The alert shattered the peace of ship's night, rousing pilots from their beds and sending them scrambling for their uniforms. Starbuck was one of the first to arrive, more or less properly dressed, at the Viper launch bay. He looked around for Apollo and found him, already halfway into his Viper.
"Apollo! Wait for me!" Starbuck ran for his Viper and made it in time to get loaded into the launch tube beside his Captain.
"Launch when ready," Rigel's calm voice sounded over the com. Starbuck powered up the systems and punched the turbo button.
The walls of the tube shot past in a blur. Acceleration smashed Starbuck flat against his seat, and then he was free of the Galactica's artificial gravity and able to move again. "Hey Apollo, talk to me, buddy. What're we up against?"
"Got Cylons coming in hot and heavy," Apollo responded. "They're hitting the back of the Fleet hard. The Commander wants all available Vipers out there as of five centons ago."
"That why we scrambled without one of your lovely peptalks?"
"Cut the felgercarb, Lieutenant." Apollo switched to the open channel. "Okay, boys, we're getting hit hard at the back of the Fleet. Remember, it's all unarmed civilians back there. All of you, I want you spread out as much as possible. If the early readings are correct, we're outnumbered at least four to one, so you're going to have to fly sharp and fast. Let's show those tinheads we're not to be messed with."
"Woo, baby!" Hermes, the third pilot who'd launched with Apollo and Starbuck, let loose a wild yell. "Bring 'em on! Been wanting a piece of them tincans. Make 'em pay for what they did."
Whoops and yells of agreement came over the com until Apollo broke in. "Enough, boys, it's time to go to work. Got a reading on—holy frack, looks like there's more of 'em than we expected. Scatter and destroy."
"Gotcha, skipper!"
Starbuck felt his heart sink into his boots. His scanner showed wave after wave of Cylon fighters. There were as many as there had been nearly a secton ago, during what people had started calling the Destruction.
"Oh no you don't, Apollo," Starbuck muttered, Apollo had cut in his turbos and sent his fighter into the thickest batch of Cylons. Starbuck followed hard on his tail, ready to protect his Captain as always.
It was a hopeless battle from the start. There were just too many of them. True, the human pilots were vastly superior to the predictable machines and could adapt rapidly to any situation, but adaptability couldn't overcome the sheer press of numbers. For every ship the Viper pilots took out, three more appeared. It was so bad that no one could even be spared to answer the Galactica's distress call. Starbuck tried to keep Apollo safe, but it was all he could do to keep himself alive and check periodically to see that Apollo was still flying. The fighting moved towards the front of the Fleet slowly, leaving devastation in its wake. Starbuck wasn't really aware of much, just the need to destroy Cylons, so it came as a surprise when his scanner showed the Galactica. It was an even bigger surprise when he saw a basestar. It took a long moment to register exactly what he was seeing. By the time it sunk in, all the Cylon Raiders were pulling out and running for the basestar.
Fragments of ships, and other things, drifted past. Larger chunks of what had once been transports hung in space, some turning gently, others just drifting. The battlestar drifted also, inexplicably not firing on the basestar, which was now leaving the remains of the Fleet and heading off into space.
"All right, people, let's regroup," Apollo's weary voice sounded over the com, right about the time Starbuck realized what was wrong with what he was seeing. The Galactica wasn't firing because she couldn't. She had sustained some serious damage.
"Looks like we've got a problem," Apollo continued. "I want all survivors to form up behind me. We're heading home, see how bad the damage is. Anyone had any communications from Core?"
"That's a negative, Captain," Vulpa replied. Starbuck almost couldn't recognize his friend's voice, it was so distorted with weariness. "Last contact with Core was a good ten centons ago."
"Right. Then—"
That was as far as Apollo got. Starbuck, back in his proper place on Apollo's wing, swore in disbelief at what lay before them. Or rather, what didn't lay before them.
There wasn't much left of the Galactica. Both Viper bays had been destroyed. Bay Alpha was still halfway there, but was burning fiercely. The other bay had been completely obliterated. There was a vast gaping hole where the bridge should have been. At a quick glance, about a third of humanity's last defense had been utterly destroyed.
"By all the Lords of Kobol," Apollo breathed, barely audible.
The short range com system crackled to life. "Galactica to Viper squadrons. Is there anyone out there?" It was Omega's voice. Starbuck wondered, for a brief and distant moment, how the bridge officer had managed to survive. "I repeat, is there anyone out there?"
Apollo wasn't saying anything. Starbuck shot a worried glance towards his friend's Viper, then punched his com button. "Yeah, we're out here, Galactica. Just having a hard time believing what we're seeing. What's going on over there?"
"We have heavy casualties," Omega replied. The transmission wavered, but Starbuck was still able to pick the words out. "Serious damage to all main systems. We're on backup systems all around. And..."
There was a pause. Starbuck waited.
"The command center was destroyed," Omega continued after a moment. "I'm—I'm in charge."
"Thanks for the news, Omega; you'll have to give me the full story over a bottle of ambrosa sometime." Starbuck took refuge in light banter, rather than face the reality of just what had happened. "For now, what's the plan? Looks to me like the front door's out of order."
"See if you can raise a response from the old transport Freedom Rising. If she's still intact, she has a Viper landing bay. Have her come in close to the Galactica so she's within range of our short range coms. And Starbuck... are you in charge now?"
Starbuck almost laughed, the question was so typical of Omega's style. Indirect, polite, and yet utterly to the point... "That's a negative, Omega. Captain Apollo's still with us, but he's a bit quiet at the moment. We'll check up on the carrier now, get back with you. Going to be okay over there?"
"Possibly. Just take care of yourselves, understand? You pilots are all we have left, as long as the battlestar's out of commission."
"That's what we're best at," Starbuck said lightly. "Starbuck out."
He switched over to a private channel and tried to hail Apollo. Nothing came back. "Frack," he muttered, then went over to the combat channel and broadcast to all the remaining Vipers... all thirteen of them.
