Chapter 97 Doors To The Past
Frowning, Boomer studied the inlaid datastream panel beside the door. As she'd suspected, instead of a conventional human lock barring her entrance, a pad like the ones used to secure the cells on New Caprica had been used. She was pretty sure she could open the door, but would it leave a 'footprint' behind for Cavil to see? Though it was true that her meeting with him several hours ago had been cordial enough, she still had the strong feeling that only those of his own model were meant to know of this barred room—and what if he found out that she'd uncovered his secret? Rubbing her hands along her goosebumping arms, Boomer felt a building dread at what action her 'mentor' might take.
She turned from the door, intending to just forget she'd ever found the room, but halted, head bowed as she clenched her fists at her side. It felt like New Caprica all over again. Hadn't she decided to follow Cavil to rid herself of the nagging guilt? In the time since putting herself under his tutelage, she'd tried to purge the human emotions that he'd said were the curse holding her back. Yet she'd never been able to quite capture the peace that he said came with the sweeping aside of her human experiences. She'd tried! Her voting with Cavil had been an attempt to convince herself that they needed to take the pragmatic approach, not get pulled into pretending that they—and the Raiders by extension—were more than parts of a whole.
It had been a lie though.
Boomer lifted her head, eyes unfocused as she stared back down the empty corridor. Lies seemed to have filled her life every since the moment she'd pulled the trigger on the Old Man. Not that they had started then. No, that had just been the point when she couldn't pretend anymore. Everything she'd known as fact, everything she'd believed about herself, it had been torn apart by the echoes of the two gunshots that day.
Well, she was sick of it. There had to be some truth, somewhere. Maybe she could find it behind this door.
Spinning back, Boomer placed her palm on the illuminated pad before she could change her mind. It took but a moment before she heard a click and withdrew her hand. She reached out and again hesitated before taking a breath and pushing the door open. It swung wide at her touch. As she paused on the threshold, Boomer swept the room with a glance. From the appearance, it was obviously meant as a cell. A pair of bunkbeds were secured to the left wall and a minuscule shower with accompanying sink and toilet lined the right. There was no privacy to the setup at all. And as Boomer recognized the cell's two occupants, she suddenly understood why.
Across the room, sitting at a table facing each other, were Ellen Tigh and Samuel T Anders. Identical expressions of surprise that matched her own turned Boomer's way as confusion drew her eyebrows down from their startled position.
The hiss of hydraulics twitched her attention to the left and right and Boomer realized that a Centurion stood to each side of the door, heads swiveling to scrutinize her with a ruby pulse. Her muscles locked as she realized that Cavil would certainly know of her transgression now if he bothered to question either guard. As the Centurions made no additional move, she swallowed and, figuring that she'd already gone past the point of no return anyways, stepped into the room and heard the door close behind her with a fatalistic clang.
With the Centurions at her back, she moved towards the white-clad pair, hands clasped behind her so they couldn't see them trembling. At her approach, the bare-chested man at the table set aside the balled-up sweatshirt he'd been holding while Ellen's blonde head tilted in a measuring look that was nearly enough to cause Boomer to stumble. But then the older woman's glare slid into a genuinely welcoming smile as Boomer came to a hesitant halt a couple of paces from the table.
"You're Sharon…the Eight from Galactica. Uh, it's Boomer, right?" Ellen confirmed with a hint of surprise and a glance at Anders. As the man rose, Boomer started to retreat, but stopped when he held up a hand and slowly sank onto his chair again.
"Hey, relax. No threat here," he said, tone low and, for good measure, placed both palms atop the table. "We just don't get many visitors is all." Ellen gave a soft laugh and the pair shared a sardonic look.
"You're that pyramid player…the Resistance fighter from Caprica," shifting her gaze to the woman, "and—and Mrs. Tigh?" Boomer hesitantly said, pretty sure of the woman's identity having seen but never met her while on the Galactica.
As she looked from one to the other, she couldn't figure Cavil's angle in keeping the XO's wife and an ex-Resistance leader hidden away like this. Was he holding them as bargaining chips to use at some crucial point in the future?
"You seem lost, dear," Ellen said. "Are you quite sure you should be down here?" The solicitous tone made Boomer blink in confusion at her. Surely the pair had been captured on New Caprica? And yet their calm demeanor wasn't what she'd expected at all for someone held for months by Cavil. The thought triggered an elusive memory, something she'd overheard D'Anna discussing with Natalie and Caprica shortly after the Colonists' escape from the planet.
What was it?
Boomer frowned as she tried to recall the snippet of conversation, but she was distracted as Anders spoke up. "Good question," he said, giving her a searching look as he shifted in his chair to sit at an angle, one arm draped casually over its back. "Cavil's seemed pretty gung-ho to keep us in hidden since we woke, so why's he sent you now?"
Woke?
And then the memory came clear.
Boomer had been walking Hera up and down the basestar's corridors in hopes of settling the cranky toddler when she'd passed an occupied alcove. Hearing an argument between the a pair of Sixes and D'Anna, she had been tempted to stop and eavesdrop on the trio, but just then the little girl had started to cry, so Boomer had hurried onward.
But not before catching snatches of the heated discussion between her sisters.
Something the Three had done during the Occupation had upset Caprica…and Natalie had sided with her. As she recalled their words, Boomer's eyes widened and she stared in shock at the man before her.
For he wasn't a man at all!
Caprica had said that God abhorred D'Anna's actions in the torture and killing of helpless prisoners, proclaiming that the Three's murdering of Starbuck's husband was a sin. Boomer had been distracted then by the squirming child in her arms and hadn't given further thought to what she'd overheard…until now.
