Section Two: First Moves

As advertised, Shield Captain Apollo joined them for the morning briefing session.

Starbuck worked it so he got a good look before anyone else. He'd timed his entrance perfectly, knowing that the other pilots would all get there a few centons early to show good and willing. Starbuck aimed to get there on the dot of 8.75, timing his arrival so that he and the two captains met in the doorway. The momentary confusion about who went first gave him the opportunity to take stock of their visitor, then he saluted, more or less smartly, and let them precede him into the room. He went to his seat beside Boomer, mulling over the amusement he thought he'd seen in a pair of unusual green eyes, and ignoring the eye rolling he got from Boomer, who knew him better than anyone and certainly well enough to know what he was up to.

The Shield Captain was definitely about his own age – and Starbuck could afford to be approximate as no-one was quite sure how old he was, although twenty five was a pretty reasonable guess.

The Shield uniform was an all black version of that worn by Fleet officers, but with far less shiny stuff on it, even the closures on the thick flight jacket enamelled an unreflective black. The captain's pins in the stand up collar of the under-tunic were a dulled silver, and only about half the size of the ones that Simonitz was wearing. There wasn't a medal ribbon in sight and the only bright bit about his uniform was the tiny, ornate silver shield at his throat.

The whole thing was understated; glaringly so, Starbuck thought. As for the man himself, he was almost monochromatic. His hair was almost as black as the uniform, and the only colour was in those surprisingly vivid eyes, probably made even more vivid by the contrast. Starbuck noted cheekbones so sharply defined that they looked like they'd been machine cut, and a strong mouth. The face was very youthful, except for the eyes. They looked like they'd seen a lot.

Simonitz gave them all a sour look and introduced the Shield Captain. He did a quick round of the table, naming them all and giving their squadron designations. There was no formal salute, but they murmured polite greetings, and waited to be told what was going on.

"Thank you," said Shield Captain Apollo when it was all over, and there was the slightest hesitation in his speech. He sounded a little shy, the way Giles had been in the first few sectons. The smile was shy, too. "I'm very pleased to be aboard. Forgive me if it takes me a few days to learn your names, but I will eventually."

They waited a bit more.

"I've not been on a Battlestar since I was about fourteen. Can someone explain to me how you're organised?"

Simonitz started slightly, and looked at Apollo, as if surprised that anyone needed that kind of basic information. Starbuck glanced around the table, seeing the surprise mirrored on thirty other faces, and he frowned, wondering. He wondered what the Shield Captain had been doing on a Battlestar at fourteen and if he'd slept through the visit, that he hadn't picked up on how her Viper squadrons operated. And he wondered why it was so important that Shield Captain Apollo knew now.

Simonitz cleared his throat. "Well, we've got 180 pilots," he said, "divided into three squadrons – Blue, Red and Green. Blue squadron's Commander Adama's personal strike wing."

He has to be kidding about all this, Starbuck thought, and when Apollo asked why that was, he jumped in. "Because we're the best." He grinned at the looks he got from the other pilots. It was true anyway.

Simonitz had an eye roll that Starbuck thought was kept just for him. "If the mouthy lieutenant will let me finish—"

Starbuck held up his hands in surrender. The pilots grinned, the tension easing and Shield Captain Apollo's mouth twitched, as if he'd like to grin, but he didn't, probably out of polite regard for Simonitz.

"Each squadron is made up of 10 squads of five enlisted or non-com pilots, headed by one of this lot here, and each squadron's divided into two flights of five squads each, Alpha and Beta, operating from the eponymously named flight decks." It was a heavy attempt at humour, even for Simonitz "We run on three shifts of eight centars each, the squadrons rotating between them. Blue has the day shift this sectar, Green's on the evening slot and Red's on graveyard. That's it. It's that simple."

"Thank you." The Shield Captain was all politeness. "That's very interesting."

Starbuck felt the poke in the ribs from Boomer, and glanced at him. The dark lieutenant was back to eye rolling again, with a tiny nod of disbelief to indicate the Shield. Starbuck nodded back at Boomer, to show he'd taken the hint.

"But pretty basic," he said, adding, belatedly, "Sir. What's this all about?"

The green eyes studied him.

Simonitz had a very unfriendly glare. "Lieutenant Starbuck has no qualms at all about planting his size tens where more heavenly beings fear to tread."

"Ah." This time Shield Captain Apollo didn't hide his grin. "Your resident subversive?"

Starbuck inclined his head at the neatness of this observation. Beside him, Boomer sniggered audibly.

"Oh yes," said Simonitz. "Oh very yes."

A little self defence was indicated here. "I just think we should know what we're getting into, that's all."

"I can understand that," said the Shield Captain. "But I can't tell you yet."

Starbuck locked gazes with him. "It's not much of a security risk. It's not like we can tell anyone."

The Shield Captain held steady, and he was still smiling faintly. "I'll do a briefing in a few days."

Most people would have let it go at that, but not Starbuck. He didn't do getting brushed off, and there was always more than one way in. "Well, if you can't tell us what it's all about, maybe you could tell us why Shield is working with regular troops. You don't usually."

