"Furlough"
        (by Sharon Monroe, writing as Doris Fishbein)
 
     It was an exhausting several centars.  The unknown foe had
launched a sustained attack, against the civilian ships in the rear of
the fleet, and the warriors were hard-pressed to push them from back. 
Whoever their enemy was - probably pirates - they took serious losses
before retreating, and finally permitting the Colonial warriors to
return to their base.  They found the Galactica's landing bays crowded
with medical personnel and shuttles.  While none of the ships had been
badly damaged in the surprise attack, there were still many injuries,
and overloaded medical stations on the other ships were sending their
worst cases to the better-equipped life center of the battlestar.  Most
of the warriors, tired as they were, took time to help with the flood
of casualties.  When the emergency was finally under control, the weary
pilots returned to their ready room, most of them hoping for nothing
more than food and sleep.
     Cassiopeia went looking for one of the warriors in Blue Squadron;
one very disinterested pilot told her the man she wanted was still in
the turbowash.  The pilot promptly rolled over in his bunk and went
back to sleep.
     "Thanks, Boomer," the woman replied - and immediately barged into
the Blue Squadron male cleansing facilities.  "Starbuck, I have to talk
to you, now," she announced firmly, then turned and walked out again,
to the consternation and embarrassment of several men.
     The pilot she'd addressed was out in a centon, still dripping wet,
a towel wrapped around his hips and a uniform in his arm.  "What's so
important, Cassie?  I know you love my body, but you don't have to join
the whole squadron in the shower to see it..." he teased.  The other
guys would be kidding him for a long time, and he figured he had the
right to get in first digs.
     She ignored his humorous comment, her expression very grave as she
pulled him away from the others.  He could see, then, that it was
something important.  "What is it, Cassie?" he demanded more seriously.
     "Chameleon was on the Rising Star, and it took a hit.  He's pretty
badly hurt; he's here in life center.  I thought you'd want to know,
and come be with him, just in case..."
     Starbuck blanched.  He considered the old man a good friend.  "How
bad is it, really?"  He suspected Cassiopeia wasn't telling him
everything.
     "We're not sure yet, but I think you should be there."  She took a
deep breath, as if making a decision and looking for strength. 
"Starbuck, I think you should know...he really *is* your father."  She
braced herself for his reaction.
     The man froze, staring in disbelief for a long centon.  "Oh my
god..." he breathed.
 
