Chapter 15

Cylon Basestar 101 – Corridor just outside of the Control Room – Deep Space

"Sandra, may I have a word with you?"

The basestar's commander, a position Sandra considered as a temporary obstacle in her vendetta against the CSS agent who'd defeated her on Scorpia, allowed her annoyance to show on her face as she turned to face the person who'd called her name. Striding toward her was one of her sisters who counseled the recently resurrected and assisted them in re-acclimating into Cylon society.

"What do you want, Three?" she asked the other woman. Unlike Sandra herself, this Three was nameless. She'd been one of the vast majority of their people who'd never infiltrated the Colonial worlds and Sandra generally had no use for anyone who hadn't died and downloaded at least once. "I don't have time to chat. I'm scheduled to meet the command staff for an update on the progress of our scouts."

The other woman smiled vapidly at Sandra which only served to irritate her even further. Despite having been an infiltrator, Sandra preferred directness over subterfuge and the Three's smile made her suspect the other woman was attempting to manipulate her.

"This won't take long," the Three said. "Sandra, we're concerned about one of our sisters who's aboard this very ship. She'd lived among the humans for almost sixteen years, far longer than nearly any other Cylon. We believe she still has an unhealthy attachment to her cover identity and won't accept who she truly is."

"Although that may be a problem, why are you telling me about it? I'm not a shrink."

The Three gave her another insipid smile. "We know you're not a psychologist, Sandra. However, since you're this basestar's commander and a Hero of the Cylon, we were hoping you could talk to her, perhaps set her straight. If not, the way things are going, the others may decide to box her."

Even Sandra, the tough and fearless warrior, balked at the Three's pronouncement. "They'd box her? Isn't that a bit extreme?"

The other woman shook her head. "At times, unfortunately, it becomes necessary. Sometimes, the downloaded ones come back…broken. On occasion, they're so broken, they can't be fixed."

Sandra grimaced at the other Three's words. They seemed so…heartless, so…demeaning. They reminded her of the humans' attitude toward their Cylon predecessors before and during the War of Independence. Although those early model Cylons were machines, they were sentient; they'd experienced pain when injured even though their minds were comprised of circuits and microchips. They'd also died when they were sufficiently damaged.

With resurrection, the Cylons had triumphed over death. Yet, apparently, they hadn't defeated the notion they were only frakking machines, even among their own kind.

She now shot a questioning look at her sister. "Tell me, who's the person you want me to see?"

The anonymous Three said, "Lysia Jana."

She blinked twice at that piece of news. Lysia had been a Sleeper, one of the human form Cylons programmed to believe they were Colonials from the moment of their activation. They typically were among the first wave of infiltrators placed in the Colonies even before the Plan had been formulated. Their experience living amongst the humans was subsequently processed and used by the succeeding waves of infiltrators, Cylons who knew from the start they were members of the Collective and laboring on the Plan. Lysia had been in the vanguard of the first wave. She'd joined the Colonial Fleet sixteen years ago and worked her way through the ranks to become the commander of a Valkyrie class battlestar. During their attack on the Colonies, Lysia's handler had activated the Cylon saboteur hidden within Lysia and made her take her battlestar completely out of play by having Lysia use the ship's aft damage control to vent both the ship's air and crew into space.

Although it wasn't common knowledge among the Collective, high-ranking Cylons like Sandra knew there'd been some serious problems with Sleepers like Lysia once they'd died after they'd carried out their acts of sabotage. Shortly after downloading into a new body, a vast majority of them engaged in significant anti-social behavior and avoided contact with other Cylons.

Suddenly, Sandra gave the other Three a determined look. "Well, I, for one, will not treat our sister as something to be discarded, Three. So, I'll talk to Lysia." Sandra began to turn away to proceed into the control room before she halted, swung around and regarded the woman once again. She narrowed her eyes at her sister and drawled, "Oh, and Three? You'd do well to remember your attitude toward Lysia Jana is exactly the kind of prejudice the humans had for our predecessors after they'd created us. Even though we're machines, that doesn't mean we're not alive. And the One True God would want us to remember that fact and not discard one of our own as the humans would a broken toaster!"

The Three graced Sandra with a banal smile and the huntress barely managed to restrain herself from ripping the other woman's head off. "Well, who am I to argue with a Hero of the Cylon? And thank you, Sandra, for agreeing to talk to Lysia. I shall pray to the One True God that she truly listens to you and you're able to make her come to her senses."

With that, the Three turned away from Sandra and strode down the corridor, leaving a smoldering former infiltrator in her wake.

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Battlestar Galactica – Officer's Mess – Colonial Fleet

"This food bar of yours is actually pretty good! It tastes much better than our emergency rations," Margaret Edmonson observed.

Ian Dalle smiled at the attractive Raptor pilot. "I think I'll just take your word on that. By tomorrow, the task force should have distributed enough supplies to your fleet so you folks won't be forced to exist on half rations anymore. However, you need to take it slow and don't stuff yourselves. It takes a little time for your stomach to extend itself and I don't want you to feel bloated."

