Chapter Twenty-Five
With his eyes closed, he could see brightly sparking lights that had to be the result of each of his nerve endings rapid firing, as Cassiopeia, bit by tortuous bit, ripped the flesh from his back. Starbuck held his breath, nausea overwhelming him as his tissue clung stubbornly to the field dressing, no matter how much irrigation solution the med tech claimed to be saturating it with. Of course, the good thing was he couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten anything—Black-Backed Bobak?—so it was unlikely his undulating stomach would actually betray him. Vaguely, he could feel Luana's fingers pushing his hair, damp with sweat, back off his forehead. She murmured in his ear, trying to offer some comfort.
"Almost done," Cassie assured him. "Don't forget to breathe. It will help you relax."
That was a likely story. He'd heard that old 'breathe' lecture more than once in his time, and in his experience, it was seemed to work better for the med tech, than the patient. What he really needed was more drugs, but the health team was of the opinion that he had reached his max just now, and that he could 'breathe his way through the pain' for the couple centons it would take to remove the dressing that someone had evidently bonded to his wound, probably with some form of Malus' condensed tylinium. "Just do it," he grunted at her, refusing to cede. He hung onto that breath like it was a lifeline, until his head began to swim, and the dizziness and nausea were more distracting than the pain.
Then the last piece was peeled off, and the agony ended, settling into a comparatively pleasant burn. He slumped into a boneless puddle of relief, finally releasing the breath he was holding, and sucking air back into his lungs.
Cassiopeia waited until Starbuck's breathing settled into a normal pattern, before leaning over him, and checking his wounds one more time before the Colonial shuttle was due to take off. Dr. Paye was awaiting her decision. As she had warned Starbuck, much of the tissue had a yellowish tinge to it, and was either beginning to slough, or stubbornly remain in place, preventing the application of the regeneration therapy. However, there were no signs of infection, so far, thus the significant pain the warrior was having was merely related to his wound, as well as the limited medications they could treat him with due to his pre-existing kidney condition. Relatively, it was good news.
"Well?" Paye asked.
"It's not ready. He needs surgical debridement," Cassie replied, feeling Starbuck tense beneath her hands.
"Agreed. But we can do that on the Galactica," Paye replied with a nod.
"Debridement?" Starbuck asked. He had thought this torture was all in aid of him starting the regeneration treatment.
"Removal of the necrotic tissue, Starbuck." She shook her head "The wound bed has to be viable with a good capillary bed for the regeneration therapy to work." Cassiopeia explained. "Good tissue won't grow on dead tissue."
The warrior groaned. "More surgery?"
"You want to fly a Viper again?" Starbuck didn't answer. "Thought so."
"Well, at least you'll be in a proper surgical suite with a sterile field. I, for one, am very excited about that." Paye replied dispassionately. Then he looked to his med tech. "Treatment?"
"Enzymatic and autolytic treatment until we get back to the Life Station." Cassie replied, pulling supplies from her med kit.
"Go ahead," Paye nodded, turning to find a place on the shuttle to call his own.
"Auto-what?" Starbuck asked irritably.
Ama had been circling him like a hungry predator toying with its tiring prey since they had left the Cylon Base. He knew that between his physical symptoms of discomfort, and the Necromancer's stalking, that he was losing his patience and his sense of humour. Besides, it hadn't occurred to him that a trip through the caverns on a hover-stretcher would leave him feeling hovermobile-sick. He was a Viper pilot, for Sagan's sake!
"These are treatments to start the debridement process, Starbuck." Cassie lowered her voice, as she saturated his wound once again, cleaning it. "It won't hurt."
"Right," he grunted, because it already did. He held his breath again, while she deftly applied auto-something-or-others and then another bandage.
"You know, breathing is necessary to get the oxygen to your brain, and I'm beginning to think you've been holding your breath a long, long time." Cassie teased him, trying to lighten the mood. "A cumulative effect perhaps."
Chameleon laughed from across the aisle where he and Ama sat watching. "He used to hold his breath to get his own way when he was a toddler." His face crinkled in fond remembrance. "I'd almost forgotten. His face would get so red, that Gabrielle would remark he was aptly named . . .."
"Chameleon." Starbuck growled.
