Apollo was sitting in the celestial dome when it happened. A skip, a hitch in the great engines of the Galactica, a brief moment of silence that was mind-bendingly loud, up here where the engine noise defined existence.

"What the frack?"

Before he'd finished swearing, the engines had resumed their steady thrum, propelling the battlestar through the vastness of space. He wondered if he'd imagined the incident, but it had been too real, too alarming, for imagination. He settled back in the chair slowly, then realized it was no use. He'd never be able to relax enough to enjoy the view until he knew what had caused that skip.

He made his way out of the dome and down to Dr. Wilker's lab.

"Doc? You in here?"

"Yes, I'm here," the doctor responded. "What is it?" He emerged from the depths of a storage closet.

"I noticed something odd a bit ago, and was wondering if you might know what it was."

"What was it?" Wilker brushed his hands against his lab coat, raising a cloud of dust.

"It was very strange..." Apollo hesitated, certain Wilker would say he'd been imagining things, but continued anyway. "The engines—they had a skip, a hesitation—a moment when they went completely silent..."

Dr. Wilker sighed. "Well, given who you are, I see no reason to hide the cause of this from you."

"Hide the cause? You know about it, then." Apollo was torn between outrage and relief.

"Do you recall the memo you received a few sectons ago, to look out for planets of a specific type in your scouting runs?"

"Yes, certainly. It's part of every pilot's standing orders. But what—"

Wilker sighed again. "Those requirements are absolutely essential. The Galactica is an old ship, well over five hundred yahrens old. She has been operating constantly now for nearly five yahrens, and is well overdue for routine maintenance. If we don't find a planet soon and perform a complete maintenance overhaul on the old girl, she'll break down and we'll be dead in the water, so to speak."

Apollo blinked. "Well. I can see why you haven't been broadcasting that information to the general public."

"Yes. Your father wisely decided to restrict the knowledge to prevent panic."

"There's nothing that can be done, then? Not unless we can find an appropriate planet." Apollo chewed his lip thoughtfully. "And it must be those exact specifications, or it won't do any good."

"Indeed. If the Galactica doesn't get a complete overhaul, she won't be reliable at all."

"Hmm. What a difficult situation. Thank you for your time, Dr. Wilker. We'll keep watch for that planet—it's bound to be out there somewhere."

He left the lab, deep in thought. There was little he could do to step up the search for a planet that may or may not exist—scanners were limited to their maximum range, Vipers were limited by fuel concerns, manpower was limited... Perhaps he could start sending out double patrols, cover more territory—yes, that would do. That would do very well.


The planet was located a few sectares later, when the skip in the engines was becoming more noticeable. Apollo dropped Boomer's report on his father's desk with a vast sigh of relief.

"Boomer found the planet we need, Father," he said.

"Excellent! Where is it?" Adama skimmed over the report, making satisfied noises under his breath.

"Not very far. At our present speed, we'll be there in a few centares. How long will the repairs take?"

"Quite a while, I'm afraid. Dr. Wilker said that with the amount of damage and neglect to repair, it could take sectares. That's why one of the prerequisites was a temperate zone. We're likely to be on the surface for a while."

"The surface? Really?" Apollo couldn't contain a rush of excitement. He hadn't been on a planet in quite some time.

"Yes, really," Adama smiled indulgently.


The news swept the fleet like wildfire: a sectares-long break from the endless journey, on a planet which had already been christened Paradise by the first landing party. Morale was unbelievably high. Captains of the smaller ships were eager for the opportunity to perform much needed maintenance on their craft as well.

Apollo was one of the last from the Galactica to reach the surface. He'd had to oversee the exodus, and was more than ready for a break by the time the last shuttle had launched. He strapped himself into his Viper, too tired and frustrated to even get excited. He made a circuit of the planet before landing, noting with interest the vast seas. Perhaps there'd be a chance to try sailing, something he'd developed an interest in long ago. At last, he landed on the vast plateau where the main camp had been set up.

Temporary shelters were laid out in precise order, the only order in the chaotic scene. People hurried about, intent on tasks known only to themselves, while children darted through the crowds, shrieking with glee. Apollo pushed his way through the chaos until he reached a specific cluster of shelters, those designated for Blue Squadron.

"Apollo! Took you long enough!" Starbuck called cheerfully, as soon as he neared.

"I was busy babysitting," Apollo said with rich disgust, as he settled beside his friend in front of a cheery campfire. Cassie smiled at him from across the fire, and Sheba emerged from her shelter and joined him, hope written all over her face.

"So, what do you think?" Starbuck gestured to the fire, the shelters, and the night around them.

"I think it's bloody crowded here," Apollo confessed. "We've got a whole planet here, you'd think the camp would be spread out a bit more."

"Well, it'll do for now," Starbuck said.

Apollo ignored Sheba's whispered suggestion for what could be done with privacy in favor of reaching for the steaming mug Starbuck held out to him. She'd been getting really pushy lately, and it was bothering him. He sipped at the mug, making the discovery that it was tea... with a little extra.

"Any chance of some food around here?" Apollo glanced about hopefully.

"You missed the big dinner they put together," Sheba said, with a toss of her hair. She didn't like to be ignored.

"Great, just what I needed." Apollo shifted uncomfortably. Despite the thick grassy cushion, the ground was hard.

"Sheba, what's gotten into you?" Cassie frowned. "You've been pissy all evening. Apollo, there's plenty of food left—in the main square, over that way." She pointed to the brightly lit and crowded area in the middle of the shelters.

Starbuck leaned close to Apollo. "Watch out," he said in a low voice. "She's pissed at you because you got her seperate quarters."

Apollo choked back a laugh and rose to fetch his dinner. As if he'd really share quarters with Sheba! Beautiful though she was, she still made him nearly as nervous as a deadly gilded sand viper—which was, likewise, quite beautiful.


"Ahh!" Apollo squawked and jumped in a most undignified manner. "What the frack!"

Starbuck burst out laughing. "Easy, buddy, I just wanted to get your attention!"

"Make some noise next time, will you?" Apollo grumbled and resumed his seat on the log near his shelter.

"Hey," Starbuck said, sitting beside his friend on the log, "I had an idea."

"What kind of idea?" Apollo asked, with a caution born of experiencing a few too many of Starbuck's "ideas" in the past.

"I was thinking we could take the girls out and go exploring—" Starbuck couldn't continue. He was laughing too hard at the horrified look Apollo wore.

"Starbuck, if you know what's good for you, you won't finish that statement." Apollo's frazzled expression spoke clearly of the past three sectons of harassment from Sheba. Every time he turned around, she was there—once she'd even slipped into his bed. The entire squadron had roused to find out what the cause of all the yelling was, only to find a nude Sheba being ejected from Apollo's quarters.

