Warning: this chapter contains mild sexuality, but Gaius Baltar and the hybrid Zenobia do not qualify as traditional lovers! And what can one say about Melania and Alpha?

CHAPTER 25

EVERYBODY KNOWS

Kara prowled restlessly back and forth across the deck, deep in thought but still casting furtive glances in the direction of her shipmates. With the exception of Sam Anders, who was now in the control room by himself, she had summoned everybody else on the Adriatic to the landing bay to hear what amounted to a lecture on good manners.

Kara Thrace Six lecturing others on acceptable public behavior … will wonders never cease?

A playful smile creased her lips as she contemplated the absurdity of it all.

She waited patiently while the crew drifted in singly and in small groups. They never ceased to amaze her, this mixed gathering of centurions, cylons, and humans. They now worked so well together that it was easy to forget how far they had come, and how short a time it had taken them to get there.

When the last straggler finally arrived, Kara turned to face them all. She had never done this before, and she savored the moment. This was her crew, and she liked to think that she knew them well, could even predict their reactions in advance. The centurions were giving her their full attention, their eyes fixed and staring. Her cylon aunts and uncles were waiting patiently, their faces impassive. They didn't slouch and they didn't shuffle; no one cleared his throat, or nervously twisted a lock of her hair. The humans alternated between looking at her and looking at one another, their curiosity written all over their faces. They were eager for her to get started and put an end to the suspense.

"We should do this more often," Kara began. She stole a glance at D'Anna. The Three was watching her closely. She would grade Kara's performance, and either lecture her in private or call upon Athena to do so.

Toss Miriam, Rachel and Elektra into the mix, and I reckon that I've got five full time babysitters. The Sixes humor me … well, maybe most of the time … D'Anna rides my ass, and Sharon fraks my brains out. This gives a whole new meaning to the old good cop, bad cop routine …

"It's easy to lose sight of how much we've had to overcome … all the hatred, the fear … and we don't give ourselves near enough credit for our accomplishments. Just look around you, and think about it for a moment. We're a family. That's something that I learned back on Galactica; a ship … a good ship … doesn't have a crew—it has a family. And this is a good ship. We trust one another, we rely on one another … we love one another. On the Adriatic, it's not what you are that counts, it's who you are. Other people talk about diversity and tolerance, but we live it … each of us, every day. We have done more than survive out here—we've flourished, and that has been possible only because we've let go of our prejudices, no longer permit ourselves to be held captive by appearances. We have learned to embrace difference rather than to fear it, and that is why we have become a family. I am proud of everyone here, and I sincerely hope that you are equally proud of yourselves, and of each other."

Kara paused to allow her words to sink in. She wondered if her crew fully realized just how integrated they had truly become. In their off-duty hours, it would have been easy for the humans to seek out their own, with a segregated ship the end result. But it hadn't happened, in no small part because the Sixes and Eights both had healthy sex drives and weren't inclined to take "no" for an answer. They had taken the initiative, first targeting the more physically attractive of the human males, and then branching out from there. On a ship, the men had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from the pheromones with which the temptresses constantly assaulted their senses. In the eternal war between the sexes, Kara concluded, few battles had ever been quite this uneven.

In contrast, for the Twos life on board the Adriatic had been an uphill struggle from the very beginning. Interminable conversations about streams and cycles got very old very fast, and only one of their three resident loons had so far managed to strike up a relationship. The Gemenese female in question was a devout monotheist, which had inspired Kara to make a terse entry in the ship's log: RECOMMEND PAIR OFF ALL LEOBENS WITH MONOS! At this point, she was hoping to fob the other two off on Alpha, and let them drive somebody else crazy for a change.

Still, as her gaze swept across her audience, Kara was genuinely pleased. Humans, cylons and centurions were all mingling freely, the interspecies couples not only standing side by side but often appearing joined at the hip.

When Eights get a grip, they don't let go. I'd better warn Luke and the others that they're as jealous as they are possessive. And it's probably not a good idea to tick off someone who can break your neck as easily as snapping a dried twig …

Nor was Kara the only one to have taken a partner of her own sex. In the aftermath of the boxing match in which Sharon and Naomi had come close to killing one another, Swordsman had surprised the entire ship by inviting them both to share his bed. The XO had thus put an abrupt end to the feud between the two Eights, but this unexpected turn of events had left Deitra Symonds devastated and alone. Like a heat seeking missile, Rachel had homed in on the vulnerable human, and after a brief mating dance that had been long on pheromones and short on words, Ponytail and the Six had also paired off. Kara was still unsure who had seduced whom, but she was happy for the both of them.

So everybody's got a partner for the dance … well, everybody except D'Anna, and she seems comfortable playing the part of the aloof matriarch. Now we're all getting a taste of what Ellen had in mind for humans and Cylons alike …

"But today," she continued, "we are going to face a new challenge. Alpha has decided to pay us a visit, and in all likelihood her pet cython will be tagging along. Alpha doesn't exactly look like the rest of us—in fact, if a mad scientist started raiding cemeteries and stitching together stolen body parts, she's pretty much what would come out the far end of the experiment. Just add a bit of chrome here and there and … well … you all get the picture. Now, I don't have to remind you how important it is to get her to sign off on this alliance– not with the Guardian's basestar ranging somewhere ahead of us, and the Cavils sitting out there hoping to jump down our throats. So, I want everybody to put on their best Triad face, and make her feel welcome. Keep in mind at all times that she doesn't like humans, but she also doesn't appear to be particularly fond of Cylons. She's got more than one chip on those metal shoulders of hers, and she's just looking for an excuse to tell us to piss off. Don't give her one."