The conman chuckled, raising his hands in self-defence. "I know. I know. Never mind."
"For a centon there, I thought we were going to finally find out Starbuck's given name." Ama posed, lifting her eyebrows in amusement.
"It's 'Starbuck'." the warrior replied determinedly. "Just like on the enlistment form!"
"He's not fond of his given name, I take it?" Ama smiled.
"He told me that he has a betting pool on it, so I've been sworn to secrecy." Chameleon returned with a sceptical glance at his son. "As well as banned from participating for obvious reasons. As to how much he likes it, I still remember the look on his face when I told him what it was. 'Delight' is not a word I would associate with it."
"What about a little hint?" Cassie smiled at the conman.
"He was the light of his mother's life," Chameleon returned, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at his son. "In fact, that's exactly what she was . . .".
"By the way, Dayton's going to marry Lu and I when we get to the Endeavour." Starbuck abruptly jumped in.
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It was too slow. Way too slow. The signal from the ancient Abaddon Base Ship had been transmitting into space for forty microns. That was almost enough time for any modern Hades class Base Ship to trace its origin, once its signal was received. Any more and the Cylons would be certainly be coming to investigate. Every additional micron put the Fleet more and more at risk. Suffering sweet Sagan, with the Galactica off to rendezvous with the rescue team, the Pegasus limping along in space, and this old tub only just starting to come back to life, it wasn't looking good. Sheba had signed off and was contacting the Galactica to update Commander Adama.
Meanwhile, they needed to stop the Cylon signal. They had tried every obvious option to them from cutting power to the electro-identification system, to shutting back down the reactor powering the ship. Nothing had worked. The controls had frozen, and were prompting them for an entry code that they simply didn't have. If only Dorado had a communications aficionado like Lieutenant Athena to give him some input. Or an officer with the experience of Adama, Cain, or Tigh. Instead, he had Bojay . . .who was just about ready to throttle Dr. Wilker.
"What did you do?" Bojay snapped. Usually even-tempered and easy-going, the captain looked close to losing his self-control. His eyes flew wildly over the Cylon control panels where they could see that the transponder was continuing to emit the deadly signal, but none of them had the faintest idea how to turn it off.
"I was simply bringing a few more systems on-line," Wilker replied, his brow furrowed as he pulled on his chin and frowned at the controls while Lieutenant Rooke randomly hit buttons, toggled switches, pulled levers, and adjusted knobs like some kind of mad scientist in a bad melodrama.
"Simply?" Bojay returned incredulously. "If you didn't know what you were doing, why didn't you wait for the frackin' Cylon consultant!"
"Sometimes you have to take chances . . ." Wilker explained himself, even as he leaned forward to try and figure out how to cut their losses.
"Not with a hundred-thousand civilian lives!" Bojay exploded, slamming a fist down on the control panel. "If the tin heads pick this up . . ."
"Bojay, enough!" Dorado snapped. As much as he hated to admit it, there was only one chance that they could kill the transmission in a hurry . . . other than having the Pegasus' missiles blow them to Hades hole, which he'd just as soon avoid, especially since this was technically his first command. "Where's that IL?"
On cue, Base Commander Malus entered the frenzied Control Centre, still flanked by Jolly and Giles.
"You called?" asked the IL.
"I'm Captain Dorado. I'm in charge." Dorado said, sweeping the commsuite with a wave of his hand. "Can you fix this?"
"Oh, my!" Malus intoned.
"What's happening?" Jolly asked, sensing the tension, knowing something was dreadfully wrong.
"Dr. Wilker was bringing some systems back on-line, and the computer initiated the electro-identification system. The transponder is sending some kind of coded Cylon signal, and we can't shut it down!" Dorado replied.
"How long has it been . . .?" Jolly checked his chrono.
"A centon. Now." Dorado replied, glancing at his chrono. He could feel sweat trickling down his temples. With a snarl, he pulled his weapon, aiming it at Malus. "If you're really switching sides, you have about five microns to turn this thing off, or I'm going to bust your bobble, bub."
"Bust my bobble?" Malus repeated. "I must say, I think that's my favourite. The alliteration is particularly enchanting."
