"Save," (Part Two) Eleven

Leiutenat Athena continues the ongoing investigation:
   "And can you provide any details that you may remember about the Cylon Raid?" She asks.
   Gammon rubs his jaw, "Well, we were waiting for it to get late enough to make oour attmept to get out," he remembers, "I'd liked to have tried when it first got dark, but when you had a worn out menagerie like we had to move, I figured it would be best to try and wait and go out about the same time that Philo and I had gone out before," Gammon shrugs, "Could be that is when they rotated, or maybe were sleeping off their evening's drinking spree. But as close as I could figure, if everybody could move, and there were no hitches, we'd of just made it to the foothills by first light. And even with that much of a risk, it was better than depending on the mercy of the Pirates, that was for sure."
   "So you were resting up?" Athena guides Gammon back to the investigation.
   "We were huddled in our groups, most of them back to the rear of the hanger to be closer to Philo's tunnel," Gammon explains, "some of the rest of us were towards the front to watch the door, bring supplies, and gather up any stragglers when we moved. And then it happened."
   "What happened?" Athena asks.
   "We heard it, it was a low humming sound at first, faint off in the distance," Gammon raises himself in his chair, "but then the humming grew louder as it came closer, soon we could tell that it was the sound of fighters."
   "Must have put a thrill into you," Tigh observes.
   "Everybody, but me," Gammon grimaces, "The motors got clser, and then we heard the opening blasts of a laser cannon barrage."
   Gammon slouches back into his chair, "This one fellow, Windham leaps up and starts yelling, 'They've come for us, I knew the Colonies wouldn't let us down, we're saved!!'"
   I yell over to Windham in the most authoritive voice that I could muster, 'Get down you fool, those are Cylon Pulsars!'"
   Gammon gets a slightly amused look on his face, "Windham looked like he had just sat in the felgarkarb, and quickly sinks back behind the dirt embankment he'd bee resting behind."
   "How much pulsar-fire did you hear?" Athena has her questions.
   "Quite a lot, made a lot of racket, not so much explosions, but more like stuructures colasping, then we hear the motors pass overhead, and then come around for a second pass," Gammon remarks.
   "Was there any resistance by the Pirates?" Tigh then asks.
   Not much, we heard what sounded like one light ground battery open off, but then there were  several Pulsar bursts and there was an explosion from that position," Gammon relates, "And then there was the sound of a fighter crashing and the sound of a tremendous pile-up."
   Gammon sits up in his seat and is expansive, "My guess would be that they were not from a basestar because there were only a few that you heard, and that Raider that crashed must have practicaolly out of fuel, or there'd been more of an explosion."
   Athena looks up and says to Gammon, "We are primarily interested in any data that you can provide, we will be handling the primary stuational analysis."
   Gamon notes the tone of command voice, is slightly irritated, but continues, "Pretty soon we start hearing Cylon laser-rifles from what sounded like two separate groups. The strafing run must have been a diversion for them to land under."
   Athena looks up from her note-taking.
    "Beggin your pardon, Mamm," Gammon states, "but I beleive that my analysis of the tactical situation is pertinent to the decisions made durng this action."
   "As you were, proceed," Athena says to Gammon.
   Colonel Tigh fights back a grin, with perhaps a chaser of nostalgia.
   Gammon continues, "We hear the Cylon heavy rifles, and then we hear the sounds of the miscellany of Pirate weapons replying. The next thing was the sound of a ship hovering and landing, and the  bursts of two pulsar cannon coming down from that. Must have had the Pirates reeling, for soon the Cylon assault teams start leap-frogging on them."
   "Must have been some of the better-grade Ground Centurions," Colonel Tigh observes.
   "At least not your everyday brick-layers, and cubicle-sweepers," Gammon agrees, "But then you hear an explosion, and the sound of that landing ship come crashing. I suppose that since the Cylons had lost the high ground the Pirates were able to push back. And from the sounds of five to six parties, the Cylon assualt teams were pushed back. And the Cylons needed a quick win, before the Pirates could organize and concentrate upon them."
