Chapter 24 - Portents and Politics

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Rendezvous System, Battlestar Pegasus - August, 2249

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Colonial One jumped into the system barely seconds behind the Pegasus. She popped up on DRADIS, right where she was supposed to be. Unfortunately, she was the only thing that was where she was supposed to be. Adama stared at that all but empty display. "Launch the CAP." Where the hells is my fleet? "Get some Raptors out as well to take a look around. We don't want to be sending high powered signals into the void if we don't have to."

The first Raptor hadn't even launched when the call rang out, "Contact! We've got a small vessel sliding out from behind an asteroid."

"IFF?" Adama asked, maintaining his professional demeanor.

"Reading...Earth Force IFF. It's one of their Cutters."

"We're getting a signal. Message for you, Admiral."

Bill didn't waste time, but neither did he rush. Picking up the handset, he raised it calmly to his face. "Pegasus actual. Go."

"Admiral," came the response, "this is Commander Locarno of the Deneb...ahhh...of the Earth Force. Welcome back, Admiral."

"Where's my fleet, Commander?"

"Inbound now, Sir. You should advise your screen to back off from my position. It's about to get a bit...crowded. Locarno, out." Bill ground his teeth at the unenlightening response, but had it relayed to the CAP and the Raptors which had begun launching.

"Admiral," called out a young Lieutenant whose name Bill could not remember. The young woman was busy managing the sensor feeds from the DRADIS. "That asteroid appears to be...breaking up. And I'm reading an energy signature. Off the charts."

"What's the Earth Force Cutter doing?"

"It's backing away from the asteroid, Admiral, like everyone else."

Once again the Comms officer called out, "Captain Taylor, reporting in Admiral."

Cole Taylor was the Pegasus's CAG and was out leading the launched viper squadrons. Adama raised the handset back to his face and nodded his acknowledgement to Comms. "Stinger, Pegasus actual. Report. What does it look like out there?"

"Admiral, I don't know what the hell I'm looking at. That asteroid sure wasn't. Some kind of machine. Four separate pylons, and they're spreading out. Crackling with energy and...hooolllly frak!"

"Stinger!" Adama barked. "Report."

"Sorry, Sir. The thing just erupted into some kind of energy field. Like nothing I've ever seen before."

"Describe it."

"It's like... Well, it looks like..." He hesitated another few seconds, then said. "It looks like somebody flushed a giant toilet. Sideways in space. If they added the blue chemical to the water...and it glowed in the dark." Adama had no response to that. As the silence dragged for a few moments, Cole lamely added, "Sorry, Admiral. That's the best description I can think of. Something's happening now. Something's emerging from the...whatever it is."

"What is it?"

"A ship, Admiral... It looks like...the Astral Queen. Another one...that's the Striker. And there's the Zephyr. They're coming through one after the other, Admiral. It's the fleet. Wait. Admiral, the Lexington just made transit. Looks like the Earth fleet is coming through as well."

"Good work, Striker. Pegasus actual, out." Adama hung up the handset, then turned once more to Comms. "Send a message to the President. Let her know...we're home."

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Cylon Resurrection Hub - August, 2249

With a brilliant flash, three more Basestars joined the growing fleet outside the window. John Cavil stared at nothing, but his mind was focused in on those ships through the datastream, tracking their arrival. He had hoped the sight would quell his growing unease and displeasure. It had not. The number of Basestars in system had grown to fourteen. Not enough. Not against the combined human fleets. But it would have to be sufficient for now.

Scowling, he returned his awareness to the room in which he was physically standing, and turned his body back towards the Cylons bickering behind him. Still he did not acknowledge them, taking a moment to close his eyes and listen to Hybrid, babbling her gibberish in the background.

