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“CAP's in six hours, Captain. You wanna throw a card sometime today?"
"Sorry, Starbuck. Not all of us move quite as fast as you do."
“Really? Cause I’ve heard you haven’t been wasting any time getting around lately, Apollo.” She drawled, puffing on her cigar. “Guess you need to move quick what with that full dance card you’ve got: all that paperwork, plus defense classes to teach, shuttles to catch…” Starbuck discarded with a careless toss, triad cards scattering and dropping onto the floor. She didn’t seem to notice though; her eyes were locked on the captain. “You’re just a busy little bee, aren’t ya, sir?”
The flight instructor’s voice was deceptively innocent, but Kat caught something in the CAG’s expression that proved she’d clearly had hit a nerve. A whole bundle of nerves if the muscle twitching in his jaw and that cold glare were any indication.
“Your concern is touching, Starbuck. Too bad we can’t all shirk responsibility and just fall into the nearest bottle—or bunk.” Kat thought his voice might just freeze the ambrosia in her glass. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of being that impulsive.”
Kat looked back to Starbuck, watching for her response as avidly as she had once viewed tennis matches back on Canceron. She realized suddenly that she wasn’t quite sure what they were arguing about. Starbuck’s face was downright feral though, her gaze disgusted as she flicked it over the CAG.
“Oh, you seem to be doing just fine with the bunk part of it.” Her voice was light, but her body language as she leaned forward carried unmistakable malicious intent. “It’s just too bad some of us wouldn’t know what to do with a natural impulse if it was laid out right on a table under our nose for the taking.”
The low-voiced contempt was impossible to miss that time and the room went deadly still. Even the recycled air seemed to stop moving. “But I guess you’ve always had a problem pulling the trigger, Apollo?” She settled back in her chair, voice lighter now, and turned a face dripping with insincere concern on him. “You shouldn't be ashamed, sir. I hear it happens to a lot of—"
"I don't think you want to finish that sentence, Captain." Now Apollo looked like he was ready to kill with his bare hands.
Starbuck smirked but blessedly remained silent and Kat rubbed her forehead wearily. Their sniping was driving her crazy. She tried to concentrate on her hand. Gods knew, Starbuck and Apollo bantering was nothing new. They were always baiting each other, but lately it had been worse than ever. Starbuck and Apollo would hurl insults and innuendos at each other nonstop, every hit punctuated by their callsign or rank, as if it were the pin in the grenades they were lobbing. They’d been verbally dueling since…since she’d taken the top gun slot away from Starbuck. Kat couldn’t help grinning with pride at the thought of it.
Still, she didn’t know what the captain had against the CAG—actually, she smirked and mentally corrected herself, it was probably more about what Starbuck didn’t have against the CAG. Kat wanted nothing more than to tell them to just get a rack, but she wasn’t looking for a stint in the brig or a newly rearranged face. She blew out a breath and looked at her hand. Frak, she had close to full colors. Flicking a glance at Hotdog across the table, she tried desperately to catch his eye. Her trump would be useless without a good backup. He finally looked at her and winked with exaggeration. Kat rolled her eyes. Way to be subtle, Costanza.
Luckily, Starbuck and Apollo had started mouthing off again. Once in a while, Apollo scored a direct hit, but Starbuck, as usual, was the ace shot. Kat hadn't known there were so many different inflections you could employ to connote condescension and derision in that one little syllable: Sir. She watched Captain Adama close his eyes and sigh loudly. He was a good guy, if a little bit of a tightass. He didn’t deserve Starbuck riding him all the time. Not like that anyway. If only she could get them to drop the pretension… Kat eyed her cards and a wicked idea popped into mind.
“Bet’s to you, Sir,” She interjected.
Apollo and Starbuck’s gazes were locked on each other like usual, hot and intense. It took a minute beforethe CAG pulled his eyes away and surveyed his cards. He scratched his head. “Pass.” Starbuck frowned at him and Kat thought she might actually have a shot at pulling this off.