"Starbuck!" snarled Simonitz, losing patience.

Apollo's grin faded, and at first Starbuck thought he'd blown it, but it was maybe just that the Shield Captain was putting on a serious face. "It's a reasonable question and the answer's quite simple. It's about numbers, Lieutenant... Starbuck, is it? There's not that many of us take Shield, and there's a lot going on at the moment. For this job, I need substantial backup. Normally, I'd use my own ship, the Hyperion. She's about the size of a small destroyer and she can handle most things. But I need the Hype to be somewhere else, on another urgent job, and the Supreme Commander decided that you'd take her place. That's it."

Starbuck nodded and this time he let it go, although he was more than a little irked at the effortless assumption that a Shield mission took precedence over the Galactica's planned manoeuvres over at Cetes starbase and, worse, that the leading ship of the First Flotilla was there in support, not leading the mission. There was a lot food for thought in that, almost enough to give a man indigestion.

He met Simonitz's glare with another nod, and the captain resumed the day's business, keeping that glare on Starbuck for a goodly part of it. There was a little more discussion about the Galactica set up, but Starbuck stayed out of that. He thought that he'd done enough, there, and Simonitz looked like he was out of patience, or hung-over, or both. And while Starbuck was prepared to court disciplinary action if it was necessary, he was well aware that another appearance before Colonel Tigh on report would do him no good at all. He had put some distance between himself and the last one, and he wanted to keep it that way. He'd only just signed up for a second three-yahren tour of duty with the Galactica, and he knew that the Commander's acceptance had hung in the balance, his undoubted flying skills only just outweighing the reputation he had of being, as the Shield Captain had suggested, the resident subversive.

On reflection, Starbuck thought that his reputation, and Simonitz's whole-hearted agreement with it, was a little unjustified. A certain devil-may-care recklessness, a penchant for gaming and a sexual reputation that set the stars alight were hardly a basis for a damning character assassination. It just made him a more interesting, well rounded sort of person to have about the place, that was all. Add that to the fact that he was the best pilot this side of the cosmos, and any Battlestar Commander ought to have his arms open in unconditional welcome.

Starbuck let the rest of the briefing meeting go on as usual, putting in his views and opinions on whatever issue Simonitz raised as usual but, most decidedly not as usual, only half heartedly and because it was expected of him. Simonitz expected all his officers to contribute, even to disagree where they thought they should. Sometimes the debates got pretty lively, but that day they all seemed inhibited by the Shield's presence. It was all muted, also not as usual.

"That got a bit basic," said Boomer, as they headed for the launch tubes to join their squads on patrol and picket duty.

"Yeah," said Starbuck. "I don't buy it."

"You think he was up to something?"

Starbuck nodded. "Oh yes, he was up to something. I wonder what he was looking for."

Boomer thought about it. "And if you're right, whether he got what he wanted."






This time, when Starbuck got to the OC after dinner, Shield Captain Apollo was there, sitting alone at a small table to one side of the room, immersed in a book. Simonitz was at his usual table with Blue, the squadron under his direct command. Most of the pilots in the place were covertly watching the Shield Captain read.

"No intimate little supper with the Commander tonight, then," said Starbuck, thoughtfully.

Boomer laughed and shook his head. "Your curiosity is going to be the death of you one day, old buddy."

"Not tonight, though." Starbuck held Boomer's gaze and grinned, until Boomer laughed again.

"Go on, then. But try to keep the hormones under control. He outranks you, remember?" And Boomer left him to it, going across to the Blue table, taking a seat beside Simonitz.

Starbuck pondered tactics on the short journey across the room. A tangential, indirect approach, maybe? He stood in front of the table, and grinned, at his most engaging.

"Good evening, Lieutenant." The Shield Captain didn't look up, turning a page of the old book he was holding.

"You don't often see one of those," said Starbuck. "Not outside museums. Most people use datapads."

Shield Captain Apollo smiled and this time he looked up to meet Starbuck's gaze. "Me too, usually, but this was a present."

Starbuck looked interested, he hoped, and the captain obligingly turned the book so that he could see the spine. "A bit of light reading, I see. A History of the Kobolian Peoples, Volume 63. Lords! How many are there?"

"Volumes? Eighty seven. It's something of a work in progress."

"And you have them all?"

Apollo nodded. "Yes. A graduation present from my parents."

Rich parents, then, rather than pretentious ones. Very rich parents: real books cost a mint of money.

"They short changed you there, you know. That's not how it's supposed to go. They're supposed to buy you a fast red sports car. If I were you, I'd send the books back and demand that your parents do the right thing."

The smile broadened. "I got the hovercar from someone else."

"Red and fast?"

"Very red and very fast. I love it. Are you joining me, Starbuck?"

"I came over to invite you to join us." Starbuck nodded over towards the table where Blue was sitting. "We're not as learned as the book, but we're funnier."

Apollo's glance followed his, then met Starbuck's eyes. "I should warn you, Lieutenant, that I don't drink very much and I'm trained not to say a lot even when I do."

"I don't know whether to be appalled at your lack of trust in your fellow man, or appalled at how transparent I am." Starbuck grinned. "Join us anyway. I promise to be good."

