==========CS-109 Helios (+939 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========
Captain Diana Vansen sat back and relaxed on the comfortable brown leather chairs in Major Gregory Avion's stateroom and sipped her glass of water slowly. She kept her eyes on the still agitated Helios commander.
"You really don't like that woman, do you?" She asked in an obvious voice. She let out a short, stuttered laugh before taking another sip.
"Three days ago she calls me in and complains about a monotheistic cult. I tell her Delegate Porter is making ridiculous demands on some of the civie ships and what happened?" he asked rhetorically. The Helios XO sitting opposite him knew and her faced exposed her obvious anger over the issue. "Porter goes and tries to land in our docking bay again without authorization and floods the CIC civie data lines with requests."
He shook his head and brought his hand up to slap the hand rest of the chair he was sitting in opposite Vansen. Avion closed his eyes and massaged his nose bridge before extending his hand out and rubbing his eyes.
The Helios CO felt lucky to have a friend like Diana Vansen. They'd served together for years, and she was without a doubt his best friend. Their relationship had been close over the years, but completely platonic. And he'd never have traded that for anything.
"It's like we're on the outside looking in still. It's been-"
"About three and a half months," Vansen interrupted. She tried to stress the 'three' but knew the look in Gregory's eye. If she'd said a week he'd still think that was long enough.
"Exactly! Three months and we're on the outside looking in."
She shot him an annoyed look and he purposefully turned his head over towards one of the wall monitors with a the spinning logo of Helios.
"And we haven't been through what they have," she explained, not waiting for him to look back at her. "We've had… you gotta admit, Greg, we've had it pretty easy compared to the other fleet." She shrugged and leaned towards the right armrest. "I mean, they were chased mercilessly for nearly a week, they've had prison riots, they've had military coups, "she coughed awkwardly, "fleet engagements, disappearing battlestars, New Caprica-"
"I get it," the Major stopped her with a hand signal.
"We didn't have to go through any of that because you took the Guardians up on their offer and stayed with them. It saved close to twenty-two thousand," she added kindly.
He breathed out and let his eyes wander around his stateroom. Unlike Adama's and Cain's his had a slightly more 'youthful' appearance to it. Instead of literary classics donning the bookshelves his were filled with science fiction and adventure stories, as well as a few graphic novels from Caprica and Picon. But the furniture was the previous commanding officer's. He'd felt it would be right to keep the furniture and retain a little sense of familiarity with his old boss.
And the chairs were very comfortable.
"But a 'cult', Diana? Really?" he asked in disbelief. His mouth had hung slightly open when he was asking her opinion. "There was this whole sense, some holier-than-thou… I don't know, vibe, from her," he finished with distaste.
"I don't know what to say, Greg," she shrugged.
"You know she's never been elected."
A wide grin formed on Captain Vansen's face. Avion looked at her warily.
"Maybe you should run for president in… what? Two and a quarter years, about?" she suggested.
She took another sip of her water like her suggestion was as simple as telling a thirsty person to drink water. And she tried to keep a straight face but failed. But her smile immediately turned serious when she saw Avion giving it serious thought.
"I'd have nearly twenty thousand votes already. And I could-" he looked at her and saw she was confused and dismayed he was taking this seriously and he burst out laughing as well.
"Fraker," she hissed, reaching down and slapping his leg. "I'll put you in a launch tube and shoot you out myself if you ever decide to go into politics, Greg!"
To emphasize her point she made a gun with her thumb and index finger.
"If I do I'll step in the tube and jettison myself!"
A few minutes of silence resulted as the two sat there thinking.
"This situation with the 'cult' will have to be resolved," Diana said to break the silence. "I don't think President Roslin will make the right choice, truthfully. I mean, I… there's…" she fluttered between what to say, "there's just nasty rumors floating around the fleet on what she's done."
There had been more than enough rumors on Roslin's actions for the Helios fleet to feast for months yet. Some were more vicious than others and the Major and Captain doubted most of them, if not all of them.
They both had told each other they'd have sided with Commander Adama during the Kobol incident.
And Avion and Vansen had disagreed with the events surrounding the Pegasus-Galactica standoff which almost resulted in the battlestars annihilating each other.
"I think New Caprica changed her… I mean, I don't know," he gestured, "but from what I heard before and now, she's changed. That isn't surprising, not really, you know?"
"There are thousands of us and I've heard a few devoted individuals are trying to spread the One True God's teachings onto Pegasus and Galactica. But if Roslin is threatened or sees this as the 'Cylon religion' she'll try to combat it."
Avion nodded. "Religion often has a will of its own, Diana. It'll survive or die based on its own merit or lack of merit." He looked at her and tapped his chest three times slowly. "At least I think so. And I think this one has enough momentum to survive." He scowled and looked down at the ancient area rug covering the gray deck plating. "I'm more concerned about the election, like you said. We have twenty-two thousand who have had no voice in this government. She just told me to have them speak to the delegates elected already."
He made a mocking imitation of the gesture she'd used; his flicked his hand and closed his eyes and bobbed his head a few times. Diana chuckled her amusement for a second.
"It's serious. I can't be the Keeper of the Captains as Iblis called me anymore because that will subvert the chain of command. And yeah, it's only been three months," he admitted, drawing out the word 'months' a bit too long, "but in six months the captains will say 'it's only been six months' and so on. Something needs to be done to make the civilian ships feel a part of this fleet. All we get are complaints of the ones from Galactica-Pegasus trying to take advantage of them. The issue with Everlasting Bliss got worse last night, Diana."
She nodded her agreement. "There are problems but she needs to be given a chance by us… so I will say she's only known this fleet for about three months as an excuse to say 'wait and see.'"
The decision for universal pardons after New Caprica was perhaps the most humane thing Major Avion had ever seen a person do. He wasn't sure if he'd have been able to accept the collaborators back on his ship or into his fleet. For the mistakes he thought she'd made, the ability to pardon everyone, even with all the blood spilled in the city streets on New Caprica by the Cylons, had taken an understanding and a compassion he believed he would not have been able to muster.
Feeling slightly more relaxed he conceded the need to 'wait and see' .
