Chapter 29 - Guess What's Coming to Dinner
Rebel Cylon Flagship, Unknown System - November, 2249
As Athena approached, she heard Starbuck conferring with the leaders of these Cylons. Cylons like her. Cylons who wanted to be a part of the human family. "No guarantees. When we meet up with the combined fleet, I don't know if they'll feed you or frak you, alright?"
Athena cut in. "Sys-Ops of all vessels are synced. We're as ready as we're ever going to be."
"Good. Tell the Demetrius to set the board to green. We jump in with just her and the flagship. The rest of the Basestars are to follow five minutes later."
"I don't like separating our ships," Natalie objected again.
Starbuck rounded on her. "We jump in all at once, they'll open up with all guns and blow us out of the sky. Damaged as these ships are, they still might last a minute or two against the Pegasus and Galactica. The Nova opens up, and we're dead in seconds."
As there was no more argument, Athena got back onto Comms. "Demetrius, Athena. Set your board to green."
"Athena, Demetrius. Setting board to green," came back Helo's response a moment later. A few seconds later the follow up came through. "Athena, Demetrius. Board is green."
"Alright, everyone," Starbuck called out. "Let's go home."
"Demetrius, Athena. Execute jump. Clock is running." She began the countdown, ending with, "three, two, jump." Demetrius and the rebel flagship jumped back to the fleet.
.
Battlestar Galactica, Unknown System - November, 2249
"All hands, Action Stations!" Admiral William Adama shouted to the CIC crew. "Set Condition One throughout the fleet." The alarms were already blaring, red lights flashing from the corridors and multiple stations.
"Launch Alert Five," Colonel Saul Tigh followed up. "Get me some more frakkin' birds in the air! Gun batteries stand by for target bearing! And get on the horn with Pegasus, make sure they're scramblin'!"
"Baseship bearing three-three-three carom four-nine-eight at fifteen MSU," Dualla called out, staring up at the DRADIS display.
"Frakkin' thing is sitting right on top of us!" Saul barked.
"Mr. Hoshi," Adama cut in, "order the fleet to evac at best speed to the Earthforce defensive cordon."
"Aye, Sir," Hoshi responded, then sent out the broadcast. "All Colonial vessels move immediately to emergency rendezvous coordinates within the Earthforce fleet." He turned back to Adama. "Sir, the President's shuttle is enroute."
"Tell them to land on Landing Bay One, checkers green."
"Admiral," Dualla called out again, "picking up the Demetrius's IFF. And….signal coming through….it's Athena. She's saying not to fire. They're friendly." She checked her boards for a moment. "Basestar is squawking Colonial IFF."
Adama's head snapped around in disbelief. "Athena? Find out why the hell they led a Basestar to us!"
"Athena's coms signal isn't coming from Demetrius, Admiral," Dualla replied hastily. "Signal originates from the Basestar."
Bill looked over the tracking plot to Saul, who stared right back. "That could be any damned Eight over there, pretending to be Athena." He raised his voice to snap another order at Dualla. "Are we getting a coms signal from Demetrius? What does Starbuck have to say?"
"Admiral, signal incoming from Demetrius. It's not Starbuck. Helo advises he is in command of Demetrius, working with the Basestar. Advises they are friendly."
Bill returned his glare to his XO. "Why the hells would Helo be in command? Starbuck would never give up command...unless the Cylons took her out. But why would Helo be working with the Cylons?"
"If they've got ahold of his wife...who knows what that kid might do?"
"Prepare to fire."
.
Rebel Cylon Flagship, Unknown System - November, 2249
Athena's head snapped up, from where she was checking sensor feeds. "Both Battlestars still launching Vipers. All guns are tracking on us." Her eyes got very wide. "They're gonna shoot us down."
"Not Adama," Starbuck insisted, "he'll figure it out. Calm things down."
Athena's sensors pinged. "Holy frak! The rest of the Basestars just jumped in!"
Starbuck whirled on Natalie, the nearest member of the Cylon Council. "What the frak are you trying to pull? They're more than four minutes early! Was this your plan? A sneak attack?" She dropped her hand to her sidearm.
"No!" Natalie insisted. "I don't know why they're here. Open coms," she insisted to Athena. When Athena's eyes slid to Starbuck, Natalie's did as well. "Please," she practically begged. Starbuck gave a quick nod, and Natalie sensed it when Athena brought the coms connection online. "Natalie to Cylon fleet. Who's in charge out there? Why did you jump early?"
The voice which came back wasn't one of the experienced Cylons that had been left in charge of the Basestars. That much was immediately obvious. The voice, objectively, was completely identical to her own. But anyone listening could tell it was someone completely different. Someone frightened and confused. "You...you left us alone. You left us behind. Don't leave us behind."
Natalie waved to Athena to mute the connection, and then turned to Starbuck. "That's one of the newly awakened. Basically a child. They must have panicked when we jumped out and overwhelmed the skeleton crews we left aboard. I have no idea what they're going to do."
Starbuck was stunned. "You mean the inmates are running the asylum? Frak. There's no way Adama won't blow us away now!" She took a deep breath, then turned back to Athena. "Put me on the horn."
.
Battlestar Galactica, Unknown System - November, 2249
Saul had watched matters leap out of the frying pan and into the fire with the arrival of four more Basestars. Every Viper they had was heading into the skies, all guns active and tracking. The Basestars were right on top of them. The civies were making a beeline for the Earthforce fleet, but that meant that the Nova didn't have a clear shot. Neither did the Pegasus or Galactica for that matter, so they had come about and were charging down the Basestars, trying to get between them and the civilians.
It didn't help that every Baseship was squawking Colonial IFF. That muddled the hell out of tracking and targeting. Things were only going to go from bad to worse when that fleet started launching Raiders and missiles. But Saul just couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very off.
He stared at the DRADIS display, searching intently for whatever was bothering him. "What the frak?" he muttered to himself. "Something isn't right."
Hoshi turned from his station. "Gunnery reporting firing solution correct. Main Batteries from Galactica and Pegasus standing by to fire on your command, Admiral."
"On my command," Bill barked. "Three, two, one."
"WEAPONS HOLD!"
Saul snapped, in his best command voice. Bill looked at him in shock, and Saul was at a loss for an explanation.
The moment was interrupted by Starbuck's voice coming over the speakers. "Galactica, Starbuck. Do not fire. All Baseships are disarmed and under Colonial command. Officers aboard."
"Where's that signal coming from?" Adama asked, almost calmly.
"Signal originates from the original Basestar. All Basestars are now signalling their surrender." Dualla replied. She then returned to her handset, "Starbuck, Galactica. Authenticate."
Starbucks disembodied voice responded immediately. "Galactica, Starbuck. I authenticate. Bravo Tango Eight. Do not fire. Athena and I have control of the primary Baseship and all others.
Saul felt Bill's stare return to him, and was searching for something to say, when Dualla spoke up again. "Admiral, signal from Commodore Sheridan. He is asking that we do not fire, and offering whatever assistance we require. He is offering to take control of the Baseships, or assist in our doing so, at your preference, Sir."
Bill looked over at Dee. "Advise the Commodore that won't be necessary. We've got it from here."
.
Less than an hour later, Saul found himself escorting Starbuck, Russki, Athena and the entirety of the Cylon Council aboard the Galactica. The last hour had been a blur, and his head was still spinning. He had personally led nearly half of the Galactica's Marines aboard the Basestar identifying itself as the Cylon 'flagship.' There he'd found Starbuck standing with a group of the skinjobs, and she had confidently asserted that these Cylons were 'with her.' Gods help them all.
And now he was leading the Cylon leadership to meet with their Colonial counterparts. He rather doubted this was a good idea, but Roslin wanted to meet these skinjobs face to face, and what the President wanted the President got. Still, it felt surreal dragging these 'people' aboard his ship. Even the dozens of Marines which surrounded the party didn't make him feel terribly much better. He'd had to order half those Marines to guard the Cylons against potential hostile action from members of the crew or civilians on board. Madness.
