Chapter One
Security was tight. But not so tight that Cadet Starbuck couldn't get through. It was all about patience. Some things in life were worth waiting for after all.
He took a look at his chronometer as he pressed his body against the huge branch in the Quercus tree that stood outside the Argus Building. 0110 centars. Just a little bit past curfew. Yeah, only three centars or so. Five, four, three, two, one . . .
Right on time, the sentries appeared from around the corner. He watched them from his well-hidden position, as they patrolled their usual route, marching with familiar military precision. It would take them precisely two centons and twenty-four microns to cross in front of the stately building that housed the male cadets.
Starbuck grinned as he recalled that the building's namesake, Commander Argus, was known for seeing everything and missing nothing. Just one more military hero in a long line of them that Starbuck had had to read about since starting at the Academy almost three yahrens before. At this point he had wondered time and time again, just how much of the stories were legend and how much were fact. After all, when training young men and woman to defend the Colonies with their lives, it was advantageous to have a few inspiring characters in the text books that were superhuman.
Luckily, in direct contrast to Argus, the sentries were known for seeing nothing and missing everything. At least in Starbuck's experience. He knew that some of the guys had been caught sneaking into the barracks after curfew, but they obviously didn't take the same amount of care and attention that he did. Timing was everything. Well, along with patience and experience.
He checked his chrono once again and swung the lower half of his body down from the enormous branch. He dropped softly to the ground, knowing he was well out of earshot by now. Silently he waited as he watched the sentries round the corner. His eyes peered into the darkness and he listened intently, ensuring the sound that echoed in the night was indeed the impact of Colonial boots moving away from his position.
A soft breeze blew in his face and he took a deep breath, drawing in the brisk night air, as he looked across the grounds at the Brites Building. A grin crossed his face as he replayed in his mind the previous few centars.
Not in a million yahrens did he think that Imara would accept, when he had impulsively asked her out in the commissary earlier that day. Lords, he had watched her furtively for a couple yahrens . . . just like every other red-blooded cadet with a heartbeat in his class. She was a classic beauty. Dark, wavy hair. Stunning brown eyes. Skin like jamocha. Built like a goddess. There was only one problem.
Imara was Colonel Diallo's daughter.
Colonel Diallo was the second in command of the Academy. Commander Orrick trusted the younger man implicitly. The old man had become more of a figurehead than a commanding officer in the last couple yahrens as he watched over the Academy, allowing his executive officer to make most of the decisions, providing procedure and protocol were followed.
Diallo had made it clear at the outset; anyone who messed with his daughter did so at his own personal peril. As intelligent, humorous and beautiful as the young woman was, no one would dare ask her out on a date. It was a real tragedy actually.
Well, at least that was the way Starbuck saw it. Really, it went against nature that a woman that attractive should be shut away in the Brites Building, along with all the other female cadets, after 2200 centars each night. Especially at secton-end.
He sighed. One yahren away from getting the coveted secton-end passes that were the privilege of the seniors. Lords, that would be a sense of freedom. Of course, unlike certain seniors who would remain nameless –Apollo—he intended on taking full advantage of every pass. He just needed to figure out how to bankroll that.
The dew on the ground had long since turned to frost with the bite of the night air. He checked the area once more and, like a feral felix on the prowl, crept across the parade square to the Argus Building. The building must have been six centi-yahrens old. Vines covered the walls, giving it a historical charm that was pointed out to him repeatedly by academics and officers alike. He had since discovered that it was also the barracks to thousands of crawlons, apians, and avians.
He pushed the heavy vines aside as he knelt alongside the lowest level of the building. The ancient window was stiff and unyielding, especially in the cold. However, he knew that if you hit it hard with the palm of your hand just above the archaic latch, it would give. Thud!
Obediently, the window swung open. It creaked slightly and he held his breath, waiting for the proverbial hammer to drop. A smile quirked his lips when it didn't. Damn, he was good!
He dropped into the dark, damp basement of the building, turning to close the window behind him. These rooms were rarely used anymore. Originally, they had held kegs of grog, when the ancient tradition of a jigger a day was given to the men. For an institution that prided itself on tradition, they had an askew sense of which ones were truly important, he reflected.
