Chapter Nine
Starbuck slouched down in his seat praying for the shuttle to stop and pick up Phoenix Squadron. There had been few times in his life that he had felt as though he didn't have a friend in the world, and this was definitely one of them. Every time he had looked up to meet someone's eye, a glare of revulsion and loathing hit him full force. If he hadn't felt so vile, it probably wouldn't have fazed him, but when each bump and shift of the transport caused either pain or nausea, it was a different matter.
The only one on board who had managed to maintain a professional decorum was med tech Zhi. Zhi had even managed to convince Brand to restrain Starbuck's hands in front, instead of behind his back. The tech had actually suggested they didn't need restraints at all, but that had spurred on another blast of Brand's temper and the young medic had backed down.
Starbuck sighed as he tried to put the pieces together that would tell him how he had gone from being rescued with Ortega to being charged with . . . trafficking drugs. How in Hades had that come about? He had tried to ask Ortega what had happened, but the cadet had stared at him malignantly and insisted, "don't even talk to me, guttertrash", before taking a seat as far away as possible.
He could feel the shuttle touch down and knew it wouldn't be much longer. What a relief it would be to see Apollo, Dorado and even Tani. Imara would be there too. He wasn't sure how he felt about her seeing him like this. But you're innocent, Bucko. Remember that. This will all be straightened out tonight and you'll be back in the barracks before you can say hard tack and brackish water.
He kept his gaze trained wearily on the deck as Colonial boots passed by him to open the hatch. His head lolled onto his chest and he forced his drooping eyes open. His urgency to speak with his squadron mates took precedence over his body's need for rest. The hatch hissed open and he looked up hopefully as cadets boarded.
Starbuck's heart sunk as Stamphalian and Hyrcinian Squadrons clambered aboard. Grime covered faces looked upon him curiously and he could hear Ortega filling them in.
"What? Selling coca? Frackin' slimebucket."
"Why do we have to ride with him? Can they put the fracker in the hold?"
"The hold is too good for him. Strap him to the top."
"Yeah, why isn't he on the Phoenix shuttle? We don't want the likes of him here."
Starbuck snorted and reminded himself to not go out of his way to carry Ortega out of any more ravines once this was over. He gathered his disappointment, resentment, and anger close to him, using the intense feelings as an emotional fortress. A shield that would keep him sane for the rest of the flight . . . just barely.
Apollo went over his mental list of things to do as he waited for the shuttle carrying Starbuck and Ortega to land at the Academy. He had expected to see them when they had made their rendezvous in Mazuria, but for some reason, Colonel Diallo had changed assigned shuttles at the last centon, claiming they were closer to the other rendezvous point. The way Apollo saw it, they were splitting hairs.
However, it wouldn't be the first time since he had been at the Academy that he had disagreed with an officer's judgment. According to his father, it wouldn't be the last.
He smiled as he realized he would be seeing Adama the next evening. It was a rare occasion that father and son spent some time together. Of course, Apollo had been unable to get leave, but Adama had promised to come by and visit for a couple centars.
He looked at his chronometer. The Galactica would be approaching Caprica anytime now. His mother, sister and brother would be soon be leaving to pick up the Commander and newly elected member of the Quorum of Twelve. He didn't know where his father found the energy.
"Here they come." Dorado pointed to the shuttle in the distance. He had been pacing relentlessly as they waited.
"Are you really that worried about Starbuck?" Apollo asked with a smile.
"Worried? Hades, no. His head is harder than an anodized cast tylinium pan. I just want to know who has the tokens. Starbuck or Ortega."
Apollo chuckled as he watched the shuttle's approach. He wanted to know as well. After all, it would be a perfect secton-end to get leave with his father in town. Hades, some of the cadets had already set up a bet around it. He had come close to putting a few cubits on Starbuck, but had restrained himself. And luckily there had been no depraved influences there to talk him into it.
Speaking of Starbuck . . . The hatch opened and cadets poured out, eager to hit the turbo wash and the mess, hopefully in that order. Just like Phoenix and Roc Squadrons, Stamphalian and Hyrcinian looked like they had brought most of the grime of the Mazurian Jungle back to the Academy with them.