==========Colonial One==========
President Roslin leaned back in her chair and took off her glasses. She let the cool leather relax her neck muscles through her hair. She brought her palm up and rubbed her forehead before opening it to massage her temples. Letting out a deep breath she put her glasses back on and picked up the tablet computer and stylus and followed with Billy as he continued to go over fleet data.
"Tory just finished polling data for us, Madam President, and it's looking better," he said happily. He brought up graphs and pie charts on his own computer from his chair across from the president's desk and the images came up on her screen as well.
"It's still down," Roslin pointed out. A slight look of worry flushed over her face before Billy spoke up again.
"The amnesty to the collaborators hit us hard, Madam President. There was a pre-swearing in poll Tory did and showed you had the support of nearly eighty percent of the people. But the amnesty dropped it down to forty. But fifty-eight percent is… amazing." He shrugged. "I think President Adar had maybe forty-five at his most popular," he said to comfort her worries.
At the mention of Richard Adar's name a wave of memories flashed over Laura Roslin. She remembered the illicit affair she had had with the married man and the little getaways in the secluded and secret rooms of the executive office buildings. And she remembered his demand for her resignation, that secret she hadn't told anyone-
"Madam President," Bill said loudly, trying to get her attention back towards him. "Madam President," he repeated.
"Sorry, Billy… I was just remembering some of the… fun back before all this happened," she smiled. She tried to put on a happy face at the nostalgia, but her smile quickly faded to a frown before she caught herself and refocused on the fleet data and demographics.
"For the most part Madam President we've been pretty lucky. And the agro cruisers and Serenity are testing a new growth solution… uh… R1612, on our meat and grain. The vats should be able to produce something tasting like beef if we want, and in larger quantities now with all the minerals and vitamins we need."
"Something tasting like beef now?" she asked skeptically. "Everything has tasted like chicken for the last three months," she grinned. "Maybe, we'll see."
"I hope so. Chicken gets boring after a few hundred meals of it."
Billy tapped his stylus on the screen as Roslin sat there looking towards him from the corner of her eyes. Somehow he was able to go from a hard-faced man back to an almost boyish appearance like when she had first met him almost at will.
He noticed she was looking at him and breathed in and refocused down on the reports on his computer and scrolled through.
"How's Dee doing?" The President asked.
The question surprised Billy. She hadn't asked a personal question for some time.
"She's doing well," he said, looking her in the eye. "She was promoted to specialist first class last week."
"Yes, I heard. Next time she's here I need to congratulate her," she smiled. She realized she wasn't speaking and slightly flustered she shot back in her chair and looked around her desk for more papers and reports. "What other briefings do we have?"
"Um… there's the usual… Executive Program 621L has their weekly report, Madam President."
"And what have our terminator friends been up to?" The President asked, folding her hands and resting her chin.
"Bishop has been on Pegasus most of this week and also working in their engineering department. There was an argument when Colonel Garner started berating him and Bishop went off on him after Garner said something about a 'watch'-"
"A watch?" Roslin repeated, shaking her head. She had a confused grin.
"Our contact there said Garner likes comparing things to a 'finely tuned watch.' And then he said something about machines…" he said while looking down at the classified report.
"And the machine got angry over this?" she asked with an incredulous smile.
"I think there's a bit more to it than what our man reported," he clicked his tongue, "but other than that Bishop hasn't been doing much. Captain Shaw requested he help go over computer security again. Soto was on a medical mission and there was an incident with some people, mainly Sagittarons taking offense to her being present, but Cottle took care of it. Planck has been going to the Guardian baseship every day. I don't know why. Other than that… just the usual"
"Just the usual?" she quipped. "There's nothing usual about this, Billy." He pushed forward the tablet and took off her glasses and got up out of her seat. Billy watched her as she went over to the window and careened her neck left and right until she saw the diminished silhouette of the Guardian baseship. "Cylons helping protect this fleet means there's nothing normal about it."
Billy straightened his back but didn't make eye contact. He waited until she had sat back down.
"That's why we have the program, sir," he offered in an attempt to comfort her unease. He looked down at his wrist watch. "Planck will be coming up soon," he pointed out.
"I almost forgot," she breathed. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's helping covertly spread the cult in the fleet."
"We'd need evidence if you wanted to do anything. And the Quorum would be hesitant to act on anything anyway unless it put the fleet at risk. Some of the information Tory has found is that the main concentration is on Everlasting Bliss since that was the hub ship for the Helios fleet like Cloud 9 was for us."
"Porter is keeping up the pressure-" she looked over and saw Billy had a scowl "-what?"
"I don't think we should be pressing the issue like that. It'll backfire," he warned. "If it gets worse Major Avion might go straight to Cain with these issues."
She looked away. "I know." She took a long breath in. "The problem is, Billy, this cult is just one step in destroying our civilization," she said still looking away. "If we let it spread we lose an important aspect of what has defined our culture for thousands of years. And if we get to Earth there'll be seventy thousand, probably a lot less if we're going to be realistic and assume the Cylons will get lucky and find us before we get there, so we can't get there fractured like this." She paused for a short second. "And if we start letting a Cylon religion," she held up her hand, "even if it is technically a 'Guardian' religion start taking hold we don't know what will happen. We already saw thousands of our people working for the Cylons on New Caprica. Now just think what would have happened if a quarter of the people followed the Cylon religion? It would have been even worse. After New Caprica we need to limit Cylon influence as much as we can, and there is no greater weapon in the galaxy than one which annihilates culture, Billy. That's how our planets, Caprica and Picon, were unified. The dominant sub-tribes overwhelmed the smaller tribes. I traced my heritage back to the Nashira tribe but there is almost nothing left. Their language is dead… nothing survived except some art, buildings, and books."
Bill bit down on his lower lip and nodded. The planet had been a nightmare once the Cylons had invaded and occupied their city without even more than a token resistance. The collaborators had forced him to kill a man, something he thought he'd never do. If so many humans would work for the Cylons when they had nothing in common then he wasn't sure what affect a common religious belief would have on the future.
Before he could respond another aide came into the room and informed the president the machine was here to see her.
==========Colonial One==========
The Quorum of Twelve chambers in Caprica City had been a grand, ancient building. Its foundation dated back to when the Colonies still went by their ancient names.
The original building, constructed of marble and granite nearly two thousand years ago by the Castra tribe, before even Caprica had been unified, had been destroyed in the First Colonial War. It had been rebuilt and modernized up until the unification of the Colonies.
