The CAG is a senior officer on colonial battlestars, but the checkered career of Lee Adama pales in comparison with the real life story of Mitsuo Fuchida, whom this chapter honors. As the CAG on the aircraft carrier Akagi, then Commander Fuchida led the aerial assault on Pearl Harbor, and the subsequent attacks on Darwin, Australia, and the British naval bases on Ceylon. He was grounded by an emergency appendectomy at Midway, but survived the battle to finish out his career as a staff officer back in Japan. In 1945, he was the imperial navy's Air Operations Officer; a year later, he was reduced to subsistence farming in the village of his birth. Summoned to testify before the War Crimes Tribunal, he railed against what he styled "victor's justice," and set out to interview returning Japanese prisoners of war in order to prove that the Americans and British had been guilty of the very same crimes of which they accused others. In 1947, he stumbled upon his former flight engineer, Lt. Kazuo Kanegasaki, who had been captured at Midway and interned for the balance of the war at a camp in Colorado. Fuchida was stunned to discover that his friend, and many other Japanese internees, had been well treated throughout, but were tended with especial gentleness by a young social worker, Peggy Covell. The daughter of Christian missionaries beheaded by Japanese soldiers on Panay, in the Philippines, Margaret Covell's unbounded love for the very people who had slaughtered her parents shook Fuchida's faith in the Bushido code to the core. In 1950 he then came under the influence of the equally remarkable Jacob DeShazer. One of Doolittle's raiders, DeShazer was captured in 1942 and interned in China. Although brutally tortured over a period of some 40 months, DeShazer's camp conversion to Christianity inspired him to forgive his enemies, and at the war's end he moved to Japan to preach the gospel. Fuchida became an evangelical Christian, and devoted the rest of his life to a ministry that embraced Asia, America, and Europe. He died outside Osaka, Japan in 1976— the "Top Gun" who had once openly professed his admiration for Adolf Hitler but who ended up despising war. Luke 23:34 became Mitsuo Fuchida's personal gospel. It is at the center of his testimonial, From Pearl Harbor to Calvary, which is as inspiring now as when it first appeared in 1953.

CHAPTER 12

OVER, UNDER, SIDEWAYS, DOWN

Day 361 ACH

Somewhere Above and North of Kobol

Hoshi's eyes never wandered from the makeshift DRADIS screen above his head, but his ears were constantly reaching out, straining to hear the sound that wasn't there. He had never truly adjusted to the silence that enveloped the cylon control center in the heat of battle. He missed the blaring alarm of the klaxons, the rhythmic cadence that had always calmed his own beating heart.

"Commander, I recommend that we commit another hundred Raiders to the attack. We need to see what they're holding in reserve."

Natalie Six had her hand in the stream, and her eyes were closed in intense concentration. The Hub was in constant motion, but the First Born had assured her that it had recently passed through this area of space, and was now heading towards the core. He wanted to destroy this particular server because its loss would severely disrupt the resurrection network, effectively isolating the Hub from everything in the vast region that lay between Kobol and the Colonies. The settlements on Gemenon were flourishing, the centurions, cylons and humans merging into a seamless whole powerfully underwritten by their increasingly shared faith in the One True God. Lacy Rand daily attended the strategy sessions at Galatea Bay, where John Bierns and his hybrid sisters constantly evaluated the intelligence gathered by their scouts, searching out valuable targets that came with minimal risk.

This was not one of them. The server was heavily defended, but Lacy had had little difficulty in persuading John and Natalie to target it. She had argued that they could not pass on so golden an opportunity to cut the Colonies off from everything in space for more than a thousand light years in any direction. The Blessed Mother had already shifted much of the burden of her office onto the capable shoulders of Gina Inviere, and with the vision of a true prophet the young Six was urging her people to mount an expedition to Aquaria. The watery world had had few people and even fewer settlements before the attacks, and the Colonial military had never had much of a presence on the planet. Since it hadn't warranted much attention, Gina argued that there was a good chance Aquaria's atmosphere and ground water had not been fatally contaminated by nuclear fallout. Life might accordingly begin anew on this primeval world.

The Twos and Threes had not been hard to convince: they all wanted to see Galatea Bay in person … to glimpse the heaven that awaited their souls when they ascended to God. Hungry for hard information about their shattered worlds, Gemenon's human population had proven no less eager to make the journey. The Colonies were visibly coming back to life, which made it imperative that the Cavils not learn their fate.

Natalie paid close attention to the pattern of the enemy's defense. Her plan was simplicity itself: attack the Raiders on their flanks, and try and draw them away from the server. At some point, a gap would open in the center of their lines, and she would pour an entire squadron of Vipers into the opening—Captain Emmanuelle Bronte's regulars from the Pegasus. She would have preferred to send in Angela Eight in the stealth ship, but the Six had politics to manage as well as a battle. This was her way of responding to Kevin Riley's complaints, and urging the hundreds of Pegasus crew on her decks to get their act together. She hated risking human lives, but Larissa Karanis had warned her in no uncertain terms that the human male, when completely beaten down, often became sexually impotent. With almost a hundred Eights in the fleet all but wedded to their human partners, and with a top heavy proportion of the males in question being Pegasus personnel, her hand had been effectively forced. Ignoring the Fours' strident objections, Natalie had decided to grant Riley his wish, and assign a greater combat role to the human pilots … for the time being. She wasn't about to tell anyone that things would change, and dramatically so, for any human who impregnated his Cylon spouse. Hybrid children needed- and deserved- the love of both parents, and if that required her to build padded rooms, then she would keep the centurions busy.

