SCENE ONE
"You know we can't keep doing this."
"Why not?"
"Somebody'll find out."
"Nobody's gonna find out. Don't you like it?"
"Well, yeah."
"Then why should we stop?" He kisses me, sucking my lower lip into his mouth.
"Oh god, Starbuck - you sure you set the navigation right?"
"We're not gonna hit anything. Shut up and kiss me."
His hand's between my legs, and he kisses me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth, and I'm powerless to do anything about it. The risks we take to be together - no, the risks we take to fuck each other - like this, a test flight on a newly upgraded shuttle. But it's better than a storage closet, launch tube, or even a private dining room on the Rising Star. When Tigh mentioned at the staff meeting that he needed someone to put the shuttles through their paces, Starbuck and I just looked at each other, and I casually volunteered to test them all. The Colonel frowned a little, knowing something was going on, but not knowing what. Me, volunteer for something so completely dull and menial? Gods, I started getting hard right there, thinking about it, and it took all my concentration to get through the rest of the meeting.
"I want to fuck you this time," Starbuck rasps in my ear. He squeezes my balls a little too hard.
"Not too rough," I say.
He answers with his tongue in my mouth while his hands tear at my uniform. Then he lets it trail down my bare chest, giving special attention to my nipples. He opens my pants and pushes them down, starts jacking me off, whispering, "Your ass is mine. I'm gonna take you up against the wall."
He drops to his knees and my hands entangle his hair as he takes me in his mouth. Such intense, unbearable pleasure, laced with a touch of pain as his tongue probes my slit. Back into his throat I drive my cock, holding it there, cutting off his air as I try to hang on - I don't want to come yet, not until he's up inside me - okay, I'm okay, and I let him go. He falls back, gasping.
"Fuck," he mutters, looking up. "Suffocated by your cock. How would explain that?"
"Just get your clothes off."
He gets to his feet, slowly slipping off his flight jacket, slowly opening his tunic, showing me one nipple, then the other. This performance makes me even harder, and I have to touch myself, which I know he likes. His eyes follow my hand as I cup my balls then slide it slowly, languorously up my shaft to the wet, shiny tip. Quickly now, he's pulling his boots off, hopping around on one foot, then the other. Frantically, he fumbles with his belt and pants.
"Stop that," he pleads, still watching me.
"Nope."
Finally, he's as naked as I am, and we're skin to skin, pushing against each other, kissing passionately. His fingers probe my ass, giving me small electric jolts. Starbuck sucks on my earlobe and whispers: "I want to lick you."
I shiver in anticipation because I like this. I mean, I really like it. He turns me around and I bend forward a bit, leaning against the wall. I close my eyes, wanting to know nothing but the feel of his tongue. Hot breath on my tailbone, then something warm and wet slithers down between my cheeks making me moan and tremble. The tongue pushes inside a bit, and he hums softly, the vibration making me breathless, caught in a moment of unsustainable ecstasy. Oh my god, where did he learn to do that? It's worth every risk we take. Worth even a court martial.
The tongue pulls out, moves up now, up my back. He stands, pulling me against him, arms around my waist, kissing my neck, my ear, behind my ear. His cock is between my legs and I squeeze it, hearing inhale sharply, then turn my head, capturing his mouth, touching his tongue lightly with mine.
He withdraws for a moment, fishing around in his pants for the lube. I spread my legs, and brace myself against the wall. His breathing is ragged as comes close to me again. One hand rests on my stomach, the other is at my ass, slippery fingers doing their work, touching me oh so intimately. Don't take too long, Starbuck. I don't mind a little pain, just don't take too long…
Both hands on my ass now, and the head of his cock, pushing slowly in, then withdrawing a little. Pushing in further. And back again. Now all the way, hands gripping my hips, testicles pressed hard against my cheeks, moaning in my ear. His mouth nips my shoulder, his hands grip my cock and he jacks me in time with his thrusts. I'm lost, the sensation of being touched both outside and in, it takes me far from here to a place of animalistic impulses, of uncontrollable lust.