"Oh, come on, Apollo—you know me better than that." Starbuck sobered completely. "Seriously, now, I was thinking of heading out to do a little exploring, just you and me. Athena's agreed to take Boxey, so no need to worry about him. Everyone else is enjoying this break, this Paradise. I hate to see you so miserable."

"What can I do, Starbuck? Everywhere I go, everything I do—she's right there, trying to get into my pants." Apolllo knew he sounded whiny, but he was too tired and frustrated to care.

"Well, if it were anyone other than Sheba, I'd say fuck 'er and dump 'er. But that could make for bad feelings among the pilots."

"You've got that right! I still can't believe that bitch managed to get herself transferred over to my squadron." He chewed his lip moodily, then realized what he'd said and looked around quickly. Captains weren't supposed to slander their pilots in public, no matter how richly said pilots deserved slandering.

"Yeah, me either. But anyway—what say, old friend? Want to come with me? I've reserved a shuttle already, and I heard there's some incredible islands along the equator, nothing but sun, sea, sand, and beauty..." Starbuck dangled his lure with a winsome smile.

"When can we go?" Apollo snatched at the bait like a starving lionfish.

"Right now," Starbuck said with deep satisfaction.

"Let me get my things—" Apollo was off like a shot, to return in a few moments trying to fasten a carryall with a shirtsleeve dangling from it.

"That was fast," Starbuck grinned. He rose from the log and led the way to the shuttle he'd requisitioned. With the Galactica out of service for now, life had become one big party, and any qualified pilot was able to request the use of a shuttle.

"Just between us, Bucko," Apollo checked for listeners. "I was about ready to make a run for the hills on my own. She's driving me frackin' crazy!"

"I hear that. Load 'er up!"

Apollo tossed his pack into the open shuttle door, then slipped into the pilot's chair.

"Hey!" Starbuck came up behind him and shook the back of the chair. "Move your arse! I'm flying this trip. This is time for you to relax and enjoy."

"As if I can ever relax and enjoy when you're flying," Apollo grumbled, but he moved over to the co-pilot's seat.

"C'mon, now, you know I'm hot shit, you've told me so yourself!" Starbuck powered up the engines.

"I believe my words were hot shot, and that's not necessarily a—frack!"

Starbuck snickered. "Wave goodbye to the lovely lady, now."

As the shuttle began to lift off, Apollo was treated to a splendid view of Sheba indulging in a fine fit of temper. He sighed, a genuine smile spreading slowly from ear to ear for the first time in far too long.

"Now that's a sight that's good for the soul—Sheba, left in the backblast."

Starbuck laughed and opened up the throttle, shooting seaward with an insolent waggle of the wings.

Apollo laughed as well. Layers of tension began to peel off him as the base camp dwindled to a mere speck behind them. He was off duty—completely and totally off duty, with no need to worry about emergencies or Cylons or amorous pilots in heat—for the first time in seven yahrens.

"So, where is it you're taking me, Bucko?"

"No clue," Starbuck replied. "I figured we'd just head for the equator, and see what we could find."

"No clue? You mean, you just—" Apollo caught himself, took a few deep breaths. "Okay, relax now, this isn't a mission..."

Starbuck chuckled.

"That sounds rather fun," Apollo said, with a hint of surprise. "I don't think I've had a chance to just go somewhere since—oh, since yahrens before the Destruction. Remember how we used to explore planets together, back before the Cylons became such a problem?"

"Yeah," Starbuck sighed. "Those were good days..."

"You and me and a survey team, just wandering around new planets... damn, I miss exploration."

"Yeah, me too. And I miss all the time we had to just have fun, you know?"

"Fun—what's that?" He peered out the forward window. "Hey—check that out!"

"Check what out?"

"That island right there. You see it? Shaped kind of like a crescent moon?"

"My, how poetic—yeah, I see it. You want that one?"

"I think so. Put her down in that green spot—no, not that one! The other green—yeah, that's it."

Starbuck settled the shuttle into a pocket of emerald vegetation. He powered down the systems and popped the door. Apollo was out it before Starbuck had even unfastened his harness.

"It's amazing!" Apollo threw his arms wide and inhaled the sweet clean air deeply. "Just look at this place, Bucko!"

The shuttle was nestled in a pocket valley, cradled between arms of igneous rock. Huge trees clung tenaciously to the slope of the island's central mountain, while thick tropical foliage covered the ground. A slender ribbon of water fell into a deep pool overhung by blooming vines.

"Lovely," Starbuck agreed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be the practical one for once, and get set up here. You go on and have fun."

"What do you need done? I can help, it's no bother—"

"Apollo." Starbuck's firm tone was spoiled by the twinkle in his eyes. "You will go enjoy yourself. Leave the work to me for once, okay? You need a break."

"Are you sure?" He frowned dubiously. "I really don't mind doing my share—"

"And so you will," Starbuck promised cheerfully. "But for now, let me spoil you, okay?"

"All right, if you insist..." Apollo moved off slowly, waiting for Starbuck to change his mind.

He wandered around the area, investigating the foliage and laughing at the antics of feathered avian lifeforms. They hopped through the trees and called inquisitively to each other, trying to determine what this new creature was. An exceptionally bold one even hopped onto Apollo's arm, where it cocked its head and chuckled comically before returning to its tree.

There was a stream flowing away from the deep pool. Apollo followed it for a short distance, until it reached another clearing on a wide ledge, to plummet to the depths below. The entire island sprawled out beneath him, lush and green until it joined the sea in a pristine expanse of sandy beach. Apollo just stood there for a long moment, reveling in the knowledge that he was completely free of Sheba.

He heaved a deep and heartfelt sigh. What could he do to get through to that bitch that he wasn't interested? Telling her—repeatedly—obviously wasn't good enough. Still she pursued him, and there was no place he could run that was far enough to escape her permanently. At least Starbuck had hit on the perfect solution for now.

Apollo slowly returned to the shuttle, to find that Starbuck, true to his word, had laid out a decent campsite. No fire, but who needed one in the tropical warmth? He had bedrolls laid out, and a regulation explorer's stove set up, with something bubbling atop it.

"Starbuck!" Apollo laughed. "Where did you dig that thing up?" He knelt beside the stove and sniffed the contents of the pot. "And this—it can't be—"

"It is." Starbuck grinned. "Abalonian sea crawlies, your old favorite."

"I won't even ask where you found those..." Apollo sat back, feeling rather stunned. "Why did you go to all this trouble?"

