Apollo raced to the Life Station. He was thankful that Technician Hummer—having relayed what he had seen on the vid feed from the transceiver—had the presence of mind to telecom him about a simple gut feeling that something was happening . . . somewhere . . . and that Fausto was somehow involved,. The captain's first instinct had been to contact the Life Station, Starbuck and Luana's safety foremost in his thoughts, and his hunch paid off when the med tech told him they needed manpower to evacuate the health facility stat.
Available Security Officers and Colonial Warriors alike were mobilized, and by the time Apollo had dropped a sleeping Boxey off at Athena's quarters and had reached the Life Station, bio-stretchers were already moving down the corridors to the room that had recently been used as a secondary health facility when the isolated pirates and refugees had arrived from their asteroid base.
Apollo skirted around another stretcher, noticing as he entered that everyone in the Life Station—whether patient, health care worker, or emergency response worker--was wearing a life mask. He reached for one of the many that were piled on a table at the entrance and hastily applied it before seeking out Dr. Paye.
Paye was running a biomonitor over a patient, his expression hidden by his life mask. The closer Apollo got to them, the more his gut told him the patient was Starbuck.
"What happened? What's going on?" Apollo asked, relieved when Starbuck's eyes flickered open in reaction to the familiar voice. He squeezed his friend's shoulder.
"Carbonion monoxide poisoning." Paye replied flatly. "I don't know how it happened, or where it came from, but everyone in Life Station has a mild or severe case of it, and early symptoms present as . . ."
"Skorpian Influenza." Apollo concluded. "No wonder it didn't spread beyond the Life Station." He watched as Starbuck tried to follow the conversation, his brow furrowed with concentration, but then the lieutenant's blue eyes disappeared behind increasingly heavy eyelids.
"And everybody who returned to quarters suffering from symptoms improved." Paye added. "The problem is we don't know if it's limited to the Life Station, or if it has somehow infiltrated our air exchange system on a more wide spread basis. Not exactly something we want to find out after rest period when people simply don't wake up again."
"Has Air Quality Control been alerted?"
"Colonel Tigh was going to take care of that. As you can imagine, I've been busy enough just getting on top of the situation here."
"How's Starbuck? And the other patients?" He added the latter almost guiltily as an afterthought.
"He and Deimos are the most severely affected, but they should be fine now that we have them on straight O2. They don't appear to have any appreciable organ damage and the pure oxygen they're getting has already corrected their metabolic acidosis." Paye nodded towards the other biobed alongside Starbuck's. "They both had toxic dicholorionmethane levels in their blood which acts by releasing fumes that are readily absorbed and converted to carbonion monoxide by the liver."
"Dicholor . . ." Apollo shook his head. It didn't exactly roll off the tongue. "So, it's not a carbonion monoxide exposure?" He asked hesitantly.
"No. At least I don't believe so. The Air Quality Techs can tell us for sure. Dicholorionmethane seems to be the culprit." He reached over and grabbed a bag of intravenous solution, replacing the nearly empty bag that was infusing into his patient, and then turning and doing the same for Deimos.
"And what is it?"
"It used to be used as a solvent until a safer product was produced. Used in dozens of applications aboard a Battlestar. It hasn't been marketed for almost fifteen yahrens because of the danger to the user. It was supposed to have been purged from the inventories long ago."
"How did you figure it out?" Apollo asked.
"Starbuck and Deimos both became increasingly unresponsive which set off a few warning bells with my staff. I repeated their blood gases and tox screen, and the results, which were drastically different from earlier tests, were consistent with carbonian monoxide conversion from dicholorionmethane poisoning." Paye replied briskly. "The lieutenant is stable enough to transport now if you want to find someone to push the bio-stretcher," he said almost dismissively as he looked at Deimos, his mind already focusing on his next patient.
"How about me?" Boomer's voice intruded, his dark eyes looking down at Starbuck in concern as he moved to the foot of the bed.
"I'll help you." Apollo added, grabbing the bar at the head of the stretcher and deactivating the braking system. Starbuck's eyes opened again, looking around in bewilderment as he was suddenly shifted. "We're moving you down the corridor, Starbuck."
