Survival is Not Mandatory
The alarm went off near his head, the insistent
digital beep jolting him from what precious moments of
relaxation he'd been able to find. He rubbed his
eyes, trying to get them to open all the way. It
didn't seem to work. Still rubbing, he rolled out of
the bunk, reached for his locker and grabbed a towel.
He shuffled off to the turbowash, swaying slightly on
unsteady feet. Even the cold water didn't seem to
chase away the haze. Lords he hated mornings like
this. He knew that eventually he had to get some
rest, but some nights he was so keyed up it took the
sleep aid to finally unkink his muscles, to make the
twitching stop so he could finally fall into sleep.
He hated this feeling the sleep aids gave him the next
morning, but he knew, eventually he had to fall
asleep.
That was the problem, the falling. Falling to sleep.
Giving in to sleep. Maybe that really was the
problem. Giving in to moments that felt like
unconsciousness, moments when he wasn't in control.
Well, there were other problems too, like for instance
the word night. There was really no such thing for
him, not since he entered the Colonial service. It's
not like the lights ever went out on the Galactica.
Even in the middle of a sleep cycle, she was lit up
exactly the same as if it were the middle of a day
cycle. Once you boarded the shuttle bound for space,
there was no such thing as night and day. Night and
day were words that belonged planet side. In the
Colonial service, you slept when you were told to
sleep; you were awake when you needed to be, no matter
how tired you were. Cylons didn't care that it was
the middle of a sleep period. All they cared was how
to blast you from the sky. One slow response, one
hesitant reaction, and it was permanent sleep cycle
for you.
Of course if he truly thought about it, night had
never been a time for him to relax and sleep. In the
orphanages, night was when the adults weren't
watching. Night was when you had to watch out for
yourself. All his life Starbuck had slept with one
eye open, his body half alert ready for anything.
But eventually, it catches up to you. Eventually he
had to sleep or his concentration started to slip, and
his body would feel like exposed wires, stripped,
sparking and misfiring. Next to impossible to sleep
by the time he got to that point. He had lost count
of the many sleep periods he'd spent willing his eyes
to stay shut, willing his body to relax, his mind to
just drift. Instead, his muscles twitched, his eyes
snapped open at the slightest sound, and his mind ran
in circles like a jogger on a track.
He'd tried just about everything before giving in to
the sleep aids. He'd tried exercise, running for
miles to wear himself down, but that was too risky.
That kind of exhaustion could kill you, and did
nothing for his brain that just wouldn't shut down.
He'd tried drinking, but since the destruction, the
officer's club didn't dispense that much to drink, and
that also was too risky. When the klaxon went off, he
needed to be ready.
Cassie had helped for a while, the blissful relaxation
that would come after a night of romance. But it
didn't last for long. Eventually she would awaken him
to make it back to barracks before curfew, and by
then, he'd be too keyed up again to sleep.
Days would go by before he would realize that he
hadn't really slept. Usually it took Boomer or Apollo
making some comment on how tired he looked, or how
jumpy he was before he'd start the mental calculations
of how many days it had been, how many hours of
activity he'd gone without a break.
It was a price he had to pay for the extra edge he
gave himself. It was worth it, he knew. It even made
up for mornings like this. It could cure mornings
like this.
He'd lost track of how long he'd stood under the cold
water. His chattering teeth finally brought him out
of the fog. He adjusted the faucet over to warm and
started to clean up. Lords he was tired, but today he
vowed he would do without it. He could do it. Not
much going on today. Cylons hadn't been seen in
sectars. He knew he should go without it for a while,
let his body have a rest. He wasn't completely
stupid. Besides, Boomer was starting to notice, and
if he didn't say something, Boomer would make sure
Apollo did. Yeah, it was time to give it a rest.
It's not like he couldn't do it. He'd gone months
without it before. He could quit anytime he wanted.
Not much was going on. He didn't need it right now.
He could do without today. A couple cups of java
would chase away the fog. He got out of the turbo and
as he got dressed he toyed with the idea of going on
sick call for the day. He could sure use the rest.
