Entrepreneurship
Deep in a previously un-charted area of space, on board the Battlestar Galactica…
The scrape of his privacy curtain being pulled to the side was enough to make him want to cover his eyes. The hand attached to the body that opened his curtain was, he had to admit, worthy of being looked at. Even at the ungodly hour of zero-five-forty-five as his sleep deprived mind competed with his physically depraved body. Rolling up to a sitting position and dragging his still-warm pillow from behind his head to his lap to hide the tenting currently occurring, he squinted at the un-natural perkiness he was being assaulted with.
"Starbuck – do you realize that my C.A.P. ended," peering at the clock clipped to the underside of his bunk, it was a fight to make the glowing digits come into focus, "at twenty-three hundred hours. That translates to…"
"– One whiney ass C.A.G.," Splaying a hand across on hip she looked down at him. "Damn Apollo. I thought you were supposed to up with the sun?" A deprecating smirk followed the verbal dig at his call sign.
Stepping away from the bunk and crossing the room to the banks of lockers, a practiced open-hand smack to just the right place had one of the locker doors swinging open. Reaching inside and pulling out a pair of socks, she grimaced at the fact that not only were the socks matched, but rolled together to keep them together and prevent them from wrinkling.
One fluid motion had the ball sailing across the room.
"You know, this would be scary unless I already knew you folded your underwear."
Deftly plucking the ball of socks out of the air, he peeled them apart and draped them across his mattress. Reaching for his running shoes and pulling the knots free, he brushed off his feet before putting on his socks and shoes.
Settling his heels into his running shoes, Lee traded steps for lunges in an attempt to convince muscles that yes, five-plus-a-little-more hours of sleep was ample time to fully re-charge. Stopping just in front of the woman who encompassed his best friend and primary nemesis, he deliberately crossed into her personal space and brushed her body. The reactionary hitch in her breathing and faint hint of sexual twinkle in her eyes was payback enough for the mental image she conjured of her handling his underwear.
Matching her smirk for smirk, he reached past her for a clean set of tanks. "Never pictured you as a panty sniffer, Thrace."
"Nah – that's kids' stuff, completely minor league. 'Playing for the Majors' means that if you can get close enough to sniff someone else's panties, then you might as well go for the gold and put them on." Stepping back so that he had enough arm room to put on his tanks, she waited until his elbows were back by his side before she rested a hand on his shoulder as she went to move past him.
Whispering lasciviously, her voice was pure innuendo.
"'Going Pro' means that not only did you get to his panties," whispering lasciviously, her voice was husky. "But you put them on, wore them, and then put them back in his locker – without him knowing you got into his locker in the first place."
It took all the discipline he learned at War College not to turn to his stack of clean skivvies and start rifling through them, searching for that scent that was undeniably Kara. It took several repetitions of conjuring Col. Tigh and Chief Tyrol – dancing in full costume, to the rhythm an Aerilon jig – to keep his shorts from re-tenting.
Following her through the hatch and into the hallway, they both took positions against the wall of the corridor. Extending their arms, each of them fell forward until their palms rested against the cold metal. Keeping the mental image of Tigh and Tyrol firmly forefront, Lee set the pace for their up-right push ups. Keeping Starbuck focused on matching her breathing with her exertion level would keep him from having to picture Hot Dog naked to keep his traitorous body under control. The side effect was bonus – a hard workout was like pre-foreplay for Starbuck. Fair is fair: if he 'ached' a little so would she. As well as the fact that her tanks would be clinging to her body before they finished their first lap around the Galactica. And that was most certainly valid payback for having to picture the XO dancing.
This was the fifth time Kara had taken him on a different route around the Battlestar in the past two weeks. This time, they started out by jogging past by Life Station. Getting a cheery wave from the staff – female staff specifically – as shifts changed, he rounded the next corner and took her up on her challenge of taking the stairs up to the next deck and pounding out the corridors of the next deck. Endorphins were kicking in and the image of leaving Kara behind as he smoked her up the stairs was enough make him pump his legs a little harder, pull his elbows in a little tighter and take deeper breaths through his nose only to whistle the spent air over his teeth.
Coming off the stairs, the jangling of I.D. tags told him Kara was just behind and to the right of him. The straightaway was coming up – as well as the service entrances for a lot of the day-to-day operations on the ship. The galley access ways, housekeeping headquarters and the fabrication department were a blur. Every now and then, he would hear Starbuck call out, "Make a hole! Coming through! MOVE," as they made their way around the ship.
