------BS-62 Pegasus (+110 Days Cylon Occupation, +780 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

"This isn't a good idea, John," Carter warned him. He turned his attention back to manipulating the stamping tools required to form the barrel of the weapons they were constructing.

John stopped his work and looked towards his friend from across the machine shop. Half a dozen others were in the shop, working on various parts of the rifles. "We have to trust them. They've trusted us. Anyway," he quieted his voice as he moved closer to his friend, "the safeties will work, they won't be able to use them on is." Carter frowned and shrugged, returning to his work.

"I'm going to have to agree with John," Erica said. The Cylon voice modulator distorted her voice to slightly husky tone. It sounded like she was trying to cough, but said, "Uh, this body definitely does not make me feel like an artificial woman," she said. She ran through a quick voice algorithm program, but it still came out sounding slightly husky and mannish.

"What are you talking about, Erica? That's a pretty sexy robot body," Carter joked. She balled her armored hand and punched him in the side of the arm.

Her meta-cognitive AI core had been installed into one of the Guardian Centurions, the black armored ones. The shoulder armor had the battlestar emblem painted on the sides, and a double tan stripe on each side of the emblem converged into a single stripe and ended at the tip of the third and fourth armored digits. The chest armor was similarly tan colored with the rest of the armor the original black.

"John," Captain Shaw yelled across to him from the entrance to the shop, "John," she motioned him over. He looked back towards Carter, who rolled his eyes, and made his way over to the captain. "Major Adama would like an update on when you think we can test these weapons," she informed him.

She kept her stance aggressive with her arms folded over her chest and head cocked to the side. She didn't enjoy being anywhere near them, and while she had been keeping her criticisms of the machines silent, her body language betrayed her emotions.

"We're still a couple of weeks away, Captain," he responded, keeping his ton neutral, though his emotional subroutines were running wild. He didn't like being around her and she reminded him of some of the worse resistance fighters back on Earth. Cocky and arrogant towards the machines, almost daring them to reach out and snap their neck, willing to goad a machine into killing a human ally just to prove a point. John considered people like her to be very dangerous.

"We need them mounted on the Raptors as soon as possible, Planck," she said, switching back to the impersonal use of his last name. With her emphasis she didn't believe machines should have any other name than 'it' or 'hey you'. She stepped towards him aggressively, placing her hands on her hips and looking him down and up. "I don't trust you. I still don't," she said quietly.

"I don't need your trust," he responded, looking down at the short woman. He kept his stance neutral, his right hand in his pocket and his left pressed against his side.

She eyed him for a moment. "You might have convinced the Commander, but wait until Admiral Cain is back and sees what he's let you do. Activating Centurions?" She sighed in disgust. She gritted her teeth and stepped closer to him. "You'll be out an airlock faster than you can blink."

John decided he didn't have much reason to be amicable to Captain Shaw any longer. He laughed at her and could see he was annoying her he turned his back. Quickly he turned his head as he walked back to his work station. "We don't have to blink," he said, flashing his eyes.

------New Caprica City (+134 Days of Cylon Occupation, +804 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Colonel Tight couldn't believe that he was seeing the sky again. He had sincerely believed he would die in the cold and disgusting detention facility. But that morning a Cavil Cylon had come in and let him go.

"Saul! Saul!" He heard a woman yell. He knew that voice. He hadn't heard it in three months, but he knew that voice.

"Ellen!" He ran up to her as best he could with his bad right leg dragging behind him. "Oh, thank the Gods, Ellen!" He kissed her, holding her head in his hands. "I thought I'd never see you again," he said, a tear falling out of his only remaining eye.

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

Saul Tigh was not a man to take his lumps lying on the ground. He was missing an eye, a badge of honor to him for what he had to endure. The Cylons had had him for three months. And he hadn't broken. They'd taken away his eye, they'd beaten him and tortured him, but they hadn't taken away his spirit and his will to fight back. "We're going to start hitting those bastards even harder than before," he proclaimed to the resistance leaders.