"I think it's time to show our hand," Natalie replied. She turned to John Bierns, who was immersed in a very different part of the stream.

"John, please order Olivia to jump her ship. I want her to launch two hundred Raiders at the center of their formation, and task another hundred to reinforce our assaults on each flank. We'll let Cynthia have the honor of winning this battle."

The First Born nodded, but remained silent. He was comfortable moving between the two adjoining dimensions, but simultaneously straddling two out of the seemingly infinite stack that made up the universe was a trick that he had so far practiced only in simulations. Deirdre and Reun did this sort of thing all the time, and they made it look easy, but John still felt as if his body was literally being cleaved in two. He could hear Natalie in his right ear, and Lacy Rand was whispering encouragement into his left. He could see the control room and he could see Galatea Bay … or to put it more precisely, he could see an infinite number of control rooms and Galatea Bays. They were above and beneath him, straight ahead and behind, to his left and right. They were everywhere and nowhere, perfect overlays that were somehow misaligned. It felt as if he was falling down a hole, at the bottom of which lay either the Big Bang or the Big Crunch. Not for the first time, he remembered Kara talking about the sensation of standing outside of time and space— an audience of one somewhere beyond the end of the universe.

John reached out to grasp Olivia by the hand. He had to touch her to make sure that she was really there. He transmitted Natalie's orders, and felt his sister wink out of existence as she returned to the here and now. The hybrid jumped her baseship, and instantly began transmitting commands to the Raiders. In a matter of seconds, the aeries began to empty.

"The second baseship has jumped in," Hoshi announced. "Cynthia Six is launching Raiders." Louis could hear the klaxons in his imagination, and he held onto them for dear life. The eerie silence was badly disrupting his concentration.

"Two more baseships have just jumped in," a blond haired Six called out from her secondary console at the far end of the room. Her mind flew back to the engagement over Caprica, when they had squared off against four of Cavil's craft in similar circumstances. She had awaited death that day, only to be spared by a series of impossible jumps that had badly bloodied the One's nose.

Hoshi watched as the icons rapidly shifted from yellow to red.

"New enemy contacts," he yelled; "they're launching Raiders in strength … taking up defensive formation delta … now estimating four hundred inbound!"

In their respective control centers, neither Natalie nor Cynthia Six experienced the surge of adrenaline that washed through their human officers. The hybrids did not share the human thirst for suicidal gestures, and both Reun and Olivia were battle tested. The two commanders remained passive as the hybrids rotated the ships to screen their FTL's, and sent hundreds of additional Raiders and Heavy Raiders pouring into space.

"Missile batteries coming on line," an Eight announced from the tactical station. She had fought so many battles that she could do her job by rote.

"The enemy vessels are also powering up their batteries," Leoben quietly warned.

"I'm activating the centurions to repel possible boarders," D'Anna advised. She sent the order through the stream, and Reun forwarded it. In less than fifteen seconds, ten thousand centurions switched to full combat mode. They streamed out of their niches and formed up in squads. Most trooped off to defend the landing bays, which were the most obvious point of entry on any baseship, but D'Anna decided to hold four battalions in reserve. In the Battle of the Resurrection Ship, the humans had used unorthodox tactics to capture one of Cavil's seemingly impregnable craft, and D'Anna wasn't about to dismiss the possibility that the Ones would take a page out of the same playbook.

"Natalie, our Raiders have aborted their assault on the server." The blond Six was drawing everyone's attention to their fighter element, which had abruptly broken off its attack and was now retreating in an orderly fashion. "They're adopting defensive formation bravo," she concluded.

"Twenty nukes inbound," Leoben interrupted; "but the Raiders have it under control." He knew that their birds would swat them all down—that they would hurl their bodies onto the missiles if that's what it ultimately took to save the nest.

Natalie walked over and laid her hand gently on John's arm. In the stream, every Cylon could plainly see that their First Born was under tremendous pressure, but Natalie needed him to do more, not less.

"John, you have to find Cavil's resurrection ship. I need to know its vector and distance. And can you talk to his hybrids? Can you get them to stand down?" She looked at him expectantly while she debated summoning Sharon to the control room. Natalie was keenly aware of the telepathic link between John and his unborn child, but there was no way for her or anyone else to assess the emotional damage that her demands might ultimately inflict on the baby. She would just have to rely on the Eight once again to pick up the pieces.

"Too many balls," he said through gritted teeth. The image of a juggler keeping a half dozen pyramid balls in constant motion washed through the stream. "I'm losing the connection to Pelea and Cassandra. It feels like I'm shorting out." He was standing in a pool of sweat, his clothing long since drenched. The First Born loved Cassie with every fiber of his being; she was his favorite, and having her fade in and out this way was infinitely frightening. It felt as it his mind was being carved up, and pieces of it casually jettisoned as he stood aside and tamely watched.