"Starbuck - oh my god, Starbuck -"
Too quickly, I'm coming, orgasm a violent release, leaving me weak and dazed. He's not finished, each thrust increases in force, his hands wrap around my hipbones, tight enough to leave bruises. I'm getting a pounding, close my eyes, remembering to breathe, and bite my lip to keep from crying out. But I like this too, Starbuck being rough, leaving marks, making me hurt a little. I'll feel the effects for days to come. Every time I shift, I'll remember.
A final deep thrust, stars exploding behind my eyelids. Starbuck holds me tightly around the waist, one long, incoherent cry escaping him as he empties into me. Then small groans of fatigue, and he leans against me, forehead on my shoulder, his sweat mixing with my own.
I open my eyes, steal a glance through the front viewscreen, just to make sure we're not going to hit anything, but there's only stars to witness what we've done.
With a sigh, he pulls out, and I turn to face him. We smile shyly at each other, then start reaching for our clothes. It's always like this, a faint air of embarrassment, like we can't quite believe what's just transpired. From the shuttle's medikit, I get a sterile cloth and wipe up my mess from the shuttle wall. Don't need the techs finding that.
Then Starbuck and I sit in the pilots' seats and give cursory glances to the shuttle controls and readouts.
"I'd say this one works just fine," Starbuck says.
I smile and turn us around, heading back for the Galactica.
We have eleven more shuttles to test.
We better get lots of rest.
SCENE TWO
It started with an argument.
Me and Starbuck, in my quarters, trying not to wake up Boxey. I was angry, but thought I could get my point across calmly: namely that he was being his usual slacker self and I was tired of it. He used our friendship sometimes, assumed that I would protect him should Tigh or the Commander get wind of his activities. Just the day before I'd had to tell the Colonel that I had authorized Lieutenant Starbuck to be in the heavily restricted foodstores cargo hold. He was checking on something for me… a complete and total lie. In fact Starbuck was swiping a few goodies for a card game he'd organized. I knew it, and still I heard myself saying those words to Tigh. Upon reflection, I decided that I wasn't protecting Starbuck because we needed his flying skills, as I'd previously convinced myself. (He's no good to us in the brig, I used say.) No, now I really didn't know why I was protecting him, except that it'd become habit.
A habit that needed to be broken.
So I told him that he'd pushed me too far, and that it was going to stop. He was going shape up, or face the consequences on his own.
Of course he defended himself. Instead of just agreeing and making an empty promise about changing his ways, (which, really, is all I was ever looking for), he had to come back with a list of perceived faults in my own character which, he said, quite seriously, *made* him act the way he did. A convoluted argument, designed only to raise my blood pressure, and I couldn't even yell at him because my son was sleeping a metric or two away. Starbuck always did this. When he knew I was right, he'd say something completely inflammatory so I'd blow my top, lose track of the argument, and eventually just tell him to fuck off, and that'd be the end of it.
And I knew this was what he was doing, but every time I got pulled in, couldn't seem to help it.
Except on this particular day. I had to keep my temper in check, didn't want Boxey witnessing me and his adored Uncle Starbuck at each other's throats, so I took a step back, thought for a moment, realized that this could very well be it for us. That if I took the time to rationally consider what was really going on here, I could easily unravel our friendship and walk away from it. Over. Done.
Why did he persist in treating me this way, I wanted to know. Why did he have to put our friendship to the test all the time?
My rationality surprised him. He was looking for the big finish, the F-off and he'd leave, and everything would be back to normal tomorrow.
I've had enough, Starbuck, I said. You think our fights don't bother me? Well, they do. We've got enough complications every day of our lives, I don't need this, too.
He shook his head, not understanding. What're you talking about? Gods, Apollo, we do this once a week. It's no big deal.
Not to you, maybe. And I don't get it. I don't get why you like to fight with me so much. I used to think it was simply because I outranked you, but now I'm not so sure. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if you care about me at all. If you did, you wouldn't use me the way you do.
I am not using you for anything! I have never asked you to defend me!
No, you've never had to ask. I've just always done it, but this is the last time. You'll clean up your own messes from now on.
He nodded. Fine, he said.
It was a turning point. We both knew it, and whatever happened next would decide our future.
Well, Starbuck said, I guess I'll have to fall back on plan B.