"The excited state decays by vibrational relaxation into the first excited singlet state. Yes, yes, and merrily we go. The chosen of the Kosh have gone mad. End of line. Reduce atmospheric Nitrogen by 0.03%. It is not much consolation that society will pick up the bits, leaving us at eight modern where punishment, rather than interdiction, is paramount. Please, cut the fuse. They will awaken and return. End of line. Limiting diffusions to two dimensions increases the number of evolutionary jumps within the species. Rise and measure the Temple of the Five. Transformation is the goal. They await you. Data font synchronization is complete. End of line." And on and on.

Meaningless, he mused to himself. He found endless amusement, not to mention a large dollop of superiority, in watching the Twos forever listening to the Hybrids' pronouncements. Lately they'd been joined by the Eights and Sixes. Such inferior models. But, he supposed he'd have to deal with them. It was an Eight and a Six who were still waiting impatiently to speak with him. And they'd brought along a Three instead of a Two, for some reason. The Threes didn't have much faith. They tended to mouth the platitudes, without much conviction behind them.

His eyes narrowed. The Eight and the Six….the fools who referred to themselves as Boomer and Natalie, which was unsurprising. But the Three…. "Stabbed anyone in the back recently, D'Anna?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Now One, you know that wasn't me. I already told you, it was a human. And as I recall, you were shot, not stabbed, in the back of the head, not the back."

"Well, you would know, wouldn't you, being the only one to witness it. It's odd. I don't remember there being a human in the room. Must have slipped my mind."

"Perhaps so. Though, given you had your back to the door, you might be forgiven for not having noticed his entrance. Still, you might be onto something...having things slip your mind. Perhaps your consciousness didn't download properly. That might explain this absurd suspicion and paranoia you seem to have developed. You might want to look into that."

This verbal sparring wasn't getting anywhere, so he turned and walked casually to his desk, taking a seat, then looked them all over. "Well? What is it that was so important?"

It was Natalie who spoke up. "The Hybrid is clearly telling us something."

"The Hybrid is always telling us something," he responded. "They're supposed to maintain operations on each ship, not vomit metaphysics." Natalie looked away in irritation, while Boomer just stared at him unflappably, and D'Anna maintained that amused half sneer. "Alright. I give up. What? What is she trying to tell us?"

"They're in the Colonial fleet. The new humans have brought them out somehow."

"They?" he rolled his eyes in irritation. "They who?"

"The Final Five," Three replied. "They might have been flushed out by the Earthers. Or they might be in hiding."

Cavil felt his eyes widen in shock. "They're not from Earth," he said habitually. Pausing for a moment he stood up, shaking his hand at them. "No, wait, stop. Stop, right now. Turn around, go and take a cleansing walk, and I'm going to try and forget what I just heard."

Natalie wouldn't be dissuaded. "The Final Five! Cavil, they're near! This is far too important…."

"What their eyes must have seen, witnessed over the years…" D'Anna began speaking as well.

Boomer started up as well, smiling, "Do you think they look anything like us?"

One was not amused. "That's enough!" he snapped. "Don't you realize what you're doing? You're openly discussing the Final Five! That's forbidden!" They simply stared back at him, so he continued, "You're toying with our survival." He paused for a moment, then went into stern lecture mode. "Look at yourselves. Look, there's millions of Threes that have that jaw. Millions of Sixes possess that mouth. Eights share those breasts and Ones have this brain. We're mechanized copies. There's a reason the original Programmers clearly felt that it's a mistake for us to contact the Final Five."

"No!" Natalie protested.

"Violating the programming threatens our survival!"

"Something has changed!" she objected passionately.

"Yes, something changed," he paused, thinking, "the fake Earthers came. That's where all this started, with them. Just another group of Colonial refugees joining up, and look how you're acting. Well, this problem needs to be resolved, and we're going to do it."

"Do what?"

"We've been chasing that fleet long enough. We've lost thirteen ships in barely a month. Clearly, your high minded ideals about peace with the humans have failed. It's time to put them down, once and for all."

"As you said," D'Anna spoke up, "they destroyed thirteen Basestars with barely a scratch."

