Chapter 30 - Gods and Monsters
Rebel Cylon Flagship, Unknown System - November, 2249

For a change, the trio of Raptors landing on the Basestar didn't disgorge hordes of Colonial Marines. Rather, it was a small cadre of rather nervous looking Presidential Security. The only military enlisted or officers were Starbuck, Russki, Athena, and Helo. Athena and Helo, flanking the President herself, led the way out of the hangar and deeper into the ship, much to the displeasure of the President's bodyguards.

Gaius Baltar, trying to look as small as possible, huddled in the rear, surrounding himself with as many of those guards as possible. Eventually though, he couldn't stop himself from speaking up. Stepping a bit closer to Roslin, he called out. "Madame President, why am I here?"

Glancing over her shoulder, Roslin slowed until he was parallel with her. She cast her eyes around at her security, and they took the hint, enlarging the protective circle so that the two of them had some small amount of privacy. Still, she lowered her voice before responding to him. "We're going to settle this now."

"What's to settle?"

"I've been sharing visions with Sharon Agathon and Caprica Six. And I know you're aware of it. Preparing to use that information against me in a smear campaign."

His face fell. "Your Chief of Staff is incomparably talented."

"Yes. So now you're going to help me sort this all out. The Hybrid of this Baseship spoke of the Opera House and an undying leader. We're going to talk to the Hybrid."

"And why would you require my presence?"

"Because you're in my visions," she told him flatly.

He stared at her, aghast. He searched vainly for some response to this woman's madness. Fortunately, her attention was drawn away from him when a party of high ranking Cylons approached the group; apparently to greet them, though possibly to obstruct them. Baltar took the opportunity to slip back to the rear of the party, as the President's security was now focused entirely on the Cylons, and not at all on him.

"Caprica," Athena said, nodding to the Six leading the party.

"Athena," she replied with a nod. "Madame President, Captain Thrace, Captain Agathon, welcome. I apologize for not being here immediately to greet you, but we weren't expecting you. I thought we had more time. D'Anna is expected to meet with the Council within the hour to reveal the names of the Final Five."

"We're not here for that," Roslin replied brusquely, not stopping as Athena, with Helo at her side, continued to lead the way to the Hybrid. Caprica, with Boomer and Doral and nearly the entire Cylon Council, were forced to fall in or be left behind. Roslin's determination was palpable, and nothing was going to stop her. Silence descended as Athena led them through the corridors and into the chamber of the Hybrid.

The strange being was prattling away in her nonsense. "Filters. Filters. The sublime elevation of the lifter and the filters."

"I need to talk to it," Roslin demanded.

"Go ahead," Boomer replied. "We don't control what she says or hears."

"We need some space. Give us the room." The Cylons seemed reluctant, but Helo and Starbuck pushed, until only Athena and Baltar remained with Roslin and the Hybrid.

"Madame President..." Baltar began unctuously.

"Shut up," she snapped. She knelt down next to the Hybrid's pool, listening to the stream of words.

"FTL system check, diagnostic functions within parameters repeats the harlequin the agony exquisite, the colors run the path of ashes, neuronal network run fifty-two percent of heat exchanger cross-collateralized with hyper-dimensional matrix, upper senses, repair ordered relay to zero zero zero zero. End of Line. The Wolf shall be the guest of the Lamb, and a Child shall lead them. Shrouded in fog, they shall stumble between the bedrock and the sand. End of Line. To remove the pump with the attached hose and wiring, simultaneously release the three tangs while pulling the pump out of the retainer along with the line and wiring. End of Line."

"Just...why don't you just go ahead and ask it already?" Apparently Baltar didn't know how to shut up.

Roslin jumped in, attempting to speak over the top of the Hybrid. To get her attention. "I've been told that you said something about an Opera House, and I'm…"

"Circulation. Ventilation. Control." The Hybrid never so much as paused.

"Because it seems pointless," Laura snapped at Baltar in irritation.

Baltar was now pacing back and forth. He decided that raising his voice and looming over the Hybrid might get her attention. "Look, there was an Opera House. An Opera House. Are you listening to me? Apparently I was in the Opera House."

Since it was a better idea than anything she had, Roslin joined in, raising her voice even louder. "I had a vision. I was trying to find a baby girl. I came to a balcony. I saw Dr. Baltar, Captain Thrace and the Six standing together. And there were these other creatures. Powerful beings of light, and something was killing them. And then I had the baby and…" She trailed to a halt as she noticed Baltar looking at her as though she were mad, and still the Hybrid hadn't shut up. "She's not listening," she said in exasperation. And then a snippet of the phrases the Hybrid was rattling off got through to her.

"...the relaxation length of photons in the sample atmosphere is constant. Protect the child."

"Protect the child," Laura said, latching onto the words. She said 'protect the child.'" Baltar started to say something more, but she cut him off brusquely. "Let me listen."

Unfortunately, there wasn't much left to listen to. The Hybrid said, "Booting up." And then silence.

"I mean, obviously you've done this a thousand times before," Baltar said derisively.

"Well, I'm just doing the same thing you're doing," she bickered.

"No, you're not actually. No, you're not. Because if you'll watch what I'm doing, I'm actually focusing on her, all right?" Athena seemed on the verge of throwing Baltar out of the room by the scruff of his neck, but Roslin discreetly waved her down. Baltar had turned towards the Hybrid once more and now began to shout, "Now tell us what happened in the Opera House now, all right?!"

"Oh, the only thing you're doing is yelling," Laura sighed.

"Such a format will close the doors."

The words seemed odd, erupting from the formerly quiescent Hybrid. Roslin latched onto them. "Close the door? No, open...open the door." She started to shout. "I want to open the door!" The Hybrid had once more lapsed into silence, and desperately Laura turned back towards Baltar. "Do it again, do it again, do it again!"

"I'm going for a walk. Love to see you do any better."

"All right, I'll do it," Roslin snapped. Turning back to the Hybrid, she shouted, "Open the door!"

The Hybrid suddenly lurched upright, shocking them both to silence. She was no longer reclining, her shoulders rising up out of the goo. "Three!" she wailed. Her face looked directly at Roslin, though her eyes seemed to pass right through, perhaps even beyond the far bulkhead. "The Three is coming." A pause. "The Three is coming." Another pause, then she repeated again and again, "The Three is coming. The Three is coming." Finally, silence, the Hybrid easing back down into the soup.

"The Three is D'Anna. D'Anna is coming?" Roslin pondered thoughtfully. "What does that mean? D'Anna is already here on this ship."

Baltar rolled his eyes. "Well obviously, it's exactly what the Council thought when we arrived. D'Anna is ready and coming to tell us the identities of the Five."

There was a burst of gunfire and a pair of screams from out in the hall as D'Anna strode into the room at the head of a dozen Centurions, some of whom aimed their weapons at Roslin, Baltar and Athena. "Good guess," the Three said with a smile. "Not even entirely wrong." Behind her came most of the Cylon Council, several of Roslin's security detail, and Helo, Starbuck and Russki. All disarmed, with their fingers interlaced above their heads.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Laura snapped rising to her feet.

"I'm taking hostages, sweetie," D'Anna explained, as though to a child. "And in exchange for you all, I'm going to take the Final Five. Or I'm going to paint this ship with your blood. I suppose that all depends on how badly the Admiral wants you back."

"Booting up," the Hybrid said happily.

.

Battlestar Galactica, Unknown System - November, 2249

Alarms blared once more throughout the ship. As Adama stormed the CIC, he was already barking, "Sit Rep!"

