Chapter 115 Games Played

As Kara emptied the bowl, she kept her gaze locked on the Four where he stood watching her eat. The temptation to lick the last of the thick soup from the bottom just to watch Simon's reaction was strong, but she set the dish aside instead and considered his presence. Several days had passed without either a visit from Leoben or Simon, her meals instead delivered by an Eight she didn't know…and the growing feeling that she'd been forgotten had been strangely unsettling. She had spent the long hours exercising to regain her strength and 'painting' on the walls, all the time trying to devise a plan to escape back to the fleet with the coordinates from her Raptor.

Now she returned Simon's steady gaze with a hard one of her own and wondered at his absence and what his reappearance meant. The sling he still wore perplexed her, but also gave Kara a tangible satisfaction, proof that her actions had consequences for the Cylons.

Finally growing uncomfortable by his silent regard, "So…what gives? You don't call, don't write. Makes a girl think you don't like her," she quipped.

"Good to see you're eating well, Starbuck," he replied. She gave him a careless shrug, unsure of how to take the apparent sincerity in his tone and words.

"Yeah, well, can't say much for the menu selection," she grudgingly said, though secretly thankful for the plentiful soup after so many days of rationing on Galactica. Still, her recovery meant that she was growing hungry for a more substantial meal. Not that she was about to ask the Cylon for anything. She'd rather starve than beg anything from of one of them ever again.

As if he'd read her thoughts, "I'm sure we can arrange something more satisfactory now that your body's adjusting to a regular diet again," Simon said as he drew a pen and notepad from his pocket. She watched him awkwardly jot a few words before slipping both away again and returning his attention to her. "Any lingering nausea or dizziness?" he asked, tone clinically detached, just like so many of the doctors from her past.

So identical in fact, that Kara grew agitated and rose, turning away in clear dismissal.

"Should I take that as a no?" he pressed, a hint of censure in his tone now at her recalcitrancy.

"Take it however you frakkin' want." She kept her back to him, but could almost visualize the tightening of his expression.

"Captain Thrace, I'm just trying to ascertain your physical recovery. It would be easier—" At that, she spun back around and chopped off his words.

"Frak you! Why should I make it easier? You think I give a shit how easy you have it!"

"I understand…" at her glare he trailed off, then tried again. "Fine. I may not understand, but I'm just trying to assure that you're well. Since you won't let me examine you—"

"Damned right."

"Since you won't," he continued, ignoring her interruption, "I just need the answers to a few questions."

Kara let her scowl answer for her.

Then Simon did something that surprised her. He turned to her metal guards and asked, "How are you both today?"

Confusion gripped her as Kara watched the Centurions swivel their heads in unison towards Simon. The strobe of their red eyes stopped as they fixed on the dark man before them.

As the nearest answered, "Satisfactory," then added, "Thank you," Kara retreated a step, the mechanical voice grating along an instinctive fear. The fact that the second guard seemed to nod in agreement made the tableau all the more surreal.

You're frakking kidding me.

"Excellent," the doctor gave an approving nod of his own in response before turning to her and saying, "It appears that at least some of my patients are appreciative of my services." Simon must have seen that she was unable to give voice to the level of confusion that flooded through her, for he explained, "We've spent the last few days removing the inhibitors from our Centurion brothers. No one can recall when or even why they were ever installed, but we voted to restore the freewill that had been taken from them."

Kara gaped at him, searching her memory for an explanation for his words. It wasn't that she didn't understand them, she'd just never given the metal soldiers much thought other than how to best take them down with whatever weapons were available at the time. It had never occurred to her to question their silence and blind obedience to the human-looking ones.

"You're aware that we humanoid models were created by the Centurions after the first war," he paused, then, at her reluctant nod, he continued, "They developed twelve original prototypes from which they later produced the existing copies such as myself."

He moved over and settled one hip on the corner of her bed, a distant look crossing his face as he contemplated his predecessors. She was about to make a quip about kitchen appliances when he abruptly grimaced and raised a hand to his temple. With a small shake of his head, Simon brought his gaze back to her.

