Chapter 12
He had fallen asleep during the treatment. As he awoke, he wondered how he could have possibly been tired after having already slept for an entire day. But he definitely had that drowsy feeling of slowly returning to reality. He was still lying on his stomach, but, he noted, the hot compresses from the treatment had been replaced by a blanket. He wondered for how long he had been asleep. All was quiet, and he heard no one. A glance around also revealed no one within his line of sight. He wondered, with growing irritation, if he would be able to roll over. Maneuvering around was not easy, at the moment; although, both the treatment and the medication Salik had given him seemed to have left his muscles pleasantly numb.
Eyes closed, he was contemplating the effort it would take to turn over without getting entangled in the blanket, when he heard movement. Peering through partly opened lids, and catching a glimpse of the crisp, new medical tunic, he recognized the his visitor before she spoke.
"Need some help?" Tarnia asked.
"With what?" He asked.
"Would you like to roll over?"
"Just how long have you been watching me?" Starbuck frowned up at Tarnia, then tried to ease himself over onto his right side. He made it onto the shoulder, but could not balance as not-so-numb muscles protested. Tarnia helped him on over onto his back. "Thanks," he said through gritted teeth.
"Just for a bit, in answer to your question," Tarnia said, as the lieutenant pulled himself upright. She handed him another pillow, helping him to get settled as she spoke. "I suppose you know why I'm here?"
Starbuck sighed. "Yeah, I do. Apollo told me. I'm stuck here until you think I'm fit to be unsupervised again." He gave a thin smile.
"More or less, correct," she said. "We've got a lot to talk about, and everyone's concerned about the gaps in your memory. Especially a rather important incident that you have apparently not remembered, yet."
Starbuck's smile faded. "What incident?"
"I can't tell you that. I need you to try to remember, and I'll help you." Tarnia had pulled a chair over and sat down. She placed an object on the floor, as well, but Starbuck did not notice. "This might take only a few centons, or it could take longer. Are you ready?"
"Hm, as ready as I'll ever be," he answered.
"First, tell me how you feel," Tarnia said.
"I've been better."
"Okay, now tell me more. What are you feeling right now?" Tarnia gave him a stern stare. "And be honest. Tell me anything that's on your mind."
"I think I've seen enough of this place to last the next several yahrens. Maybe I should transfer my gear here."
"The longer you avoid the question," Tarnia said, her voice calm, "the longer this will take."
"I'm frustrated!" Starbuck said, finally. "I can't believe that I have to deal with this blasted back for another secton, now, and then I'm told that I can't even leave here until -- until. . . when?"
"Probably later today, okay?" She said quietly. "Depends on how willing you are to work with me and how much progress we make."
"Sounds like extortion to me," Starbuck grumbled.
"Commander's orders, remember? I think he knows you pretty well."
"Yeah, right. Fine" He closed his eyes.
"Just so you know," Tarnia said, "this is all confidential. The only thing that I actually tell the commander is whether or not you are ready to return to service. That's all."
"Fine. Go ahead," he said, eyes still closed.
"Do you remember why you went to see Copernicus at such an early centar?"
Starbuck ran a hand down his face. "No."
"What do you remember about that night? The first thing."
"Copernicus asking to see a viper," Starbuck said slowly. He glanced quickly at Tarnia, then stared at nothing. "I remember . . . I'm not sure. It's like I was waking up, and I was with Copernicus. He was asking if I was better, and then he started talking about a viper."
"You're afraid, aren't you?"
"Who, me? Of what?"
"Starbuck, if we are to make any progress, you must stop holding back." Tarnia watched his jaw tighten. "You have to accept what you are feeling. Don't fight it. Just go with it." She paused, then continued. "It's only natural that you would be frightened by the gaps in your memory. I'd imagine that it bothers you a great deal. But remember also," Tarnia said, waiting for him to make eye contact. When he glanced at her again, she went on. "You've got a medical reason for the incomplete memory. You're *not* going crazy."
"Well, it feels like it!" Starbuck said. "I can't figure out anymore what was real and what was a dream. And the dreams seem as real as anything . . .but my head tells me that it's impossible."
"Well," Tarnia said softly, "that's why I'm here. To help you sort through it."
Starbuck nodded slightly. "Okay, okay . . . I'll try."
"Good! Then let me ask you this. What's the last thing you remember before 'waking up' with Copernicus? Have you thought about it yet?"
"No," Starbuck said quietly, "I've been trying to not think about it, actually."
"What happens when you do think about it?"
"I end up. . . well, I keep remembering Reese. It sort of blocks out everything else. Like I run into a wall when I think about that night, and it throws me back to. . . to. . ."
"To what?"
Starbuck took a deep breath. "To this dream, this dream that I've been having. . ."
"Can you tell me about it?"
The lieutenant's heart was racing. He stared, unblinking at the bed sheets, jaw tight.
"You know," Tarnia said, "Dr. Salik told me that the dreams you were having were probably triggered by the brain trauma. They should get better now. But you need to accept them, deal with them, before you can get past them."
"I'm not sure," he said, at last, his voice a whisper, "that I can describe it. It - it's more just feelings and images."
"Just do your best. But you will need to think about it. Relive it, if possible. And tell me what you see and feel. Just start anywhere. And take your time." Starbuck looked at Tarnia and, for the first time, she could read the true emotions on his face. The mask was down, and she could see the fear in his eyes.
"You know," he said, "this makes walking into a Cylon baseship seem like a training mission. . ." But he closed his eyes once more and, for the first time, sought out the visions that had been haunting him. And he tried to describe what he saw, from the intense feelings of being trapped by Sherok to the incredible fear as he felt himself aiming the laser at Apollo, as he had actually done the time when he was under suspicion of having murdered his rival, Ortega, during his aborted attempt to flee from facing the tribunal. But in the dream, unlike the reality, he pulled the trigger. . .
The images came at random, in more and more detail. Starbuck described what he could, often pausing for long periods to search for the most accurate word. Finally, the memories dissolved into the scene on Caprica, in the Thorn Forest. The childhood visions. He stopped and pulled back. He had never before consciously recalled the early morning raid. But it was there, now. He had relived it so many times in his dreams that he knew it was there. "No, oh, frak . . .I can't." He looked at Tarnia with a desperate, silent plea in his eyes.
"Starbuck, you need to," Tarnia said, her voice quiet.
He looked away. He was trembling, but the words came finally, piece by piece. "Umbra. It's almost morning. The Cylons are attacking. I . . . I must be about three. I'm running. The ground is shaking from the Cylon blasts. God, it stinks! The burned grass and. . . and dead bodies. Someone picks me up. Oh, frak . . ." The horrid image played through his mind. For several centons no words would come, then he said, "They shot . . . her." He felt numb.
"Who?" Tarnia spoke in a whisper. Leaning forward, she put a hand on Starbuck's arm.
He turned terrified eyes in her direction. "My mother. . ."
For a moment, Tarnia saw her own memories of the destruction of her school and the death of her brother, finding him, seeing his crumpled body in the ruins. She pushed her remembrances aside, though. She had a job to do. "Starbuck, that's horrible," she said. "I know how you feel . . . but, the pain will ease once you release it along with the repressed memories." She paused. Starbuck was staring straight ahead, his features rigid. "You saw the Cylons kill your mother," she said, reinforcing the images she knew he had been avoiding.
"Yes. . ."
Tarnia watched the lieutenant fight back the emotions. "Don't," she said. "Don't resist the feelings. Let them out. Let them out. The only way to move beyond this horrible moment is for you to accept it . . . deal with it. This memory has been buried for over thirty yahrens -- but it has never been forgotten. You must face it."
Starbuck looked wildly around, his mind lost in the remembrance. Then he threw his hands over his face. The tears came with a sob and an angry shout. "Those frakking bastards! They shot her! Shot her . . . Frakking Cylons . . ."
For a long while that stretched on for nearly 30 centons, Tarnia said nothing, just letting him experience the emotions. Eventually, he lay with eyes closed, breathing in slow, deep breaths, the intensity having faded. She considered whether she should stop, whether she should give him more time to process the memories. No, she decided. Being confining to the lifestation was not going to help anything, but she was not going to authorize his release until they had made more progress. She thought about the restraint the lieutenant had shown with Sergeant Reese, at least at first. He was stronger than even he realized. Better to continue on. "You're angry at the Cylons," she said. "Lords, aren't we all?"
He glanced at her, looking weary. "Yes."
"Is that the only reason you're angry?" She asked, probing again.
"What do you mean?" He asked, confused.
"Is there anything else that you are angry about?" When he gave her a blank look, she continued. "Is it only the outrage at the Cylons for killing your mother that you feel. . . or is there more to it?"
"More? I don't know . . . I don't know, except . . ." Starbuck stared at the ceiling.
"Except what?"
"Except. . ." He paused, running a hand through his hair several times. "I just wish I knew more about my family. I never knew them, Can't remember anything about my mother or my -" He looked at her again, the anger flaring in his eyes.
"Go on," Tarnia said.
"I wonder where the frak my father was!" Starbuck pounded the sheets with his fist. "Why wasn't he there? Maybe he could have saved her. Maybe -" Starbuck stopped as he tried to sort out his thoughts, his feelings, his memories. Tarnia saw the confusion, the struggle as he tried to understand the feelings. Then she watched the comprehension burst through the mental disarray. His eyes went wide. "Oh, my Lords . . . Chameleon."
"Chameleon?" she said quietly. "What about him?"
Starbuck felt dizzy from the shock. He ran his hand down his face several times. "The Rising Star. The Pyramid games. He kept beating me. We went to dinner, and he kept asking me strange questions. He was trying to tell me . . .Oh, dear God. . ."
"Tell you what?" she asked softly, waiting for the true reaction.
"My father - he's my father!" He gulped from the intensity of his emotions.
"Chameleon is your father," Tarnia said in affirmation.
"Then why the frak didn't he *tell* me before?" Starbuck shouted. He stared piercingly at Tarnia. His face was red, the tendons in his neck bulging. Pure emotion, pure anger. Only his injury, she figured, kept him from jumping out of the biobed. He gripped his hair with both hands and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
"I know that this a huge shock to you," Tarnia said slowly. "But he must have had his reasons for . . . not telling -"
"He frakking lied to me!"
"I've spoken with him," she said softly. "He's very regretful--"
"I. Do. Not. Care." He glared at Tarnia, spitting out the words. "He lied to me. I don't care." His voice was guttural, the words catching in his throat. He buried his face in his hands - as close to escape as he could manage, at the moment.
Tarnia remained silent. Rational thought, she knew, would take time. Eventually, he would be able to deal with the truth, accept it. . . then forgiveness could follow, maybe even love. But not at this moment. For now, she had to let the emotions run their course. She watched as he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the sheets with both hands. "I - do -not - care!" he hissed, barely audible.
Unable to physically leave, he pulled himself inward. Starbuck finally fixed his gaze across the room, away from Tarnia, staring but not seeing. The panting, uneven breaths were the only outward indication of his anger. The reaction, she reflected, was not that different from Copernicus on sensory overload. Practically the same, in fact, she thought, as she considered all of the stress he had had to deal with in just this one discussion. Everyone had their limits; some, like Copernicus, just reached them much sooner.
As the mostly silent but intense battle continued, Tarnia picked up the small object that she had brought with her and had placed on the floor. It was Copernicus' music device, and the idea had been his. Setting the volume on low, she activated the apparatus and held it on her lap, waiting. The strands of the piece that Copernicus had played for Starbuck the other night quietly emanated.
After nearly forty centons, the lieutenant, finally seemed to regain some control, enough to allow himself to face Tarnia once more. As if breaking a trance, he suddenly pressed his palms against his eyes and squeezed them shut for a moment. Breathing in slow, deep breaths now, he finally glanced at her. Whether or not the music helped, she was not sure, but she had figured it was worth a try.
Starbuck looked at the device, staring. "Why'd you bring that?" His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat.
"Do you remember the music?"
"Yeah . . . Copernicus played it for me."
