"Frack!"

The alert siren yanked Captain Apollo out of a sound sleep. After a few heart-pounding microns of disorientation, he sprang to full alertness and rose, donning his uniform with the ease of long practice. His mind was already working smoothly, rapidly, in a state triggered by the sound of the alert—ready for anything the Cylons might throw at him, at his squadron. He was out of his quarters and running for the Viper bays within two centons.

Other pilots joined him there, friends and trusted coworkers: Boomer, Jolly, Starbuck—his entire squadron was launched within five centons.

In space, they found what was expected. Waves of Cylon Raiders were making a strike at the Galactica, braving the blasts of the great turbolasers to get in close enough to damage their enemy. Apollo sent his warriors into a standard defensive pattern and the battle was joined.

All was progressing normally, and then—

"Strike Leader, this is Core Command. Do you copy?"

Was it possible that was a hint of panic in Rigel's ever-calm voice?

"Roger that, Core. This is Apollo. What's your status?"

"We have incoming, from the rear."

Even though he knew it was futile, Apollo still twisted around to look behind him. Nothing met his questioning gaze but the back wall of his Viper. Incoming? From the rear? The rear of the Galactica housed the main life support mechanisms, as well as the power plant for the weapons systems.

"Blue Squadron, on me. Red, hold the front of the ship—we've got company coming in the back door."

Twenty Vipers broke formation and arrayed behind their leader as he sped towards the unexpected Cylon threat.

"What's the matter, didn't they want to join the party?" Starbuck's voice quipped over the comm.

"No way, Bucko—they heard you were going to be there, and knew they wouldn't stand a chance with the ladies!" That was Jolly. Apollo smiled briefly, then it was past time for chatter.

"All right, boys—there they are. Attack pattern Alpha, and as you love life, make sure they don't get through!"

There was already some damage below. Flames flared briefly before being extinguished by the vacuum of space. Twisted globs of metal remained in places to attest that some of the attackers had done their job well.

Laser bolts screamed through the blackness. Vipers twisted and dove, avoiding the blasts and delivering their own bolts of deadly power. Life was reduced to adrenaline and the flickering of the target in the crosshairs. Apollo was distantly aware of an increase in the temperature of his cockpit—uncomfortable, but not severe. He ignored it, focusing instead on the Raider ahead of him. It was turning tail and running, but he wasn't going to let it get away. It dove, rolled to the left, banked sharply—too mechanical, too predictable. Apollo allowed instinct to guide him and shot off a volley, just as the Raider spiralled into his line of fire. The temperature rose yet again as his Viper shot through the expanding ball of flame and gas where the Raider had been. He reversed and scanned the area.

"All right, boys—looks like we've got 'em! Back to the rest of the squadron."

He tried not to think about the damage done to the battlestar.

 


"So what you're saying is, we're screwed."

Adama steepled his hands and tapped his fingers against his lips, looking at his son. "Perhaps a bit more blunt than I would have put it, but yes—essentially, we're screwed."

Apollo released his breath explosively. "Great. Just great. That's exactly what we needed right now—as if the damage to the ship itself wasn't enough! I'll take a team down immediately. Can you send a list of requirements and some specialists along? We'll take one of the shuttles."

"Didn't you have plans for today?"

Apollo's eyebrow quirked upwards. "Actually, I did—but that was hardly supposed to be common knowledge." He'd been planning to spend his day off with Sheba, in fact. "However, my plans are hardly as important as the fate of this entire ship."

"Very well, then, you'll have everything you need withing the centar." Adama turned to his computer console and began typing, then looked up as Apollo rose to leave the office. "Son—if you'd rather stay behind and send someone else—"

Apollo cut him off with a raised hand and a half-smile. "It's okay, Father. I know my duty. Besides, do you honestly think I'd be able to relax and enjoy a day off, knowing what you just told me?"

"I suppose not. Safe journey, then." Adama returned to his keyboard and Apollo left.

 


Apollo emerged from the shuttle where he'd been doing a final systems check to find Starbuck, Sheba, and four nervous, worried-looking technicians. He sighed. Civilians.

"All right folks, I suppose you're wondering what's up this time." His voice interrupted the tense interaction between Sheba and Starbuck. For some reason, those two could never get along for more than two centons without him around to keep things civil. Six faces turned towards him expectantly. "There's a problem with the Galactica, and we need to find a solution for it." The techs nodded, worried frowns deepening. "That last Cylon strike at the unprotected rear portion of the battlestar took out the hydroponics lab." Sheba and Starbuck gasped in unison. Apollo nodded grimly. "That's right—we're screwed. Our job is to go down to that planet out there, which the Cylons were guarding so ferociously, and find water and vegetation to restore the system with."

"Great, so we've been demoted to farmers!" Starbuck grinned. But it was a weak grin, and real worry showed plainly in his eyes. Without the hydroponics labs fully functional, the Galactica would be helpless. No air, no food—not a good prospect.

"These people are coming with us—I trust you've all been briefed on our exact needs?" The techs nodded as one. "Right, then—lets go. Everyone in."

Sheba slipped into the copilot's chair with a toss of her hair and a smirk at Starbuck, who merely glowered and buckled himself into another seat. Apollo hid a grin. Starbuck was going to have to learn to deal better with Sheba, that was for certain.

Apollo settled into the pilot's seat and received clearance for takeoff. Over the rising whine of the shuttle's engines, he asked, "Anyone have a proposed landing site from the preliminary readout?"

One of the techs coughed. "Well, sir, one site seems as good as another. The planet has no visible source of water, but there are readings of vast underground aquifers. There are many regions of greenery. As long as you avoid the Cylon outpost and the desert zones, any site will do for our purposes."

"Great. Thanks so kindly for the guidance." The tech winced at the bite of sarcasm in the Captain's voice. "Sheba, keep an eye on the scanner. We're going in fast and quiet, so you'll have to pick a site quickly."

"Sure thing, Captain." She flipped the console scanner on and Apollo engaged the intersystem drive. The shuttle pulled swiftly away from the Galactica. From the outside, there was little sign of the acute emergency aboard the great ship. Repair crews were already tending the melted external wreckage with a minimum of fuss, and the vast hull drifted quietly through space, with the inexorable air of a great battleship: I'm going somewhere, and nothing is going to stop me.

Only this time, something might. Apollo squelched his negative thoughts and plotted his entry to the planet's atmosphere. The Cylon outpost was on the far side. There should be little or no immediate response, even if the Cylons were to detect the shuttle, because nearly the entire complement of Raiders had been destroyed in the engagement. Assuming, of course, that this outpost conformed to standard military procedure among the Cylons... but no point in worrying. There were no other options. Whether or not the Cylons had reserve fighters, the shuttle simply had to—

"Apollo," Sheba's worried voice broke into his thoughts. "We've got a problem."

The shuttle proximity alarm sounded, and Apollo swore. Behind him, Starbuck tore loose from his safety harness and took up a position over Sheba's shoulder.

"That may not be such a good idea, Bucko," Apollo warned.

"Three Raiders, Captain, and they're coming in fast," Sheba reported. Her voice was cool and calm.