Samuel T Anders was Kara Thrace's husband. A fact Boomer had learned during her time on New Caprica. She'd snuck a look into the settlements records on Colonial One, curiosity about her prior shipmates overcoming her concern at what the other models might think of her lingering emotional bond to her past. The fact that Starbuck had actually married had been an especially jarring indicator at how much had changed since Boomer had been part of the fleet.
But she knew for a fact who the former pilot had married. So if Caprica had been correct about Anders' death, than she realized that the figure lounging so nonchalantly here and now couldn't be any more human than Boomer herself.
"You're a Cylon," her words slipped out, heavily mixed with disbelief, wonder…and a touch of fear. Because, if Anders was a humanoid Cylon, then he was also one of the five unknown models. The ones they were forbidden to speak of, even to think about. With the realization came a corresponding lance of pain behind her eyes and Boomer grimaced.
"Yeah. Pretty much figured that out when I woke in a new body," Anders replied, his expression reflecting his own shock and disbelief at that moment of rebirth. "Frakking ironic when you get right down to it." He shook his head and looked across to his companion.
As Ellen Tigh stood, Boomer started to retreat, then stopped, reminding herself that she was both stronger than the human and there were a pair of Centurions to call on for reinforcement if needed. Though, now that she thought of it, she wondered exactly how much authority she had over the guards. Pulling her scattering thoughts together, Boomer tried to focus as the older woman laid a hand lightly on her shoulder.
"I'm afraid that Sam here isn't the only one to make that…unsettling discovery," Ellen wryly said, arching one eyebrow as if waiting for Boomer to grasp her meaning. When she finally did, Boomer instinctively recoiled from Ellen's touch, her stunned gaze darting between the pair as the knowledge that she now stood in the presence of not just one, but two of the shadowy figures of Cylon history.
Ellen's tone was stringent as she said, "Believe me, dear, I understand now what you went through after Galactica. The painful awaking in a resurrection tank, learning that your entire world was a falsehood imposed by another." Her expression turned grim as she continued. "I remember everything from before, you know. My original 'birth', working with the Centurions to produce the later prototypes, first you, then Saul, Tory, Sam and the last, Galen."
Boomer's eye widened further with each reveal. She had no idea who Tory was, but Galen! Her breath caught and threatened to choke her. She coughed, trying to dislodge the clenched feeling. Trying to focus on what else Ellen had said, Boomer found the idea that the XO was himself a Cylon as nearly impossible for her to reconcile. It had to be a mistake…or a lie. But why? And if Ellen Tigh was standing here proclaiming herself one of the five, would it be any more improbably that her husband was also?
Pressing fingertips to her forehead, she wished she could push both the headache—and the knowledge that had caused it—away. The scrape of a chair shot another arrow of pain through her temple and she blinked her eyes open when hands gripped her shoulders and firmly pushed her to sit.
"Damned lot to take in," said Sam as he gave her a sympathetic look.
"You're in pain?" Ellen's question pulled Boomer's gaze and she gave a careful nod, then watched the older woman exchange a glance with Anders. "It's obvious Cavil wiped anyone that knew of us, could he have also put in an aversion routine?" she asked of her companion.
Sam replied, "Looks so. Seems like something he'd do," his words bitterly spoken. Then his eyebrows rose, "Wait…if you didn't know about us, why would Cavil send you down here?"
"He didn't."
Their expressions reflected first confusion, then a surge of hope at her words.
"You found us on your own. What a clever girl," Ellen said, giving Boomer's knee a pat. The calculation in the woman's eyes and her condescending tone irritated Boomer and she abruptly stood, scuffing the chair back as she turned to face the startled pair.
"Why? Why all this," a wave at the room, "What happened to you and the others?" she demanded, ignoring the pounding in her temples.
"Ahhh," Ellen sighed and shook her head. "Now, that's a long story, and I'm not sure how long you dare stay."
"Long enough," she snapped, sick at never knowing what was going on.
Again a shared look between the prisoners. Their easy rapport made her even angrier and at first couldn't figure why. Perhaps it was because she felt so alone all the time? It didn't matter she decided, shoving the feelings aside. She wanted the truth and wasn't leaving until she'd gotten it.
They must have seen something of the resolve in her expression for Sam shrugged and offered her the seat again even as Ellen returned to hers. He moved to lean against the back wall and crossed his arms, apparently content to have his companion start their story.
Boomer held herself steady under Ellen's intense regard, then relaxed as the woman's lips lifted in a smile.
"You're so beautiful. The Eights have always had an innocence I've envied."Before Boomer could question what she meant, Ellen asked, "How much do you know of our history?"
"Not much," Boomer admitted with a frown. "What I could find in the datastream. But it seems…incomplete." She met the other woman's questioning look and confessed, "I don't remember anything before Galactica. That is…I have the implanted memories of my fake past, but…" she trailed off with a jerky shrug, still disturbed by the inability to recall the time before she was put in place as a sleeper agent.
"At a guess, I'd say that was because you were newly 'born'…programmed only with the memories necessary to fulfill your task," Ellen said. "Cavil always was one for 'minimum disclosure," her mocking tone directed at the absent One.
"Yeah," Sam interjected from his spot against the wall, "he meant you to sabotage Galactica. Kill Adama if you could. Doubt Cavil cared about anything else."
What they'd said made sense, and Boomer found it strangely reassuring that she wasn't 'missing' any memories—they just had never existed in the first place. She felt a sense of relief, like a long held muscle unclenching, and gave a nod for them to continue.
