------BS-75 Galactica (+380 Days Post Colonization, +470 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)---

Commander Adama sat in his quarters, a glass of whiskey on his desk. He picked up the glass and swirled the warm liquid around for the hundredth time that night. This was the first time he'd been back to his quarters since he ordered the retreat from New Caprica and since he left forty-four thousand people alone on that planet.

He brought the glass back up to his eye level. He hadn't had a drink yet. Adama kept bringing it up to his eye level but always put it back down. The Commander had only begun to fully comprehend what he had been forced to do.

He had been walking through the command deck, buried deep within the belly of the battlestar, making his way to the C-I-C. He stopped briefly to inspect the decay of his vessel, the lights flickering with no one to change them. The once loud and vibrant corridors had once made the ship home and now they were deserted and quiet. There was nothing.

The Old Man gently grabbed the neck of the whiskey bottle and pulled it closer. He starred into the brown-red liquid. He could see himself walking into C-I-C slowly, taking his time. There was no rush, he had remembered. Why rush?

Captain Agathon had greeted him. He'd been promoted to Captain only a month ago after Colonel Tigh joined his wife on the planet. There were ten other people in C-I-C, even the graveyard watch had twenty. He'd been used to seeing nearly forty people look up and nod their greeting to him when he had entered.

He saw himself walking towards the DRADIS displays. Nothing. He'd turned and begun to converse with Helo, asking about his daughter, what the Viper and Raptor training schedules were, how much ore the tyllium refineries had processed. Nothing important.

Then he'd heard a beep. Then a second and a third. Then nothing. The wireless sounded. Major Adama, his only surviving son, was calling him on an emergency wireless signal. He picked up as dozens of red enemy signals appeared on DRADIS.

"Dad, I don't know how. But by Gods they found us. There's an entire Cylon fleet out there! We have to jump!" He shouted towards his father.

"I wont jump the fleet!" He swore back towards his son, disgusted by the cowardice. "We have people on the ground!"

Major Adama didn't respond immediately. Commander Adama realized he'd been wrong to yell like that at his son now, while he held the whiskey bottle.

"We just got to action stations, Commander. We only have a handful of Viper pilots. We don't stand a chance! We have to jump… dad. We have to jump." His son pleaded.

The Old Man wouldn't accept it. He wouldn't leave the people on the ground. He couldn't leave her, Laura to the Cylons.

"Get me the Admiral!" he snapped over the wireless.

"Gods… she's on the ground dad! No Raptors are in the air. We have to jump. We'll be back for them, we have to jump!"

Commander Adama looked around the C-I-C. The faces of his crew stood waiting. Helo was over the FTL console, ready to jump as soon as the commander gave the word. Everyone was frozen. The Old Man put the wireless to his chest and looked up at the DRADIS. Fifteen baseships. Four hundred Raiders. Suicide.

"We'll be back. Jump, Lee." He put down the wireless and turned to Helo. "Captain," he yelled, "send emergency jump coordinates! We'll be back. We'll be back."

And the fleet jumped.

------BS-75 Galactica (+382 Days Post Colonization, +472 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

The crew of Galactica had never faced a morale crisis like they had the past two weeks. They had fled and left stranded forty-four thousand of their fellow men and woman to be at the mercy of the Cylons. Recon Raptors had reported eight baseships still orbiting the planet.

"We can't go back for them, dad," Major Adama said to his father, who had said little during their briefing by Racetrack and Crashdown. "Eight baseships, we can't go up against that," he said, defeated.

His wife looked at him, not believing what she was hearing. "Lee, we have to. Commander," she redirected towards the Old Man, "We can't just leave them on the planet. We need to figure out a way to get to them," Starbuck insisted. She'd changed her stance and shifted her weight forward, throwing her hands on her hips. "There's so many down there, we just can't leave them," she said quietly and to no one in particular.

The emotions in the room were running high. Captain Shaw had been on the verge of mutiny when Major Adama ordered her to jump, and had initially refused to abandon the Admiral down there. Helo sat back, trying to think of the right thing to do. He knew they needed to survive, as a species. But resigning tens of thousands to their deaths was not something he could tolerate.

"Starbuck's right, Commander," he said, looking up at her. He looked towards Apollo, letting his eyes apologize for going against his friend. "We can't leave them there. If we fled the fleet would be torn apart. We'd lose ourselves. We'd die a slow death."

