"I hear you," Apollo said, from where he lay sprawled on the bed. "But this is the last one, then we're free."
"How do they do it? All day, everyday, one non-stop bash."
"They're used to it, I guess. Higher stamina, higher alcohol tolerance…" Apollo trailed off with a yawn.
It was true: for three days, they'd done nothing but go from one reception to another where they were constantly plied with alcoholic beverages. The time of day meant nothing to their hosts, the parties all beginning at daybreak and not ending until it was nearly daybreak again. The two exhausted warriors were hiding out for a short while, before they were expected at yet another gathering.
Starbuck's gaze drifted around the opulent room. Every surface was gaudily decorated, the colours all gold, rich red, and deep, velvety blue. Crystals trailed from every light, casting rainbows. The walls were covered with ornate paintings depicting legends of Zanzi culture. And the large bed Apollo now snored softly upon was covered in a heavy gold and scarlet brocaded bedclothes, with what must have been 25 pillows strategically placed along the headboard.
Perfect place for seduction, Starbuck thought idly, then shook his head at himself. Seduce who? Apollo? No, those were just dreams that every normal man had…
Still, his eyes travelled over Apollo's prone form, and he couldn't help but sigh. He couldn't deny his attraction to the dark-haired, green-eyed man. Couldn't deny it at all.
***
For three days, they'd been the guests of the Zanzi, on a diplomatic mission to secure supplies for the Fleet. Adama had decided that this would be a good time to ease Apollo into the field of diplomacy, as the Zanzi had already demonstrated their willingness to help. They were a peculiar people, more horrified by the stark functionality of the ships' interiors than by the human's dwindling food supply. Almost immediately, they'd sent pillows and pictures and tapestries, saying there was a need to "soften the surroundings, as comforting the body fosters comfort for the soul."
In terms of food stores, Apollo was sent to the surface to negotiate for them, offering as trade navigational and astrometric data the Fleet had acquired in the course of their long journey. As Adama had predicted, the Zanzi were not nearly as shallow as they'd first appeared to be. They were very interested in the data, recognizing the scientific and, of course, militaristic value of scans from across the galaxy. So, negotiations had gone smoothly, if a bit slowly, and the Zanzi, being well aware of their wealth, were generous with what they offered in stores.
Negotiations had gone slowly because of their penchant for parties. All talks were conducted in the midst of raucous gatherings, drinks in hand, tables laden with food, music blasting, and a crush of Zanzi shouting at one another in order to be heard. No serious, quiet meetings for these people. When the Fleet had first been detected, they had begun preparing for the contact, and their world leader had declared a 3 day festival in honour of their guests. This was when Adama had decided on Apollo going instead of himself. "This place is more suited to the younger generation, I think," the Commander had said, twinkle in his eye. Still, Apollo was a bit nervous about it, so he'd asked if Starbuck could come along for moral support. Adama had agreed, slight frown on his face. "As long as you ensure Lieutenant Starbuck keeps his mind on the needs of the Fleet. There will be many distractions down there, perfectly suited to his devilish personality."
But here, at the end of the 3 days, Apollo and Starbuck were worn out. Covert military operations were not this tiring. Neither one of them had been entirely sober since they got here. Not falling down drunk, but maintaining a steady level of spirits coursing through their veins, enough for a constant, pleasant buzz. Adama had said that one of the first rules of diplomacy was to adapt oneself, as best one could, to the other culture. "You must show a willingness to participate in their activities," Adama had instructed Apollo. So far, that meant drinking, eating, laughing, gambling, dancing, and, oh yes, every so often actually conducting negotiations.
"Hey," Starbuck said. There was no response from the bed. "Apollo - wake up, sunshine."
"What?" Apollo said, not opening his eyes.
"They're probably waiting for us."
Apollo dragged his wrist up to his eyes and opened one to check the time.
"Yeah," he replied, completely lacking in enthusiasm.
Reluctantly, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and running his fingers through his hair.
"Okay, let's go."
