===========BS-75 Galactica (+828 Day Post Cylon Holocaust)==========
Within minutes of revile sounding throughout Galactica the thousands of ship crew began to fill into the dozens of communal heads and showers or into the gyms and mess halls for morning chow. Pilots and deck hands were soon briefed on daily CAPs, what Vipers needed to be repaired, and much more.
Hundreds of civilians were still in the starboard landing bay awaiting processing back to their civilian ships. The only realistic place to put them was on Cloud 9 under the recreational dome, converting the large park into a makeshift refugee camp.
Commander Adama was one of the few senior officers who had stood the skeleton watch, spending most of his night in C-I-C, talking with the Earth machine, Planck, on the situation of the fleet and the war on Earth. He'd learned much, but still had questions. Unfortunately the DRADIS had sounded shortly after reveille, indicating a Guardian baseship had finally decided to rendezvous with the fleet.
The Guardian representatives would be arriving on Galactica at 0800. In the hour since the baseship had jumped in, he had fielded nearly two dozen calls from concerned ship captains about performing an emergency jump just in case the Guardians betrayed them. Adama had told them that would have been unnecessary.
As 0800 approached the respect ship commander and Earth cyborg began to make their trek towards the ships wardroom. On the way the stout and hard Admiral Cain met them as she was coming up from the medical bay to C-I-C.
The two came to attention, with Adama and Planck saluting. "Ma'am, we were just on our way," he informed her. She returned the salute and they shook hands. "It's a pleasure to see you up again," he said with sincerity.
"Yes. I couldn't stand being in that bed any longer… the hospital smells, all like death," she commented, letting her scarred face attempt a weak smile. Her left arm forearm was in a solid cast, though only the portion between the thumb and index finger was visible beneath her long sleeve tunic. "It just feels good to be back in uniform."
"It does indeed," Adama agreed.
"John, I want to thank you and your officers for helping us… and the Centurions, RC, and the rest," she added, nodding her appreciation. She also looked at his uniform and nodded approvingly, which was fairly simple.
It was the same deep black cargo fatigues and boots, with black tee-shirt. Except now he had a uniform jacket, almost form fitting with a zipper running the length, with deep black shoulders like the Colonial uniform's blue and over the right breast was a name tape with 'Planck' and over the left the tape read 'Tech Com'. On the left shoulder was a patch with three red crimson dots, arranged as the points on a triangle.
"You're welcome," John responded. He added emotion to his voice for sincerity. Though he kept his face expressionless, inside the neural net sparked and the machine analogue of appreciation surged through his CPU. He nodded his appreciation for the 'thank you'.
The three began their journey back to the wardroom, where the Centurion representatives would be waiting for them. President Zarek had resigned the presidency three days previous, letting Vice President Roslin, whom he appointed minutes before his resignation, ascend once again to the presidency of the Colonies.
Billy Krekeya was also with her. His face had lost its young, boyish looks and instead had the weathered appearance of a fighter after New Caprica. When Dee had first met him, she had described his look as a doe-eyed fascination with everything around him. But now it had been replaced by a look of grim determination and pragmatism after five months of Cylon occupation and fear.
When the three officers stopped in front of the President and Billy the tension between the five Colonial officials and the one cyborg immediately rose, though the tension was more between Cain and Roslin rather than anyone else. Though Builly felt naturally defensive and protective of his mentor, the tension was focused between Roslin and Cain. Everyone else were just shadows.
All the men outside the wardroom, as well as the cyborg and Marines could see the change, the more aggressive posturing, the confrontational body language, and the look of contempt both women shot each other under their obviously fake smiles.
Even after two years of almost no contact between the two, the competition ran high between the two most powerful women, the two most powerful people of the remnants of the Colonial civilization.
A marine came through the hatch, informing them that three Guardians were waiting on the other side.
