Chapter fifteen
After a gastronomic feast of grey stuff, with some fluffy white stuff, and a side dish of green thingies, all covered in brown sauce, Starbuck stretched out on the bunk in his cell. He tried to remind himself he had spent the previous night in the infirmary and that was why he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. It had nothing to do with the quarter letron of partially congealed sauce that he had just consumed.
He ran his fingers lightly over the small dressing Commander Adama had applied to his head. He had never thought he would see a leader of men like Adama, pushing him down on the bunk as though he was a child, and field dressing his head wound.
Well, admittedly it wasn't much of a head wound. It still hurt though. Actually, the slight headache was more bothersome than the small cut.
He pushed away the memories of Brand breathing down his neck. It had been one of the most terrifying moments in his life. He had actually thought the man had totally lost it, and that he was going to be his first victim.
Scratch that. Brand had had victims throughout his career. Starbuck wasn't his first. There had been rumours flying around the Academy for yahrens about Brand taking matters into his own hands. That was part of what made him an effective drill-sergeant. Cadets feared him.
But, Brand really seemed like he was about to cross that imaginary line with Starbuck. The cadet knew he didn't usually overreact; he could read malignant intent like a book. Starbuck's survival had depended on it.
Yeah, he had never been so relieved as when Adama's booming voice had put an end to Brand's search. Then after talking things through with the Commander and his son, he was actually feeling hopeful that things would get sorted out. He had one Hades of a team on his side, after all.
So, when Captain Corpeus had finally shown his dour face, Starbuck had told him off and thrown him out. Well, he would have thrown him out if the man hadn't chosen to have his conversation with the irate cadet while remaining in the corridor. All the same, it felt damned good to tell Corpeus just where the protector could file his deal.
His eyes fluttered shut. Commander Adama and Apollo were speaking with Colonel Diallo by now. Adama had been incensed when he had left the brig. Starbuck could see where Apollo got it. Indignation apparently ran in the family. It was a nice trait actually.
Hopefully, his next visitor would be Apollo, telling him he could go back to the barracks. Lords, his narrow, cold, lumpy little bunk would be like heaven. Surrounded by the sonorous tones of his fellow cadets, he would sleep like a newborn babe safe in his mother's arms. It was so much easier to fall asleep in the . . .
Click.
Starbuck's eyes half-opened as he waited. Nothing. No clap of boots. No call of warning. Nothing.
Abruptly, his heart began to thud against his chest. He turned his head towards the cell door, still waiting. Every sense was alive and tuned in to the corridor. Then he heard the faint scrape of a boot scuffing the floor, as if someone was doing their damnedest to felix-foot their way along. He sat up.
Once again his eyes flew around the room, looking for a weapon. Anything. The dinner tray. He rifled through the dishes, all of them plastic, so were the utensils. However, the tray itself . . .
A shadow fell across his line of sight and he looked over to see Brand, security card in hand, reaching silently across to open the cell. He glared venomously at the cadet.
Starbuck leapt to his feet, grabbing the metal tray and letting it fly, as the doors hissed open. It caught the sergeant full across the face, knocking him back a half-metron as he regained his balance. Then the cadet rushed him.
Starbuck crashed into Brand, grabbing him around the chest and hauling him to the floor, before the man had a chance to recover. He heard the thwack as the sergeant's head bounced off the floor. He grabbed the front of Brand's tunic with his left hand, pulling back his right, fully prepared to pummel the man. Then he felt Brand fall limp beneath him.
Starbuck's chest heaved with his sudden exertion as he gazed down at the sergeant. "Keane!" he shouted towards the door, which separated the cells from the offices. It was ajar, which was unheard of in the security office.
Frack, it was like one of those bad scenes in a horror holovid. The maniac intruder. The beckoning doorway. No other way out. Well, at least he didn't have big breasts, long hair and a tight sweater.
He climbed off Brand, taking a step towards the slightly open doorway. Every muscle was tense as he wondered what he would find. What had become of Keane? His eyes flickered back down to Brand, knowing that the sergeant would have had something to do with this, unless Keane was in on it with him. Then he could just as well be waiting for Starbuck. Frack.
He crept along the corridor, gently pushing the door open. Keane was in a heap on the floor just behind the door, his leg propping it open. The cadet knelt beside the security officer.
"Keane. Hey, Keane." Starbuck gave him a nudge.
The officer was out cold. The cadet checked his pulse, more out of training, than for any need to confirm it was there. The man was breathing evenly and his colour was good.