The feel of the comb on his hair had set his whole
spine tingling. But he pushed the thought aside and
finished dressing. He could do it today, once he got
some java, he'd be okay.
By noon he knew he wouldn't make it. The six cups of
java had just made him edgy, tired and edgy. The one
time he'd taken a look at himself in the mirror in the
turbo, his eyes had looked steel gray, like the walls
that were closing in. If he could just make it to
dinner, he could make some excuse and nab a few hours
in his bunk. Sleep should solve everything.
By dinner he couldn't get the energy to even chew the
mystery mush. Thank the lords it was mush or he
wasn't sure he could get it to go down. Over dinner
several of his squadron mates began talking about
getting together a card game or some other diversion
which no doubt would somehow include Starbuck. He
spent most of dinner sitting as far from them all as
possible, trying to think up excuses to just get away
and crawl into his bunk. He was getting prepared for
when they approached him with the "Hey Starbuck, are
you up for it?" He wanted to just growl at them,
maybe even a good snarl, but he lacked the energy to
do anything more than huddle over his food and avoid
conversation.
Turned out he didn't need to make any excuses. Boomer
had already made them for him. "Starbuck just needs
some sleep. Besides, he's broke anyway, aren't you
Bucko?" Boomer had told the guys in the billet.
After dinner Boomer put his arm around Starbuck and
said in a low voice for no one else but Starbuck, "I
told you to lay off the stuff. You don't need it all
the time. Get some sleep."
Starbuck had wanted to be angry. It was none of
Boomer's business how he got through the day. Hades,
they were all lucky he hadn't pulled his blaster and
blown away their slap happy silly grins.
But instead he just ran his hands through his hair,
took slow breaths and said, "Yeah. Sleep."
That was a laugh. He was so tired he couldn't even
muster the will to relax enough to sleep.
He hit his bunk as soon as he could get away. As it
turns out, he could sleep. He slept hard. He woke up
in the same position as when he'd flopped down. He'd
slept through his alarm and was jostled by Boomer, who
was none to happy.
"Starbuck, you already missed the first briefing. Get
up. We've got a recon soon." Boomer gave Starbuck's
still booted foot a kick.
Starbuck rushed through a quick turbo and debated
wearing the same uniform. He didn't really have time
to get a new one, but he did. He'd be late. By his
calculations he'd slept over 15 centaurs. He felt
like he could sleep fifteen more.
As he put away his items in his locker and dragged the
comb through his hair, he took a hard look at himself.
He had to admit, he looked more rested. His eyes
were soft blue again, and he didn't look so pale. The
sleep had helped, and he'd gotten more than enough.
He had a long day ahead of him with a recon patrol on
the schedule. He was already late for the briefing,
so what was a couple more centons going to hurt. He
reached into the back of his locker and found the
hypo, pushed up his sleeve and quickly injected
himself in the dark of the locker. It wasn't a large
dose, just enough to chase away the fog.
The warmth spread quickly through him. He felt each
nerve ending come awake. It was like the sun rising,
spreading its happy rays throughout him. He felt the
springs in his legs reactivate. His heart raced a
little, like a happy little daggit.
"Mmm, that's it." He said to his image in the mirror
and smiled. "Ahh, there you are handsome!" He
admired his own jaunty smile.
He was late to the prelaunch briefing. Tigh gave him
a displeased glance, but that was all, just a glance.
Starbuck flashed him his trademark grin, and found his
seat. He kicked back and tapped his stylus on his
data pad in time to the song running through his head.
It was a typical briefing. The fleet had found
something on the scanners, planets ahead with possibly
usable resources. Long range recon to scan ahead,
check things out, scan the planets to decide if they'd
be organizing a landing party. Starbuck could already
feel the soil beneath his boots. Be nice to take a
walk in unfiltered air, he thought, even if it did
mean pulling a long patrol, getting back to the
Galactica in time for breakfast if they were lucky.
He didn't realize he'd been asked a question until he
noticed that the room had gone quiet. He looked up
from his drum solo on the datapad to find everyone
staring at him. Apollo looked puzzled. Boomer looked
downright annoyed.
