Chapter 7: The Moment of Truth and the Moment to Lie

[mutantwrites]

Chapter 7: The Moment of Truth and the Moment to Lie

Stepping on board the Astral Queen was almost like coming home. Tom smirked at that thought, not remotely unaware of the irony. Of course, home for him had never been chicken soup and bedtime stories anyway.

The Astral Queen had been significantly modified from its original usage, with two of the three prison bays now converted to living quarters. The bars of the cells had been covered with cloth, sheet metal, plywood, cardboard… whatever the residents could find to make private rooms. They weren't large, but they were better than what a lot of the Fleet had. It had been one of the first things Tom had done when he was elected Sagittaron representative, especially as the population of the Astral Queen made up about a fifth of the people he represented. He'd never been so grateful he'd done that as he was now, when Hoshi and Thrace returned with Krells, the former convict now serving as the warden of the remaining prison section.

"Zarek!" Krells said, grinning ear to ear as he stuck his head into the Raptor where Tom and Playa were waiting. "Good to see they didn't kill you, you frakking bastard! Should've known they wouldn't get their hands on you. Come on out!" Krells' eyes landed on Playa, and then flicked away, disinterested. Tom climbed out of the Raptor, looking around the deserted docking bay.

"Good to be back, Krells," he said, shaking the man's hand with a warm, encompassing grip. He wondered if his own room was still available, and if his belongings were still there, or if they'd been divided up among the inhabitants. He really wouldn't mind another change of clothing, or the comforter from his bed. "How have you been?"

"About as shitty as the last time you were here," Krells admitted, but cheerfully. Hoshi and Thrace were watching warily, Thrace's hand drifting down to her gun, Hoshi standing straight like a good little military boy. "Had a bunch of toasters aboard playing with the FTL drives. Made me sick, to see 'em crawling over the old girl."

"Yeah." Tom didn’t realize how much he'd grown to love the Astral Queen itself until he heard Krells say that. "Know what you mean."

"Should have shot Adama sooner, Tom. And Roslin. Then you might have had a chance. Come on- I've got a room set up."

"All right," Tom said, climbing out of the Raptor. This part of the ship was largely deserted, being a high security area. But instead of leading them into the cell block, Krells led them up the stairs and to a small conference room.

"Don't want you going through the block," he explained, when he caught Tom's questioning glance. "Too many birds might see you, and be willing to work a deal with Adama. Most of us would still follow you to the grave instead of that shit, but when you've got someone sitting in a cell…."

"Right." Tom rubbed his forehead to disguise the expression on his face. The idea that he was at risk here… he'd known that. He'd settled on the Hitei Kan because it was a smaller, more tight-knit ship, and the chances of his whereabouts leaking out were far less. But that didn't mean he liked it.

Krells showed them into the small, dingy room that was used for parole hearings. Thrace immediately took up guard at the door, and Hoshi began inspecting the room for surveillance devices. Playa settled down at the table, flipping her notebook open.

"I'll go get McCall," Krells said, bowing out and leaving the four of them alone.

"You have any luck getting an interview with Roslin?" Tom asked Playa, his voice sounding loud in the room as they waited.

Playa frowned. "Her office hasn't so much as returned my calls the past few days, so no."

"Think she knows what you're after?"

"I'm sure she does, but I don't think that's all of it. Hamilton and McManus haven't heard from her for a few days, either. She may be back on her diloxan treatments."

"I'll ask Layne Ishay if you want," Hoshi volunteered. "She'll tell me." Thrace muttered something about traitors and gutless fraks, but both Hoshi and Tom ignored her. Fortunately, Krells opened the conference room door and Skulls came in.

"Take whatever time you need," Krells said, shrugging as he shut the door.

Tom had met Skulls several times before they had attempted to take over. He looked relaxed, wearing clean tanks and pants and looking as well-fed as anyone in the Fleet did. Tom grinned to himself. He thought Krells might be a little more appreciative of his view than Adama's.

"Mr. Vice President," Skulls said, not looking at Thrace.

"They treating you okay?" Tom asked.

"Bored out of our skulls, but can't complain too much," Skulls said. He winked. "Getting really good at triad."

"Sounds like you're really suffering," Thrace snarled. "Real fine fate for a traitor."

"You forget," Skulls said, siting back, "like twenty-five other ships, the Astral Queen was on our side. They might hate us on Galactica, but they don't here." He turned back to Tom. "Is this about that Agency program?"

Tom leaned forward. "So you do know about it?"

"Yeah." The last traces of humor drained from Skulls's face. "They gathered a bunch of us up and told us that if we would volunteer for this program- have our minds wiped and be anything they wanted us to be- we'd have a clean slate on Earth."

"So they asked for volunteers?" Tom asked, his heart sinking. This wasn't going to help his cause.

"Essentially," Skulls said with a snort. "I mean, really. Once they find a habitable planet, what do they think they're going to do with us? Let us sit on our asses, eating their work? If the Admiral was going to airlock us, he would have done it. Once we're on some planet, everyone's going to have a clean slate." He frowned. "What are they doing to them? Roslin promised that they'd be taken care of."

"As far as we can tell, they are," Playa said.

"Not the rumors I heard on Caprica," Skulls said darkly.

"No." Playa inclined her head. "In all the research I've done for this story, I've found absolutely no evidence of her using the Actives for sexual purposes, which doesn't surprise me. Roslin is ruthless, but she is not cruel."

"Hmm." Skulls didn't seem to completely believe her, but he relaxed a little.

Playa picked up the questions. "Only Margaret Edmondson and Noel Allison accepted this offer, am I right?" Skulls nodded. "Did anyone else even consider it?"

"Nah." Skulls sat back, crossing his arms. "Are you crazy? Look, you think a lot of us wanted to mutiny? I didn't go against Adama because I wanted to. I went against him because once there was a time he gave a shit, and he did what was best for the Fleet. He used to be the kind that would make you follow him to the grave and kiss his feet for the opportunity. But now, all he can do is coddle his favorites, drink like a fish, and play nice with the toasters that nuked our asses."