In three short steps, the IL crossed to the Control Centre, touched a smooth area of the console, and opened an access port that up until then, none of the others had noticed. He was abruptly surrounded by laser-toting Colonial Warriors, each muzzle aimed at his head..
"What are you doing?" Dorado asked suspiciously.
"I'm interfacing with the main computer to shut down the electro-identification beacon that is being transmitted this very centon towards Cylon," Malus replied, his right hand pausing mere centimetrons from the access port, his smallest digit a stump in comparison to the other "fingers", but poised to connect.
"Are you going to trust a Cylon! It could have initiated all this with its internal transponders!" Dr. Wilker warned them.
"A centon, ten microns." Brie announced sharply.
"We had Malus disable the internal transponders before we left the Galactica on Commander Adama's orders," Jolly told them. He held up his scanner. "We've been monitoring for signals ever since. They're still dysfunctional. If the IL had something to do with this, I don't know what it could be."
"And I'm less of a Cylon for it . . ." Malus returned, glancing at Dorado. "Well, Captain?"
"Do it!"
Malus plugged into the port, his digit auto-rotating into position with a whirring sound. His lights seemed to intensify, as though his power circuits were affected.
"What's taking so long?" Bojay demanded.
"I need to input my command code." Malus replied. "Quiet, please."
"I can't believe this," muttered Giles, looking at his fellow warriors. "A Cylon just told us to shut up."
"Shut up, Giles." Jolly snapped, then he winced at his own tone, lightly punching the warrior in the shoulder. "Feel better now?"
"Loads."
Above them, on a display, the schema of the ship's entire communication system was displayed. In a rapid sequence of images, the routes and paths throughout the ship's systems were highlighted. After just over three and a half microns, a graphic of a system node began flashing, and Cylon script raced by too fast for any save Malus to follow. The node flashed, and then went dark. The commsuite also went dark, and the signal died. With his other hand, Malus pressed several keys, lighting up a few controls again, and then he removed his finger from the data port.
"The signal has stopped," said Wilker, scanning.
"There," said Malus, turning to Bojay. "From data I retrieved, as well as diagnostic studies I just performed, it seems as though the ship was exposed to a solar flare a hundred yahrens ago. She's been dark since then. It's automatic for a ship that long out of contact with Cylon, to transmit a homing beacon for investigation and retrieval purposes. The ship's long-range transmitter has been deactivated, the entire system put on stand-by. It is now in passive mode."
"Can we contact the Fleet?" asked Giles.
"You can access the short-range system by inputting a code, Lieutenant," replied Malus. He indicated one screen. "By entering the code 'STARBUCK', low-gain communications with your ship will be possible."
"Starbuck?" asked Bojay. Jolly snorted in laughter, elbowing Giles. "Well, whatever boosts your Base Ship, I guess."
"The long-range system would also require an access code to reactivate, but I have put the system in programming mode."
"Meaning?" asked Wilker.
"Meaning you can reset the code to one of your choosing, Doctor. The current code is an alpha-numeric sequence, GH43K6VDS0947HQMP8206GHHGKJGHDF8754BGHGFGYF5467 FGF4994437HVGHFDJNK009773745VDFGHJKC, followed by a graphic sequence, )(&#"+!!+-. In its current state, you can replace this with a code of your choice." Malus turned his back to them, and his optical scanners shut down. "Now you may devise a code of your choosing, one that will be unknown to myself." For a few microns, no one said anything. "You see," said Malus, "I really do mean it when I said I pledge fealty to your Commander. Lieutenant Starbuck and Captain Apollo have put their reputations and honour on the line to advocate for me. I do not intend to let them down."
"Uhh. . ." said Wilker.
"Right," said Bojay, unable to take his eyes off of Malus for a moment. "Well, let's do it, Doc."
"New code, going in now," said Wilker.
"I hope to God it has a few less characters." Giles whispered to Jolly.
"All right. Get me Captain Sheba on the Pegasus." Dorado told Rooke.
"What do I look like, a Communications Officer?" Rooke returned.
"Far from it, you're not pretty enough." Dorado returned. "But do it anyway."