"Frack!" Starbuck pounded the back of Apollo's seat. "You're always saying you're the better pilot—so do something, man!"

"As you wish." Apollo sent the shuttle into a slow spiral, which sent Starbuck scrambling for his seat. The Raiders closed in, firing. Apollo held his breath and said a rapid prayer to whichever gods might be listening. The shuttle, awkward and slow, was no match for Raiders. All felt the impact of several bolts.

"Sheilds holding." Sheba tapped keys rapidly. "Engine three is fluctuating. It can't handle the strain of maneuvering at full speed."

"Well, it's just going to have to handle it!"

The shuttle entered the atmosphere, slowing it even further. The three Raiders split and came around for a frontal attack. "Hang on!" Apollo shouted, and jerked the nose up into a steep climb. The shuttle surged straight up with a scream of protest, then jolted when Apollo hit the brakes and sent it into an equally abrupt dive past the startled Raiders.

The enemy were not at a loss for long, however. Try as he would, Apollo could not shake them off his tail.

"Rear deflectors at 15 percent!" Sheba's voice wasn't cool any longer. Rather, it was edged with the panic Apollo was beginning to feel himself. "Another direct hit and—"

The shuttle rocked and shuddered with an impact. Instruments began crackling and shooting sparks. Smoke lent its acrid stench to a cabin already ripe with the smell of fear. Beneath the crippled shuttle, land flashed past too quickly for identification. Then there was nothing but a flat, barren brownish yellow, broken by a band of dusty green, then more brownish wasteland...

"We're going down!" Apollo yelled. "Brace yourselves!" He dropped the controls and wrapped his arms around his head.

The background sounds of frightened techs and Starbuck trying to get them into proper crash position were drowned out by the screeching, tearing roar of impact.

 


There was something wrong.

Apollo fought against the knowledge. He wanted to stay where he was, asleep and safe, not have to deal with that crackling. Because it was wrong, it was horribly wrong, and if he woke up he'd have to return to the real world, where he wasn't comfortable and certainly not safe.

But it was too late. The crackling was working into his consciousness, a familiar sound, bringing with it other sensations. A pungent aroma that all but seared the flesh of his nose from his face, a sharp stabbing pain in his chest, the crackling of fire, the sweat pouring into a scrape he must have gotten when....

When what? And... fire?

Apollo opened his eyes to find himself facedown against the ruined control panel of the shuttle. "Frack!" he yelled- or tried to. His throat, seared by the acrid smoke billowing through the wrecked cabin, barely allowed a hoarse whisper to emerge, and even that set him to coughing. He struggled against the wracking spasms to undo his harness and fight his way free of the pilot's seat. Behind him, he heard Starbuck groaning, and the ever increasing crakling of the fire which had roused him.

"Everybody—" he choked, fought off the cough, and took a deep breath. "Everybody out!" There, that was better. He rose and saw that two of the techs were conscious, although they were huddled together in pure terror. Starbuck groaned again and sat up, also coughing.

"Fire—that's—"

"Yeah, fire. Come on, get people out of here."

Satisfied that his friend was going to be okay, Apollo turned to Sheba. She was unconscious, a thin trickle of blood running from a gash in her forehead. Apollo worked her free of her harness and draped her limp body over his shoulder. His ribs shrieked in protest, but he ignored the pain and hauled Sheba out of the shuttle.

Outside, he noted that there was nothing in evidence beyond parched ground, scrubby weeds, and sunlight. He dropped Sheba and turned to face the shuttle, swearing when he saw the extent of the damage. The fire was eating steadily away at the structure. In a matter of minutes it would penetrate the engines.

Starbuck appeared at the doorway with a tech in tow. Apollo pointed to where he'd left Sheba and went past them to the smoke-filled interior. Two of the techs were still, unmoving- dead. He felt for a pulse, just to make sure, but there was none.

The other tech was badly injured. Apollo helped him free of his harness, then tried to get the man to stand. The tech collapsed in a limp heap. Apollo started to swear, then remembered his sore throat and grabbed the man by the shoulders. Starbuck reappeared, equally silent, and grabbed the semi-conscious man by the boots. Together, they got the man out of the shuttle, and laid him beside Sheba. Starbuck looked back at the shuttle.

"Shit-" he coughed. "Drop!"

Apollo did so, just as an explosion rocked the world. Bits of hot metal, dirt, and rocks rained down, even through the flash of the fireball created when the fuel tank blew.

Not again, Apollo thought vaguely. I seem to be getting singed a lot lately—first the Viper, now this...

Debris was still raining from above when a screech roused him from his fogged state of semi-consciousness. One of the civilians, without the benefit of a flame retardant uniform, was rolling about and beating frantically at herself. Flames danced along her clothing. Apollo staggered to his feet and started hurling fistfulls of sand at the flames, while Starbuck struggled out of his jacket and used it to beat out the rest of the fire. Sobbing, the tech writhed, trying to get away from the pain.

"Catch her—" Apollo coughed. Starbuck nodded and clutched at the tech's shoulders, stilling her frantic motion. Apollo helped turn her over and nearly lost the contents of his stomach. Her back was completely burned, bits of blackened flesh already cracking and pulling away from the angry red burns beneath. He shook his head in helpless denial and looked at Starbuck.

"There's nothing we can do..." he whispered in horror. Apollo shook his head.

"Nothing at all—the first aid kit was in the shuttle."

Both men glanced at the burning wreck. There wasn't much left, not after the fuel tanks had gone—certainly nothing worth salvaging.

"Captain—"

Apollo turned at the weak whisper. The other tech had roused. He now sat clutching his stomach and staring at the horrific burns.

"Yes? What is it?" There was a trick to talking without coughing. If he didn't whisper, just spoke quietly, it was easier on his throat.

"This is a desert... there is—" the tech paused to cough. Blood spattered his shirt when he was done. "Desert... succulents can help..." He gestured urgently at the landscape around them. Apollo felt a faint twinge of hope.

"There may be a plant that can help her?"

The man nodded frantically, gesturing for Apollo to come closer. "Plants like this." He drew a pointed shape in the dirt with a shaking finger. "Thick leaves, hard—gooey inside, spikes..."

The cough racked his body again. Apollo fixed the image in his mind and rose. His side shrieked in agony. He must have cracked some ribs. At that, he was lucky—cracked ribs and a vicious sore throat were nothing compared to what the others had suffered. He glanced at Starbuck, who was still with the burned woman, talking to her quietly, despite frequent pauses to cough. Then he looked closely at the surrounding countryside.

Low, scrubby bushes grew at wide intervals, seperated by tiny delicate weeds. A few larger trees, perhaps half again as tall as he was, struggled to offer meager shade. Thick, spiny things grew out of this harsh landscape, with brilliant red lumps. Fruit, perhaps?

Apollo moved a bit further away from the others. Pointed, spikes, thick leaves... He became aware of the heat. All other things considered, the heat was the least of his worries. Away from the shuttle, it had almost seemed cool, because there was no longer any heat from the fire. But now the dry heat seared into him, so intense it was nearly a physical force. He could feel the dry air sucking moisture from his body.