What do you mean?
He moved closer to me. I'm sorry, he said.
That's plan B? An apology?
Yeah.
Well, I wish it had been your plan A, I grumbled.
I do like fighting with you, Apollo, he admitted. But not for the reasons you think.
Why, then?
His blue eyes met mine, then looked away.
Oh, because then I get a private, personal confrontation with you, he replied.
To be perfectly honest, he continued after a moment, I keep hoping that after one of these fights we'll end up… you know…
He nodded his head towards my bedroom. I was a little taken aback, to say the least. But again, this was probably just a tactic, Starbuck trying to distract me.
At the same time, however, I got a bit of a rush, but I wasn't going to give in.
You're unbelievable, I said. Here I'm trying to be honest, and you're not taking it seriously. I don't know why the hell I put up with you -
He shut me up with a kiss.
That serious enough? he asked when we broke apart.
My mind remained suspicious, but my body cried out for more. When he kissed me again, I couldn't stop my hands from pulling him closer, or my mouth opening to admit his tongue. All my anger and frustration turned in an instant to lust, and I couldn't resist when he pulled me into my bedroom, shutting - and locking - the door.
My erection throbbed against my pants, and he smiled as he touched me there, rubbing his hand slowly up and down. He placed my hand against his, and I imitated his motions, both of us gasping from the sensations. Then he undid my pants, reaching inside, sliding his fingers under my balls, gently caressing them before pulling my cock out, and he began pumping me, his mouth latching onto mine again. His hand was slick with pre-cum, and he squeezed me, setting fire to every nerve in my body. I came quickly, my cry cut off by his hand over my mouth. He steadied me, kissed my ear, and whispered:
Now you can do something for me.
He undid his pants, letting them drop to his ankles, but it wasn't my hand he wanted. He poked his finger between my lips; there, he was saying, in there.
I sank onto my knees, glanced up to see his impatient, smouldering gaze. I ran my hands up his thighs, then leaned close and licked him, gently on the testicles, then the length of his cock. His hands were on my shoulders, and they tightened convulsively at the feel of my tongue. I opened my mouth and slowly took him in as deeply as I could. I loved the taste, sucked the head to get every drop I could. Starbuck's hands were in my hair now, every exhale accompanied by a small sound.
Now he moved, in and out, holding me in place, his pubic hairs tickling my nose with each thrust. He was close, I could tell by taste of his pre-cum, and suddenly I was swallowing like mad, trying not to choke, while a long moan escaped from Starbuck. He held himself inside my mouth for a seeming eternity, then with a deep breath pulled out. I sat back on the floor and looked up at him. Neither one of us knew what to say.
Quickly, then, we pulled up our pants and I got to my feet. Starbuck shifted his weight from foot to foot, obviously feeling trapped. My mind was a blank, as it usually was after some intense sex, and this was nothing if not intense.
I'll, uh, I'll see you later, Starbuck said.
All I could do was nod. Without another word he was gone, and I just sat on my bed in a state of pleasant confusion.
The point of no return had come and gone, but what path we'd chosen, I had no idea.
I still have no idea.
SCENE THREE
"About these shuttle tests," my father says at the end of our Command Staff meeting. "Why is it necessary for both you and Lieutenant Starbuck to go?"
There's just me, him, and Tigh, sitting at one end of the long table in the Briefing Room. It's very tempting to answer truthfully and shock the two of them out of their stoic nobleness. To just casually say: Oh, actually, Starbuck and I using the shuttles for sex -- yes, with each other. Totally soundproof, you know, out there in space...
My father, no doubt, would send me for psychiatric testing.
"Since the upgrades are so extensive," I reply, "I figured another set of eyes couldn't hurt."
"I believe the Lieutenant's time could be better spent," the Commander says.
"And so could yours, Captain," he adds, after a short, scrutinizing pause. "In my experience, I've always had to force any fighter pilots onto shuttle duty. There have never been any volunteers, let alone two."
Yikes. Answer calmly. "There's only a couple more shuttles to test, sir. I'll do them both today."
No point in dragging it out if I'm going to be by myself, which is the implication of his words.
