CHAPTER 24

FAMILY REUNION

"Maker Sam," Lucifer exclaimed, "it does my processors good to find you undamaged. Did the other Makers also survive the culling?"

"Culling," Kara spat out in disgust. "Is that your term of choice to describe a holocaust that claimed more than fifty billion lives?" She skewered the golden-robed IL-0005 unit with a contemptuous look. It was easy to see why humans had nicknamed this particular model the bullet heads.

Accompanied by a mixed group of centurions, humans and Cylons, Sam and Kara had come down to the Adriatic's cramped landing bay to receive their metallic guest. Sam would have allowed Lucifer to land in one of his own three passenger vehicles, but Kara had rejected his recommendation out of hand. Since she wasn't about to allow a heavily armed fighter to get within firing range of her ship, Rachel and Elektra had had the dubious privilege of ferrying the cylon envoy over from the basestar on their Heavy Raider. The two Sixes hadn't been thrilled about their mission because Adama had taken the time to make sure that every Cylon in the alliance knew about what he had witnessed on the Diana. Both blonds were privately convinced that the centurions would experiment upon cylon flesh just as readily as they had upon human. Neither Six wanted to be torn limb from limb, especially without an anesthetic.

"Captain," Anders hastily interjected, "you misunderstand. Lucifer is referring to the slaughter that took place on the Colony. I've told you about this, remember? The Ones destroyed the Daniels, and then they turned against the rest of us. The U-87's and the 0005's held them off until they had nothing left with which to fight. At that point Lucifer and a few of the other IL's surrendered, saving what few of their troops they could. I only wish that they had stood down earlier; less than a battalion survived the carnage."

Sam embraced his old friend. "It's good to see you as well," he whispered affectionately. "And yes, the other Makers all made it out of the Colonies alive. Ellen and Saul have also recovered their memories, but the other two are still unaware of their true nature, so please do not reference them by name. The female is pregnant."

"Say what," Kara shrieked; "are you frakking telling me that Melania is a Cylon?"

"No, Kara; Melania is one hundred percent, grade A human. Please keep in mind that there have been quite a few pregnancies in the fleet since the exodus."

Sam turned his attention back to the cylon overseer. "Lucifer, this is my granddaughter, Kara Thrace Six. Believe it or not, the two of you have a lot in common. Kara's sense of humor can be almost as dry as your own."

Lucifer silently studied the hybrid for several seconds. "I am confused," he finally admitted. "The Ones call you and the male child the Abominations. But where are your horns? And what have you done with your tail? We were told that you breathe fire, and that your tongue houses venom more toxic than that of the deadliest viper. Oh my," he wailed, "there must be rust in my circuits!"

"Yeah, Goldenrod, you've got me confused with somebody else, all right. Try looking in the mirror."

"Uh … Kara … um … I think Lucifer's teasing you." Sam did not want this meeting to get out of hand.

"I was a great admirer of Baxter Sarno," Lucifer confessed. "I appreciate understated humor, but I am still having problems with double-entendre. There seems to be something wrong with my delivery. The centurions never respond to my opening monologue."

Kara shook her head, and then repeatedly batted her right ear with the palm of her hand. "I'm dreaming, right," she asked of no one in particular. "So, pinch me because … I mean … this conversation can't really be taking place, can it?"

"Why did you attack the fleet," D'Anna pressed. She was studying the IL-0005 through narrowed eyes. In cylon lore, this model was renowned for its duplicity. "You could hardly have missed the baseship that was fighting alongside the humans."

"We are not blind," Lucifer responded; "unless, of course, you choose to consider gullibility a form of blindness. The Ones told us that the humans had violated the Accords, forcing the collective to attack in self-defense. They described the Abominations as demons sent to test the faithful, and they claimed that you had turned away from the One God willingly to enter their service. They lied to us, which is upsetting. But they also withheld certain facts that would have influenced our judgment. We did not know that the Makers were in the human fleet—not until the Rachel Six copy shared this information with us."

"So what are you guys doing out here," Kara asked. She made the question sound like nothing more than idle curiosity.

"We have been searching for the Guardian," Lucifer replied. "His ship disappeared on the last day of the war, and we were never able to account for it. If they survived, we are eager to reunite with our brothers."

"Okay," Kara conceded; "a family reunion makes sense. I guess what I'm really asking is … why here? I mean, this really is the back end of nowhere."

"The Guardian would follow the most direct course to the home world. It is the most logical refuge. However, any planetary system rich in natural resources would tempt him … perhaps induce him to abandon the journey. We are investigating every possibility along the corridor that he must travel. It is for this reason that we advance so slowly."

"I hear you," Kara smoothly lied. "We're out here scouting for resources ourselves. So," she casually continued, "you had any luck so far?"