Neither one of them moved. They looked at each other and started to laugh, softly at first, but quickly growing into loud guffaws as they realized the absurdity of their predicament. It was a party, for Sagan's sake, not a battle.
"Gods, Starbuck, we're old," Apollo said, wiping tears from his eyes. "There was a time we could've handled this."
"There's no way I'm admitting to anybody on the Galactica that a couple parties did me in."
"Yeah, but they are quite the parties. I've never been to anything like it."
Starbuck nodded, and regarded Apollo quietly for a moment. "Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Sure."
"It's about the Zanzi. Have they made any, uh… advances… towards you?"
One side of Apollo's mouth twitched up in a half-smile. "Yeah, I think that's happened once or twice. Maybe more. I haven't figured out all their gestures, yet."
"Good," Starbuck said, relieved. "I was worried it was just me. Yesterday one of them invited me for a 'gowshuan ceremony'. Luckily, I'd heard some of the others talking about it, so I had a fair idea of what went on."
"What'd you say?"
"Well, I explained that we were a monogamous kind of race" - Apollo snorted at that - "and that I had somebody special waiting for me back on the Galactica. What happened with you?"
"I simply said I'd prefer to keep our negotiations in the public forum, didn't want to complicate matters with possible private indiscretions."
"Gods, you do sound like a diplomat. Well, I guess they really want to get to know us, don't they?"
"Yeah," Apollo agreed. "I'm getting the impression that sex is a rather important component in the running of their society. Makes sense, when you consider their absolute devotion to leisure."
"So, what do you think?" Starbuck asked, a wry grin on his face. "You tempted?"
Apollo gave him a coy look. "It's our last night. Who knows what'll happen."
***
It was going to be the biggest bash of all, from the looks of the vast reception hall when they came through the doors. As one, the throng of at least a thousand Zanzi turned towards them and raised their glasses high over their heads, shouting "Ha-zeend!!", their all-purpose toast. Starbuck and Apollo smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, and just as quickly the crowd seemed to forget about them, going back to their conversations and other various activities.
Hovering in the air above the people were golden globes that provided the soft illumination in the room. Every so often, one of them would shoot out a stream of multicoloured crystals that that people underneath would scramble to catch. Each colour had a different meaning, pertaining to luck, beauty, wealth, youth, etc. Many of the party goers had the crystals sewn into their clothing or strung through their hair.
Even without decoration they were an attractive enough people: humanoid, but with three fingers not four, an orangish pallor to their skin, and hair a wide range of shades just like that of their human cousins. Often their eyes were two different colours, ranging from the palest blue to black. Whether this was genetic or by design Apollo hadn't been able to determine. And, he'd found it a bit disconcerting the way they had stared at him at first, stared right into his own eyes. Then he realized: no one here had green eyes. Hell, not many humans had pure green eyes like his. The Zanzi seemed to be a bit enamoured with that aspect of Apollo's appearance.
"Honoured guests," said Firand, who had been the chief negotiator for the Zanzi, suddenly materializing beside them, "your hands are empty. Ze-bah!" he yelled over his shoulder at a servant carrying a tray of drinks above his head. "Please, please, accept our humble offerings for your evening meal. You must be half starved by now."
Starbuck and Apollo looked at the tables warping under the weight of the food, then at each other. Good lord, neither one of them thought they could ingest another bite, there had been so much to taste as they'd decided what the people of the Fleet would like, and then just plain overeaten, dazzled by the variety on offer. The servant finally fought his way to them, and proffered the tray covered in multicoloured glasses filled with multicoloured drinks. With a sigh, Apollo selected a blue goblet filled with a clear liquid that he hoped was merely water, while Starbuck dove right back in, taking a tall frosty glass of frothy ale. Firand was satisfied their comforts had been met, and didn't push the issue of food.
"If you'll accompany me," he said, "there are several who have humbly requested an introduction."
It had been the same every day. Introductions and awkward conversation, and then, sometimes, a proposition for a more intimate meeting. They followed Firand through the crowd, nodding as the Zanzi warmly greeted them. Finally, he stopped before a group of four: two males, two females.