* * * * 
 
     The quarters were decorated with cultured good taste and carefully
understated elegance.  The woman who occupied the cabin, one of the
best accommodations on the small former luxury liner Memphis, now the
"Senior Ship," had been wealthy before the Destruction.  With that
wealth had come true quality.  The young man sitting quietly in a
thickly-padded chair, staring at the wall mural opposite without really
seeing it, had gotten to know her well-appointed quarters very well
during the past few days.  His father dwelt here, with the woman who'd
made herself responsible for him, with Commander Adama's blessings.
     Siress Blassie watched thoughtfully from the archway to the
bedchamber.  She was a tall, slender woman with silver-blonde hair and
a sophisticated style.  She felt very close to both father and son, in
different ways.
     During the first few days after Chameleon was injured, Starbuck
hadn't left his father's side.  When the older man had finally been
released from life center and returned to the Memphis, his son had
often fallen asleep in the very chair in which he was now sitting. 
Chameleon was content to spend much of his time in bed; Starbuck kept
occupied by trying to amuse him, and by running errands for Blassie,
who'd also appointed herself "nurse" for the older man.  To the widowed
woman, it was almost like having a family again.
     More recently, however, the young lieutenant seemed less happy. 
His commander had freely given him an extended furlough, but the time
seemed to weigh heavily on him.  Blassie would often find him in the
living chamber, sitting in the chair, a pensive look on his face, as
though he'd lost something very precious.
     Perhaps he's already bored, spending so much time with two old
people, she thought.  Perhaps he wants to return to his friends on the
Galactica...
     Cassiopeia stopped by whenever she could spare the time - I like
her, despite her previous occupation, Blassie thought - and Apollo,
Boomer, and Jollly - handsome warriors, and such gentleman, was her
assessment - also visited frequently.  But it can't be the same for
Starbuck as sharing their daily lives, she concluded.
     Siress Blassie retreated quietly into the inner chamber.
     A few centons later, Starbuck's melancholy reveries were broken as
Chameleon and Blassie entered the room where he sat.  The old man
looked frail.  Starbuck rose to his feet and rapidly crossed the room
to take his father's arm.  Chameleon wasn't back to full health or
strength yet, and made his walks around the ship leaning on his son or
Blassie, or both.  Starbuck smiled for his father, although there was a
reserve and weariness in his expression that hadn't been there in the
first, more critical, days of recovery.
     Chameleon gestured toward a couch, and Starbuck helped him sit
down, watching worriedly as the old man sighed and smiled up at him. 
He seemed tired.
     "Are you all right...Father?"
     Chameleon missed the short pause in his son's words.  "Oh, I feel
fine, Starbuck," he laughed ruefully.  "But I guess I'm not as strong
as I thought.  You'll have to make that trip to the Rising Star
yourself tonight."  The repairs ship was reopening several gaming
rooms, with much fanfare.
     "Oh."
     The pause that followed was awkward.  Blassie discovered a reason
to leave her quarters for a moment, and quickly departed, leaving the
two men alone.
     Starbuck sat down again, in what he'd come to consider "his"
chair, across from the couch where his father rested.
     "No, no, Starbuck," Chameleon protested immediately.  "I don't
want you tying yourself here on my account.  You're dressed up, and we
were counting on an evening of fun.  Why don't you go by yourself, and
stop by the Galactica?  Perhaps some of your friends will be interested
in trying our new system.  You can test it, and tomorrow, we can try to
work out the flaw!"
     Starbuck laughed half-heartedly.  "If you'll be okay..."
     Chameleon waved.  "I'll be fine.  Blassie will be back in a centon
- she never trusts me alone and out of her sight for long, and you know
how good she's been to both of us this past secton."
     "True enough.  Probably the best thing you ever did, convincing
her to take over your rehabilitation like that."
     The old man made a wry fact at his son's remark, but had to agree. 
"She didn't need much convincing.  Go on, son.  I'll spend a quiet
evening at home.  I may even get to like it."
     Starbuck stiffened slightly at the term "son," but his father
didn't notice.  "All right.  Say goodbye to Siress Blassie for me. 
I'll see you in the morning."  He picked up his uniform cape and
prepared to leave.
     "You could call her Blassie, you know.  I think she'd like
something a little less formal from you."
     The young warrior, already at the door, shrugged but presented a
smile to his father.  "What I think she'd really like me to be calling
her is 'Mother,' but that's *your* problem.  I'll try to
remember...Father, if it'll make you both happy.  Take care of
yourself."  He waved, and the door closed behind him.
     Chameleon frowned, concerned, but waited until Blassie returned a
centon later.  Her arched eyebrows asked the question; he simply shook
his head.  "He won't say what's bothering him, even when we're alone. 
Perhaps he's simply bored here, away from his friends and the risks of
his duties, but it seems like something more, something that goes
deeper..."
     "You may be right, but at least he'll have an evening out. 
Perhaps that'll help him," she replied firmly.  "He may talk to his
friends, to Apollo and Boomer, or perhaps to Cassiopeia.  I'm glad you
decided to let him go."
     "You wouldn't let me out of bed if I didn't promise!" he retorted
without rancor.  "But I wish he would talk to me, whatever it is..."
     "Not tonight.  Now, what shall we do?  I've a deck of cards, all
ready for you to shuffle.  What was that system of pyramid you wanted
Starbuck to test tonight?  It sounded quite interesting when you
discussed it today."
     "You can't really be interested in pyramid!" the man exclaimed
with some surprise.
     "It's that or the IFB video, since you obviously can't go out when
you've already informed your son that you're too weak to be wandering
about.  Everybody knows you and Starbuck by now, and they could mention
it to him if you were seen out and about tonight.  So, which shall it
be - pyramid, or that woman journalist on IFB?"
     He made a face as he considered.  He didn't care for the
newswoman.  Zara's interview had brought them together the first time -
but she was also the one who'd made a big event of it when his son was
accused of murdering one of his squadron mates, a triad opponent with
shady connections and a foul temper.
     "I'll teach you a version of pyramid they used to play in the
Quaneed sector on Libra, before they were blasted by the Cylons."
     And so the elegant, cultured, sophisticated Siress Blassie spent
the evening learning the most common of card games from a scoundrel of
a man whose quirks and habits still fascinated her.
 