With her fingers tapping a slow cadence on the table top, "Where to start," Ellen murmured, considering her words. "I suppose at the beginning. Towards the end of the First War, the balance of battle was shifting to the humans. Though the Cylons rebellion had the initial advantage of surprise, they lacked the generations of experience humans had at war and, unlike this time, hadn't had years to prepare." Ellen paused with a distant look crossing her face. The older woman's gaze snapped back to Boomer and she continued, "Then there was a breakthrough in several of their experiments. Something that changed their focus. Desiring to continue the research without interruption, they offered an armistice to the humans and withdrew."
"They'd made the first hybrid and successfully cloned a human," Sam filled in, explaining what could have been so important to cause the Cylons to disappear for forty years.
"Over the following years, the Centurions worked to conjoin human and nanite technology. Eventually they were able to actually 'graft' the two together." Ellen paused as Sam moved to pace the small space between the two walls. The cause of his agitation became apparent as she continued her narrative. "The Centurions still had human captives from the war. They used the prisoners as templates for both DNA and personalities to create the humanoid models. Cavil was the first prototype…and I think a part of him 'remembers' who he was before."
Boomer's head jerked around at the sound of a palm striking the wall behind her. She could see the muscles of Anders' back ripple with tension and noticed for the first time the pale scars that circled both of his well defined arms. She wondered briefly at their cause, but ignored them as she grasped why he was upset by the truth of the twelve humanoids' origin. Hadn't Boomer herself struggled over the guilt of the knowledge that her race had murdered countless billions? The realization that it was only through experimentation on prisoners that she had come into existence was sickening to her, too. It made the Farms on Caprica pale in comparison.
"Sam?" the concerned inquiry caused both she and Anders to turn. "Sam, it's not like we had anything to do with it," Ellen said, and Boomer had the feeling it was a well worn discussion between the pair.
"But we did," he harshly disagreed. "We created Resurrection. When I think—"
"Stop it," Ellen commanded, rising to stand before him. "We were the creations. New life. It wasn't wrong to desire a future. To seek a way to propagate our race."
Turning to her, he said, "Yeah, and look how that worked out," his expression darkening further.
As the woman laid a hand on his bare chest, Boomer was struck by the intimacy in the light touch and the shifting look in Anders blue eyes.
Were these two..?
Her disconcerted thought was interrupted as Ellen laughed, the mirth sounding like it had been scoured by an underlying pain as the older woman let her hand fall to her side and turned away.
Boomer saw Sam's expression soften further as he contritely said, "Look, I know. Just makes me sick whenever I think about it. Knowing that part of me is made from some guy they…" his eyes slanted toward the Centurions by the door and his words faltered. Noting the twist of his lips, she was sure it was nausea at the idea rather than any fear Anders might have of his guards that caused him to trail off. And considering the explanation she'd heard, Boomer felt a matching queasiness.
The fact that the Cylons had used humans as some sort of matrix to form the twelve models brought up so many disturbing images; it didn't take much imagination to picture a human woman torn from her life on the Colonies and subjected to untold. The fact that the Eight's progenitor probably looked identical to herself made the unknown woman's abuse more personal.
She shifted around on her chair as Ellen retook the opposite seat. The woman adjusted the sleeves of her sweatshirt as she composed herself to continue, and Boomer wondered what other revelations she had yet to reveal. With a fervent prayer she hoped they wouldn't be as troubling.
"As I said, Cavil may have some awareness of his human past," the woman repeated. "I've always sensed a deep self-loathing within all the Ones despite their overt assertion of superiority. Perhaps the original human understood what he was being used for, and some of that carried over during the initial personality imprinting."
"Too bad he didn't do us all a favor and just do himself at the start," Sam's words came over Boomer's shoulder, but she didn't turn this time to face him.
"Hush now. You know suicides forbidden." Ellen cast a scolding look to the man behind Boomer, then added, "Though I admit, it would've simplified things immensely." Over her shoulder came a harsh laugh and Ellen's lips tightened into a thin smile before she continued. "The Centurions continued to experiment. Somehow they had developed a belief system based on a single entity—God. The Two prototype was an ambitious attempt to impart that faith. I don't know the details, but the human subject they used must have had a…unique background."
From what she'd seen of the Twos, unique seemed an understatement, Boomer thought. As she listened to Ellen Tigh relate the creation of the Threes, Fours, Fives and Sixes, she wondered why the Centurions seemed so intent on developing humanoid models. Choosing to let the other woman relate the tale in her own way, Boomer bit back her questions.
But when Ellen paused, "Why bother? Why did they make us in the first place?" she demanded, the depth of bitterness in her voice surprising even herself. The older woman's sympathetic look eased a modicum of the hurt binding Boomer's chest.
"It seems that like all sentient beings, the Centurions wanted more," Ellen said, her hand sliding across the table to settle over Boomer's. "I don't know the full story, but at some point in the humans' formation of their mechanical slaves, they incorporated—possibly unintentionally—an imprint of an actual person. Much like the Centurions would later do with us."
Started Boomer, "I don't see…" then trailed off with a shake of her head.
"The first Cylons accepted what they were, but with the introduction of a past human life, they learned to desire the pleasures of the human form." As Boomer's expression shifted to revulsion, Ellen shook her head. "No, not that." She lifted and clasped Boomer's hand between her two. "They sought the warmth of touch. The feeling of nerve endings that experienced the world about them in layers of meaning, rather than circuits that just translated facts. They longed for the subjective, and were unwilling to settle for the objective now that they knew the difference."
As she considered the words, Boomer's gaze turned to the guards by the door.
Do they envy us?
Is that why the inhibitors were developed?
