BEYOND BASICS
By Lisa Zaza and Maggie Hutchison
November 25, 2005

Chapter One

     Security was tight.  But not so tight that Cadet Starbuck couldn't
get through.  It was all about patience.  Some things in life were worth
waiting for after all.
     He took a look at his chronometer as he pressed his body against the
huge branch in the Quercus tree that stood outside the Argus Building. 
0110 centars.  Just a little bit past curfew.  Yeah, only three centars
or so.  Five, four, three, two, one...
     Right on time, the sentries appeared from around the corner.  He
watched them from his well-hidden position, as they patrolled their usual
route, marching with familiar military precision.  It would take them
precisely two centons and twenty-four microns to cross in front of the
stately building that housed the male cadets.
     Starbuck grinned as he recalled that the building's namesake,
Commander Argus, was known for seeing everything and missing nothing. 
Just one more military hero in a long line of them that Starbuck had had
to read about since starting at the Academy almost three yahrens before. 
At this point he had wondered time and time again, just how much of the
stories were legend and how much were fact.  After all, when training
young men and woman to defend the Colonies with their lives, it was
advantageous to have a few inspiring characters in the text books that
were superhuman.  
     Luckily, in direct contrast to Argus, the sentries were known for
seeing nothing and missing everything.  At least in Starbuck's
experience.  He knew that some of the guys had been caught sneaking into
the barracks after curfew, but they obviously didn't take the same amount
of care and attention that he did.  Timing was everything.  Well, along
with patience and experience. 
     He checked his chrono once again and swung the lower half of his
body down from the enormous branch.  He dropped softly to the ground,
knowing he was well out of earshot by now.  Silently he waited as he
watched the sentries round the corner.  His eyes peered into the darkness
and he listened intently, ensuring the sound that echoed in the night was
indeed the impact of Colonial boots moving away from his position.
     A soft breeze blew in his face and he took a deep breath, drawing in
the brisk night air, as he looked across the grounds at the Brites
Building.  A grin crossed his face as he replayed in his mind the
previous few centars.
     Not in a million yahrens did he think that Imara would accept, when
he had impulsively asked her out in the commissary earlier that day. 
Lords, he had watched her furtively for a couple yahrens...just like
every other red-blooded cadet with a heartbeat in his class.  She was a
classic beauty.  Dark, wavy hair.  Stunning brown eyes.  Skin like
jamocha.  Built like a goddess.  There was only one problem.
     Imara was Colonel Diallo's daughter.
     Colonel Diallo was the second in command of the Academy.  Commander
Orrick trusted the younger man implicitly.  The old man had become more
of a figurehead than a commanding officer in the last couple yahrens as
he watched over the Academy, allowing his executive officer to make most
of the decisions, providing procedure and protocol were followed.  
     Diallo had made it clear at the outset; anyone who messed with his
daughter did so at his own personal peril.  As intelligent, humorous and
beautiful as the young woman was, no one would dare ask her out on a
date.  It was a real tragedy actually.
     Well, at least that was the way Starbuck saw it.  Really, it went
against nature that a woman that attractive should be shut away in the
Brites Building, along with all the other female cadets, after 2200
centars each night.  Especially at secton-end.
     He sighed.  One yahren away from getting the coveted secton-end
passes that were the privilege of the seniors.  Lords, that would be a
sense of freedom.  Of course, unlike certain seniors who would remain
nameless -Apollo-he intended on taking full advantage of every pass.  He
just needed to figure out how to bankroll that.
     The dew on the ground had long since turned to frost with the bite
of the night air.  He checked the area once more and, like a feral felix
on the prowl, crept across the parade square to the Argus Building.  The
building must have been six centi-yahrens old.  Vines covered the walls,
giving it a historical charm that was pointed out to him repeatedly by
academics and officers alike.  He had since discovered that it was also
the barracks to thousands of crawlons, apians, and avians.
     He pushed the heavy vines aside as he knelt alongside the lowest
level of the building.   The ancient window was stiff and unyielding,
especially in the cold.  However, he knew that if you hit it hard with
the palm of your hand just above the archaic latch, it would give.  Thud!
     Obediently, the window swung open.  It creaked slightly and he held
his breath, waiting for the proverbial hammer to drop.  A smile quirked
his lips when it didn't.  Damn, he was good!
     He dropped into the dark, damp basement of the building, turning to
close the window behind him.  These rooms were rarely used anymore. 
Originally, they had held kegs of grog, when the ancient tradition of a
jigger a day was given to the men.  For an institution that prided itself
on tradition, they had an askew sense of which ones were truly important,
he reflected.
     His footsteps followed the familiar route through the darkened
rooms.  He could find his way in the dark, if he needed to.  He had once
done it at full throttle as he had raced back to his bunk, trying to beat
the sentries who had seen him disappear into the building.  When they had
turned on the lights in the barracks, forty sets of weary eyes had looked
back at them.  Including Starbuck's.  That had been close.  
     He turned at the end of the corridor to climb the stone stairway. 
The building was timeworn and musty.  No doubt the powers-that-be had
decided long ago that this kind of atmosphere built character in the
warrior of the future.  Viruses maybe, character he wasn't so sure.
     He paused at the top of the stairs and gently cracked the door. 
Silence reigned.  Once again, from yahrens of practice with skulduggery,
he waited for any tiny sound that would indicate someone was waiting. 
Nothing.
     He slipped into the hallway and hastily made his way to a tertiary
stairwell.  He deftly skipped over the fourth, seventh and thirteenth
steps.  He knew they creaked loud enough to wake the dead.  Up the next
flight, and this time skipping the seventh and eleventh step.  Almost
there.  One more flight.
     Once again, up another flight of stairs.  Finally, he had reached
the fourth floor.  Just past the senior's rooms was his barracks. 
Another little perk of your final yahren at the academy was going from
sharing a room with thirty-nine other guys to just one.  Quite the treat
really.  A definite advantage when one had to sneak in and out of the
Argus Building.  Then again, with a secton-end pass every secton, maybe
it wouldn't be so necessary to sneak.  Hmm.  That actually might take
some of the fun out of it.
     Suddenly, a firm pressure on his shoulder froze him in his tracks. 
Frack.  So close.  This ruined his perfect record for the yahren.  Think. 
Think.  
     Starbuck turned ever so slowly around as he tried to come up with an
acceptable excuse to be in the corridor at 0120 centars, fully clothed. 
Ah, yes...
     "What the frack were you thinking?" Apollo's voice whispered
furiously in his ear.
     "Apollo!" Starbuck whispered back, his taut body relaxing with his
obvious relief.  "You scared the everliving Hades out of me."
     "Well, I'm glad someone could." Apollo grabbed the arm of his
friend's jacket.  "This way.  Now." 
     "But..."
     Starbuck was dragged along behind his squadron leader and soon
realized they were heading towards Apollo's room.  He shrugged himself
free and raised his hands before him in acquiescence, as Apollo turned to
glare at him.  
     Apollo nodded briskly and turned to open his door.  He stepped
quickly inside and then pulled Starbuck in behind him, pausing to check
the hallway before he quietly closed his door.
     He whirled on his friend.  "Starbuck, sometimes you're like a
transport wreck just waiting to happen."
     "What?" Starbuck automatically protested his innocence.  Also, from
yahrens of experience.
     "What?  What?  Are you kidding me?  Taking Imara out after curfew! 
That's what!  Hades, taking Imara out period.  What were you thinking? 
Diallo will have your hide."
     Starbuck opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.  Oh, he
was expecting Apollo to read him the riot act about being out after
curfew, but...how did he know about Imara?
     Apollo grabbed him by the collar with both hands and pulled him
close.  "Ortega reported you.  Academy Security has already been here and
searched the barracks.  They know you weren't there."  He stared into
Starbuck's face, which briefly filled with panic before he twisted away.
     "What about Imara?" Starbuck asked as he studied Apollo's bookshelf
with a sudden irrational interest.
     "I don't know." Apollo returned.  "I'll probably hear tomorrow." 
Imara was also a senior and had been in his class since day one.  They
were working together to organize a combat survival training expedition.
     "Frack..." Starbuck whispered as he ran his fingers through his
hair.  Ortega was so dead!  "How in Hades did he find out?"
     "I don't know.  All I know is Academy Security turned the barracks
upside down looking for you.  Look, if they didn't catch you together,
then they don't know for certain that you were with Imara, but they do
know you weren't in your bunk."
     "When...?"
     "2330 centars."
     "No wonder the guard was doubled at the Brites Building." Starbuck
mused aloud.  He had had to time it to the micron to get Imara past the
guards and in through the second floor window that led to the repository. 
She had assured him that she didn't need him to escort her back to her
room.  Her empty, semi-private room.  Oh, sometimes the Goddess of Luck
smiled upon him when he least expected it and least appreciated it.
     "The guard was doubled here too.  I'm surprised you didn't notice."
Apollo informed him.  
     "I did.  That's what took me so long to get in." Starbuck replied. 
Luckily, as they made their way around the building, there had been an
additional lapse of thirty microns and he had taken advantage of the
first team lagging behind the second. 
     "Why would you do that?  You knew the Colonel would keelhaul anyone
who tried to date his daughter.  Why?" Apollo asked once again.  He
watched as Starbuck's shoulders raised in a simple shrug and his head
shook mutely.  Apollo took a deep breath and tried to think of a way out
of this mess.  
     "Did they search your room too?" Starbuck turned abruptly and asked
him.
     "Nnnnno." Apollo drawled.  "I wasn't reported."
     A slight smile crossed the blond cadet's face and he grinned at
Apollo.
     "What?" Apollo asked suspiciously.
     The grin grew in momentum and had soon covered his face.  
     Realization dawned on the squadron leader.  "You want me to cover
for you," he stated.  True enough, Apollo had been reading quietly in his
room when Academy Security had ransacked the barracks looking for "AWOL
cadets".  His roommate, Quinn, had taken advantage of his secton-end pass
and had gone to visit his family.  All cadets, including seniors, had
been confined to their rooms when the impromptu raid had occurred. 
Ironically, senior's rooms hadn't been searched.  That would prove to be
Starbuck's saving grace.
     "Well, you did say you'd help me with Bureaucratic Science."
Starbuck suggested.  He watched the emotions flicker across Apollo's
face.  "Hey, don't do it if you think it will get you in trouble.  I just
thought that if they didn't know any better..."
     "Yeah, I know.  I'd make a great alibi." Apollo finished.
     "Does that bother you?" Starbuck asked in surprise.  
     "Wouldn't it be a lot easier if you just followed the rules to begin
with, Starbuck?" Apollo sat down heavily on his bed.
     "Easier on who?" Starbuck asked with a grin.
     Apollo smiled ruefully in reply, "Apparently me."  He sighed,
shaking his head.  Lords, if anyone had told him three yahrens ago, he--
the commander's son-- would be covering for a wayward cadet such as
Starbuck, he'd have thought him crazy.  It certainly wasn't as if they'd
hit it off in the first place...