Apollo headed for the shuttle with Dorado on his heels, eager to check on his friend, and the location of the tokens. The last of the cadets disembarked and Ortega followed them on a hover stretcher, accompanied by several of his squadron mates and a med tech, heading for the nearby infirmary. Apollo paused and looked around, wondering if he had somehow missed Starbuck.
"Apollo . . . " Dorado murmured in alarm.
Apollo looked back at the shuttle to see the missing cadet being pushed out the hatch by Sergeant Brand. Starbuck's arms were restrained in front of him and he appeared disoriented, as he tried to keep pace.
"What the frack . . . " Apollo muttered as he headed over to intercept them. What had happened? The last he knew, Starbuck had a likely head injury, Ortega had wrecked his knee, and Colonel Diallo had rendezvoused with them for a pick-up. Surely to God, this couldn't have anything to do with Diallo's grudge against Starbuck over Imara. Hades, she was a Colonial cadet, not a holy priestess. Even Diallo wouldn't take it this far . . . would he?
Brand gave the cadet another shove, and Starbuck stumbled, losing his balance and crashing to the ground. "Get the frack up, you piece of mong!" Brand snapped. He would feel one Hades of a lot better once the cadet was in the brig, and on the restricted access that was routinely accorded prisoners. The fewer people he talked to, the better. Of all people, Adama's nosy son was just a bit too smart and inquisitive for the sergeant to feel comfortable with a debriefing. Really, once Starbuck was in the brig, his protector would be the only one with unlimited access, and since Captain Corpeus was an old and personal friend of Diallo, that would matter naught.
Starbuck lay on the ground, face against the tarmac, reeling with the pain. Unable to break his fall, he had landed hard. The gorge rose in his throat once again and he started retching.
"Brand!" Apollo hollered as he reached them, partly to draw the man's attention. He had seen that look on the Sergeant's face before, and it didn't bode well for the cadet on the receiving end of it. Damn the consequences; the man was a pit viper. "What is going on?"
Brand switched his attention to the indignant Flight Leader, who was already kneeling down beside the spewing cadet, lying a hand on his shoulder. "Cadet Starbuck was found in the possession of Mazurian coca. When it was discovered, he escaped
custody and then proceeded to attack Colonel Diallo. He's been charged on both counts."
"What?" Apollo asked in shock. He looked across at Dorado who mirrored his disbelief. Oh, a whole lot had happened that he was unaware of. The biggest problem was the person he most trusted to give him an accurate account of the details was the least able to do so. He patted Starbuck's shoulder, realizing the vomiting had ceased, then eased him over on his back. "Starbuck?"
Starbuck's face was a mask of misery and he blinked several times to clear his vision. Tears ran down his cheeks from his gastric exertion. "Apollo . . . " he groaned, his face contorted in pain. Each breath felt as though someone was stabbing him with a dagger.
"Why haven't you called for another hover stretcher?" Apollo asked Brand briskly. "He needs to be in the infirmary."
Cold fear settled in the pit of Brand's stomach. Diallo had specified for the plan to work, Starbuck had to be off limits. He had to go to the brig. "The med tech already checked him out. I'm taking the bilge louse to the brig." Brand replied, reaching down for Starbuck's arm.
Apollo grabbed the Sergeant's wrist, well aware that the brig was not the appropriate place for his friend . . . especially considering Brand was in charge of it. "No, you're not. He needs medical attention." Even if he was accused of insubordination, somehow Apollo knew he was doing the right thing. Ethics before regulations. His mother had taught him that; his father had grudgingly agreed. "Dorado, comm the infirmary. We need a hover stretcher here ASAP." Lords, where in Hades had that med tech gone? Surely he had assessed Starbuck and realized he needed medical intervention. He could feel his anxiety rising, as a desperate need to keep Starbuck out of the brig overshadowed everything else.
"What is going on here?" Colonel Diallo's voice bellowed from the shuttle, stopping Dorado in his tracks. "Brand, I gave you an order to clear the tarmac of this filth. Is that a problem, Sergeant?" The Colonel strode over to the small gathering. "Flight leader Apollo." His voice was low and dangerous as he studied Adama's brat.
