Six pulled the trigger until the gun ran dry, empting the entire clip into the back of the human woman she'd seen walking out of the bar. The Cylons had anticipated the existence of non-human biological life forms, and had planed accordingly. Still, encountering a space station filled with dozens of unknown species had been a bit unexpected.
Seeing a human had been un-nerving: the station had technology far in advance of anything the Cylons or Colonials had ever dreamed of. Infiltration would be important.
Six linked back with the communications system back on the transport that had brought her to the station, trying to establish a link back to the High Command. Something about the radiation in this part of the universe, on the very edge of Cylon-explored space, prohibited faster-than-light communications and sensors.
It also affected the transports FTL drive, making it somewhat unpredictable.
Holstering her now empty gun, Six turned her back on the dead human and started back towards the transport.
The sound of movement made her look back round, and her eyes went wide as the human stood up, seemingly unaffected by the multiple bullet wounds in her back. Six looked closer and saw metal and wires underneath the thin layer of skin: the 'human' was some form of AI never before encountered by any Cylon.
The strange AI turned to face the startled Cylon, dark eyes emanating anger. It looked at the broken glass bottle in its hand, the rich, dark liquid dripping onto the deck. It spoke in a strange language that Six was unable to translate, before reaching for something that looked like a flashlight on its belt.
Six blinked in shock as a flash of red light as followed by the loss of all feeling in her chest. She looked down to see a gaping wound in her stomach, her normally immaculate red dress torn to shreds.
Looking at the strange AI in bewilderment, Six sank to the floor, feeling her life drift away as she tried one last time to establish a connection with the High Command. She failed, and in her last seconds of life, realised that she had failed.
Rommie looked at the woman who had attacked her, and momentarily regretted shooting her: she was supposed to behave herself. But then, if Beka had wanted stubble, she shouldn't have sent a Warship Avatar to find Harper's birthday present.
Somewhat reluctantly, she activated her com-system and connected to the Maru.
"Did you get it?" Beka asked hopefully over the link.
"I got it, then some woman I've never seen before shot me. In the back!" Rommie looked at her ruined uniform, "How the hell do you get whisky out of leather?"
"Forget about your jacket: what did you do to the bitch?"
"I did what any self respecting Warship would do: I shot her back!"
"Good girl, but we still need to find Harper a birthday present."
"At the moment, he's probably going to spend his birthday putting my spine back together: it's some kind of slug-thrower, very low-tech, but loaded with HE-AP rounds."
"Did you pick up the weapon?"
"Yeah: I'm hardly going to leave something like that lying around where anyone could pick it up, now am I?"
"Dylan collects unusual weapons, and I know for a fact that he's got a bottle of Harper's favourite whisky stashed away somewhere. Maybe we can arrange a trade?"
"Not like I've got a better idea. I'm on my way back now."
The Cylon High Command waited for its agent to report back, but finally gave up when an unknown warship that called itself The Balance of Judgment annihilated one of their most powerful Basestar's.
Whatever fate awaited the Colonial remnant, it was not of their concern.
It seemed like a bad idea, when ten years later a High Guard fleet arrived at the Twelve Colonies of Kobol and obliterated every last trace of the Cylon race.
Trance sat looking at her plants: history goes in circles, and no one could truly predict how things would work out next time…