Command made you stupid. He'd been convinced of it before, and now he knew why. Everyone around you was an idiot. You just had to dumb yourself down to fit in, he guessed. Well that wasn't going to be him.

He'd made some agreements with himself long ago, that if he ever managed to straighten up and fly right long enough to be in command, he was going to do a lot of things differently. Not just different, smarter. Like doing away with the endless drills that served no purpose.

He broke that deal with himself his first day back. He ran drills until everyone was cursing his name. He wasn't completely daft though. He found that like he'd always suspected of Apollo, the Strike Wing Captain did indeed have control of handing out furlon days. He used them liberally, turning the drills into a competition. First pilot in his viper won a furlon and no fair just hanging around the launch bay. When he caught Boomer cheating by rigging the lifts so he could get on and exclude everyone else while programming a straight shot down to the flight deck, Starbuck had to add another competition. The man that could document they had come the farthest on the ship and still got there first, earned two furlon days. He kept that up until he could muster the squadron from the nose and the stern all the way to the launch bay, pilots in vipers, prepped for launch in under ten centons. They were cursing his name while they did it, but by the Lords, they did it.

Then he went for under five centons. They were too tired to curse then and he handed out a furlon day to all of them for making it. Why not? With the enemy closing in, they wouldn't see many of those furlon days in the future. And if Apollo's plan could gain approval in the Council, they may not have anywhere to take those days off other than their bunks on the Zakar.

He thanked the lords he had a pilot and a flight deck crewman for a wife. She understood that he was busy, but he got to see her every drill, plus she often brought him lunch and dinner to the duty office, hanging around to give him a needed break. Sometimes they even kicked everyone out and he could clear his desk for more arousing concerns of the day. Nothing like a little fooling around to help you focus for the rest of the shift.

More than understanding, Rene straightened up and flew straight. Sure, things had been a little rough the first day back when she insisted on being there when Fleet Security wanted Jake and Nik to identify the guy they had in custody for the attack. The Rat's silent code was flowing between the three so fast, Starbuck barely caught most of the conversation. Both young men didn't recognize the guy, and Rene was flashing they should just say it was one of their attackers without a doubt and something about her taking care of the rest. The hand gestures argument got heated, and all it accomplished was to completely confuse Security.

Starbuck finally had to drag Rene from the room.

"You're not helping!" he'd barked at her once in the corridor.

"He didn't do it. They've found someone to take the fall," she insisted.

"And how would you know? You weren't even there!" He understood her insistence that it was Pallus even when none of the evidence pointed that way. He'd begun having to work with the guy. He was a boray, no doubt about it. He barely communicated with any of the Copper Squadron including Boomer and Jolly, unless you counted scowling with disdain as conversation. Starbuck had conceded to Rene's defiance, "Look, maybe you're right. There were more involved, we know that, but this guy's genetic markers were in…" he grimaced at the image and changed his wording, "on Jake. He was involved, and if we can get him locked up, eventually he'll sing like a caged bird. One step at time, Rene!"

Shaking her head, she had muttered, "Fraking Colonials," before she turned to head back to the Flight Deck. The chief of the deck, a decent guy who Starbuck considered a friend, had swung by his office late in the shift to let Starbuck know it hadn't gone well her first day on deck.

"You've got yourself a moody one, don't ya?" he'd asked. "But she swears like a mechanic. She's more interested in the mine's we're deploying than doing her job. Anything I should know to make this work?"

Starbuck had been tempted to throw his hands up in the air in defeat. He was neck deep in paperwork and the last thing he needed was to have a talk with his wife about her attitude. But he knew Tyrol. He took hotheaded viper jockeys in stride.

"She's just pissed she can't fly. I think she just wants to kill as many tinheads as she can. And she kind of designed the patterns those mines run," Starbuck rolled his eyes. "You know how touchy people get thinking they own the equipment, when we all know it belongs to the Commander." Starbuck referred back to the various squabbles his pilots often had with the deck crews about the care and feeding of their babies.

"Nothing worse than a pilot that can't fly," Tyrol summarized. "Good to know. We'll work it out."

Starbuck had considered calling him back to his office, but he had enough to do, and Rene could fight her own battles. Much to his surprise, her and Tyrol did work it out. Starbuck often found the two elbows deep on an engine and looking like they were enjoying themselves.