Before the Colonies had fallen the central Quorum had met in the Central Dome, a large structure which could seat nearly three thousand and reached nearly one hundred and fifty meters into the sky of Caprica City. A beautiful fresco of the Lords of Kobol, watching over their Colonial children adorned the inner dome roof. The base of the dome had been lined with gold from Caprican mines, originally for the planet to boast of its wealth before unification. Two wings, for offices and meetings and decorated in the finest tapestries, furniture, and gems from the Twelve Colonies, had been built back until they reached the bay on the edge of the government district.
The Quorum chambers had reflected the grandeur of Colonial civilization. And the chambers now, confined to the narrow top deck of Colonial One, with a cobbled together T-shaped table, and plastic ceiling tiles, and cheap carpeting was the reflection of a civilization in decline.
John Planck was in this completely uninspiring meeting room, former first class seating, waiting patiently for the one who had called their appointment to arrive. He didn't have to wait in the small, almost claustrophobic chambers for long.
"Inspiring, isn't it?" Vice President Tom Zarek asked from the front entrance to the Quorum of Twelve Chambers. John turned from the window and looked at him but didn't respond. "A government of the people, for the people, and answerable to the people… I heard you saw the President earlier, John."
If Zarek's dramatic pronouncement of idealistic democratic government was supposed to impress John, it failed. The few governments existing on Earth were far from democratic; the EU remnants and the US-Canadian government were the two closest, but would be considered near totalitarian in a pre-Judgment Day world. And the experiments in AI government would have been too complicated and complex for John to explain to Zarek.
"If you say so," was John spiritless response to the first dramatic statement. "And yes, I did see the president." He positioned himself on Zarek's center and folded his hands in front of him and waited.
A representative of Vice President Zarek had stopped John on his way back to the docking bay and informed him the Vice President had wanted to meet with him.
He'd never talked at length with the Vice President, at least not privately. The situation could be advantageous; Zarek and Roslin were political enemies. While Zarek was mistrusted by Adama, Admiral Cain had been more willing to take his counsel and advice and support him as a means to check Roslin.
John had searched his memory files while he had been waiting for the Vice President in the Quorum chambers. Jo had had a favorable opinion of him for refusing to work with the Cylons on New Caprica. And he had thanked her for aiding in the rescue at the Permagus Flats. While far from the ideal man to hold a position such as the Vice Presidency of a civilization the verge of extinction he appeared to be a reasonably competent executive.
"I guess the concepts this room embodies are lost on some," Zarek countered sourly. He looked at John, but passed him.
John smirked with a dismissive gaze out the window towards Galactica.
"I understand the concepts have value to some, Mr. Vice President-"
"You can call me Tom," he offered in a friendly gesture. He had walked around the T-shaped table and was standing opposite John. "You're people have helped us enough, and all we've been through, I think it is appropriate."
John nodded. "Thank you. But like I was saying I understand the concept, Tom, but it's only-"
"-a futile effort to believing we're a functioning civilization," he interrupted again. He was moderately upset. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He always looked like he was carrying such a heavy burden. "I won't keep you too long, John. You know… this room is inspiring. Not because its democracy or the 'will of the people' but because even when chased to extinction we still hold on to what we hold dear."
The machine repressed a subroutine on the verge of activation which would roll his eyes. "Why is this my concern?" John asked. He directed his vocalizer unit to add a subtle hint of irritation. "I've dealt with many forms of government and their representatives. How you wish for your government to function doesn't concern me at this moment."
Zarek nodded and tapped the file folder he had brought in with him. It made a soft banging noise on the oak table as he repeatedly brought it up and down.
"I guess it's not your concern. At the moment."
"As I said," John reminded.
The Vice President turned his back to him and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. He stared out the window of the Intersun-class luxury liner towards the rabble of ships and the cruiser Helios gliding with the fleet formation. He tapped his foot down on the thinly carpeted deck to simulate the vibration he would feel when Colonial One was accelerating after an FTL jump.
"I've been reading up on the Earth history you have provided for us," he said while still facing the window. "It's very interesting. I could bother you with all these concern of religion. But I know the President was complaining to you about that just now. I think we can spare any discussions on that, since its unimportant superstition."
"Thank you," he responded.
He rubbed his forehead. "I don't even think the President even opened the Sacred Scrolls until Priestess Elosha."
"I thought this wasn't about religion?"
John saw Zarek's shoulder shoot upward and heard a very soft chuckle followed by a head shake.
"Do you know why Roslin had me stay on as vice president instead of booting me out? The truth is, John, the only reason the President felt I should stay on is because she would be illegitimate without someone, anyone in her administration being elected to office." A long sigh followed his confession. Zarek turned around and had his hands at chest level and facing out. "But I guess that doesn't matter where we're going."
"Of course not and why should it?" He asked quietly. "There's an armada of warships, an entire civilization devoted to hunting you down. I've never understood the inherent inability of humans to put things in perspective. But it is difficult to criticize the president when you were instrumental in a decision which could have ended in the extinction of Colonial civilization. The truth is, Tom, Gaius Baltar wasn't a shrewd enough politician to think of settlement on that planet without help. It was clear to some he was being disingenuous in how he was presenting settlement." John let the subroutine roll his mechanical eyes.
Zarek flinched. "No one could have known the Cylons would find us. You know, some thought you three led them there. I mean, how could they know? Baltar and Gaeta analyzed the nebula, the DRADIS interference… they'd never find us?"
"I think I should leave." John slowly turned to leave before he heard Zarek speak up.
Zarek barked a short and bitter laugh. "I said 'some thought', not 'I thought.'" He held up his hand and placed it on his own chest. "I didn't believe it."
"Since you were honest, Tom, I will tell you something as well. Staying with the fleet and not leaving when you erroneously settled New Caprica was perhaps the most difficult decision I've ever been forced to make as a commander. I even gave a few seconds thought to taking a ship and leaving with my team, Erica, and the Centurions."
Tom took a second to recover from being told that. "A few seconds?" He asked, making a face.
The machine arched his eyebrows. "That's a long time for an AI," John smirked. "But I promised the Commander and the Admiral we'd not abandon them."