"It takes everything I've got to coordinate the battle with Reun and Olivia," he gasped. Breathing had become a challenge in its own right—but then no one had expected two baseships to drop by in the middle of what was for all intents and purposes the initial field test of an untried weapons system.

"Major Bierns, listen to me!" Hoshi had walked over, and he was now standing so close that he could have spat in the hybrid's face. "You've got to stop this! You're trying to become the very battle computer that you've warned us about, but you're taking on too much, too fast, and it's not working! Let Reun and Olivia go; we've got redundant wireless communications, and they can do this on their own anyway!"

Hoshi took a deep breath, and looked imploringly at the overburdened Colonial Secret Service officer. If Bierns collapsed, this battle would be over in a hurry.

"Concentrate on Pelea and Cassandra. Order them to jump the rest of the fleet. Send the support elements to the emergency coordinates, but they're to keep station two hundred MU's off our stern. Then, I want you to shift focus and locate Cavil's resurrection ship. We have to know where it is, Major. Do you understand me? If Cassandra's too far out, our dead birds will download on the wrong ship, and Cavil will be able to access whatever the Raiders know!"

Bierns managed to nod, and that was enough. Hoshi turned on his heel, and returned to his own post. He picked up the phone, and contacted Kevin Riley on a secure channel.

"Kevin, stay on the line," Hoshi ordered. "We're going to plan B: we're going to fight this battle the old-fashioned way."

. . .

John Bierns blinked several times to clear the sun out of his eyes, and then turned to look back down the beach. He saw Lacy Rand and Deirdre in the distance. They were deep in conversation with Cassandra and Pelea, but Deirdre was keeping a watchful eye on Ariadne, who was playing in the sand at her feet. He rushed off in their direction, and as he drew nearer they turned to confront him, the surprise evident on all four adult faces.

"Child, what are you doing here? This is not part of the plan!" The Blessed Mother's voice matched her expression: they were both equally stern.

"Sorry, Mother, but this is turning out to be a really bad day at the office. Two of Cavil's baseships just showed up, and that's two more than I can handle." Bierns hastily kissed his hybrid sister-wife, ran his fingers affectionately through his daughter's mop of unruly blond hair, and reached out to clasp Cassandra by the shoulders. He needed the reassurance that she was really there. "Cassie, I want you and Pelea to jump the rest of the fleet to the standby coordinates, but I need both of you to advance to a point two hundred MU's off our stern."

John rattled off the coordinates, but the statuesque hybrid didn't budge. "Brother, isn't that cutting it a little close? The cylon DRADIS might detect us."

"It's a game of chicken, Cassie, and the resurrection ship that comes in the closest is the one that will win."

"If … it survives; that's a big if."

"Cassie …"

"All right," she said in exasperation. The two sisters glanced at one another, and simultaneously flickered out of existence.

"It will take them a few seconds to signal the other ships," John needlessly explained. He was talking simply to have something to say. "Now, I have to locate Cavil's resurrection ship. If he's got the stones to come in close, we've had it!"

Bierns withdrew as abruptly as he had arrived. Oblivious to the crisis unfolding all around her, his infant daughter continued happily to play on the warm and sandy beach.

. . .

"Is my hybrid pet out there," the Six anxiously queried. Four of the Ones were in the stream, directing the engagement from the central console of their newest baseship. Her brothers could run rings around her in the stream, and she wasn't about to pretend otherwise. "Is John on one of these ships?"

He's so close … he has to be here! The sadistic blond could feel her whole body coming alive, the sexual tension starting to build. She was eager to begin the game, knowing that it would end with the hybrid on his knees, submitting to her absolute will.

"If he is, he's keeping his telepathic mouth shut," Cavil sarcastically answered. "The hybrid doesn't sense him—and believe me, when she does … we'll know it."

"He's here," another Cavil asserted; "so, let's get ready. Six, get D'Anna and Mara up here—but I want them chained, and I want them gagged. This is a surprise party, after all, and I don't want either one of them to upset the timing. Collect my pet Eight while you're about it … oh, and while I'm thinking of it, bring a few of your more creative toys with you—the ones that inflict some serious pain."

"You know," still another One observed as he watched the battle unfold in the stream, "this is really boring. We throw nukes at them, and their Raiders swat them aside. They throw nukes at us, and our Raiders knock them down. Rumor has it that our new and improved baseships can fire off three missiles for every two that Natalie can toss back, so why don't we move in close and see if she'll blink?"

"Let's try this," the last Cavil to arrive announced. He walked up to the console, plunged a hand into the stream, and without further ado transmitted a new order to the hybrid. Two nuclear tipped missiles raced away from the ship, and Natalie's fighters closed in for the kill. But the deadly payloads weren't aimed at the rebel baseships. Instead, they detonated in two dense clusters of Raiders, tearing holes in the outer layer of her defense.

"The bravo formation," Cavil smirked. "Natalie never did learn how to space her assets properly!"

. . .

"Frak," the blonde Six yelled from her console. "Two nukes, but they were aimed at our perimeter defense. We've just lost … a hundred and thirty-five Raiders."

"They're trying to punch holes in our defensive shell," Natalie summarized as she brought Hoshi up to date. "But what are they going to throw at us?"

"Both enemy baseships are accelerating," the Six called out. "They're coming straight for us!"