"All right, guys, I'm sure you heard all that. If not, well, going home's just not an option right now. Anyone laid eyes or scanner on the carrier Freedom Rising?"
"She's still flying," someone responded. Starbuck couldn't immediately identify the voice... must be one of the survivors from one of the other battlestars.
"Freedom Rising here, Viper flight," a new voice joined in. "We usually listen in on the battle channel. All of you are welcome."
"Thanks," Starbuck said. "Coordinates?"
Coordinates were given and the Vipers turned for their temporary refuge. Starbuck tried again, repeatedly, to get a response from Apollo on the private channel, with no luck. Apollo was still conscious and functioning, that much was obvious. But even though his Viper flew in and landed with the rest of the survivors, he wasn't talking.
The Freedom Rising was an old ship. She'd been decommissioned yahrens ago, snapped up at auction by a merchant company. Starbuck remembered seeing her listed on the roll of refugee ships... had it really only been three days ago? She'd been marked for possible emergency backup. No one had expected to need backup so soon, though.
Thirteen Vipers settled in a Viper bay that had been converted into a dock for private shuttles. And as soon as sensors indicated atmosphere had been restored, twelve pilots slid down from their ships. One of them bolted across the floor and, in an interesting display of acrobatic skill, wrestled himself up onto the only Viper with a sealed canopy.
"Apollo!" Starbuck banged on the canopy. "Come on, Apollo, open up!"
Starbuck saw his friend's helmet jump, then Apollo raised a hand slowly and hit the release button. Starbuck contorted himself a bit more to get out of the way, then leaned into the cockpit. His legs slipped off the wing, leaving him dangling. But he didn't care, because Apollo was moving again, taking off his helmet and undoing his harness.
"Come on down, Apollo," Starbuck said, when Apollo stopped moving.
"They're dead, Starbuck," he said, looking up with eyes wide and glassy. "All of them."
"Yeah, I know," Starbuck said, as gently as it was possible while hanging from the side of a Viper. He wondered if the edge of the cockpit was sharp enough to cut through a pressure suit and slice him in half. "But sitting here isn't doing anyone any good. Come on down."
"Okay."
Starbuck took a chance that Apollo would follow and dropped to the deck. His gamble paid off when Apollo emerged slowly and slid down the side of his ship. He staggered a bit when he landed and Starbuck reached out to steady him. Apollo clung to his arm like a drowning man.
"Hello, pilots?" A short man in brown coveralls entered the landing bay, looking uncertainly at the cluster of pilots. "Welcome aboard. I'm sorry we don't have better facilities, this ship has mostly been converted, but we still haven't finished all the remodeling, and now it looks like we never will—" He broke off, looking stricken. "Anyway, aside from still having a military com system and a bay made to accommodate Vipers, all we have to offer you is what's left of the ready room. The rest of our ship—the parts that weren't hit, anyway—is full of refugees. I'm sorry we don't have anything better..."
"That's okay, it's plenty for us... I'm sorry, what was your name?" Starbuck turned on his charm, alarmed at how much effort it took to smile.
"Oh! Raevo, Dras Raevo, of Raevo Shipping and Trading, Inc." The man bowed, flustered.
"And I'm Starbuck, Raevo, and this is our Captain, Apollo." Starbuck really hoped Raevo couldn't see how unsteady Apollo was on his feet. "And if you'd just show us the room? And we're to relay a request from the Galactica to have you move in close to her. She's down to emergency power and only has short range coms. We'd appreciate if you'd do so, and let us use your coms to keep in touch with her."
"Certainly, certainly. Follow me?"
While Raevo led the way, Starbuck dropped back, allowing other pilots to go on ahead. Apollo stayed right beside him, still attached firmly to his arm. That accounted for two of the thirteen. Now to see who else had made it... There was Hermes. And Giles, with Greenbean trailing after him like a lost daggit. A trio of pilots he barely recognized, survivors from the Aquarius clumped together. Eight so far... And there was one from the Atlantia, the only one who had escaped the destruction of that ship. Castor, that was his name—Starbuck remembered his story because it sounded like something he would have done. Castor had taken advantage of the gathering of the Fleet to pop over to the Galactica and visit his girlfriend. So he survived, while his entire ship was the first to go down. And there was Vulpa, card player extraordinaire, formerly of the Tiger Avenger. Tough little ships, the Tigers. Too bad none of them had survived the initial conflagration.
Starbuck slowed down a little more, allowing the last three pilots to move ahead of him. Two he couldn't even recognize by former ship. The last was Ares, who appeared to be the only survivor of Red Squadron. Thirteen.
Just thirteen left.
Starbuck entered the ready room last, silent. Thirteen, from nearly a hundred and fifty that had gone out.
The ready room was disorganized, full of boxes. Raevo fussed and fluttered about, shoving boxes out of the way and moaning over the inadequacies of the room. But no one was complaining.
Finally Raevo left, promising to have the ship brought as close as possible to the remains of the battlestar. Starbuck took a look at Apollo, slumped against a wall with his legs outstretched, and decided he'd have to keep covering the Captain's position. Apollo wasn't up to anything, and probably wouldn't be for some time if that blank stare was any indicator.
"Okay, people." Starbuck tested a box for stability and sat. "Looks like we've got a bit of a problem, here."
"No shit," Vulpa said, with more sarcasm than Starbuck had the energy to deal with at the moment. "Where'd you get that impression?"
"Can it, Vulpa, okay?" Starbuck rubbed his forehead, looking down for a moment. "This just ain't a good time for that kind of felgercarb. Now, since Apollo's down for the count, anyone got a problem with me taking over for now?"
"Better you than him, after that," Giles grumbled. "How much of that was his fault?"