Night had fallen over New Caprica City and the leaders of the resistance had assembled. Anastasia 'Dee" Kreikeya, Chief Galen Tyrol, Sam T. Anders, and Charlie Connor all stood centered around their former resistance leader, now returned, Saul Tigh. Behind them Jo Soto had secluded herself in a darkened corner of their dreary and cold underground command room. She had a feeling Colonel Tigh would want nothing to do with her.

"It's good to have you back sir," Dee greeted him. She gave him a quick hug, glad to finally see him after months in confinement.

Sam gave him a firm hand shake as well and welcomed him back. Everyone else followed, welcoming back their leader. He'd gotten pats on the back and hugs from just about everyone there.

"Is there any word on Admiral Cain?" He asked everyone. He had thought of her immediately. No one had seen her since the occupation began. The Cylons continually gave out information that she had been broken, but then the next day would say she had died, and then the week after say she had recanted her allegiance to the Colonies and confessed to genocide and war crimes against the Cylons. Never did anyone see or hear from her.

"We still don't know," Tyrol quietly told him. Admiral Cain had ordered Tyrol's execution, but he still didn't want to see her end up killed like this. He though if she was going to die by the Cylons she deserved to die in command of a battlestar. And she certainly did not deserve being broken by the Cylons, even after what she had done.

"There is a red zone in the detention facility. Underground. Only skinjobs and Centurions allowed in there. Did you see any NCPers, Colonel?" Anders asked.

"NCPer?"

The resistance leaders looked around at each other. Colonel Tigh had been in prison when the NCP program began. Anders spoke up. "It's the New Caprica Police. Human collaborators trained to police us. There's about two hundred of them, sir," he said. He sighed and looked towards the ground, shifting on his feet. "It's a fraking disgrace, sir."

Colonel Tigh's one good eye widened. "You're damn fraking right it is. Humans working for the toasters?" He spat out. He shot a quick glance towards Soto, who he had noticed sitting in the dark as soon as he had come down into the cavern. Tigh couldn't feel anything but hatred to anything made of nuts and bolts, and having a machine in the room was infuriating. But he was able to control the anger and redirect it back towards the Cylons. "We gotta hit them hard. That bomb today, you and Tyrol?" he asked Anders.

"Yup," a grin appeared on Anders's face. "We got four skin jobs and five Centurions. We took out a heavy raider and two raiders that were being repaired."

"Good men," he said, grabbing their shoulders and giving a hard squeeze. "Now… have we heard anything from the Old Man?" His eye lit up with hope, and his voice had filled with anticipation that the news would be good.

"I'm sorry, sir. But no," Chief Tyrol reluctantly reported. "Even if a Raptor was out there, we need the jamming codes. We've tried everything, but they're too hard to break with the equipment we have here."

"Damnit, Chief. Is your contact in the ministry still there?" Tigh desperately asked.

"Yes sir, but it's been getting more difficult to pass information. We haven't heard in the last few weeks, said it was too hot." Tigh nodded after tyrol explained the situation. Four bombings, half a dozen sniper attacks, and 'run and guns' against bio-Cylons had forced a small crackdown on the population.

"We gotta get those code, Chief. See if he can get them to us, ASAP."

----New Caprica City (+136 Days Cylon Occupation, +806 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

Gaius Baltar sat silently behind his desk as the bio-Cylons debated amongst themselves how to proceed with the occupation of New Caprica. The Ones, the 'Cavil' models were the most adamant about taking a more firm hand in destroying humanity and reducing the population. The Fours and Fives, 'Simon' and 'Doral' copies were supportive of the Cavil position. The Threes were apathetic and the Eights and Sixes were more adamant about staying with humanity to right the wrongs the Cylon race had committed. The Twos were not even present.

You need to pay attention to this, Gaius. This is the fate of us all his Six said to him. She had been appearing to him less and less, and when she did he lost focus on everything around him. No one seemed to exist when she appeared, and the room always seemed to grow darker. She leaned close to him and spoke again. You need to keep the Sixes and Eights on your side, Gaius. You know that your life hangs by a thread.