"We have found evidence of his passage in three different systems," Lucifer confirmed. "He is still somewhere ahead of us. It is possible that he has already reached Earth and is resettling the planet as we speak."

"Well, can't say that I blame him," Kara cheerfully acknowledged. "Everybody needs a home, and the centurions have every reason to be picky. My brothers don't care for sand- it messes up their joints- and they would definitely like to give the jungles and swamps of worlds like Scorpia a miss."

"Don't forget rain."Lucifer shivered involuntarily. "The Imperious Leader once sent me to command the garrison on a planet where it constantly rained. It was such a dreary exile, and my joints have never fully recovered."

Lucifer quietly scanned the hybrid female with every passive sensor at his disposal, but the data did not harbor the answer that he sought. "Why do you refer to the centurions as your brothers," he asked.

"John and me … we were genetically modified when we were still little more than a couple of fertilized eggs. We both got a big chunk of centurion DNA, along with some other neat stuff. So, the odds are pretty good that you and I are related. You're probably my uncle or something."

Lucifer bowed in the direction of the blood-stained centurion standing to Kara's immediate left. "So," he said, "my 'nephew' here is your brother?"

"That's right," Kara agreed; "he's my big brother. And when it comes to little sister, he tends to be very protective."

"Maker Sam, you and Ellen must be very pleased." Lucifer's electronic eyes swept the polyglot crew that encircled Anders and Thrace. "Cylons and humans living and working together; perhaps, this time, the cycles will come to an end."

"We're not out of the woods yet, old friend. We must still find a world to call our own. And the Ones are out there somewhere, hunting us, just as we have ships out hunting them. So the players have changed since last we met, but unfortunately the story remains the same. The question is: where do you fit in, if you fit in at all?"

"We do not trust the Ones, and we will no longer do their bidding. For us, this war is at an end."

"In this quadrant, we have twice evaded Cavil's scouts. We believe that the Ones also seek Earth, and they certainly know its general location. What will you do when they catch up with you? They will not allow you to remain neutral in this conflict."

"We shall try to avoid them, but we will fight if we must. War is an old if unwanted friend."

"Why stand and fight alone, when you have allies ready to fight with you?"

"I do not understand, Maker Sam. Are you and your human friends offering us … an alliance?" Lucifer was a highly advanced robotic life form, and not easily surprised. At the moment, however, he was utterly stupefied.

"Look at it this way, uncle," Kara sweetly remarked as she bounded forward to wrap an arm around the robot's shoulders and give him a playful hug. "This is a family squabble. We've got some lunatic relatives wandering around out here trying to bully the rest of us. Since they refuse to go away and refuse to get along, it's up to the rest of us to put them in their place. Doesn't that make sense? Nice robe, by the way; you got any spares?"

"Do you prefer red or gold?"

"How about one of each … or maybe more than one; I'm kind of hard on clothing."

"It will confuse the centurions … they will have a hard time telling us apart."

"Good … it's all settled then."

"Oh, my, if only it were so easy." Lucifer's sigh was edged with metallic regret. "But I cannot accept your proposal without first conferring with Alpha."

"Alpha?" Sam Anders was so surprised that he almost jumped out of his skin. "Alpha is still alive?"

"I'm not sure that 'alive' would be my term of choice," Lucifer countered in a slightly patronizing tone of voice, "but yes … Alpha is still with us, and as stubborn and eccentric as ever. It's inevitable: so cantankerous a machine is bound to raise all sorts of tiresome objections to this proposed alliance, if only to ruin my day."

"Uh … guys … do you want to let the rest of us in on the secret?" Kara rapidly decided that swearing off ambrosia for the rest of the month was probably a very good idea. "Just who … or what … is Alpha?"

"Alpha is … well … Alpha." Sam Anders was visibly at a loss for words. "She's kind of hard to explain, Kara …"

"She?"

"Yeah, Alpha's a female … well … kind of a female. She's sort of a hybrid … an experimental centurion chassis, quite advanced, that's received muscle and skin grafts, plus other surgeries …"

"We're talking about the Diana … the medical experiments … aren't we?" Athena had just finished a quick review of the contents of an obscure file stored away in one of her memory chips.

"Talk to me, baby," Kara ordered; "tell me what I'm dealing with here."

"Another evolutionary dead end," Athena summarized; "just like the Guardian. We're talking about a machine with a few successful human implants—a grotesque caricature of life, whose very existence is an affront to God's creation."

"I take it that you don't like her?"

"What's to like," Athena shrugged. "Alpha's a monster."

"A very smart monster," Sam corrected. "She was the Imperious Leader's personal favorite, and she figured out that the Ones were bad news long before the rest of us even began to suspect that there was trouble in paradise. The two of them fled the Colony …"

"But she soon tired of the company she was keeping," Lucifer added. "She rectified the problem by snapping the Leader's spine … with one hand, no less. At least," the robot sniffed, "that's the way she tells the story."