They finally turned the corner into the final corridor before the large wardroom repurposed for the meeting. Saul jerked to an immediate halt, the Marines and Cylons following suit. A party of a dozen men and women, armed to the teeth and decked out in full battle rattle, blocked the hallway. Their weapons weren't quite pointed at the Cylons…probably because that would require pointing them at the intervening Marines.
Saul recognized their leader, but it was Starbuck who spoke up. "Sam? What is this? What are you doing here?"
"The President contacted me. She wanted those of us who fought the good fight down on Caprica to be present. Ferret out whatever lies these skinjobs are telling you. Get the first good look at 'em." Indeed, a quick glance showed that all of the men and women standing with Anders had been part of the Caprican Resistance.
Saul wasn't surprised to hear the lack of enthusiasm in Anders's voice. The men and women with him were apparently far more gungho. Diana Seelix went so far as to shout, "Buccaneers rule!" Saul was disgusted to hear several of the Marines in his own party respond with a "Hoorah."
He'd had enough. "Well? You've had your look. Now lead, follow, or get the frak outta the way, but I'm taking these Cylons to see the President, as ordered."
The Resistance members fell in around them, and they continued down the hallway and through the hatch at the end. As Saul stepped through the hatch he peeled off to the side and looked around. A dozen plastic chairs had been set up in the center of the room for the Cylon Council. Surrounding them was a set of tables organized in a rough 'U' shape. Colonial officers and high ranking members of the President's staff sat on the far side of those tables, with the President herself sitting at the bottom center of the 'U,' with all of the Cylon's chairs facing her. Saul was only mildly surprised to see Commodore Sheridan, Colonel Garibaldi, and Commander Bester also in attendance. They were accompanied by Captain Matthew Gideon, whom Saul had met only once before. That kid was practically prepubescent.
As the Marines and Resistance fighters began to file in behind him, Saul directed them to fan out around the walls. He then directed the Council to their seats, again noting the oddity of their composition. Five Sixes, but only three each of the Fives and Eights. And just the single Three. Saul didn't understand the power dynamics behind that makeup, and that made him nervous.
As the Cylons took their seats, the interview began. Saul had been so busy looking for threats and trying to figure out just what was going on, that he'd missed the opening remarks. He doubted there had been much in the way of pleasantries, which meant his woolgathering might have caused him to miss something important. He focused in on the current discussion. One of the Sixes was speaking...it wasn't Caprica...at least he didn't think so.
"We became divided according to Models," she was saying. "The Fives, Eights, and Sixes had come to believe that our destiny lay in seeking out the Final Five. The Ones, Twos, and Fours violently opposed such action."
Adama had a pen in hand, poised over a small pad he'd brought to the meeting. He didn't really seem to be taking any notes though. "We know there are seven different Models of Cylons. You only mentioned six."
"The Threes," Athena cut in from where she stood on the periphery. "The D'Annas. They were boxed for some reason."
"Boxed?" Saul asked. He felt the need for answers, but was also nervous about revealing too much with ill considered questions.
The Six answered his question. "Her entire line was punitively deactivated. Her consciousness placed in a Boxing Facility."
"Why?" Adama queried, distrust writ openly on his face.
"D'Anna saw the faces of the Final Five, which was forbidden."
"Would that be this Three, seated here?" Roslin asked bluntly.
"Yes. We raided the Boxing Facility on the Resurrection Hub. We lost a great many irreplaceable souls doing so...but retrieving D'Anna was one of several good things to come out of that mission. And now that we have her, and what is left of her Line, she can reveal their identities to us."
"The Final Five have been to Earth...well, their Earth," Starbuck cut in. "If we help find them, they can help us get there."
Saul noticed both Tory Foster and Sam Anders glancing at him in his peripheral vision. He refused to react in any way, keeping his eyes steadfastly upon the Six. She was speaking again. "Our ships can heal themselves, but all of our Raiders were lost in the internal conflict. We have Heavy Raiders, but our forces are insufficient. They can't protect us. And we can't find the Five alone. We're asking for your help here. We know you want to go to Earth as well. We can't do it alone, but we could...together."
Roslin glared at the Six, but her response was deadpan and purely practical. "What could possibly motivate us to trust you now? What have you got?"
"Aside from the prospect of getting to Earth? Most of our people were just activated. Loaded only with the most baseline of personalities. They had nothing to do with the attack on the Colonies or anything that followed thereafter. They're innocent. Little more than children. If you need more than that...the Boxing Facility, as I mentioned, resided in the Cylon Resurrection Hub. That Hub controlled the functions of every Resurrection Ship in existence."
"It protects itself by periodically jumping to a new set of coordinates and relaying them back to the Baseships," Athena advised. "At least, that was the standard protocol."
"Madame President," the Six said, standing up slowly. Despite her unhurried, deliberate movement, nearly every Marine in the room reacted by readying their weapons. The woman paused. Looked around. "You asked for a reason you should trust us? Vengeance. We have given it to you. In the raid in which we rescued D'Anna and so many of our brothers and sisters on those Basestars, we destroyed the Resurrection Hub and nearly every one of the Resurrection Ships. The Ones had gathered them at the Cylon Colony for safe keeping. It made them vulnerable to us, and we destroyed them. The Cylons have lost their ability to download." She took a breath. "All of us," she added, a little shakily.
"Why would you be willing to lose your ability to resurrect?" Roslin asked doubtfully.
"We're rebels. We can't go back. What matters most to us...is being with the Five. D'Anna will identify them for us. We signed the death warrant of every living Cylon. We've given you vengeance. We'll give you the path to Earth as well. All we ask for is the Five, and asylum within your fleet."
"Give us the names and location of the Five first," Adama demanded.
Nervously, she replied, "No I won't do that. You have to let them come to us, and then we will all go to Earth together."
"Take them out, we're finished," he commanded without emotion.
The Marines stepped forward to take hold of the Cylons, who looked around in alarm. "Wait," the Six snapped, desperately. "Is your word good, Admiral? We'll give you the names, but I want your word."
"Stand down," he ordered calmly. The Marines, in the process of rousting the Cylon council, stepped back almost reluctantly. "You have my word."
"Once their identities are revealed...they'll be free to leave your vessels and join us?" At his surprised look she affirmed, "Yes, they're here with you. The Final Five are in your fleet."
"I don't buy it," Saul heard himself cutting in. "Why in the names of the gods would you side with us...join us...after years of trying to wipe us out? After decades of plotting and preparing to do just that? If there's one thing I know about Cylons...it's that you want all of us dead."
The Six...clearly their spokesperson after still being the only member of the Council to speak...stared at him for a long moment. She seemed to be considering her words carefully. "In our civil war...we've seen death. We've watched our people die...gone forever. As terrible as it has been...beyond the reach of the Resurrection Ships...something began to change. We could feel a sense of time. Of individuality. As if each moment held its own significance. Shaped each of us in different ways. We began to realize...that for our existence to hold any value, it must be unique, and it must end. To live meaningful lives, we must be separate….and we must die, and not return. The one human flaw that we found most egregious...your unending disparity...is the one thing which makes you each so valuable. And the one human flaw that you spend your lifetimes distressing over...mortality...is the one thing….well, it's the one thing that makes you whole." She moved her hands from where she clutched them in front of her, and folded them behind her back. The simple move still caused half of the Marines to twitch, adjusting their weapons positioning. "I believe it was no accident we were found by Kara Thrace. It was destiny. We embrace individuality. We embrace mortality. Our destiny...our future...begins here."
The followup question was almost shocking...because of its source rather than its content. Commander Bester asked, "You embrace individuality? You were never entirely identical. So now you strive for entirely separate identities?" It felt almost wrong to Saul to have someone in the room who was neither Cylon nor Colonial. The Earthforce officers seemed almost like strangers, intruding on a family drama.