"He asked me to bring it with me. You see, he relies on music -- this piece, especially -- to help himself calm down. Or sometimes he just listens to it over and over. He says it brings peace to him."
Starbuck said nothing, but he laid back against the pillows, looking exhausted, and closed his eyes once more.
Tarnia waited for several more centons before speaking. "Do you remember what Chameleon said to you? About why he had not told you yet?"
"Some felgercarb about trying to protect me!" Starbuck snapped, drilling Tarnia with an angry gaze. He looked away.
"I've talked with Chameleon and your friends, and I think I understand why he did it, for better or for worse. In part, he *was* trying to protect you -"
"How? By lying to me?"
"No . . . by trying to choose the best time to tell you. But he also admitted to me that he was just plain scared. And yes, it was easier to not saying anything." Tarnia paused as the music reached a crescendo and the vibrant waves filled the air, even with the low volume. She noticed that he was staring at the device, even though his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. After a bit, she continued.
"You know how it feels to be scared, don't you? Afraid of love . . . of the responsibilities, the intimacy and the vulnerability that commitments imply . . . you know that fear, don't you?"
Starbuck swallowed hard, feeling the sting of the truth to her words. "Maybe . . ."
"Perhaps you two are not that much different from each other," Tarnia, said, her voice serious, her tone pointed, even. "Perhaps you can know and understand you father's fears better than he understands them himself. If you know how it feels to be afraid of love."
"I don't see how -" Starbuck choked back a sob. "I don't see any love if he couldn't tell me . . ."
"Starbuck," Tarnia said, her tone more soothing now, "Chameleon regrets not telling you sooner. He says he made a mistake. A mistake," she repeated, urging him to listen and understand. "He knows now that it was the wrong thing to do."
"He can go to Hades -" Starbuck stopped, the curse fading as his rational mind finally regained a foothold.
"Look beyond the anger and the feelings of betrayal now," Tarnia said softly, almost in rhythm with the music. "He's your father, and you know it now. He's your father, and he'd like to talk to you."
"He's my father. . ." Starbuck repeated the phrase in a whisper.
"Yes. . . your father."
Bitter anger visibly fought with the incomprehensible joy of the truth for the first time. The faintest of smiles broke through. "Oh, Lords . . . I don't know what to think or feel anymore."
"Starbuck, he wants to talk to you. Are you up to it yet?"
A look of anxiety crossed his face. "I don't know. I don't even know where to start!"
"Maybe if you start with finding out what *really* happened that night on Caprica. And go from there."
"I don't know . . ."
Tarnia ignored the weak protest and rose to her feet, motioning at the entrance to the lifestation. She could see that the reluctance was more from a fear of dealing with more emotions than from his anger. After a moment, Chameleon entered hesitantly. Despite everything, despite the strong feelings of betrayal that stabbed at him, Starbuck broke out into a broad grin. Tarnia stepped back, setting the device on the bed stand, as the man slowly approached, twisting his hands nervously. Starbuck was still beaming.
"Look, son . . ." Chameleon had used that phrase from the time they had first met. And he had used it many times since then. This time, the word rang through the air, highlighted by the soft strands of music.
"Son . . ." Starbuck repeated, as if trying on the word for size. He was staring at the bed. His mind was slowly, slowly processing the truth. Eventually, he sifted his gaze to the man who now stood before him. "Father . . ." He said in an almost inaudible whisper.
*************************
They talked for over three centars. Emotions had ranged from loud, angry, hurtful words to laughter to unconcealed, uncontrolled tears. Gradually, Starbuck seemed to admit that he understood why Chameleon had withheld the truth from him. But understanding was not the same as forgiving, and both accepted that true forgiveness would take time. For now, they had established a truce, of sorts, knowing that the pain would take time to fade and heal. Starbuck had finally described his current feelings as a clashing blend of both an incredible happiness and a deep, bitter hurt - love and hate together.
At last, reluctantly, Dr. Salik had requested that Chameleon take a break, as it was nearly sleep period. He was free to return in the morning, but, for now, he wanted to see his patient get some rest. After consulting with the doctor, Tarnia had told Starbuck that he would be released the next day, after a follow-up session and the promise that he would continue with the program until she was convinced that he was as healed as anyone could be, considering their circumstances. He had grumbled, but had been too exhausted to truly argue. And he had slept. For the first time in nearly two sectons, he had slept, free from medication and free from the dreams, a solid, long, restful sleep.
He had not yet awakened, it seemed, when Cassie arrived for her shift the next morning. Intending to catch up on the files she had neglected in the past several days, she paused, a slight smile on her face, to gaze briefly at her sleeping friend. When she moved to brush an errant lock of hair across his forehead, though, a hand reached out to grasp hers. Cassie jumped, still remembering his panicked attack the other day. This time, however, his grip was firm but gentle, and he opened his eyes slowly to gaze at her.
"You startled me," Cassie said as her racing heart slowed. She caught the penetrating look in his eyes before he looked away again. He still held her hand, though. "How do you feel?" she asked.
"Like I've been through that high-g viper training about ten times."
"You mean the simulator where you have to handle zero gravity and then accelerate until nearly blackout point?" Cassie squeezed his hand lightly, placing her other on top, as well, and gazed at him through the eyes of a close friend, not a medtech.
"Yeah, that's the one." Starbuck glanced up into Cassie's face, then shifted his gaze again. He wanted to say something, she could tell, so she waited. After a moment, he pulled his hand back and stared down at his fingers. "Cass. . ." He stopped.
"Take your time," she said softly. Cassie felt a stirring of unease, though, as he continued to stare away from her.
"Cass," he said eventually, "you knew about Chameleon all along."
"Yes, I did," she responded quietly.
"You knew . . . why didn't you tell me?" He gave her a quick, pained look.
"Starbuck, I promised Chameleon that I wouldn't. I -- I didn't see how going against Chameleon's wishes would help the situation." She put a hand on his arm, but he shifted away. Cassie bit her lip. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"Look, my head knows that. It does. It knows you were caught in the middle. But. . ." He looked up into her eyes and finally held the gaze. "I . . . it still hurts. A lot."
"Starbuck," she whispered, "I know. And you've still got a lot to deal with right now."
He looked away again. "I just . . . I just need some time to figure it all out . . ."
"Starbuck, it's okay." He did not see her chew her lip again before continuing. "I understand."
Movement through the entrance caught their attention, and both looked up to see Apollo and Sheba. The relief the distraction brought was almost palpable as Starbuck broke out into a grin and focused on his visitors. Cassie nodded to the two, then moved off to return to her duties. The unease had swelled into a biting fear, but she pushed it back. She had known that her awkward position might be difficult for him to accept, but she had to trust that, with time, he would understand. If their relationship was as strong as she thought it was, then it would surmount this hurdle. If not, then, well . . . she shook off the thought and concentrated on her work.
"How do you feel?" Apollo asked, stopping next to the biobed. Starbuck noted how close Sheba stood next to the captain, almost touching, but not quite.
"Like I'm going stir crazy!" He pulled himself up to a sitting position, slowly, working through the stiffness and cramping. Had Sheba not been present, he would have gotten up right then and there. Instead, he kept the sheet carefully wrapped around him as he sat on the edge of the bed. "I *need* out of here."
"Soon, buddy, soon," Apollo said, smiling. "Look, Father asked me to tell you some things, before Tarnia releases you. I know she's coming by soon, too."
"Oh?" Starbuck raised an eyebrow at him.
"First, your status -"
"Status for duty?"
"Yes. According to Dr. Salik, you will be physically fit to return to light duty in two more days."
Starbuck sighed. "But?"
"No 'buts,'" Apollo said. "Just a condition."
"Which is . . .?" The lieutenant looked from Apollo to Sheba, puzzled a bit by the underlying feeling their looks kept conveying. He was missing something, he could tell, but what?
"On the condition that you continue meeting with Tarnia until she terminates the sessions, and," Apollo pointed a finger at him, "if you miss even one, you'll be taken off the duty roster." The captain's smile had faded.
"The commander's serious, isn't he?" Starbuck frowned and looked away.
Apollo nodded. "Very. I know you're not aware of this, but your incident in the landing bay aroused some serious tensions between the warriors and the Council security. Starbuck," Apollo said, his expression solemn, "you know as well as I do how important it is to maintain solidarity in the Fleet. If the people perceive any kind of dissension among their protectors, it could jeopardize the fragile stability that exists right now. I mean, we've seen how easily peace can turn to chaos."
Starbuck remembered that clearly. The riot aboard the Sagittarius had precipitated all that had happened to him in the past two sectons. He ran a hand through his hair. "So, there's more, isn't there?"
Apollo handed Starbuck a compupad. "Father will be issuing the following statement later today about the landing bay incident. It's only a ship-wide announcement, and is not for the general populations, but I wanted you to read it first."
Starbuck glanced at Apollo and Sheba, who still stood quietly in front of him, waiting, before he activated the small computer. He read the message silently as it scrolled up screen. "Both the Council and I consider it vital that the two forces -- Colonial warriors and Council security -- maintain proper and professional conduct at all times to ensure the safety of this Fleet. Most of you are aware that an altercation occurred in Beta Bay between Sergeant Reese and Lieutenant Starbuck that resulted in the discharge of a weapon. While the discharge was ruled accidental by Chief Opposer Solon, neither the Council nor I will tolerate such disorderly behavior. Both officers will be on restricted duty with no privileges for two sectons, confined to quarters when not on duty, and docked a third of their pay for the next two sectars." Starbuck let out a low whistle as he finished reading.
"I'm sorry," Apollo said as the lieutenant handed him the compupad without a word. "But it was either that or explain -- in detail -- the medical reasons behind your actions. We figured you'd rather do it this way."
Starbuck was staring at the floor. "Yeah, I guess I would." He glanced up, a bemused look on his face. "So, in other words, I should be in no rush to get out of here, because I'll just be confined to quarters for the next two days, anyway."
Apollo nodded again. "That's true, but once you're allowed to return to duty, we've got something you'll want to see."
Starbuck caught the gleam in his friend's eye. Sheba, too, was smiling. She walked over and leaned against the biobed, next to the lieutenant. Apollo was still standing in front of him, looking ready to burst with the contained excitement.
Starbuck shifted on the edge of the bed and gazed from one to the other, perplexed. "What? What's going on? And does it have something to do with the reasons Beta Bay was restricted?"
Apollo activated the compupad again and punched in a command. He then handed it back to the lieutenant. "Take a look," he said.
Starbuck studied the small but clear image of the Earth probe. "What is it?" He asked quietly. He had an odd sensation, though, as he gazed at the picture. A feeling of familiarity. . . he did not understand it.
"Starbuck," Apollo said, his face alight with enthusiasm, "this craft is from Earth!" He explained the details, from how the Fleet had picked up the weak signal to when they had finally been permitted to approach the probe.
"Earth? It's from Earth?" Starbuck said in a whisper. He gazed at the small image on the compupad screen in amazement. "But how do you know it's from Earth?" he asked. He felt almost dizzy from the revelation. And puzzled; the strange feeling persisted.
Apollo took the compupad and pulled up another picture to show him. "We found this plaque attached to the probe," he said. He and Sheba explained all they knew about the drawings on the plaque as Starbuck stared, wide-eyed at the image.
"Apollo. . ." Starbuck gazed from one face to the other. "I know this is impossible, but . . . I've seen this plaque before." It suddenly came to him. Before the mountain journey, he had seen other visions, other places. They were a vague remembrance at the moment, except he clearly remembered now how it had all begun - he had been gazing at an image of this very plaque. . . "In a dream," he whispered.
Apollo grasped Starbuck's shoulder and stared into his eyes. "Buddy, it wasn't a dream."
"What do you mean?" Yet, Starbuck could sense the answer before the captain spoke again.