Apollo's voice coming out of Boomer's mouth. He blinked down at his friend realizing there was something . . . wrong . . . with his face. It looked kind of—he squinted, trying to focus—translucent. Life mask, Bucko. He raised his hand, touching his own life mask. That was never a good sign.
"Leave it on, Starbuck. You still need it."
Starbuck tilted his head up to see Apollo . . . his voice now coming from him . . . or in retrospect it possibly was all along. He took a deep breath and rubbed his head, which didn't seem to be pulsating like a Cylon Pulsar Cannon anymore. Lords, now it felt like it was filled with mushies. Half-chewed mushies of the sticky, slightly soggy variety.
"Where's Lu?" he asked, or rather croaked, watching Boomer screw up his face, indicating he hadn't quite heard the question. He cleared his throat and asked again.
"She's transferring patients like the rest of us." Boomer replied, not able to withhold the smile that Starbuck's first concern was for his fiancée. It was about time he found someone he was obviously smitten with. Other than himself, that is.
"Since when do patients transfer patients?" Apollo asked, not missing Boomer's grin at Starbuck's new priority in life. If someone didn't say, 'ah, shucks' soon, he might be forced to do it himself. But then, that wouldn't be very 'captainly' of him.
"Apparently, she was released earlier today." Boomer replied. "Ensign Lia personally guaranteed that everyone in the woman's billet is watching her like a falco."
"Apollo . . ." Starbuck wet his lips. "Ask Sheba to watch her for me." As much as he trusted Lia to watch her sister carefully, the young woman didn't have the instinct and skepticism that came with yahrens of experience, and life in the harsher realities of the Colonies, as opposed to the comparatively sedate planet Empyrean. Lia lacked Sheba's edge.
"Can't, Starbuck. Sheba left. She's part of the landing party for Axius." He hesitated at Starbuck's wince of concern. "I'll ask Dietra. Okay?"
A slow nod. "I've got to get out of here. This fracking Life Station stay is going to kill me," Starbuck muttered quietly, not liking the fact that he couldn't watch over Luana himself.
Apollo met Boomer's eyes. Starbuck didn't yet know how close he was to the truth.
----------
Sheba couldn't remember the last time she had drawn in a deep breath and filled her lungs up with the sweet scent of an evergreen pinus forest. The warmth of the sun beamed down on her as she walked across the immense glade that the four Vipers had landed in, heading for Bojay's ship. She turned in a complete circle, sinking down slightly into the soft earth, and all the while starring up in awe at the majestic trees that surrounded them, making her feel so tiny and insignificant. They had to be at least a millennium old, standing proud and erect over an expanse of woodland that seemed to densely cover the land mass they had landed on. The planets where they had encountered Iblis, the Empyreans and the Alrinach may have had real air, but these were scents, she was sure, from home!
"Smell that air!" Ensign Varick exclaimed as he fell in beside her.
"It's intoxicating!" Ensign Drina added, pulling her black hair back over her shoulders.
"Yes, it is," Sheba returned, wondering how pirates from that Godforsaken asteroid base could come to this place to abduct workers and women, and not decide there and then to stay forever. If this was indeed Axius, it was glorious. "And smell it all! If those aren't trees we know, then tell me what they are!"
"It's like some kind of childhood land of enchantment!" Bojay exclaimed when they reached him, looking around. "It's beautiful!"
Sheba glanced at him in amusement. "I didn't know you had it in you," she teased him.
"Hey, don't tell me after all these yahrens that you don't know about my sensitive side," he grinned.
"I didn't realize you knew the meaning of the word," she returned.
"All combat and no play makes Bojay a dull boy day after day." Bojay winked at his wingmate.
"My point exactly," Sheba laughed, dodging the playful shove he sent her way.
Ensign Varick was already studying his triangulator, getting a fix on the largest settlement they had identified from orbit, also the closest to this remote landing point. "Captain, Lieutenant, I estimate that the settlement is about 7.85 kilometrons to the southeast." He pointed in that direction for emphasis.
Drina checked her own, also out and activated, nodding her agreement.