He needed to get to a comm and call for help. This wouldn't look very good, two unconscious security officers and a sprung detainee. His eyes flickered up to the comm only metrons away. Who exactly should he call when Security was down? Colonel Diallo? Just great, Bucko. Lords, he should secure Brand before doing anything . . .
Whack!The sudden blowbetween his shoulders sent him sprawling across the floor. He swore he was still in motion when Brand's weight was suddenly upon his back, his arm curled around Starbuck's throat. The sergeant pulled him backwards, until his feet were under him, and then dragged him back into the cellblock.
Starbuck grasped futilely at the beefy arm around his throat. He gasped for breath as Brand brutally kicked Keane, forcing the man clear of the doorjamb. The door automatically swung shut. Click.
Brand dropped the cadet on the floor, taking several steps back. Starbuck twisted around and quickly regained his feet, gulping in deep breaths. Brand was poised for action, motioning the cadet to join him with a slight beckoning of his fingers. His grin spreading evilly across his face. "Come on, Starbuck. Show me what you've got."
Well, hand-to-hand combat wasn't exactly Starbuck's forte. He wasn't built for it. He was lean and fast, not built like a pit-Taurus like Brand. He knew his strength lay in using surprise to gain an advantage. How in Hades was he supposed to do that when the sergeant was facing him down? This is why you chose to fly a viper, Starbuck.
"C'mon, kid." Brand taunted him again. "I think I'm being generous giving you a chance. I was just going to choke you to death and then hang you from a ceiling beam with your own belt around your scrawny little neck."
"How in Hades would you explain that?" Starbuck rasped, noting the sergeant's dilated pupils and his flushed skin. Sweat was running off him in torrents.
"Easy. Once you accidentally killed Keane while trying to escape, you were over-whelmed with guilt. You hung yourself."
"But Keane isn't . . . " Dread penetrated his senses as he realized Brand meant to kill them both. His mouth was suddenly dry. "Why would I try to escape? Commander Adama is arranging for me to go free right now." He took an involuntary step back as Brand advanced on him.
"You panicked." Brand grinned, seeing the fear on the face of his victim. It was gratifying. He lunged towards the cadet.
Starbuck leapt to meet him, after all, there was no place to run. He aimed low and cannonballed into Brand's legs, knocking the man head over heels to the floor. Starbuck scrambled to his feet and threw himself onto the sergeant, while the supine man was still catching his breath.
Days of pent up anger and frustration finally culminated in a powerful blow to Brand's gut. Starbuck heard the oomph of air expelled from the sergeant as the man's hands instinctively covered his stomach. Pressing his advantage, he landed a blow to Brand's jaw.
Brand's body convulsed, and he suddenly bucked his hips wildly, unseating the cadet who tumbled against the wall. The sergeant rolled to his side punching the cadet in the chin with such force that Starbuck's head snapped back against the wall.
The cadet slumped against the wall.
"Not bad, kid. Just not good enough." Brand huffed as he reached down to the cadet's waist and undid his belt, pulling it free. He looped the belt around Starbuck's neck, pulling it tight. No response.
This would really be easier if he didn't have to carry Starbuck to the beam. Besides, if the kid wasn't going to kick as he choked to death, it wouldn't be much fun to watch. And really, wasn't it all about the fun?
Brand slapped Starbuck sharply across the face, eliciting a low groan. "Wakey, wakey," he said in his best fatherly voice.
Starbuck moaned as he opened his eyes, still feeling the sting of Brand's strike. His head was pounding and his body felt sluggish as he tried to focus on the man before him. Even holding his head erect was difficult with the pain radiating from the back of his skull down to his neck. He could taste the sharp metallic tang of blood.
"Time to die, Starbuck." Brand growled as he gripped the end of the belt tightly, winding it around his hand. He pulled sharply and heard the squeaky wheeze of breath escape, as the cadet's airway was closed off. He grabbed the cadet's light infirmary tunic and yanked him to his feet, dragging him backwards into the cell.
Starbuck's fingers desperately pried at the leather band on his throat. His mind vaguely recalled Brand threatening to strangle him. He could hear his wheezing, gasping breaths and he sought to suck air into his lungs past the occlusive barrier of his belt.
Brand stepped onto the bunk and physically lifted the slim cadet up with him. He knew there was a nail pounded into the supporting beam up there. He had put it there himself, finding it amusing to see if anyone noticed. So far there'd only been one suicide in the brig because of that nail. This would be number two. Officially, anyhow. First though, he had to reach the nail so he could loop one of the belt holes on to it.