* * * *
 
     "Captain?  Got a micron?"
     "Yes?  Oh, Starbuck, c'mon in.   I wasn't expecting you, but I've
got time.  How's your father?"  Apollo finished fastening his shirt and
gestured his friend to a seat.  Starbuck hadn't been aboard the
battlestar in well over a secton, since Chameleon was released from
life center, and the captain had seen little of him in that time.
     "He's...good, recovering well, I guess.  He still feels weak, at
times," Starbuck replied without much spirit, slouching into the chair.
     "Is Siress Blassie doing him any good?"  Apollo detected
uneasiness in his friend's behavior, and was concerned.  He doubted the
woman was causing any difficulties between father and son, but asking a
few questions might shed some light on the problem.
     The lieutenant smiled, less reluctantly.  "Trying to be more than
a jailer.  She's not as obvious as Belloby was with your father, but
she's even more persistent, and she's got more class."
     Apollo laughed.  It had seemed, once, that Siress Belloby, an
old...friend?...of Adama's, would force herself into the family, having
the commander almost literally over an energizer coil - and the thought
of calling the loud, brassy woman "mother" had both amused and
horrified him.  Fortunately, Starbuck's intervention at a critical
moment had saved the day - and convinced the bold woman to actively
seek younger companionship.
     Now, perhaps Chameleon was being cornered in the same manner as
Adama had nearly been.
     "Is she having much success?" the captain asked innocently, trying
not to smile.
     "Not much."  Starbuck was visibly unwinding, still chuckling at
the memory of Siress Belloby.  "Chameleon's very good at keeping a
certain distance, even in shared quarters."
     "Like you?  I think Athena's planning on visiting you and your
father one of these days."
     The lieutenant's smile faded, and he squirmed a little.  "She'll
have to visit me here.  That's why I came, Apollo.  I'd like to request
that the rest of my furlough be canceled, so I can return to active
duty."
     "Are you crazy?"
     He shrugged.  "I've been accused of it."
     Apollo sat down next to him.  "Starbuck, is something wrong?  We
thought you'd want some time with Chameleon, to get to know him, and
set things in order."
     "What things?  We know each other; we've been friends since we
met.  He's doing fine, in no danger any more.  I'm needed here, now."
     "Awkward, maybe, to call him father?  That's what your time
together was supposed to do, get rid of the awkwardness.  You seemed
glad enough of the time before--"
     "Look," Starbuck interrupted, "are you going to cancel my leave,
or not?  I can come back at any time..."
     "Hey!"  Apollo held up a restraining hand.  "If it's that
important..."  He was surprised at his friend's impatient outburst, but
he was sure the lieutenant would get over it, and would apologize later
in some fashion or other.  He strode to his desk, and pulled a form
from the sheaf of bureaucratic paperwork that constantly littered his
quarters.  It took only a moment to fill in all the required blanks. 
Then he turned the sheet around, and held out a stylus.  "You have to
sign it; otherwise, I have to come up with a disciplinary reason."
     "That shouldn't be too difficult," Starbuck muttered, but he
signed his name in the proper places.  Apollo notarized it, and fed it
into the terminal on his desk for filing.
     The men stared at each other across the desk.  The captain wasn't
sure what to say, and his friend had no inclination to apologize at the
moment, or to explain anything.
     "He's coming!  With Aunt Athena!"  An excited Boxey scampered into
the room like a small brown-haired cyclone, dashing into his father's
arms and halfway onto the desk before greeting Starbuck.  "Hi, Uncle
Starbuck!  You're dressed up, too.  Are you coming with us?"
     Starbuck stared in confusion as Apollo's face lit up.  "Am I
interrupting something?"
     Apollo shook his head, then rose, his smile widening as Commander
Adama and his sister Athena entered the cabin.  Boxey promptly squirmed
free of his father and ran to his grandfather.
     "Are you accompanying us, Starbuck?  Your father must be feeling
better," Adama welcomed him - Starbuck winced - while Athena gave him
her prettiest smile, which was indeed becoming, and complimented her
appearance perfectly, as she was dressed in a simple but becoming pink
celebration gown.  Starbuck hadn't thought to wonder why his friend was
in dress blues; now, he concluded the family was celebrating some
occasion or other.
     "Uh...I'm not really..." he stuttered.
     "Please do," Athena chimed in.  "We'd love to have you..."  She
allowed the invitation to dangle, with just a hint of suggestion, as
Starbuck, uncomfortable, glanced quickly at the commander.
     Adama, now holding Boxey's active form, was trying valiantly to
avoid being tripped by the yipping mechanical daggit at his feet.  He
looked up and smiled.   "My errant grandson and even more errant
children have cajoled me into dinner aboard the Rising Star for a
change, to celebrate the reopening," he explained.
     "No, it's for your natal day, Father, and you take too little time
off as it is," Apollo insisted, turning a bit pink himself at being
referred to as "errant," but grinning too.  The whole group was in a
festive mood.
     Celebrating their father's birthday.  Starbuck felt short of
breath, then shook his head decisively.  "No, I've got things to do yet
tonight, and...uh, have fun, uh, happy birthday, Commander."  He
excused himself , and practically ran from Apollo's quarters. 
     Celebrating their father's birthday - as they'd done for yahrens,
as they'd celebrated other birthdays and holidays, and as they'd
gathered to mourn Ila and Zac, and Serina.  The survivors of a family,
still close and finding occasions for happiness.  A tradition of
togetherness.  A family...
 