Right around their fourth lap around the ship, as Kara's admonishments for people to get out of their way increased in frequency, he started to wonder why Kara had chosen one of the busiest times of the work cycle – when the graveyard shift gave way to the first shift – for their run. Not to mention the prickly feeling crawling between his shoulder blades that usually meant he was being watched. Gauging by the way his skin was itching, he was convinced that he was on display and being scrutinized from every angle. Every time he and Kara slowed down to take a corner or were forced to pause because someone did not 'make a hole', the more he noticed more and more female eyes appraising him, raking him over and 'sizing' him up. And he knew that they were not wondering about his neck-size so that they could make him a new shirt.
Coming up on the gymnasium, he heard Kara call out jovially, "Hey Lee, feel like a little one-on-one?"
Blowing out a breath as his foot came down, he felt two flashes of concern. One was for her.
"You sure your knee can take it? Those stairs were a little brutal."
"Awe – is wittle Wee Adama afraid that da' big, bad Starbuck is gonna mop da' Pyramid court wid' his little girly-ass?" Kara cooed as if she were speaking to a baby despite her very grown up, patronizing tone of voice and choice of words.
Second flash of concern was for him. She was up to something and somehow he figured into her plan – whatever it was – again.
"Well, since you ask so nicely, you make it so easy for a guy to say no."
Stopping in front of the hatch that led to the gym, the next thing he knew he was following his friend into the training facility. Shaking his run out of his arms, he pulled his feet together and bent at the waist, reaching for his ankles. Counting to ten and slowly rolling up, he rotated his neck to the left and glanced over at his running partner. Liking what he saw, he stayed where he was as he stretched out his neck several more times. Kara had the inside of one elbow near her ear and was bracing it in place with her other hand while her arm dangled down her back. Switching elbows, the smooth lines of her collar bones, arms and the upper slope of each breast stood out sharply against her sweaty tanks.
Somewhere the sound of energetic music came to an end just as he was pulling his upper arm across his chest as he stretched each of his triceps in turn. On the Pyramid court, a group of women were picking up their sweat towels off the floor and congratulating each other on completing a strenuous aerobic routine. He could not hear what they were saying, but just like any other male in the known universe, the sight of a giggly group of girls is enough to put even the most stalwart of warriors on high alert. Especially when one of the women noticed he was there, poked her friend, pointed in his direction and started a chain reaction that soon left no doubt in his mind what they were talking about. Again – he would bet his last cubit it was not shirt construction. ESPECAILLY when the same group went suddenly silent with mirth-filled faces as they filed past him only to erupt in furious chuckles once they were in the corridor.
"Well then, I guess I will spare you the embarrassment of having to share with everyone you encounter today how you were beaten by the amazing, incredible, fantastic, talented Starbuck," Kara blithely offered, referring to her challenging him to a game.
"I'll tell you what, Little Miss Owner of a Self Inflatable Ego; meet me here after your shift. After you PLEAD with me to make a quick end to your humiliating annihilation on the court, you can tell me what a magnanimous, charismatic, devastatingly good looking, incredible leader and human being I am while you swab the launch tubes until they sparkle with that just-from-the-assembly-line shine." Every bet needed a counter offer, he thought.
Stepping into his personal space, her eyes locked with his. He could feel the air become static as both of them tried to stare down the other to see which one of them was bluffing. Schooling his face to remain as impassive as possible, Lee was not giving in. She was definitely up to something and he wanted to know what it was. Upping the ante by quirking his eyebrow, Kara answered him by cocking her head slightly to the side – without breaking eye contact – and stepping just that much closer so that her still slightly laboured breathing puffed against his cheek.
"Nah. I don't think so."
Rocking back on her heels, she gave him a saucy wink and a clicked her tongue against the inside of her teeth.
"I think I like the idea of you spending all day wondering what I know that you don't."
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The looks never stopped. All day, every time he passed a female member of the crew, one of three things would happen. One: all talking would cease immediately and some inane babble about some arcane regulation would come spewing out of said female's mouth. Or, two: if he had to stop to talk to another male crew member, whatever females were around would congregate together and not-so-subtly point at where he was standing and compare who his was with to himself. The best example was when, sometime after lunch, he had approached Helo with a modification as it pertained to the raptor aspect of the C.A.P. schedule. Lee could have sworn that when he first flagged Karl down, there were only a couple of women near by. By the time they parted, he counted eight women huddled together, their attentions divided between taller Raptor pilot and himself. He had better odds evading a Cylon raiding party then getting past those staff members without being emasculated.