Gaeta turned gratefully to the Admiral. "We received a report of hostile contact from Marines aboard the Cylon flagship. Shortly after, all contact was lost with that vessel. All other Cylon vessels still seem firmly within our control. Cylon crews vehemently deny having any knowledge of what is going on, and have more or less surrendered to the Marines in place."

"What kind of hostile contact?"

Saul, having arrived before the Admiral, took over the explanation. "The report was garbled, but it sounded like they were taking fire from Centurions."

"Have all Centurions aboard the other vessels locked down."

Saul leaned in, speaking quietly. "I already gave that order, Bill. So far...the Marines can't seem to find any Centurions aboard the other vessels. It's possible they're hiding in preparation for strikes of their own, but that seems unlikely. The best time for those strikes would have been in conjunction with the one aboard the flagship. They all would have had the element of surprise. Right now we're working off the theory that all of the Centurions somehow managed to make their way to the flagship. No idea how they pulled that off."

Looking up at the DRADIS plot thoughtfully, Adama replied, "They've been flying their Heavy Raiders back and forth between ships, conducting maintenance and repairs from recent battles. They could have moved an army with all that activity, and we'd never have known. I should have seen this coming."

"Not your fault, Bill."

"Whose fault is it, then? Never mind. Have the civilian ships retreat to the EA fleet while we deal with this. Better get the President up here."

"Bill," Saul said hesitantly, "the President took Helo, Athena, Starbuck, and Russki over there, just before all this kicked off. We haven't been able to contact them, either."

Their conversation was interrupted when Dualla signaled for their attention. "Receiving communication from Basestar." There didn't seem much point in specifying which one. "It's...D'Anna Biers."

"The Three?" Saul asked in evident confusion.

"Put her on," Adama ordered, raising the handset to his face.

"Admiral," came D'Anna's cheerful voice, "how are you this morning?"

"What the frak do you think you're doing? Let me speak to the President."

"I'm making demands. But this doesn't need to be acrimonious. The good news is that your President, Laura Roslin, is alive and well. As are your crew mates.
I want the Final Five Cylons that are in your fleet. You're going to let them come to me. Your people will be my...guests...until the Final Five are aboard this vessel."

"So your plan is that you take these five Cylons, and then you just head off to Earth, leaving us behind?"

"Now that's up to them."

"Alright. If these five Cylons wanna come to you, they're free to do so. I won't stop them. But I won't force them either. They don't want to go, they don't have to. Agreed?"

D'Anna hesitated. "I can't imagine that will be a problem, Admiral. But I don't trust you to tell the truth. I'll want to hear it from their own lips. Somewhere where they are safe from any possible retribution. Here, on this Baseship. They come over, and if they tell me they don't want to come with me, then they'll be free to return to you."

"And why should I trust you to keep your word? That you won't take them, whatever they want? That you'll return our people?"

"Because I'm a Cylon and they're Cylons? Why would I hurt them? And because, as you said, I have your people. You don't really have any choice, Admiral. I will await their arrival."

"And what if we cooperate, and they just decide not to stick their heads out? What then? It'd be easier if you just tell us who they are."

"Easier because then you could kill them," D'Anna replied derisively.

"Why would we do that? They know the way to Earth. We need them."

"Let's just say I don't trust you. But I suppose you're right. It would be easier. Suppose I do tell you...if you do anything to harm them or prevent them from coming to me...it won't be pleasant for the humans currently staying on my ship. Make certain you understand that." There was a very long pause, and for a moment, Bill thought she had terminated the connection. And then her voice came back, but changed. No longer friendly, but laced with iron. "Alright, Admiral, change of plans. We'll do it your way. I've just executed the first of the Colonial hostages. Another will follow every quarter hour until our people come home. You wanted their names? Fine. The Final Five Cylons are Samuel Anders, Galen Tyrol, Torry Foster, and Saul and Ellen Tigh. You have fifteen minutes to get them to me. And I'm not a patient person."

"Bullshit," Bill spat.

D'Anna was silent, speechless for a few moments. Finally, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I actually thought you might give us the names for a second. Clearly I underestimated your desire to frak with us. I knew you were lying the moment you started your little list. The President's personal aide? My XO? The leader of the Caprican Resistance, and the man keeping my ship running? Your goal to sow mistrust and discord is painfully transparent. You couldn't have picked more critical personnel if you had tried. Beyond that, I've worked with and known every one of those people for quite a while. Decades in some cases. I'd trust them with my life. So yes, Ms. Biers, I call bullshit on your little ploy. Now why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"It's true, Bill," Saul said quietly.

Adama glanced up, not comprehending. "What?"

"I should've told you when I first found out, but I didn't have the guts."

Adama lowered the handset, placing a hand over the receiver. That might've prevented D'Anna from hearing, but the rest of the CIC was another matter. The room had gone completely still. "What's wrong with you, Saul?"

"You remember back when I told you about that frakking music? I thought it was in the ship. I was wrong. It was a signal. Some kind of crazy, frakked-up Cylon signal switched me on." He paused, glancing around desperately. Looking anywhere but at his friend and Commanding Officer. "I can't turn it off."

"Switched you on," Bill parroted, disbelieving.

"Like Boomer. I'm one of the Five"

"The Five."

"One of the Cylons D'Anna's after."

The Admiral had heard enough. "Quit frakking with me. Colonel, I've known
you for over thirty years."

"I told you. I didn't find out until after that music started."

"Think about this. When I met you, you had hair. I never heard of a Cylon aging."

"Doesn't mean they don't. Before the attack on the Colonies, we didn't know skin jobs existed. Turns out there's another kind of Cylon we didn't know about, and I'm one of them."

"You were in captivity on that damned Basestar," Bill denied. "They did something
to you, they… An implant, a post-hypnotic suggestion that makes you feel this way. Let's go talk to Doc Cottle…"

"Listen to me!" Saul snapped. He rounded the plotting table and grabbed onto both of his friend's shoulders, forcing himself to look into the Admiral's eyes as much as he was forcing the other man to meet his own gaze. If the CIC had been silent before, it was quiet as the grave now. "It is not a delusion. It is not a chip in my head. I am a Cylon. I've fooled you for weeks now. I didn't want to, but I did."

"Get your hands off of me," Adama said quietly, almost weakly.

"If I'd had the guts to airlock myself when I first found out, we wouldn't be in this mess. But that's the way out. D'Anna's threatening the hostages if you do anything to us precisely because she's unwilling to lose us. I am one of the Final Five. D'Anna will back down if you threaten to flush me out an airlock."

Bill met his friend's gaze for a long moment, then called out loudly. "Marines! Put the Colonel in shackles. Then escort him to the nearest launch tube. Round up Chief Tyrol, Ensign Anders, Ms. Foster, and the Colonel's wife, and have them join him there."

That got Saul's attention. As the Marine security detail surged forward to grab the Colonel, he shouted, "What? Bill, not Ellen. Airlock me, but she's done nothing…" The rest was lost as he was dragged out of the room. Bill finally took his hand off of the receiver and raised that handset back to his face. He found himself mildly surprised to find that D'Anna was still on the line.

"Admiral. I thought I'd lost you. I take it you believe me now? I'll expect to see the Five aboard this ship within thirteen minutes, or I'll execute the next hostage."

"I'll get back to you," Adama said lamely, and hung up the handset. Then he turned and walked out of the room without another word.

.

It was almost ten minutes later that Apollo walked into his father's quarters, finding the man on the floor, weeping and desperately trying to drink through the entirety of his liquor supply. A bit out of breath from having hurried over after receiving a covert request for assistance from Dualla, Lee crouched down, doing his best to try to pick the man up off of the floor. He was far from light, but Lee could tell the burden his father was carrying was a far greater weight. "Dad. Dad, listen. No one suspected. No one. Not with his record, what he's done for this fleet. What he endured on the Basestar...his eye…" Lee took a deep breath. "Come on, let's get up."