What was that? He hurried over to a short, spiky plant. A stalk grew straight up from it, with surprisingly pretty orange flowers. The leaves were exactly as the man had described. Apollo gingerly grasped one by its leathery center, avoiding the serrated edge, and sliced it off with his belt knife. A clear ooze emerged from the cut portion of the leaf. Satisfied, he hurried back to the survivors. He dropped down next to the tech.

"Is this what you wanted?"

The man nodded. "Cut edges off... peel skin back from center.... scrape goo off and put... on her burns..."

Apollo gave the man a worried look. He really didn't look well at all. There were obviously severe internal injuries. But he could do nothing about that right now, and he could do something for the poor burned woman. He set to work, cutting through the thick gray-green hide. It was mottled with rust colored spots, and its spines were tipped with rust. He sliced them away carefully from both sides, then worked the edge of his blade under the base of the thick leaf. The skin peeled back easily, although sticky juice got all over his hands. When the gooey center was exposed, he scraped it off and held it up, a slender triangle of liquid and fiber. He hurried to where Starbuck was still trying to calm the pain-wracked woman.

"This should help," he said, and wrung some of the juice from the pulp. The tech gasped and flinched away when the first drops hit, then relaxed.

"More—" she panted. Apollo handed the lump of goo to Starbuck and returned to the plant as quickly as he could. He hacked off several of the leaves, probably more than were needed, and returned. He showed Starbuck how to peel the things. Between the two of them, they were able to peel and squeeze enough of the leaves to ease the tech's pain and let her fall into an uneasy sleep. At some point, Sheba regained consciousness. Apollo set her to tending the other civilian.

"We have to get out of this place," Starbuck said. Apollo wasn't sure how long the silence had lasted. Long enough for the flames to die down on the remains of the shuttle, long enough for him to peel off a few layers of uniform—although not his pressure suit. He could well imagine what that intense sun would do to his space-pale hide.

"Yes."

"The Cylons may come back, check for survivors."

"Maybe."

"Can he move?" Starbuck jerked his head towards the other tech.

"He'll have to, won't he?" Apollo levered himself off the ground and went over to the other two survivors. Sheba looked up at him with a bright smile, and Apollo felt an irrational desire to smack her. Everyone else was suffering, and here she was grinning like a loon... "We're leaving."

Sheba lost the smile. "Leaving? But you know standard procedure—"

"Is to remain at the site of a crash so the rescue team can locate the beacon, yes, I know. But this is a desert. Can you honestly think we'll survive in these conditions without water or shade?"

The tech shook his head frantically. "Desert... must find shelter... or will die."

"But we'll die anyway, if we leave the beacon!" Sheba's voice shrilled with panic. Apollo looked at her sharply. Maybe that whack on the head had clouded her judgment? Her eyes looked a little out of focus.

"I'd rather die trying to survive then bake to death sitting here. We're leaving." He extended a hand to the tech, who hauled himself upright, to stand hunched over and trembling. "Stay here if you wish, but we're going. Now." He turned away.

"Apollo!" Sheba's outraged cry didn't halt him, although it twisted like a knife in his guts. "How can you do this!"

He continued to walk away. Grumbling and complaining the whole way, Sheba followed.

Slowly and painfully, the small group struggled through the burning land. Starbuck and Sheba helped hold up the burned woman, whose name was Jillin, while Apollo provided support to Ares, the other tech. The sun sank closer to the horizon, but did not bring a corresponding drop in temperature. If anything, it became hotter for about a centare.

"What's that?" Starbuck croaked, throat as parched as the land. He pointed to a smudge ahead.

Apollo paused to shade his eyes. The smudge was greenish. "Trees?" he guessed. "We'll go there." He resumed the painful trek.

One step after another, one foot after another, plodding on and on and on.... Apollo wondered why the only parts of him that were sweating were those in contact with Ares. The rest of him was dry, sucked dry by this arid hell his father had sent them all to. He hurt. His ribs—he concentrated on those for a moment. Left side, bottom three ribs. Fire jolted through them at every step. What about the rest of him? Bloody huge headache... well, that was a given, since he had, after all, awakened with his face buried in the shuttle's control panel. Throat—still burned. Felt like jagged chunks of it had torn off and were tickling. Between the throat, the ribs, and the sheer effort of moving, he was having a hell of a time breathing. Shallow panting breaths, pulling the burning air past the chunks of jagged flesh that were surely all that was left of his throat, into the lungs that couldn't expand properly for fear of making the ribs hurt first...

The smudge remained stubbornly far away. It seemed to recede before them, laughing and teasing as they chased after its promise of cool shade. Apollo could hear the delirious muttering of Jillin behind him. How long would she last, without proper medical attention? How long would any of them last? He plodded onwards.

The sun balanced on the horizon and the wind, previously a steady blast like the inside of the galaxy's largest oven, suddenly dropped a few degrees. Apollo perked up a bit when he felt the change, nearly as welcome as a bucket of water dumped over his head would have been. The smudge was now clearly visible. It was a stand of trees, snaking through the desert- perhaps following a riverbed? Whatever it was, it was close. Ignoring the protests of his body, Apollo picked up his pace a fraction. Trees meant water. Water meant survival.

They reached the trees just as the sun vanished completely in a spectacular blaze of light. The temperature dropped again as they group of sun-baked survivors investigated the greenery they had worked so hard to reach. Starbuck and Sheba helped Jillin down to the ground carefully. Ares simply let go of Apollo and dropped to the ground where he stood. Apollo quickly knelt to make sure he was okay.

"Trees should follow riverbed," he panted. "Find bed—dig about ten feet—will have water in morning." Then he rolled onto his back, unconscious. Apollo checked to make sure he still had a pulse, then looked at Starbuck. "Coming?"

"Yeah." It was the first time either of them had spoken since sighting the trees.

"You hurt bad?" Apollo asked as they walked slowly through the trees. It was really quite pleasant under the sparse canopy- softer ground, fewer spiny things, and much cooler. Apollo idly wondered how long the light would last. The dusk here was brighter than day on some planets.

"Not really," Starbuck grunted. "A few bruises, scrapes- burned hell out of my throat, though."

"Yeah- from the shuttle burning."

"That what we're looking for?" Starbuck gestured to the clear space ahead. Apollo nodded.

It was positively indecent to eyes which had been accustomed to the lush landscape of Caprica—a riverbed, wide and shallow, which held nothing but sand and rocks. But the abundance of greenery along its banks attested to the presence of water somewhere. Apollo knelt in the sand, where the heat of the day continued to rise in slow waves, and plunged his hand into the harsh sand. He pulled it out again quickly with a startled oath.

"What is it?"

"Shit's hot!" Apollo shook his hand, then looked around. He spotted a stick and used it to scrape a hole. The sand slipped right back into it. "Dig a hole, he says... yeah, right."

Starbuck sighed and found a stick of his own. Together, they managed to scrape out a decent sized hole. Under the top layer of burning sand was damp earth, cool and firm. The ground was filled with rocks, though, making digging very difficult. The two men strained and struggled until the light gave out.

"This'll have to do," Starbuck said, wiping his brow and peering at Apollo through the deep grey gloom. His hand left a smear of dirt behind.

"Yeah. Let's go see how Sheba's doing."