"Sure," said Apollo, getting up. "But which of your buddies have you primed to be bad?"

"And that is spooky, if you've got me that taped already. You been talking to Captain Simonitz?"

"I'm just naturally observant." Apollo slipped the book into the pocket of his jacket, and followed him across the room.

"Well I didn't prime any of 'em. I'm relying on Giles. He's young enough to ask the right questions out of sheer innocent naiveté."

"It won't do you any good, but nice try."

Starbuck grinned. They reached the table and he waved Apollo into a chair, noting the quick glance that passed between the two captains. "Don't worry about not remembering any who any of this lot are, Captain Apollo. Apart from me, they're not that memorable."

"Sometimes," said Simonitz, "I think that the best thing to do with Starbuck is to stake him out on a passing asteroid and use him for target practice."

Apollo put his ale onto the table. He grinned.

"They'd miss," Starbuck said to Apollo, settling into the chair beside him. "I lead a charmed life and they're all lousy shots."

A brief silence fell. Apollo sipped at his ale, looking a touch uncomfortable. But the silence didn't last long and a few of Red's lieutenants, including Kyle and Bojay, wandered over to join in. Starbuck briefly thought of reminding the Shield Captain who all these unmemorable people were, but he didn't get the opportunity. His faith in Giles was rewarded.

"Sir? Sir, I know you can't tell us what all this is about, but - well, I'm a bit curious about the Shield regiment."

Apollo smiled. "You'll be Giles, then."

The ensign blushed. "Oh. You remember from this morning?"

"You were described to me," said Apollo. He grinned at Starbuck. "The lieutenant here proved accurate in that, at least."

Giles gave Starbuck a doubtful glance. "Oh. Oh, right." He turned an eager, very young face to the Shield Captain and Starbuck suddenly felt as old as the elderly female relative that Giles had compared him to the previous day. "I wondered if you'd tell us about some of the things that you've done, the missions you've been on?"

Apollo shook his head. "No." The hesitation that Starbuck had noted that morning, was back in his voice. "Sorry, but I can't do that."

"Oh," said Giles, again. "I'm sorry. State secrets?"

"Well, I'm afraid it does come under the classified heading." And Apollo managed to sound apologetic.

"And we aren't Shield," said Simonitz, softly.

Giles sighed. "I should have known That's a shame. Can I ask you something else then?"

Starbuck liked the way the Shield Captain grinned tolerantly at Giles.

"As long as the answer isn't a military secret, then yes."

"What do you have to do to get into Shield? What's special about it?"

"Special?" Apollo looked astonished, then laughed. "Hades, nothing! We're all totally ordinary. Anyone can be a Shield Warrior."

"Not anyone," said Simonitz.

Apollo glanced at him, frowning slightly. "Okay. Let's be more accurate, then. Anyone can apply to Shield. Very few do, and not all of them will be accepted. The entrance tests are pretty tough."

"How tough?" asked Starbuck, interested.

"I wanted to die by the end of the first day." Apollo was still watching Simonitz. "By the end of the second, I was convinced that I had."

"And gone to Hades for your sins?" Boomer laughed. "Sounds appalling."

Simonitz grunted.

"Could I do it?" asked Giles. "Could I apply?"

"Of course," said Apollo, taking the boy seriously. "But I assume that if you've just graduated from the Academy, then you'll have just signed up for a three yahren term with the Galactica. Shield wouldn't take you until that's completed."

"Oh?"

Apollo smiled. "We're in bad enough odour with the other services without we steal all their best people. It's just not done. Besides, breaking your word to your own service wouldn't be seen as a plus point with General Martens. She's a bit of a stickler for things like that. You know - honour, duty, keeping faith; the kind of thing that generals always get sentimental about."

Boomer grinned at Giles. "Looks like we're stuck with you then."

Giles was nothing if not persistent. "But I could, when I get to the end of this tour?"

"Sure, for two tours. Then they'll rotate you out for a tour."

"Oh?" Starbuck raised an eyebrow.

"To give us a breather and command experience in one of the regular services."

"What was your first service?" asked Rafe, leaning over the back of Giles' chair.

"I went straight in after graduation. I've never been in the regular forces."

"Talking of that," said Boomer, "we've all scratched our heads and checked the yahrenbooks and every other licit and illicit source, and we're pretty certain about this. You weren't at the Academy, were you?"

Apollo shook his head. "No. Will you still talk to me if I confess that I went to SSI?"

"That's asking a lot," said Boomer, but grinned. "We'd guessed that. I'm Boomer, by the way."

"We should send you back to that table in the corner," said Starbuck. "Taking advantage of our good nature like this."

"I'm sorry." And Apollo was very meek and mild about it.

Starbuck waved a magnanimous, forgiving hand.

"You don't look as geeky as the usual SSI types," conceded Kyle. He gestured to himself. "Kyle, Red Leader."

Bojay said, looking from Starbuck to the Shield Captain, "I'm surprised they let you join Shield straight off like that, sir."

"Apollo," said the Shield Captain. "We're not so hung up on rank that you have to use it when you're off duty."

