Chapter 30

Cylon Basestar 101 – Control Room – Deep Space

"There – in the midst of the debris. You see it now, don't you?"

Simon's calm voice shattered the uncomfortable silence that had made the Control Room feel like a tomb. Every member of the Control Room's crew had both hands on the datastream interface. Currently, frozen in the midst of the usual flowing cascade of crimson symbols and numbers was an enhanced and enlarged photograph from the gun camera of the sole Raider to return from the emerald gas giant's moon.

The image revealed the destruction of one of the Raiders by what appeared to be a beam of light in the midst of the catastrophic release of nitrogen and oxygen gases formerly contained inside the ship's cockpit when it had exploded.

Even Sandra, normally the unflappable huntress, was stunned. "Four, do you really think…that's an energy weapon of some kind?"

"I do," he said simply. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it's most likely an immensely powerful weaponized laser."

The room fell silent once more as the badly shaken Cylons contemplated Simon's observation. Although both they and the Colonials had possessed lasers for rangefinding purposes and communications, neither of them had ever been able to create one with the destructive capability of the weapon that had apparently destroyed a pair of their fighters earlier that day.

"Four," Samuel, a cantankerous One model, snapped, "do you know what the frak you're saying? The human pests we're pursuing don't have anything like that in their pitiful arsenal!"

Sonja, a Six with gorgeous red hair and piercing eyes, gawked at the One as if he'd just sprouted tentacles. "What the frak is the matter with you, One? Simon didn't say a frakking thing about that weapon belonging to the Colonials! Take another look at the previous image again, you frakwit! Then she pulled up the image of the unknown ship on the datastream. The craft was mostly cylindrical and had large pods on each side of the hull toward the rear half of the vessel. "Why, it's as plain on the nose on your frakking face that thing looks nothing like a Colonial warship!" she snapped. She then fell quiet for a moment as she studied the image once more. "It's…like something right out of one of those science fiction movies the Colonials used to show on their wireless viewers!"

A nodding Sandra agreed with Sonja's assessment. As a former Sleeper who'd been a Viper pilot on one of the Valkyrie-class battlestars over Caprica, the red head would have certainly recognized a Colonial warship if she saw one. Then the huntress smiled to herself, amused by Sonja's dressing down of that prat, Samuel. As was the case with Sandra's sister, Lysia, the Sleeper who'd been a Viper pilot before being promoted to a battlestar commander, Sonja was plain-spoken and often resorted to using foul language at the drop of a hat. Even the Ones were known to wince at some of the bile that spewed from both women's mouths on occasion.

"T-that's not possible," a stammering Aaron proclaimed. "That can't be what you think it is!"

Lysia Jana gave the man a questioning look. "What in the Hell do you think it is then?"

"I don't know but it can't be an alien spacecraft," he stated.

There. Someone had finally said it. Other than the Colonials, the Cylons had believed the universe was void of sentient life. They had believed the children of the One God would, some day, find a way to be fruitful and multiply, so their offspring would populate His creation.

Apparently, that must have been what Aaron was thinking because he said, "According to the Scriptures, God created Man. Man created the Cylons. There is no mention of other sentient creatures in God's creation. Thus, Man and Cylon, until we rid the universe of Man, are the only sentient beings in existence."

Shaking her head, Lysia's harsh laugh appeared to jolt the sensibilities of nearly everyone in the Control Room. "So, you're resting your world view on that kind of so-called logic?! How pathetic!" Then she regarded him as if she was a disappointed school teacher addressing a simpleton. "You're merely interpreting a document that was written years ago by either a monotheist Human or one of your machine ancestors. Did it ever occur to you that the author wouldn't have had any reason to know about the possibility of extra-Colonial sentient life forms because the author had never traveled as far into the galaxy as we have on this voyage?"

The chagrined look on the man's face plainly confirmed to everyone he hadn't considered the possibility that Lysia had just raised until that very moment. Now Sandra smirked at the gobsmacked expression on the Five's face. Although her sister's statements were technically blasphemous, unlike most Threes, the huntress wasn't zealous in her adherence to the Scriptures, so Lysia's comments didn't bother her in the least. In fact, a wickedly satisfied Sandra was pleased to see her sister's feistiness come out and play.

"Well," a Leoben model said, "if we have encountered sentient alien life forms, this could be the most significant event in our history next to the destruction of the Twelve Colonies."

"Or," a Sharon model countered, "this whole thing could turn out to be our worst nightmare! Let's not forget these creatures attacked our fighters with an advanced weapon we've never encountered before and we haven't heard from our sister, Tamara, and Aaron, ever since then."

