"As we already thought, we found out through Corporal Komma's PAP Program that Fausto was involved in a lot more than illegal sports betting. He also dealt in blackmail; stolen goods on the Black Market; Elysium trafficking; creating or fine tuning new identities for previously known criminals; registering false identities for people who never even made it out of the Colonies while pocketing their social entitlements and using their assigned quarters for storing Black Market goods or renting them out for profit; he even stole identity numbers from the deceased, intercepting thembefore they were forwarded to statistics and then collected benefits and pensions on their behalf." Starbuck counted the offenses off on his hands as he addressed the others two days after the most wild, out-of-control secton and a half in his life culminated in Sire Dracus' violent death in the bureautician's secret chambers on the Rising Star. "He also didn't hesitate to order the death of anyone who stood in his way."
"From his computer files," said Sire Solon, "we can conclusively tie Fausto to at least ten deaths since we left the Colonies. One was a termination to conveniently arrange a new identity for one of his people." The Sire snorted in disgust. "He murdered without conscience."
"Through Guidobaldo." Adama added, glancing at his chrono and realizing the convicted man was at this moment being transported to the Prison Barge for the premeditated terminations of Rogane, the son of Sire Regus; Myrddin, the Empyrean Archimagus; and Borka, the man who could finger Fausto and connect him with Luana's attempted termination as well as the failed slander campaign on Starbuck through the triad scandal.
"Yes, Sir." Starbuck nodded, an shiver of revulsion running up his spine at his memories of his tortuous treatment at the hands of Guidobaldo. Life on the Prison Barge seemed too good for that scum-licking barge rat.
How many times had he been in Commander Adama's office in a similar situation? The unofficial debriefing where they pulled all the accumulated information together from all parties and tied up any loose ends. Only this time, some of the loose ends died with their bearers. He glanced around at the usual suspects, Adama, Tigh, Apollo and Boomer. In addition, Chameleon, Dayton, Ryan, Luana, Lia, Ama, Reece and Sire Solon were in attendance.
"So, I assume that Sire Dracus was known to Fausto through his Black Market dealings?" Tigh asked.
"Fausto actually tried to blackmail Dracus back on Sagittaria when the bureautician's daughter first was treated for an Elysium dependency." Apollo interjected.
"Elysium she obtained from one of Fausto's own dealers," added Solon.
"That was also where Sires Regus and Dracus first met." Apollo nodded. "After the Destruction, they met again on the Rising Star—both having quarters there—and it appears to be true that Fausto was gathering information on Dracus—a considerable file actually—to hold over him for blackmail."
"To what end?" Tigh asked, concern on his features. Fausto had been convicted of a multitude of charges the day before and sentenced to life on the Prison Barge.
"Manipulation of the Council," Starbuck replied. "Leniency on gambling regulations. And, of course, anything that would prevent a thorough review of the census or a detailed analysis that would ensure that appropriate and legitimate citizens were receiving social benefits, pensions, housing and food entitlements."
"This considerable file on Sire Dracus . . . what was in it?" Ama asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she met Adama's eyes.
"I'm afraid much of that is classified, due to the position of office he held," Adama returned briefly, his eyes settling on Starbuck briefly, noting the gritted teeth and set jaw at the unanimous Council decision to withhold much of what they had uncovered about the Councilman. "At least for the present. But, I'm sure you're all aware he was a collector of fine arts and antiques, both legitimate and stolen."
"I'm not sure how the job pays here," Dayton spoke up. "But politicians . . . uh, sorry, I mean bureauticians back home can't usually afford to collect entire priceless collections of art. At least not honestly."
"It is much the same here, Commander Dayton," Adama agreed.
"I understand the Black Market for precious art is immense." Ama added.
"Well, it wasn't entirely Black Market art," said Chameleon. All eyes turned to him. "I knew a few people, who knew a few people, and I had my ears to the ground long before the Holocaust. Some of those works of art were Dracus' to begin with."
"Excuse me?" said Solon. "Many of them were reported as stolen yahrens ago."
"Uh, yeah. I'm lost," said Ryan. He rolled his eyes remembering that he was God only knows how many star systems from home. He winked at Dayton and added. "Boy, am I lost. In space."
Dayton sniffed tolerantly, his smile betraying his amusement with his friend.
"In one of my many . . uh, careers," said Chameleon, "I dealt in art." Silence fell as they all looked at him. Starbuck's eyebrows went up, his lips quirking in amusement, but Adama looked as if he would groan in dismay any micron. "I had a license," Chameleon defended himself.