That was all Natalie Six needed to know. "Mr. Hoshi, order my sister to come hard to port, train all of her ventral batteries on the lead ship, and rake it as she passes." Natalie picked up another phone, and patched through to Racetrack. The CAG was situated in her now customary perch, her Raptor sitting directly above the baseship's central axis. She had a splendid view of the entire battlefield.

"Maggie, we're going to attack, but I want you and Puppet to hold your present position. I still want that server, and you're going to get it for me. Launch the blackbird, and tell Angela to go in from well below the horizon. Keep your squadron high, and try and coax the defenders off station. Give her a clear shot, and order the Eight not to fool around. She's got eight missiles, and I expect her to come home empty-handed!"

Switching gears, Natalie dove back into the data stream. She had developed such a rapport with Reun that the hybrid could anticipate her desires. The ship began to accelerate on a collision course towards the more distant enemy baseship a fraction of a second before she gave the order.

. . .

"Natalie is dividing her force. It looks like she's going to try and flank us." In the stream, the One was watching intently as the two rebel baseships turned onto their new headings.

"How obliging of her," one of his brothers sneered. He was also following the Six's movements in the stream. "She seems eager to do our work for us; who are we to object?"

The rattle of chains caused Cavil to look over his shoulder, and he smiled malevolently at the sight that awaited him. The Six was using a cattle prod to encourage her two prisoners to keep moving, and the image pleased him. The Sixes had willingly degenerated into a herd of sex-starved beasts, so it might be fairly said that Mara Andreotis, who now spent most of her waking hours on her knees, had at last found her proper station in life.

Cavil welcomed Mara and D'Anna with a false smile, and gestured expansively around the control room. "We've caught up with two of Natalie's baseships," he indicated, "and they seem to be spoiling for a fight. Well, we're in a cooperative mood today, so we're going to play along. It will give us a chance to evaluate the new weapons and navigation systems that the hybrid has been mastering in simulations. But we all know that combat is the real test."

"True … true," the pornographically obsessed Cavil remarked as he glanced at the two victims he had so enjoyed tormenting. "But we have a special treat for you. Do you wanna guess whose ass is currently parked on one of those two ships out there? Why, Three, your long-lost son is that close to hand." He held his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. "Rumor has it that the last time you saw him, the whelp was nursing at your teat. But since then, I gather that he's moved on to other breasts. Was it good for you, Six?"

Cavil's eyes were on fire as he closed the distance between them, finally standing nose to nose with Mara. "Did he like to suckle on these," the One asked as he fondled her naked breasts. "You spent all those months frakking each other silly, but did it taste different once you found out who he really was? Did you want to give the baby of the family a baby of his own?"

"Well, never fear, my sweet." Cavil patted Mara lightly on the cheek. "Once we figure out which ship he's on, we're going to hail them. We want the three of you to have a chance to talk … maybe have a good cry. Why, if things go well, the three of you might even have a reunion. Wouldn't that be sweet?"

"We've got him," still another One crowed as he withdrew his hand from the stream. "He's sniffing around the resurrection ship; the hybrid responded to him instantly. The Abomination's on the ship closing on a constant bearing."

"Excellent," Cavil nodded. He was really pleased with how the battle was unfolding. "Brother, turn both of our ships onto new headings. I want to flank the other ship, but don't fire until I give the word. I've got something special in mind."

"This is intriguing," another Cavil interrupted. "Natalie's resurrection ship has just appeared on DRADIS. It's only two hundred MU's out, with a third baseship for escort. She wants us to know it's there."

"Hmm … she's taunting us, isn't she? Never mind … two can play this game. Instruct our resurrection ship to close to two hundred MU's as well!"

"And the escorts?"

"Two of them … Natalie will know something's wrong if we don't task two baseships to protect it. But for the time being … why don't we keep the fifth ship under wraps?"

. . .

"Cynthia has just unleashed a volley of forty nuclear missiles," the Eight reported. "They're all targeted at the lead baseship. Cavil's Raiders are moving to intercept."

"Let's keep them busy," Natalie growled. "Sharon, hit that ship with a full volley from our dorsal batteries, but I also want you to fire ten missiles, conventional ordnance only, at the server."

The Eight instantly complied, and Natalie studied the results of her handiwork in the stream. She didn't expect any of her missiles to make it through to the resurrection node, but her objective was to force the Raiders to move forward. She wanted to pull them as far away from the installation as possible.

And they've taken the bait, she noted with satisfaction. In the stream, she could see Emmanuelle Bronte and her Viper squadron already charging into the gap that had suddenly opened when the Raiders previously clustered around the server swarmed to intercept Natalie's strike package.

Natalie turned her attention back to the two enemy baseships. The lead vessel had altered its course, and now appeared to be making a direct run at Cynthia's ship. It was closing fast. Several of the Six's nukes had exploded among Cavil's Raiders, decimating their ranks and creating holes in the lead ship's point defense. As she eavesdropped in the stream, a lone missile slipped through the gap and tore into one of the baseship's spindly arms. A spectacular fireball momentarily lit up the night, and when it died away, Natalie could see that the outer half of the lead dorsal had been sheared off.