His footsteps followed the familiar route through the darkened rooms. He could find his way in the dark, if he needed to. He had once done it at full throttle as he had raced back to his bunk, trying to beat the sentries who had seen him disappear into the building. When they had turned on the lights in the barracks, forty sets of weary eyes had looked back at them. Including Starbuck's. That had been close.
He turned at the end of the corridor to climb the stone stairway. The building was timeworn and musty. No doubt the powers-that-be had decided long ago that this kind of atmosphere built character in the warrior of the future. Viruses maybe, character he wasn't so sure.
He paused at the top of the stairs and gently cracked the door. Silence reigned. Once again, from yahrens of practice with skulduggery, he waited for any tiny sound that would indicate someone was waiting. Nothing.
He slipped into the hallway and hastily made his way to a tertiary stairwell. He deftly skipped over the fourth, seventh and thirteenth steps. He knew they creaked loud enough to wake the dead. Up the next flight, and this time skipping the seventh and eleventh step. Almost there. One more flight.
Once again, up another flight of stairs. Finally, he had reached the fourth floor. Just past the senior's rooms was his barracks. Another little perk of your final yahren at the academy was going from sharing a room with thirty-nine other guys to just one. Quite the treat really. A definite advantage when one had to sneak in and out of the Argus Building. Then again, with a secton-end pass every secton, maybe it wouldn't be so necessary to sneak. Hmm. That actually might take some of the fun out of it.
Suddenly, a firm pressure on his shoulder froze him in his tracks. Frack. So close. This ruined his perfect record for the yahren. Think. Think.
Starbuck turned ever so slowly around as he tried to come up with an acceptable excuse to be in the corridor at 0120 centars, fully clothed. Ah, yes . . .
"What the frack were you thinking?" Apollo's voice whispered furiously in his ear.
"Apollo!" Starbuck whispered back, his taut body relaxing with his obvious relief. "You scared the everliving Hades out of me."
"Well, I'm glad someone could." Apollo grabbed the arm of his friend's jacket. "This way. Now."
"But . . . "
Starbuck was dragged along behind his squadron leader and soon realized they were heading towards Apollo's room. He shrugged himself free and raised his hands before him in acquiescence, as Apollo turned to glare at him.
Apollo nodded briskly and turned to open his door. He stepped quickly inside and then pulled Starbuck in behind him, pausing to check the hallway before he quietly closed his door.
He whirled on his friend. "Starbuck, sometimes you're like a transport wreck just waiting to happen."
"What?" Starbuck automatically protested his innocence. Also, from yahrens of experience.
"What? What? Are you kidding me? Taking Imara out after curfew! That's what! Hades, taking Imara out period. What were you thinking? Diallo will have your hide."
Starbuck opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Oh, he was expecting Apollo to read him the riot act about being out after curfew, but . . . how did he know about Imara?
Apollo grabbed him by the collar with both hands and pulled him close. "Ortega reported you. Academy Security has already been here and searched the barracks. They know you weren't there." He stared into Starbuck's face, which briefly filled with panic before he twisted away.
"What about Imara?" Starbuck asked as he studied Apollo's bookshelf with a sudden irrational interest.
"I don't know." Apollo returned. "I'll probably hear tomorrow." Imara was also a senior and had been in his class since day one. They were working together to organize a combat survival training expedition.
"Frack . . . " Starbuck whispered as he ran his fingers through his hair. Ortega was so dead! "How in Hades did he find out?"
"I don't know. All I know is Academy Security turned the barracks upside down looking for you. Look, if they didn't catch you together, then they don't know for certain that you were with Imara, but they do know you weren't in your bunk."
"When . . .?"
"2330 centars."
"No wonder the guard was doubled at the Brites Building." Starbuck mused aloud. He had had to time it to the micron to get Imara past the guards and in through the second floor window that led to the repository. She had assured him that she didn't need him to escort her back to her room. Her empty, semi-private room. Oh, sometimes the Goddess of Luck smiled upon him when he least expected it and least appreciated it.