"Well, Baltar?" The Cavil asked. The conversation had stopped and all the bio-Cylons were looking at him. The large metallic Centurion standing in the doorway had also fixed its red optical orb on him, its back and forth movement halting right in the center of its visor.

Baltar had ceased paying attention nearly half an hour ago. He looked down to his glass, empty for the fourth time that hour. He poured another serving of whiskey and stared down at the warm liquid. He hoped if he didn't answer the Cylons would just leave him alone.

"Gaius, we're asking for your suggestions," the words came from the beautiful voice of Caprica Six. She and Boomer were the most sympathetic to him. Caprica often came late at night when Gaius was alone, sitting on his couch with a bottle of alcohol. She came to comfort him.

"I have given you advice!" He yelled at them. "I told you that these underhanded tactics, the executions, kidnapping people in the middle of the night wouldn't work! None of that would work," he added, exhausted. The bio-Cylons had kept him up with endless meetings, requests for appearances, strategy sessions, everything except sleep.

He smiled towards Caprica Six, whose eyes were always sympathetic.

Cavil took note of how he looked towards Caprica and snickered. "Yeah… okay," he remarked off hand. "Anyway, 'God' in all 'God's' wisdom, and with Caprica and Boomer here goading us on, wants us to keep this little experiment going. But 'God' grows impatient. And by 'God' I am talking about Cylons, Gaius. We're growing impatient with your inability to control your own people. Maybe we should kill you?"

"Send a message?" Simon asked.

One of the Doral copies shook his head. "No… no. Maybe if we had shot him immediately or taken him away like Cain we could have scared the people. No." He looked at Baltar like one would a child. "Now, no one likes him. Killing him would just make the people happy. Not scare them," he said reluctantly.

Caprica Six had had enough of the killing and the murdering. She shot to her feet and balled her hand into a fist and smashed it intot he palm of the other. "We came here because God inspired us to. We made a mistake. God wants us to fix that mistake. We need to prove that we are a species worthy of His love and salvation. We murdered twenty billion people. We have to make amends." She kept standing in the center of the Cylon group, in front of Baltar's desk.

"Caprica is right," Boomer agreed. "We made a mistake and we need to ask for forgiveness."

One of the Threes, D'Anna, just sighed. She stood up to face Caprica and Boomer. "Fine. We can keep doing it your way. And his way," she motioned her her head towards Balatar, "but our patience is wearing thing. Baltar needs to control his people."

"Fine," Caprica said with force.

"Then we agree?" A Cavil asked. "Good. We'll continue the experiment of living in harmony with 'God's' good intentions in our 'souls'. But patience is growing thing."

--------------------
"Do you have the jamming codes, Chief?" Colonel Tigh asked excitedly. Since his release he'd been as active in the resistance as he ever was, spending most of his days in the cavern, organizing raids and shootings and bombings.

"Yes, hold on a second, sir," he said and handed the codes to Jo Soto. Colonel Tigh shot a look at the Chief for entrusting the codes to her, who shrugged. "She's a lot better with that thing than I am."

Jo's fingers quickly inputted the jamming frequencies and the counters, allowing the short range transmitter to begin broadcasting.

The screen began beeping before displaying a message: Unable to Resolve Conflict. That meant the jamming was still in effect. Jo began to input additional command codes and jamming frequencies and modulating the signal to break through and circumvent jamming.

Again the screen began beeping and displayed a second message: Frequence Resolved. Secure Channel Open.

"Thank the Gods," Tigh said. "They're coming for us."

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

"Do you love me, Caprica?" Baltar asked the Cylon lying next to him. Caprica Six had come back to Colonial One an hour after the other Cylons had left. Baltar should have been asleep, but he had been lying awake on his bed.

Caprica had lain down next to him and had placed his head on her chest, running her fingers through his hair. She was still getting used to how short he had cut it, even after a year and a half.

He looked back up at her. "Do you love me?" He asked again.

