Second Elegy, Sixth Verse
Annunciation

25 Quintus 6491, mid-morning, ship's time
Battlestar Galactica



"What's this all about?" demanded Boomer

"Why do you assume I know?" wondered Starbuck. "Apollo told me to herd you all in here, so I'm herding. I don't know why I'm herding."

"And you didn't ask?"

"Of course I asked. He wouldn't tell me. He doesn't tell me everything, you know."

"But I've only got eight people out on picket. We've not got anyone out on point. We're sitting ducks here."

"Boomer, stop fretting. It's been so quiet that I've spent the last few sectars wondering about getting my hearing tested."

Boomer acknowledged the truth of that with a wry grimace; he was no fonder of training flights than Starbuck was. "I'm still not keen on not having anyone out on patrol." He looked about him. "Most of engineering and support staff are in here as well, I see, and even some lordly bridge types. This had better be good."

"I do quality herding, Boom-boom. I'm not responsible for the quality of anything else." Starbuck glanced around the crowded room, doing a head-count. "How many people do we have serving on this ship, do you think?"

"Too many." Boomer glowered at the engineer who was pushing past them to get at the huge screen on the far wall. A group of techs were doing happy techy things at the screen that Starbuck didn't want to worry himself about. The encroaching engineer joined them in waving incomprehensible bits of wiring around and looking busy. "And far too many of them are too casual about other people's personal space."

"He's an engineer," said Starbuck, watching the activity at the screen. "They're always casual about personal space, although I can vouch for their skills with equipment. Hebe was very inventive with equipment in my personal space."

Boomer ignored that. "There's about a thousand of us, all told."

Torn from the pleasant occupation of watching other people work, Starbuck considered that. "Sounds about right. Thankfully, Apollo doesn't have me herding all of them into here. He said that more were being sent into the non-comms mess and that Engineering were setting up screens on the flight decks. I think I got most of the warriors."

Boomer raised his hands in a helpless gesture. "What in Hades is this about? I mean, what is so important that they crowd us all in here like cattle?"

"Told you. I dunno." Starbuck scanned the crowd. Apollo wasn't there yet. "Ask him when he gets here." He and Boomer were near the door, in a relatively quiet spot up against the wall. Boomer gave him a sideways glance, an assessing glance. Despite keeping an eye on the crowd, Starbuck couldn't miss it. "What?"

"We haven't seen much of you this last secton."

Starbuck hunched a shoulder, irritated. "Things to do, people to see."

"And Apollo to avoid," insinuated Boomer.

Starbuck scowled and looked away.

"Uh-huh," nodded Boomer, the self-satisfied bastard.

Exasperated, Starbuck let the scowl deepen. "You expect me to be delirious with joy, or something?"

"No, but I thought you'd want to spend as much time with him as you could before he goes."

The lurch that Starbuck's stomach gave was becoming depressingly familiar. He fought the nausea down. "What's the point? He's going."

"Starbuck."

Starbuck shook his head, tired suddenly. "There's no point. There never has been any point."

"Okay," said Boomer. "Okay."

After a moment Starbuck said, shrugging, "He hasn't said anything."

"He's noticed though. Believe me, he's noticed."

Starbuck stuck his hands into his jacket pockets, so no-one would see them shaking. He leant back against the wall, watching the crowd. Athena was standing with a group of other bridge officers. He pushed himself away from the wall and went to join her. He could almost feel Boomer's gaze boring into the space between his shoulder blades.

"I thought you'd be watching this, whatever this is, from the bridge," he said.

She smiled. "I traded duty periods with someone else today. I don't start duty until you do."

"Great." He used the patent charming smile and watched her sparkle under it. "Meet you in the Commissary for lunch, then."

"And we can spend the afternoon together. Oh, look. Something's happening."

The screen lit up, the techs and engineers standing back with look-how-clever-we-are and you-people-ought-to-realise-how-difficult-all-this-wiring-stuff-is expressions on their faces. The ICN logo rotated slowly.

