"Sure." Boomer walked into Apollo's office. "What's up?"
Apollo had a pleased look on his face. "Well, I finally got Tigh and Father to sign off on the promotions list. You know we need three more squadron leaders after Hobbie quit and Marron got pregnant and Felix got careless..."
"Yeah, it was a bad secton," Boomer nodded. "You mean you convinced them to give Starbuck a squadron?"
"Finally. I'm going to miss having him on my wing, but the last four yahrens he's really been steady. The only person who deserves a squadron more than him is you, and you knew you were getting one... everybody knew it."
"I know. Starbuck doesn't even have a book on it," Boomer grinned. "Long time coming... but I know why."
"Yes," Apollo said. They both knew. The next step for Apollo was colonel, but there was no place for him to go, and thus he couldn't vacate the strike captain slot for Boomer, who would probably have been on a battlestar yahrens ago. If there'd been a battlestar for him to go to. "So, I thought I'd give Starbuck Purple, since he's always saying that's a good color for him."
Boomer laughed. "Sounds like an excellent reason to me."
"So, do you have a preference? Red or Yellow?"
Boomer didn't hesitate. "Yellow."
"Thought so," Apollo nodded. Yellow deployed with Purple when squadrons went out in twos.
"The only person I know better than Starbuck is you," Boomer said, "and nobody else even has a clue what he's going to do next, steadied up or not."
"True, as he himself would say. I was hoping you'd say that. Bojay can have Red; it's nominally second to Blue and it should keep him happy for a while."
"Nothing will keep that man happy," Boomer said.
"I know. But getting a squadron should help. And I didn't want to put him in Yellow, even though you deserve Red."
"Bojay and Starbuck working together? When daggets fly."
"Glad you agree... You're still senior to Bojay, Red and Yellow notwithstanding."
"Well, as long as you keep your butt in one piece, sir, that won't matter, will it?" Boomer said pointedly. "Make sure you get a good wingman."
"I was thinking about taking Barton out of Red. He used to fly with Ortega, and he's good."
"Besides, Bojay has a thing about Aquarians..."
"Besides, as you say..."
Boomer laughed, but there wasn't much humor in it.
"Well, I guess I take the three of you for drinks tonight."
"Oh, well, that should be fun. I wish I had a kid of my own, so I could leave early."
Apollo laughed. "We'll survive."
When Starbuck went to pick up Zephyr, he found Boxey there, 'helping'. Ilestra took him aside and said, "Lieutenant, the Captain's son showed up here a couple of centars ago. The Captain and Lieutenant Sheba are both on patrol, and while I could have called Lieutenant Athena, the boy wanted to talk to you... I checked with the middle school data base, and you're down as a contact, so I decided to wait for you. Do you want to take him, or should I call his aunt?"
"No, I'll take him home," said Starbuck. "I'm guessing he's not supposed to be out of school?"
"Well," she said, "they're still in session... but he's been fighting, I think."
Boxey fighting? That wasn't like him. Starbuck thanked Ilestra and walked over to the boy. "Hey, Boxey," he said.
Boxey looked sideways up at him. "Hi, Uncle Starbuck. Can I go home with you and Zeffie?"
"Sure, Boxey."
The boy stood up quickly. Without looking at Starbuck he said, "I'll get Zeffie."
Starbuck stood where he was and waited till Boxey brought her out of the play area. She was telling him about the baby tooth she'd lost that morning--it had been loose that morning when Starbuck had dropped her off at the center. Boxey asked her if she'd saved it for the tooth hob.
"Of course," she said, and pulled it out of her pocket to show him.
Tooth hob? What the frack is a tooth hob? thought Starbuck. He didn't want to ask Boxey, because if it was something everyone was supposed to know it would upset the boy to find out Starbuck didn't. Boxey had gotten more sensitive in the last yahren or so, it was easy to upset him... He'd have to ask Apollo when he took Boxey home.
"Come on, kids," he said. "Let's go."
"Daddy! See, my tooth came out! I'm not a baby any more!"
He smiled at her. "I see."
"Boxey's got an owie," she informed him.
"Yeah? Let me see."
Boxey pulled away.
"C'mon, kid," Starbuck said. "I know you were in a fight, and you can't keep hiding half your face forever. Let me see."
Boxey reluctantly faced him.
"Frack, Boxey, how the hell did you do that?" Starbuck reconsidered his words just too late, and then decided this was the kind of situation where they were justified. And if Boxey repeated them to his parents, well, that would be his defense. "Are you sure you don't have a broken cheekbone?" The bruise was going to be spectacular.
"I'm okay, Uncle Starbuck," the pre-teen was getting sulky down just fine, Starbuck noted. He hoped Zeffie skipped that but had little reason for confidence. "Nothing's broke."
"Well, does the other guy at least look worse?"
That startled Boxey, who'd obviously been expecting to be chewed out. "Well... no. But I did get him good at least once."
"You need to do better than that," Starbuck said. "Skinny kid like you, you should have speed on them... what were you fighting about?"
Boxey looked at the corridor floor and shook his head. "Nothing."
Yeah, right. Starbuck let it ride till they got to his quarters. "Zeffie, go on to your room for a while, okay? I need to talk to Boxey."
"Okay, Daddy. I'm going to put my tooth up for the tooth hob and then I'm going to read in my book so I can read to you tonight."
"Okay, sweetheart." Tooth hob... later. He looked at Boxey, who was standing there with what Starbuck immediately recognized as fear mixed with anger. Not a good combination in the best of times, and not something Apollo's son should be showing... "Okay, Boxey, let me see your face."
"I'm okay."
"Yeah, you probably are, but your father will kill me if you should drop dead in my front room because you have a brain hemorrhage and I didn't check you out. Let me see."
Boxey submitted to a quick check. To Starbuck's experienced eye and hands he was, actually, okay. "Bruised but not broken," he said. "So, what was the fight about?"
"Nothing."
"Nobody collects a mark like that over 'nothing', Boxey--"
"I'm not a baby! Don't call me that!"
Starbuck blinked. "Don't call you what?"
"Boxey is a stupid name," he said bitterly. "A stupid baby name. I hate it."
Starbuck sympathized. "What do you want to be called?"
"Well," he said, "my real name is Bokildjan... I know. It's awful. My father was a Libran. And my mother was an--"
"Extremely nice woman. Who probably loved her husband."
"I hate 'Boxey'. It's dumb."
"I'm sure your mother would have stopped calling you 'Boxey' by now. So why don't we come up with something else?"
"I hate my name."
He didn't really blame him. What some people did to their kids... He didn't suppose Boxey was in the mood to contemplate being called 'Greenbean', though. "Well, maybe you could shorten it some way besides Boxey?"
"To what? Killer?" he asked, with a sideways glance.
"I don't think so," he said. Apollo would hate that, and Boxey would too in another ten yahrens.
"Well, just plain 'Bok' is as bad as Boxey, almost."
"It is kind of flat. Let me think... How about Djan?" he suggested.
"Djan... hey, that's kind of cool," he approved. "Djan."
"Yep," he nodded. "Sounds like a grown-up name."
"Cool, Uncle Starbuck. Will you help me make Dad use it?"
"I'll do my best." He regarded Box--Djan for a minute. "So, is that what the fight was about?"
"Yeah."
"Punching somebody over your name's kind of overkill, Djan," he said. "I've got a feeling something else is behind this. You want to tell me, or save it for your dad?"
Djan turned away, muttering something.
"Didn't quite catch that."
"I should go home."
"Well, your parents aren't home, so you're going to your aunt's, your granddad's, or back to the care center." Djan's thin shoulders stiffened, and Starbuck felt compelled to add, "If you go anywhere. You can stay here."