Bill hardly noticed. He was still beside himself. "What have I done? All the people I've sent to die...for what? For what?"

"For the fleet. For a new home. For Earth."

"There is no Earth. It's a frakking joke. Or it's a burnt up crisp like Sheridan said. There is no Earth."

Apollo felt for his father. He knew how much the man depended on Saul Tigh, how much their friendship had meant to him. But right now the fleet needed an Admiral. Like it or not, his father had to get off of his ass and lead. "Okay, Dad, listen to me. Listen to me! Pull it together."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Come on."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. On your feet, Admiral!"

"I can't... I can't kill him. I can't kill the bastard. I can't."

Lee sighed. He wanted to weep with his father, but duty was calling. "Okay, okay, Dad."

"I can't," Bill repeated again, numbly.

Squeezing his father in a tight embrace, Lee said, "It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay. I'll take care of it. I'll take care of it. Don't worry about Saul and the others. I'll take care of it." He paused. "But I need something from you, Dad. I need you to get it together. I need you to go out there and be the Admiral for the fleet. Get ready to fight if D'Anna does something stupid. Show the people that we can survive this clusterfrak. If you can get through this, then they'll know that they can get through it. Can you do that for me, Dad? Admiral?"

The answer was a few moments in coming, and when it did it was barely audible. But it was there. "Yes."

Lee heaved, lifting with his knees, getting his father onto his feet. And when he let go, the man remained upright. "Alright Admiral. I'll deal with D'Anna and the Five. I'll ask Major Shaw to start working on a rescue plan, and send her to coordinate with you, in case this all goes south.

.

Rebel Cylon Flagship, Unknown System - November, 2249

"Open a channel to the Galactica," D'Anna ordered. Once the connection was confirmed, she spoke. "Admiral, you're running out of time."

"No, you are," came the wrong voice. The voice of Commander rather than Admiral Adama. The voice of Apollo. "It's your turn to listen. You harm another one of my people, you so much as blacken one of their eyes, and I flush Saul Tigh out of the launch tube."

D'Anna grimaced, the tension in the room creeping upwards. Particularly that of the hostages. "We have no wish for further bloodshed. May I speak with the Admiral?"

"No, you deal with me. You have ten minutes to release my people or you can kiss one of your precious Final Five goodbye."

"I don't appreciate threats, Commander, and I certainly don't appreciate your tone. If you harm Saul Tigh, I will have a Centurion tear Laura Roslin in half. Followed by Kara Thrace. Are you ready to come to your senses, Mr. Adama?"

"Galen Tyrol has just joined Saul Tigh in the airlock. I'm happy to flush Sam Anders, Tory Foster, and Ellen Tigh out right after them. They're in line for an
express ride into vacuum, and then you lose every one of your Five. You want them alive, stand down."

D'Anna looked around, starting to feel trapped. She needed to get Apollo to back down. She needed the Five, but for some reason the hostages weren't enough to convince him to hand them over. The only option was to up the stakes. She turned to the nearest Centurion. "Target our nuclear weapons on the civilian fleet. We'll see if he wants to play hardball."

"D'Anna," one of the hostages spoke up desperately.

She looked over in some surprise. "Gaius," she replied, muting the connection to Adama. Baltar hadn't moved, knowing the Centurions would put him down if he transgressed. But he was clearly agitated and wanting to speak with her.

"Coercion won't work with Lee Adama. He's too similar to his father."

"He's bluffing," she scorned. "The Five are members of his fleet. Friends...family even. He doesn't want to kill them. All I have to do is make the cost high enough that he gives in to what he really wants to do anyway."

"He doesn't give a tinker's damn about those five, not now. You push him, he'll kill them."

"Then a great many humans will die with them." She turned away from Gaius and once more spoke to Apollo. "Commander, no doubt you have detected that this Baseship's nukes just went hot. You will send me the Final Five, or I will fire upon the civilian fleet."

"Your nukes would have to get past everything the Pegasus, Galactica, and the entire Earth Force fleet could throw at them. Not to mention every Viper and Starfury that can hit the black. They're not getting through. But at that point there'll be no stopping the Earth Force from blowing you out of the sky, hostages or not."

Becoming desperate herself, D'Anna pushed harder. "Are you really willing to take that chance? Over Cylons?"

There was a long pause. "Perhaps we both need to consider our options. Let's take an hour to discuss possibilities with our respective staffs. No hostages killed on either side. Maybe we can find a way out of this where no one else has to die."

D'Anna very carefully covered her sigh of relief. "Alright Commander. We check back in with each other after an hour. Then we find solutions, or things get bloody."

Breaking the connection, D'Anna couldn't help but think nervously of Cavil… if she frakked this up, he wouldn't hesitate to kill her. Not for a second more than the humans would. She walked a razor wire with no mercy or succor on any side. But it was already too late to change course, the die had been cast. She had to see this through to the end.

.

Battlestar Galactica, Unknown System - November, 2249

Vice President Tom Zarek barged into the CIC. The Marines guarding the hatch didn't seem quite certain whether or not they should be stopping him. "Admiral! Admiral, I need a word."

Adama, surrounded only by junior officers, had been reading status updates and situation reports...alone. He still smelled a bit of alcohol and vomit, but his gaze was rock steady. He looked up in no little annoyance at a man he had very little respect for. Turning back to the reports in front of him, he replied offhandedly, "Vice President Zarek. What can I do for you?"

"You can start by removing this threat to our very existence, Admiral!"

The room went silent, once again. Bill looked up with deadly seriousness, taking off his glasses to more fully lock gazes with the VP. "One Basestar is hardly an existential threat to this fleet."

"It has armed its nukes and is prepared to fire!"

"As are we. Our civilian vessels have retreated behind the point defense offered by the Earth Force fleet. Even a full barrage from a single Basestar isn't going to get through that. I suggest..."

"And what about five Basestars, Admiral?" Zarek asked, cutting him off. "The others have all claimed to be shocked and appalled at this series of events. To back us to the fullest. But at the end of the day, they're still Cylons. When the missiles begin to fly, is there any doubt on whose side they will be on?"

"We have Marines on those vessels..." Adama began.

"We had Marines on their flagship as well. We see how much good they did. The only way to end this threat to the fleet is by removing it. You have to end that Basestar, and any of the others which join it!"

"You want me to fire on the Basestar?" Adama asked, barely believing what he was hearing. "Unprovoked? That'll bring the other Basestars in on their side, if anything will. The Galactica and the Pegasus might not win against those odds. Not at this range."

"As you said, Admiral, you have Marines on those Basestars. If they attack from within while we attack from without, they should be able to damage or distract the Cylons enough that those ships can't respond with their full capacity. And if they do manage to attack the Galactica and Pegasus at full power, at least they won't be attacking the fleet. But it will still force Commodore Sheridan to get off of his ass and rid us of the Cylon menace."

Bill practically growled, taking a large step forward and getting right into Zarek's face. "Setting aside the fact that you are talking about an unprovoked sneak attack against people who have surrendered to us, and setting aside the fact that you are plotting to force our allies into a conflict without their consent...you just asked me to sacrifice the lives of every Marine we have stationed aboard those ships."

"They knew what they were signing up for when they put on those uniforms."

The silence was deafening. Hostility caged to a mundane task, Adama took a moment, slowly polishing his glasses before placing them back on his nose. "You're also asking me to sacrifice the President and every one of the hostages. You really want the Presidency so much that you're willing to kill your predecessor for it?"

