The full moon was reflecting off the pool as Starbuck arrived at Paradise. He briefly thought perhaps that meant the following morning would be sunny, but then remembered where he was. A sighting of the moon during the rainy season was likely a rare occurrence. He laid down his clean clothes wrapped in his jacket, attempting to keep them dry and tucked his weapon beneath them. Dang, the air was cold. He reluctantly stripped off his malodorous clothing and dumped it on the ground. Burn or bury? Decisions, decisions. He sighed. Let's get this over with, Bucko.
He grabbed his soap and plunged into the cold water. Frack! He quickly lathered up every centimetron of his body and rinsed off. The odour slightly decreased, but he still reeked. Oh, terrific. Maybe I should just roll in the purple Panthelons. He lathered and scrubbed, lathered and scrubbed, lathered and scrubbed. Frackin' Curse! Frackin' Empyreans! Frackin' planet!
"Don't move." A soft, assertive voice ordered. He froze. Sagan, he was already freezing. He looked over to see a beautiful young woman with dark hair, tied back off her face. She was aiming an ancient weapon at him. A very deadly arrow pointed his way. He became painfully aware that his only weapon was the putrid odour that stubbornly clung to his body. He dropped the soap.
"Did you want to get that?" Another soft voice from the other direction giggled in his direction. He looked over to where she was, but she was standing in the shadows. The only thing he could clearly see was that she had a similar weapon to her companion. Both arrows were loaded onto a wooden stock with a propulsion mechanism. "Raise your hands," she added. He slowly complied.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"We'll ask the questions," the young woman in the shadows responded. "Start walking slowly towards the stream," she ordered him.
He paused, now acutely aware of his state of undress. "Uh. . ."
"Move it, handsome."
"The name's Starbuck. Could I have my clothes?" he asked, thinking not only of his modesty, but the laser hidden beneath his clothing.
"No. Now, move it."
He slowly waded to the stream flowing away from the pool. He was relieved to find it was still fairly deep. The bottom was softly covered in silt. The women flanked him on either side of the stream motioning for him to continue upstream. They were both young and fit. They kept their weapons aimed on him, while keeping a safe distance from him. He sighed to himself as he tried to think of a plan. What was he supposed to do, splash them? He could imagine Commander Adama's voice: Starbuck, how do you get yourself into these situations?