"It was an. . . extraordinary experience outside of this dimension. . ." Apollo started hesitantly, feeling awkward as Starbuck stared at him, widening his eyes. He exhaled, looking around helplessly, trying to find other words. "And I understand it now . . . that, that other presence I felt . . ." Apollo said, almost as if talking to himself. He gazed into his friend's eyes. "You, me, Sheba . . . we were taken on a journey by the Ship of Lights' Beings to Earth," he said quietly. "We were there together, even though we seemed to be alone. I -- I could sense you both while I was there." Starbuck was staring intently at his friend. "Do you remember the ocean?"
"Yes," Starbuck whispered. "I do. I'd forgotten. . ." He closed his eyes, the sights he had seen returning almost randomly to his thoughts. "Yes, the ocean, and mountains, and -- and -"
"The Pyramids?" Apollo asked.
"Yes! I remember them now!"
Apollo explained what had happened when he had touched the plaque while examining the probe in the bay. He also described all that he remembered seeing before his consciousness returned to the Galactica.
"The probe is a beacon, a gift," Sheba said, her face glowing, "from the Ship of Lights' Beings!"
"And our journey to Earth . . . our 'dreams'. . .were another gift," Apollo said, "a way to inform us about Earth, I think." He gripped Starbuck's other shoulder in his excitement. "Starbuck, we've been to Earth!"
The lieutenant put his hands on Apollo's wrists and gazed steadily at him. "I know. I remember now." He suddenly burst out laughing, feeling caught up by the sheer amazement of what the captain was telling him. "Now *that's* what I call being taken for a ride!"
Apollo pulled back and spread his arms. "It was fantastic!"
Still chuckling, Starbuck stared at his two friends, taking in the pure joy in their expressions, and he tried to comprehend what had truly happened. He had convinced himself that it had been a dream, despite the sensory messages to the contrary from his subconscious. Now, it all made sense. "I remember," he said in a whisper, closing his eyes, feeling the experience. "I remember now, almost as if I could touch them . . . the pyramids. . . Then I was back in the mountains, and I felt this -- this need to, to . . . climb, to follow this trail that was in front of me." Starbuck stopped because he felt his voice about to waver. Only a brief time ago, he had been in the grips of a waking nightmare, or so it had seemed, but now. . .The enormity of the truth was almost overwhelming.
"It's as if, once you'd been brought to Earth," Sheba said, her voice full of wonder, "that the Beings let you stay there in respite until you had to wake up. Another gift . . .for you, Starbuck!" She lightly brushed a fallen strand from his forehead. His eyes were wide with wonder, his expression much different than the usual front he so often displayed. Sheba realized that she had only seen the lieutenant this open and revealing on one other occasion. . . aboard the Ship of Lights.
"Oh, Lords, it was incredible!" Starbuck tried to describe his journey again, this time with the knowledge that it had been no dream. He spoke with an open, honest enthusiasm that mirrored that way both Apollo and Sheba felt, and he spoke with none of his usual conman's embellishments; he was still trying to reconcile the sudden turn of events that had taken him from what had seemed to be a waking nightmare, convinced that he had killed Reese, to the incredible knowledge that he had truly been to Earth. . . Earth. . .it had been *no* dream. "I wonder when we'll find it . . . find Earth?" He said as he finished. He felt numb, but a good kind of numb, this time, from the amazement at what he -- at what all three -- had experienced.
Apollo sighed. "It may still be many, many yahrens before the Fleet finds Earth. Perhaps it won't even be our generation. But, at least, we know it's there." Without thinking, he hugged Sheba tightly. "We *know* it's there!"
Starbuck broke into a laugh again.
"What's so funny?" Apollo frowned at him.
"You two!" he answered, smiling broadly.
"What?"
"It's just good to see that you've finally cut out the felgercarb and admitted that you love each other!" Starbuck grinned at his friends.
"And we have *you* to thank, too." Apollo said, winking. He shook his head. "If you hadn't acted the way you did after that triad game - if we hadn't been at each others' throats that night - then Sheba and I . . ." He let his voice trail off and just smiled.
Starbuck laughed again. "Well, then, maybe being confined to quarters will be worth it, knowing that --."
"Starbuck," Sheba interrupted, her face suddenly serious. She grasped his hand and gazed into his eyes, wanting to get the words out before he retreated once more behind the humor and jokes. "Thank you," she said softly.
Starbuck glanced at Apollo, then looked away. "Well, at least, someone here has to be brave and make commitments, don't they?"
Apollo caught his friend's brief but pained look and knew who else was on his mind. Chameleon and Cassie. "Look," Apollo said, wrapping his hand around both Sheba's and Starbuck's, "we're committed. We're family. So is Father, Athena, Boomer, Tarnia, Copernicus and . . Chameleon. And so will be Cassie or the woman you'll someday choose . . ."
Starbuck gazed down at their intertwined hands, both smiling and blinking back tears.
"Family," Sheba said softly. "Fingers of the same hand, Starbuck."
EPILOGUE
The following secton was far from easy. Restricted to quarters for the first two days, and released only for meals and trips to the lifestation, Starbuck had once again been faced with the prospect of too much time to just sit and think. And with all privileges revoked for two sectons, he was not permitted visitors. Adama, however, did not have the heart to enforce that regulation, not in light of Chameleon's revelation. Instead, the man was granted a special pass to visit Starbuck in the billet. Two days of confinement became a time for father and son to get to know each other and to work through the tensions.
Still, Starbuck had found himself shifting between extremes, at times, and confused about what he really felt at others. Time, Tarnia, assured him, would bring everything back into some kind of perspective. When he caught himself feeling pensive, though, Starbuck had not one, but two methods to combat the negative feelings. Depending on how he felt, sometimes he would pull out Copernicus's device, set the volume on high, and lose himself in the music. Other times, though, he preferred to just close his eyes and remember the peace, the all-encompassing serenity, that he had felt during his mountain journey. His visit to Earth. Earth. That thought alone could set his spirits flying high once more.
On the third day, when he was finally permitted to return to light active duty, time had stood still for all, for this day marked the First Anniversary of the Great Destruction. As many as possible, including the Council of Twelve representatives, had gathered in Beta Bay to listen to the commander. Adama began the ceremonies with a beautiful oration, as only he could make, beginning at the precise time the Cylons had commenced their horrendous attacks on the Colonies and the Fleet.
Then followed a solemn observance with twelve centons of silence, one for each of the worlds. A small group of survivors, representatives from each Colony, had slowly marched in with the flag of their world, while musicians played a medley composed of sections from each Colony's National Anthem. The bearers formed a crescent in front of the assembly, and a gong sounded to mark the beginning of the observance. The first flag, for Aquarius, lowered as the ripples of the tone faded into a sober silence. And thus it continued for twelve centons. The only sounds had been the quiet, aching sobs from many in the assemblage and the deep reverberation from the gong as time passed.
As the twelfth centon had moved on into the thirteenth, however, the small symphony began playing the Aquarian National Anthem, softly, at first, then crescendoing to fill the bay with the vibrant and patriotic refrains. All who knew the words had sung, loudly, through tears and a swelling feeling of defiance aimed at their enemy. The physical world may have been shattered, but the people - their culture and spirit - would survive. While each anthem played, the bearers positioned their flag in a stand, then returned to the assemblage.
As the strands of the final anthem had faded, Adama had looked out across the faces in the Galactica's Beta Bay and stared into the vidcam to reach out to all, across the Fleet. Turning, he had pointed to the containment wall that stood behind him and behind the row of flags. Slowly, he had explained how faint signals had led to the encounter with an alien probe. He then showed an image of the craft's plaque. Most did not need his explanation to know what the pictures and symbols meant; the clear picture of the man and woman, side by side, sent waves of shock and amazement throughout the Fleet. Humans, it had been built by humans.
"I firmly believe," Adama said, then paused, as the containment walls were slowly pulled back to reveal the Earth craft, "that this probe is a beacon, a messenger, sent by divine powers to let us know that . . ." He paused again to stare at the unobtrusive vessel. "That we *will* find Earth. She is not a myth, but the true Promised Land of our forefathers, and she awaits her brothers and sisters from the stars. Yes, she's out there, right now, sending out probes to space and reaching out to the Children of Kobol."
An excited, emotional wave passed through the gathered people. People embraced, some cheered, some cried, some stood hand in hand, praying. All stared in wonderment at the craft.
Adama had choked back his own emotions to continue. "From death and destruction, today, we see hope give birth to a new tomorrow for us and the generations to come. This probe is the alliance between the old and the new worlds. This is the probe of the convenant that has come to hail our way back home." Adama raised his arms and his strong voice filled the bay. "Let us feast in honor of Earth's messenger, because I declare this day, until we land on Earth, to be celebrated from now on as 'The Day of Atonement,' and the Messenger to be forever remembered as the 'Ship of the Covenant.'!"
********************
Granted a one-day reprieve from his restrictions, Starbuck had been at the front of the gathered group in Beta Bay, surrounded by the other warriors, close friends, and two special people -- Tarnia and Copernicus. Copernicus had stood, hands over ears, staring without blinking, almost, at the containment wall, but seemed to listen intently to the commander. For both Starbuck and Copernicus, it was their first glimpse of the real probe, as the containment wall slowly retracted into the sides of the bay. Apollo noted how they both stared, enraptured, when the craft became clearly visible.
After the commander concluded his oration, the crowd had slowly, slowly filed out of the landing bay to continue the planned festivities and other activities. Many had continued to stare at the probe, crowding close to the line of flags that stood before it. An awed reverence seemed to keep most from coming any closer, though. Eventually, only a small group remained -- Adama, Tigh, Apollo, Athena, Boomer, Cassiopeia, Chameleon, Starbuck, Tarnia, and Copernicus. Even security had been dismissed; the bay was quiet now. Copernicus lowered his hands from his ears and continued to stare at the probe.
"Come on!" Apollo grabbed Starbuck by the arm and pulled him towards the craft. The others watched, but of the group, only Sheba, Boomer, and the commander, in addition to Apollo, knew that Starbuck had shared the vision of Earth. Only they knew how significant this event was for him, to finally see it. The Messenger, Apollo thought to himself, the Silver Bride sent for Covenant.
"Wait!" The lieutenant had been watching Copernicus's reactions and recognized that he was fascinated, totally absorbed, by the craft. Apollo let go, and Starbuck approached the man, who was still gazing fixedly at the probe. "Copernicus?" he said, touching his shoulder and speaking clearly.
For a long moment he did not move, but then he turned wide eyes to the Lieutenant.
"Copernicus," Starbuck said, "come see the probe with me!" He motioned him forward.
Apollo stood in front of the group as they watched the two walk slowly towards the Earth probe. Adama, Tigh, Boomer, and Athena watched in quiet amusement, all pleased to see the happiness, for a change, in the lieutenant's face. Tarnia, taking in the interaction, felt more joy than she had in a long, long time, as she watched Copernicus with a friend - a true friend. Chameleon also felt a new and most welcome sensation - pride, pride and love, as he watched his son. His son. . . he mused. Cassie, standing next to Chameleon, felt a sharp pang as she noted the ease with which Starbuck and Copernicus interacted, the bond that clearly existed now, a deep connection . . .
When he was within arm's reach of the probe, Copernicus stopped and continued to just gaze at it. Starbuck walked around, running his hand along the edge of the broad dish until it sloped up and out of reach. The lieutenant was studying it, trying to observe every detail. When he got to the plaque, he stopped. Apollo and Sheba had described it, but it was still a shock to see the human images gazing back at him. "Lords of Kobol . . ." Starbuck felt overwhelmed. He stared at the illustrations. Then he heard a voice.
"Pioneer."
"What?" Starbuck jumped. He had been so absorbed by the plaque that Copernicus had come up beside him unnoticed. "What did you say?" the lieutenant asked.
"Pioneer," Copernicus repeated. He had his head tilted and he was gazing from the corner of his eye at the pictures. "Name. It's name. Pioneer 10."
Starbuck blinked. "How could you possibly know that?" he asked.
Copernicus did not respond; he was too focused on the plaque to listen or to answer. He stared at the illustrations, moving his head slowly from side to side, then back and forth, fascinated. Slowly, slowly, he reached out a tentative hand, pulling back hesitantly before finally touching the picture of the probe that was drawn behind the two humans.