Sheba smiled, remembering Ensign Varick's inclination to be focused and serious when there was a job at hand on Alrin. Boomer had told her at length about how the young man had seemed to be the most uptight and protocol-oriented Ensign he had ever met, which had thrown him for a complete loop since Varick had been one of Starbuck's students. Later, it turned out, that Starbuck had coached the young man to be a stickler for the regs in Boomer's presence, knowing it would eventually get on the lieutenant's nerves. A little practical joke between friends. Still, Varick had conducted himself well on that last mission which was likely why Apollo had selected him for this one, still trying to find a permanent place for the younger ensign within the established squadrons.
"Then we had better get moving," Bojay nodded, walking towards the treeline.
"Why do you suppose there's this little glade here in the middle of the forest, sir? Ma'am?" Varick asked them, glancing down at the triangulator once again.
"City boy?" Bojay asked with a smile, catching the other's embarrassed nod of agreement. "Simple geography. Usually there just isn't enough soil for the trees to grow. There's probably a lot of rock below us, but what's rotted on top provides enough top soil for some ground cover." He waved a hand to encompass the greenery they were leaving behind.
"Perhaps," replied Varick, eyes still glued to his instrument.
"We'll notice quite a temperature discrepancy when we enter the forest," Drina added. "After all, we'll only get filtered light. With trees this large, there are probably parts of the forest floor that never get any sunshine."
"I know we're here to find out if this is Axius, but I'm actually kind of excited to see a forest with so much old growth. All this would have been deforested millennia ago on Piscon." Varick mused. "Except in the forest preserves."
"Well, if the primary orbital scans we did are correct, the population of all of Axius doesn't even come close to that of Piscon City, never mind the entire planet of Piscon. Somewhere between three and three and a half million, near as we can tell so far. They obviously don't have the same need for lumber that the Colonies did." Bojay returned, as a shadow and its resulting coolness fell across them while entering the forest. He paused, turning to bid a silent farewell to the bright sunshine, before continuing on. "Yo, Varick," he called, as the other remained rooted to his place, still scanning. "Join the expedition."
"Sorry sir. I'm just trying to get a picture of the strata here."
"Anything interesting?" asked Sheba, politely. For her, basic geology had been school's Number One boring subject.
"Well, I read no rock layer anywhere close to the surface here, ma'am. The soil reaches down over . . . eighty metrons." He glanced at the captain who had paused to listen. "The chemistry is very different, however. Very acidic." He knelt down, and scooped up a few fingers full of the dirt. "I don't think a lot in the way of either coniferous or deciduous forms could grow well, in this soil. Even our basic food crops couldn't prosper."
"Huh," said Bojay. "Any idea why?"
"Don't know, but I'm reading something way down there. Discontinuities of some sort." He adjusted the wavelons a bit.
"Well, let's get moving," said Sheba. "We need to scout out the settlement."
"Right behind you, ma'am."
"Imagine having an incredible abundance of natural resources like we've scanned here, and not even coming close to needing them." Drina mentioned, falling in with the others.
"Uh oh!" said Varick, suddenly tense. "I think we've got a . . ." He peered down at his scanner, making sure he was correct before continuing.
"Lords, if we were seriously talking settlement, this would be . . ." Sheba's words abruptly ended in a shriek.
"Cavern!" Varick's cry of warning accompanied them as the ground collapsed beneath them and the earth seemed to swallow them whole.
----------
"Commander, the air exchange system has checked out." Tigh informed him with evident relief. "Seems the culprit was a bucket of cleaning solution left in the Life Station. Analysis has showed dicholorionmethane mixed in with it."
"Dicholorionmethane?" Adama turned to Apollo as his son ascended the command level of the bridge. "Did you hear that?"
"Yes, Sir." Apollo replied. "I just came from the Life Station. Reece is taking the sanitation tech in for questioning." He shook his head briefly. "I remember that damn bucket. I almost tripped over it when I was visiting Starbuck earlier today. It was practically beneath his biobed."
"Yet the sanitation technician was one of the first to develop symptoms." Adama noted.
"I heard." Apollo nodded. "But leaving it right beside Starbuck before he left is slightly transparent. He must have been in on it."
"Apollo, what exactly does Starbuck know that makes Fausto want to kill him so badly?" Adama posed.
"I don't understand it. I thought pinpointing Myrddin for that triad scandal would appease Fausto. Make him believe he was off the hook." Apollo replied.