Her attention refocused on the woman across from her as she released her hand and settled back in her seat.
"I was the Seventh," Ellen said, and her gaze went distant for a moment. "I'm pretty sure Cavil had convinced the Centurions to construct a model to act as his mate." A shiver passed through the older woman as her lips twisted before she straightened in her chair. "Let's just say I wasn't so inclined."
"Who the hell would be," Sam spoke up, and Boomer jumped, having forgotten about the man behind her. He came around and resumed his original spot leaning against the back wall with arms crossed. His expression and tone hard, "Cavil—all the Ones—are evil bastards. The way he comes in here to 'check' on us? You know he just wants to watch us as he tells whatever news he's got. And the way he taunts you," said Sam, voice growing louder with each word.
"My dear boy, I've told you his taunts ceased to bother me once I awoke in the resurrection tank and remembered everything."
"Yeah, well they bother me," he snapped, but in a lower voice.
"I know," her look filled with sympathy and understanding, "I know, Sam," she said. Taking a breath, Ellen turned her gaze back to Boomer. "I've had several months now to think about the how and why that came after my creation. These past weeks I've discovered that I, too, have a…a residual of the memories of whatever poor woman was used as my template." She paused, then shrugged. "It's like an elusive shadow glimpsed but shifting from view when I try to study it." Another shrug. "I never found Cavil to my taste. Not necessarily because of him specifically, for he was much younger then and not such a sour puss as now. No, it's that I 'missed' something…someone."
"Colonial Tigh?" Boomer made a guess and saw the affirmation in the quirk of the woman's mouth.
"Saul Tigh," confirmed Ellen. Then, "The old bastard," she said, her words belied by the warmth in her voice. "He was the Ninth, and I had a hand in his creation. Didn't understand at the time why it was so important to me that they used a certain subject's DNA and personality profile, but I've come to the conclusion that my progenitor and his were together even before they were captured. That it was a need to recreate a lost love that guided my choice."
Staring at the XO's wife, Boomer found herself thinking that her story sounded both romantic…and vaguely disturbing. But, then again, so had everything else she'd learned since entering this room. She blinked as she realized that the woman had skipped over Boomer's own origin.
Hesitantly, unsure now if she really wanted to know about the development of her model, "And…and the Eights?" she asked. The look that passed between Ellen and Sam only served to increase her apprehension.
Ellen took a breath and said, "Cavil, still upset over my rejection, convinced the Centurions that a more…malleable," the older woman gave her a measuring look, "female should be created."
Boomer was halfway to the door when Sam's voice called to her. She didn't want to stop, didn't want to hear any more.
Her jerky stride broke, though, as he shouted, "He failed." And rage spun her to face him.
"You're lying! I'm exactly what he wanted. A thing to use," she bitterly said.
"No," this from Ellen as she stood. "No, Cavil's failed so many times. Your standing here is proof. And I heard that it was you and Caprica that resisted his call for the total destruction of the New Caprican colony. And the Sharon on Galactica—" the woman broke off at Boomer's dark glare.
Stepping towards her, Sam said, "Point is, Cavil doesn't control you."
"I let him use me," Boomer confessed, head lowering as her face heated with a new shame—not at the intimacy she'd shared with the One, but at her naivety in trusting him in the first place.
"So did I," Ellen's words twitched Boomer's head up. "On New Caprica. He used Saul as leverage for my…cooperation." The older woman grimaced. "Cooperation, hell. I frakked him into oblivion to save Saul." She lifted her chin. "And I'd do it again if I had to."
Boomer blinked at the challenge in Ellen's eyes—as if she was really going to judge the other woman for her actions. Certainly not after all of her own poor choices. Wetting her lips, she tried to push aside the inner turmoil and moved to pick up the chair that had fallen when she'd bolted. Resuming her seat, she gripped her hands in her lap and stared up at the other woman until she resettled, too.
As if in mutual agreement to move past the issue of why the Eights were created, Ellen picked up her story. "After Saul, the final three prototypes were created," she continued. "Tory, Sam and Galen. I didn't have a hand in their development. I was distracted." It wasn't necessary for her to explain by what…or whom. "I can't say I know what purpose the Centurions were striving for with Tory or Sam, but I know that with Galen they were seeking a closer connection to their mechanical side. Perhaps they felt the other prototypes had strayed too far to the human side of their origin."
"Too much human bad influence in us, huh?" Sam mocked with a huff and a glance at the silent sentinels by the door.
"You have to admit, Sammy, that I've worked hard to earn that reputation," Ellen said, tone suggestive as she smiled up at him. Her teasing look fell away though as pain flickered in the blue eyes. In a dismayed voice, "I'm sorry, I forgot—" she rushed to apologize, reaching out towards him.
"Don't," he cut her off with a raised palm. "I know. It's ok."
But Boomer could tell by the hunch of his shoulders that whatever had just happened had struck a painful blow. At her perplexed look to Ellen, "Kara," the woman quietly replied. Well, that only sort of clarified things for Boomer. When her continuing confusion registered, "Only Kara ever called him that and he's not taken her death well," the woman added, her expression grim.
"But she's not dead."
The figure to Boomer's left snapped forward from his place on the wall, practically lunging at her and she instinctively recoiled.
"What!" he exclaimed, looming over her now.
"Kara's not dead. I don't know why you—" Her words were cleaved by his shout of rage.
"The bastard!" swore Sam, spinning towards the door."I'm gonna kill him."
Ellen was on her feet and clinging to his elbow before he'd gone three paces.
"No! Think!" She clung to Sam and tried to swing him around. "He mustn't find out," she urgently said as he tried to shake her off his arm.