Walking in first, the President moved cautiously to the left, her legs moving of their own free will as she continued to stare at the Guardians. She immediately thought of the bio-Cylons, that somehow the Guardians were also 'evolving' into human-machine hybrids. And for a moment, a feeling of utter impending doom came over her. If their enemies evolved into something which resembled a humanity in everything but silica relays for a nervous system, then how much longer could humanity survive? These thoughts chilled her, that they would eventually be replaced by their worst nightmares. It was some sort of perverse slap in the face from the Gods.
Admiral Cain, Commander Adama, John, and Billy were not as alarmed, though John noticed Billy's face drop as he saw the three Guardians. Cain and Adama were able to keep their complete and total military bearing, not betraying a hint of surprise though John had noticed increased heart rates and body heat from everyone in the room. Except for the Guardians.
Standing closest to Adama he leaned forward. "Those are not biological replications. They're machines under synthetic skin," he informed the Commander. The Commander then informed the Admiral, though she did not lean to inform the President.
"John!" The woman Guardian yelled, coming up to him quickly. She grabbed him in an embrace, a hug, confusing the Earth machine who had stood there as she had lunged forward. "It's so good to see you again!" She said excitedly.
John knew that it was Erica, so he slowly lifted his arms away form his side and returned the embrace, though cautiously. The Colonials in the room were watching, unsure exactly how to respond. They'd never seen the Earth machines engage in any sort of close personal displays of affection with anyone, let alone another machine.
He removed his hands from around her back and placed them on her upper arms, steadying her and stepping back. Looking her over he said, "Erica, I'm glad to see you again." To explain why he had just stood there he said, "I had not expected them to put you in a body like this," he admitted.
"I was worried, concerned, when we heard the battle reports. So many Cylon baseships had jumped in," she smiled, "but I'm glad you… everyone made it back safely." She stood back. "Oh, the body. It's one of their IL-S series. Interactive Lifeform-synthetic," she smiled.
One of the two other humanoid Centurions stepped forward, his vocalizer imitating the sound of a cough, clearing his throat. At this Erica jumped a little, but acknowledged with a sheepish grin her slight embarrassment at being the object of attention, and stepped back between the group of Colonials and the Guardians.
The Guardian which stepped forward had the same build and endoskeleton match points as the one that had attacked John over two years ago aboard Pegasus, though the face was very different. The Guardian was dark skinned and haired, with a perfectly ironed and smooth black uniform and tunic, a red stripe between two thinner gold stripes running down the pants leg and from the shoulder to arms.
"I am Commander Cyrus, commander of the Second Fleet," he introduced himself. The second Centurion stood silently behind Cyrus, still and without introduction, most likely a body guard.
John was able to run a more detailed imaging scan of the Guardians as they had stood there and as Cyrus had stepped forward. Their synthetic skin was similar to early T-600 coverings; good for infiltration but without regenerative capabilities. A deep structural scan revealed a power source similar to the Centurions with enough power for perhaps two to two point three times the strength of a Model 005. The humanoid Centurion which had attacked John on Pegasus was much more powerful than the ones standing before the Earth terminator. He ran the probabilities and determined it was most likely a 'special forces' Centurion, similar to the Skynet T-1000 series or free machine TK-900 series.
President Roslin was the first to step forward. While nervous she needed to establish herself as the ultimate commander of the human fleet, her subconscious competition with Admiral Cain driving her feet to move against her fear. She did not like the situation and may have even rejected such an alliance had she been with Adama instead of trapped under the Cylon boot, but this was their situation now. Roslin knew she had to control it. It was impulse driving her.
She swallowed slightly, in a moment vanquishing her fear. Extending her hand, she said, "Commander, what you did for us is beyond thanks," she said, careful to not sound too needy or appreciative. She needed to walk a fine line between thanks and ambivalence. "The timely arrival of the Guardian fleet allowed thousands of our citizens to escape, and no doubt saved the Galactica." She paused. Debating whether to add what she wanted to say, her subconscious mind again overrode her conscious defenses. The words came out and the motion followed. "I have no idea what… would have happened if we had lost Galactica," she said, turning to see Bill Adama out of the corner of her eye.
