Opening scene…a home, items are in boxes, the movers are dressed in tuxedoes. Candelabra's are on the boxes, a fancy chandelier is just being packed in a box. The owners of the home are in formal wear, a stunning gown for the wife. Music is playing and the husband and wife are dancing…Husband dips wife….

Cue announcer: Trust your move to Colonial movers, where we believe moving should be a celebration, not a chore.

She'd used more water than was probably fair, but frack, if being Captain didn't give you the right to a hot degreasing, then surely fixing that evaporator when no one else could did. She had no idea what to do about her hair and it had been forever since she had worn make up. She ended up just leaving her hair down, and wiping off half of the face paint she'd applied before Cael commed her to announce that the atmosphere had been fixed in the bay. He came down to the shuttle to see her off and to give her a status report on which Captains and ships were pledging their support. He also had to give her a good ribbing when he noticed that she had chosen to wear the black outfit that Siress Blasie had recommended.

"It was the only thing clean, alright." McKayla had grumbled, but she also had to admit to herself that the Siress was right. It did look good on her, for a moving company uniform that is.

"Well don't get so wrapped up in having a good time that you forget what's going on back here." Cael said as he followed her into the shuttle.

"Don't worry. I know the score." She said, taking a seat and beginning to run through the preflight check.

"See that we stay in the lead."

She looked up at Cael and saw the worry and fatigue. She suddenly wondered if she had aged as much as Cael had seemed to in the last sectars. She must have for the Lieutenants to have believed the exaggeration on her age. She was several yahrens below what she had told the fleet, but the long haul that seemed to have no destination and the death of her father had definitely made her feel older than she was. She would give anything to go back to the days where her biggest concern was hiding her short skirt and bright red lipstick from her father's conservative criticism. She sighed heavily as she went back to the controls.

"I won't let you down Cael. Maybe this Sire Uri can help us out."

"Yeah, I'm not sure I like that idea. We've got enough Sires and Siresses dictating how things are run here. Don't forget that your father owned this ship outright. Don't sell him short."

"So do you want to come along and make sure I don't screw this up?" She asked sarcastically, but kind of meaning it too.

"Oh, I don't think the Lieutenant would appreciate a third wheel on that date he has planned." Cael chuckled and McKayla flashed him an annoyed look, but he ignored it as he continued his advice. "I know you can handle him and the Galactica too. It's the other Captains I'm more worried about. What does Dastor want? And now with Sire Uri and Siress Blassie in the mix. There's too many hands at the table Mick and Blassie cheats."

"I know, I know, but she pays so well." She admitted the fact they both knew. Siress Blassie provided many of the luxuries on the freighter, as well as the necessities. But she demanded things in return. "Could you check on that evaporator before you go down for sleep cycle?"

Cael sighed before he replied. "Yeah I will but you know there's probably nothing I can do about it if it goes down. Try to remember that while you're living it up on your date. The Lieutenant's waiting." Cael started to walk out of the shuttle, repeating as he exited, "Don't forget about us back here."

But Cael halted in the hatch of the shuttle before stepping back in and out of the way for Siress Blassie to enter. She batted her eyes at Cael as she placed a hand to his chest. He backed away from that hand like it was hot rivet. The Woman turned her sweet smile to McKayla.

"Oh good, I caught you before you departed! I was hoping since you were headed to the Rising Star if I might come along. It seems I have missed the civilian shuttle and, well I have a date as well with Chameleon. He's already there on business, so if you would be a dear, you would be helping make an old woman very happy!"

McKayla resisted the urge to roll her eyes, mostly because Cael was doing it for her behind the Siress's back. "Looks like it's a double date," he said chuckling under his breath as he exited the shuttle.

With a resigned sigh, McKayla answered, "Of course Siress, it would be my pleasure."

McKayla powered up the shuttle as the Siress took the seat beside her in the shuttle meant for hauling small cargos from the ship to the planet, providing another personal touch that was unique to Colonial Movers. There were only two seats, and McKayla showed the sires how to secure her restraining belt before she opened the comlink to the Viper. "Shuttle one, preparing to launch."