Starbuck swallowed his shock and responded instantly and firmly. "None of it was his fault, Giles, and you know it. Now leave off and listen. We're in serious trouble here. I'm going to need your full support, whatever happens, and so will Apollo when he's back with us. We may very well be the only defense of what's left of the Fleet."
"Ain't that great," one of the Aquarians said, in a heavy provincial drawl. "Survivors countin' on what, a dozen of us? Keepin' 'em safe from Cylon attack when full Fleet with six operational battlestars couldn't do the job. Nice."
"Thirteen," Starbuck said quietly, around a twist of pain. "Thirteen of us left, cut off from our ship—" He stopped himself abruptly. Much more along those lines and he'd be sharing that wall with Apollo, with a blank stare filled with horror.
"Okay then," Starbuck said, once he'd gotten his voice back under control. "I'm going to see if this old comboard works as well as the one they used to monitor the battle channel. Try... try to get some rest, or something."
He hopped off his box, the need to keep up an appearance of normality overpowering the bone-deep exhaustion he felt. Strange, that—he shouldn't be this tired. Must be emotional. The comboard was dusty, and he had to shift a rather heavy box off it, but it worked. He ran a scan of all channels and picked up at least thirty individual transmissions on public bands. And there, faint but steady on a low frequency military band, was the Galactica.
"Starbuck to Galactica, come in," he said, fiddling with the signal amplifier. The board was an antique. He hoped he could remember how to work the thing as well as he thought he could. The way his luck was running today, he'd just degraded the signal rather than boosting it. "Anyone listening?"
"Lieutenant Starbuck?" It was a woman this time, one with a high and slightly breathy voice. He'd lay money she had dyed platinum hair and large... never mind. "He told me to go get him if you contacted us. Would you like me to go get him?"
"You do that, sweetheart," Starbuck said, hoping the "him" in question was Omega. Another time he might have flirted with the woman, whose voice was interesting enough to warrant further attention, but not now. Maybe not ever. Starbuck checked on Apollo again. He'd moved. Now he had his legs folded up under him and his head in his hands. Starbuck tried to see that as encouraging.
"Starbuck? Are you there?"
Omega's voice was a welcome diversion. "Yeah, Omega, I'm here. How's life over there?"
"Starbuck..." He could imagine Omega shaking his head, with that exasperated look so often on his face when dealing with what he called "an excess of personality." "Lords, Starbuck, don't do that to me right now, I'm about a hairsbreadth away from snapping, and I just can't deal with..."
"Sorry," Starbuck said. There was a quiet moment, presumably while Omega put himself back together.
"Right, then." Omega was back on the line, using his professional voice. Starbuck took the unsubtle hint and put a lid on his flippancy. "The Galactica sustained heavy damage. As you know already, both main Viper bays are out of service. Maintenance has been put to work priority one on reopening Delta bay, with an estimate of eighteen centares." Delta and Gamma bays, both meant for shuttlecraft and emergency Viper use, had taken direct hits during the Destruction. "Command is gone. I'm all that's left of the senior bridge crew. I'm certain I already know the answer to this, but I have to ask anyway. Why was there no Viper response to the distress call?"
Starbuck remembered the distress call. He also remembered being too busy to even think, let alone make his way to the Galactica, surrounded completely by Raiders with laser canons blazing.
"Response was impossible," he replied, switching to autopilot. "All Vipers were engaged. Was that when..."
"Yes. The call went out when the basestar appeared and opened fire. The first damage was the shield generator. There was a... crisis. The Commander," and Omega paused again, "the Commander sent me to deal with it. That was when the bridge was destroyed."
"Right." Starbuck's autopilot wasn't functioning properly. He couldn't quite manage the professional detachment it usually maintained. "Galactica's hurting. Any word on what's left of the Fleet?"
"What's left is an apt way of putting it. We've got very little instrumentation here, but there are still some backup scanners running that indicate approximately forty ships functioning."
"Forty!" The word burst from Starbuck, propelled by shock.
"Yes. Since our coms are down, I'd like you to relay a broadcast message to the survivors. We need a gathering in twelve centares to discuss our options. Since the battlestar is out of commission, we need someone to host the gathering. One representative from each surviving ship, empowered to make decisions for the entire ship. And we'll need Apollo there, unless he's still out of the picture. Got all that?"
"Understood," Starbuck said, with another worried glance at Apollo. No change from the last time. "Is that all, then?"
"I think so," Omega said.
"Take care of yourself then, old friend. I'm glad you made it." Starbuck signed off before Omega could say anything more. He stood for a moment, just looking at the dusty com board. He had a feeling he'd be immensely grateful that Omega had survived sometime soon, but right now all he felt was numb. Forty ships, left from over two hundred. One more task, though, and then he could deal with another old friend who might not have survived completely intact.
Starbuck cranked up the power on the old comboard again and passed along the news to the rest of the survivors, including a request for a volunteer host. Hopefully somebody would want the meeting and pass the word before the specified time. Then he turned away from the board and deliberately avoided looking at Apollo in favor of addressing the rest of the pilots. They'd all clustered together, looking like nine kinds of hell, all except Apollo. He was still alone. Starbuck took a deep breath and carried out the rest of his duty.
"Okay, folks, you probably heard all that. Our ship's out of the picture for another eighteen centares. And there's a meeting in twelve. We'll know more after that. Anything anyone wants to say?"
"Just that you'd better stay in charge, Bucko," Giles spoke up. "Seems to me our Captain plain old isn't up to the job. And besides, it wasn't your orders got us into this mess."
"Enough of that, Giles," Starbuck said. "Think what you want, but keep it to yourself. Apollo wasn't to blame for this any more than you were. Now I'm setting my chrono for ten centares. Anyone got a problem with me—" he almost said killing, then thought better of it—"shutting off the lights?"
There was no protest, so Starbuck found the manual switch and dropped the room into instant darkness. He relied on memory to make his way over to Apollo. He stopped where the Captain should have been and groped around until he found a shoulder. It was trembling. Not a good sign.
