Card Games a Battlestar Galactica story rated G by James Walkswithwind September 26, 1998 One of the cards caught a flash of starlight as it spun. Starbuck reached out and took it from its descent, plucking it with two fingers and spinning it across the back of his hand. With a smooth motion he slid it into the deck again and dealt another card, flipped it into the air. The card caught a flash of starlight. This one he let fall, holding out his hand to catch it flat on his palm. He brought the deck together and stacked the cards, dealt again. This time he didn't throw it. Staring at the card he turned it, one way and then the other. It was a new deck, cards still slippery to the touch. He'd sat down to play with them, wear them slightly so they wouldn't slide off the table when hands were dealt. Some gamblers preferred fresh decks, knowing they would -- or, at least, should -- not be marked. Starbuck preferred a slightly worn deck, one that felt familiar and comfortable in his hands. Maybe it made the deck lucky, handling the cards before playing a game. Maybe it just settled him, giving him this chance to sit alone, in near-total silence. Watching the cards spin as he flicked them into the air always relaxed him. He didn't know why -- he didn't care why. As long as it worked. He caught the final card and shuffled the deck, turning the chair towards the table. He dealt a quick hand, gathered them up and dealt again. His hands moved quickly as each card landed in a cascading pile. If he played tonight, he knew he'd win. He didn't particularly feel like playing. He had a feeling he would end up at a game, either here or on the Rising Star, just because he had the time free and he usually *did* end up playing cards when he wasn't spending the time with Cassie. She had her hands full this secton, helping out at the school while two of the teachers were out sick. It wasn't difficult work, or so Cassiopea told him, but it and her regular duties were taking up most of her time. Starbuck didn't mind, though he hadn't tried finding another woman to play around with. He was content to hang out with his friends, or sitting at a table playing cards. He wondered how he was going to get himself invited to weekend dinner. It wasn't a serious matter, and truth be told he ought to have been grateful for the number of invitations he'd already received. It wasn't like they had any reason to include him more often than they did -- Apollo invited him at least once a month, and that was really more than a friend could ask for. He couldn't explain to his best friend how it made him feel. For a couple of centars at those dinners he could sit back and be part of a family, be part of something he'd never had. He knew if he said as much to Apollo, the other man would extend the invitations more often. Simple. So why couldn't he ask? Admittedly, part of his silence came form not believing Apollo's family wanted him there every secton. He might think of them as the only family he had, but that didn't mean the feelings were returned. Sometimes he suspected, Apollo or Adama would say something that made him wonder. Other times -- like last months' Dawn of Caprica celebration -- no one had said a word about his joining them. True, the Dawn festival was a small occasion, one which only half the Capricans in the fleet bothered observing. Perhaps they'd thought he wouldn't be interested in a small, family gathering. But that made him not part of the family, didn't it? If so, then inviting himself over more often would quickly wear out whatever welcome he had. Besides -- and this was the main reason he didn't ask, or so he told himself -- he ought not need to be there. Over 45% of the Fleet's residents were without a family. It wasn't anything uncommon, not anymore. He couldn't expect special treatment because he, like so many others, felt lonely. Adama had too many things to take care of, to be concerned with adopting another son into the family. Keeping the Fleet traveling in the right direction, both literally and figuratively, took most of the older man's time. He didn't have the energy to spend on someone who was, for the most part, a troublemaker. He sighed and flipped another card into the air. This wasn't helping anything. Sitting here alone, dwelling on something he couldn't have was a waste of time. Just as well he didn't get this way very often, getting more morose until he hauled himself off for a tankard or three of ambrosia and then slept his free day away. He ought to get his butt out of the chair and go find a game, let the thrill of the gamble draw him out of his reflections. He really didn't feel like seeing