Chapter Twenty-Four
As soon as they had neared Morlais, they had picked up a shuttle and Hybrid-Raider on their scanners heading towards the site of the Angylion battlefield. Colonel Apollo quickly confirmed their assumption, and after a quick debriefing on both party's parts, all three Colonial ships decided to rendezvous at the site. Initial reports indicated that all were unharmed, except the Empyrean witch, whose whereabouts and fate were somewhat uncertain. Count Iblis had been mysteriously neutralized, although rumour had it that it would take more than a few stiff drinks to get a complete account from the Endeavour's strike captain on those details.
Baltar drew in a deep, invigorating breath of fresh air, knowing it was unlikely he would ever be given the opportunity to taste freedom again. It had been a long time, he had to admit, since he'd had a sensation like this. The air on the planet where he had been marooned had never felt right, lending more to a feeling of exile than freedom. This was different.
Baltar hesitated near the hatch of the shuttle that had transported him there as Dayton and Malus brushed by him, heading in two different directions. The IL was beating a path towards Starbuck, not surprisingly, and the Earthman towards Cassiopeia, the med tech that had once cared for him on the Galactica while he had been quarantined for parasites.
For the first time since he could remember, Baltar could actually stand there inconspicuously observing as men, women, and oddball Cylons interacted. No one was staring at him hatefully or malignantly, or was likely to take a shot at him. It was almost surreal, in a way. He watched the med tech fly into the Endeavour commander's arms, the two embracing with a passion reserved for lovers separated by a dangerous situation. A moment later Ryan appeared from a crowd of amassed Angylions, with a child on his shoulders, heading towards Apollo. Another gleeful reunion between the Colonel, Sheba and the youngster ensued. Baltar could not help but smile. Finally, he turned his gaze to Starbuck. The battered strike captain had an arm each around his wife and sister-in-law, offering them support and comfort, as the IL raced towards them. For a moment, Starbuck met Baltar's eyes. Despite all his skill in reading others, Baltar could not divine what was in Starbuck's mind, possibly due to the exhaustion that masked all else. The pilot held his gaze for a long moment before he simply nodded, and turned his attention to Malus.
Coming from Starbuck, it was high praise indeed.
"I am relieved to see you are unharmed, Baltar, and so very pleased that you returned to say your farewells."
Eirys' soft, lilting voice made his heart flutter as though he was a young man again. He turned to regard the vision of loveliness approach him, drinking in her radiance like a man dying of thirst. "I am likewise . . . pleased to see you, gentle Eirys," he smiled, feeling strangely tentative at his choice of words. "Seeing you again is a welcome relief."
She held out her hands, and he immediately moved to take them in his own. Such a woman! Beauty, courage, intelligence, talent, determination . . . he felt uncharacteristically tongue-tied, like a kid on his first date, as he stood there basking in the light of her wondrousness. Interestingly, she also stood quietly, simply regarding him. The moment stretched out, until it couldn't help but become noticeable . . . but not necessarily uncomfortable. Then she laughed, and he found himself joining her, breaking the spell they were under.
"You are a great man, Baltar. I wish to offer you my debt of gratitude, and to admit . . ." She dropped her eyes a fraction before tilting up her chin and smiling at him once again. "I will miss you. I wish we had had more time to come to know one another."
Baltar winced. All along he had maintained the deception that he was a respected member of Colonial society, with Starbuck as his unlikely accomplice. In his heart he knew he couldn't part ways with Eirys sustaining the lie. He knew that he had to take the leap, and do something very, very hard.
He had to tell her the truth. Even at the risk of losing her esteem.
"What is it, Baltar?" Eirys asked, obviously sensing his sudden discomfiture.
"I need to tell you something, Eirys. I'm . . . I'm not quite the man you think I am."
She tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips as she nodded once and replied, "Oh, I doubt that very much . . . but please go on."
"Well . . . once I was a member of the Colonial Quorum of Twelve. And I did hold the rank of commander." He sighed, reluctantly pushing forward. "But then . . ."
----------
Dayton held Cassiopeia tightly, closing his eyes and savouring the feel of having the woman he loved safely back in his arms. The Angylions were liberated, the Harbinger was destroyed, Count Iblis was neutralized, and Starbuck was still standing and in one piece. Other than losing Ama in some kind of supernatural power struggle that he still didn't understand and probably never would, all in all, it was not a bad day. Caught up in the moment, he impulsively realized that there was only one thing that could make it better. . .
