Blowing Off the Stink
By Lisa Zaza

Decimus 15, 7336
Sugar Club, Pineus
(Pre-Destruction)

     The backbeat pounded through his body, filling him up until there
was no room left for conscious thought.  His heartbeat seemed to follow
in time, warmth suddenly infusing a body that had been cold for days.  He
drew a deep breath, sucking in the stale smoke, the smell of sweat
radiating off the writhing bodies on the dance floor, and the scent of
cheap perfume mixed with cheaper aftershave. This was what he'd come here
for.  This was it.  Vitality.  Life.  He headed for the bar, ready to
blow off the stink of war.
     A hand grabbed his arm and he turned to see Apollo miming something
in his direction.  As usual, you needed a comm system to be able to hear
anything in Sugar.  Other members of their squadron were filtering in as
well.  The Pineus club was packed to capacity, and more than likely
exceeded it.
     "What?" Starbuck yelled back at the captain.
     "Are you sure?" Apollo hollered back, his eyes darting back to the
scanner at the door, and then to their right.  
     Apparently, he took issue with a bar that made you check your weapon
at the door.  Or maybe it was the long line of people behind them not
wearing uniforms who were also checking their weapons.  But hey, this was
Pineus!  Starbuck followed his friend's gaze to the dance floor.  Most of
the couples-not all of them Human-looked more like they were attempting
to have sex with their clothes on, rather than dance.  If he wasn't
mistaken, there was a drug deal going down in the corner, and from the
looks of most of the patrons, they were wasted on one substance or
another, legal or otherwise.  He pulled out a fumarello, puffing on it as
he lit up.  The smoke filled those cold places in him that the music
hadn't yet reached.  He really didn't want to go back outside into the
driving rain and gloom to stand in another line at another club.  They
were all the same really.  Instead, he grinned, smacking his buddy on the
shoulder.  "Relax.  It'll be fine."
     That decided it was only centons later that the two of them were
being handed mugs of grog which he watched Apollo examine with raised
eyebrows.  He glanced down at the froth on his own drink.  There were
floaters on top.  
     "Extra protein?" the captain hollered sardonically.
     "Hey, they charge extra for this on Caprica!" Starbuck returned,
taking a swig.  It was cold and strong.  He took another while surveying
the action.  The pickings were slim, but another few sips of Pineus grog
would change everything, turning the plainest of women into beauty queens
in under five centons.  Blue Squadron was on a well-deserved three-day
furlon, and he was going to make the most of it.  
     A nudge from his opposite side alerted him that Boomer had caught
up.  His friend was halfway through his grog and looking more relaxed
than he had appeared in days.  More relaxed than any of them had been
since the battle on Evodus III.  Too many good warriors lost.  Lords, he
hated ground missions!  And the entire concept that pilots had been
ordered into the field to gather intelligence somehow seemed more of a
practical joke than a well thought out and executed strategy.  Starbuck
shook his head, driving the images of death and destruction from his mind
with an effort.  The smoke that filtered through his system tried to pull
him back to the battle, the smell awakening images and sounds that he'd
just as soon put behind him.  Another glass or two of grog would just
about do it...
     Boomer pointed to the dance floor where a flaxen beauty with hair
spilling over her bare shoulders writhed on the dance floor with reckless
abandon.  Her head was thrown back as if in rapture, her lips slightly
parted, and it didn't take much of an imagination to take off on a flight
path of fancy...Starbuck took another draw of his smoke as he watched her
run her hands suggestively over an hourglass figure as she kept her dance
partner at a distance, as though he was only there to observe the show. 
He smiled.  She needed a real man, not an audience.
     "Is it the grog, or is she really a goddess?" Boomer hollered.
     Starbuck drained his glass and grinned.  "I'll let you know in the
morning!" He could hear Apollo and Boomer laughing as he pushed off
towards the dance floor.