Starbuck slid down the wall and landed with a thump. "Apollo?"
"Shh, not so loud," Apollo whispered, nearly in Starbuck's ear. "They'll hear you. And me. And I don't want them to hear me."
"Are you okay?" Starbuck knew the answer to that, but he asked anyway. He slipped an arm around Apollo, pulling him close. This was so weird, having to be the strong one... Apollo always had it together.
"They're dead, Starbuck, all of them. Not just my family. And he's right, it's all my fault. Mine, and my father's."
"Frack that," Starbuck said, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice. "Look, you read the signs as well as I did. That was a deliberate ambush. They knew our strengths, they knew our weaknesses, and they set everything up coldly and, and mechanically, to eliminate the rest of us. None of it was your fault."
"I could have sent Vipers to respond to the distress call. I could have, and I didn't."
"And which Vipers would you have sent? We were all a tad bit busy, as I remember."
"There was somebody," Apollo insisted. "There must have been. And I was a fool to send everyone into a wide formation. We should have all closed up and formed a tight unit, a phalanx or a quad-point or maybe a—"
Starbuck broke in. He didn't like the almost hysterical pitch to Apollo's voice. True, the man had just been through a horrific battle, lost the rest of his family, and had every right to fall apart. But Starbuck just didn't like seeing it happen. "No, Apollo. A blanket defense was the only strategy that might have worked, and you know it. Remember, we were trying to cover unarmed civilian craft, not a fleet of Tigers with the ability to clean up after a phalanx rush. You made the best decision. It's just utterly impossible to win when the enemy outnumbers you that badly and doesn't give a damn about losses, just keeps coming and coming..."
Now Starbuck caught the note of hysteria in his own voice. He shut himself up and concentrated on Apollo instead. He was still trembling, although not as badly. Starbuck took advantage of how upset he was and buried a hand in the thick dark hair. He loved it when he got a chance to play with Apollo's hair, although he'd rather have been suspended by his toes naked in the OC before he'd admit it. And this time, Apollo didn't pull away, he actually leaned closer.
"You really think that?" Apollo asked, but didn't give Starbuck a chance to answer. "Maybe you're right. I'd like to believe that. But there's more. You see, I could have prevented our being here in the first place. Father—" his voice broke, and Starbuck groped around with his free hand until he located one of Apollo's, clenched into a tight fist. "—Father wanted to bring everybody here, to a place that's perfect for an ambush, but is also central to three worlds slated for possible colonization where we could resupply and load up on water. I wanted to avoid the potential for ambush—I mean, come on, even a Cylon can tell that there's enough EM interference in space around here to mask anything. But that would have meant a secton on very short rations indeed. And Father wouldn't have it. Not good for the people, and all. So I gave in, I let him direct everyone here, and now it's all my fault. Just like Zac was my fault. They're gone. They're all gone."
"It's not your fault," Starbuck said, although he could see where Apollo would think so. "When have you ever been able to convince your father to change his mind, anyway? It's not your fault. There's nothing you could have done to make this come out any different. And they're not all gone. I'm still here."
Apollo shifted in his arms until he was embracing Starbuck instead of the other way around. "I know," he said, voice suspiciously thick. "That's all that's keeping me alive right now, Bucko. If I'd lost you..."
"Well, you didn't," Starbuck said. He rearranged himself slightly, nudging Apollo into a more comfortable position. His butt was going numb from the hard floor, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Apollo was in his arms, willingly, and that was all that mattered. "You'll never lose me."
"I can only hope."
"Come on, Apollo, you should know by now. There's nothing going to pry me away from your side. At risk of sounding ridiculously sappy, I love you, you idiot."
"Huh. Somehow, you've never managed to say so." Apollo reached up and found Starbuck's face in the darkness.
"Well, maybe I always figured there'd be time enough later to make an ass out of myself. But now... I think I'd rather not chance you going to glory without knowing."
"About time," Apollo said, then kissed Starbuck. "I love you too, you idiot."
"Oh," Starbuck said blankly, heart racing. That kiss had been nice. "Thanks for letting me know."
"I'm tired."
"What?" Starbuck blinked, trying to switch mental gears. He'd never thought to hear Apollo say those words. Not that Apollo wasn't an "I love you" kind of guy, but still... "Tired. Okay. Me too. But hey, one last item of business: you're going to be back in charge in a bit less than twelve centares. Got it? I'm not doing your job any longer than necessary."
"But they think—"
"I don't give a frack what they think, you're the Captain and I'm your second. Got it?"
Apollo made a small sound, not quite a chuckle. "Yes, sir. But now, I'm going to sleep, and you're going to hold me and keep the nightmares away. Right?"
"You got it," Starbuck replied around a yawn. He scrunched down until he was stretched full length on the floor, Apollo's head pillowed on his chest. His last thought before he fell into unconsciousness was to wonder if Apollo would still be willing to kiss him in the morning.
Starbuck woke with a start. Voices which had been nagging at him subconsciously, disturbing his uneasy dreams, erupted into a loud argument that sounded directly overhead. He opened his eyes, wishing he had the luxury of being disoriented. Unfortunately, he remembered exactly where he was and why. Every muscle in his body protested as he sat up.
"Damn, I hate sleeping on a floor," he grumbled, trying to simultaneously stretch some kinks out and track down the argument. The lights were on, which was a good thing in the windowless ready room. There were still a few people sprawled on the floor, although how anyone could sleep through the sound of Castor, Hermes, and Giles going at it... Starbuck sighed and looked around for Apollo. No sign of the Captain. "You picked a great time to head for the flush, buddy," he said under his breath. "Looks like I'm on again."
"Awright, what's the problem?" Starbuck said, pitching his voice to cut through the argument. By all the holies, he hated trying to be the one in charge. "Giles, you raising hell again?"
