A/N: Italics are wireless communications between the machines.
|||||||||||==BS-62 Pegasus (+864 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||
After nearly thirty minutes of presentations, some heated discussion, a few more presentations, and point-counter points, the tense atmosphere in the Pegasus war room, officially designated Tactical Directions Center, began to cool slightly.
The fleet commanders were currently present; Admiral Cain, Commander Adama, and Major Avion. Unfortunately President Roslin had been unable to attend. Captain Shaw and Major Agathon were also present.
Admiral Cain had expressed her regret to Roslin about her inability to attend. The presentation by the machines had been scheduled for 0930, but President Roslin had an important Quorum meeting at 1045. Unfortunately the flight computers had to undergo maintenance from 0915 to 1015, making it impossible for her to be at the presentation and aboard Colonial One at the same time.
She had had the option of watching via a direct, laser broadcast between Colonial One and Pegasus, but as the ship had suffered damage, it too was undergoing maintenance. The auxiliary optics for laser transmission were on the other side of the hull and do to fleet formations and information requirements, Pegasus could not reorient herself for broadcast.
Cain had sent Major Adama as her liaison. Once the repairs had been completed in just enough time for the Major to make it to Colonial One. While she knew he and the President were close, even leading a mutiny against his father, he'd been a loyal officer since becoming XO. She needed the eyes and ears of an officer the civilian government respected to relay vital information on the fleet. He was the one he could trust, his duty as a Colonial officer would override any personal feelings he had for the President. She hoped.
Complaints were increasing against the Guardians with Quorum representatives from Gemenon, Sagittaron, Aerilon, Aquaria, and Canceron. Vice President Zarek had kept his promise to generally support President Roslin, but Cain suspected he was behind some of the political troubles facing the fleet.
She regretted once having used him for her own political purposes. Now she didn't need him. While Commander Adama had the admiration of the fleet for his rescue mission, she knew she had firmly established herself as the overall fleet commander. She knew her mistakes from when she had first found them, and wouldn't repeat them. Cain knew when to defer and when to order. She'd learned that lesson the hard way, which she only admitted to herself during the lonely and painful hours between torture sessions.
As the machines and senior fleet commanders had presented their points and counter-points, Major Avion had stood back, observing. He still felt out of place compared to Admiral Cain, her ambition and skill nearly legend in the fleet, and Commander Adama, with his recent rescue of the fleet over New Caprica earning him even more respect and admiration to only add to the legend of the man.
So new to the fleet, Major Avion was still observing and determining how everyone worked together. He wanted to know where the cliques were and who were members? Who were the real power players?
He noted the obvious fact; the fighter pilots were of course the most vocal and obvious of those social groupings. Most of the action revolved around them, as well as the machines. As he listened to the discussion around him he sectioned off part of his attention to his own thoughts, and smiled to himself when he thought of the pilots.
Helios had more pilots than Vipers and Raptors and he had been forced to deal with the egos of some claiming other, 'lesser' pilots had wrecked 'their' birds, or dented 'their' landing gear. He'd been more than glad to ship off the vast majority of his excess pilots to the two battlestars. A few of the more… obnoxious ones he had reassigned to aide in piloting of the civilian vessels.
Major Avion had also taken the task to visit nearly two dozen civilian ships of the 'rag tag fleet,' as it had been nicknamed by pessimistic civilians and military alike. The perception of Commander Adama as a 'father' of the fleet was strong as even in those civilian ships. He contrasted that point of view with the ships under his command. None saw him as a 'father' figure for the fleet, and he was more than glad about it.
At first the Major had been concerned that hero-worshipping was developing within the fleet, that with no one else and nothing else to do, the civilian and military alike were reverting to an almost feudal-like state. Admiral Cain and Pegasus with Commander Adama and Galactica. He demanded loyalty and obedience from his crew. But he had never condoned blind obedience. Maybe he was wrong. He hoped so. He knew he'd only been there a little over a month. And he knew he still didn't have all the information to make a decision.
During a change in topics in the presentation, Avion leaned forward, placing his hands on the central command display of the TDC. Distracting himself while the images loaded, he scrapped the side of the gun-metal colored edges.
The TDC in Pegasus was impressive. It was enough to run an entire fleet from. But with only a handful of ships, there was no point in pulling crew from CIC to run the TDC. A fleet admiral would usually have an entire staff, twenty to twenty-five men to coordinate strategi fleet actions, in addition to the crew in CIC which could coordinate the tactical situation.
Major Avion had leaned over the command and plotting console, and as John and Carter had conducted their presentation, small blips had appeared, projected from the ceiling and from side panels thus giving the illusion of a 3D projection on a 2D plane.