“You can’t frakking pass, Apollo.”
“Why the hell not?”
“We’re playing teams, you moron.”
“Well then I guess you’re gonna have to use some of that out-of-the-box thinking if you want to win, Starbuck.”
She gritted her teeth. “Fine, I’ll call fifty and raise fifty. Unlike some people who have the rulebook shoved up their…” she paused, her eyes flashing, “… flightsuit, I know how to bring a little flair to the game.”
Hotdog grinned and Kat tried to smother her snicker, but she wasn’t fast enough to escape notice.
“Problem, Katraine?”
“You want some flair Captain, why don’t we make this a little more interesting.”
“Strip triad?” Hotdog asked, cocking an eyebrow and reaching for the hem of his tanks.
Both Kat and Starbuck narrowed their eyes at him and he slumped back in his seat.
Starbuck turned to Kat and rocked back in her chair, one arm thrown behind her gripping its frame and her head cocked and taking measure. A smirk danced on her lips. “What’d you have in mind, rook?
“Upping the stakes, sir. Winner gets to make one request of the losing team and they have to fulfill it for the next 24 hours.”
“Now wait a minute—,” Captain Adama protested.
Starbuck flashed him a mocking grin. “Don’t tell me the CAG’s afraid of a little innocent wager.”
“Like anything is innocent where you’re involved.” Kat giggled, then gulped when Apollo turned his disbelieving look on her. “And you’re getting to be just as bad.”
Both the women rolled their eyes at him. He threw up both hands. “Fine, fine. But no reg-breaking with this ‘innocent little wager.’ I mean it.”
Kat nodded eagerly and Starbuck hooted with laughter. “Don’t you worry, Apollo. I’m sure your virtue will stay clean as the driven snow.” She winked at him and the captain turned an interesting color, Kat noted. Starbuck took a puff off the cigar at her elbow. No sooner had she put it down again than Apollo reached across the table, picked it up and slid it in his mouth, shooting her a challenging look. Kat watched Captain Thrace track the motion with just the slightest of predatory gazes before she turned back to the game. Yes, this could be very interesting.
“OK, kids, show it or blow it.”
Simultaneously they all laid their cards down. Kat’s eyes scanned the table. Full colors for her, four on a run for Hotdog, full colors for Starbuck and…three on a run for Apollo. Holy frak, they’d won!
Hotdog whooped and hollered, raking the pile of cubits at the center of the table towards him. Kat was too busy thinking about her special wager to even tell him to leave her half alone. Across the table, Starbuck reached out and slugged Apollo’s arm. “Three on a run?!” she hissed. “Why did you frakking signal me?”
He rubbed his arm, face thunderous. “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t signal you. I tried to pass and you wouldn’t let me.” He reached up to scratch his head again.
“There, right there!” Starbuck was pointing at him. “That was the frakking signal. Don’t you remember hustling those guys at the Tauron Tavern?”
“Tauron Ta—? That was six years ago, Starbuck!”
“Oh sorry, Sir,” the captain sneered. “I didn’t realize the early dementia had taken hold already.”
The CAG opened his mouth to protest but Kat cleared her throat loudly and slapped the table hard. All eyes turned to her. “So we win and we have a request.”
Hotdog leaned over and stage-whispered to her. “We do?”
She just nodded at him and he shrugged and sat back in his chair.
“For the next 24 hours,” she paused, savoring the moment. “You may not address each other by your callsigns or ranks. And Starbuck cannot call Apollo ‘sir’.”
The captain raised an eyebrow at the CAG and crossed her arms, rocking her chair back on its hind legs again. “Well, I might actually like this little stipulation after all.” Apollo just frowned at her.
“I’m not finished,” Kat said. “Instead, every time you speak to one another over the course of the next day, you must use a term of endearment.”
Starbuck’s chair legs crashed back down hard to the floor, her eyes wide. “A what?”
Apollo grimaced. “She said a term of endearment, you know like baby or –”
“I frakking get it,” she huffed. “There’s just no way in hell I’m doing it.”
