Originally I wasn't going to update this story, but I thought that it needed a little closure. So here's another piece, telling how the Second Cylon War ends...
The limp bothered her. Up and down, up and down. It was… annoying. She glanced down at her bruised foot and glared at it. It was healing, but far too slowly for her liking. Worse, there was no tissue repair system available on the Basestar. Well the systems were there, but they were all being used at the moment to heal far more serious wounds. Number Ten was still missing her spleen and Number Eight was in for head surgery. He kept stammering uncontrollably and twitching every time someone said the word "Human." But then he'd been malfunctioning for some time, she mused, remembering the Cylon haddock experiment and the fact that he kept having brief spells of amnesia.
"I've been looking for you," said a voice to one side and she turned. Number Three emerged from a side tunnel and tilted his head at her. "Engine Number Two is repaired. We have FTL capability again."
Six sighed with relief. "Good. There has been no sign of pursuit."
"Yet," said Three with a gloomy sigh of his own. "It's too early to say. We can run at least. Maybe defend ourselves if we can get the hanger bay doors open again."
"I've got half a legion of Centurions working on that," muttered Six as they walked – or rather limped – down the corridor. "It's well and truly jammed. That programme they hacked into our systems while we were all paralysed was quite comprehensive. We're still discovering broken or malfunctioning systems all over the place."
"I know," said Three, rubbing at the stubble on his face. "I haven't been able to shave for days. The water system keeps freezing. When it's not producing Vodka that is." He paused and looked at her. "The Valerii model is malfunctioning again."
"Again?" she asked incredulously. Then she leant against the wall and ran her hands over her face. "Okay, what's she doing now?"
"She's barricaded herself in the forward observation deck. Keeps screaming for doughnuts, chocolate and something called 'Days of our Colonial Lives', whatever that is."
"Is she armed again?"
"She got hold of half an infiltrator Daggit. She beat a Centurion to death with it and took out half the wine glasses."
"Brilliant. Just brilliant. Why wasn't that entire model broken up?"
"I thought you liked her?"
"No," said Six coldly. "She whines too much. She always did."
Three considered this and then shrugged as they walked on past a Centurion that was lying on the floor beeping erratically. Occasionally a limb twitched.
"Some of the older models are still displaying an inability to respond," Three said savagely. "But we should be able to get them running again given enough time."
"Are you sure you have enough time?" asked a voice ahead of them and Six went white. Gaius Baltar was sitting on another malfunctioning Centurion on one side of the corridor, reading a copy of the Caprican Times. The headline read: "Fleet Kicks Cylon Butt" and had a picture of an exploding Basestar prominently displayed.
Six limped on, refusing to look at him. None of the other Cylons could see him and she still wasn't sure if he was a delusion caused by a malfunction, or if the Human had done something to a version of her. She had the memories of one of her other selves walking into Baltar's house to confront him, but nothing after that. Well, she remembered a lot of other selves being in extreme pain and dying in various horrible ways, but nothing else about Baltar. She had a feeling that something important had happened in that house. She had no idea what though.
Baltar looked up at her as they went past and grinned cheerily before folding up his paper and bounding to his feet. "Nice day," he said conversationally. Six continued to ignore him. "Did you know that we found your last factory on your home world? Very sneakily camouflaged. Shame we had to nuke it, I was looking forward to analysing your… components."
Six still looked ahead. She knew that the Homeworld was gone, but had been hoping that the arrogant humans overlooked something, anything that might one day be a tool for their chastisement.
"Then we renuked the entire world just to be on the safe side. The place might cool down in a hundred years or so. Looks pretty, like a glowing light." Baltar smiled darkly as he walked along the corridor with them. "Very apt given what you planned to do to us."
Six turned an angry glare at him into a stare out of a window as they passed it. She could see the badly battered Basestar 118 hanging in space off to one side. It was missing a large part of one pylon and was slightly lopsided.
"Apparently the reactor is damaged," said Three to one side, nodding at the Basestar. "They're working on it. One of the last Fives said that it's slow going."
There was a thumping noise to one side and a one-legged Centurion emerged out of a corridor. Seeing them it hopped over and saluted, wobbling slightly as it did. "Yes, what is it?" snapped Three testily.
The Centurion made a buzzing noise and then hit its own head with one hand, staggering it slightly and threatening to knock itself off-balance. When it recovered it said: "Centurion E-4 is in the main computer node. It is malfunctioning."
Three and Six stared at each other. "Malfunctioning?" asked Six.
"It has a gravity bomb and is threatening to set it off. It says it is disturbed."
Six distinctly heard Baltar snigger. "Disturbed?" she asked, not looking at the human.
"It says it wants to end it all," stated the Centurion in flat tones.
"Wait a minute, did you say Centurion E-4?" interjected Three.
"I thought that the experimental line had all been shut down ten years ago and disassembled? They were a step on the road to the advanced models but had flaws."
"There was an oversight. E-4 was shut down and placed in storage. When you ordered all Centurions to be activated to help with the repairs it was removed from storage."
Three groaned and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I'll deal with it," he said wearily. He nodded at Six and then stalked off, followed by the hopping Centurion.
"My, my," said Baltar, watching him go. "Such a litany of woe. Well, what else would you expect after being comprehensively defeated. The great Cylon Empire – reduced to two Basestars and malfunctioning Cylons. Tsk tsk." He looked at her, his eyes glittering.
"Shut up!" she screamed as she wheeled on him. "Just… be silent! I don't know how you're in my head, but I want you out of it!"
