Another veiwpoint suggested that a millenia of warfare had weeded out the most hostile elements of the Cylon population. Perhaps the latest generation saw the war in a different light. A Warrior I take to be Boomer, draws a card and suggests that the Cylons may have a different logic that operates on a trial and error basis. It may have taken a millenia to learn that waging war against humanity was not in their best self-interest. But boomer also added that the Cylons were an alien psychology and that we could never trust ourselves to fully understand it.

Some of the Warriors told of a definite drop-off in the performance of the Cylon Raider-craft. Indeed mechanical autopsies of wrecked machines noted an increase use of second-hand or even antique parts. Stronger pirate activity might have put a crimp in vital ores and manufacturing activity.

There were those who beleived that a millenia of warfare had taken its toll on the Cylon economy. Even the Cylons would fall under the laws of economics at some point, and the attrition of vital materials, machinery, and experienced crews would take its toll.

And some of the talk I was hearing wAs sjupremely interesting. I had heard much of it before as rumors or through back channels. But somehow it sounded a lot more relevant coming fromthje real Warriors.     Most interesting to me were the speculations as to why our ancient enemies, the Cylons, were abiding by a cease-fire, even if unofficial, and even if temporary.

There had been seminars which stressed the need for better cooperation between Registrations and the Services. In particular sincde the piracey and smugglinjg was so rampant. so I was following the Directive. And besides, as the saying goes, "When in the Provincial Capital, make yourself useful."

And of course, as I brought the libations back, I received requests for various bread-meat combinations and other refreshments. I even got to light a few fumarillos, some of which even had revenue bands.

"No problem," I said, trying to keep a straight face. The stage always needed that secondary character who slips on the peel-fruit, or takes the chiffon-pie to the face, or gets squirted with the pfizzer-bottle. Tonight was my night.

Not much had happened since play was in the opening round. but Starbuck motions me over, "Say Scurridae, hate to impose, but the guys here ordered a round of beverages but don't want to leave their hands just now, could you?"

All of this changes shortly after Starbuck raises an arm and calls me over to the Pyramid Table.I suppose people were willing to concede that even someone from Internal Registrations had the right to at least watch when it was their cubits at stake.

A few distracted, nearly hostile stares were directed my way. Apparently, there were those who were familiar with the slate-gray vestures of Internal Registrations. But everything had been on pretty short notice.