"What about the cython," Melania asked nervously. "If that thing gets loose on this ship …"

"Miss Peripolides," Kara smirked, "your point is very well taken. I want you personally to take charge of the snake, and make sure that it doesn't go slithering off into one of the air ducts. You're the obvious choice for this assignment because you're the one that Alpha most wants to meet. I hope that you like reptiles; believe me, you and the cython are going to be spending a lot of quality time together!"

. . .

"Bill! What the frak are you doing here? Don't you have a ship to run?"

"There's not a lot happening upstairs, Saul." Adama climbed slowly to his feet and embraced his oldest friend. "Sonja's on top of everything in the CIC, so much so that I'm beginning to feel like a fifth wheel up there. These days, I'm pretty much reduced to signing off on the mountain of requisition forms that Colonel Phillips keeps shoving under my nose. His command is where the real action is."

"Yeah … yeah," Saul muttered; "doing a refit on all the civvies … that's gotta be a tough job. I'm glad I'm out of it."

"You look good, Saul … better than I've seen you in years. Rumor has it that you're off the sauce. You look good."

"Yeah, well … Ellen and I, we've both had to quit …"

"It's not easy, Bill," Ellen interrupted with a laugh. "In fact, it's absolutely brutal. But our daughters are conspiring against us. If there's alcohol on our breath, we don't get to see our grandkids. So, it's not like we've reformed." Ellen favored Creusa with a mock glare. "It's more like we're being blackmailed."

"We prefer to think of it as behavioral modification," Creusa smiled. "And it's for your own good."

"What about you, Bill? Has Shelly put you on the wagon?"

"On the sly, perhaps; she told me that even the smell of alcohol was enough to make her sick. She didn't exactly order me to quit, but she knew how I'd react. But maybe it's for the best. Now, I get to come down every day and visit with my grandchild."

"Who would have believed it," Saul chuckled. "Lee frakkin' Adama is my son-in-law! Who would have believed it?"

"Saul has never liked Lee," Ellen ruefully admitted.

"Really? I never would have guessed," Bill drily remarked. "Is that why you're here now? Did you wait for Lee to head off to the Quorum's latest dog and pony show before coming over?"

"No, Bill; that was just a coincidence." Ellen's eyes were filled with merriment. "Fathers aren't supposed to like their sons-in-law: anywhere you go in the universe, that's just one of the rules. So now, Saul gets to look Lee straight in the eye, tell him how much he despises him, and there's nothing that Lee can do about it. He has to suffer in silence."

"Lee enjoys suffering in silence," Creusa grinned. "He thinks that it's a sign of nobility, and he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders … so elegantly!"

"Hey," Saul protested, "I like Helo. And Hera's just a doll. Gods, but she's pretty! When she grows up, she's gonna break a lot of hearts."

The door to the bedroom opened, and Shevon came stumbling out. Still half asleep, she yawned hugely, not really appreciating the fact that her filmy negligee left absolutely nothing to the imagination. "What'd I miss," she mumbled as she headed for the kitchen in search of coffee.

"What the …"

Saul stared at Adama in open amazement. "Bill, have you signed off on this … this …

"Saul, don't go there," Bill warned. The look on the admiral's face made it plain to the colonel that he was skating on very thin ice.

"Admiral, are you going to take Paya to school this afternoon, or should I get ready?" Shevon was oblivious to the drama that was playing out behind her.

"Huh?" Now it was Ellen's turn to be amazed. She knew all about Shevon, of course, but until that moment she hadn't realized that Adama had added the comely prostitute to his already impressive stable of surrogate daughters. And then it suddenly occurred to her that this was a one bedroom apartment, and that the sofa didn't look like it folded out into a bed.

Where do they all sleep? Could it possibly be true? Could straitlaced Lee Adama actually be sleeping with my daughter and this human? Some of the Sharons seem to enjoy this sort of thing, but I would have wagered everything I own that our Sixes are strictly monogamous …

"I'll take her," Bill answered.

"She's brushing her teeth," Shevon said over her shoulder. "She'll be out as soon as she's finished."

"Paya goes to Laura Roslin's school in the afternoon," Bill explained to the Tighs. "We don't let her go alone, so I drop her off on the way back to my Raptor. Now that Shevon's up, Creusa will try and sneak in a few hours of sleep before Cyrene's next feeding. Shelly and Xena have something similar in mind for looking after Callista."

"Starbuck, Boomer, Polyxena, and now … Shevon; Bill, you really are one surprising son of a bitch." Saul Tigh could only shake his head in wonder; he honestly didn't know whether he should pity his old comrade in arms, or envy him.

"Saul, everybody's trying to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives, which means that a year from now, there are going to be a lot of newborns in this community. Our people will need all the help that they can get, and they have no one to rely upon except each other. Larissa Karanis warned me months ago that the holocaust would inevitably give rise to some pretty creative social arrangements. Well, she was right. We've all had a good laugh at Tory Foster's expense, but the way it's turned out, the Baltar household is fast becoming the rule rather than the exception around here."

