The Final Circle

by Sufficient Velocity

This is a Babylon 5 centered tale. It explores a BSG style exodus due to the loss of the Earth Minbari war. It becomes a crossover with nBSG as of Interlude 1, and crosses with Firefly as of Interlude 2. Most B5 and BSG canon should remain unchanged, including EU. However, Firefly will mostly use series and film canon. Its EU began to expand after I had already merged the plots.

45. Chapter 42 - Since I Found Serenity

Chapter 42 - Since I Found Serenity

Serenity, Deep Space, Approaching Cortex Relay Station Eight - July, 2250
Captain Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace field stripped yet another firearm, setting the parts on the table before her. She carefully cleaned and examined each piece, before reassembling the weapon and setting it farther down the table. She then started on the next weapon, handed to her by Major Kendra 'Razor' Shaw, who sat across the table from her, sharing in the workload. The pile of disparate weaponry…both those already serviced and those still waiting their turn…was mildly impressive. "I didn't realize you all were quite so paranoid," she noted to Inara, who stood nearby holding her odd powerbow, dainty laser pistol strapped to her hip. "The pile of weaponry I found hidden in Jayne's room alone could outfit a medium sized strike force. I'll give him one thing…he keeps his weapons in pristine condition. But I'd have thought he would have wanted to keep some of this firepower with him."

"Well…" Kaylee cut in somewhat abashedly from where she was leaning against a nearby bulkhead, "it's possible that I neglected to mention that we were borrowing the ship."

"Kaylee," Inara rebuked mildly…an intention completely undermined by the mischievous grin hovering at the corners of her lips and eyes.

"Well," the mechanic justified, "he'd'a just started complainin'. Or objectin'. Who's got time for that?"

"I suppose that explains why all of his clothes were still there," Starbuck noted. "That boy needs to put more effort into his laundry."

"Hygiene in general is not Jayne's strong suit," Inara smirked.

"I may have noticed."

"Less chatting, more cleaning," Kendra chided. "I'd like to get started with the actual shooting."

The room fell more or less silent as the two professionals focused on their work, occasionally explaining a step to their watching audience. Starbuck had set up the table at one end of Serenity's main cargo bay, while Deputy Tessa Halloran had laid out a series of tin cans, rummaged out of the scrap dumpster, atop a board laid across and in front of a row of wooden shipping crates against the far bulkhead. The crates were largely filled with gravel from a prior job, and made for a perfect backstop.

The room was filled with nearly every lady aboard, save only for Lieutenant Susan Ivanova, currently piloting up on the bridge. None of the male occupants of the vessel were present. A pointed comment from Starbuck about sausages made it quite clear that they were not welcome for this particular event. The ladies milled about, chatting in small groups. Some seemed curious as to why they had been called together. Others seemed content to simply enjoy the companionship and chance to converse.

Finally, however, Caprica seemed to lose patience, striding up to the table at which Starbuck and Razor sat. "Why exactly are we here?" she demanded.

Kara looked up from greasing one of the last firearms still needing to be serviced. "You're here because we're headed for a secret Alliance installation. So secret that details on its security were all but absent, even in the Parliament's most secure data vault. We know that there's an Alliance military base on-world, presumably separate from our target, but even that's uncertain. From what River and Simon tell us, the security protecting the previous home of this program was incredibly tight. It's safe to assume that's only improved, given they've moved it to such a remote rock. So, we're likely walking into one hell of a fight. And we," she waved her hand to indicate Kendra, Tessa, Boomer, and herself, "need to know what we're working with."

Kendra took over the explanation, setting down the last of the guns she had been working on. "Russki isn't here because she's a known quantity. Many of the rest of you have military or other relevant training from one source or another. Enhanced physiology. Your own personal experiences with danger. Things that may make you relevant in a fight. Or maybe you don't. We need to know. Need to know your strengths and weaknesses, so those weaknesses don't bite us all in the ass. So we're gonna start with some simple weapons familiarization and target practice." She stood up and met Inara's gaze. "Why don't you go first? Looks like you brought your own weapons, but feel free to use any of these as well." She waved towards a line of tape which had been spread across the floor, opposite from the tin cans. "Step up to the firing line."

"A skills test," Inara noted drolly. "How quaint." Without bothering to move from her current position, she drew and aimed her laser pistol in one smoothly fluid motion and fired it without hesitation. A beam of energy lit up the room, and the center of the largest can more or less vaporized, sending a cloud of acrid metallic vapor mushrooming up towards the nearest vent.

"The scrubbers!" Kaylee protested. "That's gonna take weeks off their life!"

Inara had the good grace to appear embarrassed. "Sorry," she offered, holstering the laser pistol and now walking towards the designated firing line. She limbered up her powerbow. This time she picked a smaller can, pulling back and locking the bowstring into place, and taking a moment to aim. She released, and her target was ripped from the floor, pinned by the arrow to the wooden crate behind it. She turned to look over at Kara and Kendra. "Good enough?"

"How fast can you shoot that thing?" Starbuck asked.

Sighing, Inara turned back around and fired off five arrows as rapidly as she could with what she considered reasonable aim. The process took about seven or eight seconds, and she missed only once. Although she had been targeting the larger cans, this time around.

"Not bad," Razor admitted. "It'll do, anyway. Go collect your arrows. Who's next?"

"Let's get this over with," Kaylee sighed. She walked over and chose a small revolver, seemingly at random, from the pile in front of Starbuck. Gathering the correct ammunition from the multiple varieties in an assortment of small boxes spread across the front of the table, she loaded the gun and took her place on the firing line. Kaylee sucked in a deep breath, took careful aim down her right arm at a can formerly filled with a popular brand of stew, and fired. The round sailed high and to the left, smacking into the crates behind. She overcorrected on the next attempt, ricocheting her shot off of the metal floor plates. Switching to a two handed grip, she finally grazed the can just enough to tip it over. She managed to wiggle the can a bit with her next shot, but her final two struck nothing but the backstop. Embarrassed, Kaylee lowered the weapon and walked back to the table to reload it.

"That's alright," Kendra reassured. "It's a starting point. We'll make you better."

"No power in the 'Verse can stop you, Kaylee," River offered supportively.

"Ambitious," Starbuck noted. "Why don't you go next?" She grabbed up a large yet slim automatic pistol and ratcheted a round into the chamber before sliding the weapon across the table to River. Tessa had referred to it as a 'nineteen-eleven' and had noted that, while just as well used and maintained as the rest of Jayne's guns, this was one of the very few not possessing a gravitic kicker.

Apparently disinterested, River absentmindedly picked up the weapon and immediately swung it down past her knee, continuing the arc until the gun was pointed vaguely behind her, held awkwardly in her now upside-down hand. Kara opened her mouth to bark out a reprimand for the multiple safety violations she was witnessing, but before she could utter a peep, River opened fire. The girl emptied the seven-round magazine in less than half as many seconds. Seven separate and widely spaced cans of comestibles leapt, spinning and tumbling from their positions on the floor; each neatly holed precisely through the center. River brought the now empty weapon back around and set it once again in front of Starbuck.

The hanger had gone deathly silent as everyone stared. "Holy frak!" Starbuck exclaimed, wide eyed.

Inara nodded in stunned agreement. "Cāo wǒ!" she muttered sotto voce.

Kendra's hearing however, despite the recent booming of multiple gunshots, was remarkably sharp. "What's that mean?" she asked the former Companion.

Startled, Inara smiled abashedly. "What? Oh, sorry, nothing."

"It means 'fuck me'," River cut in with ingenuous bluntness.

"River!" Inara chastised immediately. "Mal would take you over his knee if he heard you using such language aboard his ship!"

"But I didn't," River countered. "You did. Cāo wǒ is Chinese for 'fuck me.'

"It's not the same!"

"Hold on," Tessa called out, standing up and walking over from where she had been uprighting tumbled cans. "You people still say 'fuck?"

"Definitely not!" Inara insisted, then amended, "Well, no one with any class anyway. You know…except in Mandarin."

"Why is it better in Mandarin?"

"I don't know…it just is. It's a… more colorful language."

"What's fuck?" Kendra wanted to know, distracted by the digression.

"Language," Inara hissed, blushing.

Nearby, Talia couldn't let that question go unanswered. Grinning mischievously, she offered, "Fuck is an old fashioned swear word that people haven't used in a century or two. It's pretty much the same as frag or frak; a curse or insult. Dual connotations of sex and violence."

"I think frag leans a bit more towards bloody mayhem than frak or fuck," Lyta took up the conversation, a twinkle in her eye.

"Language," Inara muttered again.

"That's true," Talia replied. "But now that you mention it, fuck probably leans more towards the getting laid end of things than frag or frak."

"So would that make frak the most evenly balanced?" River wanted to know.

"River, don't encourage them," Inara chided, more or less giving up.

"Probably," Lyta replied, "though of course everything still depends on context."

Starbuck had had enough. "Well frakity fragity fuck, are you all done? I like fraggin' and fuckin' as much as the next girl, but if you don't quit frakin' around and focus, I'm gonna lose my godsdamned mind."

With varying levels of mirth and embarrassment, they returned to the combination of target practice and shooting lesson. Kara, Kendra, and Talia each gave instruction and advice, depending on the needs of the individual. Finally though, only one person remained yet to shoot. Kara looked over at the final woman, masking any remaining twinges of unease in this room full of telepaths. She'd had Cylons who were friends and companions for quite some time now. Hells, technically she'd had Cylon friends and comrades before she…or those friends…even knew meat Cylons existed. But this particular Cylon was unique, and more than a bit odd even amongst a tribe of talking toasters.

The woman once known as the Hybrid, and who now only occasionally responded to Allison, and frequently didn't answer to anyone at all, sat quietly in a fetal crouch on the bottom stair. She rarely interacted with her fellow Cylons, and even less frequently with humans. The closest thing she had to friends or family was really this odd group of enhanced people clustered all around her, but she didn't truly seem comfortable even with them. The only person Kara had ever seen her really try to open up to was Master Sergeant Iglesia…the man who had turned out to be the Cylon known as Daniel. But even that relationship seemed stilted and awkward more often than not.

Kara stepped up in front of the woman and held out a hefty semi-auto pistol that, similar to Alison, was the only weapon yet to be fired. Dissimilar to any Colonial firearm she was familiar with, it looked blocky and quite heavy, even without the larger than usual gravitic kicker mounted above the barrel, in a housing which caused the whole front of the weapon to seem to flare open. Rather than protecting merely the trigger finger, the guard wrapped around the entire front of the shooter's hand. Despite its odd design, Kara had inspected this weapon herself and knew that the action was smooth and that all of the parts were well maintained and in working order. She expected it to kick like a mule though.

The Cylon didn't seem to notice her for several long seconds, before finally turning her head and focusing in on the proffered weapon. She seemed hesitant to take it, but after another long moment she reached out and grasped the barrel, then took a proper grip with her other hand. Standing up, she looked at the weapon uncertainly, then looked around at all of the remaining cans.

"It's ok," Kara reassured her. "Just focus on one target. One shot at a time. You'll be fine."

"One target," Allison repeated. Cocking her head, she stepped forward to ensure no one was in her firing line and took aim. The gun roared and bucked, and the farthest can leaped skyward, tumbling and spinning. At the top of its arc, she fired again, and the perforated can leaped higher and to the right. Long before it could hit the floor, a third round tossed it back to the left. Round after round snapped out, faster and faster, until the last several were fired two and three per second. And with each one the targeted tin can sparked and jerked onto an alternate trajectory, becoming more and more misshapen. A moment after the former Hybrid's slide locked back it was a smoking, hole-riddled hunk of scrap, just barely maintaining its cohesion as a single piece, which finally clattered to the ground.

"Woah! Nice shootin' Tex!" Lyta exclaimed at the same moment Kendra blurted out a "Holy Felgercarb!" and Inara once more exclaimed, "Cāo wǒ!" Everyone else sat in stunned silence.

But it was to Lyta that Allison turned questioning eyes. "Tex? I am…Tex?"

"No, sorry," the young redhead hastened to reassure her with a blush. "Sorry, that's just an old expression. I was just impressed by your shooting skill. I meant it as a funny compliment. But I know you're Allison."

The named Cylon stared at Lyta more intently than anyone present had ever seen her focus on anything. After a long moment she finally said, "I don't really know who that is. Who I am supposed to be. I remember being Allison…and being the Hybrid. But I don't feel like either anymore. Allison is who Daniel wants me to be. But I don't know that I can ever go back to her. Not fully. Can I…Is it possible for me to be Tex?"

"You want us to call you Tex?" Lyta asked in surprise. "That's not really a girl's…"

"Of course we'll call you Tex, if that's what you want," Susan said, from the top of the stairs. "You're allowed to be whomever you want. Especially after what you've been through. We're all here to support you."

"Aren't you supposed to be flying the ship?" Kara asked Russki, taking the empty pistol from Tex and trying to put the confusing interplay out of her mind.

"I thought you'd want to know, we just entered the ion cloud for Cortex Relay Station Eight. No satellites or ships on the outside to witness our approach, but I am detecting heavy traffic from under the cloud. We're going to dip down to the inner edge to take a careful peek."

Nothing more needed saying, so Susan headed back to the bridge. River and Inara, as well as those with more military experience…namely Kara, Kendra, Boomer, and Caprica…all followed her up to what would be a rather crowded command deck. Shrugging, Tessa began cleaning and reloading the used weapon, as they might soon be needed. She continued instructing on this process for those who remained, hoping that many hands would make quick work.

Up on the bridge, Russki allowed River to take the pilot's seat, while Kendra dropped into the captain's chair. Other than those two, most everyone else remained standing, either manning the various sensors or merely looking out the window. At first, there wasn't much to see, save an unending expanse of impermeable cloud, shimmering with contained electromagnetic radiance. But as River slowly took them lower, the haze gradually began to thin. They stopped at an altitude where, it was hoped, their sensors could get a good view, but anyone looking up from the surface would see only an unbroken expanse of ion cloud.

"Standard 1g," Susan marveled, "on a world slightly smaller than Titan!"

"Where?" Caprica asked.

"Sorry, that's a largish moon in the Sol system…our Earth's home system."

Ignoring them, Kendra busily scanned the data feeds. "I'm reading about eighty percent oceanic coverage. Looks like all radio activity is concentrated within the western hemisphere. Seems we've got an active military base on the near coast of that northern continental mass. What appears to be a minor civilian settlement in close proximity. We've got at least three short range fighters running a CAP. That's about it for any notable activity."

"The Alliance records indicated the facility they moved the enhancement program to is located on the large mountainous island in the eastern hemisphere," River advised.

Kendra checked that sensor feed again. "That area appears dark. No signs of activity, communications, or any kind of power signal."

"It could be a trap," Kara warned.

"Only one way to find out," River noted, carefully remaining within the ion cloud while they orbited over to the eastern hemisphere, so that they might make their descent into the unknown, fully out of sight of the western population.

---

Miranda City, Miranda, Orbiting Burnham, Blue Sun System - July, 2250
Eyes twitching, fingers drumming on his desk, Marshall Malcolm Reynolds shifted uncomfortably in his chair and did his best to remain focused on the man speaking. Looking a great deal like a walrus in a funny hat, that man was one of the few new representatives here who wasn't from an Alliance world attempting to switch sides. Instead, and as a great shock to Mal, he represented a small but growing settlement attempting to re-inhabit the planet Shadow and reterraform it back to full habitability. The planet of Mal's birth. The planet turned into a blackrock ghost by a genocidal Alliance bombing campaign.