Djan was finding one of Starbuck's photos intensely interesting. The picture--of him and Apollo and Boomer when they were seniors at the academy, in dress grays with the black capes and silver braid, Apollo, despite his cadet-colonel's insignia, still looking like he was about to strangle himself while Boomer looked competent and Starbuck, if he said so himself, dashing--was a good likeness of them, but hardly fascinating even if Apollo hadn't had a copy of it where Boxey--Djan--had been able to see every day for the past five yahrens. Starbuck sat on the couch and wondered exactly what was going and what, if anything, he should say.
His silence seemed to be the right course of action, however. Djan said, suddenly, "Did Dad ever get into fights when he was a boy?"
"I didn't know him when he was a boy," Starbuck said carefully, "but according to your aunt, and your Uncle Zac who you never met, yes. He did, now and again. He got into a couple at the academy, but he wasn't a boy then."
"He did?" That sounded a bit hopeful. "He was bad sometimes?"
And disturbingly familiar. It shouldn't have... Djan shouldn't have that concern. But nonetheless, Starbuck could hear Director lecturing boys: and if you're bad, if you fight or disobey or are insolent, you'll be sent back here. And we have too many boys who want homes to waste second chances on bad boys... Starbuck shook off that memory, which surely didn't have anything to do with this, and said, "Yep. He was bad sometimes. Not really bad, I expect; I doubt he ever tortured felixes or set fire to buildings. But your aunt's told me a few things about him. He grew up into a paragon, but he wasn't always like that."
"So he won't send me away if I'm bad?"
"Send you away? Where would he send you?"
"To the Orphan Ship. He's not really my dad--"
Starbuck reached out and spun the boy around, staring into his dark eyes. "Djan, listen to me. He is your dad. Absolutely, positively, and with no room for argument. He's raised you for the last five yahrens. He loves you. And even if that wasn't true--which it is--you're not an orphan."
"My real parents are dead."
"Your mom is dead." Starbuck wasn't going to try and convince Djan that Sheba was his mom; the boy was too sensitive to nuance to believe that. "Your biological father is dead. Apollo is your parent, though. Your real parent. When he married your mother he became your father."
"There's papers and stuff. He never signed them."
"Yes, he did." Starbuck was sure that if Apollo hadn't it was because nobody had bothered to tell him he had to. And that he'd sign them in a heartbeat once he knew he had to... so this wasn't a lie. It was a higher truth. "He'd never take a chance on losing you. Did you ask him?"
"No... she didn't sign anything."
Starbuck bit back saying Djan was better off without that. "If it comes to it, which it won't if we have anything to say about it, you've got an aunt and a grandfather. And even me, I'm in there. But your dad couldn't send you away if he wanted to, which he never will. Especially not for getting in a fight. You got that, kiddo?"
Djan sighed and hugged Starbuck. "Got it."
"Good. Now, I'd offer you a mushie if I thought you weren't too old--"
"Lots of really old people like mushies, Uncle Starbuck!"
"Mushie!" Zeffie came barrelling out of her room.
The three of them were playing triktrak when Apollo came looking for his son. Zeffie had to count out her moves before she made them, but she was sharp on strategy. She was a better player than Djan already, and Starbuck feared she'd be beating him before too many more yahrens.
"Starbuck--" Apollo's voice was aggrieved.
"It's just triktrak. We're not even playing for chips," he protested.
"I lost my tooth, Uncle Apollo," Zeffie informed him. "I'm not a baby any more."
"I see that," Apollo said. "Did you save it?"
"I already put it under my pillow."
"Good."
Which reminded Starbuck he needed to ask about that. "Apollo, come into the service room for a minute, I need to ask you something."
"Sure. What is it?"
"What the frack is a tooth hob?"
Apollo stared at him for a minute and then laughed. "Oh, man. It's a good thing you asked."
"I guessed that. What is it?"
"It's a hob, like a fairy or sprite or something. A homely spirit. It collects children's teeth and leaves a cubit."
Starbuck looked at him. "You mean, I leave a cubit."
Apollo grinned at him. "Yes. Cheer up, she's only got twenty-eight baby teeth."
"There's a lot of deception involved in giving kids a really good home life, isn't there?"
"I never thought of it like that--"
"What else is there? I mean, I know about Grandfather Frost at Midwinter...not that Midwinter is going to mean anything to Zeffie, or any of the little kids. But what else is there?"
Apollo shook his head. "Stop by my office tomorrow--no, I forgot. Meetings all day... Next secton sometime. We'll go over it."
"You're on." Starbuck decided to wait till Djan wasn't around to bring up his suspicions. But--"By the way, your son has decided that he hates being called Boxey. It's a stupid baby name."
"Oh. Well, it is sort of... Did he say what he does want? I don't know if I can call him Bokildjan."
"You're in luck; he hates that too. He settled on Djan."
"Djan. Well, I can live with that. Thanks for the heads up."
"No problem. A whole cubit?"
Apollo laughed. "Yes. A whole cubit."
The doorsignal rang twice, short and sharp rings. "I'll get it, Daddy!" Zephyr called. He heard her running into the front room and cocked an ear to make sure it was somebody he wanted her talking to. "Aunt 'Theni! Daddy, it's Aunt Theni!"
"Well, tell her to come in, Zeffie."
"Come in, Aunt 'Theni. Are you staying for dinner?"
"I don't know," she said, "you'll have to ask your dad."
"Daddy?" She ran into the service room. Athena followed her, her pale blue eyes alight. "Can Aunt 'Theni stay for dinner?"
"There's plenty," he said.
"I will, then, thanks... Zeffie, I need to talk to your dad. Run off and do whatever you were doing when I came, can you? We'll read something after dinner, okay, sweetie?"
"Okay," she said, then, "Daddy's not in trouble, is he?"
"Not a bit of it," Athena said, laughing. "I want his advice, as a matter of fact."
"Good." Zephyr smiled, her huge brown eyes lighting up. "Daddy always knows what to do. He'll help you."
"I've got at least one person snowed, anyway," Starbuck said, leaning back against the counter. "What's up, 'Theni? You look... I don't know."
"Like I just got hit--hard--up the side of the head?" she asked. "'Cause that's how I feel."
"Ummm... you look like it was a good thing, though."
"Oh, gods, yes."
"Okay, I'll ask. What hit you?"
"The most incredible pair of dark eyes," she said, smiling.
"Oh?" This sounded good.
"Have you ever looked at somebody looking at you when they didn't know you could see them?"
"No," he said after a moment's thought. "I'm not sure how you could."
"In a reflective surface," she said. "Not a mirror, they'd know it even if they weren't thinking about it. But a nice shiny unexpected piece of tallium steel... and he was looking at me."
"It's his job, isn't it?" Starbuck grinned.
"Not like that, it isn't," she said. "Or you'd have gone into ops."
"So the whole ops staff knows?"
"You would think that was funny," she said, "but, no. We weren't on the bridge. We were in the ready room. After a briefing. Just us..."
"Ah. Promising situation. What did you do?"
"Do? Nothing... Starbuck, we were on duty."
"You could have done something even so." He cocked his head and looked at her. "You would have five yahrens ago."
"I wouldn't have had to with you, if that's what you mean," she riposted. "You're not the type to stand around staring your heart out at somebody and never say anything."
"Actually, I have done that."
"Really? At who? Or at least why?"
"After we get you sorted we can talk about me. Maybe over some ambrosa," he added thoughtfully, "and you can tuck me in when I get sappy and pass out."