All at once, he stiffened. He jerked slightly, then relaxed. He stared transfixed, immobile.
The others had been gradually approaching, observing, talking quietly among themselves. Almost simultaneously, they noticed Copernicus's reaction and stopped. Adama and Athena immediately recognized the trance that seemed to hold Copernicus. "Look, Father!" Athena pointed at the man with one hand and grabbed the commander's arm with the other.
Copernicus stood staring straight ahead.
Boomer and Tigh took a moment longer to realize what was happening. "I don't believe it. . ." Tigh whispered, shaking his head as if to clear his vision. "It's happening again, isn't it?"
"Yes. . ." Boomer whispered in awe, gazing at Copernicus's face, expressionless except for his wide-open eyes. His eyes seemed to radiate a depth.
Chameleon and Cassie did not understand what was happening. Cassie stopped and inhaled sharply. "What in Hades is going on?" She wondered if he were having a seizure and was about to rush forward. But it did not look like a typical seizure. She felt baffled.
Tarnia felt her heart leap in concern and moved quickly to aid her friend, but Apollo grasped her arm and pulled her back gently but firmly. "Wait. He's okay!" Apollo and Sheba had known instantly what was going on. Instinctively. They just knew. They motioned for Chameleon and Cassie to approach. "He's okay," Apollo repeated. "Please trust me!" His ardent gaze eased Tarnia's tension a little. She stopped, Cassie and Chameleon beside her, to watch.
Apollo and Sheba walked over to Starbuck. "What'd he say?" the captain whispered.
"He said," Starbuck gave his friends an incredulous look, "that it's name is Pioneer 10. . ."
"Pioneer 10," Copernicus stated again in a loud voice. The others stared. "Launched in the early 1970's --Anno Domini, Earth's time line," Copernicus continued, his voice strong and pedantic. "Pioneer 10 and 11 were the first spacecraft to travel through their system's asteroid belt, first to fly by the planets named Jupiter and Saturn, and the first human artifacts to venture beyond their solar system."
Apollo, Sheba, and Starbuck exchanged glances. Everyone shuddered. They all - Adama, Boomer, Tigh, Athena, and even Cassie, Chameleon, and Tarnia - knew that they were witnessing an extraordinary phenomenon.
Tigh struggled with his disbelief. "What? Does he believe that he's a Caprican psychometrist or a Scorpian object reader?" he whispered to Boomer. "It seems he was overly impressed by the ceremonies and all the mystic stuff he heard today. Now he's channeling all the books he's read..." Even the colonel, though, did not believe his own words. Copernicus's eyes were too open, to revealing . . .
Athena and Boomer frowned at Tigh's skepticism, but kept their eyes fixed on Copernicus as a wave of elation washed through them. Athena looked at Starbuck for a moment and their gazed locked briefly. His eyes mirrored the excitement and awe that she was feeling.
"Apollo!" Sheba whispered, gripping Apollo's arm. "for Plato's sake, he's in contact with..."
Apollo nodded, smiling and looking upwards as if to an invisible presence above. "Yes, he knows their language. He speaks The Prophet's Tongue..."
Adama was wide-eyed. "The Ship of Lights' Beings . . ."
*********************************
That had been three days ago. Starbuck remembered Tarnia's worried, then incredulous reaction when she saw what had happened with Copernicus. When the connection had been broken, Copernicus had turned to her and had exclaimed in a loud, joyful voice, "Earth!"
It had taken several centars, after retiring to the commander's office, to explain to Cassie, Tarnia and Chameleon what had happened with Copernicus when he had touched the probe. It had been difficult, at first, for Tarnia and Chameleon because they were the only two who had no knowledge of the experiences Apollo, Starbuck, and Sheba had had with the Ship of Lights' Beings after the deadly encounter with Count Iblis. However, as they listened and learned, they understood. For Tarnia, especially, the knowledge gained from Apollo, Starbuck, and Sheba finally clarified some strange events that had happened with Copernicus in the past.
In addition, the discussion spawned an even greater understanding for everyone. As they talked, Apollo, Sheba, and Starbuck discovered that they remembered more and more about what had actually happened both on the red planet and aboard the alien ship. For Apollo and Sheba, memories that had been vague, even after their night of revelation, were now much clearer.
For Starbuck, who could finally remember the events aboard the Ship of Lights, it brought a great relief - a relief from a stress of which he had not even been consciously aware. He had known all along, had felt the truth, but could never get past the nebulous blockage of his memory. Perhaps the Beings had suppressed the reality to protect them, but as he reflected on it now, he was convinced that those obscured visions - present but just beyond his grasp -- had only added to his recent mental confusion.
And that confusion remained, but he also, finally, believed that he would gradually, over time, bit by bit, make some sense out of it all.
At one point, Apollo and Sheba had been describing the moment aboard the Ship of Lights when Apollo had been brought back to life and had been trying to express the incredible depth of feeling evoked. As Starbuck listened to his friends speak, remembering vividly the intensity of the emotions, as well, Starbuck had glanced at Chameleon and Cassiopeia. He caught the medtech staring at him, before she looked away. In that brief instant, though, he saw the hurt in her eyes and felt a flash of comprehension. She understood his confusion and pain, accepted it, and was willing to accept whatever choice he might make. She *would* allow him the freedom and time to decide, to understand his true feelings. While those feelings for her were still too confused to understand, one emotion did warm his heart. Gratitude. She truly did offer her love without conditions, and for that he was grateful.
Copernicus, Chameleon, Cassie, Sheba, Apollo. . . so many paradoxes.
Destruction giving birth to hope. For Apollo, from his actual death and rebirth had come the final burial of Serina's memory and the budding love of Sheba. Starbuck saw and felt the contradiction: To know that his own collapse - the hurtful words and out-of-control behavior - had allowed his dearest, closest friend to break those final barriers and consummate a true love.
Not only that, but he could not help but be astonished at the paradox of his relationship with Copernicus; how the man for whom the physical world was chaotic and painful had helped to pull Starbuck out of his own inner turmoil. And he had taught him how much could be gained from simply following one's true feelings. The man was incapable of complex emotional masquerades; Starbuck was the master. Yet, the lieutenant felt a deep gratitude to him. It was Copenicus's simplicity that allowed him to see straight through the felgercarb. Starbuck reflected that he knew of few other people who were as content as Copernicus to just live and deal with life as it came -- without the complicated social and emotional games.
Starbuck also saw the tangled web of contrasting emotions surrounding both Cassie and Chameleon. Love and hate, trust and betrayal. Would he gain a father but lose faith in the one he had thought he loved? It was too soon to know . . .
But more than anything, Starbuck was amazed at how the greatest gift had come at his darkest moment. Nightmare seemingly turned to reality, but not, while what could only - in his rational mind - be a dream proved to be real. It highlighted in a spectacular way the simple lesson he had gained; he could only control his fate, or, at least, his reactions to his fate, by allowing himself to let go, to trust in himself, to have the faith that he could survive and go on.
Paradoxes.
The most astonishing revelation, though, came bit by bit from Copernicus. He had shared the trio's vision of Earth, and more. And he had shared contact with the Ship of Lights' Beings during Count Iblis' time within the Fleet. Tarnia was finally able to explain odd moments, during that period, when he had seemed to withdraw, then later stare at her with a penetrating gaze as he quoted what had sounded like mystical gibberish, at the time. His mind, it seemed, was an open receptacle for their benefactors. Ironically, they would probably never know all that he had experienced because it far surpassed his verbal abilities.
At the end, Adama had reluctantly had to end the discussions to return to duty. But, as he had gazed around his office at those gathered before him, Tarnia, Copernicus, Cassiopeia, Chameleon, Boomer, Tigh, Athena, Starbuck, and Apollo, he had promised a proper celebration for the near future. Everyone here, he promised, must attend, everyone. They were all bound by extraordinary events that wove in and around them all, from the wondrous intervention of the Ship of Lights' Beings to the simple but deep bond between Starbuck and Copernicus. They were family. All of them.
******************
Starbuck gazed out of the Galactica's main viewport, remembering that amazing day. And he felt, for the first time in a long, long while, content. At peace. Officially, he was supposed to be dictating a report for Adama, but he had taken a break because he knew Apollo's patrol was due to return soon. One more secton on restriction, Starbuck reflected, then life might actually be back to normal, such as 'normal' was. But compared to the previous few sectons, he could hardly wait. One more day, even, and he was cleared to fly his first patrol. Starbuck felt as restless as a graduating cadet.
Athena, monitoring communications, interrupted the lieutenant's thoughts. "Commander," she called to her father, who was talking to Omega over at the command console, "there's a message for you from the Prison Barge."
Adama raised an eyebrow. "Patch it through here," he said.
Starbuck watched absently, as the commander listen to the communique through his headset, but his mind was still engrossed with the events from what was now called Day of Atonement. He did not notice Adama frowning in his direction.
"Understood," Adama said into his audiophone, "I'll pass on the message, but I make no promises. Adama out." He looked over to where Starbuck was once again lost in his thoughts as he gazed out the viewport. "Lieutenant," he said.
Starbuck turned, expecting the commander to send him back to making his report.
"I need to speak with you in my office."
Starbuck raised an eyebrow, but followed Adama off the bridge. When the door had slid shut behind them, the commander turned to face him, hands behind his back, face serious. "Okay," Starbuck said, getting an uneasy feeling, "what's up?"
"I have some news for you. And a request. You are free to decline, of course. The decision is yours."
"What's this request?" Starbuck asked, puzzled.
Adama let out a long breath. "That was the captain of the Prison Barge. He wanted to inform me that Sherok is being released -"
"What?" Starbuck felt like the wind had been knocked from his lungs. Images flashed through his mind of the bearded man, eyes filled with a crazed coldness as he leveled the laser at the lieutenant's head, calmly ready to kill both him and the deluded followers. "Released?"
"Yes," Adama said quietly. "The doctors have verified that he is now under the proper medication and is not a threat. They have no reason to hold him. They plan to return him to the Sagittarius. He will be closely monitored, though, to be sure he continues to receive the appropriate treatment and medications."
"So what's the request?" Starbuck asked, not sure that he wanted to know.
"Sherok has asked to speak to you," Adama answered. "He wants to apologize."
Starbuck remained silent for several moments, staring at the floor, pondering these new events. Finally he looked up. "I'll go," he said.
"You're sure?" Adama asked, studying the lieutenant intently. "You don't have to."
"No, I want to," Starbuck said, and he meant it. "I want to hear what he has to say."
"All right, then." Adama was still frowning, still concerned, but he accepted the lieutenant's decision. "I'll inform the officials to expect you later today."
******************
Being under medical supervision, Sherok had been kept separate from the other prisoners. His 'cell' was actually a small, adequately furnished room in the back of the infirmary wing of the ship. The man's doctor greeted Starbuck with a smile and a handshake when the lieutenant arrived, stepping hesitantly through the infirmary door.
"This way, this way!" The doctor said, motioning for Starbuck to follow him. Apparently, he must have recognized him and was not going to bother with introductions. Starbuck, ignoring the dryness in his mouth and the tenseness in his stomach, forced a smile and followed behind the quick-paced physician. In no time, they had stopped in front of a door. "It's okay. Go on in. He's expecting you," the doctor said, as if he were about to visit a close friend, not someone who had tried to -- and almost succeed at -- killing him.
"Thanks." Starbuck kept the smile in place. He hesitated, took in a long, deep breath, then activated the door mechanism. The door swooshed open. Starbuck strolled inside. And stopped. The door slid closed behind him.
"I'm. . . thank you for coming, Lieutenant."
Starbuck let out the breath and gave a genuine smile. Sherok sat at a table. He was clean shaven and his hair was short and neatly combed. His face reflected anxiety and uncertainty -- the same feelings that had plagued Starbuck throughout the shuttle ride to the Prison Barge. Starbuck was suddenly happy that he had come. Pulling out another chair, he sat down, facing Sherok. "Hello," he said, still smiling, "I'm glad you're feeling better."