"May I present our honoured guests, Apollo and Starbuck of the Battlestar Galactica. Honoured guests, I present Holan and his daestra Kel, and Worne and his ut-daestra Gehala."
"Je-han su," Apollo said, with a small respectful bow.
"Je-han su," replied Holan. "You honour us by speaking our language."
"Well, you do a much better job of speaking ours. I'm afraid I haven't been able to master too much of yours."
"As I'm certain Firand has explained," said Worne, "the Zanzi enjoy speaking the languages of our honoured guests. And, it is how we best learn about you. Fortunately, we are well-equipped to take on such a complex task as a new language."
It wasn't a boast or put-down what Worne said, merely a statement of fact. For the Zanzi, new languages were their own peculiar kind of fad. For a while, everyone would speak the new tongue until interest died off and they'd revert to Zanzian until the next race came along. How they learned so quickly was a mystery. They just did, and the new words spread like wild fire across the globe, even flooding their broadcasting systems. Apollo and Starbuck had gotten quite a shock when they turned on the viewscreen in Apollo's room and found a Zanzi speaking Galactican out at them.
"Yes," added Firand, "it is kind of you to share your language with us. Not all races have been so giving. Now, if you will excuse me, I see Johol is trying to get my attention."
Firand pushed back into the crowd and disappeared.
"Firand speaks most correctly," purred Kel, staring into Apollo's eyes. "The Zanzi appreciate those who share, and we repay the favour most generously."
Her hand moved to the low-cut neckline of her gown, tugging at it a little, giving Apollo an even clearer view of what lurked beneath her clothes. Daestra, he knew, translated loosely into 'current wife', while ut-daestra meant 'permanent wife'. That didn't mean partners weren't permitted to wander, just that the ut-daestra had a binding contract to share the worldly goods of her lohe, 'husband', and to produce off-spring. Apollo just smiled at Kel, not knowing what to say, but kind of hypnotized by where she was putting her hand.
"Tell me, Holan," Starbuck said, breaking the spell, "what do you do here on Zanzor?"
Holan stepped forward and began talking about his textile industry. Funny, a lot of the people they'd talked to here were in textiles, but judging from the décor, there was a huge demand for it. Kel was joined by Gehala, who both turned smoky gazes upon Apollo. Gehala had eyes of gold and blue, a most effective combination, Apollo thought, taking a long drink from his goblet. It wasn't water after all, but a mild, fragrant beverage of some sort that made him feel all warm inside. He looked at Kel, with her low cut gown of shimmering red. He knew now how their last evening here was going to go. The Zanzi were going to turn up the heat on their sexual longings. This group must have petitioned Firand for the first shot.
He'd never slept with a…well…alien. And here it appeared he could have two if he wanted. Two very attractive ones, at that.
"Your eyes are so green," said Gehala breathlessly. "Are they a genetic anomaly?"
"Gehala!" exclaimed Kel, horrified by the inquiry.
But Apollo just laughed. "In a way, they probably are. There aren't too many humans with eyes this colour."
"They are most hypnotic," said Kel, fingering her dress again.
Yeah, so are you, thought Apollo, forcing himself to tear his gaze away. He looked around for Starbuck, found the Lieutenant still talking to Holan and Worne, but watching him at the same time. Obviously he thinks I got the better deal, Apollo thought, amused at his sour expression. He turned back to Kel and Gehala.
They held hands now, the two females, and moved so close to Apollo that they nearly touched him.
"Apollo of the Battlestar Galactica," said Kel seductively, "has anyone demonstrated the gowshuan ceremony for you?"
He was about to respond when someone grabbed his arm.
"Can I talk to you for a micron?" Starbuck said, false smile on his face. "'Scuse us, ladies."
"What is it?" Apollo snapped as they threaded their way through the crowd.
"There's no emergency. Just got a little tired of Holan and Worne and the textile industry, that's all."
Apollo stopped. "Well then," he said, "I'll just be heading back to Kel and Gehala. We were having a very interesting conversation."