They trudged back they way they had come, too weary even to attempt conversation. They found Sheba sitting, back against a tree, with the two techs laid out in front of her, both asleep- or unconscious. She rose to her feet when she saw them, holding out a handful of something.

"Here—Jillin said these were edible. Not bad, actually—very bland, but better than nothing."

"Thanks." Apollo took some of the proffered items and sat on the soft ground. After a moment, he became conscious of a dampness working its way through his clothes from the ground. How odd.

"What do you do with these things, anyway?" Starbuck shook one of the long, slender pods. It rattled.

"Crack it open, there's beans inside."

Apollo cracked one of his pods, exposing half a dozen little dark shapes. He blinked. How the hell could he see those...? Ah, there was a moon rising, shining through the odd leaves of the trees overhead.

He ate his beans, dry and bland though they were, rather grateful that neither of his companions felt like talking. When he was done, he stretched out on his back, staring through the branches at the stars. How long until a search party came from the Galactica?


Morning came early to the desert. Apollo was roused by a riotous mass of birds with all manner of calls, greeting the light of the sun. It hadn't risen yet, but the entire horizon had turned a luminous shade of purple. As he watched, the sky progressed through a series of fragile pastel colors, a sight of surprising beauty in this shockingly barren land. Beside him, Sheba stirred. She must have joined him sometime during the night. He had little memory of last night, only an awareness that he was uncomfortable. But that was nothing compared to now. The chill of the night, nearly unbelievable after the day's heat, had stiffened muscles unaccustomed to hard physical exertion, adding a new set of pains to those he'd catalogued previously.

"Apollo?" Sheba stretched and opened her eyes beside him.

"Good morning," he said, not without irony.

"Where are we?"

"Beats the hell out of me."

The sound of voices roused Starbuck, who rose groggily to his feet and staggered off into the bushes. A few minutes later, Apollo heard a series of curses, then Starbuck returned.

"What's wrong?"

"Besides the obvious? I tried to take a piss, and can't!" Starbuck growled, then flung himself to the ground.

"Dehydration," Apollo said grimly. He peered at his friend with concern. "Lords, man- look at you! No wonder you're dehydrated, you've been burned to a crisp!"

Starbuck felt gingerly at his face. "Yeah, I kind of figured that out."

At the word "burned," Sheba had risen to her feet to check on Jillin. What she found wasn't good.

"Apollo..."

He rose and joined her. "Did she make it through the night?"

Sheba shook her head mutely.

"Damn."

Apollo turned away. He made his way to Ares' side and knelt to check his pulse. Still there, faint and thready, but still there. Good. Maybe his injuries weren't really that severe, after all.

Checking on Ares reminded him of the water hole. He made his way to the edge of the riverbed, then sank to his knees in pained disbelief.

A myriad of animal tracks surrounded the hole he and Starbuck had worked so hard to dig. There was no water left, although many muddy pawprints surrounded the area. "Shit."

"Apollo?" Starbuck joined him, kneeling by the hole with a blank look on his face. "No water..."

"No water," Apollo agreed, voice dull and dispirited.

"Shit."

"That's what I said." They stared at the death of their hopes for a moment longer, then struggled back to their feet and rejoined Sheba.

"We need to find water," Apollo said. "When we came in, we passed over some mountains that were lush and green. We can follow this riverbed right to them."

"But Apollo, shouldn't we—"

"No, we should not," Starbuck cut her off with a glare. "We should do what Apollo says to. He'll keep us alive, if anyone can."

"But—"

"Sheba, please," Apollo said, kneeling beside her and stroking her sunburned cheek lightly. "Just don't argue, okay? We need to move now, while it's still cool. We will find water, I promise."

Seen this closely, her eyes were even more vague and out of focus than he'd suspected last night. "Well, okay, if you think it's best..."

"I do. Now come on, let's wake Ares, and get out of here. We need to get as far as possible while it's still cool out here."

Sheba nodded meekly and started shaking Ares gently, callling his name and telling him to wake up. Apollo frowned, worried about her mental state. But there was nothing he could do- he was completely helpless, at the mercy of this desert, except try to keepp his people alive until help arrived. He tried to ignore the fear that the rescue party would take one look at the burned husk of the shuttle and decide there had been no survivors.

The struggle up the riverbed was both harder and easier than the trek through the open desert had been. Easier, because there was occasional shade. Harder, because although the rock-strewn riverbed was beautiful in its own hard way, it was infinitely harder to walk through than the firm ground of the desert. Ares wandered in and out of consciousness, sometimes walking with the support of Apollo or Starbuck, more often needing to be carried. The temperature rose alarmingly fast once the sun had completed the first quarter of its journey across the sky. By high noon, Apollo felt ready to drop dead. The next time the group reached an undercut, he called a halt. They crowded together under the small ledge, taking full advantage of the meager shade.

"Desert," Ares said suddenly. He sat up, eyes gleaming feverishly bright. "Harsh to the untrained, beautiful land of plenty to the initiate. I belong to the desert." He jumped to his feet, showing surprising grace for someone who could barely walk, and darted out into the sun, arms raised overhead. "I belong to the desert!" he shouted, spinning in circles, which became a downward spiral as he collapsed. Apollo darted out to his side.

The man lay with the side of his face pressed into the gritty sand, a smile on his face. Apollo, chilled at heart, knew what he would find, but knelt to check for a pulse anyway. Nothing. The desert had taken another life.

He looked at the others, still staring in shock. "He's gone."

Starbuck sighed, but Sheba smiled. "He'll be back!" she said brightly. "He likes it here. He told me so."

Heart twisting within him, Apollo forced himself to smile. "Yes. He'll meet up with us later. Now let's go."

He straightened and started back along the riverbed, leaving Ares where he lay.

 


They reached the mountains before sunset, during the hottest part of the day. Weary beyond capacity for excitement, the travelers paused at the foot of the mountains. They reared majestically upward without the softening effect of foothills, just a range of mountains sprung directly from the desert floor. With a collective sigh, the trio started to climb.

At first there was little change. The desert continued to cling tenaciously to the ridges and valleys, as did the heat. But as they climbed steadily higher, new plantlife appeared and the temperature gradually lowered. Sunset found them on a high ridge, looking out over the vast plain below. Immense and inscrutable, the desert stretched onwards as far as the eye could see, broken only by a faint cloud where the remains of the shuttle stubbornly smouldered on.

Sheba, bored, turned away while the men were still staring in silence. "Look!" she cried excitedly. "It's alive! And it's moving slowly enough, I can catch it and we can eat it for dinner!"

Before Apollo could stop her, she ran over and plucked a reptilian creature off the ground. It continued to wave its legs aimlessly as she held it. Thick and wide, it was nearly black, with wide orange bands. It turned its head languidly and bit Sheba's hand.

"Naughty lizard!" She started to laugh, then shrieked and dropped the creature, which continued on its interrupted journey. She clutched her hand to her chest, howling with pain. It was already beginning to swell. Angry red streaks radiated out from the insignificant puncture wounds of the bite.

Apollo and Starbuck stared in appalled shock as Sheba dropped to the ground, convulsing in agony. The unexpectedness of the emergency held the two immobile for a moment. Then Apollo broke free of his stunned paralysis and ran to kneel at her side.