“Welching, Starbuck? Really?” Kat couldn’t hide the amusement in her tone. She watched as her flight instructor tensed and flexed her hand into a fist. Starbuck leaned forward and Kat scooted back in her chair, but the CAG put a hand on the captain’s arm and she instantly relaxed.
“It could be worse.”
Starbuck looked at him, eyebrows high. “It could?”
His lips quirked. “What were you gonna make them do if we won?”
She frowned, muttering, “That’s not the point.” Starbuck blew out a frustrated breath. “So you’re just fine with this?”
He shrugged. “Seems pretty harmless to me” Lee smirked. “Unless you’re afraid it might force you to reveal your deep undying love for me…sweetheart?
Her eyes widened and Starbuck crowed. “Was that a challenge? Alright, you know what? Fine. 24 hours.” She smiled, all sharp edges and dangerous glee. “You wanna play this game, then we’ll play.” She leaned forward over the table, lowering her voice to a quiet threat. “We’ll play and I’ll win. I always do.”
Kat cleared her throat expectantly. Starbuck shot her a dirty look before returning her gaze to the captain. She growled the addendum. “Snookums.”
Hotdog’s shoulders began to shake in silent mirth as he carefully swept up his loot. Kat followed him out the door, not daring to press her luck any further. The two junior pilots laughed all the way to the bunkroom.
*******
0800 hours
In the farthest shower stall of the head, Hotdog was whistling a song he could barely remember, some tune that had been all over the radio the summer he graduated. As he strained for the words, he heard the hatch clank open.
“Up all day with the rising sun!” Captain Adama’s loudly cheerful but rather tuneless voice echoed around the head.
Brendan instantly recognized Starbuck’s angry growl. “If you don’t quit torturing me with those off-key excuses for cadences, you’re running solo tomorrow, si—“
“Ah ah ah! No pulling rank, remember, babydoll?”
Hotdog popped his head over the side of the stall. He had a perfect view of Starbuck’s face, fury making the muscles in her cheeks tighten. She smiled at Captain Adama, who was barely keeping the guffaws in, but it was really more like a baring of teeth. Nonetheless, it didn’t seem to dent the man’s ear-splitting grin as he turned to yank off his tanks and running shorts.
Brendan blushed; he was still having trouble getting used to the lack of modesty that modern military living required. He wasn’t too shy to look hopefully at Starbuck though. Unfortunately, the flight instructor remained fully clothed, eyes narrowed and arms crossed as she watched their oblivious CAG.
Captain Adama reached in to twist the water on in the stall before him, just as Starbuck’s arm darted out to grab a clean towel. Quickly and quietly she whipped the cloth in a circular motion making a taut line with the towel between her fists. Hotdog watched with rapt fascination, torn between horror and hilarity. Just as the CAG stepped forward to enter the stall, she struck, deadly as a cobra, and snapped the cloth hard against his naked backside.
The CAG jumped almost a foot in the air, yelping loudly. He turned towards his attacker and Starbuck slinked closer, getting nose to nose with the CAG, obviously not giving a crap about the fact that the man was naked as the day he was born. This time she was all smiles—real ones—and innocence.
“Problem, sweetcheeks?”
Her grin was impossibly wide as she crinkled her nose at the Captain. Suddenly, Hotdog was struck by the completely incongruous thought that Starbuck almost looked…cute. He wondered if the CAG wasn’t just as surprised, because instead of a comeback, the man spluttered for a moment then stepped back and slammed the stall door shut in Starbuck’s face. She chuckled and headed for her own shower and Hotdog turned away finally, determined to scrub the visuals away along with yesterday’s engine grease. He didn’t know what the frak he’d been thinking.
God was not cute.
