Consequence
Of Alliance
-Chapter 5-
Apollo watched as Starbuck expertly piloted the shuttle into the far end of the prison barge's landing bay. He knew, as the senior officer, he should really be the one doing that, but his friend had insisted, privately thinking that maybe the Captain wasn't quite fit to fly. He would have denied it if asked, but Apollo knew it was true. Normally, worry made him work more efficiently, but this time was different. The fact that it was Sheba was throwing him off, much as he tried his best to concentrate. Thoughts of what she was going through on that shuttle plagued his mind, weaving tangled webs of worry, fear and guilt in the deepest recesses of his soul.
He looked urgently out towards the shuttle he knew contained the Great Traitor. It was far enough from the door connecting the bay with the rest of the ship to rule that out as an escape route. If Baltar tried to get out that way, Apollo would see him.
There was a large enough space between his shuttle and theirs to make it a good ground for the exchange Apollo hoped to make. But he would have to make sure that the barge's security guards were out of the way first.
"Starbuck," he began quietly, "I want you to go to the bridge. They must know by now that Baltar's free. Explain that *we're* going to stop him and that they've not to interfere."
"What are you going to be doing?" his friend asked, already knowing the answer.
For a centon, Apollo didn't reply, his gaze still fixed on the traitor's shuttle. Finally, he turned to look Starbuck straight in the eye. "Whatever I have to."
He reached over and started to activate the shuttle's comm unit, oblivious to the worried look exchanged between Starbuck and Cassiopeia.
*~*
Baltar hadn't moved from his seat for what seemed like an eternity, much to Sheba's relief. The slightest movement made her dizzy. Twice she thought she had blacked out again after moving her head just a bit too quickly. In her injured state, she could see no possible way for her to escape. Her hands and feet were bound, though with what she wasn't sure, she was badly hurt and even if she wasn't the Great Traitor hadn't taken his eyes off of her, even in his apparent deep thought.
She couldn't tell just how badly she was injured, but the blows to the head she had taken, she was sure, were serious. Apart from feeling light-headed, not to mention cold, her vision seemed to be deteriorating, blurring so she could no longer see things clearly, making everything around her seem to take on a darker hue. She didn't think she could move her arms and legs even if they had been free of their bonds and the blood that had run from her nose earlier, though it had stopped quite quickly, was now threatening to drip out again.
Without warning, Baltar stepped forward and grabbed her wrist roughly, twisting it to look at her time piece. It took all of Sheba's will power to stop herself being sick at his sudden movement, even more so when she realised from the almost joyful look on the traitor's face that Adama's centar was up.
Her arm flopped back down; she had no control over it whatsoever. As she had feared, there would be no way she could escape while Baltar's back was turned.
She watched him move once again towards the comm system and activate it, deftly pressing buttons and adjusting to the frequency he desired. His eyes lit up as, surprisingly, he got straight through to the Commander.
"Baltar," she heard him greet the traitor, obviously trying to keep the emotion, the anger and disgust, from his voice.
"Adama." Baltar smiled, certain he had won. "Your centar is up. Have you made a decision?"
The Commander nodded solemnly, doing his best not to look towards Sheba. "Yes."
He could almost feel the sickening wave of anticipation, the smugness radiating from Baltar, as he realised what Adama's decision was going to be. Nevertheless, the traitor had to hear it from the Commander's own lips, had to savour the moment he had waited so long to experience.
"And that would be?"
"Release Lt. Sheba now and I will surrender myself to you," Adama said flatly, giving the traitor no assurances as to his feelings.
"You expect me to free her this very centon? With no guarantee that you will fulfil your end of the bargain?" Baltar inquired. Did he take him for a complete and utter fool?
"I will land on the prison barge in one centar from now. You will meet me in the middle of the bay and make the exchange," he replied coldly.
"You will come alone?"
Adama paused. "Yes."
"And unarmed?"
"Yes," he sighed. He had no choice, if Apollo and Starbuck's plan was going to work.
"One centar, then." Baltar smiled smugly once again, new confidence gained from the defeated tone of Adama's voice.
"One centar," Adama whispered. *God speed, my son.*
*~*
Almost as soon as Baltar cut off the transmission, the comm unit beeped, announcing that someone else was trying to contact the shuttle. Surprised, the traitor reactivated the unit, his mouth falling open with shock when he saw just who it was.
"A-Apollo," he stammered as he tried to recover himself from the glare of those green eyes. How could *he* be here? Surely he would have known if. . . Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Captain's shuttle, sitting, close to the wall, on the other side of the bay, in the very spot where his father was supposed to land, one centar from now. What was going on?
Sheba had been paying little attention to Baltar's discussion with Adama, not particularly wanting to hear the hidden intent underneath his orchestrated lies, but, as before, she immediately lifted at the mention of the Captain. She really didn't want Apollo to see her like this, didn't want to think about the pain he would feel, but for him to rescue her from this ordeal, she would have done almost anything. Turning her head as slowly as she could, yet still managing to bring on a wave of nausea, she strained to see him.
