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Old February 4 2013, 03:28 AM   #153
MasterArminas
Commander
 
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)

“Thank you,” Bishop said as the cell door closed. The brig was full—there was a blonde woman in the cell to his left and an older dark haired man (with much grey) to his right.

The guard smirked. “Damn polite for a toaster,” he snorted. “The Admiral said you ain’t going to be hurt—and on this ship, that means you are safe in there.” The guard stepped back and Bishop examined the small cell and sat down on the bunk. He noticed both of the others staring at him.

“Hello,” he said. “I am Bishop.”

“D’Anna,” answered the woman.

“Cavil,” said the man. “Why do they think you are a Cylon?” he asked.

“I am not a Cylon,” Bishop answered. “I am, however, an Artificial Person.”

Both of their eyes narrowed and their faces grew tight. “An artificial person?” Cavil asked.

“A Synthetic Humanoid Android Model 312-B manufactured by Hyperdine Systems of Earth.”

EARTH!” Cavil thundered, as D’Anna stood and grabbed hold the bars.

“Earth. Are you two Cylons?” Bishop cocked his head. “I ask because the first Colonials we met said that they were mechanical, but then after I told them I was an artificial person, they revealed that you could take human form.”

“Yes, we are Cylons,” said D’Anna. “You hide your emotions well, Bishop.”

“I do not experience emotions as humans do—that is one difference between. And a second difference is that I am content with who and what I am. It is impossible for me to harm or by omission of action, allow to be harmed, a human being.”

“Could you harm us?” asked Cavil warily.

“She had admitted that both of you are Cylons—but I would reluctant to harm either of you based solely on that, at least until medical tests revealed that you are not, in fact, humans.”

Really?” asked Cavil. “Why don’t you tell me about Earth?”

“You are a prisoner,” Bishop answered. “A prisoner who is an avowed enemy of the people whom my companions are negotiating with as we speak. I am afraid that I cannot comply with your request in regards to military or technology or stellar cartography.”

“Well, tell us something,” said D’Anna sweetly. “We have been rather bored here—which is better than the alternative of being tortured . . . maybe. At least it would be different.” She smiled. “So your masters are the Thirteenth Tribe?”

“The Thirteenth Tribe does not exist—my creators are human beings indigenous to Earth. It is the planet where that species evolved.”

“Interesting in a blasphemous sort of way,” said Cavil with a snort.

“Very much so,” answered D’Anna with a frown. “You do still worship the Lords of Kobol?”

“The Greek Gods? That religion died out millennia ago. Others have replaced it, but by far the majority of humanity holds either an atheistic or a deistic view of theology. Exceptions exist, but the majority of mankind religion is only a reflection of one’s cultural traditions.”

D’Anna looked absolutely horrified, and Cavil began to laugh. “I was born among the wrong people,” he said looking at the ceiling. “Tell me more—nothing military or classified, just tell me about the people and culture, as you said.”

Cavil and D’Anna exchanged a very long look as Bishop began to tell them of the people of Earth—the Thirteenth Tribe.
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