"They started it." Giles was red faced and looked like a ferocious little terrier daggit, ready and willing to take on all comers regardless of size. But Starbuck hadn't been so successful in life by taking people at face value. He could see the horror in the smaller man's eyes, and he knew that Giles wasn't really looking for a fight. He was just strung out by losing too many friends and looking for an outlet for stress.
"Castor? Hermes?" Starbuck looked at the other two pilots. Castor refused to meet his eyes, but Hermes looked straight at him without hesitation, brown eyes earnest.
"It was really nothing, Starbuck. Giles took exception to a comment Castor made, that's all."
"You know what?" Starbuck made a snap decision, the kind Apollo would probably dress him down for under normal circumstances. "I don't want to know all the details. Just remember, we're all in the same boat now. No fighting with each other, no matter who starts it. Got that?" Two heads nodded, obviously relieved. "Giles?"
"Whatever, Starbuck. But—"
"Ah-ah-ah." Starbuck held up a hand, looking away. "I don't want to hear it. No fighting with Warriors." He snapped his eyes back on the smaller pilot and saw the man react instinctively to the body language, probably not even conscious that he'd backed down yet.
"Okay," Giles said, with a sigh. "Just keep them out of my way, got that?"
"Not my job." Starbuck turned his back on the pilots and concealed a sigh of his own. Where in hells was Apollo?
Ah, there he was. Starbuck frowned. Apollo had just slipped quietly, unobtrusively, into the room and found a place away from the general line of sight. What the hell... it was like they'd suffered some kind of personality reversal, with Starbuck taking over the leader's position and Apollo easing into the background. Starbuck leaned on a pile of boxes and looked down at his Captain.
"So, where's the flush? And did you find out if there's any food?"
"No, didn't even ask. But the flush is right where it should be. Standard fleet design hasn't changed in centuries."
"Gotcha." Starbuck checked his chrono. Another five centons yet before it should have gone off and woke him up. Damn cranky pilots anyway. "Be right back. And don't forget, you need to take command of this muttley bunch in a centare. Got it?"
Apollo only laughed.
When Starbuck returned, he found the com panel blinking and Apollo ignoring it. He sighed and checked the message. It was Omega. The Galactica had coms back online and someone had supercharged the maintenance crews. The landing bay was safe for two Vipers at a time. The meeting was going to take place on the Nostromo, a mining ship that had survived both attacks intact. And something else.
Starbuck frowned, ran the message back a bit, and replayed it. Omega's voice, steady and calm, repeated something he'd almost forgotten: kitling's in the creamery.
"Kitling's in the creamery, huh?" Starbuck felt a rush of apprehension. He hadn't heard that phrase in yahrens, not since... hell, not since he'd served on Fairhaven. Oddest name for a battle platform... but then, they always did try to make the things sound more welcoming than they were. Starbuck had been sent there fresh out of the Academy, Omega had been on the fast track to command after only a few sectares on the platform, and they'd hit it off immediately. Sometimes Starbuck still wondered how that had come about. They'd had an elaborate system of code words and inside jokes that let them communicate with each other and shut everyone else out. Kitling's in the creamery meant I need to talk to you now. Right now. In secret. Spawned from Omega's tale of the time when... not right now. Time enough for memories later. He twiddled with dials and knobs, activating the secure tactical channel and the scrambler as well. Omega wanted secrecy, might as well oblige him.
The com board whirred, chattered, and then bleeped. "What, were you sitting on the thing?" Starbuck asked, before Omega even said anything.
"Is your end clear of civilians?" Omega asked, ignoring Starbuck.
"Civilians? Yeah. Just Viper pilots in here, all thirteen of us. Now what's up?" Starbuck wished the aged com board had visual capabilities. Omega sounded serious, but he'd have liked to be able to see the other man.
"Problems. Serious problems. Apollo still out for the count?"
"Yeah, think so. Gonna spill?" Starbuck craned his neck and found Apollo staring into space again. Not good.
"Guess you'll have to take it from here, then. There's serious anti-military sentiment out there. Word on the public combands is that we're to blame. There's been serious accusations flying around, everything from negligence to deliberate collusion with Cylons."
"Frack!" Starbuck burst out. "How dare they—"
"Easy, Buckyboy, it gets better. Feel like dancing with danger?"
"You know it. Ever seen me run?"
"They want to break off, hit a nearby planet on their own and ditch the military. But they don't have the data." Omega's tone switched from worried to smug. "We've still got full access to the backup databanks, including detailed analysis of nearby planets. Going to back me on Mistral? It's the most secure choice."
"Mistral... that the one with the freakish atmosphere?" Starbuck scratched his head, trying to remember.
"High-energy radiation in the upper atmosphere, focused outwards so the storms are just decorative rather than destructive, vast water reserves, no intelligent lifeforms, and very mineral rich land masses. That's the one."
"Gotcha. It'll be a walk in the park. You take over first off, I'll back your proposal, and I'll get Apollo in on this somehow." Starbuck hesitated, then took a deep breath. "What if the Captain's on permanent vacation?"
"Deal with it however you can if that's the case. We can pull this off together, if need be. This little kitling will not grow into a monster."
"You got that right. I don't want to get bit on the ass this time."
"Too bad. Omega out."
The board went dead and Starbuck laughed, then looked around guiltily. Somehow he didn't think the others would appreciate him laughing. Especially not over that particular old joke...
His momentary good humor vanished when he saw Apollo, replaced by concern. Then he turned to the rest of the room. "Good news, guys," he said, loudly enough to get everyone's attention. "We can head back home, two at a time. Make for Delta bay. And remember, conditions over there aren't likely to be pretty, since crew quarters are almost all gone."
Starbuck didn't pay any attention to the reaction of the pilots. Instead, he focused his full attention on Apollo.
"Okay, buddy," Starbuck said, dropping to the ground beside his friend. "Time to come out of it." He was peripherally aware of a mass exodus from the ready room. Evidently the news of the Viper bay went over well. "We need you, and we need you now."