   Tigh nods to Athena to lend his support to Gammon's interpretation.
   "And it was then, we start hearing the whings like you'd hear from high-powered hunting-lasers," Gammon looks up at Athena, "Yes, some folks still use them," Gammon looks at both Tigh and Athena, "And there were a very few shots taken. But they must have hit something, for shortly after that, we hheard the volume of Pirate counter-fire decline, and then start to move back like on retreat."
   "And so what did you decide?" Athena stays on track.
   "We stayed put," Gammon shrugs, "No use traipsing a gang of worn out civilians, in pitch dark with a bunch of riled-off Pirates or Cylons roaming around. We only heard maybe one or two skirmish's in close, like perhaps  someone was running a securing operation, to tie down their gains. Not knowing anything more, I decided to keep us hunkered down until morning."
   Athena nods, "That sounds about right, as a Warrior, your first responsibility would be to the passengers."
   Athena doesn't catch it, but Colonel Tigh shoots Gammon a quick nod.

The night of the Cylon Raid, one of the few humans in thepirate contingent had drawn the short straw and was on watch at the makeshift control tower at the Pirate base.
   There was no traffic scheduled to move through. Giventhe primitiveness of the base, that was usually a daytime function.
   There was nothing to up there but to sit and watch the tracking systems, and a very few other moniters. Maximum boredom, plus not engaging in entertainment, or doing activities that would lead to loot. But when Captain Gunn ordered it.
   The tracking system was just about out anyways. Some sort of ion storm or solar activity was regularly interfering with the screen, It was a low level disturbance that could be cleared on a regular set up, but everything right now was so hodge-podge.
   Then he noticed it, checked again, cleaned up some squelch, it was still coming. A group of small ships were skimming just above the landscape,bearing down on the approach at an extremely high rate of speed.
   The watchman barely deciphered that the ships appeared to be possibly Cylonesque, but their bearing was definitlely hostile.
   The watchman had just hit the alarm claxon when the tower went up in flame.
   The alarms sounded accross the Pirate base. Pirates responded with uncertain degrees of readiness. Some ran for their assigned posts, some ran to escape, some stumbled about, groggy. Some never made it out. The shadows of seven Cylon Raiders skimmed just overhead, concentrating their first opening volleys on communications and barracks. The Cylon fire was accurate, the Pirates were hit hard.
  Loxxon, the Pugeant, slides out of the Command Copound. It had only received a partial hit. He knew that this would have to happen soon. The base had been kept in place too long for the hot commodities that they had been moving through it.
   Loxxon spotted the Cylon fire and knew that the Pirates did not have the assets in place to take on a basestar.
   Escape was in order. He slid along the walls past the storage to the landing way. He had a ticket out. And if he was the only survivor, his version of events would have to be believed by his higher-ups. There, up ahead, lingered the dark outline of the fast-scout.
   Then Loxxon heard some scuffling approaching from behind. He pulled himself into a corner. Loxxon saw the outline of a human moving swiftly along the walls in his direction.
   The rightful owner was coming to claim their transport. Loxxon could fix that.
   When the humaen passed, Loxxon reached out and spun it around. Then Loxxon sprayed it in the face with a can of spray  that he carried in his other mit. The humaen collapsed the moment it got hit by the spray.
   Loxxon caught the collasping Humaen. It was a female of the species. Funny how a substance the Pugeant regarded as a perfume always had this affect on Humaenz. Loxxon shoved the humaen asside and heard her colapse into a pile of boxes or crates. He eases out onto the park, so far untouched.
   Loxxon hurries out to scout, slides open the canoppy, and climbs into the seat.
   So far so good. If the Raiders overlooked the park only a couple of Centons more.
Loxxon was confused my the mish-mash of Humaenz controls, but there was enough alien that he could get launched and then make a run for it.
