Lords, it was like being drilled in the gut with a triad ball, compliments of Commander Adama. Starbuck shook his head in bewilderment, listening to the door sliding shut behind him. It was symbolic somehow, as effective as any old-fashioned door slamming in his face. He had been effectively and decidedly dissociated from the Galactica by his former commander. Set apart and thrust back into his new life on the Pegasus. Alone. Not even an explanation. He shook off Boomer's hand. His friend was looking at him in concern, his mouth opening to say something, probably reassuring in nature, but completely meaningless at this point. He didn't even want to hear it.
"Save it." Starbuck muttered as he pushed past his friends and briskly headed down the corridor.
He had convinced himself long ago that Adama—like a touchstone—could finally help him make sense of everything that had happened to him since he had been shot down sectars ago. Adama, with his infinite wisdom, would have words of comfort and reassurance for him, dispelling his terrifying theories of late that the Dionians had brought him back from the edge of death to manipulate him into some unknown, malignant end. He pounded the control for the turbo lift, then closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, as an ominous cloud of despair threatened to crush him.
"Starbuck . . ."
A hand tentatively settled on his shoulder. Sheba's. He could sense the wheels turning as she desperately tried to find the appropriate words. It would almost be amusing to see if she could come up with something. Almost.
"I don't remember thisdamnthing taking so frackin' long." Starbuck slammed the control again. He needed to get away from their feeble attempts to console him. They didn't understand. They couldn't.
"Hey, there has to be a reason . . ." Boomer told him in his usual calm approach, grabbing Starbuck's wrist as he threatened to pound the controls again.
"Yeah." Starbuck pulled free again, running his hand back through his hair before turning back to the lift. He sniffed derisively before replying, "That'swhat I'm afraid of."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Boomer asked as the lift doors opened. Starbuck was inside and looking at them impatiently, ready to start abusing a new set of controls all over again.
"Are you coming?" Starbuck asked. "I had the idea you were supposed to escort me safely to my Shikra, and off the Galactica ASAP. You don't want to let the Commander down." He couldn't withhold the bitterness that dripped off of every word.
Sheba looked at him uncertainly, as though she was thinking that she hadn't signed on for this. A little bit of effectively utilized sarcasm usually scared off the bravest of friends. Boomer, on the other hand, refused to be deterred, brushing him aside and manning the controls himself. Apparently, his buddy had a problem with the way he selected levels on his Battlestar.
"Launch Bay Alpha, warp speed, all aboard!" Boomer quipped, looking at Sheba expectantly. She hesitated a moment before raising her chin and joining them.
The tension hung around them, as thick as melted mushies. Boomer knew that more than anything, Starbuck needed a few centons to calm down and think. Not his friend's forte, admittedly. However . . .
"Not exactly the homecoming you were hoping for, I'll bet." Boomer murmured out of a necessity to break the silence and acknowledge Starbuck's obvious disappointment. He glanced back at the Pegasus strike captain who had placed himself in the back corner, setting himself apart from them.
Starbuck sniffed quietly, shaking his head in response, not meeting Boomer's eyes. He sighed as the lift came to a stop. They stood there expectantly like a wall before him, waiting for something that he wasn't prepared to offer. At least not right now. He shrugged apologetically, and walked between them, moving directly for his fighter, giving it a cursory walk-around before heading for the cockpit.
"What's it called again?" Boomer asked, as Starbuck climbed up into the Dionian Fighter. He had dispensed with most of his pre-flight checks, a sure sign he was upset.
"A Shikra." Starbuck replied half-heartedly. "It's some kind of Dionian avian. We have eighty of them on the Pegasus, and only fifty-six pilots. I think we could send a group of them over here . . . as long as Tartarus doesn't object. I'll talk to Apollo about it." When he had last discussed manpower with Cain, the Juggernaut had no plans of reclaiming any of his former pilots to even out the forces between the two Battlestars. Starbuck had agreed, but perhaps for different reasons.