The Guardian Commander released her hand, nodding his appreciation of her thanks slowly. "You are welcome," he added, again grateful for the acknowledgment. Though his face lacked the mimetic capabilities of Earth infiltration machines and his chest did not move in imitation of breathing, his vocalize was fully capable of displaying emotion. For a moment it sounded like he had finally had something denied to him realized. That humans were actually thanking a Cylon, a Guardian, instead of hunting them.
Admiral Cain, taking in the fleeting moment, said, "Commander Cyrus, we are grateful for everything you have done, but we still have much to discuss about our current situation." She paused, hoping the Guardian would offer services to the fleet. She was not disappointed.
"As you are aware, this is an alliance, as you would say, of opportunity," Cyrus said, holding up his hand, "however, in time, it could evolve into a closer alliance. Currently we are prepared to offer military and humanitarian services to your fleet. We have old baseships we are dismantling and will transfer weapons and armor to replace damaged sections on both your battlestars."
Commander Adama raised his eyebrows at this. His ship was tough, but only the truly vital sections had additional armor above the exposed ribs. With more armor, and hopefully replacement of point defense weaponry, the old battlestar would be back to the fighting condition she had been in before a nuclear missile struck her flight pod in the first shots of the second and most likely last Cylon War.
"Commander, you mentioned humanitarian aide?" President Roslin asked.
Always concerned with the welfare of the civilians of the fleet, she was their guardian, as the Commander and Admiral were guardians of their battlestars. They saw their crew and sailors and soldiers as family. She saw the civilians as family. She had single-handedly convinced Adama to guide the fleet rather than engage in a suicide strike against Cylons after Ragnar.
"We have sufficient medical supplies, clothing, bedding, food, and many other items we have been producing for our…" he trailed off with a small smile forming on his lips. The Colonials and John leaned slightly closer, as if willing him to continue. "We have a group of refugees at one of our facilities we have been providing for." The smile grew broad before diminishing back to reform the emotionless, machine-driven face.
The Colonials in the room were speechless at this. For a moment Roslin felt like walking forward and slugging Cyrus in his mechanical jaw. Something like that should be told. Revealed. Immediately. Roslin clenched her teeth together slightly, looking over towards Cain and Adama. Billy leaned forward and told her this was wonderful news, they should be grateful. She could tell his tone was also that of annoyance with the Guardians holding this vital information back.
"Why… didn't you tell us this before? Try and find us? Something? Gods, why?" Roslin demanded. She didn't hold back with the vitriol in her voice and the venom she spit.
"Because first, we were not allies and second, we had kept the refugees much safer than yours. Third, the Cylons did not know where the refugees were. We've been hiding for forty years," he cocked his head, as if what he was saying was obvious, and that Roslin was too simple to understand, "and you have not done a adequate job of hiding or running since the holocaust."
Before Roslin and Cyrus could engage in a heated back-and-forth Adama interjected in his trademarked calm and methodical manner, defusing the situation before it became worse for them all. "Do they know of our situation… where are they?" Adama asked, redirecting the impending argument to more something more vital.
"They're a few jumps from here. I'm sure John can calculate them," he nodded to the Earth cyborg, "so we can provide the coordinates. Our fleet needs to re-arm and repair. The refugees are at a facility which should be sufficient to rearm and repair your own fleet."
Admiral Cain asked, "Thank you, but how many are there?"
"If none have died or been born in the time since I was there last, there are twenty-one thousand, six hundred and eighteen." Cyrus said drly. He saw Roslin's hand go to her chest, over her heart. That number was nearly forty-percent of the number of survivors they currently had.
Roslin blindly held out her right hand, placing it on Billy's shoulder. "We… have a chance, to rebuild," she whispered. "Gods bless us," she said to herself.
