a child with humans, not with her own kind.
Her response brought him back from his day dreams on Caprica and discovering her identity.
"I'm listening," she hissed at him. "I keep telling everyone that he isn't a Cylon. He keeps saying the same thing. I've listened to the tapes. We never built any Cylon models like him. Why? Metal endoskeletons? The 'Skinjobs'" she spat the word out, "like us can pass for human under almost any detection, Boomer fooled everyone. How could that thing?"
"Give it time, Sharon, please," he pleaded again.
She rolled her eyes. "Even after I saved this fleet from the virus I was still a 'thing'." She turned and sat back down on her bed, back to Helo. She brought her pad and pencil up to her lap and began to draw.
The Marines always got a kick out of listening to her call the other machine a 'thing.' It was ridiculously ironic that a machine, Sharon, would look at another with such disdain. They thought she was deluded to think of herself as alive while the other wasn't. Regardless, both machines sent a chill down the spine of each of the Marine guards.
==========BS-75 Galactica (+106 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========
Apollo double checked his rifle, making sure the armor piercing rounds were loaded. He quickly adjusted his body armor, making sure that his torso was covered. "All right, Marines, let's move out."
Fifteen minutes ago the call to Action Stations had gone out. All Galactica personnel had been recalled to the ship for emergency readiness drills the previous day. Every member of the crew, from before and after the Cylon attacks was accounted for on board ship. With action stations every member would be at a designated location.
The command staff had waited to conduct this sweep of Galactica to find any other infiltrators. There were roughly a dozen personnel they had been watching. They hadn't wanted to move quickly just in case an infiltrator sabotaged something.
If there was unknown sabotage the infiltrator would either have to fix it or risk being hurt or killed. And in the chaos involving the splitting of the fleet, the Tomb of Athena, and other events, the command staff needed time to set up a proper sweep.
Apollo led his squad of Marines, having checked them with metal detectors and the scales, down to the engineering department.
Around the ship trusted officers such as Saul Tigh, Starbuck, even Helo, and others were leading the hundreds of Marines on Galactica in a search for any more infiltrators on the ship.
Reaching the engineering compartment, Apollo stationed two Marines at the door and called everyone forward. The head engineer, Captain Anders Bing at first protested before being briefed by Apollo. "We've got reason to believe there is an infiltrator on board, Captain. We need to weigh everyone and then we need to line everyone up and wand them down with the metal detectors."
Until Apollo mentioned the detectors, Captain Bing had just stood with his arms crossed nodding. "The frak? Wand us with metal detectors?" His head shot back slightly and his face formed the 'what the frak are you talking about' look Apollo had been expecting.
It was already humid and hot in engineering and the thumps and vibrations from the engine were more pronounced this deep in the ship than on the outer decks. Sweat was already beading on Apollo's forehead and neck under the heavy assault gear. The last thing he wanted was an engineering office getting on his nerves.
Still, he kept his voice calm and managed to explain to the captain in no uncertain terms the importance of complete cooperation.
"We have intelligence that the infiltrators may be earlier model bio-Cylons with metal endoskeletons, Captain," Apollo filled him in. The crew knew of Blanks, there was no point in trying to hide the facts. But some order of operational secrecy was still needed. "If there is one in engineering then there could be sabotague or a bomb or something. So please, captain, get your men assembled."
One of the Marines also brought a scale with them, commandeered from one of Galactica's many fitness rooms.
"Why the frak do you need to weigh everyone?" Captain Bing asked quietly.
"The infiltrators should weigh a lot more than me and… uh, you," Apollo responded to the moderately overweight Bing. The chief engineer smirked and laughed before turning around and waving his men forward. When they had brought Planck back and chained him one of the guards had noticed he seemed "heavy." That was when Planck had refused to move. They couldn't lift him. For some reason he allowed himself to be weighed and he tipped the scales at over 220 kilograms.
The Marines had fanned out, two remaining at the door, two with Apollo, and three standing behind the group of engineers. With most everyone in the forward engineering compartment it was hot and cramped. The Marines marked every name down on their tablet computers and on paper for redundancy.
Starbuck brought her Marines down to the flight deck. She had three teams, one fore, one center, one aft, splitting the cavernous landing bay into three. Chief Tyrol came up, having already been briefed on what was going on.
The Marines brought with them multiple metal detectors and scales. The chief climbed up on one of the ladders used to help Viper pilots get in their cockpits. He took a megaphone and told the crew to take out all the metal tools and spare parts on them and line up single file.
The Chief went first. He was slightly overweight, about one hundred kilos, but nothing abnormal. The metal detector made no noises and displayed nothing besides a green light. No metal.
Cally and Seelix came next, followed by Lyman and the rest of the knuckle draggers.
