Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The mess was oddly quiet that morning, not that Apollo minded that much. It could get noisy, especially when the rotations swapped over. He didn’t always eat there but he was meeting Athena for breakfast, something they liked to do at least once a week. Starbuck often joined them, but this time it was just the two of them.

Athena put her tray down opposite him and slid into the seat. Her breakfast plate was piled with hot cran dumplings and sweet fruit syrup.

Apollo wrinkled his nose, “I don’t know how you can eat all that sweetness in the morning.”

“You could do with a little more sweetness in the morning,” she replied, spearing a dumpling onto a fork and holding it out to him.

He turned away with a grunt of disgust and she stuffed the dumpling into her mouth with a giggle.

He dug into his creamed eggs, casting a look across the mess. “Is it just me-”

“Yes.” Athena said, innocently eating another dumpling when he glared at her.

“You’re getting like Starbuck, you know that?”

“You love us both,” Athena poked her tongue out.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Apollo rolled his eyes.

“Is it just you…?” Athena prompted.

Apollo shook his head, “nothing.” He smiled, “just a dumb thought.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“Ha,” Apollo said sardonically.

She smiled, spearing another dumpling and swirling it through the pooling syrup at the edge of her plate. “What’s the plan today?”

Apollo shrugged, “standard patrol, some administration, then mandatory target practice.” He shrugged, “another glamorous day as a warrior.”

“It never quite becomes what the broadcasts promised, does it?” Athena said wryly.

“How about you?”

Athena echoed Apollo’s shrug. “Same as ever.”

Aisling walked over to their table and eyed the spare seat beside Athena with an apologetic smile, “Can I sit here?”

“Of course!” Athena smiled at her and moved her cup out of the way, “we’ve got nothing to talk about anyway.”

Aisling laughed lightly as she put her tray down. Hers was dinner, rather than breakfast and she sat down with a yawn.

“Long shift?” Apollo asked.

Aisling nodded, “the longest.” She scooped sauce into her mashed tams and stirred it in, “I couldn’t sleep last night, I kept having these awful nightmares.”

“About what?” Athena brow creased with worry.

Aisling gave a short sigh, “gods, if I knew!” She shook her head, “there was this… this thing. Like a hole in the hull only chasing me down the corridors.”

“A hole in the hull?” Athena repeated, puzzled.

“Yeah like… nothing. A black hole. And as it got close I could feel it start to pull me apart,” Aisling shuddered, “I haven’t been able to get it out of my head all day.”

“That sounds awful,” Athena said sympathetically, rubbing her hand gently down Aisling’s back.

Aisling shrugged, “hopefully I’ll be too tired to dream tonight.” She flashed Athena a hopeful smile, “we all get nightmares sometimes, right?”

______

“You look tired,” Apollo said the second he saw Starbuck in the locker room. Starbuck shot him a glare.

“Thanks.”

Apollo shrugged, continuing to get changed, “busy night?”

“I wish,” Starbuck sighed, opening his locker and pulling out his flight suit, “I couldn’t sleep at all.”

“Why not?”

Starbuck stripped off his tunic, “I had this nightmare…” he paused, “it was awful, and then I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“You could’ve come to me.”

Starbuck cast him a look, “and what? Ask to sleep in your bed so the monsters won’t get me?”

Apollo shrugged.

“Thanks, but I’m a little old for that.” Starbuck paused as he pulled on his flight suit, “though…”

“That bad?”

“I was in bed, and I felt like I was awake but I couldn’t move,” Starbuck said, “and suddenly there was this thing standing over me. Not even a thing, more like… nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yeah, like…” Starbuck made a frustrated sound, “like a black hole, or a-”

“Hole in the hull?” Apollo ventured.

“Exactly,” Starbuck half smiled, “like someone had just punched a hole through the air and…”

Apollo frowned. It seemed oddly specific, but then what were the chances of two people having similar dreams? It couldn’t be zero, after all there were a lot of people and a lot of dreams. Perhaps Starbuck and Aisling had been watching the same broadcasts before they went to sleep.

“Are you going to be ok to fly?” Apollo asked.

Starbuck grinned at him as he finished doing up his flight suit, “it’ll take a lot more than a sleepless night to put me out of commission.”

“Ok,” Apollo secured the last fastening on his own suit and patting Starbuck on the back, “let’s get out there.”

____

Adama was silent for a long centon, staring at the image on the data pad. As grisly as the scene was his eyes didn’t linger on the warrior’s body but on the wall behind them. Smeared over the metal in blood, two linked symbols.

“It’s ancient Kobolian,” Adama said, raising his eyes for the first time since he’d been handed the pad. “The two symbols mean ‘gift’ and ‘Void’,”

Tigh frowned at him, “what’s it supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, at least, I don’t know what they’re intended to mean,” Adama gazed at the image again, “which ship was this?”

“The Nephthys. A residential ship. It wasn’t his home ship, he was from the Pride of Gaelorn and serving on the Galactica. I’ve put the Nephthys on stage one lockdown and we have people asking around the locals for witnesses.”

Adama nodded, “Did Valens have any family?”

“A brother, he’s been told. Valens’ security access revoked from military systems.”

Adama let out a long breath, “This is clearly a message, but what?”

“Valens’ body was brought to the Galactica for examination. The initial scans suggested he died of a broken neck.”

“And these other injuries?”

“He was probably already dead.”

Adama handed the data pad back. “That’s… something, I suppose.” He frowned deeply, “There’s a priestess of Khonsu on the Helios by the name of Pythia. Her order are well known for their scholarship of Kobol, and their interpretation of signs. If anyone knows what this means, it’s her.”

“I don’t suppose she was on the Nephthys recently?”

Adama smiled thinly, “we’ll have to ask, but she doesn’t seem like the type to go around breaking warrior’s necks.”

“You never know,” Tigh replied. “I’ll ask Pythia to meet us.”

“Yes, please do,” Adama said, “and… we need to keep this quiet. Obviously we can let people know Valens is dead, but the manner…”

“That’s just what I was thinking.” Tigh said. He switched the data pad off. “I’ll be back when I have more.” He gave a single nod of goodbye and left the office, Adama watching pensively after him.

_____

Starbuck idly flicked through scanner settings, not expecting to see anything. The patrols searched for things beyond Cylons. Potential threats, potential resources, potential signals, in fact, a good deal of potential things that didn’t care to materialise this time.

Apollo came in over the comm, “is it just me-”

“Yes,” Starbuck cut in.

There was a long pause, “I hate you. I hate you and Athena.”

Starbuck laughed, “What did Theeny do?”

“You’re as bad as each other.”

Starbuck laughed again.

“Just… do you think this sector feels…” Apollo hesitated, “empty?”

Starbuck frowned, slowing the Viper to peer out the windows. Now that Apollo mentioned it there was a certain oddness about the stars, as if they were further apart than normal. Like some of them were missing.

“No local systems, no asteroids… it’s not a void but it’s getting close.”

“I guess not everywhere can be packed full of adventures,” Starbuck said. He paused, watching one of the readouts. He adjusted some settings but the number continued to drop. “I think I’ve got an atmospheric leak.”

“Bad?” Apollo’s voice was suddenly alert.

“No, but it’s steady.” Starbuck tried some more settings, but nothing helped. A warning symbol lit up on his screen. “Huh.”

“What?”

“I’m getting a fuel leak warning too. I’m going back to base.” He banked the Viper back towards the Galactica.

Apollo almost corrected him to tell him that was the captain’s call, but stopped himself. “Alright. I’m right behind you.”

He called the Galactica to abort the patrol then followed Starbuck in. He watched Starbuck’s Viper ahead of him, a brightly glowing triangle of light heading towards the Galactica.

“Starbuck, hanger three,” Galactica ops told them over the comm, “Apollo, hanger nine.”

It made sense to split them up but it didn’t make Apollo feel better, since it was a precaution in case Starbuck’s Viper exploded.

“I’m getting more warnings,” Starbuck told both Apollo and Galactica ops over the comm, “have an emergency team on standby, this might get rough.”

Apollo’s heart clenched, but there was nothing he could do. He split off, heading to hanger nine as Starbuck entered three. He saw a flash of light just as the hanger doors closed.

Chapter Text

Apollo threw off his helmet and ran to the interior doors, reaching hanger three breathless. He stopped just inside, catching his breath as he saw Starbuck standing at the edge of the hanger, watching the emergency crew cover the Viper in fire foam. He jogged over.

“What happened?”

Starbuck cast him an unnerved smile, “flashover, nothing serious.”

Apollo grimaced. A flashover was when the fuel and atmosphere ignited, usually during a landing, and engulfed the Viper in fire. Usually it was harmless, the Viper’s plating could withstand atmospheric entry, and even the flight suits they wore were flame resistant. As long as Starbuck kept his helmet on he wouldn’t have been harmed. Still, it could be a terrifying experience in the moment.

“You ok?”

“I didn’t wet my suit so…” Starbuck chuckled, “it’s not my favourite way to land, though.”

Apollo put his hand on Starbuck’s shoulder and squeezed. Starbuck threw him a smile.

“You want to come to the training centre?” Starbuck asked, “I’ve got some adrenaline to run off.”

Apollo glanced back at the Viper, then threw Starbuck a smile. “Sure.”

______

Apollo tugged the strapping around his hand into place and rolled his shoulders, bouncing on his heels a few times as Starbuck finished his warm-up stretches. The training room echoed with the sounds of exercise. Fists against the rubberised outer shell of the bags, the grunts of effort, and bodies falling to the training mats. Apollo threw Starbuck a confident grin as he straightened up, squaring himself against his friend.

“Now don’t get too embarrassed when you get flattened in front of all these people,” Apollo said.

“Talking to yourself again?” Starbuck replied, tutting, “that’s a bad habit.”

Apollo grinned, “I’m gonna beat you so hard you’re gonna skip the next life and end up in the one after.”

Starbuck laughed, “you couldn’t beat a felix in a barking contest.”

