Two sectons later Starbuck awoke as a content man. He looked at his chronometer to see he still had a couple centars before he had to get to the launch bay for his patrol with Apollo. The billet was abuzz with the usual early day activities. He stretched out languidly as he listened to Boomer berate Jolly for leaving his boots lying around where everyone could trip over them.
Coincidentally, as Starbuck's cadet squadron was preparing to make their first solo flights, he had finally been cleared to fly short-range patrols. Salik had requested that Starbuck avoid the longer ones for now, but that was fine with him. Most importantly he'd be out there. He was beginning to get concerned that he would have to assign another instructor to take his cadets out . . . not to mention he'd never get back into the cockpit.
"Hey, Starbuck, I hear you're finally earning your keep again." Bojay ribbed him on his way to his locker.
"Yeah, well, I guess I can't ride free on my charm and good looks forever," Starbuck returned grinning.
"Charm! Hah! Frankly, Bucko, you've been so fracking miserable lately that we're all glad you'll be launching into space. Just a short patrol today?" Boomer asked feigning disappointment.
Starbuck climbed out of his bunk amidst the teasing and laughter of his friends. He knew he'd been an Imperial pain in the astrum. However, there was nothing anyone could do to put a damper on this day. Seventy-seven days grounded, he reminded himself. He grabbed his towel and headed to the turbo wash.
Five centons later Starbuck got an unpleasant surprise as the hot water suddenly ceased to exist. Frack! An icy, cold stream hit him and he quickly rinsed and shut off the water. Likely, it was someone's idea of a joke. A bit lame as far as the lieutenant was concerned. Reminded him of the old days at the academy when the water shut off after three centons whether you were rinsed or not. As he toweled off he realized he was alone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had the facilities to himself. That was the story of his life. From an orphanage to the academy to a battlestar, Starbuck had spent far too much time sharing space with a large group of males. For now, some time alone in his viper would do nicely.
He walked back into the billet to find it completely deserted. He started to get an eerie feeling. Wait a centon, why was it so . . . tidy? Not a thing was out of place. Again it took him back to his academy days. Surprise inspections could come at any time so all cadets were expected to have gear stowed neatly and bunks made to Colonial standard. He shook his head in wonder as he crossed the space to his locker. He opened it to find it empty, save his triad shorts. He snorted in amusement. Okay, now this was definitely an improvement over the cold water prank. He pulled out his shorts and pulled them on as he quickly surveyed the billet. Nope. Not a stray piece of clothing to be found. He combed his hands through his hair and went to check the time but realized his chronometer had also become a victim of this practical joke. He did one more sweep of the area before conceding defeat and heading out the hatch.
"Hey, Starbuck, looking good!" Dietra whistled at him from down the corridor.
"I thought you had patrol, not triad. Not that I mind the new look." Brie added with a grin.
A small group of female pilots seemed to be congregating for no apparent reason. Lying in wait was probably more likely, Starbuck thought, as he waved to them and headed to the Fitness Center. They stayed hot on his trail as he wandered barefoot ahead of them. This prank had all the appearances of being epic. He recalled Apollo telling him that he would get even with him for his smart astrum comments. Apollo? Nah, this was bigger than the Captain could muster. On the other hand, with the way he'd been acting for the previous sectons, there was one Hades of a lot of people who could be in on this. He tried to wipe the smirk off his face as he entered the Fitness Center.
"You're here early, I thought you had patrol," Kale said innocently to him as Starbuck shrugged and crossed to his locker. He had been there so much recently that he had taken to leaving an extra uniform for convenience. He pulled open the locker to find his triad helmet and chronometer. He could hear giggling behind him as he shook his head and strapped on his timepiece.
"That will keep you warmer, Starbuck," Sheba told him.
He turned to find the small group of female pilots had doubled. "Sheba, you too?" he asked her in mock dismay. He tried to think of where he should go next. Hmm. "Excuse me, ladies, and believe me, I use that term loosely, but I must continue on my quest . . . in search of my pants." They continued to heckle him as he deked down a service corridor leading to the Colonial Laundry Service. When he arrived there was a sign posted on the door saying, "Closed, due to excessive fabrication". He rolled his eyes.
"You don't think we'd make it that easy, do you Starbuck?" Luana asked. Oh great, even his Cadets were in on this. That's okay. The lieutenant prided himself on his resourcefulness. He strode off again and turned the corner to come face to face with Colonel Tigh.
Tigh appeared positively grim, as he looked him up and down. "Lieutenant."
"Colonel." Starbuck greeted him, getting himself into some semblance of an attentive stance.
"Get some clothes on, Starbuck." The colonel told him in apparent disgust.
"Yes, sir. I'm working on it, sir." Starbuck replied. At that moment his posse started to come around the corner.
Tigh's eyes flickered briefly over the women before returning to rest dourly on Starbuck. "Are you having difficulty in that regard, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir." Again giggling started from behind him.
Tigh smiled triumphantly, "Come with me, Starbuck." He briskly walked away. Starbuck suddenly had a bad feeling about this. He followed after directing a dirty look back at the women.
Tigh led him to the Supply Office. "Corporal, the lieutenant is in dire need of a new uniform as you can see."
"I'm afraid we don't have much left because of all the new recruits, sir." Corporal Ximen replied.