"Cassiopeia, I've been thinking . . ."
Her eyes opened wide as she pulled back from him, and she regarded him in silence for a long moment. "Yes?"
"Well," Dayton replied with a slow smile. "I know I'm a bit long in the tooth . . ." She raised her eyebrows at that, focusing for a moment on his incisors, and he realized he'd done it again. Yet another idiom. "I'm old, Cassiopeia."
"Like vintage ambrosa . . ." she teased him.
"More like a vintage Model T Ford," Ryan suddenly threw in from behind them. "Just don't kick his tires, because you won't like the sound he makes."
"Paddy . . ." he growled, as he turned to greet his friend. Ryan looked like hell with a hangover, blood spattered on his clothes, and his face wan with fatigue. "One of these days, I'm gonna break a clutch plate over your head. Didn't your mom ever teach you about timing?"
"Timing?" He scratched his chin. "Well, seems Mother Ryan did mention something like that, once when I burst into her bedroom unannounced. I dunno. Been a long time, and the whole event left me kind of traumatized . . ."
"That cinches it. Going back as long as I've known you, you've proven it time and time again; your timing is lousy," said Dayton.
"My timing is impeccable, if what I heard is true," Ryan returned with a wide grin. "You brought ambrosa? Man, I could use a drink!"
"Go!" Dayton pointed to the shuttle. "Dietra will be looking for you."
"But does she have ambrosa, Mark?" Ryan returned, pausing to kiss Cassie on the cheek. "I know he's not much to look at, sweetheart, and he snores, and talks funny— which he can't help, having been raised in so barbarous a country—and he probably doesn't deserve you, but all told, he's really not such a bad guy once you get past how he drops his vowels."
"Go!" Dayton reminded him, chuckling at the familiar gibes, and honestly just relieved that Paddy was in his usual form, considering he'd had surgery not that many hours ago. Like all of them who'd survived thirty years of torment, Ryan was as tough as nails, and the significant Colonial medical advances didn't hurt either. He watched his friend go, detecting the weariness in his usually spry step. He'd tell him later that Baker had been shot, but was recovering in the Endeavour's Life Station. Or Dietra would. He turned back to Cassiopeia, letting her smile of happiness wash over him like holy water. "Hello, Beautiful."
"Hello, Handsome," she murmured, stepping into his embrace once more.
"Hey, I like the sound of that. Now, where were we?"
"I believe I was about to say, I love you."
"Oh, that's right." He looked towards Ryan once more. "There was some . . . interference on the line, wasn't there."
Cassie giggled.
"I love you," he murmured, caught up in the excitement of the moment . . . right up until an image of Yvonne managed to superimpose itself right over his ladylove's face. You're already married, idiot. He sniffed in self-deprecation, realizing that even being separated by light yahrens or dimensions didn't dissolve his invisible bonds of holy matrimony. When he'd said "I do" to Yvonne, he'd meant forever. Now, thirty years later, he couldn't just ignore a vow he'd made on Earth. Still, he was as much flesh and blood as the next guy, and he'd certainly jumped wholeheartedly into a relationship with this beautiful, intelligent and unique woman. But until he found out what had happened to his wife, he couldn't take that final step . . . He sighed. "Cassiopeia . . ."
She smiled then, soberly and knowingly. "I thought for a moment that you'd forgotten," she mused. "But that's the thing about you, Mark Dayton. In matters of the heart . . . a lady always knows where she stands."
He didn't exactly like the way that sounded. "Uh . . ."
Cassie smirked, letting him squirm for a moment. "I know you love me. I never doubted that. But I also know that you're the kind of man who commits for life, whether it be to you wife, your friends, or to your career." She leaned forward, kissing him slow and sensuously. "While that might scare some women . . . I find it curiously reassuring."
"I'm not sure what to say . . ." he replied haltingly. "I just can't . . ."
"I know," she nodded. "And I commend you for it. You need to know what happened to your family, Mark. Maybe, when we finally get to Earth, one day you'll find out."
"And where will you be?" he whispered.
"Right there with you," she replied, pragmatically. "If you want me there."