The oddest thing that happened was when he asked a female member of the crew how their day was going and he got a rather cryptic, "Fine, thanks to you," in response.
At first he thought he had simply misheard them. After all, wasn't the standard response, "Fine, thank you."? But after the fourth woman repeated the same words, he knew that he did not need to back track to Life Station so that Doc Cottle could give him a hearing test.
Beating a trail down the corridor and being forced to take the longest route possible to backtrack to C.I.C., Captain Adama was going to have a few choice words with Lt. Thrace.
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"Attention all hands. Pass the word to Lt Thrace to report to the C.A.G.'s office immediately. Attention all hands. Pass the word to Lt Thrace to report to the C.A.G.'s office immediately."
Talking to the coolant system of her Viper as she lay flat on her back on a moveable repair board, Starbuck was not about to get up any time soon. "Yeah, yeah, yeah – just because I hear yeah doesn't mean I am gonna go see yeah.'
A deep voice attached to a sizeable pair of boots took materialized at the foot of her backboard.
"Hey Thrace – looks like someone getting' called to the principal's office. Guess Apollo figured out that you really do cheat at Triad."
"Frak off, Helo. At least when I need to count to eleven, I don't need to open my pants. But then again – you are only what? – the second generation in your family to walk upright?" Kara asked pointedly.
Of course, if she were looking at him, her jibe would be ten times more effective. As it was, isolated chuckles reverberated across the hanger deck. And that was with only her bent knees and feet poking out from underneath her Viper.
"You know, you could put those paws of yours to good use, Helo and actually accomplish something beyond self-gratification in an eight hour period. You know – when you are supposed to be on duty? "
Seeing a shard of shrapnel imbedded in the soft tubing of a line that went somewhere, whatever Karl said as a retort was lost as she reached up higher into the inner workings of the Viper. Completely focused on tracking, pulling out and replacing the damaged line, the sounds of first shift changing to mid-shift escaped her.
Releasing a valve she spent more than a hour custom creating, in order to make sure that if that particular line got damaged while she was in the air it would not result in her being spread out across parsecs of space on the molecular level, a heavy boot clamping down on the base of her back board and forcibly dragging her out from underneath her Viper rated a eight-point-five on the 'Go-Ahead-And-Piss-Starbuck-Off-Metre'.
"By the Gods, Helo – you must really not care about keeping your 'boys' attached to your body," she snarled as her board came to a stop.
Jumping up and off of the rolling repair board, her hands were on her hips and a nasty gleam was in her eye before she knew who she was addressing.
"What the hell were you thinking? Do you realize that I could have -?"
"Lt. Thrace – where have you been?" His tone was clipped and precise.
Each question was fired at the same time at point blank range.
Seeing Lee in front of her, a shifting of her hips changed her from Starbuck to Kara. Lee however was still in Captain Adama mode.
"I asked you a question, Lieutenant." The C.A.G.'s voice was low and commanding.
Rolling her eyes to the catwalks high above them, she brought her gaze back to a pair of defrosting blue eyes and a thawing expression, "Captain. I chose not to answer your page because I know you were not summoning me to a briefing that had anything to do with the military deployment of this fleet or the flight status of any of my pilots."
Crossing his arms across his chest and locking his hands tightly against his body so that he would not throttle his best friend and resident gad-fly, Lee stood in the same place Captain Adama just vacated. But only for a moment.
Looking over his shoulder, at the MP that stood watch at the back end of the hanger bay, Captain Adama called out, "Officer, will you come here a moment?"
Distracted by Cally coming up and whispering a question in her ear after giving a glowering Lee a furtive look, the young Specialist was gone as quickly as she came – with Kara's assurance firmly entrenched in her mind. It was not until Lee's gaze resettled on her and took in the sight of a MP taking up a flanking position off of his right hand that Kara knew she was not dealing with Lee any more. It was Captain Adama and a very pissed off Captain Adama at that.
"Corporal, you will escort Lt. Thrace to the brig." Captain Adama firmly stated.