Self-issued? mouthed Starbuck.
"Er-hem." The father cleared his throat, reading the son's lips and covering a smirk with his hand. "Anyway, Starbuck, when that painting we saw by Bottisario was reported stolen yahrens ago, it caused rumbles in the art world. It never turned up in any market, legal or otherwise. One of those vases you smashed, Commander Dayton. It vanished from a private collection on Virgon almost fifteen yahrens ago."
"How do you know?" asked Solon.
"Well. . ."
"You didn't lift it?" asked Starbuck, his brow wrinkling in consternation.
"No," replied Chameleon, shaking his head from side to side adamantly.
"Well, that's something," said Dayton.
"I was . . . trying to return it to the registered owner at the time. Her irresponsible son had foolishly offered it up as a bet during a card game. Technically, it wasn't his to dispose of. A charming woman . . . and so was her daughter," Chameleon grinned lopsidedly. Adama shook his head. Ama laughed softly. "Anyway, as I said, I know a thing or two about art. All those pieces once belonged to the Dracus family."
"Whoa. Now I get it," said Dayton.
"Yes. Two generations ago, back in the time of Sire Dracus' great-grandfather, Sire Dragan, the family fell on hard times. The patriarch of the family opted to liquidate many of their prized possessions to pay their debts and keep them afloat. They lost nearly everything. Mansions, estates, business holdings, and a vast collection of priceless art, acquired over the centi-yahrens. Many say that the art was supposed to have been kept as an inheritance for the generations to come. However, once old Sire Dragan began to reconcile his debts, he refused to stop despite a decision made by his own father that the collection would remain in their family for all time, no matter the circumstances. Each item of art in Dracus' hidden room was a piece from his family's original collection, or at least from what I know of it."
"So, he was stealing art that his family had once owned?" asked Adama.
"Stealing is probably not how he thought of it, Commander. I'm sure he felt he was recovering what was rightfully his. His birthright."
"Makes sense," said Starbuck. "He was always on about his family's honour, and dignity, and the way things were in 'the old days'. Still, I wonder about those swords he kept in his quarters."
"I have an eye for quality, as well." Dayton added. "He had many valuable looking pieces in his quarters besides the swords, Starbuck. Paintings. Sculptures. Displayed jewelry. Some he obviously felt comfortable displaying, others he kept under wraps. I wonder why."
"So, he stashed his family's booty in secret chambers aboard the Rising Star, and kept it on the move," elucidated Ama. "No wonder it was never found. You know, a man could make a good profit in resale and the careful acquisition of such goods for preferred customers in order to finance his own collection, had he been at it long enough and had established a reputation." She suggested with a smile as she saw a slight frown cross Adama's feature. "If he had the proper connections. Not to mention the appropriate thug working for him. After all, a lot of these pieces change hands from collector to collector and never make it to a public forum so are rarely publicized."
Chameleon nodded at the Empyrean woman. "Sounds reasonable, Ama. Some were legitimately acquired though his connections. Others that couldn't be were stolen. Are you using your powers of necromancy, or simple common sense to deduce that?"
Ama grinned at Starbuck's father. "Could be that a certain Empyrean Necromancer was once approached by a man resembling Guidobaldo about selling an ancient Talisman, millennia old. But I'll never tell, Chameleon." She winked at the conman. "However, I may supply a few more hints and allow you to draw a reasonable conclusion over dinner later."
"Ama!" Lia chastised her.
"So, what happens to his treasures now?" asked Ryan looking aside at Dayton. "At least what's left of them."
Dayton had the good grace to wince.
"Well, most are technically stolen property, but several of those owners are long dead from even before the Destruction. They won't be claiming their property." said Solon. "The assessors are still going over what survived," he spared a look at Dayton as the Earthman squirmed again, "But conservatively, it would have fetched something in the neighbourhood of two hundred and fifty to five hundred million cubits." Several low whistles warbled around the room. "And, since there are no heirs to Dracus' estate, I don't know. Legally, they are in limbo."
"Put 'em on display," said Dayton. "From what I saw, that collection rivals anything ever produced by Earth's great masters. It should be where your people can see and enjoy their history. Their common heritage."
"Sounds good to me," said Starbuck. "We're spending all this energy educating our people about where they're going. Earth. We'd better not forget where we came from." Apollo clapped him on the shoulder, murmuring his agreement.
