Chapter Thirteen
Apollo strode towards Commander Orrick's office, wondering what the man would want with him. He had headed directly to the infirmary after leaving the supply office, only to find out that Starbuck had been discharged to the brig merely centons before. He was about to follow his friend when a med tech had informed him he had been summoned to the Commander's office. ASAP.
Apollo had only been in the Commander's office a couple times before. The man had received all four squadron leaders at the beginning of the yahren, congratulating them and giving them a traditional speech which was meant to inspire them and impress upon them their challenges and accomplishments.
That was really the last time Apollo had seen him. Perhaps the rumours were true. Maybe Orrick was content to sit back as some kind of figurehead and let Colonel Diallo run things. He snorted. That was probably why the executive officer was able to sells arms to the Chobatars.
He entered the reception room, which was a bit more plush than he was accustomed to in a military setting. Rich woods and colours that hadn't been there on his previous visit, reminded him of an office of a wealthy businessman rather than that of the Academy's Commanding Officer.
"Are you Cadet Apollo?" an attractive young woman sitting behind a dark, cherry desk asked him as she brushed her auburn hair back from her face.
"Yes, I am." Apollo replied as he watched her manicured nails press an intercom and notify Orrick of his presence.
"You can go in," she smiled pleasantly at him.
"Thank you." He nodded. She hadn't been there the last time either. Quite a few improvements in the Commander's office. He stepped through the door to find Commander Orrick sitting behind his desk engaged in conversation, a glass of ambrosa in his hand, his cane at his side.
"Ah, Cadet Apollo. You appear to be a difficult young man to track down." Orrick nodded at him curtly and then smiled as he watched the cadet's eyes fall on his visitor.
"Father!" Apollo exclaimed as his body abandoned any pretense of standing at attention in front of the men.
Commander Adama rose from his armchair, placing his ambrosa on Orrick's desk. "Apollo. You look well." He crossed the couple metrons between them with a broad smile and lightly embraced his son.
"Father, I wasn't expecting you for centars. " Apollo blethered in surprise as he looked over his father's shoulder at the chrono on the wall.
"I know. I'm a bit early. I took advantage of the fact to stop in on my old classmate." Adama smiled warmly at Orrick as he placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Thank you for your hospitality, old friend."
"My immense pleasure, Adama. Make yourself at home while you're here. You'll find the old place hasn't changed that much since we were cadets." Orrick rose stiffly from his chair onto his prosthetic leg, using his ever-present cane for support. He gripped Adama's arm.
Adama smiled looking around at the opulent office. "That would be surprising, indeed." He returned a hand to his son's shoulder, guiding him towards the door.
"Other than his office, it probably hasn't." Apollo told Adama with a smile as they left the reception office. "At least, the barracks are the same."
"It's supposed to build character." Adama replied with a smile, as he looked over his firstborn. He was proud of the boy. Top of his class and flight leader of the esteemed Phoenix Squadron, like his father before him. Of course, Apollo was a serious, studious, focused young man and didn't have underclassmen like Cain trying to lead him astray. Ah, those were the days.
"Your mother sends her love. She has every intention of cooking us a meal to remember tonight. All of my favourites, oh, and maybe one or two of yours." Adama's eyes twinkled at the thought of the feast and the family reunion he was intent on pulling together, if only for one evening. "I have Commander Orrick's permission to conscript your services and assign you to Siress Ila until curfew." He grinned at his son. "Roast bovine carving begins promptly at 1830 centars."
Apollo could feel the grin slip from his face, as he listened to his father's words. An image of Starbuck in the brig had him stopping in his tracks as his father headed towards the main gate. "Father, wait. I can't."
"Can't?" Adama paused, turning back to him. "Why ever not?"
He had half expected his father to just demand he accompany him. Apollo took a deep breath as he started to explain. "One of my friends is in the brig. He's been accused of trafficking drugs." He watched his father's generous eyebrows shoot skyward. "Wrongfully," he added, pausing for his father's reaction. An eyebrow rose slightly, waiting. "It's really complicated, but suffice it to say, his protector would rather see him expelled than exonerated."
"And you need to be there . . . why?" Adama asked evenly, noting the tension in his son. Apollo was in full Ila-mode. He was just like his mother when he committed himself to something. He saw it through, not veering from his path until he was done.
"I've been checking out his story and getting some evidence together." He watched Adama paying rapt attention to him, wondering fleetingly when his father had ceased to treat him like a child. "He's been set up . . . by an officer . . . " Again he assessed the Commander's reaction to the story. He knew his father's reactions so well, and could recognize the slight wrinkling around his eyes that indicated doubt.
"An officer, Apollo . . . " Adama hesitated as his eldest son started to flush angrily.
"It started out to look like the officer was upset that the cadet was dating his daughter." Apollo determinedly carried on. "Then Starbuck overheard something that led him to believe the Colonel was smuggling arms to Chobatar rebels." He ignored Adama's impatient frown. "We did an exercise in Mazuria yesterday and one of the new dual-setting lasers was found in Chobatar hands." Adama's expression changed from that of impatient disbelief to one of abrupt surprise. "Those guns were slated to arrive at the Academy. Acquisitions has a record of them being sent, but not delivered."
