Starbuck left decon about fifteen microns before Apollo. Normally he would wait for his friend, but a niggling thought at the back of his mind had him wanting to track down Luana before his triad practice.

His talk with Apollo had actually made him feel a lot better. Instead of writhing in guilt over his actions, he had simply accepted that things happen for a reason. Yeah, Cassiopeia would be happier without him, the more he thought about it.

As for Luana . . . well, that hand still needed to be played out. He realized that instead of thinking about what she ultimately wanted or needed from him, he should be taking his time and sitting back to enjoy his sudden freedom.

Hades, he had a card game tonight and no one was going to be giving him a hard time over how late he played, how much he lost, how many drinks he had or how many smoldering weeds he inhaled. A slow grin spread across his features as he strode off the lift. Really, he should let Luana find him. She was the one who offered no commitments. It wouldn't do to have him seem too eager.

He turned the corner to abruptly come face to face with an IFB reporter, microphone, and videcam. The light that suddenly shone in his eyes had him taking a step back as Zed's voice bombarded him with the unexpected accusation.

"Lieutenant Starbuck, what is your reaction to Sire Dracus' suggestion that you are throwing your games and receiving kickbacks?"

"What?" Starbuck asked as he held his hand up to the light. "What the frack are you talking about?"

"Lieutenant, we're live here." Zed pointed out. He looked over his shoulder as one of his team muttered something to him. "Of course, you've just come off patrol. Perhaps you're unaware that Sire Dracus was on the IFB this morning discussing sports betting. He mentioned that an increase in betting activity seemed to coincide with your recent abysmal performance on the court. Now, our research shows a lump sum of cubits was recently deposited in your personal account. Honestly Lieutenant, the fleet would like you to explain how one of our most honoured and decorated heroes could sink so low as to disappoint a multitude of fans, many who are youngsters that admire, and indeed, emulate your personal example of conduct and ethics."

"Zed, if you don't get that fra . . . thing out of my face, I'll stick it so far down your throat that you won't be able to sit for a sectar!" Starbuck snarled as his bewildered mind tried to process the information, while pushing aside the mic that was dangerously close to penetrating his nasal passages. "Now what in Hades are you talking about?"

"The cubits, Lieutenant. Where did you get the cubits?" Zed asked, again sticking the mic under Starbuck's nose.

"What cubits?" He shook his head, still befuddled. His personal account was so empty that dropping a single cubit in it caused an echo that reverberated throughout the Colonial coffers. Well, hypothetically speaking.

"There was a substantial deposit just this morning. Now, coincidentally, don't you have a game tomorrow night? Is this payoff for past games thrown, Lieutenant, or for future ones?" Zed drilled him, pausing a moment when Starbuck's eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared and the warrior tensed from head to toe.

With the speed of a striking serpent, Starbuck's hand reached out and grabbed Zed by the tunic, shoving the reporter against the wall. He grabbed the mic with his free hand and jammed it under the interviewer's chin. "Consider this an exclusive," the warrior spat. "I don't take bribes. I don't throw games. Anyone who says otherwise can say it to my face, not hidden away in the backrooms of the IFB, while I'm a parsec away on patrol."

"Well, how do you explain your lackluster performance of late?" Zed gurgled with the mic pressed firmly against his throat.

Starbuck huffed in frustration. "I almost died on a mission last sectar, and you expect me to be up to the same standard I was last season? Well, I'm not! Yeah, my playing is pathetic, I admit it. Nobody is more painfully aware of it than me, pal. But it has nothing to do with throwing games. I'm out of shape. Pure and simple." He shook his head in self-disgust and loosened his grip on Zed. The weird thing was he was doing so much better at practices, but as yet, that hadn't translated to the courts of the Rising Star. "Maybe that will change your gallmonging odds enough to satisfy Dracus."

"That still doesn't answer where the cubits came from, Lieutenant." Zed returned, surprised and almost a little disappointed that Starbuck hadn't pounded him through the bulkhead. After all, it would have been a brilliant lead-in for the Primary Report.

"You tell me. You've obviously been poking around my account more than I have lately. Did you trace this supposed deposit, Zed? Isn't that part of your research?" Starbuck countered. "As far as I know, since my last payroll deposit and subsequent withdrawal, my account was as empty as your accusations."

Zed flushed, knowing he hadn't completed the research to the degree his director would have expected, especially considering his accusatory line of questioning with the warrior. He had hurried his data gathering, hoping to catch Starbuck unaware upon his return from patrol. He had made every effort to be aboard the battlestar on the pretense of updating a recruiting add for the military, and had expected the lieutenant would pass by the official media gallery on his way from the landing bay.

"What's going on here?"

Starbuck released Zed, thrusting the mic back into his hand and then turned to face the cool, appraising eyes of his Captain. With relief he felt Apollo's hand clap on his shoulder in a show of support. The captain's eyes narrowed as he assessed Zed and his media team.

