[Day 05 AD, 0930 centares. Bridge comm center.]

"Yes?"

"Apollo." Commander Adama's voice sounded through the comm, already tired despite the early centare. "I need your civilian consultant on the bridge, on the double. Main comm center. Got that?"

"Got it." Apollo clicked off his comm and pushed his chair away from the desk. "C'mon, Gaius, you've been paged."

"What?" Gaius rose and followed Apollo out of the office.

"You're needed on the bridge. I don't know what for," Apollo added before Gaius could ask.

"Oh."

Apollo watched the reactions of people as they strode through the Old Gal's corridors. Today he saw more speculative looks, and some outright welcoming smiles, outweighing the hostility of yesterday. The spot on IFB must have done some good.

"Apollo? Can I even go on the bridge? I mean," and Gaius shrugged. "I'm—"

"We know you're not a traitor," Apollo protested automatically, then saw the real point. "Oh. Sorry, you mean because you're a civilian." Gaius nodded. "Yes, in your capacity as a civilian consultant, you can come on the bridge when invited. You'll need to stay behind the blue rail, though, that separates the outer ring of control stations from the nav equipment and so forth. And don't worry about saluting or anything, you're a civilian."

Commander Adama waited for them on the bridge. He nodded at Apollo, then grasped Gaius warmly on the shoulder. "Welcome to the bridge," he said, smiling, while Apollo blinked in surprise and wondered what his father wanted. He must have a really rough job in mind for Gaius to come across so friendly. "Step over this way, and I'll show you what you're going to do."

Apollo stifled a chuckle at the bemused look Gaius wore. The Commander often had that effect on people.

"This computer station is yours now," Adama said, indicating the main communications console. "At least until Operation Shift is complete. My comms circuits have been overloaded with questions, complaints, concerns, and other Shift-related traffic for the last six centares, ever since we initiated the people-moving phase. You're the one most familiar with the database you set up, and you're the one that looks at chaos and sees patterns, so you're the one that gets to field all this traffic. All Shift comms have been routed to channel ten."

"Ah..." Gaius wore a borderline panicked expression. "I'm not sure I'm qualified—"

Adama cut him off with an impatient gesture. "Qualified or not, you're available and you know the plan. I need every one of my personnel for another operation. And keep in mind, if I give the order, all traffic will be suspended immediately until further notice."

Apollo watched Gaius settle in front of the computer terminal and put on the comm headset with a dubious expression. Then the Commander caught his eye and nodded towards the office.

"Captain Apollo, there has been a communication from the Striker Ace."

Ice and fire swirled through Apollo's nervous system. "Cylons?"

"Yes. Long range scan confirms a spatial anomaly with a signature that may be Cylon, so I'm inclined to trust the privateer's report." Apollo wondered at the slight emphasis on the personal pronoun. "You will take out the sleeper squadrons and devise an ambush for these Cylons. Normal fleet activity will continue until the enemy is engaged."

Apollo's mind shifted into high gear. Two and a half centares into first shift, Green and Silver squadrons off, Blue and Red on. Minimum of forty Vipers on patrol and flying cover at any given moment, with roughly ten more ready to launch within five centons. Green and Silver would be tired, but with the rotations, no pilot flew more than four centares at a time during the duty shift, so they could be counted on for close to optimal performance. Put them on babysitting duty, pull the fresh pilots for the ambush... right. Total of one hundred sixteen active, as of shift start. "Permission to do as I see fit?"

"Granted. And Captain," the Commander's eyes suddenly bored into his, "I want you to make them feel it."

An answering fire burned in Apollo's eyes. "I will, sir."

He saluted and strode from the bridge, a plan already taking shape in his mind's eye. Gaius had positioned two of the heavy mining ships to the rear of the fleet, along with some of the bulkier freighters. The Vipers could tuck up under the larger ships and remain invisible to the enemy until the actual attack. Vipers posessed superior speed and maneuverability. The pirate ship posessed superior scanning equipment. Put the two together and—

"Hot diggity daggit, we're going to kick some Cylon astrum!" Apollo said aloud, in the privacy of the lift carrying him from the bridge level back down to the rest of the ship. When the lift chimed and slid open, he pulled out his comm and called ahead to the barracks.

"Security, this is Captain Apollo. I need you to sound Assembly in the barracks."

He felt a pang of sympathy for the pilots he was about to send back out again, but shrugged it off. When he reached the flight deck, two squadrons worth of slightly rumpled pilots waited in four rows.

"All right, men, we've got trouble. I know you just came off duty, and I'm sorry, but there's going to be some action. I need you lot out there looking normal. That means scouting, patrolling, running cover for the Shift shuttles. I'm going to pull Red and Blue, since they're fresher, and set an ambush. Our friends on the Striker Ace spotted incoming Cylons. We're going to teach those tinheads what it means to mess with the Colonies!"

A few cheers broke out. Apollo saw them all perk up, relieved. No, there would be no difficulty over the interrupted sleep period. "Right. Into your Vipers. Staggered launch pattern, groups of six. Now get going."

Apollo called Boomer next. "Hey Boom-Boom, we've got some action coming. I want you to pull your boys in groups of six when the replacements arrive. We're going to drop under the big freighters and tankers at the back of the fleet. Can you relay?"

"Sure thing, Captain. Boomer out."

Apollo made a dash for his own Viper and got loaded into the tube in time for the second launch wave. Once clear of the Galactica, he switched to channel 18 and hailed the Striker Ace.

A woman's voice answered. "I hear you, Viper. This is Striker Ace, Captain Jamile speaking. What's on your mind?"

Apollo gaped at his comm for a moment. A woman! Why hadn't anyone thought to tell him the pirate was a woman? "Ah... yes. Strike Captain Apollo here. I'm taking two squadrons and setting up an ambush. How good are your scanners? I've a notion your equipment is better than my superiors want to admit."

A dry chuckle sounded in his ears. "I've a notion you're right, Strike Captain, given how hard they've tried to deny needing my assistance. My scanners are better than I want to say, okay?"

"Good enough to give us a precise reading on what we're up against from, say, two AU?" That should be a good distance to engage the Cylons, far enough away that they'd be offguard, yet close enough that a Viper on full turbo boost could cover the distance before the Cylons could react.

"Sure thing, Captain. They're coming in hot, nearly halfway here already and flying fast. Need any assistance?"

"I'll call if I do, but I'd rather you kept the central core safe. The pilots flying cover just came off a twelve centare shift, and I pulled 'em from their beds to get back out there."

"Understood. I've got more than enough reason to defend the fuel tankers and agroships, after all."

Apollo chuckled. "Right. Apollo out."

He flipped the broadcast switch as he tucked his Viper carefully under the largest freighter. "Attention all vessels. Long range scans confirm Cylon ships coming our way. Prepare for conflict according to the emergency protocols. Vipers are setting up an ambush at the rear of the fleet. Rearward captains, do not be alarmed by anomalies on your scanners, your ships are providing cover. Please remain calm and keep this channel clear of unnecessary traffic."

Apollo checked his scanner. The large ships at this end of the fleet's sphere showed small blips, almost like a scanner glitch, near the bottom of each vessel. He smiled. So far, so good.

His comm bleeped on 19. Starbuck! They always used channel 19 on patrols. He activated the comm.

"Hey, buddy. Weren't you going to invite me to the party?"

"I knew you'd be there anyway. You're Starbuck. Since when do you need a special invitation to join the party?"

Starbuck. His mind flashed back to the feel of the man's body against his and he swallowed hard. No time for that now, had to stay focused.

"Just as long as you didn't think you could keep me out of this one."

"Didn't even consider it, buddy. Who'd watch my back if you weren't here?"

"Nobody, that's who. Say, you haven't been around much. Do you still remember how to fly?"

Apollo had his mouth open to make a similarly smart-astrumed reply when channel 16 bleeped. 16? Who would be calling him on 16?

"Much as I'd like to continue this conversation, Bucko, I've got incoming comm traffic. Later." He switched to 16. "Captain Apollo here, please identify."

"Captain Jamile, Captain Apollo. I've got that reading you requested."

And how in hell was a civ ship contacting him on a tactical band? Apollo felt his respect for the pirate increase. Top-notch scanners, ability to listen and transmit on a scrambled military wavelength... why were all the brightest minds on the wrong side of the law, instead of in R&D where they belonged?

"Go ahead."

"We've got tankers, three of 'em, and six flights of Raiders at forty each. Coming in on heading 26.313.9, shallow and fast, relative to fleet center. No sign of basestar or support flights. Estimated time to two AU distance one centon, thirty microns."

"Good enough, Captain. Can you keep a watch on this channel, as well as 12? We're going to pull out and hit those bastards hard in approximately one centon."

"Will do, Captain. Shoot a couple for me. Jamile out."

One more channel switch, and Apollo broadcast on 18 to all his ambush craft. "Right, Red and Blue. We're up against six standard flights, with a prize of three tankers. No basestar. No detected backup. We're going to drop clear of our cover ships and do a full power run in thirty microns. Targets should come on screen any cent—okay, there they are. Begin drop now. Commence attack run on my mark."

Apollo eased his Viper down away from the sheltering freighter and hailed the Galactica. "Ambush commencing in ten microns. Raise alert status on fleet. Six flights, three tankers, no detectable backup."

...four...three...two...

"Mark!" Apollo barked over 18. Sixty-five Vipers shot forward simultaneously.