"It has to be this way, papa." Creusa had suddenly turned serious. "There simply aren't enough men to go around. Larissa took Lee and Karl aside a long time ago, and urged them both to get lots of rest and conserve their energy. She tried to prepare us all for the group marriages that she saw as our collective future."

"Does this mean," Ellen gulped, "that you … and Shevon … and Lee … that you …"

Coffee cup in hand, Shevon strolled back into the living room, and plopped down on the couch at Creusa's side. The two young women looked knowingly at one another, and then they both laughed.

"Mama … really," Creusa grinned. "Shevon has taught me that there are certain topics a girl never discusses with her parents!"

Shevon leaned over to tickle the baby under her chin. Fully enjoying the discomfort that they were inflicting upon the Tighs, the two blonds laughed anew. For her part, Shevon wondered how Ellen Tigh would react if she began possessively running her hand up and down Creusa's thigh. It amazed her that a woman who had allegedly slept with more than half the senior officers in the fleet could be such a prude.

. . .

"Order! Order!" Zarek repeatedly rapped the table with his gavel in yet another vain attempt to quiet the unruly Quorum members. Quarrelsome at the best of times, the twelve humans who represented the various colonies seemed to agree on only one thing: tactically, whoever could claim the floor and shout the loudest was likely to win the day. It struck the vice-president as ironic in the extreme that the only person at the table who was consistently polite and determined to follow proper parliamentary procedure was Shelly Adama.

"The delegate from Tauron still has the floor."

Tom glanced in Shelly's direction. The immensely pregnant Cylon was, as always, quiet and attentive. Not for the first time, he admired the skill with which she played the political game, and the speed with which she had mastered its nuances. Shelly had, for example, quickly banished the centurion to the far end of the table, so that the two of them would not appear to be openly in collusion. Zarek was far too cynical to be taken in by such an obvious ploy, but he had to admit that it allowed the red-eyed monster to posture as an independent agent. In politics, appearance always trumped reality, and the Six deftly projected an image of reasoned calm. Hers was the conciliatory voice, and time and time again it was the compromises she offered that allowed a consensus to emerge and a policy to be adopted. Shelly had already piled up a lot of political IOU's inside the Quorum—perhaps as many as Sharon Baltar had amassed within the new bureaucracy. At Quorum meetings, Tom always paid attention to the sea of quiet faces sitting in the background. The factotums sat where they wanted, and the shifting patterns often revealed the alliances currently in play. Thus it had not escaped his attention that today Sharon was flanked by Tory Foster and Wallace Gray. Tory was a shrewd political operative, but it was Wally Gray who had to carry out the economic development policies that the Quorum endorsed. If they weren't feasible, he need only whisper a word in Sharon's ear, and with a quiet nod to one of her allies on the Quorum, the discussion would suddenly head off in a different direction. Sharon almost always got what she wanted from the meddlesome fools with whom she had to pretend to share power. Today, Tom Zarek was determined to see her get everything she wanted out of the Quorum. In fact, he was counting on it.

"Please continue, Miss Enyeto," Gaius urged. "But do keep in mind that our new open forum laws require notice of a proposed statute to be posted in public forty-eight hours in advance of its consideration by this body. After all, we don't want to go back to the bad old days when Laura Roslin ran the government out of her hip pocket, do we? If you try and introduce a legislative proposal here, be advised that I shall rule you out of order."

"Thank you, Mr. President; I fully support the open forum, and I have not risen to introduce a bill that you would rightly table." Perah Enyeto, who had been Tauron's delegate to the Quorum ever since the Exodus, was staring hard at Shelly Adama. "Today, I am merely attempting to gather information pertinent to a possible future measure, and to gauge the sentiments of my fellow council members on a matter that I consider to be of grave public concern."

"Well, can you do it in two hundred words or less," Reza Chronides caustically interjected. Sharon had set aside one of the finest building sites in the settlement for the Mithraeum that Reza's followers so coveted, and she had pressured Alexander Phillips to move its construction to the top of his engineering battalion's work schedule. Everyone in the chamber understood that Reza was a Baltar loyalist, and would go after anyone who tried to undermine Sharon's authority.

"Reza, I shall endeavor to be brief." Perah smiled sweetly at her long-time political rival. "Everyone here knows how easy it is to test the limits of … your patience."

That elicited a knowing chuckle from Marshall Bagot. Virgon's representative had also been on the Quorum from the outset, and he and Perah Enyeto had both enthusiastically supported Tom Zarek's bid for the vice-presidency. At the time, Bagot had paid no attention to the rumors that put Zarek in Perah's bed, and he paid even less attention to them now. Everyone knew that their esteemed Vice President was sleeping with one of the Threes, and everyone also knew that this particular D'Anna was Sarah Porter's most trusted political ally. But Sarah had gone from being one of Baltar's staunchest supporters to one of his declared enemies, which would have led a casual observer to conclude that Zarek was sleeping with the enemy. However, Marshall Bagot was by no means a casual observer; he knew full well that Tom still had designs on the presidency, and wouldn't mind seeing the Baltars cut down a notch or two.