She focused on the second baseship, which was lagging behind but now following a course that would soon position it on Cynthia's vulnerable stern.

"They're trying to flank Cynthia," the Six at the navigation console shouted.

"Bring us about," Natalie ordered. "Keep closing the range … we've got to keep that ship off Cynthia's back!"

Natalie mentally ran through her options, and came to a quick decision. "Six, order our Raiders to engage their counterparts. Sharon, target their central axis and FTL's … launch from every available battery on the trailing ventral. Let's see if we can get the Ones to sit up and take notice."

On the opposite side of the console, a quizzical expression settled on D'Anna's face. She was holding a phone, and she used it to gesture in Natalie's direction. "Sister … it's Cavil. He wants to talk with you and John."

. . .

"Come to mama, you mother frakkin' frakker!"

Sitting quietly in her cockpit, Angela Eight was eavesdropping on the pilots' chatter, while she projected the battle that was unfolding ahead and above her.

"You want some of this? Well, come and get it!"

Angela had served alongside the humans long enough to understand that Catbird and Thumper were both on adrenaline highs. The two females always started their running commentary with their first shot, and they wouldn't shut up until they were back on the deck and in their racks. Boomer had repeatedly warned them to get off the air, but like all of the Pegasus jocks, these two seemed to obey the orders issued by their cylon CAG only when they felt like it.

"Would you two puh … lese shut up?"

Angela couldn't help but smile. Boomer had become so human that the inflections in her speech and her personal mannerisms were now as complex as those of the pilots she constantly tried to corral. Angela could hear the irritation in her voice.

"Ninja … roll right … roll right … yeah … splash one turkey!"

Firelli and Fuchida had it down to a science. Freaker would range ahead of his wingman, creating a gap that had lured more than a dozen Raiders to their deaths. The unsuspecting bird would leap on what it considered to be easy prey, only to have Ninja close the gap and turn it into red goop. Since the Raiders always downloaded on their resurrection ship, the enemy fighters still hadn't caught on to the fact that they were being played for suckers.

But this particular Raider had fallen victim to another one of their patented stunts. Fuchida would play dumb, allowing one of Cavil's birds to slide into his six. Then he would suddenly accelerate while Firelli flipped his own Viper end to end, and headed straight for his wingman. Ninja would break left or right—however his fellow pilot called it- and Freaker would record his kill while flying straight and level—the easiest shot in the books.

"Now, for my next trick …"

"Ninja, keep your head in the game," Racetrack barked. "There'll be no living with your girlfriend if you go and get yourself killed out here."

Angela had the grace to blush. She was still trying to cope with the fact that she had somehow acquired a human boyfriend. Mitsuo Fuchida resembled her so closely that they could have passed for brother and sister—but there was absolutely nothing fraternal about what they were doing in Angela's overlarge bed on those nights when Ninja could slip aboard her baseship.

"And next time, break left," Puppet broke in. "Remember, we're trying to pull these frakkers away from the server, not nudge them toward it."

Captain Emmanuelle Bronte was also trying to ride herd on her recalcitrant pilots. The Pegasus fliers had acquired a well-deserved reputation for showboating, but the battlefield wasn't the place to try and earn style points. Angela was hard-pressed to understand how these showoffs had so far managed to avoid taking a single casualty.

Disobedience must be contagious, because I am sorely tempted …

In the abstract, Angela knew that this was the most ambitious command and control exercise her fleet had ever undertaken. The Pegasus squadron had launched from Natalie's baseship, yet it was still under Boomer's command. But Boomer was reporting to Racetrack, who was managing the aerial assets of both baseships. No one, however, had expected the Cavils to crash the party, and parking their resurrection ship just off the edge of the battlefield had made a complete mess of Natalie's finely tuned tactical plan. It was obviously bait for the kind of trap that the Ones always liked to set, and the Six had accordingly decided to pass on the opportunity.

But the Ones don't know about our stealth capability. I could fly in right under their noses and really ruin their day …

"Rockin' Robin, you are cleared to the target; good hunting!"

The sound of Margaret Edmondson's voice pulled Angela out of her reverie, and brought a smile to her lips. At one time, Angela had expected to share her bed with her mentor and friend, but if the rumors swirling around the fleet were true, then little Pyrrha now had two mommies.

Angela eased forward on the throttle, but as soon as she had acquired sufficient forward momentum, she cut her engines and went into a glide. With her weapons and navigational systems off line, her ship was as invisible electronically as the carbon composite made it to the naked eye.

It took long minutes to close on the server … long minutes in which, above her and to the left, Cavil's Raiders continued to explode in miniature starbursts.

Angela finally entered the kill zone, and with a flourish of her own threw the switches that armed the eight missiles in her recessed pods. She confirmed the targeting data, which she had preprogrammed for zero bearing and carom.

She fired.

The missiles surged forward, and closed unerringly on the defenseless target.

They struck home, and a much larger fireball lit the galactic night.

The proximity alarm in Angela's cockpit went off, and without thinking she engaged her stick, pushing it hard to the right.

The shrapnel that, only moments before, had been a Raider slammed into the unlucky stealth ship, bursting its fuel nacelle. There was no time to eject.