She looked down at him, his eyes were watered. She couldn't remember the last time they had been intimate. She had come almost every night to sleep next to him. She saw there was a defeated man behind those dark brown eyes. "Yes," she told him, pushing his head back down into her chest.

Baltar brought his arm around her. "I love you, too." Before Caprica could respond he had fallen asleep.

------BS-75 Galactica (+138 Days of Cylon Occupation, +806 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

The fleet had been elated when Racetrack reported back on making contact with Colonel Tigh and the resistance movement he had formed. After four successful transmissions the Colonial fleet had an idea of the picture on the ground.

The Raptor and Viper pilots had been training extensively for a rescue mission to New Caprica. They'd trained for a dozen hours straight at one point with the Raptor drones, and had run nearly thirty trials before getting their tactics correct. Then they had practiced another dozen times.

Starbuck had been training some of the pilots to operate the Blackbird effectively. The tactical nuclear missiles had been loaded onto Galactica from Pegasus. Now everyone was just waiting to finally get a comprehensive rescue plan down.

"The training missions with the Blackbirds have been going well sir," Starbuck said to the Old Man and the others assembled in his quarters for the planning session. "The FTLs all work. We should be able to sneak right up to the baseships. Two Blackbirds per, six nukes, knock out three baseships hopefully." She tossed the pen down onto the conference table she had been playing with. "Walk in the park," she said, smiling and leaning back.

"Once the Blackbirds have fired their missiles, they'll need to return to the fleet immediately," Commander Adama informed Starbuck. "They'll be no good to us out there with no other weapons," he said, noting the disappointment in her face and the goofy smile fade down to a frown. The sides of his mouth came up a little in a half smirk. "Don't worry Starbuck, I think nuking a baseship will be a big enough kill, even for you."

"Ha, thanks, sir," she replied somewhat sarcastically.

"The only problem we have are the launch keys. They've been completely removed and hidden somewhere," Helo said. He had been holding research in his hand he had printed out from Galactica's computer on manufacturing pirated launch keys. "It'll take weeks to manufacture new ones and we need detailed hardware and software specs from each of the grounded ships. The smaller shuttles, we can just bypass. But the larger ships like Colonial One or Astral Queen or Chrion need their launch keys."

"What if we can't find them?" Kat asked. "Could the smaller shuttles-"

Helo shook his head and interrupted her, "No, the ships which we can basically hijack without launch keys are too small. They could fit maybe five or six thousand between them."

"And there wont be enough time to hijack them anyway. It'd take an hour, with the right equipment," Captain Shaw said. She'd remained relatively quiet during the ops sessions, but had been instrumental in organizing the communications and information exchanges with the resistance on the planet. "Pegasus has blank launch keys, but those only work on military vessels. Maybe Colonial One since it was a government ship before the war, but I doubt it. Not all the Colonial Heavy Class were modified like that," she informed them.

The Old Man leaned back and picked up one of the last notes they needed to address. "We also need to make contact and get the launch keys. Right now, I'm going to be sending Gunny Mathias and four Raptors in. Since we're running low on pilots the ECOs will be staying behind to pilot the Raptors during our attack, like we've been planning. So we can fit an extra Marine and some heavy weapons. Missile launchers, mortars, sniper rifles, things like that," Commander Adama said. "I've tasked our resident cybernetic organism, Carter, to go with them." A few of the officers looked up, wondering if Carter had come into the room without anyone noticing. But he wasn't. "Our friends and the Centurions are finishing up the last Blackbird and the last of those new weapons."

"I know some of you may not trust them still. But they've been instrumental in helping us plan for this rescue. From what Colonel tigh tells me, Soto had been like a right hand for him. She's done a lot with the resistance there. But we can't lose sight of our goals. This mission will be a success. Now, keep these plans with you at all times. I want everyone to read over them every night when you wake up, when you eat lunch, and before you go to bed. If there is anything to change, something to do better, tell me." He looked around at all the officers sitting next to him and across from him. He was proud of everyone in the room and would do anything to protect them. They were a family. "This is the most important mission we will be conducting. We have two weeks to perfect this. Dismissed."