THE END
He had fallen asleep during the treatment. As he awoke, he wondered how he could have possibly been tired after having already slept for an entire day. But he definitely had that drowsy feeling of slowly returning to reality. He was still lying on his stomach, but, he noted, the hot compresses from the treatment had been replaced by a blanket. He wondered for how long he had been asleep. All was quiet, and he heard no one. A glance around also revealed no one within his line of sight. He wondered, with growing irritation, if he would be able to roll over. Maneuvering around was not easy, at the moment; although, both the treatment and the medication Salik had given him seemed to have left his muscles pleasantly numb.
Eyes closed, he was contemplating the effort it would take to turn over without getting entangled in the blanket, when he heard movement. Peering through partly opened lids, and catching a glimpse of the crisp, new medical tunic, he recognized the his visitor before she spoke.
"Need some help?" Tarnia asked.
"With what?" He asked.
"Would you like to roll over?"
"Just how long have you been watching me?" Starbuck frowned up at Tarnia, then tried to ease himself over onto his right side. He made it onto the shoulder, but could not balance as not-so-numb muscles protested. Tarnia helped him on over onto his back. "Thanks," he said through gritted teeth.
"Just for a bit, in answer to your question," Tarnia said, as the lieutenant pulled himself upright. She handed him another pillow, helping him to get settled as she spoke. "I suppose you know why I'm here?"
Starbuck sighed. "Yeah, I do. Apollo told me. I'm stuck here until you think I'm fit to be unsupervised again." He gave a thin smile.
"More or less, correct," she said. "We've got a lot to talk about, and everyone's concerned about the gaps in your memory. Especially a rather important incident that you have apparently not remembered, yet."
Starbuck's smile faded. "What incident?"
"I can't tell you that. I need you to try to remember, and I'll help you." Tarnia had pulled a chair over and sat down. She placed an object on the floor, as well, but Starbuck did not notice. "This might take only a few centons, or it could take longer. Are you ready?"
"Hm, as ready as I'll ever be," he answered.
"First, tell me how you feel," Tarnia said.
"I've been better."
"Okay, now tell me more. What are you feeling right now?" Tarnia gave him a stern stare. "And be honest. Tell me anything that's on your mind."
"I think I've seen enough of this place to last the next several yahrens. Maybe I should transfer my gear here."
"The longer you avoid the question," Tarnia said, her voice calm, "the longer this will take."
"I'm frustrated!" Starbuck said, finally. "I can't believe that I have to deal with this blasted back for another secton, now, and then I'm told that I can't even leave here until -- until. . . when?"
"Probably later today, okay?" She said quietly. "Depends on how willing you are to work with me and how much progress we make."
"Sounds like extortion to me," Starbuck grumbled.
"Commander's orders, remember? I think he knows you pretty well."
"Yeah, right. Fine" He closed his eyes.
"Just so you know," Tarnia said, "this is all confidential. The only thing that I actually tell the commander is whether or not you are ready to return to service. That's all."
"Fine. Go ahead," he said, eyes still closed.
"Do you remember why you went to see Copernicus at such an early centar?"
Starbuck ran a hand down his face. "No."
"What do you remember about that night? The first thing."
"Copernicus asking to see a viper," Starbuck said slowly. He glanced quickly at Tarnia, then stared at nothing. "I remember . . . I'm not sure. It's like I was waking up, and I was with Copernicus. He was asking if I was better, and then he started talking about a viper."
"You're afraid, aren't you?"
"Who, me? Of what?"
"Starbuck, if we are to make any progress, you must stop holding back." Tarnia watched his jaw tighten. "You have to accept what you are feeling. Don't fight it. Just go with it." She paused, then continued. "It's only natural that you would be frightened by the gaps in your memory. I'd imagine that it bothers you a great deal. But remember also," Tarnia said, waiting for him to make eye contact. When he glanced at her again, she went on. "You've got a medical reason for the incomplete memory. You're *not* going crazy."
"Well, it feels like it!" Starbuck said. "I can't figure out anymore what was real and what was a dream. And the dreams seem as real as anything . . .but my head tells me that it's impossible."
"Well," Tarnia said softly, "that's why I'm here. To help you sort through it."
Starbuck nodded slightly. "Okay, okay . . . I'll try."
"Good! Then let me ask you this. What's the last thing you remember before 'waking up' with Copernicus? Have you thought about it yet?"
"No," Starbuck said quietly, "I've been trying to not think about it, actually."
"What happens when you do think about it?"
"I end up. . . well, I keep remembering Reese. It sort of blocks out everything else. Like I run into a wall when I think about that night, and it throws me back to. . . to. . ."
"To what?"
Starbuck took a deep breath. "To this dream, this dream that I've been having. . ."
"Can you tell me about it?"
The lieutenant's heart was racing. He stared, unblinking at the bed sheets, jaw tight.
"You know," Tarnia said, "Dr. Salik told me that the dreams you were having were probably triggered by the brain trauma. They should get better now. But you need to accept them, deal with them, before you can get past them."
"I'm not sure," he said, at last, his voice a whisper, "that I can describe it. It - it's more just feelings and images."
"Just do your best. But you will need to think about it. Relive it, if possible. And tell me what you see and feel. Just start anywhere. And take your time." Starbuck looked at Tarnia and, for the first time, she could read the true emotions on his face. The mask was down, and she could see the fear in his eyes.
"You know," he said, "this makes walking into a Cylon baseship seem like a training mission. . ." But he closed his eyes once more and, for the first time, sought out the visions that had been haunting him. And he tried to describe what he saw, from the intense feelings of being trapped by Sherok to the incredible fear as he felt himself aiming the laser at Apollo, as he had actually done the time when he was under suspicion of having murdered his rival, Ortega, during his aborted attempt to flee from facing the tribunal. But in the dream, unlike the reality, he pulled the trigger. . .
The images came at random, in more and more detail. Starbuck described what he could, often pausing for long periods to search for the most accurate word. Finally, the memories dissolved into the scene on Caprica, in the Thorn Forest. The childhood visions. He stopped and pulled back. He had never before consciously recalled the early morning raid. But it was there, now. He had relived it so many times in his dreams that he knew it was there. "No, oh, frak . . .I can't." He looked at Tarnia with a desperate, silent plea in his eyes.
"Starbuck, you need to," Tarnia said, her voice quiet.
He looked away. He was trembling, but the words came finally, piece by piece. "Umbra. It's almost morning. The Cylons are attacking. I . . . I must be about three. I'm running. The ground is shaking from the Cylon blasts. God, it stinks! The burned grass and. . . and dead bodies. Someone picks me up. Oh, frak . . ." The horrid image played through his mind. For several centons no words would come, then he said, "They shot . . . her." He felt numb.
"Who?" Tarnia spoke in a whisper. Leaning forward, she put a hand on Starbuck's arm.
He turned terrified eyes in her direction. "My mother. . ."
For a moment, Tarnia saw her own memories of the destruction of her school and the death of her brother, finding him, seeing his crumpled body in the ruins. She pushed her remembrances aside, though. She had a job to do. "Starbuck, that's horrible," she said. "I know how you feel . . . but, the pain will ease once you release it along with the repressed memories." She paused. Starbuck was staring straight ahead, his features rigid. "You saw the Cylons kill your mother," she said, reinforcing the images she knew he had been avoiding.
"Yes. . ."
Tarnia watched the lieutenant fight back the emotions. "Don't," she said. "Don't resist the feelings. Let them out. Let them out. The only way to move beyond this horrible moment is for you to accept it . . . deal with it. This memory has been buried for over thirty yahrens -- but it has never been forgotten. You must face it."
Starbuck looked wildly around, his mind lost in the remembrance. Then he threw his hands over his face. The tears came with a sob and an angry shout. "Those frakking bastards! They shot her! Shot her . . . Frakking Cylons . . ."
For a long while that stretched on for nearly 30 centons, Tarnia said nothing, just letting him experience the emotions. Eventually, he lay with eyes closed, breathing in slow, deep breaths, the intensity having faded. She considered whether she should stop, whether she should give him more time to process the memories. No, she decided. Being confining to the lifestation was not going to help anything, but she was not going to authorize his release until they had made more progress. She thought about the restraint the lieutenant had shown with Sergeant Reese, at least at first. He was stronger than even he realized. Better to continue on. "You're angry at the Cylons," she said. "Lords, aren't we all?"
He glanced at her, looking weary. "Yes."
"Is that the only reason you're angry?" She asked, probing again.
"What do you mean?" He asked, confused.
"Is there anything else that you are angry about?" When he gave her a blank look, she continued. "Is it only the outrage at the Cylons for killing your mother that you feel. . . or is there more to it?"
"More? I don't know . . . I don't know, except . . ." Starbuck stared at the ceiling.
"Except what?"
"Except. . ." He paused, running a hand through his hair several times. "I just wish I knew more about my family. I never knew them, Can't remember anything about my mother or my -" He looked at her again, the anger flaring in his eyes.
"Go on," Tarnia said.
"I wonder where the frak my father was!" Starbuck pounded the sheets with his fist. "Why wasn't he there? Maybe he could have saved her. Maybe -" Starbuck stopped as he tried to sort out his thoughts, his feelings, his memories. Tarnia saw the confusion, the struggle as he tried to understand the feelings. Then she watched the comprehension burst through the mental disarray. His eyes went wide. "Oh, my Lords . . . Chameleon."
"Chameleon?" she said quietly. "What about him?"
Starbuck felt dizzy from the shock. He ran his hand down his face several times. "The Rising Star. The Pyramid games. He kept beating me. We went to dinner, and he kept asking me strange questions. He was trying to tell me . . .Oh, dear God. . ."
"Tell you what?" she asked softly, waiting for the true reaction.
"My father - he's my father!" He gulped from the intensity of his emotions.
"Chameleon is your father," Tarnia said in affirmation.
"Then why the frak didn't he *tell* me before?" Starbuck shouted. He stared piercingly at Tarnia. His face was red, the tendons in his neck bulging. Pure emotion, pure anger. Only his injury, she figured, kept him from jumping out of the biobed. He gripped his hair with both hands and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
"I know that this a huge shock to you," Tarnia said slowly. "But he must have had his reasons for . . . not telling -"
"He frakking lied to me!"
"I've spoken with him," she said softly. "He's very regretful--"
"I. Do. Not. Care." He glared at Tarnia, spitting out the words. "He lied to me. I don't care." His voice was guttural, the words catching in his throat. He buried his face in his hands - as close to escape as he could manage, at the moment.
Tarnia remained silent. Rational thought, she knew, would take time. Eventually, he would be able to deal with the truth, accept it. . . then forgiveness could follow, maybe even love. But not at this moment. For now, she had to let the emotions run their course. She watched as he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the sheets with both hands. "I - do -not - care!" he hissed, barely audible.
Unable to physically leave, he pulled himself inward. Starbuck finally fixed his gaze across the room, away from Tarnia, staring but not seeing. The panting, uneven breaths were the only outward indication of his anger. The reaction, she reflected, was not that different from Copernicus on sensory overload. Practically the same, in fact, she thought, as she considered all of the stress he had had to deal with in just this one discussion. Everyone had their limits; some, like Copernicus, just reached them much sooner.
As the mostly silent but intense battle continued, Tarnia picked up the small object that she had brought with her and had placed on the floor. It was Copernicus' music device, and the idea had been his. Setting the volume on low, she activated the apparatus and held it on her lap, waiting. The strands of the piece that Copernicus had played for Starbuck the other night quietly emanated.
After nearly forty centons, the lieutenant, finally seemed to regain some control, enough to allow himself to face Tarnia once more. As if breaking a trance, he suddenly pressed his palms against his eyes and squeezed them shut for a moment. Breathing in slow, deep breaths now, he finally glanced at her. Whether or not the music helped, she was not sure, but she had figured it was worth a try.
Starbuck looked at the device, staring. "Why'd you bring that?" His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat.
"Do you remember the music?"
"Yeah . . . Copernicus played it for me."