* * * *
 
     Cassiopeia finally caught up with Starbuck aboard the Lady of
Argo, now an orphan ship.  She hadn't had time to talk to him in days. 
Hearing he was on the Galactica, she'd gone looking for him, but he'd
already left.  She caught the next shuttle and followed him.
     A friend had seen the man, and directed her to a converted
theater, now a nursery where children four yahrens old and younger, the
smallest survivors, were sheltered.  Starbuck was watching a group of
youngsters play together.  Several of them, the youngest, had just
learned to walk, and were carefully stepping around their friends and
caregivers as they played with makeshift toys.
     Cassiopeia put on a professional smile from the days, then stopped
in shock at the realization of what she'd done.  What made her think
she needed to approach Starbuck professionally?  She drew a smile from
the heart as she moved beside him.   "Hi, Starbuck," she said softly,
touching his shoulder.  "Cute, aren't they?"
     The man stiffened in surprise, then relaxed, but still seemed
uncomfortable.  "Hi, Cassiopeia.  What brings you here?"  He
concentrated on one of the small boys who was trying to build something
from a collection of blocks cut from foam.
     "I haven't seen much of you recently, so I thought it might be
nice if you have a little time just to talk or something..."  Her voice
trailed away as she realized he was paying her no attention, but had
his eyes fixed vacantly on the child's growing tower.
     The toddler had completed his lopsided architectural creation.  He
leaned back, yelled, and swiped at the block tower, sending pieces of
foam in every direction.  Starbuck closed his eyes and winced, a pained
look on his face.
     "Starbuck, are you all right?" Cassie asked in swift concern.
     He glanced at her in astonished uncertainly, as though he'd just
that instant become aware of her presence.  "I'm fine.  Why?"
     "You seem...distant.  Distracted.  Is there something on your
mind?"
     He grimaced, trying to shake off her question.
     "Thinking of adopting one of the kids?" she teased, knowing well
enough his opinion of his own parenting ability.
     "No!"  The answer was so brusque that she knew it concealed anger.
     "So, what's wrong," she asked helplessly.  "If there's something
on your mind, and you'd like to talk about it..."
     "Don't interfere, Cassie."
     It took several centons for her to locate what she was sure was a
safe subject for discussion.  "How's Chameleon today?" she asked
meekly.
     Starbuck's eyes turned a wintry shade of blue, and the woman
thought for a moment that he'd explode at her.  "He's fine," he finally
said through clenched teeth.  "Now will you quit bothering me?"
     She stared in disbelief.  Was this truly Starbuck?  The man had
her lover's blue eyes; she recognized the golden hair; a touch would
prove those were the same broad shoulders she knew so well.  But the
words and expression were those of a complete stranger, somebody she
wasn't sure she liked.  Cassiopeia stepped back, afraid for a micron of
this stranger who stubbornly turned away from her back toward the
children, his mouth set in a cold, grim line.
     "Who are you anyway?" she asked slowly.
     "I'm sure you know that better than I do," he snapped curtly.
     "What...what are you talking about?  Has this got something to do
with your father?"
     He glanced at her briefly, and she could tell the anger in him was
building to an explosion point.  But he didn't reply; he simply looked
away from her.  She knew her own anger was igniting at his callous
silence.
     "Well, are you going to tell me or not?" she finally demanded.
     "If you insist - after you answer a question or two.  Anything
else you've been keeping secret from me?  After all, you know more
about my past than I do!  We aren't accidentally brother and sister, or
anything like that?" he demanded sarcastically.  The pain hidden in his
voice cut her to the heart, made her just a bit ashamed, although she
couldn't explain why.
     She glared back at him, her face white with rising anger, fighting
with the shame.  He was hurting, but he had no right to take it out on
her.  "No, Lieutenant, nothing like that.  But I think I've just found
out something about your true character!" she nearly screamed, her hand
twitching in a desire to strike him for his words.  Instead, she spun
on her heel and stalked away.
     "*My* character?"  He caught up with her, nearly bruising her arm
as he spun her around to face him.  "Why did you even bother, Cassie? 
You'd kept your secret for so long, why'd you break down and tell me he
was my father?  Huh?"
     "Get your hands off me," she demanded coldly.
     "Guilt, maybe?  Afraid of what I'd think if my father died without
my ever knowing who he was?  You told me when he couldn't stop you. 
Did he want me to know - *ever*?  Did *he* send you on your mission of
mercy, or was it your own idea?  Why in hades did you even bother?"
     "I really don't know!" she snapped back.  "But hades may well be
where you belong!  Now *get your hands off me!* she screamed in fury.
     He nearly threw her away, laughing bitterly.  "Of course, my dear
Siress," he replied sarcastically.  "Anything you say.  Shoulda been
doing that all along.  I can see things real clear from here - maybe
for the first time since I met you.  I've finally seen *your*
character, without any of your socialator's wiles to cloud my mind.  I
don't particularly like what I see, either!"
     They locked bitter glares for a long centon.  It was a toss-up as
to which of them broke away first.  Cassiopeia fled to the shuttle
waiting lounge, needing a place to cool off for a while.  Starbuck
remained where he was, watching the children play, his face as bleak
and cold as a carved piece of stone, until his frozen grimness
dissolved into desolation.
     He leaned against the wall, feeling incredibly weary as the
impersonal metal surface cooled his forehead.  But it could do nothing
for his spirit.  Why'd she get to me like that?  What did I ever do to
deserve this?  Does everyone know who and what I am but me?  Why did
they lie to me for so long? he asked the wall.  It offered no response.
     He didn't return to the Memphis that night, or the next day.
 