"Six or seven ships won't do it, so we'll hit them with forty. Fifty, maybe. Hell, if the situation warrants it, maybe we'll gather the full fleet. There's no way they can stand up to over a hundred Basestars. It's time to stop screwing around. Humans are cockroaches. So we stomp on them. Hard. In any case, it has to be done."

"Says who?" Natalie objected.

"Says God almighty, the voice of reason," he growled, "that's who. When are you gonna hear it?"

"We attacked the new humans first. We abducted their President. We escalated the conflict. But with the new humans, there might truly be a chance for peace. Don't you see, despite all your obstinance, they might actually be from Earth! This changes everything. Those humans had nothing to do with our enslavement! They're innocent! And their arrival now can't be a coincidence. This is part of God's plan! They're here for us, not to be destroyed by us. Who knows what they could offer?"

"In a generation or two, given the chance, they could offer us genocide, as we tried to do, as we should have done, with them. But we're going to correct that oversight."

She stepped forward aggressively in front of him, as Caprica had done just moments before he had been most recently killed. "You don't have the authority to make any change without a majority vote."

"Well, we'll vote. The Fours and Fives will be on my side."

"And the Threes and Eights will be on mine," she insisted.

"But the Two's will be with me as well. You're out voted. Though, congratulations, apparently you've managed to introduce gender politics to our race. Thanks for that."

"Don't be so certain about the Twos," D'Anna interjected again. "They've been listening to the Hybrid like we have. They think this is all God's plan as well. And the Earthers' contact package indicates that they are primarily monotheistic. Do you understand? The humans worship our God! That means everything to Leoben."

"Yes, but he'll still vote with me, and you know it. Otherwise you would have brought him to this little meeting. He's still researching, and the recent battles and our losses have him...concerned. So until something changes, he'll listen to logic and reason like a good little Cylon should. I will take the vote."

"Cavil," Natalie said, almost desperately, "something extraordinary has happened. The Earthers are only the tip of the iceberg. Something is calling to us, pushing us to discover our origins, to understand our place in the universe. And the Final Five…"

"Are anywhere but with the humans," he insisted, dismissively; making it clear that the conversation was over.

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Rendezvous System, Battlestar Galactica - August, 2249

Laura Roslin sat on Bill Adama's couch, and sipped at a chamalla laced Columbian roast. She supposed she should be somewhat miffed that she had to come to the Galactica, to Adama's quarters, to sample the gifts from Earth. But she had found the morning routine to be quite therapeutic.

Mornings were one of the worst times for her, but she had developed this routine to help her get the day off to a good start. She had her legs curled up underneath her, as she flipped through her paper… part of the Earth First Contact package, which had been restructured into the format of newspapers, in an effort to convey the information without the use of computers or networks. Even now, after the Fall and everything else, Laura still felt Bill was perhaps a bit overly cautious in that regard. But, his caution helped to keep the human race alive, so she wouldn't begrudge it to him.

Lowering her paper for a moment, she called over to the man, sitting a few feet away in his own chair, and flipping through a similar paper. "This is interesting. It's about a people called the Abbai. Apparently the women run everything."

She heard him grunt then, without changing his grip, he used his forefingers to fold back the top half of the paper, so he could make eye contact with her through his bifocals. "So...not too different from here then." And without another word he brought back up his paper and resumed reading. Laura chuckled, and was about to return to her own paper, when there was a knock at the door.

Bill called out for them to enter. Looking over, she saw a Marine swinging the door open, then stepping back as Tom Zarek entered the room. "Madame President. Admiral."

"Am I, Mr. Acting President?"

"Ma'am?"

"Am I the President? I know you've been closeted with the Quorum for most of the last day. Political maneuvers? Trying to retain your position?"

"Not exactly, Madame President. Trying to retain yours."

Laura narrowed her eyes. "Explain."