"The guard was doubled here too. I'm surprised you didn't notice." Apollo informed him.
"I did. That's what took me so long to get in." Starbuck replied. Luckily, as they made their way around the building, there had been an additional lapse of thirty microns and he had taken advantage of the first team lagging behind the second.
"Why would you do that? You knew the Colonel would keelhaul anyone who tried to date his daughter. Why?" Apollo asked once again. He watched as Starbuck's shoulders raised in a simple shrug and his head shook mutely. Apollo took a deep breath and tried to think of a way out of this mess.
"Did they search your room too?" Starbuck turned abruptly and asked him.
"Nnnnno." Apollo drawled. "I wasn't reported."
A slight smile crossed the blond cadet's face and he grinned at Apollo.
"What?" Apollo asked suspiciously.
The grin grew in momentum and had soon covered his face.
Realization dawned on the squadron leader. "You want me to cover for you," he stated. True enough, Apollo had been reading quietly in his room when Academy Security had ransacked the barracks looking for "AWOL cadets". His roommate, Quinn, had taken advantage of his secton-end pass and had gone to visit his family. All cadets, including seniors, had been confined to their rooms when the impromptu raid had occurred. Ironically, senior's rooms hadn't been searched. That would prove to be Starbuck's saving grace.
"Well, you did say you'd help me with Bureaucratic Science." Starbuck suggested. He watched the emotions flicker across Apollo's face. "Hey, don't do it if you think it will get you in trouble. I just thought that if they didn't know any better . . ."
"Yeah, I know. I'd make a great alibi." Apollo finished.
"Does that bother you?" Starbuck asked in surprise.
"Wouldn't it be a lot easier if you just followed the rules to begin with, Starbuck?" Apollo sat down heavily on his bed.
"Easier on who?" Starbuck asked with a grin.
Apollo smiled ruefully in reply, "Apparently me." He sighed, shaking his head. Lords, if anyone had told him three yahrens ago, he-- the commander's son-- would be covering for a wayward cadet such as Starbuck, he'd have thought him crazy. It certainly wasn't as if they'd hit it off in the first place . . .
FLASHBACK
Apollo knew Starbuck by reputation long before he ever met him face to face. The cadet was trouble, pure and simple. The stories flew around the academy like wildfire of his exploits and enterprises. If only half of them were true, Apollo was certain he would be weeded out before the end of his first yahren. He was wrong.
How they had managed to not cross paths until Starbuck was in his second yahren, Apollo wasn't sure. It probably had something to do with the fact that Starbuck didn't frequent the librarium, the study hall, or the triad courts.
Apollo still remembered going to check the duty roster in the Great Hall to see which squadron he'd been posted to. The squadrons were made up of a combination of second, third and fourth yahren cadets to encourage leadership and teamwork. Though the squadrons were supposedly fairly represented and equally talented, it was the mark of an especially skilled pilot to be selected for the Phoenix Squadron.
"What did you get, Apollo?" Zoltan shouldered his way into the writhing mass of cadets also checking the roster.
"Phoenix," Apollo replied, swelling with pride. "So did you, but you probably knew that."
Zoltan grinned at him from beneath his distinctive red hair, "Yeah, squadron leaders get a bit of a heads up on these things. However, though I can make recommendations for the rest of my team, it's ultimately up to the flight instructors."
Apollo nodded in return. He couldn't be more proud to have Zoltan as his flight leader. The senior was known not only for his skill in the cockpit, but also for his leadership capabilities. He had a way of pulling a group of cadets together and uniting them in purpose.
"It should be an interesting mix. We have a lot of talent here, but also some strong personalities. Do you know everyone?" Zoltan asked him as he looked over the list.
Apollo nodded, "If not personally, then by reputation."
Zoltan laughed shortly, "I take it by that you mean Starbuck."
"Well . . . I was a little surprised to see his name there after everything I've heard about him." Apollo replied. It was almost an insult to the good name of the Phoenix squadron, but he wasn't going to say that aloud. Still, if Zoltan thought Starbuck belonged there then perhaps . . .
"Well, the kid has talent, Apollo. We'll sort the rest out."