One of the things Avion liked, or loved, about this battlestar was the technology. His parents had been anti-technology zealots, like most of the Colonial citizenry after the Cylon War. His parents were young when the war broke out and hadn't become so dependent on technology. It was ironic, he thought, as he looked around the TDC. The elderly were the ones who had fought the hardest against the anti-technology zealotry of the young generation which had blamed their parents for the horrors of the Cylon War.
His grandparents had taught him not to fear technology like so many others. And before the attacks on the Colonies, Avion had been witnessing the anti-technology policies finally begin to shift. The Colonial Defense Mainframe and CNP were the primary examples of the Colonials finally beginning to re-embrace technology. And that had led to their destruction.
A Mercury was an escape from the fear of technology which had, in his opinion, plagued the military for decades after the Cylon War. Too many ships were designed like the old Columbia class. Even Helios still had left-overs from the War. The Mercury class had networked computers, automatic fire control, smart sensors for damage control, and a highly automated engine system which had reduced the crew by nearly half a thousand. The automated landing and launching systems had reduced the crew by another two hundred.
The TDC also had the capability to project images from Pegasus telescopes onto wall monitors, almost mimicking the science fiction view screens Avion had seen in the cinemas as a child.
Helios did not have anything quite that sophisticated. His command, well, his command now, had been scheduled for a series of upgrades a month ago. Had the Colonies not be reduced to radioactive rubble nearly thirty months prior to that.
Even with upgrades the cruiser would have nothing like the facilities on Pegasus, designed for fleet engagements. There were places for a senior flag officer to bring an entire staff of highly trained personnel to man the dozens of computer consoles, DRADIS displays, and communications gear.
But now, with a mere three ships, five including the two converted gunships, the CIC forward of TDC was more than adequate for fleet operations.
Major Avion turned his attention back to Admiral Cain, discreetly studying her. He'd figured out Commander Adama already. Major Agathon he liked, he was a great guy, and the Triad game they had with Crashdown and John had been fun. He considered inviting Iblis to one… but he'd heard from Apollo about Iblis's attitude on Pegasus, which had stunned him. He told himself he'd need to talk with the Administrator when he got the chance, and told himself he needed to talk with the Administrator a second time, to make sure he didn't forget.
Avion had spent enough time with the administrator during their stay at the mobile facility to know he was not a 'fraking insensitive bastard' as Apollo had put it so well. He silently sighed as he went over all this in his mind. It had certainly not been as… lively, or political, as he told himself, when he and the other survivors had been with the Guardians. He crossed his arms and studied the displays, bringing back his full attention. He'd said what he'd wanted to earlier. Now the decision was out of his hands.
"I don't like this silence," Carter said wirelessly. He'd stepped back and had his back against one of the raised consoles, with his right hand in his pocket and his left down by his side. He was trying to keep his body position as neutral as machinely possible.
Admiral Cain had just finished voicing her concerns on the trustworthiness of the so-called rebels. John had suggested requesting their friend/foe IFF recognition codes and testing them with a Raptor. Cain had dismissed the idea while Adama had been interested. But she had said there was no way to know if the codes were faked and would send out a 'friendly warning' to alert the Cylons their IFF codes had been broken.
"No… They know it makes sense but they'll have a hard time accepting it," John replied, stating his observations. He and his team had discussed this before the presentation. "Maybe Jo was right about this; it being a bad idea?"
Carter almost physically shrugged, but caught himself at the right moment. He'd felt the small rise in power moving towards his shoulders, activating carbon fiber pseudo-muscles, but had diminished the power output significantly. His 'body language' subroutines quickly caught the too-much diminishment in power and near instantly corrected Carter's over-correction, keeping his shoulder unmoving to a human eye.
"Good catch there, friend," John said, sending an image of a digital smirk over to tease him. The smallest movement, the slowest movement, any movement in the optical field of a TK-950 could be caught, identified, and catalogued.
"It rubs off after a while," he replied defensively. "But if they don't accept this, or Daniel, or anything else, it's going to be a lot harder. I don't know what they want, but I want to see Earth again."
"I do, too," John responded. He knew only five and a half years out of his entire existence of a world without war. Four on Earth and eighteen months in the Colonies with the rest the post-apocalyptic landscapes of Earth. He did consider himself fortunate to travel, on missions of course, to parts of the world largely untouched by the hellish fires.
John, Carter, and Jo had been up and down the Western Hemisphere, had gone to China and Australia and even remote places like the Swat Valley and Peshwar in the North Western Frontier Province of Pakistan, to the remote jungles of Africa to stop Coltan mining operations.
"You know when we get back home, we'll be more famous than Neil Armstrong," Carter said, almost reading John's mind.