     Apollo took another gulp, feeling the numbing effects of the alcohol
seeping into him.  This was mostly definitely not his usual scene, but
the energy was contagious.  It was a place to fill your senses, lose your
inhibitions, and he'd been offered about three different ways to do just
that since walking in the door.  For now, just being here was enough. 
Just knowing that most of his men had made it was all the reassurance he
needed that he would be okay.  That they all would.  None of them needed
to know that they'd ended up being a diversion.  He alone would bear the
burden that High Command had withheld the entire picture from Adama, in
order to execute consecutive ground strikes, confusing the enemy and
ultimately obtaining their objective at any cost.  Apollo scanned the
room.  Starbuck on his way to the dance floor.  Giles at a table.  Jolly
in the corner.  Greenbean by the...
     Stop it!  
     He didn't need to account for his men here.  They weren't going to
get picked off by a Cylon, or end up in a barrage of exploding solenite
charges wired to consecutively detonate when any individual one was
tripped...Lords, he'd almost thought he'd lost Boomer and Jolly...He
snapped himself out of it, taking a steadying breath as the explosions of
flame and smoke mutated back into the strobe light and fog machine over
the dance floor.  In one swallow, he finished his drink.  Yeah, Pineus
was a child's playground compared to Evodus III.  Setting his glass down
on the bar, he followed Starbuck's progress as the self-proclaimed God's
Gift to Women strutted towards the dance floor.  Apollo reached into his
pouch, and then waved an Orion check before Boomer's eyes.  "Ten says he
gets nowhere."
     "Twenty says they leave together," Boomer returned with a laugh.  
     Sure enough, the beauty already had her eyes on the lieutenant as he
pushed through the crowd.  Apollo shook his head as she carelessly cast
her current partner aside, and stood posed like a runway model waiting
for Starbuck.  "I don't know how he does it..."


     "Doesn't seem right for one man to be so lucky..." Boomer returned
after a moment, then he took another drink musing, thank God that he
is...If it hadn't been for that innate sense of direction that his friend
had, there was no way they'd have picked their way through a minefield of
recently detonated explosives, the air thick with dust and smoke,
avoiding both debris and Cylons.  Starbuck had practically carried him,
his leg broken in three places...but then he'd heard that Apollo had done
the same for an insensate Jolly, and figured Starbuck had got off
lightly.  Boomer smiled at his private joke, glancing across the room,
seeing Jolly well into his cups.  He was chatting up some woman who might
or might not have two extra eyes.  At this point into his grog, it was
difficult to tell.  Oddly, Jolly caught his eye, and the big man raised a
glass.  A look passed between them, and Boomer nodded, before turning
back to the bar.  He needed to buy a round for all his friends.  It was
the least he could do after Evodus III.  Abruptly, a pair of arms was
draped around his neck.  It would have been preferable if the knuckles
weren't so hairy...


     "Boomer!" Giles exclaimed.  "This place is great!  I swear the women
are throwing themselves at me!"
     "Looks like one of them made a direct hit," Boomer commented,
admiring the flaming right side of Giles face.
     "Oh, that." Giles rubbed his cheek distractedly.  "Just a
misunderstanding."
     "She said, 'no'?" Apollo inserted, joining in.
     Giles shrugged.  "Well, not in so many words..." He could still feel
a dull ache in the back of his skull from the compression of the blast. 
Lords, if he closed his eyes he could still feel the splash of Keegan's
blood across his face.  There hadn't been much of Keegan left, and he
could feel himself start to shake as he remembered the carnage...A cold
sensation in his right hand brought him back to the present.  He nodded
his thanks to Apollo, realizing the captain had just thrust a freshly
poured grog into his hand.  He was still watching them all, and had been
since Evodus III.  Giles shakily raised the glass to his lips, wishing he
wasn't quite so conditioned to the effects.  It would take at least one
more before he was half as lit as Greenbean who had just started doing
the Funky Poulon on the dance floor.  Nearby, Starbuck was entwined with
some piece of fluff to the point of indecency...Lords, he was so envious! 
He lurched off towards the dance floor in search of a less hostile
prospect than what's-her-name with the left hook had been.  "Get a room,
Starbuck!" he hollered as he passed the other by...