anyone, though. Maybe it wasn't so bad, losing one evening to a little depression. He flipped another card. It wasn't like anyone would find out. "Hey, Starbuck, I was beginning to wonder where you'd gone off to." Starbuck closed his eyes, grimacing, before wiping his face into a grin and spun to face Apollo. "What can I do for you, buddy?" The other man stepped closer, and Starbuck could see that measuring stare take him in. Apollo would probably have been seeing more than Starbuck would be comfortable with, if he weren't so certain of his game face. "Is everything all right?" From the concerned frown on Apollo's face, Starbuck realized that perhaps his friend knew him well enough to see through said game face. He shrugged anyhow, still smiling. "Why wouldn't it be?" For a moment Apollo just watched him, then he seemed to find something that satisfied him. "When I couldn't find you I got a little worried. No one knew where you were." "Is that a crime, now? Can't a guy sneak off to be by himself?" "Sure, Starbuck." After another moment, when Apollo said nothing more, Starbuck sighed. "What is it, Apollo?" "Well, it wasn't anything important, I just thought... well, I wondered.... This might sound a bit strange--" "It doesn't sound like anything yet, chum. Spill it already." Apollo gave him a look, and continued. "Boxey's been reading about ancient Colonial cultures in instructional period. And apparently they've been reading about the tradition of celebrating the half- yahrens." "I remember. Used to love that class -- Daarian sat right behind me, and she used to--" "Starbuck." "Oh. Well, so what's this got to do with me?" Apollo shifted a bit, looking uncomfortable. "Well he's decided he wants to celebrate them. You know how kids are -- they get all excited about things, and if you don't take 'em seriously they ignore you for days." With a grin, Starbuck shook his head. "You're telling me *you* never dragooned your folks into silly stuff when you were a kid?" Now his friend almost looked embarrassed. But he answered, "Yeah, I suppose I did. That's why I want to do this 'half-yahren' party up right. It's important to Boxey." "OK. So what do you need from me? Steal refreshments from the quartermaster? I think your old man will catch me if he finds 'em on his own table." "No. Boxey wants us all there. Extended family, you know. I was hoping you could come." "Sure, I'll be there." Starbuck smiled easily, casually -- answering quickly to cover his surprise. Half-yahrens were a sort of birthday celebration for the family, a individual New yahren party for the family where the New yahren was celebrated by the Colonies as a whole. As late as three centuries ago, it was a time for aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, siblings and parents to get together for a celebration. Stories would be shared, family lore passed along to the next generation. New additions to the family would be introduced, lost loved ones remembered. The practice had died out as the war took its toll on the population, scattering families and taking too many loved ones away to make the gatherings as joyful as had been the holiday's intent. Most people only heard about it in school, and then promptly forgot all about it. "When is it, anyway?" Apollo grinned. "Next secton. I've already swapped our patrol with Boomer and Jolly so we can be here." "You did? You just figured I'd say yes?" Starbuck teased his friend. "If you'd said no, I would have let Boxey ask you." Starbuck just smiled. After a moment he said in a thoughtful tone, "You know, I've been meaning to talk to him anyway. He's about the age I was when I learned to play Jumpback." He referred to a juvenile's card game, a common predecessor to more serious gambling games. "You do, and I'll see to it you're flying the prison barge for the next yahren." "Hey, Apollo, relax. I wouldn't teach him all the rules. Just enough to have fun." "And beat the other kids?" "Well," Starbuck shrugged. "Winning is what makes it fun." Apollo gave him a fierce glare, then he laughed. "You know, I played Jumpback when I was a little older than Boxey is now." With a grin, Starbuck swung his chair towards the table. "I just happen to have a deck of cards right here...." Without another word Apollo sat down, matching Starbuck's grin. As Starbuck began to deal the Pyramid cards, Apollo asked, "Are we playing Squatter's rules or Temporary?" "Apollo! I'm shocked you have to ask." Starbuck finished dealing five cards each. He gave Apollo a dangerous smile. "Squatter's rules, or course." "Oh lords, I'm going to lose *all* my lunch money, aren't I?" James Walkswithwind at boethius@jbx.com