"You'd think Fausto would be lying low at this point what with everything that's happened." Adama added. "He's certainly fearless about taking care of loose ends."
"You think Starbuck's a loose end?"
"I think that Fausto thinks Starbuck is a loose end. Two attempts have been made on the lieutenant's life in just as many days and from no one that we can directly associate with the man. Maybe Fausto thinks that Starbuck put Luana up to it when she went looking for who was behind the triad scandal. He's clever. Damn clever if he's somehow manipulating this, and obviously not willing to take the slightest chance. Has Guidobaldo shown up?"
"No, sir." Apollo replied with a frown. "He's all but disappeared. Every Security Officer and Colonial Warrior in the Fleet who isn't on patrol is keeping an eye out for him, but he's managed to keep himself well hidden."
"While still ensuring that dicholorionmethane made it into a bucket of cleaning fluid in the Life Station." Tigh added.
"How in Hades hole does he do it?" Apollo asked.
"If we knew that, we'd obviously have a better handle on Fausto's network." Adama returned. "While the compound may have been removed from military use, there may still have been supplies aboard a civilian ship like the Rising Star. It obviously runs deep, this network of Fausto's, if it can reach into Life Station. Anything from the transceiver?"
"Other than him muttering angrily about Dracus and then bidding Starbuck 'Godspeed', nothing. By the way, both of which are assumptions and nothing we could take to tribunal unfortunately. He must be contacting Guidobaldo electronically somehow. Text messages or something like that." Apollo suggested. "Hummer mentioned they've already swept the room for transceivers, but they didn't detect it . . . at least this time."
"Or maybe they did detect it, and are acting as though it isn't there." Tigh suggested.
Apollo rolled his eyes, having not even considered that possibility. "In any case, Security has a couple men guarding Sire Dracus now too . . . much to his apparent chagrin."
"He wouldn't want to appear to be afraid of Fausto in any way." Adama nodded. "I can see having Security in tow would be an affront to his pride."
"Better than an assault to his person." Apollo rejoined.
"A man like Dracus wouldn't see it that way." Adama replied with a faint smile. "His sense of his own reputation."
"Better to die than appear weak in the face of the enemy?" Apollo asked, thinking that the bureautician was a stubborn old fool.
"Something like that." Adama nodded.
"You sound like you agree with him?"
"I . . . respect him."
"Apollo, what is the likelihood that Starbuck will be released from the Life Station in time for the Journey to Earth party?" Tigh asked.
His lips tightened and he shook his head. "I'm not sure. He seemed intent to get out of there for a guy still connected to too many tubes to count."
"Is there someone who can take his place if it's necessary?" Tigh asked.
"Yes, between Chameleon and I we can pull it off." Apollo replied, knowing he would have to get up to speed on some of Starbuck's early reconnaissance and wondering if it would come to that. He really didn't want to involve the old conman anymore than Starbuck did. Lords, he hadn't even had a chance to tell Starbuck about the transceiver in Fausto's office yet, and that now Dayton was involved further than his friend had wished. Perhaps it was the kind of news that could wait until the next day. Then again, maybe it would be best told to a slightly sedated Starbuck. He shook his head ruefully and sighed, thinking of those surprise Academy survival tests. Best to just get it over with. He glanced at his chrono recalling his sleeping son in his sister's quarters.
Tomorrow.
----------
With his pale features, recent abdominal scar, and the life mask that was delivering precious oxygen covering half of Starbuck's face, it was almost difficult to be angry at him. Especially when she noticed he had pulled off his Life Station gown and it was lying at the foot of the stretcher, his sheet covering him from the waist down. Something about that strong, lean physique was irresistible no matter his condition. Yet those yearnings she was suddenly experiencing were detrimental to a good astrum kicking. However, Luana knew that with just the right amount of application and determination, she could overcome these barriers to anger.
Maybe just one kick.
"So, would you care to explain why I can't go to the turbo flush without an escort?" Luana asked, her voice waspish as she gathered her resolve. She looked back over her shoulder to frown at Lia and Dietra who apparently just had to go check on Ensign Haya's condition all of a sudden when she announced she was going to see Starbuck.