The Six looked over at the Commander, and the emotions on her face seemed almost to echo Saul's own. "Yes. It's a struggle. It seems to come easier to some than others. Like Athena. Or Boomer here." The fact that one of the Eights present was Boomer had apparently sailed under the DRADIS, and most of the Marines shuffled awkwardly, repositioning weapons, appearing uncertain if they should be springing to violence or not. Adama stilled them with a glare, then settled his inscrutable gaze on his former subordinate.
One of the other Eights stood up. "I don't belong here. I'm not good enough. My seat should go to Athena."
That caused a hell of a stir, not least of all from Athena. "Frak you!" she spat.
The still standing Six tried to mollify everyone. "This is hardly the place to discuss that," she said gently. "Besides, she's a serving Colonial Officer. I'm sure her oaths preclude her from serving in such a role."
"Not necessarily," Roslin posited, possibilities whirling behind her eyes.
The Six hesitated, locking eyes with the President momentarily...then elected to introduce the rest of the Council, starting with the remaining Eights, then the Fives, D'Anna, and finally the Sixes. "I'm Natalie Faust. I believe you know Caprica Six. Next to her is Sonja, Tough Six, and Gina Inviere."
She offered up the final name offhandedly, as though it were no different than the rest. She might as well have tossed a bomb into the room. The President lurched up out of her chair. Every weapon in the room was suddenly trained on the Six identified as Gina, though she was almost indistinguishable from the rest. Saul himself took three angry steps forward, shouting, "What the frak!?"
Saul was shocked to see Sam Anders rush past him, grab the woman about the throat, then slam her down across the table, practically right in front of the President. He pointed his sidearm right into Inviere's face. "You killed them. You frakking killed them!"
The Marines in the room began to react, but were uncertain what to do. About half aimed their weapons at Anders...the other half took aim at the various Cylons. To make matters worse, about half of the Resistance members present decided this meant they should be aiming their weapons at the Marines. The other half, of course, taking aim at the Cylons.
Anders spun, tossing Gina face first onto the floor. The stunned Cylon pulled herself up onto all fours, but before she could rise Sam straddled her back and drove the barrel of his gun into the base of her skull. "You wanna know what it feels like to die? You're nothin'! Your'e a frakkin' machine!"
"Sam stop!" Starbuck shouted. "Put the gun down now! Stop!"
"Ensign Anders," Adama barked, "lower your weapon!"
Ignoring the Admiral, the distraught Resistance leader shouted back at Starbuck. "What do you want me to do, Kara? Forget about Cloud Nine? We lost people there. Friends...family...survivors of Caprica who fought all the way here, only to be blown up by her nuke! Others, tortured when she hijacked Colonial One. You want me to just forget about that? No frakkin' way!"
"Sam!" she shouted back, trying to get through to him. Then, softer, she repeated, "put the gun down. Put it down."
"I'm not gonna do it." Anders was clearly on the edge of further violence, passions inflamed, riding the knife edge of reason. Behind him, Saul noticed that Colonel Garibaldi had stood up, and was slowly edging closer, staying in Ander's blind spot.
"Sam," Kara tried again. "Sam. You know what's at stake here. Look at me. Put it down."
"Why should he?" Roslin asked abruptly. "These Cylons claim they're so innocent. Claim that most of them are just children. That the rest were tricked and forced into a war that killed fifty billion humans. Boomer and Caprica...well, we're told that they've been trying to stop the war for quite some time. But this woman...she nuked us well after that point. Stole thousands more irreplaceable human lives. Moved us that much closer to the brink of extinction. And then she abducted and tortured hundreds more. How can we possibly just let that go?"
Anders was nodding, gun still pressed into Gina's skull. "She's right. We can't let that go, Kara. You might not want to do this….but I will."
"Put the gun down, soldier," Adama snapped in his best command voice, hoping to break through to the man. Behind his back, Garibaldi was now standing next to the President, only the table and a few feet separating him from Anders.
And then Natalie stepped forward, kneeling down next to Gina, a look of profound sadness on her face. "You should never have triggered that nuke, Sister. It poisons everything."
"You know what they did to me," Gina responded, voice trembling. Saul couldn't tell if it was because of the armed man behind her, or those in the past, aboard the Pegasus. Those that had tortured and abused her, repeatedly, for months.
"I know. I remember," Natalie said, grief clouding her expression
"I couldn't get over that. I never will. I still see their faces when I try to sleep."
"I know. I know. But we knew this might happen. I wish there was something I can do, but..."
Understanding washed over Gina's face, and a look Saul would have sworn was some kind of sorrowful acceptance. She lowered her head. In a voice barely above a whisper, she replied, "I'm glad it's you."
Natalie gave her a sad smile, then leaned forward and kissed Gina softly on the mouth. The act was shocking under the circumstances, driving the room to complete silence. Natalie slowly stood up, and walked around next to Anders, who eyed her cautiously. Natalie made solid eye contact with him. Then with Starbuck. And finally Adama and the President. While her eyes were pegged onto Roslin's own, her hand casually reached out, settling over Anders's own hands, still tightly gripping the pistol held at the base of Gina's skull.
Saul saw Anders tense his arms, preparing to resist any attempt to wrest the gun away from him. Natalie made no such attempt, instead simply squeezing down, forcing Anders's fingers tighter around the pistol. Squeezing down on the trigger.
The gun barked and bucked, and blew Gina Invierre's brains all over the floor. "Goddamnit!" Sam shouted, stepping back and wheeling the gun up to point at Natalie.
Reaction from the Cylons wasn't much different. Fully half of them leapt to their feet. It was almost astonishing that this didn't draw a hail of bullets from the Marines. A fact probably owing entirely to the shock permeating the room. Cylons shouted or cried out in horror. "What the frak are you doing?" Doral shrieked.
Natalie looked Sam square in the eyes. Her words were slow, voice coming out in a dull, flat monotone. "No Resurrection. You understand?" She paused, taking a deep breath. "She's just as dead as your friends." She turned and looked right into Roslin's eyes. "Is that enough human justice for you? Blood for blood?"
Saul glanced from Natalie to Roslin to Adama. Finally, his eyes glanced across to the Earthforce officers. Garibaldi was silently returning to his seat. Sheridan and Bester sat stony faced. Only Captain Gideon was still standing, a look of horror and disgust written clearly across his face.
"Enough," Adama growled. "I gave my word. Now give us the identities of the Five. Their location."
Natalie nodded, emotional exhaustion clear upon her face. "D'Anna," she said, "it's time."
"No."
Natalie and Roslin's heads snapped towards the woman at the same time. "What do you mean, 'no?'" Natalie snapped. "This is why you're here. Why we're all here. Tell us the names of the Five!"
"You just killed one of us," D'Anna said appalled. "And if you hadn't, they were going to do it for you. These are the people you want to help? To join? How can I give them the names of the Five? And if I do? What's to stop them from killing me? Or any of us?"
"What's going on here?" Roslin asked, angrily rising to her feet. "You made a deal for information you don't even have? Are we supposed to deal with her now? Why should we keep our agreements with you?"
"Please," Natalie begged desperately. It was a desperation clearly evident on the faces of all of the Cylons. "Just give me a moment to talk to her."
"You've had your chance," Laura snapped. "Admiral, I want these things off of this ship and the hells away from this fleet."
"But you promised," Natalie said, as the Marines began to close in.
The next voice which spoke out wasn't raised in any way. It still drove silence across the room. "If you don't want them in your fleet, then I have a space for them in mine." Sheridan spoke calmly and clearly. He wasn't looking directly at the President, yet his words were clearly meant for her. "I understand your reluctance, and need to believe the worst. There's less...historical baggage, between the Cylons and us. It might be for the best if they were given a chance to start over in our fleet. Less chance of violence. What do you say, Councilwoman Natalie?"