"Yes, doctor," she said with mock seriousness before she smiled brightly at him. "Are you always so focused on taking care of people, Dr. Dalle?"

"Hey, when we're off duty and just hanging out, please call me Ian. Also, I always focus on taking care of people I like, Maggie."

She shot a surprised look his way. "Excuse me, did you just call me, Maggie?"

The look on his face shifted to one of concern. "I guess I did. In our society, Margaret is a popular name and sometimes we use 'Maggie,' 'Peggy,' or 'Peg,' as affectionate nicknames for 'Margaret.' If it bothers you, I'll call you Margaret."

She leaned toward him, placed her elbow on top of the table, rested her chin on the top of the knuckles of her right hand, and gazed at him, her eyes twinkling through the curtain of her long, dark lashes. "I don't mind if you're the only one who calls me 'Maggie,' Ian."

Like a moth drawn to the flame, Dalle leaned toward her while a distant part of his mind chattered at him about propriety and castigations and a plethora of things. "All right then, Maggie," he said, his voice low. As the yammering in the back of his mind grew louder, he shook himself from the draw of her eyes and glanced down at her left hand as it rested on the table. "Say, that's an interesting ring," he said, using his observation as an excuse to brush the top of her hand with his fingers.

"It's my class ring from the Athena Academy on Caprica," she responded. Then a clouded look crossed her face. "Well, it used to be on Caprica. It's probably gone now."

He gently placed his hand on top of hers and said, "Maggie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"No, Ian, you have nothing to be sorry for. You were just asking about my past, trying to get to know me better. I'm okay with that and I don't want you to feel like you're walking on eggshells around me, all right?"

"Okay, Maggie."

She shook her mood and smiled at him. "Even though the school may be gone, I've still got my ring and my school uniform to show for it."

He smiled, imagining the possibilities…

"Doctor, Margaret!"

Dalle looked toward the entrance to the mess when he heard someone calling him and saw Jackson and Stenger walking toward them. Sighing resignedly, he drew back his hand from Maggie's as the other Fleet officers halted at their table.

"May we join you?" Jackson asked.

"Of course," Ian said.

After his two companions had seated themselves, an excited Lena said, "Ian, we've just come from a meeting with Admiral Adama about the human form Cylons and you won't believe what he told us!"

He shot a curious look at her then at Jackson. The other man simply smiled and nodded. "Lena's right. What she has to say is definitely a game changer."

"Okay, I'll bite. What did he tell you?"

"The female Cylon who is currently engaged in their SAR mission was part of a Cylon experiment on breeding with humans. She was chosen to seduce the Galactica officer while he was marooned on Caprica and was impregnated by him."

Dalle's eyes opened wide. "These Cylons…they can actually bear our children?!"

"According to the Admiral, I'm afraid so," Jackson said. "Apparently, they're unable to conceive when they have sexual relations with one another. The Admiral said the Cylons believe their religion commands that they be fruitful and multiply in a biological manner."

"That's…that's incredible!" Dalle said, his voice filled with awe and wonder. "It's all starting to make sense to me. Other than the superficial aspects of their physiology that can be traced back to their mechanical predecessors, essentially, these human form Cylons are human. If they can interbreed with humanity without the assistance of medical technology, they're practically an offshoot of humanity."

"Wait a minute, Ian," Margaret said, "those things aren't human. They're machines!"

"Maggie," he said, his personality fully in medical researcher mode. "Biologically, they have to be human to be able to bear children with a human mate. If there was a superficially close species like one of the Earth primates and a human, even with DNA that is about ninety eight percent the same, a human wouldn't be able to have a hybrid child with that primate. Yet, these Cylons are able to do so." Now, he turned to Stenger and asked, "What else did he tell you about this?"

"Apparently, this is the only known incident of reproduction between the two societies," Lena said. "According to the Admiral, the Cylons have tried to impregnate captive human females with their own embryos on Caprica. He didn't say whether the women who were raped by the Cylons bore any offspring."

"Well," a now demure Dalle said, "that certainly is a disturbing aspect of the Admiral's report."

"I'll say," Jackson noted. "But something about all of this doesn't make much sense."

"How so?" Dalle asked.

"Well, if they really were trying to wipe out humanity in the Colonies, why would the Cylons design their human form models to require the existence of humanity so they could experience biological reproduction?"

Dalle considered Jackson's point for several moments. Then he shrugged. "That's a damn good question, Malcolm. Frankly, it doesn't seem to make any sense. If they really want children, they could clone them like they obviously do with the human form copies they used to infiltrate the colonies. All they'd have to do is simply not artificially age them as they do for the infiltrators. That way, they could have all the children they'd want without the 'joys' of bearing a child in utero."

"Hey, what the hell would you know about the experience of having a baby grow inside you, Ian?" Margaret teased.