“Whereas you’re only bark,” Apollo replied, he made a taunting gesture.

They sparred for a centar, striking, feinting and grappling, declaring a win every time they managed to get the other to the mat. Eventually panting and sweat-soaked, they dropped side by side onto a nearby bench. Starbuck opened a bottle of water and took a drink.

“So…” Starbuck took a deep breath, “who won?”

“Draw.” Apollo said, holding out his hand. Starbuck passed him the bottle.

“Draw?” Starbuck stared at him, then shook his head. “Ok.”

“You don’t want to go one last round?” Apollo chuckled breathlessly, took a drink, then passed the bottle back.

“No.” Starbuck took a deep drink of water and sighed out a breath, “because whoever loses will want a rematch, and then whoever loses that will want a rematch, and I’m exhausted.”

Apollo nodded. “When you’re right, you’re right. Feeling better?”

“Yes. Who knew getting the stars knocked out of me would be therapeutic?”

“So I guess you’re just Buck now?”

“Hah.” Starbuck grinned.

“Any time you want a beating, just ask,” Apollo said with a teasing grin, “I’m always happy to help.”

Apollo’s communicator trilled on the bench beside him. He picked it up, frowning at it, “Huh. Dad wants us.” He looked at Starbuck, “maybe he heard about the flashover.”

“Doesn’t seem like much of a reason to call us in,” Starbuck said, standing, “I hope he doesn’t mind if we shower first.”

“He’d probably prefer it,” Apollo replied. He patted Starbuck on the back as he walked past, “but we should make it quick.”

______

Pythia was a thin, pinched woman with white hair and sharp eyes. She sat perfectly upright in the chair in front of Adama’s desk, her hands placidly in her lap.

“Can I offer you anything?” Adama said as he settled into his own seat, “A drink?”

Pythia smiled, shaking her head. “I’m quite alright, commander, thank you.”

“I appreciate you coming,” Adama said, “I realise in the past that our religious differences-”

“We are all equal under the eyes of the gods, commander.” Pythia replied, “Khonsu it guardian of those who travel by night,” she smiled as she gestured towards the windows, “and we all travel by night now.” She laughed softly, “Even if I held grudges as long as the Cylons, there are greater problems to attend to, I doubt I was invited here to discuss history.”

“Indeed not,” Adama replied, “I’m afraid there’s been a disturbing incident within the Fleet, and I’m hoping you might be able to help us illuminate it.”

She cocked her head, interested, “and how might that be?”

“I’ve called captain Apollo and lieutenant Starbuck here to join us, they should be here shortly,” Adama said, “they’ll be the ones looking into this and I’d like them here for the discussion.”

Pythia nodded. “It must be a very delicate matter, if you’re keeping it so close.”

“It is. I require your complete discretion.”

“You have it.” Pythia said. “I have no more desire to throw the Fleet into a panic than you do.”

Adama almost asked why she thought it would, but decided it must be obvious. There were few reasons to call a priestess to his office and ask for her silence. Not good ones, anyway.

She gazed around the office, eyes settling on Adama’s bookshelf. “Ah, you have the books of Kobol.”

“Yes, my family’s copy. I brought it here when I first became commander.” Adama said, “at the time it was… foolish sentiment. Or so I thought.”

She cast him a knowing smile, then gestured to the books, “may I?”

“Of course.”

She stood, crossing to the bookshelf and running her fingers lightly across the spines, carefully taking one down to flip through it. “Ah, Lord Serafin’s translation.”

“I know it’s old-fashioned but...” He shrugged and smiled.

“I never had much problem with him,” Pythia replied, “in fact I often preferred some of his more poetic interpretations.”

“To be honest I feel the same way,” Adama said, “though I’m not sure about some of his notes,”

Pythia laughed, “gods, that’s an understatement.”

Apollo and Starbuck arrived in the middle of an enthusiastic theological discussion. They stood momentarily at the door before Apollo cleared his throat.

“Oh!” Adama smiled, “Apollo, Starbuck,” he gestured to the two men, “Pythia, priestess of Khonsu.”

“Ma’am,” Apollo nodded and Starbuck did the same.

“An honour, gentlemen,” Pythia said, rising from her seat to bow slightly.

“The honour is ours, ma’am,” Apollo replied politely.

Pythia sat down, and Apollo took the chair beside her. Since there were only two, Starbuck stood behind Apollo’s chair.

“Now we’re all here I’m afraid we have some unpleasant business to attend to.” Adama said with a sigh. He hesitated, then explained the circumstances of Valens’ death.

____

Pythia studied the symbols on the data pad, then raised her eyes to Adama. “Is there more to this image?”

“Those are the only symbols that were found.” Adama replied.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Adama hesitated, “yes… Valens’ body. I didn’t think there was any need to show you that.”

“He was underneath?”

“Yes.”

She was silent for a long centon, “in what position?”

Adama furrowed his brow, “is that important?”

“Perhaps.”

“He was propped upright against the wall, his head twisted to the left, and his legs bent under him to the right.”

Pythia nodded, gazing at the symbols again. “As I suspected.” She placed the data pad on the desk where they could all see it, “the meaning is difficult to understand because these are not a full set of symbols, but with the young man’s body they are complete.”

Adama glanced at her in surprise, “of course…”

“Uh, I’m sorry to uh, be the idiot here,” Starbuck said uncertainly, “but what does that mean?”

Pythia smiled warmly, “not knowing something doesn’t indicate stupidity, lieutenant,” she bent down to bring a data pad out of the bag resting by her feet, “only that you have not yet had the opportunity to learn.” She turned the pad on and sketched out a shape with her finger. “This is the symbol for a man,” she turned it to show him, “in its simplest terms, it’s a seated man.”

“That’s the shape Valens was forced into,” Starbuck surmised.

“Exactly,” Pythia said, placing her data pad under Adama’s. “These two symbols form a sentence,” she said, indicating the top pad, then the bottom, “and this gives it context.”

“Gift, Void, man,” Apollo said, “but Void and gift are connected…”

Pythia watched him expectantly.

“And the man… is he the gift?” Apollo asked. “A gift to the Void.”

“Like a sacrifice?” Starbuck said with a grimace.

“Not quite, that’s why the position of each symbol is important,” Pythia said, “the gift is being given, not to the Void, but to the man. Valens wasn’t given to the Void, the Void was given to him.”

Starbuck frowned at the symbols, “I’m still not sure I get it. How is killing someone a gift?”

“That depends very much on your outlook,” Pythia replied and he looked at her, still puzzled. “To some the Void represents an unbreakable promise that all things must end. Fear, suffering, grief, all must be taken by the Void eventually. That can be a comfort to some people.”

“But what about everything else? Love, happiness, friendship…”

“All temporary things that will also eventually end, as all things must.”

“But… but that’s… people like that?” Starbuck said in disbelief.

Pythia smiled warmly, “you have a bright soul, lieutenant.”

Starbuck wasn’t entirely sure what she meant but it felt like a compliment. He smiled in return, “thanks.”

“So this is more like a blessing,” Apollo said, “to them, I mean,” he gestured to the pads.

“Exactly.” Pythia said.

Apollo grimaced. “So Valens was killed by one of these Void worshippers?”

“They must be pretty knowledgable,” Starbuck observed, “it took a scholar to decipher their message. This isn’t something you pick up over a long rotation.”

“That’s true,” Apollo said, “this isn’t spontaneous.”

“I’ve heard of Void cults before, but the tales are always… lurid.” Adama said, “more like bunk-room shiver stories.”

“Open Void worship hasn’t been practised for generations,” Pythia said, “and there’s quite a bit of evidence to suggest even in ancient times it was considered distasteful.” She paused, “that being said, they don’t tend to last very long, for obvious reasons.”

“Uncertain times often drive people to seek certainty,” Adama said, “I suppose there’s nothing more certain than the Void. If there is a cult we need to deal with it quickly, before it spreads. And if it’s an individual then we need to stop them before they decide to give any more ‘gifts’. Is there anyone you can think of who might have been… tempted towards that path?” He asked Pythia.

“You mean among the scholars and the priests?” Pythia replied, “I wouldn’t suspect any of them, but that means very little when it comes to this kind of thing.”

Adama sighed, nodding. “Thank you, Pythia. You’ve been most helpful. I believe our next steps we’ll have to take alone.”

Pythia nodded, putting her pad back in her bag and picking it up. “If you need me further I am at your complete disposal, commander.”

“Thank you,” Adama replied, rising the same time she did.

Apollo stood, too, smiling politely as she passed him to the door.

Starbuck waited for her to leave then took her seat as the other two men sat back down.

“Void cults,” Starbuck sighed, “wonderful.”

“We need to know more,” Adama said, “we need to know what Valens was doing on the Nephthys and if he was part of some cult or just a victim.”

“We’ll find whoever did this,” Apollo said, glancing across at Starbuck who nodded in agreement.

“I know you will,” Adama said, “just be careful. I’m sure they’d be more then willing to share their ‘gift’ with you.”

Chapter Text

It seemed reasonable to start with Valens. Neither of them had known him, he’d been a decade older and a deconstruction specialist. That is, he specialised in blowing holes in Cylon bases. Since the Destruction there’d been less call for those skills and Valens and specialist like him had been slowly shifted into more industrial tasks. Blowing asteroids and mountains for raw minerals, uncovering underground water sources and boring tunnels for yet more minerals. Of course, if the Fleet did come across any Cylon bases they were more than happy to reprise their primary roles.

Valens’ quarters were cramped, wedged in against a bulkhead so it was cut off at a strange angle. Like most ships the Galactica had been modified since the Destruction. Large spaces that had served various functions that were no longer necessary had been cut up into sections, the few industrial engineers left in the Fleet and their new apprentices working feverishly to maximise utility in every ship, and hundreds of constructors working day and night to make their plans reality. The Galactica, for instance, did not need a huge, empty ceremonial hall, and the Nephthys, where Valens had died, had been transformed from a market vessel into a floating apartment complex.