* * * * *

     Apollo knew Starbuck by reputation long before he ever met him face
to face.  The cadet was trouble, pure and simple.  The stories flew
around the academy like wildfire of his exploits and enterprises.  If
only half of them were true, Apollo was certain he would be weeded out
before the end of his first yahren.  He was wrong.
     How they had managed to not cross paths until Starbuck was in his
second yahren, Apollo wasn't sure.  It probably had something to do with
the fact that Starbuck didn't frequent the librarium, the study hall, or
the triad courts.  
     Apollo still remembered going to check the duty roster in the Great
Hall to see which squadron he'd been posted to.  The squadrons were made
up of a combination of second, third and fourth yahren cadets to
encourage leadership and teamwork.  Though the squadrons were supposedly
fairly represented and equally talented, it was the mark of an especially
skilled pilot to be selected for the Phoenix Squadron.
     "What did you get, Apollo?" Zoltan shouldered his way into the
writhing mass of cadets also checking the roster.
     "Phoenix," Apollo replied, swelling with pride.  "So did you, but
you probably knew that."
     Zoltan grinned at him from beneath his distinctive red hair, "Yeah,
squadron leaders get a bit of a heads up on these things.  However,
though I can make recommendations for the rest of my team, it's
ultimately up to the flight instructors."
     Apollo nodded in return.  He couldn't be more proud to have Zoltan
as his flight leader.  The senior was known not only for his skill in the
cockpit, but also for his leadership capabilities.  He had a way of
pulling a group of cadets together and uniting them in purpose.
     "It should be an interesting mix.  We have a lot of talent here, but
also some strong personalities.  Do you know everyone?" Zoltan asked him
as he looked over the list.
     Apollo nodded, "If not personally, then by reputation."
     Zoltan laughed shortly, "I take it by that you mean Starbuck."
     "Well...I was a little surprised to see his name there after
everything I've heard about him." Apollo replied.  It was almost an
insult to the good name of the Phoenix squadron, but he wasn't going to
say that aloud.  Still, if Zoltan thought Starbuck belonged there then
perhaps...
     "Well, the kid has talent, Apollo.  We'll sort the rest out."
     "Could you sort the rest out somewhere else?  Some of us are trying
to get a look at the roster." A voice interjected from behind them.
     Zoltan and Apollo turned as one to see a blond cadet with the crest
of a second yahren cadet on his uniform.  Starbuck's eyebrows rose
slightly as he saw who it was that he had addressed and a somewhat
bemused expression crossed his features before a sheepish grin took over.
     "Hello Starbuck." Zoltan said as he eyed the younger man, pulling
his tall, broad frame erect.
     "Zoltan." Starbuck nodded and his eyes wandered to the roster just
behind the impressive wall of the two upper classmen.
     "Do you know Apollo?" Zoltan asked, purposely positioning himself
between the roster and Starbuck's view.  
     Starbuck scowled slightly as his view was again impeded and then his
gaze flickered to Apollo.  "Nope.  Just by reputation.  Commander Adama's
son, right?"
     The familiar mixed emotions that he always experienced when someone
referred to him as Commander Adama's son, took hold of Apollo.  While he
was proud of his father's accomplishments and stature, people that didn't
know him tended to assume he was there resting on his father's laurels. 
"Yeah."
     "Must be nice..." Starbuck craned his neck, again trying to see
behind them.  A couple other cadets deeked in from the side to get a look
at the list.
     "What must be nice?" Apollo asked a bit defensively.
     "Having one of the greatest men of our time for a father." Starbuck
stated, as if it was obvious.
     Apollo nodded at the younger man, not detecting anything remiss in
the remark.
     "Hey Starbuck!" A voice cried out in front of them, "Looks like they
decided to ground you this quarter.  You're not even up here."
     Concern briefly flitted across his features until he saw the source
of the information.  "Ortega, your mother commed.  She wanted you to know
she starched your briefs and will send them to you via courier.  She also
asked me to make sure you're eating your primaries and that the plastic
sheet was still on your bunk.  Haven't outgrown that little nocturia
problem yet?  Shame." He retorted, his voice loud and clear.
     Laughter filled the hall and Apollo almost lost his balance as the
affronted cadet, Ortega, crashed between the upper classmen to tackle
Starbuck around the waist and hurl him to the floor.  Starbuck recovered
quickly and was soon giving as good as he got.
     "Shouldn't we stop this?" Apollo asked Zoltan from where he stood
beside him.
     "Not yet." Zoltan replied with arms crossed, as he watched the
fight, a grin on his face.  "These two have been working up to this for a
yahren.  They probably need to get it out of their systems."  He called
over to another cadet.  "Post a guard at the doors and let us know if
Security or any Officers are on the horizon."
     Apollo shrugged and continued to watch tensely as the two cadets
pummeled one another.  Hades, they were supposed to be working together,
not trying to destroy one another.  Ortega was sitting on Starbuck's
chest and had him by the throat.  "You leave my frackin' mother out of
this..." he was yelling.
     "I always heard that...about your mother." Starbuck rejoined as he
thrust his thumbs into Ortega's eyes.  Ortega recoiled backwards with the
pain, covering his face with his hands, as Starbuck knocked him to the
floor.
     Starbuck was on him like a lupus on his kill.  He grabbed the cadet
by the hair and pulled up his head, striking a blow to his jaw.
     "Okay, that's enough!" Zoltan roared, immediately regretting his
decision to let them fight.  Obviously, there was too much history
between these two for it to be settled fairly in a fistfight.  Several
cadets swept into action to separate the two.
     Apollo grabbed Starbuck beneath the arms and yanked him backwards,
using his momentum to try and separate them.  Unfortunately, the younger
man still had a firm hold on Ortega and dragged him with him.  "Let go!"
Apollo shouted into Starbuck's ear.
     "Back off!" Starbuck yelled in reply, his body taut and adrenaline
coursing through his body as his arms were suddenly immobilized by the
Commander's son.  Ortega drilled him one in the gut as he ended up on top
of him.
     "Oomph!" Starbuck hissed, furious now at the restraining arms that
held him.  He instinctively smashed the back of his head into Apollo's
chin.
     Apollo barely knew what hit him as his jaw exploded in pain and his
vision grew fuzzy around the edges.  He had felt a sickening crunch and
abruptly tasted his own blood.  However, he refused to break his grasp on
the wild cadet.
     "Let...me...go!" Starbuck struggled to free himself as he watched
Ortega wind up for another blow.  It was just his luck that they had
chosen to hold him back and nobody had managed to get a hold of Ortega
     "ATTENTION!" Zoltan's voice shouted out in proper military
crispness, and cadets scurried to get to their feet.  Well, all except
Apollo, Starbuck and Ortega.
     Starbuck could do nothing but close his eyes as he watched Ortega's
fist close in, almost as if it was in slow motion.  He twisted his head
as the fist connected beneath his right eye.  
     "I said, Attention!" Zoltan yelled, as he grabbed Ortega himself and
with one mighty pull, dragged the cadet from Starbuck and onto his feet. 
"Did you hear me, Cadet?" He glared into Ortega's eyes even as he watched
Colonel Diallo enter the Hall from the periphery of his vision.
     Ortega pulled himself erect.  "Yes, sir!" 
     "What in the name of the Lords of Kobol is going on here?" Colonel
Diallo shouted, his keen eyes immediately taking in every detail of the
melee, most notably the two cadets who were still sprawled on the floor. 
"Cadets Apollo and Starbuck.  Get on your feet now!  Front and center!"
     Apollo and Starbuck abruptly jumped to their feet and drew
themselves to attention in front of the Colonel.  The man had a
distinguished look, with his short, steely grey hair and penetrating blue
eyes.  His features were sharp, as if chiseled from stone. To his credit,
he had remained in excellent physical condition and any excess weight he
had gained with age had been transfigured into solid muscle.  Though he
was shorter than the cadets by a few centimetrons, his demeanor made him
seem immense.
     "I am appalled and disgusted by your behavior."  Diallo leaned close
and stared at the faces of the young men who were trying their best to
keep their eyes forward and their knees from shaking.  He paused in front
of Apollo for a long moment before adding quietly, "Both of you." 
     Diallo walked around the two cadets and raised his voice. "This is
not the conduct I expect of men who I have personally selected to wear
the insignia of the Phoenix."  Starbuck started briefly as the
information that he had been chosen for the most prestigious squadron in
the Academy sunk in. Oh frack.
     Apollo fought the urge to close his eyes as the sinking reality that
he was about to lose his coveted position overwhelmed him.  His father
would never let him forget this debacle.  Adama probably wouldn't use
words, but that look of disappointment and disapproval was enough to have
his eldest son writhing in feelings of guilt and inadequacy.  Hades, just
thinking about it was enough to get him started.
     "Perhaps I made a mistake." Diallo growled.  "This Academy has a
reputation for turning out Colonial Warriors who represent the esprit and
decorum of almost a thousand yahrens of tradition.  This kind of behavior
is more befitting bilge rats and barge lice than that of men I want
serving under me.  Do I make myself clear?"
     "Yes, Sir!" Starbuck and Apollo replied together as they waited for
the boom to drop.
     "Cadet Apollo, I wonder how your father would react if he knew..."
Diallo started.
     "Cadet Apollo was trying to break up the fight, Sir." Starbuck
interrupted rashly.
     "Did you say something, Cadet?" Diallo hollered, putting his nose
millimetrons from Starbuck's.
     Starbuck swallowed the battlestar that had suddenly lodged itself
firmly in his throat.  "Y...yes, Sir."
     "Did I give you permission to say something?" he glowered at the
young man.
     "No, Sir...But..." His mouth was as dry as a ninety-yahren-old
sister of mercy.
     "Permission to speak, Sir." Zoltan spoke up.
     Diallo turned to consider the senior.  Zoltan was the flight leader
of the esteemed Phoenix squadron.  The young man had a lot of potential
and had proven his worth time and time again.  He obviously had a
challenging yahren ahead of him if two of his unit had already come to
blows.  Then again...His eyes settled on Ortega, who had somehow
positioned himself out of the line of sight before now.  Ah...well, that
cleared a few things up.  "Granted."
     "Cadet Starbuck spoke the truth, Colonel.  Cadet Apollo was in there
on my orders trying to pull Starbuck off Ortega." Zoltan would be damned
if he was going to let Apollo go down for trash like Ortega.  As for
Starbuck...well...he had to learn to help himself if he was going to get
anywhere at the Academy.  That meant controlling his...impulses.
     Diallo paused to turn and glower at Ortega.  "Cadet Ortega, front
and center now."
     Ortega shot Starbuck a glare as he took a place beside him.  He
could detect the amusement that fleetingly crossed his rival's features.
     "Fall out, Cadet Apollo.  Go to the infirmary and have that looked
at." Diallo noted the trickle of blood from the corner of the young man's
mouth.
     "Yes, Sir." Apollo replied, taking a step back and turning sharply
on his heel to march out of the Hall, leaving Starbuck and Ortega to
their fate.  
     As it turned out, Starbuck and Ortega had each received a secton in
the brig for fighting.  Surprisingly, Diallo had decided that Starbuck
would remain in Phoenix Squadron, apparently impressed with the young
man's honesty and integrity...which were usually well camouflaged under
his sarcasm and insouciance.

* * * * *

     Apollo awoke to a sharp rap on his door.  He stole a quick glance
over to Quinn's bed, only momentarily confused to see Starbuck staring
blearily back at him.  
     "What time is it?" Starbuck mumbled as he blinked at his
chronometer.
     "0600." Apollo replied as he jumped out of bed and crossed the small
room in two paces.
     "Heartless snitrads..." Starbuck mumbled, reminding himself that the
only reason someone would be knocking on Apollo's door during secton-end
at 0600 centars was because they were searching for him...unless it was
some kind of family emergency.  Lords, he hoped that wasn't it.
     Apollo opened the door to see Sergeant Brand with two security
officers flanking him.  
     "Cadet, do you have any idea as to the whereabouts of Cadet
Starbuck?" Brand asked.  His salt and pepper hair was shaved off to a
centimetrons length in the style of the ancient military tradition.  His
uniform, as always, was immaculate.  
     In answer, Apollo simply opened the door wider and revealed the
absentee Cadet.  Starbuck had only gone as far as to pull himself to a
seated position as the intimidating drill instructor glared at him.
     "How long have you been here?" Brand snapped.  God's truth, he had
been searching the barracks, the grounds and had even gone as far as to
call the Civil Security Force in case Starbuck had been picked up by
them.
     "All night...Sir." Starbuck replied.  He stood up at the side of
Quinn's bunk, well aware he cut a less than impressive figure in his
briefs...well, at least as far as Brand would be concerned.
     "All night?" Brand snapped back.  He strode over to the errant
cadet.  "So, you didn't hear the little search we had in the middle of
the night when we specifically went through the barracks searching for
AWOL cadets?"
     "No, Sir." Starbuck replied evenly.  "Cadet Apollo snores, Sir."
     "Sergeant, unless I'm mistaken, there are no regulations saying a
junior cadet can't crash for the night in a senior's room."
     "Unless the senior's a she..." Starbuck added ruefully.  He didn't
miss the look Apollo shot him.
     "Speaking of which, did you actually come up with the dumb-astrum
idea all by yourself, that you should go on a date with Colonel Diallo's
daughter?" Brand raved at him.
     "Uh...date, Sir?" Starbuck gazed innocently at the man.  He knew
that Imara would be just as vehement in her denial of their date as he
was.  She had too much to lose.  "I was here studying Bureaucratic
Science with Apollo."
     "Listen astrum-wipe, are you trying to tell me that on this
sectons-end, the best you could do was settle in with a text book and
Cadet Apollo?" The sarcasm positively dripped, and with it, the spittle
shot out of his mouth and into Starbuck's face.
     "Well, at least he has his own room...Sir." Starbuck shrugged as he
controlled the urge to wipe his face.
     Apollo closed his eyes and shook his head slightly.  Yep, a
transport wreck just waiting to...
     "Move your astrum, Cadet!  Fall in!  Now!"
     "Uh..." Starbuck started, fully conscious that he was only wearing
his briefs.
     "NOW!" Brand shouted at the top of his lungs, his face growing
bright red.  He gave the cadet a shove towards the door and then passed
him, fully expecting he would follow.  This was NOT the way he had wanted
to spend his secton-end, playing an instrument of revenge for Diallo.  If
it wasn't for the fact that...ah, frack, he should be at home snuggled up
to Lara, not getting called in to go looking for Kid Testosterone. 
Hades, the kid had to have bullocks bigger than a battlestar to risk
dating Imara.  No woman was worth Diallo's wrath.  Well, then again when
he was that age...A slight smirk crossed his face briefly as he led his
charge down the four flights of stairs and out the front door into the
cold night air.