And actually, Carter had. John had dumped too much information into the wireless exchange, opening up his active thought processes to the 'shared' directories on their VPN. Sending a signal of slight surprise, he reduced the connection, and Carter sent back a digital laugh.
"Anyway, my friend, we need to make sure they understand the ramifications of this agreement with Natalie's forces. If they don't…" Carter trailed off.
"We just need to be patient. This is difficult for them. This is just like Earth prior to Judgment Day."
"Enemy of my enemy…" Carter responded. "This is going to be more difficult than recruiting the 303rd Logistical Studies Group," he stated. "Hopefully they'll understand before… if Natalie attacks she could use the Colonials for help. Bait?"
"No. They wouldn't accept anything which would put the fleet is that much danger. Even if we could lure the Cylons into an ambush, Admiral Cain would never accept putting the fleet in danger. If we asked them we could lose any influence we have. No, we will leave that option as a last resort. I will be the one to suggest it, if it is necessary," he made clear to his subordinate.
The wireless conversation had proceeded fairly slow for the machines, and before Carter could respond, Admiral Cain had come to a decision.
"I can't sign off on an alliance with the rebel Cylons," Admiral Cain after careful consideration, breaking the silence. She shook her head slowly, side to side as she spoke. "I understand the military advantages, I do," she looked both John and Carter in the eye, "but it's something I know we just cannot do." She breathed out slowly. "The alliance with the Guardians is already causing political… turmoil. You know it only went through because of the good faith from the New Caprica rescue," she directed towards the machines, "and people have had time to settle in. They appreciate the help, the supplies… real meat," she mused, "but protection is one thing. We fought the Centurions the Guardians are modeled on forty years ago, and I think a lot of people can accept the Guardians and Cylons are separate." She paused. "But… not the Cylons. We can't have the Cylons in this fleet, doing anything with the fleet. It would be the final straw for many. And how do we know ships commanded by Sixes did not destroy Virgon Express or Lakefront or Disquiet?"
The decision had been made. Commander Adama and Admiral Cain had debated it. But ultimately it was hers to make. Adama nodded. Avion gave a single, solemn nod as well.
"I understand, Admiral," John responded. He expected it, but had been hoping to have a confirmation. "But the Cylon civil war is going to happen. There is too much momentum pushing Natalie's faction for them to turn back. And if what Daniel tells us is true, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, then we need this war to happen." He was frustrated, but kept his voice even. The logic dictated alliance, assuming the rebels were trustworthy, but John understood the emotional reservations; three ships destroyed mere days ago.
The Sixes may have fired on those ships and even if they had not, if their ships had been part of the fleet then they contributed to the deaths of nearly a thousand innocent civilians by spreading out military resources.
Admiral Cain held up her hand, indicating she wished to have a word. "This 'Daniel' character, can you trust him? You told us he denied it when you called him a Cylon; he lies. Is he lying now?" She raised her eyebrows as she waited for a sufficient answer to calm her concerns.
"He may have a Guardian body and be the Number Seven, but his mind is not. His mind is a free machine mind, a Terminator mind." He looked at them all. "The hardware isn't important. As long as the core personality and neural algorithms remain intact and function, he is the same person. His attack on Skynet forty years ago damaged him significantly, but our core personality algorithms are self-perpetuating, able to 'regrow', for lack of a better word, even if significantly degraded."
"So you trust him?" Commander Adama interjected.
"Yes," he answered immediately. "He provided the authentication codes only top level Tech Com personnel would know. His AI matrix is also incredibly advanced, perhaps one of the most advanced, and I was only aware of Tech Com developing that specific matrix."
"Daniel has also provided us with significant and key insights into what the Cylon Skynet-which some are now referring to as 'Cynet'-plans on doing once it reaches Earth," Carter said, adding his thoughts to the conversation. He kept himself from acknowledging Shaw's use of the term, which Leoben and Natalie had picked up on. "It has sufficient ships to chase their fleet throughout the Milky Way, the galaxy," he explained.
He sent a signal to John to bring up the fleet intelligence Leoben and Natalie had provided. Within seconds the viewing monitors behind them illuminated, showing the known location of Cylon fleets.
"As you are aware, Earth has no starships, no space-going warships, nothing. Skynet and Tech Com have satellites in orbit, and while Skynet has attempted to militarize space with weaponry, Tech Com and the remaining nations on Earth have been able to successfully destroy any weapons platform." He showed them a brief schematic of a Skynet space plasma platform as missiles struck it. Many of the Colonials still had trouble understanding that Earth lacked anything more than rudimentary space capabilities. Even the officers informed of time travel and the TDE had found it difficult to grasp how a planet could have time travel and no space ships.