The odd man had played every bit upon that connection as a means to ingratiate himself to and win influence upon Mal. But he certainly needed Mal far more than the other way around. Mal's coalition was growing, even despite, or perhaps because of, the flood of Alliance worlds jumping ship and signing up with what was starting to look like the inevitably winning side. If that side could just stop arguing and finally figure out exactly what the hell it was. Despite Mal's steadily rising concerns, that fool and flim-flam artist Edgars had managed to get every single one of those worlds officially seated in the Convention, which was busily working to draft an official Constitution. Of course, nearly everyone had different, conflicting ideas on how that was supposed to go. Mal, on the other hand, had to expend significant political capital just to get the man across from him seated and recognized.

That flood of former Alliance delegates was the current topic of concern upon which Freeman Haime Jinnyman, the honorable Gentleman from Shadow was expounding…for the sixth or seventh time. His arguments and assertions were becoming quite circular and repetitive. "We have to do something about all these worlds that don't belong with us! They're Alliance. I tell you; they're all infiltrators and moles! We're inviting serpents into our bed!"

"Wait…are they serpents or moles? Don't the one eat the other?" Mal snarked irritably. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat again, attempting vainly to take pressure off of his bladder.

"Evil men take any form!" Jinnyman insisted. "And anyone from the Alliance is vile!"

Scratching irritably, Mal asked, "I thought half your settlers were from Core Worlds?"

"And they have the good sense not to seek positions of power! They have a subconscious understanding of their inherent iniquity!"

"Inherent iniquity? Is that separate from the original sin the Good Book says we all got to bear?"

"I believe you are mistaken, Sir. Our original sins were forgiven. Except for those Alliance slimes! No, it's crosses we all must bear! Crosses like the Alliance!"

Squinting at the man's odd logic, Mal attempted to clarify. "So then…we're supposed to accept the Alliance? As a burden to be borne?"

"What? No! Our cross is…is…is putting an end to the threat the Alliance poses to ourselves and our way of life!"

Doing his best not to roll his eyes, largely because it felt as though they were floating, Mal tried again to excuse himself. "Yes, very good. Now that we have that settled, perhaps we oughta take a short break. Seems passions are a bit high, and we could all use a quick…"

"But nothing has been settled, Marshall Reynolds! We need to determine how to rid ourselves of this Alliance yoke once and for all. And we need to ensure that all of the members of our faction are true and loyal sons of the cause!" he added, looking around suspiciously at the other representatives around him. Mal's eye twitched at the incongruity, given Haime himself had selected and dragged all of those men to this meeting, specifically because they shared his viewpoint. And yet, each of those men now looked around at each other with some suspicion.

Isolationists, loners and independents. Mal knew better than to trust them, because he knew better than to trust himself. They might have some small loyalty and respect for him, but their greatest loyalty was to themselves and the independence of their worlds. Many of those worlds might not even have sent representatives, if not for the worry that lack of such representation might lead to the very subjugation about which they worried the most. And so they had coalesced around Mal, not just because he shared many of their concerns and viewpoints, but because he had the biggest name, the largest circle of influence, and the most power out of anyone who came close to their perspective. Hell, Mal would probably have simply buried his own disagreements and handed the reins over to one of them, if not for his awareness that Roberts would have been wearing that sacrificial lamb's guts for garters within a day. He glanced over at the harridan leaning against the wall behind him and to his right, in her pristine General's uniform, wearing her Cheshire grin. And when the hell had she started grinning all the time? His other concern was the fact that he was simply too world wise and practical to really believe the 'Verse could work that way…no matter how much he wanted it to. He just couldn't see separate and independent worlds in the 'Verse surviving. Not without the Alliance or something very much like it eventually arising to quash them all.

So he tried again. "Look, I hear you. I agree. But we've got to play this thing smart. The other half of my faction believe that we can find some way to live with the former Alliance worlds, and a large part of why they're with us is because they believe I can make that happen."

"Traitors! Whore lovin' traitors I say!" Jinnyman barked, echoes by numerous of his compatriots.

"Those men are loyal to their people and to me!" Mal snapped. "They're riskin' their lives and fortunes bein' here, just like every one o' you! You wanna keep dry under my umbrella, you'll keep a civil tongue in your mouth, savvy?" He sighed, crossing his legs for the sixth or seventh time. "Now, seein' as how tempers are running a bit high, I think it's high time we took…"

The office door burst open, the young Major who served as aide to General Roberts stumbling into the room, panting rapidly to regain her breath and yet still able to snap to attention and fire off a smart salute. "Marshall! General! Apologies but…"

"This was a closed-door meeting, Major," Leanne snarled. "You'd better have a damned good reason for interrupting, or your ass is mine!"

The young major, quite attractive despite her shaven head and crooked teeth, merely nodded confidently. Though Mal did note a sheen of sweat which suddenly broke out upon her shiny pate. "Ma'am, we tracked a new courier ship landing less than an hour ago, bearing a diplomatic transponder code, but no point of origin. We were still running down registration codes when we got word that Representative Wing of Persephone, in the company of William Edgars, submitted a motion to seat two new delegations ... from Londinium and Sihnon."

The major couldn't have caused more of an uproar if she had thrown a live grenade into the room. Every one of the Honorable Representatives was talking, with nary a one listening. They all seemed to see this as the worst possible development, their nightmares made real. To be fair, Mal thought consideringly, they're probably not wrong.

"That traitor!" Jinnyman shouted, without specifying exactly whom he meant. "This was his plan all along. They will swamp us, enslave us politically! I knew we couldn't trust the kind of back alley dealing that comes with these…politicians!" Mal heard the curse in the last word, despite the fact that every single person in the room, save only the Major and Zoë standing in her own new uniform against the wall just behind Mal and to his left, could firmly be classified as a politician. Both Mal and Jinnyman included.

But that was far from the worst of the outbursts Mal heard from half-panicked representatives. One urged them all to gather and break off into their own separate Convention…form their own separate nation. Mal might have favored this idea, if he didn't know in his soul that any nation based on men who regarded pure independence and…separation with such near fanaticism could never stand. He also knew that his other supporters…those more amenable to conciliation and consolidation, those who had placed their faith and futures in his hands…would never agree to such an idea. At least not yet. Not under current circumstances.

Another representative boldly spouted the idea of assassinating the Londinium and Sihnon delegations, as if that had any chance of succeeding. The only person Mal would ever trust with such an operation was himself. He understood that he simply had no chance of pulling it off, even if he'd had his whole team present and willing. Instead of half of them off on a mission of their own, and each more than willing to tell him what an idiot he was being regardless. And they'd be right. There was no chance. Not with Earth Force, Colonial, and Cylon securities overlapping. Mal was fairly certain…no, he was entirely certain…that the security on Miranda made that on Londinium pale in comparison. Hell, the only man he thought even might be able to pull off such an endeavor hadn't been seen in quite a while. And Mal didn't trust the Operative as far as he could throw him.

"Stop thinking about murdering planetary delegations," Zoë's voice whispered in his ear. He thought about reminding her that he was the Marshall and she was just a mere Colonel. But she'd probably kick him. Or make sure that no liquor made it into his coffee for like…a month. No, it didn't pay to piss her off.

The gathering was still in full cacophony mode, and Mal heard another idiot loudly espousing the idea of gathering a force to strike Londinium directly. Time to do something. Uncrossing and recrossing his legs, Mal cleared his throat loudly. "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" No one was paying any attention, and Jinnyman launched into his monologue about the dangers of Alliance treachery once more…this time using the arrival of the new proposed delegations as evidence for his beliefs…quickly becoming demands for action. "Excuse me, Gentlemen!" he tried again louder. Still, no one was paying him much attention. Those that heard him and quieted had their attention quickly arrested by the ongoing arguments, and soon joined back in. One idiot was now talking about sneaking knives into the Convention Hall and ambushing the Alliance delegations as they were seated. Another was loudly arguing again that the Independent military…Mal's military…should be ordered to round up the representatives from all Alliance worlds, not just the Londinium and Sihnon members trying to gain official recognition. "Bì zuǐ!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, in his most authoritarian tones. That had almost never failed to silence a room, but it failed now.

At least Jinnyman took notice. "No, Sir!" he barked back, waggling a finger at Mal. "This betrayal cannot be borne! Our lives, fortunes, and sacred honors all hang in the balance. I demand…"

What he demanded, Mal couldn't care less, and so didn't bother to listen. He'd had enough, and frankly, he just couldn't hold it anymore. Looking around, he found a single opportune point of tranquility in the room. A large potted ficus stood in the back corner, a dozen feet or so to Zoë's left. Some gentle soul, possibly Zoë herself, had placed it to add a bit of class to Mal's dreary office…which somehow managed to appear simultaneously spartan yet disorderly. The plant was positioned to enjoy the early evening setting sunlight through the room's sole window and added a touch of nature and a breath of oxygen to the room. And, now that Mal thought about it, a certain level of convenience. He stood up while the Gentleman from Shadow was mid-tirade, shaking finger and all, and strolled over to the ficus. Standing close enough that his face sunk deep amongst the leaves, he took a deep cleansing breath, ignoring the uproar behind him.

With a shrug, he unlaced his trousers and urinated into the pot. Thank God. I've been holding that for way too long. Indeed, the relief took a good while in coming, and the event went on much longer and more forcefully than usual. Whatever artistic individual had added the shrubbery had planted it in a mix of loam, red pumice, and glass beads for a combination of beauty and optimal drainage. It had the added effect of causing the stream to tinkle loudly in the room. Gradually, as Mal relieved himself, the shouting and arguing behind him began to taper off until, when he had finally finished, a pervasive silence had settled over the room.

Sighing in relief, Mal glanced to his left with a smirk. He quickly wiped it away, seeing the combined looks of appalled horror and bemused mortification on Zoë's and Leanne's faces. As well as the distinct lack of surprise there on. Hurriedly shaking off and lacing up, Mal put on his best 'do not rut around'' command face and turned to face a room full of wide-eyed stares. "I will find out exactly what is going on. And I will handle it. No one…no one…here is to do anything…at all…until you hear from me. No halfcocked plans or machinations. No amateurish attempts at politics. We go ruttin' around and screw this gorram thing up, we'll not just end up under the Alliance's thumb, we'll piss away any chance we have to deal with that situation. I'm gonna start with Commodore Sheridan. He's our most important ally, and the best chance we have of getting a clear picture of just where we stand. You all will do nothing, until I return. Dǒng ma?" He met each and every eye until he received a word or gesture of ascent from each. "Now…get out."

That was the cue for Zoë, Roberts, and the young major, who's name Mal couldn't remember, to hustle all of the representatives out the door. At the last moment, Jinnyman turned and attempted to protest. Zoë merely smiled, said, "Don't call us, we'll call you," and placed a hand on his massive, bald forehead to literally shove him out the door. She slammed it behind him and then turned to Mal. "What now Cap…Marshall?"

"Exactly what I said. We're going to see Sheridan."

"We don't have an appointment," Roberts pointed out.

"And we're not going to make one. Surprise visit in force. I'm not giving him the chance to duck me. We're getting answers."

They left the office via a secure side door and rushed down back corridors to the wing of the building housing the Earth Force offices. When they finally ran into security, Mal used his authority and more than a little bluster to breeze past them, until finally running into the civilian secretary presiding over the foyer of the small suite of offices Sheridan and his top officers used while they were down on the planet. "Can I help you, Marshall?" she asked, glancing in surprise at Mal and his entourage.

"I need to speak with Sheridan…now."

"I'm sorry, Marshall Reynolds. But the Commodore is currently indisposed, in a secure meeting. I'll have to ask you to return another time. If you'd like, we can look at the schedule and see when we can…"

While she prattled on, Mal looked at the Earth Force Marines standing rigidly at attention in the various corners of the room, and then at the closed door which contained the large conference room Sheridan was fond of using. Judging distances, Mal made his decision and strode forward around the surprised civilian. The Marines strode forward to stop him, but not in time to prevent Mal from kicking in the conference room door and standing firmly in the doorway. Zoë and Roberts had followed him up, now interposing themselves between Mal and the Marines, who appeared uncertain whether they should attempt a tackle or simply open fire. "Commodore, a word?" Mal asked drolly, looking around the room. He was unsurprised to see a number of high ranking faces therein, but was a little taken aback at the sheer quantity of them. It seemed he was one of the last to arrive.

"At ease!" Sheridan barked to his Marines before they could leap to violence. Taking a deep breath, he met Mal's gaze. "Marshall. We were just about to call you. I suppose your initiative saves us the effort. Though I wish you'd announced yourself in a way that wasn't quite so hard on the woodwork."

"Your secretary seemed disinclined to provide me with other immediate options."

"Yes, I suppose that is her job." He sighed again. "Well, come on in already," he offered, waving to Mal and his entourage. They moved to take available seats. The Major, whose name Mal still couldn't remember, looked very nervous to be included with this level of brass.

"Marines!" Sinclair called from Sheridan's right hand. "Cordon off the outer hall. This time, we're really not to be disturbed."

As the Marines moved to comply, Sheridan laid the full weight of his attention upon Mal. "I take it you've heard?"

Mal stared back just as hard. "I've heard a lot of things. This whole place runs on gossip, lies, and innuendo. But I did just hear a rumor that a whole new pack of wolves has arrived, knocking at our door and asking to be let in."

"Colorful," Edgars noted from the far side of the room, where he sat next to a pinch-faced, sallow skinned man of moderate height on his right and a thin, pale, nearly completely hairless fellow on his other side. Mal didn't recognize either man, though the pinch-faced one was certainly studying Mal and his entire party quite carefully. "Though I would hardly cast the august delegations from the key worlds of Sihnon and Londinium in such a disparaging light. Certainly not given the opportunity they bring."

"Good to know. Fair to say that my days of casting aspersions as t' the character of the people a those worlds has definitely come to a middle." At that he heard several snorts and snarks from around the room, particularly from Garibaldi, standing just behind Sinclair. But Mal couldn't share their amusement, despite being the source of it. "Those delegations are bringin' an opportunity, alright. An opportunity for the Alliance to get exactly what they've always wanted. The entire 'Verse under their thumb. And they won't need to out fight or out produce us. They'll just need to get a seat at the table we were nice enough to build for 'em, and then they'll out vote us."

"Ridiculous," Edgars objected. "We have the edge in economy and industry, or soon will. We'll certainly have an edge in resources. So they have a population advantage. So what? We're changing the very nature of the 'Verse. There will be no going back, for the Alliance or for us. It sounds like what you're objecting to is democracy."

"Democracy is two wolves and a sheep, voting on what's for dinner," Mal groused. "But since you bring it up, I believe we haven't voted yet, to seat Londinium and Sihnon. In case you missed it, I'm firmly against it. And as you know, I can swing a fair few votes in the Convention."

"Madness!" Edgars objected. "You're trying to needlessly prolong the conflict. We can get everything, just by bringing Londinium and Sihnon into the fold. Prevent future eruptions of the current war. How can you vote against that? It was your backing of a seat for Bellerophon that set the stage for this current victory."