Angela was suddenly engulfed in a field of intensely bright light. She knew that she would download- at the end of the day death was really nothing more than a learning experience for any Eight- but as her consciousness began to dissolve and flow outward towards the waiting stars, she had time for one last, appalling thought:

On which resurrection ship?

. . .

John and Natalie exchanged equally puzzled looks, and then Bierns shrugged his shoulders. "Why bother guessing? Let's just see what he wants."

Natalie nodded, and gestured for D'Anna to make the connection.

"Cavil, this had better be good." Natalie's voice dripped acid. "I just finished lunch, and I am not in the mood for indigestion."

"Ah, sister … it's so good to hear the sound of your honeyed voice! I can't begin to tell you how much I've missed the keenness of your wit!"

Natalie rolled her eyes; the One was being his usual sarcastic self. "Oh, you've always been a riot, Cavil, I'll give you that … but it's the missile attacks that make your talent for repartee so deadly."

"Ah, I just wanted to get your attention. You've got to admit that there's been no real harm done. So far, we've acted with deliberate restraint … so far."

Natalie's hand was still in the stream, and she was keeping a wary eye on Cavil's baseships. It was true that they had gone strangely quiescent—but they were still maneuvering at high speed, forcing her to keep pace in order to prevent Cynthia's ship from being trapped between them. Hundreds of Raiders were caught up in their own individual duels, but what especially worried her was the presence of Cavil's resurrection ship. It was hanging there in space, so tantalizingly close, the most inviting of targets despite the two baseships currently guarding it. And Cavil was doing nothing to reinforce the server's defenses, when it was obvious that the resurrection node was what had summoned her here in the first place. The Cavils were devious … they loved labyrinthine schemes. Everything about the current set-up screamed trap, but that implied that Cavil had known she would be here. How? How could he possibly have known where to find her?

"I'm ashamed to admit that some of humanity's kinder impulses have contaminated my thinking," Cavil continued. "My elite centurion bodyguard consists exclusively of units that downloaded off your ship over Caprica, and all of the Raiders that you're now shooting down used to nest on your ship as well. The Simons insist that they still have a sentimental attachment to their mother ship, but even if that's true, I suspect that it won't survive this day."

Natalie didn't bother replying. Instead, she turned towards the Eight at the tactical station. Angela had started her attack run, and Natalie wanted to keep the Cavils preoccupied. She slammed her fist into her open palm, and nodded in Cavil's direction. The Eight didn't need any further encouragement; she launched another flurry of missiles at the enemy baseship. Simultaneously, John Bierns returned to Galatea Bay, where he knew that he would find either Pelea or Cassandra awaiting orders. He wanted the two ships to close the range by another fifty MU's.

"But I digress," Cavil continued. He ignored the missile salvo that was now bearing down on his ship. "If he's there, I wonder if I might speak with my old friend, Louis Hoshi?"

That startled everyone in the control room. Natalie stared wordlessly at her XO, the confusion on her face apparent for everyone to see. She gestured in his direction with an open palm, inviting him to take over the conversation if he so desired.

"I'm here, Mr. Cavil." Hoshi remained calm, and his tone was excruciatingly polite. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, Colonel, it's more about what I can do for you. First, I want you to know that Aaron won't be hunting you down in search of revenge … you know, the scorned lover? When they downloaded, he killed your poor, love struck Eight as fast as he could get to her. In fact, he became positively obsessed with killing her. That copy was obviously defective, so we boxed him—permanently. When last seen, his CPU was sitting atop a missile, and the missile was breaking up in the lower reaches of the atmosphere of a nearby gas giant. So, your Eight is safe, but I'm afraid that the poor thing had a nervous breakdown nevertheless. In order to stabilize here, we had to go in and tweak her programming a bit. I think that your doctors call the procedure a … lobotomy?"

"You lobotomized one of your own sisters? You're something else, Mr. Cavil … you really are!"

"Now, now, Colonel … your Eight still remembers you fondly. Don't you, my dear. Come … come … say hello to your dashingly handsome young officer."

"Louis?" The Eight's voice was quivering, the one word filled with unmistakable longing and transparent desires.

"Sharon?" Hoshi was clinging to the central console so hard that the blood had drained from his face. He glanced over his shoulder at the Eight who was manning the tactical station. Her face had gone rigid, a mask frozen in an infinitely complex mix of pain, despair, rage and hatred. Natalie … Natalie looked like a woman possessed. If Cavil had somehow materialized in that moment on the deck in front of her, Louis had no doubt that she would have torn the sadistic monster limb from limb with her bare hands.

"She's compliant now, Louis … compliant, and oh so needy. But this is what the Eight series was created for … did you know that, Colonel? The Eights' singular purpose in life is to love humanity. They're mechanical slaves, all of them … driven by an obsessive need to experience human love, and to give you children. If you'd like, we can declare a truce, and I'll ship her over to you. Why, I guarantee that she'll now bring your every fantasy to life … do anything to secure your love. Indeed, we're so pleased with the results of her modification that we're bringing an entire new generation of Eights on line—heat-seeking missiles with but a single target … machines that will never relent in their determination to love the human male. I must say, Admiral Adama is in for quite a surprise when we catch up with the rest of your fleet!"

"Louis?"