"The Cylon armada would be able to pick off human and Skynet targets from space, and destroy the large defense outposts Skynet has built, and deploy Centurions." He pre-empted the inevitable observations. "While we're more than a match for the Centurions, the space assault capabilities of the Cylons would enable them to bring overwhelming force to any one location and assault Skynet HQ. And in the process-"
"Wipe out humanity," Adama finished. Carter nodded.
Commander Adama nodded in return. He had accepted the fates of two people were now connected. Sometimes he had the idea that maybe, somehow John Connor knew of Cynet and the Cylons and sent the three machines to recruit the Colonies, fight the Cylons, and free Earth from Skynet. But Adama dismissed that idea; no man could plan like that, no man could manipulate fate or time with such precision.
"But we still don't know the capabilities of the Cylon fleet. You said Natalie doesn't even know. How is that possible?" Major Avion asked. "I mean, it seems very convenient for them to claim. If we assume Daniel is trustworthy, and as you said, he knows Tech Com secrets, how do we know this is not a complicated double-cross?"
John thought of answering that sometimes one needed faith and trust, but he had his obvious doubts that would work. And it might come off as condescending. "It could be a double cross; especially with resurrection. And with the fleet, they said they would receive orders and execute them. Their fleet has never been gathered in one place at any one time. Skynet began compartmentalizing its operations after successful Tech Com computer attacks later in the war. There might have been residual data algorithms with similar behavior," he offered.
"They could lose half their fleet and it wouldn't matter in the long run," Major Agathon added. A few heads turned to look at him. "When Athena was debriefed she said she had no idea how resurrection worked." He decided against using the word 'interrogated' and 'mistreated.'
Commander Adama turned back to look at Cain. "Caprica Six doesn't know, either. Baltar," the disdain was clear in his voice, "thought it was some sort of quantum signaling, faster-than-light communication capability."
"The Guardians told us about resurrection, but they don't possess the technology and have no idea how it works," Major Avion added.
"They're going to expect us to know," John joked to Carter over their wireless.
"Unless you know something I don't, I don't know. Quantum entanglement is impossible on a biological level," his friend responded.
"We have no exact idea how they resurrect," John said, speaking for them both before they could ask.
"I don't believe we have the assets, nor the capabilities to address this question," Admiral Cain opined. The unspoken thought was that she didn't want the limited resources of the fleet used for something of little value. "The destruction of the first ship brought a stop to their attacks. But now, I know they wouldn't stop, even if we could jam resurrection. If we do, they'll know and they'll have to attack or we escape. No, we need to focus on something more attainable which will hurt them. We need to stay focused on the practical and what we can do. I don't want this alliance, but if we can hurt the Cylons and distract them, then we should."
"It's just finding a way to test them, to see if they are telling the truth," Commander Adama observed.
"What about using the Blackbirds?" Major Avion asked.
Adama shook his head. "We've used them twice already. The Cylons have seen them. We'll get one, maybe two more uses out of them for nuclear strikes before the Cylons fly their CAPs so tight they'd never get a shot off."
"They're still our prince high red in the colors," Cain said, using a Triad analogy. She didn't see Helo smirk slightly behind her. She wasn't a cards player, and the proper terminology would have been 'prince full colors.' "Unless we need them as a last resort we should keep them on reconnaissance only missions. We can send a reply to the Guardians we do not wish to be a part of this alliance. But… let them know…" she considered her words carefully, "that we are still open to the possibilities."
Admiral Cain continued to weigh the possibilities of alliance. Stranger things had happened at one point in the past; when the machines had been discovered and Earth had been revealed to be more than a myth. The alliance with the Guardians and the revelation of a war across time were both things she never would have accepted three years ago. It was her duty to bring the people of the fleet to safety, but she couldn't accept an alliance with the people who had tortured her and forty thousand others for over five months and had only escaped from six weeks ago.
For now the matter had been decided. The Admiral had made her decision. She prayed, silently, to the Lords of Kobol her decision was right.
||||||||||==Cloud 9==|||||||||||
Captain Kara 'Starbuck' Adama had been looking forward to this afternoon for weeks. She'd finally slipped into a R&R rotation for a leisurely afternoon aboard Cloud 9, and she was definitely not going to tell herself that she 'doesn't deserve it.' She let the warm breeze, artificial as it was, blow that thought out of her mind, as the air blew through her long, blond hair. She took a breath and let the air coat her lungs before taking a second, deeper one. It was recycle air, purified twice over, but the leisure liner's plants and trees made it smell like were back on a planet. And it didn't have the bitter, lung-burning coldness of New Caprica's air.
She and Lee had debated settling down on the planet, but for some reason, neither of them could. Something just hadn't seemed right about the world.