"No you don't." Apollo smiled at him, which was ordinarily a very welcome sight. But this smile was edged with madness. "You can do perfectly well without me. My family's dead."
"Yes, and I'm sorry. But the survivors need you now. I need you now. Going to be there for me?"
Apollo reached for him and kissed him. Starbuck leaned into the kiss, surprised but willing. "I'll always be here for you, Starbuck, but I'm not playing Captain anymore. My father's dead."
The light dawned inside Starbuck's head. "So that's it. Kitling's grown into a big felix. But I can't let you do this right now, okay? Yeah, Daddy's gone, and you're a free man now, but I need you as backup on this. You in?"
Apollo sighed. "Frack duty."
"I'd rather not. There's far more pleasant things than fracking duty. But for now, you need to put on a happy face, and pull one more duty shift as Captain. For me."
"Why do you always ask me to do things I know I shouldn't? You know I can't resist."
The look in Apollo's eyes was almost enough to make Starbuck melt. But he shoved his emotional response aside and put duty first. "And that's why I do it. Now here's the plan..."
Starbuck outlined the plan while he dragged Apollo to the Vipers. Theirs were the only two left. He checked his chrono.
"Okay, Apollo, we're on in ten centons. Let's haul jets to the Nostromo and put down this rebellion before it begins."
"No more after this," Apollo said, climbing into his Viper. "I'm done with this Captain shit. You can have the job. You're doing so well at it, no one will mind."
"My dear Captain," Starbuck grinned, "you couldn't pay me enough to take this job of yours."
They launched their ships carefully. Starbuck remembered to send a message to the main com center of the Freedom Rising thanking them for their hospitality. And then they were clear of the remodeled transport and hovering above the remains of the Fleet.
Starbuck heard Apollo swearing over the private com channel, but tried to shut it out. Not that the sad cluster of ships didn't make him feel the same, but he couldn't spare the energy to deal with more than one crisis at a time. He located the Nostromo and gave Apollo the heading. They hopped over to the mining ship and docked in a cavernous docking bay made to match up with ore freighters.
Omega was there waiting for them. "Starbuck!" he called, waving. Starbuck checked to make sure Apollo was coming, then ran across the docking bay floor to embrace his friend.
"Glad you made it, Megaman," he said, which prompted a wide grin from Omega. But then Omega pulled away and lost the smile.
"Is the Captain in on this?"
"Yeah," Starbuck nodded. "But this is the Captain's last mission. Apollo's breaking free of the Commander's shadow."
Omega nodded, unsurprised. "Right, then. Let's go."
He led the way, Starbuck on his heels.
"Starbuck?" Apollo hung back, an uncertain look on his face.
"Come on, Apollo, no time to waste." Starbuck held out a hand, pausing until Apollo moved to join him. Apollo latched onto his hand. "Don't worry, this shouldn't take long. And then you're free. Hellfires, I think we're all free, because something tells me there won't be a Fleet after this meeting."
Omega stopped in front of a door with a green signal light. "They're in here. Ready?"
"Unstoppable charge, remember?" Starbuck and Omega shared a smile, then Omega opened the door.
The meeting went smoothly. Or, at least, it went as smoothly as it possibly could, under the circumstances. Omega pulled off his best "I'm in charge of the flagship of the Colonial Fleet and no one can push me around" act, and Starbuck backed him up firmly. Apollo helped some, not much, but some. To be fair, the entire group of representatives seemed polarized against him in particular, so there wasn't much he could do. The civilians all seemed to hold him personally responsible for the horrific loss of life.
But animosity aside, Omega and Starbuck were able to push their plan through with little opposition. The only serious problem came from the loudest of the anti-military people.
"We'll go, all right," Tarsus said aggressively, leaning forward against the table once intended for display of mineral wares. "We never should have tried to make a run for space in the first place. But we're in charge this time. The people are going to take charge of themselves. You military types can just butt right out of our lives from now on, got that?"
"Why do you think we recommended Mistral?" Starbuck said, with an overly sweet smile. "The high energy radiation in the atmosphere will mask your little civilian asses from the Cylons until the Lords come again, and we won't have to lift a finger to protect your ungrateful butts."
Tarsus sputtered, eyes bulging. Omega held up an elegant hand to forestall his response.
"What Starbuck said so inelegantly is, in effect, true. The planet's natural protections will allow for minimal military presence. I'm certain you will all agree that some military protection is necessary, but for the most part, we'll leave you alone."
That was the end of the meeting, for the most part. There was more talking, more complaining, but nothing else got done.
"All right then," Omega said, rising. "As soon as we get back, we're taking the Galactica down on the surface. The rest of you might want to hustle before the Cylons decide to run a recon and see if there's any survivors here."
Omega swept the representatives of the forty ships with a regal gaze, then nodded once and left, Starbuck and Apollo following smartly behind.
The door barely made it closed behind them before Starbuck and Omega burst out laughing.
"Good one, buddy," Starbuck gasped. "I've never seen a better imitation of ol' Fancypants."
"Thanks." Omega abruptly sobered, a shadow in his eyes. "Guess we'd better haul jets."
"Yeah." Starbuck quieted as well. He'd forgotten that Larell, aka Fancypants, was one of Omega's innumerable relatives. He'd gone down in the last big Cylon push before the so-called peace talks.
They reached the docking bay. "You came in a shuttle?"
"Yeah. I'm still cleared to fly one, after all, might as well."
"You're cleared to fly?" Apollo sounded amazed.
Omega chuckled. "Captain, I didn't always wear blue. There was once even a time when I flew combat missions."
"Oh." Apollo didn't say anything more, just headed for his Viper. Starbuck watched him go, worrying again.
"Hey." Omega thumped him lightly on the shoulder. "I know that look. Everything okay?"