They began searching Valens’ quarters, looking for anything that might give them a clue. It seemed Valens was a minimalist. Aside from his clothes, his computer terminal and a data pad he had very little. The main light had been set to a lower brightness and there was a half finished bottle of liquor beside the bed. Starbuck picked it up and examined it.

“Seems like Valens was trying an old fashioned sleep remedy,” he observed.

Apollo started the computer and sat in front of it.

“What are you going to do with that?” Starbuck asked.

“The computing section have reset his credentials, so we should be able to access anything on here.”

Starbuck sat down on the bed and opened the drawers in the small metal dresser beside it.

For a while there was only the sound of Starbuck opening and closing things and Apollo tapping on the keyboard.

“Huh,” Apollo said eventually.

“You got something?” Starbuck asked.

“Valens copied a lot of old files from the central archive,” Apollo said, “and guess what?”

“All Void related,” Starbuck said, coming to read over his shoulder.

“Exactly,” Apollo replied. “A lot of really niche academic stuff, look, ‘Void imagery in late period Basellian art’.”

“Where did this stuff come from?”

“A lot of the Colonial archives had data-backups as worst case scenarios,” Apollo said, “of course the worst case happened. It was all uploaded to the central archive. Don’t tell me you’ve not been reading through…” He paused to read off one of the titles, “‘Void myths of the Scyllian’ cults in your rest time?”

“I’m more of an Ipthian ceramic arts of the Forn era man, myself.” Starbuck said.

Apollo twisted around in his seat to narrow his eyes at him, “did you just make that up?”

“I saw it on your mom’s bookshelf once,” Starbuck replied with a shrug.

“And you memorised it?”

“I thought it sounded academic enough to impress girls with.”

Apollo turned back to the console with a snort of amusement. He paused, “I didn’t even know mom was into ceramics.”

“Well, the funny thing was I asked her about it once, and she said she’d never read it. Just she’d mentioned she liked collecting tea sets to an acquaintance and for her next birthday…”

Apollo laughed, “typical.” He browsed more of the files, “so did it work on anyone?”

“Never had the chance to use it,” Starbuck said with a rueful shrug, “even the classy ones were much more interested in my being a cadet than an intellectual.”

“Just as well,” Apollo replied, “you wouldn’t hold out under a centon’s scrutiny.” He lent back in the seat and it creaked under him, “so he was looking into the Void, so to speak, but why?”

“There must be something else,” Starbuck said, “he must have been in contact with someone on the Nephthys.”

“Computing are recovering his communicator data,” Apollo said, “but that’ll take time.”

“Nobody would start copying all this esoteric Void stuff on a whim,” Starbuck said, “I think someone must have contacted him.”

“You don’t think he reached out to someone?”

“And how would he do that?” Starbuck said, “go on InterFleet and say, hey, anyone else interested in the Void?”

“Hm, you might have a point,” Apollo said.

“Besides, look at the dates on all these files. They were all copied in the last month, so this wasn’t some longstanding interest of his.”

“Huh.” Apollo nodded, “you know sometimes you’re actually a little bit smart.”

“Your words of admiration are overwhelming,” Starbuck said flatly.

“There is another option,” Apollo said, “he discovered something on the Galactica.”

“Yeah, that’s possible,” Starbuck agreed, “and he started looking into it, but why wouldn’t he report it?”

“Maybe he didn’t know who to trust,” Apollo said, “but that doesn’t explain what he was doing on the Nephthys.”

“Maybe we can feed some of the names of these authors into the Fleet database, see if there’s any matches.”

Apollo sucked his teeth, “that’s two intelligent thoughts in a row. You need to sit down?” He turned to ask in mock concern.

Starbuck rolled his eyes then picked up the data pad on the other end of the desk. Fortunately it wasn’t locked and he perched on the desk to scroll through it.

“Anything?” Apollo asked.

“Just erotic novels,” Starbuck shrugged, “Valens had, uh, tastes.”

“That’s all he had on there?”

“Well he’s also got some erotic games…”

Apollo frowned at him, “maybe you should wash your hands when you’re done with that.”

Starbuck put the data pad down and wiped his hands down his pants, then looked around. “Not much to say for a life, is it?”

“We’ll need to ask around and see who knew him,” Apollo said, “of course, there’s also the possibility this Void stuff is a false trail.”

“Breaking a guy in half so he fits the shape of an ancient symbol seems like a lot of effort to lay a false trail.” Starbuck said, “especially when they could’ve just doused him in his own liquor and left him face down in the bathroom.”

“I don’t like how easily you came up with that,” Apollo said with playful suspicion.

Starbuck shrugged, “I like investigator broadcasts.”

“Aha, I was wondering where all these clever thoughts were coming from,” Apollo said, “I knew it couldn’t be natural.”

“Ha ha.” Starbuck tutted. “How do we find out who his friends are?”

“You’re asking me?” Apollo asked, flashing him a look of disbelief, “you’re the one with the people skills.”

“Hm.” Starbuck contemplated the floor thoughtfully, “I suppose once we’ve got his communicator data we can use the tracker to see where he liked to spend his time.” He glanced between the data pad and the liquor bottle, “but I get the feeling we’re not going to have much luck.”

“He had family, at least,” Apollo said, “Tigh said he has a brother on the Pride of Gaelorn.”

Starbuck straightened off the desk. “Then I guess that’s where we go next.”

_____

“It wasn’t an accident,” Tigh said, watching Adama pace, “someone deliberately damaged the ship’s seals.”

Adama stopped, “did they intend to kill him?”

“I can’t read their mind,” Tigh replied with mild reproach, “but you know as well as I do the Vipers are over-engineered for exactly that reason. Without knowing exactly what you’re doing it’s very hard to cause a catastrophic failure.”

“It’s probably equally hard to cause a deliberate flashover,” Adama said. “All the same, someone must have had at least a working knowledge of a Viper if not an in depth one. A pilot would have realised it was a nearly hopeless task, and the flight crew would’ve known enough to make the ship explode.”

“Perhaps a cadet? A trainee?” Tigh suggested.

“Yes, or someone with a good deal of second hand knowledge,” Adama said, “not everyone is as discreet as they should be,” he added with a long suffering sigh.

“We know this much, Valens’ credentials were used to board the Galactica, less than half a centar after he died.”

Adama was silent for a moment, “I want an immediate shipwide scan, whoever it was-”

“I already ordered one,” Tigh said, “and a full audit of security data.”

Adama sighed, casting Tigh a tired smile, “thank you.” He half smiled, “and perhaps we should have another round of security training.”

“It might be too late for that,” Tigh replied with a rueful chuckle.

“And we should have every Viper fully inspected,” Adama said. “Lords!” He huffed suddenly, throwing up his hands, “for once can’t we have a nice simple crisis?”

Tigh smiled thinly, “I wouldn’t call it a crisis yet.”

Adama sighed again, “then let’s pray it doesn’t become one.”

Chapter Text

The Pride of Gaelorn was one of the smaller ships, an inter-system hauler that mostly carried cargo and served as a warehouse and transport hub for goods travelling between ships, since it was neither practical nor efficient to have dedicated shuttles every time something needed moving from one ship to another. The story went that during the Destruction she’d been carrying raw gemstones valuing millions of cubits, and, at the very moment the news of the attack reached them the crew had jettisoned the cargo into space and set course for the nearest population centre. Nobody knew if it was really true beside the original crew, and they remained vague. It didn’t do to press too closely into tales of sacrifice and heroism, and no matter what their original cargo had been the important part was true, they had arrived in the Aerian city of Gaelorn and saved thousands of lives. Whatever they’d been before they arrived in the Fleet the Pride of Gaelorn, and most of the residents were subsequently Aerian.

Valens’ brother, Victor, worked in the kitchens. The other kitchen workers only gave passing glances to the warriors as they walked in. Most likely they felt it was best to stay out of military business, a visit from warriors was rarely good news. Victor saw them approach and came to greet them, directing them into a small storage room where they could talk without interruption.

Victor wrapped his arms around himself in an anxious hug, waiting for them to speak.

Apollo shifted, “I’m sorry to have to do this now-”

“It’s ok,” Victor said, “what do you need to know?”

“Do you know why Valens was on the Nephthys?”

Victor shook his head.

“Did he mention having new friends or…?” Starbuck asked.

“No,” Victor shook his head again, “Valens preferred his own company.” He paused, “it was almost funny sometimes. You can’t go anywhere in the Fleet without seeing twenty other people and he still managed to spend most of his time alone.”

“Did he have trouble talking to people?” Apollo asked.

“Yes and no.” Victor shifted, “he didn’t like talking to people but not because he was uncomfortable, I think.” He shrugged, sighing, “he was very angry, and he didn’t try to hide it.”

“Angry at what?”

“Everything,” Victor said, “he was always volatile. I think that’s why our parents encouraged him to join the military. They thought he could channel his anger…” He was quiet for a moment, staring at nothing, “I always kind of suspected it’d get him killed.”

“Were you close?”

Victor shook his head, “we didn’t have a bad relationship, really, just… Valens…” he hesitated, lip trembling, “it was hard to…”

“I’m sorry,” Apollo said sympathetically. He glanced at Starbuck, who echoed his expression.

“Did Valens talk to you about anything he’d been interested in lately?” Starbuck said, “a new hobby or…?”

Victor looked at him, eyes growing wet, “no. The last conversation I had with him turned into a fight.”

“About what?” Apollo asked.

Victor sighed, “he was ranting again, about the Fleet, about the council, everything. I just… I was so tired of it.” He rubbed his forehead, “he said we should’ve never bothered escaping and I-I got mad. He thought we’d be better off dead than running.”

“Huh.” Starbuck shared another look with Apollo, “he thought it would be better if the Fleet didn’t exist?”