"There are also Colonial military assets. A cruiser, the Helios, and military transports," he added.
Admiral Cain and Adama exchanged quick glances. Neither of them could recall Helios, but there had been hundreds of destroyers in the Colonial fleet, it was impossible to remember them all. Having another military ship survive, to them, was a blessing. But not totally surprising. Neither the Galactica nor Pegasus had been able to conduct in depth reconnaissance of Colonial space.
"Are there any other ships, military ships, that survived?" Cain asked, excitation breaking through her efforts to keep herself calm. She prepared herself for the inevitable disappointment. If there had been more, the Guardian commander would have told them.
"No. Apologies," Cyrus said, to their confusion. "We tried to rescue other ships. We had contacted the battlestars Io and Athena and a cruiser, Styx but they jumped away before we could explain the situation to them. We had reports and sighting of other ships, maybe a few dozen. But with the Colonial command structure destroyed most ships scattered. When we found Helios's jump engines suffered damage and shut down, that's the only reason why she did not jump when we came into DRADIS range."
"What happen to the other battlestars?" Cain asked. She was excited to hear of more survivors, fighting on like she had done. But had noticed the annoying tendency of machines, from the Earth cyborgs to Cylons and now Guardians to stop explaining before all information had been revealed.
Cyrus attempted a sympathetic smile for the Admiral and the other Colonials. "We have no idea. They jumped from our only baseship in the region and we did not have the time to find them," he said. The faces of the Colonials fell. For some reason, Cyrus felt compelled to offer them hope. "But we have no indication they were destroyed. Your fleet numbered in the hundreds. It is unlikely that more ships did not escape. We just did not have the resources to chase the battlestars. The civilian fleet we found was our priority." He looked over to Erica and nodded at her. "Erica, in possession of Zoe-A and Zoe-R's memories, affirmed out decision as correct. The Guardian leadership has been debating for years to send expeditions back to the Colonies, to find civilians and atone for the bloodshed caused by our brothers."
Erica added, pain in her voice, "At this point, any Colonial would most likely be dead from radiation poisoning."
"That may not be the case," John said. "On Earth there were thousands of nuclear missiles fired. It's been twenty years since Judgment Day and Earth's population stands at one-third that of pre Judgment Day. Billions survived. What were the yields on the Cylon bombs?"
"The Cylons used planet-killers. Fifty megatons and neutron bombs on Caprica," Cyrus told them. The Colonials and John knew this, but there was still a dearth of information on the other Colonies. "The major Colonies of Tauron, Scorpia, Picon, and Vergon were hit with twenty-five to fifty megaton thermonuclear warheads. They were laced with cobalt. Salted. Radiation levels were so high, even the biological Cylon models had difficulty. Our reconnaissance showed those Colonies completely lifeless. No higher order plant or animal life survived."
Cyrus paused again, like the machines often did with the information and explanation still incomplete.
"The others?" Billy asked, speaking to Cyrus for the first time.
"They were occupied for a time but abandoned. Radiation levels were high over all the worlds. It is highly unlikely anyone is now living. The Cylons went after hospitals and anti-radiation medicine stores when they landed on those worlds. Our scouts did intercept signals from Gemenon, but the Cylon fleet came it too quickly."
"It would also be near impossible to search an entire planet," John said. "I searched large areas after Judgment Day, trying to find resistance cells already established. It's nearly impossible to find people in a city, let alone a planet."
Roslin starred at John. She felt he had no right to tell them what to do and not do with this. "We should search," she said, staring at him.
"We can't," someone said. To Roslin's surprise it was Adama. She closed her eyes, feeling slightly betrayed he would say that. She'd been the one to convince him to defend the fleet, why couldn't she convince him to perform a more extensive search and rescue? "It'd take weeks, month to search a world. Assuming anyone is alive… we just can't risk it."