"I did accept that…in return for you setting the stage for negotiating the Alliance's surrender in Serenity Valley."

"Which I did. The date of the proposed surrender negotiations is fast approaching. But there's no point in those negotiations now. Why accept a partial surrender when we can seize a total victory by simply absorbing the entirety of the Alliance? Londinium and Sihnon are the last. After Bellerophon, Core worlds began switching sides faster than even I could possibly have imagined!"

"Just on the off chance you missed it, me and mine have objected to each and every one of those worlds. They're a growing fifth column in our midst. One that already outnumbers the rest of us! But you rammed them down our throats anyway! And we've put up with it. In the interests of getting to that surrender. And because we had to. But this...this is a bridge too far. You're handing the keys to everything to the Alliance."

Edgars glared, then glanced around the room, making eye contact with as many as possible. "I cannot fathom this shortsightedness! Does the Marshall want the war to continue? Or perhaps he wants the protracted Cold War we've all feared!"

"Which you assured us we would win!" Mal retorted calmly.

"And we would. But what's the point? Why go through generations of political division and conflict when we could end it all here and now?!"

"Because the end would be ours!" Mal snapped. "You bringin' in the Alliance worlds as they are, they'll still be Alliance worlds, even if the name and structure changes. You give away every advantage we have. You lose the war…not on the battlefield, but in the voting booth."

"Why do you assume the Londinium and Sihnon representatives…or those of all the former Alliance worlds for that matter…why do you assume they aren't exactly what they purport to be? Why assume they will betray us?"

"Because they're Alliance."

"They've put their lives on the line, coming here. The Alliance has posted arrest warrants for many of their representatives, including one of the men I've brought with me today," he added, indicating the sallow skinned fellow. "The Londinium and Sihnon representatives are only absent from that list because they've managed to hide their presence from the Alliance authorities. An effort which will be critical for gaining control of those worlds peaceably. Why isn't that proof enough for you?"

"Because they're Alliance. And those arrest warrants make a pretty good smoke screen. Exactly the kind of thing I would do, were I workin' a high-level shakedown."

"Maybe we could hear from those men you brought," Roslin interject, clearly becoming tired of the interplay. "I at least wouldn't mind hearing what they have to say."

Edgars turned and waved his hand impatiently to the taller of his two companions, as though he were a king and they mere supplicants. Of course, given the amount of power and influence he had accrued, that might not be too far from the truth. The pale man rose, and offered a half bow, and it struck Reynolds that he wasn't just bald, but also missing any hair on his cheeks or chin, or on the backs of his hands. He was completely devoid of eyebrows or eyelashes or any visible nose hair for that matter. He wore a neat grey suit that fully covered the rest of his flesh, but Mal guessed that every other part of him was equally as hairless. "Jonathan Dellenson," he introduced himself, "from the world of Londinium. And it is just as Mr. Edgars has said. Most of the representatives from formerly Alliance worlds are now hunted men and women. Operatives are out in force, though Miranda's security is such that they cannot breach it. At least, that is our hope."

"Representative Dellenson leads the Londinium delegation," Edgars noted.

"Excuse me, Mr. Edgars, but that isn't entirely true," the Londinian cut in, wiping his hands nervously. "I am the leader of the delegation which arrived. But when…if…we are seated in the Convention, it is my duty to name another to the lead role. I have…already discussed these details with Commodore Sheridan."

Mal turned his eyes to Sheridan in surprise, and John offered a nod of confirmation. "The documents and details that Delegate Dellenson offered were what convinced me his story was legitimate. They request, and I am inclined to permit, the release of Commodore Harken from our brig. Apparently the Alliance have accused Harken, and found him guilty, of a number of crimes. Not the least of which is treason. The paperwork the Londinium Delegation has provided, which appears to be very much legitimate, indicates that Commodore Harken has been sentenced to be executed…not upon his appearance for an in-person trial or even upon his release and repatriation, but rather upon any sighting. In my…debriefing…of Commodore Harken, I found him to be a good man, if perhaps a bit stuck in his own indoctrination. I think we can work with him."

"I've had cause to meet the Commodore. He's a reasonable man," Malcolm allowed. "An honest sort in his own way. But he's still Alliance. Not much you can do to ever make me trust them. And in case I ain't said it enough, it's because they're Alliance."

Delegate Dellenson sat down hesitantly, but Edgars's other companion took that moment to speak up, though he didn't stand. "Sir…Marshall Reynolds. If I may…I was brought here to convince you, as my delegation has already been seated, and I know every member of the delegations from Londinium and Sihnon personally."

"Delegate Gabriel Tam, representing Osiris," Edgars advised the room.

Mal's eyes widened slightly at the name, but all he said was, "And why would bein' part of a Core World delegation, seated barely over a week ago, make me trust your words any more than the rest? I think I've made my stance on the Alliance purty darn clear."

"You have, Sir. Mr. Edgars brought me to advise everyone here that every member of Sihnon and Londinium delegations are landowners, industrialists, and otherwise important people. But that none of them are part of the Federal government. At most there are some movers in the planetary government. You may not be aware, but the Alliance demands a great deal from the Core Worlds. The people aren't oppressed…at least not on the surface. But their liberties are sorely restricted. The majority of their incomes are taxed away. Dissent is…discouraged. It's the unwritten rule. Don't make waves, or you'll get crushed. But we live in such…luxury…the bars of the cage are so gilded…that we've all allowed ourselves not to see them. Convinced ourselves to. You can't make changes from the inside…the system is designed to destroy those who attempt it. That's why so many Core Worlds have come over so rapidly. This is the only real chance at change they've ever seen. The bulk of the population doesn't see it. I didn't see it for a long time. But those who wield small levels of power through business or local governments…they've run into the iron fist underneath the velvet glove. And the good ones…the ones who'd like to see a better way…they're the ones who have risked their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to be here. I'm quoting of course. I've lost any honor I had a very long time ago." Mal started to reply, but Mr. Tam held up his hand to forestall him. "As I said, that's what I was brought here to say. But you made it very clear I couldn't possibly convince you. So, instead, I'm hoping you'll grant me a personal favor."

"Hardly the time or place," Mal cut in quickly. "Make an appointment with my office."

"I've tried, Sir," Gabriel persisted. "I've been refused by your secretary every time! Please, I know you can help me!"

Mal sighed. "Might be I told her to put you off. Could be I didn't really care to discuss anything with you."

"Then this may be my only chance. Please. I've come to understand that my children were crewmembers on your ship for some time. I'm…trying to get into contact with them. I'm asking for your help Marshall. Not as a Delegate from Osiris. As a man. As a father."

"And what kind of father are you, exactly?" Mal spat. "The kind who left his boy to do a man's job of saving his sister? The kind who threatened to disown his son for doing exactly that? Seems you're a perfect example of everythin' I hate about the Core Worlds. What kind of man are you?"

"The foolish kind, Sir. The cowardly kind. The kind who had allowed the wool to be pulled over his eyes, and who cowered in terror every time that iron fist I mentioned came anywhere near. I'm not a good man, Sir. I'm not a good father. I was stupid and naive. But I've had both of those things ripped away, by the momentous events you've unleashed upon the 'Verse. You and my children, as I understand it. I can't make up for what I've done. But perhaps I can make things better for my children now. If I can just see them. That's all I'm asking, Marshall Reynolds. Just to see them. Please."

Mal held the man's gaze silently for a very long moment. And then another. Finally he offered, "Your children are unavailable at the moment. When that changes…the choice will be up to them. But I'll pass along your message."

"Then you have my thanks, Marshall. I won't bother you further."

"I brought you here to help convince the man," Edgars reprimanded coldly, "not to pursue your own personal agenda."

"Seems Mr. Tam recognizes a truth you haven't yet cottoned to. I don't trust the Alliance worlds. His little speech won't change that."

"But why?" the industrialist demanded. "Just because you lost a war, you can't forgive the victors? Are you that much of a child?"

Zoë and Leanne' both tensed, prepared to grab Mal and hold him back. But aside from gritting his teeth, Mal kept his cool. "Edgars, I'm gonna do you a truly massive favor and pretend you didn't just say that. But to answer your question, it's because of exactly what the Tam patriarch just explained to us all. Didn't you hear him? Most of the people on those worlds are blind to what the Alliance truly is. They've been lulled into luxurious ignorance. Brainwashed to believe the propaganda. And the folks with real power have built those systems to destroy any challenges to it. You bring those worlds in as is, even if you uproot the Alliance power structure, and the people and the powerful will simply rebuild it. The kind of change you all are looking for can only come through years…decades of trauma. Of the system breaking down under the strain of holding itself together in the face of external pressure. We have to squeeze the Alliance until the people and the powerful crack under that pressure. And only then will they be ready to join us."

"Sounds to me like an excuse for retribution. Like you want to inflict the kind of suffering you experienced tenfold on your enemies."

"Could be you're right. Don't make me wrong."

"But it doesn't have to be that way," Edgars snarled, clearly losing patience. "If the people of the Alliance are as blind and malleable as you say, then they don't really bear you or I any ill will. They're malleable and naive. So mold them! Lead them! Give them some other path to follow. Another ideal to believe in. There's no reason to fight them. To inflict needless suffering. Don't you think we should hold ourselves to a higher standard than the Alliance? Be better than them?"

"I lived the last decade as a criminal, Mr. Edgars. I live in the real world. I don't set too much stock in good and bad. Surviving…winning…that's all that really matters. Your plan won't work. Our true enemies are like cockroaches. They'll figure out how to come back to power in your brave new world. How to get back everything you think they'll lose. How to win in the new power structure."

"Then make sure they don't!" Edgars shouted, walking up and getting in Mal's face. "If you're so worried about the evils of the Alliance rising up after this merger….if that's really what you're worried about…then make sure that doesn't happen. Isn't that what this Convention is for? Build the power structures so that their ability to do so is blocked!"

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?"

"How should I know? Isn't that your job? My job was to build up the economic and industrial might to overturn the Alliance. Which I have done! Do your job, and quit sniveling like a child."

This time Mal didn't hold back. He unleashed a right hook directly into Edgars's jaw. The industrialist didn't make a move or a peep, consciousness winking out like a light. He flopped over backwards and flopped bonelessly upon the floor. Mal swept his gaze across the room. No one seemed inclined to reprimand him, though a few looked at him in shock. "Yeah," he offered nonchalantly, "I don't know how to do that job. Do any of you?"

"Actually," Sinclair offered, "I think I might."

"I'm all ears."

"The idea isn't fully formed. Give me a day or two to do some research. Then I can discuss the possibility with everyone."

Mal shrugged, turning to look at Sheridan. "Well, in the meantime then, let me follow up on something you said. Were you serious about releasing Harken to lead the Londinium delegation? Seems to me that means you've already decided to seat Londinium and Sihnon and this whole conversation was just pissin' in the wind. And that means you have no intention of negotiating a surrender of the Alliance. You're trying to win the war outright by adopting those Earths. Am I missin' anything?"

Sheridan hesitated a long moment, making hard eye contact with Mal as they felt each other out. Finally, he offered. "You're not far off. The Londinium and Sihnon delegations met with me first. They provided details on their plan to neuter and supplant the Alliance power structure, and do so as bloodlessly as possible. The Alliance military isn't deployed to stop an insurrection from within those most central of Core Worlds. They can apprehend the entire Alliance government structure, or most of it anyway, using the planetary police forces. The plans are in place. But you're right that it's a major risk. The question was whether or not the reward surpassed the risk. I believe so."

"So the juice is worth the squeeze?"

"Just so. But I hadn't fully decided. This was an honest conversation. I wanted to see how everyone else felt. Nothing has been fully decided yet."

"Well then," Mal snapped, "let's get on with it, shall we?" He looked around the room again. "Don't be shy! This isn't the Convention, this is the real power structure of this movement. Our cabal, to overshadow the Alliance's. What's your decision? We've all heard how Sheridan feels, and Edgars made his standpoint clear. He'll take a huge portion of the Convention with him. So how about you, Madame President? I don't suppose I've convinced you of the dangers of this plan?"

Roslin pursed her lips in annoyance. "I'm afraid not. And your current attitude certainly isn't helping your cause. The Colonial faction stands with Commodore Sheridan and Mr. Edgars. The negotiations at Serenity Valley are pointless."

Mal spun on his heel, facing the quartet of Cylons in the room…a Five, a Six, and an Eight, seated along with Colonel Tigh. They had been murmuring quietly amongst themselves, but it was Tigh who replied. "We've a pretty strong bias towards siding with the Colonies, and to a lesser extent the Earth Alliance. But even so…we believe in unity. The possibility of peace is better than a long running cold war which could turn hot at any moment. At the very least, we want to hear whatever Captain Sinclair comes up with."

Mal drew in a deep breath and then sighed heavily. "Well, that's it then. That represents all of the major power blocks that can sway the Convention, other than my own. I guess that means I have a decision to make."

"And what decision is that?" Admiral Adama inquired neutrally, feeling how high emotions were running.

"Whether I stand with you or against you all," Mal advised the room, then spun on his heel and stormed out. Zoë followed immediately, but Leanne hesitated for a long moment, sweeping the room with a silent but apologetic glance. She then hurried after the Marshall.

Catching up to Mal as he stomped back towards his offices, she hissed under her breath, "Don't be a fool boy! Would you set us against the entirety of the 'Verse?"

He glanced over at her. "You said you would follow. So follow! Unless you choose to leave."

"That was never an option. I'm with you. Someone has to try to get some sense through that thick skull of yours!"

"And here I thought that was my job," Zoë added mirthlessly.

"Then I have a job for whichever of you can get it done," Mal cut back in. "I need to get a message to the Operative."

---

Secret Alliance Facility, Cortex Relay Station Eight - July, 2250
They waited until the deepest night before making their descent towards the eastern hemisphere's largest island, dropping almost straight down to minimize the risk of observation. Of course, given the way the Ion Cloud diffused the light of White Sun and the not too distant Kalidasa and Penglai, even at midnight the sky above glowed an unhealthy wine red. The level of illumination this provided to the ground below never fell below that of a late twilight on most worlds. It would have to do.

"No lights on that island," Susan noted idly.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Kara cautioned. "They could be covered, the facility could be buried...hells, they could be waiting for us."

"Or the information that led us here could have been planted just to throw anyone off the trail, and there's nothing down there," Boomer interjected.

"I thought that information was rock solid?" Inara voiced her confusion.

"Nothing's rock solid until you're standing on it," Kendra advised. "And I'm still not seeing anything. No energy sources on scans either."

"There's a low mountain with a deep central depression at the center of the island," River spoke up from the pilot's seat. "Ancient crater or caldera. It'd be a good place to hide a large facility."

"Drop us in and we'll take a look."

Serenity dropped through a wispy cloud bank, dropping rapidly towards the mountain. And then the horizon rose up and engulfed them as they fell into the enormous chasm. Soon the only light came from the Ion cloud directly above. River navigated on sensors alone, keeping them in the center of the hole as they fell through darkness. Despite how shockingly large the hollow was, the slopes of the pit rapidly closed in on them. A dull glow surrounded the ship as River cut on vertical thrust to slow their descent. "Levelling off at one hundred meters," she noted quietly. "The surface below us is reading as surprisingly flat."