"Could you sort the rest out somewhere else? Some of us are trying to get a look at the roster." A voice interjected from behind them.
Zoltan and Apollo turned as one to see a blond cadet with the crest of a second yahren cadet on his uniform. Starbuck's eyebrows rose slightly as he saw who it was that he had addressed and a somewhat bemused expression crossed his features before a sheepish grin took over.
"Hello Starbuck." Zoltan said as he eyed the younger man, pulling his tall, broad frame erect.
"Zoltan." Starbuck nodded and his eyes wandered to the roster just behind the impressive wall of the two upper classmen.
"Do you know Apollo?" Zoltan asked, purposely positioning himself between the roster and Starbuck's view.
Starbuck scowled slightly as his view was again impeded and then his gaze flickered to Apollo. "Nope. Just by reputation. Commander Adama's son, right?"
The familiar mixed emotions that he always experienced when someone referred to him as Commander Adama's son, took hold of Apollo. While he was proud of his father's accomplishments and stature, people that didn't know him tended to assume he was there resting on his father's laurels. "Yeah."
"Must be nice . . . " Starbuck craned his neck, again trying to see behind them. A couple other cadets deeked in from the side to get a look at the list.
"What must be nice?" Apollo asked a bit defensively.
"Having one of the greatest men of our time for a father." Starbuck stated, as if it was obvious.
Apollo nodded at the younger man, not detecting anything remiss in the remark.
"Hey Starbuck!" A voice cried out in front of them, "Looks like they decided to ground you this quarter. You're not even up here."
Concern briefly flitted across his features until he saw the source of the information. "Ortega, your mother commed. She wanted you to know she starched your briefs and will send them to you via courier. She also asked me to make sure you're eating your primaries and that the plastic sheet was still on your bunk. Haven't outgrown that little nocturia problem yet? Shame." He retorted, his voice loud and clear.
Laughter filled the hall and Apollo almost lost his balance as the affronted cadet, Ortega, crashed between the upper classmen to tackle Starbuck around the waist and hurl him to the floor. Starbuck recovered quickly and was soon giving as good as he got.
"Shouldn't we stop this?" Apollo asked Zoltan from where he stood beside him.
"Not yet." Zoltan replied with arms crossed, as he watched the fight, a grin on his face. "These two have been working up to this for a yahren. They probably need to get it out of their systems." He called over to another cadet. "Post a guard at the doors and let us know if Security or any Officers are on the horizon."
Apollo shrugged and continued to watch tensely as the two cadets pummeled one another. Hades, they were supposed to be working together, not trying to destroy one another. Ortega was sitting on Starbuck's chest and had him by the throat. "You leave my frackin' mother out of this . . . " he was yelling.
"I always heard that . . . about your mother." Starbuck rejoined as he thrust his thumbs into Ortega's eyes. Ortega recoiled backwards with the pain, covering his face with his hands, as Starbuck knocked him to the floor.
Starbuck was on him like a lupus on his kill. He grabbed the cadet by the hair and pulled up his head, striking a blow to his jaw.
"Okay, that's enough!" Zoltan roared, immediately regretting his decision to let them fight. Obviously, there was too much history between these two for it to be settled fairly in a fistfight. Several cadets swept into action to separate the two.
Apollo grabbed Starbuck beneath the arms and yanked him backwards, using his momentum to try and separate them. Unfortunately, the younger man still had a firm hold on Ortega and dragged him with him. "Let go!" Apollo shouted into Starbuck's ear.
"Back off!" Starbuck yelled in reply, his body taut and adrenaline coursing through his body as his arms were suddenly immobilized by the Commander's son. Ortega drilled him one in the gut as he ended up on top of him.
"Oomph!" Starbuck hissed, furious now at the restraining arms that held him. He instinctively smashed the back of his head into Apollo's chin.
Apollo barely knew what hit him as his jaw exploded in pain and his vision grew fuzzy around the edges. He had felt a sickening crunch and abruptly tasted his own blood. However, he refused to break his grasp on the wild cadet.
