Caprica had died twice thus far. The first time her body was torn to ribbons by the window glass on the leading edge of the shockwave from a nuclear explosion that killed four million human beings. The second time she had been standing ten feet from a man wearing an explosive vest loaded with nails designed to inflict as much damage as possible. Forty people had died in that attack. Those were human deaths. Final. Finite.
Hers was an infinite cycle. She was born, she lived, she died, she resurrected. She understood human life. At least she thought she did. She could not fathom human death, and she certainly couldn't understand walking into death willingly. Life was a gift from God. To throw it away was a sacrilege, to hurl oneself off into the void without any chance of redemption or love for eternity.
She had seen many things since she walked among the humans after her first birth. She had seen many things that would frighten someone of lesser faith in Him, and yet remained unafraid, yet it was this one act of defiance. This open eyed march into damnation that terrified her. It terrified them all, she thought; at least she never thought she would see that look in Cavil's eyes.
She stood at the door of Laura Roslin's cell trying to decide if she should go in, or if this was silly, a childish lack of faith. She had decided it was and was just about to leave when she turned to see Baltar standing watching her.
It wasn't actually Baltar, at least not the impotent drug addict he had become. It was her Baltar, her idealized form of him. "You think Laura Roslin has answers for you?"
"No, of course not," she shook her head and took a step away from the door to walk past her delusion. She knew he'd follow her.
"Or are you afraid that she does? That that woman has a closer relationship with her gods than you have with yours? That her gods are stronger than yours? Or are you worried that her faith is stronger than your faith instead?"
"God loves me."
"Of course He does, that's why He's laid out such an easy course for you," Baltar replied as he turned around to face her again, but didn't move from where he was leaning against the wall.
She stopped after a few paces. "It is not my place to question God's plans."
"Oh, are we pretending you haven't walked down that path before? It's His plan to destroy humanity. It's His plan to save humanity from itself. You haven't a frakking clue what His plan is, and you are afraid that Laura Roslin does."
His voice echoed in the prison hallway, even though she knew she was the only one that could hear him. His words stung like arrows, and reminded her again of the glass from her first death. She remembered again what that had felt like. Her sacrifice for love.
There were some that said it hurt worse each time you died again, and perhaps it was so, but it was the feeling of a thousand cuts of glass that she remembered when her faith wavered. It was that pain that she called upon in her most vivid memories as punishment when her faith was not strong enough. Yet no matter how much she called upon those memories today she remained in the hallway in front of Laura Roslin's cell. She remained lost.
Baltar took her hand and placed it on the lock, letting her feel the warmth on her palm as she heard the metal click and the door open.
When Colonials were brought into the prison they were stripped, deloused, and given a gray jump suit. The cells were small and the cold from the floor radiated up through their bare feet sending a chill into every part of their body. It was meant to break them down, strip away their human pride and open them up to repent their sins and accept God in isolation.
Caprica had her doubts as if this was really what it was designed to do. Many Cylons seemed bent on undermining their cause here.
Whatever was the goal, it obviously wasn't working on Laura Roslin. The red headed Colonial leader was curled in the corner of her cell with her back to her, though Caprica doubted very much that she was unaware of her presence.
"I looked for you at your school after my download, but you had already been arrested."
Roslin turned to look at her now, her eyes narrowed but for the first time Caprica could really see into them, without the reflections in her glasses. The ice in her eyes made Six almost wish she had the glasses back. "Your friends were apparently quicker."
"They think you were involved in what happened today."
Roslin was silent, but Baltar laughed, standing behind her in the door frame. She wasn't sure that he was laughing at the former president, or at Six, though she suspected he was laughing at her. "She wasn't involved. Laura Roslin doesn't get her hands dirty that way. She probably sleeps better at night allowing others to send young people off to die."
Caprica ignored him. Or tried to. "Some might take your silence as assent."
"I suspect those who would do that, would read any action on my part as assent."
"She has a point," delusion Baltar put in from behind her.
"How do you spend your days teaching children to read and your nights sending young men off to carry bombs into public places?" She didn't say anything, but Caprica thought she saw the woman's eyes avert for a moment. "Suicide is a sin."
That raised both of Roslin's eyebrows.
"God did not give humanity life to throw away."
The schoolteacher's eyes narrowed now. "Is this the same God that sent you on a mission to destroy humanity?"
"We misunderstood Him."
"Twenty billion lives is quite a misunderstanding."
"The Cylon values life."
Caprica could have sworn the room had just become colder, had she been bothered by such trivialities as temperature. "You believe you are on a holy crusade?"
It was the first substantial question Roslin had asked Caprica and it seemed like one with an obvious answer. "Yes."
"Your God sees value in all life?"
"Yes," Caprica nodded.
"How valuable is a war waged without sacrifice?"
It was Caprica's turn to be silent, and Baltar came out of the doorway to stand next to her. "Be careful, she sees the cracks in the foundation of your house built of lies."
"War is ennobling."
This time Roslin smiled. "There is nothing noble about killing. And there is nothing noble in a war where you risk nothing. If you believe your God calls you to battle you should be willing to go without the assurance that when you die you will simply download into a brand new body."
"And it's more noble for an old woman to sit back in safety while she sends young men to die?" Caprica thought the challenge would bring the conversation back to her control, but Roslin's gaze did not waiver.
"It seems to me that you are the young race. Fighting wars without personal cost on grounds of faith that does not cost you anything. I'll stand before judgment knowing I did my best. What will you tell your God? Will He love you with blood on your hands?"