"For you, of course." Starbuck grinned even wider. "You needed a break, especially from that bitch. What better way than to bug off for a bit, away from anyone else?"

"Man—what would I ever do without you, old friend?" Apollo smiled.

"You'd overwork yourself relentlessly and never have any fun."

"You have a point there. Hey, what's that you're hiding behind your back?"

"Eh—not yet, that's for later." Starbuck maneuvered himself so the whatever remained hidden and checked the progress of dinner. He made a satisfied noise and reached one-handed for a plate.

Apollo was beyond amazement. He could scarecely believe the trouble Starbuck had gone to, just to cheer him up. The meal was excellent, despite the fact that it was seasoned only by hunger and fresh air. And then Starbuck pulled out the surprise—a bottle of Sverinen brandy.

"Shit."

"Excuse me?" Starbuck blinked. That was hardly the reaction he'd anticipated.

"I love this stuff." Apollo held up the bottle, a beautiful cut crystal affair that must have cost a ludicrous amount of cubits. It glittered in the last rays of the setting sun, while the fiery amber liquid sloshed within.

"I know you do, and you haven't had any in yahrens."

"And I can't have any now—you know what it does to me." He sighed heavily.

Starbuck grinned. "So that's your problem. You're off duty, remember? And there's no way in the seven hells of Farengay anyone can call you back. So relax and enjoy yourself for once."

"Off duty..." Apollo said. A slow smile spread off his face. "Off duty! Not on call, not the Captain, not hunted—I'm just plain Apollo!" He laughed and popped the cork loose. "Here's to you, the best friend anyone could ever want." He drank, with appreciation for the fine brandy.

"Now that's more like it." Starbuck grinned. They passed the bottle back and forth, savoring the rare treat. Relaxed and mellow, they watched the stars come out one by one, until a broad starry band stretched across the sky, the arm of the galaxy seen up close and personal.

"How is it," Starbuck mused, "how is it the stars seem so close here?"

"Dunno," Apollo said. "Should be t'other way around—closer when we're up there."

"Think I could touch 'em," Starbuck said, reaching out a hand. Apollo caught it in his own and pulled Starbuck into a close embrace.

"I love you, man," he said. "I love you."

"I know," Starbuck said. He wrapped an arm around Apollo and tangled his fingers in the long hair. Silence settled over the pair. At some point, consciousness went the same way as the brandy, lost in the darkness.


The transition from deeply unconscious into awareness was slow and langorous. First, Apollo was aware of a gentle breeze, tugging at his hair. Then he began to feel his body, warm and comfortable. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly, to find his head still pillowed on Starbuck's shoulder.

"Mmmm," he sighed. It was like a dream come true. He nestled closer still, in a rare display of affection. It was slowly beginning to sink in. He was off duty. There was no one at all who could call him to task for—ahem—unprofessional conduct. It was almost like it had been, so long ago; just himself and Starbuck, a pair of hotshot pilots flying an explore and evaluate crew from one new world to the next. Pilots who were rather closer than your average friends, who were beginning to realize that fact for themselves... when they were recalled to active military duty, and one was put in command over the other.

What a waste.

Apollo spared a moment to regret the lost opportunity of so long ago, then struggled to his feet. Certain calls of nature overruled even the resurrection of old emotional ties.

When he returned to the clearing from the privacy of the trees, he found a grumpy Starbuck struggling to rise.

"You look as uncoordinated as I feel," Apollo smiled. He collapsed—er, sat—on an unused bedroll.

"Frack, man. Forgot how that stuff can make you feel." Starbuck succeeded in standing and stumbled off to answer nature's call.

Apollo grinned complacently. He remembered the effects of the brandy precisely, which was why he had never indulged in the stuff when he had to stand duty any time in the next several days. One of the most notable aftereffects of the Sverinen brandy was a persistent relaxation, a delicious languor which made it very difficult to accomplish anything, other than being lazy.

"Hey, you," Starbuck said, reemerging from the bushes.

"Yeah?" Apollo found he was still smiling. Starbuck was beautiful. Rumpled and sleepy though he was, he was still beautiful.

"What's for breakfast?" He stretched and yawned, then joined Apollo on the bedroll.

Apollo thumped his best friend on the arm. "Don't even think about it," he warned.

"Think about what?" Big blue eyes, all injured innocence, fastened guilelessly on Apollo's face.

"You know damn good and well I ain't going anywhere near food for a while."

"It was worth a try." Starbuck smiled slowly. He was enjoying this rare glimpse of his old friend, the happy young man he'd spent so much time with—before the Cylons had put an end to their fun.

"You know what I want to do?"

"What's that?"

"Since I'm going to feel about as energetic as a cooked crawlie for the rest of the day—"

Starbuck snorted. "Secton, you mean. That shit's strong."

"Whatever. Why don't we head down to the beach, be lazy down there?"

"You must be bloody joking."

"Nah, not really. Why?"

"Lords, man—how the hell do you expect to get down there?"

"C'mere."

Apollo rose, relaxed but determined, and led Starbuck through the trees to the place he had stumbled upon while relieving himself. A gentle slope, covered in vivid flowers, led down to a tiny pocket of beach.

Starbuck blinked at it in confusion. "Wait a minute—how's that possible? Aren't we on a mountain?"

"That we are, but it seems it's not as high as it looks. Because that's definitely beach down there. You coming with?"

"Hell, Apollo, if you can make it down that slope, then so can I."

"Good. Come on, then."

Apollo led the way, slipping and sliding on the alien flowers. The beach was larger than it looked. It gleamed pristine and white in the early afternoon sun. When Apollo realized what angle the sun was shining at, he checked his chrono.

"Sagan! It's late! Why the hell'd you let me sleep so late, Star?"

Starbuck laughed. He paused in the act of stripping to look at how bright the sun was, reflecting off the beach, off the water, shining warmly from the sky... then left his undershorts on. Last thing he wanted was a sunburn in a sensitive area.

"Oh, come on, Pol—what's it matter? Who cares how late you sleep while you're on vacation?"

"Frack. There I go again." He shook his head ruefully and stripped down to his shorts as well.

The water was a nice temperature—not cold, by any means, but not too warm either. Apollo and Starbuck swam for a bit, then returned to the beach to sprawl comfortably on the wet sand.

"You know what we forgot?" Apollo twisted a strand of seaweed idly through his fingers.

"Sunscreen?"

"No, towels."

"Frack."

"Yeah."

"Oh well."

They lay there for a while, until the brandy-induced langour wore off. Apollo began to feel restless. He scrambled to his feet, shedding sand in all directions, and wandered down the beach. He found a tide pool and was crouching by the edge, watching the inhabitants, when Starbuck joined him.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Check this out." Apollo reached under the water and pulled out a lumpy little creature. "Isn't this thing shaped just like a heart?"