"He asked me to bring it with me. You see, he relies on music -- this piece, especially -- to help himself calm down. Or sometimes he just listens to it over and over. He says it brings peace to him."
Starbuck said nothing, but he laid back against the pillows, looking exhausted, and closed his eyes once more.
Tarnia waited for several more centons before speaking. "Do you remember what Chameleon said to you? About why he had not told you yet?"
"Some felgercarb about trying to protect me!" Starbuck snapped, drilling Tarnia with an angry gaze. He looked away.
"I've talked with Chameleon and your friends, and I think I understand why he did it, for better or for worse. In part, he *was* trying to protect you -"
"How? By lying to me?"
"No . . . by trying to choose the best time to tell you. But he also admitted to me that he was just plain scared. And yes, it was easier to not saying anything." Tarnia paused as the music reached a crescendo and the vibrant waves filled the air, even with the low volume. She noticed that he was staring at the device, even though his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. After a bit, she continued.
"You know how it feels to be scared, don't you? Afraid of love . . . of the responsibilities, the intimacy and the vulnerability that commitments imply . . . you know that fear, don't you?"
Starbuck swallowed hard, feeling the sting of the truth to her words. "Maybe . . ."
"Perhaps you two are not that much different from each other," Tarnia, said, her voice serious, her tone pointed, even. "Perhaps you can know and understand you father's fears better than he understands them himself. If you know how it feels to be afraid of love."
"I don't see how -" Starbuck choked back a sob. "I don't see any love if he couldn't tell me . . ."
"Starbuck," Tarnia said, her tone more soothing now, "Chameleon regrets not telling you sooner. He says he made a mistake. A mistake," she repeated, urging him to listen and understand. "He knows now that it was the wrong thing to do."
"He can go to Hades -" Starbuck stopped, the curse fading as his rational mind finally regained a foothold.
"Look beyond the anger and the feelings of betrayal now," Tarnia said softly, almost in rhythm with the music. "He's your father, and you know it now. He's your father, and he'd like to talk to you."
"He's my father. . ." Starbuck repeated the phrase in a whisper.
"Yes. . . your father."
Bitter anger visibly fought with the incomprehensible joy of the truth for the first time. The faintest of smiles broke through. "Oh, Lords . . . I don't know what to think or feel anymore."
"Starbuck, he wants to talk to you. Are you up to it yet?"
A look of anxiety crossed his face. "I don't know. I don't even know where to start!"
"Maybe if you start with finding out what *really* happened that night on Caprica. And go from there."
"I don't know . . ."
Tarnia ignored the weak protest and rose to her feet, motioning at the entrance to the lifestation. She could see that the reluctance was more from a fear of dealing with more emotions than from his anger. After a moment, Chameleon entered hesitantly. Despite everything, despite the strong feelings of betrayal that stabbed at him, Starbuck broke out into a broad grin. Tarnia stepped back, setting the device on the bed stand, as the man slowly approached, twisting his hands nervously. Starbuck was still beaming.
"Look, son . . ." Chameleon had used that phrase from the time they had first met. And he had used it many times since then. This time, the word rang through the air, highlighted by the soft strands of music.
"Son . . ." Starbuck repeated, as if trying on the word for size. He was staring at the bed. His mind was slowly, slowly processing the truth. Eventually, he sifted his gaze to the man who now stood before him. "Father . . ." He said in an almost inaudible whisper.
*************************
They talked for over three centars. Emotions had ranged from loud, angry, hurtful words to laughter to unconcealed, uncontrolled tears. Gradually, Starbuck seemed to admit that he understood why Chameleon had withheld the truth from him. But understanding was not the same as forgiving, and both accepted that true forgiveness would take time. For now, they had established a truce, of sorts, knowing that the pain would take time to fade and heal. Starbuck had finally described his current feelings as a clashing blend of both an incredible happiness and a deep, bitter hurt - love and hate together.
At last, reluctantly, Dr. Salik had requested that Chameleon take a break, as it was nearly sleep period. He was free to return in the morning, but, for now, he wanted to see his patient get some rest. After consulting with the doctor, Tarnia had told Starbuck that he would be released the next day, after a follow-up session and the promise that he would continue with the program until she was convinced that he was as healed as anyone could be, considering their circumstances. He had grumbled, but had been too exhausted to truly argue. And he had slept. For the first time in nearly two sectons, he had slept, free from medication and free from the dreams, a solid, long, restful sleep.
He had not yet awakened, it seemed, when Cassie arrived for her shift the next morning. Intending to catch up on the files she had neglected in the past several days, she paused, a slight smile on her face, to gaze briefly at her sleeping friend. When she moved to brush an errant lock of hair across his forehead, though, a hand reached out to grasp hers. Cassie jumped, still remembering his panicked attack the other day. This time, however, his grip was firm but gentle, and he opened his eyes slowly to gaze at her.
"You startled me," Cassie said as her racing heart slowed. She caught the penetrating look in his eyes before he looked away again. He still held her hand, though. "How do you feel?" she asked.
"Like I've been through that high-g viper training about ten times."
"You mean the simulator where you have to handle zero gravity and then accelerate until nearly blackout point?" Cassie squeezed his hand lightly, placing her other on top, as well, and gazed at him through the eyes of a close friend, not a medtech.
"Yeah, that's the one." Starbuck glanced up into Cassie's face, then shifted his gaze again. He wanted to say something, she could tell, so she waited. After a moment, he pulled his hand back and stared down at his fingers. "Cass. . ." He stopped.
"Take your time," she said softly. Cassie felt a stirring of unease, though, as he continued to stare away from her.
"Cass," he said eventually, "you knew about Chameleon all along."
"Yes, I did," she responded quietly.
"You knew . . . why didn't you tell me?" He gave her a quick, pained look.
"Starbuck, I promised Chameleon that I wouldn't. I -- I didn't see how going against Chameleon's wishes would help the situation." She put a hand on his arm, but he shifted away. Cassie bit her lip. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"Look, my head knows that. It does. It knows you were caught in the middle. But. . ." He looked up into her eyes and finally held the gaze. "I . . . it still hurts. A lot."
"Starbuck," she whispered, "I know. And you've still got a lot to deal with right now."
He looked away again. "I just . . . I just need some time to figure it all out . . ."
"Starbuck, it's okay." He did not see her chew her lip again before continuing. "I understand."
Movement through the entrance caught their attention, and both looked up to see Apollo and Sheba. The relief the distraction brought was almost palpable as Starbuck broke out into a grin and focused on his visitors. Cassie nodded to the two, then moved off to return to her duties. The unease had swelled into a biting fear, but she pushed it back. She had known that her awkward position might be difficult for him to accept, but she had to trust that, with time, he would understand. If their relationship was as strong as she thought it was, then it would surmount this hurdle. If not, then, well . . . she shook off the thought and concentrated on her work.
"How do you feel?" Apollo asked, stopping next to the biobed. Starbuck noted how close Sheba stood next to the captain, almost touching, but not quite.
"Like I'm going stir crazy!" He pulled himself up to a sitting position, slowly, working through the stiffness and cramping. Had Sheba not been present, he would have gotten up right then and there. Instead, he kept the sheet carefully wrapped around him as he sat on the edge of the bed. "I *need* out of here."
"Soon, buddy, soon," Apollo said, smiling. "Look, Father asked me to tell you some things, before Tarnia releases you. I know she's coming by soon, too."
"Oh?" Starbuck raised an eyebrow at him.
"First, your status -"
"Status for duty?"
"Yes. According to Dr. Salik, you will be physically fit to return to light duty in two more days."
Starbuck sighed. "But?"
"No 'buts,'" Apollo said. "Just a condition."
"Which is . . .?" The lieutenant looked from Apollo to Sheba, puzzled a bit by the underlying feeling their looks kept conveying. He was missing something, he could tell, but what?
"On the condition that you continue meeting with Tarnia until she terminates the sessions, and," Apollo pointed a finger at him, "if you miss even one, you'll be taken off the duty roster." The captain's smile had faded.
"The commander's serious, isn't he?" Starbuck frowned and looked away.
Apollo nodded. "Very. I know you're not aware of this, but your incident in the landing bay aroused some serious tensions between the warriors and the Council security. Starbuck," Apollo said, his expression solemn, "you know as well as I do how important it is to maintain solidarity in the Fleet. If the people perceive any kind of dissension among their protectors, it could jeopardize the fragile stability that exists right now. I mean, we've seen how easily peace can turn to chaos."
Starbuck remembered that clearly. The riot aboard the Sagittarius had precipitated all that had happened to him in the past two sectons. He ran a hand through his hair. "So, there's more, isn't there?"
Apollo handed Starbuck a compupad. "Father will be issuing the following statement later today about the landing bay incident. It's only a ship-wide announcement, and is not for the general populations, but I wanted you to read it first."
Starbuck glanced at Apollo and Sheba, who still stood quietly in front of him, waiting, before he activated the small computer. He read the message silently as it scrolled up screen. "Both the Council and I consider it vital that the two forces -- Colonial warriors and Council security -- maintain proper and professional conduct at all times to ensure the safety of this Fleet. Most of you are aware that an altercation occurred in Beta Bay between Sergeant Reese and Lieutenant Starbuck that resulted in the discharge of a weapon. While the discharge was ruled accidental by Chief Opposer Solon, neither the Council nor I will tolerate such disorderly behavior. Both officers will be on restricted duty with no privileges for two sectons, confined to quarters when not on duty, and docked a third of their pay for the next two sectars." Starbuck let out a low whistle as he finished reading.
"I'm sorry," Apollo said as the lieutenant handed him the compupad without a word. "But it was either that or explain -- in detail -- the medical reasons behind your actions. We figured you'd rather do it this way."
Starbuck was staring at the floor. "Yeah, I guess I would." He glanced up, a bemused look on his face. "So, in other words, I should be in no rush to get out of here, because I'll just be confined to quarters for the next two days, anyway."
Apollo nodded again. "That's true, but once you're allowed to return to duty, we've got something you'll want to see."
Starbuck caught the gleam in his friend's eye. Sheba, too, was smiling. She walked over and leaned against the biobed, next to the lieutenant. Apollo was still standing in front of him, looking ready to burst with the contained excitement.
Starbuck shifted on the edge of the bed and gazed from one to the other, perplexed. "What? What's going on? And does it have something to do with the reasons Beta Bay was restricted?"
Apollo activated the compupad again and punched in a command. He then handed it back to the lieutenant. "Take a look," he said.
Starbuck studied the small but clear image of the Earth probe. "What is it?" He asked quietly. He had an odd sensation, though, as he gazed at the picture. A feeling of familiarity. . . he did not understand it.
"Starbuck," Apollo said, his face alight with enthusiasm, "this craft is from Earth!" He explained the details, from how the Fleet had picked up the weak signal to when they had finally been permitted to approach the probe.
"Earth? It's from Earth?" Starbuck said in a whisper. He gazed at the small image on the compupad screen in amazement. "But how do you know it's from Earth?" he asked. He felt almost dizzy from the revelation. And puzzled; the strange feeling persisted.
Apollo took the compupad and pulled up another picture to show him. "We found this plaque attached to the probe," he said. He and Sheba explained all they knew about the drawings on the plaque as Starbuck stared, wide-eyed at the image.
"Apollo. . ." Starbuck gazed from one face to the other. "I know this is impossible, but . . . I've seen this plaque before." It suddenly came to him. Before the mountain journey, he had seen other visions, other places. They were a vague remembrance at the moment, except he clearly remembered now how it had all begun - he had been gazing at an image of this very plaque. . . "In a dream," he whispered.
Apollo grasped Starbuck's shoulder and stared into his eyes. "Buddy, it wasn't a dream."
"What do you mean?" Yet, Starbuck could sense the answer before the captain spoke again.