"Eight's right," Sandra noted. "The Raiders didn't provoke the aliens. Our ships were minding their own business in orbit above that moon when, out of nowhere, the aliens decided to blow them out of the frakking sky."

"Sandra," Lysia gently admonished, "we can't say for certain that the Raiders' presence did not provoke the aliens in some fashion."

The huntress narrowed her eyes as she regarded her sister. "Why do you say that?"

The former Sleeper shrugged. "We're making a lot of assumptions here based on very few scraps of data. People," she announced loudly to everyone in the Control Room, "by their very nature, these creatures, whoever or whatever they are, are frakking ALIENS! That means until we learn more about them and how they perceive the universe, their place in it and their view of our place in it, we cannot assume they look at things the way a Human or a Cylon would. For all we know, the Raiders may have inadvertently invaded their space and made the aliens feel as if they were being threatened. Perhaps the moon the Raiders orbited may have some religious or social significance for these creatures and the Raiders offended their sensibilities. Or maybe the aliens are highly xenophobic. Who knows?"

Then she paused for a moment, apparently to gather her thoughts before she continued speaking. "Look, at the present time, anything we can come up with regarding their possible motives is purely speculative. Frankly, it isn't a constructive use of our time."

"Yeah, well," a snarky Eight snapped, "you know what the frak is a constructive use of our time? Getting off of our collective asses and rescuing Tamara and Aaron!"

A chuckling Samuel glared mockingly at the representative of the youngest Cylon humaniform model. "Eight, why should we throw our lives away for them? How in the frak do we know if they're still on that moon or even if they're still alive? Have you had a vision showing you the aliens haven't captured or killed them by now? Tell me, are you an oracle from Delphi? If so, you've been holding out on us!"

If looks could kill, the glare the Eight shot at the Samuel would have burned him to a cinder. "You know what? Frak you, you frakking coward!" she screamed.

"That's enough!" Sandra snapped. The angry huntress turned her hard gaze upon Samuel and growled, "We're Cylons. We don't leave any of our brothers or sisters behind. We're not like the Humans. We don't abandon our own to die on the irradiated Colonies and flee to the stars."

The One apparently glanced around the room and found the other models were glaring harshly at him. He then nodded to the huntress and said, "Of course, you're right, Sandra. I apologize for my poor choice of words."

Then she turned to the Eight and pinned her with a nasty look. "We don't become hysterical, we don't panic, and we don't lose control of our emotions. We stay calm and focused because that's the only way we can truly help Aaron and Tamara."

The Eight, her chin held high and rigid, appeared to maintain her defiance for several beats before she finally relented and simply nodded in deference to the huntress.

"All right then," Sandra said. "Does anyone have a proposal they'd like to offer?"

"We propose," the still-simmering Eight announced, "that we jump both basestars into orbit above that frakking moon and rescue our missing brother and sister!"

"We agree with the Eights' proposal," Aaron said.

"Well, the Ones disagree!" Samuel snapped. "It's insane to risk both basestars especially when we don't have a Resurrection Ship in the sector to back us up!"

"Although it pains us to say it, the Fours agree with the Ones regarding the Eights' proposal," a dour-looking Simon said. "It's too risky."

"The Twos also agree with the Fours and the Ones in regards to the Eights' proposal," a wincing Leoben stated.

As the Eights and the Fives glared at Samuel, the Fours and the Twos in the Control Room and the Sixes appeared to dither, Lysia startled everyone when she placed two of her fingers inside her mouth and whistled loudly. When everyone turned to regard her with expressions of varying degrees of confusion, she smirked and drawled, "Now that I have your undivided attention, I'd like to propose the following. We dispatch a SAR comprised of three Heavy Raiders to the moon. Two Heavy Raiders will carry a crew of two of us and two Centurions; the third will carry four of us along with a pair of Centurions in case we find Tamara's and Aaron's ship without its crew. The crew members of the four person Heavy Raider will recover their ship and search for our missing people on the moon's surface. Meanwhile, the other two fighters will remain in orbit, watch our six and make damn sure our arses aren't hanging in the wind. During the mission, each ship will have its jump drive spooled and ready to jump for home in case the aliens show up and crash the party."

Sandra rapidly canvassed the Threes on both basestars and found they all agreed to Lysia's proposal. "The Threes believe Lysia's plan is sound," she announced.

"The Twos like Lysia's proposal"

"The Fours agree to the proposal as well."

"The Fives are in favor of Lysia's proposal."

"The Sixes like Lysia's plan."

"The Eights will go along with the plan so long as an Eight pilots one of the Heavy Raiders!" the Angry Eight exclaimed with a snarl.