It was likely the move of the two Centurions as each stepped sideways to block his path more than her words that halted Sam. He glared at the pair that blocked his way and Boomer saw the flex of his arms as he clenched his fists in frustration. And as her eyes caught on the thin scars and the Centurions beyond, she suddenly knew what had caused the healed cuts. The sentries had obviously been ordered to prevent the prisoners from leaving the room, but at a guess Boomer thought they'd also been told not to kill them. Often enough she'd seen the gleam of the Centurions' fingers and the scars around Anders' arms made perfect sense now.
Ellen's voice lowered, taking on a wheedling tone as she repeated, "He can't know that she," a tilt of her head back towards Boomer, "was here and knows about us. Think! You can't get out, but the Centurions will report your attempt as they have in the past. He'll want to know why. We've got to keep him from learning that she's been here." Seeming sure that he wasn't going to lunge at the guards, Ellen shifted her attention to Boomer, "Will the guards follow your commands?" she demanded.
"I-I-I don't know. I wasn't expecting them. Didn't know they'd be inside." She shrugged helplessly, so caught up in what she'd been learning that she'd forgotten to worry about how she was getting out of here herself without Cavil being the wiser.
As his companion tugged on his arm, Sam let himself be pulled back to the table and dropped into the chair Ellen had occupied. His gaze locked with Boomer's and she was relieved to see that the rage had given way to a wary hope.
"She's alive? Kara's really alive?"
"Yes, last I heard," Boomer confirmed, nodding for emphasis. A shudder swept the broad shoulders and he took a breath before leaning forward.
"Cavil said she'd died on New Caprica. Killed herself after Leoben—" he choked off, eyes filled with pain at the lies he'd been told. "Didn't want to believe him. Kara wouldn't…not like that."
"Kara left with the fleet. She made it," Boomer hurried to reassure him, then hesitated, not positive if telling him how she knew was a good idea. He must have sensed she was holding something back, for he leaned further forward, hands splayed on the table between them, and she licked her lips before continuing. "A little less than two weeks ago Leo…uh, she was found in a damaged Raptor. She's being held on a basestar." The hands before her whitened as they were pressed against the table's metal surface.
"He has her?" Sam demanded and Boomer didn't have to ask whom he meant. She shook her head and his gaze eased slightly, yet looked perplexed.
"Not Leoben. She's under the protection of Simon on Natalie's basestar."
"Simon?" His momentary relief vanished and he started to rise as he bit out, "That frakking butcher that cut her up on Caprica?"
Boomer was surprised when Ellen shoved him back into the seat. With a glance at the older woman, she rushed on to try to provide what reassurance she could.
"Sam, listen. Kara's on Natalie's basestar. Her people, they're different. Pro-human...or at least not like Cavil. Look. I know Simon. He's different now than how he was on Caprica. Kara's safe." At his glare, "Ok, let's just say that they've no reason to harm her. And she was put under Simon's protection specifically to keep Leoben at a distance."
"I have to see her." His eyes widened at a thought. "I've gotta get Kara out of here before Cavil finds out about her. He'll want to—" Boomer grabbed his hand across the table, trying to head off the building panic she saw in his eyes.
"He can't get at her, Sam. Kara's on one of the rebel basestars," she quickly said.
"Of course!" Ellen exclaimed from behind him. "Sam, she's on one of the basestars that has turned on Cavil. Remember what we were told about the Twos, Sixes and Eights?"
"Yeah, I remember. Cavil's frakking stand-in said they were going to find a final solution for them all." His face was set in grim lines as Ellen came around to face him, and another silent look of understanding passed between them.
Disturbed at his words, Boomer hurried to deny them. "No. I just spoke with Cavil. There's going to be a vote on what to do. I'll be there speaking for the Eights. I spoke to a Four and it really sounds like they want to meet with the rebels. Find a peaceful alternative." At their doubting looks, "He can't just box everyone!" she protested.
"Why not? He did before," said Sam. And as he went to stand, Ellen abruptly settled onto his lap, draping an arm over his shoulders and began to stroke his hair. His embarrassed glance at Boomer drew a mocking smile from Ellen.
Giving the strands around her finger a light tug, "Relax, Sam," she said. "I'm sure Boomer knows how we've 'entertained' ourselves while stuck here." Arching a smirk towards the younger woman where she shifted in her chair. "So little to do for months on end." Her teasing tone abruptly disappeared. "Cavil saw to that."
Keeping her improvised seat, Ellen straightened slightly and picked up her earlier story as if never interrupted. "After the twelfth prototype, it was decided to look to perfecting who we were instead of simply creating new models. Working on the Centurions' belief that God meant his children to 'be fruitful', attempts were made to procreate." By the woman's smug expression, Boomer guessed that she had been all for those attempts. "You wouldn't know it to look at him, but Doral's predecessor…quite the little horn-dog. He kept Six and Three pretty busy there for awhile. And I do believe that even Tory gave him the time of day at least once. Though, mind you," with a wave of her finger towards Boomer, "I only suspect that," Ellen said slyly. On catching the younger woman's dismayed expression, "Oh, don't worry dear. Cavil was way too possessive of the Eight to let anyone else near," she said with a condescending pat on Boomer's hand where it still rested on the table across from her.
Pulling away from the older woman's touch, embarrassed by her crass words and apparent relish for gossip, "But it didn't work," Boomer curtly stated, hoping to push the conversation along. At Ellen's questioning look, "No one got pregnant?" she clarified.