Throwing the officer a menacing glare that had the capability of melting the metal siding off of Cylon Raiders, the MP stopped just short of taking her arm. He knew better. Hell, he had been on duty the day these two officers standing in front of him slugged each other. As it was, as soon as his shift ended, he was scheduled to have the next thirty-six hours off duty – he did not want to spend that time in Life Station because he was foolish enough to lay a hand on Starbuck. Too many others had been there for him to become another statistic. Hell – he heard that Doc Cottle actually had a t-shirt modified from the museum gift shop that read, 'I Saw Stars with Starbuck' that he gave out with the ice packs and sutures associated with tangling with Lt. Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace.
Instead he settled for a neutral tone and an impassive expression. "Sir, if you will come with me?"
Looking at Captain Adama, in all his C.A.G. splendour, Starbuck gave Lee an appraising once over. "You know what Captain? You really are a beautiful man and you are making a lot of women happy just by you being you."
Turning to the MP, she was all Kara when she all but purred, "I'm ready whenever you are, my friend."
Captain Adama was stoic. Lee was dumbstruck. Kara – not Starbuck – was going to the hack and she seemed to be looking forward to it. What the frak!
Turning on the soles of his well shined shoes, he followed the unlikely pair as they made their way amiably out of the hanger bay with his eyes. He watched as she gave the MP a charming smile, a pat on the arm and asked the MP a question he was too far away to hear.
Twisting body so that she was almost fully facing him, she called out over the day-to-day racket in the hanger bay, "See you soon, Lee."
With that remark, she and her escort swept their way out of the bay.
FRAK! She was right. He still did not know what she was up too.
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For two more hours he endured the stares, giggles and 'thank yous' from assorted members of the female population on the ship. But this time, especially when he sat down to dinner in the mess hall with other shipmates, he knew that this time he was not alone. In various degrees, Chief Tyrol, Helo, Hot Dog and even Gaeta were receiving the same treatment.
Pushing his tray away, his mind was too busy turning over the different schemes Starbuck could have concocted that would involve him to the extent that he was obviously embroiled in to try to fool himself into believing that the goop jiggling in front of him was actually tasty.
Sensing something was eating at the C.A.G. – other than the goop adhering to and drilling a hole in the captain's stomach lining – Tyrol poured a cup of coffee, passed it to Lee and asked, "Something on your mind, Sir?"
Taking a deep draw on the hot beverage, Lee knew he had to be two steps behind Kara if he needed a sounding board to figure out what she was up to.
"Chief – have you noticed anything… well… odd about certain crew members lately?"
Dropping his napkin over the more offending items on his tray, Tyrol leaned back in his chair and draped one ankle across his knee. Crossing his arms across his chest, Lee could see the Chief remembering his day.
"You know, Captain. Now that you mention it, I was passing by the Sergeant-At-Arms office yesterday – after coming from filing a requisition with the quartermaster – and I did hear something kinda odd."
Thinking of his few exchanges with that rather severe officer, Lee looked expectantly at Tyrol to finish is story.
"She was… whistling Sir; a rather jaunty, upbeat tune at that," Tyrol suppressed a shudder. "I gotta tell ya, Sir. I never thought about what would put a smile on that woman's face."
"Chief – how is your still doing these days?"
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Carrying a tray of food in one hand and a container of the Chief's Special Brew under his arm, he entered the hack. Kara – not Starbuck – was still in her cell and she was the only guest in the cell block. He watched as she leisurely put down her book of Geminon poetry and rose to her feet. Thumping the jug of home-brew on the desk, Lee was glad to see that Johnson was the MP on duty in the brig. A brief moment was all that was needed to convey that the bottle was for the MP. Without a word being said, the officer rose and went to Kara's cell. The clank of a key releasing the locking mechanism preceded the whine of a rusty door hinge swinging open. Stepping over the threshold he set the tray down on the small, built in shelf near the head, he did not bother craning his neck when he heard the sound of the door falling back in place.
"Hey Johnson, can you give us a moment?"
"Corporal – you are dismissed for the next hour."
Lee's order and Kara's request were again fired at the same time. All too glad not to have his name appear on the witness list when Starbuck was court-marshalled for murdering Apollo, Corporal Johnson touched his cap to Kara, saluted smartly to Lee, turned on his heel and nearly ran out of the room, pausing just long enough to scoop up the bottle Lee had brought with him.
"Lee."
"Kara"
Again – they both spoke at the same time.
"Go ahead."
"Go ahead."
This time, they both broke into snickers as they both spoke at the same time for the fourth time that day.