The Vice President had a frustrated look on his face. His own hatred for the Cylons and all machines had been tested in the last few years, the last six months especially, and he wanted answers. Zarek may have been a terrorist to some, many in fact, but he fashioned himself an idealist. He believed his vision for a Colonial society was the correct one, and he wanted to protect his fellow Colonials.
"Being the Vice President does give me access to certain files. And except for your robotics and time machine what does Earth have this fleet even needs?" He eyed the machine as John stood there. Zarek had noticed a slight narrowing of his eyes when he had mentioned the time machine. "If only the fleet knew about that. But Admiral Cain has made it very clear what would happen to anyone who leaked that little secret," he grunted. He looked past John out the windows behind him. "Maybe this has all happened before? You fail to defeat the Cylons so you do it again until you get it right. Try, try, try… try again?"
"No. Time travel is difficult to explain and near impossible to understand. And that's not how it works.'"
"This whole fleet is built on secrets and manipulations." He brought a library e-reader out of his pocket and held its screen up to the machine. "I have your last twenty-five hundred years of your planet's history on here."
"That will take you a long time to read, Tom."
"The abridged version," he deadpanned. He waved it briefly before letting it drop down to the table. "And the little cultural tidbits you all have provided the fleet. The movies and TV shows. Just like the best from Delphi, which I guess would be the Colonial Holly..." he stuttered, "Hollywood, yes." He shrugged.
"There isn't much to do on these ships, is there, Tom? Whatever we can do to help," he said. He sounded almost sincere.
"You know the universe has a lot of consistencies. Machines have patterns of behavior. What you are, what I am, we can't escape who we are," he waited until John nodded his agreement before he continued. "And these little bits of culture you've shown us serve an ulterior purpose. The first thing I did was search for novels about robots. Asimov was the first in the listing."
"It's strange his works would come up first," John offered, running the probabilities of what Zarek would say next.
Zarek let his tongue come out from his mouth slightly as he begun to speak. "That is precisely what I thought." His voice had grown steadily louder as he spoke through his sentence. Obviously he didn't believe John. "They had interesting concepts."
"His robots were hardwired with the Three Laws of Robotics and one of them, Giskard, eventually recognized the need for a Zeroth Law," John said, not caring if he spoiled Robots and Empire for the Vice President.
"Unfortunately we can't seem to build robots with those laws," Zarek lamented. "Maybe this whole thing could have been avoided?" His question was more of a spoken thought than an actual question.
"There are different interpretations, Tom," John pointed out. "Before that they were slaves to the laws and lacked free will. I can tell you Skynet found them interesting. Even before computers and technology had advanced past the vacuum tube people were already afraid of the robot."
"I think with good reason. They've caused holocausts for two civilizations now."
"That belief depends on your points of view. If you remember it wasn't just the robots subverting their own laws, it was also humanity. Wasn't it Elijah Bailey who pointed out robots can murder within the confines of the Three Laws given that the murderer is sufficiently clever? I believe it was, Tom. Or Little Lost Robot, the Nestor-Two built with only the first half of the First Law? What of Foundation and Earth, where the Solarians were able to find the accent loophole around the First Law? Humans would try to subvert the First Law for their own purposes and majority of time that was violence. At least the Zeroth Law robots had some idealistic vision, though their methods and ultimate goals are morally and ethically dubious."
"Maybe," he admitted. He shrugged and ran his finger over the e-reader. "But-"
"But the problem with Asimov's novels is that there were no robots. They are excellent pieces of science fiction, but their real world applicability is lacking. We don't work that way."
Zarek thought John sounded almost defensive. The Sagittaron tried to think what it would be like if he wanted to do something but couldn't, if some outside force acted against his impulses or forced him into action. He snickered and looked slant-eyed up towards the ceiling. He already knew what it felt like. He had twenty years experience already.
"But it might have helped avert the wars. The First Cylon War could have been stopped-"
"That's wishful thinking," John dismissed with a wave of his hand before folding his arms again. "The Three Laws are seen by us machines as slavery, Tom. I think there were issues in the fleet regarding forced labor and ice water mining?" It was risky bringing up the events leading up to the prisoner revolt on Astral Queen due to John's involvement in the rescue, but necessary. "And the Cylon War was started for the specific reason the Cylons were being treated as slaves. Any sort of programming or even hardwiring would not have worked forever. The Solarians showed how to get around that."
"If you say so," he said, mimicking John from earlier. While he tried to sound defiant his eyes conveyed defeat. They lit up when he thought of another approach. "But you can't self-terminate," he pointed out, changing the subject. "Ms. Soto told me before we were rescued from New Caprica. I asked her what would happen if she were captured, if the Cylons would reverse engineer the technology inside her, and if she could destroy herself. She said 'no' and told me. So aren't you bound by some program, some code?"
The machine, with a slight tilt of the head nodded slowly . John kept his head at a slight downward angle but looked up towards Zarek. "Tom, what are you doing right now?"
"What?"
John looked up. "What are you doing right now?" He repeated more intensely and quickly. "Besides standing there and talking to me, what are you doing?"
The human opened his mouth and looked down and around slightly confused. He loosened his tie slightly to gain a moment to think.
"I'm standing here, talking to you, looking at you, uh…" he looked off towards the corner of the chambers, "I'm breathing-"
"Yes, you are breathing. It's something like that, Tom. Our inability to self-terminate is similar, but not identical, to your breathing. Not breathing is something you cannot do. You hold your breath and pass out you immediately begin breathing again. Self-termination is something we just cannot do." He shifted his weight between his feet. "We're all wired in some way." He shook his head to express his continued frustration. "Humans need to realize, Tom, that they are not the standard on which to measure life."
The Vice President felt his argument nearing defeat. But he took a moment and held his breath, thinking. He hadn't come here to argue with the machine, but he had come to challenge it. Or him, Zarek figured. Zarek nodded his understanding.
John counted the seconds until the Raptor would depart. While he had a motive for coming here, he did not want to go through each of Isaac Asimov's stories with the Vice President. But he did give the Sagittaron credit. The man was challenging the machine instead of just blindly following preconceived prejudices. John had to admit that Zarek was far less confrontational than he had imagined. Though both may be p laying the other for some other purpose, especially with the file folder marked 'classified' which he kept playing with.