The ambush succeeded beyond Apollo's wildest hopes. The speeding Vipers covered the two AU distance before the Cylons could adjust their programmed attack plan to deal with incoming fighters. The first Viper strike left half the Cylon force floundering or incapacitated.

Of course, there ended the easy part. The Cylons joined the battle in earnest and the two distinct forces fragmented into multiple daggit-fights. Apollo shifted into the state where every detail seemed clear to him, from the position of every one of his pilots, to the shifting pattern of attack and defense the Cylons flew. His force began to outnumber the Cylons by a few, then a quarter, then two-thirds. Apollo was about to call it a victory when channel 16 bleeped with a sense of urgency.

"What is it? I'm kind of busy here."

"I know, Captain, and you're about to get a lot busier. Six incoming flights at four AU from fleet center. Trailing basestar. Galactica refuses to acknowledge threat."

"You're shitting me!" Apollo burst out, shock making his hand waver on the stick. He nearly clipped an oncoming Raider. Back to 19. "Starbuck, old friend, I need you now like never before. Cover me while I raise hell with home?"

"You got it, Apollo. Problem?"

"You bet your sweet astrum, there's a problem. Tell you when I fix it."

Switch. 21, high security band. "Galactica, Captain Apollo. Come in."

Pause.

Omega's voice. "Go ahead."

"What's this I hear about you disregarding information?"

Apollo rolled to avoid a Raider trio. Starbuck blasted the leader.

"Clarify, please. What information?"

"Incoming wave of Raiders, less than four AU. Basestar detected. Are you going to help us out on this one, or let us fry?"

Pause.

Less than ten Raiders left to protect three tankers. Channel 16 blinking insistently. Apollo ignored it and went into hover, Starbuck on his wing.

Adama's voice. "This information you report can't possibly be accurate."

Swear. "And just how do you figure that?"

"Consider the source. How could a civilian craft detect such information at such a distance?"

"She was right about the six flights and three tankers. Give her the benefit of the doubt and back us up, just in case."

"I'm sorry, I just can't authorize—"

Furious, Apollo switched channels, cutting his father off mid-word. "Apollo here. What've you got for me?"

"Better shepherd those tankers out of the way quick. The basestar just speeded up."

"Frack! Did you declare all your weaponry on the fleet info survey?"

Chuckle. "Captain, what makes you say that? I'd almost think you don't trust me."

"Captain, right now I trust you more than I do my own father. Can you provide cover fire against that basestar until the Galactica rouses her disbelieving, prejudiced, old-fashioned astrum to help out?"

"I can try," Jamile replied, in a sober voice devoid of all humor. "This old tub's got some teeth, but a basestar's a pretty tall order. And it's at two AU."

"Gotcha. And thanks. Apollo out."

Deep breath. Switch to 19. "Bucko, the shit's about to hit the fan. Thanks for covering for me. Had to yell at the Old Gal."

"No problem. Trouble fixed?"

"No. Switching to battle channel." 18. "Red and Blue, listen up. We've got incoming. Six flights, backed by a basestar. Watch for Striker Ace to provide cover fire until Galactica can get here. Targets should be on scanners any time. Form up and prepare for defense. Pay special attention to defending the tankers, we need those."

19. "Starbuck, my father is such an idiot sometimes."

"What'd he do?"

"Doesn't believe the report, since it came from a civilian and a pirate. The Old Gal's gonna sit this one out until she sees absolute proof of the basestar."

"Frack!"

"Yeah."

Switch. Channel 12. "Fleet, this is Captain Apollo. Lock down all flights as of now. Green and Silver squadrons, switch to battle channel and prepare to provide backup."

Bleep on channel 21. Yes! They'd seen reason! "Yes?"

"Apollo?"

"Gaius?"

"Yes. Your sister patched me through." Apollo's mind boggled at the thought of Athena risking disciplinary action like that. "The Commander's very pissed off at what you just broadcast, but we wanted you to know we snuck out a quiet warning. All non-bridge crew are at battle stations, and the helm has a course laid in. We'll be there as soon as the Commander and the Colonel quit arguing about the scan info."

Apollo let loose a wild whoop. "Thanks, Gaius. Now get off this channel before you get yourself tossed in the brig."

Switch. 19. "Good news, buddy!"

"Do tell. I've got visual on the Raiders."

"Frack! Me too. The Gal's ready to go. Crew is at battle stations, course is laid in, all they need is father's word. Now let's kick some astrum!"

Switch. 18. "Hold steady, troops. When they reach firing boundary, launch defense pattern beta six. And move it, Green and Silver, we need you."

16. "Striker Ace, Galactica will be along shortly, but we still need you. We're launching defense in less than ten microns."

18."Commence defense pattern beta six now!"

Red and Blue squadrons fanned out into a disciplined defense pattern. Green and Silver ducked in to provide lower level assistance. Striker Ace hovered menacingly beneath the conflict, waiting for the basestar.

Apollo felt the battle fever come over him again. This conflict was much fiercer than the last. The Vipers had no advantage of surprise this time, and worse yet, they had lost that edge of freshness. But they kept the Raider force from breaking through to the fleet.

Bleep.

Apollo swore, then answered channel 21. "Yes?"

"We've got confirmation of the basestar," Omega reported. "Galactica will engage on upper level in four centons."

"It's about bloody time. Thanks, and we'll save you some Cylons."

Bleep. 16, this time. "I was just about to call you. What's up?"

"The basestar's in range of our heaviest secret. Still need us?"

Planning in microflashes. "Galactica will be here in four centons to take the upper level. Can you do something to put some serious hurt on the Raiders? Like, scattershot?"

Pause. "Call in your pilots. Don't want to hit our boys by mistake."

"Right."

18. "All Vipers, disengage. Repeat, all Vipers disengage, and pull back. Form defensive block one AU from fleet edge. Galactica coming in three centons. Pull back now."

16. "She's all yours, Captain. Hit 'em hard and make it count, then we'll mop up."

"Just remember you get to take responsibility for my actions."

Apollo chuckled and cut off the comm. Scattershot was highly illegal, mainly because the military hadn't figured out a way to make it safe for long-term, repeated usage. Privateers favored the weapon, though, despite the risks, because a single burst of high-energy fan lasers could take a good sized chunk out of a Cylon flight.

Striker Ace moved into range just as the last Viper took a position in the block. The sleek pirate vessel flashed two warning lights, then cut loose with the prettiest burst of fanned-out laser fire Apollo had ever seen. A wide swath of the Raider formation either disintegrated or spun out of control.

16. "Beautiful, Captain! We're going in to clean up."

"Acknowledged."

18. "All Vipers, attack pattern alpha one. Go!"

Halfway through the attack run, the Old Gal finally arrived on the scene and opened up on the menacing basestar. The Striker Ace moved in on the low level and hit the basestar from below with another burst of scattershot, while the Galactica bombarded the basestar from above.

Five centons and two completed attack patterns later, the basestar turned tail and ran, abandoning straggling Raiders and three fuel tankers to the Colonial fleet.

[Day 06 AD, 1635 centares. Passenger liner Rising Star.]

"Fine, Captain Icarus, everything appears to be in order." Apollo tapped the data reader against his hand after he shut it off, a holdover from his Academy days when his reader had a loose battery. Shut it off and store it without tapping the battery securely into place and there went your whole day's work. He passed the reader back to the Captain with a pleasant, professional smile. "Now, if you'll allow us to make the visual inspection, we'll just get back to the Galactica and out of your hair."

"Yes, yes, the visual inspection, of course." Was it imagination, or did the man suddenly appear nervous? Not imagination—a faint sheen of sweat shone across his balding head. "Would you like to start on the bridge, or—"

"We'll just show ourselves around," Starbuck broke in, with that smile that could get him anything he wanted. "You just stay up here, take care of whatever you should be doing to run your ship."

Ignoring the Captain's distress, the two Warriors exited his office side by side. The first two decks of the Rising Star presented no problems. Everything was clean and precisely organized, if a bit crowded. The third deck held the gaming chancery, two dance halls, three eating establishments of varying quality, and innumerable vendor's stalls where all manner of alcoholic beverages could be purchased.

"I know my father okayed this, but somehow this seems indecent," Apollo grumbled, looking around at the games in full swing.

"Apollo! I'm shocked! Look around you," Starbuck made a sweeping gesture, "nothing but good, clean, wholesome fun. A place like this is necessary for morale. You're just jealous because you never take any time to experience fun for yourself."

"I had fun at least once," Apollo said, keeping his tone light with an effort. He'd had fun with Starbuck. More than fun. Once. "I remember. But never in a place like this."

Starbuck shot him a sharp look. Apollo should have known better than to think he could hide anything from the man. "Places like this cater to people like me: fun loving, great to be around, always ready to enjoy the moment. You're more suited to the Starlight Lounge, with all its elegance and class."

"You think I'm classy? That's a change. Usually you say I'm cheap."

They were near the lifts now, ready to investigate the fourth floor. Starbuck chuckled at Apollo's comment. "You are cheap. But you're a long-term kind of guy, and that whole place reeks of commitment to me. It's the kind of place you'd take someone you wanted to spend your life with. You ought to take that new friend of yours there."

Starbuck's timing, as always, was impeccable. He dropped his bombshell just as the lift door opened. A compact knot of people rushed out, right at the perfect moment for Apollo to stumble into them when he tripped over his own foot, turning too fast to face Starbuck. His face burned and he muttered apologies, then dragged Starbuck into the lift and jabbed the "door close" and "hold" buttons simultaneously.