He nodded slowly. A lot could happen in thirty years. And as far as his wife back on Earth was concerned, he'd probably been killed in an accident on approach to the International Space Station back in 2010. All the same, he had to know for sure. Cassiopeia was trying to tell him that she was content with her lot in life, and that it truly didn't matter to her if he was ready to marry her or not. He wondered fleetingly if it had something to do with her socialator background, or if she was actually the only woman in the known universe that wasn't bound and determined to be walked down the aisle. "I want you with me, Cassie. I know that I can't offer you much right now. . ."
"That's where you're wrong, Mark," she smiled, squeezing him tightly. "I have all I need right here."
----------
"Are you well, Starbuck?" The tone of voice was . . . worried.
"I'm alright, Mal. Just fine."
"Are you certain?" Malus focused his sensors on the pilot. "Although your human life signs indicate nothing irregular, you appear rather tattered and . . ." the IL trailed off, apparently detecting something amiss that he didn't know how to verbalise.
"I'm fine, Mal," Starbuck repeated wearily, as Lia shrugged free to head towards an anxious-looking Jolly. The jovial pilot was just the support that his sister-in-law needed right now. He sighed, while Luana wrapped both arms around him as they came to a stop. "Good job up there. I hear you worked some of your usual cybernetic magic, even winning over Dayton . . ."
"Not magic, Starbuck. I merely used the available data to the best of my abilities, correlating both the . . ."
"I know, Mal," Starbuck waved a hand dismissively. He needed to talk to Dayton and Apollo alone, filling them in on what Ama had shown him on Earth. Lords, he was so tired, he was ready to drop, but his mind felt like a fusion reactor about to blow. "How about you put it all in a concise report, and fire it off to me? I need to touch base with Dayton and Apollo right now." He blinked a couple times as he realized that Boxey was in his best friend's arms. Somewhere along the way, he'd missed something . . .
"I see," Malus replied, almost forlornly. "Are you not even going to enquire as to my well-being? After all, I was shot." The IL was silent a moment. "Perhaps Mendax was right. Are you just using me, Starbuck? Am I just another cybernetic daggit to you? I thought you were my friend."
"Sagan's sake, Mal, you sound like a jealous woman. Did you blow a diode up there?" the strike captain replied irritably.
"Starbuck!"
Lu used that tone of voice that was supposed to make him think twice. It didn't always work, however. "What?"
"A jealous woman!" Malus replied indignantly. "Why would I be jealous? I devote my entire existence to you, changing my allegiances and putting myself at considerable risk, only to be taken advantage of. Your wife, your choice of life mate, wasn't even willing to remain with you when you were unconscious, instead following her duty instead of her heart . . ."
"Whoa! This is getting weird, Mal," Starbuck stopped him, running a hand over his jaw, feeling a bristly growth that indicated just how long it had been since he'd enjoyed the relative comforts of the Endeavour.
"I am merely confessing my feelings to you, Starbuck," the IL replied. "Is that not what humans do, as part of their interpersonal dynamics?"
"In therapy, maybe . . ." Starbuck murmured.
"Go on, Malus, tell Starbuck how you feel," Lu encouraged him. "I really think he needs to understand how . . . deeply your devotion runs."
"What the fra . . .?" Starbuck stuttered, stepping away from his wife and looking at her incredulously. He looked between the two of them, feeling like he'd been somehow set up. "Lu?"
"Just listen," she said softly and compassionately, as she patted Malus on the arm. "Go on, Mal."
"You realize that neither of you are playing with a full deck, don't you?" Starbuck shook his head, almost afraid of what Malus was about to say. How long had everyone been telling him that the way Malus followed him around like a lost daggit, attending to his every whim, just wasn't right? He'd chosen to ignore it, rather than to deal with it. Then again, it hadn't exactly bothered him to have his own personal assistant, especially knowing that Malus' specialized knowledge and abilities could make short work of so many menial tasks that would take him considerably longer.
"I would very much like to play with you, Starbuck," Malus replied, his lights sparkling wildly.
Starbuck's mouth went dry. "Come again?"
"I think he meant cards, Starbuck," Luana smirked. "Didn't you, Mal?"
"Yes, I did," Malus replied. "I wish to be treated as your friend, Starbuck. That is all I ask. With the same deference as Commander Dayton and Colonel Apollo. To be thought of as more than a collection of mechanical and electronic assemblies. I have a fondness and allegiance to you that I truly cannot express or define sufficiently . . . especially when you wave me aside like a nuisance, making me wonder if I would have been better off shutting myself down back on Planet 'P'."