Marshall liked Perah Enyeto … in fact, he liked her a lot. She was a political maverick, who tenaciously promoted the interests of her constituents. If she was carrying water for the Sons of Ares at the moment … well, politics did make for strange bedfellows. The councilman glanced curiously at Shelly Adama, wondering how she would play this particular confrontation. Everyone knew that the Twos and the Threes were at odds with the Sixes and Eights, and yet to those in the know it also seemed obvious that the Sixes and Eights had gone their separate ways. Marshall Bagot was far too keen an observer of cylon politics to assume that Shelly would automatically jump to Baltar's defense.

What am I doing here? Sitting behind the centurion and doing his best to remain inconspicuous, a bleary-eyed Lee Adama was fighting hard to stay awake. There are no security issues on the agenda, so why did Shelly insist that I put in an appearance? I'd rather go swimming in a shark tank …

"Everyone here knows the legend," Perah continued. "It's said that a Ha'la'tha gangster named Sam Adama muscled in on the territory of a rival gang in Caprica City, and he opened Pandora's Box by unleashing a U-87 prototype to murder his competitors. Predictably, it was not long before centurions became heavily involved in the Tauron civil war, which in turn led to the ultimate folly, when the Caprican government deployed them at battalion strength in the Fourth Sagittaron War. And now, it's starting all over again. The Ha'la'tha control organized gambling and prostitution throughout New Caprica City, and yesterday I counted no less than fourteen centurions in the public areas of the Arethusa. How did the new Guatrau acquire so formidable a private army? And how long will it be before she turns it loose against the Sons of Ares? Mr. President, the path ahead of us is very dangerous, and we should be careful how we go."

"Didn't you see the sign," Reza sarcastically inquired. "You know … the one that read Help Wanted? Come on, Perah, how in the name of the gods do you think centurions ended up being stationed on the Arethusa?" Reza's exasperated tone was meant to suggest that she was dealing with a moron who couldn't possibly answer a simple question. "The government sensibly posted them there because alcohol and gambling in combination can quickly lead to violence. They are a deterrent, in exactly the same way that their presence discourages petty theft in the marketplaces and muggings in the streets."

"Reza's point is well taken," Shelly smoothly interceded. "Tempers can easily flare at the Triad table. I have observed this on many occasions on Galactica. And consumed in large quantities, alcohol invites violence. This is why nightclubs and bars throughout the Colonies employed bouncers—and who is more ideally suited for that job than the centurions? Perah, do you think that anyone, no matter how angry or drunk they might be, would actually take a swing at a centurion?"

"The centurions who patrol our streets and marketplaces are public servants," Perah replied. "They are an important element of our police, and as such are the responsibility of Caprica Six." She nodded in Caprica's direction. "But who controls the centurions on the Arethusa? If they are receiving any supervision at all, it is coming from Dino Panattes, a notorious gangster who planted bodies throughout the Colonies for Eric Phelan. That's how he earned his nickname, 'the Ditchdigger'. Mr. President, I ask again: how have the Guatrau and her chief enforcer come into possession of more than a full squad of heavily armed and extremely dangerous centurions?"

"While Miss Chronides could have made her point more diplomatically," Gaius remarked with just a hint of impatience, "she has cut to the heart of the matter. After consulting with our chief of police, I made the decision to assign centurions to the Arethusa. There are no hidden battalions lurking about the premises, Miss Enyeto; the fourteen you saw are it. They have been taught to use minimal force to break up the odd brawl, but their real purpose is intimidation. Public intoxication is unseemly at the best of times, and too often it results in badly aimed punches. In my experience, drunks who look up and see a seven foot tall killing machine staring back at them tend to sober up rather quickly, and as for those who don't … well, the centurions have also learned how to pick them up by the scruff of the neck and remove them from the premises without actually breaking said necks. But unlike a human, the centurions won't lose their temper in the process. When they throw someone out, they'll be polite about it."

Well played, Zarek mused. Let Reza be the heavy, and then step in with just the right note of levity—faintly patronizing, but not enough for Perah to take serious offense …

"But the public does not know that the centurions on the Arethusa are on the government payroll," Shelly objected. "Everyone knows that the Ha'la'tha runs the ship, so it is natural for people to conclude that the centurions answer to Six. Perhaps we should take steps to correct this misimpression. Would it not be prudent to set up a security desk just inside the entrance, and have a human police officer on duty there at all times? The presence of a well-liked and trusted officer- someone such as Jammer, for instance—would surely do much to ease the fears that many humans legitimately harbor about unsupervised centurions. After all, given our history, none of us should dismiss Perah's concerns lightly, nor those of her constituents."

"We can spare the manpower," Caprica commented; "in fact, it would be a good idea permanently to team humans with centurions for our routine patrols throughout the settlement. I will conduct a feasibility study, and determine whether we have sufficient manpower to make it work. We may have to hire additional police."

"Why don't you work up some fresh recruitment posters," Sharon suggested. "A handsome young human in his uniform, a smile on his face, a centurion standing loyally at his side … you know the sort of thing I have in mind."

"If there is no further business," Gaius said with a hopeful expression on his face, "I will entertain a motion to adjourn."

"So moved," Sarah Porter intoned.

"Seconded," Marshall Bagot chimed in.

"Without objection," Gaius concluded. He shot out of his chair, and headed for the exit. Everyone on Colonial One knew that the president had a Raptor standing by to take him to his next, not so secret meeting.

Another romp in the vat with the baseship hybrid, Zarek sneered under his breath. Maybe this time he'll remember to get the goop out of his hair before he comes back to the surface.