"What the frack was that supposed to mean?"

"Easy there, buddy," Starbuck grinned, although his eyes were so closed off behind the habitual guileless expression that Apollo couldn't tell what thoughts really filled that blond head. "It's okay, I'm happy for you. Did you think I'd object if you found someone else?"

"What—I'm not—we're not—"

"Exactly," Starbuck nodded. "We're not. As in, we're not cut out to be anything other than best friends forever. So take Gaius out to the Starlight Lounge, and make a beautiful future together. Just leave room for me, okay? I still love you. Just... you know."

Apollo sagged against the lift wall, trying to loosen his collar. He couldn't breathe very well. "Starbuck, I don't know what you're talking about," he protested weakly, but he did. Oh, Lords, but he did.

"Sure you don't, Apollo, sure you don't." Starbuck whipped out a fumarillo and lighted it. "Whatever you say. I'll let you get away with it, because you're my best friend ever."

"Uh..."

Apollo let it drop. His mind spun in circles like a daggit chasing its tail, from Starbuck to Gaius and back again, from the memory of Starbuck's passion to the shining of Gaius's eyes when he'd returned from yesterday's battle... He followed after Starbuck in a daze, and didn't really snap out of it until they reached the penthouse suite, the one with the stardome overhead.

There lurked the trouble, the cause of Captain Icarus's nerves. Sire Uri had created a fantastic little bower in the suite, setting up a little corner of Paradise for his rich friends and a few exceptionally beautiful women. Apollo dealt with the sanctimonius old bastard while part of his mind worried at the implications of Starbuck's words.

The Galactica received his report of extra food happily and promised to send Warriors straight away. They recommended taking Sire Uri into custody until the fledgling Council could determine what punishment hoarding supplies merited. Uri protested right up until the moment when Apollo snapped binders around his fat wrists (an act which gave Apollo intense satisfaction), then he went into a most undignified sulk.

"Starbuck, I need you—" Apollo's voice caught and he coughed to cover it. "I need you to finish the rest of this level on your own. I'm going to keep an eye on Sire Uri and his guests, here, make sure nobody does anything spiteful, like destroy this wonderful food or something. Can you handle it?"

"Got it covered, Captain," Starbuck smiled, with an offhand approximation of a salute.

Apollo watched him leave, then shifted his attention to his unwilling companion. "What is it," he mused aloud, "about some people that makes them think they're above the law?"

Sire Uri glowered.

"Particularly in times of war or crisis. Someone always gets the brilliant notion that their needs outweigh anyone else's."

Apollo sighed and turned away, although he kept the older man within range of his peripheral vision. His father wouldn't approve of his taunting a captive, no matter how satisfactory it may be.

His father certainly wouldn't approve of Starbuck as a life partner.

Apollo cringed internally. Forget what his father thought, he wouldn't approve of Starbuck as a life partner. Damn the man. Just when he'd gotten his unnatural desires firmly in check again... And what he'd said about Gaius simply was not true.

Was it?

How had the man become so important to him that even Starbuck could see the attachment? Not love. Apollo refused to love another man. The time with Starbuck (and the yahrens of longing before) represented an aberration. He refused to live such an unclean life. In his head, fine, he'd almost come to terms with the fact that he'd never look at Starbuck without craving his touch. Except he had, since he'd met Gaius...

Sire Uri shifted and Apollo gave his mind an angry yank back to his duty. Time enough for thoughts like this on his own time. Right now he was on duty and would keep his mind on the task at hand.

If he ever got his own time again. This was what, the sixth day of frantic activity, trying to get the refugees sorted into a functioning, defensible fleet? He couldn't imagine how he would have survived even this far without Gaius's help. The man was a miracle of organization. Thanks to him, an end to the long days was actually in sight. If all continued according to his plan, Operation Shift would be complete in two more days. Apollo would get two entire twenty-four centare periods completely to himself, plus an extra eight centares on call, but not active, to put him back on the first shift schedule. After so many twenty-centare days, peppered with stress-related insomnia, all that time off seemed like the promise of Heaven.

Starbuck returned then, bringing three Viper pilots Apollo didn't recognize immediately with him. Apollo outlined what he wanted them to do with the supplies and Uri, then dragged Starbuck back to the shuttle. They still had three more ships to inspect.

Apollo settled on the same course of action he'd chosen earlier in the secton: he acted as though nothing had happened between him and Starbuck. It felt strained and awkward at first, what with his tired mind's insistence on remembering how it had felt to love Starbuck and wondering what it would be like with Gaius, but he managed. In fact, by the time they finished the last inspection and Starbuck piloted the shuttle back home, Apollo felt almost normal again.

Until he stepped into his shrunken quarters, split the day before by a makeshift curtain, and realized that Gaius waited there, curled up on his bed. Light from the open door spilled over him, waking sparkling accents from that battered, but still shimmery, tunic he wore. Then the door slid shut, nearly on Apollo's heels, and cut off the light.

"Apollo?" Gaius woke up and moved while Apollo still stared sightlessly into the dark room. He kept his voice low, respectful of the sleeper on the other side of the curtain. "I needed to see you, hope you don't mind..."

"Ah... of course not." Apollo ignored the joyful leap of his heart. "But not here."

Gaius stood up, a motion Apollo heard rather than saw in the dark room. He moved across the short distance seperating bed from door and stopped when his outstretched hand encountered Apollo. He moved closer still and spoke in a low voice. "Where to, my Captain?"

Apollo said nothing and hoped the hammering of his heart wasn't audible. He turned, dislodging Gaius's hand from his chest, and opened the door. They moved out into the corridor together, then Apollo set off down the hall. "My office," he said over his shoulder, a belated response to the question.

He had himself back under control again by the time he reached his office, although he couldn't stop yawning. That last stim was definitely leaving his system. Gaius followed a few strides behind, perhaps sensing some of his inner turmoil.

Then they were safely inside the office, with the door locked behind and the window opacity darkened to discourage any curiosity from outside.

"I'll try to be quick," Gaius said, perching on the corner of the desk like Starbuck always did. "I know you need your rest. But I just had to see you."

"What's wrong?" Apollo chose not to sit on his chair. It had wheels. In his present state, it would probably shoot straight out from under him and deposit him on the floor. Instead, he sat on the edge of his desk, beside Gaius. "And don't worry about the time. I may be tired and possibly not entirely rational, but I've always got time for you."

Gaius smiled, and Apollo noticed that he must have gotten another turn in the turbowash. His hair, no longer lank and stringy, hung in soft red-brown waves. What would it feel like? Would it flow through his fingers like silk?

"I don't want to whine a lot," Gaius was saying. Apollo got most of his tired mind to focus on the man's words, but couldn't get his eyes off that hair. "But there are more people giving me trouble over the schedules and stuff. Apollo?"

"Mmm, schedules and stuff," Apollo replied dreamily. He could see where the highlights would be, bright against the dark, in natural sunlight... "Go on, I'm listening."

"You may be listening, but you're also listing."

Suddenly the beautiful hair came a lot closer and an arm wrapped around his shoulders. Apollo sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on the thin shoulder. He was dreaming. This could only be a dream, because he remembered getting back to his room after... the inspections. That was it. Yes, this was definitely a dream, and so safe to lean against Gaius and enjoy the feeling of the man's fingers stroking through his hair.

"Poor Apollo, I think you're all done in, aren't you. Are you still listening?"

Apollo made an affirmative noise.

"There's some resistance in the fleet," Gaius continued. "Some of them still don't want to listen to me, although nobody else has come forward with any better plans. Is there a way to make them quit their bitching?"

"Mmm-hmm... delegate," Apollo said, through that thick dream-feeling. "Make 'em remember you've got the Old Gal for backup. Send Boomer. He can convince a rock to walk. And don't stop what you're doing."

The fingers stopped their stroking. "What?"

"Feels good. Don't stop. This's a good dream."

The fingers resumed their gentle stroking and Apollo sighed. Gaius chuckled. "Why do I think I could have a direct conversation with your subconscious right now, my dear Captain? But I won't. I'll leave you that little bit of privacy. Bad enough that you'll wake up in the morning and know I saw you like this."

Then Gaius stood up, and Apollo let out a wordless protest. "Come on, Apollo, you're going back to bed. And I'm halfway tempted to break your alarm and let you sleep yourself out, but I know you'd never forgive me."

"Don't like this dream anymore," Apollo protested. Maybe it wasn't a dream. Maybe he should make more of an effort to be coherent. Just in case, he pushed himself upright. Gaius slipped under his arm and Apollo leaned on him gratefully. Dream or not, he still felt exhausted enough to accept assistance.

Gaius maneuvered them out of the office and down the corridor. Apollo made an effort to walk properly, but he was tired, so tired...

"Hey! Where are you going with the Captain?"

A loud, angry voice intruded on his efforts to walk. Gaius stopped, and Apollo felt him tense all over.

"I'm taking him back to his room. He fell asleep in his office."

"What have you done with him? Hey Corvus, get over here. The frackin' traitor's done something to the Captain."

Maybe it was because Apollo's consciousness hovered somewhere between awake and asleep, maybe it was because he was in physical contact with Gaius. Whatever the reason, the man's anger and outrage smacked into Apollo like a physical blow and he came completely awake in an instant. He straightened and saw one of the new pilots, Raven, with an ugly look in his eyes, stalking closer. Another figure hurried around the corner from the direction of the Viper bays.