     "Not such a bad idea..." Starbuck murmured throatily, pulling
Charisse...Chanel...Chalice...Chablis...Chandelle...
     "Follow me," Ch-something whispered into his ear, pulling him
towards the back of the club.
     Starbuck could sense jealous eyes upon him as he walked through the
crowd with the sexiest woman in the club.  It wasn't the first time. 
Still, he'd never danced with a woman before in a way that made him want
to have her right there on the dance floor.  The music was pounding
through his body, his desire for her coursing through him.  He felt so
alive it was as though he would go supernova if he didn't take her soon. 
This was what he needed.  To connect with a passionate woman who could
make him forget all about Evodus III...at least for a little while.
     In microns, she had pulled him into a storeroom, kicking the door
shut and pressing him up against it.  She pulled at his clothes,
exploring his body, and he replied in kind.  His flight jacket and tunic
hit the floor.  Her dress was merely readjusted for easier access.  She
was raunchy.  Ribald.  Desperate.  Hungry.  
     And he was loving every micron of it.  
     Abruptly, the door exploded inward, thrusting them both across the
room.  Starbuck kept a grip on her, managing to maintain his balance as
he turned to see who had come to call.  He never even saw the fist that
caught him under the jaw.
     "Azureus!" Ch-something screamed, restoring her dress.
     "Slumming again, Chandral?" the man growled at her.  "Another
warrior, huh?  You just can't resist the officers, can ya?"
     Starbuck barely had a chance to roll over before two burly goons
hauled him to his feet, securing him between them.  Two more looked on,
loosely holding the girl.  It was a decided turn in the evening, and
Starbuck was definitely at a disadvantage with half his clothes already
tossed on the floor, and his pants partially undone and riding low on his
hips.  
     "Do you think maybe we can talk about this?" Starbuck attempted
lamely, not thinking it likely as he stared into the enraged face.  "I'm
really a great guy once you get to know me..."
     "Oh, he talks!  Still, I'm guessing you didn't choose pretty boy for
his stimulating conversation!" Azureus grunted.
     "Pretty boy?" Starbuck protested, just before Azureus drilled a fist
into his stomach.  
     Starbuck's breath whooshed out of him, likely never to return.  His
knees hit the floor as he hung suspended between the behemoths.  It was
like a landram had just drilled him in the guts, and he fought to make
his lungs work again for just one precious little breath as he studied
the blurry pair of boots in front of him.
     "Drop him!"


     It had taken Apollo all of a centon to notice Starbuck leaving for a
backroom with his flavour of the secton.  It had taken less time than
that to spot the five men following, looking none too friendly as they
shadowed his preoccupied friend.  Apollo hadn't needed to say a word, the
others had noticed too.  Later he would remark that they were still
watching each other's backs as though they were still on Evodus III, but
just then he was impressed that they could all stand upright and follow
him.
     "I said, drop him!" Apollo snarled.  By now, Boomer and Giles were
flanking him on the right, and Greenbean and Jolly on the left.  Starbuck
had been the lucky one on Evodus III, not coming away with any more than
some scrapes and bruises which still appeared vividly on his left
shoulder and arm.  As far as Apollo could tell from the heaving movement
of his torso, his friend was either going to retch or breathe any micron
now.  "And let the girl go!"
     They took too damn long deciding.
     Apollo lunged towards their leader, catching him off guard. 
Apparently, the girl's usual "pretty boys" didn't have friends watching
their backs.  She screamed as the captain's fist connected with the head
goon's jaw, taking him down for the count with one punch.  From his
peripheral vision he saw Starbuck hit the floor as the rest of the room
jumped into the fray.  It should have been over in a few centons...but
then again, this was Pineus.
     More people flooded into the room, and once again Apollo found
himself slugging it out.  It had turned into a melee, and it took split
micron timing to realize at one point that he was about to punch Giles. 
Starbuck was on his feet, and giving as good as the rest of them by now,
but was in danger of losing his pants if he didn't do something about
that soon.  Even the girl was engaged in a felix-fight with some other
hysterical female.
     It penetrated Apollo's consciousness that normally he wouldn't have
taken it this far.  He would have found some other way to rescue
Starbuck-and his pants-without causing a riot in a nightclub obviously
known for its questionable activities.  Then came Evodus III and they had
all come here to blow off some steam.  Lords, he felt alive!  Coming to
his friend's rescue, dropping the astrum-wipe that had targeted a
Colonial Warrior, drinking, carousing...Sagan, but his father would kill
them all if they didn't get out of here soon.  At the very least they'd
all lose the rest of their furlon and be on report until the mythical
descendent of the ninth Lord of Kobol parted the waters in Caprica Bay...
     "Boomer!" Apollo caught his arm, ducking the fist that tried to deck
him.  "We have to get out of here before Civil Security arrives!"
     The lieutenant seemed to focus for a moment, decoding the words as
he studied the face behind them, before nodding.  "I'm all for a quick
flip to Tropica for the rest of the furlon!"
     "Let's go!"
     Okay, so the timing was a little late.
     The clamour of the sound system abruptly stopped, to be replaced by
a deafening whistle and an ampli-phone.  "Pineus Civil Security!  Break
it up!"
     Well, this wasn't the most studious or attentive crowd Apollo had
ever been in, and typically, they didn't listen.
     Centons later the raucous crowd was being hosed down, and people hit
the floor, protecting themselves from the jet-stream pummelling their
bodies.  Abruptly, a hand grabbed Apollo's elbow.
     "Back door!" Jolly shouted, pulling Apollo to his feet.  "Go...!"