"Hey," Kara stepped forward, "that's the Old Man you're talking about."

Skulls didn't flinch. "That's right," he said. "That's the Old Man I'm talking about. And that's the problem. You get that, Starbuck?"

"Enough," Tom snapped. "You said some of you," he said. "They didn't ask all the mutineers?"

"Yeah, only about thirty of us. Look, Gaeta had to work with what he had, right? So some of us were in it because we really had a problem with the way things were being run. But others… we had a lot of assholes just looking for a fight, especially after Earth. Lot of Pegasus fraks that-"

"Watch it," Hoshi warned.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Oh, sweet Lords of Kobol. Is the entire military like the three of you? If so, how the hell did we manage to survive this long?" He fixed Hoshi with a glare and then gave Thrace one for good measure. "You two keep the wounded honor and the editorial comments to yourself, got it?" He turned back to Skulls. "So it was just the men and women of principle?"

"Something like that."

Tom rubbed the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t helping at all. Roslin couldn't manage to take a shit without looking noble.

"Now let me ask you something," Skulls broke in before Tom or Playa could speak. "When they made us this deal, we were told that you and Gaeta were both in custody, and they made you the same deal. They told us Gaeta took it, and you were still considering it. So what the frak is going on?"

"Wait, you were told that we were offered the same deal?" Tom asked. That piqued Playa's interest as well.

"So Gaeta didn't agree to it?" Skulls didn't seem all that shocked. "Didn't seem like him. Although, if it's true what they told us, and you don't have to think…"

"You'd really give up your freedom?" Tom asked. "Your free will?"

"Like I've got it to begin with?" Skulls asked bitterly. "Of course, they haven't come back and offered the deal again. Hard to believe they only wanted three Actives."

"Six," Playa said. They all looked at her. "When I talked to Adelle, she told me there were six Actives."

"Gaeta, Racetrack, Narcho…" Tom counted.

"Two of theirs from the Colonies. A man named Victor and a woman named Sierra." Playa frowned. "I take that back. I'm not sure… she said that six were intended. She might have meant for the last one to be you, Tom."

"She name names?"

"No."

"Get the last name," Tom ordered her. "All right. What I need to know is how much this means to you. If we could rely on you…"

"You already got me in here once," Skulls said, but he was grinning. The grin faded though, and he leaned in. "Listen, if Racetrack needs me, I've got her back. You know that."

Tom glanced at Thrace, and he saw her nod slightly. "All right. We'll be in touch."

"You think that was worth it?" Hoshi asked, confused, as they made their way back to the Raptor.

"Just because he didn't give us the answer we didn't want to hear doesn't mean it wasn't useful," Tom pointed out. "It's good to know what angles we can't attack Roslin on. Damn woman is near impenetrable." Thrace snickered, and even Hoshi cracked a smile. Tom rolled his eyes again. "Really? Matters of free will and you two are making sex jokes at my expense?"

"You led a mutiny, killed the Quorum, and cost the lives of almost a hundred and fifty souls on Galactica and you expect us to worship at your feet?" Hoshi shot back, the smile gone.

"I see your point," Tom conceded, noticing that Playa was hiding her smirk behind a hand. "Come on," he said. "Let's get back before someone catches us and we're finished before we start."

***

All traces of Zak Adama were gone from Gaeta. Helo supposed he should be happy about that- Helo was happy about that- but it made his nightly job more difficult.

"Okay," he said, in a voice of false cheerfulness as he supported Gaeta and helped him pull up his pants. "Let's take a look at that leg."

"All right." Gaeta sat down on the closed toilet, and waited patiently as Helo got out the salve and knelt down in front of him.

"This is gonna sting a little," Helo warned him. "You've really done a number on this." The prosthetic had rubbed the skin raw and even just looking at he stump turned Helo's stomach. But he scooped up a big dollop of salve and began to rub it on. Gaeta hissed, but didn't complain.

"Gods, what a day, huh?" Helo asked. "Zak Adama. That one's going to haunt me tonight, you know. Admiral won't sleep much either." He kept rubbing, Gaeta's skin rough under his hands. "It's weird. It's not like they did a damn thing to hurt you. In fact, that was probably physically the easiest assignment you've had since this began. And I know you won't even remember this later. You probably don't even remember it now."

Gaeta just gazed at him quizzically.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Helo finished rubbing the salve on and ran his hands under the water. "So why can't I shake the feeling that what they did this time was so wrong? Huh, Felix?"

"I don't know," Gaeta said.

"Of course you don't. Come on," Helo sighed, slipping an arm around Gaeta's back. "Let's go do your exercises before you go to bed."

The question stayed with him as he helped Gaeta through his routine and then into bed. It wasn't helped at all by the sight of Narcho coming in with Sierra.

"Come on," Sierra ordered Narcho. "Into bed."

"Of course." Narcho clambered into his bunk. Sierra smiled affectionately and patted his blanket. "Good night, love."

Helo got Gaeta settled and then followed her out into the sitting room. "Sierra," Helo said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Sierra poured herself a glass of water.

"You were a handler back on Caprica, right?" She nodded. He knew she hadn't been, but she thought she was and that was all that mattered. "You ever have an, erm, engagement that bothered you? That you thought was… wrong?"

"Of course. Especially in my early days. It takes some time to get used to the idea that the mind and the body are separate entities," Sierra said. "I'm only surprised it took you this long to have a moral crisis over it. You need to have a certain… moral flexibility."

"Yeah, well." Helo refrained from pointing out that the crisis had been there. "What did you do? How do you handle it?"

Sierra frowned. "You just do," she said. "When you keep see them coming back and erased, and keep seeing that what they do honestly has no effect on them…. If it's something morally dubious, they always give them a personality to compensate for that."