"Excuse me, what seems to be the problem?" Adrenaline gave Apollo the strength to step away from Gaius and stand under his own power.

"Captain! We were just—uh—" Raven backed up a step, suddenly uncertain.

"Just what, Raven? And did I hear you call this man a traitor?"

Part of Apollo's mind noticed Corvus casually stroll back around the corner, and he made a mental note to speak to the man later.

"Yes, you did, Captain," Gaius said, in a voice laced with equal parts fury and distress.

Raven's eyes dropped and he nodded.

"Right. I'll have you know that Gaius has done a lot more for this fleet than you have in the past secton. I'll not tolerate any mistreatment of him, or of any other person around here. If you don't like him, that's fine; just keep it to yourself. Now don't you have someplace to be?"

"Yes, Captain." Raven saluted and made a hasty retreat towards the Viper bays.

Apollo rubbed his head. "Raven's a good pilot," he said quietly. "He's just a bit of a hothead."

Gaius nodded. "And he was just expressing the opinion of most of the fleet."

Apollo winced at the quiet bitterness in his voice and started walking again, slowly, towards his quarters. Gaius followed. "Not most of the fleet anymore," Apollo pointed out. "Only a small, disgruntled minority. And that minority's getting smaller every centare."

"Whatever you say, Apollo."

"One of these days I'll get you to believe what I say." Apollo sighed. "So, am I right in assuming that none of that was a dream?"

Gaius laughed, although it still carried the familiar edge of bitterness. "No. You're not dreaming."

"Great." There was his door. Apollo stopped outside it and leaned against the wall, grateful for the support as the adrenaline drained out of his system. "Well, at least I gave you good advice, whether I was dreaming or not. Get Boomer's help. He's smart, he's level-headed, and he doesn't hate you for your family. Okay?"

Gaius nodded. "Now go to bed, Apollo." He started to turn, but Apollo stopped him.

"Not so fast. Are you okay?" Apollo looked him over carefully, but couldn't find any signs of serious distress. His eyes had a slight tension about them, and he looked a little pale, but nothing worse.

"I'm fine."

Apollo held his eyes for a long moment. "Just remember your four days aren't up yet."

Gaius smiled at that, a real smile. "I remember. Now get some rest."

Probably a very good idea, Apollo thought, watching Gaius walk away. He had a feeling he should be concerned about how easily he slipped into that half-aware dream state, but couldn't find the energy to worry about it. When this ended he would never touch another stimtab again.

Apollo realized he still leaned against the wall, staring at nothing, and swore quietly at himself. It took all of his willpower to start moving again. Once in motion, though, he managed to get into his divided room and all the way to his bed. His eyes shut as soon as the door did, and he couldn't stop them. But it didn't matter, because the room was dark anyway. He pulled his boots off and loosened his uniform—would he ever get the blasted thing off again? Since the Destruction, he'd only been out of uniform two or three times. Then he stretched out on his bed, asleep before he finished dragging the light thermal blanket over himself.

[Day 07 AD, 0655 centares. Strike Captain's Office.]

"Bridge to Captain Apollo."

"Yes?"

"Report to bridge after morning briefing. The Commander says if you plan to fly patrol today, don't. We need you here."

"Acknowledged."

Apollo cut off the comm and glared at it resentfully. He'd been anticipating flying the first patrol today so much he could almost taste it. What did they want him on the bridge for, anyway? He belonged in a Viper, which was precisely where he hadn't been hardly at all since this crisis began. Supervising petulant civilians, conducting safety inspections, playing PR man on IFB—what kind of torture would they come up with next?

The first of his squadron leaders arrived in the office and Apollo put on his proper working attitude for the morning briefing. If he sounded a bit wistful when he named Starbuck as his replacement once again, no one commented on it.

After the briefing, Apollo dutifully made his way to the bridge. His father spotted him immediately.

"Captain Apollo, just the man I wanted to see. I've got a job for you."

"What is it, sir?" Good, no sign of resentment, anger, or any other unacceptable attitude in his voice. Whew.

"Captain Jamile and her chief engineer are due on the Galactica at 0730. Since you seem to deal well with the Captain, you are going to be our official liaison. I want you to allow her access to our scanners, and nothing else. Got it?"

Adama glared, but Apollo sensed it wasn't directed at him. Rather, the Commander was likely annoyed at accepting assistance from a pirate.

"Right, sir. Scanners. From the bridge, or only the equipment room?"

"Bridge too," Adama grumped. "Main control all runs through here, might as well let them at it."

"Understood."

Apollo saluted, and Adama turned back to his contemplation of the star map on the main viewscreen.

Since he was there anyway, Apollo looked to see if Gaius manned his near-permanent post at the comm center. Yes, there he sat, dark head bent over the screen and fingers tapping busily at the keyboard.

Apollo crossed the bridge and stopped by Athena's station. She was in the middle of a conversation on the comm, which sounded like an attempt to convince someone he really did have to stay in his assigned position. Finally she disconnected and leaned back with a frustrated sound. "Idiot!"

"Who, me?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, hello, Apollo. Not you, at least not this time."

"Thanks, I think. I just wanted to say thanks for what you did yesterday."

Athena twitched and looked quickly around. No one paid the slightest attention to them. The guilt on her face eased a bit. "Don't mention it. And I mean that. If anyone found out..."

"Well, I don't think it would be as much of a problem as you think. Everything worked out well in the end, and it looks like our esteemed father has unbent enough to admit we need a little help."

Athena grinned, a hint of her old sparkle showing in her eyes. "I know. I was the one who made the initial contact and arranged today's meeting."

Apollo laughed. "Yes, I can see them delegating it to you. Wouldn't do for either the Commander or his buddy the Colonel to beg a lowly pirate for assistance."

Athena tossed her hair back over her shoulders and assumed a haughty expression. "Beg! I'll have you know, a battlestar never begs. We bribed."

Apollo laughed. He made a mental note to himself to seek out Athena more often. He'd been busy, true, but lately when he'd thought about family he'd thought of the ones he'd lost, not the sister and father who survived. "Bribed with what?"

"We offered an exchange of favors. They'll come see if they can tune up our five-hundred-plus yahren old scanners better than we can, we'll ignore their use of illegal weaponry."

"I suppose that makes sense," Apollo nodded. "Gives father a chance to acknowledge that they helped us out of a tight spot—caused by him, might I add—without bruising his pride too much."

"Actually, it was Tigh who said to hold back. But—" Her console chimed. "Blast. Back to work for me, brother dear."

Apollo left her to do her job. Before he left the bridge he stopped by Gaius.

"Hello, Apollo. When are you going to get me off this bridge?" He didn't look away from his monitor, but Apollo was fairly sure Gaius was smiling.

"Most people would love a chance to work on the bridge of a battlestar," he said, with a smile of his own. Gaius glanced up for a moment, then returned to the screen in front of him.

"But I signed on to work with you, not with hundreds of cranky pilots and first officers and engineers and even cooks, every one with some complaint about how do I expect them to do that, and so on."

"True. But you know better than I do how close the Shift is to complete. You can come back when it's all over."

"Actually, the hard part is over. You know that. Or don't you remember as far back as yesterday, when you were part of the crew doing final safety inspections?"

Apollo groaned. "Don't remind me. I'd rather forget. So what're you doing, then?"

"Taking all the complaints and requests for help, acting like a glorified dispatcher—listening to people bitch."

"Well, I'll see what I can do about freeing you. That sounds like work one of the ensigns can do. But for now—" he checked his chrono. "I have to go meet Captain Jamile and her engineer. I'll see you in a bit."

Captain Jamile arrived three centons after her expected landing time. She piloted her small surface-to-space vehicle into Alpha Bay herself, with her engineer in the co-pilot's seat. Apollo waited impatiently behind the safety screen until the red lights flipped to green, indicating that atmosphere was restored to the landing bay. He reached the small craft just as Jamile popped the hatch and emerged.

"Captain Jamile?"

She grinned, teeth flashing white in a face as dark as Boomer's. Apollo resolved not to let his surprise show. Leonids were more known for steady, almost placid temperaments, not the wild independence privateers reveled in.

"I know that voice! Captain Apollo, we meet at last." She extended a slim hand and Apollo took it with a smile.

"Yes, the Commander appointed me your official liaison, based on the fact that we got along so well in the heat of battle."

Jamile snorted, eyes sparkling. "I'd rather deal with you than that stubborn old fogey who insulted my ship and my intelligence."

"Ah—which old fogey would that be? The Commander, or the Colonel?" Apollo struggled to contain his mixed reaction of amusement and outrage. It was one thing for the crew of the Galactica to pick on her leaders, but quite another to hear it coming from an outsider... no matter how much he happened to agree with her.

"Colonel Tight, I think his name was."

Apollo snorted. "That's what the first-yahren ensigns call him, all right, but don't let him hear you say it. His name's Tigh, not Tight."

"Tigh, Tight, whatever," Jamile waved her hand carelessly. Beside her, the engineer coughed and shuffled her feet pointedly. "Oh, yes, Captain. This is Lumilla, my chief engineer. Word is we're supposed to update your old hunk of junk?"

Apollo smiled at Lumilla, an exotic-looking lady with olive skin and slanted eyes, then indicated the doorway. "Yes, if it is possible. Now if you ladies will come with me?"

Apollo led the way to the bridge, both amused and annoyed by Jamile's comments. The pirate—privateer—definitely fit his image of what a pirate should look like, with her flowing black shipsuit and red hip scarf, and enough jewelry to buy a small town, with knee-high black boots. She walked with a long, loose stride, definitely unlike the control most military personnel exhibited even when off duty. Everything about the woman proclaimed that she lived by her own rules and did a damn fine job of it.