The Warriors enthusiastic greeting almost made her shut down the engines to the shuttle. She just didn't know if she could take his upbeat optimism on a day like today.

"Great! I was getting lonely out here! So what's your pleasure this evening? I heard the main course tonight is bovine ribs." Lieutenant Starbuck spent most of the flight detailing the many choices of entertainment that were available for the evening. McKayla only have listened as the Siress kept up her own running conversation as well, with comments about what a kind and thoughtful young man Lt. Starbuck seemed to be.

"Oh but he is quite popular with the ladies. You must have really caught his fancy. Oh dear, you need some lipstick!" Before McKayla could protest, the Siress was grabbing her chin and turning her face away from the shuttle's controls and applying some color to her lips, and then rubbing some into her cheeks. "Oh yes, there you are. Such a beautiful young lady."

McKayla turned back to the controls, her face hot with embarrassment. This was going to be a long evening and she wasn't sure if a meal that wasn't potar roots was worth it.

The Lieutenant landed first, his clearance already approved ahead of the time. McKayla had to wait. Being a Captain of a cargo container had no sway for docking, and apparently neither did having the Siress aboard. It was almost thirty centons before she was granted clearance, and by then she was quite tired of the Siress's ongoing advertising of Lt. Starbuck's virtues and qualities. Who would have thought that the woman's melodic voice could actually become irritating after more than fifteen centons, but then again it was her father's voice she heard when the Siress paused to take a breath, the only phrase her father ever uttered that hinted at how well read he really was, "I think she doth protest too much."

McKayla didn't know what to say to the woman either. She wasn't stupid enough to think this was really a date or that the Lieutenant had intentions for her other than the meal tonight and what he might be able to get away with later. Mick wasn't sure what she would let the man get away with and supposed it would depend on what he would let her get away with. There was that tan line, whether it existed or not, that had piqued her curiosity, and by the vestal virgins, she was tired of being one. Who knew that destructions could be so ruinous on your love life? The rest of the fleet seemed to be pairing up two by two like the fabled Noah's ship before the asteroid shower, but for MacKayla, unless you counted Yuri telling her he liked her nose, and Rick's same old tired dirty jokes, had been left behind at the spaceport with the unicorns and griffins.

Docking was a relief. Even though the Siress had changed topics to discussing improvements that could be made to the containers on the ship, McKayla was tired of the woman's fake civility. Mick could use that drink the good looking warrior had promised.

The Lieutenant was waiting on them, and he was an even more gorgeous than she remembered. He had changed into his dress uniform for the dining lounge. McKayla's steps faltered at the sight and she'd lost her breath for just a moment. Was it the gleaming metals, the gold trimmed cape or that tan? All she knew was the man's smile was brighter than that nova at Carillon and Mick wanted to drink in the sight like a glass of ambrosa. But Mick flinched as if that drink had been thrown in her face when Siress Blassie purred, "Mmm, there is nothing like a man in uniform."

McKayla felt her own smile go taut into a grimace. If this truly was a double date, then Mick would be eating and calling it an early night.

The Warrior seemed to have noticed the change in her as his own smile went from glorious to a slight frown of concern. He stepped across the landing bay, bowing slightly to the women, "Siress Blassie, I believe Chameleon is getting you two a table if you would like me escort you to the dining lounge."

McKayla almost lost her appetite as she witnessed the Siress smiling coyly at the Lieutenant, reaching out a hand to touch his chest. He didn't back away. "Oh my, aren't you the perfect gentleman."

Mick crinkled her nose in disgust. The Lieutenant was observant as he leaned down to the Siress and said, "I would offer to dine with you, but Chameleon is a jealous man from what I have heard. The Captain and I will leave you two to your evening while we scrounge ourselves a table in the corner." He turned to McKayla, "A quiet corner where I can get to know you a bit better. You look good in black. Brings out your eyes." He winked at her and McKayla froze. She honestly didn't know what to say to the words. It didn't matter because she didn't get a chance as Siress Blassie answered for her.