"Just how did Guidobaldo come to work for both Dracus and Fausto?" Tigh asked, interrupting the others.
"He wouldn't say," Reece inserted, remembering how insistent their line of questioning had been with the assassin—after the Life Station had put his arm back together. "I finally did find a file on him from Aries. Under a number of aliases, he served time for several offenses, mostly assaults and rape. He escaped from incarceration a few days before the Holocaust, apparently with help. Beyond that I can't say much about him. I can tell you that Fausto was unaware his man also worked for Dracus. So either Dracus had some kind of hold over Guidobaldo that died with him, or he just monetarily made it worth his while. That creep would have buried his own grandmother for the right money."
"What I don't understand is why everybody seemed to want Starbuck dead," Ryan raised the point.
"You just don't know him well enough yet," Boomer quipped, dodging a feinted blow from his friend.
"I can answer that, at least from Fausto's point of view," Luana told them. "Borka told me that he thought Starbuck was on to Fausto about the triad scandal. He probably told Guidobaldo as much. They didn't know that Oriana and I went after them on our own." She could feel several looks of disapproval settle on her at that blatant fact. "I know, I know," she capitulated, holding up her hands. "I admit, I didn't have a lot of experience with Colonial criminals at the time. It was stupid in hindsight."
"But why did Sire Dracus want to kill him?" Lia asked. "What had Starbuck ever done to him?"
"Yes. What was his reason?" asked Solon.
Apollo watched Starbuck shuffle uncomfortably at the mention of his intended death. "We're not really sure. We can only assume that Dracus suspected that Starbuck knew more than he actually did about his underhanded dealings. It could have been vengeance over Sire Regus' suicide—they were good friends—or revenge on behalf of Siress Rea, Regus' wife."
"She was certainly pushing Dracus for a slow and painful death. Then again, he seemed more than happy to accommodate her." Dayton shook his head at the memory of the incensed woman. "It's almost like the death of her husband and son put her over the edge. She seemed . . . a little crazy."
"Just a little?" Chameleon asked ruefully.
Reece cleared his throat. "Sire Dracus visited my office the day before the party. I . . . believe he purposely positioned himself to read the screen I had up displaying some data for my records on this case. Starbuck's name figured predominantly on that data. And Dracus knew that we were poised to acquire all of Fausto's files revealing his contacts, associates and, following that line of logic, any information that Fausto had collected on him."
Apollo and Adama both looked up sharply.
"You didn't think it was . . . important to share your concern, Officer Reece?" Adama demanded.
The Security Officer squirmed, his gaze falling on Starbuck.
"Reece told me," the lieutenant admitted, glancing at Apollo reluctantly. "I honestly thought that Dracus was just being a typically meddlesome bureautician." He hesitated as Commander Adama bristled in reaction to his words. "Uh . . .sorry, Sir. It didn't occur to me that Dracus was the enemy at the time. Sagan, we were protecting him after all."
Apollo sighed, realizing he would have also proceeded as scheduled, nodding at Starbuck as if to tell him as much. They had ultimately taken every precaution, but had been outmaneuvered by the cunning Dracus who, it would seem, would do anything necessary to prevent being unmasked as a secret and nefarious collector of priceless art, whether or not it originally belonged to his family. His friend nodded in reply, understanding.
"What of the Empyreans, Ama?" Adama asked her. "How are your people reacting now that Sire Regus in no longer in the running for re-election to the Empyrean Quorum?"
"Death will do that." Ama agreed almost solemnly. "Coincidentally, Sire Albus, the other head of the Empyrean Great House, and father of Lady Aurelia, has decided to resign from his career of bureaucracy. I suspected he would either pick up where Regus had left off, or abandon his ambitions altogether." She realized she sounded less than compassionate about the death of the man she had at times considered the bane of her existence, at least professionally. "This changes the complexion of a new Empyrean Quorum, Commander Adama. I was somewhat concerned that they would simply re-elect the old Council, being creatures of habit, but now that Regus and Rogane are dead, and Albus is retiring, I believe that a younger generation of Quorum members will help lead our people towards a more complete integration within the culture and body politic of the Colonial Fleet."
"What about yourself, Ama?" Adama enquired curiously.
"I'm glad you asked, Adama. I, myself, have decided to move on from Empyrean bureaucracy and will be announcing my candidacy for the Council of Twelve." She grinned widely at his look of surprise.