********
1100 Hours
Word about the bet had spread quickly and when Helo dropped into a seat next to Starbuck in the briefing room, he wasn’t surprised to catch a few smirks on the faces of the pilots around them. Far more though were tight and anxious, not looking forward to hearing the risks this mission—a tricky reconnaissance of a new planet Racetrack had found—would entail. Even Kara was frowning, staring at the hatch and tapping her pen rapidly against the arm of the chair. He was just leaning over to say something when the heavy door swung open and Lee strode over to the podium. Helo watched Kara’s eyes track the CAG like he was a new food source, the determined look on her face a familiar one, and he grinned. He didn’t know what she had planned but this was going to be good.
Adama did an admirable job, getting at least halfway through the briefing on the new mission and completely ignoring the hand that Kara kept raised the entire time. Helo was thinking about how strong her biceps were when the captain broke finally. “Yes, what is it, Star—” he snapped. A pregnant pause fell over the room, as if the pilots were collectively holding their breath, straining forward to see how the CAG would salvage his near-slip. Helo wondered which would wound the man’s considerable pride more: welching on the bet or sounding like an ass in front of all his pilots. The answer actually surprised him.
“What is it now, sunshine?” The CAG managed to look simultaneously tired and trepidacious.
Kara was biting her lip in amusement but her voice was even and betrayed not the slightest hint of laughter as she responded.
“Just wanted to tell you,” she paused, milking it for all it was worth, Helo knew, “studmuffin, that your fly’s been open for the last twenty minutes.”
Helo snorted as Adama blushed, one hand stealthily dropping behind the podium to remedy the situation. The CAG recovered quickly though, tilting his head at Starbuck and quirking an eyebrow. “Good to know you’ve been paying such careful attention to my… briefing.” His lips twitched. “Pookie.”
The room erupted in laughter. The utter surrealness of the CAG and his best pilot, hard-nosed Starbuck, throwing around little cutesy nicknames was too much. Helo watched as Kara winked at Lee and he realized the tension that had been lingering in the room earlier had dissipated completely. He wondered if his best friend didn’t know exactly what she was doing after all.
Clearly, worrying about the CAG was futile. God help them all if Starbuck had a plan.
*****
1230 hours
Racetrack tiredly mashed a fork into her imitation potatoes. She was so sick of eating reconstituted meals. She barely remembered what fresh fruit tasted like. Shoving her tray aside in disgust, she looked around the mess.
Starbuck and Apollo were sitting at the next table. Starbuck had lifted her spoon in the air and was letting a chunky soup (the chef had said it was split pea, but Maggie had her doubts) drip off it and back into the bowl with a loud plop. She did it three times in a row and the third time, some of the viscous liquid splashed onto Apollo’s cuff and he glared at her. He grabbed her hand, stilling it as she went to lift the utensil again and Starbuck shot a dirty look at him.
“Would you quit frakking playing with your food?” His teeth were gritted. “You shouldn’t waste it if you’re not going to—”
“Why?” Starbuck cut him off. “You gonna tell me there are starving kids on the colonies that want it?” The lights were dim in the mess, but Racetrack could just make out the way Starbuck’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Oh right ,” her voice was sarcasm incarnate, “you can’t because there’s not.” The captain jerked her hand out of his grip, splattering herself with the soup in the process. “There’s no one but those frakking farms and the resis—” She stopped suddenly, her mouth tightening in a grim line, eyes narrowing. “There’s no one left.”
Apollo was looking at her with confusion, but his eyes softened a little. He pulled the soup towards him and pushed his own tray towards Starbuck. “Here. The beef’s better. Quit bitchin’ and eat up,” his voice slid into a cooing tone, “cupcake.”
Starbuck just looked at him for a long moment. Racetrack couldn’t read all the emotions on her face. But she pulled the tray closer and picked up her fork, and when she spoke again, her voice was different. Lighter. “Cupcakes… Gods, I would kill for some chocolate right now.” Racetrack watched her shoot a sidelong glance at the CAG. “What about you…sweetie pie?” She snickered.
Apollo grimaced. “Pie! Oh, I really miss pie. Apple or peach?” he quirked an eyebrow, “Pumpkin!”