Victor nodded. “I think he just couldn’t accept that the only person standing in his way was himself.” He paused, “I kinda wonder... I’ve heard the Nephthys has some pretty rough sections, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was looking for a fight.”

Apollo nodded. He didn’t think they were going to get much more out of Victor, and a look at Starbuck made him think he agreed.

“Thanks for talking to us,” Apollo said, “hopefully we’ll find who did this soon.”

Victor nodded again, smiling thinly. “Anything you need.”

_____

In the hallway Apollo let out a breath, “ugh, gods.”

“At least it’s done,” Starbuck said, putting his hand on Apollo’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure what we got out of it,” Apollo said, “other than he sounds like just the kind of guy who’d join a Void cult.”

“Isn’t that something?” Starbuck said, “hopefully they’ve got that communicator data now.”

Apollo nodded. He checked his communicator, frowning slowly as he read the messages. “Frack…”

“What?”

Apollo turned to Starbuck, pale, “they think your Viper was sabotaged.”

“Frack,” Starbuck echoed.

Apollo looked down the messages, “and Valens’ credentials were used to to board the Galactica, twenty centons after he died.”

Starbuck frowned, “that’s not enough time to get from the Nephthys to the Galactica, let alone sabotage a Viper too.”

Apollo was quiet, staring at his communicator, then put it away, then looked back at Starbuck, “you should’ve died.”

“I don’t know about ‘should’ve’,” Starbuck said with an uncertain smile. “I guess now we know it can’t be a single weirdo.”

“Why you though?” Apollo asked.

Starbuck shrugged, “they probably just picked the closest out of whichever Vipers were ready to go. They wouldn’t have had much time.”

Apollo pushed his hand distractedly though his hair, “if they’d had a little more time you might have-”

“Pol,” Starbuck put his hand back on Apollo’s shoulder, “they didn’t. It was a flashover, nothing more.”

Apollo nodded, taking a breath, “yeah.”

“Let’s get back and look at that communicator stuff,” Starbuck said, “he must have been talking to someone.”

Apollo nodded. “Right. And the quicker we find out what’s going on the less chance anyone else dies.”

____

They were shown to one of the computing rooms on the Galactica, where Valens’ communicator had been disassembled and its main circuit-board placed into a device that could decode it without the owner’s passcode. The results were displayed on the screen. The room was dim and buzzed with the hum of the huge computing cores that made up a tiny portion of the Galactica’s systems.

“It’s nice to know there’s no true privacy, huh?” Starbuck said.

Apollo sat in front of the console, “don’t worry, nobody wants to read your communications.”

“No? I think you’d find them very educational,” Starbuck said, leaning on the back of the chair to read over Apollo’s shoulder.

“Some things are not for the eyes of men,” Apollo said, “and I don’t think my stomach could handle it.”

“You have a mind like a sewer,” Starbuck teased, “how do you know I’m not playing remote Senet?”

“Name one Senet piece.” Apollo said, opening Valens’ location data.

Starbuck paused, sucking his teeth, “the… Chancellor.”

Apollo shook his head as he scrolled down to Valens’ most recent locations, “that’s not Senet.”

Starbuck tutted, “no wonder I keep losing.”

Apollo looked back over his shoulder and met Starbuck’s grin.

Apollo rolled his eyes, smiling, and turned back to the screen. “Seems like Valens visited the Nephthys a couple of times a week, then in the last month he went almost twice as often.”

“Does it say where?”

Apollo huffed, “the security isn’t as tight as the Galactica, all we know is when he boarded and when he left.”

“It’s a start, I guess. Go to his messages. He must have had a reason.”

“Maybe Victor was right and he was looking to get hurt,” Apollo said as he opened the file, “and he found someone offering the wrong kind of help.”

“Up until last month most of his messages were from the AMS,” Apollo said, referring to the automatic messaging system that operated within the Fleet, sending out important news and warnings whenever necessary.

Starbuck winced, “that doesn’t speak for an active social life.”

“Not until recently, look.” Apollo opened a large file, “from someone named Snow.” He scrolled through the messages, suddenly shifting, a fierce blush heating his face. “Uh...”

“Speaking of educational,” Starbuck raised his eyebrows, “one thing’s for sure, Snow sure isn’t cold.”

“This is- we should- uh-” Apollo scrolled quicker, “I don’t think this is relevant.”

Starbuck cocked his head, his brow furrowed thoughtfully, “Valens was more imaginative than I thought. No wonder he got broken in ha-”

“Starbuck!” Apollo yelped, embarrassed, “I’m pretty sure this has nothing to do with the Void.”

Starbuck tutted, dragging Apollo out of the chair and sitting down, “for Sagan’s sake. I’m fairly sure you’re an adult, and I’m almost certain you’re not unworn.”

Apollo crossed his arms, sucking his lower lip, “shut up.”

Starbuck laughed, shaking his head as he scanned the messages. “Gods, these two.”

Apollo glanced around the room as Starbuck skimmed the messages.

“How does a man go from no friends at all to, uh, this,” Starbuck gestured at the screen, “seemingly overnight.”

Before he really thought about what he was saying Apollo replied, “maybe he found his own Starbuck.”

Starbuck looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and Apollo made an unhappy sound.

“Shut up,” Apollo sighed.

Starbuck smiled fondly and laughed, “I’m one of a kind, you lucky boy.”
____

They’d been stealing his pants for months. It started a week or two into the academy, the first time Apollo had laughed it off. A rite of passage for most of the new cadets. They stole your pants and strung them up the flag pole and it was your job to get them down. But then it happened again, and again, and again, until the janitorial staff started feeling sorry for him and bringing them back.

It wasn’t just the pants. Nobody seemed much interested in making friends with ‘the son of commander Adama’, sometimes it felt like they’d forgotten he had a name, and he’d tried, he’d really tried, but he no longer had any idea what to do. He had friends, back home, or at least from back home, wherever they were now, but they were tied up with their own lives, their educations, their romances.

Apollo had walked into their shared dorm room and sunk onto the bed, head in his hands, on the verge or tears or worse. He didn’t register if Starbuck was there, or care, really, didn’t care any more about appearances. He was 18, out on his own for the first time, lonely, stressed, and homesick and they’d stolen his pants and he didn’t know what to do any more.

He was faintly aware of the bed dip as Starbuck sat beside him and was only a little more aware of him placing his hand carefully on his shoulder.

Apollo and Starbuck hadn’t progressed much beyond friendly acquaintance. Apollo found Starbuck flighty and unserious, a bit of a troublemaker but ultimately harmless. Yet they talked politely and then conversation always fell off quickly, leaving Apollo feeling like it was always his fault. Starbuck was popular and friendly and everyone seemed to like him, and he seemed to like everyone in return, except Apollo, so surely the problem had to lie within.

“Do you know who it was this time?” Starbuck asked. It didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened.

Apollo shook his head, dropping his hands with a sniff, “what’s wrong with me?” He looked up into Starbuck’s puzzled expression, “what makes everyone hate me so much?”

Starbuck looked genuinely shocked. “Nobody hates you,” he reassured him quickly, “no, this is just…” he shrugged, “some people just don’t know when to stop. It’s not because they hate you,” he assured him again, “they’re just immature idiots.”

“So why won’t anyone talk to me? Why do they avoid me? Why…” He swallowed, turning back to the carpet and spreading his hands helplessly. “There’s gotta be something.”

Starbuck was quiet for a while, then shifted a little closer and put his arm around Apollo’s shoulders. “It’s not like that. People just… they don’t know how to talk to you, that’s all.”

“That’s all,” Apollo said miserably. “Sure.”

Starbuck sighed softly, “just… you kinda keep to yourself. You don’t really come to the social stuff, you always wait until everyone else’s gone to leave class, they think you want to be left alone.”

“But I talk to people,” Apollo protested, “I’m polite! I-”

“I know,” Starbuck soothed, “I know, but…” He smiled softly, studying him for a centon, then seemed to come to a decision. “Look, I’ve always thought you were a pretty decent guy.”

Apollo looked doubtful.

“Really. I know we don’t really talk much but…” Starbuck gave a single shoulder shrug, “some people, especially the Kobol-bloods, make it pretty clear they think the only reason I’m here is for the school’s image. You know, show people it’s not all rich kids and long bloodlines. But you’ve never been that way. I admit, sometimes you’re a little too serious,” he smiled to show he wasn’t trying to insult him, “but you never talked down to me and you never treated me like anything but another student.”

Apollo frowned, “who’s been saying that?”

Starbuck smiled, nudging his shoulder, “see? I’d bet twenty cubits if I told you their names you’d go out and try to do something about it.”

“Well…” Apollo shrugged, embarrassed. “Of course.”

“If that doesn’t make you pretty decent then I don’t know what does.”

Apollo sighed, “I just never know what to say to anybody, and when I do it’s like they just want to get away from me as fast as possible.”

“They’re probably nervous too,” Starbuck said, “you come across as so…” he trailed off for a centon, then shrugged, “they’re intimidated.”

“By me?” Apollo said in disbelief.

“You have to learn to relax,” Starbuck smiled, “give a little, and people will give back to you.”

Apollo hesitated.

“Don’t worry about that now,” Starbuck said, “first we have to do something about this…” He nodded down to Apollo’s bare legs, “I don’t mean we gotta get your pants back. This is going to be the last time.”

“I already told the tutors but-”

Starbuck shook his head, “all the tutors are going to do is shake their heads at everyone and give them a lecture, then the students will steal your pants twice as often.”

Apollo frowned.

“What we need to do is to teach them a lesson they wont forget.”

“We?”

Starbuck smiled warmly, “exactly.”

It was an act of pure kindness. At least, Apollo had seen it that way. Starbuck hadn’t needed to bother with Apollo, hadn’t had to tangle himself up in Apollo’s problems, but he’d learnt that Starbuck was just the sort of person who’d jump in the razortooth tank if he saw someone drowning.