On the bridge, Apollo showed the two women to the proper console, then hung back uncertainly. Neither the Commander nor the Colonel were in sight, so he waved Omega over and introduced the pi—privateers. Omega welcomed them gravely and suggested that if they needed anything, Apollo would see to it, then left.

All around them, bridge personnel pretended to go on about their work as Lumilla began inspecting the scanner, conferring with Jamile in a low voice. Apollo was aware of them sneaking looks, though, at the unusual pair of women.

"Son of a daggit! You can't be serious!" Jamile's laugh rang out over the bridge into a startled silence. Then normal bridge sounds resumed as people tried to pretend nothing had happened.

"Is there something wrong?" Apollo asked, crowding in close to peer at the console.

"I should have expected it, but it's still a bit of a shock to actually see it for myself." Jamile's sparkling eyes and smile teased him, daring him to ask her another question. Apollo obliged.

"What is the 'it' that you find so shocking?"

"This, this—" and she gestured at the console. "Your whole set-up. It's not just out-of-date, it's... completely legal!"

A few muffled snorts met this remark. Apollo felt his lips twitch, trying to grin, but kept his face serious with an effort. "And just how illegal can scanning equipment get, anyway? One long-range detector's like another, isn't it?"

"Oh, Captain, you're no fun," Jamile said, with a mock pout and a real wink. Apollo couldn't decide if he liked her, or if she annoyed him. "Look, we can do a few things that will boost the performance of this system significantly. It's not really a piece of junk. What it is, is constrained by things Colonial law insists on having to protect the privacy of its citizens. So do you want us to go ahead and do the upgrades, or not?"

"Give me a moment on that one," Apollo replied. "I'm going to have to consult with the Commander before I approve anything like that."

"I expected that. Hurry back, now."

Apollo caught Gaius watching him closely as he looked around the bridge. Still no sign of Adama. So he went to Omega's station.

"Is the Commander in his office, by chance?"

"Yes, and he's listening in, so I don't doubt he'll be expecting you."

"Thanks."

Apollo didn't hurry on his way to the office. He saw Gaius watching him again, and wondered what was on his mind. Then he heard Jamile swear a very colorful oath and wondered what prompted it.

Adama and Tight (No! He would not slip up and call the Colonel that to his face!) Tigh waited for him, wearing identical sour expressions.

"Omega said you're listening in?"

"Yes," his father replied. "And we're pretty sure we want those modifications. Just do one thing for us, though."

"What's that?"

"Your friend Gaius hasn't been very busy today, and he's a whiz with the database," Tigh said. "Find out what modifications they want to make, and have Gaius research them. We want improved performance, but not at the cost of crew health or safety."

"And please inform them that the short-range scanners are fine as is," Adama continued. "We don't have a need to know what the members of the fleet are serving at their dinner tables."

Apollo chuckled. "Very well, I'll let them know. So safety is the only guideline, not legality?"

"Yes," both men replied together.

"Right." Apollo saluted, then returned to the scanner console.

"Captain, Engineer, if you'll both please come over here," he indicated Gaius's station, "we've got a quick bit of research to do before we can okay the modifications. The Commander and the Colonel indicated that you don't need to bother with the short-range capabilities."

Gaius looked up as they approached, with as hostile an expression as Apollo had seen him wear yet. He hadn't even favored Serena the reporter with such a glare. "Gaius, the Commander wants to put you to work again," he said, with an easy smile, hoping to disarm the hostility. "These ladies want to make some modifications to our scanners, removing some of the safeguards and suchlike that make the equipment legal. We'd like you to check into why the safeguards are there in the first place, if you would, and let me know which, if any, are there as safety precautions. We don't want anything that could affect crew health or safety."

"Certainly, Apollo," Gaius said, flashing a quick grin at Apollo before he resumed his glare. Apollo noticed it was aimed only at Jamile, not at Lumilla, and decided the man must have something against pirate captains.

Lumilla stepped up closer to Gaius and spoke in a pleasant, low voice, giving him the first of thirty-three safety buffers she wanted to remove. Apollo hung back, uncertain what he should do, but completely unwilling to leave Captain Jamile unsupervised for even one centon. The entire process lasted for fifty-seven centons, during which Jamile made alternately cutting and amusing remarks and eased closer and closer to Apollo.

Apollo decided he found Jamile annoying. Yes, she fascinated him. Yes, she gave new meaning to the words "exotic beauty." And yes, he appreciated her wicked sense of humor far more than he could let on while on duty. But her persistant attempts to get just a little closer, or the casual way she laid her hand on his arm or shoulder, bothered him. He preferred to keep a bit of personal space around him when dealing with a new female acquaintance, until he got a clear sense of her expectations, and... oh, hell. He might as well admit it, at least to himself: he wanted to be the one to make the first move.

Gaius surprised Apollo. While he searched the Old Gal's database and internal BBS for information, he managed to fire off several scathing retorts to Jamile's acidic comments. Apollo felt rather like a spectator at a verbal wrestling match, or perhaps the floor mat on a Triad court.

At least Lumilla seemed unaffected by the strange web of tensions surrounding the small group. She just continued naming off the parameters of the problematic buffers, making notes on her handheld data pad when something proved necessary for safety.

By the time the approved modifications were complete, Apollo's entire back writhed in a mass of tension, and he had a headache on top of the one he'd lived with for days now that stemmed from the overuse of stims. But Lumilla did a thorough and competent job with her modifications, and the results presented an overall improvement of 153%. The Commander and Tigh remained sequestered in the office for the entire repair session, eavesdropping in comfort. Apollo wished he could have spent the time with them.

Once the privateers lifted clear of the Galactica, Apollo heaved a huge sigh of relief. Finally! In the future, he resolved to keep Jamile on the other end of a comm channel. Then he made his way back to the bridge and found his father and Tigh crowing over their new scanning capabilities.

Gaius was in the middle of one of the increasingly rare calls for Shift assistance. All materials and personnel were in place now. All that remained were the finishing touches, as the people involved used the available materials to convert cargo holds and unused landing bays into living quarters.

Apollo waited patiently until he finished the call, then laid a hand on Gaius's shoulder. "Do you still need Boomer's help? He's back on board by now, his patrol finished at 1100."

Gaius smiled. "Yes, that would be great," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe he'd tensed up, too. "Some of these people are real idiots."

"Athena agrees with you on that one. Come on, I'll let Boomer know he'll be working with you for a bit."

Gaius rose and stretched, leaving the bridge with a rapid stride. Apollo caught up to him at the lift. Something was bothering the man still, despite the absence of the pirates.

He discovered exactly what occupied Gaius's mind in the lift.

"Jamile was right about one thing," he said, eyes fastening on Apollo with a burning intensity.

"What's that?"

"If you see something you want, you should just go ahead and go for it, before someone else gets it."

Then he stepped close, so close, and raised his hands to Apollo's face, and kissed him.

Apollo's first reaction was to reach up and pull Gaius closer. Then he realized what he was doing and used up all his willpower to push Gaius away. "No... can't do that... it's wrong." Even that brief kiss had him completely out of breath. His hands on Gaius's shoulders wanted to turn the pressure into a caress.

"Wrong?" Gaius frowned. He put his hands over Apollo's, stroking lightly. "What do you mean?"

"Wrong, evil, unclean... I can't..." Words failed him. Apollo willed Gaius to understand, to comprehend why he couldn't do what he wanted so very badly to do. Frack, he hadn't even reacted this strongly to Starbuck, and he'd obsessed over Starbuck for yahrens!

Apollo felt some of Gaius's confusion, then suddenly his open expression slammed shut like a blast door. Roughly, he pushed Apollo's hands off his shoulders and scooted back a few steps, glaring.

"Evil. That's right. You're Kobolian. How could I forget?"

"Yes, I'm Kobolian," Apollo nodded, torn between relief and stomach-churning alarm. He didn't want Gaius looking at him like that, not ever. "And what you want, I just can't give."

Gaius made no reply. Instead, he drew himself upright and brushed his tunic off, every inch the arrogant Phaethon Apollo had seen the first night they'd met. Something twisted inside, but Apollo refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he put on his own professional, public manner like body armor. The lift stopped and opened.

Apollo found it seriously disturbing to walk through the corridors paced by the rigidly silent man who, just a few short centons ago, had been one of his closest friends. He let nothing show, of course, just kept the worry and upset inside and let it gnaw away at his guts and increase the tension knots in his back and neck. What if their friendship never recovered? What if—frack! He did a quick count of the days in his head since they'd met and came up with three. But what if Gaius didn't stop to think things through and realize that they had a good friendship without bringing love into it? What if he went to the chapel early tomorrow morning and completed the ritual of Karnasec?

Boomer gave both of them several suspicious looks, no doubt trying to determine the source of the visible tension between the two men. He said nothing, though, just nodded acceptance when Apollo asked him to work with Gaius. Apollo left Gaius with Boomer and went into his office, making every effort to look normal. Whether he succeeded or not, he had no idea, but he did his best.

Once safely inside his office, he slapped on the privacy light and locked the door. Then he darkened the windows. No one needed to see the Captain fall apart.

He wished he could cry again. Women always said crying helped them feel better in an emotional crisis. Instead, thoughts just whirled faster and faster through his head, alternately tearing him up and twisting his tension level up another notch until he thought he'd snap.