He gave her his best professional look and drawled, "My dear, I'm a physician. I actually interned in a hospital where we had a maternity ward."

Lena smirked at him and observed, "Yeah, well, it's not the same thing, Ian!"

Before the beleaguered doctor could respond, one of Adama's marine guards had entered the room and marched toward their table. "Excuse me…Captain Jackson, Commander Stenger?"

Jackson turned to the soldier and asked, "Yes, Marine?"

"The Admiral would like to see you both. Will you come with me, please?"

"Of course, Marine," Jackson said. Then he and Lena immediately rose from the seats and followed the trooper out of the mess, while Dalle and Edmonson shared a questioning look between them.

#

Battlestar Galactica – Adama's Quarters – Colonial Fleet

The marine who guarded the Admiral opened the hatch that led into the Admiral's quarters and announced, "Captain Jackson and Commander Stenger are here, sir."

"Send them in," Adama ordered.

Jackson and Stenger slipped past the Marine and proceeded toward the Admiral's conference table where Adama was already seated waiting for them. After they'd seated themselves, Adama said lowly, "Captain…we have a serious situation on our hands and I hope, for the sake of this fleet, you're willing to assist us in resolving it. Now, I don't have time to fence with you, so I'm just going to lay all my cards on the table. One of our nukes is missing. I need an intelligence officer to help me find it. Now from the moment we've met, I've suspected you were an intelligence officer. I hope to hell you are because if not, my people may be well and truly frakked."

Jackson regarded him with a calm expression on the man's face for several beats before the Captain spoke without a change in his countenance. "Due to the seriousness of your situation, I will tell you that Lena and I are Fleet Intelligence officers, Admiral. We're a team."

Adama released a deep sigh of relief he hadn't been aware he'd been holding until that moment. "Thank the gods!"

"Admiral," Stenger asked, "how long has the weapon been missing?"

"According to the person who last had it, it was stolen a month ago. However, I have no confidence in this person. It might have been stolen or he may have given it to someone."

"Well," Jackson drawled, "no one in their right mind would simply push a nuke out of an airlock. Thus, we must assume someone will use it to force concessions from your government or they want nothing except to detonate it and cripple your fleet. Since you've had no demands on your government during this whole time, I think it's safe to assume they want to kill a lot of people and cripple your fleet. Apparently, they're waiting to use it because they're probably content with the status quo. However, if something happens to change the status quo..." Jackson's voice trailed off.

"I see what you mean," Adama said. "Could they view the arrival of your task force as a change in the status quo?"

Lena nodded fervently. "Yes, Admiral, they could. They also could see your president's announcement of the arrival of the task force as the trigger, as well."

He fixed his eyes on the attractive spook. "Right!" Then he launched himself out of his chair and rushed to his phone. Lifting it from its cradle, he spoke into the device. "Dee, this is the Admiral. Patch me through to the President on a secure channel." He waited for several moments before he heard Laura Roslin's voice on the line. "Madame President, Adama. We have a serious situation that requires the utmost security. For the moment, I can't tell you anything even over this secure channel. However, please take my word for it that it's important you don't announce anything about the Thirteenth Tribe or the arrival of its task force to the fleet until we've resolved this situation. I promise I'll tell you directly what's going on but I need an hour before I'm able to let you know."

After obtaining her agreement, he hung up the phone and made his way back to the conference table. "Okay, she's agreed to keep her powder dry but that will only hold us until your task force arrives. So we have to move quickly."

"I agree," Jackson said. "All right, what would be the best way to cripple your fleet?"

"They could detonate the device on either battlestar."

"Are you conducting extensive searches on both vessels?"

"Yes."

"I doubt you'll find it, though," Stenger said. "If they were going to blow up a battlestar, they'd have done it long before now because it would have crippled your defensive capability in case the Cylons attacked you. So, assuming they're trying to decapitate your government, which ships would they target?"

Adama considered her question for a second or so before he answered her. "They'd go after Colonial One or the Cloud 9. Colonial One is the President's ship and the Cloud 9, as you know, is the place we hold the Quorum of Twelve meetings."

"Right!" Jackson exclaimed. "Admiral, Lena and I need to borrow some casual civilian clothes and have the use of two of your Raptors along with their pilots who should also be dressed in casual attire. We'll also need a pair of sidearms and two radiological detectors. Lena, you'll take Colonial One, I'll take the Cloud 9. Admiral, just to play it safe, let's make certain your search parties on your battlestars continue working. Admiral, just in case the weapon is on Colonial One, I'd recommend you have Lena deliver your message to President Roslin."

"I'd rather tell her in person."

Jackson gave him an understanding look. "I know, Admiral, but if this an attempt to decapitate your government, having both the President and you on the same ship may prove to be too much temptation for the saboteur to resist."

Adama almost glared at the man but restrained himself. "You're right," he reluctantly agreed. "All right then, let's move."

With that, he and the Fleet officers rushed out of his quarters.

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