"Uh . . ."
"I think you've hurt Malus' feelings, Starbuck," Luana pointed out. She looked like she was enjoying this.
"His feelings . . ." Starbuck murmured.
"If you leave me out in the rain, do I not rust?" Malus asked.
Starbuck blinked, then shook his head in bewilderment. "You lost me, Mal. What the frack are you talking about? Rust?"
"It's a parody of an Earth quote," the IL explained. "A famous poet from Commander Dayton's planet. William Shakespeare. He was discussing the commonalities of mankind despite. . ."
"Earth . . ." Starbuck sighed, raking a hand through his hair as his thoughts returned to other matters. It took him a moment to realize that the IL had stopped prattling incessantly. "Mal, I'm really not up for this right now. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but it's been a mong heap of a day, and I really need to tie up an especially important loose end."
"Will you not confide in me, either?" Malus asked dejectedly.
Starbuck closed his eyes briefly, rubbing at the pressure that was once again building behind his skull. "Mal, I swear I'm going to shut you down myself, if you don't drop it."
"Starbuck!" Lu warned him again.
"This is how you repay my allegiance . . ." Malus complained, turning to leave.
Starbuck grabbed the IL by the shoulders, slamming both hands into his torso, shoving against him with all his strength. Alas, Malus only rocked slightly, before settling on his feet again. Still, Starbuck didn't break stride. "Listen, pal! I stuck my neck out when I talked Apollo and then Commander Adama into giving you a chance to prove yourself in the Fleet. My reputation and my career were on the line! The rest was up to you!" He paused, before he took a step back. The adrenaline rush already spent, he let out a long breath. Despite saving the Angylions and neutralising Count Iblis, he now knew their spontaneous plan to technologically prepare Earth for an inevitable invasion of Cylons had been effectively counteracted. More than ever he would need Malus to help them figure out how to manipulate Espridian technology to their advantage and get them to Earth. Not that he was necessarily just using the IL. He was actually fond of Malus and his peculiarities. Mal was a misfit, and to a certain extent, Starbuck remembered being in the same spot more than once in his life before he had formulated the winning personality that won over women, men and Cylons alike. "And you did it. You showed them all that your first allegiance—against all odds—was to us. That you could contribute a unique perspective and skill set that would benefit the Fleet."
"To benefit the Fleet," Malus echoed hollowly. "Is that the only reason you did it?" Lords, the IL sounded like he'd just lost his best friend.
And that summed it all up. Possibly because of a programming glitch, entirely probable given its enormous complexity, this IL was just as insecure as most humans. "Damn it, Mal, I like you!" Starbuck sighed, rubbing the bloody bandage that Apollo had quickly fashioned to his arm. "Not sure why though, especially right now . . ."
"You . . . you like me?" the IL repeated.
"Yeah," he nodded, feeling as though he was dancing on eggshells as he tried to find the right words to appease and perhaps motivate the Cylon, when all he really wanted to do was to find a quiet bunk and collapse on it for a secton or two. Then it hit him. "And . . . I was thinking . . . maybe we should make it official."
"Official?" the IL asked expectantly.
"Are you in replay mode or something? Check your chips, this is really annoying, Mal." It just slipped out. Okay, maybe motivational speeches weren't his forte.
"I apologize for annoying you yet again." There was a noticeable hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Please continue."
"Mal . . ." he paused for effect. "We should apply for Colonial citizenship for you."
"Colonial . . . citizenship." The IL's optical scanners sped up, and his head went into super glitter mode. "Is that possible? Dare I hope?" Malus cried.
Starbuck grinned, as Lu nodded at him approvingly. "Hey, if I can get Dayton appointed as Earth Liaison Officer, and then promoted to a Colonial commander in charge of his own Base Ship, then having you registered as Colonial property . . . uh, I mean a Colonial citizen, should be relative child's play."
"I would very much like to be a . . . a Colonial citizen, Starbuck," Malus replied.
"I'm putting it at the top of my list, buddy."
"Buddy . . ." the IL beamed.