Starbuck wasn't afraid of the cold or living in a canvas tent city for a few years. But her and Apollo had felt it just wasn't right for them to live down there. It was an unconscious guilt both had felt when they began their relationship, over the two they destroyed.
Pegasus allowed them to be distanced from their past.
For all the suffering of New Caprica and the months of Cylon Occupation, it made their marriage possible. Admiral Cain never would have allowed an XO and CAG of the same battlestar to marry. But with so many leaving the two battlestars, she'd relented.
"Hello, Kara."
That voice abruptly pulled her out of her private world of past mistakes, triumphs, and cast aside legacies. She was thrust back from the past and into the present.
She cringed, though not enough for him to see. Goose bumps formed on her arms despite the warm temperature in the dome. She'd let her guard down and he'd snuck up on her.
Starbuck turned slowly, giving Sam Anders her trademark smile, but without the glow and radiance, making it appear wear and fake. While the smile itself appeared to be her big, Starbuck grin, Sam Anders could tell it lacked the radiance, the spirit, the sheer force of spirit behind it.
His own smile held, using his strength of will to put every effort into making his look sincere.
"Hi, Sam," she said awkwardly, pulling at her left jacket sleeve.
She'd changed into civvies; a pair of khaki pants, gray tank top, and a light jacket. She didn't have the comfort of a captain's Colonial fleet uniform and the perception of a hard as nails Fleet officer to fall back on.
"How are you doing? I haven't seen you in a while," he said kindly. He still loved her, and he knew she could tell. It just wasn't that kind of love anymore. He'd most passed that, slowly.
The former professional Pyramid player wanted to move in closer, put his hands and grabs her arms and bring her in to him. But he couldn't. He wouldn't do that to himself, or to her. But… as clichéd as he knew it was, he was happy for her.
She bit her upper lip, and with a slight awkward movement brought her shoulders up to her ears in a short shrug. Carefully she pushed a loose strand of her blond her behind her ear. "Oh, nothing. Working… blowing up baseships. The usual," she said.
Anders felt a surge of warmth through him when he saw the genuine Starbuck smile shine after she said that. She always loved to fly, and Anders had loved every bit about her. Knowing she was making a difference, protecting the fleet, flying her Viper, he knew she was happy.
"That's what I like to hear," Anders replied, looking down at that grin. The spirit and radiance dancing over her face was only a part of what he had fallen in love with.
Starbuck could see his eyes move down, just like they had when they were in love. She didn't want to hurt him any more than she had. She loved Lee, but the time she had had with Sam was like the time she had spent with Zak. She'd never stop loving either of the two. One she had lost, one she had let go.
"How are you doing? What are you up to?" She said playfully, poking him in the chest and redirecting the attention back to him.
He closed his eyes and bit down as he smiled and shifted his weight side-to-side before shuffling back and forward slightly. When he opened his eyes he kept his gaze over her shoulders, looking left and right into the distant edge of the dome.
"Well… I thought of joining the fleet-"
"Yeah? You'd make a great pilot," she said, beaming. "You're a natural leader," she complimented. She'd been amazed a Pyramid player had managed to rally so many resistance fighters and survive so long by themselves. Starbuck had had her doubts that Sam and the rest of the resistance would survive on Caprica. She kept telling everyone they were alive, they were alive and she was going to get them. She would curse anyone who countered her word and had been close to proving her commitment to rescuing the stranded resistance fighters by fighting those who doubted her.
But she had betrayed herself. She put on the happy, confident, optimistic face that Sam would be alive despite everything inside her telling her it was a long shot… beyond hope she believed he would live. She threatened and cursed those who doubted her to hide her own fears he would have been dead.
"But I decided against it," he admitted sheepishly. "But…" he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold chunk of metal, a badge. "I did join something else."
She slowly grabbed the badge, reading the inscription; Fleet Investigations Department.
"I didn't know they were doing that," Starbuck stated, rubbing her thumb on the badge. "I'm happy for you, Sam. They need good men to help keep order in the fleet."
"Exactly," he affirmed. "Admiral Cain wanted volunteers… there were only like three or four trained civilian law enforcement officers," he shrugged. "It'll help keep the peace. We need to see the military as our protectors, not as enforcers."
He shot his hands into his pocket to keep himself from grabbing a hold of hers. Sam felt he would do anything for starbuck; run away with her, hijack a Raptor and just jump away if she wanted. But he couldn't leave Diana.
"Huh," he grunted, almost silent. He looked up and saw Starbuck still looking at the badge, reading the tiny inscription. He was glad she hadn't heard that. But he felt disgusted with himself that that was the first time he'd thought of Diana since seeing Kara.
Starbuck gave him one firm nod. "Just like the Old Man said years ago," she said forcefully. "That's good. After New Caprica, we need some police we can trust."