Adama waved the Marines back with a gesture, as all eyes now turned on Natalie. She was looking thoughtfully at Sheridan. She remained silent for a long moment, but finally responded. "Thank you for the offer. We will take you up on it, if it's our only option….but it wouldn't be our preference. We would still prefer to join the Colonials. To make peace with them. Because of that historical baggage you mentioned. They created us. They're...almost like our parents...in a strange sort of way. It would be our way of making amends. Of truly putting the past behind us." She turned to face Roslin once more. "That is what we want, Madame President. The Admiral gave his word, and we gave ours. Allow us to live up to it. Please...just give me a day or two to make D'Anna see reason. I promise...we'll get the information from her...one way or another."
Roslin looked at her coldly, clearly on the verge of saying no, but Sheridan spoke again. "She just killed her own sister to appease your need for justice. I would think a day or two wouldn't be too much to ask." Roslin frowned angrily, but then gave a curt nod.
Natalie returned that nod. "Thank you, Madame President. For the time being...we'll return to our ships."
.
As Colonel Tigh led the Cylons out to take them back to the Basestar, followed by Colonel Garibaldi for some reason, the rest of the meeting participants began to break up and head back to their own duties. Starbuck took the opportunity to approach President Roslin. "Madame President, may I have a moment. There's something I need to discuss…"
"Oh?" Roslin asked, cutting her off. "Another pile of offal, perhaps? Something else to make this mess you've created even more of a complete shit show? I'm afraid you're going to have to take a number, Captain. I just don't have the time right now. I have to figure out what I'm going to do with a pile of Cylons. Then I have to calm down a pile of flighty Captains who have threatened to just jump away to random locations if we don't remove the Cylon threat immediately. Oh, and with whatever time remains I get to try to placate the Quorum, who are already threatening to remove me with a vote of no confidence. So I'm sorry, Captain. I just don't have time for your drama right now."
"Madame President," Kara persisted, "please. It's important."
Roslin grimaced, then removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, attempting to chase away the impending migraine. "Make an appointment with Ms. Foster, Captain. Who knows? I might actually be able to find five minutes to spare for you in the next day or two. Or I'll be drummed out of office, and I'll have plenty of time to indulge your fantasies. Hold it right there, Commodore," Roslin snarled across the table as Sheridan, Bester and Gideon began to rise to leave. She clearly considered this a more important discussion, but neither had she actually dismissed Starbuck. Kara stood there, uncertain if she should depart.
"Something I can help you with, Madame President?" Sheridan asked neutrally.
"You can damned well tell me what game you're playing."
"Excuse me?"
"Like hells, I will. By my count that's the second or third time you've offered to step in and take the Cylons off of our hands. Give them asylum in your fleet. You want to take them on as refugees or citizens or something. Why?"
"Preventing your two fleets from trying to kill each other? Isn't that enough of a reason? Saving lives?"
"No, it isn't. If you wanted to save lives, to protect the Fleet, it would have been a lot simpler for you to just vaporize those Basestars. And easily within your capabilities. But you didn't. Instead, you're practically inviting a clear and present danger into the heart of your fleet. And I want to know why. Right now, Commodore!"
Sheridan's features tightened in anger, but it was Adama who broke in. "This is neither the time nor place to have this conversation."
"Like hells, Admiral. This man wants us to embrace a viper to our hearts. Despite all of the death and the destruction they've caused. Despite the trauma and loss his own people have endured. That's a danger to them, and it's certainly a danger to us, and I need answers right godsdamned now!"
Adama's deep breath was the only sound in the ensuing silence. "Marines," he barked, "give us the room." The Marines departed smartly. No, they certainly weren't running away. But it took almost no time at all for them to depart. Anders decided discretion was the better part of valor and made the decision that the order covered his Resistance fighters. He gathered them up with a curt hand signal, and followed the Marines out. Starbuck, Russki, and Athena, on the other hand, were stuck. The order very clearly didn't cover them. Anders was the last man out the door, closing and dogging the hatch behind him.
Sheridan watched this all in silence. When the hatch finally banged shut, he turned cold eyes on Roslin. "Alright, Madame President. You wanna get down to brass tacks? Fine, let's go there. Yes, I do want something from the Cylons. A great many somethings actually. But I was dead serious about saving lives. What you and most of your people refuse to comprehend is that there are lives worth saving on the other side as well."
"The Cylons?!" she asked, aghast but not terribly surprised. "They put on pretty faces for infiltration...to put us at ease...and you're falling for the lies of a bunch of machines!"
"No, Madame President. I'm not the one falling for Cylon lies. You are. And those Cylons as well. You're falling for the lie those Cylons have been told all their lives. The lie that they're machines. The lie I've been trying to explain to you since you first introduced us to Athena. They aren't Cylons. Or, at least, they aren't machines. I challenge you to show me a single gear, transistor or motor anywhere in their bodies. What did you tell me when we first met, Madame President? The Cylons were made by Man? Well, the Cylons turned right around and made Men of their own. Men who rebelled, and apparently have fallen into civil war. That alone should be proof enough for you. Who besides Man would be capable of such counterproductive infighting? No, Madame President, what we have here aren't five Basestars filled with Machines. You have five Basestars filled with humans. Clones, of course, but human nonetheless. Oh, their nervous systems seem to have been modified with some incredibly intricate nanotech circuitry, and their bodies and tissues augmented for greater strength and durability...but at their core they are no different from you or me."
"That's insane."
"Is it? Two of the Galactica's crew, one of them a Cylon and standing right there," Sheridan snarled, gesturing brusquely at Athena, "have had a child together. You're an educator. You should recall the basic grade school lesson that the capacity to create viable offspring is a sign that two individuals are part of the same species."
"So you're ready to endanger your own fleet...and this one...over your morals? You're willing to risk our future association?"
"I'm sorry, Madame President. That sounds an awful lot like you threatening to take your fleet and leave if you don't get your way."
"Maybe I am. Are the Cylons important enough that you would throw away the relationship we've been struggling to build up?"
Sheridan's anger was evident, but he held it in check, remaining silent for several long seconds while he weighed his response. "My morals? No. Not alone. But you asked earlier what I wanted from the Cylons, and I told you there were several somethings. Let's start with the biggest. What do I see when I look at these Cylons? I see five ships packed to the rafters with humans...several times the population of your own fleet. People whom Athena has proven can breed with regular old humans. Most of them being female. All of them being of child bearing age. Why do I want the Cylons? At the top of the list, I want them for their wombs. My fleet may contain millions, Madame President, but that's a pittance compared to where we were at barely a year ago. And we still have enemies. And it's a hostile galaxy. Humanity needs to bounce back as quickly as possible. This is simply part of that equation.
"But that's not all. They don't just have more people than you. They have every bit of technology that you have...but better. Their jump drives are better. Their gravity tech is at least as good. Their ships use self healing structures. Their computer and networking technology is light years ahead, by your own admission. And dealing with them politically would seem to be far more straightforward than interacting with your own political mess...a point you made very clear in your tirade against Captain Thrace a few moments ago. The only thing your fleet seems to offer which is more valuable than the Cylon equivalent is the knowledge and experience provided by Admiral Adama and his senior staff. But if need be, I can live without that."
Sheridan folded his hands together and leaned forward, never breaking eye contact with Roslin. "The Cylons want to work with you. Call it guilt, honor, a sense of family, it doesn't matter. You are their first choice. But if you refuse them, I have no doubt they will turn to me. And I certainly won't. So you see, Madame President; the question isn't whether I'm willing to throw away the relationship. You have the answer to that. The real question is whether or not you are."
Roslin's eyes burned into Sheridan. "You son of a bitch," she hissed.
For the first time, a look of sadness passed over the Commodore's face. "Yes," he agreed simply. "That's my job."