* * * *
 
     The intensity of the shouting match with Cassiopeia seemed to take
the fight out of Starbuck, leaving him deflated, moody, and easily
depressed.  Apollo noticed it almost immediately when a subdued and
reticent Starbuck returned to the flight roster.  He didn't seem
interested in playing pyramid or triad, or in partying - or in any of
his other favorite pastimes.  He never saw Cassiopeia, occasionally
spent time with Athena, but was not seen in the company of other women. 
His performance on patrols seemed half-hearted, as though both instinct
and interest had been deadened.  Nothing could rouse him again.
     After a secton, Apollo'd had enough.  He talked to Athena; she'd
noticed that something was bothering the man, but he wasn't talking to
her about it, and her only comment was that she was glad he was paying
some attention to her again.
     The other pilots, who saw little of Starbuck, simply assumed he
was spending time with Chameleon, but Apollo knew that wasn't the case. 
Boomer admitted that Starbuck seemed quiet, but Starbuck hadn't
mentioned anything to him.  He hoped it was a passing moodiness, maybe
a result of his father's injuries, which had been severe.  He expected
the lieutenant's usual exuberance to return soon.
     Finally, Apollo felt he had no recourse but to speak directly to
Starbuck.  He cornered his friend in an empty back corridor, where he
was wandering aimlessly, no apparent destination in mind
     "All right, Starbuck, would you care to talk about it?"
     "Talk about what?" the man countered quietly.
     "Something's got you down," Apollo persisted.  "I want to know
what it is."
     Starbuck grimaced, shrugged, and looked very much like he wanted
to go elsewhere.  "Nothing's wrong," he answered.
     "I don't believe that.  I've been watching you.  You haven't been
interested in *anything* recently.  Not even Cassiopeia."
     The lieutenant stiffened, and a flash of anger crossed his face,
but was rapidly replaced by something more controlled.
     "I know you haven't seen your father since you got back on the
roster, and that's not like you--"
     "How would you know?  Keeping tabs on me these days?" Starbuck
demanded with an edge of sarcasm in his voice.
     "I'm just concerned, that's all--"
     "Look, will you quit sticking your nose in my personal life,
Captain?"
     "I'm not trying to interfere, Starbuck, but if there's something
wrong, I'd like to help."  Apollo was doing his best to control both
his surprise and his temper.
     "You can help by staying out of my business!  I can handle it
myself!"
     "Like you've been handling it this past secton?  You're not
yourself these days.  Starbuck, I'm concerned--"
     "By what right?  Who made you my keeper?" he stormed, cutting
loose.  "It's none of your business, it's nobody else's business, and
I'd appreciate it if you'd all just stay out of it!"
     Apollo froze for a moment, then leveled a glare of his most
frosty, authoritarian rage at his friend.  "What affects the
performance of my squadrons *is* my business," he seethed in clipped,
precisely-controlled tones.  "I won't press it now, for the sake of our
friendship, but you'd better shape up, or I'll *really* start
'intruding.'  In fact, it might do us both good if you went back on
furlough until you get this worked out."
     The other man glared at him.  "Like hades!"
     "Precisely like hades, Lieutenant!  Unless you'd like me to have
Cassiopeia put it on your chart as necessary for your medical and
mental health, and the health of the entire Squadron!"
     Apollo stalked away, leaving Starbuck staring open-mouthed.  He'd
gone too far, and the captain had replied in kind.  He felt a childish
urge to kick, scream, and throw things.  After one vicious kick to the
metal wall nearly broke a toe, he forced down the angry tantrum.
 
* * * *
 
     As far as Apollo was concerned, the next step was Cassiopeia.  She
provided very little help, declaring, with honey-sweet deadliness, that
where Starbuck was concerned, she knew nothing, and wanted to know
less.  Then she refused to discuss the matter further.
     Next, he went to the Memphis to visit Chameleon, who had been the
focus of Apollo's worries about Starbuck from the beginning.  He found
the old man in Blassie's quarters where he now resided and spent most
of his time.  The woman tactfully left to visit some old friends,
declaring affectionately that she was sure Chameleon was secure in the
captain's keeping.  Her choice of words startled him, but was obviously
unintentional.
     Perhaps a centar later, after a few questions, an explanation, and
a discussion of what either of them could do about Starbuck's behavior,
Apollo left the ship with a thoughtful expression on his face.
     Starbuck had been so elated when he first discovered Chameleon and
learned he might be the old wagerer's son.  Then, when Apollo
questioned Chameleon's motives, the lieutenant had been furious,
denouncing their friendship.  He'd risked his life when the Borellian
Nomen followed their blood hunt after Chameleon to the Galactica.
     Apollo remembered his friend's disappointment when the genetic
trace was reported negative, although Starbuck had tried his best to
hide his emotions when he learned he still had no known family. 
Despite that, affection and friendship had grown between the two men. 
Strange that Starbuck had grown so close, so quickly, to a man who'd
admitted using him - as close as if they really were father and son.
     Then Chameleon had been injured on the Rising Star; Cassiopeia had
admitted the genetic scan was actually positive; and Adama had given
the lieutenant a furlough to spend with his father.  Concern for
Chameleon had worn Starbuck out through that long two sectons.
     Apollo wondered if that anxiousness had somehow backfired as
Starbuck tried to sort out his emotions.  The young lieutenant disliked
admitting his feelings, or acknowledging relationships - and, short of
settling down to marriage with a woman, the relationship between father
and son was one of the closest a man could have.  Apollo knew both
relationships from his own experience, and could sympathize with
Starbuck's lack of equal equilibrium, now that he was beginning to
realize its true depth.
     Chameleon, in his quarters, knew better.  He guessed from
observation and from Blassie's sharp notice - as Apollo did not - that
the problem was more than merely adjusting to switching their
relationship to its new level.  Something about them truly troubled
Starbuck now - and if he couldn't discover what it was, he might lose
his son forever.
     He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice when the
door opened without a page chime.  A cold voice laced with accusation
broke his concentration.
     "I hadn't realized you were both in on this together," Starbuck
said bitterly.
     "What...?"  Chameleon stared at his son's dismal expression,
perilously close to that of a betrayed man.  The lieutenant's mouth
twitched, trying to show contempt, but an uncontrollable trembling said
otherwise, that he was barely keeping his emotions in check.
     "You and Captain Apollo.  I saw him leaving here a few centons
ago.  Did you send him after me, like you sent Cassiopeia?  How much
did *he* know all this time?"
     The old man didn't understand the reference to Cassiopeia, but he
knew he had to defend Apollo's visit.  He'd nearly cost Starbuck the
captain's friendship when they first met; he certainly wasn't going to
let his son think he was scheming against him with his best friend.
     "Apollo just wanted to see how I was doing--"
     "*Ha!* I talked to him this morning, and it doesn't take a genius
to figure out how his mind works, *or* yours."
     The men stared at each other.  The lieutenant was breathing
heavily, as if his lungs couldn't obtain enough oxygen to keep him on
his feet.  Chameleon's expression was somehow pleading.  He had an idea
what the problem was now.  Although he dreaded the explosion that might
occur, it had to be dealt with before it was too late, or he might lose
Starbuck's respect and love forever.
     Though the Lords know he has little reason to love or respect me,
after what I've done...
     "Starbuck, let's talk," the older man entreated.
     The younger man simply turned away and left.
     Blassie dashed into the room at an undignified pace only a centon
later.  "I saw Starbuck leave," she began somewhat breathlessly.  One
look at the grief on Chameleon's face told her enough.  "Nothing is
resolved, then?"
     "He thinks I'm conspiring against him, keeping things from me. 
And I have all these sectars.  But now he thinks Cassie and Apollo know
things I'm not telling him, and he doesn't trust any of us anymore.  He
won't even talk to me, Blassie," he finished mournfully, his face
twisting with sadness.
     "Well, we can't let that go on," she stated in exasperation.  "Oh,
Chameleon, you don't look well at all!  I believe all this stress is
having a bad effect on your recovery!  Please, lie down while I summon
a medic."
 