Chapter Two

     Apollo was beginning to feel nervous as he sat picking at his
breakfast in the mess hall.  Two centars ago, Sergeant Brand had marched
Starbuck out of his room and led him out of the Argus Building.  At the
time, his flight leader had thought it had more to do with Starbuck's
smart-astrum remarks than his involvement with Imara.  Apollo had
expected to see his friend return within the centar, regaling him with
exaggerated stories of bamboozling Brand and Co. with his superior skills
in the art of chicanery.  As yet, Starbuck had not rematerialized.  
     As each successive centon passed, he was beginning to fear that
Colonel Diallo was going to make some kind of example out of Starbuck,
but surely that wouldn't be acceptable in this day and age.  Would it?
     "Where the frack is he, Apollo?" Dorado asked as he sat down beside
his flight leader, fresh java in hand.  Murmurs from their other squadron
members echoed his concern.
     "I'm beginning to think I should go find out." Apollo replied to the
table at large as he pushed his tray away.  If Diallo had some kind of
ulterior motive, he would find out about it.
     "Hey, Imara just came in." Dorado motioned towards the door.
     Every male head turned as the curvaceous, beautiful woman moved
gracefully across the room.  
     Apollo got up and headed to intercept her.  "Imara." He called.
     Imara altered her course and joined him.  "Hi Apollo.  Are we still
getting together to go over the itinerary for the survival training?" Her
smile was radiant and her eyes sparkled just a little bit more than
usual.
     "Yeah, but that's not why I wanted to talk to you right now.  Have
you seen Starbuck?" he asked softly.
     Imara's eyes flickered over the people standing around them.  Her
gaze then swept the room as if she were on reconnaissance.  "No, why? 
Should I have?"
     "Imara, someone reported seeing you two together last night.  The
barracks was searched and all AWOL cadets were reported." He watched as
she bit her lower lip in concern.  "Starbuck ended up spending the night
in my room..." At this her smile returned and she grasped Apollo's hand
and gently squeezed.  "But..."
     "But what?" she asked, brushing her thick, dark hair back and
tucking it behind an ear.
     Apollo paused, distracted by her actions.  "Uh...Brand showed up at
my door and hauled Starbuck away at 0600.  Nobody's seen him since.  I
was just getting ready to go look for him."
     "I'll come with you." Imara told him.
     "Uh...maybe that wouldn't be a very good idea." Apollo opined.  He
could just imagine them finding Colonel Diallo raking Starbuck over the
coals for dating his daughter, and Imara arriving just as Starbuck was
denying everything...again.  He checked his chronometer.
     "Why not?" Imara asked.  Her fine eyebrows arched above her eyes.
     "Aren't you concerned you might get Starbuck in even more trouble if
you show up looking for him?"
     "Is that why you think Starbuck was hauled in?  Because he and I..."
she left the sentence unfinished and averted her gaze, her cheeks
flushing suddenly.
     Oh frack.  Imara and Starbuck...Starbuck and Imara...oh
frack...Apollo felt a flush climbing his own neck and face.  He cleared
his throat.
     "We did NOT sleep together.  Is that what he told you?" she hissed
at him, her body suddenly tense.
     "Uh...no, he didn't actually say anything about what you two did
together." Apollo stuttered.  That much was true.  Actually, that was
kind of unusual, now that he thought about it.
     "Then you just assumed...!" Imara snapped, her anger getting the
better of her.
     "No...well, not until you...blushed." He finished lamely, wondering
why it was so hot in the commissary at this centar.
     They looked up self-consciously, as chuckles and laughter began to
spread through the room.  A few people were standing in front of the
windows and more were joining them.
     "Hey, Apollo, check out the scenery!" Dorado called out.
     Apollo crossed the room with Imara directly behind him.  They peered
out the window of the mess hall, along with a multitude of others, to see
Starbuck crossing the parade square towards the Argus Building...in
nothing but his briefs.
     Apollo stole a furtive glance at Imara, who was clearly enjoying the
view.  Once again he watched her bite her lower lip, but this time there
wasn't the least bit of concern apparent as she watched
Starbuck...strut...yep, that was definitely a strut...across the square. 
A smile of pure pleasure crept across her face.
     She grabbed Apollo by the arm, "C'mon."
     Apollo let himself be led by his classmate out into the cold morning
air.  He reflected that Starbuck was likely finding it a lot cooler than
they were.  Together they moved to intercept him as he headed for the
Argus Building.
     "Starbuck!" Imara called out to him.
     Starbuck shook his head in bemusement as he turned to see them.  So
much for not making a spectacle of yourself, Bucko.  He slowed his pace
as he waited for them to catch up and tried to act nonchalantly...as he
stood there in his underwear in the freezing cold with an ever-growing
crowd of observers gathering to watch.  Just great!
     "Are you okay?" Imara asked him as she approached.
     "What took so long?" Apollo asked at the same time, keeping pace.
     "I'm fine.  I just cooled my heels in the brig for a couple centars. 
Then they sprung me." Starbuck told them, crossing his arms over his
chest against the cold.
     "That's it?" Apollo asked in surprise.  Well, so much for thwarting
evil plots.
     "You don't have to sound so disappointed, Apollo." Starbuck retorted
with a wry smile.  "Yeah, that and a speech about discipline."
     "Then my father...?" Imara began tentatively.
     Starbuck stopped and let her catch up.  Her warm hands engulfed his
cold ones as she looked up at him with concern and...something else in
her eyes.  "Uh...I didn't see your father at all, Imara." He watched the
delicate smile that lit up her features when he said her name.  
     "Then it wasn't about us?" Imara asked.
     "Uh...well, Brand did mention our date.  Listen, I'm freezing
my...uh...well..." he smiled slightly as her eyes met his with a look of
amusement.
     "Well, we can't have that." Imara told him as her eyes swept over
him, taking in the shivering that was beginning to affect his athletic
frame.
     "You wouldn't care to...warm me up, would you, Imara?" Starbuck
asked huskily, stepping closer, arms held shoulder width apart.  His
discomfort momentarily forgotten.
     "Hmm." She replied languidly as she stepped into his embrace and
pressed her body close to him.  Lords, he felt good.  Oh, she knew he had
a reputation and she could admit...that intrigued her.  Especially, when
the rest of the cadets at the Academy were too intimidated by her father
to approach her romantically.
     Apollo shuffled his feet uncomfortably.  "Uh...I'll catch up with
you later, Starbuck."
     "Hmm?" Starbuck mumbled as he breathed in the fragrance of her hair. 
Yeah, he was certainly warming up.
     "Later." Apollo repeated as he struck out for the Argus Building
with a brief look back at the interlocked couple.  "Lucky fracker."  But
then, Starbuck always had had a way with women...

* * * * *

     About two sectons after Apollo had met Starbuck, he had heard Eryn,
second-in-command of Phoenix and also a senior, refer to Starbuck as
"well, you find the maximum amount of testosterone, put it in one of the
most sophisticated packages known to man, and then launch it into space
at light speed."  Now, if Eryn had been a man, Apollo knew the reference
to package would have been the fightercraft.  However, since she was a
woman, he wasn't so sure.
     A smile crossed his features as he recalled the day he had finally
got up the nerve to ask Eryn out...with the help of some sound advice
from an unlikely source.  He actually recalled reminiscing about the day
with his former squadron leader, Zoltan, just before he and Eryn had
graduated and headed for their postings on the Columbia and Pegasus
respectively.  It seemed ages ago now that...
     A resounding SMACK echoed through the launch bay.
     "Frack, a simple 'no' would have done, don't you think?" Starbuck's
voice filtered in through the rest of the noise of fighters being
prepared for launching and pilots doing preliminary checks.
     Zoltan chuckled from where he stood going over their flight plan. 
"I think that's it.  He's propositioned every woman in the squadron now. 
Not bad.  Only took two sectons."
     "Do you guys have some kind of award for that?" Eryn asked
sardonically.
     "Hey, that's not fair.  Do you see anyone else hitting on every
woman with a pulse?" Apollo protested.  "I like to think the rest of us
maintain a more professional relationship with our peers."
     "Hmm.  Maybe I should talk to him.  He's not going to be very
popular with almost one third of Phoenix if everyone has to slap him up
the side of the head to make a point." Zoltan mused aloud.
     "I wouldn't worry about it, Zoltan.  Oddly enough, he seems to
settle down as soon as we put him in his place.  Almost as if he thinks
he needs to get the whole sexual thing out of the way before he can focus
on just being part of the squadron." Eryn told him.
     Zoltan snorted and shook his head.  "Maybe it was that secton he
spent in the brig."
     "I doubt it." Eryn returned.  "From what I've heard from his
classmates, he's 'hormones on legs'.
     "That's what I love about you, Eryn, you tell it like it is." Apollo
smiled and his eyes met hers for a long moment as she considered him in
surprise.
     "Hmm.  Now that's a more subtle approach, Apollo.  I have to say, I
like it." Eryn told him, her blue eyes locked on his green ones.  Her
short chestnut hair framed her face and accented her high cheekbones.
     "Uh oh.  I think I'll leave you two alone." Zoltan teased them.
     "Fine with me." Eryn replied to her wingmate.  "Apollo and I can
sort out the rest of the details.  What do you say, Apollo?"
     "Uh...sure." He cursed the slight flush he felt creeping up his
neck.
     "Besides, no doubt he'll be second in command or even leader of the
squadron next yahren, so we really should involve him more in command
decisions.  You know, for practice." Eryn added to Zoltan with a far too
obvious wink.
     Zoltan laughed.  "You don't need to convince me, Eryn.  Okay, you
two sort out the final details.  I'll go take our boy in hand." He nodded
towards Starbuck and walked away, pleased that Apollo had finally got up
the nerve to make a move.  As proficient as the young man was in every
other regard of cadet life, he was a bit on the shy side when it came to
women.  "Hey Bucko!"
     "Bucko?" Starbuck asked with a smile.  His hand rested on the hot
flesh of his face where he was certain Rhea had left an indelible mark.
     "Yeah, Bucko."  Zoltan confirmed as he patted the cadet's cheek. 
"So, is it out of your system now?"
     "Definitely." Starbuck replied with a grin.
     "You crashed and burned, Kid." Zoltan pointed out.
     "I'm still standing." Starbuck returned with a roguish smile. 
"Besides, I'm saving my best lines for Imara." His eyes twinkled with
mischief.
     "You might want to work on those lines before you try them out on
Imara." Zoltan told him.  "Maybe even try a few on Colonel Diallo first."
He added pointedly.
     "Yeah, well, I'm just fine-tuning my repertoire.  It's an on-going
process, you know." 
     "Apparently."
     "Hey, you're not giving me enough credit." Starbuck protested. 
"Looks like Apollo did okay." He nodded to where Apollo and Eryn were
leaned close together going over navigation charts.
     Zoltan cocked his head to the side.  "Are you trying to tell me you
had something to do with Apollo making a move?"
     "Hey, it was obvious she's been interested in him for a while.  He
was probably the only one who didn't know it." Starbuck told him.
     "Point conceded.  You told him that?" Zoltan looked at him in
surprise.  Frankly, he didn't think Starbuck was interested in anyone's
love life except his own.
     "Sure." Starbuck leaned in conspiratorially.  "Did he use the 'love'
line?"
     Zoltan looked at him skeptically.  "The 'love' line?"
     "Yeah.  'What I really love about you is'...fill in the blank. 
Works like a charm sixty percent of the time."
     "Really?" Zoltan drawled.  "Sixty percent of the time?"
     "Yep." Starbuck nodded enthusiastically.  
     "With odds like that, I'm surprised you don't use it all the time."
     "Well, I don't want every woman at the Academy realizing I'm using
the same line on them.  C'mon Zoltan, think about it." Starbuck shook his
head.
     "Starbuck, you're one of a kind." Zoltan told him as he walked away.
     "I know." Starbuck winked at him.
     Zoltan grinned to himself.  Lords, was he ever that young?  He
chuckled as he realized the wild, young man was already fitting in nicely
with his squadron.  Hades, even the women he had hit on seemed to like
him after the smoke had cleared.  Zoltan wasn't sure how the younger man
had managed that.  He again looked over at Apollo and Eryn.  Apollo would
be an excellent choice for Squadron Leader the following yahren.  As long
as things didn't get too complicated between him and Eryn and he could
remain focused...C'mon Zoltan, you can't take on all the personal
problems of your squadron as well as be in command.  He checked his
chronometer, aware that it was time to get them organized for launching. 
He was just about to rally his squad when he heard Dorado say...
     "What I really love about you Rhea is the way your teeth shine in
the sunlight."
     Zoltan winced.  Well, that was obviously an example of what happened
the other forty percent of the time.  Perhaps Starbuck or Apollo needed
to do a bit more coaching with Dorado.  He'd be sure to mention it to
them.

* * * * *

     It was good practice lurking about the Academy at night, trying to
avoid Security, Flight Instructors and Officers.  Really, he should be
getting extra marks for this, Starbuck reflected.  He'd have to take it
up with Commander Orrick.
     It had been a relief when Imara had told him that she had slipped
back into her barracks the night before without a hitch.  Unlike the
men's barracks, the women's hadn't been spot-checked.  She had theorized
that her father probably was more reluctant to expose his daughter's
conspicuous absence.  Especially since she was the flight leader for Roc
Squadron.  Obviously, Diallo had less compunction about exposing
Starbuck...period.
     As for Ortega, well, Starbuck had already put his plan in motion
which would see them avenged.  An evil grin spread across his face as he
pictured Ortega boarding Stamphalian Squadron's shuttle for the survival
training the next morning with...Oh, it would be beautiful!
     Starbuck felt the warmth of Imara's hand in his own as they slunk
alongside the hangar.  Luckily, there were a multitude of places where a
young man and woman could go to be alone on the Academy grounds.  They
just needed to be willing to exert a little effort.
     He paused next to the door and was surprised to find it locked. 
"Fra...cas."
     He stuttered, covering his slip of the tongue.
     She chuckled.  "Fracas?  Who's that?  The God of frack?"
     He chuckled, surprised at her comeback.  "A lesser known God,
apparently," he responded blithely.
     "Starbuck, my father is a Colonel.  After Mama and Dada, frack was
the first word out of our mouths."
     "Well, I guess I just haven't dated a Colonel's daughter before."
     "Well, I hope you find it a pleasant experience.  Now, about the
door, is it locked?"
     He nodded and looked for another way in.  Three yahrens at the
Academy and this was the first time he had found the hangar secured
against entry.  Humph.
     "Let me." Imara whispered and released his hand to position herself
in front of the entry panel.  She quickly keyed in a code and the small
light on the pad turned green.  She tried the handle and the door opened. 