Starbuck nodded, slapping the IL on the shoulder . . . making note that the impact kind of hurt. He turned to check on his commander's progress, while he waved a hand at Apollo to get his attention. His superior officers were clearly in celebration mode as they were reunited with those they cared most about. Once again, Starbuck's thoughts wandered back to his mystical journey to Earth with Ama. Dickins and Hummer were in some sort of isolated mountain fortress on Earth, held captive. All their attempts to warn their sister planet and prepare her for a Cylon invasion had been thwarted. As much as he hated to spoil a good party—and this had the makings of the event of the yahren—he really needed to let Dayton and Apollo in on the bad news.
----------
I thought it was supposed to be me . . .
Apollo couldn't quite understand how he'd ended up on the periphery of the final conflict with Count Iblis, as he listened to his son talk about how the supernatural Being had tried to lure him away, only to be interrupted by "Padster" Ryan. He met Sheba's eyes, seeing something familiar lurking in their depths.
"I thought it was . . . personal," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "I thought I would be more . . ." she shrugged, looking a little embarrassed, "critical. . ."
"So did I," Apollo returned, nodding as she looked at him in surprise. It made him wonder just why he'd visualized the battle between good and evil with him as the chosen defender of truth against Count Iblis. Pride? Hubris?
"You felt it too?" Sheba asked, reaching out and squeezing his hand as the boy stopped his recount of his run in with Diabolis.
Apollo nodded. "I was expecting some kind of rematch, I guess. I mean, after last time . . ."
"And I wanted to make up for the last time . . ." she murmured. "You know, when it was just Starbuck and I . . . and you were lying there . . ." She shivered as those memories drifted back, she and Starbuck standing next to the wrecked alien ship, Apollo dead at her feet, and Iblis grinning malignantly at them. "Iblis said, 'there will come another time, another place . . . and we will meet again.' I thought he was speaking to me . . . but . . ."
"He was speaking to Starbuck?" Apollo asked. That had to be it. Didn't Starbuck tell him once over a bottle of ambrosia and a deck of marked cards that Iblis had said something about them being soul mates? Then why did Apollo have this instinctive fear of Count Iblis getting anywhere near Sheba? Was it merely based on the past?
"Maybe he was," she replied. "Or maybe . . . maybe Starbuck and I were just representing humanity. Maybe Iblis didn't have any of us in mind for his next confrontation. Maybe it was already destined that he would confront Ama, John and Eirys. Or maybe it's random . . . I just don't know. I feel a bit like a leaf in a whirlwind."
"Or a vortex," Apollo nodded. "All I know for sure is that Count Iblis is gone." His gaze drifted to Starbuck as his friend approached them. "I'm not exactly sure how, but he is gone. Right, Starbuck?"
"Seems that way," Starbuck frowned. "Gone, but not forgotten, huh?"
That grabbed Apollo's attention as his friend glanced over to where Dayton was embracing Cassie, before returning his gaze to Boxey. Starbuck had something on his mind . . .
"Hey, kid." Boxey looked up at him. "Is this some kind of homework assignment for extra marks? Infiltrate and stowaway on the Covert Operations Ship? You must have quite the reputation by now after Arcta . . ." Starbuck grinned. "We'll have to promote you from Junior Warrior to Spook, Second Class."
"Don't encourage him," Sheba muttered.
Boxey smirked.
"By the way, how are Luana and Lia doing, Starbuck?" Sheba asked him in concern. "After losing . . ."
"Ama?" Starbuck sighed, glancing back at Lu and Malus. He was as restless as a daggit on a sunspot. "I can't believe she's really gone . . . none of us want to believe it."
"I know," Apollo nodded soberly, counting off his friend's familiar gestures, waiting for it. Ah! There it was. The hand combing through his hair . . . Yeah, something was on Starbuck's mind, alright. "I admit I'm a bit lost about what happened after Ama started chanting spells."
"Well, the way I remember it we were a bit preoccupied fighting Cylons," Starbuck replied, meeting Apollo's eyes for a fleeting moment, before looking around the camp once again. "Thanks for the assist. My arms were about to fall off from swinging that sword. I thought I was going to end up sliced and diced."
"We thought you might need some backup," Sheba smiled.
"You thought right," Starbuck mused, glancing over to Dayton once again, before addressing Apollo. "Do you have a centon?"
"Of course," he replied, leaning over to kiss Sheba and idly muss his son's hair before falling in beside Starbuck. They headed towards Dayton. "What's on your mind, buddy?"