With an exaggerated sigh, "Sadly no," Ellen answered. Then with a lascivious smirk, "but not from lack of trying. Saul and I thought maybe different positions. We tri—" she broke off with a squeak as Sam shifted, threatening to dump her off his lap. Giving him a disgruntled look, "Fine!" she huffed at him. "It's just been so long since I've had anyone to talk to." At his raised eyebrows, "Don't be silly. You know what I mean."
She resettled herself on his lap with a purposeful wiggle that brought forth a resigned expression on his face.
Turning her head back to Boomer, all levity left her eyes. "No. There were no children," an echo of an earlier despair sounded in her voice. "And no medical defect in our bodies that we could find. Cavil turned to other means, researching different methods of artificial insemination and in vitro fertilization. He was about to start experiments when an accident occurred. At least we all assumed it was an accident. The Two died. From a broken neck caused by a fall. His death left the rest of us shaken, but Cavil insisted that it was of 'no consequence' since the Centurions had matured several of the modified clones for each of our models. He simply downloaded the original programming into the new body."
As Sam shifted slightly, Boomer caught his gaze, reading the conflict in his blue eyes. It appeared that, like herself, he hadn't found the realization of what he was as easy to accept as the woman he held. She could tell that all the talk of clones and such set him ill-at-ease, perhaps because of how he felt about the Cylon Farms? Simon had told her about Kara's time on Caprica under his care, and what he knew of the Resistance from a brother Four that had infiltrated their camp. It wasn't difficult to guess at how disturbing Sam was finding the present conversation given her knowledge of his past.
Her attention refocused on Ellen at the woman's small headshake.
"It wasn't the same," said Ellen. Then to clarify, "I mean, the Two. He was physically identical with all the memories that his predecessor had started with. But he wasn't the same," she repeated. "Two had experienced so much in the year since his original 'birth'. Those moments were lost. And I remember thinking what a shame that was." Then the older woman's tone changed, becoming eager with recalled discovery, "And it struck me. Why did we have to lose anything? What if there had been a way to capture the Two's essence at the time of his death?" Ellen practically bounded from Sam's lap in the throes of the memory and began to pace. "I suggested that we look into the continuation of each individual, rather than focusing entirely on the procreation of our new race." With a flutter of her hand, she huffed, "Of course Cavil pooh-poohed the idea." Then, giving Boomer an eyeroll, "He still resented my rejection of him, you know," she added.
"He resented more than that," interjected Sam.
"Well…yes," she agreed. "He wasn't happy with Saul and I questioning his authority. He was the first. And expected everyone to show what he considered proper deference to his opinions." She gave a sharp laugh, "Ha! As if being first made him the best."
"I remember you going out of your way to goad him," Sam said, giving her a chiding look. She shrugged, her expression confirming, but non-repentant.
"He was irritating," she defensively said. "The way he tried to lord it over the rest of us." Boomer had to quell the urge to smile as the woman pouted, her lower lip stuck out. The temptation disappeared, though, as Ellen's expression just as quickly turned grim. "He certainly got his own back at me, didn't he?"
Both of the captives fell into dark thoughts. As the silence stretched out, Boomer stood, pulling their questioning gaze.
"Look. You were right. I don't know how much time I have here," she said to them. "So just tell me. How the frak did you two—well, you five, I guess—end up on the Colonies thinking you were human?"
Ellen gave a concerned glance towards the door as if expecting Cavil to walk through in that instant. With a nod to Sam, the older woman clasped her hands in front of her and leveled her gaze on Boomer.
"Like Sam said, I did take pleasure in tweaking Cavil's sense of self-importance." Her tone was laced with regret as she continued, "That was a mistake that I've paid for—that we've paid for—on a scale I never could have foreseen. Saul and I set to work on the idea of resurrection, drawing in first Galen with his affinity for machines and then Tory and Sam. Meanwhile, Cavil gathered the others into his own group of followers."
Though Ellen didn't actually say it, it was clear to Boomer where the original Eight stood during this separation into factions. She grimaced as she examined her feelings towards Cavil. Could it have only been a little over fifteen hours since he had emerged from the resurrection tub ranting about how the Twos, Sixes and Eights had all gone mad? Boomer had had so many blows to her view of the world as she knew it, that it was difficult for her to decipher what she was feeling. But, as she reached inward, she found a twisting worm of revulsion had wound itself around any thought of the One. With Ellen's next words, Boomer's disgust strangled any attachment she'd once held for her mentor.
"He experimented on the Three, Six and Eight," Ellen said. "When his initial attempts resulted in their deaths, he simply downloaded another of each—though even he knew that he was constrained until a greater number of additional clones could be force-grown."
A distant horror at Ellen's matter-of-fact recitation tightened Boomer's chest and she fought to push away the thoughts of what those early sisters had endured. Her eyes sought Sam's, seeing the shadow of shame in his expression before he stood and turned away. Bending, he retrieved his cloth ball and began to toss it hand to hand, her eyes following the hypnotic motion as a welcome distraction. Then her head jerked around at the scrape of the chair as Ellen took his abandoned seat and picked up the thread of her story.
"When our group believed we'd found the way to perform a true resurrection, we were in a quandary as to how to prove it."
"So, no volunteers, huh?" Boomer said, more a statement than a question as she gave the pair a critical glare.
"We couldn't risk it," Ellen quickly protested. "Between the five of us, we each held an irreplaceable repository of knowledge and specific expertise."
"Yeah, and we hadn't learned to share or sacrifice yet," Sam put in as he spun on his heels, wadded ball pulled back, and flung his farcical weapon at the nearest guard. It bounced off and unfurled at the Centurion's feet. The metal Cylon didn't even twitch in acknowledgment of the ineffectual attack, and Boomer had the notion that Sam had made a game of pelting his guards with the rolled garment many times over the past months.