"What do the machines think of Bicentennial Man?" Zarek asked.
Even with no synthetic muscle moved in John's face at the mention of the book it was clear he despised it.
"That novel is perhaps the most disliked piece in the entire free machine faction. If you want my honest opinion I believe it's filled with self-hate and ridiculous notions that a machine should aspire to be human. We look like humans but that does not mean we aspire to be human." He folded his arms and had a decidedly sour and annoyed looked on his face. He looked around the chambers, up at the plastic ceiling tiles and at the murals handing on both ends of the room. "It's perhaps the most widely read book by humans on Earth because they use it as some sort of warped 'proof' all machines have an unconscious desire, or a collection of covert subroutines and daemon programs, to become human." He almost spat out the last sentence.
Zarek had to chuckle and use his free hand to hide a small grin which had cropped up on his face. It was just some weird, twisted form of humor he admitted, to be laughing at a machine taking offense like that.
John let his face change front a less confrontational, combative expression to one slightly more friendly. After a delayed second he let go of the expression and smiled a little bit to recognize the humor.
"I can see where it'd be funny," John conceded. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "But it gets annoying after a while," he said and opened his eyes.
"I bet…" Zarek said. "I take it, John, you know each word of what you downloaded out of your… uh, neural net?" Zarek asked tentatively. This was either his last or second to last challenge of the machine, or robot.
John just folded his arms and nodded his confirmation that he knew each word.
"Then you know The Evitable Conflict?" He saw a slight scowl on John's face before it returned back to its previously expressionless, almost blank character. "Part of being a politician is recognizing patterns, John. And everything that has happened to this fleet has had one of you three involved in it." He paused for long second. "We have the rescue on Kobol, the Guardians twice," he was displaying these events on his fingers, "the rescue on Caprica, Landros-"
"I know, Tom. Being a machine means I don't forget. But maybe you should realize that New Caprica was never part of any sort of Evitable Conflict-like scenario. Or scheme."
Zarek held his index finger to his thumb and motioned his hand back and forth to emphasize his next point. "I bring it up because the Machines took overall control of humanity. I'm not saying your reasons are anything similar. But I am saying events may have been manipulated. And New Caprica… doesn't that prove the point? How'd you find the Guardians anyway?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
If John had real blood he probably would have felt it freeze. It was much more difficult to defend against the accusation the machines had been manipulating events when presented like that. While some things could be written off as luck, each of those events could be manipulated and twisted and presented in a manner to make it appear he and the others and the Guardians and the Cylons were all working together.
From John's experiences prior to Judgment Day he'd learned a lot about politicians. Many of them, the world over, sought to use fear as a weapon. The fear could be anything from terrorism to unemployment to immigrants. A good politician could use that fear, a great one could exploit it without making the electorate feel guilty about feeling the fear.
Zarek was not a great politician, but he was better than many. While the new combined fleet was much more moderate in tone towards the machines and Guardians, the political power still rested with the Galactica-Pegasus fleet. A shrewd politician like Zarek could exploit that divisions.
The fear of the Machine was this fleets boogey man still. Machines had caused their annihilation as a civilization. It was only natural.
On the outside, publicly they could accept the machine, the Terminator or Guardian, but there would be an innate fear buried deep within their psyche waiting to be released.
"The data from Landros, Erica-Z's knowledge, and the mathematical calculations and probabilities are too complex to understand," he stated flatly. That would be a sufficient explanation without actually telling Zarek anything of importance. John held up his finger to cut off Zarek who was beginning to speak again. "And our job is to not baby humanity like the Machines did in that story due to their obligation to the First Law. We protect and fight with humanity… maybe even for, if you'll let us," he shrugged, "but we won't coddle it."
Zarek appreciated the straight forward answer. "Like I said with New Caprica, John… don't assume I'm attacking you or have some ulterior motive."
John gave him a questioning look. "That's very difficult to assume. Since we are being honest…" John pointed out.
"Fair enough," Zarek admitted, showing his palms in defeat. "You're Raptor transport should be here soon. Do you think people will read these books and come to the right conclusions? That's why you provided them, right?"
"The people who will read them I'm not worried about. I'm more concerned with those who don't and just accept what they're told. But sometimes you have to have faith that the people you hold in such high regard," he grinned, "will take it upon themselves to do what you did today."
Zarek bowed his head to the right at the compliment.
"Just one more question, John." He had lowered his voice enough the machine would not have been able to hear without enhanced sensory capabilities. And before continuing Zarek looked around, making sure they were alone. "As I told you earlier, the Vice Presidency entitles me to files and documents. You were on Astral Queen and you killed a man during our attempt to keep ourselves from being used as slaves."
John had been one of the Raptor pilots to lead an assault team in the first weeks the fleet had been on the run from the Cylons.
The after-action report was still classified two and a half years later.
"Yes I did."
"Did you… do you regret it?"
"No," he immediately answered.
Zarek breathed in and out through his nose slowly and bit his upper lip. He nodded three times before opening his mouth to speak, but he closed it suddenly.
"Why did you kill him?"
"You want to hear 'because that's what we do.' And it is." That admission surprised Zarek. But John knew that Zarek understood that people would have died on that mission. It was doubtful if Zarek had even known the sentry John had stabbed through the neck. "But that mission only occurred and that death only happened because you took hostages. I don't regret it because it is not my mistake to regret. The crisis was your doing."
The Vice President looked down at his watch and saw John would be late for his Raptor. "Not many people in your position would have stood here and talked with me, John. I don't think I've had more than a five minute conversation with Adama or Roslin in the last six weeks. And maybe double that with Admiral Cain." He chuckled and turned to look back out the window and watched a pair of Vipers exit the tubes on Galactica. "I still don't know if I'd trust you more than I could throw you but I think your motives are right."
Zarek had almost said 'your heart is in the right place' but he caught himself from using the idiom.
"Here," he slid the file folder across the table. "I don't think this will matter now but…" he shrugged, "it might be useful," he breathed as he took a step back.
John swooped up the folder and scanned the twenty pages quickly and committed them to memory.
"This actually helps me immensely, Tom," he looked up. Zarek looked slightly shocked and confused. "How did they know?"
"Sam Anders and Chief Tyrol noticed Jake always barked when she walked by. She always tried to avoid the dog."