"Apollo, then." Bojay gave him a quick smile. Starbuck hadn't seen Bojay this relaxed in sectons. "I'm Bojay, Red squadron. So, how did you get into Shield?"

"Well, I had to argue for it," said Apollo. "But they don't like us SSI geeks not taking a commission when we graduate, so they gave in, in the end, rather than let me go back to the Institute."

"Huh?"

"The Kobolian Institute, I mean. I did my degree there before I went to SSI."

"Ah, well that explains the history books." Starbuck wasn't averse to parading even that tiny nugget of inside knowledge.

Apollo grinned at him, and he had the slightly uncomfortable feeling that those unusual green eyes were seeing right through him. Bojay's eyes narrowed and, once more, he looked quickly from Apollo to Starbuck.

"There must be a few perks in it," said Kyle. "Like getting priority transport."

Apollo raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Bojay leaned forward and briefly touched his arm and said, voice warm, "Kyle's still bitter about being tossed off a shuttle home so a Shield Warrior could get on board. It happened yahrens ago, but he likes a grievance, does our Kyle."

Boomer twisted in his seat, deliberately turning to catch Starbuck's speculative gaze, and Starbuck grimaced in response.

"Nothing personal," said Kyle, grinning.

Bojay sat back, and the glance he sent Starbuck was almost unreadable, but there was a touch of malice in it. Apollo smoothed the sleeve that Bojay had touched with long fingers.

"You got bumped for a Shield?"

Kyle nodded. "I'm over it, really. Took me a while, though. It was a traumatic experience."

"We don't often use Fleet transports." Apollo sipped at his ale. "But yeah, when we do, we get priority. It's not much of a perk, though. Whoever got your seat, Kyle, would have earned it the hard way."






The Shield Captain didn't stay long in the OC, making his excuses and leaving as soon as he'd finished his drink. Starbuck didn't know whether Giles's innocent questions or the joshing over privileges had made Apollo uncomfortable. Or if it had been Simonitz's barely hidden hostility. Or Bojay's pathetic attempts at flirting.

"Or," he said, when he got Boomer to himself at one of the side tables, "another date with the Commander."

Boomer laughed.

"Whaddya think?"

"Seems pleasant enough." Boomer shrugged. "He didn't tell us much, though. I didn't think he would."

"No." Starbuck thought about it. "Simonitz doesn't like him."

"Did Simonitz ever apply for Shield, d'you know?"

"You picked up on that too, did you? I don't know, but there were a few hints there, I thought. Simonitz seemed bitter about something, anyway, and I guess if he got turned down, he'd hate seeing someone get straight in from SSI. I thought the Shield was pretty gracious about it, given Sim was sitting there glowering."

Boomer nodded. After a centon, he said, "He was good with Giles, taking him seriously. Some people might have laughed or slapped the kid down."

"I know. It's like Giles is a question mark on legs, some days."

"He's young for his age."

"And getting a severe case of hero worship," said Starbuck, laughing.

Boomer looked at Starbuck, brown eyes warm with affection and amusement. "He's not the only one, I'd say, Bucko." He smiled. "Would you?"






The Shield Captain joined them again for the briefing the next morning. He didn't take much active part in proceedings, but he looked self conscious when Simonitz announced that the ship's gymnasium would be out of bounds for three centars every afternoon, from one until four.

"Thank you, God!" said Jillia. Because of the shift pattern, her squadron was most affected by the ban, and early afternoon was when they were most likely to be in the gym for the daily workout.

Apollo grinned at her. "Why?"

She gave him a dazzling smile in return, Starbuck noticed, putting on all the lights and flying the flags. He watched, amused, but untouched by it. She'd done that for him once upon a time. "Because that means I miss out on Pershing's malignant attention for a few days."

Simonitz offered an explanation. "Pershing's the ex-Infantry sergeant who oversees our physical training. He's tough. Very tough."

"I met him yesterday," said Apollo. "He was very helpful."

"He despises airheads on principle." Bojay grinned at Apollo. He looked soppy, Starbuck thought. "You'll probably almost count as Infantry with him, I guess, sir."

"Almost," agreed Apollo.

Bojay looked like he was trying to sparkle as much as Jillia. "You're lucky. He doesn't give us much quarter when it comes to hand-to-hand or keeping us fit."

"Usually because he's battling against our baser instincts," put in Starbuck. "His is a thankless task."

"In your case, yes," said Bojay.

Starbuck just grinned, and settled back into watching. He noticed that Apollo met Jillia's flag waving with a polite smile, but didn't react the way that, for example, that Cain had reacted, the way that Starbuck himself had reacted a couple of yahrens before. A little bit of interest, maybe, but Jillia didn't have to beat him off with her laser. Of course, the man was trained to be discreet in public and it wasn't as though the honey trap that Jillia was offering was inconspicuous, exactly. His reaction to Bojay was just as muted.

Then Simonitz announced that the Shield Captain would be their guest in the Mess that evening, and Starbuck's musing came to an abrupt end. "Seven pm in the Officer's Mess. All officers to attend, except half of Green—sort out for yourself, Jillia, who'll be out on picket and who'll be in the Mess. By the way, you'll be wearing battledress."