The only two who had not spoken or expressed any emotion were the two cybernetic organisms. They knew the odds, going back would be suicide and there was no way for two battlestars with barely a quarter of their crews to fight against eight baseships. Or more, if more were in the nebula or in jump range.

"How did they find us?" Commander Adama asked. He was quiet and reserved as usual, but Major Adama could sense his father was on the verge of defeat. "We had Raptors scanning into the nebula. They couldn't detect anything. This wasn't chance."

Captain Shaw took the opportunity to clear her throat. She stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back. "Sir, I'll come out and say what I'm sure a lot of the crew is thinking. They did it," she nodded with her hear towards John and Carter. "They sabotaged the ships or got a signal to the Cylons."

John didn't look towards her, but Carter narrowed his eyes. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to kill her. John noticed his friend's slight movement. John new the urge to kill was as natural to him and Carter as sleeping was to a human.

Starbuck came quickly up to Captain Shaw and dismissed her assertion. "No, I don't believe it. They had plenty of time to frak us over. They could've killed us before we jumped, they didn't." She about faced to talk directly to the Old Man. "Sir, that's complete fraking nonsense. You know that." Her eyes were wide and mouth open, ready to snap if anyone disagreed with her.

Helo defended his friends as well. "They wouldn't betray us, sir," he said. "Just like Sharon, they've earned my trust," he affirmed.

"Starbuck-" Apollo began before Commander Adama held up his hand.

Commander Adama slowly laid his hand back down on his lap and stood. He pulled his tunic down. "I don't believe they sabotaged us, Captain," he said quietly. The quick glance he gave to Captain Shaw could melt the armor off the side of a battlestar. "But someone did." He walked out from behind his desk to take a position in front, closer to those he had a duty to lead.

He didn't say anything for what seemed like minutes. But he looked over all the Colonial officers and former officers in his quarters. He was confident in the future.

"I haven't been here the last two days. I've failed leading you. The first day, the first twenty-four hours are crucial. In this crisis, I failed you," he admitted. He kept his eye contact with everyone in the room. "We did not fail the people are New Caprica. And we will not fail them. We will rescue them. Starbuck, Shaw, Helo, I want the three of you to begin immediate work on a plan to rescue everyone, everyone on New Caprica. Apollo, you need to organize the fleet, we need people to help us. We need to know who is in the fleet, who is trained for what. That's your job. Carter, John," he turned to the two, "Everything you can do. This is a desperate time. Any modification or improvement to our weapons, systems, anything I want you two to draw up a list and tell me as soon as possible.
"We lost a lot the last week. But we thought we were defeated once before. We rallied at Ragnor. We'll do it again. Dismissed."

The men and women shot to attention. Their confidence elevated they knew they couldn't fail. Commander Adama would lead them to victory.

------New Caprica City (+35 Days Cylon Occupation, +703 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

"You ready?" Anders asked, cradling the C7 explosives in his arms. He ducked behind a large shipping container as a Model 007 Cylon stalked by, finishing its patrol. "We gotta plant this now before the HR lands."

Jo Soto held herself steady behind the containers, extending her hand to take the explosives. "Give me the explosives. You should not be here," he stated. "This is too dangerous."

Anders laughed, dismissing her concern for him. He checked over the last wires on the explosives, enough to take out a heavy raider and half the hanger.

He changed positions, jumping onto his heels and crouching as he finished checking the connections and detonator. The drab concrete landing bay would soon be the latest structure introduced to the bombs of the resistance.

"Give me the explosives," she demanded. "My scanners indicate they'll be here within thirty seconds. Give me the explosives, now."

There was no apprehension in her voice, no nervousness. Anders just looked at her for a moment, not believing that a cold killing machine was behind such a beautiful face. He slowly came back and cautiously handed her the makeshift bomb. She stood up and calmly walked over to the pylon, placing the bomb out of site.

Anders could heard the loud whine of the heavy raider repulsors active as it came down into hover fifty meters above the complex.

The former Pyramid player had stood up and was peeping over the supply containers, watching her set up the bomb with a cool and calm precision. She was methodical, fluid in her movements, not hurried and rushed like he and Tyrol had been on the bombing at the sanitation plant. The cybernetic organism looked up, motioning with her hand for him to get down. She stood and walked back to the containers and crates which would shield them from the explosion.