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Other than the warm, firm pressure of Lu squeezing his hand, to Starbuck it almost seemed as if time had stopped. Ama and Chameleon were starring at them from where they sat in the shuttle. Chameleon was frowning, and his eyes dropped from his son's as if in disappointment. Starbuck realized at that moment he hadn't thought this through from all angles. What a surprise, Bucko. Something that's never happened before! Chameleon pulled on his chin, like a man in need of a sonic shave, but sat quietly, in thought.
Ama climbed to her feet, regarding them with a face that could have been carved of stone. She held her hands out before her, palms upwards, as if she was about to beseech her beloved Triquetra for guidance, or berate her for not watching the children. "Did you both forget that we have an Empyrean Imperial Wedding planned for the Vernal Equinox with four hundred guests coming? I've checked the stars, and it is the most favourable day for the Goddess to bless your union."
Starbuck blinked, expecting her to blast him into next secton, or turn him into a particularly memorable form of slime mould, not explain about fortuitous dates for holy matrimony. "Must have slipped my mind." He didn't even recall inviting Triquetra . . . but then again, he hadn't seen the Goddess list. Now, it could have been the drugs, but . . . "Is Triquetra free today?" He glanced at his chrono. "Say, in fifteen centons, or so?"
A lesser man would have withered and died beneath her glare. As it was, he felt sure he lost some fluids.
"For Sagan's sake, Ama, Starbuck could have died today! Lords, we both almost died yesterday." Luana inserted heatedly, her dark eyes flashing dangerously as she stepped forward to meet her scowling Godmother head on. "I'm not going to waste any more time waiting to get sealed. We don't know how much of it we have left. Hades Hole, the way things are going, we may not even get off this planet."
"I ought to turn the both of you into porcines . . ." Ama sputtered, shaking her head at them as though they were ill-mannered children.
"Porcine or not, Dayton's marrying us as soon as we reach the Endeavour," Starbuck returned, effectively ending the debate. Or so he hoped. He glanced at his father who seemed to be studying his hands. Closely. "But . . . we'd rather be sealed with your approval. And your presence. Chameleon?" The old conman's lips tightened marginally and then he sighed. Starbuck hesitated, still having trouble getting that word to pass his lips, even—or especially—after all this time . . . "Father?"
The conman looked at him then, smiling slightly. He considered them both for a moment, as Luana's hand curled back around his son's. "Time is precious, Starbuck. I won't argue that point. At least tell us this was a sudden decision."
"Well, we didn't plan ahead to get vaporized, and then have the Endeavour crash land in a rescue attempt, if that's what you're wondering." The warrior returned his smile with a wry grin.
"We didn't crash land . . .!" Dayton interrupted from several seats away.
Ryan smacked him in the back of the head. "Stay out of it."
Starbuck smiled, meeting his father's eyes. "Believe me, if I had wanted to elope, I would have done a better job than this."
"No, I don't suppose you did plan it." Chameleon replied with a slight smile. He stood, taking Ama's hand in his own. "Empyrean tradition aside, Ama, they're in love and want to be sealed. Why stand in the way of that?"
"Chameleon?" she murmured, looking at him sceptically.
The conman smiled, turning to the young couple. "Time with the one we love is a blessed gift that we often take advantage of as we're living it. Treasure it, each and every day."
"We plan to," Starbuck nodded, knowing the old conman was speaking from experience. While he had only heard parts of the story, he knew that his father's time with his mother had been all too brief.
Ama sighed tortuously. "I suppose I could explain that Starbuck was near death, and put an incredibly romantic spin on it all. The romance of the yahren, upsets the social event of the yahren."
"You're not far off on the death angle, at least," Dayton added pointedly.
"Exactly." Boomer added, walking forward to the flight deck from where he was stowing some gear. "Everybody find a seat, we'll be taking off in three centons."
"Commander Dayton, this ceremony you'll be performing, is it sanctified?" Ama asked, as she sat down nearby, .
"Uh, well, actually . . ." Dayton murmured, pulling at his collar. Starbuck shot him a look that should have had him regaling her with reassurances, but he found he just couldn't lie to the Necromancer.
"Absolutely," Ryan leaned over his friend, not so affected. "Sanctified by the King—even if he's not personally in the building—and Blue Hawaii."
"Oh yeah," rasped Dayton, his throat suddenly dry.