"What isn't . . ." Starbuck returned, his hand running over his jaw. He looked done in, but they'd all been through a lot.
"Spit it out, Starbuck," Apollo said.
"How'd we get in this mess?" Starbuck mused quietly, letting out a deep breath and looking around at the Angylion landscape. Some of the damage done by the Cylons would take yahrens, maybe generations, to recover.
"Hey, the Angylions are free, the Cylons are eradicated in this dimension, and Iblis is gone. We won, Starbuck," Apollo reminded him. His friend met his gaze and the look of dismay in the blue eyes suddenly made the colonel wonder about the accuracy of that statement. "Didn't we?"
Starbuck's wan smile wasn't exactly reassuring. "I think we were outmanoeuvred sectars ago, Apollo. Right after Planet 'P'."
Apollo frowned, feeling his stomach plunge with Starbuck's words. "Care to explain that?"
"First we need to get Dayton's attention," Starbuck pointed at the Commander who was devoting all his attention at the moment to Cassiopeia. "Yo, Dayton!" he called loudly, turning a dozen heads.
Dayton looked almost annoyed as he glanced over. "It had better be good, Tassimo." Then he paused, looking his strike captain over critically before whispering in Cassie's ear, and heading over. "You okay, Java Chip Frap? You look like you've been to hell and back . . ."
"Near enough," Starbuck returned. "But here's the kicker. While I was there, Ama showed me something. On Earth."
"What?" Dayton gasped. In an instant, he was the serious, focused CO again. "Earth?"
"Try and keep up, Old Man . . ." Starbuck returned with a fond smile, before filling them both in on his bizarre journey to Earth, trying to add as much detail as he could to his vivid descriptions of Dickins and Hummer's place of incarceration, and the Base Ship bit by bit zeroing in on their sister planet.
Dayton turned away from them, shaking his head. He obviously recognized the place Starbuck had described. "Cheyenne Mountain. Son of a bitch, they'll never get out of that . . . Shit, shit, shit . . ." he muttered, his hands gripped tightly at his sides. His body was taut with tension. "What does the President think he's doing . . . Holy son of a . . ."
"We have to get back to the Fleet and tell Commander Adama," Apollo told them. "On the double."
Starbuck nodded. "Yeah."
"Damn!" Dayton suddenly exploded. "I was imagining Dick back with Anna, not rotting in another cell . . . He'll flip out . . . it'll take him right back to Torg and Bex."
"So we find a way to get them out," Starbuck told him. "Dickins and Hummer."
Dayton whirled on him, his anger and frustration at his present impotence was plain. "And just how do you think we're gonna do that, Barista Breath? They're light years away, and probably held captive by my own government!" He kicked a rock, which went sailing into a tree, before bouncing off into the scrub. "Damn! I can't believe this! Do those bureaucratic idiots have their heads halfway up their own asses? The modifications to the Endeavour alone would have given them enough proof . . . " He let out a snarl of rage, slamming a fist into his palm. "If there's a signal being emitted from the Moon, surely to God our guys would pick that up and investigate! But they probably don't want to see the truth! Or they're too busy forming committees to talk about it, or finding the way to save their bloody funding . . . Idiots! Short-sighted goddamned idiots!"
"Good to know we didn't corner the market on idiots . . ." Starbuck quipped in English, trying to dispel his commander's mood. It sounded as if the late President Adar would have fitted in well, on Earth.
Apollo shrugged, not understanding the foreign words. Ryan had been teaching Starbuck the odd phrase to throw at Dayton since they had settled into the Fleet. More often than not, he didn't want to know what Starbuck said, since the commander's reaction swung from raucous laughter to chasing the strike captain with the closest weapon at hand.
Dayton snorted, nodding at the warrior to acknowledge the attempt. "You sound like a freakin' Canuck from Carrot Creek. You really have to work on that accent, Drip Grind."
"I'll put it on my 'to do' list," Starbuck returned. "Ama wouldn't have shown me, Dayton, if we couldn't do something about it. She wouldn't have bothered over the impossible. I have to believe that. There's a Cylon Base Ship getting closer and closer to Earth. There has to be some way . . ."
"The Clavis . . ." Dayton nodded, glancing over at the IL. "Can it take us all the way to Earth?"
"It brought the Endeavour to Morlais," Apollo rationalized. "But I just don't know enough about it. We need to have a command meeting, and bring in Malus and Coxcoxtli as our experts to explore that possibility."