"Yes," Cyrus responded. "We almost lost two baseships in the weeks following the attack looking for survivors. Luckily for us, unlucky for you, the Cylons decided to case your fleet with their expeditionary forces instead. The Cylons will never stop chasing you. And now after our attack on New Caprica, they wont stop chasing us, either."
"You've been out here for forty years. You must know of places to hide," Roslin told him.
The newly commissioned Lt. Sharon 'Athena' Agathon quietly sat opposite the tired and worn Caprica Six. She was placed in Sharon's old cell, one she hadn't seen the inside of in years. It flooded her with memories, the worse being Thorne's attempted rape, with Helo and Tyrol rushing to her rescue.
Now, there was no chief 'Cylon interrogator' to degrade and humiliate the biological models. The philosophy of 'not being able to rape a machine' had changed radically. Three years ago if Caprica had been captured she would have been tortured, much like Leoban was, or had a gun pressed to her forehead like Athena had been forced to endure.
For Athena, the memory of the early days of brutality would never be forgotten. A Cylon had perfect memory recall, unable to forget, unable to truly repress.
Years ago the two bio-Cylons had been friends. Or more accurately put, their lines had been friends. Sharon and Caprica had had completely separate and far away posting in the Cylon armada, so these two particular individuals in the model line had never actually met until recently. But like any Cylon, the two knew much about the other.
"You look well, Caprica," Sharon said, breaking the uneasy silence with a sympathetic face. She had brought hot tea for them to share, and took a sip out of her glass. "They're treating you well?"
She nodded slowly, keeping her body positioned so she didn't have to look at the other bio-Cylon. "I betrayed him, Sharon," she said, looking up to the Cylon across the table. "I used him and for some reason, he still loves me?" She didn't understand, his eyebrows furled down, confused on this realization she had been debating within herself for days. "How is that possible?"
Sharon narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied her Cylon 'sister' across the table. She'd known the superficial details of Caprica's mission back on the planet of her name. Infiltrate the Ministry of Defense and bring down the defenses of the Colonies. It had worked. Beyond expectations it had worked. But Sharon was not privlaedged to the operational details. She did know that Caprica Six had become involved with Baltar, even sacrificing herself to save him from the shockwave from the destroying and annihilating Caprica City.
"I don't know," she responded. "I think… I think it might be God, letting us all have a second chance for our past sins," she shrugged and leaned forward. "Caprica, if you want him to love you, truly, you need to be honest with him." She lowered her voice, "but there will always be secrets about our pasts, I know." She looked her in the eyes, trying to understand what Caprica-Six was feeling. "D'Anna told me our lines were failures. What did she mean?"
Caprica shook her head, only half paying attention to Sharon. "I don't know. She wanted your child dead. She said to me it wasn't natural to be neither completely human nor machine. Cylons do not start families, it is not God's plan for us, she said."
"Not God's plan? But it's a miracle. It shows our species do not have to kill each other. We can live together," Sharon responded. Sharon had accepted that she, Helo, and Hera would never have a normal life.
"They want you and especially your child dead, Sharon. They just haven't had the chance yet." Caprica sighed, pulling her feet up onto the chair and wrapping her arms around her knee. "This is the end," she said, defeated. "Everything we were told since created was a lie, manipulated by that monstrosity from the Thirteenth Tribe."
Sharon understood exactly what Caprica Six was feeling at the moment, herself having suffered through the rejection and imprisonment after her own defection. Sharon had defected early and had earned the trust of the fleet, saving them multiple times. She wondered if Caprica Six would ever have the chance to demonstrate a new loyalty.
"Whatever the Thirteenth did, it wasn't intentional. Everyone makes mistakes, Caprica," she pointed out. Sharon kept herself from feeling sorry for Caprica, the Cylon's model was adept at reading emotion and playing off the emotions of others. "You want Baltar to love you?" Caprica nodded. "I wanted Karl to do the same, and he did."
"Even after manipulating him?"