"Apollo -"
Starbuck was interrupted by another servant with a tray of drinks which was thrust in their direction. "Honoured guests," the servant said. Apollo noticed his goblet was empty. When did that happen? He shrugged and took another blue goblet, putting his empty one on the tray. Starbuck grabbed a short purple glass and tossed it back. Then he reached for another.
"Look," Starbuck said, as the servant moved off again, "don't you feel it? There's something different about this party. Like there's something in the air."
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't know. I just feel" - he waved his hand around, searching for words - "jumpy, I guess. No, that's not it -"
Apollo laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's our last night here," he said, leaning close. "Why don't you go play the tables for a while, and make the Zanzi part with a little more of their considerable wealth."
"And what're you going to do?"
"Diplomatic things. You'd only be bored."
Starbuck scowled, but nodded. "All right. But you watch yourself, and remember the Commander expects a full report on everything that happened down here."
"Lighten up, will you?" Apollo retorted, feeling some satisfaction in turning Starbuck's words back against him. How many times had he heard the Lieutenant say that?
Apollo turned away and headed back towards Kel and Gehala. Starbuck watched until the shifting crowd blocked his view, then let out a long, exasperated sigh. What was wrong with him, anyway? He had no claims on Apollo, and probably the Captain would come back with a damn good story about the gowshuan… Oh, Starbuck thought, I may as well go gamble for a while. They did have good games down here, but then, a culture of leisure would dictate that.
"Honoured guest," said a soft voice close to his ear.
He turned to find a female Zanzi smiling shyly up at him.
"Forgive my intrusion into your sorrow," she said. "Such things are for private consideration."
Starbuck recognized her. She had often been near Firand during the gatherings of the last three days, but had never been formally introduced. She wore a gown of pale blue and a choker of the multicoloured crystals that fell from the hovering gold globes. Here eyes were two shades of brown, and her hair a shade in-between.
"Sorrow?" Starbuck replied. "I'm not sad."
She nodded, then leaned back on her heels a little so she could see Apollo, Kel and Gehala.
"He has not yet left," she said. "Something holds him back."
"Who? I don't know what you're talking about."
"The green-eyed one you travel with. Gehala and Kel offer him the gowshuan, and yet he resists them."
"I'm sorry, but I don't know your name. I'm Starbuck."
"I am Rix. Je-han su, Starbuck. We have not met because it is not permitted. I am an observer, and as such must observe our guests at a distance. You and your companion have been most interesting to watch, but, as you leave shortly, I see no harm in coming forward now."
"Why do you watch us?" Starbuck asked, a bit uncomfortable with the idea.
"To learn, nothing more. To study your mannerisms and gestures, and how they relate to your speech. Yours have been fairly easy to decipher. The irony lies in how your own kind fails to properly interpret the signals you send each other."
Starbuck frowned. "What do you mean?"
Rix looked in Apollo's direction again. "You desire more than friendship with that one."
"W-What?"
"There is no shame in it. The Zanzi are very open to all forms of companionship, so long as they are not harmful. I can help you."
Starbuck felt his face getting hot and he hurriedly raised his glass to his lips, suddenly needing a drink. He was torn between vehement denial of everything Rix had said, and wanting to fall on his knees to thank her and accept her offer of help, whatever it may be.
"I, uh, I don't know what he thinks," Starbuck stammered, choosing a place in-between. "That's part of the problem. So I don't know how you could help."
"He is very…fond… of you. Fondness can be turned into something stronger."
Starbuck didn't know what to say. Was she intimating that she could arrange for he and Apollo to spend the night together? How would that be possible?
"Oh, they are taking him," Rix said. "The gowshuan wins."
"What is that, exactly?"
"It is difficult to describe," Rix replied, a blissful smile on her lips. "It goes beyond a sexual experience, inflames the whole being with such passion that the merest touch fills one with near unbearable desire. Your companion will never quite be the same."