Lee sat himself down on the only chair in the cell; Kara sat down on the cot and tucked her ankles underneath her knees.
"Kara – you know better than to ignore an official summons issued over the wireless." Lee began.
"Lee – Lt. Thrace knew that what you wanted to talk to her about had nothing to do with her duty as an officer." Kara countered.
Catching onto her game of verbal semantics, Lee changed his tactics. "Okay – Starbuck knows better than to disobey her C.A.G."
"Sorry – wrong again. Starbuck has nothing to do with what has been eating at you all day," Kara defended herself and her decision to ignore his summons.
Laughing in self deprecation, Lee finally caught on.
All day, he had been dealing with Kara, the woman and did not know it. The female side of the best damn pilot in the fleet and the gender behind the best flight instructor and stand-in C.A.G. he had ever seen. Kara, Starbuck and Lt. Thrace were each individuals as much as they were intrinsically linked to one another. They all were facets, personas that he himself could appreciate as he carried the same 'disorder'. Lee, Captain Adama and Apollo were unique individuals as well – he just did not delineate between the three as much as the woman sitting in front of him did.
"Kara – I am going to count to five. That is as long as you get to tell me that what I found out a half an hour ago is just some rumour and not what you and your little cronies have been up too for the past few weeks."
Keeping an easy smile on his face, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs.
"One."
"Lee, I have no idea what you are talking about. Nice touch though, sending Johnson out of the room."
"Two."
"Cronies? Who says I have cronies? And since when do I need anyone's help to pull something off around here?"
"Three."
Unfazed by her protesting her innocence, Lee straightened up, kicked out his legs so that they rested on the frame of her cot and threaded his fingers together behind his head. Then he let his expression become dark and stormy.
Levelling a gaze at Kara, Lee smoothly replied, "You would need help if you were going to involve everyone on the entire ship."
She was not fooled by his laid back pose because that was all it was, a pose. Every muscle from his jaw to his legs was primed for action. Back-peddling a bit, Kara knew the odds were fifty-fifty as to whether or not Lee was bluffing. His face though, was not giving anything away other than the fact that he was more than a little pissed.
"Listen Lee – it's harmless. No one is getting hurt and you gotta admit, moral has never been higher."
Trying to sound as blasé as possible, Kara figured she could try pull the rapidly shortening fuse that was attached to Lee's temper.
"Four." He nearly snarled out the word.
The Chiefs Special Brew bought a lot of favours for those who could lay their hands on it. Lee's counter-point to what came out of Tyrol's still was a quiet conversation in a very quiet section of the ship, well seasoned with Adama charm, with a blushing ensign who he had heard through the grapevine had a bit of a crush on him. If what she said was right, Kara was going down. This was by and far the worst thing she had done in recent memory. Using the excuse for what she did as benefiting the 'greater good', was only digging her into deeper trouble.
"Tick-tock, Kara."
"I have no idea why you are so mad, Lee. If I were you, I would be flattered." Kara waved her one of her hands in his direction as she scooted off the bed and moved closer to the far wall of her cell. "I mean it. If you pulled that stick out of your ass for just half a moment –"
Lee was up, on her and had her trapped between his body and the wall before she saw his feet hit the floor.
"Kara! There are women on this ship – enjoying a bit of private time in their bunks, in the shower, Gods know where – with V I B R A T O R S in their hands - named for call signs and job titles held by several men on this ship – which you and your cronies built with your own two hands!"
Lee all but roared those words while at the same time, he prayed that he was wrong and that he was getting all ruffled over a ridiculous rumour started by someone who saw Kara as a competitor for his affections.
Stifling the nervous feeling fluttering somewhere around her stomach, Kara deftly arched an eyebrow and looked at spot on the wall somewhere beyond Lee's left shoulder.
Looking impressed, she said almost absently, "Good for Cally for fine tuning the waterproof model."
Lee's eyes glittered dangerously. Her name was like a rumble of thunder coming from somewhere deep within his chest, "Kar-ra."
"What? Hey – this was not my idea. HONEST!"
Her green eyes were wide as the truth shone from their depths.
"A group of us were sitting down on night, talking about the male-to-female ratio on the ship and the lack of 'quality rack time'. One thing led to another and before too long, Cally, Racetrack and I had come up with a plan."
"Just the three of you?"
The good thing about being this close to Kara was that… well, there were a lot of good things but primarily it meant that her ability to deflect his line of thought was diminished.