"I see." Ama added dubiously. "I'm wondering, with all due respect to the King, if I might say a few words at the conclusion of your Earth ceremony?"
"By all means." Dayton nodded in relief. They might just be legally married when all this was done. And he wouldn't be explaining himself to Commander Adama, or anyone else, anytime soon. "I'm sure that would mean a lot to Luana and Starbuck." He glanced at the youngsters meaningfully. "Wouldn't it?"
Starbuck looked up at Lu, and then back to them, nodding. While the Necromancer hadn't come out and called their bluff, she obviously had a strong feeling that Dayton wasn't exactly qualified to marry them by Colonial standards. Still, their Earth friend saying a few words, and incorporating some Earth tradition to unite them in a bond that had been sanctified thousands of yahrens before by the holy Lords of Kobol, just seemed to add to the upcoming moment. While Luana didn't really care whether their union was approved and recognized by their society, truthfully he did. Maybe that's why his voice was choked with emotion when he replied, "Yeah, it would."
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"By-your-command,."
"Speak, Centurion." Lucifer responded by rote, turning to face the centurion from atop his pedestal. Or Baltar's old pedestal. The IL had tried it out repeatedly, trying to discover just what it was that the Human traitor had liked about sitting so high above them all, exactly as the Imperious Leader had. With their Cylon leader, it was a symbol of prestige and power. With Baltar, Lucifer had decided, it was more the illusion of superiority.
"A-signal-is-being-received."
"A signal?" asked Lucifer. "What kind?"
"Cylon."
"A Cylon signal?" Lucifer descended from the pedestal. "From the Empire?"
"No. It-is-from-the-quadrant-ahead."
"Ahead? Are-you-certain?"
"Confirmed." Lucifer leaned close, to examine the data.
"I do not recognize that code identification, Centurion."
"Computer-has-identified-it, sir. It-is-from-an-Abaddon-class-Base-Ship."
"Abaddon? Those were scrapped deca-yahrens ago."
"The-identity-code-matches-an-Abaddon-class-vessel-listed-as-missing-one-hundred- yahrens-ago. The-Harrower." As the centurion spoke, the signal stopped.
"What happened?"
"The-signal-has-stopped." The centurion worked the controls, but there was nothing.
"Did you get a fix?"
"There-was-interference, but-the-signal-originated-somewhere-in-an-area-comprising-this-arc-of-space. Minimum-distance-approximately-four light-yahrens." On his screen, a wide swath of space was highlighted, consisting of over three thousand cubic light-yahrens of space.
"Continue trying to narrow it down, Centurion."
"By-your-command."
"And alter course. Begin moving into the highlighted region. Scanners at full sweep, point nine light-speed."
"By-your-command."
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It was almost surreal. Rather like a melodramatic old tearjerker, as they manipulated the hover-stretcher out of the Colonial shuttlecraft, and steered Starbuck towards the Endeavour, Luana alongside, holding his hand. Lia had done her best to clean up her sister, and it was amazing what a clean uniform and a radiant smile of happiness had done to improve her dishevelled appearance. Her long brown hair, was brushed out and blowing in the breeze, and she loosely held a bouquet of purple wildflowers in her free hand. Starbuck had settled for a clean flight jacket being draped over his shoulders, and a thorough dousing of his face and hair. It was the most casual sealing any of them had attended, but somehow it just felt appropriate, the usual nervousness and formality of such a moment replaced by a simple hope and joy. Paye and Cassie waved them ahead, smiling in amusement as Ryan started humming some old tune that Dayton informed Cassie was a traditional wedding march.
"Was it sanctified by your King?" asked Hummer, as Porter burst out laughing and Dayton pelted Ryan with a wildflower.
As they approached the ancient Earth vessel, circling around it, the other Earthlings joined in. Starbuck wondered aloud if anyone had remembered the ambrosa and ale, and the mood became even more festive . . . Until they tried to get the hover-stretcher aboard.
"It's not going to fit." Apollo pointed out the obvious. The hatch wasn't meant to carry stretchers through.
"Get me in there!" Starbuck whispered urgently to both Apollo and Boomer as he made to slip off the stretcher.