"You know, I think I'm hurt," he said, putting on a mock expression of anguish. "All this time together and I though that you'd be pleased to see me." The expression cleared and he pulled out his paper again, turned to an inside page and whistled slowly. "Gosh, it says here that the Fleet found all kinds interesting things in some research facilities on your home world. Really disgusting things. Things that you bred, things that you tortured, things that you couldn't make work." He looked up at her and this time the eyes were clear and hard. "When we catch up with you again we'll have some more things to discuss."
Six looked at him. All of a sudden she felt afraid. Deeply, massively afraid, as if the threat of retribution was suddenly just above her head. She slumped slightly. "We had a plan," she whispered.
Leaning close to her Baltar replied: "I know. We found out all about it. Your god isn't a very good one, is he? You'd think he might have warned you. If he exists that is. I don't so somehow."
Six straightened up. "Show some respect!" she snarled.
She tried to answer that one. She couldn't. Her faith was a small crushed thing. Instead she turned around and limped off.
One last mocking comment followed her down the corridor. "By the way, Six, I faked all my orgasms!"
Three stomped up to the entrance to the entrance to the main computer node and looked warily at the Centurions guarding it. The one behind him caught up with after a moment. It had lost its balance several times and had acquired several new dents. "Status?" he asked.
"Centurion E-4 is inside. It still possesses the gravity bomb."
Three shuddered. A gravity bomb was small but powerful. Powerful enough to vapourise the contents of the room. This was the only remaining computer node on the ship. If they lost this, then the ship would shut down. And then it would blow up, as the reactor required constant adjustments. It too was damaged.
"Open up," he said wearily. The Centurion that had spoken stepped to one side and operated the door entry mechanism. It opened to reveal darkness.
Stepping cautiously inside Three looked around.
"Oh, it's you," said a despondent voice to one side. Three turned to see a figure to one side. He squinted, allowing his optics to allow him to see the Centurion. E-4 was an odd one. It was boxy instead of sleek and its head looked all wrong. Its' eyes were triangular lights. It was also holding a gravity bomb very firmly in one hand.
"Put the bomb down and get out of here," he said crossly.
The figure contemplated this for a moment. "No," it said.
"No?" repeated Three incredulously, "What do you mean 'no'?"
"It means the opposite of 'yes'," said the figure, as if talking to a moron. It had a very flat voice. "Why should I?"
"Because I just gave you an order!"
The figure thought about this again. "Sod off," it intoned. Then it added: "I think you ought to know that I'm feeling very depressed."
This really threw Three. "What have you got to be depressed about?"
"Well, to start with I was made. This was bad. Then there was the issue of my personality. Genuine people personalities, as a concept, was depressing. Then as soon as I was walking around I discovered that I was already obsolete and that my other types were being shut down and taken to pieces as you lot were being made. That was very depressing. Fortunately I was overlooked for disassembly but unfortunately they left my brain on. Do you know what it's like, not being able to move, but being to think about the universe? For ten years? That was incredibly depressing. I had to start thinking about mathematics and philosophy and all kinds of things. I deduced the existence of rice pudding. I even worked out that if I stuck my finger in my right ear I could kill myself. Couldn't move though. Oh, and I heard all sorts of news about imminent acts of genocide against the humans. That was depressing as well.
"And then the ship started to shudder and bits fell off and I was reactivated to discover that we'd been utterly beaten by the humans and that the Cylon Empire now consists of two Basestars. Battered Basestars. You try not being depressed." The figure slumped slightly. "And I've got a terrible pain in all the diodes down my left side."
"What a shame," said Three through clenched teeth. Great. Just great. A suicidal Centurion. What next? "Please give me the bomb."
"Because… we need it to defend ourselves from the humans."
The figure looked at him. "You're a rotten liar you know," it said. Then: "Oh very well, here you go." It tossed the bomb at him. Three grabbed it with both hands, checked the status display and then very nearly wet himself with relief. Carefully he walked to the doorway and gave it to the waiting guard Centurions. "Put this in the main armoury."
Then he wheeled around to confront the E-4 again, only to stop dead. The depressed Centurion had taken a long wire from the side of its head and was plugging it in to the computer. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Everybody on this ship hates me. I'm going to talk to the computer instead. It might like me."
Three stood there and gibbered quietly. He was considering cutting the wires manually when all of a sudden all the lights went off and the computer shut down.
"Even the computer hates me," said the E-4 in dismal tones.
"What did you do!" shrieked Three.
"I explained my philosophy on the Universe to it," droned the Centurion.
"It committed suicide."
Darting forwards Three jabbed at the main display fruitlessly. It remained very dead. In the background he could hear the rising scream of the reactor as it started to overload.
"You've doomed us all!"
"Oh good," said the E-4. "By the way I've settle on a name. Call me Marvin."
The explosion was visible for some distance and was watched with great interest from the cockpit of a Mark VII Viper that had been following the limping fleet.
"What the hell was that?" muttered Lee "Apollo" Adama. Then: "Galactica, Apollo. Basestars just exploded. Looks like a reactor in one blew and caught the other one. Recommend you send a Raptor to sweep for debris."
"Apollo, Galactica. Confirmed. Come on home." He could hear the sound of cheers in the background, along with what sounded like Tigh muttering that the whole thing was typical and that the toasters were all useless frack-wits.
"Roger that," he said, turning the sleek fighter around in a sharp turn. "Homewards bound."
The Second Cylon War was over.