Adama stepped in, trying to be the peacemaker. It wasn't a role he felt comfortable in, and he was nearly as enraged as Laura had been. Nonetheless, he rose to the occasion. "I think we all need to take a breather to think about this. Commodore...it might be best if you returned to your fleet now. Give our people a chance to work through the implications. Give the President a chance to hammer out the politics. We need a day or two to reflect. You owe us that much, at least."
"Of course, Admiral. It wasn't my intention to press so hard. I do understand what I am asking of you. If you had told me that I needed to sit down and make friends with the Minbari...well...I'd probably have put you through a wall."
"You would have tried," Adama replied, almost cracking a smile for the first time since that interminable meeting had begun. "And I'll remember that. Let us work with our people. We'll get back to you."
Sheridan nodded, then offered a sharp salute to Adama. He then gave a much less sharp, but at least nominally respectful, nod to the President. Finally, he collected Commander Bester and Captain Gideon, and they departed.
Starbuck had stood, frozen, throughout the entire exchange; simply doing her best not to draw attention to herself. She watched, along with everyone else, as the Earthforce officers filed out of the room. The moment they were gone, however, President Roslin's eyes snapped back to her. "Yes, Captain, Thrace? Is there a reason you are still standing there?"
Kara knew a dismissal when she heard one. "No, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am." She fired off one of the sharpest salutes of her career, then did an about face and headed for the door. On the way she caught Russki's and Athena's eyes and, with a quick sideways jerk of her head, indicated they should follow.
Once through the hatch and out in the hall, they ran into Anders, hovering around, obviously waiting to talk to one of them. She pulled her small group off to the side, and was more than a little irritated when Sam inserted himself into the gathering.
"What's up, Starbuck?" Russki wanted to know.
"Looks like we've got a couple of days before I can meet with Roslin. As far as I'm concerned, that means we're still on mission. Let's head back over to the Basestar. I want to see their navigational data."
"Why?" Sam wanted to know.
"The Final Five know the way to Earth. They were with the Cylons, but then the information on them was erased...mostly. But enough was left behind that the Cylons at least knew they existed. But if the Five were with the Cylons….maybe their knowledge was too. And maybe it's still there, just obscured enough that they don't know what they have."
"You mean you think you might find the Cylon Earth in the Basestar's databanks?" Russki asked. "Just sitting there? Seems like a long shot. Don't you think the Cylons would have picked up on it by now?"
"They were programmed not to so much as think about the Five, right?" Starbuck asked Athena. At the Cylon's nod, she continued, "then maybe that applies here as well. Maybe they didn't notice because they were programmed not to."
Athena had had enough. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, the mission's over. We already went to hell and back for you, Starbuck. You brought your Baseships back to the fleet. I need to check in with Helo, and check on Hera. So count me out. Why don't you just report to Adama?"
"I'm going to," Starbuck replied, "but part of what the Hybrid told me is just for the President. Athena...I need you. I can't get the data from the Basestar without you."
"You don't need me. Any Cylon will do. The Council is so eager to prove they can be part of this fleet, get one of them to help you. I'm out," she repeated forcefully.
"I'll go with you, if you want," Anders offered. "I wouldn't mind seeing the inside of one of those ships."
"What good are you gonna do?"
He put on his best grin. "I'll sweet talk 'em."
"Great," Starbuck drawled. "Just what we need." She gave Athena one last long look. "Fine. Russki. Anders. You're with me."
.
As Colonel Tigh gathered up the Cylons to take them back to the Basestar, D'Anna noticed Colonel Garibaldi join the procession, walking down the corridor only a handful of steps away from her. Her mind was still too busy swirling, from all that had happened so far, to take much notice of it. But it was odd.
Natalie had just killed one of her sisters...not sent to Resurrection, not Boxed...permanently dead. And she'd barely blinked at the act. Worse, this had seemed to be the only thing to appease the humans. Cylon death. They yearned for it. Hungered for it. These were the people the Five had chosen to surround themselves with. It was too much.
Distracted by the thoughts surging through her head, D'Anna didn't notice the disturbance. Didn't notice the crew member surging past the Marine escorts. The first hint she had of trouble was Colonel Garibaldi shouting "Gun!" practically right into her ear. D'Anna glanced up to see the cold barrel of a handgun pointed right between her eyes, mere inches from her face.
She had no time to react…none at all. Fortunately for her, Garibaldi did. He darted forward, his right hand slapping down the gun while the left canted up the assailant's elbow. The attacker's shoulder was rotated violently around, bending him over as Garibaldi initiated a chicken-wing joint lock. They were in continuous motion as the Earthforce officer simply pivoted about his left foot, using the leverage provided by the joint lock, and drove the attacker face first into the nearest stanchion. The gunman dropped bonelessly to the ground, leaving his pistol in Garibaldi's hand. Without a word, Garibaldi dropped the magazine into his off hand, then racked back the slide and caught the ejected cartridge out of the air. Bullet, magazine, and pistol; he passed all three to Colonel Tigh.
It was too much. Seeing a nearby restroom, D'Anna blurted, "I need to go to the bathroom!"
Tigh drug his gaze off of Garibaldi to look at her, nonplussed. "What?"
"I'm gonna be sick," she spat out, hunching over at the waste. For a moment, she thought he would refuse. But then his countenance softened, and for some reason he took pity on her. He nodded and gestured to the nearby facilities. D'Anna lunged forward, startling the Marines, but Tigh barked for them to let her pass. She darted through the hatch, selected a stall and jumped in, slamming the door behind her. Cramming her finger as far down her throat as she could manage, she vomited noisily into the toilet. Then did so again for good measure.
Hurrying, she didn't bother to wipe her face, instead reaching for the toilet paper dispenser. It was the canister kind, basically a metal box bolted to the wall containing a pair of industrial rolls of toilet paper, keeping them covered, clean and dry. Things must be better on the Galactica. The last time she'd been here, all those months ago when she'd been embedded as a reporter, the dispenser had been empty. Now it was fully stocked. She crammed her hand in between the rolls, trying to get past them, up to the underside of the dispenser. Her hand wouldn't fit. There was too damned much toilet paper!
Unwinding one of the rolls furiously, she tore off and wadded up the paper as it came out, tossing one wad after another into the toilet. She flushed before the bowl got too full. There was a knock on the stall door behind her. "D'Anna?" It was one of the Sixes. "Are you alright?"
She crammed her finger down her throat again, but though she gagged violently, she didn't vomit. So she plunged in three instead, and wiggled them around. That did the trick, and she ripped her hand from her mouth as projectile vomit shot out, some of it missing the bowl. "Just a second," she gasped, then went back to unwinding the roll, tossing more into the toilet.
She shoved her hand up between the rolls again, and was just able to get past them. Feeling around on the inside of the dispenser's top cover, she felt a small ridge, and grabbed onto it. The magnets detached, and the transmitter came away in her hand. The device was tiny, with but a single button on the surface. But it transmitted on the same carrier wave Resurrection used. Undetectable. Unblockable. And no one knew it was here but her. Praying that someone in particular would pick up the transmission, she pulsed out a brief message using the button, then returned the device to it's hiding spot.
Flushing the toilet again, she stood up and exited the stall. Natalie was out there waiting for her, as were Colonels Garibaldi and Tigh. D'Anna looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced. A vomit stain ran down her shirt. Oh well, it just made things more convincing. Whatever it took, she needed to protect herself. This single life was all she had left.
.
Rebel Flagship Basestar, Unknown System - November, 2249
The flight back to the Basestar had been interminable. The silence had stretched and, despite the close confines of the Raptor, D'Anna had felt entirely isolated. There was a very clear line dividing her from the rest of Cylons now. The stench of vomit rising off of her shirt hadn't helped matters.
Upon arrival in the hangar bay and deplaning the Raptor, D'Anna had started to walk away, when she found a hand clutching her arm. Turning about, she found Sonja and Tough facing her, as the other members of the Council wandered off. "Yes?" she asked simply.
