Drop The Pilot
Cavil did his best, on his way to the Galactica brig; he sounded convincing, he thought -- a dash of Six self-righteousness, a pinch of officious Five, a generous helping of Eight's wounded heart -- until he saw his brother One, and had to shrug. He sat with his brother, unsure exactly how to proceed; he winged it. "Sorry to bust up your day, Brother, but there's been a change of plan. The occupation of the Colonies was an error." One stared; his mouth tasted of apple. "My mission here is simple," Cavil told the powers of the Fleet. "I'm to tell you that you've been given a reprieve. Cylon and man will now go their separate ways, no harm done." Bill was disgusted; One made fun of him.
"You see," said Cavil, trying to explain but speaking only for himself, "We're not like you, we can admit our mistakes. And we're not afraid of change." Bill asked if this was a God thing, as though that had ever been the point. One and Cavil rushed to explain their atheism, their perfect crystalline machine hearts; perfect mouths formed the words of Cavil and One: "There is no God. Supernatural divinities are the primitive's answer for why the sun goes down at night. At least that's what we've been telling the others for years." Just to drop the pilot.
"We can't really prove it one way or the other, of course," they said, and Saul barked at them. It was time for them to die. Cavil shrugged, his mission accomplished as messenger; One refused to move, for a moment. Saul marched them to the airlock, past Ellen, then Sam. Dad, Mom. Dad. Tory and the President of the Colonies met them at a junction. Mom. Galen and Giana appeared around a corner. Dad. The Ones looked around themselves: The Gods they'd put on trial, the pilots they'd tried to drop. Watching them with hate, and no pity at all. "Not how I imagined it," One said to himself. "No, Brother."
Saul and Bill watched from the launchtube screen, as the big door closed. There was a Resurrection Ship in range, One said, although the humans never knew that. But first, One knew, they'd die in a vacuum. "There's a 170-foot launch tube in front of us," Cavil noted. "We might die of our injuries before we get to the vacuum..."
"I don't like you," One said to himself. He understood.
"Do you really believe it was a mistake to attack the humans?" One asked. And he did.