Chapter Sixteen
Crude, but effective.
How long?
Not much longer. We'll try to remove the tube soon. The regeneration treatments and medication have reduced the swelling and the reconstructive surgery has repaired the structural damage to his larynx.
Is he going to be . . . ?
He'll be fine. We expect a full recovery. He'll be back in his Starfighter next secton.
His eyelids fluttered, attempting to open. He knew they were talking about him. If he could just get his eyes open, but a warm, fuzzy feeling was dragging him back down.
Starbuck?
Their voices sounded far away. It was comforting really. Almost like angels watching over him.
Hey Starbuck, can you hear me?
He's still coming out of the sedation, Cadet. It won't be much longer.
The last thing he remembered, he thought he was going to die. As much as he'd thought he'd come to terms with the idea after almost three yahrens of training at the Academy, he now realized he was wrong. Plain and simple, death was bad, and therefore should be avoided at all costs.
Truthfully, he had expected he'd buy it in a fighter, warring with the Cylons. Not at the Caprican Academy, hanging by the neck from his own belt. Lords Starbuck, how do you get yourself into these situations?
A cold mist was gently blowing onto his neck. He wasn't sure why it was there, but all it seemed to be doing was making him cold, drawing him further away from the darkness. He reached for the offending object, trying to pull it away.
"You need that right now, Starbuck. Easy now." Cool hands pulled his away.
Starbuck opened his eyes to see Dr. Alpheus and Apollo gazing down at him. A quick glance assured him they were the only two present, other than the members of the health team on the periphery. What happened?
"Sorry son, didn't catch that. You have a tube in your throat that's been helping you breathe. You can't talk right now. I'm going to sit you up a bit more and deflate the cuff. If you can breathe all right, and I'm certain you can, we'll take out the tube." Dr. Alpheus told him in a calm manner.
What? Starbuck mimed, gazing at him in bewilderment.
"Starbuck, your larynx was fractured. You had a hematoma that effectively occluded your airway. We repaired the damage and drained the hematoma. The tube in your throat bypassed the swelling and enabled you to breathe. I think we're ready to remove it after the regeneration treatments that you had last night."
Starbuck felt the head of his biostretcher going up. Last night? He seemed to have lost a day somewhere.
"Now, when I deflate the cuff, it's going to make you want to cough. Just go ahead." Alpheus had a long tube in one hand and a blunt syringe in the other. "Stand back out of the way, Apollo."
At that, Starbuck stared at the Doctor wide-eyed wondering what was about to happen. He noticed his friend wasted no time in complying with the physician.
"All right. Here we go." Alpheus picked up the small cord that was attached to the trach tube and attached his syringe. He pulled back on the syringe, sucking out the air that kept the cuff inflated.
Abruptly, Starbuck coughed, feeling as though someone had just thrown a cup of water into his lungs. Mucous hurled from his throat and across the room, hitting the wall.
"That's it. Now take a deep breath and give me another cough, just like that one." Alpheus encouraged him.
Starbuck did as he was told; his next projectile mucous plug hit its target creating a disgusting mosaic on the wall. He cringed at the sight of it.
"Well done." Alpheus encouraged him. "Uhm . . . are you all right, Apollo?"
"Uh . . . yeah." The Phoenix leader replied, wishing he had stepped out of the room. The doctor could have prepared him for bodily fluids flying across the room before he signed up for this duty of friendship.
"You can leave if you like." Alpheus told him.
Apollo looked at his friend gripping the rails of the biostretcher, white-knuckled. "No, I'll stay." Starbuck nodded at him gratefully. "Do you want me to hold your hand, Bucko?" Apollo stood beside him, a rueful grin on his face.
Starbuck mimed something at him sourly, rising to the bait.
Apollo grinned in reply. "Sorry, I didn't get that. Actually, maybe you should leave the tube in a while, Doctor. I think it's an improvement."
Starbuck turned his upper body to face Apollo, with a menacing look on his features. He pointed to his throat and then at his flight leader, miming threats the entire time.
"Don't you dare cough on me!" Apollo exclaimed, unable to contain his grin.