"Starbuck overheard the colonel talking about a rendezvous for 0800 yesterday morning. Coincidentally, he came across some rebels yesterday afternoon carrying those blasters. Unfortunately, in the course of the exercises he was injured and by the time he arrived back at the Academy, he was being detained for trafficking and assaulting Colonel Diallo. This despite the fact that he had a concussion and was half- conscious and disoriented when he was examined by the med tech, before he allegedly attacked the Colonel." Apollo took a well-deserved breath.
"Apollo!"
Apollo turned to see Dorado running towards him. The cadet grabbed his flight leader's arm as he came to a stop, not even contemplating the older man at Apollo's side.
"Starbuck gave me these for you." He handed over the tokens. "This proves Brand didn't really search him like he claimed!" Dorado puffed, suddenly paling and coming to attention when he realized the identity of the man his friend was with. "Sir!"
"At ease, son." Adama nodded as the bizarre tale continued to unwind.
Dorado nodded respectfully in return, before returning his attention to Apollo. "He's in the brig. That scum sucker of a protector hasn't even been back to see him yet." The young man had the presence of mind to look mildly chagrined as he saw Adama fold his arms. "Uh, pardon the language, sir."
Apollo let out a deep breath. "Thanks, Dorado. I'll take it from here."
Dorado nodded reluctantly, hoping that meant that Apollo had the assistance of his esteemed father. "Let us know what happens."
"I will." If I can. He watched Dorado walking back towards the barracks, dragging his feet.
"This Starbuck." Adama put a hand on his son's arm. "I think your mother's told me a few stories about him." He mentioned tentatively as he turned his son towards the brig, walking along side.
"I'll bet she has." Apollo smiled.
----------
Back in the fracking brig. Starbuck was aware of Brand's hand gripping his arm tightly as they paused at the door. Brand slowly keyed in his entry code, his hands visibly shaking, and the heavy door clicked in response. The sergeant slammed the door open, the force of it hitting the wall loudly. Starbuck swallowed nervously as he looked sidelong at the enlisted man.
Brand was perspiring. His face was screwed up, whether in pain or anger, the cadet wasn't sure. He kind of hoped it was pain. Starbuck had seen an angry Brand already, and he wasn't looking forward to a recurrence. Especially while his arms were restrained behind his back.
"Take him to cell 'g'. Leave him restrained though. I want to search him personally before we take the shackles off." Brand directed Keane. He pushed the cadet roughly ahead of him, heading for his office.
"I can search him." Keane offered, not understanding why Brand was taking it upon himself. It was unlikely the cadet was carrying anything of importance.
Brand whirled around, his face red with anger. "I said I'd do it! Are you deaf or just plain stupid?" He hollered.
Keane reflexively took a step back. "Okay, okay. Fine." He muttered in annoyance. The sergeant's mood swings were becoming a problem. It was time to think about transferring out of security. He caught up to the cadet and gripped his arm. "Let's go."
Starbuck was beginning to feel like he had battle cruisers flying around his stomach. Unease filled him as he proceeded down the corridor until they reached the cellblock. Once again he waited while Keane entered the access code.
At least Keane wasn't trying to destroy the wall when he opened the door. At that moment he felt something akin to affection for the man. Well, maybe affection was too strong a word. Starbuck started walking, not waiting for the usual shove forward. Within a micron, he felt Keane's hand back on his arm, guiding him down the row of cells. Every last one was empty.
"Home sweet home." Keane muttered cheerfully, as he swiped his security card across the narrow beam of light, the cell opening. The cadet stepped inside, avoiding any need for encouragement. "Brand will be with you in a centon. Sit tight."
"Yeah, right. Thanks a lot."
"What? No smart-astrum remarks this time? Are you losing your edge, Starbuck?" Keane taunted him as he walked back to the controlled entrance.
"It's not my edge I'm worried about." Starbuck murmured as he heard the click of the door once again. He tested his restraints for about the tenth time, hating the sense of helplessness. Slowly, he turned in a circle, his eyes taking in everything in the small room. A cot with one pillow and blanket. A turbo flush with three wipes. A sink with a small bar of soap. That was it.
He sighed as he put together a semblance of a plan. Get the bar of soap wet and strategically place it on the floor. Brand enters, slips on the soap, hitting his head on the turbo flush. Brilliant. Yeah right, Bucko.
The click from the door alerted him to Brand's entry. The clap of Colonial boots coming down the hall had him desperately looking the room over once again. Frack. He just had a bad feeling about this.
"Settling in?" Brand paused in front of the cell. He appeared calm and steady as he watched the cadet pace nervously before him. He opened the cell door, entering, and then closed it again.
Starbuck drew in a breath and backed up. "Uh, look Brand, my protector should be along any micron now . . . "
"Turn around." Brand barked in his drill sergeant voice.