Starbuck flashed back to the kiss Apollo had given him earlier and nodded. "I think so. Or, at least, it will be."
"Good. Bring him along for that bottle?" Omega raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"Uhh..." Starbuck considered the idea. "I might. Not sure."
"He's welcome, you know that."
"Yeah. But he might not want to. This is all kind of new."
"I understand."
"Thanks, bud. See you back at the ship." Starbuck walked off to his Viper and started it up. Apollo had already lifted off, but was waiting just off the Nostromo. Starbuck goosed the accelerator just enough to put his Viper where it belonged, on Apollo's wing, with an impressive hop. "Ready to haul?"
"Suppose so." Apollo set a course for the ruined Galactica, but didn't say anything further.
Starbuck followed, worrying again. What was going on in that dark head? He'd told Omega everything was fine, but was it? That kiss had indicated good things to come, but this silence was something new. He could deal with an angry Apollo far easier than a silent Apollo.
They reached the Galactica without incident. Delta Bay was still in pieces, with work crews crawling all over it. They stopped work and cleared out long enough to allow the two Vipers to land.
Starbuck hit the deck as soon as atmosphere was restored and waited for Apollo to emerge from his fighter. He did so slowly, sliding down the side and landing with a thump. There were definite disadvantages to landing in anything other than a working fighter bay.
"Ready, Captain?"
Apollo flinched. "Not anymore. No more Captain Apollo. Got it?"
"No problem, Apollo," Starbuck agreed easily, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Given any thought as to how we're going to get this poor old wreck to the ground?"
"Not my problem," Apollo grunted. He really hadn't borne up too well under the criticism of the civilians at the meeting. "You and that blue-suiter ought to be able to handle it just fine."
"Hey," Starbuck stopped in his tracks, suddenly putting all the signs together and coming up with jealousy. "You can't be jealous, Apollo!"
Apollo turned and faced him, eyes blazing in a face pale and tense with strain. "And why can't I? I thought I'd made myself clear last night, thought that you understood, but if you were only playing—"
"No!" Starbuck interrupted. "Don't even begin to think that. I wasn't playing then, and I'm not playing now. I said I love you, and I meant it, even though I never expected to hear you say the same to me. I'm all yours if you want me. Got that?"
"What about him?" Apollo jerked his head towards what had once been the bridge section.
Starbuck laughed. He couldn't help himself, the idea was just too funny. "Omega's my friend, probably the best friend I've ever had, or ever will have for that matter. Nothing more, nothing less."
Apollo backed away a step, pain blossoming in his eyes. "And what am I, then?"
"Oh, frack." Starbuck moved closer, put both hands on Apollo's shoulders. The man was so tense, he was about to snap. "Look. Omega's been my friend for a long time. But you're way more than that, okay? You're my life, my love, the one I've wanted since day one. Omega's held me, yeah, while I—aw, hell, you'll find out sooner or later. While I cried over you. Now this really isn't the time or place for this conversation. Can we save it for the surface? And just go under the assumption that I really do love you?"
Apollo looked at him for a long moment, and Starbuck felt another sharp stab of concern. How badly was Apollo messed up inside, anyway? But then Apollo nodded and wrapped his arms around Starbuck. "I'm not doing so good right now, love," he said. "Cut me some slack?"
"Anything you need, Apollo. Anything."
They stood quietly for a moment, just holding each other, then Apollo sighed and pulled away. "We'd better get moving if we're going to help land this hulk."
"That's my Apollo," Starbuck said proudly.
They found Omega in the main engineering room, looking like nine kinds of hell. He caught sight of them and waved them over to his console.
"Starbuck, Apollo, glad you could join the fun." He straightened, brushing his hair back. "We've got about enough juice in the old girl to get to the planet and through the atmosphere. Problem is, we've got no guidance. Any suggestions?"
Apollo looked him over with a dubious gaze, then stepped up to the console. "Backup systems?"
"All we've got."
"What about the secondary drive control unit?"
"The what?" Starbuck asked.
"In engineering, they have a secondary drive system. It's there for ease of testing new modifications." Apollo tapped some keys and swore.
"Same thing I said," Omega commented. "What about a bypass and reroute control to this terminal?"
Starbuck lost interest. He had no idea whatsoever what the two were talking about. He could fly a Viper, yeah, but when it came to piloting a battlestar without the main guidance systems... he shook his head. Way beyond him.
Starbuck wandered off, trying to stay out of the way. He hadn't been in engineering very often. He wasn't sure how much of the frantic activity around him was normal and how much was attempting to repair battle damage.
"Starbuck?"
Omega was calling him. He wound his way through the scrambling workers and rejoined Omega and Apollo. "What's up?"
"We think we might have it. Check our figures?" Apollo moved to make room in front of the computer console.
"What are you, crazy? Me checking your figures, yeah, right... holy frack!"
"Got it in one, Starbuck." Omega smiled, but the tension didn't leave his eyes. "Think we can pull it off?"
Starbuck ran a hand through his hair. "You know, this maneuver was never intended for a ship the size of a battlestar. Not even half a battlestar. You pull this one off and it's going into the records for all time."
They'd plotted in a classic Starbuck Maneuver, for use when a ship was badly hit. He'd used the thing himself so many times he'd practically earned a patent on the idea. The crippled ship would use any and all forward momentum it could manage to scrounge up, hit the atmosphere, and utilize a combination of gravity and inertia to spiral down to the surface. It was tricky as hell to land after such a maneuver, even with an intact ship. Starbuck had no idea how it would work with a ship this size.
"How're the brakes on this thing?"
Omega laughed. "What brakes?"
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
"Think we can pull it off?" Apollo cocked his head to one side.
"Only if you find something soft to land on. The force this thing'll have when she hits the surface, she'll never fly again."
"I think that's a given, Buckyboy." Omega sighed. "Five hundred yahrens is a good long life, though. She served well. But you didn't answer. Can we do it?"
