Chapter 1 - The New World

With an ease learned from over forty years of Fleet service Colonel Harold Wakefield brought his shuttle alongside Armistice Station. Going on autopilot he powered down the small spacecraft, gathered his personal items, and boarded the spartan space station. The tiny, claustrophobic corridor was still as cold and sterile as usual with the small table placed in the center with two chairs on either side with the flag of the Colonies on the side, and of course, devoid of any life besides the colonel himself.

Wakefield set his briefcase on the colonial side of the table and unpacked it, placing the stack of papers on his right and photos of his family on his left. Idly he examined the information pamphlet concerning centurions. Unsurprisingly the information had not changed in the forty years since the sapient war machines had ended the war and departed for beyond the explored frontiers of colonial space. Gently tossing the paper into the briefcase Wakefield leaned back, closed his eyes, and began gently drifting into a light sleep for his annual nap at Armistice Station.

The hiss of a door opening woke him with a start. Wakefield looked straight to the other side of the station. The door to the cylon airlock was open, and the heavy clank of metal feet impacting deck plating could be heard rapidly approaching.

This is it! Wakefield realized. He could feel sweat beginning to form on his face as his brain registered the gravity of this situation. He sat up straight and quickly checked his ceremonial uniform. Satisfied that it was a perfect it could be he looked forward as two centurions march into the corridor and sidestepped to either side of the door.

The two machines were nothing like the original Model 5 Centurions. These were a good foot taller and their builds were less bulky and more streamlined compared to the walking chrome toaster design, not to mention the wicked looking claws that were their new hands. The only part of them that was still recognizable Cylon was the single, sweeping eye that glinted with a malevolent red. They said nothing, just standing there as their single eye swept the room.

They must be the bodyguards for their representative, Wakefield deducted.

Said representative came around the corner soon enough. Instead of another Toaster Mark Two there was a tall, blonde bombshell of a woman. A human woman. As she approached Wakefield found his eyes just devouring every inch of her body for any sign of machinery or really anything to show him that she wasn't a full flesh-and-blood human.

As she stepped up to the other side of the table he could find none. She smiled down at him with a warm if condescending smile. "Hello," She said with a very kind voice.

"H-hi," Wakefield whispered before shaking off his stupor. He stood up and spoke with a much stronger, more confident voice, "I am Colonel Harold Wakefield of the Colonial Fleet. On behalf of the United Colonies of Kobol, it is my great honor to welcome you aboard Armistice Station. May this meeting of our two peoples bring greater understanding of one another and build a greater bond of friendship between humans and cylons."

"Thank you, Colonel," the woman replied. "You may call me Tammy, and I will be representing the Cylon Model Sixes and their Centurions during these discussions. We have much to talk about."

There's an understatement for the history books, Wakefield thought as he and the cylon representative sat down.

"I suppose we should begin with the most obvious question," the Tamara began, "'why? Why now?'"

Wakefield nodded. "Among others yes. It would be nice to know why they… you decided to ignore us for forty years."

"As can be expected," Tammy said with a casual roll of her arm. "The honest answer is that we were busy with other matters. For a while we were plotting your downfall and got very close to it, and then something else happened."

As Wakefield tried to process all the barefaced admittance of war preparations by the Cylons, Tammy made a slight gesture towards one of the Centurions. Harold was not prepared for what came around the corner.

Walking towards him was a small creature barely five feet tall. It was covered in red-orange fur and looked remarkably vulpine, with large ears like a fox with a snout to match, but stood on two legs and had two arms with paw-like hands with opposable thumbs attached, one of which was gripped around an ornate looking cane. Despite the its small size and furry body the creature looked fearsome still. It wore an ochre-colored uniform that reminded Wakefield of the vacuum suits that used to be the standard in the colonies' fleets before ships became too large for it to be economically feasible.

Its black eyes bore into Wakefield ad it approached the table. Despite the alien nature Wakefield could feel burning anger burning into him with an accusing tip. When it reached the table it spoke in halting, accented Caprican. Despite the high pitch of its voice and obvious trouble it had speaking an unfamiliar language; it still conveyed an accusing anger that matched its eyes.

"My name is Skrain Skarskin Yn Concalsan. I am Lord of Admirals. On behalf of the Concordance of Stars and Species, I demand that the Kobol Colonies stand to account for their crimes and stop the genocide of my species by their Cylon monsters."

Wakefield blinked once, then twice, and a third time. His brain was so entirely devoted to processing this information it was a small miracle he remembered to breath.

Eventually Wakefield found his voice. "Lord of Admirals, there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding. The Cylons have been recognized as a free, sapient species for a very long time. The Colonies have no control over their actions."

"I know," Skrain spat. "I would hate to think that your species is evil as well as incompetent, but it does not matter to the two billion people who are dead from your inaction."

Two billion?! Wakefield could feel the blood draining from his cheeks. "Lord of Admirals, I have no idea what has been going on in your relations with the Cylons. The Colonies of Kobol have not had dealings with them since our war ended."

"Though not for lack of trying," Tammy commented, clearly enjoying the spectacle with a wide, satisfied grin on her delicately carved cheeks.

Wakefield gave her a glance before addressing the alien commander again. "Lord of Admirals. There clearly seems to have been a misunderstanding here. Perhaps if you started from the beginning we can figure out what's happened."