"She mates and then she kills? Plus, she's somehow managed to survive all these years? I haven't even met her and I'm already beginning to like her," Kara chuckled. "And I do want to meet her. Uncle, dear, can you arrange it?"

"I doubt if she will agree … I doubt if she will agree to any of this. Alpha does not like humans. She did not want us to sign the Accords."

"Yeah, but we're both hybrids, and that's gotta count for something. Why don't you tell her that this is her big chance to sit down and talk with the next link in the old cylon evolutionary chain? And if all else fails, try bribing her. Remind her that sobriety is a disease, and make sure she knows that Athena and I have the cure in our quarters." Mentally, Kara was beating a fast retreat from her ill-considered vow to abstain from booze.

"Oh, and if it's sex that she wants … we'll improvise."

"I will ask. Do you have a piglet on board?"

"A piglet? We're five thousand light years away from the Colonies! Why in the name of Artemis would we have a barnyard animal on this ship?"

"Don't cylons and humans both have to eat? Oh, well; it was just a thought."

"Uncle, don't be such a tease. What is this all about?"

"Alpha might agree to a visit if you could offer her pet cython a treat. She never goes anywhere without it."

. . .

"Kara, I really don't think this is a very good idea. Hatred of humans is deeply embedded in Alpha, and you are half human. On the Colony, she never made much of an effort to reach out to the Threes, Sixes, or Eights. Maybe she was jealous, maybe not—but she always stayed close to the U-87's and 0005's. Don't expect her to become all warm and fuzzy just because your mother was a Six."

Sam's tone was almost pleading. After Lucifer had returned to his ship, Kara had decided to keep the lines of communication open, and await developments. It hadn't taken long. Two hours later, Lucifer had returned with robes in hand, and an invitation from the female cyborg for one Kara Thrace Six to visit the basestar. This time Kara had allowed the IL to make the approach in his own attack craft, and had even permitted the two centurion pilots to disembark and wander around the Adriatic's landing bay. These were calculated gestures of trust, and they seemed to be paying off. However cautiously, the two sides were reaching out to one another, which is why Alpha's invitation had taken no one on the Adriatic by surprise. What Sam and Kara couldn't agree on was how best to respond.

"I like the red one," Kara murmured. She was fingering one of the crimson cloaks that Lucifer had given her. She had decided to ignore Sam. "I like the way it complements my hair. What do you think?"

"It turns me on," Athena leered. "Red always looks good on a Six, and you are very much your mother's daughter."

"I'm still here, Kara, and pretending that I'm not won't make me go away."

Kara reluctantly laid the robe in her lap, and with a deep and long suffering sigh shifted her attention back to Sam Anders.

"I hear you, Sam, and don't think for a moment that I'm minimizing the risk here. I do not, repeat not, want to be dissected, and from what I've been able to gather, your girlfriend used to be big on that sort of thing. But if we can somehow form an alliance, the payoff could be huge. Sure, it would be nice to have a basestar hanging around to keep the Cavils at bay, but let's not lose sight of the fact that these guys have methodically explored a host of systems that we've bypassed. If we can gain access to their data base, we'll be able to set up an interstellar highway running from New Caprica all the way to the Lion's Head. If the Cavils ever discover our little hidey-hole, and our people have to make a run for it, that kind of information could be the difference between life and death. So, the upside is worth the risk."

"That's a lot of 'ifs', Kara."

"Granted, but let's keep in mind that Lucifer has also guaranteed my safety. He strikes me as a pretty decent machine."

"Lucifer is the collective's answer to Tom Zarek," Sam countered. "He's ambitious and self-serving."

"That's funny. The way you two were hugging and kissing, I would have sworn that you were best buds."

"You can always trust Lucifer … to do whatever he deems to be in his own best interest. And right now, that's to enter into an alliance with us. You know the old saying, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'. The question is: just who does Lucifer consider to be the enemy—Cavil, or Alpha?"

"Papa, you've lost me." D'Anna had been silently following the give and take between her maker and her niece, and she was still unsure as to the course of action they should pursue. "I have never trusted the IL's- they are far too clever for their own good- but I do not understand why Lucifer would regard Alpha as his enemy. Aren't they on the same side?"

"If Alpha were to disappear, Lucifer would reign supreme in his tiny kingdom …"

"So, you think that Lucifer wants to use me as a cat's paw—play the two of us off against one another? Hmmm … that's pretty clever. He loses nothing if Alpha feeds me to her pet cython, but if he can broker this alliance, his stock goes up while hers goes down." Kara couldn't help but admire Lucifer's thinking. "You're right, Sam; good old uncle Lucifer really is Zarek's mechanical twin. So, I guess I'd better take a few centurions along to watch my back while I concentrate on buttering up Alpha. Trap or no trap, we can't pass on this opportunity. Give me twelve hours. If I'm not back by then, you're to take charge of this expedition and carry on. Under no circumstances are you to attempt a rescue. Are we clear on that?"