"Let . . . me . . . go!" Starbuck struggled to free himself as he watched Ortega wind up for another blow. It was just his luck that they had chosen to hold him back and nobody had managed to get a hold of Ortega
"ATTENTION!" Zoltan's voice shouted out in proper military crispness, and cadets scurried to get to their feet. Well, all except Apollo, Starbuck and Ortega.
Starbuck could do nothing but close his eyes as he watched Ortega's fist close in, almost as if it was in slow motion. He twisted his head as the fist connected beneath his right eye.
"I said, Attention!" Zoltan yelled, as he grabbed Ortega himself and with one mighty pull, dragged the cadet from Starbuck and onto his feet. "Did you hear me, Cadet?" He glared into Ortega's eyes even as he watched Colonel Diallo enter the Hall from the periphery of his vision.
Ortega pulled himself erect. "Yes, sir!"
"What in the name of the Lords of Kobol is going on here?" Colonel Diallo shouted, his keen eyes immediately taking in every detail of the melee, most notably the two cadets who were still sprawled on the floor. "Cadets Apollo and Starbuck. Get on your feet now! Front and center!"
Apollo and Starbuck abruptly jumped to their feet and drew themselves to attention in front of the Colonel. The man had a distinguished look, with his short, steely grey hair and penetrating blue eyes. His features were sharp, as if chiseled from stone. To his credit, he had remained in excellent physical condition and any excess weight he had gained with age had been transfigured into solid muscle. Though he was shorter than the cadets by a few centimetrons, his demeanor made him seem immense.
"I am appalled and disgusted by your behavior." Diallo leaned close and stared at the faces of the young men who were trying their best to keep their eyes forward and their knees from shaking. He paused in front of Apollo for a long moment before adding quietly, "Both of you."
Diallo walked around the two cadets and raised his voice. "This is not the conduct I expect of men who I have personally selected to wear the insignia of the Phoenix." Starbuck started briefly as the information that he had been chosen for the most prestigious squadron in the Academy sunk in. Oh frack.
Apollo fought the urge to close his eyes as the sinking reality that he was about to lose his coveted position overwhelmed him. His father would never let him forget this debacle. Adama probably wouldn't use words, but that look of disappointment and disapproval was enough to have his eldest son writhing in feelings of guilt and inadequacy. Hades, just thinking about it was enough to get him started.
"Perhaps I made a mistake." Diallo growled. "This Academy has a reputation for turning out Colonial Warriors who represent the esprit and decorum of almost a thousand yahrens of tradition. This kind of behavior is more befitting bilge rats and barge lice than that of men I want serving under me. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir!" Starbuck and Apollo replied together as they waited for the boom to drop.
"Cadet Apollo, I wonder how your father would react if he knew . . . " Diallo started.
"Cadet Apollo was trying to break up the fight, Sir." Starbuck interrupted rashly.
"Did you say something, Cadet?" Diallo hollered, putting his nose millimetrons from Starbuck's.
Starbuck swallowed the battlestar that had suddenly lodged itself firmly in his throat. "Y . . . yes, Sir."
"Did I give you permission to say something?" he glowered at the young man.
"No, Sir . . . But . . . " His mouth was as dry as a ninety-yahren-old sister of mercy.
"Permission to speak, Sir." Zoltan spoke up.
Diallo turned to consider the senior. Zoltan was the flight leader of the esteemed Phoenix squadron. The young man had a lot of potential and had proven his worth time and time again. He obviously had a challenging yahren ahead of him if two of his unit had already come to blows. Then again . . . His eyes settled on Ortega, who had somehow positioned himself out of the line of sight before now. Ah . . . well, that cleared a few things up. "Granted."
"Cadet Starbuck spoke the truth, Colonel. Cadet Apollo was in there on my orders trying to pull Starbuck off Ortega." Zoltan would be damned if he was going to let Apollo go down for trash like Ortega. As for Starbuck . . . well . . . he had to learn to help himself if he was going to get anywhere at the Academy. That meant controlling his . . . impulses.
Diallo paused to turn and glower at Ortega. "Cadet Ortega, front and center now."