"Roslin, more than anyone, was willing to do whatever it took to ensure the safety of this fleet and these people. I would think you, more than anyone, would understand that. And I'm not asking. This is a direct order."

"You don't have the authority," Bill barked, on the verge of having this jumped up terrorist thrown in the brig.

"As of fifteen minutes ago, the full Quorum voted to grant me emergency Presidential authority. President Roslin is a hostage...the very definition of being unable to carry out the duties of her office. This order comes with full Presidential authority and the backing of the Quorum of the Twelve Colonies. You have your orders, Admiral. And your duty."

Bill stared at the man for nearly a minute. "I'll take it under advisement. Marines," he called out, "escort the Vice President back to his ship."

As the Marines moved forward, Zarek seemed ready to actually resist them. "You can't just ignore this Admiral! If I have to, I'll go to Lee. He won't ignore a Presidential order!"

Bill looked ready to tear off the man's head. Instead, he practically snarled, "We'll have a plan of action prepared within the hour." He waited for Zarek, now seemingly satisfied, to be escorted from the room. He was somewhat disappointed the man didn't have to be dragged out, kicking and screaming. Once he was well and truly gone, though, Bill turned to Dualla. "Get me Commodore Sheridan, immediately."

.

Zarek ambushed Adama outside his quarters. The Admiral had been walking in close consultation with his son and Major Shaw, and hadn't noticed the Vice President loitering there. "Admiral, I demand an explanation!"

Bill tamped down his anger, but couldn't curtail his glare at the offious man. "Mr. Zarek. I told you I would have a plan out within the hour. It's been fifteen minutes. You can't possibly expect…"

"I expect not to be lied to or cut out of the information loop!" Zarek snapped, speaking over the Admiral. "I know for a fact that the Commander here promised to get back to the Cylons within an hour. And that he promised a bloodless compromise! And now I understand that Admiral Sheridan and several members of his staff are on their way here. I demand an explanation!" he repeated. "I speak with the authority of the Presidency."

"You seem remarkably well informed, Mr. Vice President, given the miniscule amount of time which has passed, and the fact that I have yet to make any sort of formal report to you. How is that, exactly?" As he was speaking, Bill opened the door to his quarters and waved Lee and Shaw inside.

"It's a good thing I am!" Zarek snapped, ignoring the question at the end of the Admiral's statement. "I am responsible for every person...every life...aboard this fleet. I won't have you endangering them by inaction or ill considered schemes. Now, what exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Exactly what you asked me to," Bill snapped, finally losing his patience. "You wanted me to end the threat to the fleet? To get Earth Force involved? Well, Lee's found a way to do exactly that. But, right now, I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain it to you. This is a military matter, and I intend to do my job...saving lives. I have work to do, Mr. Vice President. You'll receive a full report after the fact." So saying, the Admiral stepped through his door and slammed it in Zarek's face.

.

Rebel Cylon Flagship, Unknown System - November, 2249

D'Anna was pacing impatiently around her primary hostages when a gold colored Centurion walked into the room. "What is it?" she snapped.

"Earthforce vessel approaching," he reported in that oddly metallic, yet resonant voice.

"The Nova?" she asked fearfully.

"Negative. It does not appear to be one of their warships."

Scowling, D'Anna stormed from the room, leaving the hostages under Centurion guard and heading towards the nearest data interface. Placing her hand in the nearest data terminal, she relished the feeling of the gel-like liquid enveloping and connecting with her skin. She opened herself to the dataflow and connected to the external feeds.

The vessel was too small to be a ship, but too large to be a shuttle. Perhaps a yacht of some sort. It was exceedingly blocky, with only the barest hint of wedge shape in its design. She opened up a communications channel, aiming the transmission at the strange little craft. "Unknown Earthforce vessel. Arrest your momentum immediately, identify yourself, and state your purpose."

"Cylon Basestar, this is Shuttle Tydirium under the command of Colonel Garibaldi. We have come as a neutral party, to facilitate your requested trade… hostages for the Final Five. It was hoped that having a third party facilitate the exchange would help to ensure good faith and a lack of hostilities. With me are Commander Adama, representing the Colonial interests, and my Chief Medical officer, to ensure the good health of the captives."

Possibilities and concerns spun through D'Anna's mind. Was this a trick? A facade? Was she really getting exactly what she had asked for...and more? She pointed out a discrepancy, more as a means to buy time than as an actual concern. "That vessel is too large to be a shuttle."

"This is an Earth shuttle. We don't have gravity technology, and our engines are both larger and less efficient than Colonial or Cylon equivalents. Additionally, since you have artificial gravity aboard your vessel, we needed a craft with the added complexity and reduced efficiency of thrust vectoring for VTOL capability. Again, it was felt that a neutral vessel might put both parties more at ease. And, of course, you have quite a few hostages aboard, so we needed a sufficiently large passenger cabin to return as many of them as possible."

D'Anna nodded to herself. That matched with her intel. The Earthers had very advanced weapons...but their FTL and propulsion technologies were jokes. That thing was probably mostly engine, with a tiny passenger and cargo capacity relative to its size.

That having been established, she turned to far more pressing matters. "Shuttle Tydirium confirm...Colonel Garibaldi and Commander Adama are aboard? And you have the remaining Final Five present as well?"

"Basestar, that's affirmative. This is Garibaldi speaking. I'm only bringing two of the Final Five though...Saul Tigh and Galen Tyrol. Sam Anders, Tory Foster, and Ellen Tigh remain aboard the Galactica. I'm going to have to insist on doing the trade a bit at a time...to lessen the chances of anyone getting cold feet or itchy trigger fingers."

D'Anna thought furiously. These other humans were an unknown. Apollo's stance had been utterly unforgiving, matching her threat for threat. But now it appeared the trade might go forward. Either these Earth humans had managed to get Apollo out of his no-win mindset, or the Admiral was more in the loop than Commander Adama had implied. Either way, her plan could still work. They wouldn't just let her leave if they thought she would turn the Five over to Cavil. If that possibility occurred to them, D'Anna was certain they'd have no compunction about blasting her ship out of the sky. But now they had shown weakness. They were handing her the keys to survival. Yes, this could work.

Assuming it wasn't a trick. "Acknowledged, Colonel. Please have Commander Adama, Colonel Tigh and Chief Tyrol join you on your flight deck. I'm going to have a Heavy Raider do a flyby. Assuming you are all visible through the cockpit windows, you'll be cleared for landing."

"Acknowledged Basestar. Awaiting your inspection. We'll give you a wave."

D'Anna quickly dispatched a Centurion in a Heavy Raider for the flyby, waiting impatiently for the results. The humans can't possibly be this stupid. They think Apollo is safe simply because he's got Earth personnel around him? That we would never dare assault them? He's practically handing me everything I want. Adama won't have any choice but to hand over all of the Five if I have both Roslin and his son! And so long as I promise to give Garibaldi back unharmed, Sheridan should stay out of things as well. He won't want to lose his Security Chief. Moments later the Centurion reported back positive visual confirmation. Garibaldi, Apollo, Tigh, and Tyrol were all aboard. "Signal that they are cleared to land in the primary hangar, then get back on board."

"By your command," came the Centurion's metallic response. D'Anna didn't think she would ever get used to hearing Centurions speak...even the little ones. She turned to the Centurion standing next to her...one of the few they had of proper size. "Gather our forces near the main hangar. Everything but the ones watching the prisoners and those guarding critical systems. Keep them out of sight down side corridors. We don't want to spook our guests. But once that shuttle has powered down...assault and capture. Garibaldi and Apollo are bound to have guards. Take as many hostages as you can, kill any who resist, but under no circumstance are Garibaldi, Apollo, or the members of the Five to be harmed. Restrain them physically if you have to, but take them unharmed. We need them alive."