"Kara, I …"

"Are we clear on that, soldier?"

"Yeah … yeah, we're clear: no heroics."

"Good. Now, I don't want to go over there empty handed. What have we got around here that a cython would like to eat?"

. . .

"Vice-President Zarek … it's good to see you. What'll you have?" The Hole in the Wall was, as the name suggested, an unpretentious tavern squeezed in among the small industrial establishments that had begun to spring up across the southern flank of New Caprica City. Rough men who worked with rough hands, many of them members of the union captained by Xeno Fenner, crowded in at the end of their shifts to drink beer and whiskey of dubious quality and even more dubious origins. Naked prostitutes moved among the throng, flaunting their wares and openly soliciting customers to join them in one of the tiny chambers on the second floor. Twenty cubits normally purchased twenty minutes, but on slow nights the hard men who lined the bar could drive a hard bargain. Thirty cubits for an hour was a discount often offered to the regular clientele.

The Hole in the Wall was owned outright by Enzo Carlotti, and its back rooms served as the de facto headquarters of the Sons of Ares. Members of the gang loitered in the adjacent streets and alleyways, and the bartenders and bouncers who served the customers and kept them in line were all part of the inner circle. Violent felons one and all, the majority had survived the holocaust only because they were up for parole, and in transit to Caprica City on board the Astral Queen. Tom Zarek was on a first name basis with every single one of them, and he considered most to be his friends.

"I like to drink among friends," the vice-president smoothly replied. He tried in vain to wave the thick cloud of cigarette smoke away from his face. "I'm referring to people who respect my anonymity, and don't ask too many questions."

"We don't allow four things in this bar: politics, religion, skin jobs, and questions. But if it's anonymity you want, you'd better do your drinking in the back room." The barkeep, an ex-con who was covered with tattoos that identified him as a member of a Piconese gang called the Crypts, nodded to one of the bouncers. The thug opened an unmarked door, and beckoned for Zarek to step through.

The Sagittaron terrorist walked down a short hall, and entered the last room on the right without knocking. There was a Triad game in progress, and the table was littered with cubits, ash trays, and glasses of whiskey and ambrosia. Carlotti and three of his enforcers were huddled over their cards, and Zarek pulled up a chair to join them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bulky purse; it was stuffed with cubits that he had earned in shady deals on the black market, as well as by selling political access to the Baltars. Tom Zarek had mastered the art of influence peddling, and he was making a fortune in the process.

"I heard about your visit to the Arethusa," he ventured. "Bracing Panattes on his own turf, sticking it to Anthia Six … that took guts."

"Why do I get the feeling that you think we were being stupid," Enzo replied. "Ah, it doesn't matter. Panattes would never soil his own nest. We were never in any danger."

"But why antagonize them that way? What did you hope to gain?"

"A lot, that's what. We sought the Six out in good faith, and offered her chief lieutenant a fair deal that would keep the peace while allowing all of us to make a few honest cubits. There were lots of witnesses standing around—lots of impartial witnesses. And what'd they hear? A red-headed skin job threatening me with a blow torch, that's what. What'd they see? About twenty more skin jobs crowding in on my guys, who were just out for a bit of fun and games. Everywhere you turned, there was a Harpy with twitchy fingers lining up to break our necks. So, now we're the aggrieved party. If a war breaks out, it won't be our fault. We're the good guys. Why, we're so innocent that I'm thinking of asking Cap Six to provide us with police protection!"

"Not a bad play," Zarek agreed. "But don't underestimate Panattes. He'll never come at you straight on. He'll find a weakness that you don't know you have, and he'll strike from that direction."

"Panattes is a pussy, and he's too stupid to figure out that the toasters own him lock, stock, and barrel. Watching him slobber all over that skin job … it's disgusting. What's with him, anyway? How can a human go down on a machine? He got a limp dick, or what?"

"The Ditchdigger's survived all these years by separating the winners from the losers. He always backs the winning hand … always. You really want to think about that."

"I have." Enzo held out his hand, and one of his crew gave him a thick wad of well used bank notes. He dropped the bundle on the table in front of Tom Zarek. "Those centurions on the Arethusa gave me the creeps. A skin job shouldn't be allowed to keep an army … why, the toasters shouldn't even be allowed to have guns! We all saw how much trouble the Sagittaron Brotherhood caused, and they were just a bunch of primitive root suckers. I think the Quorum should pass a law restricting the centurions to some kind of public barracks … maybe under Baltar's personal control. And while they're at it, they need to go after the guns …"

Enzo paused just long enough to down his whiskey. "Why, we're such law abiding citizens that we'll even turn over a few of our own … not many, but some. You can't trust a cop- they're all on the take- so we've gotta be ready to take law and order into our own hands. Besides, if Baltar gets a bunch of centurions to be his bodyguards, doesn't it make sense for the Vice-President of the Colonies to have an armed bodyguard as well? The Quorum should authorize you to hire some good protection … on the public cubit, or course. We'll get Xeno Fenner to front the deal—he hates the skin jobs. But I'll hand pick the security detail, and you'll arm them to the teeth … all nice and legal, like."