Apollo had been drowning. Weighed down by expectation, afraid of failing, afraid of asking for help, and at the very moment when if felt that there was nothing left to do but sink, Starbuck had pulled him free. Gradually, Apollo had learnt it was ok to fail, to make mistakes, to not have the answers. He could fall, safe in the knowledge that Starbuck would be there to help him back to his feet. Starbuck hadn’t made his life easier, but he had shown him that it didn’t need to be so hard.

Later, Apollo had found out who’d been giving Starbuck a hard time. To say he gave them a dressing down might have been an understatement, but no more than the whispers among the students that all that was left of them was their ash-shadow was an overstatement. The cadets in question never bothered Starbuck again either way.

____

Starbuck was reading the messages again while Apollo called council security to locate Snow. He spoke again as Apollo closed the communicator.

“Snow likely found Valens. He probably didn’t need much encouragement. A sullen, angry loner gets approached by a women who’s seemingly up for…” he gestured to the screen again, “this.”

“She must have seemed like a gift from the gods.”

Starbuck nodded, “instead she was a gift from the Void.” He scrolled faster but shook his head, “I don’t think we’ll find anything else, I doubt she would’ve brought it up over a communicator.”

“I suppose there’s a possibility he was just paying for this,” Apollo said.

“Maybe,” Starbuck said, “but it’s a pretty big coincidence if that’s the case.”

“Or he paid for it and she’s also a Void cultist.”

Starbuck replied with a guilty laugh, “how would that be for bad luck?”

“I think you’re right,” Apollo said, perching on the edge of the computer station, “a guy at his lowest point, desperately reaching for something-”

“And he found Nothing.”

They were quiet for a moment when Apollo sighed. “Gods.”

“Yeah,” Starbuck agreed, “and there’s more of them out there.”

“You remember that guy who used to say the council were keeping the war going for profit?” Apollo said.

“The one who said Umbra was an inside job?” Starbuck said with disdain. “At one point he was saying the Cylons didn’t even exist any more.”

“Yeah,” Apollo smiled thinly, “I read somewhere that he was making thirty million cubits a month.”

Starbuck shrugged, “didn't do him any good, did it?”

“No, I guess not.” Apollo replied, “I guess people like that give easy answers.” He paused thoughtfully, “someone’s behind this and I get the feeling it’s not Snow.” He straightened off the console, “someone’s using people’s fear to spread this Void stuff, and now it’s getting people killed.”

Starbuck stood, squeezing Apollo’s arm before they headed out. “We’ll find them.”

Chapter Text

Omega stifled a yawn, trying unsuccessfully to hide it behind his hand. Tigh glanced across at him from the commander’s chair.

“Tired sergeant?”

Omega flinched, “sorry sir.”

“I don’t suppose there was a party or something last night?” Tigh asked, “half the ship seems to be tired today.”

“Not that I know of,” Omega replied. He watched the numbers tick on his screen as the Galactica's sensors probed invisibly into space, “I just had trouble sleeping.”

Tigh frowned, “you’re the third person to tell me that today. I’m beginning to think I should order an audit of the ale.”

Omega looked at him sincerely, “I swear, no party. At least not one I attended.”

“Hm.” Tigh nodded, “fair enough.”

Omega turned back to his console, stifling another yawn.

“Omega?”

Omega flinched, turning back, “sir?”

“It’s pretty quiet,” Tigh said, nodding at the main screen, “go down and get yourself some harrow tea or a sweet bun? Something to get you through the rest of your rotation, otherwise you’re going to make me want a nap.”

Omega smiled, embarrassed, and stood. “Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

“Make it quick, sergeant.” Tigh said with a light nod.

Omega hurried to the elevator, grateful for the break. He made his way to the mess, fortunately not having to join one of the queues at the main dispensaries, but went to the separate auto-dispensers that dotted the walls. He went to the first free one he saw and tapped the buttons for harrow tea. A man in technician's overalls was opening the auto-dispenser beside him.

Omega watched him while the auto-dispenser burbled. “What’s wrong with it?”

The man looked at him, smiling, “one of the nozzles is gunked up.” He shrugged, “usual stuff.”

Something about him made Omega uneasy but he felt a little silly for thinking it.

“Well, good job you’re here. Without these the whole Galactica would grind to a halt.”

“It’s my pleasure,” The man replied. He smiled again, closing up the front of the dispenser and picked up his tool-kit. He nodded to Omega and walked away.

Omega frowned, the uneasy feeling settling into his stomach. His machine plopped out a cup and filled it with steaming tea. Omega reached for it and paused, suddenly realising the technician hadn’t done anything to the other machine at all.

____

“He may have already left the Galactica,” Tigh told Adama as soon as he arrived in Adama’s office, “he must have thought Omega was suspicious of him.”

“Damn,” Adama sighed, “where did he go?”

“He was tracked to the Nephthys but he evaded council security.”

Adama huffed, “of course.” He paused, “it all seems to come back to the Nephthys, doesn’t it?”

“Aren’t Apollo and Starbuck there?” Tigh sat opposite Adama’s desk.

“Yes, looking for this woman Valens was in contact with. We’ll leave our mystery man to council security for now, two people can’t search an entire ship.” Adama said, “any idea what he was doing with the auto-dispenser?”

“Not yet, we’re retracing his steps,” Tigh said. “You know a technician might have enough basic knowledge to sabotage a Viper. Or try to.”

“And any number of reasons why a technician might need access to the hangers.”

“He shouldn’t have been unsupervised, but…” Tigh huffed, “that’ll be covered in the new mandatory security training.”

Adama winced, “a fitting punishment, I suppose.”

Tigh smiled wryly, “you don’t like my lectures?”

“You have a gift for... instilling terror.”

Tigh laughed, “thank you.”

“Though it might be coming a little late,” Adama said. “It’s frustrating we can only react. There seems no logic behind this at all.” He lent back in his seat, shaking his head. “A brazen attack on one of our warriors, and then this clandestine sabotage… do they wish to make themselves known or not?”

“Perhaps Valens was a distraction.”

“Perhaps,” Adama agreed, “but to distract from an attack on the military with… another attack on the military?”

Tigh shrugged and the buzzer on Adama’s door sounded. Adama frowned, pushing a button on his desk.

“Who is it?”

“Pythia,” came the reply.

“Hm,” Adama pressed to open the door, and Pythia entered, pausing as she got inside.

“Forgive my interruption, commander.” She bowed slightly.

“Not at all,” Adama and Tigh stood, “colonel Tigh, Pythia.”

Tigh nodded, sitting as Pythia took the other chair beside him. Adama sat, too, steepling his fingers.

“I thought you’d returned to the Helios.”

“I wanted to remain available,” Pythia said, “While I was waiting I sought guidance, and Khonsu answered.”

Tight raised an eyebrow and glanced at Adama.

“The Guide reminded me that motivations are often not as obvious as they appear.” Pythia said.

“Very insightful,” Tigh said dryly.

“Tigh,” Adama sent him a light frown.

Pythia chuckled before continuing, “he led my thoughts to something I had long forgotten. Many years ago there was a panic in Orchis. I was asked to advise them then, too.”

“About Void worship?” Adama asked.

“Exactly.” Pythia said, “Void symbols had been painted on crime scenes and the city was worried the idle rich had turned to Void worship, out of boredom I suppose.”

“And were they?” Tigh asked.

“No evidence was ever found for widespread Void worship, it was thought one of the syndicates was using Void imagery to make themselves more intimidating.”

“Hm.” Adama frowned thoughtfully, “I wonder if there’s anything in the archive about it. If a member of that syndicate came to the Fleet…”

“It wouldn’t take long to learn specific symbols,” Pythia said, “perhaps we are only assuming they have any deeper knowledge, or even a true interest in the Void. The aesthetics of the ancient world are appealing, I suspect there are many places one can find these symbols without any wider context.”

“You seem very knowledgable about Void cults,” Tigh said.

“As much as anybody who’s studied ancient signs,” Pythia said, “though perhaps there are fewer now than there were.”

“It just seems very coincidental.” Tigh replied.

“No coincidence,” Pythia replied. She paused, “I was chosen by my order to survive, should the worst come to pass.”

“What do you mean?” Adama asked.

“I was selected as the one most able to continue the order, therefore when the Destruction came, I was given priority.” She paused again, “many people died so that I might live, people I loved, it isn’t something I take lightly.”

“I’m sorry,” Tigh said sincerely.

Pythia smiled, “No need. You’re right to be suspicious, but the fact is I would be equally useful if someone had started painting the story of Bat and Bail on the walls.”

“I would have much preferred that.” Adama sighed.

“I’ll consult my notes on Orchis,” Pythia said, “though it may take some time to find the right ones.”

“Thank you,” Adama said.

Pythia left, and Adama cast Tigh a look.

“She’s trying to help,” Adama said.

“You don’t believe that twoffle any more than I do,” Tigh replied knowingly, “most people who claim to speak to the gods are put into special rooms where they can’t hurt themselves.”

“She didn’t claim to speak to him, only that he guided her,” Adama shrugged, “and she did remember something useful. If her ‘meditations’ help her then…” he spread his hands.

“Meditations,” Tigh said derisively, “anyone can breathe myristica and have ‘visions’.”

Adama paused, “perhaps, but…” he sighed, “perhaps I’m just getting old, but I just can’t find the energy in me to keep up these old fights. You’re right, I don’t believe she can talk to the gods any more than the rest of us, but…” he shrugged, “what does it matter to me if she believes it?”

Tigh was quiet, “well…”

“I’m not trying to…” Adama cast him a conciliatory smile, “I know you’re an interminable pragmatist. My grandfather would have had her thrown out of an airlock,” he added wryly, “and not just for the myristica. I just-”

“No, you’re right,” Tigh sighed, “what she does in her own time should be no concern of mine.”

Adama smiled distantly, “I don’t suppose you remember siress Bar?”

“How could I forget?” Tigh replied. “She was, uh, quite a woman.”

“We hosted a meeting between her and a siress Oshun.” Adama grimaced, “you should have heard them.”