"I offered my resignation; argued that, given your return, you were clearly capable of resuming your duties. But there was...a counter movement. Somehow...it's gotten out that your cancer has returned. That Major Cottle is unable to treat you, and that you are once again taking chamalla. That concerns several members of the Quorum, and a sizeable faction argued that it makes you unable to properly carry out your duties. Gaius Baltar tried to accept my resignation, and institute himself as the new President. He had...an unfortunate amount of support."

"He didn't succeed?" she asked, aghast.

"No, but it was far too close. I first had to shore up a solid block that would reinforce my resignation not being valid unless it was to return you to office. That took...more negotiation than it should have. But it's done. The harder part was convincing a majority of the Quorum that you were ready to resume your duties. And I didn't...not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I couldn't convince them that you are or would remain fit, all things remaining the same. But I told them things wouldn't remain the same. I got them to vote on hope."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Bill asked, entering the conversation.

"Well, Admiral...I had to make certain commitments on her behalf."

Laura felt her eyes narrowing dangerously. Her voice, however, remained perfectly calm. "What sort of commitments?"

"That you would seek treatment from the Earth doctors. What with the medical aid they've been providing the fleet, there's a lot of buzz that Dr. Franklin and his staff are miracle workers. I convinced the Quorum that Franklin would find a treatment that would allow you to fulfill your commitments and duties."

"And if he can't, Mr. Zarek?"

"It's too late. I pushed through the vote. So long as you follow through and seek treatment from the Earthers…. well, as of now I am out of a job, Madame President. My replacement on the Quorum wasn't amenable to stepping down so I could resume the position. So, if at any point you have need of me…. it seems that I have plenty of time on my hands."

He rose and turned to leave, offering brief goodbye's to both of them, while Laura studied her hands, deep in thought. He was almost out the door before she made her decision. "Tom?" he stopped, turning to face her with a questioning look. "I need to thank you. It seems you were working hard for me, both during my absence and while I was recovering. Thank you. It would seem that I misjudged you."

"No, Madame President, I don't think you did. I am every bit the person you think I am. But what I do is in service of the people of this fleet. And it is very clear that you're a better President than I am…. or, gods forbid, Gaius Baltar."

She actually shuddered, then laughed out loud at the suggestion. "Well, either way Tom... I do believe I have need of your talents… a position I need you to fill."

"Whatever I can do to help, Madame President."

"I'm in need of a Vice President." His brow shot up in surprise. Bill wore a similar expression, the comparison making her want to laugh again.

"Ma'am…. I very much doubt Baltar will choose to resign. You'll have quite the political battle on your hands if you try to force him."

"Don't worry about Gaius Baltar. He'll be resigning within the day. I'll be having a little chat with him."

"Are you planning to have my Marines rip his nails out?" Bill asked with actual curiosity.

"Nothing so strenuous. We're just going to have a little chat. And I'll let Gaius know that unless he resigns, I'll be announcing the truth about him to the fleet."

"You still have no proof."

"Don't need it. The government won't act against him. But neither will we lift a finger to protect him."

"He'd be torn apart within a day."

"Yes, he would. If I promise to keep quiet, it will mean he once again escapes justice ... for the time being. This just isn't the time for a big political fight. But eventually he'll get what he deserves."

Zarek cleared his throat, reminding them of his presence. "Is there…. something I should know?" he asked with open curiosity.

"No. Not just yet. But what I need to know, is will you accept the position?"

He hesitated. "What about Wallace Gray? I know you wanted him as VP."

Laura grimaced. "I'm not surprised you haven't heard, but Wallace was killed aboard the Basestar. He still wasn't speaking with me at the time. I'll always regret that. Now, Tom, I'm done asking. You're going to be Vice President."

He gave a half smile. "Yes Ma'am. I wouldn't dare to argue."

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Farther aft in the ship, Lieutenant Sharon Agathon and her husband were meeting with a mixed group of Raptor pilots and Marines in the mess. Her friends. I have human friends. I wouldn't have thought it possible. Private Tucker was bouncing Hera on his knees, explaining to her his theory about how the Fall proved that you should never purchase an extended warranty on anything. Ever. Another Marine, one who had been part of her entry team on the Basestar, approached the table.