The all-ship comms fizzled into life. "Attention, all crew. Stand by for an important announcement."

The ICN logo morphed into one of their vapid newscasters on the Praesidium steps in Caprica City.

"This is Serina here, for Inter-Colonial News, live from the Praesidium—"

And they were away. Starbuck divided his attention between the screen and Athena. And in between, he glanced over his shoulder to see if Apollo was there yet. He was, leaning up against the wall with Boomer. Starbuck looked away before Apollo could catch his gaze.

He stared down at his feet, letting Serina's breathlessly excited commentary and the comments of everyone around him wash over him while he studied his combat boots. His boots could do with being polished, he thought, concentrating his attention on a stain on the left toe-cap. If he twisted his foot, the stain looked like the front end of a Viper. He wasn't certain how it had got there.

He glanced up quickly once, but Apollo was talking to Boomer and wasn't looking at Starbuck at all. Starbuck returned to contemplating his boots, only half-listening to the ICN broadcast. The people around Starbuck stirred, and murmured. Some gasped aloud, and somewhere off to his right he heard a breathed-out prayer. Athena clutched at his arm, her grip so tight that he winced. He looked up.

On screen, President Adar was speaking, his voice low and grave and authoritative. Adar spoke of a thousand yahrens of war and death, of weariness and endurance, of courage and defiance against aggression, of the brave work done by a few, of doubt and hope, of someone called Count Baltar of Piscea and his mission on the Council's behalf, of real hope and negotiations and a drawing back of forces, of a meeting planned on the Star Kobol to sign the armistice and the Peace Treaty.

He said it. Adar said it. He said that the Cylons had made Count Baltar their Peace Emissary. He said that the Council had listened. He said that the war was over.

Starbuck stared at the screen. Athena's fingers tightened convulsively on his arm, her other hand coming up to join it until she was hanging on him. She was saying something and laughing, but all Starbuck could hear was his own heart thumping as the adrenaline hit.

The OC erupted. Cheers and screams and thankful prayers, everyone leaping about like lunatics, hugging and kissing whoever was closest, desperate to reach and touch; ICN drowned out in the tumult. Starbuck stared around, aware that Athena was jumping up and down beside him, every jump pulling on his arm. He'd never seen her look so unconscious of herself, so happy. She was a beautiful girl, he realised. She was yelling something, something incomprehensible; and someone—he didn't know who—bumped into him from behind so that he had to grab at her to stop himself from falling over.

She twisted in his arms and leaned back against them, smiling up at him. She looked so happy that he didn't think about it. He kissed her. It was several centons before he pulled away, and he laughed as the news finally sank in. Peace. They were at peace.

Athena laughed back at him, her arms still around his neck. "Isn't it wonderful? It's over! The war's over!"

"We should celebrate."

She dropped her gaze, until all he could see was the glimmer of her eyes under the long dark lashes. When she looked up again, she was still smiling. "I think so too." She sounded as breathlessly excited as Serina had in her broadcast.

Jolted, Starbuck froze for a micron. He hadn't expected her to say yes. He looked towards Boomer for inspiration, but Boomer was leaping about with Dietra, the Alpha shuttle pilot, and wasn't taking any notice of Starbuck or anything else. Dietra had her arms around Boomer's neck and he was swinging her around until her feet left the decking. She shrieked with laughter and old Boom-boom looked like a man who was getting lucky. The way Starbuck was getting lucky.

Apollo still leant against the wall. Everyone around him was drunk on astonishment and joy, but Apollo was very white, his expression stony as his gaze met Starbuck's.

"Fuck it," said Starbuck, suddenly furiously resentful against the irrational surge of guilt. He turned back to Athena, pasting on his most glittering smile. She glittered back up at him, her eyes very wide. "Let's go."

She put her hand in his and let him pull her out of the room. They weren't the only ones hurrying away for a private celebration of their own. They passed a few feet from Apollo as they went. He turned to watch them go.

Starbuck didn't look back.