   Loxxon finally gets the pre-launch sequence activated, and as rapidly as it starts to wind up, it dies  and winds down. And beyond that, every light in the cockpit, and every single running light on the Backer suddenly comes on and start strobing in the darkness.
 
   The Raiders complete their first pass, and come around in a wide loop. The Conch's map had been accurate, and they have been able to target the communications and personnel facilities without hitting any of the precious stores in the warehouses.
   The Seventh Flight begins the second run, moving deliberately to pick out key targets. A group of Pirates has made it to one of the few counter-fire batteries to get installed. They are able to track a single Raider on the right flank and get off a very few shots and score two hits on the underside before the battery is inundated by pulsar fire and blows up.
   The Raider wobbles as it loses gyro-stabilizer. Just then a series of lights start strobing. The Raider aims in that direction.
   Thjere is only a small explosion as the Raider crashes. But its momentum carries it through the scow-park as it tosses light scows about in a mountage of wreckage.
   The
Raider breaks in two and careens off of a scow and into the darkform of the fast-scout broadside.
   The Backer breaks into three parts, nose, wings, and propulsion that flip over several times in a complete wreck.

   While the Seventh Flight attack is keeping the Pirates occupied, the two light transports come in underneath and land just off the landing way. They regularly land in difficult spots as per their experience in the Barren Sector.
   Hatch-doors lift onm the sides, and around a dozen heavily-armed Ground Centurions pile out of each craft. The Ground Centurion's move rapidly to get the warehouse sections occupied and begin to move to force the Pirates out of their command and personnel quarters.
   It is the unfortunate brigand that gets caught out in the open by the Ground Assualt.
   But the Pirate forces are not entirely incompetant. Some recover from the intial shock and begin fighting back. Their crewmates join them in forming strongpoints amongst the  ruined command and personnel compounds. With out support from above, the Cylons cannot make progress against the numerically superior Piracey.
   Then there is a humming and whirring sound. The Cyulon Lander-ship comes to hover close behind the Cylon line, unfolds legs that occupied the space that had just earlier housed the canisters, and set down.
   Lasers batteries mounted on either side of the battery start firing down onto the Pirates. The hammering starts to drive the Pirates back.
   But from among the Pirate pockets starts to come a deep popping noise, and explosions start happening around and underneath the Lander. Eventually, one of the legs gives way and the Lander tips in that direction, and the lander comes crashing down.
   Without sky cover, the ground centurions are left in the open. Even though they utilize cover, a trick learned from the Warriors, the Piracey begins to push back the Cylon assault, soon to be surrounded and cut off. There is not even enough fuel left in the transports to attempt to evacuate. From all appearances, Chiopps grand gamble shall fail.
   But then the high-pitched whine of long-range laser rifle starts whizzing over the helmets of the stranded Centurions, and into the Pirate strongpoints.
   There are a couple of flashes and two Piracey fighters topple out of their cover.
   No more than two long range laser-rifles are at work. But with precision, a half dozen more shots find their mark.
   There is a hesitation in the rate of Pirate shooting. When the Pirates begin to shoot again, it is oving back from the Cylons, as if covering a retreat. The Ground Centurions push as bes they can, but it is soon apparent that the Confeiture forces have escaped to the hills.and there is still much for the Centurions to do to secure and fortify their gains.
   From the wreckage of the Lander, the Apex Cylon finally rises to stand. His foward controllers then follow suit, and sling thier long-range hunting lasers over  their shoulders.
   The red-scanner, long a favorite target for trained Colonial Warriors, did give a Cylon an edge in the dark as far as picking up targets on infra-red. Such coordinates, when relayed, allowed the front drivers to place their shots with deadly accuracey.
   Faced with the loss of some of their hardest fighters, the Pirates soon broke off the battle. Now the task was to clear out any trapped Pirates and secure their gains.

At the park, Loxxon crawled out of the wrecked fast-scout. It felt as though the left side of his body was shattered. He had to drag his gfoot.