"That's weird." Starbuck leaned over to look at the thing. It did indeed resemble a heart. "See, it's got valves and everything—"

Just then, the little creature released a stream of water from one of its valves directly into Apollo's face. Starbuck laughed as Apollo, sputtering indignantly, put the creature back where it had come from.

"Serves you right," Starbuck snickered.

Apollo threw a handful of wet sand at him. "Now I'm all wet again."

"Oh, damn. Guess we'll just have to go back in the water."

Apollo grinned. "Guess so. Can't have me being the only wet one here. Race you?"

"You're on!" Laughing, Starbuck sprinted for the water, a short distance away. Apollo caught him in the water and ducked him under, which set off a massive splashing war.

Breathless and worn out, they eventually returned to the beach, to bake themselves dry in the remaining sunlight.

"I really needed this, Star. Thank you."

"Anytime, buddy. You're so much more fun to be around when you're not stressed out."

Apollo threatened him with more sand.

"No, no—not that! Anything but that!" Starbuck cowered away from the handful of sand dramatically. Apollo drew back his arm to let fly, then blinked.

"Holy shit, Star—" He dropped the sand and leaned closer to inspect his friend's hide. "You're redder than that squirting critter was!"

"I am?" Starbuck glanced at his chest. His skin was a splendid shade of scarlet. "Uh-oh..." He looked at Apollo closely. Sure enough, he was a uniform shade of bright red as well. "You are too, Pol."

"Damn, damn, damn. We'd better get back up there and put something on these burns, before they start to hurt." Grumbling under his breath about stupidity, Apollo struggled up off the sand. He brushed hopelessly at the grains which clung to him, then surrendered to the inevitable and left the sand where it was. He gathered up his clothing and set off towards the flower-covered hill, Starbuck following. They paused when the sand turned into dirt.

"You getting dressed?"

"Hell no!" Apollo looked at the slope, which seemed much steeper from down here. "I'll put my boots on, but I am not getting into these pants all sandy. I itch badly enough as it is."

"Good point." They slipped into their boots, leaving the laces loose.

Apollo snickered. "What a pair of dorks we look like."

"Good thing there's no one to see," Starbuck said, then tackled the side of the mountain. It was more work to get up than it had been coming down, but it wasn't too difficult. They reached the campsite as the sun was setting.

"Amazing," Apollo sighed, looking at the sunset. "Never get to see this kind of thing in space."

"Closest you can find is a nebula," Starbuck agreed. "You want something for dinner?"

Apollo's stomach growled with a vengeance. "Yes, I believe I do," he said, somewhat surprised. "Is there food in the shuttle?"

"Damn straight. I brought lots of stuff along, enough for quite a while."

"Excellent." Apollo went into the shuttle and discovered a full case of the freeze-dried meals once so common on E&E missions. He smiled, running a hand over the crate. Where had Starbuck turned this up? He really was amazing.

While he was in the shuttle, Apollo hunted up the medkit as well. In it he found a tube of burn cream, good for anything from mild sunburn to serious space freeze. He emerged from the shuttle and started the ration packs to rehydrating, then joined Starbuck on his bedroll.

"Lay down, you," he said, brandishing the tube of cream. Starbuck obliged willingly and Apollo rubbed a generous amount of the cream into Starbuck's back.

"Ahhhh," Starbuck sighed. "That feels so good- I hadn't realized how much my skin was burning."

"Well, you have to do the rest. I have to go check dinner." He left the cream beside Starbuck and returned to the camp stove.

The food was rehydrating nicely. Apollo stirred it and turned, to find Starbuck there.

"Your turn now, Pol." Starbuck held up the tube of burn cream.

Apollo hurried to the blanket and laid down. His skin was starting to burn with an insistent fury that threatened to consume him. "Well?"

Starbuck settled beside him and started spreading the cream on gently. "I was just thinking..."

"Mmm... thinking what?"

A quiet chuckle. "You really do look funny with just your shorts and your boots."

"Oh fracking well." Apollo sat up and kicked off his boots. "Better?" He held out his hand for the tube.

"Much." The light of the three moons rising lit his unrepentant grin. Apollo smeared the rest of his body with the soothing cream, while Starbuck pulled the food off the stove.

"Hey! Don't I get any of that?"

"Get it for yourself, lobster boy." Starbuck snickered.

"Lobster boy, my ass," Apollo grumbled. "At least I'll be tan in the morning. You'll still be red."

"Yeah, yeah—shut up and eat."

After they'd eaten, they watched the moons play tag across the sky for a while. One was large and a pale yellow, one was greyish, and the medium size one was pale green.

"Starbuck," Apollo said, leaning lazily back on his elbows, "what do you think I should do about Sheba?"

"Ugh. Forget about that bitch, would you? She can't get anywhere near you, so just don't even think about her."

"I know, I know—but eventually, we'll have to go back."

Starbuck shuddered. "Perish the thought. Uniforms, and rules, and bitches in heat—I'd rather stay out here forever."

"Yeah. Too bad my father's so set on finding Earth. I wouldn't mind settling here."

"Yeah. This would make a hell of a good home."

"Yeah." A huge yawn caught Apollo by surprise. "I think I'm going to crash. Today really wore me out."

"G'night, then."

"Night."

Apollo made his way over to his bedroll and lay down. The gentle night breeze played across his bare skin, cooling the heat from the sunburn. Thoughts chased themselves around his head in a random fashion. Sheba, Starbuck—resuming the endless voyage—Starbuck...

Apollo rolled over, trying to get comfortable. He heard Starbuck rise and go to his own bedroll. What a shame. Last night he'd slept like a rock, and it wasn't all due to the brandy. He missed Starbuck beside him. He wondered, not for the first time, what would have happened if the Cylons had never resumed hostilities, if they had never been recalled and returned to active duty. Probably they would have gotten into a whole lot of trouble...

A noise made him open his eyes. Starbuck stood over him, blanket in hand. "I couldn't sleep," he confessed.

"Me either. I was lonely."

Neither said a word as Starbuck laid out his bedroll beside Apollo's, then lay down himself. With Starbuck beside him, Apollo was at last able to quiet his thoughts and drift off to sleep.


Apollo woke to the song of the avians. He stretched and decided he felt rested enough to remain awake. When he opened his eyes, he found Starbuck beside him, watching him.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. See something interesting?"

"You're always interesting." Starbuck ran a hand lightly over Apollo's shoulder and down his arm. "You really did turn tan overnight."

"Told you I would. While you, on the other hand, are still red."