As the Centurion trotted off to do its duty, D'Anna found herself smiling. She was pleased at its proper silence. And even more pleased that she would get everything she wanted, all due to the idiocy of humans.

.

Russki was standing with Starbuck, Helo, and Athena. They were all lounging around in a large waiting room with the other hostages. The hostages seemed to have divided themselves into Colonial and Cylon halves, with only Athena, Boomer, and Baltar taking themselves over to the opposite faction.

A couple of the smaller Centurions stood guarding the doorway. Russki had been watching for a way to get past them and escape, but there were more Centurions in the hallway outside. Actually, there were a lot more. A strangely large number more. Now that she was paying attention, she realized that they were stacking up in the corridor. Well over a hundred of them. And they were standing oddly. She couldn't read them telepathically, but if they were human, she'd have said they were winding themselves up. Preparing for something.

Susan held up her hand, getting the attention of her three companions, then casually walked a few paces across the room to where she could get a better view down the corridor. The four of them kept up a light banter the entire time, not drawing the attention of any of the other hostages. Now that she had called their attention to it, the other three could clearly tell something was happening.

And then Russki saw it. The corridor was very long, but at the far end it spilled out into the main hangar. The Centurions had pushed themselves up against the corridor's sidewall, where they wouldn't be visible from within the hangar. This gave Russki a clear field of vision down the corridor and into the hangar. And as she glanced she caught the corner of a large shuttle coming in for a landing. It was moving slowly, hovering more fully into view before setting down.. Implications hammered through her mind. "Frag me, D'Anna can't possibly be this stupid," she swore vehemently, though barely above a whisper. "Get ready you guys."

"Ready?" Starbuck asked. "Ready for what."

Susan moved in closer, lowering her voice even more. "Do you see that shuttle? That's no civilian craft. It's a GroPos heavy assault lander. I think shit is about to get real." As she was speaking, the vessel in question had fully lowered itself onto its landing gear, and power was cut as the engines wound down. The moment it was inert, the entire stack of Centurions charged out into the hangar to seize the shuttle. Russki could see several other columns of Centurions charging from adjacent corridors, as well as dozens of nooks and crannies where they had been hiding.

"Frak!" Helo hissed.

The large rear hatch of the transport dropped precipitously and crashed onto the floor. Before the resounding clang had even started to echo through the massive hangar, a fireball erupted from out of the rear hatch. From the center of that fiery burst shot a massive round, glowing brightly. Without slowing, it tore right through the Centurions unlucky enough to be in its path; until finally slamming into the deck, unleashing a massive explosion and tossing the pieces of a score of Centurions through the air.

In the next moment, the massive silhouette of a Thor Main Battle Tank erupted out of the back of the shuttle, firing again. And now the heavy repeating PPGs on the turret and front glacis joined in, spewing streams of glowing hot plasma pulses which gutted any Centurion they touched. And the first Thor was followed by a second, and then a third, and finally a wave of screaming Earth Force GroPos, all laying down a massive volume of fire that often literally bowled the Centurions backwards. The small assault team of Colonial Marines, escorting one very nervous looking Earth Force doctor, seemed almost quaint in comparison.

Most of the hostages in the room, Cylon and Human alike, were shouting and diving for cover. Screaming and chaos reigned. All of the Centurions, save those guarding the door, were drawn out and into the battle; trying to overwhelm the invaders with raw numbers.

In the hangar beyond, Susan could occasionally see one of the trio of Thors literally running down a knot of Centurions; pulverizing them with mass or crushing them under tread. And firing all weapons of course. She witnessed one Thor ride up on a pile of Centurions who had been making a stand in very tight formation. The MBT spun its treads in opposite directions; spinning the entire tank 360 degrees while shredding the Centurions underneath like a hundred ton blender.

But it wasn't all going the humans' way. Susan saw GroPos falling to Centurion fire. Still others of the metallic defenders were desperately trying to set up SAM missile platforms to be used as makeshift antiarmor weapons. They weren't having much luck. The GroPos were paying attention, and nearly all of the assemblies were blown to bits by main cannon fire well before they became a threat. Still, one of the Odin's had been immobilized when a Cylon missile, practically hip fired, had blown off a track.

As one last Centurion left the room, Russki heard Starbuck say, "Now's our chance," but then grabbed her shoulder as, unexpectedly, D'Anna burst into the room.

The Cylon was clearly enraged, and gripping a massive revolver tightly. All eyes were on her as she stormed up to President Roslin and leveled the gun from mere feet away. "This is your fault, this is all of your fault," she snarled, though it wasn't entirely clear to whom she was referring. "Your blood is on their hands."

"D'Anna, you can't do this," a Six said, stepping closer, hands raised. The blonde was indistinguishable from the other three Sixes in the room, but Susan could tell easily that this was Caprica. Her mental 'flavor' was quite distinct. "There's still a chance for us to make peace, if you stop now. You can get out of this alive. We'll help you."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" the Three snarled. "Does that look peaceful to you?" she snapped, half turning to gesture at the battle in the hangar.

It was a split second shift in focus, but Caprica took it. Her left hand a blur, she knocked the pistol upwards, then tried to rip it from D'Anna's grasp. Following an eyeblink later, her right fist came in to smash against D'Anna's face. The Three tightened her grip, trying to regain control of her weapon while simultaneously striking back. She called out to the pair of Centurions at the door, then went down in a heap as Natalie tackled both of them to the floor.

Russki reacted quickly, while the Centurions were distracted. She reached out with her mind, finding the assault rifles of the two Centurions at the door, all that remained to guard the hostages, who were just beginning to move to protect D'Anna. Susan ripped the weapons out of the Centurions' clutches, sending one flying into Starbuck's hands, the other into Helo's. She herself was already charging for the hatch. Summoning more mental strength, she reached out and shoved the leftmost robot with all the telekinetic force she could muster. Like a puppet on strings, it was tossed ten meters out into the hallway.

Susan sagged, feeling the energy drain as she struggled to continue forward towards the hatch. The other Centurion reared up above her, raising a fist to smash her skull. Starbuck put a dozen rounds through its chassis, toppling it over backwards. They both stepped over its sparking frame, and Susan hit the controls to shut the hatch. A couple of the nearest Centurions in the corridor had already noticed the commotion, and were moving to retake the room. As the door slid shut just in time, Starbuck ejected her magazine and jammed the barrel of her rifle into the gearing which powered the hatch. She tossed the clip to Helo, then stood back as the commands from the far side caused the hatch to grind on the rifle barrel, trying to open. The door shook to the clang and beat of heavy metallic fists pounding on its far side. The noise was occasionally overridden by the thunder of the combat still raging from the hangar beyond.

"Can you lock out their access to open the door?" Helo shouted at his wife, as he stepped forward, physically bracing his shoulder against the hatch in the vain hopes of keeping it shut should the rifle slip. The portal was shaking differently now, as the Centurions tried to pull and pry and shove it open.

"On it," she replied, racing to the nearby controls.

Susan glanced over to check on D'Anna, only to find the Three being physically restrained by a trio of Sixes. The other hostages, both Cylon and human, were now stepping forward, peppering them with questions. "What the hells is happening?" Roslin wanted to know.

"Rescue attempt. We just need to survive until they get to us," Starbuck snapped, then turned back to the hatch. "Helo, get the frak out of that doorway. I'll need you if this comes down to a fight. Besides, Cylon muscles are better suited for that job. Doral!" she shouted, only to start as the three Fives in the room all popped up at her shoulder. "Take over holding the door."

