Drop The Pilot
In Boomer's quarters, changing into her off-duty stuff, she found the elephant lying on the bed, and after turning on the light and staring at it for awhile, she became an Eight again. Just for a little while. She touched the elephant, and brought the two parts of herself into the light for a second. She tried to hate that girl, that Sharon Valerii, but couldn't ever seem to do it.
Troy was a satellite of Aerilon, the foodbasket of the Colonies; it was agreed the irony was appealing: Make the sleeper agent a Trojan, in name as well as deed. Gina Inviere told her she'd be fine. "I'm glad you do, because I feel like I'm gonna die or something," said Eight. To be gone, all the way, like a true death; to live somewhere in the crannies of a girl with a family and a name and a serial number. "Well, in a way you are," Gina said, smiling to soften the blow. "But when you wake up, you're gonna begin a whole new life. A human life, with a human name. Sharon Valerii."
And you will fall in love, and you will be hated, and betrayed in ways so vicious only humans could divine them; you will be twisted into a monstrous machine that prays and waits for death, huddled in the darkness. You will be so human it will burn you out, and then you will be nothing at all. But you will know love. It will guide you; the need to love and be loved in return will pilot you all the way into the black. Sharon smiled at Gina Inviere; they wouldn't see each other again and didn't expect to. And the next Six Boomer saw, she'd have known love too. She would be broken by it, and remade.
Free of Sharon for the moment, Eight told One about Galactica's dwindling water supplies, and offered the suggestion that somebody blow the tanks. He was delighted. "Do it as soon as possible. And after you download, remember to report the position of the Fleet." She wasn't sure she could do it; he didn't want to hear that. "My cover. It's stronger than expected. And there are some people onboard Galactica that have a hold on me." She smiled. "Chief Tyrol loves me." He was intrigued -- not offended, note, the way he would and will be when a human dares to touch his father -- and laughed, a high whinny, but refuses to explain. "You're a machine, Eight. Go get some explosives, blow up the tank, and then have a fatal accident. Right now, I'm late for dinner." He left her there, taking the elephant's memory with him, and she slowly woke up from the nightmare again.