“Okay, stop,” Starbuck groaned. “Stop with the food nicknames, sparky. It’s making me hungry.” As if on cue, her stomach gurgled loudly.
Apollo laughed, smirking at her. “Problem, sugarplum?”
“Quit it, dumpling.”
“Sorry, honeybun.”
Racetrack was so engrossed in their back and forth, that she didn’t notice Helo had plopped down in the seat next to her . “Hey, Maggie, whatcha—”
“Shh!!!” She turned exasperated. Seeing it was him, she her frown changed to an easy smile. She’d always had a soft spot for Karl. “Oh hey, Helo. Sorry, I was…. Just get a load of this.” She elbowed him and nodded towards Starbuck and Apollo at the next table, where they were still bantering back and forth.
“Pudding.”
“Creampuff.”
“Jellybean.”
“Gumdrop.”
“Snickerdoodle.”
“Sugarlips.”
“Pea—Wait, Sugarlips?”
Both of them broke into laughter and Starbuck looked unappetizingly at the lunch tray in front of her. She prodded the slab of what had been labeled beef with her fork. “Lords of Kobol, I think they’ve been using this stuff to mop up the hangar deck!”
“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” To Racetrack’s shock, the CAG leaned over and picked up Starbuck’s utensils, cutting a piece and spearing it on the fork. “You need to eat anyway. You’ve got a double shift today and another eight hour rotation at 0700 tomorrow.” He lifted the food, wagging it in front of her mouth expectantly.
Racetrack and Helo leaned forward, not believing their eyes. “Frak me,” Maggie whispered, “Did that poor bastard have a brain tumor for breakfast? She’s gonna rip him a new one.” They watched the captain, whose face was surprisingly not furious at all, but a picture in bemused confusion. Her eyes were following the fork’s movements and when she lifted her gaze to Apollo’s face, she looked both smug and mischievous.
“Did you just cut my food for me?” Her voice rippled with amusement, and she lowered it in a seductive drawl. “You gonna feed me now, babycakes?”
Eyes widening, Apollo looked at his own hand in the air and his jaw dropped. He huffed out an embarrassed laugh and looked like he was fumbling for words. Racetrack and Helo strained forward even further, Helo unwittingly planting an elbow in his own lunch tray, waiting to hear the CAG's response. But before Apollo could do anything, Starbuck reached out and closed her hand over his on the fork. She leaned in, licking her lips and ate the offering, letting her mouth close over the morsel and smack against the hard tines of the utensil. She pulled back slowly, her eyes never leaving the CAG’s, mouth pursed in an exaggerated pout and began chewing the meat.
Racetrack watched the whole thing in amazement and could actually feel herself flushing at the raw sexual tension in the room. Her eyes darted around quickly and she saw other pilots watching them unabashedly too. Hotdog was staring in wonder, unable to tear his eyes away, even as he reached for his cup, and as Racetrack watched, he clumsily knocked it off the table and it clattered loudly on the floor in the now hushed lunchroom.
Startled, the CAG turned towards the noise and Starbuck snatched back the hand that was still covering Apollo’s on the fork. Then she grimaced and started loudly complaining about the taste of the meat, while the din of the lunchroom reverted to its normal dull roar. Starbuck slipped out of the hall shortly after that. Racetrack and Helo exchanged bewildered glances and soon started talking about raptor mechanics, but Maggie couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at the CAG. For the rest of the lunch, Apollo never looked up, just stared intently into his soup.
Racetrack was pretty sure he was thinking about drowning himself in it.
*****
1500 hours
It was a little known fact that the CIC had the best acoustics on Galactica. Gaeta, though, was quite aware of this fact and today, very appreciative. Feigning busyness, he picked up the receiver every few minutes and tapped aimlessly on his keyboard. He didn’t want it to be completely obvious that he was eavesdropping.
“Sweetie, I think your plan is really great.”
His ears perked up and he swiveled slightly towards the planning table. Obviously surprised but not entirely trusting, the CAG was looking at Starbuck warily. “You do? Well, I’m glad to have your approval, darling.”