"Colonel Diallo." Apollo nodded at him, releasing Brand. His brief battle of wills with the sergeant was over now that Diallo had shown up. "Cadet Starbuck needs to be in the infirmary . . . " The pounding of two pairs of boots crossing the tarmac at a run drew his attention. He looked up to see the med tech had returned, with Dr. Alpheus bringing up the rear. He sucked in his breath as he wondered if the cavalry had arrived.
Dr. Alpheus moved to Starbuck's side, breathing hard and ignoring the other men. He ran his biomonitor over the cadet, pausing to run his fingers over Starbuck's skull. He then lifted the cadet's tunic, revealing the beginnings of deep bruising across his ribs, and started palpating his chest.
Starbuck groaned and tried to remove the offending fingertips, but his restraints impeded his movement. "For Sagan's sake, get these bloody things off of him!" Alpheus snapped at Brand through ragged breaths. "I hardly think he's in any kind of shape to run away."
Brand gritted his teeth and blew out a slow breath before leaning down and releasing the restraints. Frack! "Just so you know, Doc, he's up on charges."
"Understood." Alpheus replied, taking his ophthalmoscope and peering into the cadet's eyes. "Starbuck. Do you know where you are?" he asked, after reading the ID badge.
Starbuck winced and turned his head away, murmuring, "Hades?"
Alpheus smiled briefly as he looked up at Brand and Diallo. "Well, I can certainly understand why you'd think that, but no. Try again. Where are you?"
Starbuck shook his head in confusion as he gazed up at the blurry man. He looked familiar, but he couldn't place him. Lords, his head was going supernova. He moaned as his head drooped limply to the side.
"Doc!" Dorado cried in alarm, hovering over the doctor.
"He's just unconscious." Alpheus reassured them. "Where's that bloody hover stretcher, Zhi?"
"They're coming now, Dr. Alpheus." Zhi replied, glad he had gone to get his superior. Diallo and Brand were back in line now that they were up against the old man. Alpheus wouldn't let God Almighty intimidate him, never mind a couple of warriors.
"This cadet has been charged with assault and possession of illicit substances with the intent of trafficking . . . " Diallo started. This was not going according to plan.
"This cadet is my patient." Alpheus interrupted. "As such he will be off-limits to any but medical personnel for the next twelve centars while he undergoes critical medical treatment."
"Dr. Alpheus, I don't believe you understand the severity of . . . "
"No, Colonel, it is you that doesn't bloody understand. MY patient. Under MY treatment. MY rules." Alpheus replied calmly. He watched as his orderlies started loading Starbuck aboard the stretcher, Apollo and Dorado gazing anxiously on. "Twelve centars gentlemen. Not a micron less." He repeated before following his patient to the infirmary.
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Beep beep beep beep beep. His eyes opened sleepily as the alarm persisted. He glanced around looking for a med tech to come and see what was wrong with the fracking biomonitor this time. As he looked down at the pads attached to his chest, he realized that one had come undone.
Starbuck's eyes settled on the med tech, who was busy with another patient half way across the infirmary. Her gaze shot over to him, her annoyance at the constant alarming finally getting to her. She raised her hand to him, letting him know that she was aware of the situation and would get to him as soon as she could.
He closed his eyes again. Beep beep beep beep beep.
Lords, you would think a guy could get some sleep in the infirmary. It was worse than the barracks when it came to noise, activity, and foul odours. How could so many people be sick, injured, or just plain . . . constipated?
Of course, it was just Starbuck's typical luck that he ended up in the cubicle next to Sergeant 'strain' and 'grunt', as the cadet was immobilized in regeneration sleeves and connected to monitors on just about every other available patch of skin. Maybe the brig wouldn't have been so bad after all.
Suddenly, the alarm stopped. Starbuck opened his eyes to see a pudgy, balding man with glasses poised on the end of his nose, who glanced down over the top of them, peering at the clipboard holding the cadet's chart. "How are you feeling, Starbuck?"
"Better." Starbuck croaked out, his throat dry and hoarse. There didn't seem to be enough water available to slake his thirst. He nodded appreciatively as the man handed him a glass of water to sip on.
"Your ribs are almost healed. I expect your breathing is easier now?"