Sharon's mind raced back to when Helo first discovered she was a Cylon, the betrayal in his eyes. "He loved me and I loved him. And we're happy. But… I think sometimes you can't ask for forgiveness. What I did to Karl was unforgiveable, lying to him like that. I never asked him to forgive me. And I never will. He has. But it wouldn't have been fair to ask, I love him too much. With Baltar, you can't ask him to do that. He has to do it himself."
===========BS-75 Galactica (+829 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========
The pilot ready room on Galactica buzzed with jokes, small talk about nothing, and about the Pyramid game last night between Pegasus and Galactica pilots. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who you were, Pegasus had won. Since Starbuck was CAG of the Pegasus air wing, she played for them, and led their team to victory.
As John and Carter walked into the room, much of the discussions stopped for a moment as weary pilots and ECOs ran their eyes up and down the two, always inspecting them. As fast as conversations stopped they began again and John and Carter eased themselves into two of the high back, red leather seats in the front of the briefing room. A slight strain was heard as they lowered their full weight two hundred and twenty kilogram weight into them.
"At least the awkward silences are gone," Helo said, leaning over one seat to tell them, the leather squeaking under his flight suit. They didn't respond. Helo had been one of John's friends since assigned to Galactica and had also become friends with the other two machines, though he hadn't known them, being an engineer and a physician. "Anyway, do you think I might be able to fire one of those plasma weapons you all built? Sharon told me what they did on New Caprica…" he trailed off, whistling. "Come on, don't make me beg," he said, goofy smile on his lips.
Sharon leaned forward so the machines could see her. "He really wants to shoot one," she said, poking him in the ribs. "It's all he talks about."
Helo could see the corner of John's mouth flinch up in a smile that had appeared and vanished almost too fast for the human eye.
John sighed. "Well… I they're on Pegasus locked up, but I could probably tell Apollo they need maintenance. He'll want to shoot them, too."
"Thanks man," he slapped John on the shoulder. "So the Commander let you all wear your uniforms? What about the ranks?" Helo asked. John had actually come to Helo first, running the idea about requesting the Tech Com soldiers receive their own uniforms.
"It might be a little easier without them," John pointed out. "It might be awkward."
Helo nodded, sitting still for a moment. Changing the subject back to what many in the flight room were talking about, he mentioned the Pyramid game. "We could have used you on the Pyramid court," Helo said.
John looked at him and mimicked one of Helo's signature half frown, half smiles. "I don't think they would allow that," John told him with some regret. He'd played in a few early during his deployment to Galactica, but had had to pull back and limit himself.
The Raptor ECO shrugged. "You used to play… but I'm guessing you didn't play as best you could?"
John let out a short and quick laugh. "I think you know the answer to that," he said, smiling towards his friend.
The hatch to the briefing room squeaked and squealed open and half the faces in the room contorted as the sharp acoustic pain ran through their ears. "Frak!" "Gods' damnit!" Some of them shouted.
"Sorry, sorry," Kat meekly apologized, she kept her head down to conceal the sly grin of making them all wince, "maintenance is still focusing on the support bulkheads, hopefully that will be fixed soon." She stopped behind the podium and connected her tablet computer to the projection system in the briefing room. "Oh, I see the XO has joined us, let's give him a hand for coming back down to the pit," she joked towards Captain Agathon. He stood up and mock waved to everyone behind him.
"Alright. So… we are going to be doing a short recon to the Guardian base. They've got some refugees there-"
"Is this a serious mission, sir?" The question came from Jack 'Karma' Baker, an able pilot but only slightly more respectful to authority than Starbuck. Before she could tell him to lock it up he added, "Why do we have to do anything more with these toasters? They just want to use us." His complaint elicited a few agreements from the pilots around him. Helo was half way out of his seat and shooing him a death glare, but he didn't yell at Karma. That was Kat's job now.