Helo stepped out, bringing up his weapon, as the trio of Dorals moved in and tried to find bracing positions to leverage their strength in holding the portal shut.

"Russki," Starbuck began, turning to look at Susan, then stopping cold at the site of the Lieutenant's ferocious concentration upon the hatch.

Despite her intense concentration and the sweat running down her face, Susan gave her a quick smile. "I'll try to help hold the thing shut as long as I can."

"We've got bigger problems," Caprica said, striding up. For some reason, Baltar had glued himself to her side. "There's a back exit to this room...and there's no door on it to shut. The Centurions who were guarding it left to join the battle, but it won't take them long to figure out to just go around.

"Helo, that's your post," Starbuck snapped. "Nothing gets in." Caprica turned, now carrying D'Anna's weapon, to support the Lieutenant. Starbuck looked around, surveying the room for resources and muttering quietly to herself. "Frak it. One rifle,not even two full clips, and a damned revolver to try to hold off the whole frakkin' Cylon army." Thunder roared from the other side of the door, the deck literally shaking beneath them. At least that army's occupied right now, she thought.

"We could make a run for it out the back," Baltar was arguing. "Split up and hide. At least some of us might survive."

"Not a chance," Athena denied. "We could run into Centurions at any moment, from any direction. It'd be a slaughter. At least here they can only come at us from one direction.

"Everyone spread out," Starbuck shouted. "Find cover, and try to find something to use as a weapon. We just need to hold out for a little bit longer." Indeed, the sound of combat was growing even louder, despite coming through a sealed hatch.

Helo, guarding the rear entrance to the room, suddenly snapped up his weapon, causing everyone to tense. A moment later, he lowered it again. "Friendlies coming in," he shouted.

It wasn't the feared Centurions or Earth Force GroPos who hustled into the room, dragging a wounded officer. Instead it was the small contingent of Colonial Marines escorting the Earth Force doctor, most of whom peeled off to reinforce Helo and Capria guarding the entryway.

"Put her against the wall," the young Earth Force doctor with the Marines ordered. "Talk to her. Try to reassure her." Starbuck recognized him immediately as Doctor Franklin, and wondered what the frak Earth Force's Chief Medical Officer was doing in the middle of this mess. Then she did a double take as she realized who the wounded officer was. Major Kendra Shaw, Lee's XO. Starbuck felt a twinge of guilt. There was little love lost between the two of them, but the last thing she recalled saying to the woman was 'frak off and die,' and under the circumstances she'd rather not have that on her conscience.

"Baby," the Marine was saying, "you're gonna be fine. A lady as fine as you couldn't not be fine."

"Tucker," Shaw croaked, "shut the frak up."

"Hey, I'm just followin' orders."

"Doctor Franklin isn't in your chain of command, I am," Kendra said through gritted and bloody teeth, barely above a whisper.

"Be quiet and try to save your strength," Franklin said gently, "and that is an order."

Starbuck stood, watching the man work, as Russki staggered up to them. Kara sent her a questioning glance, to which she responded, "They stopped trying to open the front door. I'm guessing we'll have company at the other any second now." Despite the hatch no longer being attacked, the sounds of combat coming from the other side had increased dramatically. A loud explosion seemed to shake the entire vessel.

"Glad the Marines showed up then. Sarge," she called out to the noncom with the large sniper rifle, clearly in command of the Marines now that Major Shaw was incapacitated. "How long until the Earth Force grunts get here?"

The Sergeant looked over and said, "Don't expect them anytime soon. It was their job to take out the Centurions and work on seizing the ship. We were tasked with finding and extracting you. But that plan's blown to hell."

"Can you salvage it, Sergeant?" Franklin asked from where he knelt over Shaw. He was injecting something into her neck, while placing pressure on a large bandage on her torso. The bandage was already crimson, soaked through. "The Major's wound is worse than I thought. I've already used all the rapid clotter I dare, but there's just too much damage. If we don't get her to proper facilities soon, she's going to bleed out."

"We also have to get the President and the Cylon Council out of here," Starbuck cut in. "They cannot fall back into enemy hands."

Almost as if in answer to their requests, Helo and the Marines guarding the rear entrance opened up on approaching Centurions, then pulled back under cover as return fire began caroming off the walls. The Sergeant jerked his head in that direction. "I think they'll have something to say about that. We're liable to be cut off for a good while. The moment the balloon went up we had every Raptor that was flight worthy ferrying over Marine squads, with more GroPos inbound as well. Should have been a walk in the park. But reports are that a few dozen Heavy Raiders just jumped in and crash landed, and they were packed to the brim with Centurions. Full sized ones. I heard a report that a One was spotted," he added, stroking his rifle unconsciously. The Marine glanced over at where D'Anna was being tied up nearby...apparently with belts that had been holding up the pants of Roslin's security detail. "Seems our little Three wasn't working alone."

"That would explain how she got control of the Centurions," Caprica noted, having stepped back from guarding the corridor now that the Marines had joined them. She still gripped the revolver tightly. "Sister, how could you be so stupid? Allying with One?"

"You call me stupid?" D'Anna sneered. "You've put your lives in the humans' hands. They'll be the death of you all. And in case you forgot, you destroyed resurrection."

"If she doesn't shut up, then gag her," Roslin ordered, joining the group. "Marine, can you at least report in our position?"

"Already have," he replied. "But the fighting is intense. They say to hunker down. It's going to be a while. They have to secure control of the engines and Hybrid first. Make certain Cavil can't jump us out of here."

At that news, Franklin sighed and began rooting through his bag. "Then at least I can make her comfortable," he muttered to himself in resignation.

It wasn't low enough to avoid Starbuck's notice. "Wait, what does that mean?"

Doctor Franklin reached out and stroked the fading Major's forehead. "It means she's going to die. But we can take away some of the pain."

"Doc, there's got to be something you can do. Anything. Please!" Kara wasn't quite certain why this mattered so much to her, but it clearly did.

Franklin looked around at their faces, then seemed to come to a decision. "Alright, help me pull her back farther into the room. Someplace with a little cover and a little seclusion if possible." He looked up at Private Tucker. "Give us a hand, Marine."

Franklin led them to gently lift and move Major Shaw, now lapsed into unconsciousness, across the room. Finding a spot behind what may have been a conference table or workbench, where they had at least a modicum of privacy, Franklin had them set her down, then turned to begin rummaging in the large backpack he had been wearing. Removing a bizarre looking device, he set it down and then made eye contact with the three of them. "I'm going to need a couple of volunteers for this. But I have to warn you...the chances aren't small that we end up with three corpses rather than saving Major Shaw. She's taken too much damage. Lost too much blood. So before you volunteer...you need to think very seriously about this."

"I'm a lover, not a thinker," Tucker responded immediately.

"Shut up, Tucker," Starbuck snapped. "I'm in."

Susan felt a wave of...responsibility? Feeling responsible for your Commanding Officer was exactly the opposite of how things were supposed to go, but she couldn't deny the feeling. Which made her course clear. "Me too," she said with a sigh.

"Sweet. Guess this means I get to watch some girl on girl," Tucker quipped.

"Marine," Franklin snapped, "go guard the door."

"Awww…" But Tucker trotted off without further comment.

Once the Marine had left, Franklin turned back to Kara and Susan. "Are you certain? I am completely serious. This is dangerous in the extreme. No guarantees."

"Just do it," Starbuck snapped.