"Hey, Mike," Tucker called. "You wanna hold her?"

"Gods no. I hate babies."

"You idiot. You can't say things like that in front of the mother! You gotta say something nice, like 'I see where she gets her sexy eyes' or something."

"Tucker," Sergeant Iglesia called out in exasperation, "shut the frak up." Sharon just shook her head in amusement. They might be Marines, but as far as she was concerned, they were her Marines.

Racetrack rolled her eyes. "Ignore him, Boomer. You got a cute kid."

Sharon hesitated for a moment. "Uh...no. Boomer was, uh… she was someone else."

Helo glanced over at her in the ensuing awkward silence. Raising his voice, he called out to the room. "Listen, up! We need a call sign for Lieutenant Agathon."

The pilots and Marines began shouting out suggestions. Chrome Dome! Titania! Lightbulb! Wind-up Toy! Raptor Adapter! Microchip! Digital Dame! Mayflower! Carburetor! Tincan!

"Brick Shithouse!" Tucker called out happily.

"How about Athena," Iglesia interjected, mostly drowned out by the shouting pilots.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," Helo called out, looking directly at the Sergeant. "What was that?"

Iglesia looked a bit uncomfortable. "You know, the Goddess of Wisdom and War. Usually accompanied by the Goddess of Victory?"

Sharon felt a smile break out on her face. "She likes it," she heard someone say from behind her.

Helo met his wife's gaze. "Athena it is."

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Cylon Resurrection Hub - August, 2249

With a groan, D'Anna rolled over on her pallet and sat up. Another night. Another night full of dreams, but no rest. Another night with visions of Hera and five faceless figures chasing each other through her dreams and nightmares. Or were they visions? Another day that would be spent in a haze. A few days back she had drunk down two full bottles of ambrosia, trying to get the fog of despondency and apathy to lift. It had knocked her out, but provided no real relief, so she had given up the attempt at self medication the next day.

Forcing herself to rise, she rapidly dressed, then went in search of something to draw her attention, give her something else to focus on. Unfortunately, there was really nothing she felt truly needed her. Even the other Cylons, sometimes even the other Threes, just seemed so… shallow. Barely even real.

Passing through a busy corridor, she stepped wide around a pair of Fives. "You alright?" a voice asked from behind her. Turning she saw that Natalie had found her.

"Yeah, of course."

"More nightmares?"

"Dreams", she said, shaking her head and offering a small smile. Turning her face away, she continued. "Something different this time, though." Lowering her voice to little more than a whisper, she said, "I think God is trying to tell me something." Natalie looked uncomfortable, and they soon parted ways, D'Anna resuming her aimless wandering.

Her wanderings took her to a lonely corridor, guarded by a single Centurion. She stood there, staring at the Centurion for more than an hour. Finally, mind made up, she began issuing orders. She almost ordered it to carry them out, then paused, thinking. Coming to a conclusion, she added another stipulation. "After you execute this command, you'll delete the order from your logs, and overwrite the corresponding memory locations." Closing her eyes, she softly gave the order. "Execute."

The Centurion fired a single round, right through the center of her forehead.

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Rendezvous System, Colonial One - August, 2249

Tory was staring nervously out the nearest porthole. "Madame President… are we sure this is a good idea?"

It was Commander Laurel Takashima who responded. "You can relax, Ma'am. We've spec'd out your ships. They'll handle hyperspace just fine. While you were away, we had your whole civilian fleet hiding out in hyperspace, keeping station on the beacon. There were a few incidents, but all caused by rubbernecking. The view in hyperspace can be...a little intimidating. We sorted those issues out pretty quickly. We'll have your ships in the center of our own. Everything should be fine."

"Should?"