"Quasi experts at best," Starbuck inserted. "Are you even sure we can get back home?"
"You have a strange idea of 'home'," Dayton smiled humourlessly. "I don't think anyone actually explored that technicality before committing to saving your ass, Crema." He reached over, squeezing Starbuck's shoulder, looking him in the eyes for a long moment. "Sorry. I . . . How are you really, kid?"
It came out of the blue, but Starbuck didn't flinch, holding the Earthman's gaze. "Nothing that a few Empyrean Ales and about a secton's worth of sleep won't cure," he replied steadily.
Apollo nodded. Wrung through the wringer and completely exhausted, there was no way Starbuck was feeding them a line. He'd gone into the depths of Hades Hole, and come back out whole. They all had.
"That's what I like to hear!" Dayton patted the strike captain on the cheek. "Then we need to say goodbye to the Angylions and get back to our ship. Round up our people, Captain. It's time to get a move on."
"Aye, sir," Starbuck replied with a nod, striding away.
----------
Finally.
At last.
It was time.
The ships were ready to go, and all that remained were the final farewells. Of those that had fought in space, there was some good news. Two of the Hybrids had been close enough when the Raiders exploded, that the shockwave had knocked out their avionics. They had just gone silent, but were intact, the pilots saved. The third . . . not so lucky.
Starbuck took one last look at the wasted landscape, pausing as the sun at last broke through the thick bank of grey clouds in the distance. Looking down across the plain, he saw the former site of the Base Ship, the vast open pit mine beyond it. Already, the pit was filling with water, as small streams flowed into it. Soon, it would be a placid lake, erasing the ugliness of the Cylon occupation, and already birds were making it home. He smiled faintly, pleased at the thought, as the sunlight touched his face. Even with a blustery breeze, after the previous gloom of Morlais, it felt like heaven.
"Next time you go planetside without orders, could you pick a more tropical climate?" Apollo teased him, stopping alongside. "Maybe a quiet sandy beach somewhere . . . without Cylons, Count Iblis and human sacrifices."
"It'd be my luck that a hurricane would come up just as we were getting comfortable," Starbuck grinned. "Or a tsunami," he added, remembering what they told him had happened on Planet 'P'. No sooner had he been rescued from a watery grave and revived, then a tsunami had struck.
"Right," Apollo nodded with a grimace. "Whatever happened to the Starbuck Luck?"
"What are you talking about?" Starbuck chuckled. "There's barely a scratch on me this time around."
"Hmm, you might have a point," Apollo mused, pausing to watch Baltar and Eirys. They'd been having a long, and by the looks of it, serious conversation. Suddenly, Eirys stepped into Baltar's arms, and he pulled her close to him, before they shared a tender kiss. "Would ya look at that . . ."
"Ohh, I didn't want to see that! After all, I just ate rations, buddy, and they're hard enough to keep down on a good day," Starbuck replied, shielding his eyes from the sight. "Kind of weird seeing Baltar in that sort of light."
"Maybe not as weird as it was hearing he saved Baker's life on the Harbinger."
"Really?" Starbuck asked, risking a glance at the 'reformed' traitor once again. "I'm still not convinced, buddy . . . I can't let it go . . . billions dead . . . "
"I know. Neither can I," Apollo replied. "Still, he came through for us. Surprisingly. We're all alive, thanks to him."
"I'm still waiting for that to blow up in our faces."
"Yeah," Apollo sniffed. "Baltar already told Dayton that he has every intention of returning to the Fleet. Back to the Prison Barge."
"And I have every intention of seeing that he gets there."
Apollo grinned. "Then I'll leave him in your capable hands, Captain."
Starbuck grimaced. "Sometimes I just don't know when to leave well enough alone, do I?"
"Just sometimes?" Apollo laughed, motioning over to where Prince Llewelyn was arriving, an arm around his brother, Glynn, supporting him. The elder of the Angylion princes was pale and shaky, but obviously determined to be present.
"We came to bid you farewell, my friends," Llewelyn announced. "I know not if it's likely our paths will cross again, but if you ever have need of us, and we can get there, we owe you a debt of gratitude."
"That we do," Glynn added with a smile, stepping away from his brother. "It's unfortunate you need to leave anon, we would have liked for you to stay for the coronation."