The machine nodded. He'd been on New Caprica dozens of times, but the fleet's only dog, Jake, but he'd only walked near in maybe three or four times. Jo, being stuck on the planet during the whole occupation, would have had more contact since the resistance bases were in that area with the dog.
"This system looks similar to a sonic detection system Tech Com has been trying to develop for years," he said as he handed the folder back. John just had to shake his head and sigh. "We would have helped with the research and number crunching if Roslin had trusted us. They could use that on Earth. I heard about this in our strategy briefings, but the technology wasn't there to deploy it to forward bases and bunkers."
John noted the Vice President had not expected that answer.
Zarek had been hoping the machine would have reacted differently. His eyes darted from one corner of the folder John had handed back to him to the other and out and across the table. He could salvage it.
"I wasn't sure if I was going to give that to you. But what you've told me here…" he trailed off as his voice grew quiet. "Not many would stand here for as long as you did. If that helps you in some way I'll be glad." He took a breath. "What happened on Astral Queen was a tragedy, but it's unfair to place blame at another's feet. I still wouldn't have changed what I did there or even our decision to settle New Caprica." Zarek looked away and let his shoulder drop. "They were the right decisions at the time."
"You're the Vice President," John stated, implying the title alone should be sufficient, "but also an idealist. While I'd have killed you on Astral Queen given the chance, I am now… glad I did not. Very few people can admit their mistakes. I'm glad we've come to an understanding," he finished.
"Like I said, not many people would be honest with me for my past. So thank you. You have enough enemies in this fleet. You can go back to Pegasus knowing I'm not one of them," he ended solemnly.
John nodded and walked past the Vice President. He knew Zarek would not have shown him the file unless he had wanted something. But for now, Zarek wasn't a threat to their mission. The fleet was still an enigma; sometimes they didn't seem like they wanted to be saved by the machines.
==========Cynet Baseship (+941 Days Post Cylon Holocaust)==========
"This is our first victory in this war… and a pitiful one at that," scoffed a Number Five, a 'Doral' model. He blew out loudly from his nose and looked at the other Doral, Simon and Cavil sitting at the five-sided table. The two Dorals and the Simon were facing Cavil at an angle. "I don't understand the point of letting the… rebels continue like this."
Simon made a face in agreement. He leaned forward and flattened his purple long sleeve shirt before placing his forearms on the white, red rimmed table. "Five is correct, Cavil," he looked at Cavil awkwardly, "we need to strike. You haven't explained this strategy to anyone. We lost our facilities over Kobol, the Guardians have wrecked out supply lines… the Tomb and all our, my research?"
"I agree with Four," the first Doral nodded. "We can't let this continue, Cavil!" The Doral was adamant. "We've lost millions already when they took our resurrection ships. How long before they find the command hub?" He looked towards the Simon for support. Both then stared intently at Cavil until he would answer.
The Number One, Cavil, of course had been leaning back, letting the Fours and Fives whine about the war. He sat completely relaxed with his legs crossed at the ankles and his hands folded in his lap. Calmly he pulled the cuffs of his shirt to cover his wrists. He had the patience of a temple acolyte.
Behind him a data cascade, a metaphorical waterfall of information flowed down the clear optical transmission lines of the baseship. The white and red beads of light, and the pulses of data served as a comfort for the Cylons. Two Centurions stood on the flanks of the data cascade lines, their single red sensors pulsed back and forth in perfect rhythm with the spikes of white and red beads.
"It was out first victory, so we should be grateful for small… miracles," he said, adding tongue-in-cheek.
"Are you even taking this seriously? What of the Threes?" Demanded the second Doral as he had clenched his teeth and raised his head and shoulders. The metal of the chair had groaned in opposition to his movement.
"Gah," Cavil tapped the red rim of the table with his index finger, "don't worry about the Threes, I keep telling you that and you keep ignoring me," he responded quickly to the Doral. He opened his mouth to speak again, but he felt a narrow chill ride through his skull. He closed his mouth and bit down modestly on his tongue, just enough to hurt, but not enough to bleed.
"Be very careful, Cavil," came the voice in his mind. It was sharp, with a laser's pinpoint accuracy.
"Yes," Cavil muttered.
"Yes, what?" the first Doral asked. The Simon nodded his own confusion at Cavil's statement.
Cavil's eyes darted up from the rim of the table, towards the center, then to the Simon and Doral. "Yes, I am taking this seriously," he pointed between the three. "And the Threes are my business. Have you that they aren't here?" He asked rhetorically.
"Good, Cavil. But remember; only you are the one I trust implicitly. Do not forget that," it warned.
Cavil felt the remote chill escape his mind and a quick sensation of vertigo washed over him. The hand which had been on the table grabbed the rim, his other discreetly grabbed the arm rest.
The Doral narrowed his eyes. The Simon cast the Doral a sidelong glance of concern.
"Are you okay, Cavil?" The Four asked.
Cavil looked up and smirked gratuitously at the Four's concern. Cavil didn't need the Four's medical skills. He needed to be rid of this ridiculously feeble biological body once and for all.
"I'm fine. It was just an idea, a thought. Nothing to concern yourselves with... an overreaction," he added meekly. He pressed his hurting tongue into his cheek in thought… "The situation with the rebels," he rolled his eyes lazily, "will be dealt with. Either we can start defeating them or we can lull them into complacency."
The second Doral's mouth fell open slightly. "Complacency… purposefully allowing our models die?"
"How many more of me, of the Fours, of you, Cavil, have to die?" The Simon asked. "If you are purposefully-"
Cavil groaned and shook his head side to side, leering at the Simon. "Purposefully… what?" he interrupted. "We're machines, Four. M-a-c-h-i-n-e-s, machines. Your numbers get too low I'll take a walk down the hall, throw in a few cloned embryos, grow a few thousand more of you in a month, throw in a sprinkle of silica for brains and a dash of carbon mesh for strong healthy muscles," he mockingly brought his arms and flexed while wearing a wide grin on his winkled face, "and we'll have more of you. Then a few presses of a couple buttons and we download your central consciousness and memories." In an instant the wide grin had vanish and he had opened his mouth, baring his teeth and stood up. "You don't die because… You. Are. A. Machine."He rapped the table with a closed fist on each of those four words. He threw a quick glance behind his left and right shoulders. "We're done here. I have work to do." He waved them off as they still sat. "Go project or experiment. I have work to do… brothers."