"All right now, you two, that's enough." Alpheus attempting to restore order, an amused smile on his face. The Phoenix leader had managed to ease his friend's tension effectively enough. "Now, Starbuck, I'm just going to put my finger over the tube. That should tell us whether or not you can go without it. If you can breathe around it, you obviously don't need it." Alpheus leaned in and plugged the hole before Starbuck could think about it too much.
The cadet startled slightly as his airway naturally rerouted. He sat anxiously staring at the doctor and taking deep breaths.
"You should be able to talk now. How do you feel?" Alpheus asked him, his eyes on the biomonitor at the bedside.
"Fine." Starbuck said hoarsely, his throat still sore.
"Everything looks good. I'm going to take out the tube." Alpheus undid the fastening that secured the tube in place. In one quick move he pulled out the tube and covered the small hole with an occlusive dressing. "All done. Now, we're going to hold on to you for another day. Tomorrow, I want you to just take it easy. Cadet Apollo has informed me that you're getting a secton-end pass. I'd recommend you just rest. Your body has been through a lot this secton, and you need to recover if you want me to clear you for flying next secton. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." Starbuck replied, his voice still rough.
"Later today, I'll send someone along to laser mend the stoma. Until then just press on it when you talk, cough or eat. That will help it heal quicker." The doctor indicated his throat dressing. "Don't stay too long, Apollo. He needs to get some rest."
"Yes, sir. And thanks. Dr. Alpheus."
Starbuck watched the older man move away to check on another patient. He tentatively touched his throat, splinting the wound. "What time is it?"
"1400 centars. They sedated you after your surgery yesterday. You've been out for a good twenty centars." Apollo told him, pulling up a chair.
"What happened?" Starbuck asked, feeling disoriented.
"What do you remember?"
"Well, Brand tried to . . . kill me. But . . . " Images flickered across his mind. Including that of an unconscious Keane lying on the floor. "Is Keane okay?"
"Yeah. Brand knocked him out. He didn't even know what hit him. He has a slight concussion, but he's okay."
"What about Diallo? What happened when you went to see him?" Starbuck asked, trying to fill in the missing fragments of his life.
"This is confidential." Apollo watched Starbuck nod briefly. Adama had agreed that Starbuck should be told the story, if only to understand the outcome. "His wife is dying from a brain tumour. He started smuggling Academy supplies to cover experimental treatments, in hopes it would save her life." He watched Starbuck raise his eyebrows in surprise.
Apollo nodded. "Commander Orrick has decided not to charge him based on his emotional duress. However, he is demoting him and reassigning him to the base at Arktos. It's all been done quietly." Though Arktos was an important defensive position from the point of planetary security, it was a barren, frozen wasteland. The tribunal had been behind closed doors. That decision hadn't sat particularly well with Apollo, so he could only image how Starbuck would react. Commander Orrick, Commander Adama and Professor Hegen had received Apollo and Imara separately, solely to give their statements. Later Adama had informed Apollo of the tribunal's decision and sworn him to secrecy. To Apollo's surprise, Starbuck just nodded, seemingly uncaring.
"And Brand?"
"He's dead, Starbuck. The doctor said he had a massive amount of coca in his system. I guess it thins the blood. When he hit his head, he ended up with a brain hemorrhage which killed him due to complications from the coca."
Starbuck paused in thought, just letting it sink in. Brand was dead. He kept his features carefully impassive, just as he had done at the news of Diallo's release. The sergeant was a repugnant tyrant who had made the average Cylon look like a caring creature. At least the Cylons just shot you out of the sky. Brand had assaulted him both mentally and physically. He wouldn't miss the maniac. Not one bit. He blew out the breath he was holding. "How's Imara?"
"She was here most of last night, buddy. She wouldn't leave until we knew you were okay. I haven't seen her since I followed her in to Commander Orrick's office to testify this morning. I do know she went with Diallo for the tribunal's decision."
Starbuck nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. He closed his eyes and rubbed his throat once again. It felt as though someone had ripped it out, trampled on it, and then stuck it back down again. Actually, most of him felt that way.