Sheba gave one last bloodcurdling shriek as her spine arched first backwards, then forwards with the strength of the muscular spasms wracking her slight frame. Then she went limp, eyes wide and staring.

Apollo swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Then he backed off a few steps, to stand beside his friend.

Starbuck slipped an arm around Apollo's shoulders. The man stood, stony-faced and unmoving, staring down at the pain-twisted wreck of a body that had once held Sheba's spirit. Gone, now, lost to this harsh and unforgiving world. With a deep, shuddering breath, Apollo turned his face briefly into Starbuck's shoulder, then pulled away. Back straight, eyes forward, he marched away into the gathering dusk without a backward glance. Starbuck followed silently.

The moon was high overhead before Apollo was willing to stop. He simply sat on the ground without warning. Starbuck nearly stumbled over him. Concerned, he crouched down and touched his arm. Apollo looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since Sheba's death, and broke the long silence.

"Are we going to survive this, Bucko?"

Starbuck swallowed against a sudden tightness in his throat. "Damn right we are, Pol." He tried to smile. "It's you and me, together—we can do anything, remember?"

"What if it's you next time?" Apollo's voice, hardly more than a harsh whisper, still held a wealth of emotion. He turned away, blinking.

Starbuck gave up on trying to get rid of the lump in his throat and settled fully to the ground beside his friend. "It won't be, okay? And it won't be you, either. We're like a couple of shooting stars that can't be stopped."

A faint smile teased at the corners of Apollo's mouth. "You'd better be right, old friend. You'd just better be right."

 


Sunrise came late to the pocket valley which sheltered the still forms of two Colonial Warriors, huddled together for warmth. It woke the birds and beasts of the mountains, then gently kissed the sleeping men with its rays, warming them and waking them gradually.

Apollo woke to find himself clinging to Starbuck like a lost soul. He rolled away hurriedly, before his friend could catch him in such a vulnerable state. He vaguely remembered how cold the clear night air had been, encouraging the two friends to snuggle together closer than lovers in an effort to keep warm. But now the sun was out, and there was no further need for the forced intimacy.

Something teased at Apollo's awareness, dulled though it was by the past two days of hardship. Something that tickled at his hearing and his nose both, with a familiar and alluring call. "Starbuck," he said, prodding the man's shoulder. "Wake up—I think there's water."

"Hunh?" Starbuck, never at his best in the mornings, blinked dazed eyes at him.

"Water! I think I hear it. Over there. Come on."

Without waiting for Starbuck to wake up the rest of the way, Apollo struggled to his feet and fought off a bout of lightheaded dizziness. He hoped that truly was water. Neither one of them could survive much longer without it.

Starbuck rose as well, uncoordinated but determined. They set off for the elusive sound together. It got louder, and the smell grew stronger. Then they both saw the gleam of sun on water through the thick shrubby trees.

Together they broke into a stumbling run, to fall to their knees beside a good sized stream. Apollo tried to scoop water up in his hands, then gave up and mimicked Starbuck, who had plunged his whole head into the stream. Apollo stayed under as long as he could, then surfaced with a gasp. The water slid down his throat like the finest nectar. He thought he could feel his moisture-starved body soaking it up.

Initial thirst satisfied, Apollo decided to take care of the rest of himself as well. Quickly, he stripped out of his filthy flight suit and plunged into the water. It was fairly deep, deeper than he'd thought—it rose to mid-thigh. He ducked all the way under, reveling in the feel of the cold fluid against his parched hide. Starbuck joined him, splashing and playful.

"Hey! No fair!" Apollo spluttered when Starbuck got him with a well aimed splash to the back of the head. Apollo retaliated with a squirt of water from between clasped hands, a trick he and his brother had figured out on long-ago seaside vacations. Starbuck barely managed to duck it.

In the midst of an all-out splashing war, Apollo paused, despite the wave that Starbuck drenched him with.

"Alright, what are you looking at?" Starbuck asked.

"Over there. See those birds?"

"The ones eating the—" Starbuck stopped and turned to Apollo, excited comprehension on his face.

"Berries!" Apollo finished, equally excited. They splashed out of the stream at a stumbling run, heedless of their clothes, and began enthusiastically denuding the bushes of sweet berries, on the assumption that if birds could eat them, so could humans.

The bushes were quickly stripped. Apollo looked at Starbuck, who was licking the last of the berry juice from his fingers, and started laughing.

"What?" Starbuck assumed a look of injured innocence. "Why are you laughing?"

"I'm laughing at you—at us," he ammended. "Look at us—bare-ass naked, covered in berry juice, faces and hands burned as hell and the rest of us pale and muddy..."

Starbuck did look, then he too was laughing. With a shake of his head, he rose and returned to the stream, where he made a serious effort to clean both himself and his clothing.

Apollo followed. Now that the edge was off his hunger and there was more water available than he could ever hope to drink, not to mention the sun was much gentler here in the mountains, his thoughts returned inevitably to the Galactica. Why hadn't they sent a search party? Did the Galactica still exist? Without the 'ponics labs at full functionality, the air must be getting pretty rank in there. Here they had at last fulfilled the object of their mission—there was water and vegetation in plenty. But it wasn't doing any good down here, when the Galactica was somewhere off in space.

Once clean again, Apollo and Starbuck spread their uniforms across the grassy floor of the valley to dry.

"What should we do now?" Apollo asked idly.

"You're asking me? You're the Captain." Starbuck shrugged. "How should I know?"

"Two choices—go, or stay."

"Well, I vote go." Starbuck looked away from the grass stem he'd been shredding. "Those berries were good, but I'm all for finding something to eat. I'm so hungry that rock over there is starting to look tasty."

Apollo grinned. "Me too. Okay, we go then." He started pulling his uniform on, then hesitated. "Do I really want to keep this damn pressure suit? It's such a pain in the ass..."

"Yes, you really want to keep it," Starbuck advised, wiggling into his own suit. "Remember how bloody cold it gets out here?"

"Yeah, but it was a nice thought." Apollo sighed heavily and put the thing on, followed by his rather stiff and crunchy uniform. He fingered the once soft fabric with regret. The water in the creek may have gotten the dirt and stains out, but it had left a lot of itself behind... as witness the stiff, gritty feel.

The sun was beginning its descent into afternoon when the two warriors set out again. This day's journey seemed a mere pleasure-jaunt in comparison with the previous two days of spirit-breaking struggle. Although still warm, the sun lacked the killing intensity felt below. And the scenery was a refreshing change from below as well- the scrubby trees soon gave way to majestic tall conifers, which provided both shade and nuts. The warriors put their survival training to good use and located a number of drably colored, edible fungi and lichens, as well as a wealth of berries. They talked and laughed as they progressed through the forest, feeling worlds away better with a stream to their left and edibles all around them. Then they reached a difficult slope, strewn with deep brown-red rocks with a visibly high iron content. The stream bounded cheerfully down towards them, making a stunning picture—but not making the ascent any easier.

"We going up?" Starbuck asked, eyes sparkling with challenge.