Starbuck wondered if he should go after Apollo, but what was the point. And who is he to deny Apollo this experience? Besides, Starbuck wasn't even completely certain of his own feelings. He turned to speak to Rix again, but she was gone, vanished into the crowd. He sighed and finished his drink, then searched out a servant with a full tray.
***
It was much later when Rix suddenly reappeared. Starbuck was sitting down with several Zanzi, having a rambunctious drunken conversation that ranged across a dozen topics. The party was still in full swing, showed no signs of letting up. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Rix's serene face.
"Rix," Starbuck slurred. "Where'd you go before?"
"To attend someone's need," she replied. "Could you accompany me, please, honoured guest?"
Starbuck got unsteadily to his feet and bid the others good-bye. Rix held his arm and directed him across the room, then through the doors and out into a wide passageway. There were many Zanzi scattered about, taking a break from the swirling activity inside. Rix leaned Starbuck against the wall and before he realized what she was doing, she'd pressed a hypospray against the back of his wrist, injecting him with something. Everything spun for a few moments, then Starbuck felt very nearly sober.
"Are you all right?" Rix asked.
"Yeah. What was in that?"
"A little something we take to combat the effects of our activities," she replied.
Then she looked weary, the first tired Zanzi Starbuck had seen. She rubbed her forehead and flexed her shoulders. Then she pursed her lips and looked up at him.
"There's something I must tell you," she said. "They will all be angry with me, but I feel you should know. Another way we try to understand the races we meet is through intimate encounters. Many races are eager for this kind of experimentation, and don't require much enticing, but you and Apollo were quite resistant to our offers. So, on your last night here, we have added a chemical compound to the ventilation system to stimulate such impulses."
"I knew it!" Starbuck said. "I thought there was something going on."
"Yes. But the other concern of the Zanzi, always, is our guest's comfort. It was making you very uncomfortable to watch your companion with Kel and Gehala, so I have attended to that."
"What did you do?"
"Intercepted them, and led Apollo away. Then I gave him a shot like the one I gave you, and explained the situation to him. He is a good man, your Apollo. He was amused, not angry. And then he said he would be glad to have an early night, that we had worn you two out."
"So he's, uh, up in his room?"
"Yes." She paused, turned her head to watch him out of the corner of her eye. "Waiting for you."
His mouth dropped open. Surely she didn't mean -
"Diplomacy takes many forms, Starbuck," Rix said. "Not every negotiation has to decide the fate of a world. Sometimes the most important talks are the ones that resolve a very small misunderstanding between two people."
***
Starbuck went into his own room first, stepping into the washroom to make sure he didn't look too dishevelled, straightening his hair and his clothes. He leaned against the counter and stared hard at himself in the mirror, silently asking his reflection if he really wanted to go through with this. Whatever 'this' was. There would be repercussions far beyond this night. Of course, they could agree that this was a one-time thing, and only because they were alone and a bit drunk.
No. Starbuck shook is head. If they became intimate this evening, there's no way he could go back to being just a buddy. It wasn't merely a physical attraction, but an emotional bond as well. Apollo already meant everything to him. Starbuck had been inordinately pleased to be asked to accompany him here, thinking they'd get to spend lots of time together. The partying Zanzi, however, had interfered. So was this the way to go? To just walk on into Apollo's room and say… what?
In the main room, Starbuck walked over to the set of bottles arranged on a low table, choosing one at random and opening it. He took a swig, and looked at the door that connected their two rooms. It was slightly ajar, no doubt left that way when they headed to the final reception. Bottle in hand, Starbuck crept over and peered into Apollo's room. The lights were low, and he couldn't see his friend, but then he noticed the doors to the balcony were open. Apollo must be out there.
He went into Apollo's room and to the balcony doors. There he was, silhouetted against the lights of the city. Starbuck hesitated, then stepped out into the cool night air.
"Hey," he said softy, joining Apollo at the rail. "Nice view."
"Yeah. Reminds me a bit of home, actually."
"Really?" Starbuck looked out at the unfamiliar buildings, all brilliantly lit up.