"Not as bad as yesterday, though."

Apollo stared into those blue, blue eyes. "Tell me," he said softly, "are we really free here to do as we please?"

"Nobody's here to stop us, now."

Apollo reached for Starbuck, even as the other man reached for him. Their lips met in a hesitant kiss.

"Apollo..."

"Yes?" Apollo pulled away, but Starbuck's hands stopped him.

"We should never have listened to them."

"I know." They kissed again, less hesitant this time.

"You know what else?"

"Hmm?" Apollo didn't pause in his exploration of Starbuck with his hands. His skin was so soft, probably from all the burn cream, but it felt so nice...

"I need to brush my teeth."

Apollo blinked, then laughed. "Only you—" he gasped. "Only you would say something like that at a moment like this."

"It's true, though." Starbuck rose and went to the shuttle, leaving Apollo laying flat on his back and staring at the trees. He could feel a silly grin spreading across his face. After a moment's consideration, Apollo decided he could probably use a little hygiene this morning too. He ran a hand over his face, alarmed by how scratchy it was. When was the last time he'd been able to put off shaving? Many yahrens, seemed like.

"Feel better now?" Apollo asked, after both had spent some time taking care of themselves.

"Yeah. Sorry, but I felt like one of those avians had shit in my mouth, or something."

"Ick. Got any plans for today?"

"Yes, actually..." Starbuck smiled, running a finger down Apollo's freshly shaved cheek. "Much nicer without the stubble."

"Oh, lay off. You were rather stubbly yourself." Apollo grinned. "So what's your plan?"

"It involves a bit of this," and Starbuck kissed him. Apollo leaned into the kiss eagerly. "And a lot of this," his hands slid up Apollo's back, pulling him closer.

"I think I can go along with that plan," Apollo said breathlessly. "As long as it involves lots of this—" and he licked Starbuck's neck, from collarbone to chin.

"Most definitely," Starbuck gasped. He pulled Apollo with him, back to the bedrolls. They sank to the ground, eagerly exploring each other's bodies.

"Why'd we wait so long..." Apollo murmured, around a mouthful of nipple.

"Shut up and kiss me," Starbuck demanded.

"Gladly."

One kiss led to another, which led to more. It was a time of discovering each other's likes and dislikes, a time of driving each other over the edge of sanity... a time of finally doing something about the love they'd felt for each other for yahrens.

Afterwards, as they lay together in the near-constant breeze, Starbuck ran his fingers through Apollo's long hair. "I wish..."

"What do you wish?"

"I really wish I could go rub Sheba's nose in it, let her know that I've got you and she doesn't, but I know I can't."

"Damn." Apollo sighed heavily. "I wish you could, too. I'd love to see the look on her face when she realized exactly who her competition was."

"Competition? I think I'm offended."

"Don't be—there's no contest, none at all."

"Good." Starbuck snuggled closer, smiling.

"It really sucks that we can't just tell the whole damn fleet."

"You know what'd happen, though."

"Yeah. We'd both get screwed hard. Why is it my father's willing to overlook the regulations if it's Sheba, but if he found out about us there'd be hell to pay?'

"Face it, Pol—she's prettier than I am." Starbuck grinned.

"No way."

"You don't think so?"

"Not a bit. She couldn't turn me on with a switch."

"Good."

They kissed. Apollo put aside all thoughts of Sheba, of his father, of the consequences of sleeping with a junior officer, and just enjoyed the moment—very much, in fact.

Sometime much later, actual words, as opposed to sounds of pleasure, broke the silence.

"Do you suppose we ought to get up and do something?"

"But Starbuck, I just got up!"

"Not like that, you sex fiend," Starbuck chuckled. "I mean up, out of bed, off our lazy arses—"

"Speak for yourself, man. My ass ain't lazy."

Starbuck laughed. "You sure have relaxed, from the uptight proper Captain I brought out here."

Apollo pulled Starbuck close for a long, intense kiss. "I finally have what I want, and the chance to enjoy you. Why should I be the uptight pain in the ass Captain out here, when it's just me and you?"

"You shouldn't, of course." Another kiss, then Starbuck pulled away and stood.

"Where are you going?"

"I can't lay here all day. I have to get up and move around, maybe go swimming or something."

"No more sex?" Apollo pouted.

"Damn, man, you are absolutely insatiable!" Starbuck laughed.

"Can't get too much of a good thing, you know," Apollo grinned unrepentantly. He struggled to his feet as well. "Swimming sounds good, but in the freshwater pool here. I licked more than enough salt off you, I don't need any more."

He sauntered casually acrass the sunlit valley and paused by the pool's edge to glance at Starbuck, who was staring with a glazed look about him. Apollo smiled, pleased at the effect he was having on his lover, then slipped into the warm water.

Starbuck followed, after a moment of silent appreciation. Why had they taken so long to reach this point, anyway? What a lot of wasted time, time that they could have been enjoying some of the most spectacular sex he'd ever had the pleasure of enjoying.


"Don't you ever get enough?" Apollo leaned into Starbuck's embrace.

"You started it," Starbuck mumbled. His mouth was full of Apollo's neck, licking and sucking at the sensitive spot right above his collarbone.

"So I did, so I did..." Apollo was more than willing to continue it, too, but the universe had other ideas. The communicator shrieked with a shrill insistence that made both men jump.

"Frack!"

"I don't frackin' believe it. Why in all the hells is somebody fucking calling us now?" Swearing loudly all the while, Apollo made his way over to the shuttle.

"What is it?" he growled into the communicator.

"Captain Apollo?" a hesitant voice replied.

"Yes, this is Apollo. What did you want?"

"Um, pardon me, sir, but you've been recalled."

Apollo's guts froze. He'd heard those words before, and it had utterly ruined his relationship with Starbuck—at least, the budding romance part of it. "What's the reason?"

"Your shuttle is needed here for maintenance, sir, and the Commander requires your presence."

"Very well, then. Inform the Commander we'll be back tomorrow."

"I'm afraid the Commander requires your presence by dinner hour tonight. He's got something planned."

"Understood. Apollo out."

He clicked off the communicator and pounded the control panel in frustration. Starbuck came up behind him.

"What was that all about?"

"They fucking want us back. Tonight." Apollo pounded some more, then turned to face Starbuck.

"Frack!"

"I don't want to go back, Star! I just want to stay here, away from all the felgercarb. Here, where I don't have to worry about anything except loving you. There's no way I can handle going back there now. Sheba'll be right there, in my face, pissing me off—and I'll lose it, I know I will. I'll just—"

"Easy, easy," Starbuck broke in. He wrapped his arms around Apollo and held him until the tension drained from his muscles. "It'll be okay, you'll see. You've got me, remember? They can't take me away from you, and nothing will change how I feel about you."