"Meet you at the top," Apollo grinned, and began the long scramble. It was difficult, but not impossible. He stuck to the larger rocks where he could, since the smaller ones shifted unexpectedly underfoot. He was nearly to the top when the big rock he was using to pull himself up with shifted.

"Oh shit—" was all he had time to say before the rock went down, knocking him off balance and sending him down after it. He bounced and slid painfully over the rocks he had just climbed, which were now pulling loose and joining the slide. He caught a glimpse of Starbuck reaching out for him, then Starbuck was down as well.

The thundering mass of rock reached the valley floor in a cloud of dust and rock shards. Apollo wasn't entirely sure he'd survived at first. Then he remembered that he'd seen Starbuck go down and struggled free of the medium sized rock on his midsection, something which had done his abused ribs absolutely no good.

"Starbuck!" he called, the dust resurrecting his cough full force. "Starbuck! Where are you?"

He scanned the rocks frantically, swearing in anxiety. Then he saw an arm sticking out of a pile of rubble. Sick with dread, he scrambled over and began clawing frantically until he found Starbuck inside the heap. He was still and silent.

Nearly weeping with fear and frustration, Apollo hauled his friend's body free of the debris. "Starbuck! Come on, man, give me a hand here—you promised, you said it wouldn't be you—" He gasped and choked on the rock dust. But he managed to haul the still form to a clear, grassy spot, incongruously peaceful and sunny next to the rockfall. "Starbuck! Wake up!" He shook the man. Was that a flicker of an eyelid? His fingers fumbled frantically, searching for a pulse as he had so often over the last three days. It was there, it had to be there—it just had—there!

Strong and rapid, Starbuck's pulse beat beneath his questing fingers. A few relieved tears leaked down Apollo's face, and he clung to his friend desperately, rocking back and forth in emotional overload. "You're alive, you're alive," he repeated over and over. He buried his face in Starbuck's hair, aware that now the other man was conscious and clinging to him with equal strength.

"Thought you were a goner, Pol," a hoarse voice murmured in his ear.

"Me!" Apollo pulled back in surprise to look at Starbuck. "Me! I wasn't the one unconscious at the bottom of the rockpile. I really thought you'd bought it, that time."

"Nah," Starbuck coughed, then pulled Apollo back into his arms. "Not me—I'm too damn ornery to get finished by any stupid rocks."

Overwhelming relief, combined with the adrenaline rush brought by a near brush with death, was having an effect on Apollo's body. He felt a deep, primal urge building within him, the need to prove that he was alive. Life surged through his veins, a burning fire that swamped rational thought... until he realized what other effect the tide of energy was having within him. He blushed a brilliant crimson and started to pull away before Starbuck could notice.

But it was too late. Starbuck had already noticed. " 'sawright, Pol," he said, lips buried in Apollo's neck. "Perfectly normal response—" Then his hand found the raging heat in Apollo's pants, and embarassment vanished in a wave of pure animal lust.

 


"Captain Apollo!"

A voice roused him from a dream in which Starbuck hadn't survived the rockfall.

"Sir! I've found them—over here! Captain Apollo, Lieutenant Starbuck, wake up!"

Apollo's eyes shot open and he sat up so fast his head spun. A Colonial Marine stood nearby, beckoning to someone Apollo couldn't see. He poked the still-sleeping man beside him. As usual, Starbuck could sleep through anything, even the arrival of a more-than-welcome rescue party.

"Go 'way," he muttered, flinging his arm across his eyes. The late afternoon sunlight glinted off the insignia of the half dozen marines gathering around.

"Well, if you really want them to, I'm sure these men would be happy to go back to the Galactica without you," Apollo said, the sarcastic bite to his voice sharp enough to shave with.

"Huh? Galactica?" Starbuck sat up in a hurry, shaking his head to clear it. "Man, am I ever glad to see you!"

The two battered warriors were escorted swiftly to the shuttle waiting downhill in a large clearing they had passed through earlier in the day. On the trip back, the marine Captain filled Apollo in on the situation aboard the Galactica. The search party had been delayed by a series of vicious attacks. Colonel Tigh had eventually determined why the Cylons were so protective of this world- it was a rare source of an extremely high quality mineral required for the genesis of new Cylons.

"Oh lovely," Apollo muttered when he heard that. Just what they needed, a new generation of Cylons, probably even pissier than the last.

"Indeed. The Commander was tempted to level the heavies at the mine and wipe the damn planet out of existence, but the situation was too critical with the 'ponics." The marine Captain smiled, a mere twitch of lips on a face seemingly carved of granite. "Plus, he could still read human life signs down here, and refused to blast the planet if there was a chance his son was still alive. That was a damn fine job, to bring anyone out of that wreck alive."

Apollo swallowed hard. "Yeah, well, I started with seven, and am returning with two. Not so good a job in my eyes."

The marine shrugged. The rest of the ride was accomplished in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts.

Back on the Galactica, Apollo and Starbuck were hustled through decontamination and striaght to the Life Center, where Cassie and Dr. Salik fussed over their injuries and sunburns. Eventually, they were pronounced fit enough to leave, although they were both ordered to a secton of light duty.

During the obligatory family welcome, Apollo had only one thought on his mind—bed. He caught Starbuck's eyes, where he was neatly pinned to the wall by Athena and Boxey and their endless questions. Starbuck widened his eyes in desperation, with a jerk of his head towards Boxey. Apollo chuckled. Seemed there were some things in life Starbuck just couldn't handle. Come to think of it, without Serena around, he hadn't been able to handle Boxey well either—which was why Athena had adopted the kid.

Apollo yawned, hugely and rudely, as his father was in the middle of saying something. He covered his mouth belatedly and tried to apologize, but was unable to quit yawning. Starbuck picked up his cue and used Apollo as an excuse to escape his tormentors—er, inquisitors.

"Sorry, guys, but we did just have a hell of a traumatic experience," Starbuck said, with a fake smile and a real yawn. Damn things were contagious. "See? Apollo is so tired he can barely stay awake."

That did it. The tide shifted from jubilation to concern and saw the two warriors borne off to their seperate quarters by a wave of concerned family members. Apollo hid his satisfied grin until the door was safely closed behind him. Trust Starbuck to be able to extract them from any situation! Of course, he could also trust Starbuck to get them into any number of situations, but that was different.

Blessed slience and darkness all around him, Apollo shed his clothing and slipped into his own bed with a sigh. Much better.

 


The next day found Apollo in a rather awkward situation. "Light duty" meant office work for both him and Starbuck. There was only one office for the flight officers, meaning they were stuck in the same room together all day. Ordinarily, this wasn't a problem, but today Apollo found himself remembering what had happened the other day, after the rockfall. He wasn't too sure what he should do about that. Act as if nothing had ever happened? Thank Starbuck and say that had been the best hand job he'd ever had the pleasure of receiving? Jump Starbuck and haul him into the nearest utility closet for another go?

That thought made him flush uncomfortably and he returned his full attention to the reports in front of him. Why the hell they had him cataloguing the plantlife brought in for the hydroponics labs, he didn't know, but-

"Apollo?"

He jumped and looked up, eyes wide. "Yeah?"

"About the other day—" Starbuck stared at him with those blue eyes troubled. No need to ask which other day.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we'd better forget it happened?"