“I don’t think I should,” Tigh replied, “I imagine a pair of angry felixes tied together by the tails.”

Adama gave a short nod, “hm, that about describes it, yes.”

“And how did this ‘meeting’ go?”

“Oh just as well as you might imagine,” Adama said wryly. “Starbuck and Apollo were home, they were going to the solar festival,” he huffed a sigh, “lords I wished I was going with them.”

“I’m sure Ila did, too.”

Adama nodded, “Starbuck asked me what all the fuss was about, and when I explained it all he looked at me like I was insane. And he was probably right,” he added with a chuckle. He looked thoughtfully at his hands for a moment before looking back at Tigh, “he said, ‘it’s like arguing about what shoes to wear to your own funeral’.”

Tigh laughed, “he does occasionally have a way of getting to the heart of things.”

“I think about that often these days,” Adama said, “here we are, standing at the precipice of complete human destruction and still…” he shrugged tutting, “come on, none of this is helping us find Valens’ killers. Pythia, and perhaps Khonsu himself, have given us an avenue of investigation.”

“I should get back to the bridge,” Tigh said, standing. “I’ll let you know as soon as the investigation of the auto-dispensers is complete.”

Adama nodded, turning to his computer console to look into the Void panic in Orchis.

___

A council security officer stood outside Snow’s quarters. He greeted Apollo and Starbuck with a nod.

“Did you tell her why we want to see her?” Apollo asked him.

“No, thought maybe you’d want to see her reaction,” the officer said.

“Ok, thanks.” Apollo nodded, glancing at Starbuck before they headed inside.

Snow’s quarters were divided in two, the front was a small botanical vendor. Small plants were, for obvious reasons, popular among the Fleet. Several species had long been cultivated for space travel, state rooms and cruise liners used them as decorations, and many of the ships already had several species aboard to take cuttings from. She lived at the back, a cloth divider separating her work from her home, and she sat on a stool at a small workbench, colouring a plant pot with a wax dropper.

She was petite, with wild red hair and thin features. She paused her work as the door opened, putting down her tool to stand.

“Snow?” Apollo asked as the door slid closed behind them.

She glanced between them and nodded.

“I’m captain Apollo, this is lieutenant Starbuck,” Apollo said. He took a fortifying breath, “you knew captain Valens, is that correct?”

Snow hesitated briefly, “yes.”

“I’m sorry to tell you he’s dead.”

For a moment she stood perfectly still, staring at him, then she looked at Starbuck and back, and dropped back to the stool, eyes still fixed on Apollo. “Dead?”

Apollo nodded. He un-looped a data pad from his belt and turned it on. He brought up a picture of the symbols and turned it to her. “Do you recognise this?”

She looked shocked. “Yes… that’s… what…” she looked between Apollo and Starbuck, “gods!” She stood suddenly, “oh gods, look, it’s not what you think!”

Apollo put the pad back, “What do we think?”

“The Void stuff, it’s not real,” Snow said. She clasped her hands anxiously to her chest, “it’s not real!”

“I think it was pretty real to Valens,” Apollo said.

“Gods,” Snow pushed her hands through her hair and slumped back down to the stool.

“How did you meet him?” Starbuck asked.

“We were at a gathering,” Snow said, “he was…” she shrugged, “kinda intense, you know? There was something about him.”

“What gathering?”

She sighed miserably, “gods. A guy came in here looking for plants, but not this kind,” she gestured vaguely around, “specialist stuff. I couldn’t help him, but we got talking anyway. He was nice,” she shrugged, “not many people just hang around and talk. Sometimes all I have to talk to are the plants.” She paused, “and he invited me to this meeting… gods,” she repeated with a sigh, “I thought it was just for fun. Meet up, have some drinks.”

“And where did the Void come into it?” Apollo asked.

“Stark started talking about it. I thought it was a load of fel’c,” Snow smiled thinly, “you know, some people like to pretend like they’re deep and dangerous, especially when they’re neither. I think that’s what appealed to Valens.”

“We uh, found some of your messages,” Apollo said carefully.

She blushed fiercely, “oh.”

“Was your relationship serious?” Starbuck asked.

Apollo shot him an incredulous look, but Snow shrugged.

“Not really, I mean… at first it was like lightning,” she shrugged uncomfortably, “but his deep and dangerous thing wasn’t an act, he was so angry about everything. He could get pretty scary and I got worried he’d do something stupid.” She hesitated, “so I called it off.”

“When was that?” Starbuck asked.

“A few days ago,” Snow said, gazing at her hands, “I decided not to go back to the group.”

“Might have been enough to commit him completely to the Void stuff,” Starbuck muttered softly to Apollo.

Apollo nodded, then spoke to Snow, “Who else was in this group?”

“There’s a few of us,” Snow said, “Stark said there were groups all over the Fleet.”

Apollo and Starbuck shared a look.

“Who’s Stark?” Apollo asked.

“He’s one of the guys who organises everything,” Snow said, “him and Naya are the ones who are really into the Void stuff.”

“And where can we find them?”

“I don’t know where Stark lives, but Naya lives on the level above,” Snow pointed at the ceiling, “she’s kinda creepy.”

Chapter Text

When the administrators had come to take Naya’s name she’d given them a word she’d once seen inscribed on a memorial cube in the Hall of Remembrance. She claimed to be from Sagitaria, and that she’d been an acolyte in the temple of Kobol in Hamble. It didn’t matter if it was true, in the chaos of the Destruction even if records could be found they weren’t often checked. Even the prison barge had arrived nearly full, and the lesser criminals had been released on probation. A policy of amnesty was adopted for anyone who might have had ‘trouble’ before the Destruction. Do your part, be a good citizen of the Fleet and the past could rest beneath the rubble of a civilisation. Of course there were exceptions, but for the most part it worked as intended.

She greeted the two warriors with a smile. She’d never really had a problem with warriors, they kept most of their attention on the Cylons, where it belonged, but she’d known as soon as Valens got involved they’d attract the eyes of the military.

“How can I help you?” She asked.

Apollo hesitated, unsure how to begin. He glanced uncertainly at Starbuck.

“How do you feel about the Void?” Starbuck asked, and Apollo stared at him.

Naya smiled, “can someone feel anything about nothing?”

“We’ve been told you regularly attend a Void worshippers club.”

“The stuff of shiver stories for children,” Naya shrugged, moving over to a small table in her quarters. “Nobody with half a brain would believe such things.” She looked pointedly at them.

“And yet there seems to be a group of them meeting regularly,” Starbuck smiled, “but we didn’t ask if you believed in it.”

Naya paused, smiling. “Well.” She glanced down at the table, pulling a small bottle towards herself. “I suppose you have me cornered.”

“Did you know captain Valens?” Apollo asked.

“Can anyone truly know another?” Naya smiled, looking between them. “I guess you’re about to find out.”

She took a deep breath and smashed the bottle onto the ground and the room was immediately filled with acrid smoke. As the two warriors began to cough she barrelled between them into the hall, only taking a breath once the door was closed behind her. She turned, sealing it quickly, and sprinted away down the corridor.

_____

Starbuck’s vision swam and his lungs stung. He staggered sideways as Naya pushed past, trying to grab her and stumbled into the closing door instead, falling against it as he heard the lock engage. A terrible panic seized his chest, he fought to breathe, his blood pounding in his ears. It was that same awful feeling that had come over him in the night. His voice stuck in his throat as though it were covered in needles. Terror overwhelmed him, the darkness forming around him as though the Galactica itself was dissolving, leaving him in the emptiness. Abandoning him to the Void.

He was alone, helpless, paralysed. The Void closed around him, swallowing everything, and yet shapes moved in the darkness, single red eyes pulsing in the shadows. He felt a touch and swung out his fist in panic, connecting with something solid. Then something solid connected with him. The shock burst through him. It was there with him, the Void. Pure animal instinct took over, if he wanted to live, it needed to die.

Apollo forced himself to breathe. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think. If felt like the walls were closing in, seeping darkness, a slow leak that, rather than letting the air out, was letting the Void in. He clutched his head, the world spinning violently around him. He felt Naya push past him and turned, staggering sideways instead of following her, and crashed into the wall, dragging something over and it rolled aside. The Void, the awful, silent Void was in his ears and he couldn’t move. He felt like something was wrapping itself around his throat and he lashed out, his fingers brushing up against something in the darkness.

Then something attacked him. Without thinking he struck out, his fist meeting something solid. The attacker was there, the Void, it was there to kill him. Through burning eyes he could just about see the shape of his assailant. Terror transfigured into the overwhelming need to fight, to defend himself. To live he had to kill this thing.

The two warriors lunged at one another, neither really seeing nor understanding who he was fighting. They punched and grappled, bringing each other to the floor for brief moments without either really getting the upper hand. They crashed into the furniture, turning the room over as they both fought for what they assumed was their lives. They held nothing back, only saved from going for their weapons by the fact neither could think straight.

Shaking, exhausted, sticky with blood and sweat, Apollo’s vision began to clear as he pulled back his arm for another swing. He had his fist balled in the front of Starbuck’s uniform, kneeling over him. The terror transformed again, from a sucking Void to a rush of horror as he realised what had happened. He hesitated, and Starbuck used it to his advantage, throwing him off.

“Starbuck!” Apollo yelped, scrambling backwards, “Buck, stop!”

Starbuck’s eyes were unfocussed, his face bloody, his hair sticking to his face with sweat. There was pure terror in his eyes.

“Stop!” Apollo yelped again as Starbuck lunged at him.

This time Apollo dodged, keeping his distance, “Starbuck, it’s me! It’s Apollo!”

Starbuck couldn’t hear or understand him, but it was clear he was as exhausted as Apollo. He swayed, watching Apollo as if trying to make sense of the sudden lull.

“Starbuck,” Apollo begged, “I’m not going to hurt you…” he paused, swallowing down the queasiness at the damage he’d already done, “any more.”