"That'll be new," she said. "But don't think I won't remember."
"I'll hold you to it..." And he meant it. Boomer was supportive enough, but he really identified more with Apollo in the matter, and couldn't comprehend the length of time involved. Athena would be on his side, and she'd been carrying her own torch for what, six yahrens now? Longer... But getting back to her situation, he said, "You do it when you think saying something will ruin your working relationship. Your friendship. End with your getting bounced off the nearest wall and never spoken to again."
"I don't bounce people off walls," she protested.
"Metaphorically--"
"He can't think I would. Can he? I don't want to bounce him off a wall... though I wouldn't mind getting him up against one," she added reflectively.
Starbuck grinned at her. "Maybe you should."
"Starbuck! That would probably scare him to death!"
"Well-brought-up boy, was he? Too bad. You sure he's not too quiet for you?"
"He's not quiet, he's steady."
He winced theatrically. "Well, that explains why we didn't work out."
"No kidding. But seriously, Tigh depends on him. He couldn't run the ship without him."
"Job security. A good thing."
"Starbuck..."
"Seriously, 'Theni, you know I want you to be happy. And gods know you've been waiting long enough. Want me to find out where he goes off duty and drop some hints?"
"Starbuck--"
"What? Not what a brother would do?"
"Not exactly. Do you want to hear what my brother said, yahrens ago now?"
"Do I?"
"Probably not."
"Not helpful? Surprise me... I am trying to be, you know. Helpful."
"I know. And you're right, too. I should do something."
"Take him to dinner."
She looked puzzledly at him.
"Over on the Star. Get a private room. Tell him you've invited three or four others from the shift if you need to. Get him alone. Tell him. What have you got to lose? Tell him you've been trying not to mess up your working relationship but you can't ignore your feelings any longer."
"I could do that."
"Sure. Then jump him--just kidding. Though if it seems right--"
"Sound-proofed," she smiled. "I remember."
He grinned at her. She hugged him and said, "I can do that. Like you said, what have I got to lose?"
Over dinner, while Zeffie pushed her primaries around on the plate hoping they'd disappear, Athena and Starbuck discussed restaurants on the Rising Star, cheerfully ignoring how long it had been since either of them had been there.
"Aunt 'Theni," Zeffie said suddenly, "why don't you and Daddy get married?"
Athena stared at him; he stared back. "She asked you," he said, then turned to Zephyr. "Zeffie, you don't ask questions like that. It's not polite."
"Sorry," she said. "But why not?"
"Zeff--"
"I already asked!"
"Your dad and I used to date," Athena said.
"'Theni, she'll never learn if you answer her."
"I don't mind," she said, having regained her composure. "It was just a bit unexpected. Because I don't think of your dad like that anymore, Zeffie. We tried it and it didn't work. We're friends."
"Right," he said. "Besides, your Aunt 'Theni's about to get a boyfriend."
"Starbuck!"
"Really?" Zeffie said eagerly. "What's he like?"
Starbuck answered before Athena could. "He's very smart. Very tall. Very handsome."
"What does he look like?"
"Well, he has dark brown hair and dark eyes your aunt thinks are incredible."
Athena was blushing; he hadn't thought she could.
"What does incredible," she pronounced it carefully, "mean, Daddy?"
"Unbelievable. Wonderful, your aunt means."
"Aunt 'Theni, is he as good-looking as Daddy?"
"Well," Athena looked at him. "At the risk of making him more stuck-up than he already is--probably not quite."
"But he is very attractive," Starbuck said seriously. "And he and your aunt will be good together. We weren't. It doesn't work for everybody."
"Like you and Mom?"
"Yes. Like that. Your Aunt 'Theni and I, we were meant to be good friends."
"Will you still visit when you get Sealed, Aunt 'Theni?"
"You're moving much too fast, Zeffie," she said. "We're not even dating yet."
"But Daddy said--"
"Yes, well, he's moving too fast, too."
"Come on, 'Theni, you'll get him."
"Argh! Two of you is too many! But, yes, sweetheart, I'll always visit. I wouldn't stop seeing you for anything."
Three days later, Zephyr a centar in bed and him starting to think about turning in early himself given that he was off the next day and Zeffie not in school and he could anticipate an early--a very early--waking up, Starbuck opened his door to find Athena standing there with a bottle of wine. "Ah," he said. "Come in. Was I expecting you?"
"You should have been," she said. "You said you wanted to talk. You said over ambrosa, but I don't have any so I brought this." She held up the bottle. "It's some of Father's good stuff. He gave it to me for my thirtieth birthday... I think he's given up on a Sealing."
Starbuck remembered. "And should he have?"
She smiled at him, all sparkling, but said, "We're supposed to be talking about you tonight."
"I said after we got you sorted out. Are you?"
She smiled again. "Oh, I think so. I think so... mind, he's not as precipitate as you. But nevertheless, I think so. If I have anything to say about it."
Starbuck laughed. "He's done for... you don't want to save that?"
"Well..."
"I've got ale," he said. "And it's certainly not worth irreplaceable Aquarian wine that's older than me... Save that for your Sealing night."
"Okay," she capitulated. "If you're sure..."
"Ale is fine." He went into the service room to get it.
Once they were settled on the couch, she turned to him. "Okay, tell me. Who did you carry a torch for? Mind you, I'm trusting that it isn't somebody that will make me want to puke. Like my sister-in-law, for instance."
"Oh, gods," he said. "Credit me with some taste." But he was finding himself shy of telling her, suddenly.
She leaned into him, companionably. "Tell me if you want," she said. "Don't if you don't. You know I'll keep it a secret. But I find it helps to talk to someone, preferably someone who'll be on your side. I will. And I've already figured out it's got to be someone at least a little unsuitable, or you'd have told my brother."
He laughed; he couldn't help it. "It is. But I did. 'Cause it's him."
She looked at him for a long moment as if she were trying to gauge his sincerity. Her eyes were unreadable at first, and then melted into compassion. "Oh, Starbuck," she said, and put her arms around him. "Oh, you poor thing..."
He hugged her back, relieved to have been right and a little surprised at how right.
"Oh, gods. I can't imagine it... well, maybe I can, a little. And you told him?"
He nodded. "Back right after I got Zeffie."
"So that's what was wrong with him!" Athena said with the satisfaction of having an ancient mystery cleared up.
"What do you mean?" Starbuck said.
"He acted like a lunatic for a good half-yahren after you got Zeffie. I never could figure out why she, you, whatever, was affecting him so much. He even let Sheba get him to say something she could take as a proposal. I mean, they get along all right, but he's not in love with her, not really. It was you. I should have known it," she concluded. "It's always you when he gets really crazed."
"'Theni--" he started to remonstrate.
"Sorry, Starbuck, but it is. He only loses his head over you and Boxey. Djan, I mean. I'm sure you don't want to be in the same category as Djan, but it's true, I'm afraid... Everybody else he loves he manages to keep cool over." She shrugged. "Like Zac. It was a good thing, really, it wasn't you out there. If he'd lost you--"
"If it had been me out there we'd have both got back," Starbuck said.
She nodded. "You're probably right. Not that that makes it your fault. Apollo let him go. If the Cylons had been honest--" she broke off.
"Yeah," he said. "Figure the odds on that. I never have been able to understand how we got suckered into believing that story."
"Well, that's water under the bridge now," she said. "Anyway, I'm so sorry for you, Starbuck. I can only imagine what it must be like, having him say he didn't love you. But I can imagine... no wonder we're all such cowards most of the time."
"I guess he makes me crazed, too," said Starbuck.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he got me annoyed and I told him. Something I had intended never to do."