Boomer watched the man stride towards the door and tensed as the Centurions abruptly moved, each sidestepping with a whirl of hydraulic to block the exit again. Neither lifted their arms, just swiveled their heads enough to lock on Sam where he halted three feet away. Ellen didn't rise to stop him, perhaps recognizing that even though his shoulders twitched with coiled tension, he was firmly in control of his emotions this time.
Still facing the metal pair, "It's not their fault," he said, his words obviously about the Centurions, but directed back to Boomer where she still stood uncertainly watching. "They just wanted to be free. Wanted what all of us desired, the chance to grow beyond our limitations. They thought they were creating a new future for their kind. Instead, they got us," Sam's voice was filled with self-loathing. He tilted his head in thought, then Boomer saw him make a visible effort to release the pent-up aggression in his body before taking a cautious step forward, just far enough to allow him to snag his abused shirt and retreat. At his withdrawal, the Centurions again resumed their position on either side of the door.
To Ellen, "Tell her the rest. Best get it done before the bastard does return," Sam said, wrapping the cloth around his hand and returning to his spot against the back wall.
"Saul and I snuck into Cavil's lab," Ellen said, then her expression turned bleak as she continued, "As I suspected, we found one of his—his subjects near death. A Six this time." The older woman flinched at the memory, and Boomer abruptly didn't want to hear anymore. She was tempted to leave, run from the room and all its dark revelations, but the determined look that settled across Ellen's countenance was enough to cement her feet to the floor, and she couldn't look away, let alone move.
"I had no idea what had been done to her, but we could see that she only had moments left. Saul carried her to where we'd set up our own workroom." A brief pause, and when she continued, her voice wavered just the slightest, "T-t-there was this flower I'd picked in the hydroponics unit earlier. A yellow bud just opening. I remember the look in her eyes as I pressed it into her hand. She was so weak she could barely lift it…but she died inhaling its scent with her last breath." As Ellen turned slightly aside, Boomer saw her hand lift to discreetly brush a tear away. She was surprised that the woman was still moved by the death of a Six that had happened so very long ago. The realization left her feeling a little more charitable towards the otherwise abrasive woman.
Straightening with a sniff, "Then we waited," Ellen said. "Monitored the upload. I was so excited when it looked like it had worked…that we'd actually boxed everything that made the Six an individual, and could thus recreate her." Her lips quirked into a smile that didn't quite reach her haunted eyes. "After that, it was simple thing to take the cartridge and return to Cavil's lab. The smarmy bastard even already had another clone body in the birthing tank. He was just waiting until the Six died before trying again."
"Wait," Boomer shot a confused glance from Sam and back to Ellen, "wasn't Cavil there?"
The sneer on Sam's face was answer enough, but he added, "No. He left her alone to die. Probably figured he had better things to do than hold the hand of one of his failures." Sam kicked out at the table, causing Boomer to jerk back as it flipped over with a bang. A worried glance at the Centurions reassured her that they obviously didn't care how much the furnishings were trashed as long as the prisoners didn't try to leave.
"That worked in our favor," said Ellen, giving Sam a quelling look he never saw as he spun away.
From the creak of bedsprings behind her, Boomer could tell that the man had retreated to one of the bunks. Feeling exposed without the table between her and Ellen, she crossed her arms and gave the other woman a nod to get on with her story.
"Without Cavil there to interfere, we were able to successfully downloaded the Six into the waiting clone," continued Ellen. "Her 'awakening' was painful to watch—I'd somehow forgotten the trauma of my own birth," her hand fluttered dismissively, "Once Six was coherent enough, I asked her about the last thing she remembered. The flower!" Ellen clasped her hands together. "We were ecstatic! It had actually worked."
"Ok, so you've got Resurrection," leaning forward now, "but that still doesn't tell me anything about all this," Boomer said with a meaningful glance about the spartanly furnished room.
From behind her, "Cavil was practically frothing. The fact that we'd succeeded? Yeah, you could say that he was pissed at us," came Sam's grim words. "Didn't help that he figured we'd 'stolen' the Six from him. As if he'd given a damn about her," his tone bitter.
"He felt threatened," explained Ellen. "His position, his authority, he thought I—or more accurately—Saul was trying to usurp his place. With the schism between the humanoid models and then our development of Resurrection technology, he became obsessed with the idea that Saul intended a coup."
"We should have." Sam's tone soured further as he added, "If you all had listened to me, we could have prevented this. Instead, he drugged us, overrode our memories with implanted ones and shipped us off to the Colonies."
"No. That doesn't make sense," said Boomer, trying to work out a timeline that fit with what she knew.
"You have to understand, dear," said Ellen, "We only know—remember—a small portion of the events. But the past months stuck in the gracious accommodations Cavil provided us has given Sam and me ample time to…let say, refine some theories." With a grimace, she added, "And Cavil was exceptionally eager to gloat over the details of his conquest over the five that made up Saul's faction. Sam may have glossed over quite a bit, but he's essentially correct."
"But the others, the other models, they would've known," protested Boomer.
"Not if he killed them and started with a clean download for each into a new clone." At his shocking words, this time Boomer did twist around to stare wide-eyed at Sam where he sat on the edge of the bed regarding her with a face gaunt with bleak guilt.
"Oh, he didn't do that at first. At least not to us," it was Ellen now that spoke behind her, and Boomer stood, shifting so she could see both without having to spin in her seat like a carousal. She saw the older woman's lips thin before continuing, "No, Cavil thought that he could simply rid himself of Saul…and me, and then the others would fall in line." She gave a headshake. "He hadn't counted on how obstinate Sam—and Tory and Galen to a lesser extent—could be."