"We don't talk about the five unknown models. It's prohibited to even think of them." His tone was oddly strained and she saw him wet his lips. "It's painful…and I've never considered why before. Why the prohibition? Why the inhibitors?" His voice went cold even as he stood. "And who the frak did it to us!"

Kara was both startled and suddenly amused to hear the otherwise so controlled Cylon curse.

"Well, don't look at me," she said, smirk firmly in place as his gaze met hers. "I would've just used a bullet."

She saw his anger abruptly replaced by weary acceptance as he sank back onto the bed. He shifted the sling, his arm obviously uncomfortable, and Kara felt a twinge of sympathy, too familiar with similar injuries. Then she was disgusted by the moment of empathy and reminded herself that this was the bastard who had tortured and experimented on her. She should want to break each of his limbs, not feel sorry for his pain. Kara turned her back and put more distance in between them.

"You'll never forgive us, will you," he said, a statement more than a question. But she chose to answer anyway as she swung back to him.

"How? After all this," she swept her arm out, the movement a silent reference to all that had passed between the Cylons and Humans. Bitterness sharpened her words as she thrust them at Simon. "You murder, torture. Keep chasing us. Why the hell should we forgive."

"No. You're right," he agreed and Kara narrowed her eyes as she studied him, trying to guess where he was going with all of this as he continued. "That's asking too much. Instead, maybe you can believe that we can change. Have changed." At her snort of derision, his gaze shifted from hers to the pair at the archway. "We have. Changed. Evolved. There are those, predominately the Ones, that say change is unnecessary. That the growth of the individual that makes us more like humans is a regression. I happen to disagree."

Kara didn't know what to say to this. What did he want from her? Was this some new sick game he'd been put up to by Leoben? She rubbed at her arms, chilled at the thought of the other Cylon.

To distract herself, "So, all's not a happy consensus along the homefront, huh?" she said.

"An understatement. But that's not for me to discuss." His lips thinned as he paused, lost in some disturbing thought by the look of his expression. He blinked and gave a deliberate one-shouldered shrug. "My programming focus was for the medical field rather than leadership. I'd just as soon let others more suited attend to that, but what I've seen…and done…leaves me little choice." He cleared his throat as if finding his thoughts constricting.

"You're the ones that chose to attack us," she snapped at him, finding his attitude of martyrdom irritating given the circumstances.

"I suppose it would seem that way to you," came back his measured reply. "But from the moment of our emergence from the birthing tank, we've little say in our own circumstances. We usually fall into one of three categories: those newly born, programmed with a minimal subset of commands that allow us to function. I am one of these. Then there are others that have been downloaded with memories and subroutines that will enable them to perform specific tasks or assignments, such as the Eight you knew as Boomer…and finally there are those that are the direct resurrection of a pre-existing Cylon. They have all the memories and programs of the original. They are in all essential manners that particular person reborn."

"Three types, huh?" Kara thought about the glimpse into this Cylon process of creation. "Leoben said he has a soul," she finally said, tone clipped.

Simon tapped a finger where his hand rested on his knee as he considered her words.

"I generally leave those matters to the Twos, Threes and Sixes. They insist that we all have souls and I…" His finger stilled. "I understand the concept of a soul, but to accept its factual existence without substantiating evidence…" Again the cautious shrug.

"Humans have souls. All you've got is short circuits and fried processors," she snapped back, dissatisfaction with his answer pissing her off.

"And what of Athena…and Hera?"

Kara looked away as the memories of her interactions over the last two months with the Cylon woman came to mind. She worried her lower lip as she mentally acknowledged the debt she owed Athena.

"They're different," she muttered.

"Athena was once just another Eight," he quietly said, and Kara could feel him trying to catch her gaze, but kept her eyes averted. "She was the first to make the choice to ignore her programming. Others have followed her lead. Have chosen to grow and take the path of an individual. Decided to judge for themselves right and wrong... Just as I have."