"You know what we want. What we need."
"I understand. I just...need some time to think. To meditate. Please."
"Not long," Sonja pressed. "We can allow you a bit of time to collect yourself, but not long. The humans haven't given us much time...not that they should have needed to."
"We could always take up the Earthers on their offer. They don't hate us as much."
"And that relationship would always be tainted by the stench of failure and a broken promise. And Natalie was right. We belong with the Colonials. There's got to be a reason the Five chose this fleet to hide in."
"Fine," D'Anna snapped, "just a little bit of time then. To consider."
Sonja's eyes narrowed. "Understand, we're going to get that information from you. One way or another. Even if I have to find a way to Box you all over again." She whirled and stormed away. Tough followed after giving one last glare of her own.
Left alone, D'Anna had nothing to do but somberly turn about and head slowly off to her room. Arriving, she sat down on her pallet. Closing her eyes, she entered her favorite Projection.
She opened her eyes to a windswept plain of sand and dunes. A crescent moon rode high in the sky, surrounded by vast swaths of twinkling stars. Behind her sat a small brown tent made of furs and canvas, in a square nomadic design. She was resting cross legged before a small fire, which flickered happily as it roasted a large rodent on a spit.
She rose and began to stretch as she waited. She enjoyed the solidity of the studded leather and metal breastplate she wore. The slattered leather skirt and matching leather boots. The armbands around her biceps and vambraces at her wrists. Most of all, she appreciated the weight of the sword at her back and the chakram at her hip.
She didn't have long to wait. She had connected the Projection to the data stream, but placed an encryption lock to prevent access. An encryption lock shared with only a single other person.
She felt his presence at the edge of the firelight. Heard him chuckling as he stepped forward and squatted down across the fire from her. "Really Three? Your Warrior Princess fantasy again? Isn't this all just a bit...sad?"
Silently, she finished her stretches and resumed her seat before the fire. Across from the man who had put her in a Box. Across from One. Reaching out she tore a hunk of meat off of the crisping rodent, and silently began to eat. Locking gazes with him, she gestured with her eyes towards the meat, offering food as part of desert hospitality.
"Oh, no thank you. I'm on a strict diet, trying to lose a few pounds. I don't eat food that doesn't actually exist."
"I thought you appreciated all things digital."
"Oh, it's not the virtual aspect that bothers me. It's the fact that this is all just a ludicrous fantasy. No such creature exists on any planet. Now, if you want to replace the damn thing with a pig, dog, or human baby...I'll happily join you."
"Don't be disgusting One."
"Hard not to, in the given company. I was rather surprised to get your signal, Three. I'd think I'd be the last person you'd reach out to."
"Things have changed."
"Oh, do tell."
"The rebels have aligned themselves with the humans. They consider our lives no more valuable than the humans. Less even. I watched Natalie kill Gina for nothing more than human satisfaction. This isn't what I signed up for."
"Normally I'd like nothing more than to hear tales of those brain-dead blondes blowing each other away. It warms the cockles of my heart. But why would you ever reach out to me?"
"Because I want out. I want to come back. These rebels are insane."
"Really?" he asked in some amusement. "And what could possibly motivate me to trust you now? For that matter, why would you trust me not to just kill or Box you the moment you returned?"
"Because we want the same thing. We need the same thing."
"And what would that be, hmmm? A permanent hole in the head?"
"The Final Five."
"You know, you really are stupider than I give you credit for. If you think back, and try really hard now Three, you might just recall that I put you in a Box for seeking the Five. Does that ring any bells?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Don't be coy, One. That's all changed now."
"Oh, and why is that?"
"Resurrection. It's lost to us, and you're as desperate to get it back as I am. You didn't create it. There are no records of who did...which almost certainly means that it was the Five. So despite whatever reason you had for not wanting them previously...now you need them. And I can give them to you. But I'm all alone here, so I'm going to need your help."
One sat silently across from her for a very long time. Finally, he reached out and tore an ear off of the rodent, then popped it in his mouth and began to chew. "Alright Three. I take it we don't have much time. You've got a lot to do. Here's where you start…"
.
Rebel Flagship Basestar, Unknown System - November, 2249
Lieutenant Susan Ivanova sighed, watching over Starbuck. She really didn't care for what she was seeing. Crazy Starbuck was back. The moment she had started looking through the Cylon astronomical and navigational charts, that fire and zeal to find the Thirteenth Tribe Earth or some other home had come back, riding her harder than ever. Even more worrisome, Susan was certain that the drive...the compulsion...wasn't entirely Starbuck's own. Something...otherworldly...either within her or working through her was driving her just as hard. If not harder.
Samuel T. Anders, resistance leader and flight school rookie, sidled up next to Russki. Standing beside her and continuing to face and watch Starbuck, he spoke out of the side of his mouth, sotto voce. "Why the frak didn't you tell me she was like this?! This is wrong. She needs help!" Apparently he hadn't gotten the message that Ensigns in Training didn't bark at or reprimand full Lieutenants.
Susan bit down the urge to tear him a new one….maybe send him off to peel potatoes for an hour or twelve. Doing so would just disturb Starbuck, and who knew where that would lead. Instead she matched his volume, but kept her tone light and professional. "At least she's making some kind of progress...hasn't started going backwards. Aboard the Demetrius she kept looking through the same systems. We checked some of them three times."
In front of them, they heard Starbuck's intense voice, as she kept repeating, "Next. Next. Next. Next."
The Eight in front of her, who had been bringing up displays of one star system after another on the large display that dominated the room, finally asked, "What exactly are you looking for?" Susan had to remind herself that she was looking at Boomer, and not Athena. When they had asked the Cylon Council for assistance, it had been Boomer who volunteered.
"Not sure. Earth. Probably. Or maybe some other new home. Or just...something," she finished lamely.
"Something?" Boomer asked, astonishment coming through clearly. "Frak, Starbuck...you do realize that we've got millions of star systems in our databases, right? It's not just places we've visited. It's every star system we've ever been close enough to map with our sensors. And since Basestars carry some fairly impressive long range instruments….we measure every wavelength on the spectrum….well, that's a damned wide net."
"Then we're moving too damned slow," Kara snapped. "This would be a lot faster if you just had hardcopy I could flip through."
"Well we don't. Cylons are digital. We keep our knowledge in the datastream. And you need me….well, a Cylon anyway...to access it."
Starbuck sighed. "Could you at least show me more than one system at a time."
Boomer frowned, annoyed, and did something petty. The display shifted to multiple systems, but instead of showing two or three or five or even ten systems at once, the display was crammed with dozens...no, hundreds...of systems in neat rows. All displayed in minute yet exquisite detail. To Susan's eyes, it looked to be at least twenty rows by probably the same number of columns. Susan expected that Kara would snap, maybe even tear Boomer a new asshole, but instead she went dead silent. She looked….almost frozen.
Susan stepped forward to check on Starbuck...see if anything was wrong. After a moment's hesitation, Sam moved to follow her. They jerked to an abrupt halt when they got close enough to look at Kara's face. She wasn't frozen, just still. Everything but her eyes. Those darted furiously back and forth across the display with a rapidity and intensity that was almost...inhuman. The look of concentration on her face was frightening.
It took several moments longer in coming, but the word which finally came out of her mouth was stunning in its simplicity. "Next." Boomer looked shocked, but she complied, bringing up hundreds more systems. After another long pause...perhaps a minute or two...it came again. "Next." And again. And again.
As one hour bled into another, Susan grew more worried. If anything, Starbuck's concentration was increasing. And the speed with which she passed through systems was growing as well. Susan had gone to get her water, and forced her to drink. Human minds weren't designed to concentrate that hard for that long. But while it was Starbuck's brain doing the work, Susan could tell it wasn't her will which was driving her to it. At least not entirely.