"That's not 'cause you were annoyed," she said with calm certainty. "It's because you needed to be done with it."
"Excuse me?"
"You had something you had to give all your time and energy to," she said. "You had Zeffie. You couldn't afford to be spending time wondering what did that look or that phrase really means. It had to be out in the open, even if it was not what you wanted to hear."
Starbuck thought about that for a few centons, sipping his ale reflectively. "You're right," he said finally, a little surprised. "How did you know that?"
She shrugged. "Try being Adama's daughter," she suggested. "You don't have anything to do but watch all the important people and figure out their motives, because you're just decorative."
"Your father struck me as smarter than that."
"Sometimes he remembered I have a brain," she admitted. "In fact, sometimes I think he was using little me as his secret agent... but sometimes he wasn't. Apollo got asked for his opinions. I got asked to dance."
"Well," he couldn't resist saying, "it would have done him good to be asked to dance a few more times."
She giggled. "Isn't it the truth? For someone who sings as well as he does, he has two left feet."
"Right feet," Starbuck corrected.
"You know, you're right."
Starbuck was waiting in the Life Center while Zephyr got her checkup. "I'm a big girl now," she'd said with all the authority of eight yahrens. "I don't need my daddy to see a doctor. Not just for shots and stuff." So he was in the waiting room, hoping she wasn't regretting her decision, when Cassie came on duty.
They looked at each other for a couple of centons and then she said, "Frak this, Starbuck. I've missed talking to you. Can you forgive me for being such an idiot?"
Her directness took him off guard. She hadn't used to be so blunt--unless she was truly angry--but he supposed five yahrens' living with Boomer had had its effect. From what he'd seen, she didn't seem to feel the need to be constantly, well, acting like someone. She was just being herself. Hard to be anything else around Boom-Boom, he reflected. And it would make things a lot easier all the way around if he and she could be invited to the same parties again. "Sure," he said easily. "You weren't the only one caught unprepared."
"I was the one who spoke way out of turn, though."
"True," he acknowledged. "But it's been more than seven yahrens, now. I'll forget it if you will."
"It's a deal," she said, and hugged him briefly.
"You look good," he said. "I mean it. Married life seems to suit you."
"It does," she nodded. "How are you doing? I suppose your social life has slowed down," she added, with that little half-smile he'd always liked.
"Oh, I don't know," he smiled back. "You'd be surprised how many women find a man with a little daughter irresistible."
She shook her head at him, her earrings catching light. "Only you would think of your daughter as an accessory."
He looked carefully at her, but she wasn't serious. He was relieved. Maybe he hadn't ever loved Cassie, but he'd missed her. "Nah, you've got it backwards. Women are a fringe benefit to having a daughter. I'd give them up in a micron for Zeff."
"You mean that, don't you?"
"Yes. Nothing in the universe is as important as she is. Nothing. No one."
"You know," she said, "it's very odd, but you are actually more attractive now than you were seven yahrens ago... gods. It's spooky. Where's my own husband?"
He grinned. "Hundreds of metrics from here."
"Incorrigible."
"I don't know," he said, looking across at the exam room. "I feel pretty damned corriged sitting in those parent-teacher conferences. Especially when they tell me Zeffie's sabotaged the math tutorial. Again."
"A chip off old block," Cassie smiled.
"Well, at least I understand her motivations."
She laughed. The door opened and Zeffie came out, carrying a mushie.
"She's certainly growing up a beautiful little girl," Cassie said.
"Yes," he said with pride.
"Daddy," she said, "Dr. Salik gave me this mushie for being so good. I told him you should get one and he said I should split it with you."
"Your boss is cheap," he said to Cassie. "Zeffie," he added while Cassie laughed, "this is Cassiopeia. She's studying with Dr. Salik."
"Hello," Zeffie said. "You're going to be a doctor?"
"That's right."
"Are you Squadron Leader Boomer's wife?"
"Yes. Your father and I have known each other for a long time."
Zeffie didn't ask where Cassie had been; she was, Starbuck reflected, fairly well used to friends of his popping up. Instead she just said, "It was very nice to meet you. Can we go now, Daddy? I don't want to miss 'Tribal Legends' today."
"Sure, sweetheart," he said. "It was really nice to run into you, Cassie. Don't be such a stranger."
Zephyr pushed for the turbolift and waited, whistling an old tune softly and holding her books to her chest. She'd been to the library by herself and needed to get home before her father did. She wasn't supposed to go places alone, everybody said so. Daddy. Uncle Apollo. Aunt 'Theni. Boomer and Jolly and all the other pilots. Djan, with his fourteen yahrens' superiority. Even his step-mother. Elder Adama didn't but that's because the subject hadn't come up. All the other things he though little girls shouldn't do, he was bound to think going to the library by themselves was one of them. But she was nearly nine and not a baby anymore, no matter what anybody said. And it was just to the library, after all...
A tall dark-haired Colonial Warrior in pilot's uniform pushed to go up and looked down at her. She made herself hold her ground and not step away.
"You're Starslut's daughter, aren't you," he said after a moment's staring, his voice very unpleasant.
"Squadron Leader Boray, isn't it?" she responded.
"You've got a mouth on you," he said, his color rising. "Just like your old man."
"Thank you, sir," she said earnestly.
"I ought to slap some manners into you."
"If you think it would be worth it," she said. She sounded just like her father at his most insolent, though she didn't know it.
They stared at each other, knowing themselves enemies. The lift signal rang and the door opened. "It's up, sir," she said.
He glanced around and saw two more warriors in the lift. With a look that promised it wasn't over, he got in.
Zephyr wondered if she should tell her father, but it was hardly the first time someone had insulted her, and she could handle it without bothering him. Especially since Captain Apollo would get mad at him if he got in a fight with Bojay. And he would get in a fight over it; he always got mad, unless the insults were only about him. Besides, the only person she'd ever heard say anything good about Bojay--excepting his skills as a pilot--was Djan's stepmother, and that said it all right there. The man wasn't worth worrying over.
Her own turbolift came and she got in, anticipating the new stories and forgetting all about the encounter.
"Daddy! Daddy, look!"
Starbuck turned and looked. "Nice, Zeff!" He called. "Good position. Cross-check!"
Five little girls smashed into each other, sticks swinging. Athena winced. "I don't remember playing that hard," she murmured.
"I'll bet you did, though," Omega said, sliding his hand up her back to rest on her shoulder.
"Probably," she nodded. "Just another one of those childhood memories we block."
Starbuck wasn't noticing. "Zeffie! Cross-check her! Cross-check! That's my girl!"
The whistle blew for the half. Starbuck turned to them and said, "Be right back." Then he put his hand on the railing and vaulted over, like a man half his age, landing lightly four metrons below and trotting over to where the girls were standing. When the redhead saw him coming, she ran to meet him. Athena leaned against Omega and watched. Starbuck leaned over, talking to her; she watched him earnestly. He took her stick away and showed her how to hold it and mimed what looked like a vicious check.
"Ouch," Athena said. Omega laughed.
Zephyr took the stick back and executed the move. Starbuck grinned--Athena could see it from where they sat--and pushed her hair off her forehead. She put up with it, listening to what he was saying. The coach called her back and she ran off, and Starbuck came back to his seat. Athena was glad to see that he didn't try to jump up twice his height and pull himself back up but instead climbed the stairs.
"That looked illegal, Starbuck," she said as he settled back in his seat.
"Cross-checking?" He gave her one of his better innocently amazed looks. "'Theni, I'm surprised at you. Cross-checking's not illegal. If you do it right it's not even a hard foul."