Starbuck was disappointed. "Oh, and I look so good in dress uniform. It's a much better colour for me."

That earned him a quick grin. "Sorry," said Apollo. "My fault. Dress uniform isn't something I normally travel with. Commander Adama's already pointed out the social faux pas to me."

Simonitz scowled at Starbuck again. "Normal battledress and medal ribbons, all right?"

The Shield Captain didn't even wear medal ribbons. Starbuck wondered if they were something that Apollo didn't normally travel with, either, and whether that would be a social faux pas too far in the Commander's rather prim and proper eyes.

Other than that, Apollo sat quietly beside Simonitz, watching as they went through their usual discussions of the day's business, weighing them up, measuring them, looking for something. With the exception of Green's pilots, who hadn't had much chance to get to meet the Shield Captain, the officers were less inhibited, more their usual argumentative and opinionated selves. Starbuck still wasn't sure what Apollo was looking for. He wasn't any surer when the briefing broke up and he went to join his squad out on point.

He got back from the morning patrol just before one. Apollo was in the Commissary, sitting alone at a corner table, studying a datapad, eating, half distracted, with one hand. Starbuck hesitated, then veered off and joined Jillia and a couple of Green pilots at a central table.

He was interested – intrigued, even – and whatever the Shield Captain was planning, he wanted to be part of it. He wanted to be part of it, very much indeed. What he didn't want, though, was to crowd Apollo, to become an irritant, to give the impression that he was begging or trying too hard to impress. Shit, he wasn't Bojay. And he didn't want to give Boomer any grounds at all for repeating the baseless remark that his friend had made the night before.

He joined in easily in the usual bantering conversation, but more than half his attention was on Apollo, across the room.

"Losing your touch?" he said to Jillia. "I didn't see much reaction this morning."

It was astonishing how she could do a little flounce and still be sitting down. "And you'd know about that." .

"Hey, I reacted, didn't I?" He gave her one of his best smiles, the one he saved for his exes, his many exes, the smile that hinted at shared pleasure and reminded her that she'd been lucky to have him as long as she had.

She grinned back, reluctantly. "I think he's a bit shy. And before you say it, Bucko, no. No-one would ever believe that you're shy too."

Starbuck shrugged. "You got the hots for him, Jilly?"

"He's a pretty one, almost as pretty as you. But really, all I'm doing is giving him a little friendly reception to the Galactica."

She gave him a beaming smile, and Starbuck laughed and let it go, giving his lunch a little more attention.

At ten centons to one, Apollo closed down the datapad and got up, heading for the door. He nodded at Starbuck as he passed.

Starbuck notched that up as a victory.






Apollo arrived at the Officer's Mess in the company of the Commander and Tigh, even the Galactica's two most senior offices in their command blues, rather than dress uniforms. The dinner was pretty low key. Starbuck got the impression that suited their guest far more than anything more formal might have done, given how uncomfortable Apollo occasionally looked making polite conversation with the great and the good.

Starbuck watched him from a distance. The all-black battledress, crisp and freshly brushed, was embellished with an impressive array of bright medal ribbons, including the scarlet and gold of a Starcluster.

So, he carried them about with him but never wore them. And he had a Starcluster. Starbuck pointed it out to Kyle.

"Oh-oh," said the Red Leader and all-round-Cain-admirer. "I can feel a Juggernaut moment coming on."

"He's not Cain," said Starbuck. "And he gave the Giles the brush off last night. Nicely but firmly."

Kyle didn't dispute that. "True. But I need to get to get some alcohol as insulation between me and the possibility, just in case."

Starbuck laughed, and snagged a couple of glasses from a passing steward, offering one to Kyle. He stuck with the Red Leader for a while, talking and enjoying himself.

The game plan was to play it carefully, so while he grinned a greeting at Apollo when the Shield Captain came in, he didn't make an approach. Apart from the fact that the Commander would be highly unlikely to welcome his company, Starbuck was convinced that his best tactic was to be noticed, but not obsequious about it. Instead he waited until the Shield Captain could escape and do some social circulating, until Apollo approached him. It took a little while: the Commander monopolised the Shield Captain's attention throughout most of the pre-dinner drinks period and reclaimed it when they sat down to the best the Galactica's chefs could offer.

Which was not, as Starbuck remarked to Apollo afterwards when the Shield Captain finally worked his way around to him, saying very much.

"Beats what I'd get on the Hype." Apollo was still sipping at the one abstemious glass of wine that Starbuck had seen him take at dinner, and Starbuck had kept close, but (he hoped) unobtrusive watch. "We don't have much in the way of facilities like this."

"Not very social, then?" asked Bojay.

"Not very much opportunity."

"Well, then," said Jillia. "We shouldn't waste this. The Commander and Tigh will leave us on our own in a centar. We should have a little party. We've got until midnight when Red goes on."

Apollo looked taken aback. "This isn't a party? It's enough of a party for me."

"I mean a real party. They'd let us, wouldn't they?"

Starbuck glanced over to the Commander. "I expect so. It's good for morale, ain't it, before we get into whatever it is we're getting into?"