"But what about the effect on other people?" Helo asked.

"I never thought about it," Sierra said. "We generally don't accept engagements that are malicious in nature. It makes it much easier for the government to pretend you don't exist if you aren't running around killing people all the time."

"Yeah." He sighed. "Maybe I'd have an easier time if Gaeta had agreed to this."

"He didn't agree?" Sierra asked, her face darkening.

"No. He… they were going to kill him anyway, and decided to do this."

"Well, it's not the first time." She misinterpreted Helo's look of surprise. "We've been in this ship for four years. You can't possibly believe that Victor and I haven't had a an opportunity to look into some of the more interesting records?"

"Right," Helo laughed, although it wasn't funny. "That moral flexibility you were talking about. They did it on Caprica?" Sierra nodded. "Who?"

"The name doesn't matter," Sierra said, her voice hard. "Most of the Actives were there of their own free will, but at least one of the records indicated that there were people who were forced."

"Criminals?" Helo asked.

"Mental disorders."

"Oh." Helo wasn't sure what to say to that, and Sierra wasn't offering any more information. "I'd better get home," he said lamely, picking up his jacket. "See you tomorrow morning, Sierra."

"It wasn't the last time, either," Sierra said.

Helo froze. "What?"

"It wasn't the last time." He turned back around, and she looked upset. "Narcho. He changed his mind at the last minute, and they made him an Active anyway."

"You're joking."

"I'm not. I was there." Sierra's voice shook a bit. "He started to protest and they gave him a sedative, just enough to get the process started. And later, he was screaming."

"I see," Helo said, feeling sick.

"It shouldn't bother me. Someday, we'll find a place to live and they'll put him back in his own body and he'll be unharmed. I've seen it enough times to know that. In fact, he'll even be a little better off. A lot of people became Actives to give themselves time to heal from some grief without having to feel it. But even in the tabula rosa, he still has nightmares, and that gives me nightmares."

"Frak." A thought occurred to him. "Sierra, is Narcho the only one who has nightmares? Or do Gaeta and Racetrack have them too?"

"Racetrack doesn't," Sierra said.

Helo clenched his jaw. "I see," he said. He just wanted out of there. "I've got to go before my ride gets here. I'll see you later." Sierra nodded, and Helo hurried out the door.

People forced on Caprica. Helo didn't even want to think about that, although he could believe it. Especially after what they'd done to Gaeta… and to Narcho. If Sierra was telling the truth about Narcho… it was enough to make even Helo wonder if someone else would be next. But if they were going to, they would have. He pushed the conversation out of his head and hurried towards the Raptor.

Sharon was waiting for him. "Hey," she said, taking one look at his face, "what's wrong?"

"Have I told you how much I hate this job?" Helo asked, climbing into the Raptor.

Sharon didn't smile. "What happened this time? I thought this was supposed to be an easy day."

Helo waited for the Raptor doors to shut before he told her. "They put Zak in Gaeta's body. Zak Adama. Can I ask you something?" He didn't bother to wait for an answer, because of course it was yes. "Cylons download, right? It's all data to encrypt experiences and memories and everything else. So the mind and body are pretty much separate."

"Right," Sharon said, her brows furrowing.

"So where does the soul fit into that? Is that stuff that's downloading… is that your soul?"

Sharon frowned, but it was in thought. "No," she finally said, but not definitively. "It's a consciousness. It's what you said- memories and experiences and thoughts and opinions and everything else. But I think the soul… I don't know. I should be saying yes. Cavil would say- well, no. Cavil would say there's no such thing as a soul," she said bitterly. "But some of the others would say yes. That's our soul. And maybe it's a piece of it. But I don't think the soul can be compartmentalized as easily as the body or the mind."

"They told me Gaeta's in that wedge, sitting on a shelf," Helo said. "But every now and then… I thought it was just coincidence at first, but… I think he's still in there, Sharon. I think he's still in there and he's fighting to get out."

Sharon looked straight ahead, concentrating on her flying, her knuckles white. Helo was sure she was going to say something about what Gaeta had done, and all the harm he had caused, and Hera. But what she said shocked him.

"I know. That's why I let Tom Zarek go."

"You let him go? Sharon- that's… if the Admiral ever finds out-"

"Yeah, well, he's not going to at this rate," Sharon snapped. "Gaeta was right about one thing- the Admiral isn't paying a lot of attention to what's going on in people's minds. He should have figured it out a long time ago."

Helo sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I want out," he heard himself saying. "I can't do this anymore, Sharon. But I can't leave the military. It's who I am, and I still need to…" he shook his head in frustration.

Sharon swallowed. "I know where Zarek is, if you want to know."

"I don't," Helo said. He chewed his lip. Gaeta forced into this. Narcho forced into this. Racetrack may have even been as well… he didn't know what to believe anymore. And to tamper with, to imprison the soul… It was wrong. He sighed. "But if you do see him, tell him where I am. We've got to get them out of there."

Sharon nodded. "We will."

***

Laura had almost been dreading going into Bill's quarters, but at the same time, she knew this was where she needed to be. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open. She was not at all surprised to see Bill sitting at his desk, staring at the picture of himself with his two young sons, and a drink nearby.

"How are you?" she asked quietly.

Bill didn't answer for a long moment, then put the picture down facedown. "I'm all right," he said. "How are you? How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but improving," Laura admitted. As trying as the day was, she did feel like it was a little easier to meet the impossible demands of it. She picked up his drink and took a sip. "So. That was Zak."

"That was Zak," Bill said. He smiled a little. "That was definitely Zak." She waited for him to say more, but Bill just turned the picture back over to look at it again. "You know, there was a while there… I didn't even see the body he was in. Just him."

"I know." Laura firmly reminded herself that Bill hadn't ordered Topher to do this, and let herself feel sympathy. "It was him. Even I knew that."