"Oh I know, doesn't it just look stunning on her. Who knew a uniform could be made to show off the charms of a woman, but that one surely does. Shall we Lieutenant?"

Starbuck offered an arm to each of them, but McKayla waved him off. "I'll just follow," she mumbled. The warrior cocked his head at her, but she just shook her head at him. He reached for her hand and she was suddenly conscious of just how much grease was under her nails and embedded in the creases of her fingers. She wanted to pull her hand back, but the Lieutenant kept a firm hold. She let him lead her off like a child, her hand limp and dead in his, not really knowing what she should do. She would have been even more concerned at the gesture, except that Siress Blassie's constant chatter left no room for any emotions.

They headed to one of the nicer dining lounges and the Siress took her leave at the podium for the host, with a little wave and a kiss she blew to Starbuck, who teasingly pretended to catch it. Mick rolled her eyes, and then suddenly found herself bursting out in laughter when Starbuck whispered to her, "At least she didn't pinch my cheeks this time, or worse, plant a big sloppy lipstick kiss on me." The Lieutenant grinned at her laughter and it was McKayla's first inkling that the evening might not be a complete disaster. "She's a bit much to take sometimes, but she means well, but you know that, she's lived on your ship for a while now."

"I would say she's harmless, but my second runs from her like she's the plague." She replied to him, wondering how Cael would like having the Siress blow him a kiss. He'd probably fall to the ground as if she'd tossed a bomb at him to avoid it.

"She just likes to flirt and feel like she's young again. But then don't we all?" He didn't wait for her reply as he spoke to the host for the lounge, sliding him a cubit. They were led off to a small table in the corner just like Starbuck promised, but unlike the other tables, it was near the kitchen and well lit. It almost looked like the break table for the staff of the lounge. There was no fancy table cloth or candle light, just silverware and a couple of battered chairs. For some reason, seeing the worn table and overused chairs made McKayla feel a bit more comfortable about how this evening might go. She didn't have much experience in fancy cruise liner luxury lounges. Her and her father usually ate at mom and pop diners, or spaceport food cart hovers. In fact, Mick couldn't remember if she ever ate somewhere that the cutlery and napkins weren't disposable. Does food actually taste better off a metal utensil? Well she'd be finding out tonight she guessed.

"Best I could do on short notice," Starbuck said, tossing his cape over his shoulders pulling out the chair for her before taking his own seat. "I did make sure they saved us some bovine rips with extra sauce."

"Ahh, you do know the way to my heart," She teased and finally got what she thought might be a real smile from the man.

Mick looked over the menu, and more importantly the prices realizing she couldn't afford much. She hadn't been paid in real cubits since the destruction. The crew was able to trade some of the goods they were paid for rent, but those potar roots didn't bring in cubits, just other goods. When the waiter came by to take their order, the warrior had her go first like a gentleman, and she ordered water and the cheapest meal on the menu.

The Lieutenant eyed her over his menu, "The meal is on me, order what you want."

"I'm good." She answered, remembering the first lesson she'd ever been taught, nothing in this life was ever free.

Starbuck shut his menu and leaned across the table to her. "Okay, truth be told, the meal is on the Commander to apologize for the communication errors. We don't know how it happened, but it's been corrected. You got all the messages, right?"

McKayla nodded, remembering back to the hundreds of messages that were dumped in her commfeed in one big burst that day. Buried deep amongst the messages were the ones that mattered the most, the orders that she relinquish command of her father's vessel, the ship he had bought and paid for and named after his late wife, over to the captain of the Agro ship. None of the messages asked for her approval, or even offered a way to register a comment or complaint. Decisions had been made and forwarded without even being concerned that the Captain of the ship in question had not replied. The Colonial Mover's messages hadn't been lost or misdirected, they'd been buried like a sack of unwanted daggits tossed in a dumpster.