* * * *

     Starbuck wanted no company; he stole away from the ready room on
the pretext of checking out his ship.  Apollo hadn't yet enforced the
supposed return to furlough, but he knew that would reprieve would be
no more than a day.  Once in the launch bay, he pulled out a fumarello
and leaned against his Viper, needing some time to think.
     He was getting damned tired of being angry and/or depressed and/or
suspicious all the time.  It ran against his nature, and something
inside him was fighting desperately against it.  But the woman he
thought he loved had kept secret from him news that once would have put
him into orbit from sheer happiness.  His father had used him, then
denied him, then called him back when in fear of his life.  And his
best friend appeared to be in on the conspiracy, prying into his
personal life.
     The worst of it was that he still loved his father.  It would've
been easy to walk away if he didn't care, but Chameleon had become a
good friend.  He had behaved almost like a father, had always been
ready and glad to spend a little time with him.  So why did he refused
to acknowledge me as his son before, when he first knew it was true?
Starbuck wondered.  And why did Cassie go along with it...?  And
Apollo...?
     He'd been willing to understand and accept that Chameleon needed a
way out when facing Borellian assassins - one did what one had to in
order to survive - but why did the old man turn away from him later? 
Their meeting had not been planned; Chameleon had no idea they might
actually be related.  But why did he reject me later?  He'd accepted me
as a friend, why not as a son...?
     Starbuck wanted to kick something, or maybe get in his Viper and
blow a few Cylons into so much shrapnel.  Maybe that would set his mind
back in order, soothe the seething sense of hurt.
     He still loved his father.  But he felt hurt when he thought of
the sectars he could've had that knowledge, and the realization that
the old man had kept it from him.  He knew Chameleon loved him; he
could see that in the old man - but the hurt inside kept whispering,
making him wonder.  If not for the injury, would Chameleon ever have
told him?
     "Damn it all," he swore to his silent ship, blowing a puff of
smoke onto its gleaming finish.  "It'd be easy if I didn't care about
the old bum.  Say 'goodbye, thanks for the ride, see ya 'round.'  But I
*like* him."  And I didn't know he hurt me like this...
     "Starbuck!"
     He groaned as he turned to see Apollo hurrying toward him.  "What
is it, Captain?" he asked, being as militarily formal as he could,
almost coming to attention.
     "Your father..."  Apollo was a bit out of breath.
     "Yeah?"  Starbuck was wary.
     "Relapse of some kind.  He's not well.  Cassie's over there seeing
to him, said I should call you..."
     "Why?"  Starbuck was skeptical.  If Cassie was involved, and
Apollo...  He watched the captain closely.  He could always tell when
his friend was lying, or trying to hide something.  The man had no
guile in him, his conscience wouldn't permit it.  But he could detect
no evidence of falsehood.
     "Starbuck, he's your *father*!"  Apollo exploded.  "Doesn't that
mean anything?  You wanted family for so long, now you've got it and
you're acting like...like..."  He shook his head.  "What in hades has
gotten into you?"
     "Maybe 'father' means something to *you.* You've had one all your
life!" he retorted.  "But this is a new thing for me, and for him, too! 
And I'm not sure he likes it this way!"
     "You don't think he cares about you?"  Apollo stared at him
incredulously.
     "Of course he cares, it's just..."  Starbuck didn't know what to
say; he felt cornered.
     "Do you care about him?"
     "Damned right I do!"
     "Then go to him."
 