Apollo exchanged looks with Boomer, but Starbuck's arm was already snaking around his shoulder, and the captain instinctively stepped forward to support his weight as he slid forward. "Dr. Paye said . . . "
"What Dr. Paye doesn't know won't hurt me," Starbuck hissed, wincing as Boomer moved in on his other side. In a micron he was aboard, Luana shaking her head at him as Ryan and Dayton manipulated the hover-stretcher in behind them on its side.
"All aboard," Ryan announced as the Colonial Warriors once again loaded their friend on his stretcher. He remained sitting on the side, his legs dangling over the edge.
"Hang on to this thing, Buddy," Starbuck advised Apollo, patting the side of the stretcher, his other hand resting over his bandage. He blew out a breath, adjusting his position. "I don't want it launching during the ceremony."
Luana chuckled, leaning over to kiss the warrior. "If it does launch, you can bet I'll be shooting it down." She clasped hands with him and sat beside him, giggling. "There, now if you manage to flee, I'll be with you every kilometron of the way."
"Sounds good to me," he returned, plucking a single stemmed flower from her bouquet and tucking it behind her ear. It defied him, and fell into her lap. They laughed together, then he kissed her, backing off slightly. "You look beautiful."
"I take it we're defying Doctor's orders?" Chameleon asked with a frown.
"I can't get sealed without defying someone or something." Starbuck winked at Lu. "It wouldn't be natural."
"Isn't that the truth," quipped Boomer.
"Shh." Lu smiled, raising a finger to her lips, her eyes trained on the hatch.
Cassie stepped aboard, two more bunches of freshly picked wild flowers clutched in her hands. She eyed Starbuck dubiously, arching an eyebrow, but held her tongue as she handed a bouquet to Lia, then scattered the remaining flowers with a wild abandon that suited the occasion.
"It needed a little something." Cassie smiled at the couple, then squeezed Dayton's hand briefly before he moved to join the nearly-weds.
"Sure did," chirped Ryan. "Early NASA just doesn't cut it."
"It's been a while, folks, so bear with me." Dayton murmured, looking a little uncomfortable as everyone found a place to stand. "Uh . . . maybe this is a stupid question, but what about rings?"
"Rings?" Starbuck asked, shaking his head in bemusement, and glancing at Apollo.
Dayton encircled his ring finger on his left hand with a finger. His own wedding ring was long gone, taken from him by one of Torg's underlings while his belly was on fire from the pain of the Obediator. "You don't wear rings when you get married . . . er, sealed?"
"No. Why would we?" Apollo asked, standing beside the stretcher on the other side.
"As a symbol of your commitment?" Dayton suggested.
"And to clearly let everyone else know that you're both off limits from this point forward." Ryan added with a grin.
Luana smiled, glancing mischievously at her man. "Hmm. Maybe that's not such a bad idea."
"Oh, I think word will get around. Not to worry." Starbuck returned with a weak grin.
"Traditionally, our people have done a hand-fasting ceremony, Mark-Dayton. Though I believe that some cultures do wear sealing bands. It's not common though." Ama told him. She fingered her Empyrean Talisman, secured around her neck with a cord. "I'll take care of that part."
Dayton nodded. "Then let's begin."
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"Commander," said Rigel. "The shuttle is entering the planet's atmosphere, Sir."
Adama nodded, "Thank you." His eyes reflexively ran over the scanners. Though the electro-identification beacon from the Abaddon Base Ship had been disabled by the IL, according to reports by both Sheba and Dorado, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease weighing heavily upon his shoulders.
"Also, an update on the comet, sir." She put it up on a monitor.
"ETA?"
"That's just it, sir. Its trajectory and speed have been altered by the gravity of the last planet it passed by. We've gained a little time."
"How much?" asked Colonel Tigh.
"Approximately. . .forty-four centons, sir."
"Commander!" said Athena. "A message from our long-range patrol."
"Yes?"
"Unidentified contact at extreme range. Fuel low, returning to Galactica."
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"By-your-command," said Centurion Moray.
"Yes?" Lucifer, just entering the Control Centre of the Base Ship.
"Our-patrol-has-reported-a-contact. At-extreme-range."
"Identity?"
"Unknown."