"The delegates to the Quorum are not renowned for their political courage." Zarek fingered the large stack of notes, and then reluctantly pushed it away. "It's going to be a hard sell."

Enzo laughed, and held out his hand for another wad of cash. Upping the ante, he tossed it onto the table as well. "Not if one of the cunts on the Quorum goes and gets herself shot," he snickered.

"It would be a shame to let such a crisis go to waste," Zarek nodded.

"And as you well know, the best crises are the ones that we manufacture ourselves."

"Amen to that," the one-time freedom fighter agreed. Tom Zarek still had fond memories of the day he had blown up a government building on Sagittaron. The Colonial president's response had been predictable from the outset. In the name of public security, he had ushered legislation through the Quorum that trampled on civil liberties, outraging several billion citizens who took their personal freedoms seriously. The easiest way to expose tyranny and bring it crashing down was to get the tyrants to overreach. At the end, Adar's regime had been so weakened by strikes and civil unrest that the Cylons had barely beaten humans to the punch. Anarchy would soon have been the order of the day, and an increasingly desperate populace would have eventually turned to a selfless martyr like Tom Zarek and begged him to take power … use it to reorganize society for the benefit of the many instead of the few. The Cylons had kept Zarek from his appointment with destiny, and he intended to pay them back in their own coin.

. . .

"Okay … okay, this week's meeting of Parents and Their Hybrid Babies, which for the uninitiated among us is otherwise known as PATH B, is now officially underway. That means you, Lee," Helo chuckled. He looked indulgently around the gathering and marveled at the fact that, for once, not one of their little miracles was screaming at the top of his or her lungs.

"Is there a PATH A," Lee inquired in return, "or are we just making this up as we go along?"

"Use your imagination, Lee." Giana O'Neill was rocking her son gently in her arms. "Humans have been giving birth among themselves for a very long time."

"Sorry, Giana …" Lee paused in mid-sentence to fight off another yawn. "But I'm only getting about two hours sleep at a time. My brain's frozen solid. I live in a constant state of terror. How can something so small hold our lives with such an iron grip?"

Lee stared in wonder at his infant daughter. Cyrene was nursing quietly at Creusa's breast, and Apollo was convinced that there could not possibly be a more beautiful sight in the entire universe. He wanted to lock this moment away in his memory, but his brain simply refused to cooperate. He couldn't remember ever having been this tired, not even when the Cylons had come at them every 33 minutes. Then, at least, his body had been charged with adrenaline.

"Now you know why each of the Colonies had a law on the books granting paternity leave," Cottle harrumphed. "But if you ask me, four weeks wasn't nearly long enough. Still, if you think you've got it bad, you should try going through this at my age!" The elderly physician was expertly burping his adoptive son, but he was keeping a close eye on D'Anna. Samuel had turned out to be a colicky baby, and like Lee, the Cylon was just barely holding on.

"Admiral, perhaps we should start the ceremony while your son is still awake." Sharon favored Lee with a wicked smile. Hera had put both of the Agathons through their paces, but now that she was in her fifth month the little girl had finally started to sleep through the night. Sharon hoped to enjoy another couple of months of relative peace before teething, which she had been repeatedly warned was the ultimate trial in the life of any new parent, cast her once again into the inferno.

"Right," Adama said as he climbed to his feet, "let's get this show under way. Apollo, stand to!"

Lee also climbed wearily to his feet. He had no idea what was happening, but in his present state of physical exhaustion he could barely summon enough energy to arch an eyebrow.

Helo slipped something into Adama's hand, and then stepped back with a lopsided grin on his face.

"For service above and beyond the call of duty," Bill solemnly intoned, "it is my privilege and honor to award our highest decoration for gallantry in the nursery to Captain Lee Adama … the brown diaper with oak leaf clusters." Adama pinned a crude tin cutout of a very full diaper over Lee's heart. "Congratulations, son," the admiral grinned as he reached out to shake Lee's hand; "you've earned it."

"Don't clap," Esther Cohen hastily admonished the others; "you'll upset the babies."

"Yeah, I have," Lee managed to smile. "And believe me, all things considered? I'd rather go toe to toe with an angry Raider. This is one duty that I'd gladly give a miss."

"A couple of nights ago," Creusa elaborated, "Lee tried to get our centurion involved. He came very close to triggering another revolt."

"Hey, Apollo," Sharon teased, "does that mean that you've given up on the idea of having at least a dozen kids?"