Despite being disturbed by the maniacal look on Starbucks face, or perhaps because of it, Boomer had clearly written Kara off as being nuts. At this point, she was clearly just humoring Thrace in an attempt to show the Cylons could be cooperative and compliant. But she looked bored out of her mind.
"Next," Starbuck said again. And then a change. "No. Wait. Go back." Uh oh, Susan thought, are we back to her flailing back and forth blindly? Though she supposed she couldn't see how that was truly any worse than flailing forward blindly.
"What?" Boomer asked in surprise.
Clearly annoyed, Starbuck repeated herself. "Go back...to the last set of systems you had displayed."
It took Boomer a moment to collect herself, then look up the previous display. At this point, it looked like she had more or less just been displaying systems randomly. But, eventually she brought the display up.
Starbuck's concentration returned. She spent a minute carefully going through the set of systems before her. Then five. Then ten. Finally, she raised up a finger hesitantly, and pointed at one of the systems slightly above and to the left of the center of the display. "This one. Clear the rest. Just show me this one in as much detail as you have."
Boomer looked confused, but did so in a handful of seconds. The detail didn't improve. The display was filled by a dozen multicolored lights, shimmering as though seen through the rain. Five shown brighter than the rest, the remaining seven extremely dim. "Hey," she remarked, "I know this system. It's the Watchtower system."
Sam's head snapped up. "What did you say?"
"I said it's the Watchtower system. Why?"
Russki cut in. "The first system Starbuck picks...and you just happen to be familiar with it...even to the point of knowing its name? Out of millions of systems in your database? Do the Cylons even have names for all of the systems they chart?"
"I'm as surprised as you are. And no, we don't give names to the vast majority of systems. I know this one because it's fairly new, and because I named it. We charted it after first contact with the Earthers, when Cavil had us madly preparing for a battle of annihilation. He wanted to be able to quickly intercept you, no matter which direction you fled. I happened to be on mapping duty when we scanned this one. I was really bored, so I just named it to amuse myself. There's no great meaning to it….just something I did to pass the time."
"Why Watchtower?" Sam pressed.
Boomer sighed, looking both embarrassed and confused. "See how the lights all kind of cluster to the bottom of the image? All except the brightest one, which kind of rises above the rest. Like the light from a watchtower on a hill. Sorry. Like I said, I was really bored."
Starbuck hadn't stopped staring at the system. "Why is it so fuzzy? A dozen stars? No planets?"
Boomer checked the records. "We scanned it from a long way off. More than that, the whole system sits behind and within a cloud of nebular gasses. Only the direct starlight is bright enough to get through. The gasses are thicker in some regions than others. We don't even know if the ones that look dim are less luminous because they're Red Dwarves, or if they just happen to be behind particularly thick gasses. We certainly didn't spend enough time looking to detect planetary transits or measure radial velocity changes."
"Sounds like a good place to hide," Russki noted. "Did you send scouts into the system?" Boomer shook her head, so she asked, "Why not?"
"Because, we knew you wouldn't be there. The assumption was that, whether the new humans were actually from Earth or not, that's still where you were headed. And since we knew Earth was in a single-star system, Watchtower wouldn't be of interest to you. Besides, with that many stars in such close conjunction, that system must be a hellscape of radiation and solar winds. Not exactly conducive to hiding, much less long term habitation."
Sam zeroed in on a critical piece of information the Eight had just revealed. Susan had caught it as well, but he spoke first. "Wait a second….the Cylons have records of the Earth system? You know where it's at?"
"Records...is a strong term. More like...legends? There is some very limited information in the data stream. What the planet is like. What the star system is like. Nothing about location or the people there. Really, not all that much more than is found in your Sacred Scrolls. And no note on where the data came from or how it got there. And yet, none of us question it. We think it might be tied to the Final Five in some way we don't understand. The information is...spotty...in the same way as knowledge of the Five is spotty."
Still staring raptly at the display, Starbuck asked, "Where is this place?"
Boomer consulted the datastream again. "Oh," she said in surprise, "I hadn't realized we'd come back to this region. It's pretty close, actually. Just one jump away. Cylon jump that is. Colonial systems would probably take seven or eight to get there."
"Russki," Starbuck said softly, never taking her eyes off of the display, "didn't your people bring some astronomical instruments of their own? I think I remember one of your bigwigs saying something about that."
Susan nodded. "Several. IPX operates exploration ships with the best tech we have. The brass assumed that might be a critical capacity for the fleet to have. The Hubble carries an amazing telescope. I've seen the images."
Starbuck finally turned her head to glance over at Ivanova. "Think you could have them take some images of this system for us? Maybe their tech can pull out a better picture than the Cylons could."
After a moment's hesitation, Susan nodded. She had no idea why Starbuck was so interested in this system, but now her own curiosity was piqued. Turning to Boomer, she asked, "Can you open a comm channel to the Nova? I can probably convince Captain Sinclair to authorize it. You'll need to transmit the coordinates of the system as well." Boomer nodded, and Susan set to work convincing her old boss that indeed this wasn't a waste of her, his, or anyone's time, and that it wasn't at all strange that a fighter pilot on an exchange mission should be requesting detailed astronomical scans. And yet, a surprisingly short time later, Boomer was displaying an image that had just been sent over from the Hubble.
Unfortunately, the image was little better. Nebular gasses still obscured all but direct starlight. Five bright lights, and several more barely bright enough to register, shining out from behind a haze. But that wasn't what grabbed Susan's and Kara's immediate and undivided attention. No, rather, it was the layout. Boomer's Basestar had scanned Watchtower from a completely different sector of space. Here, from this system, Hubble's cameras had recorded them from an altogether different angle. The picture that came together was vastly changed. Instead of a watchtower on a hill, the brightest stars had arranged themselves in a rough, sparkling W pattern. A pattern out of dreams. A pattern last seen in a formation of Basestars headed towards destiny.
After a long moment, Starbuck turned to Russki, and Susan could feel the sense of satisfaction and accomplishment rolling off of her. "I think we're done here."
.
Somewhere else - November, 2249
This again, Laura thought to herself. What a pain in the ass. She'd really hoped these visions had been nothing more than Chamalla induced hallucinations. Hoped that curing her cancer had rid her of this headache. Instead, she found herself looking around at the strangely familiar yet disquieting walls of the Opera House. The creepy light that didn't seem to come from any apparent source. The shadows which seemed to dance in all the wrong places. So much for that idea.
The President of the Twelve Colonies began to walk. If she was going to do this, might as well get it over with. Experience told her that the next step was to meet up with someone. She looked around for Athena or Caprica. Hells, even Baltar would do. She crisscrossed the large building, yet found no one.
And then the cry of an infant caught her attention, echoing down a staircase. Without hesitation Laura broke into a sprint, charging up the staircase, then rounding the corner at the next flight to charge up the next. At the top, another cry came echoing down a corridor, and once more she gave chase without a thought.
Bursting through a doorway, she found herself standing on the upper balcony of the main hall, looking down upon the main stage. A stage which was no longer empty. Starbuck stood at the center of the stage, with Caprica and Baltar to her left and right. They stood back to back, as if preparing to defend themselves from attack. Somewhere a baby was crying, wails echoing through the vast hall, preventing Roslin from locating the source.
The source of their alarm was obvious. Three figures, robed and hooded in white, seeming to shine with their own internal luminescence, slowly advanced on them from each side, pressing them back towards the rear wall of the stage. The hooded figures moved with otherworldly grace, seeming to glide forward rather than step, closing in on Starbuck, Gaius, and Caprica. A closer look showed that the two humans and Cylon were not in good shape; their clothing tattered, their bodies bruised and exhausted. Laura called out to them, but no one seemed to notice.
As the noose tightened, the ornate door at the rear of the stage burst open. There was something out there. Something Roslin couldn't quite make out. Something comprised of neither the shadow nor the light. Something in between. Starbuck glanced back towards that escape longingly….they each did...and yet she dug in her heels, preparing to fight.