"And you all reached out to the entire female population on this ship all by yourselves?"
"Construction, marketing and distribution, yep – just the three of us."
Deciding that Lee had the upper hand long enough, she dropped her voice and huskily clarified, "Advertising was never a problem."
Lee had a sinking feeling settle along the base of his hips.
"I was in charge of marketing Lee and you were my poster boy. Why do you think I was running our asses along some of the more obscure areas of the ship at peak hours? Gotta make sure everyone got a good look at you. If it is any consolation, the only – model – that out sold yours was Tyrol's. Guess there is something to be said for a man who has hands that can pick up on the faintest of vibrations from two decks away."
Appraising each of his arms in turn, she opened the valve on her sensuality and let it flow off of her in waves.
"I am surprised we haven't done this sooner."
A sly smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he took in the subtle shift in her body language and the provocative tone in her voice. Dropping his lips and letting his breath brush against the whorl of her ear, he matched her feminine sensuality with a dose of his own, distinct, raw masculinity.
"Who says we haven't, Kara?"
Arching her back reflexively at his barely-there caress, Kara had all she could do not to turn her head and meet him eye to eye.
Lowering his head just a little, he let his breath caress the delicate, sensitive column of her neck.
"Every time you take my namesake in your hands and shudder with completion as my name falls from your lips makes me think that the time for formalities has come…" He let his voice trail off suggestively, "And gone. So, I am thinking…"
Losing the fight to stifle a moan of pleasure from escaping, Kara pressed herself harder against the wall and chanced a look in his eyes. Biting the need to correct him and share that she did not own a copy of his… namesake, she all but mewed at the sensations that were simmering in her veins.
"What are you thinking, Mr. Adama?"
Letting her see sexual energy thrumming throughout every part of his body, Lee moved in and stopped within an inch of Kara's lips. Her eyelids were just beginning to droop with the beginnings of arousal.
"I think that there is no substitution for the real thing, Kara." He could see the need begin to stain her cheeks as he steeped each syllable in sexual promise.
He licked his lips and dipped his head forward another fraction of an inch. It took every ounce of self control to stop where he was. There was one more thing he needed her to know, to experience.
Bouncing back on his heels, he fired off his best Starbuck smirk and clicked his tongue against the inside of his teeth.
"But until then, let me say thank you on behalf of myself and the rest of the male population for taking the pressure off us." Changing his posture and voice to something akin to relief, he broke the spell he so craftily created.
Pulling out his own set of keys to the cell, he had the lock turned and snibbed back into place by the time Kara gathered her wits, charged and wrapped her fingers around the bars like she was wrapping her hands around his neck.
"Knowing that you ladies are doing just fine – on your own – is going to mean a lot of extra 'quality rack time' for us guys."
Stopping at the hatch to the brig, Lee made sure Kara knew exactly to what he was referring to with his parting remark.
"As you were, Lieutenant."
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One week later….
The triad game had been going on for three hours. All sorts of odds and ends were piled in the middle of the table. Per usual, because the game had been going on so long, there were more observers and back-seat card jockeys than players. Helo, Starbuck, Apollo, Racetrack, Gaeta, Tyrol, and Dee were the only ones left in the game and the stakes were high.
Upping the ante, Apollo chased a shot of the Chief's Brew with a pull on his cigar.
"Okay people. I see your pass to Cloud Nine and raise you two maintenance shifts."
A round of low whistles and anxious looks swept the room.
"That's it. I'm out," Gaeta announced.
Frowning, Dee looked longingly at the pot and back at her hand. It was a moment before she said, "I'm out too. I can wire a communications system, but anything else is beyond me. I'm out."
Two down, four to go, Lee calculated.
"Helo? What say ye, man? In or out?"
Looking at Starbuck and back at Apollo, Helo rubbed a bead of sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.
Tyrol threw his cards down. "I work enough maintenance – like I want to give myself more work!"
Racetrack nudged Helo with her elbow. "What do you think?"
Glancing back and forth between Apollo and Starbuck, it took a full minute for Helo to make up his mind.
"Well, Starbuck has been sucking exhaust all night so that means that either her head is not in the game or she is up to something and has been losing deliberately. Apollo has been on fire all night so it becomes a matter of whether or not he is going to crash and burn or he does a victory lap around the Galactica."
A drawn out pause had everyone focused on the two players with dubious looks on their faces.
