Baltar woke to hear the familiar hum that pervaded the baseship. Above him he saw the dark, cold, metallic ceiling. The sight sent chills of terror down his spine. He couldn't be back here. "No, no." he moaned, realizing his state of undress which just added to his sense of vulnerability. He sat up and looked about for anything with which he could use to cover himself. To one side, he saw a white robe neatly hung up. Despite the horror of his surroundings, an odd thought crossed his mind: Since when did Cylons hang up the laundry? He staggered over, seized it, and donned it. It wasn't much but at least it provided some relief from the icy cold air in the room. Of course, it was cold; what did a bunch of machines care about human comfort? "It can't be." he muttered, looking back and discovered he had been lying on a chaise longue upholstered in what looked like scarlet velvet. Since when did Cylons raid brothels for the interior decoration? He stumbled to the door, only to be blocked by the oddest looking centurion he had ever seen. It was a mere misshapen skeleton of a centurion. Where was the room for the servos, the mechanisms, the circuits? "Move aside," Baltar growled at the centurion. The centurion, saying nothing, stepped forward in a threatening manner. "I said, move aside," he snapped. Again, it was received in silence. Where was the familiar "By your command?" Unnerved by the silent monstrosity, he mustered up as much resolve as he could. "Speak, centurion," Baltar commanded. The centurion took another step toward him, raising its arm. Involuntarily, Baltar stepped back, his gaze frozen on the weaponry the centurion possessed. "Speak!" he commanded again, this time an undercurrent of the terror he felt creeping into his voice. The centurion took another step forward. Baltar, his feet now paralyzed with fear, again shouted - "Wake up!" Another voice forced its way into his thoughts. "Wake up, now!" Disoriented, he tried to place the new voice.had the centurion finally spoken? He screamed as two hands seized his shoulders and shook him. "Will you wake up?!" A very human voice begged. He found himself looking into Athena's blue eyes. "You were yelling in your sleep," she said. "It was a nightmare. It wasn't real." "It was - strange - " he whispered, his voice trembling a bit from the residual horror. "Strange, how?" "There was a centurion like none I had ever seen. Distorted, a mere armature.and it wouldn't speak." "Maybe it had nothing to say." Athena smiled as she reached up and brushed his hair back from his sweat-slicked brow. "That was a bad one, wasn't it?" "One of the worst," he agreed. "I'm glad it isn't real."