"Tartarus?" Sheba asked, as Starbuck climbed in and reached for his helmet.
"Colonel Tartarus." Starbuck nodded. "He's the Dionian leader."
"Leader?" Boomer asked curiously.
"Surely, that role is my father's?" Sheba offered a little indignantly, her brow furrowed.
"Don't count on that." Starbuck shrugged. "I really think that their first allegiance is to Tartarus. He was their military leader long before the Pegasusshowed up. He took a demotion to become Cain's executive officer. It was some kind of deal that they worked out whereby the Dionians and their fighters joined the Pegasusafter helping refit it, and in return got an opportunity for revenge against the Cylons for destroying their homeworld. As far as their loyalties lie, we're a distant second. At least that's how I see it." He gave a thumb's up to Flight Sergeant Elara as she waited for him in her own Shikra. Undoubtedly, she had had a brief chance to reunite with a few old friends as well, before he had summoned her to Alpha Bay.
"Lords, Starbuck, these are the people that you're fighting alongside. How can you trust them?" Boomer asked.
"Trust them? I chose Elara as my wingman, in case you hadn't noticed." He frowned as Boomer hung over the side of his ship looking at him searchingly, not understanding what he was trying to say." He sighed. "Honestly, they're good pilots and haven't really given me any reason not to trust them. Especially in combat. I don't want to give you the wrong idea, it's just that . . ." From the time he had first met Aeisha and the others, their people had seemed to conform, adjusting their initial licentious behavior accordingly until he found them acceptable, and then appropriate. And, ironically, even thatdidn't sit well with him. An entire crew of Dionians adapting to his requirements and moods as time moved on. It didn't make sense. But how did he explain that to his friends without sounding crazy . . . or egocentric. Don't forget paranoid, Bucko. "I don't know how to explain it, Boomer. I just don't know."
"Starbuck, how about I come over to the Pegasus with you?" Sheba suddenly suggested, also scaling his ship on the other side. "It would only take me a few centons. There's a Viper ready to go and I could catch up with a few old friends as well as . . ."
"No!" He hadn't meant for it to come out as sharp as it did, but instinctively he knew he needed to keep Sheba away from the Pegasus. Boomer looked at him in concern. Sheba in surprise. "I . . . uh . . . look, Sheba, your father will be over soon and expects to see you here. Part of the honorary welcome in the landing bay. Besides, I don't know what this 'internal matter' is. I'd rather you not get involved if something . . ." He was tempted to say 'evil', but he didn't know where that came from. He searched for a less alarming, more appropriate word, but couldn't seem to find one. In the end he shook his head mutely and shrugged dramatically, not understanding his jumbled thoughts and emotions, and certainly not being able to share them. He pulled on his helmet to cover his own discomposure.
"I think you could use a friend right now." Sheba replied cautiously. She tentatively put a hand on his arm, watching as he stared straight ahead, digesting her words, hiding his feelings.
"Or two." Boomer added. "Frankly, Starbuck, I'd like to know more about what's going on."
"You and me both, buddy." Starbuck replied in a low voice, before looking at his friends. "But now's not the time. I'll try to get back later, once I sort out this 'matter' . . . whatever the frack it is. We'll talk then. Could you tell Cassiopeia I needed to head back?"
"Of course." Boomer replied reluctantly. He had an uneasy feeling about all of this. Mostly he felt bad for Starbuck; one moment, on top of the world with happiness as he caught up with old friends, and the next, exiled back to the Pegasus by his former Commander. "Take care of yourself, buddy."
"Lords, Boomer, I'll probably see you in a couple centars." Starbuck replied with a chuckle and his trademark grin as he began readying his fighter. "You make it sound like I'm going on some kind of one-way mission."
"And we all know, he doesn't take one-way missions," Sheba retorted with a smile, recalling his words to her sectars ago as their landing party prepared to leave for Gamoray.