"Out!" Speaking at the same time, both Racetrack and Helo surrendered.
Cocking his head in Starbuck's direction, Apollo knew that she was scheduled pretty tightly for the next few cycles. For her to even consider losing and having to take on two extra shifts meant she had to have either a really crappy hand and was counting on bluffing her way out of it or she was holding at least 'four on the run' behind her well-tapered fingers.
Placing her cards face down on the table, Starbuck reached down and plopped a brightly wrapped box on top of the kitty.
"I see your shifts and raise you the contents of this box."
Knocking back a shot of brew, she fired a challenge at Apollo. "And, I call."
"How do I know that whatever is in the box is worth the equivalent of my ante?" Apollo questioned.
"How do you know it isn't worth more?" Starbuck countered.
A round of 'oohs' and, "Got you there, Apollo," peppered the room.
"Okay. I'm in." Keeping his blue eyes on Starbuck's veiled green eyes as he said, "You first."
"No – at the same time." Smirking at him, she clarified her condition. "That way, you can't skip out if the pressure becomes too much Apollo."
"Done. Helo, you count." Apollo ordered.
Everyone seated at the table began to rap their fingers against the table to the rhythm of a modified drum roll.
"THREE!" Helo shouted as he skipped 'one' and 'two'.
Two sets of cards, one being full colours, were revealed at the same time followed by everyone – except Starbuck – chanting, "Ah-Paul-Oh! Ah-Paul-Oh! Ah-Paul-Oh!"
Starbuck slammed her back against her chair.
Scowling, she sneered, "Go ahead. You might as well open it first."
Ignoring her petty-ass behaviour, Apollo agreed.
Rubbing in the fact that he won and she lost, he grinned.
"I'll need the box to put all my fabulous new goodies into."
Watching Apollo pull off the paper and pry the flaps of the box apart, Starbuck tossed a look in the Chief direction.
"Cally is going to be released from Life Station soon?"
Watching pieces of cleaning rags pile up on the table as Apollo dug into his box, Tyrol answered, "Yeah. Hot Dog popped open his canopy as she was reaching to slide it back for him and in the process she got knocked off the ladder. She hit the deck pretty hard and was out cold for a few minutes. Doc Cottle said he's gonna keep her until oh-eight-hundred for observation."
Sliding her chair back, Starbuck rose from the table and walked out the room as she told everyone who was not interested in what Apollo was pulling out of his box that she was going to go see the young specialist.
"What the frak?" Apollo inhaled sharply.
His fingers brushed up against something that resembled the feel of an ejection harness. Raising his arm, it was a length of ejection harness he lifted out. Except that it was knotted differently. And attached to where thigh straps secured the safety device to one's hips was the largest, most obscenely sized dildo he had ever conceptualized.
Hoots and laughter stole the breath from anyone one who saw it. Gaeta was opening and closing mouth but the only sounds that were coming out were uncontrollable sniggers. Racetrack looked smug, Helo looked pleasantly embarrassed.
Only Dee – between gasping for air – reached out and touched it. Rotating it, a sudden barking laugh coming from her small frame had her dropping the phallus and falling back in her chair.
"Oh, frak me!" Apollo cursed.
Along the length of one side of the dildo were different markings, each with a different man's name etched next to a measurement. All their names were there: Helo, Gaeta, Apollo, and Tyrol. Even Hot Dog was given a spot at the very base of the phallus – connoting that he had the 'smallest' piece of 'equipment' in the fleet.
Gauging where he fell, and then looking down at his crotch, Helo shrugged his shoulders. He had nothing to be embarrassed about. His 'standing' was accurate and fairly brag-worthy. Looking more closely and rolling the phallus around in his hand, he saw what made Dee dissolve into histrionics.
"I'd agree with that. What about you Apollo?" Helo asked suggestively.
Still processing that not only did Starbuck – no, correction, Kara – hand pick and orchestrate this little event, in effect returning the gauntlet he threw down in the brig the previous week, he looked at what Helo was referring to.
While his name and the corresponding marking was accurate and was high enough that if he ever encountered cold water he would have nothing to worry about if he walked around without a towel wrapped around his hips, there was one name that stretched from tip to base of the over-sized dildo.
S T A R B U C K.
Winging a silent congratulation in her direction as everything clicked into place, Apollo had to admit, that this time, she won.
There was no way he was going to – top – this one. At least not by tomorrow.