He couldn't help but resent the fact that Diallo had received a closed tribunal. After all, if he, a mere cadet, had actually made it to tribunal for his drug charges, they certainly wouldn't have concerned themselves with his reputation or privacy. On the other hand, this way would have been much less painful for Imara. Lords, she had been through enough.
"Do you need something for pain, Cadet?" a familiar voice asked.
Starbuck opened his eyes to see Med Tech Zhi looking down at him in concern. He cleared his throat when his attempt at speech came out thick and raspy. "Yeah. Do you ever get time off?"
Zhi smiled in response and reprogrammed the medical pump at Starbuck's bedside. "This will probably make you a bit dozy."
"Don't say it." Starbuck warned Apollo, who simply grinned.
"Maybe I should let you get some rest. The squadron will want to know how you're doing." Apollo stood to go as he watched Starbuck's eyelids begin to droop again.
"Apollo." Starbuck stopped him.
"Yeah? Do you need anything?"
"No, I just . . . " He shook his head slightly to clear it. The sensation seemed to rise from his chest and envelop him snugly, once again threatening to draw him down into that warm, dark place . . .
"Get some rest, Starbuck." Apollo patted his hand, surprised when Starbuck grabbed it and looked up at him, fighting to keep his eyes open.
"Thanks for believing in me, buddy." Starbuck mumbled, his words sounding thick and fuzzy to his ears. "It means a lot."
"That's what friends are for, Bucko." Apollo replied with a smile. "Now get some rest."
Starbuck was asleep before the last words were out of Apollo's mouth.
----------
What a secton. A day of maneuvers, a day in the infirmary, a day in the brig and then back in the infirmary. Now, as he studied his datapad, which Dorado had been kind enough to drop off to him, he realized he had missed three days of classes. If what Dr. Alpheus meant about taking it easy didn't include one and a half centars of hand-to-hand combat training in the morning followed by an afternoon of amphibious operations in the natatorium, he was going to miss another day. Well, guess what you'll be doing on your secton-end pass, Starbuck? Making up classes.
He looked around the life station to see a couple techs at computers and the only other patient walking out the door to freedom. He sighed.
2100 centars. No sign of Imara.
For someone who had apparently been so fracking worried about him the night before, she hadn't made much effort to see him when he was awake. Women, who could figure them out?
He shook his head and checked his throat for the hundredth time that day. The hole was indeed closed over. The pain had faded to a dull ache. Kind of like the sore throat one associated with a virus. Med tech Zhi had told him it would be completely gone within a few days. Amazing really. One night he's unable to breathe and is being rushed into emergency surgery, and the next he's fine. Yeah, the Service sure had the medical care down to get their warriors back into the field ASAP.
He swung his feet to the ground, padding across the room to look out the windows. Another wet, gloomy day in Caprica City. It was pitch dark already. Perfect lurking-about weather.
He looked back at the med techs. He really didn't need to be here any longer. It was only under Dr. Alpheus' orders that they were keeping him. His tubes were all out and he had even managed to force down the thick fluids they had put in front of him in the evening. Ironically, each selection tasted much like the last.
Beside, he just had an inexplicable feeling that if he didn't track down Imara soon, he wasn't going to see her again. No, he didn't have anything concrete to base it on, but in the past he had usually found it's best to follow your gut feeling.
He stepped over to the desk and drummed his fingers quietly on the counter as he waited for the tech to finish what she was doing.
"What do you need, Starbuck?" Solana asked him, looking up with a smile.
"What do I need to do to get out of here?" Starbuck asked tentatively. He had thought about sneaking out, but it was preposterous in the large room where the med techs could see him everywhere except the turbo flush . . . and contrary to the rules of fresh air and ventilation, there were no windows in the flusher to make good an escape.
"Dr. Alpheus said tomorrow." She reminded him gently. He still looked pale and was moving about with all the agility of the Chief Medical Officer after a twelve-centar shift.
"I need to get out tonight." Starbuck held her gaze. "Even just for a couple centars."