"I . . . I see." Adama stuttered, wondering how some of the others would react to the Empyrean Necromancer. It would be worth seeing. She would be a formidable addition. Strangely, it never crossed his mind that she wouldn't get elected.
Ama smiled, moving towards Starbuck and taking his hand and pulling him over to Luana, somewhat forcibly. "And now that we have officially announced the betrothal of Luana and Starbuck, the Fleet, along with my Empyreans, will eagerly await the holy sealing ceremony that joins our decorated Colonial Warrior with an Empyrean Princess. It will be the most celebrated event of the coming yahren." She placed Luana's hand in Starbuck's. "It will be one more event that will give our people hope, as well as something to look forward to while we continue our journey to Earth."
"On that note, we're having a little celebration for Starbuck and Luana in the Officer's Club after the debriefing. Everybody's welcome." Apollo added. "We haven't really had a chance to celebrate your engagement."
"You haven't had a chance?" Starbuck added ruefully, rolling his eyes and smiling at Luana. She looked as skittish as a newborn equus at the unexpected attention. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, realizing that his first instinct had also been to run, until he looked into her eyes . . . He turned back to the captain. "Thanks, Buddy."
Apollo smiled warmly at his friend in return. Lords, they deserved to celebrate after all they had been through. "The first round's on me."
"There are still a couple matters to clear up." Sire Solon added somberly. "First, despite the fact that Fausto has already been tried and convicted, he was found in his partner's office severely beaten the night of the Journey to Earth party. Strangely, he didn't have any memory of what had taken place, and even insisted that we not pursue it."
Ryan and Baker looked briefly at Ama, who merely smiled at them reassuringly, before they returned their attention to the Chief Opposer. Apollo followed the exchange with interest remembering the Earthmen's bloody appearance when he and Boomer had met up with them. Coincidentally, they had made themselves conspicuously absent by hastening Dayton to the Life Station before the Chief Opposer had arrived on the scene in Dracus' chambers. Sometimes the end justified the means.
"How interesting." Ama slowly nodded, feeling Starbuck's and her goddaughters' eyes upon her. "And you have no suspects or witnesses, Sire Solon."
"No suspects or witnesses." Solon repeated as he held the necromancer's gaze.
"And second?" Ama asked, ignoring Adama's penetrating stare. Imagine! Trying to probe her mind, the Imperial Empyrean Necromancer. Really, Adama!
"Second." Solon paused, as he thought about it. "Ah, yes. Commander Dayton."
Dayton shifted his stiff and sore body. The wonders of Colonial medical technology had him sealed and healed from an outward point of view, however, the old body was less forgiving. It would be a while before his next stint as Conan The Astronaut. He drew in an uneasy breath as Solon turned towards him. The truth was he went berserk. Much like Dickins had on the asteroid base. He had decided that Dracus deserved to die, and instead of just apprehending the politician, he had cut him to pieces like some crazed Viking berserker of old. It was almost like he was sucked back into that vortex of a wormhole and hurled back into survival mode. The same survival mode that had seen him through thirty years on the pirate asteroid. Ultimately, he had lost control. Hell, he had lost himself somewhere along the way. His eyes automatically fell on Starbuck. Strangely, he didn't see the accusation on the lieutenant's face that he had expected. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, it almost looked like . . . respect. He wasn't sure he was prepared for that. It unnerved him. The kid was too young to be quite that jaded.
"After interviewing Lieutenant Starbuck and Chameleon, I have been assured—quite adamantly, I might add—that your actions were in self-defense. Sire Dracus was armed, and challenged you, as well as attempted to kill the restrained Lieutenant Starbuck with the sword he held. Further recorded examination of the lieutenant and his condition at the time, as well as statements made by Guidobaldo during his interrogation, only support that evidence. You are exonerated of any charges of premeditated or unjustifiable termination." Solon smiled briefly.
"Thank you, Sire Solon." Dayton nodded uncomfortably. He really didn't know what else to say. He had to come to terms with his own demons. Then he saw Starbuck take a few steps toward him. Damn, kid, not now.
"You saved my astrum in there. Maybe a lot more than just mine in the long run, Dayton." Starbuck paused. "Commander Dayton," he added with a rueful smile, painfully aware he had deferred from using the Earthman's rank if at all possible.
"Hey, Bodum Boy, don't start calling me 'Commander' now." He squeezed the warrior's shoulder affectionately. "I'll begin to think you respect me."