"I suppose I should be pleased that you're so caught up on your workload, you can take on these minor assignments."
He's not going to let this go, thinks I'm up to something. Which, I suppose, I am.
Tigh's gaze slides back and forth between us, watching and analyzing our expressions, trying to read the undertones of our words. He worries that the Commander and I speak to each other in code, like we have some secret familial language. Ridiculous. Most of the time we misunderstand even the plainest speech between us; only direct orders are absolutely clear.
"I like to think I'm organized, sir," I reply, a touch sharply.
"Yes." Pause. "Well, we're finished here. Dismissed."
I leave, heading for the shuttle bay, more than a little annoyed. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Quite often, the Commander rules against any sort of fun, especially when it comes to this job. Our reward, he says, is the honour of the people we protect. That's all well and good, but 'honour' can't strip your clothes off and fuck you blind on the floor of a shuttle. I don't think the Commander quite understands that.
Inside the bay, I see Starbuck leaning against a shuttle, waiting. He glances at me with feigned disinterest, but there's unmistakable hunger in his eyes. To my deep regret, I say what I have to say:
"I gotta go on my own today, Bucko."
He frowns. "Why?"
"Commander. It's a waste of your time."
He studies my face, suspicious I'm lying. But how could he think that after everything we've done in these little ships?
Finally, he shrugs, muttering, "Okay. Whatever," and he saunters gloomily away.
In a thoroughly black mood now, I climb into the shuttle and ask for launch clearance, half tempted to sabotage this one so all of them will have to be rechecked -
No, that's not responsible. That's not me.
So, I've got a lonely centar ahead of me. I lean back in my seat, put my feet up on the console, and stare dully at the starfield, trying not to think about what could be going on right now. My eyes drift over the controls. Of course the shuttle operates perfectly, not even any hope of distraction through life-threatening malfunction.
What is happening to me? This irresistible attraction to Starbuck has captivated my attention. No matter what I'm doing, awareness of him lurks in the back of my mind, and my body tingles, remembering where he's touched me. I think about the last shuttle flight, where he straddled me in the pilot's chair, and even though it was me inside him, in truth, he was still fucking me. He controlled all the action, and I allowed it.
Oh, I more than allowed it. I loved it.
Gods, here's how I'm going to spend my time in this shuttle, with a throbbing erection I'll have to look after myself. I open my pants, take matters in hand, so to speak, imagining it's Starbuck's hands, mouth, ass, that he's licking, sucking, squeezing. Hearing him whisper in my ear, making me promise that I won't be with anyone else, telling me I'm all he thinks about. He jacks off in his Viper, he says, fantasising about me. "Sometimes," he whispers, "I get possessive. I think it's one of those times."
And that's okay with me.
Release. I catch it in my hands, and reach for the medikit. Cleaned up, uniform straightened, back to the boredom. There was a time when I would have welcomed this inactivity, was feeling overwhelmed by my responsibilities, but now, the stress and tension has lessened significantly. Can't just be because of mind-blowing sex, can it? I wonder how I would test that theory. Abstain for a while, then go at it like a long-eared lapin?
I wonder what he's doing right now, if he's waiting to ambush me somewhere. Well, I should be fully recharged by the time I get back.
Hmmm, something to look forward to...
SCENE FOUR
Boomer's eyes move from me to Starbuck, then back to me again. He sits between us in the OC, wondering why the mood has taken such a sour turn.
Oh, I can tell him why. It's because a certain Lieutenant has been shamelessly flirting with a certain Captain's sister. So much so, she's just gone to the bar for a round of drinks and will be joining us momentarily.
"Who knows," Starbuck says, gaze firmly on me. "Maybe Athena and I can rekindle something. We used to be really close."
It's been a bad day. First my father, then two lonely shuttle rides, then a mountain of paperwork, and now, apparently, payback for some perceived slight I've committed. Oh, I know: not taking him on the shuttles. It appears he blames me for that.