Caprica reached down with a sudden fury and grabbed the Colonial leader by the front of her jump suit lifting her up into the air. "God knows my faith."
"Faith, or arrogance?"
For that last bit of defiance she tossed Laura back into the corner she had been sitting in with a satisfying thud, but regretted it almost immediately. She went to move towards her, but Baltar put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.
She had made a mistake in anger that could not be taken away so easily.
She had allowed the sin of pride to consume her.
Without another word Caprica walked out of the cell, defeated.
Caprica couldn't sleep. Not that she needed to sleep. She could drive her body on for days without it. She could withstand exhaustion and starvation without the least bit of difficulty. It wasn't the lack of sleep that bothered her. It was that she couldn't do it. To her it was a physical manifestation of what the others said about her behind her back. She could no longer control her body anymore than she could control her emotions. Lying in the bed next to Baltar she could not give him pleasure or support, and he could not give her peace even in their most intimate settings.
Yet more proof, not that she needed more, that they were living a pretense of a relationship—shallow, cold, and impotent. And it was her fault, because she was shallow, and cold, and empty inside. She wanted to love, and to be loved, but could she do either of those things without being human? She was beginning to doubt it. But that did not change her desire for those emotions. If anything it made that desire stronger.
She had been watching Gaius breath for an hour. She petted his hair as if he were a child and she his mother—mystified and gratified at the simple miracle of life. She wanted to hold him, to share the him with no one, yet she stopped herself from the selfish act by looking at what was happening to Leoben. You cannot imprison that who you love, nor can you protect them from their own humanity. And of the many things Gaius Baltar was, he was most of all human.
She slipped out of the bed and pulled on a robe to cover her naked form and slipped quietly out of the living quarters and along the halls of Colonial One to the president's office. She saw a light on and pushed the door open quietly, seeing Three sitting at Gaius's desk, working on something. An irrational anger welled up inside her at the idea of Three sitting in his chair and using his desk like she owned the place. Though they did, and that was a truth Caprica really couldn't deny in the end. Just because something was true, though, didn't make it right.
"I didn't realize you had been elected President of the Twelve Colonies."
The voice made Three look up, and almost in opposition to Caprica's intent, D'Anna smiled. "It seemed like as good a place as any to work, and the desk is nice. One of the carpenters was making it for Roslin before they landed here, but he's since been performing more pressing needs."
The remains of humanity were distinctly short on truly useful skills such as farming and carpentry, and it had resulted in a great deal of their misery on New Caprica even before the Cylons arrived.
"A shame she never got to use it." It was a sentiment that surprised Caprica as much as it might have Three. It was part of the boiling caldron of emotions she had about the former President. Hate, fear, loathing, admiration. To banish that fruitless line of thought Caprica picked up one of the files that Three was working on. "I know this woman."
The dark skinned inscrutable face that stared out at her from the identity picture was one of those who worked in Roslin's school. D'Anna nodded, "Tory Foster. She's one of the Roslin loyalists. I think she might have even tried to steal the election from Baltar."
That comment provoked a new stab of hatred in Caprica's heart, both for the young woman in the picture and for her boss. It was anger on Gaius' behalf, righteous indignation mixed with religious fervor. A mere human being could not fight the Hand of God.
She put the file down and opened the next. Colonel Saul Tigh. And the next, Samuel Anders. And the next, Galen Tyrol. "These are the resistance leaders." At least the ones they suspected, some with less justification than others. "What are you doing?"
"Coming up with a list of those that will need to be executed if the civil unrest gets worse."
"That's not your place," Caprica reacted instinctively to protect Baltar's authority, such as it was.
Three apparently could see her thought process and she gave a patronizing smile. "With our dear President's permission, of course. Besides, that's not the pile of people going on my list. Cavil is taking care of neutralizing Tigh, and removing the others would be too disruptive to the fabric of human society."
Putting the files back down on the pile she picked up the top three on the other pile. The top was Tom Zarek. She couldn't bring herself to have too much outrage at the prospect of Gaius' ungrateful vice president finding a sticky end. The next made her raise an eyebrow. "Cally Tyrol?"
"The wife of a resistance leader, her loss should take much of the fight out of him. And she murdered Eight in cold blood while on Galactica. It would do Boomer some good to feel power over her."
"You can't feel power over a dead body." Three didn't seem interested in rising to that bait, so Caprica flipped open the next file. It shouldn't have surprised her, but looking into the face of Laura Roslin did. She held up the picture to D'Anna by way of asking for justification for that one.
"You have to be kidding, she was the first on the list."
"You won't advocate killing a pyramid player because his loss would damage the fabric of the community but you don't think murdering their school teacher would make them explode?"
"Their anger will pass quickly and once it is done it is a permanent fact. Humanity gets no second chances at life and they do not get to face their murders again."
The last was a pointed comment directed at Six. She had broken their highest law. She had committed the first act of violence by one Cylon on another. And the Threes in particular had never forgiven her for it. She didn't respond, though, but put the file down. "This is not why we came here."
"It's not why you came here, no, but your plan has failed and God's favor is shifting to those of us who are still Cylon at heart."
There was an insult in that statement. She was not, in Three's opinion, a real Cylon anymore. But what was she?
Three rose up from the desk and leaned against it looking right into Caprica's eyes. "You were wrong. God favors those who seek His plans, instead of making up their own."
And there it was, spoken aloud. They were turning their back on God, and searching for yet another false prophet. Caprica wondered in her stunned silence, if that prophet was standing in front of her. The Cylons were abandoning her.
… to be continued …