"I . . . I might have judged you unfairly. I just want you to know . . ." Starbuck began.
"Wait a minute, French Press. Before you eat too much humble pie, I think you're an excellent judge of character. You didn't get this far in your career without it. I deserved everything you said about me, and most of what you thought about me." Dayton admitted, as Starbuck paused with his mouth agape. "The thing is, kid, thirty years in Hell does something to a guy. Plain and simple. I'm not apologizing for it. I'm not particularly proud of it either." He shrugged. "But, what the hell? Here I am. This is all that's left of Mark Dayton."
Starbuck nodded slowly, considering the other. "Still, when Dracus was about to cut me in two, and you threw that knife, I really thought . . ."
"That wasn't me, Lieutenant Starbuck." Dayton shook his head, seeing the other pause when he called the warrior by rank and name. His own rather feeble attempt to convey the immense respect he had for the pilot. Starbuck smiled briefly and nodded, acknowledging the gesture. Damn, they built them tough in the Colonies. Dayton nodded towards Chameleon.
"You?" Starbuck asked, turning towards his father.
"Me," said Chameleon, patched up and looking much improved, other than some faint bruising on his face. "Once Guidobaldo was down, I grabbed the dirk from his boot. I saw Dracus raising his sword over you, son, and knew I had to do something. I used to be pretty good with knives. In one of my earlier lines of work, it was always good to have a . . . sharp tool that could be easily concealed. So, I went for it." He exchanged looks with his son. "My luck held."
"Well, thanks," said Starbuck, feeling a rush of tenderness towards the old conman. Towards his father. He laid a hand on Chameleon's shoulder, and then another on Dayton's. "Thanks to both of you."
"Hey, anything I can do to keep you defending the Fleet." Dayton shrugged nonchalantly. "They tell me you are one hot fella in a cockpit."
"This is beautiful." Ryan joined them with a smile. "Really touching. It's about time you two weren't tearing at each other's throats." He looked from Starbuck to Dayton.
"Did you pitch your idea to the IFB, Ryan?" Chameleon asked curiously.
Dayton's stomach twisted. "What idea?"
"Ah, a little idea I had for an action/adventure show. Two guys thrown together under unusual circumstances, fighting crime and overcoming danger within the Fleet. One an Earthman. The other a decorated Colonial Warrior. Sort of comic book style, Mark. They loved it." Ryan enthused as Baker, Porter and Dickins joined them.
Starbuck sniffed in amusement as Dayton shook his head, wincing and groaning in apparent agony.
"Does it have a name yet?" Chameleon asked.
"Mark Dayton and the Ristretto Kid." Ryan gushed.
"How appropriate. Makes them sound like Butch and Sundance." Dickins grinned, his languatron in hand.
"Where do you think he stole the idea from?" Porter elbowed the others.
"Speaking of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Hummer's got the DVD player all set up in our quarters and wired to our monitor. It's not exactly a fifty inch Plasma TV with wet bar, but I still think we're ready for an official movie night." Baker added. "Anyone interested in coming by our quarters after the engagement party and watching a good old-fashioned Earth movie?"
"A movie?" Tigh asked, his eyes lighting up. He smiled at Adama. "I've been waiting for this."
"Go, Tigh. I'll cover the bridge." Adama nodded.
"Anyone else?" Ryan asked. A rumbling of 'yes', 'yeah', 'for sure', and enthusiastic nods filled the room as Sire Solon politely deferred chuckling softly, and exited quietly.
"I'll ask Sheba to join us, " Apollo added as an afterthought.
"And Dietra." Ryan waggled his eyebrows.
"I'm sure Hummer will want to be there." Baker suggested.
"Okay," said Boomer to Baker. "What are we going to see?"
"Well, we have a choice. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid of course. There's also The Maltese Falcon, What's Up, Doc?, Dirty Harry, Spaceballs . . . "
"Never mind that. What are we doing for snacks?" Dickins asked, rubbing his growling stomach. "Do you guys have popcorn up here in space?"
Boomer mouthed 'popcorn?'. "Uh . . . I don't think so. Mushies?"
"Sounds disgusting." Porter replied with a glance at his languatron. "But I'm willing to try it."
"What about you, Ama?" Chameleon asked. "Will you be joining us?"
"Chameleon, you have a talent for making it sound as though you're personally inviting me." Ama batted her eyelashes at the conman.