     "Handy." He remarked.
     "There has to be some advantages to having your father as executive
officer." Imara grinned.  "Admit it, you're impressed."
     "Well, now, I don't know if I'd go as far as to say..."
     "Shh!" She cautioned and covered his lips with her own.
     Starbuck tensed, part of him listening for what she was warning him
about and the rest of him responding to her kiss.  Her arms crept around
his neck and she pressed herself against him.  
     "Imara..." he muttered as his arms found their way around her of
their own accord, and they briefly came up for air.
     "Hmm?" she asked, smiling up at him.
     "Did you hear something?"
     "No." 
     "No?" he asked, his delight at her answer apparent.  "That was
worthy of me."
     "You liked that?" She grinned.
     "Oh, yeah.  Very creative.  Anything else you'd like to teach me?"
     Imara nodded briefly.  "Inside, Cadet.  That's an order." She nodded
towards the door.
     "Yes, Maam." He replied, again taking her hand and cautiously
entering the hangar.  He led her carefully through a multitude of
obstacles, finding his way by memory and touch.  Suddenly, she laughed
and dropped his hand.
     He turned in time to see a soft glow light up the immediate area in
front of her.  "An illuminator.  Good idea.  I bet you were an Explorer
as a girl." He teased her, referring to the well-known youth's club that
developed character through outdoor activities.
     "As a matter of fact, I was," she agreed, her eyes sparkling. 
"Ready and willing." She saluted him smartly.
     "I like the sound of that." Starbuck grinned at her, taking her hand
and pulling her to him.
     "Starbuck, that was our motto." She laughed in reply, arms
encircling his waist.  
     "I've never heard a better one." He told her as he fingered a lock
of her long, dark hair.  "Is it too late to join?"
     "I think the chronological order is Explorer to Cadet." She told him
in amusement, her lips milli-metrons from his.
     "A shame," he murmured as he kissed her softly and then trailed the
back of his fingers lightly down her cheek.  "You are so beautiful..." He
murmured, a little amazed that after watching her from afar for so very
long, that he was finally holding her, kissing her...She was from an
entirely different league than his usual conquests.  What in Hades was
she doing here with him?  Still...
     She smiled in return and leaned in for another searching kiss.
     He realized this was an incredibly stupid time to be mulling over
how they came to be together.  Full ahead, Bucko.
     His fingers crept through her hair reveling in the silken texture. 
One hand gently rested at the back of her head and the other tipped up
her chin as their kiss intensified.  He felt her fingers tug at his
waistband and one hand made its way inside his tunic, exploring his bare
flesh.  Lords, talk about a clear message!
     Imara let the illuminator slip to the ground.  She brought her hand
up and ran it through his hair, messing it up completely.  She had been
dying to do that since the first time she had laid eyes on Starbuck. 
Something about that hair and the way it was constantly in his eyes...She
felt him stiffen.
     He pulled back from her, certain he had heard...something.
     "That wasn't the illuminator, was it?" She murmured breathlessly.
     "Shh!" His body tense, he listened carefully.
     Voices drifted towards them and they heard a door open at the
opposite side of the hangar.  A few mounted lights above them turned on,
covering the area with a dim light.  Starbuck and Imara immediately
crouched down.  
     Frack, frack, frack.  Starbuck looked around for a place to hide. 
"C'mon," he whispered so softly he wasn't sure she'd heard him.  However,
his urgency at the horror of being discovered conveyed his thoughts and
she followed quickly behind.
     He headed for a Class D Starfighter.  The two-seater training
fighter and its single-man counterpart had been on the cutting edge of
technology fifteen yahrens ago when it had been engineered.  However, as
usual, there had been changes and advances in aerospace technology and
the bird had subsequently undergone several modifications.  Starbuck had
heard the rumours that the Aerospace Engineering Department was already
working on a prototype to replace the Starfighter.  
     He boosted Imara up into the cockpit and scrambled up behind her,
taking a quick look towards the voices before he jumped in.  They
crouched low and were practically lying down as they endeavoured to stay
out of sight.
     The sound of Colonial boots drew nearer and it became easier to make
out the voices.
     "...everything on schedule?" The familiar crisp voice was loud and
clear.
     "Yes, Sir.  
     "We rendezvous at 0800 centars at Position G as planned.  Any
questions?"
     "No, sir."
     "I want a guard posted until we're cleared to launch.  Got it?"
     "Yes, Sir."  The men passed by beneath the fighter and kept going.
     Imara grabbed Starbuck's arm and mouthed, my father. 
     He nodded.  He had been in front of Colonel Diallo enough that he
had figured that out for himself.  Starbuck pushed himself upwards slowly
and peeked over the edge of the cockpit.  He could feel Imara trying to
pull him back down and, despite her efforts, was rewarded by the
retreating backs of Colonel Diallo and Sergeant Brand, accompanied by two
other enlisted men that he didn't recognize.
     "If this works out as planned, gentlemen, we will have a new
contract and will be assured a comfortable retirement." Diallo's voice
receded as they moved out of Starbuck's line of vision.  "Now let me take
one more look at the package before we secure it..." was the last thing
he heard before a hatch opened and the voices were reduced to mere
murmurs.
     Starbuck looked down into the wide, troubled eyes of Imara.  "Stay
put.  I want to see if I can find out what the frack's going on." He was
up and out of the cockpit before she had a chance to argue with him.  
She sat paralyzed with worry as she wondered what in Hades her father was
involved in.  

Chapter Three
     
     Starbuck crouched down as he approached the transport shuttle.  He
could hear Diallo's voice once again as he surveyed the area, trying to
figure out where he could hide and still get a look at what the package
was.  He circled wide of the transport, briefly noting her identity
code-CA 135.
     Lords, he had a bad feeling about this.  It just didn't sound on the
level.  What would Imara be thinking?  She had looked like a cervidae
caught in a headlight.  Poor kid.  Kid?  She was the senior flight leader
for Roc Squadron.  Frack, she had looked more like a child when she had
heard her father's voice...It was those enormous brown eyes that he could
so easily get lost in.  
     Focus, Starbuck!  This is no time to go off on one of your tangents. 
He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.  Now, unless you get
lucky...incredibly lucky...you're not going to see whatever they have
already loaded in the belly of that shuttle without giving yourself away. 
However, if you can just get close enough to hear something that either
exonerates or incriminates.  He shook his head wondering what Colonel
Diallo would think if he knew the young man who was trying to get into
his daughter's pressure suit, was poised to either clear his good name or
implicate him in... something.  Lords, life was weird sometimes.
     He positioned himself behind some storage containers to the rear of
the shuttle.  He could vaguely see the men inside.  They looked as if
they were leaning over something, but he couldn't make out what they were
looking at.  Just a little bit closer...
     Starbuck lay down and began to squirm along on his belly.  He hadn't
done that since the first six sectons of basic training.  He hadn't
missed it either.  He tucked in close to a tarpaulin and tried to make
his way beneath it as he continued to approach the shuttle.
     "Nice.  So, we finally got them?  They look a lot like the old ones. 
What's the modification?" an unknown voice asked.
     "They have a stun setting." Sergeant Brand replied.
     "What the frack for?  We're at war."
     "Fracking conservatives." Brand said, as if by explanation.
     Starbuck could hear the others muttering their agreement.  He pulled
himself beneath the tarpaulin, ensuring he was totally covered, and then
peeked out again.  Colonel Diallo stood alone on the ramp of the cargo
hold.  The cadet considered that Imara must have inherited her looks from
her mother as he looked at the Arian countenance of the man.  Like the
stereotypical people of Aries, he was pale of skin and hair colouring
with penetrating blue eyes, a definite contrast to his daughter.  In his
hand, Diallo turned over a Colonial Blaster.  Starbuck could see the man
handle the weapon almost reverently, as he stroked the barrel.  He then
straightened his arm pointing the blaster in Starbuck's direction, as he
tested the weight of the newly modified weapon.
     Starbuck held his breath while he watched the Colonel move the
barrel, slowly sweeping the area, as if he was doing surveillance during
a combat mission.    He reminded himself that if the lasers were new,
they would be transported uncharged.  Still, his heart nearly leapt out
of his chest as Diallo suddenly took a step in his direction. He tensed
his body as he prepared to run.
     "Colonel!"
     Diallo stopped and turned back towards the shuttle.  "What?" he
barked as he retreated into the cargo hold.
     Starbuck wasted no time in wriggling backwards from under the
tarpaulin until he was again huddled beside the storage container.  He
stayed low and quickly made his way back towards Imara.
     Frack, frack, frack.  Now what in Hades Hole was he supposed to do? 
He had a very strong suspicion that the executive officer of the Caprican
Academy was possibly selling arms to...Who the frack would he be selling
them to?  What would the Cylons want with Colonial blasters?  That didn't
make any sense.  Frack!  You really have to pay more attention in class,
Bucko.
     He sprinted the last twenty metrons to the Starfighter.  Imara was a
flight leader; she might have a better idea what to do.  He practically
leapt onto the fightercraft, eager to get them both out of that hangar
and to the relative safety of just about anywhere else.  Hades, even
perching in the Quercus tree was a viable alternative to the hangar right
now.  
     "Let's get the frack out of..." his voice trailed off as he gazed
into the cockpit.  Imara was gone.  He raised his hands in frustration
and bit back the growl that threatened to tear free from his throat. 
Apparently, Colonels' daughter's were much like Commanders' sons.  

* * * * *

     It must have been something that senior classmen, flight leaders or
just the children of military personnel had in common.  They didn't
listen to Starbuck.  
     Whether it was him telling Imara to stay put in the Starfighter, or
him telling Apollo...well, just about anything...they seemed have this
innate sense that he wasn't to be taken seriously.  Just because he
tended to act a bit on the nonchalant side of things sometimes, that
didn't mean he didn't know what he was talking about for Sagan's sake. 
Oh, admittedly Apollo had come a long way from the previous yahren. 
Lords, then it had really been bad...
     Starbuck still remembered having to get up close and personal with
his fighter before Apollo would take him seriously about a mechanical
problem.
     "A ping?" Apollo asked incredulously.
     "Yeah, a ping." Starbuck replied as he paced beside the two-seater
Starfighter.  "You really didn't hear it?"
     "Over the roar of two ion propulsion engines?  No, I guess it
slipped by me." Apollo replied, somewhat sarcastically.
     Starbuck simply stood and stared at him, hands on hips.  Hey, it
worked for Eryn.
     Apollo sighed.  "Did you run a diagnostic?"
     Starbuck rolled his eyes.  "Please!  Give me a little credit.  Of
course I did." He raised his hands beseechingly.
     "And?" Apollo asked in frustration.  His eyes strayed over to where
Eryn was waiting for him by the door.  She was tapping her foot and
looking at her chronometer.  Not a good sign.
     "It was inconclusive." Starbuck replied, somewhat elusively as he
watched Apollo's attention wander.
     "She was clear." Apollo translated after a pause.
     "Well, yeah.  But I still heard a ping." Starbuck insisted.
     Apollo shrugged and racked his brain.  Starbuck could get like a
daggit with a bone sometimes.  Unfortunately, it was usually when he had
a date with Eryn.  He looked over at Eryn again.  She was tapping her
chronometer and staring at him pointedly.
     "A bit impatient, isn't she?" Starbuck noted.
     "You think?" Apollo replied sardonically.  "Look, why don't you go
harangue...ask Sergeant Linnick.  He's the head mechanical engineer after
all." He was also the most ill-spoken, contrary person at the Academy. 
The man wandered about chewing on his fumarellos, and treating the cadets
as if he took every mechanical problem with the fighters or shuttles as a
personal affront.
     "Why, Apollo, I do believe you're trying to get rid of me." Starbuck
grinned.
     "You know I have a date." Apollo returned.
     "I'm a bit worried about you.  You have that...trapped look." 
     "What are you talking about?" Apollo asked him in disbelief.  
     "Trapped.  Caged.  Restrained." Starbuck elucidated as he watched
Apollo glance nervously again at Eryn.  "Incarcerated.  Enslaved."
     "I get it!  And I do not!" Apollo replied vehemently.  Hades, he and
Eryn had something wonderful.  A mature, warm, sharing relationship. 
They could talk about everything.  They had megons in common.  He had
never been so happy.
     "You do.  I've seen it before, buddy.  You're much too young to be
committed to just one woman at this point.  Hades, she graduates in six
sectars.  Ten to one, she'll end up posted far from the Academy.  Are you
honestly going to pine for her until the incredibly remote possibility
occurs that you get posted together in a couple yahrens, at the
earliest?"
     Apollo blinked at him.  "You're the one who told me to ask her out."
     "Ask her out, yes.  Marry her, no." Starbuck clarified.
     "Why am I even listening to him?" Apollo addressed his question to
the heavens.
     Starbuck glanced dramatically skyward and then at his shoulder.  He
brushed an imaginary something off of it.  "Ah, the age old question. 
Because I'm right.  I'm wise beyond my yahrens." Starbuck replied
confidently.  "And I'm right about the ping too."
     Apollo chuckled.  "Wise beyond your tankards is more like it."
     "Care to make a little bet on it?" Starbuck challenged him.
     "Starbuck, I don't have time for this right now."
     "If I win, you'll come out with us on our next pass to see how the
other half live." He carried on as if Apollo hadn't protested.
     "And if I win?" Apollo cocked his eyebrows.
     "I'll get you a couple tickets to see the Colonial Cup Finals."
Starbuck could see Apollo's eyes light up at the thought of seeing the
professional triad competition.  
     "How would you do that?  They're sold out." Apollo returned, but he
was definitely intrigued.  He had hoped to take his father to the final
if the Commander made it home for his leave on schedule.
     "I have a few connections."
     "Do I want to know?" Apollo asked hesitantly.
     "Probably not, but...I can still get you the tickets."
     "Sounds like a lose-lose situation." Apollo said skeptically.
     "You ought to know, buddy." Starbuck shrugged, again looking towards
Eryn.
     "That was low."
     "Oh, I can go much lower, just ask Ortega." His eyes twinkled with
merriment.  "C'mon, how about it?  What do you have to lose?"
     "I don't know why I'm doing this." He rolled his eyes.
     "Because then I'll leave you alone and you can go meet Eryn."
Starbuck pointed out the obvious and nodded towards the second-in-command
of Phoenix Squadron.
     Apollo sighed. "Exactly.  All right.  You're on."
     Well, there was only one course of action after the bet.  Starbuck
had to find Sergeant Linnick.  As usual, the man was up to his elbows in
grease and cursing up a storm at the pilots who had last flown his
current project, a Colonial shuttlecraft.  The cadet explained his
predicament and got the predictable response.
     "You lilium-white Academy officer-wanna-be's are all the same.  You
haul your prissy candy-astrums in here and tell me what's wrong with my
ships.  Ain't one of you willing to get your hands dirty though.  God
forbid you actually learn something useful about how these babies work."
He raved at Starbuck, his fumarello quivering furiously from his mouth as
he spoke around it.
     Starbuck stood back and watched the man vent.  Generally, there
didn't seem to be much resentment between enlisted men and officers, but
Linnick was certainly an exception.
     "I spend my fracking life fixing them up, just to have you Mama's
boys take them out and over-rev the turbines.  Ion propulsion systems,
tylium energizers, fusion reactors, they're all just fancy titles in your
textbooks.  You don't even know a variable that determines acceleration
to velocity of light, and you come here complaining to me that you heard
a ping." He angrily spat his words out at the cadet.
     "The thrust to mass ratio." Starbuck replied quietly.
     Linnick pulled his fumarello out of his mouth and hawked noisily,
spitting on the ground.  "Think you're fairly fracking smart, do you? 
Well, how is thrust generated?" He pointed his chewed smoke at the cadet.
     "Through the reaction of accelerating a mass of gas." Starbuck
replied.  "The gas is accelerated to the rear and the engines and ship
are accelerated in the opposite direction.  For every action there is an
equal and opposite reaction.  Basic physics."
     Linnick narrowed his eyes and looked Starbuck up and down.  "Are you
afraid to get your hands dirty, boy?"
     "No, Sarge.  I'm only afraid of being called a lilium-white, prissy,
candy-astrumed Mama's boy again." Starbuck replied.
     Linnick nodded slowly and cracked a smile, again firmly wedging the
fumarello between his teeth.  "Show me your Starfighter, son."
     Centars later, Apollo returned to find Starbuck and Linnick leaning
against the Starfighter in the main hangar, each of them puffing on a
fumarello, and their arms covered in grease. Starbuck seemed to be in the
middle of a tale.
     "So this arrogant Tagan is visiting a humble farmer from Umbra. 
They look out over the Umbran's spread, which only covers a couple
hectares.  The Tagan dusts off his fancy boots and tips his expensive hat
to the Umbran and says, where I come from, it takes me half a day to
drive my tractor from one end of my spread to the other.  The Umbran
smiles knowingly and replies, Yeah, our tractor is needin' fixin' too."
     Sergeant Linnick laughed heartily and smacked the young man on the
back.  "Nice one, son!"
     "Hey, you're back!" Starbuck exclaimed when he saw his friend.  "How
went the date?"
     "Great.  Eryn had to help Zoltan draw up the new roster, so I
thought I'd try and track you down." Apollo replied.  He had felt a
little guilty about discounting Starbuck's concerns and had gone in
search of him.  He had actually expected to find his squadron mate in the
barracks.  It was Dorado who had reported seeing him in the hangar.  "How
goes the search for ping?" He couldn't help the smirk that spread across
his face.  Especially, when he saw Starbuck scratch his cheek, leaving a
streak of grease upon it.
     "Apollo, you know Sergeant Linnick?" Starbuck introduced him
formally and winked at the Sergeant.  He wedged his fumarello between his
teeth, and grinned ear to ear as Linnick held out his hand to Apollo.
     Apollo nodded and reluctantly took the greasy hand.  "Sergeant." 
     "Cadet." Linnick nodded, mischief apparent in his blue eyes, but his
face as stern as ever.  "Small problem with a hairline crack in the CD
nozzle.  Could have been a major problem, as you can well imagine."
     "A crack?" Apollo replied in surprise and concern.  He was well
aware that a cracked CD nozzle could break apart with the change in
ambient pressures from one altitude to another.  The result could be a
complete loss of power or even an explosion if the highly combustible
gases ignited.
     "Defective part apparently." Starbuck commented.  When they had
finally traced the ping down to the propulsion system and subsequently
the defective nozzle, he had felt in need of a particularly large
Sagittarian Ale...or ten.  Unfortunately, all Linnick could offer the
shaken cadet was a fumarello.  
     At first, it tasted like something scraped off the bottom of his
boots after spending a day roaming the fields around Umbra.  Now,
however, it was growing on him.  It would also make one Hades of a prop
in a card game.  Hmm.