"Even though the Ones aren't particularly crazy about Lysia's proposal, we believe it's infinitely better than the hare-brained onel offered earlier by the Eights," Samuel snarked.

"Fine," an exasperated Sandra said with a resigned sigh. Why, she commiserated to herself, do the frakking Ones always have to tweak the younger models? Then she said, "I'll need several volunteers to accompany me on this mission—"

"Now hold on one frakking minute!" Lysia snapped, interrupting the huntress. "There's no way in Hell you're going on this frakking mission, Sandra."

The raven-haired warrior glared at her sister, the former Sleeper. "What in the frak are you saying, Lysia?"

"What I'm saying, dear sister," Lysia teased, "is that you were placed in command of both basestars. Therefore, your place is here. Now I know you're Danger-girl and just love being where the action is, but, at this moment, you can't shirk your responsibilities here to go off on a potentially dangerous SAR. Besides, this is the kind of mission that old Viper jocks like Sonja and I live for."

Sandra gazed into the eyes of her sister and was torn. A part of her was proud at how Lysia had stepped up to take command of the situation. A part of her, though, was deeply concerned that her sister might not come back from this mission. "Are you certain about this, old woman?"

The former Sleeper simply shrugged and a cocky grin formed on Lysia's face. "Hey, what's the worst that can happen? Either we find Tamara and Aaron and bring them home safe and sound or I go down in history as the first Cylon human model to get my arse blown out of the frakking sky by a frakking alien's laser cannon!"

Sandra simply shook her head and grinned at her sister while Samuel announced to the entire room, "For the record, there's no way in Hell that I'm riding shotgun in that," he indicated Lysia by wildly pointing at her, "woman's frakking ship!"

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Colonial One – Office of the President – Colonial Fleet

"Tom! Please come inside and join us."

Tom Zarek entered Roslin's office to find Admiral Adama already seated in one of the arm chairs in front of the woman's desk. Adama barely acknowledged Tom's presence with a nondescript glare while he seated himself in the other chair.

"Tom," Roslin said, "thank you for waiting patiently in the lounge until Admiral Adama was able to join us."

Although he was a tad suspicious of her pleasant nature, he said and meant it, "Think nothing of it, Madame President."

He truly had no reason to complain since her chef had prepared a wonderful breakfast while he'd waited thanks to fresh ingredients provided to the fleet by the Thirteenth Tribe. He had been asked by the President's P.A. after the meeting with Marshall and Sarah to stay behind for consultations with the President. After that, Tory had done her utmost to ensure his comfort while he had waited for Adama's arrival.

Although he enjoyed the delicious meal, in the back of his mind he wondered what the Thirteenth Tribe was hoping to extract from them by providing all of this bounty to his people. In his experience, people were rarely altruistic without the expectation of gaining something significant in return. Although he couldn't figure out the angle they were pursuing at the moment, Tom was certain that it wouldn't be long before the members of the Thirteenth Tribe showed their true colors and tried to exploit the Colonial refugees in some form or fashion.

Now, though, Roslin offered both men a warm smile and asked, "Would either of you like a cup of coffee?"

"No thanks, I'm good," Adama answered.

Still wary about her amiable mood, Tom said, "I'm fine, thank you."

"All right then, let's get started," she said. "Tom…Bill…Admiral de Ruyter wants to chat with me over the wireless about some issues they believe need to be resolved before her task force can escort our ships to Xanadu. I asked her if the discussion could wait until I had the opportunity to have you both here with me and she agreed to my request. We're due to speak with her twenty minutes from now. The reason I wanted you both here before she calls is that we need to work through some issues of our own that may have some bearing on the discussion we'll have with Admiral de Ruyter."

She paused momentarily to take a sip of water from her glass. Then she said, "I know we've had our challenges in the past working together. Right now, though, we need to put that all behind us and work together for the benefit of all of our people. So to facilitate that, I propose we drop all titles and use our given names. For now, you're Tom," she indicated him with a nod of her head then she shot a glimpse at Adama, "you're Bill and I'm Laura. Agreed?"

Both men regarded each other with guarded looks for a moment before they sighed.

"Agreed," Adama said.

"All right," said Tom.

"Good," she replied. "First off, Tom, thank you for both your understanding and discretion during the search for the nuclear device yesterday. I also wanted to thank you for you clear headed thinking during our meeting with Sarah and Marshall, too. I believe that your perspective will be critical in trying to obtain the best deal from the Alliance on the behalf of our people."