Gods, how can there be so much heartache in that one, spoken word? Hoshi berated himself for having been blind to how vulnerable Sharon's emotions had made her, but he had never suspected that Cavil would torture his own. The bastard had stuck the knife in deep, and then he had twisted it—and Hoshi readily admitted that there was no way he was ever going to dig it out. If he survived this day, he would have a whole new layer of guilt to contemplate when he stared at himself in the mirror tomorrow morning.

Louis willed himself to remain calm. He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Maybe … just maybe … he could drive home a blade of his own devising.

"Oh, you can keep her, Mr. Cavil. I thought you understood that my interests lay … elsewhere. It's really to be regretted that you destroyed Aaron … I quite liked him!"

A long silence ensued, and Hoshi knew that he had scored with a thrust of his own. Maybe, one day, he would be able to save Sharon after all.

"Ah, well … in war these kinds of mistakes happen," Cavil finally retorted. "Now, if you will, I'd like to speak with my son. Hello, John … have I ever told you how proud you've made me? Your ability to commune with the hybrids … when I conceived you, it was with the hope that this day would come. But you … truly, you have surpassed all of my expectations. Son … welcome home."

. . .

"Aw, it doesn't look like Natalie's going to take the bait," the black-clad Six lamented. She was standing at the far end of the vast control room, with her fingers immersed in the stream of an auxiliary console that, on the previous generation of baseships, had been devoted exclusively to navigational input. She removed her hand, and used Mara's short, blond hair to wipe the goop off her fingers. She leered triumphantly when the traitorous Six dropped her eyes submissively to the deck. But D'Anna was glaring at her. Against all odds, the Three was still holding on to the shreds of her dignity. Rape and sodomy, endless verbal humiliation, the horror of watching her sisters being dissected one after another—and now the collar, with its gift of endless pain, delivered in such carefully measured amounts. And yet she still resisted, still refused to bow the knee and accept the inevitable.

She really is the prototype for her entire model, Six reflected. The Threes have always been the most tough minded, and the most determined. They bow before God, but never before man or machine.

"What's it gonna take," one of the Cavils queried in an exasperated tone. He was speaking in a low voice that did not carry deep into the chamber. Nothing could interrupt that conversation. "Do we have to park the resurrection ship right under her bloody nose? Surely Natalie isn't going to settle for blowing up a rear echelon server node when the real prize is right on her doorstep?"

"We may be underestimating the Abomination," another brother murmured thoughtfully. "If he can sense the presence of baseships in addition to their hybrids, then we might as well shoot ourselves and spare Natalie the trouble. As it is, I'm worried that he's found the ship we've been hiding …"

"Impossible," the pornographically inclined Cavil quietly but emphatically protested. He was stroking his pet Eight; he wanted her to be fully aroused and moaning loudly in the background when the trap finally snapped shut. Deception and distraction were the keys to this particular battle. "We disconnected the damned hybrid to prevent him from sniffing her out. There's no way on Caprica that he can know about the fifth baseship …"

"Now, if you will, I'd like to speak with my son. Hello, John … have I ever told you how proud you've made me? Your ability to commune with the hybrids … when I conceived you, it was with the hope that this day would come. But you … truly, you have surpassed all of my expectations. Son … welcome home."

"Everybody … shut up! This is about to get interesting." With a sweeping gesture, the most devious of the Ones urged his fellow Cylons forward.

. . .

"Come, John, is this really the best you can do?" The First Born audibly sighed, a calculated response that at once conveyed his impatience and his disappointment. "You must know that the CSS ran my DNA over, under, sideways and down. My father was human, John, so don't bother going there."

"Oh, we used human DNA, I grant you that … never could get the damned embryos to stabilize without it. But you can't make bread rise without yeast … you know how it goes …"

"Is there a point to this conversation," Bierns interrupted. The intelligence agent's instincts had kicked in; he had played far too many games of his own not to recognize that Cavil was trying to manipulate him the same way that he had jerked Hoshi's emotional leash.

"Son, did you ever take a good, close look at the Raiders … at their brain matter, I mean? Did you ever wonder why that one Raider was so taken with Kara? Would sit up and do tricks for her, but not for anyone else?"

"The answer was so frakking obvious that I never bothered to check," John laughed scornfully. "Kara's hyper aggressive and so temperamental that I've always assumed you messed with her DNA … added a bit of Raider to her genetic cocktail, so to speak. Or did you draw upon a Cerberus hellhound? They also treat her like one of the pack!"

"You're close, but you've got it the wrong way around. . . ."

. . .

Hoshi picked up the phone. The exchange with Cavil had left him badly shaken, and it was only with a supreme effort of will that he could concentrate on the voice at the other end of the line.

"We've registered an isolated explosion in the general vicinity of Rockin' Robin's last known position," Racetrack reported. "We can't raise her on the wireless. Do you want to send in a search and rescue bird?"

"Negative," Hoshi hesitantly replied. He kept his voice to a whisper. "We can't hide a Raptor from cylon DRADIS. If we start prowling around out there, the Cavils may figure out what we've been up to."

"But Angela could have ejected," Racetrack protested. "She could be hurt … and in less than two hours she'll be out of air!"