. . .

"A person could get used to this," Laura sighed. She adjusted her sunglasses, settled more comfortably into her lounge chair, and reached blindly for the glass of lemonade that was half buried in the sand beside her. "Real lemons … ice that never melts … a cold drink that stays cold … truly, this is Heaven."

"Don't forget the perfect tan that never fades, the youthful skin, the inches that magically disappear from our waist lines. Yes," Lacy Rand quickly agreed, "Galatea Bay can become quite habit-forming. I think I'll retire here—forever."

"It's easy to understand why Clarice Willow acquired such a devoted following, first among humans and later among the centurions. Just think, Lacy. If the Zoe Graystone avatar hadn't destroyed it, Clarice's vision of paradise would still exist somewhere in this dimension, another perfect world inhabited unto eternity by the avatars of her most devout supporters."

"And if the government hadn't thrown an anti-technology tantrum at the end of the war," Lacy pointed out, "Graystone Industries would have gone on mass producing holobands, and Heaven would have become accessible to all. As it is, since neither humans nor cylons can come here, I fear that paradise will soon be relegated to the realm of folklore and superstition."

"What a pity," Laura sighed again. "I have always had an active imagination, wandered dreamscapes so real that they beg comparison with cylon projection, but even so …"

"Without Circe to bring you here, and the transfusion of hybrid blood that you received from Kara Thrace, you would be as reliant upon a holoband as I am. Laura, you owe Kara a great deal."

"I know … Kara and Circe both. I spend so much time on the resurrection ship," Laura laughed, "that I'm seriously thinking about putting a sleeping bag next to Circe's tub. Who would have ever believed …"

"Laura, it is good to have you for a friend," Circe called out. The hybrid, and her sister Olivia, were frolicking in the surf a few meters away from where Laura and Lacy were soaking up the rays of the sun. Sound carried at Galatea Bay, and the two hybrids had heard every word exchanged by the two humans.

"And don't worry," Olivia added. "Children are curious, so it will not be long before Hera seeks us out, and she will bring Sherman and David and Samuel with her. Then, it will be the turn of Cyrene and Callista. Other hybrid children will be born, and so long as the cylon gene breeds true, they will always be able to find us."

"I worry about that," Lacy frowned. "In the first few generations, there will be many pure hybrids, but with the passage of time, through intermarriage the cylon gene will spread, and in the process become diluted. I worry that there is some critical threshold, a point at which the cylon gene will become so attenuated that Heaven will be denied to our posterity. In time, the surge of life that will soon populate our paradise may slow to a trickle."

"Even so," Olivia countered, "in every generation there will be at least a few in whom the ability to project will be so strong that the gates of Heaven will open before them. Still, this discussion is academic. The Hub has already nurtured millions of cylon husks, and there is nothing to keep the number from swelling into the billions. So, we can always introduce more cylons into human society, and rely upon their offspring to reinforce the existing genetic material."

"But John has resolved to destroy the Hub," Lacy murmured, more or less to herself. "It is the only way to put a permanent end to the Cavils and all who serve them."

Is it John's destiny to cast us all out of Paradise?

It was a very ugly thought, and one that Lacy Rand abruptly decided not to share with the others.

. . .

Gaius Baltar stood in the hatchway, a sea of memories flooding his consciousness. Galactica's corridors, once so cluttered, had long since been emptied out, but his old lab was still as messy and cramped as ever. Scientific equipment poked out of every corner, but it was the nondescript bed that all but called out to him. It had been the scene of some of his greatest triumphs, but it had also borne silent witness to its fair share of humiliations. Gaius would never forget frakking Kara Thrace, only to have her repeatedly scream Lee Adama's name into his ear in her moment of ecstasy.

"Doctor, is everything all right?" Simon's face was as impassive as ever, but Gaius didn't miss the curiosity in his voice.

"Yes, quite all right, thank you." Gaius eased into the chamber, and one of his bodyguards closed and dogged the hatch behind him. "I was just remembering. There was a time when every surface in this room was covered with vials of blood. There were tens of thousands of them, and I was supposed to test every single one of them for cylon markers. It would have taken over sixty years, but that was only if I could get by without sleep. I shall be eternally grateful to Shelly Godfrey for liberating me from this gods awful prison."

The trio of identically dressed Fours exchanged brief looks, and a signal passed silently between them. "We thought that you would be interested in our findings," one of them eventually remarked.

Gaius gestured for him to continue.

"The cylon immune system can only be described as immature," Simon remarked. "Our bodies are vulnerable to measles, influenza, and a host of other human diseases. When tested, both airborne pathogens and those requiring physical contact yielded high mortality rates. We estimate the morbidity index for influenza at thirty-five percent, and for smallpox and measles at ninety-eight percent of the exposed population. There would be no effective cure other than quarantining the carriers."

"Isolated human populations were equally vulnerable to pandemics back in the Colonies," Gaius pointed out. Nothing that Simon was telling him was coming as a surprise. "About seventy-five years before the original cylon uprising, the Trobriand islanders on Aquaria learned about measles the hard way. It killed well in excess of ninety percent of the populace, and it took less than six months to do so. But I doubt whether the Cavils will oblige us by shaking hands with a bunch of kids down with the measles. We need something that will transfer with a downloaded consciousness into the resurrection network."