"Sounds like fun." Starbuck answered flippantly.
"The question was Lieutenant," Tigh asked again, his
voice slow and deliberate, "who is up next on the duty
roster rotation to cover patrols? You were involved
in creating the duty roster this sectar, correct?"
Oh frak, Starbuck thought to himself. He'd put it
together, but he'd just copied what had been done a
few sectars before, and he couldn't recall what the
rotation was. He couldn't even recall what day of the
sectar it was.
"The usual people. I'll see that they know it's been
shifted again."
"See that you do before you launch." Tigh ordered,
then he looked to Apollo who nodded in response to let
the Colonel know he'd double check on it.
Starbuck felt his annoyance level rise. He wasn't
some little kid that needed to be checked up on. He
knew his duty. He began muttering oaths under his
breath as the tapping of his stylus increased.
The rest of the briefing droned on. Same old stuff,
same old discussion. Starbuck suddenly found himself
on his feet. "Are we done here? I've got work to
do."
Tigh took an exasperated breath. "I suppose you are
Lieutenant. Lt. Boomer, Lt. Starbuck, you'll be
launching in exactly two centaurs. I'll expect a full
briefing the moment you land."
"Yes sir." Starbuck said.
He didn't realize it had come out sarcastic until
Boomer said something to him in the corridor.
"If you don't watch it, the Colonel's going to take
away your furloughs."
"Why? What did I do?" Starbuck asked.
"You just don't get it do you Starbuck?" Boomer said
and shook his head.
"Yeah, I get it. I'm in a good mood and nobody
appreciates a good mood." Starbuck veered away from
Boomer taking a side corridor.
"Where are you going? The flight deck is this way."
Boomer said pointing down the corridor.
"I have to check the duty roster and get the rotation
changed." Starbuck said not bothering to turn around.
But Boomer noticed Starbuck was headed back to the
barracks, not to the squadron office. Boomer stopped
for a moment and closed his eyes in resignation. He
knew where Starbuck was headed and why. A long recon
always meant that Starbuck brought along a little
something extra for the ride. The advantage to flying
long recons with Starbuck is that Starbuck didn't take
sleep periods, giving the other pilot a chance to get
some sleep. Starbuck always made sure he had
something to keep himself awake.
Boomer debated in those few moments in the corridor if
he should have a talk with Starbuck. He'd had the
talk with Starbuck before, more than a couple of
times. Boomer could tell when it was starting to get
bad. Usually the first sign was Starbuck getting edgy
and snapping at everyone.
But Boomer remembered how Starbuck had gone to his
bunk early the night before and managed to get extra
sleep. He's probably fine, Boomer reasoned to
himself. It shouldn't be too long a recon. He'll be
fine.
Boomer knew Starbuck wasn't the only one that had
given in to the pep pills. It seemed to Boomer that
everyone had tried some form of stimulant during the
days right after the destruction. It was almost a
necessity as they were running round the clock patrols
with as many pilots circling the fleet as possible.
The cylons constantly showing up when least expected
didn't help things either. Boomer had to admit that
he had even given in to the stimulants for a short
time, but only when he'd gone longer than forty-eight
centars without sleep. Once things slowed down, he'd
stopped entirely. Plus, in a way it was a waste on
him. The first dose would wake him up a little, but
even over just a few hours it would alter his
concentration and it took more and more doses to keep
him awake. Boomer found he got better results with
eight centars of sleep followed by a meal with a big
helping of protein.
Boomer had noticed over the yahrens that Starbuck went
in jags. He'd use heavy for a while, how long
depended on how cylon infested the quadrant was, then
crash hard. His crashes only seemed to last a few
cycles, and then Starbuck would seem to leave the
stimulants completely behind. Well, at least until
things got hectic again. Boomer had to admit if it
weren't for the fact that he was so close to Starbuck,
he probably wouldn't have noticed Starbuck's using.
Starbuck was a pretty fidgety guy, on or off the
energy additions.
For Boomer, it was the fact that he shared the bunk
beside Starbuck that gave Starbuck away. Boomer knew
how many cycles Starbuck could go without sleep.