Those baby blues were on her as she turned back, and she knew that he recognized her frame of mind from the way he now considered her carefully, like a predator about to pounce. So with that in mind, his next choice of words were clearly suicidal.
"I don't want you to fall and crack your head on the throne, Princess." He murmured, his eyes twinkling with sudden amusement.
It wasn't exactly the answer she was expecting.
She grabbed his life mask with one hand, pulled it straight up off his face, extending those elasticized straps to their maximum length, before smiling sweetly down at him and letting go. It snapped back into place.
"Hey!" he protested, sitting up, his hands flailing at his face in shock. He swung his legs off the side of the biobed. "That hurt!"
"Terribly sorry," she murmured, arms crossing over her chest, not sounding the least bit sincere.
"Sagan, Lu . . ." he pulled the mask off his face, glaring at her.
"Explain, Starbuck." She insisted, her brown eyes staring balefully at him.
"Frack, woman . . ." he muttered, scowling back at her.
She lifted her chin waiting.
Starbuck let out a deep breath, "What the frack have I got myself in to?" he growled.
"Deep mong if you don't tell me why you've assigned me my own personal watch daggits!" Luana returned stubbornly.
"Because Fausto might be trying to kill you!" He snapped. "I have a serious prejudice against you ending up dead."
"I'm a warrior! I don't need a phalanx of . . ."
"Yes, you do, Goddammit! None of us are invulnerable, and you can't get a Viper in a corridor. You. . ."
"No, I . . ."
Then he moved.
Abruptly, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, knocking her off balance and landing her in the humiliating position of astrum-up across his lap. He leaned on her, holding her securely, hissing in her ear, "You're inexperienced, naïve, and your reflexes are slower than they've ever been after Fausto's goon almost killed you the first time around. If you'd been in Life Station last night, like he thought you would be, you would have ended up in the same condition as me, if not worse, after all the neural trauma." Starbuck knew had she been there, she would have been beside him, her biobed pulled up alongside his. The staff had been fairly tolerant of it considering the setting. The mere thought scared the pogees out of him. "You're smaller after all. The toxin would work faster." He held her for a moment, feeling her chest heave as she struggled against him. Most of all it terrified him that something would happen to her again . . . and she wouldn't be so fortunate this time around. He wasn't ready to lose her . . . didn't think he could go through that again. He sat up slowly, releasing his grip gradually, and let her up, mentally preparing himself for any number of unpredictable counterattacks.
Luana pushed herself slowly up taking a ragged breath. Lords, she wanted to let him have it with both turrets . . . and just might have if he hadn't used that familiar flight instructor voice on her. A clinical analysis of the situation, devoid of emotion, offering frank assessments of his former student. And backing it all up by showing her how easily overcome she was. She had graduated top of the class after all. Bastard.
She looked up at him, having trouble meeting his eyes, feeling like an overreacting idiot. But she hated it when he went into protective mode . . . though now, she could assuage herself, he was at least doing it for more . . . personal reasons.
"You all right?" Hinnus asked over her shoulder, and she turned about to reply, then realized he was actually talking to Starbuck.
"Frackin' wonderful." Starbuck returned dryly, his face sour as he looked at the med tech that he had hoped might stay off duty until he was discharged. No such luck.
"Have you voided?" Hinnus asked.
Starbuck looked at him blankly for a micron, then his face twisted in embarrassment as he looked at Luana. "Do you mind, Hinnus? Can we talk about my bladder function later, when I don't have company?"
"Just remember, at the rate those fluids are going in," the med tech glanced at the intravenous, "if you don't void soon, your bladder might . . ."
"Later!!" Starbuck hissed.
Hinnus' face scrunched up in consternation. "It was an accident, you know."
"Lords, save me from well meaning med techs. . ." Starbuck muttered cradling his head in his hands and shaking his head forlornly. "Please, Hinnus."
"All right, but don't wait too long. Dr. Paye's instructions. If your urethra swells, especially with your renal history after Alrin . . ."
"Ohhhhhh!" Starbuck groaned aloud, his hands covering his ears.
"I think maybe you should come back later, Hinnus." Luana touched his arm gently, but firmly, steering him the other way. She turned back to Starbuck. "What happened?"
Starbuck shook his head and closed his eyes. He obviously didn't want to talk about it. So it had to be worth hearing.