Ortega shot Starbuck a glare as he took a place beside him. He could detect the amusement that fleetingly crossed his rival's features.
"Fall out, Cadet Apollo. Go to the infirmary and have that looked at." Diallo noted the trickle of blood from the corner of the young man's mouth.
"Yes, Sir." Apollo replied, taking a step back and turning sharply on his heel to march out of the Hall, leaving Starbuck and Ortega to their fate.
As it turned out, Starbuck and Ortega had each received a secton in the brig for fighting. Surprisingly, Diallo had decided that Starbuck would remain in Phoenix Squadron, apparently impressed with the young man's honesty and integrity . . . which were usually well camouflaged under his sarcasm and insouciance.
RETURN TO PRESENT
Apollo awoke to a sharp rap on his door. He stole a quick glance over to Quinn's bed, only momentarily confused to see Starbuck staring blearily back at him.
"What time is it?" Starbuck mumbled as he blinked at his chronometer.
"0600." Apollo replied as he jumped out of bed and crossed the small room in two paces.
"Heartless snitrads . . . " Starbuck mumbled, reminding himself that the only reason someone would be knocking on Apollo's door during secton-end at 0600 centars was because they were searching for him . . . unless it was some kind of family emergency. Lords, he hoped that wasn't it.
Apollo opened the door to see Sergeant Brand with two security officers flanking him.
"Cadet, do you have any idea as to the whereabouts of Cadet Starbuck?" Brand asked. His salt and pepper hair was shaved off to a centimetrons length in the style of the ancient military tradition. His uniform, as always, was immaculate.
In answer, Apollo simply opened the door wider and revealed the absentee Cadet. Starbuck had only gone as far as to pull himself to a seated position as the intimidating drill instructor glared at him.
"How long have you been here?" Brand snapped. God's truth, he had been searching the barracks, the grounds and had even gone as far as to call the Civil Security Force in case Starbuck had been picked up by them.
"All night . . . Sir." Starbuck replied. He stood up at the side of Quinn's bunk, well aware he cut a less than impressive figure in his briefs . . . well, at least as far as Brand would be concerned.
"All night?" Brand snapped back. He strode over to the errant cadet. "So, you didn't hear the little search we had in the middle of the night when we specifically went through the barracks searching for AWOL cadets?"
"No, Sir." Starbuck replied evenly. "Cadet Apollo snores, Sir."
"Sergeant, unless I'm mistaken, there are no regulations saying a junior cadet can't crash for the night in a senior's room."
"Unless the senior's a she . . . " Starbuck added ruefully. He didn't miss the look Apollo shot him.
"Speaking of which, did you actually come up with the dumb-astrum idea all by yourself, that you should go on a date with Colonel Diallo's daughter?" Brand raved at him.
"Uh . . . date, Sir?" Starbuck gazed innocently at the man. He knew that Imara would be just as vehement in her denial of their date as he was. She had too much to lose. "I was here studying Bureaucratic Science with Apollo."
"Listen astrum-wipe, are you trying to tell me that on this sectons-end, the best you could do was settle in with a text book and Cadet Apollo?" The sarcasm positively dripped, and with it, the spittle shot out of his mouth and into Starbuck's face.
"Well, at least he has his own room . . . Sir." Starbuck shrugged as he controlled the urge to wipe his face.
Apollo closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. Yep, a transport wreck just waiting to . . .
"Move your astrum, Cadet! Fall in! Now!"
"Uh . . . " Starbuck started, fully conscious that he was only wearing his briefs.
"NOW!" Brand shouted at the top of his lungs, his face growing bright red. He gave the cadet a shove towards the door and then passed him, fully expecting he would follow. This was NOT the way he had wanted to spend his secton-end, playing an instrument of revenge for Diallo. If it wasn't for the fact that . . . ah, frack, he should be at home snuggled up to Lara, not getting called in to go looking for Kid Testosterone. Hades, the kid had to have bullocks bigger than a battlestar to risk dating Imara. No woman was worth Diallo's wrath. Well, then again when he was that age . . . A slight smirk crossed his face briefly as he led his charge down the four flights of stairs and out the front door into the cold night air.