She felt the anger flush her cheeks as she met the Lieutenant's eyes. She tried to read in his face what his angle might be here, but his blue eyes danced, his smile didn't seem sinister, and that tan glowed nicer than any candlelight. He was working hard at hiding his intentions, but surely a decorated Viper pilot, the Warrior of the Centaur didn't want her old rusty cargo ship. She had no idea what he wanted, but she knew she wanted a good meal that didn't involve roots and survival rations. She could hear her father's warning, "Everything comes at a cost. Be sure you don't sell yourself cheap." Well since it seemed they thought they had already bought her ship, she'd make sure they paid well before she set them straight that she wasn't selling. The good looking man across from her was going to have to do more than smile and pass out compliments.

"Oh, in that case," McKayla opened the menu again, "I'll have an ambrosia, the appetizer sampler, a full rack of the bovine rips, the cake for dessert, and four of the same boxed to go." She shut her menu and looked to the warrior waiting for him to object.

Instead he smiled at her, uttered, "Good choice. The same for me, and keep the ambrosia flowing."

As the waiter headed off with their order, Lieutenant Starbuck leaned back and studied her like she was a tech manual. She tried to appear casual as she leaned back in her own chair and took in the plush atmosphere of the lounge. She found herself unnerved at the silence and the man's scrutiny, so she broke the tension, "So, come here often?"

The Lieutenant chuckled. "In fact, I do. Not much else to spend my cubits on, so I treat myself and my dates as much as I can when my duty schedule allows. Do you?"

"Once," she replied, not bothering to elaborate that her and her crew had only been to the chancery and one of the clubs before running out of cubits and buying some cheap homemade hooch and heading back to the ship to drink. "I've been a bit busy since my father passed."

"Yeah, that had to be hard. Heart failure, right? Not the destruction that brought it on though, right?"

He'd done his homework, she noted. It wasn't hard information to find out. Most of the Captains of the civilian fleet had known and shown up for her father's memorial.

"Yeah, he was ill before the destruction. This was supposed to be his last run and then he was going to work less and let others run the ship but, well, the Cylons had other plans."

"Yes they did. Messed up a few hopes and dreams I think."

"You could say that again. But not really yours right? I mean, you're a viper pilot. Isn't your whole existence about shooting Cylons from the skies?" She suddenly couldn't look into his eyes. The whole fleet knew that the ones who really put their astrum's on the line to get as many ships away from the Colonies and safe from the Cylons were the pilots. McKayla had personally witnessed through the viewscreen of her ship more than a dozen fiery pilot's deaths.

The Lieutenant's voice lost some of the flirtatious lilt as he answered, "Sort of. There are a bit more to shoot at than before, but that's not exactly what I had been hoping and dreaming for."

He was quiet for a moment and Mick felt like an idiot for ruining the mood. The Lieutenant wasn't a bad guy, and it wasn't his fault that the Commander was trying to take away her ship. She was about to apologize when the warrior seemed to shake off the somber mood and turned up the shine of his smile. "So, when did you learn how to fly?"

"As soon as I could walk. Shuttles aren't that hard to fly. Most of it is autopilot, even for take off and landings. Docking can be difficult if you don't know what you're doing, but even then, the ship you're docking with does half the work."

"Still, you can fly. You do know we need pilots, right? We've combed the fleet for anyone who could fly. How did I miss you?" He tossed his last words out like Siress Blassie's blown kiss. Mick almost physically ducked, before she caught herself.

"Just dumb bad luck, I guess," she channeled a little of the Siress, as she tried to smile at him coyly. It didn't feel right, but the man didn't look at her funny.

"Well lucky I was along for that inspection then wasn't it?"

His face beamed and she let it warm her. "I could get a tan just from the radiance of that grin," she thought to herself. She'd cut through his felgercarb after she'd had dessert, until then, well it wasn't every cycle that the warrior of the centaur tried to flirt with her.

Their ambrosia was delivered and the Lieutenant poured her a glass then one for himself, then raised his glass in a toast, "To moving ahead for a new future for the Captain of the Colonial Movers." She raised her own glass and try as she might she couldn't stop the words, feeling as if she'd been possessed by the spirit of her sarcastic dad, "How far down does that tan go?"

The Lieutenant didn't even hesitate as he replied, "As low as you want it to go."