"Captain Apollo, can we get your view of the situation?" Zed asked, once again swinging the offending microphone in a warrior's face.

"There is no situation." Apollo replied calmly, noting his friend's surprised glance. Luckily, he had been filled in on the IFB report by one of his crew before hitting decon. He had planned to talk to the lieutenant about it on the way to the courts. Surprisingly, however, Starbuck had left the landing bay ahead of him, clearly intent on doing something before their triad practice. "I can assure you with the greatest confidence that Lieutenant Starbuck would not throw a game. It's complete . . . conjecture." He grabbed Starbuck's arm and steered him firmly towards the nearby lift without a look back.

Starbuck followed Apollo's lead, calmly entering the turbolift and entering his level as he watched the IFB videcam follow them. As Zed and his team disappeared from view, he swung around, banging his fist against the wall, his fury finally finding an outlet. It felt good . . . so he did it again.

"Starbuck . . . " Apollo hesitated, immediately seeing a disturbing similarity between Starbuck and Boxey. The man was almost as impressive as the child in full tantrum mode. He just hoped the warrior wouldn't start kicking the panel next. "Hey, try saving some of that energy for the court."

"I don't believe this!" Starbuck snapped. "They think I'm throwing games. Frack, I know I've been playing bad, but throwing games . . . " He shook his head and slumped against the wall, leaning his head back against it. Sometimes being a minor celebrity wasn't all it was cracked up to be. People celebrated everything you did well, and criticized everything you didn't. And now . . . "Maybe I should just throw in the towel for the rest of the season."

Apollo grabbed his shoulders and gave him a little shake. "Hey, I know you don't really mean that. The way you played at our last practice, you looked as good as you ever did."

"Yeah, and the way I played at our last game, I looked worse than I ever did." Starbuck griped back. He shrugged off his friend's grip, pacing the small cubicle and blowing out a deep breath. "You're right, I don't mean it. I won't quit. I just hate to look . . . " He dropped his gaze, disconcerted by his train of thought.

"Bad." Apollo smiled, turning to follow Starbuck's frenzied path. "No kidding. Face it, buddy, humility isn't one of your strong suits."

Starbuck smiled ruefully, "Well, I'm not exactly accustomed to being the bumbling fool on the triad court . . . or anywhere else for that matter."

"Hey, it's not so much your moves, it's your shots that just aren't hitting the mark." Apollo reassured him.

"Yeah, my shots, my passes, pretty much every time the ball leaves my hand. Other than that, well, I'm great."

"It'll come, Starbuck. Just be patient." Apollo encouraged him.

"Patience isn't one of my finer qualities either. Or maybe you haven't noticed." Starbuck returned with a slight grin.

"Yeah, well, if you cut yourself a little slack, it might come easier. You have to be realistic. You're not twenty yahrens old anymore. It takes longer to recover from your injuries."

Starbuck groaned aloud. "Lords, is that supposed to be a pep talk? You're just old, Starbuck. That's all. Thanks a lot, Apollo. You know, you'd be perfect to give inspirational messages to the fleet." He affected an evangelistic voice. "Do you find that your ale glass is constantly half empty, or half full? Either way you're likely an alcoholic so it doesn't really matter."

Apollo grinned, "You might be exaggerating. Or are you just a little more sensitive about your age now that you're sleeping with Luana?"

"What? Hey, wasn't it you who once said something about the Lords of Kobol having very young wives? Are you changing your tune?"

"Not me, Starbuck, I don't have a problem with it. If I remember correctly, it was you who had a problem with it. Wives, eh? Hmm, I don't think I've heard you mention that word voluntarily before. Is there something else you wanted to tell me?" he teased.

"Lords, are we ever going to reach our level?" Starbuck muttered, eying the levels as the indicator light moved along far too slowly for his liking.

Apollo chuckled in response before asking more seriously. "Hey, what was Zed talking about with the cubits in your account?"

"I don't know. Except for my . . . well, I have some cubits in my locker, but other than that, I'm broke." He caught the quirk of Apollo's lips. Yeah, he usually was broke. That's why he was always getting his friends to stake his games. However, he had been carefully laying aside some of his pay for the big game that night. It was going to be all or nothing. Of course, if his streak of bad luck continued the way it had been going the last sectar, it would be nothing. However, if you didn't risk it all, you'd never win big. Every gambler in the universe knew that. "I guess I'd better check it out though. Maybe I've inherited a vast estate from an unknown relative." He grinned.

"More likely payroll made some kind of error, buddy." Apollo returned logically. "Either way, you better get it sorted out before Zed gets his nose any further into your business."

Starbuck nodded distractedly. Actually, a few extra cubits to put into the game might be just what he needed to give him an edge at the game. After all, he was inclined to play less cautiously when he had more of a pot . . . at least these days. Hades, maybe he was getting old. All the same, if payroll had made an error, far be it for him to point it out.