"Hey, lock it up!" Kat yelled at them, coming around the podium. She was a short woman, but when she got mad she could intimidate even the largest of the pilots. As if to add effect, some of the lights in the ready room dimmed before regaining their brightness. "Karma, you want an outburst like that and I'll ground you for a week," she warned, pointing at him. She grunted her frustration with the Raptor pilot and activated the video feed from her computer. "Here is the location of the facility that uh… Commander Cyrus told us about. They've got a bit over twenty thousand. And the Helios is there as well. It's a cruiser."
Crashdown, sitting towards the rear, raised his hand cautiously, not wanting to interrupt the dangerous woman down in the front. She glared at him, and he took that as a confirmation he was allowed to speak. "How did they get there?" He asked.
"All I know is what Commander Adama and John here told me. They were found shortly after the Cylons nuked us." She turned her attention back towards the projection and clicked through a few images. "As you can see it's a Guardian base, carved into a large asteroid. They threw some jump engines on there, so it is mobile and it jumps every two weeks or so. The civie fleet stays in formation around the rock." She began clicking through the photos Cyrus had provided of the fleet. "There are eighteen civilian ships, mostly liners. But we're lucky, there's a few machine ships, a tyllium ship, food processor, and a couple large freighters."
"What about Helios?" Someone asked.
"A flight three Acheron cruiser class. She's an anti-fighter ship and a good escort with heavier guns on her. She was commissioned around 1993 PC," Kat informed them. That made the ship a little under twenty years old. "They've got a few transports and military personnel. So hopefully we can bring Galactica and Pegasus up to full strength. We'll know more when we get there."
"How do we know this isn't just a trap?" Another asked. Kat had been looking at the screen, but the voice sounded like Stubbs.
"Because one, it makes no sense. And two, even if it is, it'll just be losers like me and you Stubbs who will fall for it and die," she told him, grin on her face. "No one irreplaceable," she chided. "Op will have the four Raptors, myself, Helo, John, and Carter will be joining," she threw her arms back onto the lectern and leaned forward. "This is just not something fancy. Myself, Helo, Athena, John, and Carter will be landing in the Guardian facility. The rest will just fly around, inspecting the ships and then jump back to Galactica. Nothing special or exciting… we just need to get a quick visual inspection of the ships and see if anything's up. It shouldn't be more than maybe twelve to fifteen hours."
"No Marines? What if this goes south for you all?" Asked Stubbs again, slightly startled and alarmed.
"I think our two resident machines of destruction can handle that," she said jokingly towards Carter and John. The two had been watching her like Tauron hawks throughout the briefing.
Carter tossed his head down towards his left shoulder and bobbed his head forward, "We got ya covered," he responded. He flashed his blue eyes quickly and laughed quietly to himself.
==========Cylon Baseship in Orbit of New Caprica==========
The Cylon model Number One, known by the name of Cavil brought his right hand slowly out of the pool of cool conducting gel on his desk. He felt a child run up his right arm, reflexive bringing his shoulder up and shuddering as the data stream was cut from his central nervous system. The gel suddenly changed from a red glow of activity to a pale clear as his hand receded.
A model Number Three, D'Anna, stalked into his private enclave; her boots' heals reverberating on the silver metallic deck as she came closer. She stopped; her blue green eyes alight with anger and fury. She gritted her teeth and stood there, her hands digging into her hips as she waited for Cavil to acknowledge her presence.
The metallic footsteps of a Centurion entered behind her, his steps hard and deliberate. It wasted no energy in superfluous movement, the swing of its robotic arms and legs precisely adequate for a proper, robotic gait. It stopped, the whine of its servos replacing the bang of metallic steps as it extended itself to its full height next to the Number Three.
The two stood opposite the Number One, none speaking, with only the background hum of the baseship's drive and the back and forth red eye of the Centurion.
Cavil leaned back in his chair and put his feet on his desk, unconcerned as to why the Three and Centurion would bother him. "As dramatic as this is, just tell me what you want," Cavil stated in his typical patronizing tone. "I'm a very busy machine," he quipped.