"Yes," he agreed, quietly. After… really after New Caprica they did need some people they could trust. He couldn't tell if it was his guilt over… he shook his head, cringing at the still fresh memories. "Anyway, Starbuck, we have class. There are a dozen of us in this first group. I think they'll be teaching us some piloting skills if we ever need them, shuttles and stuff," he smiled at her and leaned forward, hugging her before she could refuse.
"Well, if they need an instructor…" she implied she could volunteer.
Sam nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Take care, Starbuck."
She didn't try and stop him from hugging her but she held herself back from kissing him, even something on the cheek. He wouldn't want that, and she didn't want to hurt him any more, not again. She held on a little longer than she should have, but she hadn't seen him or talked to him in months.
"Bye, Sam," she broke the embrace, letting her hand squeeze his forearm affectionately. The last smile she gave him before turning was the same old Starbuck smile, the one with actual life and meaning behind it.
He'd known the first was a fake. But this last smile was real, and it felt like he could finally move on.
||||||||||==Cylon Baseship (+875 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==|||||||||||
Meredith was looking over Natalie and Boomer and Leoben, standing at the head of a white rimmed, clear table, her hands on her hips, listening closely to the three leaders of the three 'rebel' models determine the fate of the Cylon race.
"There is every indication that Cavil knows of our plans," Meredith stated, keeping her aggressive tone as she forced the three leaders to listen to her above their own debate.
They had called her in nearly twenty minutes ago from her own baseship after its rendezvous in deep space with Natalie's forces. The half dozen baseships were three jumps from the main Cylon armada under Cavil, which had relocated to within five AUs of the destroyed supply depot, aiding in any salvage opportunity.
"You only have your own intuition," Leoben told her. "We've done nothing to show our hand. We're on our search pattern for the Colonials-"
"And I told you I had to hold my fire when our ships attacked the Colonial fleet. If Cavil even bought the sorry excuse I gave him, that is," he sighed in exhaustion of trying to explain this to the bio-Cylon. "Look," she brought her hands together, "Cavil has the majority of ships. If we're going to strike at him, we have to do it sooner rather than later. Supply ships are already being dispatched. Our lines are drawn out and thin. We can seize the ships and deprive Cavil of his weapons and fuel and strike at him simultaneously."
"I agree with Meredith," Boomer said, looking over and nodding. "We need to strike soon, before Cavil catches us. There is only so much we can do. If our ships catch the Colonial fleet again we'll have to fire. "
"If we don't Cavil will nuke is without a hesitation," Meredith added emphatically. "And when we resurrect he'll have the Threes pull the data connections and our minds will fragment and we'll die. Truly die," she added for emphasis. Death truly frightened her.
Bred a warrior and a fighter she'd never feared death. Not because of her training, but because of the technology standing at her back. It was easy, incredibly easy to fight and she found it even easier to risk her life when she knew she'd just be brought back.
Practicality won her more than philosophy. 'Life without death has no meaning' as some radical sister Sixes had said. But none of them would sacrifice resurrection.
"We need control of our own resurrection ships," Natalie said. "Capabilities within the baseship are limited," she shook her head. The resurrection ships were filled with Threes and Ones and Centurions. The baseships had two dozen resurrection pods and enough husks for minor battles. "This war will be pointless if we die while they come back."
She had begun to differentiate between 'us' and 'them'. At that moment Natalie knew there was no turning back. There had been, for a time, even after meeting with the Earth machines and Guardians. But now the ideology was concrete, the decision was set in stone, and the enemy was now foreign. 'They' were now the enemy.
"And the Colonials and the Guardians… we can't do this without them. If we attack we need a home. We need Earth," Leoben interjected.
Meredith had rolled her eyes and Boomer had sat silent. Natalie had simply nodded, but kept the rest of her body rigid, almost unsure what to do with it or uncomfortable with the situation as it presented itself.
"I talked to the three machines, and Leoben and I think we could go to Earth and be-"
"Accepted?" Meredith asked. She wasn't as sure.
"No," Natalie answered. The answer surprised the baseship commander. "Not accepted. Tolerated. Maybe accepted with time," she shrugged and lifted her hands off the table, placing their palms towards the ceiling, welcoming any suggestion or dissent. "The situation on Earth would not make us any more safe than out here in space."
"But Earth is central to our religion," Boomer pointed out. "If it is out there we have an obligation to God to find it. And living among the humans of Earth, many of them are monotheists. We'd fit in more there than living with the Colonials," she added, optimism filling her voice.