"Yeah." Apollo swallowed hard. That would be best. Just forget it had ever happened and go out somewhere he could find a nice willing girl.

"Okay, then." Was that a flash of disappointment in those troubled eyes?

"Okay. But one more thing—thanks. For understanding."

"Yeah. Natural reaction, and all." Starbuck pointedly returned his attention to his computer screen.

"Yeah." Apollo returned to his own work, resolved to put the incident from his mind.

But it wasn't that easy. The memory preyed on his mind. The more he tried to forget, the more vividly he could see Starbuck in his mind's eye- eyes closed, head thrown back, face flushed with passion... Or he could feel remembered touches, searing into his skin like branding irons. Nights were no escape from the torture. His subconscious mind ran wild, torturing him with a combination of memory and fantasy that had him as horny as a teenager. He tried to find relief in a woman, any woman—he didn't much care who, there were plenty over on the Rising Star willing to jump in bed with the Captain—but to no avail.

He tried to avoid Starbuck whenever possible, only it wasn't really possible. When Salik took them off light duty, he nearly cheered, because it meant he could almost escape the man. Of course, Starbuck was still his wingman, but it was far easier to avoid improper thoughts in a Viper than in a small office with no other company.

Apollo became so obsessed with the effort to stop thinking of Starbuck that there was little room in his life for anything else. His family noticed and wondered what was wrong, but knew better than to ask. It was hardly normal for Apollo to go out drinking and getting laid every night, but if confronted he would only deny any problem at all.

Starbuck noticed the problem as well, but he said less than nothing. Apollo watched him covertly, even though he yelled at himself every time he noticed. Starbuck's eyes bore dark circles, similar to those under Apollo's eyes. His cheeks had a hollow look to them that suggested he wasn't eating well, although he acted like the same old Starbuck. On the surface, he was overjoyed to have Apollo as a nightly companion on the Rising Star, but beneath the surface.... something intense boiled, waiting to break free. Apollo would sometimes catch Starbuck staring at him with a deeply troubled look in his eyes.

After nearly three sectons, there had been no further Cylon activity and the warriors were letting their guards down. Someone actually organized a Triad match and challenged Starbuck and Apollo.

"Well?" Apollo swallowed hard and looked at Starbuck.

"I'm up for it. You?"

Apollo tried not to squirm. Damn those skimpy Triad uniforms- this would be absolute torture... or else somehow cure him of this unhealthy obsession. Perhaps Starbuck wasn't really as impressive as memory was painting him...

Apollo jumped when Jolly elbowed him in the ribs. "Well? You gonna sit there all night, or are you going to answer?"

"Er... sorry. Yeah, I'm game. When? Now?"

"Don't you ever pay attention anymore?" Boomer chided. "Yes, now! We're all here, the court's available, what more could you want? A printed invitation?"

Apollo ignored him and rose from the table. "Then let's go!"

In the locker room, Apollo kept his eyes glued to the wall, avoiding any possible glimpse of Starbuck stripping beside him. He hung back after everyone else was changed, ostensibly to tighten the laces on his boots, but really trying to regain his composure. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? He wasn't gay! Why was he going so crazy over Starbuck?

He finished tightening his laces and left the locker room slowly. Starbuck, a worried look on his face, was coming back down the hall. Apollo's breath caught at the sight of that magnificent body.

"Pol? You okay?" Starbuck halted in his tracks, eyes raking over Apollo from head to toe and back again. Then he was on top of Apollo, propelling him urgently into the alcove, nearly against the locker room door. Lips seared into Apollo's with a burning urgency to match his own. He clutched frantically at Starbuck, telling himself to shove him away even as he pulled the man closer, opening his mouth for that probing tongue and licking at lips and—

—breaking away, panting and swearing, when the alert sounded.

"What the frack?" Starbuck, eyes clouded with passion and face flushed, looked around frantically as warriors began boiling into the corridor from the direction of the Triad courts.

"Sonuvadaggit!" Apollo gasped, then wrenched free of Starbuck's grasp and plunged into the locker room to throw his uniform back on.

He swore loudly and vigorously about the bad timing of the alert. Boomer and Jolly, oblivious, thought he meant because of the ill-fated Triad match, but Starbuck understood. Starbuck always understood.

It was a short fight, brief but fierce. The fleet had stumbled across a Cylon tanker convoy. The Raider escort fought hard- and well they might, to guard the tons and tons of fuel that the fleet could use as well as the Cylons could. But in the end, they lost, and the fleet got a bonus of being able to refuel.

Afterwards, Apollo sought out Starbuck, for the first time since they had returned to the Galactica. He strode through the corridors quickly, hoping to catch him before he disappeared in a typical Starbuck move.

There he was. Apollo's steps quickened. "Starbuck!"

The other man turned to face him, blue eyes unreadable, hand on the locking mechanism for his quarters. Apollo reached the man just as the door slid open and he stepped through. Apollo followed, then found himself locked in another passionate embrace.

He slid his hands hungrily over Starbuck's body, rediscovering the sensitive spots he had remembered and those he hadn't, helping the other man get free of his uniform. Then he wrapped his hand around Starbuck's hot, hard dick and froze.

What the frack am I doing he's MAN for Lords' sakes I can't do this—

He pulled violently away and headed for the door. Somehow, they had crossed the entire room and were nearly to the bed.

"Pol—" Starbuck panted, voice harsh with need and desire.

"What the hell is going on here!" Apollo demanded. He couldn't leave. He couldn't stay, and he couldn't leave.

"Sex."

Apollo barked a harsh laugh. "Oh really? Is that what that was?" He turned, reluctance warring with eagerness.

"No. That was you running scared. Now get back here."

Apollo gave in and returned to Starbuck's arms, to find himself unceremoniously stripped and thrown to the bed, a naked Starbuck on top of him. Then his arms were pinned behind his head and there was a hot mouth on his nipple. Appolo arched his back and cried out at the nearly unbearable intensity of the sensation. Lips teased at him, teeth nibbled him, and a hand wrapped around his throbbing dick. He almost didn't notice when his arms were released for a moment as Starbuck fumbled at the bedside table for something. Then he tensed as he felt something slick slide into him. Starbuck clamped his hand back around Apollo's arms and nipped sharply right underneath a nipple as he slid his well-lubed finger into Apollo.

Apollo arched his back and fought against the strange sensation for a moment, then relaxed at an unexpected stab of pleasure. What the hell... He moved forward and felt Starbuck's finger thrust in an answering motion, rubbing against... ahhhh! He moved faster, then moaned in frantic protest as the finger slid back out. Starbuck fastened his mouth to Apollo's neck, sucking warmth to the surface, as he replaced his finger with the head of his dick. Apollo yelled, a hoarse cry of mingled protest and pleasure, then he felt Starbuck sliding in further. He tried to relax, but it burned like fire—and then Starbuck hit that good spot again, the little prostate gland that he'd had no idea could ever feel so good, and the pain became insignificant. The world vanished into a howling roar of fireworks.

 


Later, much later, Apollo roused to find Starbuck gone. There were sounds coming from the turbowash, and he decided that sounded like a good idea. He rose with a languid stretch and went into the washroom.