"I see," replied the IL. Lucifer mulled this information for a few milli-centons, then made a decision. "Is our patrol aboard, Centurion?"
"It-will-land-in-twenty-centons."
"Once it is aboard, lay in a course for the position of the new contact. Flank speed."
"By-your-command."
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Dayton took a deep breath, searching for the words. It really had been a long time. "Dearly beloved . . .we are gathered here in the presence of God . . ." He paused as Ama raised an eyebrow. " . . .the Goddess Triquetra . . ." Ama nodded at him, her approval clear. ". . . and these witnesses, to join Starbuck and Luana in holy matrimony."
Starbuck lightly brushed his lips over Luana's fingers, smiling as she grinned in complete happiness back at him. Somehow he had thought she would be breaking into tears. Instead, she looked as though she would spontaneously burst in gales of laughter. It was infectious. He grinned inanely back at her. Then he glanced back at Dayton who had paused, seemingly at a sudden loss for words.
"Uh . . ." Dayton glanced a little desperately at Ryan who moved forward and whispered in his ear. The Earth commander nodded his thanks, his features relaxing. Then he smiled and continued. "When somebody loves you, it's no good unless he loves you . . . all the way." He smiled as his friends nodded their approval. Porter started humming softly. Dayton cleared his throat, now singing, hoping old Blue Eyes wasn't turning over in his grave. "Happy to be near you, when you need someone to cheer you . . . all the way." Ryan, Porter and even Dickins joined in. His own personal Rat Pack. All he needed was a casino, a drink, and some seriously over-tailored suits. "Taller than the tallest tree is, that's how it's got to feel. Deeper than the deep blue sea is, that's how deep it goes if it's real."
The Earthmen had reverted to their native tongue, so Starbuck didn't understand many of the words to the song, but the harmony of their voices along with the melody conveyed the sentiment. It brought a sudden and unexpected moisture to his eyes. Just being there amongst his closest friends and his family—Chameleon, Apollo, Boomer, Ama, Lia, Cassiopeia, Ryan, Porter, and Dickins—with all of them doing their best to try and throw together an Earth-style ceremony, just for the sentimental value and fun of it, suddenly overwhelmed him. Even though Hummer and Dr. Paye lurked in the background, they were clearly enjoying the moment as well. Starbuck could feel his throat tightening, and an uncomfortable pressure in his chest. Lu looked so beautiful and radiant in her joy. She was having a great time. It was hard to believe that he had thought this moment might never happen. He had once figured that he couldn't even approach thinking about getting sealed until they found Earth. However, finding the right person, had an ironic way of changing a guy's mind. He let out a raspy breath, blinking, and trying to keep his emotions in check. It was a losing battle. Lu smiled at him lovingly, raising a soft and gentle hand to wipe away his errant tear.
"When somebody needs you, it's no good unless he needs you . . .all the way. Through the good or lean years, and for all the in-between years, come what may. Who knows where the road will lead you, only a fool would say. But if you'll let him love you, it's for sure he's gonna love you, all the way. All . . . the . . . way."
Dayton smiled at the young couple before him, before continuing. "Starbuck, do you take Luana to be your wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?"
Starbuck blew out a breath, and chuckled. "You mean we get to talk?"
The group broke out in quiet laughter.
"Yes, but this may be your last opportunity to be heard." Dayton quipped, winking at Luana. He looked back to the young man. "How about it, kid?"
Starbuck nodded, kissing Luana's fingertips once again before replying, "You bet."
Dayton smirked. Not the usual response, but in this case, entirely appropriate to the groom. "Luana, do you take Starbuck to be your wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?"
"By all the Lords, I do." She grinned, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
"Well then, by the power invested in me by Earth fables, folklore and fiction, and the fact that you forced me into it. . ." Starbuck and Luana laughed. "I hereby declare you man and wife." Dayton paused, nodding at the groom. "You may kiss the bride."
"I just know I'm gonna love Earth," Starbuck grinned as he leaned forward, gently caressing Luana's cheek before he kissed her.