"I don't see anything," Inara whispered into the silence which had descended over the flight deck.

Without asking permission, River simply flipped on Serenity's floodlights, blinding them all in the sudden glare reflected off the crater walls and back in through the canopy. As their eyes adjusted, they beheld the enormous and barren rocky walls surrounding them, spotted with snow. Directly below stretched a massive lake, filling the bottom of the bowl. Frozen over in ice and snow, it reflected back their searchlights blindingly.

"Well, so much for stealth," Caprica mused under her breath. Without responding, River adjusted the angle of the floods to reduce the glare, and then slowly began panning the ship around, hoping to find something other than simply untouched nature.

Paydirt.

As Serenity's searchlights swept across the lake and crater walls, a large platform built out onto the ice-covered lake was the first artificial object to come into view. It appeared to be a landing platform...empty...and more than large enough to take three or four Serenities. As the ship continued to turn a causeway came into view, connecting the platform to the nearest shore. And then, just beyond it and the narrow, rocky, black sand beach to which it led, stood a massive stone and concrete building. The edifice was built directly into an almost vertical section of the caldera wall. Several stories tall at the least and with visible watchtowers and protected balconies and walkways upon the walls, the building looked like some bizarre cross between a fantasy castle and a military bunker.

Kendra began flipping through Serenity's various sensor feeds, but Susan reached out a hand to Boomer and Caprica. They hesitated momentarily before taking her hands. All three of their brows furrowed for a long moment. "It's empty," Susan and River stated simultaneously. Russki dropped Boomer and Caprica's hands.

Kendra looked back and forth irritably from River to Susan. "I haven't even finished scanning yet," she groused. "How would you even know?"

"Oracular augury." the young Tam replied. When Kendra quirked an eyebrow at her she clarified with a smirk. "Witchcraft."

Shaking her head, Susan cut in. "Well I linked with Caprica and Boomer to enhance our telepathic senses enough to scan the facility. The nearest side of it at least. There's no sentient life anywhere within range."

"So what now?" Inara asked.

"I assume we go in to investigate," Kara replied.

"It feels like a trap," Boomer cautioned.

"We didn't come all this way just to turn around," Kendra argued.

"I wasn't saying that. But if there is anyone, or even any automated security systems in there, our floodlights have certainly..."

Her assertion was interrupted by the thump of Serenity's landing gear touching down on the pad as River brought her in for a landing. The discussion now being moot, Boomer let the point drop. "Let's go let everyone know that we've arrived."

Several minutes later Serenity's forward ramp lowered and the cargo bay airlock opened. Starbuck led the bulk of the crew...all now heavily armed, down the ramp. "Coms check," she ordered, activating her earpiece. One by one the members of the search party checked in.

A final voice cut in. "I still think I should be going in with you all. I can't do any good from up here."

"Stephen," Tessa replied brusquely, "shut up. You're here on our terms. You're the least involved in this, at least for now, so you get to stay behind and watch the ship. It's not like it isn't an important job. Somebody has to let us know if the authorities suddenly descend on us. Or worse. Suck it up, buttercup."

"Aye aye, Captain," he acquiesced.

"Now that that's settled, let's get on with it," River cut in, striding forward towards the causeway to the facility. Her anxiety was palpable, even to those without special gifts.

Tessa rapidly caught up to her. "Why don't you let me take point?" At River's nod, the Deputy led them all single file across the long causeway and up the black rock-strewn beach until they stood before the massive edifice. Feeling almost anachronistic in the large stone wall, rather than a drawbridge or massive hinged wooden gates, the front of the building possessed a simple steel overhead roller door. Next to it was a very plain looking industrial grey walk-in door. Striding right up to the door, Tessa hesitated only a moment before banging loudly on it.

"Really?" Lyta asked dryly, as the group caught up and gathered around.

"Couldn't hurt." Tessa replied.

"It won't help either," Susan advised. "There's nobody here. And I doubt any automated systems will respond to a simple knock."

"Maybe just try the door," Talia suggested.

With a shrug, Tessa reached out and turned the knob. To everyone's surprise, the door swung inward on silent hinges, revealing a yawning pitch-black corridor beyond. Stepping inside, Tessa flicked on the under-barrel flashlight of the heavy PPG she was carrying. She swept it around, getting a good look. The corridor led off from both the walk-in and overhead doors, clearly meant for both vehicle and foot traffic. It led deep into the building/mountain, well past the range of her light. Slate grey walls added to the industrial atmosphere of the corridor, no longer at all fantasy like. Spotting a conduit along the ceiling, she tracked it with her light down the wall until it disappeared behind the door she had just opened. Reaching out, she swung the door back halfway closed to get it out of the way, revealing a large electrical box. Its only distinguishing feature was the red, rubber coated handle of a massive switch hanging downwards off the right-hand side of the box.

"What have you got?" Kendra called out at the same time that Baltar asked, "What? What is it?"

"There's no way it's this easy," Tessa muttered to herself, ignoring both of their questions. Impulsively she reached out, grabbing the handle. It took more effort than she would have imagined, but she was a strong woman and flipped the handle up with one large shove.

Harsh white light flooded the corridor. Overhead lights snapped and popped and the came on, one after another, making their way rapid-fire down the corridor that now stretched away deep into the mountain. A deep whine rose up from the ground, as deep below them some form of turbine woke from its slumber.

"I don't know what you just did," Stephen's voice came over her earpiece, "but you've got lights popping on all over the building. I'm reading significant energy output from somewhere in there as well. Be careful."

"There's no way it's this easy," Tessa repeated to herself.

Apparently she had spoken louder than she intended, because Talia singsonged back. "It's a traa-aap."

"Trap?" Gaius asked her. "Are you sure?"

"No turning back!" River said abruptly, striding past and heading rapidly up the corridor. There was some trepidation, but they had all come far enough that it indeed made no sense to turn back now. As a group they followed River deeper into the building.

After about forty or fifty meters, they came to the first cross corridor. Still large enough and clearly designed to pass vehicles, it nevertheless switched from grey to an austere white, glowing almost antiseptically in the harsh overhead light. Looking in each direction down the side corridor, numerous vehicle and pedestrian doors branched away, stretching far out in each direction. Looking farther up the original corridor, they could see at least half a dozen more crossing hallways. The corridors were almost pristinely clean...and largely empty. Security cameras could be seen at every intersection and at numerous points in between. The visible doors were heavy, windowless, and clearly lockable. There was a distinct lack of any furniture or other amenities. Severely minimalist, almost spartan, the whole atmosphere was oppressive. And above all else hovered the ghostly air of abandonment, despite the lack of any accumulated dust or detritus.

"Oh yes," Baltar noted, "this is exactly the kind of place you would stuff a secret, unethical government project."

"I suppose you'd be the expert on lack of ethics," Kara jabbed.

Susan stepped in. "This place is massive. We're gonna need to split up. Even then, searching everything will take hours. A really thorough investigation may take days." She keyed her comm unit. "Doctor Franklin, any sign of company?"

"Skies are clear," came the quick reply.

"Alright, buddy system," Tessa cut in. "Spread out. Check everything. Mark an X on any doors you can't get into. Put a check on any corridors that have been fully explored. Branching corridors or stairways are counted separately. Notify everyone if you find anything significant and where, or before you enter anywhere or do anything that might be dangerous. Check in with each other every half hour. Do not leave your buddy. Any questions?"

"Who put you in charge," Baltar asked, to immediate groans from the group.

"No one's in charge," Caprica assured him. "We're all in this equally."

"Debatable," Kendra protested, bearing the highest rank present amongst the military members. "Regardless, I think you'll agree that Tessa's law enforcement experience is relevant to this kind of search?"

As there was no disagreement, they rapidly split off and began searching the facility per Tessa's instruction. It took well over an hour for them to merely search the first floor. Not that the facility was quite that vast, but most of the doors were locked and had to be broken into by Kaylee, hacked by the Cylons, or forced telekinetically. Or, on a few occasions, blown off their hinges using some of their heavier weapons.

What they found...was a whole lot of nothing. Garages, cleared out of vehicles or fuel. Armories full of rows and stacks of racks clearly meant to hold a thousand different types of weapons, both ranged and melee, and drawers meant to hold ammunition, power cells, or projectiles. All of which now sat entirely empty. Kitchens and cafeterias containing neither condiment nor comestible. And barracks full of bunks, but bereft of the soldiers...for these certainly appeared to be of the military variety...who might have once slept in them.

There were computers. In the garages and armories, as well as security stations and utility maintenance centers. But without exception they'd been wiped down to core processes, leaving no data trail to follow. Even the Cylons were unable to extract any useful information from them.

They regathered in what appeared to be the floor's primary security station. "This is taking too long," Starbuck warned. "We can't be certain our presence hasn't triggered some sort of alarm. We could have company any time."

Tessa keyed her comms. "Stephen...are you seeing any sign of visitors?"

"Nothing in the skies above. The sensor platforms we left in the ion clouds aren't seeing any traffic on this side of the planet, and no ships approaching from beyond the cloud either. Everything looks secure." He paused. "Can I come down now?"

"No," she replied tersely and cut the connection. "We should be good for a while, but we need to speed things up."

"Way ahead of you," Boomer called out from over by the main computer station. She had run a lead from the system's data port and was feeding it into a vein in her wrist she had opened with a pen knife. "Give me a moment, but I think I can access all of the security cameras on each floor and get a better look around."

"Has anyone noticed anything odd about this place?" Kaylee asked while they were waiting.

"You mean aside from the fact that it's completely abandoned? Or hiding out here in the middle of nowhere?" Starbuck snarked. "No. Everything about this place is completely normal."

"Did you notice something, Kaylee?" Inara prodded.

"Well," she replied, "it's just that...the dust is weird."

"Weird dust?" Baltar scoffed. "What are you on about?"

"Well...have you all noticed how clean this place is? It can't have been abandoned long, or everything would be covered in dust. But..." she mused, apparently thinking through what she had seen, "I did see some dust. But it wasn't regular dust. In some places I noticed saw dust. Or sheetrock and plaster dust. Paint dust. Even concrete and metal dust from cutting."

"And?" Gaius asked. "Is there a point to this?"

"Well..." she hesitated, "all those types of dust come from construction. Or at least remodeling. They don't just accumulate on their own like regular dust. So..." she paused a moment, clearly thinking hard, "so it's probably still the mess they missed from cleaning up after the original construction. But as clean as this place is...even what little was still in the corners here and there wouldn't have lasted long. So...the construction had to be pretty recent."

Inara cocked her head slightly. "You're saying that they just built this place...and then abandoned it almost immediately afterwards? Why would they do that?"

"Maybe, with the war turning against them, the Alliance felt they couldn't keep this place secure anymore," Caprica offered.

"Maybe," Talia acknowledged with a nod. "Or maybe, and say it with me, it's a trap."

"Alright, show of hands," Kendra sighed. "Who here feels we've walked into a trap." One by one hands went up, until finally Kendra herself raised her hand to make it unanimous. Lowering her hand, she continued. "Accepting that fact, this is also the only lead we have on a way to help River, and to really find out what happened to her. Maybe we can find another with years more searching...or maybe not. So...who wants to pack it up and leave? No judgement. This affects us all."

When no one raised their hand, Kara cut it. "Good. So we all know where we stand. But we need to hurry it the hells up."

"Well, I'm in," Boomer offered, waiving the hand which was now connected to the computer console. "What do I look for?"

"High level overview," Starbuck replied. "Give us a rundown of what's on each of the floors."

"Alright," the Eight offered, closing her eyes to concentrate. "Looks like the floor below us...is some kind of exercise area. It's massive! Multiple gymnasiums. Tennis and racquetball courts. An Olympic sized swimming pool. Nothing much else. Below that...is the bottom. Maintenance and utilities. Water and sewage processing. Some massive generators. That's got to produce way more power than you'd think a place like this would need."

"We're looking for something a mad scientist would play with," Lyta reminded her.

"Nothing particularly Baltary down there."

"Rude," Gaius protested.

"Going up then," Boomer continued. "The floor above us...is mostly identical to this one. Without the garages. Lots of barracks. The third floor is more of the same. This place was designed to hold a lot of troops." She paused, accessing more cameras. "Next floor up...looks like single person rooms. And some small apartments. Maybe for any civilian staff this facility had. The next floor too. The sixth floor...hmmm. Lots of open space. Those overlooks we saw from below are here. Security checkpoints and positions for heavy weapons...all empty...are stationed along the outer wall. And that's where those watchtowers are accessed from. Also...garages? No, hangars. They're empty too, but it looks like small shuttles or aerial vehicles could access the facility there."

"How many more floors are there?" Kendra asked.

"Three. No, four. The seventh floor looks like...offices. Conference rooms. More cafeterias. Very corporate. That's about it. The eighth floor...this looks important. Labs. What look like clinics. All kinds of chemical storage and processing...looks empty now. The main server farm is up there as well. But the floor above that...is a blank. No cameras. No computers either, or at the very least they're on a completely separate network. I have no idea what's up there. But above that is just the roof. Some more empty security stations and weapons platforms up there. HVAC and elevator equipment as well, and a comms tower. And that's about it," she finished, pulling the lead out of her vein.

"I guess we're going up," Susan noted.

They decided to trust the elevator and then split up; half of them searching the offices on the seventh floor and the rest heading for the eighth, splitting the Cylons between the two search parties in case any hacking was required.

The offices were a bust. Computers were wiped. Cabinets emptied. Any and all files removed. Even the paper shredders were empty. The seventh floor still took an unfortunately long amount of time to search.

The floor above was little different. Clinics and medical facilities had been fully loaded with automated equipment, now removed, but the utility, information, and control systems remained. Their computers had been wiped clean. Medical files and records were gone, as were the medications which had stocked the cabinets. The labs were similarly stripped, though the chemical tanks and vats were full of numerous chemicals, generally identifiable only to Baltar and occasionally Simon. Caprica hacked the facility's main server farm. It was similarly wiped, but it gave them nominal control over the entire building, save only the unknown floor above. But in grand total they had acquired exactly no information about who had been here, what they had been doing, or why they'd left. And that made them all very nervous.

Finally, there was nothing left to do but explore the final floor of the facility, save only a roof that promised nothing useful. They all acutely felt the seconds ticking away. Trap or not, the longer they stayed here the greater the chances of some unnamed disaster striking.

Taking the personnel elevator up, they walked into a bizarre new world. The elevator decanted onto a small, bench lined foyer. A curving hallway led off from the left and right sides of the room. Across from the elevator doors was another short hallway with a large heavy steel door at the far end, and a much smaller open one halfway down the right side.

Kara split them into three teams, one for each corridor. She led her own team up the short hallway. Most of them went directly to the massive door at the end of the short hall. It had neither knob nor handle, nor any visible means of opening. They looked carefully for any means of ingress.

The door to the right opened into a smallish control room of some sort. A large computer bank was arrayed against one wall of the fairly small room, with five office chairs, the only real furniture in the room, arrayed in front of it. At about head height above the computers, running the entire length of the wall, was a line of narrow horizontal windows, approximately half a foot in height. The windows looked into a darkened room beyond, transforming them into silvered mirrors, reflecting back the visages of the investigators. Both above and below the window ran rows of video displays, all currently dark.