"Fouls aren't illegal?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Fouls are a strategic part of the game," he protested.
"True," Omega agreed. "A well-timed foul takes the ball out of their hands and, hopefully without their managing to score, gets it to your team. If it were illegal, you'd get kicked out of the game."
"Men," she said. "You just like seeing girls hit each other with sticks."
"That might explain why I went to your games when you played for the Academy," Starbuck agreed, "but it doesn't explain why you were out there hitting..."
"Getting hit," added Omega.
Starbuck is a bad influence on him, she thought. I'll have to get them together more often. Out loud she said, "That's just so you men will come and watch. Sort of like Triad uniforms..."
"Ow," said Starbuck. "Touché." The whistle blew for the second half, and Starbuck turned his attention back to the field. "All right, Zeffie," he yelled. "Get 'em!"
Athena leaned against Omega and smiled.
"About time you got here," Boomer said. "Starbuck and I were about to leave a message with the bartender and go home to our womenfolk."
"Sorry," Apollo apologized. "Couldn't get away any sooner. How's Cassie?"
"Big as a shuttle but happy," he said, beaming himself. "Her ankles are swelling, but otherwise she's fine... How'd the meeting go?"
Apollo took a long drink before answering. "Good, in fact. We finally hammered out the whole thing and got Council approval. It's done, thank the Lords of Kobol."
"I don't see why we need it," Starbuck said, playing his role. "I mean 'Squadron Leader' is enough for me. We all know the score."
"We know it," Apollo agreed, "but that doesn't make it palatable. What are we going to do, go for another ten or twenty yahrens, ensigns never making lieutenant, lieutenants never making captain--"
"And captains never making colonel, we get it," Starbuck said. "What else is there to do? Start assassinating our superiors so we can make rank? We're sort of stuck. Aren't we?"
"Well, you might not want to make captain, but others do. It's recognition if nothing else," Boomer said. "What did you decide? You making colonel?"
"No. That would be a bit confusing," Apollo said. "One colonel at a time, the council feels, and Father agreed with them. What we settled on, and what he finally go the Council to sign off one, is a new rank, between colonel and captain."
"That'll work," Boomer said. "What are they calling it? You?"
"Sub-colonel."
Starbuck raised an eyebrow.
"Well," Apollo said defensively, "it's metrons better than what the Council proposed. I was not going to introduce myself by saying, 'Hi, I'm Super-Captain Apollo.'"
Starbuck snickered. Even Boomer choked back a laugh.
"My point exactly." Apollo signaled the servitor. "One more and then I'm off, too... Anyway, next secton you two, and Sheba and Bojay and Dietra and Jolly all make captain. Also my sister, and Kelvin and what's her name on second watch--"
"Charis," Starbuck supplied helpfully.
"Trust you to know... yes. You all make captain."
"Captain Starbuck... now that has a nice ring to it."
"It has a distinctly surreal ring to it, you ask me," Boomer said, grinning.
"Then I don't think I will."
"And you make this sub-colonel?"
"Omega and I both. Strike and Ops."
"Nice for 'Theni," Starbuck observed. "A big jump in pay for both of 'em."
Apollo considered that for a moment. "Well, at least he's not Father's son-in-law yet."
"Oh, come on," Starbuck objected. "Sure he's allying himself with the royal family, but nobody can doubt he's getting this on his own merits."
"We're not the royal family," Apollo objected.
"Yet."
"Come on, Starbuck, lay off the sub-colonel," said Boomer.
Starbuck did. It was a sore subject, actually. Anybody with eyes could see it happening, but in fact Apollo wasn't any happier about it than Starbuck, so there was no point in harassing him over it. He went backwards a bit for a less contentious subject. "You really think we'll be out here another twenty yahrens?"
"Oh, who knows? What did you used to say?"
"Before you told me to knock it off 'cause it upset your father?" Starbuck grinned. "I used to say, you ask me how to get to Umbra from Caprica City and I say, walk due west. Which is all fine and dandy... except it's four thousand metrics. You're gonna be walking a long damned time."
"Yes. That's what I mean... we've got a heading, and no distance units at all. Who knows how long we'll be traveling. Who even knows whether they think about time at all?"
"A thousand yahrens is like a day," quoted Starbuck.
"Exactly..."
"You are a very depressing man, Sub-Colonel," said Boomer, semi-seriously.
"True," agreed Starbuck.
"Okay, Captains, I can take a hint. I'm going home. See you later."
Athena came into the squadron leader's office. She was still in uniform, so Starbuck assumed she was just finishing up her duty shift.
"Hi," he leaned back in the chair and looked up at her. "What's up?"
"I can't decide," she said reflectively, sitting on the corner of his desk, "why it is that if you'd ever asked me what 'Captain Starbuck, squadron leader' would be like, I'd have said 'an unqualified disaster', yet it seems to fit you like your dress uniform."
"Is that an insult?" he asked, though he was sure it wasn't.
"It wasn't meant to be," she said.
"Then all I can say is, you're not the only person who wonders."
She laughed with him, then sobered up again. "Things seem so strange, don't they?"
"Any things in particular?"
"Well... here we are. Eleven yahrens and we can only assume we're closer to Earth than when we started... but we're just going on."
"I know," he said. "Sometimes I think we should pick a nice planet and just stop. The kids don't even know what grass is. Or weather." They stared at their own little dark places for a centon or two and then he shook himself out of it. "Did you want something, 'Theni? Or did you just come because you can't bear not seeing me every three or four days?"
That won him a laugh. "I've got a request, Starbuck. Well, two, though I guess Zeffie's old enough now I should ask her herself to be in my wedding."
"I would never have guessed she'd set a fashion for being in Sealing ceremonies, all things considered," he said. "I think she will for you, though at eleven she's feeling a bit old for flower girling." He paused a minute. "I guess I should say congratulations, shouldn't I?"
"It is customary."
"So's running in squealing when you announce it," he teased.
"Starbuck, I'm well over thirty. I don't run and squeal any more."
"Too bad for your husband."
"Starbuck," she said, "grow up."
He pretended to consider it. "Naah," he said. "What was the other thing?"
"Stand up with me," she said.
He stared at her. "You're serious?"
"You're my best friend," she said seriously. "I want you there."
"What does Omega think?"
"He likes you," she said.
"I like him, but that's not what I meant."
"He thinks it's fine. Really. He thinks I should have whoever I want, and traditions don't matter as much as we think they do any more."
"Most people think they matter more," he observed.
"He's not the most conventional man I've met, in a lot of ways."
Starbuck looked curious, but all he asked was, "So who's he picking? Rigel?"
"Idiot," she said. "He doesn't have a whole lot of friends... Tigh is standing with him."
"Tigh?" He exaggerated his amazement but not by much. "He's got Colonel Tigh and you're picking me?"
"What does who he has have to do with it?" Then she relented. "Tigh's probably the person he's closest to on the ship, besides me and you. He'd have asked you if I didn't want you."
"He's definitely the felix that walks by himself, isn't he?" Starbuck said, referring to one of Zeffie's favorite stories. Not that she'd ever seen a live felix except on instructional field trips to the agro or livestock ships.
Athena grew pensive. "Gods, Starbuck, he lost so many people it's really surprising he ever decided to take a chance again."
"You'll make him glad he did," Starbuck asserted.
"Or know why," she agreed. "So? Will you?"
"If you want me, I'd be honored." Then he smiled. This was beginning to give a whole new meaning to the old saying, always standing with, never standing...
"What are you grinning at?"
He pulled something out of the air. "I don't have to buy something frilly, do I?"