Starbuck broke his own record right after the
destruction. By the time Boomer started counting it
was sixteen. Adding the days he suspected onto that,
it was probably closer to twenty one. There were
other signs of course, paranoia, depression, violent
outbursts. "But hades, who didn't have those signs
then?" Boomer mused to himself. Just when Boomer was
going to forcibly drag his friend to the Life Station,
Boomer himself had wound up in a life pod in Life
Station. By the time he got out, Starbuck was
sleeping again.
Besides, he didn't want to get his buddy in trouble.
He just wanted Starbuck to be okay. Boomer knew that
Starbuck would never let it interfere with his duty or
the safety of the fleet. Starbuck cared too much
about flying to let it affect that part of his life.
The question remained though, how much did Starbuck
care about himself?
Starbuck was fine Boomer decided, and continued on to
the flight deck to get started on the preflight check.
Starbuck entered the barracks and found them to be as
deserted as they should be in the middle of a cycle.
A couple of pilots were getting some sleep after
having come off a patrol, but otherwise the place was
empty. Starbuck headed to his locker, opened it and
began rummaging in the back where he kept his stash.
He pulled out only four doses, and yellow square of
paper. "I O U Thanks. Giles" scrawled in an unsteady
hand.
"FRAK!" Starbuck swore aloud and slammed his locker.
It banged back at him, and he slammed it again, and
again, and again with a force so violent that the
latch flung at him and careened off his chest. "That
fraking snot rag!" The door to his locker hung at an
odd angle with no way to remain shut.
Starbuck stalked down to Giles locker, opened it, and
began to rummage through Giles things. He found
nothing he cared about. He slammed Giles locker hard
with a bang. It obediently shut. The fact that Giles
locker was functioning properly sent Starbuck into a
rage. He balled up his fist and launched it at the
metal surface. Once he made impact, Starbuck jerked
his hand away, cradling his knuckles and bouncing on
his feet.
"Frak that hurts!" It took a few moments before he
could look down at his knuckles to assess the damage.
He flexed his hand and tears came to his eyes from the
throbbing. "Oh that was smart bucko!" He chastised
himself. He glared at the locker noticing the near
perfect imprint of his knuckles, now embossed on the
metal front. "Serves him right. You don't mess with
a man's stuff."
Starbuck stalked from the barracks. "Maybe Bacchus
can spot me a few. He should be on shift today," he
mumbled to himself. Again Starbuck was left to wonder
exactly what day it was. His next thought was
wondering if it really mattered, different day, same
felgercarb.
Starbuck headed for the flight deck. He was on a
mission and he didn't have much time before his real
mission. He jumped off the lift before it came all
the way to a stop. He scanned the deck quickly and
thought he saw who he was looking for across the bay.
Boomer noticed Starbuck's arrival. "About frakking
time," he thought to himself. He'd been worried that
he was going to have to go hunt Starbuck down to make
launch on time.
"Hey Starbuck, you owe me. I ran the preflight for
you." Boomer called to him, but Starbuck kept on
walking. "Where are you going?"
Starbuck didn't slow as he raised his hand in
response. "Thanks. Gotta take care of something."
Boomer watched Starbuck nearly spring across the bay
to approach one of the flight deck crew. Boomer would
have just looked away and gone on back to getting
ready for launch, but what happened next caught his
interest. Boomer watched, hands on his hips, as the
scene unfolded. Starbuck appeared to ask the deck
crewman a question. The crewman had barely
acknowledged Starbuck, and apparently Starbuck had
been miffed by the response. Starbuck spun the
crewman around and grabbed the front of the crewman's
jumpsuit in his fist. Boomer took a couple of steps
towards the altercation thinking he would need to
intervene, but then the most amazing thing happened.
Starbuck had quickly let go, began smoothing over the
crewman's uniform and appeared to be begging.
Starbuck even put his hands together as if in prayer.
Boomer slowed and stopped, completely mystified.
Starbuck cajoled, teased, pestered almost everyone,
but beg? That was one Boomer had not seen before.