   As Loxxon drug himself along a freight mover-pulled up behind him and pulled Loxxon aboard.
   It was Laxxtive and a couple other Pugeants, "The Cyyllonz are breaking through, we will soon be wiped," Laxxtive croaks.
   Loxxon forgets his own escape and belches out commands, "Let us go, organize our comrades to pull back and follow us to the camp in the hills."
   Laxxtive takes Loxxon's cmmand and the freight-cart travels between the pockets of Pirate-resistance and notifies them of the change in plans. The pockets secure freight-carts, or other transportation and fall back to the hills.
   From amongst a pile of boxes and crates, a dark-clad female figure moves. She brushes a whisp of sandy hair from her face. Her attention is drawn to the freight-movers left standing by the park.
   They wanted to take her Viper, the least she could do was help herself to one of the Piracey's movers, Agent Tanglia decides for herself.
   Tanglia finds a couple of refreshment cartons amongst the boxes and stuffs the contents ito her satchel. She moves quietly to a mover, climbs in and starts it.
   The freight cart soon is moving accross the sand to a nearby foothill, safely off of what she takes to be where the Piracey will fall back.
   Tanglia wishes that she had a hat or helmet to stuff her hair under.
   Snhe'd been searching the quadrant trying to locate the whereabouts of the hostages, and had tracked them down to here, it seemed. It should have been the simplest of matters to negotiate terms for a release. Butt Captain Gunn had pulled one of his famed reversals. The Piracey had refused to even tell her of the presence of the Colonial citizens, much less were willing to bargain.
   At least Tanglia was still here. There was still the chance to salvage her mission.

Athena asks her next question, "So what came next? How did you survive after the raid?"
   Gammon rubs his chin, "Well, morning arrived at last, the temperature warmed up and that was how we could tell it was morning," he shifts his position in his chair, "Actually, I was hoping that the Cylons and the Pirates  had wiped each other out, but," Gammon smiles grimly, "we weren't that lucky, soon enough we heard the sounds of a party moving through the ruins, opening doors and searching."
   "The situation must have been quite tense," Athena adds.
   "Not a bit," Gammon tries to be serious, "We had most of the hostages ready to go out the back, and of course Bowdy had her sweeper-stick," then Gammon shifts to look at Athena, "then the party stops right in front of the main door of our Dark Hanger. Most people buried themselves down deeper, probably there was a little religion going around too," Gammon frowns, "And the hanger door jerks a coupleof times, and then there is a blast from a laser, and then the door slides open, and there he stands, inall his chromium, aluminum-plated glory, the Apex Cylon. And he had his laser pistol pointed straight at us, and on either side of him were his front-men," Gammon catches himself as he tries to use the correct terms, "Front drivers, behind some sort of cover with two hunting lasers aimed point-blank down our throats. Yeah, things might have gotten a little tense."
   "And then," Athena is busy transcribing.
   "The cease-fire could have helped," Tigh offers.
   "Some," Gammon concedes, "But it'd been just as easy for the tin-plates to fry us there, and leave us in the desert of some unknown planetoid, They didn't know if we were Human, Machine, Piracey, or what, no," Gammon hesitates.
   "No, but?" Athena continues for Gammon.
    Gammon is a little bit embarrassed, "No, but then Bowdy starts shucking off one of her white-silk stockings, and then starts tieing it onto the end of the sweeper-stick. I say, 'Bowdy,' and she looks to the Apex Cylons and his cronies and says back, 'I think I know them."
   Colonel Tigh and Athena both look up at this change in the narrative.
   "Yehp, I was dumb-founded too," Gammon shrugs, "Then Bowdy looks at me and says in a loud whisper, "Back when I was younger, sometimes I used to sneak a ride with my cousin and her fa-,' Bowdy then says, 'Oh it's a long story.' So then I ask bowdy what she planned to do, surrender? She remarks about this being no time for the last stand of the summer vacationers, but she catches herself, and explains that it will have to be sort of a cross between a surrender and a parlay, that's just how these Cylons are wound."