"Why?" Solana asked, her eyebrows raised. This ought to be good.
"I can't . . . really say." He looked down, avoiding her searching gaze, and studied his hands. "It's . . . confidential. Commander's orders." He shook his head, a tad dramatically, and ran his fingers back through his hair anxiously. He met her curious glance. "I know. That doesn't help much, does it?" He looked at her sadly, his eyes flickering over the chrono on the wall and then back again.
Solana looked at her partner, who shrugged nonchalantly. "Uh, just a couple centars? Then you'll be back?" He looked so distraught. It was just like a pass. Dr. Alpheus often granted passes just before a patient was ready for discharge.
He nodded tentatively, his eyes lighting up slightly at the thought that she might voluntarily let him go. He reached down and squeezed her hand gently. "I promise."
She smiled up at him. "All right, but you better make it a centar. Curfew is at 2200."
"Thanks Solana. I appreciate it." He gave her the benefit of his most charming smile before turning to grab the uniform Dorado had brought him.
Within centons he was dressed and heading towards the Brites Building. He pulled up his collar against the wind and the rain. Oddly enough, there were very few other people loitering in the square. Lords, it was foul weather.
Starbuck took the steps two at a time and then walked in the front door, heading directly for the stairwell. He pushed his damp hair back from where it was plastered against his forehead. It wasn't curfew yet, so it wasn't necessarily against any rules for him to be in the women's dormitory. All the same, he received a few amused glances as he rushed towards Imara's room.
He knocked briskly on the door, his heart racing. It was the run up the stairs, Starbuck. That's all.
The door opened to reveal Danna, Imara's roommate. She looked at him hesitantly and frowned before swinging the door wider to let him in. "Hi."
"Imara's not here?" Starbuck confirmed, quickly scanning the room. He turned in a slow circle as he noticed the stripped second bed and the curiously empty half of the room. "What's going on, Danna? Where is she?"
"She's gone, Starbuck." Danna admitted. "She's . . . quitting."
"Quitting? Imara? Felgercarb." He retorted, not believing it for a micron. "Where is she?"
"I don't know. Honestly. She left about twenty centons ago." Danna touched his arm. "She did resign, Starbuck. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but she really did quit."
He knew he was staring at her dumbly, but he couldn't help it. "Why in Hades would she resign? She's going to graduate in a few sectars!"
Danna shrugged and held up her hands. "Hey, from the stories I've been hearing, you probably have a better idea about that than me. I'm completely in the dark." Her pinched expression told him she wasn't too pleased about that.
He nodded briefly and turned to go. He was half way down the second staircase when he realized he hadn't even thanked her.
Starbuck stepped out into the inclement night once again. The wind and rain whirled about him as he stood on the steps, wondering where to go next. Where could she possibly be if she only left twenty centons ago?
Of course.
He hurried across the square, sniffing to himself. Didn't think you'd ever go there of your own accord, did you, Bucko?
He entered the stately building that housed Colonel Diallo's office. Correction. He wasn't a Colonel anymore. He wondered how far back Diallo had been busted. It hadn't occurred to him to ask Apollo.
Diallo's office was at the end of the corridor. The light was on beneath the door. He gathered his resolve and briskly walked to the threshold, rapping twice on the door.
Microns seemed to stretch into centars as he waited for a response. He reflected that he had never chased around after a girl like this before. He had never really needed to. However, he'd never met someone like Imara before now.
The door cracked open a few centimetrons, and a surprised Diallo looked back at him. "I wasn't expecting to see you again."
"I'll bet you weren't." Starbuck replied coolly, quickly noting the major's insignia on Diallo's collar, but mainly trying to see beyond the man who had put him through Hades and back. Then again, he hadn't exactly been a ray of sunshine in Diallo's life lately either. "I'm looking for Imara."
Diallo looked back over his shoulder. "It's Starbuck," he told his daughter.
Starbuck caught the soft murmur of Imara's voice responding to her father. He was unable to make out her words. Diallo turned to him again, studying the cadet.
"I suppose you think I owe you an apology." Diallo suggested candidly.