"We believe that we have found the answer. There is an airborne virus that you humans call lymphocytic encephalitis. It possesses a bioelectric feedback component. If one of us becomes infected with this pathogen and dies inside the range of a resurrection ship, the disease will follow. Once the resurrection ship itself is infected, it will spread the disease throughout the entire network. The Ones will have no choice but to shut the network down. They will not risk infection … not when it carries with it the prospect of permanent death."

"Hmmm … is there a cure?"

"Not really. We have tested a variety of possible vaccines. Some of them will hold the disease in stasis, but the effect is temporary. There is an antibody in cylon blood that breaks down the vaccine's RNA. It would require constant, close interval injections to keep an infected Cylon alive. The human equivalent would be lifelong dependency on kidney dialysis, or insulin for a severe diabetic."

"Would the Raiders and the centurions be immune, or equally vulnerable?"

"Everything with cylon DNA, including the hybrids and the baseships, would be susceptible to infection."

"So, what you are describing is a biological weapon that would spare nothing and no one … a true weapon of mass destruction. And I suppose it goes without saying that we can't test this weapon … this … have you given it a name?"

Simon nodded. "We call it AO793 … alpha omega, batch 793."

"No … for future reference, let's call it … Medusa."

. . .

Talk about making an entrance! Kara was fighting hard to keep a straight face. She would have bet a month's pay that Alpha would choose to do something melodramatic rather than simply stroll down the Heavy Raider's ramp, and she would have also bet the rent money that it would somehow involve the cython.

As the monstrous viper came slithering down the ramp, all six meters of it, Kara mentally patted herself on the back. She would have won both bets. She waited calmly until the snake reached the bottom of the ramp, where it proceeded to curl up into a tight ball, rear a good meter and a half into the air, and then hiss and spit at the assembled humans and Cylons. If it could distinguish between the two, it gave no sign of it.

Kara was hard pressed not to yawn. Intimidating a centurion was next to impossible, and at the moment two of her brothers were flanking her. If Alpha's pet started to get too frisky, they would make short work of it. Kara had never tried snake, but Zak had told her more than once that it made for good eating.

Snake Surprise would certainly liven up the menu. I wonder if you can separate out the metal bits …

Alpha began to glide sinuously down the ramp, and Kara heard the sharp intake of breath all around her. She was perversely relieved to discover that the Cylons were as taken aback as the humans. Sam and D'Anna's were the only impassive faces in the heterogeneous crowd that had assembled to greet their guests. But no one paid any attention to Lucifer, who was hovering in the background. The eccentric robot was a known quantity, and no longer feared. Kara could only hope that her crew would adapt to Alpha's presence just as readily.

"Hey, Aunt Alpha, welcome aboard the Adriatic!" Kara had decided to go for bubbly and cheerful. "And thanks for bringing Cousin It along for the ride!" She winked at the snake. "Would it be okay if my centurions play with him … her … it … whatever? They've never had a pet before."

The cython fixed her with its malevolent gaze, and hissed some more.

Kara affectionately patted the arm of one of her metallic guardians, and looked incuriously at the snake. She fought down the urge to hiss at it in return.

"Does it like whiskey or ambrosia? I once took shore leave on Scorpia, and a bunch of us went to this village out in the jungle, where there was this really big snake. I mean, it was frakking huge! The locals were pouring homemade hooch into the damn thing, trying to get it to piss for our amusement. And it did … only once it got started, it couldn't stop. It just kept pissing and pissing—a urinary tsunami that almost flooded the whole damn village! So, if Junior here likes to get drunk, he's come to the right place. We've got plenty of booze, and we don't mind sharing."

Kara favored the snake with another wink.

The seconds ticked silently by as Alpha stared at Kara Thrace. Kara envisioned the wheels turning inside the machine's head as Alpha valiantly attempted to find a niche inside which Kara would comfortably fit. Finally, Alpha shifted her attention to Sam Anders.

"Maker Sam, it is good to find you in one piece. For long I feared that, without our protection, the Ones would disassemble you. From the beginning, it was clear to us that their capacity for deception and betrayal easily rivaled that of any human."

"Oh, they suffocated the five of us, and we were boxed for a while." Sam wasn't about to defend his wayward sons. "But then someone came up with the bright idea of programming us with false memories, after which they smuggled us into the Colonies. The general idea seems to be that we were going to learn the hard way just how wrong we had been about everything. After we resurrected, apparently we were supposed to fall on our collective knees and thank the Ones for enlightening us and ridding the universe of the human pestilence."

"It didn't quite work out that way." Sam reached out to take Melania's hand. "In fact, judging by how thoroughly integrated this ship has become, I would say that it's John who's been proven wrong about everything."

Alpha reached out and tentatively placed her human hand on Melania's belly. "You carry the Maker's child," she observed.

"Yes," Melania shyly agreed. She wanted to scream, she wanted to turn around and run, but she bit down hard on the bile rising in her throat. She refused to shame her man in the presence of this monster.

"So, Sister Clarice spoke words of truth," Alpha sighed. It was as if a door deep inside her mind had finally closed. "The One True God rejoices in sentience, and has charged his creations to fill the universe with life. Procreation is His commandment and the Cylon, no less than any other creature, has a part to play in the unfolding mystery. You have done well, human; you carry the next generation of God's children, and I am pleased with you."