She grinned and shrugged. "I could just go ask Hinnus."
"You're a cruel woman, Luana." He stated evenly, looking at her intently. "Heartless and cold."
"C'mon . . ."
"How far is this going to go?" he asked after a moment, actually taking a micron to see who was in hearing distance.
"No further than you and I," she promised. "On my honour." She rested her hand over her heart.
Starbuck let out a breath. "You sure you wouldn't rather argue about your honour guard?" He nodded towards Lia and Dietra.
"Ooh, this must be good for you to bring that up again." She chuckled, stepping forward, and positioning herself between his legs, her hips against the biobed . . . and him. She slipped her arms around him, smiling lasciviously up at him.
"You think . . . you think that if you press yourself up against me, that I'll . . . tell you anything you want to hear." he stated incredulously, his arms creeping around her of their own accord as he felt her lithe figure pressing suggestively against him. It took about a milli-centon before he found himself inhaling the familiar scent of her hair, pulling her closer. He growled low in his throat, knowing how right she was.
"Not at all," she teased him, lightly raking her fingers up his ribcage and then down to his astrum, smiling at his intake of breath and the way his muscles rippled beneath her fingertips reflexively. She stole a kiss, savouring the feel of him. His strength, his warmth, his love.
"Lu . . ." he groaned, well aware his body was reacting in the usual way, leaving him in the precarious position that it was just as well that she was standing in front of him hiding the obvious signs of his arousal. He chuckled lightly, "Well, at least everything's operational."
She pulled back, her eyes wide in surprise at his remark, "What happened?"
Starbuck sighed. "Hinnus tripped over my . . . catheter tube. Pulled the frackin' thing out of me with the balloon intact. Reamed me out better than a rotary drill." He winced at the memory. "I really have to find another Life Station. The service here is really going downhill."
"What did Dr. Paye say?" she asked in concern, ignoring his blithe remark.
"Something about not charging me extra for the urethral dilatation." He rolled his eyes.
"Frack . . ."
"That's what I said." He nodded. Then he tilted her chin up gently and kissed her slowly, lingeringly, letting his world fill up with passion and need for just a few blissful centons. Nothing but the two of them. It seemed an unobtainable dream at the moment. He sighed, pulling back and stroked her cheek, studying her. She looked so beautiful; eyes half open, lips parted, her features relaxed. "Lu . . . I don't want you to get hurt. I don't know if I could . . . make it through something like that again." All those memories of her in a coma, people trying to prepare him for the worst, battling within himself about whether to stand beside her or run like a frightened child . . .
"You couldn't make it through . . ." she remarked wryly, then bit her lip at the intensity in his gaze. She realized that he was feeling somewhat like she had the last couple days. She had been scared stiff that he would die . . . and she would be left to carry on without him. A bleak existence that she couldn't imagine, even having been his lover for such a short time. "I understand . . . but . . ."
"But what?"
"Are you still intending to go through with the plan?" Luana asked.
He nodded. "As long as I'm out of here." He inclined his head towards the health center surrounding them. "I . . . might just drag Apollo along with me for back up though."
"Apollo, eh?" She nodded. "I suppose the Strike Captain is an acceptable alternative."
"To . . .?" He let out a breath of disbelief as it hit him. "Oh, no! I don't think so. Just what we need, two recently discharged members of the 'Not Quite Dead Yet, But Do Try Again' Club."
"So you admit that you might not be up to the task?" Luana suggested.
"I'll know better closer to then. If I have to, I'll get Chameleon to do . . . it." He looked around him, mindful of possible undercover sanitation workers carrying toxic chemicals.
"Your father," she reminded him.
"Yeah." It was all the more reason he had to be back on his feet to do it himself. Hades, he hadn't wanted to put Chameleon at risk by making him do the actual pick-pocketing before he knew that the conman was his father. Now . . . now he was even more determined that he had to do everything within his power to be back in the game on time. "It just . . . feels strange saying it. I haven't had a . . . a father, well . . .since I can remember."
"You don't remember him at all?"