As the tribunal was held for Nik and Jake's attacker, and the man was convicted, things calmed down a little, so he could focus on finding the enemy that was trailing them. He finally got to see what others had told him about Rene, she knew what it meant to be a pilot. Despite being herself at times, rebellious and disrespectful, she did take the job seriously. His viper was pristine, systems hot and primed to go before he hit the flight deck. She knew what the pilots needed most, and had even snuck in little bottles of ambrosia with the emergency supplies. She knew that if your viper took a hit, it might be awhile before someone could get to you. A drink might be just what you needed while you waited for a rescue, or faced the reality that one wasn't coming.

She used her knowledge of being a pilot to help him in other ways as well. When he planned to run his first sleep cycle drill, he crawled into bed fully clothed, boots and all. He couldn't help wondering what Cassie might have said if he'd done that to her, but Rene didn't say a word, other than asking he leave the jacket on the chair, the buckles dug into her if she curled up to him. Wearing her boots too, she came to bed fully clothed. Her answer to his raised eyebrow was, "Your drills affect the flight deck crew too you know."

He found out that all he had to do was talk to the Colonel and he could give out furlons to the flight deck. With the added incentives, they broke the record for the Galactica, making it from in their bunks to turbos firing in just under two centons, and it only took four cycles to do it. He bought everyone a drink in the Officer's Club that night.

Lords he was so tired, he barely stayed awake for that drink. That's what made those in command stupid, he was beginning to think, the lack of sleep. When he ran a drill, he had to be all over the Galactica checking on his pilots, then he had to go over the results. It took him twice as long as the viper jockeys. Then there was the constantly querying the bridge for the long range scans to track the enemy. The rear recon had confirmed, it was the Cylons on their tail, but they weren't closing in, not yet. There had to be more out there. The bastards were surely coordinating an attack, the question was when and where?

One of the perks of his new position was having some input into how the fleet should respond to the situation, not that it changed Adama's opinion about sticking to their course, but at least he was heard. The Commander was all for Apollo's idea of taking the warships on a hunting mission, but he wanted to be sure of just what they were after and if they could match the firepower of the enemy.

"I won't have those ships being used as bait or science experiments testing black hole rift theories. We need more information if we are going to go on the offensive. For now, defense is our best offense. Protect the ball. Don't be so anxious to make the shot."

Adama was right, of course, but it didn't stop Starbuck from itching to get the family over to the Zakar so he could take the helm and face down a base ship. But then Cain's training was delayed by a secton as it waited for the other recruits to be ready. The young man nearly cried hearing the news. He was so eager to have his shot at the tinheads. In a way, Starbuck was thankful for the secton he was able to spend with the young man. He got to know Cain even better as he pulled both boys into his office most days after school. The two kept the place somewhat neat, stacking up his reports and clearing out the half drunk cups of Java. The move to the Zakar had to wait. So Starbuck took advantage of the time and did what he did best, fly.

He took that long range recon like he said he would. The Zakar, sent in front of the fleet, kept registering a strange rectangle shape far ahead of them. Apollo claimed it came and went irregularly on the edge of their range. That meant it had to be moving under its own propulsion. It was driving Starbuck insane. He had to know what it was, especially with the growing rumor that it was a destroyer from Dilmun. Too many of Dante's former warriors were spreading that speculation with a bit more zeal than was needed. Not helping matters was the fact that Boomer had counted. The Dilmun warriors outnumbered the Galacticans.

"If you include that almost all of them can fly a viper, we are the minority. They could in theory take over," Boomer said one day in the duty office. The thought made Starbuck shiver, not so much the take over, but the thinking, "Us and Them". Not just the Rats were forming their own groups, but the Blue, Red and Silver Spar squadrons as well. Soon on top of griping about duty schedules and drills, he'd have to deal with people and politics.

It was a lot to consider, and he needed to clear his head. Nothing did that better than flying. Dr. Paye had confirmed that most of the "foreign bodies" inside him had been expelled, what was left was issuing a signal too weak to be found beyond the Life Center. He had to know what was out there, especially when he actually began hoping it was the enemy as a common foe might solve the divisions in the fleet before things got too bad. He was cleared to fly, so he took that recon patrol.

For Sagan's sake, why didn't somebody stop him? Taking that long flight was a huge mistake. He hadn't seen a cockpit for any length of time since the launch for Caprica, unless you counted his own drills which were just a launch and a landing. Plus, Cora was along for the ride again. He thought he'd lost her when he had to abandon his viper near the shopping mall, a perfect place to ditch the gal. But no, she'd been resurrected and Crius who had joined him, took a liking to Cora, just making the computer even more annoying.