“Yes, it’s just wonderful, precious.” She dropped the smile. “Except for that big frakking hole the size of your head that the cylons’ll fly a few baseships through to wipe us out before we even get to the rendezvous point.”
Captain Adama frowned down at the light board. “What frakking ho—Oh. Crap. Frak me.”
“Sorry, tiger. That wasn’t part of the bet. “ Starbuck tossed off, leaning her body across the CAG’s as she reached over and rearranged the location of a few model ships on the board. “Try this on for size.”
Captain Adama let out a loud breath as Starbuck pulled back, her arm brushing across the man’s stomach. The CAG studied the board. Gaeta studied Captain Thrace. She was studying Apollo, her arms braced on the console, teeth gnawing her lower lip. She looked nervous, he realized with surprise.
The captain was still studying the board. Then he nodded abruptly. “Should work. Good thinking, Ace.”
Gaeta watched as the pilot’s face stretched into a broad grin. He’d served with Starbuck for the better part of three years and he’d seen that grin only a handful of times. None of ’em before the CAG got here either, he realized. Felix was shocked to realize how pretty she was when she smiled. He was so busy ruminating, he missed what Starbuck said next to Apollo, but it had him turning toward her with an equally wide grin. He watched as their heads bent over the table, inching closer and closer together, blond hair bright against dark, and wondered idly who had this week in the pool.
Lucky bastard.
******
1600 hours
Dee had thirty agonizing minutes left on her shift when the admiral asked her to open up the CAP channel on the intercom. She blinked nervously. She knew about the bet, and even if it had been rather unpleasant listening to Lee and Starbuck cooing at each other over the comms for the past two hours, Dee had understood. She was very good at being understanding.
She wasn’t quite sure the XO and the Admiral would however. She was trying to figure out how she could let Apollo know she was opening the comm up, when the Admiral repeated the order, this time with a frown. Cringing, she flicked the switch that would transfer their communications through the speakers in CIC.
“….really rather uncreative, don’t you think, Slick?” That was Starbuck. The taunting tone in her voice was unmistakable.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dearest.”
“See? That’s what I’m talking about. Dear, baby, honey? They’re all a little bit…boring, don’t you think?” Dee looked nervously at the center console.
Tigh was looking up at the speakers, as if there was a video screen there with a scowl on his face. “What the frak are they babbling about now?!” he growled. “We’ve got frakking cylons to worry about and they’re cluttering up the comms with—”
He cut off as Apollo’s voice crackled over the lines again. “You’re complaining that my wooing methods aren’t up to your standards now? That’s rich coming from you, princess.”
“I’m just saying, dreamboat, that kind of textbook thinking is so typical of you. I hope you don’t use those on the chicks you’re actually trying to hit on. Although they probably have a different standard of pick-up lines on the Prometheus…”
Dee frowned, wondering if all those calls she’d been forwarding from the Prometheus to Lee weren’t exactly business. Her thoughts were interrupted when he responded, his voice bristling with indignation. “You want me to be creative, angelface? I can be creative.”
Hotdog was laughing hysterically in the background.
“Alright. Impress me, ladykiller.”
Dee looked up in alarm. Gaeta was biting his lip to hold back the laughter. Tigh was shaking his head and frowning. But the Admiral had a curious expression on his face that she couldn’t read. She heard Apollo clear his throat and she knew she had to do something or this could get very, very awkward. Quickly she flipped the switch, cutting off the speaker just in time. Lee’s response sounded tinny through her headphones. To her complete amazement, he was singing. “Ooh, snuggle puppy of mine, everything about you is especially fine. I love what you are. I love what you do. Ooh, I love you.”
The admiral was frowning at her now, looking at her questioningly. Dee gulped. In her headphones she could hear Starbuck cackling like a wild banshee over the rest of the silly children’s song Lee was crooning. She distinctly heard a kissy noise when it was finished though. She wondered who that had come from. The Admiral’s eyes were on her though and she couldn’t worry about it.