A large green button, mushrooming out to fit perfectly into a palm, rose from the center of the first console inside the door. So, of course, Baltar pushed it before Starbuck could stop him. There was a hiss of hydraulics and the hum of turbines spinning up, and a narrow yet brilliant shaft of light flooded in through the odd line of windows. Kara just had time to notice the large white room beyond those windows when the screaming started. Jumping back into the hallway, the first thing she noticed was that the massive door at the end of the hall was now open. The second was River on the floor, screaming and trying desperately to scoot herself away from the room whilst her friends gathered around, attempting to calm her whilst simultaneously scanning for whatever threat might have set her off.

Looking beyond the turmoil; Kara beheld a massive, circular, domed room. The glossy white walls practically glowed in the harsh overhead lights. Despite its capacious proportions, the room seemed entirely empty. However, a series of odd projections running around the inside perimeter hinted at oddities beneath. Reaching up, she keyed her comms. "Doc, how are we looking?"

"Same as the last time you asked," came Franklin's reply. "Clear skies."

"Yeah? Well, get your ass up here. I'll send someone to relieve you. We've found something."

---

Miranda City, Miranda, Orbiting Burnham, Blue Sun System - July, 2250
Head still spinning from everything that had happened in the last hour…including being released from his POW camp and named head of the Londinium delegation…former Commodore and current Honorable Gentleman Jack Harken walked into the grand room now known as Convention Hall at the side of Representative Jonathan Dellenson. The paperwork showing his dishonorable discharge, pronunciation of guilt to well over a dozen capital offences, and sentence of execution were tucked into the breast pocket of his brand new suit. He felt uncomfortable in the starchy stiff material, as much due to its non-military nature as to it being fresh out of the box from some swanky Londinium clothier. But more than anything, those papers felt like they were trying to burn a hole in his chest. An hour ago, he hadn't even been aware it was possible to convict someone via Courts Martial in absentia. An hour ago, he'd been fully dedicated, as he had his entire career and long before, to the security and well-being of the Alliance. And now here he was, a convicted traitor. And if the Alliance felt free to wash their hands of me, certainly turnabout is just as fair? He had been given a letter from his father, also signed by several other heads of wealthy, long-standing families; some of which went as far back as the colonization. The letter asked him to take up this post, and to chart a new and better future for Londinium. The very concept was so foreign to him, he wasn't really quite certain what to make of it. But he knew a duty when it was laid before him. And let it never be said than Jack Harken shirked his duties.

His eyes squinted at the bright sunshine streaming in through the large windows lining the room's back wall. The large room was full of many dozens of small round tables. At each table sat anywhere from one to several men or women, and in the center of the table stood a small placard announcing which world those seated there represented. There seemed to be some lively, raucous debate underway. With several people randomly trying to shout down several others.

"We're over here," Dellenson said, indicating a triple line of benches, ascending on low platforms, that lined this side of the room. "This is the viewing area for visitors. We aren't officially seated yet, but the vote to do so is next on the agenda. We need to be visible during any debate, and available for questioning." He led Jack and the three other junior members of their Delegation to an area on the front bench that seemed to have been reserved for them.

As they sat, the woman at the raised head table at the very front and center of the room began banging her gavel heavily against the table, calling for order. "Who's that?" Harken asked. "What are they debating?"

Dellenson rolled his eyes in disgust. "They're arguing about what to name the nation they want to create. Can you believe that? They've been here for several weeks, maybe even months, and they haven't gotten so far as nailing down a name! Apparently, it's been highly contentious. As for the woman, I would have assumed she'd have interviewed you at some point, given your station in relation to all other captured Alliance personnel. That is Laura Roslin, President of the group known as the Colonies, apparently from an entirely different star system, outside of the 'Verse. The Chair of the Convention rotates daily, and today it's her. It's ridiculous if you ask me. They don't even hold a planet on their own!"

"What does that matter?" Jack asked.

"Oh, right. Sorry. Apparently one of the core tenets of all the former Independent Planet delegations that started this Convention was that planets would in some way form independent…go figure…political entities. That a great deal of power would reside with the planets and that the representatives that made up whatever form of Federal or Confederal or…whatever…central government would arise would in some way be assigned from the planets. It's really all very…chaotic and uncertain. People are writing and rejecting possible constitutions every day. But so far the Core Worlds which have been seated haven't been able to overturn that basic concept. And yet, somehow, the Colonies, the Cylons, and the Earth Alliance have each been seated as separate voting entities. This despite sharing a single planet between them. It's really rather hypocritical."

Jack thought about that for a moment. "Given the raw military power shared by those groups, and the impact they've had upon the 'Verse…it would seem to be an exemplar of 'might makes right.' I don't think we're in any position to question it. Certainly not yet."

"As you say, Sir."

President Roslin had managed to bring order to the room and finally called upon a delegate from the world of Highgate who had been signalling his intent to speak. "The Chair recognizes the Honorable Gentleman from Highgate. Your time is two minutes."

The painfully thin man arose, straightened his threadbare jacket, and cleared his throat. "I would once more like to put forward the 'United Earths.' It is clearly the most representative of local history and culture!"

The room erupted once more into chaotic debate, as competing interest shouted insults or alternate ideas. Roslin was forced again and again to call for order, banging the gavel until it broke. Eventually however, order was restored, and she called for debate upon the merits of the suggestion, recognizing another delegate. "It's a stupid idea," Patience, the Honorable Lady from Whitefall, stated bluntly. "We're never going to get the Earth Alliance folks to forego their name, nor to give up their story that they're all from Earth-that-was. Hell, they may even be tellin' the truth. Just call it the 'United Planets' and be done with it."

This led to yet more chaotic argument, and Roslin was forced to take off her shoe to bang it on the high table before order was restored. As she attempted to call on others for debate, each instead offered up their own suggestions. Suggestions which had clearly been heard, debated, and discarded many times before. In reasonably short order, the names 'Union of Worlds' and 'United Worlds of the 'Verse' had been put forward. When the words 'Earths,' 'Planets,' and 'Worlds' had all been derided, someone recalled that 'Terra' was an alternate word for Earth. Shortly thereafter, the 'Terran Coalition' and the 'United Terran Commonwealth' had also been thrown into the mix; only to be similarly mocked and rejected by competing parties.

"Did I mention the 'United Federation of Planets'?" Colonel Garibaldi spoke out into a momentary lull. Harken was very familiar with the man, having been interrogated by him several times. Apparently, the Colonel was currently holding the seat for the Earth Alliance.

As chaos erupted again, Roslin took the opportunity to lash out…at least once she had once more gotten the room in order via vigorous shoe pounding. "Colonel Garibaldi," she hissed, "you were not recognized by this Chair. Need I remind you once again of the rules of this Convention? We are using a basic variation of Parliamentary Procedure, necessary if we wish to get anything accomplished!"

"And being very successful in that regard, no doubt. But I'm curious. Why exactly are we using Parliamentary Procedure when we have absolutely no interest in ever instituting a gorram parliament?" Marshall Malcolm Reynolds…and who the hell promoted that scoundrel to a Marshall?...called out from where he sat. He was next to the delegate from Shadow…I thought that was a dead blackrock?...apparently in an advisory position. As such, he shouldn't have any right to speak out to the assembly.

A fact which President Roslin was more than happy to remind him of. Having done so she swung her shoe back and forth between Garibaldi and Reynolds, spearing each of them with her glare. "If I get any more trouble out of either of you," she warned, "I will be forced to take measures!" Someone cleared their throat, raising their hand for attention. Sighing, Roslin glanced over at the fellow, then checked her list of names, clearly not remembering his. "The Chair recognizes Commander Aramantha of Bellerophon." The man who stood up was thin and tall. His features betrayed Japanese ancestry while also leaning towards a patrician cast.

Harken sat up straighter in his seat. He recognized the man. Aramantha had commanded a Tohoku class Cruiser. Like Harken, he had been one of the youngest to ever do so. In fact, they'd often competed for postings and accolades, and Harken had considered Aramantha to be amongst less than a handful of truly worthy rivals as he climbed his career ladder. Not that any of that matters now, he reminded himself, studying his former rival. He'd assumed the man would have been killed in the Battle of Londinium. Shockingly, Aramantha still wore his Alliance uniform, though stripped of his Alliance medals and rank insignia. These had instead been replaced by the Independent Planets rank insignia that Marshall Reynolds's mob were still using. The only exception was the Amaranth flower insignia pinned to the Alliance beret he wore jauntily over his unruly mop of hair; which merely indicated that Bellerophon was his home posting. What really stuck in Harken's craw was the ugly brown duster Aramantha wore over his uniform, sullying the whole thing. He wondered how the man had gotten permission to wear that uniform. He wondered if he could do the same.

The Delegate from Bellerophon cleared his throat. "Your pardon, Madame. But it would seem to me that we are largely stuck upon our inability to agree on what to call planets in the official name. If I might offer a suggestion, perhaps we could sidestep the issue by referring to stars instead of planets? Might I humbly suggest the 'Star League?' I think it has a nice ring to it."

There were several moments of silence before someone shouted "Solar League." This was shortly followed by the 'Free Stars Union,' the 'United Star Nations,' and the 'League of Five Suns.' The room devolved into chaotic shouting, interspersed with Roslin's call for order and the pounding of her shoe upon the high table.

Finally, she regained some measure of order. However, as she opened her mouth to speak, Garibaldi cut her off. "The 'United Federation of Stars' has a nice ring to it," he mentioned casually.

Roslin pounced. Grabbing up her lunch, which had been sitting on the table before her, she hurled it directly at the errant Earth Force officer. Garibaldi's mouth dropped open in shock as an egg salad sandwich splattered across the breast of his dress uniform. Laura waggled her finger at him as the room went deathly silent. "I told you there would be 'measures,'" she scolded.

Marshall Reynolds opened his mouth, and the President's pointing finger and rapier gaze swiveled to spear him instead. Reynolds held up both hands in surrender. "I'd say…'Star League' sounds like a fine name. No objection."

In shockingly short order all debate and opposition collapsed, and the name became official. The Star League was born, though so far it was little more than a name. Still, the room erupted into raucous applause and a great deal of self-congratulations. All this over a name? How the hell will they ever get anything done? This is supposed to be the foundation for a brave and better new world? Harken shook his head in bemusement.

Roslin called for a fifteen minute break. Afterwards, she moved on to the next order of business. "It is time to vote on the proposition put forward by Representative Wing of Persephone…that being the motion to officially seat the delegations from Sihnon and Londinium. Now, I believe there has already been plenty of discussion on this matter, so I would like to move directly to a vo…."

She was interrupted as the man sitting next to Reynolds leapt to his feet and called out, "Point of order!"

Roslin paused, eyeing the Walrus-like individual. "Yes, Representative Jinnyman. What is your concern?"

"Madam Chairwoman, perhaps you were unaware, but there has been an amendment to Representative Wing's motion submitted…by me… for approval. I believe the rules stipulate that the amendment must be introduced, debated, and voted upon before the original motion can pass."

Roslin hesitated, appearing to be considering whether it was possible or not to simply shut down Jinnyman. Afterall, Shadow must have almost no population at all. But she was clearly getting murderous glares from a sizable number of the Rim and Border delegations. Harken suspected that these were Reynolds's faction, given the self-satisfied smirk upon his face. Giving up, Roslin merely offered, "So I see," and turned to gaze at her aide…a Cylon, though not one of the usual models, Harken was given to understand…standing against the wall behind her. The attractive mocha skinned woman hurried forward with an apologetic look and placed a sheet of paper before the President and Chair.

Roslin took a moment, reading the amendment. And then a longer moment. Finally, she looked up and, taking off her glasses, glared daggers…not at Jinnyman, but at Reynolds. She made no pretense at all at addressing the nominal author of the amendment, not even sparing him a second glance. "The Fairness in Representation Amendment? Are you fraking serious?"

Reynolds stood up, and any hint of Parliamentary Procedure vanished as he addressed the angry woman. "You're gorram right we are!" He raised his hand and snapped his fingers loudly, and a moment later the doors at the back of the room…less than a dozen paces from Harken himself…burst open. Everyone nearby recoiled as a trio of Reavers strolled through the doors and down the aisle. "You remember your good friend Ghawran, don't you? Seems you forgot to invite one power block to your little party. And the Reavers even got their own world, unlike the Colonies. Remember a little sphere called Beaumonde? Pretty much all Reavers now. Quite a lot of them too. That's the fault of the Alliance, in case ya all forgot. And while the Alliance…capitalled on the worlds of Londinium and Sihnon…was taking millions of lives there, the Reavers helped to save them. For all their brutality, the Reavers done a lot less to us on the Rim and Border than the Alliance has over the years. The Reavers allied with us, at a time when we all thought the Alliance would run roughshod over the lot of us." By now Ghawran and his compatriots had made it all the way to the front, causing a rippling of recoiling delegates as they passed by, and stood next to an unflinching Reynolds. They smiled their shark toothed grins and laid a heavy gaze upon Roslin. To her credit, she barely squirmed. The Marshall turned slowly so that his gaze and words would directly touch each of the delegates present. "We got to deal with the Reavers too, don't we? You lot are crazy if you think the likes of Sihnon and Londinium are any less dangerous. They were our enemies, when the Reavers weren't." Having completed his circuit, he now turned his hard gaze back directly on Roslin. "And maybe those currently callin' the shots need to prove they won't just toss away friends and allies, when they're no longer convenient. So what say you, Madam Chairwoman? Call the gorram vote."

"Well well," Harken murmured to himself. "That one has certainly evolved. I wish I didn't find myself respecting him."

Roslin didn't see any point in calling for debate. No one's minds would be changed, and she doubted anyone present was ignorant of the arguments for or against. So she acceded to Reynold's demand and called the vote.

Dellenson leaned in and whispered to Harken as the votes began to roll in. "Reynolds's faction have all voted for the amendment. No surprise there. Those aligned with William Edgars are voting against. Those are most of our allies, and pretty much all of the Core Worlds. A lot of those delegations that haven't firmly picked a side seem to be standing with Reynolds. This is bad. If the amendment passes, if we're tied to the Reavers becoming citizens of the Star League and gaining power in government…that seems highly unlikely."

More votes rolled in, and the numbers were appallingly close. Roslin voted against. Garibaldi did the same. That put the 'nays' two up on the 'yeas.' But then the final two independents each voted to approve the amendment, bringing the vote to a tie.

Harken looked to see who remained. Apparently, Dellenson had done the same. "Thank God. Only the Cylons are left, and they always side with the Colonies. We're good." A statuesque older blonde woman stood at the Cylons' table. "That's the wife of Colonel Tigh," Dellenson advised. "She's part of something the Cylons call the 'Final Five.' Whatever that means."

Ellen Tigh glanced around the room for a long moment and then spoke. "The Cylons know what it means to be an awkward and unwanted ally. The Cylon delegation votes Yea."

The room erupted into bedlam. Roslin stared the woman through an inscrutable expression. Finally, she banged her shoe against the table. "The 'yeas' have it. The Fairness in Representation amendment passes. We will now move on to voting on the primary proposition. Does anyone see a need for further debate?"

No one did. Roslin called for the vote.