He was glad she had come out to help him with this bombing, it was fairly high profile. To get so many skinjobs. No one knew she had come down to the planet for the Marine training mission, but she wasn't exactly unknown in the fleet. The resistance had insisted she stay in the caverns and move around at night, or if going to do a job. And she was forced to wear heavy clothing to conceal her identity and face.

Three bio-Cylons, a Six and two Fours were heard as their shoes and high heels echoed on the gray concrete. The bomb, safely hidden, would be their surprise.

The whine of the heavy raider engines intensified as it entered the landing bay before slowly dimming. The engines cut off. The landing ramp was lowered.

Jo could hear their conversation perfectly, her motion detectors placing the bio-Cylons at the rear of the craft. They began to move forward, closer to the bomb. She held up her hand to signal Anders. The Cylons moved closer and she balled her hand into a fist. Anders pressed the detonator and the explosion tore through the bodies of the bio-Cylons and the smell of death and burned flesh washed over the two resistance fighters.

--------------------

The two resistance fighters walked casually down one of the side streets of New Caprica City, the sirens and alarms still blaring at the landing bays. They had temporarily killed eight bio-Cylons and destroyed a heavy raider. For Anders, it had not been a bad mission at all. He knew the bio-Cylons couldn't die, they'd resurrect, but he knew they still felt pain.

He glanced over to Soto who casually walked next to him, glancing back occasionally towards the landing bays.

"Soto, if you keep looking back they'll suspect us," he hissed. She re-directed her attention to him and he could feel her cold eyes looking at him. "What?"

"Is it more suspicious to look at the building on fire or to pretend nothing is wrong and just walk away?"

"What?" He hissed. "What are you talking about?"

She didn't respond. He thought he had gotten over his unease with her being around this last month, since the fleet had to jump away. Anders had been friendly towards the three machines, but never spent any time with them. Now Soto had implanted herself in the resistance and he and she were forced to work side by side much more than he was comfortable with.

"You're nervous," she pointed out. He grunted and looked away from her.

"Not all of us can just turn it on and off," he spat. He opened his mouth again to speak, closing it. He wanted to apologize but couldn't bring himself to do it. Not with the Cylons here. She was still a machine.

------New Caprica City (+45 Cylon Occupation, +713 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Admiral Helena Cain sat straight, her back pressed against the cold and hard metallic back of the chair. The light had been on for hours, maybe days. She wasn't sure. Time was irrelevant in her holding cell.

She had long since shut out the pain of the large bore IV needle sticking into her arm, feeding her intravenously after she refused to eat for weeks.

Within hours of President Gaius Fraking Baltar's surrender she'd been 'arrested' by the Cylons and imprisoned. They'd moved her to her new holding cell, she guessed, maybe two weeks after. She did concede the Cylons were quick. They'd converted the apartment buildings into holding facilities with wet, cold, and dreary concrete walls. Water leaked from the sewage pipes running through her cell and the stench of foul water was suffocating. It was like a swamp in her cells.

The Admiral knew she wouldn't be allowed to live. The Cylons knew she would organize a resistance the moment she set foot outside the prison. She was here, to live the rest of her life. And she had given up hope of Commander Adama and his son coming back for them.

She didn't scream as the Six and the One cut into her arm, employing crude methods of torture today. They had held something in her ear during the last torture session, the pain had been excruciating and she had broken. That was the first day she had screamed. But after they had broken her they had made her even stronger.

The embarrassment from screaming, giving into their wishes, to see her break had been enough for her. She rebuilt her defenses and her lip bled and she bit into it, refusing to give the Cylons what they wanted.

The Six smashed her little finger but got nothing more than a wince from Helena Cain.

"Where is the fleet, Admiral?" The model Number One, a 'Brother Cavil' asked. "What is the plan if you had to run?" He asked again, running the knife up her arm with enough pressure for her to feel the sharp blade, but not enough to cut into her skin.

The Number One drove the knife into her shoulder. She bit down harder on her lip, tasting the blood in her mouth as it gushed into her mouth.

"This is useless. We should just kill her," the Six said. She brought up her knife and wiped the blood on Cain's pant leg. The Six looked up at her, a smile fo pure evil on her face. "Let's kill her," she said.

Cain snarled, her lip flinched to speak and she yelled "Frak you!"

The Six looked at her, tilting her head. Again the smile, the seductively evil smile appeared. "You're not my type," she said, and Cain's world went black.

--------------------

Colonel Tigh lay on the floor, curled up against the hard concrete walls, using his fingernail to make a new hash mark on the wall. Another day gone in detention and another interrogation session had just ended.