"It was an. . . extraordinary experience outside of this dimension. . ." Apollo started hesitantly, feeling awkward as Starbuck stared at him, widening his eyes. He exhaled, looking around helplessly, trying to find other words. "And I understand it now . . . that, that other presence I felt . . ." Apollo said, almost as if talking to himself. He gazed into his friend's eyes. "You, me, Sheba . . . we were taken on a journey by the Ship of Lights' Beings to Earth," he said quietly. "We were there together, even though we seemed to be alone. I -- I could sense you both while I was there." Starbuck was staring intently at his friend. "Do you remember the ocean?"
"Yes," Starbuck whispered. "I do. I'd forgotten. . ." He closed his eyes, the sights he had seen returning almost randomly to his thoughts. "Yes, the ocean, and mountains, and -- and -"
"The Pyramids?" Apollo asked.
"Yes! I remember them now!"
Apollo explained what had happened when he had touched the plaque while examining the probe in the bay. He also described all that he remembered seeing before his consciousness returned to the Galactica.
"The probe is a beacon, a gift," Sheba said, her face glowing, "from the Ship of Lights' Beings!"
"And our journey to Earth . . . our 'dreams'. . .were another gift," Apollo said, "a way to inform us about Earth, I think." He gripped Starbuck's other shoulder in his excitement. "Starbuck, we've been to Earth!"
The lieutenant put his hands on Apollo's wrists and gazed steadily at him. "I know. I remember now." He suddenly burst out laughing, feeling caught up by the sheer amazement of what the captain was telling him. "Now *that's* what I call being taken for a ride!"
Apollo pulled back and spread his arms. "It was fantastic!"
Still chuckling, Starbuck stared at his two friends, taking in the pure joy in their expressions, and he tried to comprehend what had truly happened. He had convinced himself that it had been a dream, despite the sensory messages to the contrary from his subconscious. Now, it all made sense. "I remember," he said in a whisper, closing his eyes, feeling the experience. "I remember now, almost as if I could touch them . . . the pyramids. . . Then I was back in the mountains, and I felt this -- this need to, to . . . climb, to follow this trail that was in front of me." Starbuck stopped because he felt his voice about to waver. Only a brief time ago, he had been in the grips of a waking nightmare, or so it had seemed, but now. . .The enormity of the truth was almost overwhelming.
"It's as if, once you'd been brought to Earth," Sheba said, her voice full of wonder, "that the Beings let you stay there in respite until you had to wake up. Another gift . . .for you, Starbuck!" She lightly brushed a fallen strand from his forehead. His eyes were wide with wonder, his expression much different than the usual front he so often displayed. Sheba realized that she had only seen the lieutenant this open and revealing on one other occasion. . . aboard the Ship of Lights.
"Oh, Lords, it was incredible!" Starbuck tried to describe his journey again, this time with the knowledge that it had been no dream. He spoke with an open, honest enthusiasm that mirrored that way both Apollo and Sheba felt, and he spoke with none of his usual conman's embellishments; he was still trying to reconcile the sudden turn of events that had taken him from what had seemed to be a waking nightmare, convinced that he had killed Reese, to the incredible knowledge that he had truly been to Earth. . . Earth. . .it had been *no* dream. "I wonder when we'll find it . . . find Earth?" He said as he finished. He felt numb, but a good kind of numb, this time, from the amazement at what he -- at what all three -- had experienced.
Apollo sighed. "It may still be many, many yahrens before the Fleet finds Earth. Perhaps it won't even be our generation. But, at least, we know it's there." Without thinking, he hugged Sheba tightly. "We *know* it's there!"
Starbuck broke into a laugh again.
"What's so funny?" Apollo frowned at him.
"You two!" he answered, smiling broadly.
"What?"
"It's just good to see that you've finally cut out the felgercarb and admitted that you love each other!" Starbuck grinned at his friends.
"And we have *you* to thank, too." Apollo said, winking. He shook his head. "If you hadn't acted the way you did after that triad game - if we hadn't been at each others' throats that night - then Sheba and I . . ." He let his voice trail off and just smiled.
Starbuck laughed again. "Well, then, maybe being confined to quarters will be worth it, knowing that --."
"Starbuck," Sheba interrupted, her face suddenly serious. She grasped his hand and gazed into his eyes, wanting to get the words out before he retreated once more behind the humor and jokes. "Thank you," she said softly.
Starbuck glanced at Apollo, then looked away. "Well, at least, someone here has to be brave and make commitments, don't they?"
Apollo caught his friend's brief but pained look and knew who else was on his mind. Chameleon and Cassie. "Look," Apollo said, wrapping his hand around both Sheba's and Starbuck's, "we're committed. We're family. So is Father, Athena, Boomer, Tarnia, Copernicus and . . Chameleon. And so will be Cassie or the woman you'll someday choose . . ."
Starbuck gazed down at their intertwined hands, both smiling and blinking back tears.
"Family," Sheba said softly. "Fingers of the same hand, Starbuck."
EPILOGUE
The following secton was far from easy. Restricted to quarters for the first two days, and released only for meals and trips to the lifestation, Starbuck had once again been faced with the prospect of too much time to just sit and think. And with all privileges revoked for two sectons, he was not permitted visitors. Adama, however, did not have the heart to enforce that regulation, not in light of Chameleon's revelation. Instead, the man was granted a special pass to visit Starbuck in the billet. Two days of confinement became a time for father and son to get to know each other and to work through the tensions.
Still, Starbuck had found himself shifting between extremes, at times, and confused about what he really felt at others. Time, Tarnia, assured him, would bring everything back into some kind of perspective. When he caught himself feeling pensive, though, Starbuck had not one, but two methods to combat the negative feelings. Depending on how he felt, sometimes he would pull out Copernicus's device, set the volume on high, and lose himself in the music. Other times, though, he preferred to just close his eyes and remember the peace, the all-encompassing serenity, that he had felt during his mountain journey. His visit to Earth. Earth. That thought alone could set his spirits flying high once more.
On the third day, when he was finally permitted to return to light active duty, time had stood still for all, for this day marked the First Anniversary of the Great Destruction. As many as possible, including the Council of Twelve representatives, had gathered in Beta Bay to listen to the commander. Adama began the ceremonies with a beautiful oration, as only he could make, beginning at the precise time the Cylons had commenced their horrendous attacks on the Colonies and the Fleet.
Then followed a solemn observance with twelve centons of silence, one for each of the worlds. A small group of survivors, representatives from each Colony, had slowly marched in with the flag of their world, while musicians played a medley composed of sections from each Colony's National Anthem. The bearers formed a crescent in front of the assembly, and a gong sounded to mark the beginning of the observance. The first flag, for Aquarius, lowered as the ripples of the tone faded into a sober silence. And thus it continued for twelve centons. The only sounds had been the quiet, aching sobs from many in the assemblage and the deep reverberation from the gong as time passed.
As the twelfth centon had moved on into the thirteenth, however, the small symphony began playing the Aquarian National Anthem, softly, at first, then crescendoing to fill the bay with the vibrant and patriotic refrains. All who knew the words had sung, loudly, through tears and a swelling feeling of defiance aimed at their enemy. The physical world may have been shattered, but the people - their culture and spirit - would survive. While each anthem played, the bearers positioned their flag in a stand, then returned to the assemblage.
As the strands of the final anthem had faded, Adama had looked out across the faces in the Galactica's Beta Bay and stared into the vidcam to reach out to all, across the Fleet. Turning, he had pointed to the containment wall that stood behind him and behind the row of flags. Slowly, he had explained how faint signals had led to the encounter with an alien probe. He then showed an image of the craft's plaque. Most did not need his explanation to know what the pictures and symbols meant; the clear picture of the man and woman, side by side, sent waves of shock and amazement throughout the Fleet. Humans, it had been built by humans.
"I firmly believe," Adama said, then paused, as the containment walls were slowly pulled back to reveal the Earth craft, "that this probe is a beacon, a messenger, sent by divine powers to let us know that . . ." He paused again to stare at the unobtrusive vessel. "That we *will* find Earth. She is not a myth, but the true Promised Land of our forefathers, and she awaits her brothers and sisters from the stars. Yes, she's out there, right now, sending out probes to space and reaching out to the Children of Kobol."
An excited, emotional wave passed through the gathered people. People embraced, some cheered, some cried, some stood hand in hand, praying. All stared in wonderment at the craft.
Adama had choked back his own emotions to continue. "From death and destruction, today, we see hope give birth to a new tomorrow for us and the generations to come. This probe is the alliance between the old and the new worlds. This is the probe of the convenant that has come to hail our way back home." Adama raised his arms and his strong voice filled the bay. "Let us feast in honor of Earth's messenger, because I declare this day, until we land on Earth, to be celebrated from now on as 'The Day of Atonement,' and the Messenger to be forever remembered as the 'Ship of the Covenant.'!"
********************
Granted a one-day reprieve from his restrictions, Starbuck had been at the front of the gathered group in Beta Bay, surrounded by the other warriors, close friends, and two special people -- Tarnia and Copernicus. Copernicus had stood, hands over ears, staring without blinking, almost, at the containment wall, but seemed to listen intently to the commander. For both Starbuck and Copernicus, it was their first glimpse of the real probe, as the containment wall slowly retracted into the sides of the bay. Apollo noted how they both stared, enraptured, when the craft became clearly visible.
After the commander concluded his oration, the crowd had slowly, slowly filed out of the landing bay to continue the planned festivities and other activities. Many had continued to stare at the probe, crowding close to the line of flags that stood before it. An awed reverence seemed to keep most from coming any closer, though. Eventually, only a small group remained -- Adama, Tigh, Apollo, Athena, Boomer, Cassiopeia, Chameleon, Starbuck, Tarnia, and Copernicus. Even security had been dismissed; the bay was quiet now. Copernicus lowered his hands from his ears and continued to stare at the probe.
"Come on!" Apollo grabbed Starbuck by the arm and pulled him towards the craft. The others watched, but of the group, only Sheba, Boomer, and the commander, in addition to Apollo, knew that Starbuck had shared the vision of Earth. Only they knew how significant this event was for him, to finally see it. The Messenger, Apollo thought to himself, the Silver Bride sent for Covenant.
"Wait!" The lieutenant had been watching Copernicus's reactions and recognized that he was fascinated, totally absorbed, by the craft. Apollo let go, and Starbuck approached the man, who was still gazing fixedly at the probe. "Copernicus?" he said, touching his shoulder and speaking clearly.
For a long moment he did not move, but then he turned wide eyes to the Lieutenant.
"Copernicus," Starbuck said, "come see the probe with me!" He motioned him forward.
Apollo stood in front of the group as they watched the two walk slowly towards the Earth probe. Adama, Tigh, Boomer, and Athena watched in quiet amusement, all pleased to see the happiness, for a change, in the lieutenant's face. Tarnia, taking in the interaction, felt more joy than she had in a long, long time, as she watched Copernicus with a friend - a true friend. Chameleon also felt a new and most welcome sensation - pride, pride and love, as he watched his son. His son. . . he mused. Cassie, standing next to Chameleon, felt a sharp pang as she noted the ease with which Starbuck and Copernicus interacted, the bond that clearly existed now, a deep connection . . .
When he was within arm's reach of the probe, Copernicus stopped and continued to just gaze at it. Starbuck walked around, running his hand along the edge of the broad dish until it sloped up and out of reach. The lieutenant was studying it, trying to observe every detail. When he got to the plaque, he stopped. Apollo and Sheba had described it, but it was still a shock to see the human images gazing back at him. "Lords of Kobol . . ." Starbuck felt overwhelmed. He stared at the illustrations. Then he heard a voice.
"Pioneer."
"What?" Starbuck jumped. He had been so absorbed by the plaque that Copernicus had come up beside him unnoticed. "What did you say?" the lieutenant asked.
"Pioneer," Copernicus repeated. He had his head tilted and he was gazing from the corner of his eye at the pictures. "Name. It's name. Pioneer 10."
Starbuck blinked. "How could you possibly know that?" he asked.
Copernicus did not respond; he was too focused on the plaque to listen or to answer. He stared at the illustrations, moving his head slowly from side to side, then back and forth, fascinated. Slowly, slowly, he reached out a tentative hand, pulling back hesitantly before finally touching the picture of the probe that was drawn behind the two humans.