     Unfortunately, Apollo wasn't the only one who heard him.
     A sudden stream of people headed for the back door, barring all but
the first few who had arrived as they bottlenecked.  Jolly used his bulk
to try and push his way to the front of the line.  The current of panic
running through the crowd took him back to Evodus III, just before his
world exploded and the blackness of oblivion had taken him.  Once again a
blast of jet-steam hit them.
      "On the floor!  Face down!  Hands behind your heads!"
     Jolly glanced around, trying to spot the others as he dropped to the
filthy floor.  In retrospect, it could use a good hosing down. 
Boomer...Starbuck...Greenbean...Giles...Apollo beside him.  All accounted
for.  It was only a matter of soggy centons before one by one, people
were being hauled to their feet, restrained behind the back, and led into
the alleyway.  It carried a sense of foreboding with it, but it paled in
comparison to the battle they were all trying to shake off.  He glanced
at Apollo, whose jaw had tightened, and he was swallowing almost
convulsively.  That's when it hit Jolly how much trouble they all might
be in.  Tigh would strip and module them...


     It was a new experience for the captain, and the cold shock of
reality hit him that this would probably be on his permanent record. 
Strangely, he and Jolly were led to a separate transport from the one the
civilians were being piled into.  It looked like an archaic paddy-wagon
of yore, only large enough to hold a dozen men at the most.  They were
pushed inside, the door closed loudly, and the heavy clunk of a locking
mechanism was set.
     "Did anybody get away?" Jolly asked.
     "I don't think so," Apollo replied.  "Besides, they have our weapons
in the lock-up to ID us."
     The door opened again, and Greenbean was thrust inside, blood
running down one side of his face from a gash over his eye.  He looked at
them wildly for a moment.
      "Easy, Greenbean," Apollo reassured him.  "You're all right..."

     His arms secured behind him, blood trailing down his face, half deaf
from the din, being pushed from behind, it took Greenbean right back to
Evodus III when he had come harrowingly close to being executed by a
Cylon sentry.  The explosion had knocked him for a loop, and when he had
come to he was being jerked to his knees, one centurion holding him
semi-upright, and another holding his sword high in the air.  If Giles
hadn't come along just then, he'd have lost his head, and for a change it
wasn't to alcohol.
     "Greenbean!"
     He blinked, realizing it was Apollo across from him, not some
mong-raking Cylon.  He nodded abruptly, replying, "I'm with you."
     "We were wondering for a centon," Jolly returned, his blue eyes
narrowed in concern.
     Greenbean smiled slightly, glancing at the other two.  "One Hades of
a party, guys..."


     Two more times the door opened, admitting Giles and then Boomer into
the fold, arms secured behind their backs.  Apollo yelled out just before
it closed, "One more, but he's shirtless!" The door stayed open a micron
more while the information was considered, and hopefully processed.
     "Good point," Boomer murmured quietly as they all waited long
centons to see if Starbuck would show.  
     Finally, the door opened once more and Starbuck was pushed inside.
     "Oh, this is much better." Starbuck told the guard.  "Now this is
high living.  Thanks, pal." The door slammed shut as he dropped onto the
bench across from the captain.
     "Is everybody okay?" Apollo asked as the transport shuddered, the
engines coming alive as they prepared for take off.  Within microns they
would be heading towards Civil Security Headquarters.
     A few cuts, scrapes, and bruises would be the extent of the physical
toll they paid.  Apollo glanced at Starbuck whose pants were finally
pulled up, but still undone.  His torso, as reported, was bare.  "You're
out of uniform, Lieutenant," he quipped to break the silence that
suddenly hung over them.  He obviously wasn't the only one wondering what
the professional repercussions would be.
     "I'd say that's the least of my worries..." Starbuck returned wryly,
glancing around at the other soaking wet, bloodied and bruised warriors. 
They smirked, chuckled, and then dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. 
It echoed through the back of the transport, warming them, unifying them. 
"Thanks, guys."
     "Got your back, Bucko," Apollo told him.  His glance at the others
told them he was watching theirs as well.  
     "Well, I hope you're around when Tigh flays the skin off it,"
Starbuck grumbled.
     Apollo winced, letting out a deep breath.  "I'm in command.  I'll
handle Tigh."
     "I recommend a stun setting, with Vipers standing by," Starbuck
returned deadpan.  "I hear Cordugo Pit is nice this time of yahren..."