* * * *

     He recognized the blonde head of the woman leaning over his
father's bed.  Cassiopeia looked up at the sound of his entry, her face
carefully emptying of emotion when she saw who it was that stood in the
archway.
     "I'll be back to check on you again," she murmured to Chameleon. 
"Stay in bed for the rest of the day; don't weary yourself.  I'd
recommend that you not overtax your strength for the next few days. 
Don't hesitate to call me if you feel the slightest pain."
     Her attention still on her patient, the med tech gave Starbuck
instructions in a reproachful voice.  "Don't do or say anything to
distress him, Lieutenant.  Your father is not a well man."
     "How bad...?" he began in a whisper, but she brushed past him
without a word more, leaving him along with Chameleon.
     He approached the bed, swallowing hard before speaking, seeing the
frail old man's bright eyes watching him hopefully.  "Hello...Father."
     "I'm glad you came, Starbuck."
     His heart skipped a beat.  Chameleon's voice held the peaceful
serenity of a man who has accepted his fate and was prepared for it. 
Anxiously, he dropped to his knees next to the bed, reaching with
shaking fingers for the old man's hand.  "Are you sure you're all
right?"
     "As right as any man my age can be," was the sighed reply.  "But
Cassie tells me I'll be fine.  A little stress was upsetting the
healing process, that's all."
     My fault!  "Is there anything I can do for you, Father?"  Tears
burned in his eyes.  I'm responsible for this relapse...
     "Yes, son, there is.  Will you please tell me what I've done
wrong, that you've turned away from me?"
     Starbuck wasn't prepared for that.  He bowed his head for a
moment, stunned and ashamed.  "I haven't...  It's nothing, Father,
just...  I haven't turned away from you."
     "Then tell me what's disturbing you.  I'd like to know; maybe I
can help."  His father sounded so concerned.  "I've had a lot of
experience with problems.  You'd be surprised what I know," he added
helpfully.
     Starbuck's throat was tight.  How could he tell this sick old man
what was destroying his trust, leaving a desperate love that craved to
be acknowledged, begged to be shared?  "Father, it..."
     "Please, Starbuck.  It hurts to see you suffering so, and not be
allowed to help..."
     "All right, I'll tell you."  Licking his lips and closing his
eyes, Starbuck began to speak.  "All my life I've had lots of friends,
or at least lots of people around me.  But I've never had family.  I've
dreamed...fantasized about what it would be like to find my parents
somehow, to have a real mother, a real father, not foster parents...
     "Oh, they were good to me, but I always knew I didn't belong to
them.  I had no past, no way of knowing where I was really from, not
even how old I really was, or when my birthday was.  I'd dream about
strangers showing up at the door some day, a rich grandparent or uncle,
someone who'd been looking for me since the Cylon raid, who would
welcome me as family and tell me who I really was.
     "Wishful thinking.  I thought I was over it by the time I entered
the Academy.  And after the Destruction...well, nobody seemed to have
much left in the way of family.  We were all orphans in a way.  So I
didn't think it mattered to me anymore...
     "Then I met you on the Rising Star.  You gave me that story about
looking for a long-lost son, sent me to seventh heaven, thinking my
kid's dream might finally be coming true - somebody who'd been looking
for me, claiming me...
     "But you just needed a way off the ship, a warrior's protection
from the Nomen.  And I turned out to be it.  Nearly got killed for it,
said a lot of stupid things along the way - but it felt good, thinking
I'd finally found a family, even if we two were all that was left of
it.  I didn't feel so *alone* any more..."
     Chameleon's grip tightened on his fingers.  Starbuck risked
opening his eyes long enough to see tears glistening on the old man's
cheeks.  Then he continued, looking away.  This was the hard part.
     "But you were just...using me.  It was a greater surprise to you
that it turned out to be the truth after all.  But for some reason, you
decided not to tell me.  I don't understand why.  All I could think of
was that you didn't really want me for a son, that I wasn't...what you
wanted."  He could feel his voice shaking.  He swallowed hard.  "You
knew I was really your son; you could have let it stand at that.  We
could've had all this time together..."
     "But we've had the time together, as friends," Chameleon
interrupted, his voice gentle.
     "Yes...  We've been friends.  You freed me from any obligation to
you, and now you've called me back...  When Cassie told me, I was so
scared you'd die, I didn't even think...  But now..."
     "I swore Cassie to secrecy.  She broke her word to me.  I wanted
to save the news for a better time..."
     "What?  What better time?  Why?" Starbuck pleaded.  He ignored the
tears; he couldn't have stopped them if he tried.
     "I wanted to save it for your sealing day.  I thought it would
work better that way.  Don't be angry with Cassie, son.  I made her do
it.  I may have been wrong, but she kept her silence because I wanted
her to."
     "But *why* did you want it that way?"
     Chameleon's thin arms reached out to pull him closer.  "Son, do
you remember what you said when you were showing me your ship, jut
before the Borellians came?"
     "I...I was going to help you...  We were going to make up for lost
time."
     "You were going to resign from the Service, give up your friends,
spend all your time with me - and I wasn't even really a genetic
tracer!  I didn't deserve that kind of devotion from you.  I still
don't."
     "But..."
     "Do you really think after all we've both been through in our
lives that we could find those lost yahrens again?  That we could make
it as if they had never been?  There've been many times I wanted to
tell you, but that's always held me back - I couldn't let you give up
everything you held dear just for that.  It would've been the most
selfish thing I could've done.  I couldn't destroy your life like
that."  The old man sounded very convinced of what he was saying,
gently remonstrating with his son - and Starbuck felt in his hear that
it was the truth.
     Chameleon continued.  "You wouldn't have been *happy.*  And worse,
you'd have felt guilty.  Every friend that died in battle, you would
have wondered if you could have saved him if you'd been there.  Every
civilian killed in an attack, you would have wondered if you could have
been the one to keep the enemy away.  It would have been a wedge that
grew between us until you hated me.  Until you hated what I'd made you. 
It would have torn you up inside, and burned out your spirit.  I
couldn't do that to you."
     Starbuck closed his eyes again, accepting that.  "But you *would*
have told me?" he persisted.  "You would have let me know some time?" 
He had to know that, at least.
     "I would have told you when we were safe and the time was right,
probably on your sealing day.  There's not much an old scoundrel like
me could give you besides a worse reputation than you've already got! 
I explained that to Cassie; I had to, or she wouldn't promise."
     "You didn't tell her what I...?"  Starbuck suddenly felt trapped. 
If Chameleon had told her what he'd said about *her,* that she was the
only woman...
     Chameleon laughed.  "No, son, that's for you to tell her, if or
when you ever decide for sure.  I don't intend to interfere in your
life that way.  I made her promise, against her wishes, for your sake. 
Don't be angry with her.  Make up with her; she cares about you, very
much..."
     His son's smile was watery.  "I know.  She's put up with a lot
from me, and stood by me, too.  I'll make up with her - if she'll ever
see me again.  I said some pretty awful things to her, and I don't know
if she'll ever forgive me..."
     "Try her.  She's a wonderful woman."
     "No matchmaking, Father."  Starbuck managed a quavering laugh.
     "All right, son.  But will you forgive me?  I didn't want to hurt
you.  I thought it was for the best.  I may have been wrong, but I
didn't do it to hurt you."
     "If you'll forgive me.  I didn't think."
     "I guess I should've explained things to you, too, instead of just
to Cassie.  Promise me, Starbuck, that you'll never change your life
for me.  I love you just the way you are, just because you're my son,
and because you're the man you are.  You've never let me down.  I've
always been proud of you.  You don't have to mold yourself to some
image..."
     Starbuck's embrace was spontaneous.  He'd heard all he needed to
hear; the breach was healed.  And it probably wouldn't take much, with
both of them working on it, to find the trust again.