Starbuck growled, throwing himself at Apollo again, and Apollo grabbed him and pushed him roughly aside. Starbuck crashed into the wall, briefly stunned, then turned again.

“Lieutenant!” Apollo shouted in desperation, forcing as much authority into a voice cracking with panic, “Stand down!”

Starbuck stopped, looking confused, then his legs seemed to give out and he sank down to the floor.

Apollo wasn’t sure if he should approach him or if that would simply provoke him again.

Silence settled over the room, Starbuck on his hands and knees and Apollo opposite him, leaning back against the wall to stop himself falling over.

“Pol?” Starbuck said roughly, raising his head.

“Yeah,” Apollo replied shakily, stepping forward to kneel down in front of Starbuck. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was you, I didn’t-”

Starbuck pushed himself up and awkwardly threw his arms around Apollo, pulling him into a painful hug.

Apollo closed his eyes and hugged back, “I’m so sorry.”

“Who do you think won?” Starbuck asked.

Apollo pulled away, frowning at him, and Starbuck grinned.

“Draw.” Apollo replied, chuckling, and drew Starbuck back into the hug.

Starbuck laughed quietly, let Apollo go, then shuffled back to sit against the wall. “Some investigators we are.”

Apollo moved to sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder. “I mean, we found her…”

Starbuck threw him a look, “uh-huh.”

“We should get looked over by medical.” Apollo said, not moving.

“Yeah.” Starbuck said, resting his head back against the wall. “We should.”

They sat for a while, catching their breath.

“You’re telling Adama.” Starbuck said eventually.

“What?” Apollo looked at him in alarm.

“You’re the captain.”

“How come you only respect my rank at times like this?”

Starbuck shot him a smile, “I don’t.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes, “hm.”

They fell silent again. Starbuck looked over the destroyed room, then over Apollo.

“Did I hurt you badly?”

Apollo hesitated, “nah.” He turned to Starbuck, “you?”

Starbuck shook his head. “You were always useless in a fight.”

“You should tell that to your face.”

Starbuck chuckled, “you should see the other guy.”

Apollo smiled, though it faded quickly as he studied his bruised and bloodied knuckles. He suddenly felt sick, “what was that stuff? How could it…?” He trailed off, afraid of the question. Was that violence and hostility the smoke or himself? Had it transformed him or merely released him?

“It was the gas, whatever it was,” Starbuck said, as if he’d read Apollo’s mind. Apollo looked at him and Starbuck smiled reassuringly. “That wasn’t us.”

Apollo relaxed, of course it wasn’t. Starbuck wasn’t some barely contained maniac, so it had to have been the chemicals, and if that was true for Starbuck then it had to be true for himself.

Starbuck shifted fractionally sideways so he was leaning against Apollo and shook his head. “That vision or… nightmare, something,” he said, “it felt familiar somehow.”

Apollo frowned. “Like a hole in the hull…”

Starbuck looked at him.

“If they can make a lot of that stuff, imagine what it’d do if they released it into the ventilation,” Apollo said. He pushed himself up, using Starbuck’s shoulder for balance.

Starbuck’s eyes widened and he stood, “that’d be a pretty efficient way to distribute their ‘gift’.”

“Yeah, have everyone do the work for them.” Apollo made his way unsteadily to the door and tried the small console to unlock it. “We have to find Naya.” The console bleeped but nothing happened.

Starbuck came to stand beside him, watching him fruitlessly attempt to open the door.

Apollo closed his eyes briefly and dropped his head with a sigh, taking out his communicator, “as soon as someone unlocks the door for us.”

_____

“They discovered foreign chemicals in the auto-dispensers,” Tigh said as he walked into Adama’s office, handing him a data pad, “it’s a powerful hallucinogen, but it seems like it was diluted down many times.”

“Is that what’s been causing these night terrors everyone’s been complaining about?” Adama said, studying the report.

“More than likely.” Tigh replied.

“Apollo reported in from the Nephthys, they apparently got a full dose of this… stuff,” Adama gestured to the pad.

“Gods, are they alright?” Tigh asked.

“They’re going to the medical centre on the Nephthys,” Adama said, “Apollo was a little spare with his details.”

Tigh frowned, “What happened?”

“Apollo said it drove them into a frenzy and he and Starbuck attacked each other. No serious damage, apparently.” Adama grimaced, “still, if this stuff can drive even those two to hurt each other…” He paused, “we can only be thankful they didn’t kill each other.”

“Do you think these cultists are planning an attack on the Galactica?” Tigh asked, “if they released that stuff into the ducts… every warrior going mad at once would be a very quick way of getting rid of us.”

Adama shook his head, “if they’d wanted that they’d have done it already. Murders soaked in esoteric symbolism, flashovers, night terrors… no. They don’t want us dead, they want us scared.”

“Why the Galactica?”

“Pythia sent me her notes. They weren’t particularly detailed but it did provide some interesting information. She also sent me an academic meditation on fear that referenced the Orchis panic.” He put the pad on his desk and turned back to Tigh, “the authorities on Orchis were notoriously corrupt, but investigations into Void cult activity were basically non-existent even by their standards. It wasn’t until a military supplier was targeted and the planetary council insisted on an inquiry.”

“You mean if you scare the authorities enough you wont even need to pay them off, they’ll just leave you alone.” Tigh said.

“Exactly.” Adama said, “now, this is just speculation, obviously the authorities said they simply never took the threat seriously-”

“Which is exactly what we would have said,” Tigh said, “even as every warrior in the Fleet is having nightmares about the Void.”

Adama nodded.

Tigh growled under his breath, “these people are playing with the lives of everyone in the Fleet, and for what? A monopoly on Skeg?”

“Power.” Adama said, “they see their opportunities have shrunk considerably since the Destruction, so they seek to make new ones.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb, “this is the worst security breach we’ve had yet, completely unnoticed!” He dropped his hand with a sigh, “what else have they been doing while they were here?” He sighed again, “I want a full audit, top to bottom. Everyone gets checked, including senior staff. I want this ship clean.” He paused, “I don’t want to make the Galactica some walled-off fortress, but we cannot allow anything like this to happen again.”

“I know,” Tigh replied. “I’ll see it done.”

Adama nodded, “though… we don’t need to scour to bones. We shouldn’t be wasting our time with every pouch of Moony someone has tucked under their beds. We can’t start treating minor infractions like treason or we’ll have a mutiny.”

“I understand,” Tigh said.

“Thank you,” Adama smiled thinly. “We can only pray we caught it soon enough.”

Chapter Text

A glittering resort city on the coast of the Cerulean sea, Orchis offered everything from high stakes gaming houses to hot seaweed massages. Stepping out of a shuttle into the sleek and attractive hyper-transport hub had seemed like crossing into another world where the war seemed like a story from a broadcast drama. At least, that’s how it advertised itself.

Of course where there were cubits there was crime. Stark had made his fortune smuggling, no lines drawn, no questions asked. Cylon tech had been a big money maker even though even being caught with a single unsanctioned piece of it could incur the maximum possible sentence: life in an exo-prison, where they’d be more or less bait for the enemy they’d made their money off. To men with enough money the prisons, like the Cylons, were other people’s problems. Stark only thought about the warriors when they were gambling in his gaming houses, only considered the Cylons as a source of revenue.

Stark’s influence had been steadily growing. He’d purchased a ship specially designed to maximise its interior capacity with minimal sacrifice to power, top of the range. It was made for long haul flights, but also perfect for his requirements. He was on the verge of the spreading his wings, poised to become one of the most powerful men not just in Orchis, but in the Colonies.

When the attack came they didn’t even realise what it was. Suddenly Midtown was on fire and the Halls of Administration were collapsing into the underground transit system. There was another hit in Uptown and the Orchis Spire, an almost 700 metron structure, exploded, crashing down on multiple districts in a storm of shattered glass and molten metal. The temple of Kobol was burning. The city leaders were dead or fleeing, the security forces wholly unprepared.

People fled to their boats even as the sea churned with burning debris. Few made it out of the harbour, fewer still out in the open water that roiled with Cylon drop charges. Raiders and Bombers screamed overhead, blowing whatever ship or shuttle lifted off the ground out of the sky. The air was black with smoke and debris rained down from above, barely distinguishable from the Cylon bombs.

Vipers scrambling from the nearby base were overwhelmed. One of them spun into the enormous white glass edifice of the Museum of Tomorrow, engulfing it in an a white hot inferno as the engines went supercritical, turning the museum district into a smouldering crater.

Just when it seemed no more horrors could claw their way up from the pits of the tormented a Basestar had descended over the city, blotting out what little sunlight struggled through the ash choked sky. The deafening roar of its engines the heralding sound of endless squadrons of Raiders disgorging from its hangers. Even the most steadfast hearts among the people below faltered. The riches of Orchis could no longer protect it, reality had arrived at their doorstep with teeth bared and torn open their complacency at the throat.

Stark’s beautiful new ship, explicitly low profile, had cut through the chaos. He’d taken it into the sky as soon as enough crew had assembled to do it, barely half of his usual contingent. Ships burst around them as they pressed into the cloud of smoke, the atmosphere burning away as they pierced out into the still, endless silence of space.

______

Naya was out of breath when she reached Stark’s quarters. She stormed in as the door opened, glaring at him.

“Two warriors came to visit, they know about your little ‘cult’,” she said venomously.

Stark pressed his lips together, “and now you’ve led them here.”

“I dealt with them,” Naya replied. “Even if one of them survived they’ll be in no condition to make trouble.”

Stark hummed thoughtfully, “I see.”

“It wont matter, soon this ship will be flooded with warriors looking for us,” Naya said. “I told you to kick Valens out.”

“We needed him,” Stark said. He smiled, “it’s time to show the true power of the Void.”

Naya narrowed her eyes, “you don’t really believe this stuff, do you? The Void?” She laughed derisively, “Really?”