Four centaurs into the flight, Starbuck's back began to ache and he had to shake his hands occasionally to get some feeling back into them. The lingering numbness from the damage the ILs had done to him on Caprica had dissipated in the cycles after his sealing, or so he had thought. Five centaurs into the recon is when he realized that he'd just gotten used to the lack of feeling, and now it was getting worse. His fingers tingled for a while, then went dead as his back began to throb. In the middle of his back where he couldn't reach, something painful stabbed him if he sat still too long. There was no room to really shift around in a viper so that he could stretch out his shoulders and his back, so he had settle for hunching over and then sitting back up straight while he reached up with his hands to his canopy. After six centaurs he tried twisting his shoulders back and forth. It had been unwise maneuver as the numbness turned into a burning that radiated from his shoulders to his hands. If he could just stretch out, move a little, it would solve the problem he was sure of it, but the discomfort grew with each centon.

"You okay over there buddy?"

The fact that Crius could tell something was wrong across the gulf that separated him, helped Starbuck swallow his pride, which just burned more going down, settling in the small of his back.

"No. I'm not. We're not finding anything and…" he hesitated. They had reached the coordinates, they should give it a good look since they had come all this way, but the scanners were clear. "Have you got anything?"

"Nope. It's as barren as a socialator's celebration for celibacy. What's wrong?"

Starbuck wanted to chuckle at Crius's joke, but he was miserable with the reality that it was going to take six centaurs to get back. He wasn't going to make it, not the way he was feeling.

"Come on, Buckaroo, fess up." Crius had nudged his viper closer to get a look at him. Starbuck couldn't even get his fist to close so he could give the thumbs up.

"Now you're scaring me," Crius said. "Do I have to tow you back?"

He thought about lying. He was fine, really he was, just too long sitting in one position, that's all. He'd not had any problems since Caprica and he and Rene had been up to some pretty strenuous activity, well, on his honeymoon anyways. He'd been too busy once he got the promotion, and Jake's move into their quarters seemed permanent, at least until they relocated to the Zakar. He and Rene managed to find some privacy in his office a few times. He'd felt obligated to put some effort into those meetings to make up for his lack of attention at home. So if there was a real problem with his back, it would have shown up then, right? He was fine, really.

Another invisible knife dug itself into his shoulder and he gritted his teeth, hunching over as far as his harness would allow.

"Starbuck? It's me, remember? Crius, your wing mate? The guy who would like to make it back alive in one piece? I assumed you had the same mission. It's just us out here, be honest. Do I need to tow you?"

Growling, Starbuck answered, "No, I can fly. It's my back. Guess I'm not as healed as I thought I was. Pretty much in agony over here."

"Frak me. Well, that sucks." The fact that Crius didn't try to crack a joke didn't make it any better. If he couldn't fly, he didn't know what he would do other than go crazy.

"Just too long in the seat, that's all. Not as healed as I thought I was. Guess I should have kept those appointments with the doc." Starbuck reasoned with his wing mate and himself.

"When we get back, I'll make sure you do. Can't have my own personal Captain with command of the furlons resigning on me. You sit tight, I'll take another stroll around the pasture then we'll head for the barn."

He wanted to tell him not to go on his own, but Crius was peeling off before he could change his mind. Starbuck fired up his long range scan despite the fact that if there was something out there, it would have registered it by now. He hoped that whatever was out there would and come out of hiding. Something was there, but was it friend or foe? Starbuck was betting on foe, but sometimes he liked to lose a bet.

The scanner pinged, for just a millicenton. He expanded the range. Nothing. He pulled it back, nothing.

"Cora, can you increase my scanner range?"

"Already have sweetheart, I'd do anything for you, but alas, unlike my love, my range is limited." As Cora issued a fake sigh, Crius's voice chuckled on his comm.

"Rene finds that thing, you are so dead."

"You tell her and you'll join me in that grave. We're chasing ion trails here. We're just going to have to wait until the fleet gets closer or the bogey decides to show itself. Let's assume it's Cylon and head for safety."

"Yes sir," Crius said, turning for home.

Starbuck let the sir slip by as his wing mate did it just to rile him up. That was at least one deal he had kept with his past self, he didn't let anyone call him sir, least of all the Rats. A fool was a man who didn't know his family was his crew, and family shouldn't have to call you sir.

He let Cora do the flying as he truly was in agony by the time he was able to land. It was not one of his best either, each bounce of his treads sending a new form of torture down his spine. With hands that were unresponsive and felt as heavy as bricks, he shut down what was necessary and left the rest for the hangar crew to manage.

Crius must have called ahead to let someone know about the problem. Rene, Jake and Boomer were waiting for him as he popped his canopy. Rene took up a position sitting on the nose of his viper, taking his helmet from him and helping with unbuckling the safety harness. He tried looking anywhere but up to her, "What brings you here, beautiful? Did you miss me?"