"Mostly." Bill looked up at her. "Gaeta's still in there, Laura."

Laura frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Zak told me a couple of times he felt a pull he couldn't understand. Into the CIC, at the podium in the ready room… he sang the song Gaeta sang in the infirmary, but that really was a coincidence. It really was my uncle's favorite song, like he said." Bill shook his head. "But when Lee told him about Dee, it hit him. Hard."

"It's a sad story," Laura said neutrally.

"Zak never met Dee. Gaeta was her best friend."

"I see."

Bill sighed, rubbing his temples. "Topher told us the original personality is entirely erased. There shouldn't have been anything like that left."

Laura sat down on the couch "I also understand that certain emotions have a basis in biology. As Adelle explained it to me, the mind continues to process some of the more painful and difficult elements, even without the consciousness directing it. She told me that many of the Actives that came to her had some trauma in their recent past that they were trying to forget."

"Really?"

"Actually, did you know that Victor was military?"

Bill looked up. "You're joking."

"I'm not." She could see his interest rising. "He was a marine involved in the Rigel Offensive. The maneuver he was commanding went wrong, and he's suffered from post traumatic stress disorder ever since. Adelle did mention that whatever personality is inhabiting him, he always flinches at the sound of gunfire."

"Interesting."

"I thought so. And you know that's why Narcho and Racetrack accepted your offer."

He nodded. "What's Sierra's story?" he asked, finally leaving his desk and coming over to sit with her on the sofa.

"I'm not sure," Laura confessed. "Adelle only told me Victor's. But I can see where she would view Victor's as… less personal than other situations might be." She sighed. "I was thinking that, now that over three weeks have gone by, it might be time to make a few more Actives. More prisoners might be willing to accept our offer now that we can show them what we're having Actives do, and some civilians might welcome the chance to escape from their lives for a bit. But after today, I'm not so sure."

"This was an anomaly," Bill said.

"This was an indication that I can't trust Adelle and Topher as much as I thought," Laura corrected sternly.

She had thought that Bill might argue, but he nodded. "I have to admit, it shook me today, to hear Gaeta under Zak." He frowned. "It reminded me just what we're playing with. I don't regret what we've done, but we need to proceed with caution."

Laura sat back. There was something different about Bill… no. There was something the same- the same as he'd been before Earth. Not completely. Not totally. But there was an echo of responsibility and strength in his eyes and his bearing. "You're taking this better than I thought you would," she said.

"I'm taking this better than I thought I would," Bill admitted. "But… even though it wasn't real, even though it was just a memory of who he was… I got to see Zak one last time. That was something I didn't get before."

That melted her a little bit. "Did you get to say everything you wanted to say?"

Bill laughed a little. "Never was much of a believer in the things I never got to say," he said. The edges of his mouth turned up. "But I got to say goodbye." Laura wasn't sure what to say to that, but Bill actually picked up the silence. "So, Madame President, who do we have joining us tomorrow?"

"We have an overhaul of some of the worn out medical equipment over on Inchon Velle tomorrow," Laura said. "Cottle's been asking for it, and he pointed out that it keeps Gaeta off his leg. The day after is a medical day." Laura sighed. "I almost envy them all. I have the Quorum, a meeting with the Director of Children's Affairs, the Distribution Center… the list goes on." Bill laughed as she groaned. "Not to mention I've got Playa Palacios knocking down my door for an interview."

"Can't put her off any longer?"

Laura turned serious. "No. That piece on the Agency on Caprica in the Fleet News was a big red flag. We have to address this now."

"If they object to doctors and scientists and mechanics, frak 'em," Bill said, sounding suspiciously like Saul.

"I think I need to be a little more delicate than that," Laura said, but couldn't help smiling. All in all, this day was ending up far better than she'd thought it would. Maybe she'd been wrong, and having Bill talk to Zak did far more good than it did harm. It was certainly true about the rest of this program. She relaxed back into the couch, smiling to herself, especially as Bill managed to smile at her. She wasn't actually going to thank Topher for disobeying her orders, but maybe she wouldn’t make any more of an issue out of it, either.

***

Hoshi wasn't a bad ECO. Not that Kara really needed one for such a short flight, but he might as well make himself useful. And she couldn't fault that he'd gotten them a launch code again.

"How are you doing this without Adama noticing?" Kara asked as they flew out of Galactica's hangar bay.

"Adama doesn't notice much of anything these days," he said. "It's Tigh I have to get around." Kara snorted at that. "And I made a trade with Anna Sian in the CIC. I'll get her out on leave to her boyfriend on the Hitei Kan if she gave me a code without questions. She thinks I've got a new boyfriend myself and I don't want to talk about it because Felix was so recent." He looked far too pleased with himself.

"You really trust her?" Kara asked, flipping a lever.

"It's not the first time Anna and I have traded favors," Hoshi said. "The whole frakking ship is falling apart anyway. It's not like you had any trouble getting a Raptor."

"I'm CAG," Kara reminded him. "And a flight instructor. Which reminds me, you're going to fly back."

She had the delight of seeing Hoshi's eyes widen in terror. "What?"

"How do you think I got this Raptor? I told them I'm teaching you to fly."

His expression was a cross between impressed and disgusted. "I don't have to tell you that's brilliant, do I?"

"As long as you skip over the 'look, we don't like each other, but we've got to work together' speech," Kara said.

Hoshi snorted. "Wasn't planning on making it."

"Good. Then get up here."

Explaining the components and controls took the rest of the short ride over to the Hitei Kan, and erased the awkward, tense silence. It also took Kara's mind off the fact that what they were doing was treason. She didn't want to imagine what Adama's face was going to look like come that inevitable moment when they faced each other. But this was what was right. Kara knew that more certainly than she knew anything else these days.

She knew it again when they faced Tom Zarek. They were in the small study of the captain's quarters, and Zarek was flanked by Playa and a tall woman that Kara remembered he identified as Marissa.