"No." Those fleeting memories that he had of Umbra always seemed to culminate in a terrifying flight through the Thorn Forest, Cylon lasers ripping down from the sky, barbs reaching out to tear at his skin, shredding away his life and his memory in one fell swoop. Images that he quickly shook off when they did come to mind . . . usually in the dead of night.
"I want to be there. As your date." She leaned towards him, touching a finger to his lip. After a moment, she moved her hand and glared at him meaningfully. "Deny me this, and the Goddess Triquetra will unleash her invincible powers upon you." She raised her voice dramatically, as she had heard Ama do time and time again, then managed to cross her eyes for effect.
He managed to restrain himself for a full micron before laughing aloud.
She grinned, "Well?"
"All right, but you have to listen. And you're not leaving the party when . . . well, I want you to stay put in that big room full of people. Probably with Dayton and his men."
"Good, I thought I was going to have to play my capstone." Luana nodded cheerfully.
His eyes narrowed as he asked, "What was your capstone?"
"I thought I'd call Rhiamon the Empyrean Healer around to help you with your . . . problem."
Starbuck shuddered.
On cue a booming voice called out across the Life Station, "Lieutenant Starbuck, have you managed to void yet . . .?"
----------
Dayton scowled, and looked up from his work as the door to their quarters opened. While waiting for all the little duckies for the takedown of Fausto to get in a row, or whatever it was the Colonials called ducks, he was working on a project of his own which was an improvement over just feeling sorry for himself. On a sheet of paper, he was working out tables of names and words, expanding his knowledge of Earth/Colonial parallels. The datapad held the Colonial alphabet, and he was trying to line up the English equivalents, to create a database for written translations. Sitting here like this, he felt almost as if he were back in school, cramming for an exam.
"Bloody Egyptians wrote easier stuff," he remarked to Baker who had just arrived.
"Brought you something."
Bob Baker was a man of few words, but as people so often say, gestures speak louder than words. Dayton turned over the DVD Baker had just handed him, knowing what it was at a glance, despite all the years since he'd seen it. There, in Yvonne's handwriting—the illegible script the bane of every school teacher she had had—was a home movie. His home movie.
It had been Yvonne's idea. Just a memory of home and a chance to see them whenever the urge struck him. He sucked in a breath feeling inexplicable tears welling up at just the thought of seeing their images for the first time in thirty years. His hands shook as he reached for the player that Baker had set down beside him. He popped it open, then stopped.
Life was so goddamned weird. Here he was feeling sorry for himself because a beautiful woman had ditched him in favour of the flu—yeah, his perspective might be a tad askew—and now Cassiopeia was about as far from his thoughts as she could get. Instead, another blonde beauty haunted his memories, held his heart, squeezing it until he felt the tears pouring down his cheeks from the pain.
And you haven't even pressed 'play' yet, old man.
Then he did. Slowly. He watched as the images came up. Some detached part of his mind noted how oddly clear they were, after all the disk had been through. He wondered why. His face contorted as he tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape. Jess, her golden curls so like her mother's, twirling round and round in her ballet costume, all of five years old and exuding energy, pride and innocence. Lauren, joining in, trying to imitate her big sister, her face so serious as she reproduced the steps that she couldn't quite follow. Mitzi, the Heinz 57—part German Shepherd, part Labrador Retriever, part dedicated lapdog—tail wagging, keeping a sharp eyes on the kids, while trying to join in the antics. And Yvonne's voice behind the camera, laughing while encouraging them the whole time and telling them to dance this one for 'Dada'.
"Oh . . . God . . ."
It was like losing them all over again. Only this time he didn't have the pressures of survival in an alien hell-hole to stand in the way of his grieving. Which is probably why his chest was heaving with the pain as the first sob escaped, and he could hear doors behind him politely closing, leaving him alone with his overwhelming sorrow.
Thirty years of suppressed bereavement burst forth in a less than a minute. He suddenly noticed he was somehow on his knees on the floor, hugging himself tightly and rocking slightly back and forth onto his heels as the images of his family played on the small screen. Birthdays, outings, Christmas, vacations. A little glimpse at life when it was at its best. Gone forever. Tortured sobs and gasping breaths wracked his body until he thought he would pass out from hyperventilation. Then he wished that he could. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, Dayton. The old idiom came back to him.
Then he realized, I don't want to be that strong.