“Sorry sir, my hand slipped on the switch. Do you want me to transfer back to speakers?”
“No, Dee. Never mind.”
She watched the admiral turn to Tigh and shake his head wearily at the XO’s questioning glance. Over the comm, Starbuck was still gasping with laughter. “Smoo--ooth, very smooth, loverboy. That’ll get you laid for sure.”
Dee held her breath.
“That an offer, gorgeous?”
The line went silent for a minute, then Starbuck just laughed again and told Hotdog to close his mouth because his breath was fogging up his helmet.
Dee exhaled. Maybe she didn’t understand much of anything after all.
*****
1930 hours
The alarms were still blaring when Cally saw Starbuck race back into the hangar deck, yanking her flight suit up her arms as she ran back towards the bird she’d just exited not 30 minutes before. The CAG was right behind her, his hair standing up like he’d already been napping when the cylons appeared out of nowhere five minutes ago.
Cally bit her lip as Starbuck tugged the mounting ladder over to her viper. “Sir, you can’t fly it. We’re still refueling it and Chief said there was a problem with the gimbal that he needed to check before you could go up again.” She watched Starbuck’s face go red and Cally instinctively took a step back. “Sorry, sir.”
Starbuck slammed her hand against the side of the viper in frustration and cursed. The CAG rushed over at the loud exclamation. “What’s the problem, specialist?”
Cally repeated what she’d told Starbuck and the frustrated captain rubbed a hand through his rumpled hair. “Fine, fine.” He turned to Starbuck. “You can fly mine.” He paused, waiting for a response, then added a distracted “babe.”
“And what are you gonna fly, genius?
“You’re our best pilot. Don’t worry about me. Just get in the cockpit and take those frakkers out.”
Cally watched as Captain Thrace cocked an eyebrow, then flashed him a huge grin as she jogged backwards over to his bird. “I don’t think that technically counts as an endearment, you know, champ, so you owe me—”
“Get in the frakking viper and argue with me later, hotshot.”
Starbuck saluted him and climbed into the cockpit. Five minutes after she launched, the CAG, sick of pacing nervously on deck, had ordered the Chief to find him anything that could fly. Chief had hastily rigged the gimbal to hold up temporarily and Apollo launched.
Thirty minutes later the battle was over. Starbuck had taken out six of the dozen raiders herself and she was practically dancing as she climbed out of Apollo’s bird. She was grinning as she handed Cally her helmet and the engineer snapped off her metal collar. “That thing handles like a frakking dream, no wonder Apollo—” She paused and looked around. “Where the frak is Apollo?”
Just then the comms crackled and Captain Adama’s voice filled the hanger deck. “Galactica, Apollo. The frakking gimbal snapped again, I – I don’t know if I can make the trap.” Cally bit her lip. She’d never heard the CAG curse on the comms before. Next to her, she heard Starbuck swear and then whisper, “Godsdamnit! Come on, Lee!”
As if he’d heard her, Apollo answered. “Ok, I made it but I’m coming in way too hot.” Gaeta’s steady voice intercut the Captain’s panic, “Spooling FTL. Jump in 3…2…1! JUMP!” As the sickening and by now all too familiar sensation swept over Cally, she could barely focus on Apollo’s voice interjecting once more. “ I’ve lost control—I’m gonna crash. Ka—” The comm cut out with a screech suddenly and an unnatural silence fell.
She heard a quiet “Frak!” from Starbuck, right before Chief ran by, barking. “Cally, with me, hurry.”
The specialist dropped the clipboard and started running after him toward the doors to the launch pad. But she heard pounding steps hard on her heels and a few seconds later, Starbuck overtook her. They all skidded to a stop in front of the big doors. They wouldn’t open until the pod was fully retracted. The deck was very quiet now. Starbuck was bouncing next to her on the balls of her feet. Her face was tight and she kept clenching and unclenching her fists. Slowly, the old doors raised and they ducked under. Starbuck’s bird was crumpled against the far well, overturned.