"I know, but Star—" Apollo rested his head on Starbuck's shoulder. "I can't really have you there, we have to keep everything hidden or lose everything but each other..."

"That sucks, I agree. But we'll manage. We've been through too much together to let a little thing like prejudice stop us now."

Apollo laughed. "Put that way, it sounds kind of funny. Hellfires." He raised his head and looked at the chrono. "Frack. They could have at least given us some time to prepare..."

"When are we supposed to be back?"

"Dinner time. Apparently, Father has something planned."

"Oh, lovely." Starbuck sighed. "Well, I suppose we—"

"No," Apollo interrupted fiercely. "We will not pack up and run to their call, at least not right now."

"Why Apollo, are you thinking of being disobedient?" A wicked light danced in Starbuck's eyes.

"Yes, dammit!" Apollo kissed him urgently. "I refuse to lose my last chance to have you, to be happy. I'll go back, but by the gods, I'll go back in my own time!"

"I think I like this side of—mmph!"

Starbuck's voice was silenced in the most effective way possible, as Apollo kissed him and propelled him backwards out of the shuttle.

"Apollo, what—" Starbuck laughed as he stumbled backwards, to sprawl gracelessly on the ground.

Apollo followed him to the ground, pinning him there with a mock growl. "Just shut up and fuck me."

"Anything you say!"


The shuttle settled gracefully to the ground. Apollo powered down the systems, then sat for a moment, immobile. He had to get himself together before he could face the inevitable return to reality. After nearly two sectons alone with Starbuck, as well as the most fantastic sex he'd ever had, he still wasn't ready to face the return to duty. He could feel it settling about him like a trap—duty, responsibility, the burdens of command. He steeled himself and rose with a sigh. There was no avoiding it, short of resigning his comission—which was a rather appealing thought, but he would never follow through on it.

"Ready?" he asked Starbuck.

"No, but let's go anyways."

Together, they left the shuttle. Curious eyes bored into them—two tanned young men with sunbleached hair, in distinctly non-regulation garb of cutoff shorts and sleeveless shirts.

"Pol, quick—" Starbuck whispered into his lover's ear. "They don't recognize us, let's get the hell out of here."

A slight smile formed on Apollo's face. "Don't I wish," he whispered back.

"Captain?" Boomer's voice called from behind them. Apollo froze in place, then turned to face his friend.

"Hey, Boom-boom."

"It is you, then. You look so different—"

"Sun'll do that to a person, Boomer. What's up?"

"You're a bit late. You have a few minutes left, though, before..." He trailed off uncertainly.

"Before what?"

Apollo had to fight the urge to reach out and take Starbuck's hand.

"Your father has a dinner planned, where he expects you to be there."

"Yes, I know. That's why I got called back." Apollo made a sour face.

"Well, I wanted to warn you, you should wear your uniform. "

"Bloody hell! Am I officially on duty, then?" Tension wrapped around his neck and shoulders in a familiar band.

"No, not that I know of..." Boomer looked at him suspiciously. "Are you really the Captain?"

"Knock it off, Boomer." Beside him, Starbuck snickered. "I'm on fracking vacation for the first time in seven bloody yahrens. They can damn well deal with me in civilian clothes."

He turned on his heel and resumed his progress to his temporary shelter.

"Pol, are you okay?" Starbuck hurried to keep up with him.

"Yeah, I suppose. But I'm damn tired of being on duty, jumping when people say jump, and all the rest of the felgercarb. I'm off duty, and I intend to make the most of it while it lasts."

Starbuck chuckled. "Can't blame you there, old buddy. Am I invited to this thing of your father's?"

"You are now."

"Good. Then, if you'll excuse me, I'll just change into something more appropriate."

"Anything but a uniform," Apollo grumbled, as Starbuck made for his shelter.

Apollo ducked into his own shelter, somewhat surprised to find everything clean and organized. He knew that when he left, he'd thrown things every which way in his haste to pack. Athena must have straightened up when she came to fetch Boxey.

He emerged from his quarters a few moments later, dressed in civilian garb. Starbuck hurried out of his shelter and Apollo was startled into a genuine laugh.

"They're going to be sure we planned it this way," he said, gesturing to the nearly identical outfits.

"Oh well." Starbuck made a move towards Apollo, then caught himself before he could steal a kiss. "Shit. Here goes the masquerade, the attempt to seem normal."

"Yeah." They turned together and made their way to the Commander's quarters.

Inside, they found a table full of people waiting for them.

"Apollo!" Adama rose from his seat at the head of the table to embrace his son. "And Starbuck, of course. It's so good to see you back, and looking so well."

"I'd say it's good to be back, but you know, that beach was awfully nice—" Apollo paused for the polite laughter. "Where's Boxey?"

"Athena's taken him out for a trip to the mountains. He said he wanted to see some real mountains, as long as we're on Paradise."

"That was very nice of her." Apollo dismissed a pang of conscience with little effort. He'd scarcely thought of his son at all for several days, since he'd had something to distract him.

"Come, sit," Adama offered, leading Apollo to the table. "We've been waiting for you."

Apollo smothered a sigh when he saw who was smiling at him. Sheba. And he was expected to sit across from her. At least whoever had made the seating arrangements knew him well enough to set a place for Starbuck beside Apollo's seat.

Dinner was an interminable trial. Apollo held firmly to the memories of the past several days and the good times he'd had with Starbuck to help him keep both sanity and temper. Sheba pushed his patience to the limit. The other guests, Tigh and Cassie, merely annoyed him, but Sheba had him on the verge of doing something drastic.

True to Boomer's prediction, he and Starbuck were the only ones dressed casually. Everyone else was in semi-dress uniform—not quite full formality, but definitely not the everyday working uniform. The rebellious streak in Apollo didn't care, beyond snickering evilly.

Eventually, however, the evening ended. No one was willing to disclose exactly what was so important about this night, that Apollo absolutely had to be there for this meal. Apollo was just glad when he was finally able to make his escape—that is, until Sheba caught him.

"Apollo! Wait for me," she called.

Apollo shot a panicked look at Starbuck, who only laughed.

"Don't look at me!" He raised his hands in a gesture of warding, with a smile. "I'm not going to save you! Er, I mean, keep you from such a lovely lady. I'll go on ahead. Catch up with me later, if you can."

Apollo muttered under his breath, then put on a fake smile and turned to face Sheba.

"I was just heading back to my quarters," he began, only to be interrupted.

"I need to talk to you. Alone."

"Um, okay, I guess..."