"This is horrible," Dellenson muttered to himself, rocking in his seat as he stared off into space. "The Alliance is going to hunt us down and execute us as traitors! We bet everything on making this work! We're doomed!"

Looking carefully around the room, Harken grinned slyly. "Don't be so certain. I think the good Marshall has miscalculated."

"What do you mean?"

"His argument was too good. Edgars's faction will vote as predicted, and Reynolds's will do the same. But those that haven't been absorbed by a party yet…the independents who really thought about the Marshall's little speech…if they voted that it was only fair to include the Reavers along with us…then it's probably because they really believe it. The Marshall didn't just convince them to tie the Reavers around our neck…he also convinced them that was a reasonable solution. Perhaps the Alliance really is more terrifying than the Reavers. Whatever the case, if I'm reading this room correctly, accepting the Reavers is no longer so inconceivable as the Marshall imagines." He chuckled darkly. "This might just be more fun than I imagined. Mark my words, Jon. No more than a handful of delegates are going to change their vote."

"But the amendment was decided by a single vote!" Dellenson worried.

"If the outcome was guaranteed, the whole thing would be boring. Relax and observe. It's all we can do for now."

As the votes rolled in, the former Commodore's prediction turned out to be almost entirely accurate. Only three of the unaligned delegates changed their vote to reject the Reavers, and just two of those who voted against the Reaver amendment now found the looming prospect of their admittance too daunting to vote for seating the Londinium and Sihnon delegations. The Colonies voted against. The Cylons voted for. Which seemed to bring the vote to a tie.

"The Chair gets the tie breaking vote!" Dellenson hissed. "We've lost!"

"Have we?" Harken asked with a grin. "The Earth Alliance hasn't voted yet." He'd said the words loudly enough to be heard by those on the nearby benches and tables. They were passed like wildfire, sweeping across the room as all eyes turned to see what Harken had already seen…Garibaldi, speaking quietly but frantically into his wrist communicator.

The room fell into silence, and a look of equal parts anger and stupefaction fell over Marshall Reynolds's features. Finally, Garibaldi lowered his wrist and stood up, features stony and inscrutable. He spoke somberly. "As you may have imagined, I have been in communication with Commodore Sheridan. The current situation with the Reavers…their changes and their population…this is almost entirely the responsibility of the Earth Alliance. As such…we cannot be the ones to throw them out into the cold. The Earth Alliance votes Yea."

The silence echoed thunderously, as all eyes now swiveled to the Chairwoman. Roslin stared in shock at Garibaldi for several long moments. Finally, glancing around the room, she raised her shoe and banged it on the table. "The Yeas have it. As of the morrow we will officially seat Londinium, Sihnon, and…and Beaumonde." She banged her shoe again, and the room erupted into cheers of celebration and outraged shouts of denial. Above it all rang a basso cackle from Ghawran and his Reaver compatriots.

Reynolds stood up suddenly, fury in his features, and stormed towards the exit. Delegate Jinnyman hesitated only a second before following, and one by one those of the Marshall's faction…primarily Rim and Border worlds…followed him out. As the Marshall's path took him past Harken, the new Chief Delegate from Londinium called out to him. "Welcome to politics, Marshall. And welcome to the new world. Same as the old world."

---

Serenity Valley, Hera, Georgia System - July, 2250
"Where the hell are they?" the Prime Minister asked for at least the seventh time. For the first time in generations, a Prime Minister was a member of the Illuminati. "They're hours late." He spun to a nearby naval officer. The woman only carried a pair of stars on her epaulets, so it wasn't really worth remembering her name. Certainly not given the horse face and complete lack of breasts. "Is there any sign of them on long range scans?"

"Negative your Excellency. But given the stealth capabilities of some of their larger vessels, we may not know that they are here until they are right on top of us."

"Bah! What good are you then?!" the PM spat, spinning on his heel. He was a petty man, but photogenic and charismatic when the moment called for it. As there were no cameras about, this was certainly not one of those times.

The Minister of Defense stepped forward to stand at the PM's shoulder. "Calm down," he commanded in a thin yet forbidding whisper. His shaven head gleamed in the sunlight…at least on top. The shadow around the back and sides showed this to be more an attempt to hide his rapidly graying hair than to appear soldierly in deference to the men and Ministry under his command.

The PM immediately subsided, plastering a fake smile on his face. And well he should, for it was the MinDef, and not he, who was the Magus of the Order. Normally the Magus would never sully himself by taking an actual job within the government, but whenever a member of the Illuminati became Prime Minister, it was necessary that true authority stay close, to ensure the fellow didn't forget from where his true power actually flowed, and to where his true loyalties must remain. "Sorry," he actually apologized.

"Don't abase yourself here!" the MinDef snapped, though quietly. "There are far too many eyes and ears for comfort." He sighed. "As for this Commodore Sheridan and his cohorts showing up…certainly he must. We are offering everything they want. Ridiculous as it is. But don't take our inability to detect them out on the peons. I've seen the data. It's starting to look more and more like the rumor that we're dealing with some form of faster than light travel, rather than a cloak or stealth device, may actually be true. At the very least, it's a distinct possibility."

The Minister of Science, also a member of the Order, though a much lesser one, had overheard and felt the need to interject herself. The woman traced her lineage all the way back to the Bezos and Shanshan clans amongst the founders. For some reason that gave her an over inflated sense of importance. "Sir, you can't be serious. Let me assure you, the laws of physics are immutable in this regard. Faster than light travel is a fantasy. Think what it would do to causality! No, sir, what we have here is a very advanced stealth field. Likely refined metamaterials capable of perfectly bending the full electromagnetic spectrum. We've worked on such things ourselves. I have no idea how such backwoods savages managed to perfect something we could not. Perhaps it was the Reavers. Studies indicate that the conversion process may actually heighten aspects of their intelligence. In particular creativity, analytical skills, and spatial reasoning."

"This isn't a lecture hall!" the Magus snapped, though sotto voce. "If I want your theories, I'll ask for them. Make yourself useful and help the military winnow more data out of the sensor feeds." Chastised, the MinSci, who ranked among the Order's clergy, backed away to do as told. Though she did cast him a defiant eye. He might need to set minders on her.

When she had withdrawn out of earshot, the PM sidled up to ask another question, eyeing askance the throngs of military and security forces surrounding and permeating the whole area. "Was it really a good idea to bring every member of the Mysteries to this meeting? The Illuminati could be decapitated in a single strike. The only people who truly know our secrets and skeletons, all gathered here…I feel like the fool who stuck his head in the lion's mouth."

The Magus bit back an angry retort. In truth, it was a reasonable question. And given the PM's rank within the Order, it deserved an honest answer. "We're losing every aspect of this war, and that needs to change immediately. Somehow…somehow, these people managed to crack the Order's most secure data repository. How did they know to go after that, instead of any standard government database?"

"Well…we did stash it at the heart of the Parliament's most secure networks. If they had the capacity to breach that far, it certainly would have stood out as a tempting target."

Again, the Magus bit back his irritation. The PMs words rang entirely true. "And perhaps that was a mistake. But who could have imagined these people would have developed such advanced capabilities in breaching network security…or that they'd be crazy enough to sneak into a secure Military Intelligence facility to get a link into the system at all. No, we are dealing with quite extraordinary people here. And in that data breach they managed to secure all of our identities."

"You told me our identities weren't recorded, even there!"

"And they weren't, but we don't live in a vacuum. There were enough details of our actions and interactions present for good analysts…which these people clearly have!...to ferret out all of our identities. They know. Which is why this is the perfect ruse."

"Ruse? Thank God!" he burst out, almost forgetting to lower his voice. "I thought we were actually surrendering!"

"And we may have to. If they come in smart. But all of us being here…that shows that we're sincere. And it puts forward an unspoken challenge for them to send their own top echelons of leadership. And if they do…then things really get interesting."

The PM looked around at all of the forces he had personally ordered gathered….because he'd been told to. Operatives. Blue Hands. Special Forces galore. And a metric shit ton of various military and Federal Marshalls. They'd even emplaced a sizable battery of antiaircraft weaponry, though nothing that could threaten the orbitals. "Interesting how?"

"The way I see it, they have three choices. They can choose to belittle us…send down some low level flunky…a Brigadier or something…to dictate terms to us. If that happens, we'll have no choice but to negotiate in good faith and hope that our diplomatic skills and their lack of experience will get us the best possible accord. But if we can trust what our intelligence services have been telling us about their leadership…if I've been given an accurate read on this Sheridan, and Adama, and most especially Reynolds…then I think they're going to want to meet us face to face. They're the kind of coarse military types who really think you can get into someone's head by pressing the flesh and making eye contact. We're quite likely to see much of their senior leadership come down, to show that they are taking this as seriously as we are. Which is where the next two possibilities come in. The iron fist or the velvet glove."

"Magus? I don't understand."

"It's a simple binary choice. They can come down with a show of raw military strength. Overmatch our own guards. Bring hordes of their Browncoats and Marines, just to prove that they're in charge. That's why we have our most dangerous and lethal forces here. Quality over quantity. And the Hands of Blue are a force multiplier they won't have an answer for. But the last thing we want is a truly pitched battle. However, I find it much more likely that they will take a diplomatic route. Try not to appear too intimidating. Prove that they, and not we, and the truly civilized ones. In that case, they are likely to match our numbers exactly. Which will give us the advantage, given the Blue Hands and the Operatives we have here, and all of the other trump cards we've gathered. But it won't really matter. So long as they bring their senior leadership to negotiate, we've won."

"I see." The PM nodded sagely, clearly not understanding at all. So, the Magus was forced to spell it out for him.

"If they match our forces numerically, we'll have the advantage. On my signal, our people will eliminate theirs, and we'll have their top commanders as hostages. Their mighty fleet will be neutered, so long as we have their people in our pocket. It will provide all of the breathing room we need to stabilize the political situation and begin rebuilding our forces. These barbarians can't hope to stand in the face of a proper civilization. Not in the long run. We just need to stabilize our base and eliminate the rot which has seeped into our forces."

"But what if they choose the iron fist, sir?" the PM sniveled.

"Well, given the quality difference, our people could probably still take them. But it's not a risk worth taking. We'll appear to negotiate in good faith, but stretch out the talks. We'll have to find an excuse at some point to call a break. Then our most important members will withdraw into the cave we've secured."

"What good will that do? They can always call in more forces to dig us out at their leisure. The Victoria II is alone in orbit with just a handful of fighters escorting her. She can't hope to stand against the vessels the enemy controls. They'll be able to bring in reinforcements and prevent us from getting any relief."

The Magus sighed. Despite being this fool's superior in the Illuminati, he was still the Minister of Defense. It reflected poorly on his communication skills that his nominal superior was so poorly informed. "You really need to pay better attention. We had a tunnel dug and a high speed tram installed well over a month ago for exactly this possibility. If they come with tens of thousands of troops, with fighters and bombers and starships in support, we simply withdraw into the cave. Hell, even if they do something surprising and make their own attempt at capturing us, we withdraw into the cave. We'll be hundreds of kilometers away within minutes, and all of their forces will be immolated when we set off the Hydrogen-bomb we've buried under the floor of the valley. It's powerful enough to incinerate everything on the ground or in the atmosphere up to the Karman line. It won't touch their ships in orbit, but their leaders will be dead, and we'll still get that breather we needed."

"But they'll come after us!" the PM protested.

"How? They won't even know we're alive, much less where we are. The worst they can possibly do is drop a few nuclear bombs into the already smoking valley. We'll be long gone. Eventually they'll get bored or be called back. Once they're gone, we can emerge and make our way back to the capital. They'll have lost their leadership, and we'll be able to exercise power for quite a while before they realize we're still alive. It might very well lead to a total collapse of their government. At the very least it will buy us the breather we need to turn this war around."

The Prime Minister nodded again, then looked around once more at the throngs of guardians and military. "And we can get all of our people out on this tram?"

"Don't be an idiot," the Magus hissed. "There's only enough room for the Mysteries and maybe a few personal guards."

"But our people…"

"You can't make an omelet without nuking a few eggs."

They stood around for the next minute in silence. Another naval officer…not the previous one, who seemed to have withdrawn…reported again to the PM on the complete lack of sensor contacts. "Excellency…" he asked, "are we certain they are coming?"

"They have no alternative but to come!" the MinDef declared angrily, which sent this officer scurrying away after the last.

There were several more moment of silence before the Prime Minister whispered to him again. "There's just one thing still bothering me."

"And that is?"

"What if they just bomb us from orbit? Take us all out with an orbital strike. Wouldn't that be the smart thing to do?"

The Magus took a deep, thoughtful breath. "I suppose it's possible. You are correct. It's the smart thing to do. But I don't think these people are that smart. Whatever their advancements, they're still just frontier bumpkins. Those kinds of people are burdened with notions of honor and strange ethical calculations. They wouldn't see that kind of attack as fair or proper. Which is, of course, why we will eventually crush them. Eventually." He sighed again. "I do wish they would hurry up though. This waiting around is intolerable."

"Then I'm happy to inform you," came a smooth, overly loud voice from very nearby, "that your wait is over. They're not coming."

The Magus, as well as the Prime Minister, turned to glare daggers at the insubordinate and insouciant officer, prepared to put the fool in his place. Or perhaps to have him flogged. You didn't break in on a private conversation amongst your superiors and betters like that. The man wore the uniform of a Colonel. Any member of the military, particularly one of such lowly standing, should know better. The Magus opened his mouth to rebuke the buffoon but then froze when he recognized the sudden action of his guards. His personal bodyguards, nearby Operatives…even several pairs of Blue Hands…were all rushing in, weapons to hand or even drawn. An aura and apprehension of bloody mayhem hung upon the air, and he found himself at the center of it. He thrust up one hand, commanding everyone to freeze before events could spiral out of control. The PM needlessly did the same. His authority was such that even such highly trained warriors obeyed immediately, though now weapons were universally levelled upon the peculiar officer.

He studied the young man, who seemed entirely at ease, even amused. This despite being within the crosshairs of dozens of trained assassins. There was something…familiar about the man. "Wait….Operator?!" He took the man's smirk as confirmation. "Just where the hell have you been?! It was your job to stop this mess before it began. If Reynolds's transmission hadn't gone out, we'd have only been fighting a single group of rebels, instead of the entire 'Verse! I'm not sure if I should have you shot for failure, or for abandoning your post! We've needed every hand on deck for months, and you decided that your incomparable fuck up gave you the leeway to take a Goddamned vacation!?"

The Operator suddenly sprouted an insouciant grin. "I'm not sure if I can keep the order of your questions straight, but let me try. Yes, it's me. And I've spent the last few months carousing in the 'Verse's most wretched hive of scum and villainy…the epicenter of all the factions that would like to see your Illuminati wiped out for its crimes. And no, it wasn't a vacation. I was doing my job…finding a way to create a better world. Though I have a question for you now. How exactly does creating Reavers…turning whole worlds into fields of living corpses and nightmare monsters….how exactly does that help to build a paradise?"

"It's not your place to ask!" the Magus snapped. "Not yours to question. You need faithful to create the world you seek. Believers who understand that those ends certainly justify any means! That's why you were chosen! Why you were sculpted and molded into the perfect tool! How dare you even ask?!" He took a breath. "Apparently you need reminding of the very first lesson…the only way to do build the perfect paradise is to stamp out those who stand in the way. And that sometimes means making monsters to fight the monsters arrayed against us. Have you lost your faith?"