* * * * *

     Starbuck paused atop the Starfighter and took a good look around,
hoping he would spot Imara.  Where the frack had she gone?  Granted, he
hadn't known for certain that there was something nefarious going on when
he went to check out what Diallo and Brand were up to, but still...
     He let out a long breath and tried to remind himself that Imara was
not only a senior Cadet with the Academy, but she was also the flight
leader of Roc Squadron.  It really wasn't likely that she would sit
huddled in the fighter, waiting for him to reappear.  After all, it would
go against her feminist doctrine.  
     She would either try to follow him, in which case he would have
likely have passed her on the way back, or she would be assuring they had
an escape route.  As long as she wasn't walking up to dear ole Dad and
asking what he was up to, it was fine with him.  He tried to remember
where all the exits were in relation to Diallo's location.  It would make
the most sense for her to aim for the north exit, assuming she would
avoid her father.  Starbuck reasoned that his presence alone would likely
affect that course of action.
     He climbed off the fighter, again taking a good look around.  So,
now he was searching for Imara while trying to avoid the others.  Hades,
it would make a great training exercise.  He toyed with the idea of
submitting it as a suggestion to the Colonel anonymously.  Maybe he
should wait a while on that.
     Starbuck moved cautiously towards the north exit.  He huffed quietly
as he realized that mere centons ago, he and Imara had been in a
passionate embrace just ahead of his current position.  Lords, how could
he have come so close to his favourite fantasy being fulfilled and then .
. ? 
     "Starbuck!" Imara's voice whispered.
     He looked over to where she was crouched beneath the nose of another
Starfighter, this one a single-seater.  Its parts were strewn about, most
of them hanging out of the cockpit.  He wondered if she realized she was
only metrons away from where they had been embraced so recently.  Imara
looked anxious as she watched him approach.  Her features suddenly
changed and she looked at him in horror, opening her mouth to warn him...
     Rattle, rattle, clang!
     He looked down in dread to see that he had just kicked the
illuminator that they had dropped.  Starbuck froze on the spot and
listened to see if the others had heard the noise.  It had seemed to
reverberate through the hangar, but maybe that was just his perception.  
     "Fan out!" A voice cried.
     Or maybe not.  Frack!     He sprinted forward and caught up with
Imara who was already racing towards her chosen exit.
     "This way!" Imara hissed, not even looking back.  She ran as though
Hades' demons were on her heels as she leapt over and around obstacles. 
Within microns they were through the door that she had quickly coded
open.
     Starbuck slammed the door and immediately looked for something to
jam it shut.  Technology be damned!  He grabbed a huge stone and crashed
it into the digital locking unit.  Sparks flew and a satisfying hiss
erupted from the mechanism.  Imara nodded at him in approval before they
sprinted away through the academy grounds.
     The exhilaration at getting away free and clear was intoxicating as
they tore through the cold night air.  Imara grabbed his hand and tugged
him towards a small treed area that would afford them some privacy,
assuming no other cadets were utilizing the infamous romantic rendezvous. 
   
     She took a quick look around and turned to embrace him with a smile
on her face.  "We made it." 
     "We're not exactly back in our barracks yet." Starbuck replied
ruefully.  "Nice escape route."
     "Nice job with the lock, if not a trifle...barbaric." Her smile
contradicted her words.
     "Haven't you heard that about me?" Starbuck asked with a grin.
     "Oh, constantly.  It must lend to your animal magnetism." Imara
replied.  She leaned in and gave him a kiss.
     He pulled her against him once again reveling in the heightened
sensations that kissing a beautiful woman after escaping a crazy Colonel
pointing a Colonial Blaster at him...Oh, frack!
     "Imara..." he pulled back from her and his hands settled on her
arms.  "We better figure out what we're going to do next."
     The look on his face cooled her ardour more effectively than a blast
of cold water.  "Why?  Just what did you see, Starbuck?"  She had
convinced herself that whatever her father was up to, it was legitimate. 
She had just been waiting for Starbuck to confirm that.
     "Colonial blasters.  The new ones we've been hearing about with the
dual setting."
     Imara pulled herself free of him and turned away.  Her mind raced to
come up with a logical explanation.  "Just what exactly are you saying?"
     "Lords, Imara, it seems pretty clear.  They're stealing military
weapons and selling them." Starbuck told her as he looked at her back. 
She was quiet for a long moment.  Eerily so.  In retrospect, it was
almost as if he was standing in the eye of a storm just before it
abruptly hit him.
     Imara whirled on him.  "Why do you have to assume that this is NOT
on the up and up?  C'mon!  The top brass doesn't tell the cadets
everything that's going on.  SO, why do you just automatically conclude
that this isn't legitimate?" Her eyes flashed angrily at him.  Her body
was tense, as though poised to strike.
     "Imara, you heard them too.  Talking about getting a new contract
and about their retirements.  Then I followed them to find them with a
supply container full of Colonial Blasters..." 
     "Did you actually see a container of Colonial Blasters?" She cut him
off.  "Did they actually say they were selling them?  Tell me exactly
what you saw and heard, Starbuck!" Imara as much as ordered him.
     "Well..." Starbuck thought about her words as he regrouped.  Was he
jumping to conclusions?  No, he hadn't actually seen a full container of
weapons.  No, they hadn't directly mentioned selling them.  But he just
had this feeling...his instinct was telling him he was right on the
money.  How was he supposed to explain that?  "Okay.  Maybe you're right. 
Maybe I am drawing a few conclusions, but...surely you can understand
why?  I mean, what else could it be?"
     "I don't know!" she spat at him.  "But, I do know that my father
wouldn't be involved in something criminal.  I know he's a tough officer,
but he's also honourable and respectable.  He has a family, for Sagan's
sake!" She blinked back tears that threatened to spill over.
     "Okay.  Okay."  He held up his hands, silently imploring her not to
cry.  "Look, why don't we just quietly check around?  See what we come up
with?" He suggested, backing off a bit.
     "You want me to try and incriminate my own Father, Starbuck?" She
asked incredulously.  "You really don't get the whole family concept, do
you?  Your parents must have raised you a lot differently than mine did. 
Maybe that's why you never talk about them." She attacked him in anger
and fear.  "Well, we're a close family.  I admire my father.  Why in
Hades do you think I followed him into the Service?"
     "Maybe you should think of it as trying to clear him then.  Not of
incriminating him." Starbuck countered, ignoring the remarks about his
family...or lack thereof.  He had never discussed with her his being
orphaned as a toddler.  It had never come up, and frankly, was one of his
least favourite topics.  He despised that look of pity that people gave
him when they learned of his past.  Hades, it wasn't as if he was the
only orphaned child since the war with the Cylons began.  In fact, it was
just the opposite.
     "That's where you're dead wrong!  I don't think he's guilty of
anything!  I know my father."
     "Look, Imara, we can't just let this slide.  There's every
probability that..." Starbuck tried to reason with her.
     "NO!  I don't even want to discuss this any further, Starbuck.  It's
over." She took little gasping breaths as she glared at him, clenching
her fists.  "We're over."
     "We're over?  Just what do we have to do with your father?" Starbuck
asked, a little stunned.
     "Everything." She remarked coolly, before turning and walking away. 

     "Imara, wait just a centon..." He started after her.
     She pivoted on her heel sharply, turning to face him.  "Let it go,
Starbuck.  I'm going to forget that all of this even happened.  I suggest
you do the same.  My father wouldn't take kindly to you nosing around the
Academy trying to set him up.  Neither do I." She threatened him, not
knowing what else to do.
     The emotions that crossed his features, a mixture of anger,
confusion, betrayal and hurt, almost stopped her as she turned away and
walked back towards the Brites Building on her own.  However, she steeled
herself against him, knowing that the old proverb that her Father had
drilled in to her yahrens before was true; blood is thicker than water.

Chapter Four

     Easy come, easy go, Starbuck, he told himself for the third time as
he walked briskly back towards the Argus Building.  He pulled the collar
of his flight jacket up around his neck against the cold wind that had
suddenly started blowing.  It's not as if you can't get another date
easily enough, Bucko.  Hades, the women are practically standing in line
to go out with you.
     Unlike Imara.  She had never shown the least bit of interest in him. 
He wasn't even sure why he had impulsively asked her out when he found
himself next to her in the mess hall.  However, he did, and to his utmost
surprise, she had accepted.
     Maybe that was what had really attracted him to her.  She had seemed
an unattainable goal.  The daughter of the Executive Officer of the
Academy.  Intelligent, ambitious, humorous.  The most beautiful woman he
had ever set eyes upon.  Yeah, the conquest of all conquests.  He sighed.
     Face it, Starbuck, that wasn't it at all.  You liked her, you
stupid, frackin' idiot.  How did you think she was going to react when
you told her you thought her father was selling Academy weapons to...? 
Whoever.  He blew another breath out between his clenched teeth.  Idiot! 
What the frack do you do now?
     He felt oddly spent as he tried to put his thoughts in order.  Talk
about your ups and downs.  He shook his head and tried to remember to
keep things in perspective.  They had dated for exactly twenty-four
centars, after all.  That was it.  Hardly a relationship.  Imara was more
like a casual acquaintance.
     Yeah?  Then why did he feel so. . . ?  He blinked furiously and bit
his lip.  Buck up, pal.  You're turning into one of those lilium-white,
candy-astrumed Mama's boys.  C'mon, focus!
     What if Imara was right?  What if there was a logical, reasonable
explanation for what he had heard?  What if he had just blown this whole
event out of proportion?  After all, by all reports, Colonel Diallo had a
brilliant military career and a spotless record...then why is he teaching
a bunch of wanna-be's at the Academy?  Hey, wait, that's not fair...but
the question is, is it accurate?  If he was such hot stuff as a Colonial
Warrior, why isn't he on a Battlestar fighting the Cylons?
     He blew out a slow breath and could see it condense into the
familiar mist that reminded him fleetingly of his childhood.  Hades, the
fact of the matter was, he was used to relying on his instinct.  From his
most fleeting memories... flashbacks really...of running into the Thorn
Forest as a young child, and even through the toughest times he had spent
on the streets of Caprica City, his instinct had pulled him through time
and time again.  Sometimes, it was all he could depend on.  His sixth
sense of knowing what he should do next.  
     So, what do you do next?  Hades, how did a mere cadet prove that the
second-in-command of the Academy was smuggling arms?  Maybe he should
talk to Apollo.  He dug his hands into his pockets as he walked.  What
would his flight leader think of it all?
     After all, Apollo seemed to have a lot of respect for Colonel
Diallo.  He might not take Starbuck's accusations any more seriously than
Imara did.  Apollo and Imara were both flight leaders in the Academy. 
Their fathers were both well-known, well-respected, decorated Officers of
the Colonies.
     The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he had to
get something more concrete on Diallo before he could go hurling
accusations at the man, even to Apollo.  It could be the end of a
career...most likely Starbuck's, if he didn't proceed with caution and
restraint.  He should his head ruefully.  Frack! Caution and restraint;
now he really was in trouble.
     Then, there was still the possibility that he was wrong...
     "Hold it!" A clipped voice called out in the night.
     Starbuck grimaced as a beam of light covered him and two Security
Officers ran his way.  Lords, he had let his mind wander like a first
yahren cadet as he strolled back towards the barracks, slightly
preoccupied.  He hesitated as he briefly thought about making a run for
it, but a quick glance revealed two more Officers flanking him.
     "Ah, Cadet Starbuck, you must love spending time in the brig."
Officer Keane goaded him as he approached.  "As it happens, we have your
regular cell freshly aired and awaiting you." He flashed a triumphant
grin.
     "Yeah, but are the sheets turned down and the pillows fluffed?"
Starbuck retorted as Keane gave him a shove towards the Academy Brig.  A
defiant grin briefly crossed his features until he heard Keane address
one of his subordinates.
     "Contact Sergeant Brand.  Tell him Cadet Starbuck is in the
brig...again."