"Exposing the technology is off the table," Zarek explained after Kara and Hoshi sat down. "Roslin is granting Playa an interview tomorrow, which means that she's come up with some defense that makes her look like a saint. We missed our window of opportunity on that one."

"If we even had one," Hoshi said. "When Tigh explained it to me, I kept my mouth shut. Someone who doesn't give a shit about the people involved isn't going to object, once they know that Roslin and Adama aren't stealing sleeping children and mind-wiping civilians."

"Right," Zarek said, looking a little disconcerted.

"Guns blazing, then?" Kara asked.

"Guns blazing," Zarek agreed. He pulled a sheet of paper to him, gesturing at some notes. "Now, the key is Topher, not Adelle. Topher's the one who can get the Actives back into their own bodies." He glanced at Hoshi. "Is there any chance you could work out the equipment?"

"Probably not," Hoshi said. "I'm good with computers, but not that good. I might be able to do it with enough time, but we're going to be in a rush."

"That's what I thought. All right. So no one shoots Topher." He tapped a photograph that Playa had obtained. "In fact, once we're in the imprint room, no shooting at all unless we have to. I don't know what kind of equipment is in there…" he turned to Playa. "Do you have any idea of the layout?"

"No. Adelle didn't actually show me anything."

"All right then. No shooting in the imprint room, or we don't get the real people back."

"What about Skulls?" Kara asked. "Are we getting him out?"

"What do you think?" Zarek asked Marissa.

"You'd better," Marissa said. "Look, you've got a lot of people on this ship willing to speak out for you. But if you're down to a firefight… there are people who are going to be willing to pick up a gun, but they won't do you as much good as a soldier. Especially since you're going to need a small, precise force."

Zarek nodded, and even Kara had to admit there was good logic in that.

"We don't have much information on Topher," Playa said. "But it seems like the simplest method to get him to what we want is to threaten to shoot Adelle."

"It's the most powerful," Zarek agreed with a frown. "But we need to make sure he knows we're not joking."

"It's you," Kara pointed out. "Less than a month ago, you shot the entire Quorum. I don't think he'll have any trouble believing it."

"She's got a point," Hoshi muttered darkly.

"We could still use a plan B," Zarek said, although the annoyance was showing on his face.

"Adelle is very protective of her other two Actives, Victor and Sierra," Playa suggested. "A threat to one of them might be-"

"We'd be better off without them there," Hoshi broke in. "I heard some rumors about how they fight."

Kara had heard the same rumors and was about to argue that they were the ones in the military, but then realized that her companions in this were a man in his fifties or sixties, a reporter, and a bridge bunny. Avoiding a fight might not be the worst idea of the day, even if they got Skulls out of prison.

"When are we going to do this?" Hoshi asked. "I know this sounds childish, but I need to know ahead of time so I can swap shifts with someone in the CIC and get Skulls out."

Kara groaned. "No wonder you and Gaeta hooked up," she said, and was a little gratified to notice Zarek snickering as well. But Hoshi did have a point, and Kara was enough of a tactician to know it. "Night would make the most sense," she said. "The Actives are about the Fleet during the day, but they're all at the Persephone every night."

"They're also in their blank state," Marissa pointed out. "You wouldn't have to have Topher wipe whoever they are first- he could just put the personalities back in."

Zarek nodded. "Right. Forty eight hours?" he asked. "That gives us time to make sure that everything is in place. We're only going to have one chance to do this right." They nodded, and the meeting began to take the feel of breaking up.

"Thrace," Zarek said, as the others began to disassemble, "can I speak to you?"

Kara pushed down the wave of revulsion and nodded. "Go out to the Raptor," she ordered Hoshi. "You'd better review what I told you, because there's going to be a quiz on the way back." She followed Zarek over to an isolated corner. "What is it?"

"I have a job for you," he said quietly, "and it's one that Lieutenant Hoshi can't know about."

Kara wasn't sure she liked the sounds of that. "What is it?" she repeated.

"I seem to remember hearing you're a pretty good shot," Zarek said. Kara nodded confirmation. "If it looks like we've lost and they're going to take me alive, I want you to shoot me."

"Shoot you?"

"Shoot me," Zarek repeated, his face hard and bitter. "Shoot me, and then shoot Gaeta. I'd rather be dead than live like that, and I know Gaeta would, too. Hoshi won't do it- he's too soft. You will."

"I will," Kara said, reluctant to admit that her respect for Zarek had just gone up a tiny bit. "I'll do it."

"Thank you, Captain." Zarek looked at his watch. "You'd better get back to your ship. Contact me if you need me."

"Right," Kara said. She shuddered. Increased respect or not, this was the last thing she wanted to do, throwing her lot in with this man. Too bad it was the only thing she could do that would make a difference.

***

Bill had never liked politics, but these days he hated addressing the Quorum even more. Lee's idea of a representative from each ship had been good in principle, but the execution still needed work. It was too crowded, with too many inexperienced voices and too much chaos. He was grateful to retreat to Lee's office after briefing them on a search for a habitable planet, the Cylon alliance and the technological steps forward, as well as avoiding questions about the final Cylon.

Lee's office was small, with the same worn desk and chair that Tom Zarek had used. Lee had confessed that that bothered him, but there was no place for sentimental gestures anymore, with resources being so tight. A desk was a desk, and this was what he had at his disposal. There was a small picture of Dee off in one corner and almost hidden by a stack of papers, just like Lee still wore the broad silver band on his finger. Bill looked away from the picture. Dee's face was still hard to see.

The framed military insignia hung on the wall, along with a few other pins that Lee had kept from his military service. Bill smiled and touched them gently. There were also a few pictures of the pilots hanging, as well as a picture of Lee and Zak in their flight suits, grinning from ear to ear. That picture didn't hurt as much today.