Why? Why, why, why? Apollo clenched his hands in his hair, covering his eyes. Why had Gaius done that?

No, scratch that. He knew bloody well why Gaius had done that. A kiss like that wasn't a joke, or a tease, or a game. It was a promise.

Apollo released his hair and crossed his office with quick, jerky strides. He threw himself into his chair and it rolled. He swore and sent it back where he wanted it.

Bloody, fracking hell.

He pounded on his desk, then froze, eyes wide, when his door chirped and slid open.

"Bet you forgot you gave me the code to your office," Starbuck said, looking smugly pleased with himself. The door slid shut behind him.

Apollo made an attempt at pulling himself together, but could tell by the concern in Starbuck's eyes he wasn't successful. "Go away."

"Not until I find out what the frack you did to the kid out there," Starbuck nodded in the general direction of the lounge. "He's all messed up."

Oh, frack.

"Nothing," Apollo grated out. "I did nothing to 'the kid,' as you call him. Nothing at all. Now leave me alone."

Starbuck looked at him. Just a look, but in typical Starbuck fashion, it carried worlds of information. Yeah, right, it said, and my grandma's astrum. The look also read You screwed up.

"Apollo, don't give me that felgercarb, okay? I know you too well for that. I'd bet the kid made a move, 'cause anyone can see he worships the ground you walk on, and you pushed him away. Am I right?"

Apollo said nothing.

"I thought so. That's probably the stupidest thing you've ever done."

I know, said Apollo's gut.

"I came to terms with your damned Kobolian prejudices a long time ago, Apollo. They're a part of you, and the Kobolian way of life is so deeply ingrained into you that you'll never be free of it. And I love you, prejudices and all, because you're who you are. And I know I kind of took unfair advantage of you, getting you in bed when you were emotionally unstable and blah blah blah. But what the frack, at least now neither one of us is sneaking looks when the other's not looking, and wondering what it would be like, right?"

Apollo had never known the man noticed him looking.

"But Gaius, now, he's not like me. He's totally gone on you. I'm too much of a player, you know that, I'll probably never settle down. But that kid sees one person in the entire universe, and that's you, Apollo."

Suddenly Apollo could speak again. "Starbuck, the absolute last thing I need right now is for you, of all people, to sit here and lecture me. I made a decision, based on what I know is right. It's the only one I can live with. Now will you please get out of here? I've got work to do."

Starbuck gave him another one of those looks, then shrugged. "Suit yourself, Captain. Enjoy your misery."

Then he turned and walked out of the office.

Apollo locked the door behind him, although what good it would do he wasn't sure. Frack! Now he really wished he could cry. Why couldn't men have some kind of emotional outlet other than hitting things? He pounded on the wall a few times, but it did nothing to change the fact that he'd just pissed off and hurt the two people closest to him in all the worlds.

He stomped back over to his desk and tried to do something productive—might have been filing pilot reports, he wasn't sure—but gave it up as a bad idea when he realized he couldn't even focus long enough to comprehend what he saw on the printed pages. So he turned to the computer, to deal with the scheduling. The four-centare rotations could not go on forever.

Twenty centons later, he gave up on that, too. He could not make the numbers work so there were always the proper forty pilots in the air at any given time without sticking one unfortunate squadron out of the four available with a twenty centare work shift. That was a very bad idea. Just look at how a secton of twenty centare shifts affected him, turning him into a stim-popping farton that hurt his closest friends just for the frack of it.

He needed to do something physical. Apollo switched his status on the boards to "standby, emergency calls only." What the hell, he'd put in more than enough time. The Old Gal could live without him for a few centares.

He set off without a goal in mind and just walked. No turbolifts, no high-speed transports, just his own two feet and his distress.

What would he do if Gaius completed that rite? The possibility nagged at him, gnawed a hole in his twisting, aching guts. Gaius couldn't complete the rite, because Apollo needed him.

His steps slowed. Yes, he needed Gaius, the same way he needed Starbuck, damn it. As a friend. He picked up the pace again, driving himself harder and harder as though he could outrun the pain, leave the knowledge of what he'd done behind.

Suddenly he knew where to go: the rec facility. It should be open now. If it wasn't, he'd damn well open it himself, because he wanted to use the weight room.

But the weights did no good. Apollo peeled off his uniform and changed into his workout gear in the locker room, then pushed himself as much as he dared without a spotter on the weight machine. It felt good, the physical effort, the straining against something he could see and measure and understand. But even when he reached the point where his muscles trembled and he must have sweated out the entire secton's water ration, he couldn't escape the hurt look in those beautiful dark eyes before the mask had slammed into place.

Apollo showered, then put his dirty uniform back on. Part of him actually reveled in the fact that he didn't have a clean one available. Let him wear the nasty filthy thing. He wasn't good enough for a clean one. Look at what he'd done to the man who loved him.

Apollo gasped and doubled over at the pain of that thought. It went straight through his gut, so intense that he thought he might actually vomit. He didn't, but he came very close. He straightened up cautiously and prodded at the thought like a sore tooth. It hurt, oh Lords, it hurt, but it also felt true: Gaius loved him.

And he loved... no.

Apollo slammed his locker shut and left the rec facility. The chapel. Physical activity wasn't helping, other than to wear down his already tired body. He needed a place to sit and think, to determine for himself exactly why he was reacting this way, and what to do about it.

By the time he reached the chapel he felt ready to collapse. Too much, too much of everything... He paused in the entryway to catch his breath, right in the doorway to the main chapel.

"Greetings, son of Athanos the traitor."

Although quiet, the unexpected voice filled the little chapel. Apollo, startled, raised his head and looked around. He'd been staring at the lock panel, remembering the last time he'd visited the chapel, and hadn't realized someone was already there.

"Excuse me?" he asked as politely as he could, then spotted the man rising from a shadowed corner. "What did you mean by that?"

"You will not find what you seek here," the man continued, coming forward into the soft blue light. "Instead, the truth has found you."

"I'm sorry, I have no idea who you are or what you're talking about."

Apollo would have left, but the man's unusual appearance kept him there, staring. The man stood tall, very tall, and had long slender limbs. He wore a plain white sleeveless robe cut in a very ancient design. His skin appeared golden even in the dim chapel light and his head shone bald. His wide-set eyes had an exotic shape to them. In short, the man looked like he'd stepped straight from a mural depicting the ancient Kobolians, ancestors of the colonists.

"My name is Pyxis," the man said, then nodded at Apollo's jolt of recognition. "And I have a tale to tell you, that you may make an informed decision. Earlier this day, you wounded someone unnecessarily, out of ignorance and fear. Even now his pain calls me with a steady beacon. But you—" Pyxis shook his head. "Son of Athanos, there is much you do not know about life. Will you stay here and learn, with open heart and mind?"

His pain calls me, the man had said. Did it feel like the fiery, shifting ache gnawing away inside Apollo? He nodded slowly. "I will stay, Pyxis, and hear what you have to say."

"Then sit, and be comfortable, for this is a long tale and does not make pleasant hearing." The tall man sank gracefully to the floor, with the altar glowing blue behind his back.

Apollo looked at the easy way Pyxis sat, with his legs folded under him as though he had no bones at all, and shook his head ruefully. He lowered himself to the chapel floor cautiously, trying not to flinch at the various protests his abused body made. When he was settled, Pyxis began to speak.

"The Silent Lord is not dead. The traitor did not succeed in wiping out his worship, nor the knowledge gathered over the centuries by his priests. But what Athanos did do was to completely twist the old ways of life into a parody of what the Silent Lord wanted for his people."

"What—" Apollo began, confused, but Pyxis held up a hand.

"Before I properly begin my tale, I want you to understand that what you have known all of your life as the teachings of the Lords of Kobol are false. The traitor twisted the teachings of the Silent Lord and his priests to serve his own needs, and passed these corrupted rules on to his successors as divine truth. The Lords of Kobol delighted in ignorance and control, rather than encouraging free thought in their followers.

"The Temple of the Silent Lord was different. Before the traitor Athanos became known as the First Lord of Kobol, he studied among the priests at the Temple. There he learned the ways of the Silent Lord, he who has four faces and encompasses all that is. In the Temple Athanos learned how to hear the voice of his god in the stillness. He learned of the gifts given to Ihve's children—" Apollo felt a chill travel through him at the sound of the god's name. "—at their creation, gifts intended to enhance life and all its experiences. He learned also that following the will of the Silent Lord can bring peace, joy, fulfillment beyond the dreams of most men.

"But Athanos was not content to remain in the House of Ihve. Instead, he chose to go out into the world with his knowledge, and he went with the blessing of the priests, the men and women who had forsworn the outside world in favor of the peace of the Temple. How could they not give their blessing, when all things happen according to Ihve's will? Had they known what would come, perhaps they would have tried to stop him." Pyxis paused for a moment, head bowed. Then he continued. "Athanos went forth and entered the world again. Rather than teach others the ways of Ihve, he began to use his gifts for personal enrichment. The ordinary folk had no knowledge of Ihve's gifts, and so Athanos appeared to have miraculous powers to them. He could read the future as clearly as a printed book. He could heal wounds and illness with a touch. He could transform suffering into joy. I see by your expression that you have heard of these supposed miracles before. What you may not have heard is how Athanos, drunk on the admiration of the common folk, established himself as divine. And when he used the knowledge gained at the Temple to accurately predict an eclipse, the common folk believed it another display of his power and proclaimed him a Living God. Athanos accepted their accolade and so began the rule of the First Lord of Kobol."