"If that's what it will take, my dear," Chameleon smiled. "I have a few ideas about how best to make your announcement for candidacy for the Council of Twelve. Perhaps we could discuss them . . . after dinner and the engagement party?"
"Sounds wonderful. But I thought that you would want to spend some time with your son. I'm sure you have much to discuss with him." Ama looked to where Starbuck and Luana were quietly talking aside from the others.
"I believe my son wants to spend a little quality time with his betrothed. Not his father." He smiled, as Starbuck looked over upon hearing his words. The young man looked concerned for a moment. As though he was afraid he was slighting his father in some way. "And I don't blame him a bit."
Starbuck took Luana's hand, drawing her along with him to where Chameleon and Ama stood. "We do want to spend some time alone . . . after the party. The last couple days have been a bit hectic."
Another entire day in the Life Station to get patched up from Guidobaldo and Dracus' ministrations. Debriefings. Filing reports. Fausto's tribunal, followed a day later by Guidobaldo's. His ongoing role as Liaison to the Earthmen. He'd barely had a moment to call his own.
"Does that mean you won't be coming to watch Butch and Sundance?" Dayton asked.
"I think we'll pass." Starbuck looked at Lu, who nodded her agreement.
"Then maybe I'll give Cassiopeia a shout." Dayton mused. "I owe her big for running out on her during the Journey to Earth party."
Starbuck nodded, patting the Earthman on the shoulder thankfully. It could have been awkward had they all been there. They still needed some time and distance to heal before they could forgive and forget . . . especially Cassiopeia, who had a lot more to forgive and forget.
"Well, what are we waiting for? I've made sure that Empyrean Ale and Tobacconists have topped up the stores in the Officer's Club. Let's go celebrate." Ama grinned, moving over to Adama.
"Ama's right," Adama added, motioning towards the door. The mood had taken a festive turn from the original debriefing. "Go!"
"That sounded like an order," Boomer grinned at the captain.
"Yes, it did."
"Wagon's ho!" Ryan shouted, heading through the door, his friends laughing and following in his considerable wake, the Colonials bringing up the rear. Ama hung back with Adama, Chameleon pausing at the door to wait for her.
"Do you feel like you're losing a son, Adama?" Ama asked, squeezing his arm lightly and looking in Starbuck and Luana's direction as they left his quarters.
Adama smiled, his gaze settling on the conman. "An honorary son, perhaps. Starbuck will always have a place in my family, Ama. All the same, I'm only too happy that he's finally found his real family."
"Thank you, Commander." Chameleon bowed his head briefly to the other and then took the hand Adama offered, relieved at his support . . . and at the fact that he hadn't yet been severely dressed down for his deception by the honorary father.
"Now, Adama, you of all people should realize that you don't necessarily have to be blood to be family. Starbuck and Apollo are the perfect example of that." Ama chuckled. "Besides, our former orphan has more family now than he knows what to do with. Even I consider him like a son. And my people hold their 'savior' dear to their hearts, especially now that he is marrying their princess."
"Hey!" a voice called from the doorway.
Starbuck smiled as he watched them discuss him. Adama, the father figure he had known since the Academy. Ama, the unconventional Empyrean woman who had offered him guidance and unconditional acceptance from the moment they had met. And Chameleon, his blood, his father, and his one link to his unknown past.
"Son?" Chameleon asked, as the warrior hesitated for a moment, standing back and just studying them silently. "Is something wrong?"
"Hardly, father," Starbuck replied with a smile, watching the old conman's face light up with pleasure. It was the first time the word 'father' had passed his lips. "I just wanted to make sure you were all coming. I . . . uh . . ." he stammered, unsure how to let them know how important it was that they all be there to celebrate this event in his life. Luana suddenly appeared at his side, smiling at him with that look in her eyes that seemed to make uncertainty and awkwardness fade and a certain inexplicable happiness replace them.
"Of course, we're coming, dear heart!" Ama assured him with a laugh. "I admit that I'm so pleased that I almost feel as though I will burst."
"Indeed, Ama," Adama agreed. "I couldn't be happier. My blessings, and those of the Lords of Kobol, are with you both."
"And mine." Chameleon added, joining the couple. "Not only do I have a son, but soon I will also have a daughter." He lightly kissed Luana on the forehead, and grasped his son's shoulder.
"Thank you. All of you." The warmth of Starbuck's smile encompassed them all. If it wasn't so damn wonderful, it would be cliché. Such was love and family. . . and he was enjoying every micron of it.