As cool and calm as he had managed to be with Baltar, when Sheba lifted her head and fixed those deep brown eyes on him, Apollo very nearly lost it. In those dark embers, he could sense a plea from the very deepest reaches of her soul calling out to him for help but, as much as he wanted to take time to reassure her, he couldn't let his eyes linger on her for more than a micron; he had to concentrate on Baltar. Even so, in the brief moment their eyes met, more passed between them than could ever have been spoken. Feelings so intimate, they could not be ignored; so powerful, they could never die; so tender and loving, they could be denied no longer.
His green eyes took in her pale face, the cut to her forehead, the blood, the tears. . . Baltar would pay for the pain he had caused her, if it took the rest of his life, Apollo swore he would pay. His own tears threatened to well up but he angrily willed them away; this was not the time to be sidetracked by his own feelings. He had something more important to do.
"Did you want something, Captain?" Baltar inquired, making Apollo realise how long he had been silent.
The mocking tone of his voice made Apollo wish with all his being that the traitor was here in front of him, close enough to wipe that smug smile of his full features, close enough to make sure he never harmed anyone again.
Breaking the fragile link that held him with Sheba, it took all of his strength to look towards Baltar and muster an answer. "I want to make a deal."
"Oh?" Baltar kept his tone flat, not wanting the confusion he was sure was etched on his face to show through in his voice. What could Apollo possibly want?
The Captain kept his eyes fixed firmly on Baltar's face. He knew if he looked towards Sheba again, he wouldn't be able to look away. Apollo swallowed, concentrated on keeping his voice steady. "A trade," he said. "As a hostage, I'm more valuable. You release her, and take me instead."
Sheba was visibly stunned. Shocked would be a more appropriate word. Her mouth hung open, her head shaking in disbelief. "No," she said weakly, her voice raising as she continued. "Apollo, no. You can't-"
"Quiet!" Baltar snapped, still trying to take this in. Apollo, Adama's *son*, was offering himself in exchange for Sheba exactly as his father had less than ten centons ago. This was almost unbelievable. But, of course, he was right; as the Commander's son, he was far more valuable than the woman he was currently holding hostage.
Sheba glared back at him defiantly, but yet another wave of sickness, worse than all the others left her motionless against the cold metal of the shuttle wall. Worse still, a sudden sharp pain in her head threatened to pull her back into the dark oblivion of unconsciousness again.
Apollo watched Baltar's eyes as they lit up with excitement at the obvious guarantee of capturing Adama, of finally attaining the victory he had obsessed over for the last two yahrens.
The traitor studied his face, trying to determine if he was truly serious. Finding nothing to tell him otherwise, Baltar allowed himself to smile.
"Very well, Apollo," he said, amused at the similarity to the negotiations he had been making with both father and son. "You will meet me outside in ten centons. You will come alone and unarmed."
"What about a med-tech?" the Captain asked. "She has no weapon."
Baltar looked to Sheba. He really hadn't meant to hit her so hard, and judging from her steadily deteriorating condition, she did seem to be hurt quite badly. "All right," he said cautiously, "But she must stay back until you and I have returned to the shuttle. After that, she is to take the Lieutenant back to her own craft and stay there."
"Can't she take her to the barge's Life Station?"
"No," he said flatly. "No-one is to come into or go out of this bay."
Apollo could see there would be no changing his mind. As long as he got Sheba away from the traitor and out of danger, it would be enough. But then, would it? What if. . .
He pushed the thoughts away as he nodded his agreement of Baltar's terms.
"Fine." He paused. "But if you don't go through with this deal, I'll make sure you never make another one. And that's a promise."
He wasn't sure where the words came from; whether they were a product of all the pain he'd been put through since the Destruction or whether they came from a dark, sinister subconscious that demanded revenge, but Apollo knew that he had never been more serious in his life.
Baltar seemed to sense that and said nothing as he broke the communication.
*~*
"Look," Starbuck said as he hurried to keep up with the group of guards. "Apollo's orders were-"
"Apollo's orders mean nothing around here," Reese interrupted him. "All we want to do, is get Baltar back into his cell, okay?"
"I'm sure you do," Starbuck replied sarcastically, his anger beginning to get the better of him. "Baltar's been free for over two centars now and what've you done? Absolutely nothing. Now, I've got a friend on board that shuttle and another one who's probably risking his neck right about now, trying to help her, so-"
"Since Ensign Jonas' body was found, we've done everything in our power to track Baltar down. We deployed a standard search pattern-"
"That started at the other end of the frackin' ship!" Starbuck exclaimed. "A prisoner's loose, escaped, and trying to get free. Do you honestly think he'd go anywhere other than the landing bay?"
"If we had been told about Baltar's release, we might have been able to stop him sooner. We didn't even know who it was that had escaped. Besides, there weren't supposed to *be* any shuttles in the bay. "
"But still you didn't think to check there?"