Apollo shook his head slowly. The facts were the same as he'd known all his life, some of them anyway, but presented in such a different manner...

"The priests of Ihve had little concern for the actions of one man in the outside world. They had rituals to conduct, a god to serve and love, and lives to enjoy. They continued on about their lives as though nothing would ever change.

"Then one priest became aware of a fundamental change in the world outside. Every spring, the people would celebrate the rebirth of the world out in the fields, honoring the Creator aspect of Ihve, male and female. Couples would come together under the moonlight to bless the fields and encourage fertility. But that yahren, none celebrated the rites. The firepits lay cold and dead, and the villages sat quiet as though Spring Eve were no more special than any other night. Concerned, he began to make inquiries, and found that the world had shifted dramatically over the ten yahrens since Athanos entered it. People now lived according to the decrees of their Living God. He decided what was good for them, they did as they were told. Men and women could only lay together in a union blessed by the priests of the Living God. Men could never lay with each other, nor women with other women, because Athanos found such activity personally offensive. The fields would only bloom and bear fruit if he decreed it so. And all who questioned his word were put to death."

Apollo heard the creaky old voice of the priest at his family's chapel in Caprica City: And some refused to hear the wisdom of the First Lord, even unto death...

"The Silent Lord teaches us that all happens according to his will, so he must have had a reason for what happened next, but to this day not one of his followers has understood the reason. The priest of Ihve who went out into the world to discover why no celebrants participated in the Spring Eve rites encountered Athanos himself and named him traitor, accusing him of perverting the teachings of the Silent Lord and forcing the people to serve his needs against their own best interests.

"To say Athanos was furious is an understatement. Athanos flew into such a rage that he nearly killed the priest with a blast of energy once used for healing. The priest barely escaped with his life. Once the traitor left him to die, he struggled to return to his Temple and warn the other priests that Athanos might seek revenge.

"But he came too late. When he returned to the Temple, weak and exhausted, he found only a smouldering ruin. Of the men and women who served Ihve, only a handful remained, hiding in the lowest cellar."

Pyxis paused, and Apollo could see the scene in his mind's eye as clearly as though he were there. Shattered walls, smouldering interiors, gardens turned into killing grounds... rather like the ruins of Caprica City.

"The Temple of the Silent Lord was no more. The survivors gathered up what they could, the few manuscripts that survived the burning of the Library, a few cuttings of herbs and vegetable plants... whatever had not been destroyed by the Living God's wrath. They went into hiding, all twenty-five of them, and founded the Hidden Temple."

Pyxis paused again and looked at Apollo. "I will not tell you of the difficulties that followed, nor of how the Hidden Temple survived the holy war between the Twelfth Lord of Kobol and the forgotten Thriteenth Lord. I will only say that the cult survived through the reigns of all twelve Lords, seeing more and more of the ancient ways forgotten, and remained intact on board the ships that crossed the Void from Kobol to the Colonial Cluster. The cult survives still, although our numbers are fewer than ever before, and the Silent Lord watches over us still."

This time when Pyxis fell silent he did not continue to speak. Apollo's mind shivered at the blasphemy of his thoughts, but he opened his mouth anyway and let them out. "The First Lord of Kobol was a mortal man, not a god," he said slowly. Pyxis nodded. "The Lord used knowledge gained in the Temple of the Silent Lord to order the world the way he wanted it." The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he continued at Pyxis's nod. "Each following Lord of Kobol was just a mortal man, taught by the one before him. Am I right?"

"Yes."

Apollo felt nauseated. Now what? All his life, he'd believed the Lords of Kobol were truly divine. Proof. He needed proof, before he'd completely give over belief in the Lords on the strangth of one strange man's words. He closed his eyes, looking for courage in a soul that felt hollow and betrayed. "You say the Miracles were merely tricks learned in the Temple that all of the Silent Lord's followers could perform. Can you prove this claim?"

"Yes."

When the man said nothing more, Apollo opened his eyes and raised his head, hope glimmering within him. Pyxis was wrong, he could no more reproduce a Miracle than Apollo could—

Pyxis sat quietly, watching Apollo, bathed in a golden halo of light. It surrounded him exactly like the representations of the Lords when they walked among mortals. "Give me your hand," Pyxis said, and his already rich voice had a resonant, penetrating quality that shook Apollo down to his bones. In a daze he extended his hand. Pyxis enfolded it in both of his, bowing his head, and murmured something that might have been a benediction. Apollo's hand tingled. Then a sensation of health, peace, and general well-being began to spread through his body.

Apollo gasped. The relief from tension was so great actual tears came to his eyes. He took a deep breath and felt life flowing through him, a vitality he'd never before experienced. All the aches, bruises, and minor injuries collected over the last secton melted away. Even the tension and emotional pain eased.

"What did you just do?" he asked, reclaiming his hand. The golden light about Pyxis faded to a slight glimmer, barely distinguishable out of the corner of Apollo's eye.

"I healed what ailed you," the man said simply, as though he had not just performed something Apollo had considered a miracle for thirty-two yahrens of life.

"Thank you," Apollo said, although now he felt even more unsettled inside. His mind stirred sluggishly, in shock. He knew he had many questions, but he could not think of ways to put them into words. Then one formed of its own accord. "Who is the Silent Lord?"

Pyxis smiled. "The god with four faces," he replied enigmatically, then went on. "That is the literal translation of the name Ihve. The four faces are Youth, Creator, Wise One, and Warrior. The god is neither male nor female, although Ihve chooses to appear as male to simplify matters for the uninitiated. This paradox, the blending of four into one and the merging of sexes, is the First Mystery."

Apollo shivered. "Why tell me of the Mystery? I'm no initiate."

"Maybe not in this lifetime, Reborn," Pyxis replied, then smiled at Apollo's gasp. "You have not yet remembered how to hear Ihve's voice. When you do, you will understand."

"I want to understand now," Apollo muttered. "How could I hear Ihve's voice? Does the Silent Lord speak?"

"Yes. But to hear his voice, your own must be completely silent. Only when one's mind is still can the Silent Lord be heard."

Apollo thought for a moment. His mind moved sluggishly, an extreme contrast to the life flowing through his veins. "The Lords of Kobol died. They were men. The Silent Lord created them?"

"The Silent Lord created everything, yes, and made man in his own image, both male and female."

More confusion swirled through his head. "The guidelines set out by the Lords of Kobol contradict the teachings of the four-faced god?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me how the god wants people to live?" He couldn't quite bring himself to say "his people."

"Ihve speaks to people in their souls and offers guidance. If you wish to learn his will, look within yourself."

"Isn't that a cop-out?" Apollo said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "When you put it that way, it sounds like I should follow whatever I desire and call it god's will. But what if I want something that is wrong or bad? Like, say, I look within myself and find that I really really want to kill someone who pi—er, who upset me. Would that, then, be god's will?"

"No. That would be your will." Pyxis gave a wry smile. "I never said it was easy to follow the Silent Lord's guidance. When you see a desire within yourself, it still comes from you. To hear the voice of Ihve you need to go within yourself to a place where all is still. Paradoxical though it seems, you must descend so deep within your soul that self-awareness fades and all that is left is the voice of god. Believe me when I say that once you hear that voice, you will never mistake it for anything other than divine."

Divine. The voice of a god, a true god...

A god of which Apollo knew very little. One thing he did know sprang to mind. "When I first met Gaius," he said, unsure of whether he would like the answer but curious enough to ask anyway, "he was here in the chapel, and—well, flagellating himself. Is this still a common practice among the followers of the Silent Lord? And if so, why? What is the purpose of hitting yourself with a whip?"

"Purification," Pyxis replied, which Apollo abruptly recalled was what Gaius had called it. "Conflict within oneself can cause much damage, to the body as well as to the mind. When one is distressed, the Warrior teaches us to turn the conflict outwards, rather than inwards. The striking of one's own flesh can serve this purpose. Turn the destructive force of negative emotion into action, and physical sensation—yes, even pain—and one's conflict will ease. The ritual use of the lash does nothing to solve problems. However, it does relieve inner tension, and facilitate the removal of negative energy, clearing the mind and preparing the way for more positive influences."

Apollo thought of his own reaction to the stresses of the day and nodded thoughtful understanding. The practice was neither as foreign nor as disturbing as it had seemed at first sight.

"If your god is everywhere, in everything, then why do so few people know of his worship?"

Pyxis smiled enigmatically. "Because my god does not demand loud, ostentatious worship. Rather he is content to let his people live as they choose, and call to him those he wishes to keep close by."

Apollo marshalled his confused thoughts into some sort of order, and they all indicated the same thing: he really needed time alone to sort through everything he'd just heard.

"Pyxis, will I be able to speak to you again, and ask more questions? Because I think I need to go somewhere and sort out all of this information. You've given me a lot to think about, and I confess, some of the implications scare me."

Pyxis nodded. "You will know how to find me when the time is right, Apollo. You stand at a crossroads in your life right now. The choices you make now will influence your entire life from this point on, every centon of every day. Consider carefully before making any decisions. And remember, anyone may hear the voice of the Silent Lord, not just Initiates."

Then he rose and glided towards the door, leaving Apollo seated in front of the altar with his head bowed.