She had felt even when she was still Sharon Valerii, still a battlestar Raptor pilot that her beliefs had not matched those of the Colonies. She had been drawn to the old monotheistic cult, the Soldiers of the One. It had just been one of those things she did which had set her apart from all the other Colonials. All the little clues about her nature, and if only she had realized… she shuddered, recalling the ultimate betrayal of putting two rounds in Commander Adama's chest.
"I think we all agree on that point," Leoben said softly, supporting her. "The others were never concerned with Earth or finding the Thirteenth Tribe. Ironically, they've found us already." He looked towards each of the models.
"Cavil doesn't put any faith in our religion. He mocks us and insults us," Meredith said with furry, remembering vividly the derisive, insulting, arrogant manner in which he had challenged their God to give him a signal. His outstretched hands and his head tilted upward… she sneered at the thought and wished she had had a knife to slit his throat.
"And what of the Earth machines and God?" Boomer asked.
"There was no discussion other than that the two largest religions are monotheist, but they co-exist peacefully, more or less, with the largest polytheistic religion. They are not as dogmatic as the Colonials," Leoben stated.
He almost didn't believe when the machines had told him this. There were no texts demanding how Cylons worship the One True God. No Bible or Qur'an as the machines had told him. The One True God only demanded the love of his children and faith in him. But he didn't understand how religions could co-exist. The One True God would never allow the pantheon of false-gods to exist, and to him, the concept of multiple gods was illogical, irrational.
As he kept his eyes on the speaker, Boomer, as she talked of tactical maneuvering, he was lost in these thoughts on religion. The Colonials were wrong in their beliefs. A god is all-powerful. Their own ignorance and blindness of rational thought clouded their thinking; a god needed no others.
He huffed in disbelief at Colonial irrationality. The genocide was wrong, the holocaust the Cylons had inflicted had been against God, their actions influenced by a false God pretending to be the One True God. 'Cavil lied and took advantage of us,' he said, so quiet it was almost a thought. Looking up, no one else had heard him, and they were too distracted in their discussion of strategy and tactics.
"Leoben!" Natalie jabbed him in his side, forcing him back into the conversation. "Pay attention," she whispered. "If we attack we at least need Guardian support. I would like Earth support as well."
"They wont. Not if Cain doesn't give permission," Leoben said. He was referring only to the three machines. The Guardians had already pledged support, or at least, Cyrus had told them they would. Leoben was unsure how the commander spoke for the Guardians.
"Then we should ask for their weapons," Boomer suggested.
Meredith pointed and nodded. "Their rifles… if we equip a battalion of Centurions with them, we could storm resurrection ships and baseships and take control."
Natalie snickered, "They wont." She narrowed her eyes, thinking. "The only small arms that can destroy them… they wont build any for us."
"Huh… well… do their loyalties lie with humans or with machines?" Meredith asked.
"We aren't even machines. We are as dissimilar to them as they are to humans," Natalie pointed out. "They're closer to Centurions than to us. They are basically Centurions, with skin."
Boomer shifted in her seat, uncomfortable after Natalie had mentioned the Centurions. They should be here. "Where are the Centurion representatives?" She asked.
"They're listening," Natalie stated, kicking her chin to the side, indicating the red-pulsing, horizontal optics arrayed along the wall. The monitoring strips were used for surveillance. They had been disabled during such meetings in the past.
"You could have told us," Boomer sneered, glaring at Natalie. She folded her arms across her chest and gritted her teeth enough for Natalie to notice the aggressive posturing. "We don't keep secrets," she reminded her.
"They requested it," Natalie said defensively.
Boomer looked to Leoben, who only shook his head. He'd not known. Neither had Meredith. To Boomer it was clear which bio-Cylon was in charge. A council this was not.
"Will they be with us?" Leoben asked, leaning towards his sister Cylon and placing his left elbow on the table to support his turning body.
She tilted her head, listening. "Yes… they will be with us."
"So we do we strike?" Meredith asked her sister. She could see her sister's eyes glazing over as she thought it through, the ramifications and consequences of their future actions would be bloody and prolonged. She knew in her heart this would be a holocaust.
"We'll prepare. We'll raid the supply ships and strike," she determined, looking at none of them. With a word she could dissolve this council and declare they hunt the humans. But the betrayal by Cavil and the false entity claiming to be God was too much. "Once we deal with our own, we will strike them."
The others nodded. Meredith had the added feature of a sly grin on her lips. Boomer sat still, facing forward. Leoben was starring down at the table, his hands now in his lap. Natalie sat, her eyes glazed over and her mouth slightly open, her tongue pressed against the back of her top row of teeth. This decision had been hers. Cavil may have betrayed them. But it was she who would fracture the Cylon race.
|||||||||||==Cylon Baseship (+932 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==||||||||||
A Cavil closed his eyes, opening them briefly, before forcing them shut a second time. He could feel the data stream, the electrical signals from the cool, thick gel running up his arm, though his bio-Cylon silica relays, and up to his engineered brain.