Apollo said, solemnly, "I'll ask for it as a special favour. As reparation to you all."

Jillia smiled, lit up. "You wouldn't think it to look at Bojay, but he spins a mean disc. We could decamp to the OC and have a centar or so's dancing."

Apollo was apologetic. "I've got two left feet."

"I don't mind. It'll be fun. First dance is mine, all right?"

"They're your toes," said Apollo, resigned.

"It's that bad?" said Boomer, joining them and evidently overhearing enough to get the gist of the conversation.

Apollo shrugged. "Well, it's better than it used to be when I was a kid. When I was at the Kobolian, I mean." He looked slightly shame-faced, and added, "I took lessons. It was that or stay at home every secton end while—" there was the merest hesitation "—everyone went out dancing all night."

"You took lessons so you wouldn't shame your friends?" Boomer looked impressed.

"Oh yes. I got an ultimatum or two: dance or get dumped."

"You need a more sympathetic girlfriend," said Jillia.

Apollo finished off his wine, turning away to deposit the glass on a nearby table. Starbuck signalled to a steward.

"Well, I can't wait to see how much you learned." Jillia glanced over to the door. "Excuse me a centon. I've got my squads out at the moment and I need to check on them. See you later."

She gave Apollo the full-wattage smile and drifted off. Apollo smiled back, but managed not to rock back on his heels under the impact. Starbuck thought, cynically, that she was trying to impress the Shield Captain in more ways than one. He wondered if Apollo would be more impressed by the professional dedication or the 'friendly reception'.

He nodded towards the Shield Captain when the steward arrived, indicating who needed a refill, and, after a micron's hesitation, Apollo accepted another glass of ambrosa.

"Thanks." The green eyes were both wary and amused.

"I know," said Starbuck. "I'm not trying to get you drunk and even if I was, you still won't say anything."

Apollo smiled.

Bojay picked up on the conversation, ignoring Jillia's parting shot and the little by-play with Starbuck. "So now you've got two trained left feet? To see that, I'm willing to play DJ." He glanced at Starbuck. "How will you manage when I'm gone?"

Starbuck shrugged. "All you got to do is shove a disc into the machine and press the play button. How hard can it be?"

"Are you going somewhere, Bojay?" Apollo glanced from one to the other and spoke into the sudden tense silence.

"I'm supposed to be transferring to Fifth next secton," Bojay told him, a little dagger glare in Starbuck's direction.

"Sorry," said Apollo, looking absurdly guilty. "That's the Pegasus, isn't it? Cain?"

Bojay nodded. "I can't wait. I only hope Pegasus will."

Boomer cleared his throat, and cut in to fill yet another tense little micron of silence. "Have you worked with Cain, Apollo?"

"No, but I've met him a few times. He's a friend of my father's."

He had a father! The Shield Captain had a father. Another nugget of information to store away, and Starbuck laughed at himself, wondering why such a ridiculous fact, such a ridiculously self-evident fact, should be so fascinating. To cover the little snort of self-derision, he said, quickly, "What do you think of him, then? We hooked up with the Pegasus a yahren or so ago for a joint operation. That was our only experience of the Juggernaut."

Apollo paused, frowned, then said, carefully, "He's had a colourful career."

This time Starbuck couldn't hold the laughter in. Bojay looked at him, annoyed, but he concentrated instead on Apollo. He tapped the rows of medal ribbons on the Shield Captain's chest with one finger. "When we saw these, we thought we were in for another seven centars of 'how I won my Starcluster and saved the universe'. That's all Cain talked about. We figured that if Core Command hadn't saved us by calling him and Commander Adama up to the bridge, we'd have had the entire battle re-enacted with full orchestral score and fireworks and patriotic tableaux for the finale."

"Starbuck!" said Bojay, really annoyed.

Starbuck ignored him, watching for Apollo's reaction.

The green eyes warmed with amusement, but Apollo just looked down at the ribbons on his chest and shook his head. "I can't act, either." And after a few microns, longer than Starbuck would have expected, he moved fractionally so that Starbuck's hand fell away.

Starbuck took a mouthful of ambrosa, still grinning, pondering that reaction.

"We noticed that you don't wear your ribbons all the time." Poor Boomer, peacemaking like crazy as usual.

"They're a bit conspicuous on an all black uniform, don't you think? And where do I have to wear them? Right over my heart!"

"You mean that you might as well paint a target on your chest and write 'aim here' under it?" Starbuck gave Boomer an apologetic look, getting a grimace in return.

"Something like that. And of course, they aren't as important as this. This is the most precious thing I own." Apollo fingered the little Shield at his throat.

"And here was me thinking you were just naturally modest and retiring, and all the time it's a ploy to save your skin."

"I'm cautious, Starbuck. I never walk into anything with my eyes closed."

Starbuck nodded and stepped back when Tigh came over and reclaimed the Shield Captain for a few centons. There was something to ponder in that little speech, too. It had had an unexpected significance – or had it?

"I wish you'd leave it out about Cain," said Bojay, as soon as the colonel was out of earshot. "He's a brilliant warrior."