"Have a seat, Tory," Laura instructed. "Worrying about it isn't going to do anyone any good. We can't keep sitting here. The Cylons know where we are, which makes us far too tempting and vulnerable of a target. It's imperative that the fleets remain together. But, while we can use this jumpgate to enter Hyperspace, there is no way for the Earth fleet to perform our kind of jump."

"So we have to follow them," Tory responded nervously, "Yes, Ma'am, I know. I'm still nervous."

"Perhaps if we visited the Command Deck," Takashima offered with a smile. "Having a better vantage point sometimes puts people at ease."

Roslin found herself smiling. Despite the much higher rank, Commander Takashima reminded her an awful lot of Petty Officer Dualla. "That's an excellent idea. Let's all go." Rising, Laura led them all to the cockpit, knocking on the door, but not awaiting a response before entering. The new lead pilot was at the controls. "Captain, you don't mind if we watch from here, do you?"

"No, Ma'am," the woman responded, without so much as a glance over her shoulder. "We're third in line to transition. If you look straight ahead, you'll see the rabbit hole we're about to jump down."

Laura had come up here to put Tory at ease, but found herself fascinated by the amazing sight. The device was still covered in some of the rubble which had accumulated over the millenia it had lain dormant. But now it had separated itself into four long pylons, lit up with energy. But it was the massive...thing...sitting between those pylons which drew her attention. It was an enormous energy vortex, reddish orange and softly luminescing. She'd heard that one of the pilots had described it as a 'toilet flushing sideways in space,' but she didn't see that at all. No, this looked more like…. some kind of tunnel to another world. Which, she supposed, was exactly what it was.

The ships in front of them made transit, crossing the threshold and then seeming to suddenly accelerate out of sight. And then it was their turn. Commander Takashima was steady as a rock, but their pilot was breathing nearly as rapidly as she and Tory were.

"I promise you," Laurel assured, "we're completely safe. We do this all the time."

And then they were through. Surrounded once more by the massive and still amassing fleet of human refugee and military vessels. But it was what lay beyond those that grabbed Laura's attention. The sky...the entire sky...was nothing but a kaleidoscopic display. One vast field of constantly flickering and shifting patterns of light and false shadow. It was clearly akin to the entry vortex, but so much vastly more.

"I don't know how anyone could navigate in here," the pilot said, almost under her breath. "There's too much confusion."

Releasing a noise both glottal and wet, Tory hurled herself across the compartment and grabbed a sick bag. She only managed to get about half of her regurgitation into the bag.

Commander Takashima nodded resignedly. "Yeah. Sometimes that happens too."

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Hyperspace, Battlestar Galactica - August, 2249

"How's the Galactica handling this, Saul?"

"The old girl's solid enough. She's doing fine. But this place we're in? It's godsdamned bizarre, Bill."

Lieutenant Gaeta approached, joining the conversation. "Admiral, DRADIS and other sensors are practically useless. They can't make heads or tails out of this space. If it weren't for our lock on to all of the surrounding Earth ships, we'd be completely lost. We have managed to pick up the signal Earth Force calls the beacon, using the gear they've provided us. At need we'd probably be able to follow that, but we don't have a solid grasp of the systems."

"Understood, anything else?"

"Yes, Sir. FTL drives across the fleet went down the moment we passed the jump gate. Initial investigation seems to indicate that the drives themselves are still functional. The coordinate and targeting system, however, is having apoplexy."

"Keep looking into it. Work with the Earth Force scientists if you can. We run into some kind of emergency, I want to know if we can use our jump drives or not."

Gaeta turned to walk away, but Saul called out to his back. "And while you're at it, find whoever's playing that music and have them shut it the frak off. This is a Battlestar, not a pleasure yacht."

Gaeta froze, then half turned back to the Colonel. "Music, Sir? I'm afraid I don't hear anything…"

"Then see Doc Cottle and get your frakkin' hearing checked. It's clear as day!"

Adama took his eyes off the DRADIS plot and looked over at his friend, concerned. "I don't hear it either, Colonel. Commodore Sheridan warned us that hyperspace had unpredictable or adverse affects on some people….particularly those who might have some penchant for telepathy."