There were papers pinned to a cork board behind the desk. Out of habit and instinct, Bill drifted over to look at them. Meeting schedules, policies, regulations… most of it was the driest reading imaginable.

A small picture in the corner caught his eye. Bill bent over to study it. It was a faded, crumpled photograph of Tom Zarek standing with Felix Gaeta. It was obviously taken on New Caprica, and the two of them were standing close together and smiling, Zarek's arm draped over Gaeta's shoulder.

"Well," Lee said, coming in and slapping his hands together with what seemed like genuine cheerfulness. "That went well, don't you think?"

"Why do you have this up?" Bill demanded.

Lee blinked, and then peered at the picture. "Oh. That. It was here when I moved in, believe it or not. It was the only picture Zarek had."

"Would have thought you'd take it down by now," Bill grumbled.

"I did," Lee admitted. He looked at the picture. "Then Kara said something…" he trailed off for a long moment. "She said that Narcho and Racetrack… they're not dead and they're not alive. They're just getting lost. They didn't belong on the Memorial Wall yet, but if they were dead, they would, because of everything they've done before. And the same is true about Zarek and Gaeta." Bill's feelings must have shown on his face, because Lee sighed. "Look, I'm not suggesting we hail them as heroes. Just that they deserve to be remembered."

Bill just grunted.

"While we're on the subject…" Lee began, "what are you going to do with Gaeta once we find a planet?"

The question caught Bill off guard. "I hadn't thought about it. I suppose it depends on what sort of planet we find."

Lee frowned. "I thought you told the other mutineers he accepted the same deal they did."

"That's only thirty people that heard that." Now that he said that, he realized… he frowned. That was how this whole mess started; because he didn't like the thought of killing Gaeta. Gaeta had been one of his kids. Not a favorite, not one of the ones he was closest to, but one of his kids nonetheless. "I don't know," he admitted.

Lee made that face where he wanted to say something, but had decided to keep his mouth shut. Bill decided to change the subject. "Have you seen Kara since yesterday?"

"Briefly," Lee said. "She was… upset."

"I'm guessing that's an understatement."

Lee shrugged. "Can you blame her?" He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. "She had no real idea it was coming."

"Neither did either of us." Bill moved away from the wall. For some reason, he was heavily conscious of the picture of Dee on the desk. "She'll handle it."

"I know she will," Lee said. "I'd just rather she didn't die again while her mind is stuck on this." But he relaxed. "Kara will be okay, Dad. She's made it this far, and through a lot worse. I'm more worried about you. I mean, it was Zak."

"I know it was Zak," Bill said, a smile touching the corners of his lips. "That's why I'm fine."

***

Sharon pulled off her BDU jacket to reveal a brown top, and then tied a scarf over her hair. It wasn't much of a disguise, but as long as people weren't staring at her too closely, she might blend in. She slid out of the Raptor and headed out of the hangar bay.

Once she was inside the Hitei Kan, she realized she had no clear idea of how she was going to find Zarek. Asking was largely out of the question. She ducked her head down, because a wrong inquisition could lead to questions that would blow the whole thing right here and now.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Someone caught her by the arm, and Sharon stopped. When she looked up, she saw that the person she'd bumped into was a young man with large eyes and bright red lips, and half of one arm missing. He recognized her and recoiled, but then his eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" Sharon countered.

"Danny Noon." His eyes narrowed. "You're the Eight from Galactica, aren't you?"

"How could you possibly know that?" Sharon asked.

"Why else would you be here without a small army of marines? We're a tylium refining ship, not a tourist attraction."

Sharon studied him. She remembered the story, remembered that he'd been dragged off Galactica yelling that he wasn't familiar with heavy machinery. They'd heard about the arm very soon after, but not very loudly. An amputee who felt that those in power were responsible for the loss of his limb… she had a damn good reason to think he'd trust Zarek. "I'm looking for Tom Zarek."

"Can't say I know where he is," Danny said, a little too casually.

She leaned in, even though no one was paying attention to them. "I'm the one that brought him here," she hissed. "You can tell him I want to see him now."

Danny wavered. "Are you unarmed?"

"No. But if I wanted him dead, I wouldn't be skulking around on this ship myself. I would just tell Adama where he is, and that squadron of marines you expected would be over here in a flash."

He blinked. "Come on. I'll take you to him."

"Thank you."

Sharon followed Danny into increasingly more crowded areas. "You must really have him hidden," she said, glancing around.

Danny looked surprised. "Not at all. He works on the lines like the rest of us."

An entire ship of people willing to hide Tom Zarek. Sharon wasn't sure she wanted to think about that. She set her jaw and followed him through the narrow corridors until they came to a room with lines of hammocks.

"Tom?" Danny said. "You've got a visitor. The Eight from Galactica."

"Right." Zarek got out of a hammock. With the beard and the ragged clothing, Sharon almost didn't recognize him. However, he extended a hand to her with the same assurance that he'd had as the Vice President of the Colonies. "Lieutenant Agathon. What can I do for you?"

"All right," Sharon said. "I said that all I'd do is get you away from that tech, but that's not enough anymore."

"What changed your mind?" Zarek asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I changed my own mind," Sharon snapped. "It's gone too far. And Helo agrees with me."

Zarek's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "Really? That's fascinating. Please. Come in." He gestured towards the room. "We need to talk."

***

The Actives' room was designed to be calming and peaceful. The lights, the soft music, the small recirculating fountain… Helo thought that if he didn't have to deal with the Actives, it would be as peaceful as intended.

Narcho and Gaeta were sitting at the table eating breakfast. Sierra was sketching something. When Helo glanced over her shoulder, he saw it was a drawing of Narcho. "That's really good," he said, fully impressed.

Sierra smiled up at him. "Thanks. It's not much, but-"

"No, it's really good. Did you ever think of going professional?"