He lay on the floor, his cell cold and barren, the only piece of furniture a bucket for waste. In the far corner was old, rotten food he had thrown against the cell walls in defiance of his torturers.

His body hadn't been broken, nothing was different except for some small scabs and cuts from trying to fight agains the Centurions when they came and grabbed him from his cell.

For him, the Cylon interrogators, switching between a Two and an One, just had to place some strange metal rod with a lighted ball in the end into his ear. The pain had been excruciating.

They told him only Admiral Cain had been the only one to resist screaming, much like him. The two had told him he should feel proud for resisting as long as he had. But he wouldn't hold out forever. Because Admiral Cain had broken. He remembered that they had just told him she hadn't. But she had. Colonel Tigh knew they were playing tricks on him, mind games.

He finished his last hash mark. Twenty-three… he thought he had been there longer. He let his body relax as he placed his head on the cold concrete, thinking of his wife, Ellen. He wanted to see her, be with her.

------BS-62 Pegasus (+45 Days Cylon Occupation, +713 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Major Adama descended the ladder into the port hanger pod quickly, his wife right in front of him. He and Starbuck had been excited at the new stealth Viper being built by Carter Bishop and Chief Laird. Since Carter never slept and could lift and fit every part of the new Blackbird Viper by himself, he had been able to complete three of the little stealth craft already.

"She's beautiful, isn't she Lee?" Starbuck asked him, turning around and walking backward as they neared the completed ships. "Peter and Carter modified the designs a bit, the cockpit isn't as far back and there's an internal missile bay," she smiled. She turned back and began her inspection of the three new toys she had to play with as CAG of Pegasus.

The Major stepped up opposite Chief Laird and Bishop, placing his hands on his hips he inspected the finished product. "It looks good, congratulations," he said, extending his hand.

Chief Laird wiped the grease onto his orange deck coveralls and shook the Major's hand. The Major ignored Carter standing on the other side of Laird and instead bent down to inspect the undercarriage of the Viper. "Recessed missile bays?" He asked.

Laird bent down next to him as Carter began putting away tools and preparing for the next Viper they were going to build. "Yup, they can hold two missiles. Carter over there was able to build something, I don't know how, sir, but some alloy encasing the missile bay. It'll block radiation signals."

Major Adama stood up and Starbuck came over when she heard this. "It can block radiation signatures? So no radiological alarms?"

Carter stepped closer to them, placing the last tool on the work cart. "No radiological alarms until you open the bay doors, Major," he said. "With modification to the missiles you can fire these at the baseship and jump away. Inside their defense perimeter they wont be able to intercept. And we have enough alloy shielding for three more Vipers," he surprised them.

Apollo's eyes widened and Starbuck's smiled widened even further and she took Apollo's hand in hers. "I think this just might work," she said, leaning into him.

--------------------

Commander Adama was considered by many in the fleet to be the last hope for the people of New Caprica. He had met with hundreds of people aboard Cloud 9 a week after their embarrassing retreat. Commander Adama couldn't remember the last time the two battlestars engaged in war games or actual maneuvers. Admiral Cain had insisted the pilots and crews still maintain some readiness level, but after a year even that training program had begun to decline.

The commander was now forced to do what he had pledged never to do. He and two Marines with armor piercing rounds loaded into their rifles stalked into the dorsal starboard landing bay. Commander Adama swept his access ID badge and the magnetic locks to the secured bay disengaged.

He stepped inside, the two Marines hiding their apprehension and nervousness as much as the commander. He admired the two men for their strength. Corporal Alex Davies and Sergeant Richard Hudson were only twenty-two years old, but they had proven themselves in combat. Hudson had been on the Guardian baseship during the SAR mission and had performed spectacularly, earning advancement to sergeant.

They locked and sealed the hatch behind them. In front of them was John Planck, meticulously working at a computer console. Commander Adama knew that he knew they were there, if not from the sound of the hatch but due to the motion detectors present inside that metal body.

The Commander and Major had been briefed by John and Carter on their capabilities, including all sensory and scanning equipment, and including the entire capabilities of the link. They'd claimed it only transmitted something similar to an IFF, which was how they had identified the friendly Raider from the first Guardian baseship, but now he knew just how in depth that wireless link was. And he knew of the liquid metal running through their chassis.

He and the two Marines stopped a few meters from him and Adama stood there, waiting for Planck to finish his work at the computer.