* * * * *

     The brig.  How was it humanly possible that someone who had decided
to dedicate his life...well, maybe life was too hasty a word...but,
dedicate his career to defending the Colonies, had ended up spending so
much time in the brig?  Starbuck knew just about every centimetron of
these same three walls.  He knew every dent, every patch job, every mark,
and had just about settled on the apparent fact that Battlestar grey had
been the paint colour of choice for about as long as the brig had been
there.
     Admittedly, he had only been in the brig one other time this yahren. 
Unimpressively, it had been the previous day.  As a third yahren cadet,
if he got one more black mark on his record, they would ground him.  He
had laughed off his previous visit.  This time he wasn't laughing as he
waited for Sergeant Brand, drill instructor from Hades Hole, to make his
appearance.
     With an exasperated sigh, Starbuck flopped down on the bunk and
tried to think of something else, other than how fun and exciting his
next visit with the Sergeant would be.  Lords, what he'd give for a
fumarello right now... A slight grin etched its way across his face. 
Apollo hated the weed and couldn't understand how filling one's lungs
with an obnoxious toxin could be relaxing.  Ah, Apollo...
     He still remembered when he had finally been able to drag Apollo out
on the town the previous yahren after his friend had lost the bet
regarding the pinging Starfighter.  Apollo's final words as they had left
the Academy with a group of their squadron mates were, "I just don't want
to end up in the brig, Starbuck."
     A fleeting smile crossed his features as he realized yet again, that
someone with the prescience, intelligence and talent of the Commander's
son, would go far.
     At that point, though he had a lot of respect for Apollo, he truly
thought the guy just didn't know how to let loose and have a good time. 
Truth be known, he didn't think the Commander's son was capable of it. 
He was about to learn a great deal about his friend...
     "I can't believe you talked Apollo into coming out with us!" Dorado
told Starbuck as they hung back behind the others while they walked down
the street that was affectionately known as Debauchery Row.   
     "Didn't take a lot of talking.  He knew he was overdue." Starbuck
grinned as he stood still to light up the fumarello he had recently
acquired from the nearest...and cheapest tobacconist. 
     "Frack, Bucko, how can you stand that thing?" Dorado turned up his
nose in distaste and waved off the smoke.
     "It grows on you." Starbuck replied, puffing away.
     "Well, something will, if you go around smelling like that."
     "Yeah?  Maybe a buxom blonde or a long-legged red-head?" Starbuck
suggested with a leer.
     "Legs or breasts?  Make up your mind." Dorado suggested.
     Starbuck chuckled.  "And decrease my odds at getting lucky tonight? 
Don't think so." 
     "What was that about odds?" Apollo asked as he walked back towards
them.  "Cards or women, Starbuck?"
     "What is it with you guys, always trying to get me to make a
choice." Starbuck asked, dramatically befuddled.
     "You can't have it all, Bucko." Apollo replied.
     "You can't?" Starbuck's eyes opened wide.  "Who made that rule?  I
didn't see it posted anywhere."
     "Where would you post such a rule?" Dorado asked.
     "The Book of the Word." Suggested Apollo with a shrug.
     "Oh.  Did they ever make a holovid?" Starbuck asked with a grin and
joined their laughter at his remark.  "They used to read it aloud to us
when we were kids in school.  Do you remember that?"
     "Oh, yeah.  It was the only time we could get away with blowing
spitballs.  The teacher was so wrapped up in trying to impress the Word
upon us, he didn't notice we were engaged in mucus warfare." Apollo
reminisced.
     "YOU blew spitballs?" Dorado asked.
     Apollo laughed at his surprise.  "Of course.  Didn't you?"
     "I don't know how much of this I can take, Apollo.  First you agree
to come out with us, and then I find out you used to exchange aerial
mucus shots with your classmates." Dorado teased him as he moved forward
to join Zoltan and the others.
     "Maybe you're right, Starbuck.  Maybe this is overdue." Apollo mused
aloud.
     "You think?"
     Apollo settled into the club scene quickly as they made the rounds. 
First, a sports bar for a couple drinks and the tale end of a Triad
Semi-Final.  Next, an exotic dance club for a few drinks and some lively
entertainment.
     "C'mon, let's go." Zoltan remarked after finishing his ale. 
     "Yeah, it's like going to a buffet and being told you can't eat
anything." Apollo added.  "I know a great little club.  Let's go check it
out." 
     Before Starbuck knew it, Apollo was routinely making suggestions on
where they should go next, as they moved from club to club.  Evidently,
the Commander's son knew Chicanery Row pretty well.  Well, at least all
the hot spots.  Starbuck was astounded as Apollo transformed into their
ringleader, especially after a few drinks.  
     "C'mon guys, let's move on." Apollo tipped his glass to his lips and
nodded towards the door.
     "Where next, Apollo?" Zoltan asked him.
     "There's a new club that opened up called the Wormhole." Apollo
suggested.
     "That place will be packed.  We'll never get in." Zoltan argued.
     "There's a back entrance.  I know one of the owners.  He'll let us
in, no problem." Apollo assured them.  Nartana had gone to school with
Apollo from the time they were children.  Though the two had chosen
different career paths, Apollo had certainly enjoyed helping his friend
do some research as he went through the planning stages for opening his
new club, the Wormhole.
     "I've heard the music is great.  It's kind of out of the way though,
isn't it?" Dorado asked.
     "A bit, but I wouldn't worry about it with a group like this."
Apollo returned cheerfully.  He was having a great time.  He was relaxed,
maybe a little too much so, but what the frack.  He was among friends. 
And these were the friends he would remember for the rest of his life. 
Glancing around the table, he smiled warmly, and perhaps a little
drunkenly, at his friends.  He grinned as he imagined himself telling his
grandchildren about his academy days as a cadet, and all the characters
he had hung out with.  "Someone pry Starbuck loose from that red-head,
and let's get going."
     Starbuck remembered being dragged out into the cold and along the
damp streets between Apollo and Zoltan.  Lords, he was really at the
point in the night where he was ready to part company with the guys. 
"But I found my red-head." He moaned.
     Zoltan laughed.  "Starbuck, I'm flattered, but you're not my type."
     Starbuck groaned, not amused, as they continued down the dark
streets.  They entered an alley way en masse and headed for the dimly lit
entrance up ahead.
     "Hold up for a centon, guys." Starbuck pulled back.
     "C'mon, Bucko.  We're not letting you go get yourself in trouble."
Zoltan told him, as he reached back for the younger cadet's arm. 
     "No really...wait." Starbuck's voice was tense and serious.
     "What is it?" Apollo asked.  This was the Starbuck he was used to
seeing in the cockpit.  Alert, aware and dependable.  
     "I...uh..." It felt familiar.  Eerily so.  He looked around at the
covered doorways, each of them dark and unwelcoming...unless you were...
     "What?" Apollo asked again.
     "It just seems so...familiar. . . " Starbuck mumbled, not sure what
he was trying to say.  He looked around, not particularly noticing any
recognizable landmarks.  But he knew this place.  And it knew him...A
shiver ran down his spine.
     "Sagan's Sake, the alley outside the newest club in Caprica City
feels familiar to Starbuck.  What a surprise!" Dorado exclaimed.
     The others joined in the laughter, but Starbuck barely heard the
remark as his mind recalled another time...a separate life...when he had
been there. . . 
    ...Cold.  Dark.  Hungry.  Alone.  The wind whipped through his
clothes and he knew he had to find shelter.  His cheeks began to feel
damp, and he cursed the God that had added rain to the rest of the line
up for his mong-filled day.  He pulled the coat around him that he had
stolen from the community natatorium.  It was much too large, but it was
better than nothing.  He hoped the old man had another one.  Hades, from
the style of the old guy's clothes and the quality of his boots, he
probably had an entire closet full.
     The alley seemed quiet as he treaded along cautiously.  He knew
there were a lot of doorways one could seek shelter in.  The trick was
finding an uninhabited one.  Nothing worse than awakening to find an old
drunk breathing on him, trying to roll him for whatever he had or
worse...
     "I think I'll pass, guys." Starbuck suddenly told them amidst their
laughter.  He didn't have a good reason for it, but he needed to get out
of that place.  Too many memories...
     "Don't be a killjoy, Starbuck." Dorado started.
     "I'm not." He refuted.  "You guys go ahead.  I'll just head back..."
His eyes darted to the various doorways.
     "To the red-head." Zoltan threw in.  "Forget it, Bucko.  I'm not
letting you out of my sight.  Good try, kid.  We're going to stick
together."  Young cadets were notorious for getting into trouble in the
city.  Alcohol, women...temptation was all around them and there were no
officers there to tell them 'no'.
     "Yeah, Starbuck.  Next thing we'll know, you'll be back in the brig
for fighting again." Dorado added.  
     "Or disorderly conduct." Apollo joined in.  "It wouldn't look good
for Phoenix Squadron."
     "I'm not a fracking child!" Starbuck exploded at them.  "I'll do
what I bloody well want to, and none of you are going to stop me!"     
     Jaws dropped as they all stared at him, stunned.  Until...
     "Hey, kid.  Don't pull that felgercarb with us.  We're your
friends." Zoltan raised his voice.
     "I'll make sure he gets back, Zoltan." Apollo interrupted.  He put a
restraining hand on the Phoenix leader's shoulder.  He had seen the
strange, unseeing look that crossed Starbuck's face as the others had
laughed.  The young cadet had looked fearful and lost...almost childlike,
for a brief moment as his eyes anxiously flickered around the darkness.  
  
     "I don't need a fracking. . . " Starbuck snapped his mouth shut as
he made eye contact with Apollo.  The older cadet was offering him an
'out'.  He wasn't patronizing him.  Somehow, Apollo understood that he
needed to escape from that place.  Starbuck dropped his gaze almost as if
he was afraid that Apollo could read his mind...see his memories.
     Zoltan looked from one cadet to the other.  "You're just heading
back to the Academy?"
     "Yeah." Apollo confirmed.
     "Hey, how are we going to get in the Wormhole without you?" Dorado
asked Apollo in sudden panic.
     "I'll make sure Nartana let's you in before we go." Apollo told
them.  They were only twenty metrons from the door.  "I'll be right back,
Starbuck."
     Starbuck nodded at Apollo as he watched them turn towards the club. 
He looked around as he heard the cadets pounding on the alleyway door. 
Sure enough, if you looked carefully enough, there were people there. 
Seeking shelter.  Resting.  Sleeping.  Or trying to sleep.  It was
fracking cold, after all.  And there were angry young men in the alley.  
     He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling the cubits that
were there;  cubits that he had earned, for the most part, playing some
cards with other cadets.  He seemed to have a knack for it.  He was
actually considering hitting town on his next leave to get into a game
with higher stakes.  After all, a state funded Academy education didn't
leave a guy with much of a budget.  It left him broke actually.  He knew
a few other cadets that had picked up manual labour jobs in the city to
earn some extra money.  He might have to as well, if he couldn't start to
make some decent money playing cards.  That sure wasn't going to happen
at the Academy.  
     A movement caught his eye.  A small form was huddled beneath a
broken crate.  In the background he could hear Apollo's voice talking to
someone.  He moved towards the form.  A child.  Not much older than he
had been.  Mind you, street kids tended to run a bit on the scrawny side. 
Lords, kid, there must be some place...Wide eyes suddenly looked up at
him in fear.
     Apollo thanked Nartana once again, as he saw the others safely
inside.  The music boomed and he was sorely tempted to let Starbuck make
his way back to the Academy on his own.  If it hadn't been for that look
on the young man's face... No, Starbuck was out of sorts.  He needed a
friend, or at the very least an escort, to be with him right now.  He
made his excuses as he kept half an eye on the cadet, who seemed to have
disappeared for the moment in a doorway.  Where the frack...?  "I'll be
back soon, my friend.  I promise." 
     Apollo turned just in time to see Starbuck re-enter the alley from
where he had been.  He was noticeably without his flight jacket.  Apollo
jogged over to join him, peering into the entranceway to see the slight
form that was watching them wearily, covered with a recently acquired
Colonial jacket.  A cough from the opposite direction drew his attention
and he noticed another person curled up in the only shelter available. 
Starbuck grabbed Apollo by the arm, propelling him forward forcibly, but
silently. 
     Together they turned the corner and started down the street.  "Do
you want to talk about it?" Apollo asked.
     "No." Starbuck replied.  He shivered as he blew into his hands to
warm them.
     Apollo looked over at him again.  He had never seen Starbuck
so...subdued and reflective. There was definitely a story worth telling
here.  He wondered if he'd ever hear it.  
     They quickly made their way back to the transport station in
relative quiet.  The further away they drew from the Wormhole, the more
Starbuck regained his usual form.  He even tried to convince Apollo to
return to one of the other clubs.  Apollo had reminded Starbuck that they
were supposed to be returning to the Academy.  Starbuck tried again,
half-heartedly before resigning himself to their destination.  He
resolutely ignored the topic of the alleyway, and was soon amusing his
friend with recent tales of his superior card playing abilities as they
sat waiting for their ride.  Apollo had resigned himself to a relatively
early night, when the Stamphalian cadets walked in.
     Apollo nodded briefly at the cadets as they entered, but his tension
mounted as he noticed the third man in the door was Ortega.  Ortega's
eyes swept over Apollo indifferently, but a scowl crossed his features as
he noticed Starbuck on the other side.
     "Well, well, look what the felix has dragged in." Starbuck muttered,
slouched down with his head resting against the back of the seat and his
feet crossed at the ankles.
     "Easy." Apollo returned quietly, sitting up erect and alert.  Frack! 
The last time he had ended up between these two, he had ended up with a
cracked mandible.
     "Starbuck, I didn't think Zoltan let you off the leash away from the
Academy." Ortega sneered.
     "As long as I don't bite anyone, Ortega." Starbuck replied with a
faint smile.
     Apollo gazed at Starbuck meaningfully.  He did NOT want a repeat
performance of their last close encounter with Ortega.  Starbuck merely
smiled back at him a little more broadly, as if he was amused at the
glare he was receiving.
     "We saw Rhea and Eryn out on the prowl." Ortega mentioned
off-handedly in a thick, alcoholic voice.  "I guess you guys are getting
too lame for the Phoenix floozies."
     Apollo bristled at the remark.  He jumped to his feet in defense of
the women.  "Would you care to repeat that accusation?"
     "Hey, what happened to 'easy'?" Starbuck asked from his reclining
position.
     "Which accusation?" Ortega asked with a smirk.  "That they're
floozies or that you're lame?"
     "He's got a point." Starbuck added.  "I'd hit him for either one
though, Apollo.  Mind you, I'd hit him for his bad breath and his
colour-coded underwear first."
     "What colour-coded underwear?" Apollo asked expectantly.
     "Yellow in the front, brown in the back." Starbuck explained
patiently, his grin spreading as he saw Ortega's face turn bright red.
     Ortega lurched towards Starbuck, but was surprised to find himself
suddenly lying face first on the floor with an arm twisted behind his
back, Apollo's knee firmly inserted in his back.
     "Hey, nice move!  How come we have to wait for third yahren to learn
that?" Starbuck declared climbing to his feet.  "Did you guys see that?"
he asked the Stamphalians.  "Pure artistry."
     "Get him...off!" Ortega shouted to his friends from the filthy floor
of the transport station.
     "You might want to listen to him.  After all, there's three of us."
Kardon mentioned as he advanced on Apollo, his squadron mate right behind
him.
     "Oh, well.  Maybe you'll think to bring some back-up next time."
Starbuck grinned, his adrenaline rushing through his veins, propelling
the alcohol ahead of it.  Yeehaw!  He stepped forward and threw himself
into Kardon, trying to imitate Apollo's move.
     Apollo, distracted by the sudden action, felt Ortega twist violently
below him.  He grasped the inebriated man more securely, as he again
turned to see what was happening.  Starbuck and Kardon were thrashing
about on the floor, each man trying to gain the advantage.
     The third man, Orcus, crashed down on top of Apollo, knocking him
off of Ortega.  The three men ended up in a confused mass of limbs
entangled beneath the seats as they each struggled to be the first on his
feet.
     A screeching whistle abruptly sounded and the five young men froze
and looked up to see the Civil Security Officers entering the station. 
"Stay where you are!" they ordered as they trained their tasers on the
cadets.
     Starbuck looked over at Apollo with a rueful grin, knowing they were
about to be reported to the Academy and then transported back under guard
to spend a night in the brig.   One of the several things he had learned
about the commander's son that night was, he sure knew how to have a good
time! 