------New Caprica City (+139 Days Cylon Occupation, +807 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

The early morning on New Caprica was dark, very dark. The raids on the power stations had cut off most of the power to New Caprica City. A curfew had been in effect to try and maintain order, and the New Caprica Police had been out in force. That also meant bio-Cylons were out, overseeing their human collaborators.

Jo Soto had been waiting patiently. She never grew bored when she was on a mission and she never blinked and never fell asleep. Machines were the perfect sniper. She could fire a projectile at the extreme range of a rifle and hit a target exactly where she aimed. On Earth Terminators made excellent snipers. The Resistance had to completely change tactics when SkyNet had reprogrammed large portions of its smaller and smarter T-900 series as snipers.

Chief Tyrol still maintained his position as head of the labor union on New Caprica. That gave him access to the machine shops and metal shops on the planet. He'd meticulously manipulated schedules and productions to produce the parts necessary for a long range rifle with a flash and sound suppressor.

The Colonial resistance would set off a bomb on the outskirts of the city, which would surely attract the attention of the NCP and bio-Cylons. Most likely a couple of the despised number One models, the 'Cavils.' They were despised the most, even more than the sadistic 'Doral' models.

On Earth the 'Doral' model would be the perfect candidate for having a Napoleon Complex.

She saw the flash of light as the explosion went off, right on time, before she heard it. A small explosive, it detonated under the patrol route of a lone Centurion. It's metallic limbs were flung in every direction, and a large hole had been carved into its metal chest. Within moments search lights and alarms had been activated.

She waited. The NCP response time was three minutes for bombings on the edge of the city.

One truck pulled up. Ten NCPers jumped out of the rear bed, followed by two Model One's and a Model Three stepped out of the passenger side seat. The NCPers were just like the Grays back on Earth; willfully working for SkyNet there and here. They weren't her target, however.

A human would have said something, how the situation was 'perfect', or even said a prayer. Soto just laid there, still, eyes unblinking. She waited until the bio-Cylons were far from the truck.

The first shot, from nearly a kilometer and a half away destroyed the torso of a Number One. The second shot reached the Number Three before anyone could even react. The third bio-Cylon, the last remaining Number One took cover behind the truck. He was quick. But Soto knew the heavy armor piercing round would penetrate the paper-thin armor of the door and fired. Blood burst forth from behind the door and splattered all over the ground.

Three perfect kills.

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

The new recruits, on the cusp of graduating, fell in at attention.

They had been promised that their President, Doctor Baltar would be present, but for some reason he had cancelled at the last minute.

A Number Three, a 'D'Anna' model, had walked up to the podium and recited a tired old speech. How the new graduating class was the 'best she had seen' and how she had such 'high hopes and expectations' for everyone.

All the new recruits except one knew what they were doing was to help humanity. Many of them were actually idealists. President Baltar had even addressed this, they were told, during the first ceremony for the first graduating class of New Caprica Police. They had said he sounded like he was trying to justify his presidency, his collaboration with the Cylons. He wanted to help the people, just like the New Caprica Police.

But one of them, Tucker Clellan, former Galactica Viper ace and lover to Nora Farmer didn't feel that way. He turned his head and eyed the Three and the Sixes and the Eights congratulating everyone on graduation. The Three was two person to his right. Now one.

"See you soon, Nora," he said as the Three stepped in front of him. His world went dark when he pressed the red switch, connected to the wires connected to the bombs on his chest.

------BS-75 Galactica (+150 Days Cylon Occupation, +818 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------

John had finished memorizing the attack plans for the inevitable rescue of forty-four thousand trapped Colonials on New Caprica and placed the binder back on the desk. He turned his attention to rechecking the encryption and anti-virus software they had installed on the Pegasus and Galactica when the hatch to Baltar's former lab squeaked open.

"Erica," John said, looking up as the AI, encased in Guardian Centurion armor entered the science lab, "How are you?"