"Sure he is, Boj," said Starbuck, peaceably, still focused on the Shield Captain. "Sorry. I was just making conversation."

Bojay snorted, a particularly inelegant sound. Starbuck glanced at him with faint dislike. The man snored, too.

"I was thinking," said Starbuck, to get himself away from unkind thoughts of bitter ex-lovers. "How d'you think his father knows Cain?"

"Good lords, Starbuck, how many people do you know? Cain's probably got the same mix of friends as anyone else. For all you know, his father could be Cain's tax accountant, or something." Bojay snorted again.

Boomer was officially unaware of Starbuck's liaison with Bojay. Everyone else (with the possible exception of Simonitz) was genuinely unaware of it and Starbuck knew that Boomer wouldn't betray to Bojay that, very unofficially and in the capacity of Best Friend, he knew all. But he could see that Boomer was annoyed and willing to show it. He did, trenchantly.

"You two are like a pair of kids," he snapped. "Even Giles has more sense than the two of you put together. If you can't get on, stay out of each other's way until after this is all over and Boj heads for the Fifth. The Shield had to have seen that you two aren't best buddies. What sort of impression do you want him to have of this ship, if two of her senior lieutenants can't get through a reception—in his honour, don't forget!—or spend two centons in the same room without sniping at each other?"

Starbuck hunched a shoulder. Bojay muttered something, and with one last glare, he moved away to join Kyle a few yards away. Tigh had taken Apollo over to Kyle, too, and Starbuck watched, frowning, as Bojay insinuated himself into the group. Tigh's expression wasn't exactly welcoming, but given that he was already on the way out, Bojay didn't have much to lose by persisting. Starbuck's frown deepened when he saw that Bojay had got in close to the Shield Captain, and was laughing and talking with animation.

"Bucko?" said Boomer.

"Looks like Jillia's not the only one flying flags tonight," said Starbuck, cross. "She's got competition."

Boomer, good humour evidently restored by his outburst, laughed and turned to watch. "He's trying to make you jealous, you know. He's got it pretty bad."

"I didn't ask him to get anything at all." Starbuck may have admitted to feeling a little jealous, but not in the way that Bojay was looking for. He didn't approve of someone else moving in on the Shield Captain, whom he was rapidly coming to think of as his personal property.

"And that's why he's heading for the Pegasus. Give him a break, Starbuck. It'll only be a couple of sectons, and he's out of your hair."

Starbuck nodded.

"You miscalculated with that one." Boomer wasn't terribly sympathetic.

"I wasn't to know he was intending to go all wronged village maiden on me, now was I? I wish he'd get over it." Starbuck turned away, to meet Boomer's measuring gaze. He shrugged his indifference.

"If he's not careful, Simonitz will have to take official notice, and then there'll be trouble. I can't see the Commander ignoring it, or his upright Kobolian morality condoning it."

"It's not illegal, for frack's sake. A minor misdemeanour."

"One you're keen to hide, old friend. It amazes me that you manage it, but you're usually very discreet about those sorts of conquests."

"I have a reputation to maintain. And how many openly bi- or gay officers do you know in the service? We have to be discreet. They might not bust me, but I don't want to be a squad leader in Blue for the next twenty seven yahrens."

Boomer grinned. "Yeah, I wasn't saying I didn't understand why you're quiet about it, but how you manage to be quiet about it. With you, that makes for a whole new definition of 'unnatural practices'."






"Seems to me those two left feet of yours are pretty reasonably trained." Starbuck came to a halt beside a breathless Apollo as the last record came to an end.

Apollo grinned and joined in the catcalls and applause. Bojay took a bow, and started packing up. It was almost midnight.

Jillia had monopolised the Shield Captain for most of the dancing, and Apollo had let her, appearing to enjoy her company. For all his protestations about two left feet, he wasn't that bad at dancing. Jillia hadn't been limping when she left, anyway, and she was still all lit up like she was in an energy surge, or something. If he wasn't careful, Apollo might have to chase her off with a stick. But when she left for another check on her pilots and to get ready to hand over to Kyle, Apollo had seemed just as happy on his own in the crowd of people dancing by themselves. Even though the Fleet was slowly opening up to women in the front line, they were still outnumbered, and the other female lieutenants were in huge demand. A lot of the men ended up partner-less. Never Starbuck, of course. That never happened to him.

Starbuck grinned back at Apollo. "You should be grateful to those critical friends of yours."

"I had some considerable motivation. I hate being laughed at." Apollo laughed at himself though. "And I won't be left behind when—" there was that infinitesimal pause again "—when they go dancing."

Starbuck caught the hesitation, and wondered which one of his friends in particular Apollo disliked leaving him behind. He grinned. "Drink?"

Apollo nodded, and they pushed their way through to the bar. Apollo signalled to the bar steward. "Ale? Or something stronger?"

"Liquor?" Starbuck said. "I wouldn't say no to a nightcap. Thanks."

Apollo bought himself one as well. They wandered over to the table where a beatific Boomer sat smiling gently upon all and sundry. A few others gathered round, and Bojay came over quickly to join them.