Sgt. Mathias came up from behind Starbuck, saluted and reported in. "We found nothing out of the ordinary in the forward landing bay ma'am. Jackson radioed me, same with the rear. We double checked, we didn't miss anyone, ma'am."
Commander Adama was the first to be weighed and wanded with the metal detector. As the commander, it was his duty to set the example. He had to go first. The Marines then began an orderly process of checking each one in the C-I-C.
"What's this about, sir?" Specialist Dualla asked Lt. Gaeta.
"I have nooo idea," he responded, turning to face her as he crossed his arms. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling in frustration. "It's kind of weird. I mean, if they think we're fat or something I think they could find a better way to get us in shape than this. Public humiliation?" She laughed a little, and he smiled at that.
"Sir, please no talking," one of the Marine guards in the C-I-C said. He waved forward with his free hand while the opposite was firmly placed over the hold on his rifle. "Move forward please."
Commander Adama watched as his men and women had the metal detector moved over them and then weighed. He would have liked to have stood closer, to reassure his subordinates. This was a fairly strange Action Stations drill. But his Marines wouldn't let him within five meters of the line or anyone before they were tested.
Lee Adama had finished in the engineering compartment. It had taken twenty minutes to go through the list. It was already extremely hot, and with everyone jammed into one compartment it was enough to boil a roast.
"Sir," one of his Marines said, taking him back to reality. "Sir, we're missing one."
Apollo moved forward, checking the list. Lee quickly checked over the master list. He was right. He blew out from behind gritted teeth and licked his upper lip as he searched for Captain Bing.
"Uh, captain Bing, where is this man's workstation?" He came over and held up the paper.
Captain Bing looked up the name. Lt. Carter Bishop, one of his best FTL engineers. "Follow me," he said.
The chief engineer led them down a side corridor twenty meters and through the cavernous FTL engine room. Lee and four Marines followed close behind. They moved over two frames and down a second corridor twenty more meters before coming into a room filled with computers and displays.
Lee motioned for his Marines to fan out and search the room. They saw him, Lt. Bishop sitting and facing his console.
"Lt. Bishop, Lt. Bishop!" Lee yelled, getting his attention.
The lieutenant lifted his head, his back still to the Marines and Apollo. "Yes, sir?"
"Why didn't you muster with the rest of the engine crew, lieutenant?" Apollo asked.
Lt. Bishop sighed. "Because it didn't matter." He paused and held up his hands, putting them behind his head. "Because I surrender," he said.
He stood up slowly, his left arm blood. Apollo could see a deep cut running the length of his hand, from his wrist straight up his palm.
"What the frak, did you cut yourself, Bishop?" Apollo asked.
Bishop smiled. Apollo was staring at him and his eyes widened as he sore Bishop's eyes began to glow blue. "Yes," he responded. He dug his fingers under the skin, ripping it off.
Lt. Karl "Helo" Agathon led his squad of Marines into the medical bay. Doctor Cottle had already assembled his medics and lab assistants. Six Marines filed into Medical, one at each entrance and three behind Helo.
"Hey Doc," he greeted him. "This everyone?" He nodded. "Okay… people. We just need to do a quick wanding over everyone with the metal detector and a quick stand on the scales. It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes if everyone does it in an orderly manner. Single file please. No talking."
He motioned for the Marines to begin to get everyone in line. Doc Cottle was the first to go be weighed and wanded with the metal detectors. One green light, no metal, and weight was a little over one hundred kilos.
There were about three dozen techs and lab assistants in the primary medical bay. There were also two additional doctor and one fourth year medical student who had been on Galactica doing rotations when the Cylon attack had occurred.
The officers and physicians went first, followed by the senior NCOs.
Cottle had been growing impatient. He had three cases of Valley Sickness he still needed to attend to and two knuckle draggers who had broken bones from an accident down in the hanger a week ago. Plus he was going to lead rounds with his student and techs.
He lit a cigarette to calm his nerves. Next on the scales was Specialist Grace Young. He smiled at her; she was like a daughter to him. He'd known her parents back on at the Caprican Primary Hospital. They were EMTs. She had wanted to be a physician and had joined to get a scholarship after her term of service was over. Cottle had taken her under his wing these last few months and had been giving her advanced medical training (though all the staff were receiving training far above what they would have normally been taught given their situation). He was relieved when the metal detector showed one green light and the scales at barely fifty kilos.
He patted her on the back and turned to tell her something when he heard the Marines shout for someone to "-not move, hands in the air!"
He turned slowly to see a woman, thin and lean, young, and about 1.75 meters being held at gun point. The metal detector had gone off. They had forced her on the scale to be certain. And the scale said an incredible 115 kilos.
It was one of the physicians, Dr. Lt. Joanne "Jo" Soto.
"Gods fraking damnit," Cottle muttered to himself. He reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette. He needed a light.