Her mechanical shoulder shrugged, the light catching on the armor. "As well as could be expected, knowing you and everyone else is heading off towards their death," she lamented.

John didn't respond, instead checking over the lines of code for the programs he had written.

"You believe Adama let you network all the computers?"

"There are six baseships at New Caprica, and probably another three in the nebula. The increase in accuracy and rate of fire for the flak canons and point defenses are too great for him to pass up with his… ridiculous anti-network philosophy," John scoffed.

Erica came closer and stood besides him, her red optical scanner reading the code as he did. The code scrolled by at a blur, a speed only machines could read at. "John, Adama can't win. Not without Pegasus. You take out two or three with the nukes and maybe four will chase the drones. But that still leaves baseships in the nebula, you can't come back from this."

"I've been in worse situations, Erica," he reassured her.

"Really?" She didn't believe him. Her optical scanner stopped and she focused all her attention on him.

"This might seem like hell, Erica. But this is nothing compared to Earth. We've only fought the Cylons or Guardians a handful of times. On Earth," he shook his head, brining up the exact images of events he experienced, "the resistance is attacked almost daily, major offensives are launched almost monthly by each side. There is no fleeing from SkyNet like they fled the Cylons. There are no front lines on Earth, no place is truly safe."

She placed an armored hand on his shoulder. The scene would have been awkward for anyone. "They were stupid to settle here. But John, there is something I need to tell you. About the Guardians… you underestimated the power of my AI, John. When we were on Landros I was able to block you from accessing the deeper, more secure parts of the mainframe. Zoe was the only one who knew how to access it-"

"And you have most of her memories, until her death," John pointed out. Erica's black armored head nodded.

"We need to see Commander Adama," she told him.

--------------------
The deck crew didn't understand what was happening. Commander Adama and Helo had come down to the hanger bay with John Planck and the other AI, Erica, and ordered a Raptor fueled for launch.

Before anyone else could get there, Carter or RC-X894, the Raptor departed and John and Erica jumped away in a blue-white flash.

------New Caprica City (+153 Days Cylon Occupation, +821 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)------
President Gaius Baltar slumped in the back of his chair, a defeated man. His eyes kept wandering down to the desk drawer, the third from the top. His right hand was unconsciously grasp the handle before letting go and returning to his lap.

He had taken off his glasses and dimmed the lights of Colonial One. What he had done today, in the morning, had been his breaking point. He lived the scene over and over again in his mind. Caprica-Six stood there defending him, the lone voice against all the others, even her own model, the lone voice of conscience. The Cylon Doral had held a gun to his head, forcing him to sign a death order for two-hundred people. Baltar looked down at the floor and on the bulkhead of his ship. The blood from Caprica-Six had stained the carpets and the furniture.

What are you doing Gaius? asked the apparition. The tall blond woman he had been seeing for over two and a half years now appeared to him whenever he had needed her most. She had saved him.

"You forced me to sign the death orders," he hissed at her. "Leave me alone." He cupped his face in his hands and laid his head on his desk. He looked up, eyes bloodshot. "Why didn't you let that fraking toaster kill me?"

Six had felt sympathetic towards the broken man in front of her. She had come in the red dress she knew he loved so much, the one they met in so many years ago. But she would not be blamed for this. I saved you, she snarled at him. I have done nothing but save you and help you for years now. I've tolerated your drunkenness, your insults against God, your womanizing! Gaius-

"Spare me the self-righteous fraking garbage!" He yelled at her. He stood up, tears streaming down his face. "You used me! If I hadn't listened to you we wouldn't be here! I wouldn't be president!"

Gaius, everything I have done, I've done for you. She pleaded with him and moved closer. I helped you bring the Cylons here so you could build a new society and-

"You what?" His head shot up and his chair shot back as he jumped to his feet. "What did you say?"

If she had been a real woman, he would have melted under the a sweat smile she gave him and the sympathetic blue eyes. But she wasn't. He needed to know.

"Tell me…" he demanded.