Sierra's smile slipped a notch. "I think I used to think of it. Before I joined the Agency."

"Why'd you join?" Helo asked. He wasn't sure he'd get a real answer, but he was curious as to what answer their handlers would normally give.

"The money," Sierra said simply. "I wasn't making much as an artist- no one ever does at first."

"Yeah, I think you have to be dead to be a success," Helo said dryly.

Sierra laughed. "I guess," she said. "But I needed rent money, and I followed an ad in the Caprican Daily." I didn't really know what it was for, if you want the truth. I'd never even heard of the Agency. Not really my sort of circle."

"Yeah. Same here. Did you start as a handler?"

"No. I started as a secretary, actually," Sierra said. "Or something like that. It's quite an operation, really." She sighed. "You should see the setup they have for the Actives there. It's beautiful." It should have sounded wistful, but it wasn't; it was a grudging admission.

There was a knock on the door, and when Helo looked up, he was extremely surprised to see Adama standing there. "Sir," he said, rising to his feet. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine, Captain," Adama said. He looked uncomfortably at the low table where Narcho and Gaeta were still eating. "Where's Racetrack?"

"She had surgery booked early his morning," Sierra explained. "She and Victor are already over on the Inchon Velle."

"That's right." Adama looked uncomfortable.

"Narcho and I can go, Admiral," Sierra said courteously. "We need to be in the imprint room in a few minutes anyway. Topher won't mind if we're early."

"No. Actually, I wanted to talk to you or Victor. I have a question for you," Adama said. "Do the Actives ever remember parts of their lives?"

Sierra's eyes flared open. "What makes you ask that?" she demanded, in a voice that made Narcho look up, a vaguely worried expression on his face. She noticed. "It's all right, baby," she murmured. "Don't worry. Finish your breakfast." She turned back to Adama. "I apologize," she said, her voice lower but the calm a thin veneer for the tension. "Why do you ask?"

"Yesterday, I managed to spend a good deal of time with Gaeta," Adama explained. "I know Gaeta and I know Z- I know the persona he had in him extremely well. He did some things that… that person would never have done."

"What do you mean?" Sierra asked.

"How he reacted when he heard that a woman he'd never met was dead, how he reacted to certain places on the ship… One of the memories he reached for…. It's not overly specific, but it was Gaeta's best friend, the place he worked, and a song he sang when he lost his leg. Very defining aspects of him."

"Did you tell Adelle?" Sierra sounded sharp.

"Not yet. I expect a patting down."

"And that's what you'd get," Sierra said. "I don't really know."

"But?""

"I suppose it is possible." She looked at her watch. "If you'll excuse us, Admiral, we need to be at the imprint room. Come on, Narcho. It's time for your treatment." Narcho obediently followed as she left. She didn't storm out, but it was clear she didn't want to be in the room.

"Wonder if she remembers anything about who she was in the past," Bill murmured.

"I don't know," Helo said, frowning. "She hasn't said."

"Do you expect her to?"

"No."

Adama looked uncomfortable. "Have you seen any other signs that Gaeta is Gaeta?"

"I don't know, sir," Helo admitted. "I know him well enough that it's easy to be reminded sometimes. It really depends on the person in his body. Some of them have been a lot like him, at least in a superficial way."

"Mmm." Adama was watching Gaeta, who was still focused on his breakfast. He seemed extremely unconcerned that Adama was in the room, which, before or after the mutiny, was something that Helo never would have suspected of Gaeta. "Still hard to believe it," Adama said quietly.

"Hard to believe what, sir?" Helo asked.

Adama looked at him, and then sat down on the soft chair that Sierra had abandoned. He sat awkwardly, his knees on his elbows, his fingers laced together. His hand drifted up to his jacket, lingered for a moment, and then dropped back down. "Hard to believe that he mutinied," Adama said finally. "If there is someone I never would have expected it from, it's Gaeta."

Helo sighed. "It's been on my mind a lot, too, sir."

"He never was ambitious-"

"Are we talking about the same Gaeta, sir?" Helo asked.

Adama considered that. "All right. He never was after power for power's sake. He wanted to earn his way to Admiral, or to a division head. But I never saw him as someone who was after personal power. Not like Zarek."

Helo couldn't argue that.

Adama was lost in thought, staring at Gaeta. "I know he was different after he lost his leg. But to commit mutiny… to take the ship…" his voice was so hard and bitter on those words.

"Do you think you could ever forgive him, sir?" Do you think you'll be able to forgive me, after I do what I'm going to do?

"I don't know. Could you?"

"I've been thinking about that a lot," Helo admitted. "In all the time I've known Gaeta, he's always done what he thought was right, even when it cost him personally. Like with the election, or on New Caprica, or on the Demetrius. What he did wasn't right, but I think he really thought it was."

"That in no way justifies what he did."

"I know." Helo looked at Gaeta, who was still ignoring the conversation. "So I can't forgive him as a soldier. But as a friend… I think maybe I could."

"Your capacity for forgiveness has always been astounding," Adama said, standing up. "That's not a compliment, Captain."

"I didn't take it as one," Helo said. He looked at his watch. "Narcho and Sierra should be done, sir. We need to get to the imprint room."

"All right. I'll see you at 1000 hours for a briefing."

"Yes, sir." Helo watched Adama go, and his throat closed. He'd had some crazy hope that he'd be able to convince Adama right now, and they wouldn't have to go through with this, but Adama didn't seem like he was going to give in. He sighed. "I don't know if I could ever forgive you," he told Gaeta. "It really depends on what you'd say. Guess we're going to find out soon enough, aren't we?" Gaeta just looked mildly confused. "Yeah. Oh well. Come on. It's time for your treatment."

***

"She's a Cylon," Marissa said disapprovingly after Sharon left.

"I know," Tom sighed. "But I think she's sincere. And I don't have a choice."

"You do," Marissa insisted. "Throw her out."

"I can't if I want this to work."