Starbuck's neck was arched back with the pulling pressure of the belt, and with mounting terror he watched Brand's hand stretch up towards a nail just beside the bunk. He could feel his feet losing contact with the bunk as the Sergeant hefted him up towards the nail, his meaty arm enveloping the cadet. The leather band was not quite long enough, and he could hear Brand grunt with exertion.
Starbuck forced himself to let go of his belt, his airway abruptly cut off. Simultaneously, he reached behind him, trying to pry at Brand's eyes with his thumbs. The scream behind him indicated he had found his mark. He held on tightly as the sergeant lost his balance and they both fell, landing roughly against the sink and turbo flush.
"Hold it!" Colonel Diallo's voice commanded as he fumbled for his command card to open the cell.
Starbuck looked up half-dazed from his prone position on the floor, to see several familiar faces,their features twisted in apprehension and shock. Commander Adama, Colonel Diallo, Apollo and Imara, his brain finally registered.
Apollo and Imara's faces suddenly changed and he could see them mime a scream of warning, the sound not penetrating until a micron later. He rolled over as if in a dream to see Brand pointing a blaster at him. The sergeant took a purposeful step forward.
Inexplicably, Brand lost his footing, and fell backwards, a cry bursting from his lips. His head crashed into the turbo flush, and he dropped to the floor beside Starbuck, unconscious.
The cell hissed opened and the four warriors poured into the tiny space.
"Are you okay?" Apollo kneeled down beside his friend, prying Starbuck's hands from his throat to check for injuries. Dazed blue eyes gazed back at him, and then looked sluggishly around at the other faces. A slight wheeze persisted when he breathed. "Starbuck! Say something!"
"Is he breathing all right?" Adama asked his son, soon seeing for himself that he was. The Commander leaned over Starbuck, also palpating his throat. "Comm the infirmary, Diallo. I don't like the look of either one of them."
"Right, sir." Diallo replied, already on his way.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Imara kneeled on Starbuck's other side.
"I'm not sure. Starbuck? Can you say something?" Adama asked.
Starbuck nodded slowly and tried to clear his throat. A cough was all he could get out. His hand covered his throat again as a sharp pain pulsed through his neck.
"Let's sit him up. It might help with the swelling." Apollo told them, getting behind Starbuck and propping him up into a sitting position. He winced as he looked at the swollen lump that was spreading across the front of Starbuck's neck. "How's Brand?"
"Still out cold." Adama remarked as he leaned over the sergeant. "He's got a huge lump on the back of his head from his fall."
"How did he fall?" Apollo asked, feeling his friend's breaths quicken and the wheezing intensify.
"Slipped on a bar of soap." Imara remarked. She leaned in front of Starbuck, grabbing his hands and trying to pull them from his throat. "Let me see."
Starbuck could feel hands pulling at his, but his instinct to grasp at his throat while each successive breath grew increasingly difficult, kept them firmly in place.
"Starbuck!" Imara grabbed his face between her hands and stared into his eyes, demanding to be heard. "Let me look at your neck. Let go!" She saw him focus on her briefly, as if trying to understand her words. "Let go," she repeated firmly, pulling at his hands again, but this time feeling them grasp hers firmly.
Can't breathe. Starbuck knew his mouth was open and he was forming the words, but nothing but a hoarse rasp was coming out. He squeezed Imara's hands, trying to will her to understand. Her dark eyes stared back at him, full of fear. That didn't help.
"Colonel! Where's that med team? We need help now!" Adama roared, wondering if it would make more sense to lift the young man in their arms and carry him the short distance to the infirmary.
Diallo flew to Starbuck's side. "I can see them from the doorway. They're on their way." He touched Starbuck's neck, the swelling easily visible. He pushed on the wound, causing the cadet to flinch away from him. "Easy, Starbuck. I'm here to help. Really."
Oddly enough, that wasn't very comforting, when the pressure from Diallo's hands caused intense pain and subsequently made it even more difficult to breathe. He struggled to escape Diallo's hands, but Apollo held him firmly in place.
"Starbuck, he needs to put pressure on the area." Apollo cried, even as he looked at Diallo questioning if that was indeed the point of the painful exercise.
Diallo nodded. "You're bleeding, Cadet. Now buck up and sit still. Your struggling only makes it worse." He barked at Starbuck with all his usual authority that demanded obedience.