"No." Starbuck replied after a moment. "You don't owe me anything. I didn't come here to see you. I just want to talk to your daughter." They didn't have any unresolved issues, the way he saw it. This was just one of those crappy hands that life dealt you. He didn't need to dissect it, analyze it or come to terms with it. He'd just file it under 'another lesson learned' and move on.
Diallo nodded briefly. "Somehow I don't see any family dinners in our future. You know that, don't you?"
Starbuck met his gaze, hearing the hard truth in his words. Hades, he had figured that out the night that Imara had told him it was over. He didn't need Diallo to tell him. "Get out of my way." He replied evenly.
Diallo's initial reaction was to tell off the cadet, as he stared him down. Something about their previous physical encounters made his anger rise quicker than usual at the blatant insubordination. His recently broken nose was a vivid reminder of their last meeting. Starbuck didn't flinch and held his ground, no hint of regret in his stance. Diallo looked beyond the bravado and saw the pallor, the bruised face and neck, the intensity behind his aloof front. He stepped into the corridor.
"I'll give you some privacy." Diallo told him gruffly before turning on his heel and walking away.
The door opened wider to reveal Imara. Her eyes were already moist at the thought of what was to come. She studied him for a centon, from head to toe, remembering how she had almost lost him the night before. Now, twenty-four centars later, she was simply walking away. She smiled sadly. "You look like mong. You should be in bed."
He drew in a deep breath and stepped towards her, pulling her close. He felt her head burrow into his shoulder, and ran his fingers through the silky, dark strands. "That's the strangest proposition I've ever had."
Her body trembled ever so slightly; a stifled chuckle filled the room. She stood back and looked at him with a smile on her face. "You always make me laugh." She felt his hand stroke her cheek and leaned in against his touch, savouring it.
He cupped her face and kissed her. Soft. Gentle. A caress of flesh on flesh. His forehead touched hers and he sighed, breathing in her scent. He was afraid to ruin the moment.
Her arms enfolded him again and she pulled him close, reluctant to speak, though they had so much to say. She ran a hand up through his hair, loving the feel of it. "I . . . I'm going to miss you so much." She bit her lip, a more revealing confession on the tip of her tongue.
"Why are you leaving?" Starbuck asked, needing to hear her explanation. It wasn't like her to run away . . . especially without saying goodbye. Oh, they may have only had a short-term relationship, but he figured he had grown to know her fairly well over the yahrens. Her fierce independence and spirit had drawn him to her as much as her beauty. Well, almost.
Imara drew back and studied his features. She traced the bruise on his cheekbone with the tip of her finger. "I just can't . . . deal with all this right now. It's too fresh in my mind." She watched him start to respond but put her fingers to his lips to quiet him. "I already hate everyone looking at me, wanting to know what happened. Tomorrow, another officer will replace my father. I can't be here to see that happen. It's just too hard for me."
"But you're just a few sectars from graduation, Imara." Starbuck argued with her, taking her hands in his. "You have a whole career ahead of you. You'll be leaving this place behind soon enough. You have friends who will support you through this, people who . . . care about you." People who love you. Why was it so hard to say out loud? Perhaps because he knew no matter what he confessed, she was still going to leave. She would just take a smaller piece of him with her if he left it unsaid.
"I'm not sure I even want to be in the Service anymore. Since I've learned how it failed my father, I feel differently about it." Imara replied. "I need to take some time out and think about my future." Lords, she had tried to think about how her future might include Starbuck, but she knew that whenever she looked at him, she would see her father's disgrace. "I should really be spending some time with my mother. Do you understand?"
Starbuck nodded slowly. He had been thinking about it most of the day. After all, he wasn't totally insensitive. "I wish . . . I wish we'd gone somewhere else last secton-end. That none of this had happened." He muttered quietly, dropping her hand and fingering her hair lightly.
"You wish?" she asked ruefully. All the same, just knowing that he'd sooner be with her, rather than see an arms smuggling racket revealed and her father demoted meant a lot. Probably more than he knew. Maybe even more than she thought he was capable of. She smiled up at him. "Kiss me like you did that first time, Starbuck. I want to feel it right down to my toes."