"It's done, sir," the machine covered in flesh informed him. "We're ready to re-active them on your orders."

John Planck stood and walked towards the commander, taking a position on his right. Adama nodded and John pressed the activation switches.

On the opposite side of the hanger bay half a dozen red optical scanners activated, pulsating left and right. The hum of their optics could be heard in the empty flight pod. One of the Model 007 Centurions stepped forward, its metal body having been repaired and its weapons removed from its arm.

It tilted it's head. RC-X894 was printed across its left breast plate to identify the Centurion. A bright gold battlestar emblem was on the right breast plate and the shoulder armor was painted in red. "Centurion forces active. By your command, Commander," he said, the red orb stopping and centered on the Commander.

------New Caprica City (+84 Days Cylon Occupation, +752 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Sam Anders, Chief Tyrol, Dee, and Charlie Connor had seen the sight a dozen times in the last three months. But each time it was sickening to them. Jo Soto had finished her surveillance of the city and had cut a small semi-circle into her scalp. Sometimes Anders or Dee would take the knife and cut right above her data port, but tonight no one was willing to help.

She had seen their unwillingness and decided against asking, hoping not to raise the already elevated tensions.

"I still don't think we can trust her," Charlie Connor hissed to Sam Anders. The two had been together on Caprica, fighting the Cylons. "You were on Caprica, you saw what's under there," he held out his hand, pointing towards Soto who was busy downloading the images and videos she had taken into the computer. "She has a fraking wire stuck in her head!"

Dee quieted him with a quick shush. "Unless you can get the kinds of intel she can then you need to shut your fraking mouth, Charlie," she warned. She brought her hand over her throat and motioned like she was cutting it, keeping Charlie quiet when he was about to protest again.

"You done yet, Jo?" Anders called over. Charlie Connor hit him in the shoulder for using her first name. Anders brushed him aside and walked towards the computer console.

The secret resistance base was hidden under ground, in a system of caverns the Colonials had discovered early during the settlement. Admiral Cain and Commander Adama had stock the caves with rations and guns and communications gear, ready for contingencies.

"I've been done. But you all were complaining about me," she said. She grabbed and pulled the red cord out of her data port. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she brought up surveillance images of the main detention, administration, and power generation facilities.

"I was able to observe their patrols, and I created an interactive map showing their patrol routes through the city. The landing bays are too heavily guarded now. But I think we could distract them by setting off bombs in the water treatment facility in the evening." She keyed up the treatment facility and laid out the Centurion patrol routes.

The resistance had decided to leave some targets alone, hoping the Cylons would pull Centurions from less high profile targets such as the water treatment facility and waste disposal centers and instead focus on the main detention and administration complex.

"This is hopeless, those patrol path are random," Charlie pointed out. "They still have half a dozen outside the water treatment plant." His son had been killed the week prior in a New Caprica Police raid. He wanted blood, but he was on the verge of personal self-defeat. His voice had been filled with energy and hate when he spoke of the Cylons or Soto, anything non-organic, but if he couldn't kill anything the energy disappeared.

"They're designed to appear random," Soto pointed out. "But they're not. Random patrol paths have a statistically significant chance of failure to patrol certain locations, but since it is random one would assume the area would be patrolled eventually." She ran her fingers across the keys and highlighted the pattern to the Centurion patrols. "SkyNet did the same thing on Earth early in the war. It sent T-1s and T-400s on patrols which appeared random to the human resistance. But their leadership quickly caught on and was able to avoid or ambush patrols until SkyNet adapted." She hoped the history lesson would relate.

Anders thanked her for explaining. "So do you know a way in?" He asked, bringing the discussion back on topic.

"We need to get someone in there, set a bomb for morning," Charlie said. "Set it for 0800. That's when the most skinjobs are there. Usually fifteen or so. Set it in the main facility, we could easily take out a dozen. And maybe a few-" he was cut off by Soto.

"Morning is unacceptable," Soto interjected. She had stopped typing and was looking at Charlie with a cold, empty stare. Charlie Connor didn't notice at first, until he felt her eyes on him.

"What are you looking at?" He snapped at her.

"Morning is unacceptable," she repeated. "You need to change the timer to detonate between 0100 and 0700."

Charlie snorted in disgust. "I was against letting her in on these meetings, but Gods damnit Anders, I'm not going to have a machine telling me how to fight against machines," he annunciated each word slowly, looking down at the machine in front of the computer. The dim light and bright computer screen lit up her face, but Charlie could see no light behind the eyes. "Look at them… look into their eyes and you see nothing but metal." He glared at her, daring her to react.