She laughed. "Gods, it would be worth it... something lacy and off the shoulder..."
"I think I have to wash my hair that day." He was laughing, too.
"Oh, what a picture," she gasped. When she finally got herself under control--an undertaking sabotaged twice by an injudiciously timed look at him--she said, with obvious reluctance, "No. We decided on dress uniforms."
"Oh, well, then..." He smiled. "You know I'll be happy to."
"You know what I was thinking?" Boomer asked as the three of them walked away from the ready room, off-duty at last and heading for the O Club and a drink before going home. "If we could figure out some way to get you on one side of the enemy, and Bojay on the other, and then tell him where you were, anybody up to and including a base star who was on line of sight between you would be incinerated."
"It's not funny," Apollo remonstrated. "I don't like having two of my squadron leaders hating each other's guts."
"I don't hate Bojay," Starbuck said.
"Like hell," Boomer said conversationally.
"He's not my favorite person in the universe," Starbuck conceded. "We never did like each other, back before he got transferred to the Pegasus, and absence certainly didn't make our hearts grow fonder, but it's not a big deal. We can work together. If we have to--"
"You may not hate him," Boomer said. "But he hates you."
"I've been hated by better men than him. I'm still here." Starbuck shrugged. "Besides, hate's a strong word."
"Yeah, well, I agree with Boomer. He hates you. I don't know why, but he does. So far it's not interfering with his duty, but... and you don't make it better, you know that, Starbuck."
"I don't hate him, but he's an idiot," Starbuck protested. "I can't pretend I don't think so. You want me to support his lame-brained schemes?"
"No, but you could try being a little more diplomatic in the way you reject them."
"Something besides 'only the emperor of idiots would think that was a good idea'," added Boomer.
"Okay, maybe that wasn't as tactful as it could have been--"
"You think not?"
"--but it was probably as tactful as I could have been, under the circumstances. I mean, come on, Purple Squadron is not the official source of sacrificial lambets for the fleet. Glory's all well and good, but what's the point of it if you're not around to capitalize on it?"
"Starbuck," Apollo remonstrated.
"Oh, sorry," Starbuck grinned. "What I meant was, we're willing to share the glory with the rest of the wing. Especially with Red Squadron. We're willing to let them have the rest of the suici--er, I mean, medal opportunities for the rest of the yahren."
"I just bet you are... What is it between you two, anyway?"
"I don't know. Just your basic personality conflict, I guess."
Starbuck had no intention of going into it with Apollo. With anybody, in fact, but with Apollo least of all. Bojay could glare at him from now till the Endtimes; it wasn't going to go any further than that, because Starbuck knew what was going on. They both did.
Starbuck had never particularly liked Bojay, though it wasn't until the second section he'd served on the Galactica that Starbuck had decided he actively disliked the other man. Personality conflict was as good a term as any for their initial conflict. There was just something about a guy who cornered you in a storeroom, looking for a quickie one way or the other, that put Starbuck's back up... he was just kind of funny that way. He liked to pick his partners... A couple of times showing Bojay that the infighting skills you picked up in Caprican State Orphanage Umbra-Ten were far superior to anything you learned in a military school, and the other man had learned to back off, keep his distance, and just talk. Talk ran off Starbuck's back like rain off an avian's, and they'd managed to co-exist for the rest of Bojay's tour. And then when he'd come back...
Five days after Bojay got out of the life center, almost two sectons after the Pegasus had taken off again, Starbuck had walked into a turbolift to find Bojay there. And been greeted with: "You better keep your mouth shut about me."
Starbuck had blinked. "Listen, Bojay, you've never been my favorite topic of conversation."
"Yeah? You better keep it that way."
"You keep your hands to yourself--" Starbuck hadn't gotten to finish.
"Shut the frack up," Bojay had snarled. "I don't do that any more. I learned better on the Pegasus. That was a righteous ship. I saw the light there."
"How nice for you," Starbuck had said, and it had ended with him having to leave Bojay gasping for air in the corner of the turbolift.
But he didn't hate Bojay. He felt sorry for him. He knew the kind of light Bojay had seen on the Pegasus: the kind that came when four or five pairs of boots were kicking you senseless. Starbuck had glimpsed that light himself. The difference was, Bojay had started carrying it around himself and Starbuck just headed for the darkest shadow he could find when he spotted it... But as long as he didn't let Bojay and any of his buddies from Silver Spar catch him alone someplace deserted, there wasn't anything to worry about. And by now, over ten yahrens later, well... Bojay was all glare and no guts, all talk, no walk.
So there wasn't any point in talking about it with Apollo, who wouldn't be at all happy to hear it, any of it.
So instead, Starbuck dismissed it all breezily and said, "Djan still talking about joining up?"
Apollo smiled. Starbuck hoped he looked at least slightly more intelligent when he talked about Zephyr. "Yes," Apollo said, "he is. He's taking the tests next secton. It's all he can talk about. Well, it's all he's ever wanted to be, you know."
"He's got quite a tradition to live up to," Boomer observed. "I'm hoping Callie and Corrie want to be doctors, myself."
"You know," Apollo said, "Starbuck here was cruel to his daughter, depriving her of a pet. But I'll just bet your two would love a dagget--"
In the discussion which followed they forgot Bojay.
Which was a mistake.
Because Bojay wasn't forgetting them.
He couldn't.
"Zeff?" Starbuck was starting to get very worried. It wasn't like her to shut herself up in her room and not talk. Slam around their quarters and yell, yes, but not this quiet silence.
She didn't answer.
"Zeff, if you don't at least let me know you're still alive, I'm going to have to come in and check on you."
After a moment, her door opened. She looked at him through tangled red hair that hid half her face; her eyes were distressed and there was a catch in her voice when she said, "No, you won't."
"Zeff, what's wrong?"
"It doesn't matter," she said. "It's okay."
"Yeah, you look like it's okay," he said, reaching to push some of hair back behind her ears.
She pulled away, and then, quite suddenly, the tears in her big brown eyes overflowed and ran down her face and she grabbed him, hanging on like she was afraid he was going somewhere. Without her.
He held her close, clueless as to the cause of her pain and feeling a helpless anger that was frightening in its intensity. "Zeffie," he said. "Please tell me what's wrong."
What she said startled him with its apparent innocuousness, but only for a moment. "We had our blood typed today in life sciences."
He wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't even sure why he'd never thought about this moment, which was almost bound to come up. Probably he'd been thinking it was someone else who'd find out and that it would be to his advantage to appear ignorant and surprised...
While he was thinking she was going on, not knowing he already knew. "I'm a 3." When he still said nothing, she repeated, louder, "A 3!"
"3 is lucky," he said, for want of anything else. He needed to know why she was upset before he started talking, that much seemed clear.
"3s have to have a 1 and a 2 for parents! I've seen your identity tags! You're a 0! You can't be my father. My mother lied to you..." she sobbed again, trying half-heartedly to pull away. "I'm not yours..."
Okay. Problem identified. He tightened his arm around her shoulders and stroked her hair, carding his fingers gently through the unruly locks. "I knew that, Zeffie," he said. "I knew that all along."
She stopped trying to pull away and put her arms around his ribs. "You did?" Her voice was hopeful.
He picked her up and crossed over to sit on her bed. She snuggled into his lap, resting her face against his heart, sniffling a little. "You did?" she repeated.