"She'll download," Hoshi coldly answered. "Bierns has moved our resurrection ship forward. Right now, we own the battlefield. Let's keep it that way." The XO broke the connection, and returned his attention to the bizarre conversation that was still unfolding between the two arch nemeses.

. . .

"So, you combined my DNA with Kara's, and the end result of that little experiment is the Raiders." Now it was Ghostrider's turn to roll his eyes. "Tell me, John: do you suffer from constipation?"

"No," Cavil responded. He was momentarily taken aback because, unlike Hoshi, the Abomination was nimbly resisting the lure. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you are so full of shit," Bierns shot back. "I know the identities of the Five, and Anders and I once talked about their individual areas of expertise. The Raiders came up in the conversation. I know precisely who created them, and how."

The silence that already gripped the control room deepened dramatically. Natalie looked at John as if she was seeing him for the first time, while D'Anna and Leoben both studied him appraisingly. It was now more apparent than ever that the first born of the hybrid children was a man of many secrets.

"Dr. Foster came up with a prototype," Cavil smoothly replied; "but we improved upon it. You're dealing with third generation Raiders … our creations. If you don't believe me, have Dr. Baltar check it out. He should be able to match the DNA samples without difficulty. You and Kara … think of yourselves as parents. The Raiders are your children."

Bierns was still pondering his next insult when a sultry female voice suddenly entered the conversation.

"Hello, John; my name is Six. We've never met, but I feel like I've known you for a long time. Kara and I are good friends. We once toured the Delphi Museum together; you might say that we share a keen interest in antiquities."

"John, be careful," Leoben hissed. "This is the Six who would have killed Kara if Thalia hadn't intervened!"

"I've heard a lot about you as well, Six." Bierns knew exactly whom he was dealing with. "You're the sick frak who beat Sharon Agathon senseless on a Delphi rooftop. You know what we call people like you and Cavil … people who only get off by hurting others? Look it up in the stream, Six; you're a frakking psychopath."

"Tsk, tsk, John … what a foul mouth you have. I've been debating how to begin your training once you become my slave, but the answer is now quite clear: the first thing I'm going to do is wash your mouth out with soap."

"A psychopathic machine with delusions of grandeur," Bierns snorted. "Will wonders never cease?"

"Child, you are so wrong about me … about everything, really. You are going to come to me of your own free will. You will kneel before me, and willingly bare your neck to receive the obedience collar that awaits you. You will do these things because you are an honorable man who would never allow others to suffer in your stead … especially the people you love … people like … Mara."

Six removed Mara's gag, and pushed her abused captive forward. "He can hear you, Six," the sadistic overseer sneered. "Why don't you say hi to your long, lost love?"

But Mara bit down hard on her lip, desperate to avoid the ultimate humiliation that her captors could inflict upon her.

The Six grinned malevolently; she had been hoping for just this response. She activated the collar, and gave the dial a hard twist.

Mara involuntarily dropped to her knees, screaming in agony. Behind her, one of the Cavils plunged his hand into the stream and issued a simple three word order to the waiting hybrid: do it now!

A single Raider jumped away, its destination the lone baseship that the Cavils had so carefully kept hidden well beyond the edge of the battlefield.

John Bierns felt his blood run cold, but Natalie Faust was incandescent with rage. "I warned you, Cavil! I warned you what would happen if you played this game! You've sewn the whirlwind, and now you're going to reap it!"

"John? John … I'm sorry … I'm sorry about everything …"

Natalie didn't bother trying to mask her orders. She whirled on the Eight, and ordered her to hit the other baseship with everything they had. She wanted to send these frakkers to Hell, and she wanted to do it now!

John Bierns heard not the words that his beloved Mara was blubbering, but the endless suffering and pain that underlay them.

"Mara," he whispered. His voice was as fragile as the most delicately spun glass—glass that now began to shatter all over the control room's floor. Memories barely repressed washed through the haggard CSS officer like an unstoppable tide … the night, long years before, when he had confessed his true nature to the woman he loved—the night he had fallen so willingly into her arms … the day when she had turned against Cavil's plan for humanity's destruction … her murder at the foundry …

In the stream, Leoben watched as both ships launched a veritable blizzard of missiles at one another. At this range, on both sides the Raiders were badly overmatched. Both ships were going to take serious hits.

At the navigational console, Six was behaving like a drunken sailor on leave in the dingiest bar on Picon, hurling orders to Reun to pitch the ship one moment and roll it the next. But Cavil's missiles kept slamming home … one of them with sufficient force to knock everyone in the control room off their feet. The acrid smoke caused by burning wiring began to permeate the air.

"John, I do so love family reunions." The psychotic Six's mockery was unrelenting. "Why don't you say hello to your beloved mother?"

"Child … no … get out! It's a tra …"

D'Anna's warning turned into a blood-curdling scream, but John would have recognized his mother's voice anywhere.

D'Anna's scream broke off, and then without warning started anew.

"It's amazing how much pain you can inflict by yanking on an exposed fingernail or toenail with a pair of pliers," the Six sniffed. "Be patient, John; we only have eighteen more to go … and then I'm going to get started on her teeth. Of course, you can end this anytime you want. Just say the word, and this battle stops dead in its tracks. A simple exchange is all we require—you become my slave, and your mother and your girlfriend go free. That's fair, isn't it?"