"Charlies, Gods' damnit!" Dee cursed at him. "We're on the same fraking side here, so cool it," she ordered. Dualla saw Charlie wasn't going to back down. "Sam!" She yelled, getting his attention. "Tell him to stand down," she said again.

Sam Anders moved from Soto's right side to her left, placing his hand on Charlie Connor's shoulder. "Hey man, come on. Let's just calm down for a second. See why she doesn't want to bomb the place at oh-eight. Okay?" Charlie relented and nodded. Anders gave him a friendly slap on the back before returning back to his previous position. "Okay, Jo, instead of just saying no, tell us why." He waited three second before adding in, "Please."

"You cannot bomb them because there are a high amount of civilian workers, Colonials, who will be in the plant at 0800. You would end up killing or hurting dozens."

"They're collaborators," Charlie shot back at her. Anders and Tyrol nodded their support for him. Dualla objected. "I'm sure there are collaborators with Sky… whatever it is, on Earth," he added in a moment later.

"That is correct. There are. Grays. However their collaboration is far worse than working in a water treatment facility. They actively aide SkyNet against humanity and free machines and their collaboration is of no benefit to humanity or free machines. The people working in the treatment facility are not working to aide the Cylons. They are working to provide clean water to drink and bathe and cook with for their fellow citizens." She stood up from her chair, her psychological subroutines indicating it would be a good moment to stand to get support for her position. "They are in a hopeless situation. Providing clean water for everyone is not a crime. The NCP are collaborators. We'd classify them as Grays on Earth, not the Colonials in the water facility."

"Charlie, she's right," Tyrol said. "If we go down that path… we need to minimize human casualties. We wont not go through with it, but we'll distract them whether we bomb at oh-eight or oh-one." He looked sympathetically towards his friend. Tyrol would hate to look Nickie and he couldn't imagine how hard it was for Charlie after Kevin's death.

Charlie threw up his hands, disgusted that a machine would be lecturing him. "This is ridiculous. Look at her. On the outside, as pretty as a picture," he said, bringing his fingers and outlining her in the air, "but under all that pretty exterior is a very scary robot than will just fraking kill. That's what they're designed to do. Kill things. And we're here taking suggestions from it?" He stepped back and just grunted in defeated. He tossed up his hand, pointing at her and the others. "Whatever. If you want to listen to her, fine. Whatever." He shrugged and stepped back into one of the dark corners of the cavern. "Fine." And he sat down, defeated.

------BS-62 Galactica (+100 Days Cylon Occupation, +768 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Commander Adama took another ship of tea and placed his glass down next to Sharon's. He had wondered, at first, why he came and talked with her so often. Something inside of him always told him that this woman had shot him, but he was always able to bury that feeling. A woman like her had shot him and betrayed the fleet. But this woman sitting in front of him had saved the fleet before.

"Why do you think the Cylons hate us?" He asked her, his voice low and comforting. "Do you think John was right about them?"

Sharon Agathon had stopped identifying herself as a Cylon long ago. Commander Adama had freed Sharon after the SAR mission on Caprica, earning his trust and he had stopped referring to Cylons as 'your people' and instead called the Cylons 'them' in her presence. She had still be calling them 'her people' during this conversations until one day she realized Adama wasn't. It had touched Sharon Agathon's heart and she drew herself closer to humanity as a result of Adama's kindness towards her.

"If he was, do you think I'm here because I want to be, or because I'm an infiltrator?" She asked. "There's still a lot he doesn't know about SkyNet's influence, but I feel like I want to be here. I don't want to be with the Cylons," she confessed to him.

He took another sip of tea before pouring another glass for him and Sharon. "I think you do, Sharon."

"If only the Sharon from a year and a half ago could see this," she smiled at him. He kept starring down at the tea cup in his hands. "The Cylons never learned how to forgive, Commander. I'm here because I think, I hope you and Helo and everyone else here has forgiven me for what I did. And for what I was a part of."

Commander Adama turned and to look at her. He no longer saw Boomer there, not even for a moment. He saw a new woman who had had leanred to trust over the last year. He got up to his feet and leaned over to Sharon, holding the side of her head in his hands and giving her a fatherly kiss on the forehead.