"Not at all. I still believe in something greater than myself. A better world. A world without sin. I simply no longer believe that your machinations, your ideas and plans, or for that matter you yourselves….can possibly take us there. Not after Miranda. After Beaumonde. When that became clear to me…when I realized just exactly what you were, I was lost. Adrift."

Behind the rogue Operative, the Magus noticed that the Blue Hands and Operatives and crack military forces were slowly and quietly inching their way forward, preparing themselves to take the traitor down. He'd need to buy them more time. Keep the man talking. "And what exactly are we?" he sneered, "since you seem to have us all figured out."

"Why, you're the serpent in the garden. You promise knowledge and freedom, but it is you who bring the worst sins into the world."

"So you've decided that it's us…those who sheltered and trained you…perfected you…who must be destroyed? That we have to die in order for you to live in the better world you were promised? You think we're the monsters? Have you looked in the mirror, Operative? You've turned into a rabid dog, biting and snapping at the hand that fed you."

"Oh, I've already found the better world. A place…a people, greater than myself. A world without sin. But I'm not going to live there. There's no place for me there, any more than there is for you or your Illuminati. I'm a monster, every bit as much as the Reavers you've created. What I do…what you've trained me to do is evil. I have no illusions about that. But sometimes it must be done. You taught me that."

The Magus chuckled, though a sweat had broken out on his forehead. "So…what? You came here to kill us? To end our sin? Are you really that stupid? Go ahead. Kill me. Kill the Prime Minister. Others will take our place. You can't defeat the Illuminati. And you'll soon be dead. You can't defeat the Blue Hands. All of the other Operatives." He just needed a few more seconds. He could see the snipers taking aim. Ensuring that their shots wouldn't over-penetrate and harm the Prime Minister or himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the PM edging backwards, realizing the deadly peril he was in.

"But all of the Illuminati are here," the Operative noted, turning over and opening the hand he'd been holding in front of his belly. It was positioned so that only the Magus could see what he held cupped in the palm of his hand. It was a small, round device.

"A bomb?" he asked, a knot of true fear forming in his gut. "Give it up. A device that size couldn't kill more than the PM and myself. Maybe the first line of troops coming for you. The Illuminati are spread all over this Valley. You'll die, but your death will accomplish nothing. Mean nothing."

"Oh, it's not a bomb, Minister," the Operative whispered. "It's a trigger. To the nuke you had buried here. Yes, I'll die. That was always the plan. And this…this is a dead man's switch."

Eyes widening in horror, the Magus looked up. Threw up his hand and opened his mouth to scream for everyone to stop.

But it was too late. There was a flash, and the Operative's head burst like a ripe melon.

The Magus never saw the second flash. Neither did anyone else there. The speed of a nuclear detonation is faster than human comprehension. But between one instant and the next, the entirety of Serenity Valley…and everyone in it…ceased to exist.

---

Secret Alliance Facility, Cortex Relay Station Eight - July, 2250
Though the screaming hadn't lasted particularly long…thank God…it had taken over half an hour to get River to anything approaching a state of calm. Or rather, anything less than crippling anxiety. She wasn't talking about the cause behind her panic attack. Whether that was because it was just too traumatic, or because she herself didn't know, was impossible to say. But in the meantime, they'd done some exploring.

The tunnels branching to the left and right turned out to be the same tunnel. They met again on the far side of the large circular room which seemed to be the primary feature of this floor. The circular tunnel was lined with hundreds of doors on its inner facing, though none of them granted access to the domed room. No, the large metal door they'd first encountered seemed to be the only way in or out of there. At least that they'd discovered so far. Rather, those countless doors seemed rather to be access panels. Behind each was a small compartment overflowing with intricate machinery and computer systems of unknown purpose. Well, mostly unknown. And, as it turned out, the inner facing of the large room also contained hidden, recessed access panels, leading to the other side of the same machinery, so that it could be accessed from either end. They'd been slowly trying to figure it all out. With very limited results.

"Any luck?" Doctor Simon Tam asked the tall blonde Cylon seated next to him in what appeared to be a control and observation room…the only control and observation room. She was sandwiched between him and Doctor Stephen Franklin. You could have gotten a few more people into the room, but not many. She stood out though, in being the only one with a wire snaking into her wrist.

"The network is still just as empty as the last time you asked, Doctor," she replied with a sigh. The data, applications, operating systems…hells, even the firmware's been wiped. You're asking me to have a conversation with a brain dead patient."

"Then what have you been doing for the last few minutes?" Franklin inquired.

With a shrug, she nodded her head at a dead monitor hanging in the far upper corner at the back of the room. With a flicker, it suddenly sprung to life. The screen was quartered. At first, Simon only recognized the display in the upper left quadrant. It was a camera view looking out the front of the facility, across the beach and up the causeway. Serenity was centered in the middle of the display. "I've managed to get the security sensors back on line and routed to this room. I've also slaved Serenity's sensor feed, as well as those of the stealth sats we hid in the ion cloud, to this system as well. Since we're all up here now and no one is minding the ship, I thought it might be a good idea to keep a watch out for any unwanted visitors."

They continued to work in silence for the next few moments. Eventually, Baltar's voice cut in over comms. "We're ready to activate the next node."

Stephen tapped his wrist device. "We're good here. Give it a shot." There was a moment of silence as they studied the control console before them and its complete lack of activity. After a moment he turned to Caprica. "Anything?"

"Yes. I'm getting a steady stream of data. But it's all signal, without structure or key. Whatever was meant to interpret it is missing." She closed her eyes for several long moments. "It feels...it feels like the flow from Cylon Projection. If I had to guess...it's some kind of sensor feed of the room."

Baltar's satisfied voice came back over comms. "I think you must be correct. The device is projecting a low level, asymmetric magnetic field which seems to expand to cover the entirety of the room. It's a sensor. We can move on."

"So three down, only several hundred to go," Simon quipped. "At this rate we'll be here for weeks, maybe months, just trying to figure out what all this hardware does. And no promise that this exercise is actually going to lead anywhere."

"At least we're making progress," Gaius replied. "But speaking of progress, I could use some more Cylon assistance. And I think I'd like to get a better look at exactly how these sensors propagate from the inside."

With a sigh, Caprica pulled the data lead from her arm and rose to leave. "On my way," she called.

They continued working for most of the day. Soon, almost everyone was involved in the effort, even those without relevant skills. Holding lights, flipping switches, or prying open hatches were tasks just as necessary to their forward progress. Slowly, they began identifying one device after another. The majority were scanners or sensors of various sorts. Electromagnetic, gravitic, sonic, a dozen flavors of photonic, all were present. Even alpha and beta radiation emitters were present. Some of the nodes were solely transmitters, others receivers, and some few could do both. It all depended on the medium of the scan. They'd had to haul in quite a few tools from Serenity for the analysis. Kaylee had even been forced to strip out some of the ship's sensors, rig up power runs, and remount them in the room. All just to try to figure out what the hell had gone on here.

And then there were the mystery nodes. Not that the great and powerful Gaius Baltar couldn't figure out what they did. He just couldn't figure out why. They seemed to be more emitters, replicating all of the various sensor fields. But these seemed far too powerful; much larger and eating up far more juice. They also seemed to be point specific rather than broad fields. Stephen had suggested that they might be for deeper, penetrative scans; but Baltar insisted they were too powerful for even that. He noted that they weren't far off from weapons grade.

That got Starbuck's attention. "Powerful enough to kill?" she'd asked.

"Maybe. Probably, actually. But not quickly. It would be...torturous."

"Maybe they're for torture then," Boomer had cut in bluntly. "There's got to be some reason River is so terrified of this place. But whatever that reason is, it's too deep for telepathic scans to pick it up. That or someone took the precaution to deliberately obscure those memories from telepathic scan. But that would indicate the Alliance has access to knowledge and technologies I don't want to think about."

"Would they really torture River like that?" Kaylee asked uncertainly.

"Of course they would," Tessa cut in. "Inflicting that kind of pain is a tried and true method of reworking someone's psyche. And this setup appears much more refined and precise than the usual crude methods."

"If she had to endure that kind of horror," Inara asked, "suffer that kind of trauma, could she even come back from something like that?"

"She's done a really great job so far," Susan advised. "And she's got us to help her through. We just need to figure out how."

It was Simon, taking a turn outside of the control booth, who made the key discovery. He was investigating one of the nodes with Kaylee, the two using the effort as a motive for spending a few quiet moments together. But they'd barely cracked the cover on the next node when Simon's eyes opened wide in recognition. "This can't be right. That's...that's a surgical laser."

"It is?" Kaylee asked in surprise.

"Yeah. High end, but I'd recognize it anywhere. It's just...the focal lens setup is all wrong. This is...this is bizarre!"

"Well, what's wrong with it?"

The question seemed to catch Baltar's and Caprica's attention, the two of them working at their own node nearby. They approached, curiosity evident. "Have you found something, Doctor?" Gaius asked.

Simon nodded. "This is a surgical laser. Powerful and precise. I have no idea why one would be here. But look there at the varifocal lens. Its capacity to adjust focal length is unlike anything I've ever seen on surgical equipment before. And the targeting servos are far too robust. And too many. There's a degree and range of motion there that makes no sense. The varifocal is gòu huāngtáng, but with all of those servos, that laser could probably slice into anything anywhere..." He stopped, mouth dropping open slightly, and turned to survey the large open room. "...anywhere in the room," he muttered to himself.

"That's strange," Kaylee agreed. "And why would you need more than one? We've seen this exact setup in two other nodes. We assumed it was some kind of laser scanner."

Simon looked around the room again. "And if we assume there is a similar proportion of these lasers in the nodes we haven't investigated yet, that would mean..."

"Twenty or thirty of them," Caprica answered for him. "Is that important?"

Simon hesitated, took a breath, and then firmly asserted, "I know what this is. This whole room, it's...it's an O.R."

"Excuse me?" Baltar asked, trying to match up an acronym that made sense.

"An operating room. This whole place is one big operating room."

"Simon," Kaylee scoffed, "that doesn't make any sense. There's no operating tables, no medicine, no place for the doctors to work. And why would you need a room this big?"

"Because it's not normal surgery. Given the sensors and other things we've found…multiple surgical lasers…and the raw capabilities of that targeting system…I think they were doing surgery…experimental surgery…on conscious people. People not on a table, but standing. Moving."

"What?" Baltar scoffed. "Don't be daft. That's not possible. Why would anyone do that?"

"To literally build weapons out of people. Look at this place! It's an open floor with nothing in it. It's…probably some kind of gymnasium. Or training hall. Who knows what kind of mad exercises…or, or even torture….they could put people through in here while altering them?! This could allow them to cut or alter a person while their mind and body is active…while their system is flooded with their own hormones and neurotransmitters!"

Simon was getting worked up, his voice growing in volume, and gradually more and more of their compatriots began to come over to see what was happening. "What's up?" Ivanova asked, jogging over. River was at her side.

"Simon thinks this whole place is some kind of live operating room," Kaylee advised.

"He's leaping to conclusions," Baltar cautioned.

"Am I? In addition to the surgical lasers, didn't we find proton emitters? Magnetic and gravitic field emitters that didn't appear to be simple sensors? Multiple types of radiation? There's a half dozen ways to carve into someone, or make the tiniest of tissue alterations, both internally and externally. Including multiple ways to operate on a person internally without having to cut through the surface flesh. River's amygdala was stripped, but there are no visible signs of the surgery required to do so. This place….this place could probably do something like that while she was doing backflips! Hell…it could probably work on multiple people at once. River's a prodigy. Always has been. I doubt they had too many subjects on her level. Probably none. But it's entirely possible that they did to others what they did to her."

"Who?" River asked, not clarifying if she meant those doing the butchery or those under the proverbial knife.

"With the data wiped, there's no way to know."

"This is all still just a guess," Gaius argued once more.

"But if he's right…" Susan mused thoughtfully, "if he's right, there's no way they would just leave this place lying around. Data or no, everything here still looks functional. This is way too much evidence. Somebody has to be coming back for it."

"Why do I have to keep saying that it's a Goddamned trap!?" Talia snapped from the periphery of the group, now made up of most of them.

She said it loud enough that Starbuck, sprinting up to the group with Franklin and Boomer right behind, overheard her. "It's not like we didn't believe you," she huffed. "We even took a vote. We just…maybe should have believed you a little more, a little sooner."

"What does that mean?" River asked.

"It means that the sensor buoy we left in the ion cloud just spotted a Victoria class corvette headed this way fast! Damn thing's probably fresh out of the yard. We've got a few hours if we're lucky. Time to go."

"But we haven't solved anything yet!" Simon objected. "We've just barely begun to crack the surface on this place."

"I thought you had it all figured out?" Caprica asked.

"Even if I'm right…and I must be…that doesn't tell us the full capabilities of this place. It certainly doesn't tell us how to help River! That's why we're all here, isn't it?"

"Doc," Starbuck noted, "that ship can carry a short battalion worth of troops. And if this really is a trap, they're probably bringing some of their best. It's time to go!" she insisted.

"We'll never get another chance like this!" River objected. "You go! I'll stay and hide and see if I can learn anymore."

Starbuck swore under her breath. "We all go or stay together," she insisted. "But what more do you think can be accomplished here? Even knowing what this place is…assuming your brother is right, and that's a big assumption…the data and control systems have all been wiped. Those soldiers certainly aren't gonna know. They're coming to kill or capture us, and then we might all get to see just what this room can do…from the inside!"

"I don't know!" River snapped. "Please! There must be something we can do!"

"I'm fresh out of ideas," Starbuck replied, but then sighed and looked around. "Anybody got any?"

There was a long moment of silence, as everyone looked around at each other. Finally though, Franklin cleared his throat. "I…I might have an idea. A crazy one."

"How crazy?" Susan asked, at the same time Kara returned, "I'll take crazy."

Stephen looked around uncomfortably, now that all eyes were upon him. He cleared his throat. "I…I brought the device."

It was immediately apparent the several of those present knew exactly what he was talking about, while others showed only confusion at the statement. "What device are you talking about?" Simon asked.

"Doc!" Shaw snapped, speaking up for the first time, "if that machine could help River, why the hells didn't you just use it back on Miranda?! Or any time before then? Why are you just bringing it up now?!"

"Because it wouldn't have helped her before," Stephen replied defensively. "Not enough. Frag it, it probably won't help her now, but it's all I can think of!"

"What machine?" Simon asked again.

"It only accepts two donors at most," Franklin noted nervously. "River's changes were too specific, too severe. The feedback to the donors would have left us with three people still in River's condition, just mildly less so. But this place…assuming Simon is right, this place has a greater surgical capacity than anything I've ever seen before, and the device…"

"Qīngwā cāo de liúmáng," Simon snapped, "what device?!"

Stephen paused, and then took off the backpack he always seemed to be wearing when he left his residence or medical facilities. Loosening the straps, he pulled out a large, bizarre looking device. He met Simon's gaze directly. "It's an alien healing device."

"Alien? As in…?"

"As in I have no idea what species built it, much less where it came from. I purchased it from a Drazi curiosities vendor on Zhabar. He had no idea what it is. For that matter, I don't know everything it can do."