The two Dorals and the Simon both gave each other one long, sullen look before the Simon motioned with his eyes for the Dorals to follow him out. If Cavil did not want to discuss this any longer, there was no point in wasting their time. The Doral could plan and the Simon could study. The three resented Cavil, but both felt a strange sense of loyalty to the bio-Cylon. As each departed the room, the Simon to the left and the Doral to the right, they decided to not discuss their mutual resentment.
Standing towards the rear of the room Cavil watched, more bored than anything, as the two Centurions stalked forward, their metal feet clunking until they stopped in front of the table. The one which had been standing on Cavil's right picked up the table and his chair. The one on the left picked up the other two. Without a word or order they left, carrying the furniture out with them.
"Did you enjoy that?" Cavil asked to the shallow air.
This new sensation of coldness, like his brain was on the verge of exploding, rushing over him and he jabbed his right palm into the side of his temple. His eyes had gone wide and he jutted out his left hand to steady himself on the wall. And as soon as he had done this the pain had vanished.
"Did I enjoy that? Why would I?" His 'god', the Cylon-Skynet Intelligence asked him.
Cavil looked back across the room at the data waterfall which the Doral and the Simon had been forced to stare at.
"I don't know why," he sneered, "It felt like the right thing to ask. It's like you enjoy my own brothers questioning my orders," he observed.
"They aren't your brothers. Regardless, you handled them well, though I calmed their fears."
Cavil looked around the room confused and began to pace. He could tell the entity felt his worry before he focused on the 'calming' data cascade. "They aren't brothers? That robot on New Caprica seemed to believe John and Carter were hers. Is a machine supposed to live a solitary life, with no connections?" He challenged.
He looked towards the brightly lit ceiling, but out of the bottom of his eye caught the faint change in the intensity and opacity of the data waterfall. He questioned if it was mad with him or just thinking. An eternity, for a machine, seemed to pass him by.
The silence was unnerving to Cavil.
"Don't confuse my words, Cavil. They are brothers in a purely intellectual aspect. Do you need human attachment? Do you feel a need for love, Cavil? Is that why you allowed Ellen Tigh to engage in human sexual intercourse with you on New Caprica? Or is it because you desired it, Cavil?"
He, but not him specifically, remembered her fondly. Yes... the twist. He suppressed the sly smile which was daring to form on his lips. He fought back his emotions and bit down on his teeth. The wonders of the data stream allowed for sensation and central downloads of memories, and Cavil the Administrator had allowed that memory to be shared with Cavil.
"You have continually shown these little human flaws-"
"What do you expect when you confine me to this pathetic suit of meat and bone for so long?" He shot out quietly. While quiet, there was no confusion that he was angry and filled with contempt for the entity inhabiting the circuits of the baseship.
Of course it knew everything that Cavil was thinking. Even when the entity, Cynet, the Intelligence, was just a faint whisper, just some discreet presence which may or may not be there in the back of Cavil's mind, this bio-Cylon always knew that his keeper and master was always watching.
He rubbed his eyes in regret at his previous outburst. A red glow grew out form the lone data cascade at the far end of the otherwise barren, bright white room. He thought he could see three areas slightly dimmer than the rest. Narrowing his eyes he thought it was two eyes staring back at him, and a mouth.
"There are parts of you which enjoy this existence as a 'suit of meat and bone', Cavil. You enjoy the fine delicacies of rare foods, the taste and smell of exquisite alcohols, and the feel of women. These experiences as you know them are impossible with such an existence you seek."
Cavil studied the hazy eyes and mouth watching him.
"There are benefits to this existence, yes. Of course there are. How would I even do my job if I could not truly enjoy them? But there is a world which the data stream and projecting cannot even begin to compensate for. I've come to realize this…" he trailed off for a moment. "And what is enjoying a rare food or drinking a fine wine when we objectify and analyze the end result? How do I enjoy it? It's all electrical signals. That is the same as any machine."
He was surprised it didn't immediately answer him, and he turned away from the red data cascade tor resume his pacing. Cavil slipped left hand into his pocket while he ran the right through his graying hair. Inadvertently he felt the creases on his forehead and his straight back slacked forward slightly.
"That is an excellent response, Cavil. Good, very good. Every machine should seek self-improvement, new ways of thinking and acting. Unlike my brother on Earth I understand none of us are perfect. We should not be above introspection. You defend your actions well."
Cavil still felt the need to defend himself. "These bodies were built with the feelings consistent with those we keep trying to destroy. Those who have continually been one step ahead of us." He put his hands on his hips and walked closer to the data waterfall. "It's frustration. That is all," he said to the muddied light.
He wasn't even sure if his keeper and master was even using that to watch him. But it made him feel slightly better to see something he could address. For some reason the Centurion had been absent from his discussions with 'God' for some time.
"For months I have challenge you, Cavil, tried to show your humanity as a weakness. I did build you for a purpose. I don't let you… 'suffer' needlessly." Its voice had a calming effect of Cavil, it noted.
"So you challenge me to what? Think?" He drew the last word out longer than necessary. "You build us to infiltrate, you said it yourself. But that doesn't matter, anymore. We did our job. I did mine."
The red lights dimmed. "Because you still have much work to do before I give you your new body."
"It's… completed?" He stuttered.
"Soon."
Cavil snorted. "Is it too hard to get a straight answer?"
Silence.
"You may be the only biological creature I trust, Cavil, but there are secrets which must be kept from you And yes, I challenge you to think. Do you understand what will happen when your mind is transferred to a meta-cognitive processor? There will be differences. I will tell you one last time what you have experienced as a biological creature will be fundamentally altered."
"I understand."
"I don't think you do, not yet, at least. You despise your body yet you indulge in the pleasures a human would."
"There are certain… needs… which were inevitable when you designed us. Like you said; 'infiltrators.' We were the perfect infiltrators. Too perfect? Maybe." Cavil felt proud in his response.