"I ain't no godsdamned mind reader. And I'm not dreaming this up either. Whoever it is was playing that music last night as well. Long before we entered hyperspace. Ellen and I both heard it coming through the walls. Come to think of it, she decided that we should also both be enjoying it." He chuckled just a bit lecherously.

"Ahh...yes, Sir. Then perhaps we shouldn't look this gift horse in the mouth."

The Lieutenant looked supremely uncomfortable, so Bill took pity on him. Truth be told, he didn't really care to hear about Saul's love life either. "The Colonel has always had excellent hearing, Lieutenant. Maybe losing an eye has heightened it a bit. Go ahead and check around with the crew. See if anyone else can place this music."

"Yes, Admiral." Gaeta walked off.

Tigh turned back to his Admiral and, lowering his voice, said, "Thanks, Bill. That kid thinks I'm losing it, but I'm not hallucinating...hyperspace or not."

"You're the rock, Saul. You're the sanest person I know in this fleet. If you tell me there's music, then there is. We'll figure it out. Now, anything else on the agenda?"

"Yeah. I gotta go prep for our first real interrogation of the Six."

"Isn't she calling herself Caprica?"

"I ain't gonna call a frakkin' toaster by the name of a Colony she helped to burn. That'd be spitting on the pyres of billions of citizens."

"Fair enough. Be aware that you might run into Lieutenant Ivanova down there. Sheridan requested, and I agreed, that she have full access to the prisoner at all times, including during interrogation. At least, when her duties don't require her to be elsewhere. Earth Force has questions of their own. But it seems they're also interested in ensuring her 'basic human rights' aren't violated."

"You're bending over backwards kind of far for them, aren't you Bill? Basic human rights? She's a frakkin' toaster!"

"This alliance could mean the survival of our people, Saul. I'll bend over and take a good deal more than this, if necessary. Besides, given what happened on board the Pegasus, it's probably not such a bad idea."

"Don't put the sins of Admiral Cain on us...on me!"

"I wouldn't dream of it Saul. But we all have reasons to hate the Cylons. An impartial observer can help ensure we don't do anything we'll regret later. And if for any reason we need a certain amount of...privacy...the Lieutenant's duties will sometimes require she be elsewhere.

Saul grunted. "I might just have to double check her flight and patrol hours. Make sure Starbuck's keeping her at minimum readiness.

"At need, Colonel. Only at need."

"Of course."

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Cylon Resurrection Hub - September, 2249

D'Anna gasped, her eyes flying open, as she writhed up out of the Resurrection pod, amniotic fluid sliding down across her face. As she fought for breath, hands reached down to gently stroke her hair, to hold her shoulders up, to help get the the gel out of her eyes. "It's ok, it's ok, relax…. try to breath through it."

Looking around she saw that she was, once again, surrounded by the usual models which often greeted her after each resurrection. A Six, and an Eight, as well as another Three. Feeling, as always, the urgent need to relay something, to pass on some semblance of what she had experienced before her resurrection, she grabbed on to the nearest hand, made eye contact with the Six as she drew her in closer. Close enough to speak. Her voice came out hoarse and thready, barely above a whisper. "There's something beautiful….miraculous...between life and death."

The Six shared a look with the other Three in the room, then said, "So you keep telling us." The strange response finally caused D'Anna's brain to kick into gear, and she looked closer at the Six, and at all of the Cylons in the room. This wasn't the group which usually assisted new resurrections.
Each of them in turn made direct eye contact with her. Natalie. Boomer. Glancing at the Three with the stern face, she recognized her as well. A Three who had never been part of the human infiltration, never been given a human identity. A Three who refused to take any name or designation other than Three. And, of all the Threes, the only one who might be said to approach D'Anna in influence and power.

"What's going on?" D'Anna asked in confusion.