He didn't really mean to do it. It just happened. Instinct.
Diallo reeled backwards as Starbuck's fist caught him in the nose. Blood poured between his fingers as the sickening crunch of cartilage echoed in his ears. Fracking Hades Hole!
Apollo stared in surprise at the Colonel who had tumbled onto his astrum. He watched Imara give her father a cursory glance before she leaned forward and applied pressure to Starbuck's neck again.
"Try that with me, Pal, and I'll throttle you." She warned him, but her words lacked her father's bite.
Voices rung out from down the corridor and the sound of boots reverberated through the brig. Two med techs appeared, with Dr. Alpheus bringing up the rear.
"Out of the way." Zhi ordered them, and all except Apollo moved. The cell was meant to hold one man, not nine.
Med Tech Nagra raced to Brand while Zhi ran the biomonitor over Starbuck, stopping to magnify the resonance over his neck. "We have a hematoma here, Doctor. Probable fractured larynx."
"Sats?" Alpheus wheezed as he climbed down onto his knees. Lords, he was getting too bloody old for this felgercarb.
"Eight-five percent." Zhi replied, as he dug into his med kit and pulled out oxygen, promptly applying the facemask to the cadet. "Blood pressure is holding. I'll start an intravenous access."
"Subdural hematoma here, Sir." Nagra called out. "Blood pressure is 230 over 120. Tachycardiac at 160. Frack, he's pyrexial too. Burning up. None responsive and pupils non-reactive. I think he's gonna code, sir."
"Frack! We need them both in surgery stat!" Alpheus cried, climbing with difficulty to his feet.
"Sir, we only have one surgeon." Zhi pointed out, as he set up the intravenous and then turned to activate the hoverstretcher.
"Prep the cadet for a tracheostomy. If we have to ventilate him, we will. That should stabilize him. Hopefully, the sergeant can wait that long. Now let's move!"
"What can we do to help?" Apollo asked, still holding his friend whose chest was heaving with the effort to breathe.
"You take his top half, I'll take the bottom. On three we lift." Zhi said, indicating the hoverstretcher. "One, two, three."
The two men lifted Starbuck onto the stretcher. Zhi secured the biomonitor, intravenous and oxygen and started pushing. Apollo helped guide the gurney through the narrow corridor, passing by Security Officer Keane, who was groggy, but awake, and being treated by another medic. Imara led the way, holding open doors and clearing people out of their path.
"Where's Dr. Alpheus?" Imara asked Zhi, looking behind them as she ran ahead of the stretcher.
"He needs to help Nagra with Brand, just in case he codes." Zhi puffed as they raced across the square, curious eyes following them.
"What if Starbuck stops breathing?" Apollo shouted.
"If it happens, we'll deal with it." Zhi told him.
"What in Hades do we do? Run back to Alpheus?" Imara yelled.
"No, we prep him for surgery. That's the only thing that will give him an airway."
As they reached the infirmary, the door flew open and several health care members raced down the stairs. With but a passing glance for Zhi, they shot across the square.
"Frack." Zhi muttered, looking behind him to see Alpheus leaning over the hoverstretcher and compressing Brand's chest.
"Oh, my God . . . " Imara muttered, her face pale.
"Zhi! Starbuck!" Apollo cried, realizing the cadet was pulling at his oxygen mask and gasping for breath, his lips dusky and his eyes rolling back in his head.
"Double frack!" Zhi exclaimed. "Imara, get that mask on him! I'm cranking up the O2! Let's move it, people!"
They crashed through the doors and two more techs joined them as Zhi shouted instructions to his team members. Mayhem seemed to break loose, but each health care member knew his role and performed it efficiently. Within a centon, they had Starbuck prepped and rolling into surgery.
"You have to wait here!" Zhi put a hand to Apollo's chest and grabbed an even more determined Imara by the arm. "We've got him from here."
"But what about Alpheus?" Imara cried.
"We can get an airway without Alpheus." Despite the claim, his eyes anxiously searched the entranceway for a sign of his Chief Medical Officer.
At that moment the second hoverstretcher crashed through the doors, Alpheus leading the way. "Prep him!" The Doctor shouted to the team. He looked to Zhi. "Is the neck ready?"
"Yes, sir!" Zhi replied, again pushing Imara back.
Alpheus ran in to the theatre, not even speaking to them.
"I'll let you know when we have him stabilized." Zhi promised, and stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.