"Yes," Eirys swept over to join them, as Baltar quietly boarded the shuttle. "It's been ten years since King Byrne was gathered to his fathers, and laid to rest. The time has come to finally crown King Glynn."
"Glynn?" Llewelyn exclaimed in mock surprise. "But I am so much better looking."
"Notice he claimed not that he was better suited," returned Glynn with an easy smile.
"Well, that goes without saying, Oh My Brother," Llewelyn added, stepping forward towards Starbuck. "Fare thee well, Doublewalker. It hath been fascinating." He smiled.
"That's putting it mildly," Starbuck returned with a grin, glancing over to Eirys as Dayton and Ryan joined them. If anyone really understood, it would be the sorceress . . .
"Yes, Starbuck?" she asked, as if she knew there were questions burning a hole in his brain.
"Eirys," he took a breath. "What exactly did happen to Count Iblis?" All lightness and flippancy was gone. Starbuck was deadly serious. "Is he really . . . gone."
"From what I understand, he's trapped in another dimension, a place that he created to torment others when once before he used the powers of Oculus for his own selfish desires," she replied.
"Gotta love the irony of that," Dayton added, uncharacteristically quiet, only just hearing that one of his ancestors was a Keeper of the Oculus and a member of the Thirteenth Tribe of Kobol. It took a bit of adjusting to. "What about John and Ama? Are they trapped there too? Iblis' watchdogs?" He glanced at Starbuck.
"I believe the powers of the Oculus will confine Iblis. At least for the present. I will remain its Keeper, a tradition that apparently goes back much further than we first thought." She glanced at Dayton and smiled. He nodded at her, "As to John and Ama . . . I admit I do not understand what transpired after we were all transported back to the Holy Sanctum. I am but a novice in matters of arcane wisdom, when compared to them."
"Then . . . she's alive?" Starbuck asked tentatively. Hope burned in his eyes.
"A spirit like that will never die, Starbuck," Eirys replied. "She will live on in all of us."
"Damn the spirit, I want to know about the woman!" he snapped, feeling all their eyes shift to him. He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face, realizing the connotation of his words. "Sorry . . . I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I'm just . ."
"Don't worry, kid," Ryan slung an arm over the younger man's shoulders. "I'm more dialled in to people than spirits, too." He nodded at Eirys. "Except for the liquid sort, of course. What the kid wants to know is will we see her again? After all, we never recovered a body. Does her body still live, or not?"
Starbuck nodded. That was exactly what was bothering him. Why was it so hard to get the words out?
"I wish I could give you an answer, Paddy-Ryan," Eirys sighed.
Starbuck looked up sharply at that, narrowing his eyes at the Sorceress. Paddy-Ryan? "Say again?"
She crossed to him, resting a hand lightly on his arm, her grey eyes regarding him warmly. "Have faith, Starbuck."
His heart fluttered in his chest as he stared at her in wonder. Could it be . . .?
"We'd better move out, people. Speed of heat, warp one," Dayton reminded them, motioning with a hand towards their ships. "Starbuck, if you take one more step towards that Hybrid, I'll tackle you where you're standing. You're riding on my shuttle. That's an order."
"But . . ."
"But nothing, Go Juice. Luana's already aboard and waiting for us. Jolly and Lia are taking the Hybrid back to Mother."
"Sounds like you have it all worked out," Starbuck mused, glancing back at Eirys as Apollo said his final farewells to Llewelyn and Glynn, and joined them.
"In my mind I do," Dayton replied with a wry smile, as he ushered them towards the transport. "All part of being in command. But I know you'll probably screw it up along the way."
"Gotta keep you on your toes, Old Man," Starbuck returned with a chuckle.
"It's one hell of a team that we've put together," Dayton added, pausing outside the shuttle. "But we still have our work cut out for us."
"I'd mark it down as a successful shakedown cruise, on all levels," Apollo nodded. "Congratulations, Commander."
"Let's not celebrate quite yet," Dayton returned, as Ryan caught up to them. "Especially having an idea of what lies ahead. Earth could make this mission look like a walk in the park."
"What could be worse than Count Iblis and a Cylon Base Ship ready to conquer a separate dimension?" Starbuck asked.
"A planet full of people who base their knowledge of the universe on what they see on the Sci Fi Channel." Ryan replied, stepping aboard.
"God help us," Dayton agreed.