"That's what we want to ask you," Natalie said. "Did you think we wouldn't find out? That we wouldn't notice? That the resurrection of dozens of Threes would go unnoted, when we've had no recent action against the humans and no Threes have reported accidents or deaths? Did you think we were blind, D'Anna?"

D'Anna bristled. "Do you have any idea what you're accusing me of?"

"Yes," the Three said from above her. "Intentionally killing yourself over and over, so you can download over and over. But death's just a revolving door, isn't it?"

She stared around in desperation, making eye contact with them all. There was not a hint of support. Not a shred of mercy. Six drove their problem home, implacably. "The Twos are almost ready to vote with us. With every day that passes, we grow closer to shaking One's control over the Council, to stopping an insane attack against the humans, and opening up talks. To the possibility of peace. And this...insanity… of yours threatens all that. You're going to give John leverage to use against us. He won't remain ignorant forever. He may already know."

"There's something beautiful between life and death," D'Anna repeated. She saw anger and irritation flare up in all of those who surrounded her, but held up her hand to forestall a response. "I'm having… visions… every time I resurrect. Visions of the Final Five. Each time… I get closer to seeing their faces. But it's so difficult to pierce the veil that has been thrown over them. There's some kind of block in place. I'm trying to fight my way through."

"By killing yourself," Natalie said flatly.

"It's the only way. I have to keep doing it. Each time I get a little closer. I think I may have seen their faces." She again made eye contact. And again found not a hint of support.

"So who are they then," Natalie asked.

"I can't remember. Been trying to get it down on paper, while it's still fresh in my mind. But, nothing much comes out. But...it's rubbish. I can't remember. That's why I need to keep trying."

"Why can't you wait?" Boomer asked. "Let us get past the vote, let us put all Cylons on a new course. Then you can come back to it, once we're firmly in charge."

D'Anna thought about the suggestion, then shook her head. "Something...made a crack in the veil that shrouds them. These resurrections….I'm trying to push my way through that crack. But...it's fighting back. Trying to close itself. If I stop… if I pause… it may close forever. Don't you see, it's the Final Five!" D'Anna said passionately, unconsciously repeating Natalie's very words to Cavil, not so long ago. "This may be our only chance to find them… to meet them."

Shockingly, it was Three who offered some support. "What if...what if we helped you? Would it be possible to bore through faster?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you sure you're the only one who can see what lies between life and death? Who can bore into this crack? What about others of our model? What about me? If a few of us, or a lot of us, tried as well…. maybe we could break through."

"That's foolish!" Boomer snapped. "Cavil will only find out faster!"

"Then we need a cover." She fell silent thinking.

It was Boomer who came up with a suggestion. "What about...a lot of death, all at once?"

"What do you mean?" Natalie asked.

"Remember that star we charted nearby, the one that is about to go Nova?" Boomer asked, looking around. "For some reason, Cavil is fixated on it. He wants to witness the event close up. We could support his interest. Send a Basestar. Have the Threes claim that they share his fascination, and transfer as many as practicable onto the ship. Then, before the nova, they sabotage the jump drive or the Hybrid, so the ship can't jump away. If all the Threes can bore into this crack, then thousands of them resurrecting all at once might blow it wide open. And Cavil will see it as just an accident."

"That could work," D'Anna said, sitting up more fully, preparing to rise from the goo. "At the very least I will need to continue until then. To maintain the breach. But it would be better if at least a few more Threes tried. Preferably a lot. If nothing else, to at least prove that this ...phenomenon… isn't tied to me alone."

"This is dangerous," Natalie objected. "If Cavil finds out… if he rallies the others against us… we could lose everything we've worked for."

"But if we find the identities of the Final Five," Boomer countered, "then he can't possibly stand against us. We won't need to depend on the fickle decisions of the Twos...on whatever their interpretation of God's will ends up being. It's risky, but it's the only sure way forward."

The Six finally relented, dropping her objections. "Fine. It is agreed. Our future rests on this one gamble. We put our faith in God...and we carry on."