"Hey, are you almost done in there?"

The sound of soap dropping was clearly audible—a curse and a thumping noise, followed by more curses and many thumping noises as the elusive bar of soap was chased down and finally captured. Apollo grinned.

"Well, I was," Starbuck said sourly. "Now I have to rinse again. I got all soapy chasing that damn thing."

"Oops," Apollo said innocently. "Well, I'm in next, so hurry."

The spray shut off, and a glistening Starbuck emerged. "What do you mean, hurry? Last time I checked, it was my washroom!"

Apollo ducked into the stall with another unrepentant grin. He washed quickly but thoroughly, then returned to the sleeping room to find Starbuck sprawled across half the bed, with the covers turned back on the other half in plain invitation. Apollo hesitated, then shrugged and slipped into the bed. Starbuck sighed and wrapped an arm around him.

 


Apollo woke from another one of those dreams achingly hard and ready to scream with frustration. Then he felt a warm body beside him and gasped as memory returned. For a moment, sheer terror overwhelmed him, then he fought it down. Yes, he was in Starbuck's bed. Yes, they'd had wild and passionate sex. No, it wasn't the end of the world. In fact... This was the perfect opportunity, perhaps the only one he would ever get, to make his dreams become reality.

Almost of its own volition, his hand crept over and touched Starbuck's belly. The other man was sprawled on his back, covers thrown off, every inch of his exposed skin crying out for Apollo's attention. Nearly in a daze, he continued stroking, flinching when he encountered Starbuck's hard dick, then controlling his reaction and rolling closer. Starbuck murmured in his sleep, a little pleased sound, as Apollo hesitantly kissed a nipple.

The feel of Starbuck beneath his hands, the taste of him on lips and tongue, even the smell of the man all combined to have Apollo nearly dizzy with desire. He took his time exploring. He learned every minute detail of the sensitive nipples, the ridges of muscle, the light dusting of hair here and there... At some point, Starbuck woke and began returning caresses, then tangled his hands in Apollo's hair as his seeking mouth moved lower.

Trembling with both fear and excitement, Apollo paused for a moment before tasting that straining cock for the first time. Then he had done it—actually put another man's dick in his mouth. The fear melted away with that first taste and he let the head slide back out. Starbuck's fingers tightened in his hair, but Apollo licked slowly along the length of the shaft and he arched and cried out. Apollo took his time here as well, learning every little ridge in exquisite detail. After thoroughly licking his way around the throbbing dick, he ran his tongue over Starbuck's balls, right up the middle. Then he sucked the head of Starbuck's dick back into his mouth, learning how to slide it in and out without scraping his teeth across it. Then, just before Starbuck was ready to come, he stopped. He opened his mouth and it slid out, making Starbuck whimper in protest. Apollo groped blindly for the tube of lube. It had to be up there somewhere, Starbuck had used it earlier, after all- there it was. He spread the cold slimy stuff on himself, then slid a finger between the cheeks of Starbuck's ass. Should be right- there. Starbuck gasped and tensed, just as Apollo had earlier, but Apollo held back. He returned his attention to Starbuck's nipples until the man was writhing and gasping, pressing eagerly against Apollo's finger. He positioned the head of his slippery dick carefully, then fastened his mouth to Starbuck's as he guided himself in.

The kiss built in intensity as Apollo slid slowly inside Starbuck, then Starbuck was pushing him in further with short sharp thrusts. Apollo bit gently on Starbuck's neck, trying to hold back a bit, then he felt the other man arch beneath him with a wordless cry and a spurt of warm wetness. Apollo gave up trying to control himself then. A few quick hard thrusts sent him over the edge into blinding glory.

After a few minutes of panting recovery time, Apollo pulled out slowly and rolled off Starbuck.

Hands clutched at him—tired, sated, but still urgent. "Don't go," Starbuck whispered.

Apollo traced a hand over Starbuck's face in the darkness. "I wasn't going anywhere."

"Good."

Silence descended over the room again.

 


Apollo woke gradually. This time, he was aware of where he was from the first. But what startled him, like a bucket of ice water, was the realization of what they'd done. Not the first time—that had been like before, wild and rough and the product of overwhelmingly urgent need. That he could almost deal with.

No, it was the second time that scared him silly. The memory of tender, gentle lovemaking, beyond anything he'd ever dreamed of, even.... The implications of that were terrifying.

Apollo slipped carefully out from beneath Starbuck's arm. He dressed silently, then slipped out of the room in equal silence. He paused in the doorway for a last look at Starbuck, then closed the door and ran like hell.

He didn't slow until he was in the turbolift. He didn't realize where he was going until he was halfway to the celestial dome, but it was as good a place as any to sort out his inner turmoil.

Apollo finally reached the dome and opened it. He sat in the ancient astrogator's chair, staring at the stars until his whirling thoughts slowed. He'd achieved a fragile inner peace by the time Starbuck tracked him down.

"Hey." The platform shifted minutely as Starbuck stepped up onto it, beside the chair.

"Hey." Apollo didn't look away from the peaceful stars.

"Why'd you run?" A hand touched the back of his neck gently.

"Had to think."

A sigh. "Yeah—so did I."

Apollo turned his attention to Starbuck. "What's wrong with us?"

"Nothing." Starbuck sat, dangling his legs over the edge of the dais. Apollo joined him on the floor.

"If nothing's wrong, then why do we both keep freaking out?"

Starbuck sighed. "Beats me. Is it really so hard to accept that we have... feelings for each other? More than, you know, more than best friends should have?"

Apollo smiled. "Maybe not. Let's find out."

He put a finger under Starbuck's chin and turned his head so he could see those intense blue eyes. Then he tilted his head and kissed Starbuck.

Trembling and hesitant, their lips met with gentle tenderness. Then Apollo backed off.

"There—that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No," Starbuck replied, breathless. "Nice. Very nice." He kissed Apollo, nothing more than a gentle brush of lips which still sent an electric tingle down to the tips of his toes.

"Lovers... not such a bad thing after all, right?" Apollo shivered. There. He'd said it. It was too late to turn back now.

"Not bad at all," Starbuck smiled. "But I can tell you right now, Pol, this would never happen with anyone else. Only you."

"Just don't run this time, okay? And I won't either. We can handle this. We've been through nine kinds of hell together, surely we can deal with this..."

"This what? Can you even say it?" Starbuck's tone was light and teasing, but his eyes were serious.

"...love." Slow smile. Long kiss.

"Nothing like what I always called love—this is different, stronger... ah hells. Never mind." Another kiss, melting bones into puddles of limp goo.

"Maybe we should take this elsewhere?" Apollo slid his tongue along Starbuck's jawline, provoking shivers.

"Into the future, maybe? Like, forever?" Starbuck deliberately misunderstood him and Apollo felt fear clutch at his throat again.

"Tell you what... let's learn how to love each other first, before we go saying forever, okay? 'Cause that's still a scary idea to me right now."

A slow smile spread across Starbuck's face. "Sounds like a plan to me.... lover."

The stars glittered overhead, spreading their light across the two lovers as they kissed yet again, delighting in their newfound love.

 

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