"Well, he can make do with whatever you have then." Tigh informed him.
Ximen disappeared into the storeroom. Starbuck stood nervously beside the Colonel praying they wouldn't come out with anything too horrendous. Tigh stood quietly by occasionally shooting disapproving looks in the lieutenant's direction. Ximen returned with a pile of clothes. "They may be a bit big, sir," he told Starbuck.
Starbuck grabbed the pants and held them up in front of him. A cloud of dust so thick that the pants actually disappeared from his sight for a micron permeated the air. He shook them out, certain that he could fit half of Blue Squadron in them. "Just a bit?" Starbuck asked the Corporal as the women behind him erupted in laughter.
"There is a drawstring, sir." The Corporal added, trying to be helpful.
"Thanks a lot, pal."
"Put the pants on, Starbuck," Tigh ordered him. "We can't have you parading around almost naked."
Starbuck pulled the pants on and tightened the drawstring. They were at least ten centimetrons too long and he found he had to roll them up to prevent tripping over them. He turned around to find Tigh holding out an equally dusty tunic. To the Colonel's credit his face remained impassive. Starbuck shook the tunic out and pulled it over his head. It was also several sizes too big and the material was disintegrating. He tucked it in and rolled up the sleeves and while doing so perforated the right cuff with his fingers. The boots were the piece de resistance. While approximately the correct size, they had long lost their shine. The leather was old and cracked and the fastenings were broken. The soles of both feet were separating from the uppers. Ximen also handed over a roll of duct tape. Starbuck shook his head as he realized that was how he would keep them together. He pulled them on and couldn't help laughing as Luana and Lia came to his assistance, taping them up securely. He turned around slowly to show them his new ensemble.
"Lieutenant, your uniform is a disgrace. You're fortunate that I'm in a generous mood or I would put you on report." Tigh glowered at him. "Dismissed. Oh, I believe you are expected in launch bay Alpha."
----------
Starbuck and his entourage descended into the launch bay. Surely enough that was where the rest of his friends had disappeared. Most of the squadrons were gathered near his viper where they had set up a few card tables and were seemingly engrossed in pyramid. Starbuck had rarely seen a busier bay. Not only was it filled with pilots and crew, but also with a large group of spectators who had clearly come to participate in the lieutenant's torment. Cassiopeia kissed him as she replaced Luana at his side.
"I told you he'd love it." Apollo spoke aside to Boomer as he threw in his bet. Starbuck looked ridiculous in the archaic XXXL uniform they had dug up. The boots had been Boomer's idea with the tape being the crucial piece of the outfit. Apollo almost lost it as he saw the back of the soles flapping as his friend walked. Starbuck was a man who seemed to look great no matter what he was wearing. It was definitely time to turn the tables on him. In his usual form, Starbuck was protesting indignantly to the group of women escorting him towards the Viper, but the smile on his face would have lit up the deepest, blackest abyss. It was a welcome sight to all of them to see that grin back on Starbuck's face.
Apollo stood up as his friend approached. He looked at his chronometer. "It looks like you're a little early for patrol, buddy. Then again, it will probably take you a while to do your pre-launch checks. You're out of practice."
Starbuck laughed as he approached his Viper. The front end of his fighter was wrapped completely with paper from the turbo flush and decorative ribbons of the same origin were strewn from the wing tips down to the nose. Bottles of Empyrean Ale dangled from the laser turrets. He grabbed a bottle and untied it. "Cold too, what a waste," he told them ruefully.
"Go ahead, Bucko, I'll take your patrol," Giles told him.
"After seventy-seven days the ale can wait." He tossed it to Giles who shrugged and cracked it open. Starbuck hitched up his pants, which had suddenly become subject to a gravitational pull, and climbed up on his bird to see what awaited him in the cockpit. They had outdone themselves. Within sat a model of a skeleton that was wearing one of his uniforms. It had playing cards attached to one bony hand and a fumarello to the other. Around its neck hung a sign that read, 'Still awaiting medical clearance'.
He sat on the edge of his ship and watched the group of people surrounding him. He couldn't believe they had gone to this much trouble for him. Must be what a natal day surprise party feels like, he reflected. He sighed as he recalled how miserable he had been acting lately. Emotion overwhelmed him and he was speechless.
Apollo and Boomer came to his rescue as they grabbed a leg each and pulled him back to the deck. Starbuck again had to grab his pants and yank them up. They laughed as they led him to another table set up behind his ship. Food and beverages covered the surface. "Sorry, it's just from the mess. We didn't want you launching without eating." Apollo told him.
Starbuck nodded thankfully as he realized how hungry he was. Everyone converged on the table and dug in. Boomer handed him a mug of java and then joined the jostling, hungry group.
"Welcome back, buddy," Apollo slapped him on the shoulder.
"Thanks. I can't believe you pulled this off," Starbuck told him in amazement. "How the frack did you get Tigh to go along with it?"
"Are you kidding? Even my Father offered to help. Don't you know how many people want to be in on 'Starbucking' Starbuck?"
"Hmm, actually it's a little alarming," he chuckled. "Pure artistry though. I'm impressed."
"I thought you would be." Apollo headed for the food, "Oh, and Starbuck, be careful with the paper when you unwrap your ship. Tigh wants it recycled."