After a brief pause, and then a moment checking to ensure Shaw was still alive, Stephen instructed the two of them to lay down on either side of the injured officer and bare their midriffs. Despite an odd look from Thrace, neither one objected, and were quickly in place. Franklin then began quickly hooking all three of them up to the odd device. He removed Shaw's gun belt, setting it aside, and adjusting her clothes to more fully display her wound. Seeing it up close, Susan couldn't fathom how the woman was still alive.

Franklin began speaking, perhaps to set them at ease, but seemingly more to himself. "I wouldn't even consider trying this if Eilerson hadn't figured out how to modify it to draw from two donors at once. The idea was to lessen impact and fatigue for the donors, not allow something this dangerous." He seemed to finish up with the connections, and finally addressed them squarely. "There. Are you ready?"

Starbuck was getting a bit nervous...or at least irritable. She snapped, "Ready for what? Doc, we don't know what the frak…"

Franklin apparently took that for agreement, because he initiated the transfer. Kara's words halted immediately. She felt an instant drain on her energy, falling almost immediately into a deep exhaustion. That was followed by a searing pain welling up in her gut. Agonizing. Next to her, she heard Russki grunt gutturally. Starbuck couldn't even do that. She felt the life and energy flowing out of her. And the machine wasn't done. It pulled more and more, digging deeper and deeper, looking for more life and energy.

It found it.

Deep below Kara's conscious mind something hid. Something powerful and ancient and no longer entirely sane. Perhaps not even mostly. And yet possessing a deep well of benevolence and compassion. Coupled with not insignificant amounts of fear and rage. The device, drawing more and more energy in an attempt to repair Kendra's terrible wound, latched onto that life energy and pulled.

The thing...the being...hadn't been aware of what was about to happen. It had no time to raise defenses. An entity of nothing but life energy, it was the perfect fuel. Before it could so much as react, the machine tore the being in half.

A massive well of energy raced through the machine, pouring into Shaw. Threatening to burn her from existence. And the machine. And Franklin, Kara, and Susan to boot. Perhaps even a fair number of the others within the room.

Dying but not yet dead. Or rather, already dead but not yet faded from existence, the being reached out with compassion and what little time it had left to find a way to spare the humans. That was its nature. Not quite sane enough to understand what the machine was, it first looked for answers in a well worn stomping ground...the mind of Kara Thrace. Thrashing in excruciating pain, Kara's subconscious did its best to interpret the intrusion. Images flashed through her mind. Scenes of her childhood and her mother. She heard the playing of a piano, a tune she couldn't quite recall, and felt the barely remembered presence of her father.

Finding no answers within Kara, the being tried to reach out to Franklin, but found it was bound to the machine, only able to access those attached to it. Its energy was being fed into a savagely wounded female...an effort the being would find laudable, were it not dying for the cause. The female was unconscious, with no knowledge or memory of the machine. No answers would be found there.

And so the being reached out to its final option, and dove into the mind of Susan Ivanova. It was shocked into immobility by what it found. The woman was quite human...and yet more. The body and mind had been altered. A telepath, a telekinetic, and yet clearly improved by some outside force. A mind wrapped around a great well of energy.

There was no answer here to what the machine was or why it was. No method to save the being's own unlife. But there was...a solution. A formula, an equation, a cantrip...a way to bend the deadly energy of its own being and harness it safely...mostly...so that these women would be spared.

As the very final act of an unbearably long existence, the being twisted its own life energy, currently raging through the machine, and wove it upon the template of Susan Ivanova...then laid that template upon the beings of Kara Thrace and Kendra Shaw. Pouring the last of itself into them. And then, finally, at long last, it rested, fading from existence.

Nearby, two others took very careful note of exactly what had just happened.

Simultaneously, Kara Thrace, Susan Ivanova, and Kendra Shaw bolted upright, screaming. They drew notice from all across the room, but there had been plenty of screaming already, and the ongoing firefight and the resumed banging on the front door quickly regained most everyone's attention.

Everyone except for a very startled Franklin. "Whoa!" he shouted. "Take it easy. Lie back. What happened? Never had that result before." He pushed each of them back to the floor, then quickly began inspecting each of their midriffs. "I don't believe it. Not a scratch. How the frag is that possible?"

Ohhh, what the frak hit me? Kara thought.

Would you quit shouting? Kendra replied.

I'm not shouting. I'm not even...talking?

Déjà vu, Russki cut in. Both of you, take it easy.

Kara glared at her. "That was you?" she hissed in a controlled whisper. "What happened to respecting people's mental boundaries?"

"What's going on?" Stephen wanted to know.

"Take a walk, Doc," Susan said flatly. "Girl stuff."

"I'm a Doctor, Lieutenant." Susan glared at him so brazenly that the poor man blushed, and stood up. "I'll be back in a moment to check on the patient," he said firmly, then gathered up his machine and walked away.

Susan turned back to Kara. "Look, I wasn't invading your mind. You were the one who was broadcasting." She turned to look at Major Shaw. "You both were."

"What the frak does that even mean?" Kendra snapped. She seemed to take greater note of the ongoing firefight at one end of the large room. "And where's my gun?" She took note of where Franklin had laid the weapon off to one side, and began to get up to retrieve it. Instead, the weapon seemed to lift itself off of the floor, and began floating toward her, much to the Major's shock.

Susan ripped the weapon out of the air. "Don't do that," she snapped, handing the gun back to Shaw. "At least not yet." She looked back and forth between Kara and Kendra. Captain and Major. "We're going to need to discuss this with the Admiral and Commodore. Until then...no showing off. This needs to stay a secret."

"What the frak are you talking about?" Kendra asked in confusion. "What's going on?"

"I wouldn't mind knowing either," Kara offered.

"I don't know exactly what happened. It must have been the Doctor's machine. Maybe I shouldn't have volunteered to be...what did he call it? A donor? This might not be happening if it had been Tucker instead. On the other hand… I hate to think what you might have gotten from Tucker."

"Speak plain Caprican. You're not making any sense."

"Look, the machine changed you. Changed you both. You're...like me now. Telepathic. Telekinetic."

"I don't believe in that crap." Kendra snarled. "Quit frakking with me."

Kara took a deep breath. "Believe it. I've seen her in action. It's as real as a Pythian Prophecy. Oh, we are so frakked."

"Surely the Old Man will understand?" Susan asked. "Sheridan did."

"I'm not worried about Adama. It's Roslin who scares me." She glanced over to where the President was standing, keeping an eye on the ongoing battle. Several of the Marines were down, and Franklin was tending to their injuries. His miracle machine seemed to have disappeared, likely back into his pack.

After that they lapsed into silence.

.

"Friendlies coming in," Athena shouted, before triggering the front door to open. The Cylon push against the rear entrance to the large room had intensified, only to suddenly falter and die moments earlier. Likely the battle for the Basestar was finally winding down.

The moment the door opened, a mixed group of Earth Force GroPos and Colonial Marines rushed into the room. They were followed closely by Apollo, Colonel Garibaldi, Colonel Tigh, and Chief Tyrol. Tigh and Tyrol looked uncertain as to whether they should be barking orders or waiting for someone to 'cuff them.

Seeing D'Anna, Apollo barked, "Arrest these Cylons!" Colonial Marines surged forward, beginning to round up the Cylons.

Aaron Doral was the first to speak up. "What are you doing? We weren't with her! We were hostages here too."

Garibaldi seemed on the verge of saying something, but Roslin quickly spoke up. "That won't be necessary, Commander. These Cylons have placed themselves under my authority." Upon hearing this, Garibaldi nodded, then took a contingent of GroPos to ensure the security of the rear entrance.

Apollo took the opportunity to step in closer to the President, speaking quietly with her. "I'm surprised to see you speaking up for the Cylons."