The crewman seemed to be enjoying the moment as he
smiled at Starbuck, said something, and Starbuck
nodded his head repeatedly in relief and clapped the
crewman on the back like they were the best of
buddies. Starbuck even put his arm around the guy and
nearly hugged him, before disengaging himself and
heading towards Boomer and their vipers.
"What was that all about?" Boomer asked trying not to
sound as intrigued as he was.
"Uh, what?" Starbuck kept on walking.
"That, with the flight deck worker. You looked like
you were going to pulverize him. I was worried I'd
have to take this patrol with someone else, and bail
you out of the brig when I got back."
"Oh, that. Just checking on some repairs to my
viper." Starbuck scanned his viper, quickly double
checking everything for launch.
"Uh huh, what repairs?" Boomer wasn't going to let
him off the hook. Something about the whole little
scene worried him.
"Nothing major. Come on, we have a mission."
Starbuck turned to Boomer and grinned.
Boomer took a good hard look at Starbuck. Everything
seemed in place, the clear eyes, easy smile, less
fidgeting. Starbuck was fine.
"Okay, okay. Whatever you say Bucko." He headed for
his viper
Starbuck had settled into his viper before he started
to get really anxious. Bacchus had refused to front
him a few doses at first, but Starbuck had asked him
nicely and he had relented. He'd said he'd get it for
Starbuck before launch and had disappeared ever since.
Starbuck was hoping he was just tracking down some
Snap for him, not avoiding him. "That would be like
him though wouldn't it? To avoid giving me a little
credit. He'd just skip out on the deal wouldn't he?"
Starbuck reached in his pocket and felt the four doses
he had on him.
They were low doses. Starbuck preferred to break his
stuff up into smaller amounts for several reasons.
Sometimes he just didn't need a full dose, and a half
would cut it, and if he needed more, he could always
take more. Another reason is that if he ever did
suffer from a surprise inspection, well, he didn't
have anything on him that didn't look like a
prescribed amount. Sometimes too, he could sell those
smaller doses for the same price of a full dose,
making a bit of a profit to pay for his own dose.
Starbuck started to search the small confines of his
viper. He thought maybe he'd stashed a few doses in
his viper as it was where he tended to need it the
most. But his search turned up nothing, not that he
thought it would. He was smarter than that. Although
Starbuck had the luxury of a viper that the flight
deck crew and the command considered to be his, it was
used by others on more than one occasion. If his
viper was the closest one ready, then his was the one
that went out, whether he was in the cockpit or not.
It was rare, but lately maintenance had taken
advantage in the lull in Cylon contact to take vipers
off the flight line for full overhauls. They seemed
to be doing it randomly, so Starbuck didn't know when
his would be next, or if somebody else's had been
pulled and they might decide to loan his out to
someone else. It was too risky to store anything in
his viper. But just maybe.
He was about to begin another search when Bacchus
suddenly appeared, a flight helmet in his hand. "Here
you go Starbuck. This one's all cleaned up, extra
padding if you know what I mean. You owe me, don't
forget."
"You are a hero, you know that Bacchus? What would I
do without you! Yeah, I owe you, I owe you."
Starbuck took the helmet from him, reached into the
neck padding and pulled out four more doses. "Is that
all?" He started to say, but Bacchus had already
activated the canopy closure. Well, it would have to
do. Starbuck rolled the small vials in his hand. "At
least they're full doses." He reached in his pocket,
pulled out a hypo and loaded on up.
"Core Command to Recon One, you are cleared for
launch."
"Yo, Starbuck, you ready over there?" Boomer called
over the comm..
"Yeah, just a centon. You go first buddy." Starbuck
pushed his sleeve up a little, placing the hypo over
his wrist. It was risky there, might leave a mark,
but it was all he could get to at the moment without
being noticed. He wasn't willing to wait until he
had launched, this moment was too good.
He felt the warmth rush through him and his vision
tunneled down to a pinprick. He automatically
initiated launch. His vision expanded in an explosion
of rainbow colors just as he cleared the launch tube.
"YAHOO! " Starbuck hollered as he shot away from the
Galactica