A languid smile spread across his face. "It wasn't your toes I was aiming for," he told her huskily.
"All right then." She could feel the heat rising from her neck into her cheeks. She didn't care though. "Take your best shot, flyboy."
Starbuck studied her, memorizing every detail of her delicate features. Her beautiful eyes beckoned him as she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her jamocha skin was flushed with colour.
His hand crept behind her head, his fingers entwined lightly in her tresses. He gazed into her dark eyes, losing himself in their depths. The suspense of the moment only heightened his desire for her, and the anticipation on her features told him she felt the same.
He leaned in and kissed her softly, tentatively, just as he had only days before. But, unlike the first time, her lips hungrily sought his, as she pressed herself against him in a desperate need to connect with him once again.
They clung together, trying to fit yahrens of passion into one embrace. The three little words they were reluctant to speak were instead conveyed by touch, as hair became mussed, tunics became un-tucked, and arousal became evident.
The extra-loud, purposeful sound of Colonial boots clapping down the hallway startled them both and they looked up to see Major Diallo heading towards them.
"Frack, that was stupid," Starbuck muttered from where they stood in the doorway, still embraced. With scant effort he picked her up, walked two paces in the door, and kicked it shut with the heel of his boot. He grinned down at her, painfully aware he would need a few centons before he could face the Major.
"Starbuck!" she laughed as the somewhat surprised, but mostly outraged visage of her father replayed in her mind. Her view of Diallo while peering over Starbuck's shoulder had been almost comical.
"What?" he chuckled in reply, setting her down. He pulled her gently against him again, feeling her laughter against his chest, knowing how much he would miss it.
Imara's laughter faded to a smile as she felt him running his fingers through her hair again. A simple touch that was so sensual in nature; she loved it.
Her eyes darted sadly around the room, taking in the mostly empty office except for the few boxes that held the last eight yahrens of her father's career. She sighed and snuggled against him once again, looking up to meet his eyes. "Any last words?"
He sniffed in amusement. "Funny way to put it."
"No regrets, Starbuck." She told him. "We may never see each other again. This is our last chance to say whatever we need to say."
"You go first." He answered immediately.
"Coward." She retorted.
"That's it? That's what you wanted to say?" he chuckled along with her.
"You're a man of many words, Starbuck. Most of them total felgercarb." She accused him with a knowing smile. "But what you don't say . . . that's what I'll always cherish when I think of you." She blinked as her eyes filled with tears.
"No regrets." He whispered back to her, shaking his head at the impossibility of that. Lords, he had lived life that way for so very long, but this time it was different. Just move on, it doesn't really matter, had been a way of life. Until Imara.
His own eyes filled with tears and he blinked them back, embarrassed by his emotions. He tried to tell himself that they would have crashed and burned in a couple sectars, if only to settle his tumultuous feelings. She would have discovered his faults and then moved on. But then he saw the first tear spill from her eyes. "Imara, I . . . "
RAP, RAP!
" . . . love you," she finished for him, wiping at his runaway tear as she looked at the door, knowing their time had run out.
" . . . love you." He smiled and tipped up her chin and tenderly kissed her.
RAP, RAP!
"Lords, what does he think we're doing in here?" Starbuck asked her with a grin.
"Exactly what we are doing." She replied in amusement and then studied him for a final moment before sadly adding, "You'd better go."
"I know." He nodded, caressing her cheek one more time before turning and opening the door.
Major Diallo stood there akimbo, staring at them in impatience. He let out a sigh as he stood back for Starbuck to pass.
A stream of sarcastic comments came to mind, each more venomous than the one before, as Starbuck faced Diallo. For Imara's sake, he bit his lip and walked by. He controlled his urge to look back, knowing it was likely Diallo's ugly puss he would see. He soothed himself by picturing the Major in Arktos, freezing his astrum off; however, Imara's haunting image superimposed itself over her father's. He sighed as the sound of his boots echoed down the lonely hallway.