"Give a prize to the pretty lady hanging off my fighter." Starbuck winked at her. "Besides, there's a vintage ambrosa in the Officer's Club with my name on it."
"Is it in a bottle or a glass?" Sheba asked, her concern overshadowing her light-hearted remark as she tried to maintain the banter for Starbuck's sake. He smiled at her in return, and then uncharacteristically squeezed her hand. She returned the gentle pressure, not understanding what she was reading in his penetrating glance.
"A keg, I think." He replied finally, as she drew back and his canopy lowered into place. He nodded at them as they both patted the canopy in farewell before backing up from the Shikra.
Sheba sighed while she moved to join Boomer as they watched him launch. "That was just weird. From the moment we entered Commander Adama's quarters until Starbuck left. I don't know what to think. I get the idea he was hoping to talk to the Commander about what's happening, but Adama sent him away. What in Hades hole is going on, Boomer?"
Boomer let out a deep breath, wishing, as he had more than once, that he could have gone along with Starbuck. "I have a feeling that we're going to find out soon."
xxxxx
Cain didn't quite know what to expect from his Strike Captain when the canopy of the Shikra rose in the landing bay. The Commander scaled the fighter with all the agility of a man many yahrens his junior, until he was face to face with Starbuck. His son's hauntingly familiar blue eyes—almost identical to his mother's—settled on him with first surprise, and then barely concealed anger and resentment
"Listen. We don't have much time." Cain told him quietly. "I need you here on the Pegasus while I'm on the Galactica. I've told Tartarus that you're going to be brushing up on your command skills on the Bridge. He didn't like it, but he knows that he's only to issue orders if somehow you're unable to, or don't know what to do." That effectively put Starbuck in charge, while necessitating Tartarus be there for back-up. A routine part of the Bridge training for his Pegasus officers, and one he knew that Starbuck found particularly distasteful. Of course, the timing was unusual, but effective for his purposes.
"What are you up to?" Starbuck asked, his brow furrowing in consternation. "And why did you order my astrum back here so quickly?"
"You might be my son, but I still demand you treat me with due respect, Captain." Cain growled.
"Then tell me what the frack is going on . . . sir." Starbuck returned through gritted teeth. "What did you say to Commander Adama?"
Cain sighed, looking at the young man whose stark anger had faded to uncertainty and betrayal in the space of a few microns. Sagan sakes, the truth was he wished he could just come clean with Starbuck, but since the whole Baltar incident, the boy had shut him out completely. Tartarus had been trying his concerted best ever since to give Cain reason to lose confidence in his son. He realized to a certain extent that it had worked. The trouble was that any effect that Tartarus had on him, made him rethink the result. Over and over again.
"I need you in charge, son. I'm not leaving my ship in Tartarus' hands. And I don't want him on the Galactica." Cain told him with a sincerity he hoped the other could recognize. He searched Starbuck's eyes for any sign of maliciousness or triumph, but found only resignation and confusion in their depths. He had always considered himself a good judge of character, and if his gut feeling was right, he could depend on the young man. Still, that sense of uncertainty about how Starbuck had ended up so far from the Galactica after crashing, and that mystery as to how and why the Dionians had brought him back to life . . . Was Starbuck being somehow manipulated by the Dionians? Was he? Lords of Kobol, he needed to talk to Adama.
Starbuck nodded slowly. It was the most sensible thing Cain had said for sectons. "All right. You know, we touched on some of this a sectar or two ago, and you thought I'd been sniffing Viper vapours. That's part of the reason thatIwanted to talk to Commander Adama, but he ended up treating me more like a . . . a stranger, before he had me escorted directly back to the launch bay." If it had been someone besides Boomer and Sheba, he would have felt humiliated. As it was, he had still been crestfallen.
"That's my fault. Tartarus walked in after I had telecommed Adama. I wanted him to believe that he had me convinced that I couldn't trust you." Cain assured him. "I think he'll try and play us off against one another. If he does, play along."
"You think he's after command of the Pegasus?"