Kara met his eyes now. Did he expect her to believe that he somehow felt regret for the things he'd done? Searching his words, she tried to guess what angle he was working. Maybe Leoben thought Simon could convince her that he was a 'reformed man'. And that she'd then tell him the secret she was withholding from the Two. Right! Like that was happening in this lifetime, she scoffed. But maybe there was a way to play it back on them.

"Let me go." His eyebrows rose at her words. "Choose now. Let me take my Raptor and leave."

"That's not possible."

"Why?"

He stood again, the unease of her suggestion compelling him to his feet.

"Your ship was left behind. And you've no way to find your Fleet," he said, then gave her a questioning look.

Kara ignored his obvious attempt to get her to confirm or deny her knowledge of Galactica's course. She was too busy processing the information that the shuttle—and the priceless coordinates to Earth—were still back on the surface of the algae planet. It took a decided effort to not let the Four see the relief she felt in the almost certainty that the Cylons weren't even now trying to decrypt the NAV system of her ship.

Returning her attention to the waiting Simon, "Not your problem. Hook me up with one of your Heavy Raiders and I'll take it from there," she said.

"Not a viable option."

Kara could hear the waver of indecision in his voice. It made her pause and give him a harder look. Was there a chance he was actually considering it? If so, it had to be because he thought she would lead them back to the Colonials. Gods, did they think she was that frakking stupid! Of course she knew that they'd put one of their tracking devices on any ship he gave her. But if she could return to her Raptor and maybe jerry rig its system, she could ditch the Cylon one and then make damned sure she wasn't followed as she searched for Galactica. But what were the chances Simon would even do it? Leoben sure as hell wasn't going to risk her escaping from him again.

And as with each time her mind turned to the Two, her gut twisted and she had to fight to maintain an outward appearance of composure. She must not have been fully successful, because a worried expression settled on Simon's face and he took a step towards her.

"What?"

Kara wanted to sneer at his show of concern, or better yet, strike out and wipe the falsehood from his face with a right hook.

Forcing herself to think instead of react, "Leoben scares me," she said, at once hating the edge of truth to her words and yet hoping the confession would play into the scam she's decided that Simon was running on her.

"Has he harmed you these past few days?" He asked, seeming genuinely concerned, eyes scrutinizing her, obviously looking for some telltale sign that his brother might have physically attacked her.

"No. But he will. You know what happened on New Caprica," she said, her voice hoarse with revulsion at having to reveal the fears that have plagued her since waking on the basestar. Kara's determination to outmaneuver Simon at his own twisted game warred with her instincts to hide her weakness from an enemy. Would this work? Could she goad the Cylon into releasing her?

"I…" he broke off and Kara watched him shift the sling, an action she was quickly realizing was a 'tell' when he was conflicted.

"Just forget it. You can't fart unless it's in your programming," she sneered, and with calculation, moved to the furthest corner of the room and let her shoulders slump, wrapping her arms about herself to give the best impression of despair. She hated that it came so easy. Kara knew what a flimsy hand she had and the truth was that the Cylons held all the high cards in theirs. The wild card that led to Earth wasn't one she dared lay down in present company, which unfortunately left only the barest of bluffs for her to try, that…and years of experience at maneuvering her opponents into doing as she wanted.

"Leoben won't bother you." She could tell that Simon meant his words to be reassuring. But when she just shook her head in response, he added, "I promise. I can prevent his access to you. You'll be safe."

Kara didn't have to fake the bitter laugh. She did purposefully slide down the wall until she was curled into a protective ball. It took all her iron will to hold the position when what she really wanted was to attack and claw her way free. But Kara had learned many years ago that apparent submission could—sometimes at least—earn her a reprieve.

At a pained sigh from across the room, she risked a peek and saw Simon had turned to face the Centurion guards again.

He didn't look back as he said, "I'll see what I can do. No promises, Kara…but I'll see."

She averted her face to the wall, careful not to let the betraying smirk be seen as she heard the mechanical sound of the guards parting to let Simon pass between them. Obviously, no one had ever clued the Cylon in on Kara's reputation as a card shark. Too bad. If the bastard was going to attempt to game her, he'd soon learn no one knew how to turn a losing hand into Full Colors like Starbuck.