"And you want to use it on River?" Simon asked, horrified.

"Easy Doc," Starbuck advised. "Crazy as it is, several of us have seen that thing work miracles. There's quite a few of us that would be dead, if not for that thing."

"Yeah," Shaw cut in with some irritation, "but it didn't just save our lives, did it? That's a pretty fraking big disclaimer you're leaving out!"

"He already said it wouldn't work anyway!" Simon snapped.

"I said it wouldn't work before," Franklin cut in cautiously. "But here, this could be different."

"Different how?" Caprica asked. Next to her, Inara stepped forward and wrapped River, clearly becoming more and more upset, in a supportive embrace.

"One oddity about the device that I haven't figured out yet…it…it amalgamates foreign technology."

"Excuse me?" Caprica asked in confusion.

"Look, Max Eilerson and I spent quite a bit of time studying this device. Or trying to anyway. We brought in a ton of different scanner types, but they weren't able to scan through the shell. So, we tried hooking various sensors up to it. But that didn't work either, because the device hijacked them."

"What does that mean?"

"Every device we hooked up became incorporated by the machine…somehow. Sensors were turned into bio sensors. Software and control systems were overridden so that the machine could use anything we gave it to enhance itself…to make itself better at healing. It tried to take over the lab computers we were using to run the systems when Max pulled the plug. After that, he felt the next step was destructive analysis. Tear apart the machine to see how it worked. So I pulled the plug on our research. The slim possibility of us figuring it out wasn't worth losing the device. Someone will figure it out when our technology has matured enough. Max may never forgive me." He shrugged, then turned to focus on Simon again. "This alien device takes the health and life energy from one or two healthy donors and transfers it to a patient, healing them, but in the process transferring back some of their injury or disease to the donor or donors. I think that here it may be able to take over this monstrosity the Alliance built and use it to help River."

"That's insane," Simon replied, aghast. "There's no precept of biology or physics that supports the madness you just spouted!"

"And yet it works. Definitively. I've run the tests myself on both patients and donors." He turned to Shaw. "I don't know if this will work. Hell, it probably won't. But I've seen the machine overwrite data and control systems, so it may be able to use this facility, even though everything's been wiped clean. And as for your concern…I don't think anyone here is carrying around an ancient god anymore, so we're probably safe."

"What?" Simon asked in clearly overwhelmed confusion.

"But just to be safe," Stephen continued, "we'll only use donors with a neurotypical brain structure. That means me, Simon, Kaylee, and Inara. The four of us should provide sufficient…energy, health, lifeforce…whatever you want to call it, to heal River without ourselves becoming…afflicted. If it even works, of course. But given the different circumstances and just drawing energy from normal people…"

"I feel like I've been insulted," Susan noted. Starbuck nodded her agreement.

"This is insane!" Simon spat. "You are absolutely not using some unknown alien device on my sister! What kind of a doctor are you?!"

"Simon," River began.

But Simon wasn't finished. "Don't you take oaths to 'do no harm' anymore?! Do you think people are just guinea pigs, to be experimented on? To satisfy your curiosity?!"

"Take it easy, Simon," Kaylee rubbed his arm, trying to calm him. It wasn't working

"And not only do you want to experiment on River, but now you want to throw Kaylee and Inara and me into the pot?! Oh my God, and yourself! What kind of control and objectivity do you expect to exercise, when you're operating on yourself?! I was an idiot to bring you along. No wonder you aren't Chief Medical Officer anymore!"

The words brought silence to the group as Stephen's shoulders bowed under the barrage. Finally, River spoke into the silence. "Simon," she began again.

But Tessa interrupted her. "That's…maybe a little harsh, Doc. Stephen may be more than a bit foolish…and self-centered…" she added, "but he's also worked miracles. Saved people by the millions. And nearly killed himself doing it."

"Of course you would defend him," Simon began, turning on her.

"Simon!" River shouted. That grabbed all eyes, not just Simon's. "It's my decision."

"River, you can't possibly be considering this."

"Simon, we're out of time. The Alliance is coming. We need to leave. This place…it's our last option. Our last clue. This is where they did it! Where they made me into…into this! A place like this, anyhow. If we leave now…we're just giving up. I'm not giving up, Simon."

"River, we'll find another way! Let the Alliance take this place back. They're losing the war. Once they surrender, we can ask Sheridan or Roslin to demand that they hand this place over to us, along with any records of what happened here!"

"Simon," Inara cut in, "you have to know that even if the Alliance folds, they'll wipe this place off the map before they ever hand it over. It's evidence that can be used against them. We'll never see this place again, once we leave."

"So you think she should proceed with this insanity?" Simon barked.

"I didn't say that," Inara replied, holding up her hands calmingly. "But it is River's decision."

"What do you think, Gaius?" Caprica asked.

"I'm still not convinced this is some kind of surgery center," Baltar noted. "But if there's a way to help River…well, Doctor Franklin's device certainly seems to be wrapped up in the will of God. Or of the Lords of Kobol if you prefer. It's River's decision."

"It's River's decision," several of the others agreed.

Simon looked around in disbelief. "You're all mad."

"Simon," River replied, "this is my last chance. I'm doing this."

Starbuck nodded in acceptance of the decision, then turned to Franklin. "Alright Doc, what do you need from us? The clock is ticking."

Stephen nodded, rattling off a list of orders. "Take River and the other neurotypicals to the center of the room. And try to get them and River as calm as possible. Let's make it as easy for the device as we can. Everyone else…get the hatches in here closed up. Reconnect anything we've disconnected. I'm going to head back to the control room and try to hook up the device. If we can't get it to merge, then we're done here. Once it looks like that's going to work, I'll come back in to join the rest of the volunteers…" he looked at Inara and Kaylee, then at Simon. "Are…are you volunteering?''

Both Inara and Kaylee nodded immediately. Simon only hesitated for a moment before declaring, "I'd do anything for my sister."

Stephen nodded. "I'll come back in to join the rest of the volunteers, and everyone else will get out. I'll have set the machine to run, so all you should need to do…hopefully…is initiate it. But again…this is largely a hope and a prayer. It's just…all I can come up with."

Starbuck nodded. "River said go, so we go. Get started."

Stephen grabbed up the device and turned to head back to the control room. Simon immediately fell into step behind him. "I'm keeping an eye on you and this device," he declared. While everyone else sprang to work, restoring the interior of the room, the two of them ran into the control room. Stephen glanced up at the monitor in the back corner of the room, which now clearly displayed the approaching Alliance corvette. "Gotta hurry," he noted, dropping the alien device right onto the middle of the control console and looking for the data access lead Caprica had used earlier.

"If anything goes wrong," Simon noted quietly, "I'll never forgive you for this."

Stephen paused for only a moment. "That's fair," he agreed. Then, finding the lead he was looking for, he hooked it up to the device. Nothing happened. So, he tried an alternate connection. Still nothing.

"I thought you knew what you were doing?" Simon groused.

"That's funny. You made it quite clear you're certain I have absolutely no idea at all what I'm doing."

"Ok, you got me. So, are we done then?"

"You're right. I'm not certain exactly how to get these machines connected, but I'm fairly certain they can be. The alien device has never been shy about hijacking hardware before. Let me try some alternate connection points."

For well over the next half hour, Franklin tried connecting the machine to various ports or running power back and forth between the devices. Eventually, he tried making multiple connections at once. Power runs and a half dozen data lines. Still, nothing changed. "What's supposed to happen?" Simon finally asked.

"Hard to say," Franklin replied, eyes intent on both the machine and the control panel upon which it sat. "But with this much of a connection, we should certainly have seen something by no…"

With a hiss, the heavy metal door slammed down, sealing off the operating room. Lights began flashing on all over the console and alien device both. "What are you doing?" Simon spat. "Everyone's still inside!"

"I haven't told the machine to do anything yet," Franklin replied in confusion.

"Doc," Starbuck's voice came over comms, "why is the door closed?"

Warning lights and alarms suddenly burst to life all over the console. Simon hit the button to open the door, but nothing happened. He jabbed at it repeatedly, with a similar lack of results. "Get that door open!" he shot at Franklin.

"I didn't close it!" Stephen snapped. He moved to access the device's controls, but then immediately snatched his hands away. "It's hot!"

Simon looked over in alarm, then darted in and tried to disconnect one of the data connections. It didn't want to be disconnected, so he tried another, and then another. He could feel the heat beginning to radiate off of Franklin's crazy machine, so grabbed onto all of the data runs with both hands and heaved backwards, literally ripping them out of the device. Fresh lights and alarms burst forth momentarily, and then slowly sputtered out.

"Doc!" Starbucks commed again. "What the hells is going on in there?!" Behind her the alarmed shouts of several others, particularly Baltar's nasally voice, could be heard.

Breathing deeply, trying to calm himself, Franklin raised his wrist to his mouth. "Some kind of false start. It looks like we got it under control tho…."

The words hadn't even finished leaving his mouth before fresh alarms and flashing warning lights burst forth from both console and alien machine. Far more alarmingly, all of the monitor displays, both on the control console and on the wall directly above it, burst outward in a shower of sparks and burnt plexiglass shards. Both doctors sustained cuts to their face and arms, though were fortunate enough not to take damage to their eyes.

And then a brilliant light burst forth from the viewing port into the main room, along with a keening, crackling, mechanical wail. It was as though some continuous bolt of lightning were going off in there, too brilliant for either man to make out any details through the narrow slit. But they certainly heard the screams, just loud enough not to be drowned out by the siren-like howling. The screams of their friends. Screams of terror and pain. They both heard Starbuck's frantic wail though the comms…"Get us out…" before it stopped abruptly. But whether it was the comms signal or Starbuck herself that was cut off was unknowable in the moment.

"What the hell did you do?!" Simon demanded frantically, attempting again trigger the door to open.

"I don't know," Stephen replied, just as panic-stricken. And then he noticed a light, not from the viewing slit or from the various warning signals but edging out from underneath the alien device where it sat on the control console. He reached out and grabbed the device, attempting to heave it aside in order to see where the light was coming from. He shrieked in instant agony, ripping his hands back from the device. Bits of burnt flesh stuck to the device, tearing away from his injured hands. The skin left stuck to the machine blackened and smoked. The alien device remained firmly rooted where it sat. Not thinking, Simon ran to make a similar attempt to tear away the device. "Don't touch it!" Stephen shouted through his own agony. "It's scorching hot! And it's stuck in place. I think…" he paused, gasping through the pain. The ongoing screams of their companions coming through the heavy wall filled the momentary lapse. "I think it may have created its own connections through its direct contact with the control console's surface.

Simon didn't hesitate, lifting up a leg and slamming the heavy sole of his boot into the side of the alien device. It didn't so much as budge. However, sparks and smoke could now be seen rising up out of the control console. The light through the viewing slit seemed to increase in intensity. Simon kicked the machine again and again, with identical results. "Qīngwā cāo de liúmáng, this is all your fault! Help me!"

In the other room, the screaming had stopped, but the mechanical howl just went on and on. Cradling his injured hands, Stephen stepped forward to do as Simon had asked. Bracing an elbow against the console, he too began to kick at the alien machine. In unspoken agreement, they timed their kicks together. It seemed to make no difference…until their third blow, when something seemed to loosen. Two more kicks, and now the alien device rattled with each impact. Three more and something tore, the alien device separating slightly from the surface of the console. Beneath it, thousands of glowing filaments could be seen, connecting the two devices.

But that was as far as they could get it. Now, the filaments flexed with each joint kick, stealing away the force of the blow. And the soles of their boots were becoming painfully hot. They stopped at the same time, both gasping in pain and exhaustion. "Screw this!" Simon snapped. In one fluid movement he ripped Franklin's PPG from his hip holster, while simultaneously drawing his own heavy pistol. A weapon in each hand, he took rapid aim at the insidious device.

"No! Wait!" Stephen cried, but it was too late. Simon opened fire with both weapons, emptying each into the device. His aim was awful, but he was close enough that it mostly didn't matter. Heavy, gravity-kicked machine-pistol rounds tore through filaments along side sizzling PPG discharges. Some of them anyway. Others went wild, smacking into the side of the alien device or digging deep into the control console beneath. By the time both weapons were empty the connecting filaments were mostly shorn away, and those that remained no longer glowed from within. Smoke and flames rolled up out of holes in both console and healing machine.

Similarly, the brilliant light and electrical shriek had both stopped. Unfortunately, they'd been replaced by the flicker and crackle of a fire growing and spreading somewhere inside. "River!" Simone shouted. "River, can you hear me! Answer me! River!" Neither his sister nor any of their friends answered. He turned a furious gaze on Franklin while pounding futilely at the button to open the only door to the sealed room. "You son of a bitch! You did this to them!"

Miserable, Stephen made no attempt to argue. He merely sank to the ground and leaned his head back against the wall in exhaustion. Which brought his gaze to the sole remaining monitor in the room. The one in the back corner of the room. The one slaved to the data feed from Serenity. The one currently showing a Victoria class corvette piercing the ion cloud, well ahead of schedule. He leapt back to his feet. "The Alliance is here!"

"Forget the Alliance!" Simon snapped. "We have to get this door open or they'll all burn up! River!" he shouted again, trying to get some response, any response.

"If the Alliance cut off our escape, then they're dead anyway. We have to have a means of escape if we're going to survive." Coming to a decision, he made eye contact with Simon. "The button's not going to work. You're going to have to hot-wire it." So saying, he dashed out of the room.

"Bèn tiānshēng de yī duī ròu!" Simon shouted after him. Then muttered a further "Asshole!" under his breath. But, worthless as Stephen now was in Simon's mind, he had to admit that the man was correct. Stupidly stabbing at the open button wasn't getting him anywhere. He was going to have to hot wire the door. Kicking open a panel to the underside of the console, he crawled inside and started grabbing onto wires, desperately trying to remember a long-forgotten lesson from Jayne on how to override electrical doors.

He spent the next few minutes grunting and cursing in the guts of the control panel, trying to get that blasted door open, ignoring the steadily approaching flames and smoke from further down the console. For some reason, he kept glancing at that lone monitor. The corvette was no longer on the screen, but he saw when a running Franklin hit the causeway, running down it to leap aboard the Serenity. "Worthless fèifèi de pìyǎn," he muttered, glaring angrily at the screen.

Which is why he also saw it when the missiles struck. In three simultaneous streaks of light coming almost straight down from above, they pierced the flight deck, the port shuttle pod, and the reactor housing. The flight deck and shuttle pod seemed to implode for the briefest of moments, while yellow and green radiance burst forth from the pierced reactor. But only for the briefest of moments. A fraction of a second later, the Serenity went up like a roman candle, bursting outward in a giant explosion of flame and shattered ship shrapnel. Simon felt the vibrations of that explosion though the floor beneath him, the shockwaves having traveled across the beach and all the way up through the building.

Jaw dropping, frozen in shock, he stared dumbfounded at the raging inferno that was the only home he could claim. At the massive pyre which was the final monument to one Doctor Stephen Franklin. Closing his mouth, he muttered only, "Fuck him," and then returned to his urgent task; desperately trying to override a recalcitrant door and save his sister, his friends, and the woman he loved from the fire which now shone brightly through the viewport into the room beyond. All while a matching fire crept steadily towards him along the console upon which he worked.