   You weren't going to let  her go out there alone, were you?" Athena asked.
   Gammon shakes his head in disbelief, "I started to go with her, but Bowdy told me to stay where I was, that the situation was delicate enough that it needed special handling. I told Bowdy that I'd be non-threatening bu then Bowdy says," Gammon tries to remember her phrasing, "Around these Cylons, you need to act a little bit silly, It lets them think that they are a superior species."
   "So then Bowdy starts waving her white-stockin-flag and stands up and calls to the Apex Cylon, 'Yooo-Hooo, are you the Cylon-In-Charge??' The Apex Cylon turns to face her, his laser-pistol levelled. His red-beam flashes back and forth, like even his programming wasn't ready for this. But Bopwdy is still in one piece and she starts forward, with the parlay flag held high, 'Are you the rescue  party sent out to save us??' All the Cylons stop all motion and freeze in place. Theyu was scanning all of us and the interior of the dark hanger. Then the Apex-Cylon drones, 'Save,' and after a short pause his right driver answers, 'Save,' and finally the laeft driver chimes in, 'Save,' And then the two drivers rise up slowly from behind cover, with their rifles still pointed at us and wtep in beside the Apex. The Apex-Cylon then reaches into a pouch hanging from his belt and draw out a red round object, and tosses it in our direction," Gammon catches himself, "And there were more than a few gasps and prayers as the red round object sails through the air and lands at bowdy's feet. The red round object hit the ground and goes,'squeek,' bounces once, hits the ground again, goes squeek and rolls to a stop at Bowdy's feet. She reaches down, picks up the red round object and squeezes it, and it goes, 'Squeek.' Bowdy looks at the Apex and says, 'This is from our supplies, you have access to our supplies, sir, if we could have access to our foods and medicines, we could take care of ourselves and be of no trouble whatsoever."
   Gammon stops, he and Tigh are grinning accross to each other.
   Athena looks up from her transcription,and asks, "What? Please clue me in."
   Tigh explains, "Once they had found  the supplies in one of the warehouses, the Cylons of course knew that the hostages were probably somewhere on the base."
   "And they then went through that entire charade just to see us squirm," Gammon growls.
   "Probably it was a ploy to increase control of the group of internees," Athena decides.
   "Most other peoples, species, and machines, yes," Colonel Tigh figures, "but the Seventh Flight?" Tigh lets the question hang.
   Gammon continues, "The garbage pails stand there with their red-lights beaming. Bowdy regains her composure, straightens herself up and then offers, "Sir, we will trade you our goodwill and cooperation, if you will just allow us access to our supplies.' The Apex-Cylon says nothine. but the right-driver then drones, 'Trade,' and the left driver chimes in, 'Trade,' but the Apex-Cylon says nothing but motions and the hanger door is slid shut."

  "It is a long night," Gammon continues on, "No one is sure if our rescue is good at all, but nobody is prepared to risk it all on a last ditch escape attempt either. Finaoly after a long, cold night, once again, there stands that daggit-food can Apex-Cylon. And he is flanked by his drivers. And they are carrying full-out heavy assault rifles now."
   "Didn't look too good," Colonel Tigh sympathizes.
   "The Apex must have been in a good mood," Gammon figures, didn't have his laser-pistol drawn on us, anyway he says one thing, 'Trade,' Bowdy is calculating quickly, 'Trade? Could this mean he is taking us up on our offer?' Bowdeccia then raises her parlay-stocking up, and then approaches the Apex. She stabs the parlay-stick down in front of her and answers, 'Trade.' And without missing a strobe the walking-junkpile speaks one command, 'Assemgle,' Now Bowdy isn't about to miss grabbing the brass-ring, even though it may be attached to a Cylon, so she yells out, 'Eveyone who can carry anything at all, line up!' Then Windham complains that someone needs to stay and watch things. Bowdy tells him to be quiet, that this maybe our only chance to get their supplies which are despeately needed by now. The walking cases can watch things well enough.' And at Bowdy's urging, anyone who can, gets up at the door."