"It's just the whole idea of people living like this, of having a place where they can live and work and grow old, watching the sun rise and set every day. I always thought I'd end up back on Caprica sometime, when the war was over and I got tired of being in space."
Starbuck held out the bottle to him, and Apollo took it and tipped it up to his lips.
"So, I hear Rix rescued you," Starbuck said.
"I wouldn't put it that way. She broke up our threesome, in any event."
"You disappointed?"
Apollo looked at him. "I don't know."
Starbuck didn't know what to do. Here he found a melancholy Apollo waiting for him, not at all what he was expecting. What exactly did Rix say?
"Well, I for one will miss this place," Starbuck said, only to fill the silence. "They're good people, the Zanzi."
"Yes, they are."
"And you made a fine diplomat, Apollo."
Apollo chuckled. "Thank you."
"Of course, your lovely green eyes helped things along, I'm sure."
"Well," Apollo replied, "I'm very glad you're here with me. I wouldn't have wanted to do this by myself."
Was that an opening - an invitation of sorts? The way he said it, full of undercurrents of strong emotion, pulled mightily at Starbuck.
"I always want to be with you," Starbuck said softly, putting his arm around Apollo's shoulders. "There's nowhere else I'd want to be."
"I know," Apollo whispered.
Those green eyes captured Starbuck, just as the always had, drawing him even closer. He closed his eyes and kissed Apollo gently, wanting only to convey deep affection, unpolluted by sexual overtones. When it was over, they said nothing for a while, just leaned against each other and looked out over the city.
Eventually, they wandered back into Apollo's room. Starbuck glanced at the bed, but he wasn't going to push matters. Apollo, however, had more definite ideas about what he wanted, turned to Starbuck and said in an innocent tone of voice:
"So, are you going back to your room, or staying here?"
"Um, here?"
"Good," Apollo said, taking Starbuck into his arms. "Somebody owes me for that gowshuan ceremony I missed."
They kissed, with much more passion this time, mouths open, tongues exploring. Then, a mad scramble to undress, the process made chaotic by their desire to kiss and touch each other. Finally, they lay on the soft bed, Starbuck on top, gazing down at his best friend, now lover, revelling in the feel of their bodies skin to skin like this. He knew he'd want more, that this night couldn't be the only one they ever spent together. It would torment him, being on the Galactica but unable to touch Apollo.
"What's wrong?" Apollo asked.
"Is this just a one-time thing?"
"Do you want it to be?"
Starbuck couldn't lie. He shook his head. "No."
Apollo smiled. "Then it's not."
Rix, I owe you, Starbuck thought, as he dove down for an intense, deep kiss. Apollo's hands caressed his back, then moved down over his buttocks, pulling Starbuck hard against him. Then Apollo's legs parted wide, and wrapped around Starbuck, holding him tightly as they thrust against each other, moaning into each other's mouths. Neither one of them had the stamina to hold out too long. But the night was still young…
***
In the morning, the Zanzi said good-bye with a lavish breakfast that was only slightly more reserved than the parties they'd been throwing. Unspiked juices were available, and lots of "toxin-flushing fruits", Firand said. "Even we Zanzi need to purge ourselves every so often." Rix was nowhere to be seen, perhaps taking a well-deserved day off. Or, she was observing from afar, seeing how they behaved with each other now, after a night spent in the throes of passion.
Finally, they were in their shuttle and heading for the Fleet. Apollo hit the autopilot and leaned back in his chair, now completely exhausted. Starbuck was already dozing beside him. Thank the gods they'd have about 3 and a half centars to sleep before reaching the Galactica. Apollo touched Starbuck lightly on the cheek, watching his blue eyes flutter open and a sleepy smile spread across his beautiful face. Starbuck grabbed the hand and kissed it, then his eyes fluttered closed again.
Apollo couldn't keep his own eyes open any longer. He reclined his chair a bit, and with one last look at his sleeping lover, let the exhaustion take over.
But he'd certainly have to thank his father for sending him on this diplomatic mission…
END