"You are aware we lost their fleet?" D'Anna finally asked after minutes of silent brooding.
Cavil quickly laughed before asking, "Which one? Human or Cylon?"
D'Anna's eyes narrow and the corner of her lip furled upward. "They are not Cylon. They betrayed us."
"Whatever your feelings about them, Three, keep yourself focused. We're machines. They're machines. Technically they are Cylon. Whether we want to admit it or not." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Don't start acting like the fraking Twos and Eights… and let's not forget the Sixes…" he trailed off, rolling his eyes at the thought of the eccentricities of the three other models.
"Don't push me, Cavil. We lost thousands of good Centurions and-"
"And each one has been resurrected!" He shouted, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his hand and a grunt.
"You felt what happened the last time you resurrected. It's taking longer, Cavil. Something is wrong."
The Centurion cocked its head inquisitively while remaining quiet.
Cavil laughed unconcerned with her observation. He swiveled his chair around, starring into the multi-colored lights that ran down the wall behind him. It was a beautiful image to him. Pure data relayed from the sensors of the baseship and the thousands of Centurions on board. But even with silica relays and his organic brain augmented with technology, he still could not comprehend the images fully.
"Bring it up with your 'God' if you are so concerned," he said, melancholy in his voice at the reminder of his bastardized body. A small part machine with an overwhelming part made of flesh and bone.
"Don't play that 'God' charade with me, Cavil," she told him, mockingly imitating his quotation gesture. "It's only a matter of time before the defective models find out about Him, anyway."
Cavil quickly brought his feet to the floor and shot up from his seat. He walked slowly over to the front, stopping his menacing posturing he leaned back on the edge of his white, metallic desk. He danced his right hand through the upper layers of the conducting gel, flashing a slight red as he did so, teasing the data stream on his intentions.
"That's not our concerned right now," he informed her, suddenly serious and focused. "We have to concentrate on them. The Guardians stepped overboard, past the line. He wants them destroyed. He's determined it's time to move on."
"Why hasn't He told me?" D'Anna demanded. "Time to move on where? Earth? He has no idea where it is. Or even when it is."
Cavil hushed her. "You need to be quiet with what you say, Three. The rest of your model doesn't know of Him or Earth or anything more than what the others know. Only my model and you yourself, you, D'Anna, no other Three, knows what He is. They only suspect."
"So why is resurrection taking longer?" She raised again. "The other models will grow suspicious, they will demand to know what it is your hiding."
The Centurion, quiet and studying the two bio-Cylons stepped forward with a whine of his servos. Cavil looked towards the Centurion and back to D'Anna, addressing her. "You need to ask him," he motioned with his head towards the machine standing next to her. "He's been investing more time in the Centurions, not telling me everything. I don't know."
D'Anna cocked her head and looked at him suspiciously. Some of her dirty blonde hair had fallen into her eyes, she pushed it back behind her ears and slowly turned to face the Centurion. She was almost insignificant compared to the metallic instrument of death standing opposite her. The razor sharp claws and in built weaponry was intimidating, even for her, even for one who knew the truth of their existence.
She waited for the Centurion to tell her. The sound of activated servos and hydraulics told her the Centurion was positioning himself in front of her, to tell her the answer.
"You and he cannot be fully trusted with my plans," the Centurion stated.
"Your plans?" D'Anna demanded immediately.
The solid red eye began to slow and pulse, something D'Anna had never seen before. She studied it with intent; she could feel something flowing through her. The Centurions armored hand shot up and grabbed her around the neck. It didn't squeeze, but had enough power to keep her from moving. After a moment struggling, she stopped. "What are you doing?" She asked quietly, still unable to move.
"My actions are our plans, they are the plans of your God," the Centurion told her. Cavil stood and watched as the pulsing eye kept D'Anna helpless in its gaze.