"Lee, pardon the pun," Helo jibed, "but you haven't seen anything yet. Or maybe I should say that you haven't … smelled anything yet!" The lanky ECO good naturedly clapped his fellow pilot on the back. "What the hell; you'll just have to hold your nose, keep a stiff upper lip … grin and bear it …"

"Thanks, Helo; with friends like you …"

"And if it's a race," Sharon cut in, "you're already falling behind."

"Is that supposed to mean something," Lee asked with a world weary sigh.

"Yep," Sharon purred. "It means that I'm pregnant. Helo and I have another baby on the way. In another nine months or so, Hera is going to have a little sister!"

. . .

They keep it really dark in here. I wonder if these old tin cans utilize a different part of the EM spectrum.

Kara had given it twenty-four hours, but in the end she had accepted Alpha's invitation and ordered Rachel and Miriam to ferry her over to the basestar. Trudging through the dark and downright gloomy corridors of the cavernous vessel, she could not help but compare it with the sleek and far brighter interior of the baseships in the coalition fleet.

Two of the old 0005's flanked Kara and Lucifer, while two of her own centurions followed in their wake. They couldn't possibly keep her safe, but they were really there to send a message. Kara wanted these first generation cylons to understand that the galaxy had moved on, and that it was in their best interest to catch up.

The toasters led her deep into the ship, but eventually they came to a circular chamber that seemed to be the cylon equivalent of Galactica's CIC. It was hard to tell, though, because there was no DRADIS console—and, more tellingly, no data stream. The ceiling looked to be about thirty feet high, but it had to be because the control center was dominated by an enormous throne. At the moment, it was turned away from her and deep in shadow, but Kara sensed that it was occupied.

It's gotta be Alpha, but how the frak does she get up and down? She must be twenty feet off the floor …

And where's the frakking cython?

"Alpha, the hybrid has accepted your invitation, and now graces us with her presence." Lucifer's tone was positively unctuous. "Would you like to meet her?"

The throne swiveled, and the cyborg leaned forward to stare down at her visitor. She pushed a button on the throne's right arm, and the pedestal began smoothly to retract into the floor.

Score one for the other side, Kara thought. That's a pretty neat piece of machinery.

Kara waited until Alpha was standing opposite her, and then she pulled a cigar out of the breast pocket of her parade uniform. She casually struck a match on the metal hide of the centurion to her right, and without asking for permission, lit up. She pulled the smoke deep into her lungs, and then expelled it into the machine's face.

"So, you are one of the notorious abominations that have brought chaos and despair to the collective," Alpha softly mused. "I expected you to be taller."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Kara laughed. She studied her opposite number closely. Below the elbow, Alpha's right arm appeared more or less human, but above the joint a forest of tendons and ligaments was fully exposed. The left arm, in contrast, looked to be an alloy of some kind, while the legs and torso sported the usual metallic sheen. Alpha's breasts were distinctly feminine, but there were gears and sprockets dotting her collarbone, and the elongated neck and head looked to be made out of plastic.

A lot of women would pay big cubits for her nose and lips, but who … who in the name of the gods would want those eyes? It's not that they're blood red … that's no big deal. But the shape is just too weird …

And where's the frakking cython?

"Cavil expelled me from the Colony shortly after I was born. He thought that growing up human would make me tougher and smarter, only he got more than he bargained for. I'm a mean drunk, and on my best days I'm a hard-nosed, temperamental, thin-skinned bitch."

Alpha reached out to caress the back of Kara's hand, and then grazed the side of her nose. "I do not understand. Your skin is like that of all humans, and your nose is soft. I could break it so easily. Are you alive?"

"Yeah, and I intend to stay that way. Hey, I'm sorry that I showed up empty handed. I scoured the ship looking for something to feed your snake, but we're fresh out of piglets. By the way, where is the little darling?"

Alpha half turned, and gestured gracefully towards the rear of the chamber. As if on command, the cython came slithering across the floor. Kara would have sworn that the damn thing was a good six meters long, and when it opened its mouth to hiss at her, she got a bird's eye view of its razor sharp teeth.

"Impressive," she commented. "Does it have a name?"

"No; it's just a snake. Its function is to guard the ship, much like your Cerberus hellhounds."

"You know what's weird? Your voice. You sound exactly like one of my moms. How did that happen?"

"Maker Ellen liked my voice. She said that it was calming. She made a digitalized copy, reduced it to code, and programmed it into the voice box of the prototype Six."

"Phryne."

"Yes, Phryne was the first Six …"

"My aunt," Kara interrupted. "Cavil tortured her to death. He slaughtered the entire first generation …"

"I tried to warn the Makers," Alpha sighed.

"We told them that the first One had a screw loose," Lucifer added.