Apollo followed Sheba out of the shelter. She turned aside after a short distance, into a blind little alley formed by the intersection of several shelters.

"I had your father call you back, Apollo," she began.

"What? Why?" Apollo clamped down savagely on his reaction to this little tidbit of news.

"Because you're mine, and I can't have you disappearing like that, for sectons on end."

"I'm not—"

That was all Apollo managed to say, before Sheba was kissing him.

For one stunned moment, all he could do was stand there and let her. Then he pulled away, as much as possible with her clinging to him.

"Oh, Apollo, I missed you so much," she murmured, as she clung persistently to him and continued kissing his neck.

"Sheba!"

"Come on, let's go back to my place and—"

"No." In her momentary surprise, Apollo managed to disengage himself from her arms and backed away as far as possible. If she hadn't been blocking the only way out of this blind alley, he would have bolted.

"What do you mean, no?" Her eyes flashed dangerously in the bright moonlight.

"I mean, no. I have no interest in going to bed with you."

"You were certainly coming on strong enough a few minutes ago!"

"Excuse me?" Apollo widened his eyes in an overly exaggerated response of surprise. "That's not true, and you know it."

"Bull shit, I do! You were practically ready to jump down my throat! What the frack happened to you?"

"Nothing happened! I just don't want to go to bed with you. Get a clue, would you? Just because you attacked me doesn't mean I want to go to bed with you."

"Well, I don't see why not. Unless..." A thoughtful look crossed her eyes. She pulled a bottle out of her pocket and drank from it.

"Unless what, dammit?" Apollo sighed. Sheba sober was bad enough, but Sheba drinking... He hadn't noticed the bottle while they were at his father's table, but that didn't mean anything, as Adama had supplied plenty of ambrosa.

"Unless it isn't me you really want."

"Brilliant! Hello, she has a brain after all."

"Yeah, you can bite my astrum." She had another pull on the bottle.

"No thanks, I'd rather not." Apollo tried to find a way past her, to no avail.

"So who is it? I'll bet I know. And wouldn't that make a hot bit of gossip!" She snickered into her bottle.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" A cold hand of fear seized his guts and twisted.

"I mean that I'll bet everyone on this ship—hell, everyone in this fleet—would just love to know their beloved Captain has the hots for his best friend."

"You can stop this now." Oh, shit. Apollo refused to let anything show, determined not to let her see that she was right.

"Oooh, look at that reaction! I knew it, I knew it all along!" She laughed.

"There's nothing to know. Just because I don't want to jump into the sack with someone like you, is no reason to go assuming I have the hots for my best friend. Good Lords, woman, in case you didn't notice, I do have a history of going after women!"

"Some history. One, in the last two yahrens—and that only lasted a couple sectares. No, I'm right. You're just a faggot."

"Frack, girl, I am not going to bed you just to prove I'm not gay!"

"Ha, ha, I know your secret... I'm going to tell everybody, and they're going to love it."

"What they're going to love is hearing how desperate you are to get laid." He sighed, shaking his head in mock sadness. "Really, now, resorting to inventing a story to blackmail me into bed... I'd laugh my ass off, if I heard something like that. You're drunk. Just let me pass, go home, and sleep your drunk off before you get into trouble."

"Yeah, well, you're not the Commander. Bet he'd love to hear about this."

"Okay, that does it. You've gone beyond the realm of amusing and into serious libel here. Try it and I'll have you brought up on charges."

"You wouldn't dare, you candy-ass!"

"Try me." Even Sheba caught the tone of quiet menace and backed off a bit.

"Oh, sure, throw that rank of yours around. Asshole."

"Insubordination can go along with that quite nicely."

"I'll give you insubordination, you—"

"You're drunk. Leave here, right now, and I'll forget this even happened. Keep it up and I'm calling in security. I know some of them are still on duty, to take care of troublemakers like you."

"Fuck you. Okay, asshole, I'm going. But don't you worry, I won't forget your little secret."

"There's nothing to forget. I will see you when you're sober. Goodbye."

Swearing and muttering dire imprecations under her breath, Sheba stomped away. Apollo stared after her, feeling the adrenaline rush wear off. He hoped she would forget everything which had just happened. Maybe she was drunk enough to pass out and forget it all overnight... maybe.

He returned to his shelter slowly, trying to relax. It was no use. That little scene with Sheba had him so tense it would take Starbuck hours to work out the knots.

"Frack!" Apollo swore loudly enough to attract the attention of a small group of people lingering over a campfire.

"Everything okay?" one of them called.

"Yeah, thanks—just stepped on a rock, that's all." Apollo ducked his head, hoping none of them had recognized him, and picked up his pace.

No matter how badly he wanted it, Starbuck could not give him that backrub to untie the Sheba-knots from hell. Starbuck was nothing but a friend here, not the lover he'd already grown to depend on as his other half. Hellfire and damnation. How was he supposed to pull this off? True, it was well known that Apollo and Starbuck were a team, but that team had changed into a more intimate partnership. It was going to hurt, trying to pretend he didn't love the man as anything other than a friend.

At last he reached his shelter and ducked inside. He undressed in the darkness, rapidly donning sleepwear. Although the stay in the tropics had been brief, it had been long enough to accustom him to warmer temperatures than could be found on this plain. He scrambled under the covers and lay there in the chill air, thinking about the last time he'd lay down to sleep. Well, eventually sleep—Starbuck had been there, warm and willing and so loving...

Apollo sighed and rolled over. That kind of thinking would do him absolutely no good at all. Nor would the memory of Starbuck's hands, or the solid warmth of Starbuck beside him in the night, or...

He rolled over again, the other way. How in the name of all the Lords of Kobol was he going to do this?


"Well, you look like hell," a cheerful voice greeted him in the morning. Apollo grunted and continued gnawing on his biscuit.

"What's wrong with you?" Boomer settled beside him with an aggrieved expression. "You're not acting like yourself."

"Too fucking many people here."

"Huh?"

"Couldn't sleep worth a fat damn, can't find any privacy—couldn't even go take a piss without playing twenty questions."

"My, my, sounds like someone needs more vacation time."

"You've got that right. I just want to get the fuck away from here." Apollo shoved his chair back from the trestle table and left Boomer sitting there with a shocked expression. He was tired of people. Twelve days was not nearly enough time away. Most especially, twelve days was not enough time alone with Starbuck. Hell, twelve yahrens would not be enough time alone with Starbuck—he'd still want more.

"Captain!"

"Yes?" He stopped and turned towards the sound of Tigh's voice.

"I've been looking for you."

"I was eating breakfast." Apollo ignored Tigh's frown at his tone- and, presumably, at his civilian attire. Dammit, he was not going to return to his uniform until he was officially back on duty.