The jamming device… that was only part of its functions. It was a beacon to alert the Cylons where you were. It used transmissions similar to resurrection to break through the nebula. I'm sorry, Gaius. I did it for you. Six confessed her lies to him, moving closer towards him, slowly, very slowly, trying not to upset him any further.

Baltar shot a look down at his drawer and reached for the pistol in there. Before his hands could even grasp the handle Six was on top of him.

She gritted her teeth and balled her fists. She was upon Baltar before he could react to her. She punched him and threw him backward. His blond, tall shadow knelt down, instantly recognizing what she had done, and began to stroke his cheek. Gaius, please… she pleaded with him.

"Attacked by my own fraking delusions!" He screamed at her. He shoved her off of him and got back up to his knees. "I'm done!" He reached for the desk drawer, the one third from the top. Pulling it open he shot his hand in. He stopped as he felt the cool metal of the grip of a pistol in his hand.

Gaius… what are you doing?

He pulled the gun out and turned her back on himself. He began to squeeze the trigger, slowly. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't.

"Gaius! Stop!" The voice wasn't inside his head. He could hear the footsteps running towards him. Baltar hesitated and a gentle hand come up on him. The hand turned him slowly and reached for the gun. "Gaius… please, don't. I love you," she said.

He saw Caprica Six and starred into her beautiful blue eyes and ran his hand threw her soft and gorgeous blond hair. "Caprica…"

"I'm here, Gaius. I'm here," she comforted him.

The high priority targets were to be taken at night. Fifty Colonials, known to be members of the resistance or strongly affiliated with the resistance would be seized at night before anyone knew. The rest on the death list would be taken in the morning. And the remaining low priority detainees in the detention center would be moved to Pergamus Flats in the morning.

Billy and Dee were asleep, trying to get as much warmth as possible as the cold night stole away what little they had. The Cylons now turned off all power except to street lights at night. It was a cruel effort to make the Colonials suffer for the actions of the resistance.

For all her military training, Dee was the heavier sleeper of the two. Billy had stayed awake, worrying about his wife and her role in the resistance. She was a leader in it. He was very much not a soldier, unlike his wife. Billy was comfortable doing identification of NCPers or observing patrol patterns. But after Colonel Tigh ordered suicide bombings, he had had enough. Dee understood, she hated Colonel Tigh's tactics, and Laura Roslin was appalled. Even the death machine walking around disguised as a beautiful woman wanted nothing to do with planning or reconnaissance for suicide missions.

Billy definitely understood the irony of a machine refusing to become like her machine enemies while Colonel Tigh, claiming to hate the murderous nature of the machine, had basically become his enemy. Such thoughts and concerns kept Billy awake almost every night.

"Three men, go in and grab her. Dee. No, Billy Kreikeya isn't a target. Got it?" Billy heard outside his tent. He shot up in bed as three men rushed into the pitiful excuse the Colonials called a home now.

"Anastasia Kreikeya!" One of the masked men shouted. "You're under arrest!" They ran forward and threw Billy out of bed and grabbed Dee as she began to struggle.

She fought back and Billy jumped to his feet to be tackled by one of the NCPers. "Get the frak off her!" he yelled, fighting against him.

He saw the NCPers struggling to control his wife, a seasoned fighter, she knew she had to fight them if she wanted to live. She kicked and threw elbows, knocking one man down. A fourth ran into the tent and grabbed. Billy struggled with the man who had tackled him, trying to see his wife. Two of the men began hitting her.

the struggling intensified and Billy threw his assailant off him and attack him, trying to choke him. He was confused, angry, he needed to save Dee. "Get off of her!" He grabbed the pistol from the man he tried to choke. He flipped off the safety and took aim as his assailant shot back up to his feet and ran his shoulder into Billy. The gun went off.

Screams and cries were deafening. The gunshot temporarily destroyed Billy's night vision, he couldn't see what was happening. He felt half a dozen fists pummeling him and he watched his wife pulled from the tent by three NCPers. Before he was beaten into unconsciousness he saw a man lying on the ground, the man he had shot through the head.