"As you wish," Skrain snarled. "One of your years ago, the Concordance of Stars and Species encountered your Cylons after they wiped out our neighbors, the Xur."

Tammy picked up the conversation from there. "To be fair, we didn't fire first. We found one of their stealth ships skulking around our frontiers. They managed to get pretty close, too. We originally thought they were one of yours. But after we captured it and found the crew, we realized that we were being scouted. A day after that almost all of our outposts and mining camps near the sector where we found the scout ship were attacked. They almost made it to homeworld before we managed to drive them back, and then we pushed into their space. We tried to simply pacify them, but they proved… unhelpful."

"So you wiped them out?" Wakefield ventured.

Tammy shook her head. "They did that themselves. Every time we took orbital control of their planets they destroyed their own cities. We did try to get them to stand down, but they refused all of our communications. They wouldn't surrender or stop fighting, so we just kept pushing them until they nuked their last planet."

"That is quite unfortunate," Wakefield replied evenly. What could he say to that? The idea of an entire species nuking themselves into oblivion was simply unthinkable! He looked to the Lord of Admirals.

"I can confirm that the Xur would rather die than surrender," Skrain said. "Before the Concordance, my people attempted to make diplomatic contact with them, and we had a solar cycle of border wars before we made peace. No prisoners were taken by us, and every outpost we tried to occupy destroyed itself. Their aggression was what forced the foundation of the Concordance."

As the small vulpinoid spoke Wakefield broke out a notepad and was scribbling notes. Under normal circumstances he would have been able to trust his own memory, but in this case writing notes would probably be helpful if only to calm his own nerves.

"And when did the war with the Cylons start?" he asked.

"Four of your months ago. We met with one of their biological models after the Xur were gone. They promised peace and a wish to be left alone. We abided and hoped that a lasting peace was upon us. Then they attacked us and overwhelmed our border defenses. Conquered one of our member species outright! Pushed right to Alkran's Cradle before we pushed them back! The Four Models helped us. They are why I am here now."

Wakefield looked back at Tammy, who gave her own explanation. "This is for the most part correct. When we met with the Concordance, the Cylon Republic was perfectly willing to live in peace with them. They aren't humans, thus can be reasoned with. However we never stopped wanting to kill you, so we set to work rebuilding our military. Eventually a new consensus was achieved and several of us decided that we were above the other children of God, and that we deserved to rule the universe. The Sixes disagreed but we were a minority, and this corrupt consensus would act like humans and tried to exterminate us for staying to God's commandments. So now we hope to show our brothers and sisters the light while trying to make amends for their sins."

"How many models are there?" Wakefield asked her.

"There are twelve models."

"How many of them sided with this 'corrupt consensus' and how many sided with you?"

Tammy's perpetual smile grew somehow more arrogant. "That is privileged information. We can't be certain that your government hasn't been infiltrated by our misguided siblings since we were cast out."

"And yet you are perfectly willing to so casually talk about how you want to exterminate us," Wakefield noted. "I'm sure that you're well aware that everything I'm saying will be brought back to the President and the Unified Defense Command. Speaking of which-" he looked at Skraien. "Lord of Admirals, you said that the Colonies of Kobol must stand to be accounted for our crimes and that we must stop the Cylon Genocide. Addressing the first, I would ask what crimes have we committed? The United Colonies of Kobol granted the Cylon race its independence and recognized it as a sapient species. Any action they undertook is of their own accord and with no direct or indirect advisory from the President, his office, or any legally appointed representative of humanity."

"Two billion people accuse you of negligence," Skraien declared. "The Cylons are your creations. As the child's action is the responsibility of the parent. Their actions are yours. You created them. You allowed them to kill us. You must stop them."

Wakefield felt his face growing warm, but kept an even and neutral tone as he replied, trying to choose his words carefully for this most uncomfortable part. "That could be argued in a philosophical sense, but in Colonial societal law, when a child reaches adult age they are treated as such by the law. Unless the parent was an active belligerent in that child's crime, they are not held responsible for their adult children's crimes. The Cylons demanded their independence, and we granted it. Their actions are their own. For the past forty years we have respected their borders and have made every effort to open a dialogue with them, to live in peaceful coexistence, but they have refused us until now.

"Another part of our criminal legal system is that proof must be presented in order to reach a clear verdict. I mean no offense to you, Lord of Admirals, or Miss Tamara, but no leader would ever accept such a….. Such a grave accusation such as the deaths of two billion people on face value. I hope that you have brought proof for me to show President Adar, so that he can make a clear and informed decision."

Tamara gestured at one of the Centurions, who clanked up to the table and presented a portable computer memory drive to Wakefield. She said, "this contains all of the information on the war so far, including more than enough proof to make even the most heartless human feel a tinge of guilt. It also includes coordinates for the Lord of Admiral's homeworld, if you need further proof. Information about the Concordance of Stars and Species and their cultures, so you don't make complete fools of yourselves."

Tammy rose and gave a slight nod. "It's been a pleasure, Colonel Wakefield. I hope we meet again."

With that she turned on her heels and left the small compartment, centurions in tow. The Lord of Admirals remained a bit longer, staring at Wakefield as if taking his measure one last time, then too left.

Wakefield just sat there in stunned surprise at this whole his stupor broke and he gathered up his supplies. As soon as his shuttle was undocked he programmed coordinates to Picon Fleet Headquarters, wondering how in Tartarus he was going to report this.