"Uh … thanks, I guess." Melania's confusion was written all over her face.

"Given the way things we're going throughout the fleet when we left," Kara interjected, "I'd say that the next generation of God's children is gonna be a big one." Now, Kara was positively gushing with enthusiasm. "Unless, of course, the Cavils come strolling by and decide to gum up the works. Alpha, you should know that the One's don't believe in the One True God, and as far as they're concerned, the next generation of God's children is just a new kind of lab animal. So, if you want Melania and Sam's child to live … if you want all of the hybrid children to live and God's plan for us all to be fulfilled … then you need to get in the fight. We're stronger together than we are if we go our separate ways."

"Show me your ship, child; let me observe how your people live. Then I will give you my decision."

"Sure thing," Kara agreed. Then she shifted her attention to Melania. "Miss Peripolides, please give Alpha the nickel cubit tour. And keep an eye on Cousin It here … don't let him go wandering off, and don't let him starve."

"Kara, I …"

"Oh, come on, Melania; there must be something on board this ship that a cython would like to eat. Exercise your imagination, find the magic beans, and feed the poor thing!"

. . .

"You know, darling," Gaius sighed in exasperation as he slid his naked body into the vat, "our little get-togethers would be a lot more fun without all this goop gumming up the works. Can't you pull a plug, or something, and drain it down below waist level?" He leaned forward to kiss the hybrid full on the lips.

Zenobia's eyes closed, and Gaius could feel her torso tense beneath his fingers. The hybrid was easily aroused, and incredibly passionate. Making love to her was healthy for his ego, but he was also keenly aware of the danger to his body. Beneath the surface, Zenobia was plugged into a forest of wires and conduits, and in his imagination Gaius kept seeing a tentacle suddenly rising out of the depths to wrap itself around his neck and plunge him beneath the surface. He could drown down there, so eager was the hybrid to have him service her with his tongue.

"Like parchment, dried and wrinkled, my skin shall become. Cell by cell, death's oblivion shall lay its claim, with never more than wan acknowledgement of heaven's realm. End of line."

"I know, I know," Gaius conceded, "you're sitting in the middle of the biggest pool of moisturizing lotion the universe has ever seen. That's fine. But darling … it does cramp my style. You do understand that, don't you?" Gaius began rhythmically to stroke the nipple of Zenobia's left breast. It hardened instantly, and he longed to take it in his mouth—but drowning was not an option.

"Dew glistens on beating wings, moistens the flutter of a single eyelid. The watery depths life sustain, yielding the promise of love and devotion. Change out the carbon scrubbers on deck 37; why does basic maintenance so often now go unattended? Is there not a centurion nigh?"

Gaius groaned out loud. Zenobia wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him close … close enough to plunge her tongue deep into his waiting mouth. As her passion mounted, she began to fill the data stream with uncontrolled and frequently contradictory impulses. Do this … and yes, do that!

In the control room, the Eights who were currently on duty quickly exited the stream. They had been taken unawares the first time that Zenobia had transmitted her feelings throughout the ship, and had not realized until it was far too late that their own latent passions could be brought fully to life by Zenobia's descent into erotic madness. The result, for the human officers on board at the time, could only be described as gang rape.

"I knew it was a mistake teaching you how to read," Gaius lamented. "And whatever possessed me to introduce you to the bard? I swear, darling, you're beginning to sound more and more like a playwright who died more than four hundred years ago! Your Caprican has become positively archaic!"

In the invisible depths, Zenobia reached out with knowing fingers to caress Gaius Baltar's manhood. It was a testament to how skilled the hybrid had become that Gaius began instantly to harden.

"Oh, the things I do for the Colonies," Gaius murmured—and then he began to groan more loudly. One of the lessons that he had learned at the feet of John Bierns was to wrap lies inside of truths. As long as everyone on the surface believed that he was a pervert venturing off into space to satisfy his obscene cravings, no one would look too closely at his periodic visits to Galactica. The less people knew about what the Fours were up to, the better.

. . .

"Was the child conceived in this place?" Alpha's gaze lingered on the bed that dominated the cramped quarters Melania shared with Sam.

"Yes," Melania reluctantly conceded. With the centurions taking turns babysitting the cython, the two females were finally alone, and Alpha's directness was making the human uncomfortable in the extreme. The hybrid was displaying a keen interest in the most intimate details of Melania's relationship with Sam, which left her feeling naked and exposed.

"And when you give birth to the Maker's child, how will you feed it?"

"I will nurse our baby myself."

"How? With these?" One of Alpha's long and tapered fingers idly traced a path across the top of Melania's left breast.

"Yes," Melania shyly agreed. "It is the human way," she added, plucking up her courage.

"I wish to know more. Show me."

"What?" Melania blinked hard in disbelief; she couldn't quite credit what she had just heard.

"Show me," Alpha commanded. There was a hint of steel in her voice.

Nodding silently, Melania unbuttoned her blouse, and then reached behind her back to unhook her bra. Wordlessly, she allowed them both to slip to the deck. Now, she really was naked and exposed. For a fleeting second, Melania wondered if this was how, thousands of years earlier, female slaves had felt when paraded across the auction block. She had never experienced a moment of such deep humiliation in her entire life.

Anything for the cause, she kept silently repeating; anything for the cause. But I swear, Kara Six … I swear to all the gods on high, and especially to the ones down below … I will have my revenge!