“Medical!! We need the medics!” The Chief was screaming and Cally scrambled to help him pop the canopy and pull the CAG free of the beat-up ship. She looked up once in the chaos and her eyes snagged on Starbuck. The captain was rooted to the deck, unmoving from where they’d popped through the doors, her face a deathly shade of white and her eyes locked on Apollo’s still form. Cally stared in surprise until the medics rushed in, cutting off her view.
As the stretcher pulled out, Cally stood wearily and looked around. Starbuck was still stuck in the same spot, her eyes following the stretcher till it disappeared from sight. She wet her lips and stepped forward. “Sir? He’s gonna be alright. The medics said he just passed out and that he’ll probably have a nasty concussion and some headaches the next couple days.”
She wasn’t sure the captain heard her at first. But after a minute, she nodded. Her eyes focused on Cally and Starbuck blinked, seemingly dazed. “He should’ve been flying his bird. This never would have happened if—” she broke off suddenly, as if she realized who she was talking to and Starbuck straightened, her face hardening once more. “Right. Thanks, Cally.” Captain Thrace pivoted and stalked off the deck.
****
2200 hours
Kat tiptoed through the darkened sickbay. That stupid soup had made her violently ill at lunchtime and she’d been stuck here ever since. Most patients were asleep this time of night, but she had pestered Cottle until he finally blew up, told her to get the hell back to her quarters if she was going to be this much of a pain in the ass. Muttered something about following in Starbuck’s footsteps too.
It was ironic then that when she passed Captain Adama’s bed, she caught a glimpse of familiar blonde hair through a gap in the curtains. She’d heard about the CAG’s hard landing and subsequent concussion. Against her best instincts, Kat stepped closer, curious now. Even in the low light, the somber look on Starbuck’s face was clearly etched. She was watching Apollo sleep and she was frozen, as immovable as a statue of Aphrodite that Kat had seen once on a field trip to the Delphi Museum as a kid.
Kat held her breath as she watched Starbuck twice lift a hand towards the CAG’s, only to pull back again before skin met skin. The third time her hand stalled in the air, hovering just above his curled fist on the mattress. Kat was so busy trying to reconcile this uncharacteristic hesitancy from the flight instructor who dubbed herself God that she jumped a bit when a sleepy “Kara?” issued from the figure huddled on the bed.
Starbuck stiffened too and immediately started to snatch her hand back, but Apollo caught her wrist. They froze like that, the CAG’s hand clutching her outstretched arm, their eyes locked in a painfully intimate stare for an untold amount of time. Kat watched, waiting breathlessly for something to happen. It took so long she was on the verge of giving up and walking away when they finally moved.
In stunned amazement, she watched as Captain Adama shifted backwards in the narrow bed and Starbuck immediately slipped into the space he’d created for her. Her tough, fearless flight instructor slipped her arms carefully around Apollo’s waist and rested her head against his shoulder. She watched Starbuck’s lips move, but couldn’t hear any sounds amidst the beeps and drone of the medical equipment. She watched Apollo’s arms encircle Starbucks’ shoulders, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Kat closed her eyes and tilted her head closer and finally was able to make out just a word.
“Lee.”
It was only one syllable, barely breathed into the darkness, yet it was sweeter than any “honey” or “baby” or gods forbid, “sugarlips” that had passed between them over the past 24 hours. She watched in amazement as the CAG closed his eyes and buried his face in the captain’s hair, wrapping himself more tightly around her.
Kat had trouble tearing her eyes away from them. Her little challenge seemed so silly now. She realized quite suddenly that even if she wasn’t a nugget anymore, she still had a lot to learn about life on Galactica. Stirring herself, she pulled the curtain firmly closed and padded away towards the hatch.
Just as she reached the threshold, Kat paused and cocked an ear toward the curtain. She listened for a moment, then shook her head hard from side to side.
Anyone watching her would have thought she was crazy. Kat simply figured she was still feeling the effects of that foul soup.
After all, how else could she have imagined she'd heard the CAG singing?