Zarek simply glared at the woman for a moment. The nuclear device was the thing that had dashed all of his plans in regards to being the 'power' behind Baltar's throne. After Adama had ordered his release, Tom canvassed all of his spies aboard the Galactica and found out how Captain Jackson had taken down the Cylon bitch that had murdered Admiral Cain and recovered the weapon.

Now, as he wondered what the Caprican woman was up to, he was a bit at sea. "Er…thank you, Laura. You know, I'm happy that the device was recovered even though having one of the Thirteenth Tribe's officers responsible for getting it back for us must have made us look dangerously incompetent to his superiors," he said, revealing to them that he knew at least some of the important particulars of the entire affair.

A grimacing Adama regarded him coolly. "I know that, Tom," the man admitted. "But we didn't have much of a choice to pursue a different course of action."

"True," he said simply.

"Tom," Laura said, "I know you were there when Gaius-Frakking-Baltar admitted the device was missing from the safe. Tell me, do you believe he's still a viable candidate for the Presidency?"

He narrowed his eyes at her then. So, this is the gambit she's decided to play, he mused to himself. The Caprican bitch simply wanted to use the whole frakked-up affair to rid herself of a dangerous political rival, never mind all the innocent lives that would have been lost if the device had detonated!

Yet, despite her blatant hypocrisy, there was no denying the fact that Baltar had proven himself to be a completely unsuitable candidate for the position.

"No, Laura, I don't think he can survive this. In fact, he shouldn't be our vice president anymore."

"I agree, Tom," she said. "Captain Jackson suggested we tell Baltar he has to withdraw from the race and resign as vice president to avoid an impeachment proceeding for reckless mishandling of a nuclear weapon in his possession that would lead to long term incarceration or the death penalty if we can also prove he knowingly provided the weapon to a Cylon infiltrator."

He nodded. "Jackson's approach sounds like the best way to handle this mess. So, this means you'll remain our President, your hold on power unchallenged for as long as you want."

He'd expected to see a look of reserved triumph on her face. Instead, she looked very concerned. "Tom, I don't think you're seeing the big picture here. Stop and think for a moment. There are only fifty thousand of us compared to the six trillion humans in the Alliance. Our population simply isn't large enough, at the moment, to constitute even a tiny drop in a veritable sea of humanity. If the Alliance decides to simply integrate us among the inhabitants of one of their worlds and those people decide to repress our religious beliefs, the culture of the people of the Colonies of Kobol will most likely be lost forever. There would be no Sagitarons, no Capricans, no Taurans. We'd simply be citizens of the Alliance and our legacy would simply fade away."

He blinked several times as he considered what she'd just said. "I hate to say this…but you may be right."

"So," she drawled, "what do we intend to do about it?"

Adama chuckled darkly. "What do you have in mind?"

She smirked. "We need to become a bigger drop."

Tom cocked a wry eyebrow her way. "How do we go about doing that?"

"We work hard, we do whatever it takes within reason to persuade the Alliance to mount a massive rescue mission to recover as many people from our ravaged Colonies as possible to bolster our numbers. If we save another fifty thousand, or, dare I say, a hundred thousand, our position would be significantly improved in regards to preserving our heritage."

"Maybe so," Tom said, "but aren't you forgetting something? The Cylons are still in control of our Colonies."

"According to de Ruyter," she argued, "the Cylons don't constitute much of a threat to the Alliance's Fleet."

"That may be true, if they were willing to fight our war, Laura," Bill said, "however, the Fleet has plenty on its plate right now. Remember their conflict with the aliens?"

"Wait a second!" a pole-axed Zarek snapped. "Did you just say…aliens?"

Laura sighed deeply. "Well, Tom, I did say 'we needed to work through some issues of our own' earlier. One of the issues concerns the fact we need to tell our people that the Alliance of Planets isn't just a collection of worlds inhabited by human beings. Many of its worlds are also inhabited by sentient alien life forms, too."

"Are you serious?" he whispered.

She nodded her head solemnly. "I'm afraid so. Also, there's an alien race the Alliance has recently encountered that apparently has declared total war on all of humanity."

Hearing that stunned the former freedom fighter into silence. The room appeared to spin crazily around him as his gaze darted back and forth between focusing on Roslin's face and Adama's craggy countenance in a vain attempt to detect if they were playing a cruel joke on him. Yet, he failed to find any evidence whatsoever to support his rapidly flagging hopes.

"Tom," Laura said, a look of deep concern on her face, "you don't look well. Would you care for a glass of water?"

A darkly smug Adama simply smirked at Zarek and drawled, "After the shock to his system we've just given him, I believe he could use something a Hell of a lot stronger than water, Laura!"

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