Apollo didn't even hear the door close. He concentrated on silencing his thoughts, one at a time. Kobolian teachings suggested using a mantra, a word or phrase or nonsense syllable that repeated over and over to fill the consciousness while meditating. He fought through that training, silencing the mantra he'd chosen as a teenager, trying to reach that special place Pyxis indicated he carried within himself.

No thoughts, no mantra. No conscious feeling of his body at all. Silence outside... silence inside.

Apollo drifted down, down, past the dark and pain-scarred surface of his thoughts, through the shifting formless shapes that inhabited his subconscious mind. He felt no fear, just a gentle drifting, there in the stillness and tranquility. Lower, lower, through a sparkling darkness and into a glowing fog...

Then Apollo reached that place Pyxis had spoken of. Somewhere deep in his soul he found a place of shining beauty. He sat there in awe and disbelief, gazing without words or conscious thought at the crystalline center of his being.

The Silent Lord spoke.

[Day 08 AD, 2210 centares. Interfaith Chapel.]

The light emanating from the altar lit the single figure kneeling in the chapel, much as it had four days ago. Apollo hung back, silent, wondering. Had the ritual begun? Or was the man simply thinking?

A faint odor of incense hung in the air, both clean and spicy. Gaius moved, doing something... writing? Then his right arm stretched out, and Apollo heard a faint poof and a brief crackling sound. What...

He edged forward, cautious, every sense alert and nerve on end. Gaius made no response, so he crept closer, closer... Gaius moved, and Apollo froze. He leaned forward and lifted something—a feather? No, a quill pen, which he dipped in an inkwell and bent to write something. Apollo sidled closer until he could see what Gaius drew out on the paper: the word pain. He formed each letter with care, concentrating, making every stroke perfect. Then he put the quill aside and paused, resuming the position he'd held when Apollo arrived, before he put the small square of paper into the tiny brazier of live coals sitting before him.

Poof.

Apollo felt a thrill of alarm from his spacer's instincts, which viewed any kind of fire as potntially life-threatening in space. He ignored it. Turning the pain outside, purification... the purpose of this ritual seemed clear. But was it part of a more sinister ritual? Apollo didn't know.

More words met their fate in the brazier: fear, distrust, lack of confidence. Low self-esteem. Anger, rejection. And then, larger and darker than any of the others, guilt.

Gaius sat for so long after his guilt became nothing but ashes that Apollo thought his ritual must be over. Then Gaius sighed and wrote one more word: love.

Apollo didn't stop to think. He just reached out and grabbed Gaius by the wrist, gently removing the square of paper and setting it to the side. Still without saying anything, Apollo picked up the quill and scratched out a word of his own on a fresh paper: fear. He dropped it into the brazier, on the glowing coals. The paper incinerated.

Gaius stared at him, wide-eyed.

Pain, there went another shared negative influence. Now for one of his own: betrayal. And prejudice, followed by public opinion. With each word, Apollo felt lighter, happier. Self-hatred. Denial. Then, and he finally saw a real reaction from Gaius at this one, Kobolian doctrine.

That felt good, watching the repressive lie he'd lived all his life go up in smoke. He had no illusion that he'd be completely free of the Kobolian influence, but at least he could begin to make his own choices instead of following the guidelines of a manipulative traitor.

He picked up the square he'd laid carefully aside, the one that said love, and offered it to Gaius. Suddenly he knew what to say.

"Four days ago, right here in this chapel, I asked you to put aside beliefs you've held all your life and try living without guilt. You had the courage to do it, to not just make the attempt, but to actually put aside the guilt your family laid on your shoulders your entire life and face the false accusations of frightened and confused people. You succeeded." Apollo paused, took a steadying breath. "But I failed. When you asked me to do the same thing, to set aside a belief I'd lived my entire life by, I pushed you away instead. This was wrong because it hurt you, but even more so because what I did came from fear of my own self. I know you may never want to speak to me again, and it's my own fault. But I have seen inside myself, and I have heard the voice of the Silent Lord, and I know now that no love is evil. Please don't—"

The words failed him then. Apollo bowed his head, unwilling to look at Gaius and see rejection. His outstretched hand sagged lower, the tiny slip of paper suddenly as heavy as a battlestar. Apologizing to Starbuck had been easy, compared to this. Starbuck knew him well enough to understand that Apollo did not truly want to cause him pain. But Gaius did not...

Then he felt a light touch on the back of his hand and his eyes snapped open. Gaius took the paper and folded it in half, tucking it away in his shoulder bag, which slumped, unnoticed, beside him.

"Apollo," Gaius began, then reached for his hand again. Hope burned inside Apollo. "I don't intend to complete the ritual anymore."

The hope filled him, to the point where it was a struggle to speak. "Do I get another chance?"

Gaius smiled, and Apollo could have shouted with joy. "Yes."

The brazier burned on, forgotten, as their lips met in a kiss that held nothing of pain or fear, only glory.

"This is not the best place for this," Apollo said, gesturing at the chapel around him. "Would you care to join me in my now-empty quarters? As of this morning, the last roommate got shifted over to Beta Pod."

"Are you sure?" Those beautiful dark eyes searched Apollo's face for any sign of fear or hesitation. Apollo smiled and stroked Gaius's hair, just like he'd wanted to for so long.

"I'm sure." The hair was silky and soft, thicker than he'd imagined. "I'm not afraid anymore. And I'm sorry, more than I can say, for what I did yesterday. Let me make it up to you?"

Gaius captured Apollo's hand and rubbed his cheek against it like a kitling before he kissed it. "You already have, just by being here."

He released Apollo's hand and reached for the small brazier. He flipped the lid from its open position back on top of the little pot and clamped it down, effectively smothering the coals. Apollo hoped the metal covered good insulation. Otherwise, how did Gaius plan to carry the thing?

He solved that problem by tucking the brazier into the shoulder bag, along with the remaining slips of paper, the quill, and the inkwell, now tightly sealed. Evidently he considered the insulation of the brazier adequate.

They met no one in the corridors on their way through the battlestar. The single security guard at the entrance to Alpha pod waved them through without hesitation, and Apollo felt a hint of satisfaction. Finally people looked at Gaius and saw, not a scapegoat for Baltar's crimes, but a real person working to help better the condition of the fleet.

Apollo wondered how fast the rumor mill would pick up on he and Gaius entering Apollo's private quarters in the middle of ship's night. Then he wondered how fast it would get back to his father. Then he coded open the door to his quarters, drew Gaius inside, and locked the door, complete with privacy light. Let them wonder. Maybe later he would care, but for now he felt too happy to worry about what certain close-minded folk might say.

He'd entertained hopes for the outcome of his trip to the chapel. He'd spent some time preparing his quarters and refused to admit the possibility he could lose Gaius entirely. He'd set the lights on dim, just enough to let them move around without tripping on anything, He'd cleaned, too, removing all traces of the multiple occupants his quarters had hosted over the last secton. He'd even located clean sheets for the bed.

Suddenly, the awkward, wordless sensation came back, leaving him tongue-tied. Gaius settled his shoulder bag on the singleseat and raised an eyebrow. "Nervous?"

Apollo swallowed. "As a schoolboy on his first date," he said lightly. Then he smiled. Date. Somehow saying the word steadied him. He reached out and caught Gaius by the hand, drawing the other man near, and kissed him.

When he'd been with Starbuck, it had been a combination of guilt, terror, and lust coursing through him, with infinite variations on those themes. A dream fulfilled, yes, but with more than a hint of nightmare, because Apollo hated himself for his inability to say no. When Gaius kissed him in the turbolift, it had been infinitely worse, because the love he felt for Gaius had nothing to do with friendship at all.

But now, he felt no conflict, no pain, no guilt or disgust, none of it. Now he felt joy welling up from inside himself, and a new tenderness... not to mention a fire that spread through his body and quickly burned out most thought.

He couldn't help comparing the two men, Starbuck and Gaius. Starbuck had the advantage of being more physically fit, courtesy of the active life of a Warrior, while Gaius was very... not scrawny, definitely not weak, but lighter and less muscular. But physical differences were not the most striking contrast between the two. No, that came on a completely different level. Apollo knew, without a shadow of doubt, that Gaius offered everything in himself, not just his body but his soul as well. While Starbuck... well, never mind about Starbuck, at least for now.

Afterwards, they lay coiled together on Apollo's bed, sweaty and utterly satisfied. Apollo combed his fingers through Gaius's hair idly, with a faint smile on his face that might never leave.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, surprised by the richly contented tone of his voice. "Something you don't have to answer, if you don't want to."

"Sure, go ahead," Gaius murmured.

"How was it that you could have believed what your family said, that everything was always your fault, when you have heard the voice of Ihve?"

Gaius stiffened, silent. Apollo waited. Then the tension slowly drained from his muscles and he sighed.

"I had a problem. I could only hear Ihve's voice when I was actually at the Hidden Temple. The longer I was away, the more difficult it became to remember the voice of the god. Day after day, sectons running into sectares, the memory would grow fainter, drowned out by what they all said. Until by the time summer came around again, I would reach the Hidden Temple. Pyxis would call me an idiot—politely, but he'd still do it. Then I would finally relax enough to hear the god again, and he'd call me an idiot too, although not in so many words. Before the Destruction, I had not heard Ihve's voice in several sectares, and it was very easy to believe the accusations."

Apollo nodded, thinking. "And now that you are away from the accusations, you are going to do just fine."

Gaius chuckled. "Correction, Apollo." He raised his head enough to look his lover in the eye, smiling with a heart-stopping sweetness. "Now that I'm with you, we are going to do just fine."