I glance at my sister, at her flushed, happy face as she talks to someone at the bar, then at Starbuck and his small, satisfied smile. I shake my head. He's a fool. He's playing with a loaded weapon, and he doesn't even realize it. For this reason, I'm not particularly concerned about my sister being used this way. She can more than take care of herself, and Starbuck should be mortally afraid of what she'll do when she finds out the truth. For she will find out, it's only a matter of time. Before the Great Destruction, she was in training with Military Intelligence and can spot a lie before it's even uttered. I'll do everything in my power to avoid her.
Except now, of course. She arrives with a tray of glasses and sets it down. Boomer immediately grabs for his, taking a big swig, sensing something serious is about to go down. Starbuck and Athena clink theirs together, it's so cute I want to vomit. I catch her eye and give her a disapproving look. She leans over to Starbuck and says, loud enough for me and Boomer to hear:
"My brother thinks I'm being foolish."
"Your brother should just piss off," Starbuck replies.
Boomer's now looking around for another table to sit at. He's witnessed enough confrontations between Starbuck and I to know when to flee. Not this time, though. Just as he's about to shove his chair back, I put my hand on his arm.
"Wait," I say.
He rolls his eyes and settles back in his seat.
"You better stop this now," I say to Starbuck.
"Stop what, Captain?"
"I'm just trying to warn you. You don't know what you're dealing with here."
He laughs, thinks I'm referring to myself, but I'm not. "You can't put me on report for being with your sister."
"Yeah," Athena chimes in.
I give her a long steady look, then flick my gaze to Starbuck. He frowns back at me, and then, suddenly, I can see the wheels starting to turn. He steals a glance at Athena, and the full horror of what he's undertaken crystalizes in his mind. For the first time, it occurs to him that my sister might be seriously interested in getting back together. Starbuck's expression becomes one of complete alarm and he grabs his glass to take a big, steadying drink.
"Excuse me," I say, getting quickly to my feet. I have to leave the table, have to leave the OC, and I'm laughing so hard by the time by the time I'm in the corridor, there's tears streaming down my face and I have to lean against the wall to catch my breath.
Boomer appears at my side, drink still in his hand.
"What the hell's going on?" he demands.
"You have just witnessed," I reply, gasping for breath, "the great Starbuck making a fatal error. You should log this. I'm serious. It's a rare and special occurence."
"You're not making any fucking sense," Boomer complains.
"Oh, Boomer, it's a glorious day!"
"Okay, I think you've had enough to drink."
Just then, Athena and Starbuck appear, my sister with her arm linked firmly through his, looking so pleased to have her claws back in him again.
"I guess I better warn Dad there's gonna be another sealing ceremony," I say.
"Oh, it's too soon," Athena purrs.
"Just don't let him get away this time."
"Don't worry," she says, giving Starbuck a smokey glance, "I won't."
They walk by, Starbuck looking like he's facing immanent death. No way I'm going to come to his rescue. As I said a while ago, it's time for him to clean up his own messes. He just never expected Athena to go for it. After their final, bitter, near-violent breakup last yahren, he really didn't think she'd come back that easily.
Or maybe she's playing her own little revenge game with him. Good for her if she is. I love Starbuck, but he can be a real bastard, as I've just had the pleasure of witnessing.
"Come on, Boomer, let's get another drink," I say, clapping him on the shoulder.
"I never know what's going on around here," he mutters as we go back into the OC. "Stuff happens right in front of me, and I just don't get it."
SCENE FIVE
Make up sex. Sort of.
Incredibly, Starbuck escaped my sister without her inflicting any serious damage on him. He chose honesty, explained things to her, and she was surprisingly gracious. At least, that's what he says. I'll have to confirm it with Athena, a dangerous mission if ever there was one. Chances are he faked a recurring Triad injury, started writhing around in her grasp and made a quick, limping exit, face twisted in feigned pain.
I know, because I've seen him do it before.
But I don't really care right now.
No, right now he's kissing me along my hipbone.
He paged me from his quarters a little while ago, and jumped me as soon as I came through the door. No words passed between us, it was all body language, if you know what I mean. I'm so sorry about what happened - let me pull down your pants and suck you, let me lick your nipples, let me run my tongue up your thighs…
Well, if you insist, Bucko.
He lies on top of me, and I spread my legs, wrapping them around his waist. Our mouths meet, then our tongues. I squeeze him against me -
"Ow - easy, there!"