"Your mom was an honest woman," he said. "She never told me you were mine. She came to me for help, because she was sick, just like I said. And then she died. And because I loved you the centon I saw you, I knew I couldn't let them take you away. They would have, Zeff, I was a single man, a fighter pilot and back then we fought Cylons nearly every secton, not just now and again. And I was a little on the wild side--" That got him a chuckle, albeit still somewhat teary. "All in all, not a good bet for child-raising. No one was going to hand me a baby to raise; they'd just have said how noble I was to offer and taken you off to the Orphan Ship. I know, I alway did know, I didn't father you, but I've been your dad, and I always will be. Okay?" He put his hand under her chin and raised her face.
She smiled at him. Her face was a little tear-stained still perhaps, but she wasn't crying any more. "You didn't tell anyone, though?"
"Dr. Salik knew," Starbuck said. "He gave me all the forms... I pretty much signed my life away a dozen yahrens ago."
This time her smile was brighter, though still only a shadow of its usual incandescent self. "You won't send me away?"
"Never," he said simply. "And they'll take you away over my dead body--"
"And mine!"
He smiled at her, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. "But since that would prove sort of awkward as far as living goes, I didn't see any point in giving anybody any reasons to start trying." He wondered how long it would take someone to come around about it, and how hard the fight would be, and what his options were...
She grinned at him, her don't-get-mad-now grin. "I didn't know what to do this afternoon," she confessed. "I was all tangled up inside... so I cheated."
He blinked on her. "Cheated? On a blood test? How did you do that?"
"Well," she drew little circles with her forefinger on the front of his uniform shirt under his jacket. "They let us do it ourselves if we wanted. Instead of a tech. And then the tech came around and checked... I was scared. She might know your type or, or, anything. I didn't know what to do... so I took the 2 antigen and threw it away when nobody was looking and I got another vial of 1 antigen from the cart and changed the 1 on the label to a 2. It didn't look exactly like the other 2s, but I figured she wouldn't notice and she didn't..."
"So," he said, "they think you're a 1?"
"It's okay, isn't it? I mean, 3s can get 1 blood, right?"
"Yes," he said. "It's all right as far as that goes. But Zeff, if you were to really need blood and there were only 2s or 3s around--"
"I didn't care," she said defiantly. "I'd rather die. I was afraid if you found out, you wouldn't... and then I knew I had to tell you... Even if--"
"No. Way."
She hugged him tight. "I love you, dad."
"I love you, Zeffie. I always have. You're my girl. Okay?"
"Always," she sighed happily, then looked up at him, her brown eyes sparkling again. "If it worries you, when I go in for training I'll be too old for them to take away, won't I? I can get them to type me again, I bet."
"You are my girl, you know that?" "Apollo, will you calm down, for gods' sakes?" Starbuck grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to a stop. "If I have to cuff you to the storage unit to make you stand still, I will." The image that came, unbidden, to his mind almost made him blush.
Fortunately, Apollo didn't pick up on it. Or maybe not fortunately... poor 'Pol, he thought. No games? No even talking about games? Though it didn't surprise him, thinking about it, that Apollo didn't want to play games. It did surprise, a little, that Sheba didn't... he wouldn't have, if Apollo didn't, just Apollo would have been enough but he would have thought Sheba... This is not the time or the place, even if either of those existed, he cut himself off.
Apollo stood still, though. Starbuck tugged gently at the pectoral and untangled the three strands that had somehow wrapped around each other. Then he shook his head and began carefully freeing the small chain that was supposed to be hanging free framing the pectoral but was, as usual on Apollo, wound around the individual strands instead. "When you take this off," Starbuck said, "what do you do, toss it in a drawer?"
"This is stupid."
"Maybe," Starbuck said, "but it's about five millennia of tradition and I don't think you're changing anybody's mind. Besides, it's your son's graduation, and you're the keynote speaker, and you'll embarrass everyone who knows you if you show up looking like this. Stand still!" He spared a moment to wonder why Sheba wasn't doing this and then said, "There. Done. Where's the cape?"
"I'm not wearing that until I get there."
"You sound worse than Djan did back when he was Boxey. It's the uniform. You have to wear it."
"And you sound like my father." But he picked up the cape.
"Come on, Apollo," Starbuck said, "don't tell me you're not proud of him. So he didn't graduate first; he's in the top five percent, and he's a good pilot."
"Of course I'm proud of him," Apollo said. "I've told him so. I never pushed him to go into the academy and I never made him think he had to be first in his class--"
No, but he knew you had, and Sheba made it clear you'd be prouder if he did... But Djan's got his head on straight, I think. He's okay.
"--and I am proud and I want to give this damned speech. I just hate dressing up. You know that."
"Yes, I do. I also know you look good in that, and just because you'd rather be wearing your jacket and blaster doesn't mean you don't. Look good. And there are times when you have to dress up. You know that. Now put on the cape and let's go, or you'll be late."
Apollo heaved a martyred sigh.
"Zeffie!" Starbuck called. "Let's go, sweetheart. Your uncle and I can't be late."
"They can't start without him," she said, but since she was coming out of her room at the time Starbuck let it slide.
"I wish I could wear a uniform," she said.
"A few yahrens yet, Zeff," he said.
"Wow," Apollo said sincerely. "You look beautiful, Zeffie."
"Thanks, Uncle Apollo," she said.
Starbuck regarded her. She did. Her mane of dark red hair was tumbled carelessly around her shoulders--he was pretty sure she hadn't spent much time on it, but it looked very good--and she wore a small pair of silver earrings that Adama had given her on her thirteenth birthday. Around her throat she wore 'Theni's present for that significant milestone, a small iridescent fire opal on a slender chain. Starbuck had protested that gift to 'Theni later, somewhat hopelessly as he'd known there was no way to take it away from Zephyr once she'd seen it, but 'Theni had told him, gravely, that it had been sitting in its box at the back of a drawer in Omega's quarters since just before Cimtar, a present for his youngest sister, and there was no way, even if they had a daughter, that he'd be easy about keeping it and yet he couldn't get rid of it, either. Giving it to Zeffie, though, that worked for everyone. 'He's a lucky man,' Starbuck had said, and made sure Zeffie knew how important it was not to lose it.
Himself, he hadn't realized thirteen was such a big thing for girls. Apollo and Athena had told him, and so had Boomer and Jolly and Dietra... he'd had no idea what to get her. Jewelry was best, they'd all said, and he'd been thinking about hunting along the pawn shops on the Star's lower deck for a ladies' chrono when he'd seen the perfect thing. The whole House of Adama, from the patriarch to Djan, had rolled their eyes when she'd unwrapped it, but Zeffie had stared at it, speechless, for an entire centon and then launched herself over the kava table to nearly choke the breath out of him. She wore the opal a lot, but she was never without the damascene-bladed Sagittan boot-knife with the single brilliant in the hilt.
He was sure she had it now, under that floating dark-green dress she was wearing.
He'd taught her to use it, just as he'd taught her to shoot and to fight barehanded, including every dirty trick he'd ever seen. Looking at her tonight, he realized that fourteen is just shy of fifteen, which is practically sixteen... he sighed to himself. Maybe he'd better sit her down soon and talk about boys.
Not about sex. She knew about that. About boys and what daggets they could be...
But not tonight. Tonight was Djan's big night. And they couldn't be late.
Bojay sat in the O Club, alone, and drank. He preferred being alone. It got harder every secton to pay attention to other people. Especially since they were all sinful.
All of them.
All of the ones who counted now, anyway, and the others were followers, either blind or deluded.
The only possible exception to that was Adama. He wasn't sinful, though he clearly counted for something. But he was deluded.
Adama believed himself anointed by the Lords of Kobol to lead his people through the starry wilderness to the promised land, the shining planet. There was so much wrong with that Bojay despaired of even knowing where to start. But one thing was certain: Adama was not the Chosen of the Lords of Kobol. Who it was had chosen him, Bojay didn't know. But Adama wasn't half the man that Cain had been.