"Yes, provided you pick the landing carefully, and you have enough guidance to get us there in the first place."
"Right, then. Let's get to it."
The last flight of the battlestar Galactica was a nerve-shattering experience that no one wanted to repeat. The old ship barely managed to hold together as she spiraled through the atmosphere of her new home. But she made it to the surface with a titanic crash, digging a deep furrow metrics long in the ground. When she came to a final halt, shaken people emerged slowly from the battered old ship to take stock of their new home.
"How did you manage that, Omega?" Apollo asked, surveying the remarkable vista before them.
"Manage what?"
"You dropped us right in the heart of the best land."
Starbuck laughed. "He did it because he's Omega."
"Huh?"
"Long story, Apollo," Omega said, shaking his head. "Ask Starbuck sometime. I'm sure he'll fill you in."
"Don't worry, I intend to."
"Well." Omega didn't miss the significant look Apollo shot at Starbuck. "For lack of anybody more sensible, I'd better get to work with the exodus. Otherwise chaos is sure to break loose."
"Have fun," Starbuck called after his rapidly disappearing back. Then he turned to Apollo. "You want to find some place out of the way? I haven't forgotten that interrupted conversation."
"A conversation that you interrupted, might I add." Apollo looked out at the new planet. "Over there? Those look like the trees the survey party specifically mentioned as having a pleasant smell."
"Fine by me." Starbuck started for the stand of trees, which had narrowly avoided destruction by the skidding ship. Gravity dragged at him, making it a bit harder than he'd anticipated to climb the ridge of soft earth the ship had plowed up. He'd forgotten what a hard time he had readjusting to gravity after a long while in space.
The planet's air was thick, but not unpleasant. It had none of the harsh pollutants that had burned his lungs on Caprica. And the trees did smell good, when they reached them.
"Hey," Apollo said, panting a little. "This is good. There's a storm starting up there."
"That ought to be interesting." Starbuck found a soft spot on small mound of earth and pulled Apollo down with him. The sky lit up in a violent storm of swirling colors, rippling and shifting rapidly through all the hues of the rainbow. "I love you."
Apollo propped himself up on an elbow and looked at Starbuck. Weird lights flickered across his face in an echo of the storm above. "You were going to tell me about that? About how I'm not your best friend anymore?"
"Damn. I really wish I was better with words." Starbuck sighed and tried to organize his thoughts. "It's like this. When I was a kid, just getting hormones, I realized I like 'em all, boys and girls alike. No big deal, happens a lot, just means I get to have double the fun of anyone that sticks to one or the other. And then I qualified for that advanced piloting seminar and met you. Remember that?"
"How could I forget? One of the wildest summers I've ever spent." Apollo laid back down, watching the storm diminish in intensity.
"Well, I was so totally gone on you... man. I was so over my head in love with you, I didn't know what to do. But you... you weren't. You were after that girl, what was her name?"
"Dorotea," Apollo replied promptly. "Red hair, green eyes, and a father that my father approved of."
"You didn't have to remember so well, or so quickly," Starbuck complained. "Anyway, I was gone on you, and you weren't. So I faked it. Pretended you were just a friend. Tried at first to convince myself, but it didn't work. And then we were sent our separate ways, and I met Omega. Damn, I can tell you, I felt guilty as all hells at first. Felt like I was betraying you, having a friend like him. But then I realized it wasn't the same thing at all. He was my friend, you were my love. and I can't tell you how many times I got his shoulder all soggy after reading one of your letters about whatever girlfriend you were with at the time."
"My father kept pushing them at me," Apollo said, rubbing his forehead. "You wouldn't believe the pressure I was under. So I suppose you and Omega stayed friends no matter where they shifted you?"
"Yeah. Just like I stayed in love with you. I had girlfriends, yeah, but I never could get serious about any of them. And guys... hell. Ask Omega some time about the one time he and I went out to a bar with the intent of getting me laid. It wasn't pretty."
"Why not?"
"All I could see was you. Talk about frustrating... what's it been now, ten yahrens since we met? More? And all that time, I wanted you and couldn't have you."
"You could have, if I hadn't been so afraid of what my father would do."
Now it was Starbuck's turn to prop himself up and look at Apollo. "How are you doing? And don't just say fine, either. I spilled my guts, now you spill yours."
"I'll be okay, I think," Apollo replied. "I just need to adjust. And I need to recover from the stress, and to deal with all this guilt."
"Misplaced guilt," Starbuck said firmly. "None of this was your fault."
"So you keep saying," Apollo sighed. "And then, too, I've got to get used to everyone being dead."
Starbuck wrapped his arms around Apollo. "But I'm here for you, and I love you."
"I can hope," Apollo whispered. Starbuck kissed him gently, not demanding anything Apollo wasn't ready to give.
"No need to hope, love, it's a sure thing."
Apollo ran his hand through Starbuck's hair. "Even though I'm a mess right now? Even though I fell apart when you needed me most?"
"Enough of that, now," Starbuck said, around another slow kiss. "You aren't anything more than human. Why expect yourself to be above having human reactions to pain and loss?"
"Because that's how I was expected to be, all my life." Apollo sighed. "You sure you're willing to put up with me?"
"I've put up with you this long, why would I change my mind now?"
"I don't know. Maybe because you developed some good sense?"
Starbuck looked seriously at Apollo. "Think about what you just said, Apollo. Think very hard. When have you ever known me to have good sense?"
Apollo laughed. It was a good sound. Starbuck could easily spend the rest of his life listening to it.
"Well, good sense or no, you're one of the most stubborn people I've ever met, so I guess I'm stuck with you."
"That you are," Starbuck agreed.
"Then maybe we'd better head back, see what we can do about making a new life together."
"Together... I like the sound of that." Starbuck smiled. "Come on, then."
They rose to their feet, brushing off dirt and fragments of vegetation, then returned to the remains of the Galactica.
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