"I think we can all learn to forgive, Sharon," he said. He straightened himself up and began walking towards the door. He stopped next to Hera's crib and bent down, gently stroking her cheek before looking back towards Sharon and leaving.

-------BS-62 Pegasus------
The Centurions worked diligently constructing the stealth Blackbird Vipers, Chief Laird looking over their work and inspecting the construction of the craft. Only a handful of deck crew and pilots came into the hanger. The centurions had relocated much of the construction material to the starboard hanger. With so few pilots, Pegasus was only operating the port hanger pods.

"That's good, RC, but with this ship we need to be attentive to the communications systems bleeding out of the carbon composites," he pointed at a wrapping of communication equipment. "You're going to have to put another EM screen around those."

RC didn't respond, but stood up and reached behind him, taking another EM screen and beginning to install it on the communication equipment. Two Centurions were each constructing an additional stealth Viper. The actual assembly had only started two weeks ago while the machine shop crews churned out frames and equipment.

"Deck Chief Laird, are you frightened of us?" The Centurion,RC-X894 asked him. He had stood up to his height of just over two and a half meters, halting the red optical scanner on Laird. The other Centurions continued to work while Laird and RC stood there, staring at each other.

Laid shifted on his feet and took a step back. He began figeting with a tool, cleaning it of grease. "No. I'm not scared… just a little… uneasy," he admitted, his voice shaking slightly.

RC-X894 didn't respond but suddenly grabbed out. Laird jumped back, but relaxed when the Centurion picked up a wrench and turned back towards his work. The deck chief moved back slowly, still cleaning his tools, moving to the next stealth Viper to inspect. He could hear the Centurion laughing quietly.

------New Caprica City------

The warmth of the school house contrasted sharply with the weather outside. The spring of New Caprica seemed to only last two months before a quick summer and an even shorter fall. The planet was in winter, or as Roslin called it 'just damn cold' season most of the year.

The lights from the fluorescents could be heard buzzing as Laura Roslin, Billy and Anastasia Dualla Kreikeya were sitting opposite her. They were shifting through the photographs of dozens of New Caprica Police members. She had to glance up occasionally to bring herself a bit of happiness. The fact that hundreds of humans were working for the Cylons in the NCP was overwhelming. But when she saw the two sitting across from her together, her mood was always lifted.

"We've been able to identify maybe… thirty to forty of the NCPers," Billy said. "I got the intelligence from Jo but a lot of these people are wearing masks. And the bulky clothing makes it hard to get a definite number. We might be counting some people twice," he conceded.

Roslin started speaking to herself quietly. Billy and Dee weren't exactly sure what she was saying, but she looked up and told them, "I hope we are counting some people twice. It sickens me that so many people would work for them like this." She pushed some of the photographs away and took off her glasses. "I can understand working in water treatment… I work for the school, I teach, schools are part of the 'Ministry' but something like this. I can't understand it."

Billy spoke up to comfort her. "Maybe they think they're just helping? That if they do the policing then the Centurions and the skinjobs wont have to?" He always tried to see the best in people.

Laura looked at him, sympathetic to his point of view. But she knew that was naïve. "No. Maybe. At first. But someone working here cannot honestly think they will be helping. The Cylons will do what they want. Now humans do it for them."

Dee agreed with Laura Roslin. She'd married Billy because he was a good man and a good soul, made her laugh. Most importantly he had forgiven her and loved her after she told him about Lee and Kara. "She's right. I'd rather have a Cylon armored boot on my neck than the boot of a man or woman I thought I could trust. The Cylons, you and me know where we stand with them. The NCPers? Traitors," she said point blank.

Billy put his arm around her shoulder and held her tight, warming her body as the cold seeped into the schoolhouse. The Cylons had cut power to heating units during the day in reprisal for the attack on the water treatment facility and sniper attacks against bio-Cylons.

"If we can get positive IDs on them we'll see if they'll turn. We've already got Tucker Clellan on the inside. He's a recruit now… uh… it looks like he should be graduating in a month or so. So he's a man on the inside. But we need more people," Roslin said. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to devise new ways of infiltrating the detention facilities.

"What if we can't get them to defect?" Billy asked. His doe eyes were focused on Roslin.

She looked up at him. He'd changed. Less of the boyhood innocence was present in his face. It had been hardened by the resistance and the occupation of the planet. But there was still the boyish look to his features Roslin didn't want to destroy. But there were more important things than innocence. "If they don't then we kill them," she said casually, returning to her work of identifying the traitors.