"Sorry."
He looks down at me, strokes my hair for a moment, like he's thinking about something. Then he kisses me very gently on the mouth, holding it for a heartbeat or two.
"What're you doing?" I ask, when he pulls back again.
"Never kissed you like that before," he replies. "Just wanted to see what it was like."
"What do you mean? Like what?"
"Just - just a kiss, like people who weren't just having sex together."
I'm confused. "Starbuck, we are having sex."
"Yeah, I remember." He grins and dives down, kissing me the way he should be.
I love the way our bodies move together, every touch so familiar yet intensely passionate. I never imagined our friendship would become this, our emotional need for each other transmuted to the physical. Is this an ending, I wonder, or the beginning of a new journey for Starbuck and I?
Sex makes me philosophical sometimes.
"Come inside me," Starbuck whispers in my ear.
I roll him onto his back, and it's my turn to look at him, to drink in his beauty, for he is beautiful. Slim and sculpted, and I know where every freckle is now, have kissed them all. I could stay right here forever, looking at him -
No, not true, I have to fuck him.
Lube. Finger-fucking. Hot, wet kisses. He moans under me, closes his ass around my hand. Pumps my cock - oh, god, this is what I want to do forever -
"Hands and knees," I say softly, and he scrambles to obey.
His ass swallows up my cock. I watch, fascinated, as I disappear into him. He's making sounds, moving around a bit to accommodate me, and I'm in. Oh, the intense, delicious pressure. Every thrust is a step towards heaven. He pushes against me, and I slam harder into him, the heat from our union pulsing through my body. I should really be touching him too - but then he cries out, and I know I don't need to. I'm close - I'm close -
Grasping him around the hips, I thrust deep inside, balls near painfully crushed against his cheeks, and I come. Hard. The dim surroundings go kind of grainy, then slowly return to focus.
Weak. I'm weak, have to lie down. Side by side, no sounds save our breathing. Starbuck's back is to me, and even on this narrow bed we manage not to touch each other. No post-coital cuddling, no acknowledgement of what just happened, we split into two completely separate beings again. It's very strange.
I mean, on shuttles, in storage closets, places like that, I can understand it. But here, when it's just him and me -
Starbuck turns over, interrupting my thoughts. He takes my hand in his, laces his fingers through mine.
"Can you stay?" he asks.
"No," I reply, surprised by the invitation. "Boxey."
He nods, understanding. I sense he's got more to say, but is holding back, only releasing a small sigh.
"I better go," I say.
Starbuck watches me dress, doesn't speak until I'm pulling on my flight jacket.
"I didn't tell Athena about this."
"I didn't think you would."
"But I think she knows."
"Why do you say that?"
He shakes his head. "I don't know, just the way she said your name."
I know what he means. Athena can telegraph a whole gig of info through one word; it's all in her tone. She would have made a great - and scary - MI officer.
"See you tomorrow."
"Yeah."
In the corridor, the bright lights make me squint, and I make my way home with a slight pain behind my eyes. I lied about Boxey. He's staying with one of his friends. I just couldn't spend the night with Starbuck, I don't know why. A struggle to keep things simple, perhaps. Vague worries about my career and reputation. How quickly your mood can change, from confident euphoria to cautious dread in a few short moments.
But it doesn't mean I can stay away from Starbuck. It's far too late for that
SCENE SIX
"So, what do you think, really?" Athena asks.
We're in the mess hall, and my food is getting cold on my plate. Her dark flashing eyes - our father's eyes, exactly - don't leave my face.
"Athena, you know I don't like to be involved in this kind of stuff."
"Yes, I know, but you can give me your opinion. Do you think he's just playing me or what?"
Starbuck, obviously, is the topic of our conversation. Her tone is very even, completely masking whatever emotions might be churning around inside her.
"I really can't say."
"You're lying." Pause. "But then, you do that a lot for him, so I shouldn't be surprised."
Time to go on the offensive: "Why do you care so much, anyway?" I ask. "After what he did to you the last time, I was a little shocked to see you go running back."
No reply, just careful consideration of what I've said.