"Uh . . . " The last thing he wanted to do was turn his back on that maniac. Starbuck was caught between his survival instinct and the knowledge that ignoring the sergeant's orders would infuriate him further. He took another step back, feeling the cold, hard wall behind him.
Brand was on him in an instant, grabbing him by the arms with a strength that astounded the cadet and slamming him face first into the wall. "I said, turn around!"
Stars appeared before his eyes, as Starbuck's head bounced off the concrete. Oh, not again. He felt Brand steady him as his knees started to buckle.
"Stand straight, cadet!" Brand bellowed in his ear.
The stars cleared to reveal a dented grey wall. It made Starbuck wonder briefly if his head had made the dent. He was acutely aware of Brand's breath on the back of his neck. It was hot and oppressive. He could feel something warm trickling down his forehead.
"Now, I'm going to search you. If you move so much as a muscle, I'll make you regret it. Understand?" He growled, waiting for a response. He didn't get one. "Do you understand, cadet?" he yelled, leaning on the cadet and pressing him into the wall once again.
"Yes, sir." Starbuck replied, his heart pounding as he wondered where this was going. Brand had actually seemed more agitated before he went to his office. But this Brand, cold and controlled, scared him even more.
Brand gripped Starbuck's hair, running his other hand through it roughly. This wasn't so much an exercise in searching as it was a chance to humiliate the young man, and let him know he was going to be subjugated to whatever it was Brand intended to do. A smile spread across his face at the number of possibilities.
"What the frack are you . . . " Starbuck hissed as his head was yanked painfully back.
A punch to his right kidney was Brand's reply. He leaned on the cadet again, stopping the downward slump to the floor. "Did I mention how many muscles it takes to move your mouth?" He growled in Starbuck's ear, as he pulled him back to his feet. "Now shut your festering gob, cadet!"
Starbuck shuddered as pain and fear wracked his body. He struggled to catch his breath as he felt Brand's hands start to frisk him again, this time running across his chest and down his sides. He had been searched before, but always impersonally and quickly, the procedure as distasteful to the security officer as it was to the detainee. This time it was different. Brand was taking his time, purposely making him uncomfortable. Trying to intimidate him. It was fracking well working! He bit his lip, suppressing a remark.
"Just what in the name of Kobol is going on here?" A powerful voice roared from behind them. "Open this cell NOW!"
Starbuck heard the hiss of the doors sliding open, even as Brand's weight disappeared from his back. In a micron, supportive hands had gripped his shoulders, turning him around. He let out a breath in relief. Apollo.
"I was searching him, sir." Brand's voice was clipped, as he stood at attention in front of Commander Adama.
"Searching him? That doesn't explain the blood, Sergeant." Adama snapped as he took in the pale countenance of the shaken cadet, arms restrained behind him. What in Hades was going on?
"He's a drug user, sir. I was making sure he was clean before I released him. I don't want any drugs in here, sir."
"I'm NOT a fracking drug user!" Starbuck snarled, lunging towards Brand. Apollo's hands held him in place and he could hear the flight leader muttering something to him which he didn't quite catch.
Adama's eyes shifted to the cadet, narrowing ever so slightly. He had recovered from his predicament quickly, and looked like he was ready to go a round with the sergeant. Bound or not. "Sergeant, I find your treatment of this cadet inappropriate and unprofessional. I want a full report on your commanding officer's desk in one centar. Furthermore, until an investigation of this incident is completed, you are relieved of duty in the brig. You're dismissed."
"Yes, sir." Brand replied, as he swallowed down his anger. His eyes flickered over Keane who had let them in the cellblock, and who now stood quietly in the corridor. He needed to talk to Diallo, but first, he needed to get home and . . . unwind. He brushed past Keane, giving him a little shove on his way out of the brig.
"Remove the restraints." Adama ordered Keane. The security officer nodded and promptly did the Commander's bidding.
"Are you okay?" Apollo asked Starbuck as he watched him rub his wrists.
"Yeah, but that was damned good timing, buddy." Starbuck told him, as he gazed at the familiar features of the man in front of him. He finally realized he was standing in front of greatness. "Holy Lords . . . " he muttered as he gaped at Adama.
"Not quite." Adama responded with a slight smile. To Keane he directed, "Bring a med kit."
"Starbuck, this is my father, Commander Adama." Apollo introduced them.
"Wow." Starbuck muttered, suddenly short on words. Not exactly the most auspicious of occasions under which to meet the man.
"What happened here, Starbuck?" Adama asked softly.
Starbuck glanced at Apollo. "How much . . . ?"
"I've filled him in on a lot of it, but not everything. Didn't really have time." Apollo told him as he watched Starbuck wipe at the trail of blood on his forehead and then palpate the lump that was rising there. He met his father's concerned gaze.
"Perhaps you should tell me everything. From the beginning." Adama suggested. As unlikely as it seemed, the two had stumbled into something formidable. And if his behavior was any indication, Sergeant Brand was involved up to his barbaric brow.