     The cell was cold and stark, lacking any creature comforts other
than an old flusher that actually used a pump to make it work.  It was
meant to make men reconsider their actions as they woke up on the floor,
heads throbbing from too much drink, and bodies hurting from brawling the
night before.
     A rattling noise stirred them.  One by one, they opened their eyes,
each of them immediately cursing the bright light that flooded the cell
continuously.  
     "Bucko, I didn't know you cared..." Jolly murmured when he found the
other man pressed up against his back, obviously for warmth.  He chuckled
as the womaniser made a rasping sound and then thrust himself a metron
away in the opposite direction at light speed.  "Ah, now don't be like
that...I promise I'll telecom!" he rubbed it in.
     "Just my luck to start out with a goddess, and to end up sleeping
with Jolly..." Starbuck moaned.
     "Your luck is worse than you think, Lieutenant."
     The clipped precise tone was one that they all knew and
feared...well, especially when they were caught doing something wrong.
     "You men are a disgrace!" Tigh snapped, his back ramrod straight as
he looked them over in disgust.  Sprawled out across the cell, they
looked more like reprobates than Colonial Warriors.  "Stand alert!"
     The warriors scrambled to their feet, falling in line beside their
strike captain as the security guard opened the cell door to admit the
colonel.  Tigh strode through the door, walking down the line, staring
each and every man in the eye, pausing for a particularly painful moment
in front of Starbuck while he shook his head.
     "It doesn't take much imagination to envision the state you were in
when Security raided the club, Lieutenant Starbuck." He pasted on his
most derisive sneer, not satisfied until the warrior dropped his eyes in
shame, or more likely in Starbuck's case, unease.  Finally, he planted
himself in front of Apollo considering the officer with dark eyes that
bored into his very soul.
     "Permission to speak, Colonel," Apollo requested.  After all they'd
been through, surely the executive officer would cut them a little
slack...
     "Permission denied, Captain," Tigh shot back, the undercurrent in
his voice brooking no argument.  He turned, starting to pace the line. 
"You men are fortunate that the Service has an arrangement with Pineus
Civil Security." He paused in front of Jolly, wrinkling his nose at the
aroma of alcohol wafting off the warrior.  "That said your wages will be
garnisheed until the damages at the club are paid for." 
     A slight groan passed Giles' lips.  
     "You said something, Flight Sergeant?" Tigh snapped, pivoting
sharply on his heel to face him down.
     "No, sir," Giles returned, not wanting to make it worse...if it
could possibly be worse.
     "I want you all to collect your weapons at the desk, and get out of
my sight.  I'll see you men back on the Galactica in two days time." Tigh
paused as they stared at him uncertainly.  He pointed towards the open
door and the security guard waiting to process them.  "There had better
not be a reoccurrence, gentlemen, or the next time you get furlon will be
when I'm checking into the Senior's home and signing up for
hover-bowling." Still they gaped at him.  It had to be the cumulative
effect of the alcohol.  "MOVE!"
     The men scurried to rush out, almost tripping over each other in the
process.  Tigh barely controlled the smirk that threatened to take over
his face.  His tylinium control once again asserted itself when Apollo
hung back, letting the others leave the cellblock without him.  He
glanced at the colonel uncertainly.
     Tigh sighed.  He nodded at the young man with the impeccable service
record, knowing that if Apollo could end up in custody, that every
despicable word he'd heard about Evodus III had to be true.  Relaxing his
posture, he shrugged.  "Sometimes you just have to blow off the stink,
Captain..."     
     "Yes, sir..."

The End