He met her gaze with his mega volt smile. It didn't fool her as she looked deeply into his eyes, nodding as she scanned the truth in them as he tried to lie, "I'm fine. Back just hurts, that's all. Just too long in one position."

She nodded and sighed dramatically. "I knew you'd get old on me, but I thought it would take a little longer."

He grimaced, not finding it funny and she let the humor go, lifting her gaze up to the bright lights of the bay before cocking her head and looking at him seriously. "Remember me talking about flying up until I delivered Kalea?"

He nodded, not sure why she was asking other than to rub it in that he at least got to fly and he should stop his whining. "Yeah, I know."

She leaned a little closer. "I think I told you, I didn't do it well. I just did it because I had to. But I did learn a lot, like the fact that you're going to need some help out of that cockpit. Jake knows how to do that better than anyone. He pushes while I pull, and Boomer catches. You let us do the work or you may hurt more than you already do."

"I'm fine, really. I don't need help. I…Frak," he cursed at the indignity as a jolt of pain followed his attempt to sit up straighter. If his squadron could see him, he'd never get their respect again.

Boomer read his mind. "Jenny cleared the landing bay. It's just us. Better than I had it after Apollo's send off. Ready?"

"I'm good here," he answered, meaning it. "I can do this."

But as he tried to haul himself up, searing pain in his shoulders left him gasping and as he felt some muscle in his back tear in half. As he leaned forward in misery, Jake stepped over his head, planting a boot on either side of the cockpit as he placed himself behind Starbuck's hunched body.

"Don't move, I mean it," Jake said as he slid his hands into Starbuck's armpits and hauled him up while Rene pulled at Starbuck's jacket. Somehow, Jake was able to slide underneath him as he pushed him up, getting Starbuck up and over the lip of the cockpit. If it wasn't happening to him, he would have laughed at the scene of Rene and Jake pushing at his astrum as Boomer pulled him forward and he rolled out of the cockpit breathless onto his stomach. Boomer turned him over and Starbuck groaned, not in pain or embarrassment, but in relief to be able to stretch all the way out. Half the pain dissipated just with that one stretch.

"Oh lords of Kobol, I will grant you anything for a heavy pain killer," he mumbled up to the bright lights of the bay.

In his line of sight, Jake dangled a hypo. "Relax. I look out for my brothers."

"Thank the Lords. It's approved, right?" He didn't really care as he felt the slight prick and then the warmth as something eased in his back.

"Does it matter right now?" Jake gave him a cocky grin before he said, "Sir."

"Oh frak," he moaned feeling the tension release in his lower back. He laid there for a few more moments, reveling in the cessation of the ache. He could hear the systems being shut down on his viper, and lifted his head a little to see it was Rene taking care of his craft.

"Think you can get up?" Boomer asked

At the moment, it seemed as impossible as getting the whole squadron in a viper and launched in just under a centon. But Crius coming to join them with his data logs in his hand gave Starbuck the incentive to try. This time he listened to Rene and let them help him up. She was right, they were good at this, as Rene took both his hands pulling him forward while Jake supported his back. By the time they had him upright, he could walk, stiff and slightly bent over, but on his own.

"Life Center Buckaroo," Crius ordered.

Starbuck wasn't sure what to call the look on Rene's face, a glare or a challenge, either one was too close to the look she often gave Jason when he had upset his teachers.

"I outrank all of you. I'll decide what's more important. Lieutenants," Starbuck barked in frustration. "My scanner picked up something. Not sure what but-"

Jake shook his head at him. "You really should go. What I gave you is temporary. It won't solve the problem.

"My problem is out there!" He pointed to the opening of the bay and the space beyond. "My aching back and astrum can wait."

"Say no more," Crius replied as he popped into Starbuck's viper, pulling his data logs.

"Don't make me say 'I told you so'," Rene muttered shaking her head, but she offered a hand, helping him down the steps from his viper. He truly did feel like an old man as he took them slowly, one at a time.

"Why did you let me fly?" he grumbled to her.

She just chuckled. "Because no one tells Captain Gold Clusters what he can do. You find them? Friend or foe?"

He shook his head. "Damned if I know."

"You could always let me have a look. I can do it in about five minutes, in and out."

He terminated that thought with the iciest Captain glare he had. "I think I've heard that before. Oh that's right, Caprica, where I earned this little problem I'm dealing with right now."

Rene physically flinched as if he'd stunned her and he made a note on his list of things to do different as a Captain. "Tone down your remarks. Stick to constructive comments not cutting criticism."

"I'm sorry," he said, but she wouldn't look at him as they headed for the bridge.