   "And why the sudden hospitality by the Cylons?" Athena wonders.
   "Trade," Colonel Tigh speculates, "Fixed up humans would be worth more in a barter."
   "And it would be more expedient to allow the humans to retreive their own supplies, to free up Cylon labor resources for higher priority functions."
   Gammon folds his arms in fron of himself, "All of the passengers assemble into well, a mob. So the Apex-Cylon turns to bowdy and drones, 'Disorganization,' Bowdy leans back over to him and says in a loud whisper, 'you know how it is, with trainees.' That explanation seems to satisfy the Apex, he stops, points to the hills, and drones loud enough for all to hear, "Danger,'"
   Athena stops transcribing, "Was that a warning to not try to escape, or that the Pirates had sought refuge in the hills?"
   "Maybe both," Tigh answers.
   "And so we start out on our hike," Gammon says, smiles, "The Apex had one of his drivers on either side of our mob, the one by me seemed perplexed by the prescence of the offspring, so I lean over and explain to him, 'Small units, they are useful for opening safety-lids,' and that seemed to make perfect sense to that Cylon."
   "And the drivers were there, for protection?" Athena gets Gammon back on interveiw.
   Probably to keep us together," Gammon answers, "We were hiked down between two rows of pyramidal, amber marker-beacons."
   "To mark the area you were to stay in, or," Colonel tigh summarizes, "the areas the Cylons knew were clear of booby-traps."
   Gammon nods, "Most of the trip was accross the poly-concrete runway, from the look of things, the Cylons were in the process of dismantling, and confiscating everything on that Pirate base save, perhaps the sand-blocks, woulda made a tribe of Nomen proud."
   "And that is why they let you retrieve your own goods," Athena remarks.
   "We turn once," Gammon goes on, "And there is a warehouse, and upon our entrance, we find our packages, at the front. They have been opened and inspected, but the contentshave been left intact which is rather incredible for those pilferers."
   "How did you carry it all?" Athena asks.
   Gammon smiles, "These people had won an all expense trip, so they hadn't brought much non-essential. We did concentrate on this first trip on foods and medical supplies, and it is surprising how much strength a hungry colonial can muster when there is food in the box."
   "First trip?" Tigh asks Gammon.
   "Yeah, it still took us three trips to move our supplies," Gammon rubs his chin, "Even after Philobuster devised a transport dolly, it was all we could do to get things moved that short a way. When we reached the end of the supplies, that Apex was standing there and points to the other boxes as if to indicate whether we had any more, bowdy later told me that she wondered if he was testing her, so she answered that they had all that was ours, and we were marched back to our Dark Hanger. The shadows were starting to fall, and it appeared that our captors wanted us back to quarters pronto, one of the side-drivers even helped push the transport-dolly. When we arrived back at the Hanger, we find a new Cylon standing in the light of an amber-pyramid. He must have been new or something because he didn't have the rill, or the other felgerkarb on his armor,
His laser looked more like it was some sort of used target pistol.  The Apex stops in front of the new Cylon and turns to Bowdy and speaks, "Addjatant,"
   "Not long on fancy introductions," Athena muses.
   "The Apex then turns to the new Cylon, Addjatant, and orders, "Addjatant," Gammon explains, "and then the new Cylon turns to the Apex and answers, 'Save,' like he knows his orders. And finally the Apex turns back to Bowdy and makes one last request, 'Follow,' and then turns and gaits off apparently to catch up on more important of business."
   "Doesn't mince words," Tigh comments.
   "So what else could we do?" Gammon remarks, "
We followed Addjatant into the hanger, we file past him, and in for the night. Addjatant then slides the door closed, but only part way, and remains standing there throughout the rest of the night, lit faintly by the glow of the amber-pyramid, without his eye-beam wig-wagging faithfully back and forth."