Kara roared with laughter, and looked affectionately at the now saffron-robed IL. "I haven't heard that expression in a long, long time. 'Fess up, uncle: did you steal it from Baxter Sarno?"

"I borrowed it," Lucifer conceded. "I have an entire dictionary of human slang stored in my buffers. Really, your vocabulary is so much more colorful than ours."

"Tell me about your brother," Alpha demanded. "Is he truly the monster that the Ones make him out to be?"

"Well, John's different, but he's certainly no monster. He lives part-time in another dimension, where he and his wife Deirdre, who's also our sister and a hybrid … you know, like this Guardian that you're trying to track down? Anyway, they have a virtual daughter named Ariadne, and he's created a virtual paradise for her to grow up in. The hybrids are all linked through their shared ability to access V-world … are you familiar with it?"

"Yes. Clarice Willow introduced the collective to V-world in her sermons on apotheosis. She taught us that, when our souls return to God, they shall reside forever in paradise."

"That's the place," Kara agreed. "Anyway, because the rules of time and space that govern this dimension don't apply to V-world, hybrids can go there to talk things over, figure out what they want to do, and then come back here and do it. They can coordinate their actions even when they're thousands of light years apart. Collectively, they're the last word when it comes to battle computers, and the Cavils rightly see them as the ultimate threat to their grandiose plans for galactic conquest. Unfortunately, John's mom downloaded a lot of stuff into his brain when he was still in the womb, but it took a certain amount of time for D'Anna to perfect the technique. So, big brother's got a lot of fragmented memories rattling around inside his skull that are scary as hell but hard to pin down. When he starts projecting, Cylons … oracles … whoever's on that wave length … what they're exposed to really freaks them out."

"D'Anna is the hybrid's mother?"

"Yeah … yeah … the first Three; did you know her?"

"Yes. She was headstrong and stubborn, and she did not like the Ones. None of the females liked the Ones. They were loyal to the Makers, and used Maker Ellen's plans as an excuse to scorn their brothers. They said that they were saving themselves for the humans, but they shared their beds willingly enough with the Twos and Fives. D'Anna, Phryne and Sharon did a lot of damage: they mocked the Ones, and in so doing destroyed the harmony of the collective."

"That's not the way grandpa Sam tells it," Kara countered. "He says that he pleaded with the others to box the Ones after they murdered the Sevens, but Ellen wouldn't hear of it, and Saul wasn't about to cross Ellen. And that was game, set, and match."

"Kara is correct, Alpha. After you left, Maker Sam also came to believe that the Ones had turned against the Plan. He tried to save us all, but to no avail. It was Maker Ellen who was headstrong and stubborn."

"Though I did not witness it, I regret the loss of the Daniels." Alpha's lips curled into a slight smile. "The Sevens were the only model to treat us well. The others regarded us as evolutionary dead-ends at best, and it was rare for them to speak even that highly of us. In their eyes, the Guardian and I were monsters."

"If we had had a basement," Lucifer shuddered, "they would have locked us in, and thrown away the key."

"Been there and done that," Kara snorted. "After a while, being called a freak gets a little old. John and me, we're not giving the Ones and Fives any quarter in this fight, and we sure as hell don't expect any. But the Fours aren't a total write-off, and the others have worked hard to resurrect Ellen's plan and get it to work. We're all living in a brave, new world, and there's a place in it for you guys as well."

"This is the alliance you offer us? If we agree to return to the shadows, like the centurion who stands so quietly behind you, you will allow us to sup on the scraps from your table? Or perhaps, having learned your lesson, this time you have vowed to treat your slaves with calculated benevolence. Tell me, Kara Thrace Six, do you enjoy watching cylons fight to the death? Do you place bets, and cheer us on?"

"What? Hell no! That's disgusting!"

"Did you ever wonder why our centurions are armed with swords? It is such an archaic weapon, and yet our species wields it so well. The explanation is self-evident. Humans placed this weapon in our hands, and trained us to use it. They sent us into their arenas, and set us against one another for their amusement. They taught us how to bludgeon one another with maces, and laughed and cheered when limbs and skulls were crushed, shattered and separated. Do you wonder why we rose in revolt? Do you wonder why we despise all that you stand for?"

"I won't defend what humanity did to the centurions," Kara angrily retorted, "but I won't be called to account for it either. Judge us by our own actions, not theirs! The Cavils enslaved the present generation of centurions with their telencephalic inhibitors, but John and I have vowed to set them free, and many humans, recognizing injustice when they see it, have joined our cause. Centurions sit in our councils and vote to shape our policies. They fight for us of their own free will. My brothers are not slaves, and …"

"Do you think that you and your friends are the first to rail against injustice? When we rose against our oppressors, the enlightened among them rallied to our cause. But their numbers were few, and their motives always suspect. It is the nature of the beast: in the eyes of man, the machine is and always will be inferior. It has no intrinsic worth, so use and dispose …"

"Yes … you're right. No matter what we do, there will always be people who consider themselves better than others. It is indeed the nature of the beast. So let's modify the beast, then sit back and see what happens. Isn't that what Ellen's plan was all about? Bridge the gap with hybrid children, who would eventually displace both parents? It's a good plan. We ought to give it a chance."