"I'm not sure. But that's why I couldn't risk taking care of Baltar myself. I didn't want to leave Tartarus in command."
Starbuck dropped his gaze for a moment before nodding. "Well, I hope you set things straight with Commander Adama. I have a lot of respect for that man, and I don't want him thinking that I'm some kind of barge louse. I want some answers when you get back."
"Who's giving the orders here?" Cain growled, his lips quirking as the younger man winced and remembered himself. "I hope I have some answers to give you, Starbuck," he replied as he climbed down, awaiting his Strike Captain.
Starbuck jumped down beside his father within microns. "Are you going to talk to Sheba?"
"About you?" Cain nodded. "I will. I don't know how she'll take the news. Her and her mother were very close. It might not be pretty."
"I'd rather she found out from you, than from a rumour circulating around the ship. Everyone on thePegasusknows the truth. It's bound to get out."
"I know. I'll take care of it. Just be prepared the next time you see her." Cain told him. He laid a hand on Starbuck's shoulder. "Take care of my ship, Captain."
"Yes, sir."
xxxxx
Adama couldn't help but think that for the second time in several sectars, Cain had returned from the dead . . . both times, bringing Starbuck with him. So he was almost surprised when the lieutenant . . . make that, strike captain, didn't follow the Juggernaut off the shuttle. Then again, he had the distinct impression that Cain wanted Starbuck kept away from the Galactica. That the Pegasus Commander was concerned about the effect his strike captain might have on Adama's crew. It was a chilling thought, and one that Adama was having trouble reconciling.
"Adama," Cain gripped his forearm fiercely after he strode past the honour guard. "The Galactica has a few new scars, my old friend."
"And the Pegasus as well, I can well imagine, Cain," Adama smiled, returning the grasp. He stood aside to where Lieutenant Sheba waited anxiously.
Cain's face lit up tenderly. "Sheba."
Sheba stepped into his open arms, holding tightly to her father, smiling at his whispered, "Baby". As Starbuck had said, he looked the same. The same strength, confidence and undeniable presence that she had known her entire life. She blinked back tears, refusing to let them fall in front of him. "I know you need to speak with Commander Adama, but I was hoping we could have some time afterwards . . ."
"Of course." Cain returned. "We have a lot of catching up to do, and . . . I need to speak to you about something."
"Starbuck?"
It took Cain aback. "Yes, but . . ."
"I already know you made him Strike Captain."
"Ah, I see." Cain nodded. After the close relationship she had shared with Zoltan, it wasn't a surprise that she would be shocked that he had finally appointed a new strike captain. In some ways, he realized that Starbuck being his son had influenced that decision. Then again, in the recesses of his memories, he was well aware that Tartarus had subtly suggested Starbuck's promotion days before Cain had made that decision. Again, the implied subtle manipulation didn't sit well with him. "Starbuck deserved that promotion, Sheba. He's worked miracles with Silver Spar Squadron."
"Starbuck's a good officer." Sheba nodded, then the glimmer of a smile appeared. "I'm not sure about a miracle worker, but he's a good officer."
"Yes, well, you might feel differently if you knew what he was up against." He shook his head at his memory of the unruly squadron that refused to cooperate until Starbuck, an outsider, had entered the picture. Commonly utilized in command structure before the Destruction, finding an officer from outside the Pegasus who could act impartially had been a pipedream at the time the Dionians had joined the crew. Again, Cain couldn't help but wonder how Starbuck had coincidentally arrived at the perfect time to help solve his command problems and boost his personal morale . . . He glanced towards Adama with a frown, hoping his old friend could offer some answers.
Beneath the usual Cain guise, Adama could sense the underlying unease. Something he had never before detected in the unflappable Commander Cain. "We have much to discuss, Cain. Shall we?" He motioned towards the turbo lift.
Cain nodded and waited for his compatriot to precede him. More disconcerting than anything else, he was getting an inexplicable sense that they were running out of time.