"You weren't watching Garibaldi. Sheridan keeps trying to take possession of the Cylons, and the Colonel was about to make another damned offer to take them off our hands. The Cylons can't be trusted, Commander. But if they're going to be with us anyway, we'll damned well do a much better job keeping an eye on them than Earth Force will." Her eyes fell on D'Anna, where nearby a pair of Marines were replacing her improvised restraints with proper shackles. "This viper though, we are sure as hells not clutching to our chest. We're putting her out the closest airlock."

Caprica, hearing the pronouncement, stepped forward. "No, you can't."

"I most certainly can."

"Madame President," Apollo began, but he was cut off by Garibaldi coming back.

"Like hell! That woman is the one prisoner we have who knows what's going on. She's the key to winning this fight with as few casualties as possible. We need to get her back to the Galactica as soon as possible for immediate interrogation."

"She won't tell you anything!" Roslin snapped in irritation.

"I wasn't planning on asking her any questions," Garibaldi rejoindered. "Nor giving her any options for withholding information," he added darkly. "I was given command of this operation, and it's an Earth Force op. The Three's my prisoner and she will be heading back to the Galactica immediately.

Lee cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That was indeed part of the agreement in getting Earth Force help for this rescue, Madame President."

Laura threw up her hands in irritation. "Fine. Then let's get the hells out of here."

.

With combat still ongoing throughout the ship, they decided to spread the hostages and VIPs out as they made their retreat, clumping them into knots, each surrounded by a force of GroPos and Marines. Susan had been hoping to take the opportunity to speak with Colonel Garibaldi, but he was grouped up with Roslin, Colonel Tigh, and Apollo...and D'Anna. She had zero intention of trying to insinuate herself into that group. Besides, with Major Shaw and Starbuck and herself, not to mention Doctor Franklin, who was still checking on the Major, the group would be too large.

Part of the Cylon Council went next, surrounded mostly by GroPos. They were followed by another large group of hostages. And then most of the rest of the Council.

A GroPos called for Franklin, and Susan, Kendra, and Kara joined him. They were double timed out the hatch and into the corridor. Looking back, Susan saw that the next group back contained Chief Tyrol, Boomer, Caprica and Baltar. Their guardians were professional, but clearly found this particular duty somewhat distasteful. Feeling guilty for being glad not to be in that party, Susan looked forward, craning her head to get a better view as they moved quickly down the long corridor. At the very front she could just make out Garibaldi's party, just exiting the corridor and into the main hangar. Raptors were waiting to whisk them all to safety. A feeling of relief washed over Susan.

Just as the corridor walls right ahead of her exploded. A wall of flame and shrapnel eviscerated the fireteam just in front of Susan. There wasn't even time for her mind to register what was happening, much less react. She was already in the air, picked up by the wave of force, and slammed into the opposite bulkhead. As she slid limply down the wall, blackness closed in around her vision. Her final vision was of the severed head of a GroPos soldier, the young woman probably the same age as Susan herself. And just beyond her shocked looking face, the metallic leg of a Centurion stepping out into the corridor. To a horrible, unending ringing in her ears, Susan saw no more.

.

Her next vision, blurry and unstable, was more than a little confusing. There were Marines and GroPos and Centurions everywhere, firing left and right. Everything was slipping oddly downwards, and the people...seemed to be running along one of the walls. Was something wrong with the gravity? But no, that wasn't it. She was hearing the chatter and whine of weapons fire in all directions, interspersed with the screams of the dying. But it all seemed to be rather muted and far away.

Doing her best to beat her own thoughts into shape, Susan realized that she was lying on the floor. Pain suffused every fiber of her being. Baltar and Caprica were dragging her down a corridor...not the one they had been in before. Doctor Franklin had Major Shaw thrown over one shoulder, and was doing his best to limp along with the group. Chief Tyrol was firing a carbine back down the corridor at a knot of Centurions coming after them. He also was dragging Starbuck along, one of her ravaged legs leaving a nasty blood trail behind her. Somehow, the Captain had gotten her hands on an Auricon heavy assault PPG, and was firing it wildly back down the corridor. She didn't seem to understand how to aim it, and was doing little good.

Glancing back, Susan saw one of their last GroPos guardians torn nearly in half by the bladed talons of a more than two meter tall Centurion. She decided muzzily that it was time that she do something about this mess, and stretched her telekinetic muscles. Then immediately fell back into unconsciousness. At least it was pain free.

.

Swimming once more up out of the depths of oblivion, Susan embraced the returning pain, and once more opened her eyes. Unsurprisingly, she was laying on the floor. A muted banging was echoing from somewhere nearby. Weaving its way around and through that rhythmic pounding came a soft and lilting voice.

"A closed system lacks the ability to renew itself. Knowledge alone is a poor primer. End of line. Begin reintegration of right hemisphere subcommand routines ...patterns... the universe...sea... begin reintegration of command subroutines. There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza, there's a hole in the bucket. And the long view returns patterns and repetitions... all has happened before and all will happen again. End of line. The neuroanatomy of fear and faith share common afferent pathways. Flip a coin. Increased vascular pressure marks the threat response. Free will scuttles in the swamp of fear, do not fear the word. You are the harbinger of death and of life Kara Thrace, you will lead them all to their end. End of line. New command. Resume function. Resume function. Resume function...

"You said that before," Starbuck groused from somewhere nearby. "Quit saying my name!" she barked.

"Frak!" Tyrol remarked from elsewhere. "Doesn't that damned thing ever shut the frak up?"

"Occasionally," Boomer replied.

Susan lifted her head and looked around. They were, obviously, in the Hybrid room. Tyrol and Boomer were armed, guarding a massive metallic door blocking the sole entrance. This was the source of the banging. Looking at it, Susan also saw some points at the edges of the portal which were beginning to glow slightly, increasing slowly but steadily in brightness. Whoever was on the other side, and little room for doubt there, wanted in very badly. They were simultaneously trying to beat and cut their way through.

Managing to roll her head over in another direction, Susan saw Starbuck and Shaw...some called her Razor, but Susan didn't think that was a callsign…sitting on the floor, leaning up against the far wall. Franklin...Susan could never remember to think of him as a Lieutenant Commander...or had he been promoted?...was hovering over them and tending to their wounds. The floor of the room was strewn with shattered Centurions and dead Cylons and humans. Clearly a battle had raged within the room not long ago.

"Spins and turns, angles and curves. The shape of dreams, half remembered. Slip the surly bonds of earth and touch the face of perfection - a perfect face, perfect lace. Find the perfect world for the end of Kara Thrace. End of line."

"You frakkin' bitch," Kara snarled, heaving herself up onto her one good leg, despite Franklin's immediate protest. "I'm gonna frakkin'..." She froze, the color draining from her face.

Feeling a sense of foreboding, Susan tensed her neck muscles and managed to lift her head, following Starbuck's gaze. Seeing what was there, she immediately let her head fall back to the floor, wishing she could forget what she had seen. All the dizziness and confusion fled, her thoughts suddenly crystal clear. "What the hells is going on?" she heard Shaw ask softly, and knew that the other woman had now seen it too. What Starbuck had seen. What she herself had seen.

Baltar and Caprica, standing side by side at one side of the Hybrid's pool. And standing on the opposite side, facing them...were Baltar and Caprica. Two couples faced off across that small pool. The image was burned into Russki's brain. Two couples. On the one hand, entirely identical. On the other, they couldn't have been less alike. One pair, frightened and confused, dirty and dishevelled. Looking at each other more than their doppelgangers, as if to ask 'are you frakkin' seeing this too?' The other pair, haughty and pristine and completely unconcerned.

Susan squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. There just was not enough damned aspirin left in the universe to deal with this shit.