"I enjoyed that. Thanks, Boj," said Boomer.

"Yes," said Apollo. "Thanks."

"My pleasure, although next time I wouldn't mind getting the chance to do some dancing myself."

"Now Boj really does have two left feet." Starbuck grinned at him to take the sting out.

Bojay ignored him. "I have to go. I'm on duty in five centons." He leaned over them, resting one hand on the arm of a chair, the other, lightly, on Apollo's shoulder. Starbuck was faintly impressed. He could have done it better himself, of course, and with more grace, but Bojay was evidently a fast learner and it wasn't a bad move for an amateur. "Good night, all. See you at breakfast."

"Good night." Apollo didn't seem to notice Bojay's closeness, and settled back, nursing his glass of liquor.

Starbuck watched Red leave, and shook his head. Bojay was going to be a nuisance. He looked at Apollo, then around at the other officers. "So, time for a progress check. What more have we learned about our guest, here?"

Apollo looked startled. "Are you lot checking me out?"

"Of course. You're being discreet and reticent, so it's like a game. It's kept us occupied for the last couple of days and it's a lot of fun."

"You must lead very restricted lives if you think that's fun."

"I like a challenge," said Starbuck.

"Maybe I should have a word with the Commander about appointing an entertainment officer or something. I'm getting a little bit worried about you lot." Apollo smiled, but his eyes were wary. "So what have you learned today? That I know Commander Cain and I've had dancing lessons in my dim and distant youth?"

"And you're commandeering the gym for something," said Rafe.

"And you're a generous man." Starbuck lifted his liquor in a silent toast.

Apollo laughed. "Not a lot to go on there, Starbuck."

"I'm waiting for Giles to wake up, and ask the questions." Starbuck dug Giles hard in the ribs.

"What questions?" Giles rubbed unresentfully at the bruises.

"You know." Starbuck rolled his eyes towards Apollo. "The kind of questions that accept he won't tell us what's going on until he's good and ready, but that sort of nibble around the edges."

"Oh, those questions." Giles grinned at Apollo. "Starbuck thinks that you're indulgent to the young and you won't snap my head off."

"I've got a kid brother," said Apollo. "I'm used to it. But I warn you, Zac interrogates me like a professional, and he never gets anything out of me. You'll have to be very good to be better than him."

"Is he in the service?" asked Rafe.

"Not yet. He'll be going to the Academy next yahren, and then into Fleet."

"So," murmured Starbuck. "He must be seventeen, and about eight yahrens younger than you. Another interesting fact."

"Almost exactly eight yahrens." Apollo laughed. "All right. I'll be indulgent and let you have a snippet of information, if you're that desperate for stimulation around here. I was twenty-five two sectars ago." Apollo gave Starbuck a very appreciative look. "You really enjoy this stuff, do you?"

"I certainly do. Off you go, Giles!"

Giles sighed, and said in a sing-song voice, "Why did you choose to join Shield, Apollo?"

Starbuck winced. "Oh come on! I rehearsed you in that one for centars! Can't you do better than that?"

Giles shrugged. "I'm tired. I was very energetic in the dancing department."

"No stamina, these youngsters today," complained Starbuck, disgusted.

Apollo grinned at him. His hand rested comfortingly on Starbuck's arm for a micron, the first time he'd touched him. "There, there."

Starbuck looked down at the long hand on his sleeve. Something inside him jumped. "It just proves that if you want a job doing well, you have to do it yourself," he said, feeling the heat of Apollo's hand through the cloth of his jacket and tunic. He let his voice go into the same sing-song tone that Giles had used. "Why did you join Shield, Apollo?"

"God, but you're incorrigible!" Apollo stared, and laughed, then took his hand away. "All right, Starbuck. It was because of the holidays."

"Huh?"

"The holidays. I get loads."

They all stared at him. Apollo grinned back.

"Every job I go on lasts as long as it lasts, but usually averages six to eight sectons. And then I go back to our HQ – which is where?"

"Caprica City," groaned Starbuck, seeing what was coming.

"Correct. I do the debrief, they pat me on the head and they give me a couple of sectons leave before the next one." Apollo smiled and finished his liquor. "That lets me get in an awful lot of dancing practice." He glanced at his chronometer and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I'd better go. Commander Adama is expecting me on the bridge. I'll see you all tomorrow. Good night."

Taken aback by the suddenness of it, Starbuck joined in the chorus of goodnights. He watched Apollo thread his way through the tables to the door.

"He's okay," said Boomer, beside him. "He loosened up a bit tonight."

"Not about anything important," sighed Rafe.

"I guess." But Starbuck thought everything he was learning was important. The door of the OC slid shut behind Apollo.,

"And then he blindsided us with that bit about going to the bridge," said Rafe. "He's not as loosened up as you thought, Boomer."

Starbuck looked down at his left arm, at the place where Apollo's hand had closed over it. He put his right hand in the same place, and waited. The thick sleeve of the jacket cushioned his hand, so that although he felt the weight, of course, it was a centon or two before the faint warmth worked its way through – longer, by far, than Apollo's hand had rested there.

Yet Starbuck could have sworn he'd felt the heat.