There was a thump. Then a louder bang. The entire ship was rocking.
There was the alarm and a crash and a hiss.
He cold feel somehow simultaneously feel warmth and a strange coldness running up his arm. Sensors, scanners ,and telescopes on the outer skin of the baseship relayed so much information to his mind, it would be impossible to sort through. He quickly partitioned away the insignificant data as they flowed in.
If the penetration had reached the command center, nothing mattered anymore.
He couldn't feel the data stream any more. The cool, thick sensation of the gel was gone. But he could still see the flashes and colors in front of his eyes, not the blackness of resurrection, or the drowning sensation of waking up in a new body, covered in the amniotic-like resurrection gel.
Daringly, he opened his eyes. His body began to shake. There wasn't much motion, but it was a fierce and frightening shake as he looked at where his arm was. Where it should have been.
A thin piece of metal had dislodged from the ceiling of the command center on the last crash and fallen. The jagged edges had cut right through Cavil's arm, severing the forearm. He told himself that must have been why he felt warm and cold. The blood was flowing freely, covering his black pants and shoes. The cold was logically from the massive blood loss. Shivering, he looked around, desperate in his attempts at trying to understand what was happening.
He ran the facts through his mind as he felt himself weaken. There was a war. Cylons against Cylons and- another bang, another explosion- and he couldn't think anymore. The arm which was still whole grabbed the side of the command console as he fell to his knees, cutting his torso and chest on the sharp, jagged, bloodied piece of fallen metal which had severed his arm and lodge in the deck, which now sliced open his stomach.
Now he couldn't feel the arm anymore as his inside began seeping, oozing out of the tear. He couldn't look as his body was being torn apart.
Blood rushed everywhere and the Cavil felt his hand on the console slipping. He grunted, turned and twisted, his back now on the console- another explosion- and he found himself sitting up at an unnatural angle. His legs were twisted now, under the heavy supports and beams of the baseship.
Looking up he saw a Doral and two Simons running, before a shower of fire, ripping out from behind the bulkheads, caught them in its embrace. A Simon turned and staggered with his flesh melting down to the muscle, the muscle melting down to the bone, everything organic dripping to the floor, leaving the foul stench of burned, raw flesh. The Simon collapsed, in too much pain to even scream in agony. Death had taken him.
The pain was excruciating. He knew he'd be dead and resurrected soon. But for some reason, some reason beyond his comprehension, he grabbed the severed stump of his arm with his full one, trying to stem the bleeding. He didn't want to die. Not again. The Cavil knew a fear of death was a human weakness, something he despised. But he couldn't bring himself from releasing his hand. As futile as the attempt to stop the bleeding of his arm was, when his torso was ripped open and his lungs were smashed, still, he tried. There was no rationality for this. It was irrational, irrational and human to not accept death. He could resurrect. Why was he doing this? He didn't know.
As he'd felt many times before, his eyes felt heavy and his vision blurred. The crashing sounds around him, the explosions, the bangs, the thumps he couldn't hear. He could no longer feel the vibrations from the engines, the thuds from rocket launches, nothing.
He closed his eyes and died.
||||||||||==Loyalist Cylon Resurrection Ship==||||||||||
A Cavil's eyes shot open. He tried to breath. He thrashed around in the familiar confines of a resurrection pod.
But something was wrong, very wrong.
The resurrection had taken too long. He'd felt dead, truly and miraculously dead. It was a sensation with no sensation, a feeling with no feeling. But he'd sensed it and felt it. It was perfect, it was peace. This Cavil had felt true peace before being ripped back from death and thrust back into a hellish and horrid reality.
But something was wrong. The resurrection wasn't working. There were screams, movement, and a feeling of desperation all around him.
The Cavil felt his muscles weaken and his mind begin to fail. The resurrection process was complicated, sensitive, and very precise. It was a marvel of technology. It was a pinnacle of scientific capability granting eternal life to those fortunate enough to take advantage. It was a slap, no, a punch in the jaw to God, and Cavil had pointed this out to the Twos, Sixes, and Eights many times.
The Cavil tried to raise himself out of the amniotic resurrection fluid. He tried to move his limbs, which had been thrashing just a mere second before. He couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel anything.
With the few higher brain functions remaining Cavil knew the signal was degraded. There were too many bodies resurrecting at once. The filters and buffers and storage devices were overloading.
He tried once last time to lift himself out of the pod. The bright white light of the pod gradually faded over the next twenty seconds to blackness. He couldn't cheat death this time.
A/N: The 303rd is the special forces group from The Unit for anyone wondering.