Reese didn't reply. If the Lieutenant knew exactly what his crew had been doing for the past few centars, he didn't doubt they would all lose their jobs, and a whole lot more. Working on the prison barge wasn't the best job in the fleet, but at least as a result, you got decent quarters as well as decent food. He knew he'd never survive life on one of the freighters- frack, being a prisoner would be better- so news of their little 'celebration' had better not get back to either Starbuck or Apollo.
He moved forward, away from the Lieutenant and towards the other, slightly inebriated members of the posse.
"Make sure no-one blabs about our little get-together. Starbuck's looking for blood," Reese whispered he passed.
No one gave any indication that they'd heard him. They didn't need to. All of them knew what the consequences would be if anyone found out, and they had no wish to end up living in a cubicle even smaller than the cells aboard the prison barge they worked on.
As discreet as he'd been, Starbuck had noticed Reese's little gesture to the guards and was instantly suspicious as to its nature. He increased his pace so he was level with the boy at the very rear of the group. Inconspicuously drawing his laser from his holster, he rested it in the small of the boy's back. "Now," he asked. "What was all that about."
The boy tensed as he felt the barrel against him and tried not to panic. "Just. . . orders."
"Orders?" Starbuck asked, then shook his head. "Try again." Something told him that there was more going on here than met the eye. Call it gambler's intuition or maybe just paranoia, but something just didn't feel. . . right. He more than suspected the truth about what had been going on earlier, and this was just beginning to confirm it.
Tobias looked towards the front of the group where Reese was walking, leading them towards the landing bay. He looked terrified. "I. . . I can't-"
"Take it you don't know how this thing works?" Starbuck questioned. "I'm not having a good day, so if you don't tell me what I want to know, then I'm gonna pull the trigger and send you back down to Hades where you and the rest of your friends here belong. Okay?"
Tobias nodded.
Starbuck resisted the sudden urge to grin. "Good. Now let's start again. What was all that about?"
Before the boy could answer, the group came to a stop outside the large doors that led to the landing bay. As Reese began to direct people and quietly give out instructions, Starbuck left the boy and made his way to the front.
"You have to stop, Reese. If you go in there firing, you could kill them all." Seeing his words were having no effect, he added: "Do you really want to have that kind of blood on your hands?"
"Look, Lieutenant," Reese answered. "We have a job to do, so get out of the way."
Starbuck moved forward, unsure of what he intended to do to the Blackshirt, but before he knew what was happening, two other members of the group had grabbed him by the arms, and hauled him out of the way.
Struggling unsuccessfully he could only watch as Reese's men stormed their way through the door.
*~*
Apollo stood motionless in the centre of the bay, his gaze fixed expectantly on the shuttle in front of him. More than once, he had reached down to touch his laser, a reassuring movement he always made when nervous, only to find it wasn't there.
Cassiopeia stood to his right, her medkit clutched tightly in her hands. Apollo had said little to her after his discussion with Baltar and with Starbuck gone her mind couldn't help but dwell on her friend's condition.
Going unnoticed from her spot behind Apollo, she couldn't help but see what bad shape Sheba was in. The cut on her head didn't look too bad, but the blood that she'd seen coming from her nose was worrying her. If Baltar hadn't hit her, that could be a sign of internal bleeding. How bad, she couldn't tell from mere sight but the sooner she managed to check her friend over, the better. She didn't want to think Sheba's condition could be life-threatening.
She looked towards the exit Starbuck had used before Apollo's communication. She desperately wished he was standing beside her, supporting both her and the Captain, but if Security barged in unexpectedly, there was no telling what Baltar would do. They could all die if he decided to make use of his- Sheba's- laser.
Apollo stiffened as the traitor appeared suddenly from behind the shuttle. Clutched tightly to him was the limp form of Sheba. Her head hung against the arm that gripped her awkwardly around the chest, as her mind surrendered to the darkness that promised to ease her pain.
Apollo's eyes flared with anger as he saw the traitor deposit her roughly on the ground as if she were no more than a kit bag. She looked even worse now than she had a quarter of a centar ago.
As far as he could tell, she was unconscious, destroying his last chance to let her know, in person, the true depths of his feelings. His last chance to apologize for the way he'd treated her; sometimes deliberatly getting her angry, just to see those lovely eyes darken; sometimes shying away from her, hurting her, just to stop her getting too close; sometimes ignoring her; just to deny to himself how much he needed her.
Above all, though, it would be his last chance to say the words he knew she had to hear. They weren't hard to think, but to say, "I love you;" that could be the most difficult thing in the universe.
Baltar leveled his laser at the Captain. Carefully, almost delicately, he pushed Sheba towards Apollo with his foot, not for one moment letting the expectant look leave his face.
Apollo moved slowly forward, hands in the air, as he began the exchange. Just when he was almost close enough to reach out and touch Sheba, a volley of laser fire erupted around them as the Blackshirts dived in for the kill.