"Your father wanted to speak with you."

"Okay, I'll be there in a while." He resumed his course for his shelter.

"Now, Captain." Tigh's voice held a note of steel.

Apollo barely restrained a sigh and turned back to the Colonel. "Very well, then, I will go now."

Ignoring Tigh's puzzled stare, Apollo reversed his course and set out for his father's shelter. The dull thump of his bootheels in the dirt accented the litany of profanity running through his head. He decided that he'd take any opportunity to return to the island—to explore, of course. With Starbuck, his old E&E partner...

He made an effort to smooth out his temper and subdue his attitude before entering his father's quarters. When he felt capable of civility, he entered. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"Sit down, Apollo," Adama said. He indicated a folding chair across from his temporary desk.

Apollo sat warily. What was his father up to?

"What's this I hear about you mistreating Sheba?" Adama frowned at him.

"I beg your pardon?" Apollo blinked in surprise. Had he heard that right?

"Sheba was telling me earlier today that you mistreated her badly last night." Adama really did resemble a thundercloud when he was angry, Apollo decided.

"And how am I supposed to have done that?"

"She claimed you tried to force her into bed with her, and only left her alone when she threatened to—ahem—damage your assets."

Apollo stared incredulously at his father. "She said that?" he said eventually. Then he laughed.

"It's not a laughing matter, son." Adama was clearly taken aback by this reaction.

"But father—" Apollo gasped. He regained control of himself with an effort. "Would you like to know what really happened last night?"

"I would."

"I tried to go back to my shelter, but she called me off to the side. She led me into a little blind alley and attempted to, er, seduce me, then had a fit when I wouldn't go to bed with her. She was drinking and very insistent. She even talked herself into believing that I didn't want her because I had a thing for Starbuck—" thank the Lords, his voice stayed steady "—and she was threatening to tell you that."

"Well." Adama's eyes widened. "That certainly is a different story. I think it would be advisable if you avoided Sheba's company for a while."

"I think that would be entirely advisable." Apollo sighed. "Tell me, why is it she won't leave me alone? Even if I was attracted to her, which I'm not—or at least, not since I saw what a fickle bi—er, person she is... anyway, I couldn't be with her anyway. Has she forgotten about the non-fraternization regulations?"

"Perhaps so." Adama sighed and steepled his fingers. "So, you say she attacked you, and she says you attacked her. A fine mess this could be."

Apollo sighed. "Look, if you doubt my word, run a drug screen on her. And on me, for that matter—I know I wasn't drinking, and you know I would never do such a thing even if I was dead drunk, no matter how foul a temper I was in due to being called in from my first vacation in seven yahrens."

"Has it been that long, son?" Adama's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I hadn't realized. I think perhaps I'd better remind Sheba about the non-fraternization rule. Although they have been relaxed considerably recently, the regulations are still there."

"Relaxed?"

"Yes, there are now provisions about couples, since this fleet is hardly a standard military operation. But there is still the rider that couples must be of similar rank—officers can't be with mere pilots, for example."

Apollo snickered. "In that case, she can just stew in her own envy. She was so convinced I had it bad for Starbuck, and he's an officer. She's just a pilot. Former squadron leader, true, but still a mere pilot."

"Yes, well," Adama shifted uncomfortably. "It's just as well it was the drink talking. I don't even want to think about the trouble it would cause if you were like that."

"No worries, father," Apollo said, with a heavy heart. "Like I told her last night, I'm just not interested in her."

"Very well, then, just stay away from her and this should all blow over. I will speak with her later, and warn her as well about the consequences of making false accusations."

"Excellent." Apollo rose to leave, then paused. "Father, how long am I off duty for?"

"The repairs on the Galactica are progressing well, but Dr. Wilker still estimates at least six more sectons of repair time. You are off duty until further notice, although you are still on call."

Apollo sighed with relief. "And who is handling security and defense?"

"Security guards are on a rotating schedule, designed to allow the maximum amount of leave per person. As for defense, the remote satellites are handling that. Unless you get recalled, you're a free man." Adama smiled at his son's obvious eagerness.

"And one more question. Are there any ground vehicles available for exploration?" Apollo held his breath.

"There are indeed. I take it you haven't had enough of exploration to satisfy you?"

"Never," Apollo grinned. "You know Starbuck and I were perfectly content doing E&E. We'd still be out there to this day, if not for the damned Cylons."

"So take a half-track and get out of here. And if Sheba tries to get me to recall you for another little dinner, I'll just tell her your comm is broken..." Adama gave his son a conspiritorial wink.

Apollo laughed. "Thanks, father."

He left the tent with a light heart and a cheerful bounce to his step.

All right, first things first—where would he be, if he were a half-track? Probably still on the Galactica. It was too much of a bitch to offload absolutely everything from the grounded spaceship. He made for the Galactica, reflecting that, if it hadn't been necessary to shut down most systems for maintenance, everybody would still be in their quarters rather than in the temporary shelters. Six whole sectons! Absolutely amazing.


Arrangements made, Apollo sought Starbuck out with a light heart. His foul temper of the early morning had been transformed into a joyous anticipation.

He located Starbuck in the middle of a card game. "Starbuck!" he called.

The blond head snapped up. "Yeah?"

"Come here a minute. I need to talk to you." Apollo tried to keep a straight face, but he could feel the corner of his mouth twitching.

Starbuck immediately laid his cards on the table. "Sorry guys, duty calls," he said, as he rose to join Apollo. He looked terrible—dark circles under his eyes, and the look of someone who was up all night and grouchy all day.

"Since when have you and duty been ore than nodding acquaintances?" Jolly teased.

"Uh—since I was losing this hand so badly." With that, Starbuck turned his back on the game and faced Apollo. "What's up?"

Apollo's mouth twitched harder. "Not much. Just wanted to show you something. Come on."

"What the frack?" Starbuck followed willingly enough, although puzzled. His eyes lit with understanding and pleasure when they got clear of the shelters and the crawler became visible. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

"If you think it means we're heading out to do some more exploring, then yes." Apollo couldn't keep from grinning broadly. "Come on, let's go!"

"Wait—I need—" Starbuck turned as if to go back to the shelters.

"No you don't," Apollo laughed. "I picked up everything you'll need already."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Without a backward glance, Starbuck climbed into the crawler.

Apollo followed, slamming the door behind him. He set the crawler towards the sunset and engaged the autopilot.

"So... we're off duty, although still on call, for approximately six sectons. Any ideas on what we can do with all that time?"

Starbuck's reply, although not verbal, was a definite indication of what his plans were.

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