* * * * *

     A latch at the end of the corridor clanked, breaking Starbuck's
reverie.  Then footfalls, the steady, brisk clap of military boots
against the hard floor.  Two pair, at least, Starbuck mused, as he swung
his feet over the edge of the cot and sat facing the barred door to the
cell.  Unlike the previous times he'd been confined to the brig and
lectured by a senior officer - a grand total of five occasions in the
past three yahrens -- he felt his heart pounding against his chest in
anticipation.  And it wasn't because he stood a good chance of being
grounded, given two black marks in as many days. No...
     A snippet of conversation echoed in his memory: "If this works out
as planned, gentlemen, we will have a new contract and will be assured a
comfortable retirement." Okay, sure, there had to be a logical
explanation as to why the top Academy brass were making an arms contract
at such a ungodly centar in a locked hangar...and -- 
     "Attention!"  The security officer swung the cell door open and
snapped ramrod-straight against it.  A moment later, Sergeant Brand
strolled to the threshold and stopped, glaring as Starbuck hastily
scrambled to his feet.
     For a long centon, the sergeant stared at the wayward cadet, as if
daring him to move.  Starbuck held himself at rigid attention, unblinking
and barely breathing as he waited.  In three yahrens, he had learned to
bow to authority when he had no choice - and the alternative was worse. 
Putting up with the military felgercarb came with the territory when one
toed the line, as he often did. Hades, it was the thrill of successfully
sidestepping the pesky rules, such as the curfew, that made the mong
worth it. 
     "Forget the time, did we, cadet?" Brand sneered.  "Or are you just
stupid enough to be strolling across the compound two centars past curfew
for the Hades of it?"  To a first-yahren cadet, the man was the epitome
of the classic drill sergeant and could scare the crap out the faint of
heart with a mere glance.  Starbuck had long suspected that he
deliberately cultivated his appearance, which seemed straight from a old
early-era war holovid, with his close-cropped hair, steely blue-grey
eyes, arched nose, and habit of barking his sentences, not unlike an
angry Pit-Taurus. 
     "Or maybe you think you're above the regulations."  The sergeant's
eyes narrowed.  Starbuck also suspected that the reason Brand had been at
the Academy for so long - ten yahrens, he'd heard - was because this was
the only place where he could legally abuse his subordinates, be it
verbally, psychologically, or physically, within some
less-than-clearly-defined limits.  Within two sectars of his first
yahren, Starbuck had learned the man thrived on confrontation and fear;
thus, the best way to survive an "encounter with the sergeant" was to
give total compliance and no reaction. 
     Brand took two long strides, until he was nose to nose with
Starbuck.  The sergeant's eyes pierced the cadet's, and the vein on the
side of his neck pulsed as he clenched his teeth.  Sucking in a breath,
he roared, "This is two nights - two nights! - that you've been out of
the barracks!  And don't give me any of that mong about studying with the
commander's son.  Felgercarb!  You were no more in that room studying
last night than you were tonight.  And I know it!"
     Starbuck met the man's gaze and used every millitron of his resolve
to resist taking a step back.  A warning klaxon was ringing in the back
of his mind as he noted, at such a close proximity, the tiny beads of
sweat on the man's forehead and neck and the twitching of the muscle in
his cheek.  Usually, beneath even the loudest of rants, the sergeant's
sadistic pleasure crept through, be it a slight twist to his lip or a
gleam in his eyes.  This time, Starbuck suddenly realized, something was
different. 
     Brand inhaled slowly, then lowered his voice to a menacing growl.
"All right.  You wanna be out in the dark enjoying the fresh air, then I
can arrange that.  I want ten laps around the track!"  He took a step
forward, forcing Starbuck to retreat.  The cadet's legs hit the cot, and
he lost his footing.  Before he could fall, however, the sergeant grabbed
his arm and yanked him back up, then used the momentum to thrust him
towards the cell door. 
     "Out!"  Brand yelled, as Starbuck stumbled but managed to regain his
balance - almost.  Brand shoved once more, sending him sprawling across
the threshold. The guard continued to stare straight ahead but stepped to
the side as the cadet tumbled past him.  Starbuck ignored the pain that
shot through his elbow as he crashed into the floor; he didn't have time
to do anything else, because Brand was advancing on him with a scowl,
fists clenched, his body tense. 
     "Move!"  The sergeant barked.  Starbuck tried to scramble to his
feet, but Brand kicked at his legs, sending him tumbling down again.  "I
said move!" 
     Starbuck snapped into full survival mode, rolling to the side and to
his feet, just barely avoiding the vicious kick that had been aimed at
his ribs.  For the briefest of microns, as the cadet glanced at his
superior before hurrying down the corridor, their eyes locked, and
Starbuck, his instincts on full alert, knew what the difference was.  The
man was furious - that much was obvious - but something else was driving
his rage this time, too. 
     "Get your goll-monging astrum out there and run!"  Brand's voice
bellowed at him as Starbuck shoved through the security office doors and
out into the cold night.  With the sergeant on his heels, he jogged
towards the training track. "You've got twenty centons!"  
     Frak! The track was a half kilometron in length, but he knew Brand
would be timing him. And if he was so much as a micron too
slow...well...he didn't want to consider what the man might do right now.
So he sucked in a breath and sprinted until he found the pace that he
knew would get him around the compound within the required time
constraint. He was fit; a four centon kilometron was doable.  Except he
didn't normally run laps in his military boots.  Starbuck sighed inwardly
and focused on his pace.  As he past the starting point and his superior,
Brand's scowl indicted that he was on the mark. 
     One lap down - nine to go.  He hoped.  Unless Brand decided to add
more laps just out of spite.
     Starbuck put his body on autopilot and let his mind consider his
situation. Besides, his boots were already biting into his heels and
ankles; he needed a distraction. So he replayed Brand's reaction in his
head.  Perhaps he had misread the sergeant, but the more he reflected on
it, the more he was convinced that he was right, not just about Brand,
but about everything -- the sergeant, the colonel, and dirty deal they
were intending to pull off.  He was certain, because in the instant that
Starbuck had locked eyes with the man that last time, he had read one
other emotion beneath the rage.
     Fear.
     He swallowed the large lump that had formed in his throat.  He kind
of knew how Brand felt.  Hades, he had seen the sergeant intimidate
cadets before, but not quite like that.  Frack, he was sure the man was
going to take him outside and beat the mong out of him.  Probably why he
had run so fast.  He wanted to make it to the track alive.
     "Move it, Cadet!" Brand barked.
     Starbuck passed him by again.  He wasn't sure if he had dropped his
pace or if the man was just being his usual threatening self.  Why hadn't
he looked at his chronometer when he started the circuit?  A little
distracted, Bucko?  He checked it now and decided to time his next lap. 
That would tell him how he was doing.  Only four left.  C'mon, you can do
it.
     He realized that Brand was alone on the track with him.  Lords, the
Academy was a desolate place at night.  For the first time in his short
military career, that was a problem.  The mere thought of finishing his
five kilometron run and having his final confrontation with the sergeant
had him wanting to leave the track and run back to... Where Starbuck? 
Where would you go?  Just what is left for you if you can't cut it as a
viper pilot? 
     How many times had he asked himself the same questions?  How many
times had he been close to quitting or getting thrown out?  Frack, too
many times.  Each time he had realized that if he didn't get his act
together, he would end up as some two-bit gambler working the circuit
from Caprica to Virgon.
     He glanced down at his chrono.  Three centons, eight microns. 
Hades, he was surpassing his personal best if this was an average. 
Something about an abusive, corrupt, angry drill sergeant to propel him
onward and upward.  How motivational!
     "Stop dragging your astum, Cadet!" Brand yelled at him.
     Dragging his astrum??  Lords, he was in trouble.  Just what did
Brand have in store for him?  He picked up his pace again, coughing
briefly as the cold air irritated his lungs.  Well, at least he wasn't
carrying the usual loaded-down backpack from Hades Hole.  Right, things
could be worse.  Yeah, sure they could.
     Starbuck could see Brand staring him down as he headed past him for
his last lap.  Another man was approaching the track from the direction
of the Security office.  Starbuck didn't recognize him.  Brand saw the
man approach and beckoned for him to hurry.
     The sergeant switched his attention back to the cadet.  "Okay, pick
it up, Cadet!  I want this final lap to be in under three centons, or
you'll be doing it all over again!  Move it!" Brand hollered.
     Starbuck picked up the pace again.  His feet weren't going to
forgive him for this.  Why couldn't he have been wearing his old
comfortable boots that would have been more forgiving when he took them
out for a jog?  Right, you wanted to look sharp for Imara.  You're a
slave to fashion, Bucko. 
     A slight grin crossed his face at that thought.  Dress up or dress
down.  Not a lot of options as a third-yahren cadet.  Oh, right, the
dress cape.  Yep, un-tuck the usual tunic and throw a cape over it.  Now
that was high-living!
     He pushed himself yet again as he rounded the last quarter of the
track.  The man Brand had been talking to had already left.  So much for
the faint hope that there would be someone else present as a
witness...Just remember, this was all for a girl, pal.  He shook his head
slightly.  Women were trouble, pure and simple.
     Brand was alternating between glaring at the cadet and peering at
his chrono.  He stood at the edge of the track and watched as Starbuck
sprinted the last hundred metrons.  His lip curled into a snarl as the
cadet raced passed him, jogging to a gradual stop.
     "You're out of shape, Cadet Starbuck!  That was a disgusting
performance!  Over here now!" He bellowed at Starbuck.
     Starbuck's heart raced as he circled back to the sergeant.  He could
feel the sweat trickling down his temples as he quickly wiped his brow
and came to attention in front of Brand.  There was no way in Hades that
he took over three centons to run that lap!  Frack!
     "Now, why were you out of the barracks at this centar?" Brand yelled
as he came nose to nose with the cadet.
     Starbuck bit his bottom lip as he caught his breath.  What had the
unknown man said to the sergeant?  Brand looked a little less sure of
himself somehow.  Almost as if he was still trying to ascertain whether
or not the cadet had been the one in the hangar.  Maybe someone else had
been caught out of barracks?  It wasn't as if he was the only one who
moonlighted for a little romance.  Lords, what if it was Imara they had
caught?  
     "No?" Brand bellowed again.  "Drop and give me fifty!  NOW!"
     Starbuck looked down at the ground beneath him.  The frozen, mucky,
wet ground.  The track, which was relatively clean and dry, was just a
half metron to his right and if he just moved a bit...
     "Don't even think about it." Brand's voice was low and menacing as
he leaned in towards the cadet's ear.  "DROP!!"
     Starbuck jumped at the sudden shriek in his ear.  He abruptly
dropped to the ground and started doing push-ups.  Was it a subtle change
he detected in the sergeant or not?  What was going through the man's
head?  
     "Straighten your back!  Astrum down!  Frack, you'd think this is the
first time you ever did a push-up!" Brand squatted down beside him.  "I
want to see your chest barely touch the ground, Cadet!" he growled.
     Starbuck knew his form was impeccable.  Hades, he had done so many
push-ups, they were considering putting his picture beside the phrase in
the Academy Librarium reference source.  Thank the Lords, his vast amount
of experience was paying off.  Twenty-two, twenty three...
     "C'mon, astrum-wipe, I said, chest on the ground!  Afraid to get a
little dirty, boy?" Brand stood beside the cadet, resting a boot on his
back and applying pressure.  
     Frack!  Starbuck tensed his muscles against the added weight.  He
was going to be face first in the mud if Brand didn't lay off.  Doing
push-ups was nothing if you had momentum working for you.  However, going
slow and tortuously was another matter all together.  Thirty-five,
thirty-six...
     "You never did understand that we have rules for a reason, did you,
boy?  Don't you know the dangers of being in an un-secure area after
dark?  Haven't you heard of terrorism, cadet?  A young, na‹ve,
inexperienced kid like yourself could get hurt out here." Brand told him
as he increased the pressure on the cadet's back.  "Wouldn't want that to
happen, would we?"
     "No, sir!" Starbuck spat out, his face millimicrons from the mud. 
He could feel the hair on the back of his neck sticking up.  Oh Lord,
I'll do anything you ask tomorrow if you just get me through...
Forty-eight, forty-nine...
     Brand's foot pressed down on the cadet's back with all of the
Pit-Taurus' considerable strength and weight.  Starbuck slammed into the
frozen ground, fleetingly thankful that the cold had altered the usual
consistency of the muck and mire.  
     "Fifty." Brand said in a chilling voice, his combat boot still
firmly entrenched between the cadet's shoulder blades.  "You want to do
that again or are you going to tell me where you were tonight?"
     Starbuck briefly wondered if the sergeant was referring to being
slammed into the ground or just doing push-ups, before he croaked, "I
was...with a girl."  He felt the pressure ease up a bit, allowing his
lungs to expand once again.
     "Where?"
     Now that was strange.  He would have thought that the sergeant would
want to know 'who', not 'where'.  "In the trees..." Starbuck replied. 
Well, they had ended up there.
     "Were you with the Colonel's daughter again, Cadet?" Brand snapped. 