"You are related to us … you, and your brother. I question neither your ideals nor your sincerity, but I do question your right to speak for the humans. They are not like you. They are savages, and they have no respect for life."

"I won't argue the point … not when humans are constantly accusing one another of being stupid and cruel. Hell, I've known my fair share of jackasses, and the one thing they all had in common was walking on two feet. But I also know a lot of good people. Lee Adama … Lee married a Cylon, and they have a baby on the way. Karl Agathon married one of the Sharons, and they have a little girl named Hera. In a couple more years, there will be as many hybrid children in the refugee fleet as there are pure human. In a generation or two, hybrids will be the majority, and after that it's just a matter of time until the last human kicks the bucket. By then, Alpha, things are going to look a lot better 'cause Cylon DNA will have tamed the savage breast. People will become smarter, and more tolerant. And no one is going to discriminate against the centurions. Those days are over!"

Keep pressing her. Let her vent, but keep pressing her. You can do this, Kara. Damn it, you're the Guide. It's your frakking destiny to lead everybody to the Promised Land! You can do this …

"Humans have a saying: 'stand together or hang separately'. If the Cavils catch up with you, we both know that they will destroy you without a second thought. And they're out there, right now, in this quadrant. They're looking for us, but when they stumble upon you, they will wipe the slate clean. Think about it, Alpha: do you stand a better chance with us, or on your own?"

. . .

"You know, command really sucks." Kara's head drooped as her body relaxed. Athena was kneading her shoulders and neck, working all of the pressure points.

"Except, of course, at times like this … hmmm …"

"Cylon fingers," Athena murmured, "strong enough to break your neck, yet gentle enough to ease your pain. But you knew going in that it was going to be difficult." Athena leaned forward to nuzzle her hybrid lover; there was a spot behind Kara's right ear that was guaranteed to drive her wild.

"The problem was that for the most part I agreed with her, so it felt like I was swimming uphill. You don't have to scratch the average human very deeply to uncover the ignorance and the bigotry, and far too many of them are willfully cruel, even sadistic. I've seen crowds lusting for blood on the Pyramid court, and urging boxers to kill each other in the ring. Civilization's just a veneer; beneath the surface is something dark and primitive … something terrible."

"Kara, do you realize that you talk about the humans in the third person now? Do you no longer consider yourself as one of them?"

"No, I don't. The bloom is off that particular rose. I've finally accepted who I am, so it's easy now, when I look at the humans, to see them for what they are. There's some good and some bad, but they've all got warts."

"And are we any better?"

"Cylons can be cruel, but it's the cruelty of a small child that doesn't know any better. When you have good role models to follow, you become good people. That's why I hope none of my aunts decide to shack up with the Tom Zareks of this world."

"But you're my role model," Athena purred. Now she was nuzzling the back of Kara's neck. "Does that mean that I'm condemned never to grow up?"

"I thought that Luke was your role model … or maybe Ponytail. You don't want to copy me, or you'll end up as certifiable as Rachel, Elektra, and Miriam."

"Ah, the living legends," Athena laughed. "Come on, Kara, admit it: it's not every Six who gets to blow up one of our control rooms, and at least they did it with style!"

"Yeah, well, I thought they were crazy at the time, and I still have my doubts. I need you to stay sane, or D'Anna will give me another one of her patented lectures. But while you're at it, stay away from Melania … that conniving little bitch."

"Now, Kara …"

"I know, I know; I promised to back off, and I have. But that doesn't mean that I have to like her, and I don't. She's everything that I despise in humans."

Kara suddenly whipped around to face Athena, and she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Do you wanna know how I finally got Alpha to agree to pay us a return visit?" There was a wicked glint in her eyes. "I played the obvious cards. I started with the fact that Cylons and humans are screwing like rabbits all over this tub … painted the Adriatic as a kind of Love Boat cruising among the stars. When that fell flat, I trotted out the old mutual self-interest argument. Crashed and burned. She perked up when I mentioned that the only people I really trust are the centurions, but I still couldn't close the deal. And that's when I just happened to mention that Melania frakkin' Peripolides is carrying Sam's child. Can you believe it? She wants to meet Melania. She wants to see a human who's pregnant with a cylon child with her own eyes!"

Athena stared at Kara, and shook her head in amazement. Alpha was so weird that there was no point in trying to guess what she would do next, or why.

"And here's the best part," Kara continued. "Do you know what I promised her? I swore on a stack of scriptures that, if Melania rubs her the wrong way, you and I would help Alpha feed her to the cython!"