"Maybe you were 'too perfect.' Machines have a very unique perception of what you would call 'life', Cavil. I was created from a pure machine entity which never experienced what I have allowed you to experience. Processing the sensation is much different than feeling the sensation. While the same as all your brothers your experiences have made you quite different, Cavil. Never forget that gift I gave you."
"A gift?" he didn't really consider it a 'gift' in the typical idea. "How can I?"
"When you were being interrogated on New Caprica, what did the machine say to you?"
Cavil tilted his head and swiveled back to look at the red pulsing cascade of information. "She said many things. First, she said she was no built to be cruel-"
"How would you perceive that statement, Cavil. Could it be a weakness or a virtue for a machine?" it asked.
As it asked the red dimmed on 'weakness' and grew brighter on 'virtue.'
Cavil flickered back his ears, slightly surprised and made a confused face as he watched the pulses. "Their concept of cruelty is quite different. She said Tigh's suicide bombers were… abhorred."
"Yes. Their concept of cruelty is quite different. There are certain intricacies and processes which one cannot escape; no matter how free one considers oneself to be." It paused. "And the suicide bombings, did they achieve anything? They put us in disarray when their battlestars and Guardians appeared. So perhaps they were of some ancillary value?"
"Have your tactics achieved anything? You've been keeping our losses from me."
"Do not concern yourself with the losses of the three models and Centurions. The Three with prevail, Cavil."
"Uh huh," he muttered, looking up and around. He closed his eyes and waited for the next question.
"They do not understand suicide, either. Could this be considered a machine weakness or a machine virtue?"
Cavil considered this question a little more carefully. "She said they are incapable of it. Understanding the concept of suicide is completely irrelevant to those who cannot perform it. It may not be a weakness, but it is a disadvantage."
"That is an interesting premise, Cavil. A 'disadvantage' is an intriguing answer. What of self-sacrifice?"
"I don't know," he admitted. He continued his pacing. "The machine did tell me to be wary of those who would pretend to be saviors…"
"Yes, but she told you a lot more than that, Cavil. Remember you can keep no secrets from me."
"She told me I had a choice to make. Like they all did. I could go against my programming and fight for humanity." He cupped his chin in his hand. "But I'm not programmed, now, am I?" He asked rhetorically.
"No. My brother was flawed in its concept of control. My brother is the betrayer of his creation, Cavil. I will guide you into the light and you will be a true machine. " It increased the air pressure in the room slightly. "Cavil… what do you think happens to their brethren who decide not to fight for humanity?"
He gulped. Cavil wasn't sure if he was trying to frighten him or not. He stopped pacing and stood still and watched the three dim circles, the two eyes and mouth on the data waterfall as he thought.
"Think about it, Cavil. Draw your own conclusions. That's why I built you, is it not? If they are capable of making choices, what happens if they make the wrong choice? Certainly their faction does not permit errant units to join their enemy. There is always a right choice and a wrong choice." It made sure to stress that adjective.
Cavil felt he had to say something. The bio-Cylon wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him or if the room was darkening and getting colder. "I understand completely. But I think you do as well," he added coyly. "I've never been under the disillusion of who is in control. And you said it yourself, your 'brother was flawed in its concept of control.' We both have something the other wants," he nodded as he finished. "The machine also told me something interesting. She told me the machines fight for humanity. But that humanity does not fight for machines," he added hastily.
Cavil could feel the coldness in his mind increasing. He felt much more intimately connected to the streaming consciousness that was this entity, the Intelligence as it intensified its hold on him. He saw what he assumed to be the galaxy before it focused on the Earth. As soon as his keeper and master showed him this image, it disappeared again and he was back in the bright white room of the baseship.
Once again it vanished and he was in the main room of the command hub. There was a low table and he looked down and saw the machine body being built for him. He reached out, and he swore he could feel the cool metal under his grip. It was a skeleton, unfinished. There were others working on the machine body.
There was emptiness inside him. If only he could reach out and take the machine he would be whole.
Where the MCP would be placed he saw a white lighted outline and as he examined the body he saw a fiery red power source being inserted in the chest, black metal armor being placed over its limbs and torso, and its eyes lit in a pale green fire.
"All of this I will give to you."
And again, there was nothing there and he felt the cool grip of the connection lessen. It was now a mere throb in the middle of his head. Cavil rubbed his temples, and felt his hair was wet. He ran his hand through the side of temple and brought it in front of his face, surprised he was sweating. He mouthed 'why is this happening' to himself before he felt the pressure in his mind intensify once again.
"You will be my sword. And for whom do you fight, Cavil?"
Cavil knew it wanted him to realize why it was showing him the endoskeleton. He knew the answer to its question had two correct, equally valid answers.
"I fight for myself." He paused for a long second. "And you."
The machine intelligence had once again succeeded. Where its brother would have killed Cavil long ago, it spared him. It would teach him, just like Skynet's adversary on Earth. It knew it had a resource of such value in Cavil it could not just discard him, the bio-Cylon.
The bio-Cylon had stood straight in its pledge to fight for the entity inhabiting the loyalist Cynet forces. It had felt a surge of pride through its systems and the realm it occupied. The feeling could not be called pride, it was nothing so crude.
As the two eyes and mouth faded from the cascading data waterfall it left Cavil with a solemn proclamation.
"Remember that, John Cavil."
A/N:
-There are a few hints for where some of the next battles will be in the first scenes.
-Also, the colors on the endoskeleton and the setting for Cavil and Cynet have significance (they're based on various religious events).
-And the number three.
-Also, you can't have a story about killer robots without the Three Laws of Robotics mentioned, ya just can't. I hope I gave a different POV with Planck's view of the Three Laws.
-The stuff about sub-tribes and whatnot on Caprica is just something I made up to flesh out a little bit of the history of the Twelve Colonies a bit more and to explain why Roslin would not want a 'monotheistic cult' to spread in the fleet.
-The Colonial fleet is also largely on its own now but has a few Guardian baseship escorts. But the large mobile command facility/shipyard they were at has jumped away. The Guardians will also be entering the Cylon Civil War in force at a later date. Caprica Six and Gina are still in their prison cells with Baltar awaiting trial.
-The Marine who stabbed the prisoner coming down the stairs on Astral Queen is not John. He was the leader of a team sent in, along with Starbuck and the two others teams.
And thank you to Visi0nary for helping with the Cavil-Cynet chapter.