Starbuck sucked on the straw, greedily drinking the cool beverage. He nodded as he thought back to the hazy recollections of his arrival in the treatment center. Lords, he'd felt as if he'd been shot out of a launch tube without the benefit of a fighter wrapped around him. Doctors and med techs had swarmed over him, using medical vernacular that left his head aching even more. They scanned, poked, and prodded him until he had cried out for solitude. Then they pestered him some more.
"Where are you?"
"Caprica Academy. The infirmary." Starbuck replied. He had answered the same questions just about every three centars as the night progressed. Who are you? Where are you? What's the date? Hades, even the most dimwitted of fools would be getting it right by now. After all, he was.
"Who am I?" The kindly looking man asked.
"I . . . don't know. You're a doctor?" He asked quizzically. He vaguely remembered the man from the night before, but most of it was just fleeting images.
"Dr. Alpheus. I'm the chief medical officer. How's the head?"
"Better." The throbbing had settled down to a dull ache.
"Your vision?" Alpheus reached forward and tilted up Starbuck's chin, once again shining a light in his eyes.
"Good."
"How many toes am I holding up?" Alpheus asked, wiggling three fingers over his head.
Starbuck grinned. "That's weak, Doc."
"Works on my grandkids." He replied with a smile. "Well, Starbuck, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, your injuries are healing nicely and you'll be able to be discharged from the infirmary later this morning."
"To the brig." Starbuck finished, eying the leg iron that had been secured around his right ankle since his admission.
"To the brig." The CMO agreed. "You may have some residual dizziness and headache for a few days, but that should improve. I'll give you a three day supply of analgesia to help with the headaches and other discomforts. Your protector has been champing at the bit to get in here. I did tell everyone you were off limits until 0900, but it's your call, cadet."
"Can I see the Phoenix Flight Leader, Apollo?" Starbuck asked.
"Not your protector?" Alpheus asked.
"I'll be seeing him later anyhow. No, I really need to talk to Apollo." More than anything else, he had to ensure that the squadron knew he was innocent. The rest would fall into place.
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Starbuck stared at the pale yellow walls of the isolation cubicle, noting the faded blotches, the cracks and scrapes, and the general . . . sickly appearance of the closet-sized room. Not a great atmosphere to inspire healing. More like the final resting place for the terminally ill. Or the criminally doomed. Still, he mused, it was better than the main ward, wherethe other patients had been looking at him curiously, especially when Security Officer Keane made his usual rounds and made a point of checking his restrained leg. Keane had smiled coldly, saying a bit louder than necessary, "See you later, Cadet! We have your usual cell ready in the brig!" as he strolled on out.
Well, from that point, Sergeant 'flatulence' had been watching his every move. At first, Starbuck had just ignored him. However, when the man pulled back his curtain and turned his body so he could stare without interruption at the cadet, Starbuck had had enough. He glared and snarled at the gastrointestinal nightmare, rattling his chains. The Sergeant had dropped his filled-to-capacity urinal, and med techs had come running.
"Cadet Starfire?"
The self-assured voice interrupted the cadet's musings, and Starbuck looked up to see a tall, gaunt, middle-aged man with the worst comb-over he had ever laid eyes on. The man stood defiantly at the entrance to his cubicle with an upset med tech just behind him.
"Starbuck." The cadet replied, looking at him curiously.
"Right." He nodded. "I'm Captain Corpeus. I'm going to be representing you at the tribunal, if indeed it comes to that."
"Captain, I've already told you that Chief Medical Officer Alpheus has ordered that Cadet Starbuck is not to be disturbed until after 0900 centars." The med tech gazed beseechingly at the Captain.
"Cadet Starbuck has some basic civil rights and one of those is having his protector available to him in a timely manner." The Captain leaned forward until he was towering over the young med tech. "Are you denying him that right, med tech . . . What is your name?" He glowered at her.
"Uh . . . no, sir. I'm just trying to follow Doctor's orders." She replied as she looked over her shoulder, hoping the CMO was nearby.
"Well, then, you may go tell the Doctor that his patient's counsel has arrived. If he would like to go on record as denying this young man access to his protector, I would be pleased to file a report and send it to Commander Argus. Not only that, but I will be forwarding it to the Accreditations Department, thereby ensuring that this information will find its way to the pertinent people and the next unfortunate cadet will receive better treatment." The Captain then firmly shut the door in her face.