All at once, he stiffened. He jerked slightly, then relaxed. He stared transfixed, immobile.
The others had been gradually approaching, observing, talking quietly among themselves. Almost simultaneously, they noticed Copernicus's reaction and stopped. Adama and Athena immediately recognized the trance that seemed to hold Copernicus. "Look, Father!" Athena pointed at the man with one hand and grabbed the commander's arm with the other.
Copernicus stood staring straight ahead.
Boomer and Tigh took a moment longer to realize what was happening. "I don't believe it. . ." Tigh whispered, shaking his head as if to clear his vision. "It's happening again, isn't it?"
"Yes. . ." Boomer whispered in awe, gazing at Copernicus's face, expressionless except for his wide-open eyes. His eyes seemed to radiate a depth.
Chameleon and Cassie did not understand what was happening. Cassie stopped and inhaled sharply. "What in Hades is going on?" She wondered if he were having a seizure and was about to rush forward. But it did not look like a typical seizure. She felt baffled.
Tarnia felt her heart leap in concern and moved quickly to aid her friend, but Apollo grasped her arm and pulled her back gently but firmly. "Wait. He's okay!" Apollo and Sheba had known instantly what was going on. Instinctively. They just knew. They motioned for Chameleon and Cassie to approach. "He's okay," Apollo repeated. "Please trust me!" His ardent gaze eased Tarnia's tension a little. She stopped, Cassie and Chameleon beside her, to watch.
Apollo and Sheba walked over to Starbuck. "What'd he say?" the captain whispered.
"He said," Starbuck gave his friends an incredulous look, "that it's name is Pioneer 10. . ."
"Pioneer 10," Copernicus stated again in a loud voice. The others stared. "Launched in the early 1970's --Anno Domini, Earth's time line," Copernicus continued, his voice strong and pedantic. "Pioneer 10 and 11 were the first spacecraft to travel through their system's asteroid belt, first to fly by the planets named Jupiter and Saturn, and the first human artifacts to venture beyond their solar system."
Apollo, Sheba, and Starbuck exchanged glances. Everyone shuddered. They all - Adama, Boomer, Tigh, Athena, and even Cassie, Chameleon, and Tarnia - knew that they were witnessing an extraordinary phenomenon.
Tigh struggled with his disbelief. "What? Does he believe that he's a Caprican psychometrist or a Scorpian object reader?" he whispered to Boomer. "It seems he was overly impressed by the ceremonies and all the mystic stuff he heard today. Now he's channeling all the books he's read..." Even the colonel, though, did not believe his own words. Copernicus's eyes were too open, to revealing . . .
Athena and Boomer frowned at Tigh's skepticism, but kept their eyes fixed on Copernicus as a wave of elation washed through them. Athena looked at Starbuck for a moment and their gazed locked briefly. His eyes mirrored the excitement and awe that she was feeling.
"Apollo!" Sheba whispered, gripping Apollo's arm. "for Plato's sake, he's in contact with..."
Apollo nodded, smiling and looking upwards as if to an invisible presence above. "Yes, he knows their language. He speaks The Prophet's Tongue..."
Adama was wide-eyed. "The Ship of Lights' Beings . . ."
*********************************
That had been three days ago. Starbuck remembered Tarnia's worried, then incredulous reaction when she saw what had happened with Copernicus. When the connection had been broken, Copernicus had turned to her and had exclaimed in a loud, joyful voice, "Earth!"
It had taken several centars, after retiring to the commander's office, to explain to Cassie, Tarnia and Chameleon what had happened with Copernicus when he had touched the probe. It had been difficult, at first, for Tarnia and Chameleon because they were the only two who had no knowledge of the experiences Apollo, Starbuck, and Sheba had had with the Ship of Lights' Beings after the deadly encounter with Count Iblis. However, as they listened and learned, they understood. For Tarnia, especially, the knowledge gained from Apollo, Starbuck, and Sheba finally clarified some strange events that had happened with Copernicus in the past.
In addition, the discussion spawned an even greater understanding for everyone. As they talked, Apollo, Sheba, and Starbuck discovered that they remembered more and more about what had actually happened both on the red planet and aboard the alien ship. For Apollo and Sheba, memories that had been vague, even after their night of revelation, were now much clearer.
For Starbuck, who could finally remember the events aboard the Ship of Lights, it brought a great relief - a relief from a stress of which he had not even been consciously aware. He had known all along, had felt the truth, but could never get past the nebulous blockage of his memory. Perhaps the Beings had suppressed the reality to protect them, but as he reflected on it now, he was convinced that those obscured visions - present but just beyond his grasp -- had only added to his recent mental confusion.
And that confusion remained, but he also, finally, believed that he would gradually, over time, bit by bit, make some sense out of it all.
At one point, Apollo and Sheba had been describing the moment aboard the Ship of Lights when Apollo had been brought back to life and had been trying to express the incredible depth of feeling evoked. As Starbuck listened to his friends speak, remembering vividly the intensity of the emotions, as well, Starbuck had glanced at Chameleon and Cassiopeia. He caught the medtech staring at him, before she looked away. In that brief instant, though, he saw the hurt in her eyes and felt a flash of comprehension. She understood his confusion and pain, accepted it, and was willing to accept whatever choice he might make. She *would* allow him the freedom and time to decide, to understand his true feelings. While those feelings for her were still too confused to understand, one emotion did warm his heart. Gratitude. She truly did offer her love without conditions, and for that he was grateful.
Copernicus, Chameleon, Cassie, Sheba, Apollo. . . so many paradoxes.
Destruction giving birth to hope. For Apollo, from his actual death and rebirth had come the final burial of Serina's memory and the budding love of Sheba. Starbuck saw and felt the contradiction: To know that his own collapse - the hurtful words and out-of-control behavior - had allowed his dearest, closest friend to break those final barriers and consummate a true love.
Not only that, but he could not help but be astonished at the paradox of his relationship with Copernicus; how the man for whom the physical world was chaotic and painful had helped to pull Starbuck out of his own inner turmoil. And he had taught him how much could be gained from simply following one's true feelings. The man was incapable of complex emotional masquerades; Starbuck was the master. Yet, the lieutenant felt a deep gratitude to him. It was Copenicus's simplicity that allowed him to see straight through the felgercarb. Starbuck reflected that he knew of few other people who were as content as Copernicus to just live and deal with life as it came -- without the complicated social and emotional games.
Starbuck also saw the tangled web of contrasting emotions surrounding both Cassie and Chameleon. Love and hate, trust and betrayal. Would he gain a father but lose faith in the one he had thought he loved? It was too soon to know . . .
But more than anything, Starbuck was amazed at how the greatest gift had come at his darkest moment. Nightmare seemingly turned to reality, but not, while what could only - in his rational mind - be a dream proved to be real. It highlighted in a spectacular way the simple lesson he had gained; he could only control his fate, or, at least, his reactions to his fate, by allowing himself to let go, to trust in himself, to have the faith that he could survive and go on.
Paradoxes.
The most astonishing revelation, though, came bit by bit from Copernicus. He had shared the trio's vision of Earth, and more. And he had shared contact with the Ship of Lights' Beings during Count Iblis' time within the Fleet. Tarnia was finally able to explain odd moments, during that period, when he had seemed to withdraw, then later stare at her with a penetrating gaze as he quoted what had sounded like mystical gibberish, at the time. His mind, it seemed, was an open receptacle for their benefactors. Ironically, they would probably never know all that he had experienced because it far surpassed his verbal abilities.
At the end, Adama had reluctantly had to end the discussions to return to duty. But, as he had gazed around his office at those gathered before him, Tarnia, Copernicus, Cassiopeia, Chameleon, Boomer, Tigh, Athena, Starbuck, and Apollo, he had promised a proper celebration for the near future. Everyone here, he promised, must attend, everyone. They were all bound by extraordinary events that wove in and around them all, from the wondrous intervention of the Ship of Lights' Beings to the simple but deep bond between Starbuck and Copernicus. They were family. All of them.
******************
Starbuck gazed out of the Galactica's main viewport, remembering that amazing day. And he felt, for the first time in a long, long while, content. At peace. Officially, he was supposed to be dictating a report for Adama, but he had taken a break because he knew Apollo's patrol was due to return soon. One more secton on restriction, Starbuck reflected, then life might actually be back to normal, such as 'normal' was. But compared to the previous few sectons, he could hardly wait. One more day, even, and he was cleared to fly his first patrol. Starbuck felt as restless as a graduating cadet.
Athena, monitoring communications, interrupted the lieutenant's thoughts. "Commander," she called to her father, who was talking to Omega over at the command console, "there's a message for you from the Prison Barge."
Adama raised an eyebrow. "Patch it through here," he said.
Starbuck watched absently, as the commander listen to the communique through his headset, but his mind was still engrossed with the events from what was now called Day of Atonement. He did not notice Adama frowning in his direction.
"Understood," Adama said into his audiophone, "I'll pass on the message, but I make no promises. Adama out." He looked over to where Starbuck was once again lost in his thoughts as he gazed out the viewport. "Lieutenant," he said.
Starbuck turned, expecting the commander to send him back to making his report.
"I need to speak with you in my office."
Starbuck raised an eyebrow, but followed Adama off the bridge. When the door had slid shut behind them, the commander turned to face him, hands behind his back, face serious. "Okay," Starbuck said, getting an uneasy feeling, "what's up?"
"I have some news for you. And a request. You are free to decline, of course. The decision is yours."
"What's this request?" Starbuck asked, puzzled.
Adama let out a long breath. "That was the captain of the Prison Barge. He wanted to inform me that Sherok is being released -"
"What?" Starbuck felt like the wind had been knocked from his lungs. Images flashed through his mind of the bearded man, eyes filled with a crazed coldness as he leveled the laser at the lieutenant's head, calmly ready to kill both him and the deluded followers. "Released?"
"Yes," Adama said quietly. "The doctors have verified that he is now under the proper medication and is not a threat. They have no reason to hold him. They plan to return him to the Sagittarius. He will be closely monitored, though, to be sure he continues to receive the appropriate treatment and medications."
"So what's the request?" Starbuck asked, not sure that he wanted to know.
"Sherok has asked to speak to you," Adama answered. "He wants to apologize."
Starbuck remained silent for several moments, staring at the floor, pondering these new events. Finally he looked up. "I'll go," he said.
"You're sure?" Adama asked, studying the lieutenant intently. "You don't have to."
"No, I want to," Starbuck said, and he meant it. "I want to hear what he has to say."
"All right, then." Adama was still frowning, still concerned, but he accepted the lieutenant's decision. "I'll inform the officials to expect you later today."
******************
Being under medical supervision, Sherok had been kept separate from the other prisoners. His 'cell' was actually a small, adequately furnished room in the back of the infirmary wing of the ship. The man's doctor greeted Starbuck with a smile and a handshake when the lieutenant arrived, stepping hesitantly through the infirmary door.
"This way, this way!" The doctor said, motioning for Starbuck to follow him. Apparently, he must have recognized him and was not going to bother with introductions. Starbuck, ignoring the dryness in his mouth and the tenseness in his stomach, forced a smile and followed behind the quick-paced physician. In no time, they had stopped in front of a door. "It's okay. Go on in. He's expecting you," the doctor said, as if he were about to visit a close friend, not someone who had tried to -- and almost succeed at -- killing him.
"Thanks." Starbuck kept the smile in place. He hesitated, took in a long, deep breath, then activated the door mechanism. The door swooshed open. Starbuck strolled inside. And stopped. The door slid closed behind him.
"I'm. . . thank you for coming, Lieutenant."
Starbuck let out the breath and gave a genuine smile. Sherok sat at a table. He was clean shaven and his hair was short and neatly combed. His face reflected anxiety and uncertainty -- the same feelings that had plagued Starbuck throughout the shuttle ride to the Prison Barge. Starbuck was suddenly happy that he had come. Pulling out another chair, he sat down, facing Sherok. "Hello," he said, still smiling, "I'm glad you're feeling better."
THE END