At the Command Center in the Barren Sector, Chiopps sat in his seat of command with his arms pressed firmly upon the rests. His chin was on his chest-armor as his concentration was elsewhere.
   Much information was coming in. It was sketchy due to the vagaries of the Raid, and the interference from the induced solar flare up.
   Normmlly a subordinate would handle the collection and sorting of ncoming information such as this. But the garrison had been so stripped to conduct the Raid, that Chiopps had had to handle this chore. And it had its advantages, getting the information as it cme in from the field.
   The data began as the Seventh Flight went in, noted the loss of a unit, recorded the landing and the deployment of the Ground Centurions, their initial successes. Also coming in was the Lander adding its suppression fire. But the data stream there was interrupted abrupltly. Confirmed later by ground Centurions to have been disabled.
   And then the flow of data began to turn against the Cylon Raiding Party. The Pirates apparently were able to regroup. The Cylon attack bogged down at strongpoints, and was even beginning to be pushed back in places. At least the Ground Cylons would be spared the humiliation of recycling that awaited others in the event that this Raid failed.
   But then, there was some sort of data-traffic from the Apex-Cylon to his seconds as the Seventh Flight set down due to lack of fuel. Another traffic stream, and then information-silence.
   Then another data-stream started coming in from the Ground Centurions this time. The Pirate strongpoints had taken accurate sniper-fire, and certain ones had even started to pull back.
   New information quickly followed that the Pirates were indeed beginning to break off and staging a retreat.
   And then the information flow degenerated to the expected reducing of the last isolated holdouts, and the minutae associated with securing the capture.
   Chiopps had one brain shunting the information to the proper files for later analysis, the other was able to do a preliminary reveiw of the results. Cylon losses had been signifigant enough in Ground Centurions and skyborn equipment. But the prize was signifigant. The Cylons of the Barren Sector had stormed the base at the right time and had captured large stocks of fuel, ammunintion, and other materials that the Pirates had been transferring due to the Cylon crackdown ongoing in other sectors.
   The Pirate materials would be unusable to other commands in the Cylon system. But the Barren Sector Command had already been modifying their equipment and weapons to make use of sub-graade materials for quite awhile anyways.
   And then a new piece of information came in from a party searching the warehouses. It was a confounding piece of information. But it did pull much conflicting material into alignment.
   But before Chiopps could process the newly arrived data, he became aware of a very deep, very pervasive gongging sound. Chiopps was being summonned.
   Other two-brain commands would at least have some ritual of an offical dispatch or delivery by courier. But in the Barren Sector, Chiopps was gonged.
   There had been a surplus of gongs at the time when the syustem had been installed.
   Chiopps rose from his seat and walked over to a doorway. A door slid open, and Chiopps entered the Interface Chamber.

   A request had  been put in for additional sheilding for the barracks to provide some protection for the centurions. So of course what was delivered was the only extravagance in the Barren Sector,  a set of five tele-veiwers, three cylons high, set in a special chamber that led off the command post.
   The interface chamber allowed to confer with his direct-IL in real-time conditions. With the Interface Chamber, the IL's personal control room was faithfully transferred to the Interface chamber.
   It was very nearly like conferring with his direct-IL face-to-face. A chewing-out delivered by remote control.
   Chewing out was a decidedly human term, but it seemed that there was no better term that fit better.
    And Chiopp's Direct-IL was another story all together. It was said that the IL known as Calliope had also looked up the serial number and had discovered that her original programmer had been a female of the species. And so now, Calliope had received a lower tier assignment due to her original-programmer.
   Chiopps might point out that Calliope's habit of being too forthright, and of not playing the intricate games of the other IL's might have contributed to her posting.
   But Chiopps also regarded Calliope as potentially a most formidable opponent due to her unrelenting drive. But she also dealt everything out front. There was some gain to that.