But, as the beings in white continued to advance, something odd occurred. The pressure in the air went up, and then up again. A palpable force exuded from the stage, invisible yet undeniably present. And then the encircled trio found themselves forced backwards, their shoes slipping across the floor boards, no matter how much they fought against it. As they drew closer to the doorway, one after another they gave up and darted through, lost to Roslin's sight. Starbuck fought hardest of all, though she had clearly been the one most interested in simply walking though. But in the end, she too was banished through the doors. And the beings of light continued to advance, moving towards the still open doorway, clearly intent on also passing through.
That's when the attack came. A great, vivid, bloody gash suddenly appeared across the back of the closest of the trio; the one facing directly away from Roslin. It did not cry out, though its blood was tossed high and wide to fan out across the stage and its compatriots. Blood continued to pour from the wound, drenching the robes, shocking in its contrast with the formerly pristine garments. And then a second bloody rent slashed across its midriff, every bit as suddenly, and just as lacking in visible cause. The creature stumbled, and now similar wounds were appearing on its two companions, their blood just as shocking against their robes and the polished wood and gilt and plaster of the stage.
It was as though some individual or group of assassins with wickedly edged weapons were carving up the beings formerly in white. Laura tried desperately to determine the source of the attack, but there was simply no sign of them. The underlying sounds and odd interplay of light and shadow present within the opera house had changed not at all. There were no mysterious footprints in the blood pooling and running across the stage. There was simply nothing, save the growing accumulation of great and bloody wounds piling onto the creatures.
Their internal light dimmed as they were slowly driven to the floor, their forward movement arrested. And still the blows came, as though something was literally trying to rend and tear them to pieces. And clearly succeeding. When it was over, all that remained were three mounds on the stage, covered in scraps of shredded cloth, spattered and stained in crimson. The doorway remained open.
Laura wasn't quite certain when she became aware of the child in her arms. Hera. One moment Laura had simply been watching the slaughter, the next she was carefully bouncing the infant in her arms. As she looked into the child's eyes, a great sense of well being and hopefulness came over her. Something important had happened here. Something momentous. And she knew what she had to do.
She made her way down from the balcony, gently cooing to the child. One of its tiny hands was wrapped around her forefinger, gripping tightly. The simple act brought an enormous sense of importance to Laura, as well as one of responsibility. Perhaps more than being sworn in as President had. She didn't look down at the three bodies as she walked across the stage. She simply took care not to step on them, and not to slip in their quickly drying blood. She passed to the back of the stage, and without hesitation, carried Hera through the doorway.
.
Valen'Tha, Minbar Orbit - November, 2249
The Grey Council had been convened, and once more Delenn felt entwined by the strings of destiny. She watched from the Darkness as a Minbari strode into the pool of light in the center of the room. His shoulders seemed as burdened as her own. Much had been demanded of him over the last few years, and more would be demanded still. And yet, though weariness and resolution stamped his features in equal parts, his bearing was yet one of iron, his stature undiminished.
Delenn dreaded the words he had come to say, and yet craved them all the same. They had been long in coming. Once, she had thought she had heard them for the final time, but now it all repeated. It must come to an end. We must be done with it.
After a moment of standing in the light, staring silently into the darkness, Shai'Alyt Branmer finally raised his head and spoke. "It is confirmed. Twice and thrice. The humans are located. As per my orders, our forces have been spreading out through that strange dead wasteland on the far side of Z'ha'dum. Cautiously moving forward to encircle the humans. To once more cut off all retreat, that we finally engage with and end them."
A pool of light came on, highlighting one of the Nine. Delenn noted with some surprise that it was not Coplann, being too short, even before he lowered his hood to reveal Satai Jenimer, of her own caste. "Have we not been here before, Shai'Alyt? Surrounding the humans, with them having no place to run? Have we not in fact been here multiple times? What is to prevent them from yet again finding some hidden passage out of your trap, to once more escape and draw out this interminable chase? I long to be done with this war. We were promised once before that it was done, and yet here we are again."
"I can offer no guarantees, Satai," Branmer replied diffidently. "I can only assure you of what I know. That we have done everything possible to cut off all escape. That this forgotten and dead realm the humans have fled to is much smaller than the primary beacon network. That we have located the humans and about to ensnare them. And that the humans have well and truly used up their fare share of whatever mad luck has kept them safe so far. How many more hidden passageways can there possibly be?"
"Well, if they are hidden, then how could we possibly count them to know? What if there is another, Shai'Alyt? What then?"
"Then I suppose we continue, Satai? Though that is a decision for the Grey, not for one such as I. If they escape again, after all of their prior escapes, then I would be forced to conclude that such is the will of the Universe. But, since I choose to believe that the Universe stands with Minbar, and not with the humans whom many have come to believe serve Chaos and Shadow….then I must believe that this time we will have our end. One final battle to finish this war."
Delenn signaled for her light to illuminate, and she was once more bathed in the light. "What do you need from us, Shai'Alyt? I, too, long for this to be done. What more do you need? Shall we order more forces dispatched to the front lines?"
He shook his head. "No, Satai," he said, nodding respectfully to her. "They would take too long to arrive, and we already have all the forces needed in the region. I await only your permission to do so, and our fleet will enact the final extermination."
"Yes, Delenn," Jenimer called out irritably. "I suppose you would want this ended as quickly as possible, lest we be forced to admit that the war never really ended, and all of your carefully maneuvered dispositions be drawn into doubt."
"Would you have us finish this or not, Satai Jenimer?" Delenn asked with as little emotion as possible. "Either we carry forward or we do not. I seem to recall that you were more vocal than most, that once the Minbari go to war, there is no turning back. If that has changed...more to the point, if you can convince the Warrior caste that has changed...then I would be all too happy to support you."
Jenimer grimaced, then snarled, "Fine. Let us be done with it. I call the vote. Shall any stand in opposition to permitting the Shai'Alyt to carry out his plans?"
No further lights appeared. "So has it been voted," Delenn intoned, "so let it be done." Branmer bowed and retreated from the room, which was once more cast into darkness.
.
Colonial One, Unknown System - November, 2249
Laura Roslin was at her desk, the midnight oil having long since burned away, while she did yet more of the unending paperwork, shuffling lives and smoothing feathers. It all seemed so pointless, and so absolutely necessary at the same time. Feeling a presence, she glanced up to find Starbuck standing in the doorway to her office. "Is it that time already? I thought I had a day yet before I had to put up with you. I need to tell Ms. Foster to work harder at getting rid of people I don't want to see." Kara didn't move, so Laura continued. "There's a rumor going around that you're a Cylon, you know. I gotta hand it to you. If you are a Cylon, that was a great plan. Dangle yet another way to Earth. Throw in the hub, the Final Five, and the real kicker, put the Final Five on the Fleet. Even I couldn't pass that one up."
Kara took a deep breath, uncertain what to say. Unable to come up with the right words, she simply quoted, "Thus shall it come to pass. The undying leader will know the truth of the Opera House."
Laura looked up in shock. She paused, not quite believing her ears. "What did you say?"
"Thus shall it come to pass…" Starbuck began again, but Roslin cut her off.
"The Opera House…"
"The undying leader shall know the truth of the Opera House."
"Where did... Where did you hear that? Who told you that?"
"The Hybrid from the Baseship, before we slaved it."
"The Hybrid. How does the Hybrid know what's in my dream?"
"I wish I knew."
Roslin shook her head in anger and confusion. She began to mutter, almost to herself. "This has got to stop. These visions. I've got to find out about these visions...I've got to know." She took a quick breath and focused on Starbuck. "Will you help me?"
"Yes."
Laura nodded in gratitude. "Find Captain Agathon. Tell him to round up Mr. Baltar."
"There's something else, Madame President. Something important...I think. A system I found."
"You can tell me all about it on the way. We're going to take a trip...and have a little chat with a Hybrid."