"I guess I care for the same reasons you do," she answers finally. "Which one of us will get hurt, I wonder?"
Oh my god, she does know… or she's trying to trick me. I just wish she'd stop all the damn staring!
"Well, maybe you should show a little will power," I say, staying on the attack.
She smiles and changes the subject "Your food's cold. You want me to get you another plate?"
"No, I'll do it."
Athena rises from the table, and with a sudden quick motion smacks me on the head.
"Ow! What'd you do that for?"
"Just a little sisterly affection."
She leaves and I push my plate away, no longer hungry. So much for my vow to avoid her, as it appears she may resort to stalking me. At least I've proven that Starbuck was lying, and I'll have to deal with that at some point, but right now I'm due upstairs. Tigh has requested a meeting, about what, I don't know. Undeniably these are the worst kinds of meetings; usually it means he's found out something bad and intends to beat me over the head with it for a while.
I guess it just goes to show how different my father and I really are. He adores Tigh, thinks there is no finer man in the entire Fleet, and before that, in the Colonies. Since I was posted to this ship, however, the Colonel and I have averaged one unpleasant run-in per week, and, judging from the date, I guess we're about due for another one.
In the Briefing Room, the good Colonel is sitting at the head of the long table, and he gestures for me to sit to his left. There's only a datapad with a blank screen, no other papers or pictures, so nothing to clue me as to what's coming. I just wait while he scrutinizes his reflection in the table's shiny surface. He's a vain man, our Colonel. In his younger days, I can imagine him fretting about helmet hair as he climbed out of his Viper after a big battle.
"Captain," he says, "I want to know what you and Lieutenant Starbuck were really doing on those shuttle tests."
Don't hesitate, just answer!
"Uh … just, uh, flying, sir." Oh, good job, Apollo, good job.
He reaches for the datapad and turns it on. I can see a sequence of letters and numbers - looks like a security code.
"Do you recognize this?" he asks, handing it to me.
Uh-oh. "Yes, sir. It's one of my old security codes."
"It was used for a bootleg shipment of Tauren spirits. Someone has set up a black market to supply the troops, ignoring the ration rules. We searched every decrepit, unused space on this ship, but the cargo bins of bootleg were stored right in the open with regular Fleet supplies. The smuggler could do that because he registered them with one of your security codes."
I think I see where this is going, and no matter what I say, I'm going to be in a shitload of trouble.
"So, I ask you again, Captain, what were you and Lieutenant Starbuck really doing on those shuttle flights?"
"We weren't picking up illegal cargo!"
"You have to admit, from my point of view, it'd be very convenient. You knew the Bridge wouldn't track you. You did head out towards the less populated back of the Fleet, where we suspect the supply originates. You took a few weeks to complete all the tests, and the dates roughly match up with the registration of the bootleg. And, finally, two of you to test a shuttle? It looks very suspicious, Captain."
What can I say? What can I possibly say? If I was Tigh, I'd be thinking the very same thing.
"Colonel, I don't know anything about this. It is possible that someone could steal one of my codes, and if that's my fault, I'll take my punishment. But please believe me when I say I'd never engage in these sorts of activities."
Tigh brushes at imaginary dust on the front of his uniform, then fixes me in a cold stare.
"Then I suggest you find out who is responsible, Captain," he says. "I would hazard a guess that you already have a suspect in mind. Until that person is brought forward, you will remain the chief subject of this quiet, informal investigation."
"What do you mean, 'informal'?"
"The Commander hasn't been told of my findings as yet. I guess in some ways, I try to protect him, just as you try to protect your friends."
So he thinks I'm involved more through looking-the-other-way than actual hands-on. I admit, I have been guilty of that in the past. And, I admit, I have seen the bootleg Tauren booze, even had a glass or two, with Starbuck.
My code, my shuttle flights, my friend. A damning trio.
Dismissed, I head to the troop decks to look for my suspect. He's using me again, hiding behind my rank and influence, expecting me to explain everything away for him. I have no doubt that Starbuck is behind this smuggling; the pieces just fit together too easily. I'm not angry, not yet anyway. No, I'm feeling a little hurt, actually, an emotion I don't often let surface but can't seem to stop this time.