Then the group erupted into well wishes, pats on the backs and hugs from all involved. Within a couple centons, Starbuck was once again being helped through the hatch as those assembled moved outside at the Necromancer's request. A spattering of something landed on him, and he looked for the source. For some reason, Porter was throwing tiny seeds, pulled from one of the tall grasses, at the couple. Starbuck shook his head in bemusement, then suddenly felt dizzy just before his astrum hit the stretcher once again. Altitude adjustment. Luckily, it settled in a micron. Paye scowled at the warrior, and Cassie simply rolled her eyes knowingly.
Apollo paused as Starbuck blew out a breath between his teeth, lying down slowly and gingerly. There was no mistaking his sudden pallor. "You're looking sore, Bucko. Do you want me to get Cassie?" the captain asked in concern.
Starbuck shook his head, his breathing audible as he tried to relax. "No. I can just hear the guys in the billet when they find out I was getting sealed while under the influence of narcotics." He smiled slightly. "I'm fine."
"You're sure?" Boomer asked, gripping his arm and looking him in the eye.
"Hopefully, it'll be short and sweet." Starbuck returned as he settled himself, then smiled wryly. "And I'm not talking about the marriage."
"You'd better not be," Luana growled. "Are you ready for this?"
While Dayton's ceremony was more symbolic, this one was for keeps. Which was exactly why Ama had stepped in. While she would rather they had waited for the Imperial Wedding, with every last Empyrean tradition observed to the very letter, she wasn't going to tolerate them becoming man and wife unless it was sanctified by a holy rite recognized by their people.
"I'm ready." Starbuck nodded, shifting himself into a sitting position. He bit his lip as a sharp pain stabbed him in the gut, and a wave of nausea washed over him . . .but the Necromancer often had that effect on him. Ama joined them, turning around to address the others as she drew near.
"Form a circle around Luana and Starbuck, all of you." Ama told them, waiting patiently for the others to do so. A warm breeze blew through her hair and she ran her fingers through it, closing her eyes and smiling up at the sun as it seemed to shine a little brighter and warmer upon them. "Triquetra, give us the holy honour of your presence at this most sacred of rituals."
A rumble came from the heavens itself, and the small party gasped in wonder. Then a Colonial shuttle and two Vipers broke through the cloud cover in the distance. Quiet laughter broke out.
"It's the flight crew and escort. The Galactica must be in orbit." Apollo watched the craft draw nearer.
"I almost had you there," Ama grinned at them, winking at her goddaughters. Then she stepped forward and took Luana's hand. "Daughter." She leaned forward tenderly kissing the young woman on one cheek, then embraced her lightly, touching their foreheads together. She reluctantly released the young woman, and then moved to the stretcher, taking Starbuck's hand this time. "Son of my heart." She smiled as he considered her uncertainly. "What is it, Starbuck?"
"I didn't think to ask, is this a ritual requiring my blood?" He'd had enough experiences with the Necromancer stabbing him for various reasons, all of them highly suspect.
Ama smiled. "I believe you've shed enough for one day." Then she leaned forward, reaching behind his head, and pulling him forward until their foreheads met. She stood thus for a long moment, before abruptly pulling back and considering him again.
"What?" he asked, feeling the strange tingling sensation that had pleasantly enveloped him, erasing his pain, start to dissipate.
"I don't think so." She murmured, but cast her gaze upwards once again.
"Ama?" Luana asked.
The Necromancer turned back towards them, lifting her Empyrean Talisman, and removing its cord from around her neck. Again she took their hands, and placed Luana's in Starbuck's.
She paused for a moment, before loosely entwining hands and cord. The Talisman itself she tucked into their combined grip, her own hand resting atop theirs. "Luana and Starbuck, on this most cherished of days, in the presence of Triquetra, I declare you sealed. May the light of the Lords of Kobol bless your union from now until eternity."
Starbuck leaned forward to tenderly brush his lips against Lu's. His felt oddly numb. "I love you," he breathed.
Luana smiled, feeling Ama pulling the amulet and cord free, but the warmth and slight pressure from the tether seemed to linger. "I love you too."
Ama then glanced at the physician. "You'd better do a scan, Dr. Paye. I believe Starbuck's in trouble. Medically, that is." Then she looked skyward once again, "Sorry, but you can't have him. He's spoken for."
It seemed for a moment as if the sky rumbled again, only this time, it couldn't be attributed to Vipers.