Cain who had saved them all. Twice. And offered himself and those who believed in him as the sacrifice to save the others. A sacrifice accepted. Proving him righteous.
He'd heard what these Galacticans said about Cain... that he was a coward, or a glory-hunter, or a fool. Bojay snarled into his glass, startling an ensign who changed her mind about asking if the seat was free. Bojay didn't even notice her. Women were beneath his notice any more.
Starbuck. Starbuck was one of the worst about Cain. He'd heard that Starbuck had offered to go with Cain. Even if it were true, which he doubted, look what Cain had decided. He knew what Starbuck was. He didn't want that sort of person polluting the Pegasus. Rendering the sacrificial offering invalid.
Starbuck. Captain. What kind of commander made a man like Starbuck a captain? A slut, a whore-monger, a bastard (undoubtedly) who fathered bastards... Who even knew where he was from? Who'd been there when Apollo was allegedly killed and brought back to life? Sheba, who had failed her father and been rejected by him, who was besotted by Apollo and his position, by worldly power. And Starbuck. If that had actually happened, which Bojay frankly doubted, who'd gotten him killed? Who'd bought his life back? And at what price?
And who had wormed his way into the heart of the once-great House of Adama... Adama the deluded, the misled, the misleading. Losing his wife and son should have been a warning to him.
Bojay signaled for another drink and stared at the table on the other side of the room. Apollo. Prince. Prince of Darkness, most likely. Struck down by Iblis and restored again to work his will. Boomer. A blind follower, like all Leonids, courageous but not smart. Never a thought of his own. And Starbuck. Starbuck... symbol of everything wrong on this ship. In this fleet. This people.
Bojay watched as Boomer rose and went on his way, leaving the other two sitting and drinking. Starbuck. Sitting there at his ease, a bastard nobody, presuming to be the equal of the son of one of Caprica's Great Houses. Bojay knew how he'd done it. With his body. His beauty and his carnality. His sinful lasciviousness. His perversions. With Adama's son, doubtless. With Adama's daughter certainly...
Bojay had been granted visions since the day he'd seen the truth of things, on the blessed Pegasus. He'd seen things hidden from those not chosen. Sometimes he didn't understand the reason at first, sometimes the visions were torment. Such were the visions of Starbuck and Apollo, that deceptively beautiful body leading the prince astray, blinding his eyes and drowning his senses. Sometimes he wasn't sure if the visions were real or if his body was still impure, reacting wrongly... were the images that sometimes filled his mind of Starbuck and the brother and sister real? Or were they false? They didn't come often, and she'd Sealed with another prince of Caprican glory... the next after Apollo, now tied to the House of Adama, the worm-eaten House of Adama... Starbuck and Adama's sons, that was another vision he had, often, that golden flesh between the two darker men...
Starbuck. It always came back to him. He was the Worm. He was the Serpent... he was the evil at the heart of Galactica's exile. And he didn't even try to hide his sinfulness. That daughter walked the corridors of the ship, scarlet whore's daughter... they even talked of letting her be a Warrior. Nameless daughter of a nameless man, wormspawn at the heart of the people.
Look at this whole situation... allegedly handed the map to Earth, and yet still they traveled. When would they realize that you couldn't come through the wilderness until you had been purged?
Bojay drank.
She climbed into his lap as she had when she was six, and had a scraped knee. He wished scraped hearts were as easy to fix.
"Boys are jerks," she said into his shirtfront. "I hate them all. I'm going to be flit."
"Women are nice," he agreed. "Usually nicer than boys... but men have their advantages."
"Huh. I hate them. I hate them all..."
He rubbed her back. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Can I kill someone for you?" He was only half kidding.
"No..." she sniffled a couple more times, then sighed. "He's not worth the prison barge. He's not worth spitting at. If he was on fire."
He tucked her head into the hollow of his throat and wished he knew what to say.
"Dad," she said after a while, "you were a boy. Why are they like that?"
Oh, boy... the emotional talk. He'd made sure the facts she got in school were facts... well, he'd actually covered things with her a bit earlier than the school had. But the emotional stuff... He sighed. "Sex is fun," he said. "Boys are hardwired to want it. I slept around a lot. And boys your age don't really think about how girls feel."
"Did you lie to girls?"
He made a mental note to find this particular boy and bounce him off a wall. Or out an airlock. "I'll tell you, Zeffie," he said. "I lied. But only as part of the game; only inside the rules."
"What do you mean?"
"I never lied about things that mattered. I never told lies they didn't, really, know were lies. And I never, ever told anyone I loved them to get them into bed."
She was quiet a centon or two and then, as usual, went where he didn't expect her to go. "Did you ever tell anyone you loved them at all?"
"Huh," he said, startled. "Well... I did. Actually. I told Cassie several times at least."
"Cassie?"
"Um-hm," he said, remembering. "I actually contemplated the possibility of sealing with her."
She chuckled; he could feel her smile against his throat. "Contemplated the possibility? Wow. That was serious."
"Yes, I was," he said. "I was..."
"Is this Dr. Cassiopeia? What happened?"
"Oh, this and that," he said, "no one thing, just a lot of things. Like water on a stone... that doesn't mean anything to you, does it? To anybody your age?"
"It means 'little bit by little bit'," she said.
"But you've never seen it." That struck him quite suddenly as sad.
"Oh, don't get all planet-side nostalgic," she said. "Tell me about Dr. Cassie."
"Well," he said, remembering back sixteen yahrens, "she never really shook the idea I was dating her because she used to be a socialator. And I guess I never really shook the idea she was dating me because I didn't care about that. And then I was accused of murder, and she thought I might have done it--"
Zephyr muttered something that sounded uncomplimentary.
"And then somebody from my past showed up, and things got sticky, and then somebody from her past showed up and she went back to him--"
"Instead of you?" Unlike most daughters he'd heard, she sounded sincere.
"Well," he said, "I wasn't exactly a legend--"
"Oh, you are."
"I wasn't Commander Cain."
"The guy who ran away from Molechai?"
"That's my girl," he said with satisfaction. "Yes, him. She loved him."
"Wait a centon. He's Captain Sheba's father, isn't he? Oh, that's icky."
"Yes, well..." he shrugged. "Anyway, then you showed up and that was pretty much it. Cassie was annoyed I'd never mentioned your mom."
"Wait a minute," she said again. "I thought I was supposed to be a surprise."
"You were," he said, hugging her close for a moment. "The best one I ever got."
"Well, I mean," she pursued her thought, "how were you supposed to know you were supposed to mention Mom? Or how would you have been supposed to know, I mean. If... you know."
"Don't ask me, sweetheart. I think she was looking for a reason to break it off, and that was a good one."
"Humph. You're better off without her."
"Probably. Anyway, she and Boomer have been very happy. I'm pleased about that."
"I'm never getting sealed. Unless to another woman."
"Whatever makes you happy," Starbuck said, "makes me happy."
"I wish I could meet a boy like you."
I don't, he thought involuntarily. They sat quietly for a few centons, and then Starbuck said, "Zeffie?"
"Yes, Dad?"
"I want you to know something. I never told your mom I loved her. We didn't have that kind of a relationship--"
"I know, Dad."
"--but," he went on, "if she'd lived, I think I would have. I didn't know her well, but it's the truth. I learned more about her the night she died than you usually learn about a person in a lifetime. She had courage, tremendous courage. And grace. And love--she loved you so much. She died so well. Thinking about you."
"I love you, Daddy," she said, and hugged him.