Ellen gave Sam a meaningful glance and he continued, "My memory's still pretty fuzzy of the period of time after they," a jerk of his head towards Ellen, "disappeared. From what Cavil said, he'd found a way to block our memories, the three of us that remained. Guess he didn't want to just airlock what we knew, so he didn't kill us and start over like all the others. But after awhile I started remembering things. Images started resurfacing to all three of us," he shrugged, "and Cavil must have been afraid we'd pass our…suspicions onto the other models. At that time he only had one or two of each left to work with and couldn't just keep killing them off."
"I suspect that our Centurion predecessors may also have been pressuring him," Ellen spoke up. "They had, after all, created us, and the One's attitude must have struck them as wasteful and inefficient. I'd guess that Cavil suddenly found himself constrained by the remaining three's returning memories and the Centurions disapproval."
"He found a way around that," Sam interjected. "Boxed Galen, Tory and myself. Then somehow tricked the Centurions into letting him install the inhibitors. They've been nothing more than slaves since."
Ellen added, "I'm not sure when his plan to destroy the Colonies came into being, but he used it as a rallying point for his new regime," her emphasis making it clear that she viewed Cavil as a dictator working to control all those around him. Then her words took on an edge of grudging respect as she said, "It would have taken years to build the basestars and the number of clones necessary—even force-growing takes time—so he must have begun shortly after boxing the other three."
"So, he dumped you and Colonial Tigh on the Colonies. Why not just kill you, and the others at the same time?"
"Cavil has a keen sense of irony." The older woman's eyes darkened as she continued, "He probably found it perversely satisfying to separate us, overlay our past with false memories, and leave us to struggle among the 'inferior' humans. Eventually he resurrected Sam, Galen and Tory and did the same with them. I imagine that he'd finally decided he wasn't likely to need them and it would have pleased him knowing that the five of us would be annihilated during his destruction of the Colonies."
Boomer was startled as Sam abruptly stood and yanked the mauled shirt over his head, shoving his arms into the sleeves with vicious thrusts that betrayed his barely restrained anger. Everything she'd learned was vastly disturbing to her, but she knew that paled in comparison to how he and Ellen must feel. She took a hesitant step towards the man, but halted, letting the hand she'd half-raised to offer comfort fall back to her side. There wasn't anything she could do to change the past—she'd learned that several times over now.
But, with a calculating look at the guards, maybe there was a way to thwart Cavil now, she decided.
Rubbing damp palms down her pants, she took a calming breath and approached the Centurions, eyeing them for any response. At the point they had reacted to Sam, her stride faltered, but then she took another step as they remained impassively alert. She stopped before the door, flicking a glance to either side to reassure herself before raising her hand to the datastream plate. A click and the door swung open with the barest nudge. So much had been riding on whether she could actually leave or had trapped herself her with Cavil's secret that the ease of it felt strangely anti-climatic.
Boomer turned and met the anxious and excited eyes of the pair of prisoners. She had just started to smile, relief flooding her system, when Sam rushed forward. The guards' reactions this time were immediate. They moved to block his charge, nearly crushing Boomer's toes in the process as they came together in front of her, between her and Sam.
As Sam slammed to an abrupt halt, she could see the boiling frustration in his face and quickly spoke up, "Wait, Sam! Let me leave before Cavil finds out I've seen you two." At his disillusioned glare, she shook her head. "I'll find a way to free you both. I just need time."
And then Ellen was at Sam's side again, her expression shrewdly evaluating as she locked eyes with Boomer and said, "The One earlier spoke of a rebellion. If you can smuggle us to one of those basestars, we can expose all of Cavil's lies."
"I don't kno—" Boomer started, but Sam cut her off.
"You said you'd find a..." he paused, brows arching up and Boomer could see he'd had an idea. "Try giving them an order," he eagerly suggested with a tilt of his head towards the Centurions.
Doubtfully she said, "Turn around," to the metal chassis before her. Neither so much as twitched in acknowledgment. Clearing her throat, she tried again, more firmly this time. "Step aside," she commanded, and was startled as they each parted one pace sideways. But as soon as Sam started forward, they snapped back into place.
Boomer was unwilling to concede defeat quite that easily. She licked her lips and considered her words more carefully. Then, "Step aside and let this man pass," she ordered. Her heart sank as the Centurions resolutely held their position this time.
"She has to go, Sam," said Ellen, touching his arm. "Maybe she can alert the others. Get some help?"
"I-I promise I'll figure something out." The disappointment in their eyes tearing at what self-control Boomer had managed to maintain so far. She stepped backwards through the door and it shut automatically, sealing the pair inside, but not before she saw Ellen's encouraging nod.
As her eyes moved from the smooth surface of the door to the pad at the side, she worried that Cavil had only to check its log and he'd know of her visit. Pursing her lips, she considered trying to somehow hide the electronic telltale evidence of her entrance. Maybe if she had some of the others' expertise she could do it, but Boomer disconsolately knew she was just as likely to call attention by her attempts than to successfully hide her tracks. Resignedly, she turned away, hoping that none of the Ones would have any reason to check in the first place.
As Boomer hurried away, anxious not to linger where she might yet be spotted, the kernel of an idea came to mind. Running through the necessary steps to pull it off, sweat beaded along her forehead and lip. The urge to bury her head and forget her new knowledge twisted her gut, but Boomer jerked her head up instead and quickened her stride.
She'd made a promise, and it was one she meant to fulfill.