Corpeus walked over to the only chair in the room and pulled it up to Starbuck's biobed, talking as he went. "Well, Starfire, I've been busy this morning. I've poured over the submitted reports and have spoken with Captain Lupus already. He's willing to make a deal. In fact, he's very optimistic that we can all put this behind us by the end of the day. How does that sound, son?" He leaned back in his chair while fingering a datapad.
"It's Starbuck. Who's Captain Lupus?" Starbuck asked. He might feel a tad more optimistic if the protector could remember his name. Hades, maybe Corpeus had the wrong guy!
"Right. Starbuck." He nodded. "Lupus is the designated opposer in your case. He's in a good mood today. Normally, the guy goes for blood. I'm flabbergasted that I've convinced him to make a deal at all."
The smile that settled on the protector's face sent a shiver down the cadet's spine. It was like watching a bilge rat grin. "What's the deal?" Starbuck asked. This seemed to be going a little too quickly, even for a fighter pilot. He felt his stomach tighten into a knot.
"We --"
Corpeus stopped as the door opened to reveal Apollo. The Flight Leader paused on the threshold at the sight of the captain.
"Excuse me. We're involved in a confidential discussion. I'll have the med tech inform you when you can return." Corpeus told him as he rose and walked to the door with every intent of shutting it in Apollo's face.
"Wait! I'd like him to be here." Starbuck declared, holding up his hands in protest.
That was all the encouragement Apollo needed to take two steps in the room and shut the door firmly behind him. He stepped around the protector, muttering "Captain", and positioned himself firmly next to the biobed before the man could say anything else "How are you feeling?" he asked Starbuck quietly, after quickly appraising the protector.
Starbuck met his friend's eyes briefly, "I'll let you know when we're done here." He returned his gaze to Corpeus. "So, what's this deal?"
Corpeus sighed loudly, still glaring atApollo as he returned to the chair. Then he turned to face Starbuck, pointedly ignoring the other cadet. "We downgrade your charge to possession of illicit substances and assaulting an officer. That way there's no mandatory sentence of time served. We can settle without a formal tribunal. As I said, we can conclude everything by the end of the day."
Starbuck felt the knot in his stomach twist as he shook his head in confusion. "Wait a micron. Where exactly does that leave me?"
"Expelled. But, there will be no tribunal, and no time served for trafficking drugs." Corpeus nodded encouragingly at him.
"But I didn't do it!" Starbuck exploded vehemently.
"Right." Corpeus nodded calmly, his expression dripping with skepticism.
"I didn't!" Starbuck repeated, his gaze torn between Corpeus and Apollo.
Apollo nodded reassuringly at him and put a hand on his shoulder, "Starbuck, I've read the official report too. What really happ . . . . ?"
"If you don't mind, Cadet, I'm the protector; I'll ask the questions." Corpeus cut him off, climbing to his feet and stretching himself to his full height so he could look down his nose at the flight leader. He glanced again at Starbuck, "Cadet, the evidence to the contrary is very strong. We have five eyewitnesses that saw Sergeant Brand remove the coca from your possession."
"I didn't have any coca, so how in Hades could he have taken it off of me?" Starbuck asked in exasperation.
"Quite." Corpeus nodded indifferently, as he folded his arms across his chest and sighed. "This would be much more straightforward if you told the truth, Cadet." He said quietly. "I've already seen all the admissible evidence. This deal really is the best you can hope for. You're too young to throw away ten yahrens of your life for trafficking, son."
Starbuck opened his mouth to protest, then shut it in horror as the phrase "ten yahrens of your life" echoed through his mind. His stomach turned inside out after climbing outside through his guts to slap him across the face. "I don't feel so well." He ran his fingers lightly back through his hair and bowed his head, closing his eyes tightly.
"Wait just a micron." Apollo demanded angrily. "You haven't even asked him what really happened." His eyes narrowed as the protector simply held up his datapad as if to aver he had all the facts he needed. "This is ridiculous! If you're not even going to explore the possibility that he's telling the truth, he doesn't have a chance! What kind of defense is this?"
"A state funded one." Captain Corpeus replied politely, with a pointed glance at the cadet who had had his education subsidized by the state due to his official status as an orphan of the millennium war. "Give it some thought, Starbuck. I'll come back and see you in a couple centars."