     Again, the pressure on Starbuck's shoulders increased.  He wondered
if his body would leave a permanent dent in the terrain next to the
track, as his face dug into the frozen mud.  Chances were they had caught
Imara too.  "Yes..." His breath was expelled forcefully as Brand ground
his boot into the cadet's back.  "...Sir..." he gasped.  The pressure
eased again, to be abruptly replaced by a knee.
     "Listen to me, boy.  Listen very carefully.  I won't repeat it
again." A fist grabbed his hair and twisted his face so piercing blue
eyes could stare into his own.  "Colonel Diallo is a personal friend of
mine who doesn't appreciate a guttersnipe like you messing with his
daughter.  Do you understand?"
     Starbuck winced as his neck was forced to arch painfully to meet the
menacing gaze.  He blinked as he considered the irony that Imara didn't
want to see him anymore anyway.
     "Do you understand?" Brand yelled at the cadet.  
     "Yes, Sir." Starbuck returned.
     "If I catch wind of you even so much as sniffing around the
Colonel's daughter again, I'll make what you've just been through seem
like a walk in the park." He thundered into Starbuck's ear. 
     Abruptly, Brand lifted his bulk off the cadet and walked away. 
Starbuck took a few deep breaths as he lay on the frozen ground trying to
figure out what exactly had just happened.  Well, now that he was still
alive, what was he supposed to do next?

Chapter Five
     
     Sometimes things just went from bad to worse.  Starbuck had been
considering that he should probably try to get away from the track and
sneak back into barracks as he lifted his bruised and half-frozen carcass
from the ground.  That was when Officer Keane had shown up.
     Now, he was being marched up the steps of the Argus Building on a
direct path to his flight leader's door.  After all, it was the second
time in so many days that he had landed in the brig, and, as such,
protocol required that he be released into the custody of his squadron
leader.
     Apollo was going to kill him.
     Keane came to an abrupt stop in front of Apollo and Quinn's room. 
He rapped sharply on the door as he sneered at the cadet who was pulling
himself erect as they awaited an answer.
     The door opened a crack and a weary Quinn peered out.  "It's for
you," he muttered to Apollo, as he swung the door wide open to reveal
Keane and Starbuck.  He shook his head briefly at Starbuck and then
returned to his bunk.
     Apollo sat up sighing.  Again?  What the frack was Starbuck trying
to do?  Lords, he'd have to loan him out to Sergeant Lennick again to
dismantle Starfighters piece by piece and inventory the parts.  Or maybe
he would send Starbuck to the store room to reorganize all the parts that
had found their way into various bins and storage containers because no
one had bothered to put them back where they belonged in the first place. 
Yeah, Starbuck would really hate that.  "Officer Keane," Apollo nodded at
the man as he pulled on his pants and stepped into the corridor.  It was
fracking cold.  
     "Cadet Apollo.  Cadet Starbuck was discovered out after curfew.  I'm
sure you understand the ramifications of this.  Sergeant Brand asked that
I stress the seriousness of the situation."
     Apollo nodded curtly.  "Thank you, Officer Keane.  I'm well aware of
that.  Where is Sergeant Brand?  I would have thought he would have
delivered the cadet himself." Apollo asked.  It was damn unusual that
Brand wouldn't take the opportunity to gloat.  Especially after actually
catching Starbuck.  Apparently, his friend was getting sloppy.
     "Same place we all should be, Cadet Apollo, in bed." Keane replied
as he nodded and turned sharply.  "Relinquishing custody," he snapped as
he left.
     Apollo faced Starbuck, who, to his credit, was maintaining a strict
military position and keeping his mouth shut.  He obviously had a good
idea just how irate the flight leader was feeling just now.  Hades, he
had to be up in a few centars to prepare for the survival training.  He
had been hoping for a decent night's sleep before leading his squadron
through the maneuvers that he and Imara had planned. Apollo found himself
actually circling his friend in a tack that was reminiscent of Diallo. 
He snorted at the thought of imitating the Colonel and then faced the
wayward cadet again as Keane disappeared down the stairs, far from
earshot.
     "Just what the frack do you think you're doing?  You know that if
you get hauled to the brig again that they'll ground you!" He squinted in
the dim light taking in the grime on Starbuck's face and the state of his
filthy uniform.  "What the frack happened to you anyway?" His voice
lowered as he studied his unshakable friend.
     "Brand." Starbuck replied as he met Apollo's searching gaze.  The
Phoenix leader didn't seem to know whether to be angry or concerned.  "A
5K run and then fifty push-ups.  With his boot on my back," he finished
quietly.
     "You seem to be exceptionally good at pissing the man off,
Starbuck." Apollo commented as he considered the information.  The run
and the push-ups were apropos.   The boot on the back, however... He had
heard that Brand could take things a bit too far sometimes.   "Are you
okay?"
     Starbuck nodded as he again considered telling Apollo everything he
knew.  Hades, just to have someone to share the burden of the information
with would be a relief.  Maybe Apollo would listen to him.  Actually hear
him out and agree that he wasn't way off base with his conclusions. 
After all, Apollo knew him well enough that...
     "Look, I still have to be up at 0430 to get the final arrangements
made for the mission.  Some of us take our responsibilities seriously,
Starbuck." Apollo told him, noting for a micron the strange look that
passed over his friend's face.  "We'll talk disciplinary duties in the
morning." He looked meaningfully at his chronometer.  "Later in the
morning, after I sort out the rest of my duties."
     Then again, maybe Apollo didn't know him as well as he had assumed. 
Starbuck nodded, dropping his gaze to his boots.  His feet were
throbbing.  Fracking combat boots.
     "Dismissed." Apollo added formally, dying to get back to his bunk. 
He'd be glad when the maneuvers were over.  This extra training mission
was taking up an ungodly amount of his spare time.  Must be nice to have
the time to traipse around the grounds with Imara.  Lords, how did Imara
find the time?  He stepped back inside his room and softly closed his
door, hearing a subdued "yes, sir" as it clicked shut.  He paused for a
long moment and then opened it again.  
     Starbuck was gone.

* * * * *

     Apollo closed his door again.  He chewed his lip as he thought back
over the last few centons.  He was sure he had missed...something.  
     It was one of those things about Starbuck, sometimes you really had
to read between the lines like you were doing one of those cryptic
word-puzzles.  Starbuck, on the surface, seemed to be a straight-ahead,
you-get-what-you-see kind of guy.  But, like most other people, once you
got to know him, there was a lot more to him.  For some reason though,
that often surprised people, Apollo included.  Starbuck almost seemed to
encourage the superficial persona he projected.  Apollo wondered if it
was a way to keep others at a comfortable distance.
     The Phoenix leader sighed as he climbed back into his bunk.  Yeah,
he had missed something.  That look that flickered across his friend's
face when he had blurted out something about responsibility.  That was
when Starbuck had shut down on him.  Apollo had gone from asking him if
he was okay to berating him for screwing up.
     He flopped his head back on the pillow. The rigors of command. 
Sometimes it was difficult to be both friend and squadron leader.  He
wasn't sure how to separate the two.  It was something he should talk to
his father about.  If anyone should have some advice to offer on
separating leadership and friendship, Commander Adama should.  
     As usual, Adama was far away.  Probably half way across the
solar-system.  That was one of the problems with having a father in the
military, he was seldom around to ask those pertinent questions of when
you needed to.
     Lords, was that the kind of father he wanted to be?  Not that Adama
wasn't a great man...and father, he supposed, not really having anything
to compare it to, but did he want his family growing up planetside while
he was off cruising the galaxy?
     He vividly recalled the pride he had felt when other children had
told him how amazing it must have been to have a father who was a
distinguished leader of men in the Colonial Service.  Conversely, he
still recalled the envy he felt when friends told him they had gone to a
triad game, or hiking, or fishing, or any other number of father-son
events that he had largely missed out on.
     But...at least he had a family.  He thought back to just a few
sectars ago, when he had finally realized that Starbuck had been
orphaned.  Again, he had just thought that he knew everything about
Starbuck, so when he had become the Phoenix squadron leader at the
beginning of his final yahren at the Academy, he hadn't delved into
Starbuck's records.  One needed to be either squadron leader or
second-in-command to have access to the files, and he had simply passed
over Starbuck's file, aware that there were other cadets transferred into
Phoenix that he didn't know at all.  It was those files that he was
reading, not the friends' that he already knew from the previous yahren.
     He pulled his blanket up around himself again as he thought back to
the Harvest Festival.  He had just approved leaves for a third of his
squadron.  It was one of the duties he had always enjoyed, as posted
leaves were a happy occasion.  And being with your family during Harvest
Fest was a time honoured tradition for Capricans.
     With that in mind, he had automatically given leaves to the
Capricans, knowing that there would be other holidays that would hold
more importance to other peoples.  So, when Starbuck had shown up wearing
that annoyed mien, Apollo hadn't been expecting it.  Funny, it seemed
almost like yesterday ...
     "Apollo!" Starbuck was taking the steps two at a time as he saw his
squadron leader ahead of him.
     Apollo looked down the stairwell and saw the cadet bounding up
behind him and waited patiently at the top.  He had just finished posting
the latest leaves for the long secton-end for Harvest Festival.  He knew
Starbuck's name was on the list, but oddly enough, the cadet didn't look
too happy about it.
     "Is it too late to change my leave?" Starbuck asked him.
     "Change your leave?  Why?" Apollo asked bewildered.  
     "Uh...well, there's a big card game this secton-end that I wanted to
be in on.  I wasn't planning on getting time off now.  My leave isn't
supposed to come up for a couple sectars."
     "Well, I gave leave to mainly Capricans since it's Harvest Fest."
Apollo explained.
     "Hades, it's also Autumnal Equinox on Scorpio and Cornu Corpiae on
Virgon.  Couldn't you give leave to Dorado or Rhea?"
     "Are you serious?" Apollo asked, a little astounded.  Lords,
Starbuck was usually first in line to get out of the Academy for a
secton-end.
     "Sure." Starbuck shrugged.  "Hey, Rhea could even catch a flip home
in time to partake in the big family dinner.  Roasted meleagris and fresh
harvest vegetables.  A far cry from what the mess will be putting
together, I'll bet."
     "So, you're saying, if I give you leave, you're intending to stay
here anyway?  At least if I give Rhea leave, she'll go home to see her
family."
     "Right.  The more cadets you get rid of, the less mouths for the
Academy to feed.  It's all about economics really.  You should have
learned that by now in leadership training, Apollo." Starbuck continued.
     "What about Dorado?" Apollo asked after a pause to consider
Starbuck's statement.  He decided to ignore it.
     "Well, his sister will be in Saturna for the Harvest Fest.  Again, a
short flip..." Starbuck shrugged.
     "One less mouth for the academy to feed." Apollo concluded.
     "Right."
     "Just how much are you intending to eat at the Harvest Festival
Dinner, Starbuck?" Apollo asked with a grin.  "Since it's all about
economics."
     "Hades, that's when the game is.  Just give me a fumarello and a
case of ale and I'll be fine." Starbuck grinned.
     "What about your family?" Apollo asked, leaning against the wall. 
This would probably take a while.
     "My family?" Starbuck narrowed his eyes searchingly.
     "Yeah.  Your family."
     Starbuck smiled.  "Good point.  What about your family?  Hades, they
live close by, don't they?  Why aren't you taking leave now?"
     "Because I'm not due.  You, however, are." Apollo pointed out.
     "A centon ago you told me it was about sending Capricans on leave
during Harvest Fest.  Now you're saying it's all about the rotation of
leaves?" Starbuck replied.  "C'mon, you're Caprican and your family is
here in Caprica City. Aren't they?  Why don't you rotate your astrum out
of here for some leave?"
     "Because it's not my turn.  You didn't answer my..." 
     Starbuck cut him off.  "Then there's the new kids in the squadron. 
Lords, Junius and Tani are so homesick you'd think this was their first
yahren, not their second.  Why don't you send them?" 
     Apollo held his hand up to stop the endless stream of meaningless
conversation coming out of his friend's mouth.
     "What?" Starbuck asked.
     "Why don't you want leave, Starbuck?  Cut the felgercarb and tell me
straight."
     Starbuck looked at him with surprise.  How did Apollo know he was
feeding him a line of mong that would have made an agro community
envious?  Hades, frazzling them with felgercarb had worked on just about
everyone else he had ever known.
     His shoulders drooped fractionally as he considered what to try
next.  Apollo looked like he was quite willing to lean up against that
wall until he told him the truth.  Frack, he hated talking about being
orphaned.  That bloody pitying look that people gave him was enough to
make him toss his mushies.  And then they wanted the details.
     Apollo raised his eyebrows slightly, just to remind Starbuck that he
was waiting.  As nice as it was that the cadet wanted Rhea, Dorado,
Junius, Tani or even the Phoenix leader to have leave instead, it just
didn't make sense.  Ten to one, as Starbuck often said, the cadet was up
to something.
     Starbuck sighed and shook his head slightly.  "Fine.  Harvest
Festival is a family celebration and I don't have any family.  I'd rather
be here playing cards.  Okay?"
     "Why didn't you just say so to begin with?" Apollo asked with a
shrug.
     Starbuck studied Apollo for a moment. "I prefer to maintain an aura
of mystique." He answered with a rueful grin.  No pitiful glance.  No
prying.  How about that.
     "Well, for future reference, telling it to me straight doesn't take
as long.  Economics is relevant in time as well as cubits, Starbuck."
Apollo told him.
     "I'll try to remember that." Starbuck replied.  "Does that mean my
leave is cancelled?"
     "It does." Apollo nodded.  "If that's the way you want it."
     "It is." Starbuck nodded briefly and headed down the stairs.  He
looked back and paused, "Apollo!  Thanks."
     "You're welcome." He replied as he met his eyes.  Starbuck smiled
briefly before heading back downstairs.  Yeah, sometimes it was all about
what wasn't said, instead of what was.

* * * * * 

     A