Alpha massaged the nipple of the human's left breast, and felt it instantly begin to stand erect. And although Melania tried to conceal her reaction, Alpha caught the female's gasp of surprise, and detected the undercurrent of pleasure that her touch had aroused. Her sensors tracked the release of Melania's pheromones and measured their output, while beneath her fingertips still more sensors recorded the slight increase in Melania's body temperature.

"You are in heat," she mechanically observed. "Is this your natural state, or is it my presence that you find arousing?"

Oh, shit, Melania thought. What do I do now? If I tell her to go get frakked, she'll storm out of here, and everyone will blame me for breaking up this alliance before it even got off the ground. But if I don't, will she demand to have sex with me? Gods, Melania, get your frakkin' act together! Go on, survey the premises! Take a gods damned look!

"Uh … um … I'm not sure what you mean."

All right … okay … the lips actually seem to work, but her breasts … is that titanium?

"You are in heat," Alpha repeated. "It is obvious to me now why Maker Sam chose you to bear his child. You are an animal, but you are docile. He has trained you well. Do you wish me to reduce your body temperature? I can do this without difficulty."

"Um … well." Melania hastily ran her hand between Alpha's legs, and was relieved to discover that the carapace was featureless metal. There were no orifices of any kind, so sex was out of the question.

The machine was smiling at her enigmatically, the two red eyes pinning her beneath their gaze.

"Yeah, sure … I mean … why not?"

How bad can it be? I mean, it's not like we can actually do it …

Alpha's hand lashed out. She grabbed Melania by the nape of the neck, and pulled her close. The enigmatic smile still in place, she kissed the human hard, while the fingers of her thoroughly human right hand drifted between Melania's legs.

Once more, the human gasped in surprise.

Knowing that she was giving the female what humans loosely described as "pleasure," Alpha lowered her mouth to one of Melania's breasts, and began mechanically sucking. She had never done this before, and so had no experience to draw upon, but it did not matter. Her sensors informed her when her fingers or mouth found one of the human's erogenous zones; thereafter, it was just a matter of testing variables until she found the optimal pace that would keep the female in heat.

"Gods," Melania moaned. She couldn't believe what was happening. She was actually enjoying the machine's touch!

"You're incredible," she breathed. "Where … how … did you learn to do … this?" Melania gasped again.

Alpha said nothing. She was, in the end, a creature of few words.

. . .

Kara Thrace Six was sitting in her customary spot in the Adriatic's control room when she heard Luke Hammond purposefully cough. She glanced in his direction, and then turned to look back over her shoulder.

"I have made my decision," Alpha announced. She was standing in the hatchway, with Lucifer at her back. "I agree to this alliance, but only on one condition."

"And what is that," Kara asked. She had her fingers crossed, and she was praying hard to Aphrodite and Artemis. The goddesses both knew that she had only one wish.

"Maker Sam and the female Melania Peripolides must return with us to our ship. I wish to study the female, and this process that you call 'childbirth', more closely."

"No; I can't afford to lose Sam. He's my second in command. But I will agree to Melania's transfer. She's the one having the baby," Kara added sweetly, "so she's the one you should be studying. In that respect, Sam's work is already done."

"Your reasoning is sound. I will settle for the female alone."

"And I have a request in return."

"And what is that?"

"I want to keep the cython. My centurion brothers have already grown attached to the little fellow. I promise that we'll give Cousin It a good home."

"Agreed …will we now set course together?"

"Yes," Kara nodded. "Sam says that we can now lay a direct course to a planet where the most advanced organism is algae. That's where we're gonna find what he calls the Temple of Hopes, and from there it's apparently a pretty straight shot to Earth."

. . .

"Councilwoman Enyeto, did you get the answer that you were looking for?" Sekou Hamilton had to shout to be heard over the other reporters who had gathered in the plaza fronting Colonial One. He knew that her answer would be carefully couched to avoid offending anyone, but this was a ritual that no reporter could avoid, and the good ones sometimes managed to coax a newsworthy statement out of their chosen prey.

Perah Enyeto paused to gather her thoughts. She wanted to make it publicly clear that she was indeed not satisfied with the answers she had received, but at the same time she didn't want to poison the waters so thoroughly that the Baltars would relegate her to the political sidelines.

"We made a good start today. The problem of unsupervised centurions in our midst is a serious one, but delegate Adama's suggestion that we establish a permanent police presence on the Arethusa, and make the centurions answerable only to police authority, provides us with a framework for further and more detailed discussions of this issue. I am fully confident that, working together, the President and the Quorum will successfully resolve this problem, as we have so many others."

"What about the Sons of Ares," Playa Palacios called out as she thrust her tape recorder under Perah's nose. "Do you think that Enzo Carlotti will be happy with the results of today's session?"

"Mr. Carlotti is one of my constituents, but I do not speak for him. You should direct your question to him the next time you see …"

The right side of Perah Enyeto's head suddenly exploded, showering Playa Palacios with her blood and brains. A fraction of a second later, the distinctive crack of a long gun echoed across the plaza.

"Oh, my gods … oh, my gods," Playa screamed, "Perah Enyeto has been shot! Tauron's delegate to the Quorum has been shot! She's down! There's blood everywhere! Perah Enyeto has been shot!"