* * * *

     Siress Blassie permitted herself a slight smile as Apollo stared
gravely at the closed door.  Cassie had a somber look on her face as
she quietly paced the floor.  But then, even if Starbuck accepted
Chameleon's explanation, there was no guarantee he would want to
reconcile with her.
     "How bad is he, really?" Apollo asked the med tech.
     The woman stared at him for a moment, blinking, then suddenly
smiled a little, shaking her head.  "Oh, he's fine.  A little tired and
worried, that's all."
     "But Siress Blassie made it sound..."  He stared from one woman to
the other.
     "If *you* hadn't believed Chameleon was truly in danger of his
life, neither would Starbuck.  He knows you too well, Captain," Blassie
chimed in, an innocent smile on her aristocratic face.
     The captain's jaw dropped, and he looked accusingly at Cassiopeia. 
 "You...you *lied*!  It was all a scheme...!"
     "All Blassie's idea," Cassiopeia demurred.
     "And well executed!" Apollo declared, gazing at the older woman,
who sat calmly on her couch.
     "But to a good end, wouldn't you say, Captain?  Chameleon need
merely spend a day or two in bed to complete the charade, and Starbuck
need know no more until he has better adapted to being a son again,"
Blassie stated with quiet pride.
     "You're very good at manipulating people, you know that?" Apollo
asked in surprise.
     She raised her perfectly lined eyebrows.  "Manipulating people is
beneath my dignity, Captain.  But as I assume you meant that as a form
of compliment, I will accept it as such."
     Cassiopeia fidgeted as she stared at the door.  "It's my fault.  I
should have realized how Starbuck would react once he had time to think
about it.  He's very sensitive, whether he'll admit it or not.  He just
hides his read feelings so well..."
     "You were too close, child," Blassie interrupted maternally. 
"Just give him a little time.  Things will work out for both of you."
     The younger woman blushed a little at her senior's knowing glance. 
"I'd better get back to the Galactica then and check my real patients. 
I'm supposed to be working here!  I'll be back tomorrow, Siress
Blassie.  Thank you.  For both their sakes."  She touched Blassie's
extended hand for a micron, then left the chamber.
     "I should go, too," Apollo said thoughtfully.  "Somehow, I doubt
Starbuck will need me to keep the shuttle waiting.  I don't think he'll
be back on the Galactica tonight.  Good thing I kept his furlough in
the records; I can just rekey it for a few days, with no excess
paperwork.  I'm sure he'll fill me in on the necessary details when he
apologizes for being such an equinus' astrum this past secton.  You're
a devious woman, Siress Blassie.  Remind me to be careful when you're
around!"
     The woman smiled easily.  "Of course, Captain.  Do come again; we
all enjoy your company."  She gave no further elaboration.  Apollo had
the distinct impression she was concealing mirth.
     Impulsively, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before
leaving.  "Thanks - for all three of them."  He winked.
     A delicate rose color flashed on her cheeks as the young man left. 
Yes, Starbuck's friends were certainly fine people.  And despite her
less-than-pristine past, on any planet but Gemon, gentle Cassiopeia
would be a find addition to the most aristocratic of families - not
that pasts mattered much in their new lives in the fleet.
     Siress Blassie steepled her hands before her as she settled back
further into the crushed velveen of her chair.  Her smile was
enigmatic.
     Chameleon's rehabilitation is still my affair... 

- The End -