"Excuse me, Tom?" Danny Noone was back. "There's a call for you."

"A call?"

"From Galactica."

"Frak." Tom stood up and hurried out of the room and to the phone. "This is Zarek," he said brusquely.

"Hoshi. We've hit a small snag."

"A snag?"

"There's a drill scheduled on Galactica at our meeting time." Hoshi sounded cool and unfazed as he spoke. "My absence from the CIC would not just be noted, but could be extremely problematic."

"You're worrying about loyalty to frakking Adama at a time like this?" Tom demanded incredulously.

Hoshi's voice went from cool to cold. "No. I am worried about my pilots and the utter lack of competence of any of the other Galactica officers who would take my place. I need to be in the CIC. And Thrace needs to be there as well. I've arranged with our contact that we can pick up our shipment early."

"All right."

"I've also alerted Thrace as to the change in plans. We're all set. Unless you have some tightly scheduled government business that must be seen to at that precise moment, sir."

"Frak you," Tom muttered.

"Should I tell the others?"

Tom frowned. "We're on a need-to-know basis at this point, Lieutenant." He remembered their newest recruit. "Except that you need to give a heads up to Lieutenant Agathon."

Dead silence for a long moment, then, "Aye, sir. Confirmed?"

"Confirmed." Tom hung up the phone.

Twelve hours earlier. Less time to plan, but less time for leaks, as well. Tom decided to look on the bright side.

***

Despite her worn clothes and lank hair, Playa still held herself as a professional reporter, aware of her appearance and demeanor. Laura had to respect that about her. It was a gesture that said no matter how bleak things got, there was still a reason to make an effort. There was still hope. Laura hadn't really expected to see that in Playa, just because of the rather adversarial relationship she had with the press, but she was grateful for it. They sat in Laura's office on the same side of her desk, glasses of water between them. She remembered a time she would have had something more to offer a reporter, but these days it seemed more courteous just to offer water than the algae, even if the taste had improved.

"I am curious," Laura said as Playa sat facing her in her office, "as to how you even heard about this program."

Playa smiled. "Madame President, surely you know word about this had gotten out."

"Of course," Laura said, inclining her head. "The Actives have been on civilian ships, and the sudden appearance of new skilled surgeons alone would raise questions. I'm just wondering what aroused your curiosity first."

"I believe it was when I saw Lieutenant Edmondson on the Monarch. I remembered her face from the documentary on Galactica, and hearing her called Rain Ambrose was a little odd. I simply followed up from there."

"I see." Laura had the vague impression Playa might be lying, but she couldn't figure out why she would.

Playa consulted her notepad. "How long have you known this technology is in the Fleet?"

"Adelle approached me before New Caprica. Billy was still alive. We weren't comfortable using the technology at the time. However, since Earth, humanity's situation has gotten desperate enough that the benefits of the technology vastly outweigh the detriments."

"You don't sound that all that certain."

Laura blinked. "I don't? That's interesting, because I assure you I am."

"I see." Playa jotted something down on her pad. Laura frowned. But before she could say anything, Playa spoke up again. "I assume that I can get exact figures on what's been done from someone else and not waste your time. However, I've done enough research to know that the presence of three Actives has affected this Fleet greatly, particularly in medical aspects. Why haven't you made more?"

Laura relaxed a little. "Part of it is the cost. Money, naturally, is not an issue. But the process does require a substantial amount of energy, especially the initial imprint process, which lasts six hours. We only have one person in the Fleet who understands the technology well enough to operate it. And there is also the matter of spare parts; if something goes wrong or needs repair, this is a very highly specialized piece of equipment. I don't know if we could fix it, so we can't afford to overburden it."

"I see. And then, of course, there's the labor. I understand that three of the Actives in the Fleet are criminals."

"Mutineers," Laura corrected.

"I believe that in the military, they're considered the same thing," Playa said. She took a sip from her glass of water.

Laura sighed. "They are. But let's be honest. The men and women who mutinied…" she swallowed. "They did so because they were desperate. They believed that the alliance with the Cylons was a mistake. They believed… they believed that the Admiral and I had failed in our leadership." Playa was watching her with wide eyes, very still. "The people that are serving as Actives did not mutiny because they were violent or sadistic or reveled in the conflict. Mr. Allison, Ms. Edmondson, and Mr. Gaeta all did what they did because they thought it was what was best."

"I see. You said three of the Actives." Playa leaned forward. "There are six in the Fleet."

"Six? There are five," Laura corrected her.

"Adelle told me six. The three from Galactica-"

"And two of their own." Laura wondered if there was another Active that Adelle was hiding from her. She picked up her glass of water and took a sip, as much to hide her confusion as from thirst. "Their Actives currently assist our own," she said, hoping to distract Playa. "They retain the same personality, and from what I understand, have retained it this entire trip."

"Interesting," Playa said, in a voice that clearly indicated it was not. "And the sixth?"

"Perhaps Adelle was referring to the offer we extended to Tom Zarek." Laura swallowed hard. Her stomach was starting to turn over, and she was starting to feel a little dizzy. "Is it warm in here?"

Playa regarded her with concern, and then pushed the glass of water towards her. "I apologize, Madame President. I don't want to push you past your physical limits."

"No, I've really been much better recently," Laura said, and it seemed like she was talking through molasses. "It just feels very… what were we talking about?"

"The sixth," Playa said. "Who is the sixth Active?"

"I don't know," Laura admitted, and the room was now spinning.

"You don't?" Playa asked, and Laura could swear she was smiling. "You should. You're slipping, Madame President, if you don't realize the sixth Active is you."

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, and Laura realized that when she saw Racetrack, Narcho, Victor, and Sierra all come into the room. "What's going…."

Playa turned to Narcho. "Dr. Grayson," she said, "I think the President needs your help."

Laura wanted to say something, but the world went black.

On to Chapter 8