“We don’t need belief,” Stark replied, “only doubt. As long as it could be possible, that’s where we gain our foothold.” He smiled again, “we’ll have Galactica into a paranoid frenzy with what amounts to a few pranks. Just think what we’ll do with something bigger.”

“What are you talking about? It was hard enough getting anyone onto the Galactica in the first place,” Naya said, “you wont get a second chance.”

“I don’t need the Galactica,” Stark said, “they should concern themselves with the Cylons, not civilian affairs.” He shrugged, “they can leave that to me.”

“Stark,” Naya said, “the warriors are coming for us. Maybe we can hide in the-”

“No!” Stark snapped, “this is the moment we’ve been waiting for.”

“What moment?” Naya asked, furrowing her brow.

“I told you,” Stark replied with a calming breath, “we’re going to show the Fleet the power of the Void.”

______

The nearest medical station on the Nephthys was a small clinic in the middle of the level they were on. It had taken nearly a centar for someone to let Starbuck and Apollo out of Naya’s room, and when they arrived at the medical station they were surprised at a familiar face.

“Cassie!” Starbuck grinned broadly as they entered the examination room, “what are you doing here?”

Cassiopeia turned with a smile that fell quickly into shock as she looked the two men over, “what in void happened to you?”

“Let’s not talk about the Void,” Starbuck grimaced, glancing at Apollo.

“But what are you doing here?” Apollo echoed, “I thought the Nephthys was on lockdown?”

“It is,” Cassiopeia said, “and that’s exactly why I’m here. I have impeccable credentials.” She nodded to the examination table, “who’s first?”

Apollo and Starbuck shrugged at one another.

“I suppose if I have to volunteer to have your hands all over me...” Starbuck sighed playfully at her before he hopped up onto the table, wincing.

“Only trusting us to the best, huh?” Apollo smiled.

“Precisely.” Cassiopeia said. She began examining Starbuck, starting with the bruises on his face, “what happened?”

“There was an altercation,” Apollo said, shrugging as he met Starbuck’s eyes, “we uh-”

“How much did they tell you about what’s going on?” Starbuck asked her.

“They said someone got onto the Galactica who shouldn’t have,” Cassiopeia said, “and you two were trying to track them down.” She frowned at the scanner readings, “gods, I’ve seen better readings out of a bar fight.”

Starbuck smiled, “well, uh you see-”

“She attacked us.” Apollo said, at the same moment as Starbuck said, “we were outnumbered.”

Cassiopeia stopped, frowning between them. “By the Lords! You did this to each other!”

The men stared at her.

“Now Cass, witchcraft is unfair.” Starbuck pouted.

“I don’t need witchcraft to see a guilty look or two,” Cassiopeia glared between them, “what came over you?!”

“Ah, now that,” Starbuck said, “she had some kind of liquid that vaporised, when we inhaled it-”

“It was like being sucked into a nightmare,” Apollo said, “we didn’t know what we were doing.” He shrugged guiltily, “at least it wore off before we killed each other.”

“It was more like we fought each other to a standstill, then it wore off,” Starbuck said.

“Gods,” Cassiopeia breathed, “at least it did.”

Starbuck put his hands on her hips, running a reassuring hand up her side, “it was fine, Apollo hits like a stiff breeze.”

“Hm,” Cassiopeia shook her head minutely, “that’s not what these readings say.”

Apollo grimaced, “how bad is it?”

She looked at him, and tried to assuage the guilt written all over his face with a gentle smile, “just a lot of bruises and grazes,” she pet Starbuck’s temple affectionately with the backs of her fingers, “you’ll live.”

“Thanks doc,” Starbuck smiled, then slid off the table.

“Not a doc yet,” Cassiopeia said.

Starbuck gestured back to the table, “captain.”

Apollo sat on the examination table, and Cassiopeia began the scans. He glanced between them, “so, wedding when?”

Cassiopeia smiled wryly, “I already told you Apollo, I’m not marrying you.”

“Ha.” Apollo grinned back, “come on, you’ve been dancing around each other for months.”

Starbuck tutted and Apollo threw him a smirk.

Cassiopeia paused, thinking of the right way to phrase her reply. She knew Apollo was mostly teasing, when they’d first met she’d found him too rigid, too caught up in rules and traditions, and back then she may have given him the full spectrum of her thoughts. In fact, she’d found it hard to understand how he’d become so close to Starbuck. Then, as they spent more time together, it had become clear Apollo’s dedication to the ‘way things should be done’ wasn’t as deep as it first appeared, and an understanding, compassionate man lay underneath. She’d been surprised how easily they’d made friends, even if she thought he could still be a little uptight sometimes.

“Might it surprise you to know I want to get married as little as Starbuck does?” Cassiopeia said lightly, “not every woman dreams of being a wife, you know.”

Apollo looked instantly guilty, “I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” she smiled, “but Starbuck and I are exactly how we want to be.” She looked over at Starbuck and smiled.

Starbuck grinned back at her.

It had taken them a while to get there. Cassiopeia had arrived in the Fleet like everyone else, her whole life torn away, thrown headlong into an uncertain future. She’d met Starbuck in the middle of all of it, like a collision at high speed. Mutually attracted, certainly, but she could barely find herself in the chaos of emotions, let alone someone else.

He’d surprised her. Her former life, difficult as it was for some people to believe, had been respectable, if not necessarily respected. She’d been a companion, a friend, a therapist, professionally charming, sought after, honoured, but, ultimately, a commodity. It was difficult for people to view her as a woman, a flesh and blood human being with her own thoughts and ambitions, that she had a life beyond her job that was not for sale.

But Starbuck had understood. He’d never tried to own her, or ‘save’ her, or bend her into a shape to better suit himself. He’d offered, in his own way, to bend himself to her, but was clearly relieved when she rejected it out of hand. Everything had been changing so rapidly, herself included, and Starbuck had been happy to see where her path took her without ever trying to take the lead.

In return she’d offered him the same thing. Her work had required her to read people, to get an idea of what they needed. Starbuck needed so many things, but a cage wasn’t one of them. They both needed someone to be there for the person they were, not what they could be moulded into, and they’d found it in each other. Neither of them were perfect, and they didn’t need to be.

She loved him, and he loved her, and that was the only thing that mattered.

“Sorry,” Apollo said, looking between them and raising his hands in apology, “the thought is banished from my mind.”

Starbuck laughed, “if anything changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

Cassiopeia read the scanner readings, “well, it looks like you came out almost the same as Buck. Nothing serious, but you’ll hurt for a few weeks.”

“Any residue of that stuff? Side effects?” Apollo asked.

“None that I can see,” she replied, “at least it seems to wear off completely.”

“I can’t understand what their goal is,” Apollo said, looking at Starbuck, “Snow said they were looking for specialist plants, that must be where the liquid came from, but as dangerous as it is, I can’t see them having access to much of it.”

Cassiopeia lent her hip against the examination table and crossed her arms, “who’s ‘they’?”

“We’re probably not supposed to tell you,” Apollo said, looking across at Starbuck.

“Her credentials are impeccable,” Starbuck replied with a shrug.

They gave her a rough outline of everything they knew, and she listened thoughtfully.

“Void cultists,” she shook her head, “why is there always someone who wants to blow everything up?”

Apollo frowned, “Valens was a deconstructor.”

“And he seemed to think we’d all be better off dead.” Starbuck added.

“You don’t think they’re planning to destroy the Galactica?!” Cassiopeia said in alarm.

“No, not the Galactica,” Apollo said, “too difficult.”

“The Nephthys.” Starbuck said, eyes widening.

_____

The broadcast signals had been choked with distress calls. With time to think Stark’s crew, what was left of them, had grown angry. Whether it was their guilt or grief they’d turned on him. When he tried to assert order they’d beaten him senseless and sealed him in his room. Millions of cubits worth of contraband was jettisoned into space, including huge amounts of the same Cylon tech that was killing them. Stark had watch it drift away from his window, the containers glinting in the sunlight as they were drawn back into orbit, the taste of blood and ash in his mouth. Beyond, the enormous burning eyes of the planet where cities had once been, growing as the conflagration devoured entire regions.

The crew had taken them to Ares, barely ahead of the Cylons and the ship had been packed with human beings, screaming, crying, many of them with wounds that would take their lives. Those unfortunate ones were thrown back out into space, there was, very literally, no room for ceremony.

As far as anyone knew there were nowhere to go. They flew blind into the darkness, hearing the broadcasts vanish one by one as the Cylons found them.

They could only listen as whole planets fell silent.

Then, when it seemed like they had been the only ones to survive, a signal had come through. A single repeated phrase, calling the last remnants of the Colonies together, a beacon in the infinite darkness around them.

A single Battlestar had survived, and she was calling to them.

They gathered with other ships of all sizes, the few remaining Vipers threading between them, surveying for threats.

The Battlestar Galactica, guide and protector of the fledgeling fleet, was leading them, they could only hope, to safety.

______

Stark could still feel the burning eyes on him, watching him from the darkness. His former crew hadn’t told the warriors who he was, a small mercy, and he’d been assigned to an engineering position on the Nephthys. At night, the Void spoke to him.

When he was younger he had worked for a cartel man when they’d had the idea to mix a little esotericism into the regular crime. Stark had been tasked with researching the various symbols and rituals that would put the fear of the Void into security and rivals alike, and he’d found himself fascinated by it. Then, in front of his eyes, he’d seen the Void devour whole worlds. In the time it had taken to launch it had swallowed millions of lives, extinguished them as if they’d never existed. It was an unstoppable force, an unlimited, ungovernable power.

His power.

Warriors were just as human as everyone else, just as easily manipulated. It wouldn’t matter how sceptical they were, when Stark proved his power they would have no choice but to acknowledge it. The Fleet was full of men and women like Valens, angry, hurting, afraid, and he would be their master, wielding the Void as the whip. The military would be too scared to touch him, the Council would be forced to bow to his authority. He would allow them their petty administration, the day to day, but he would be God-Emperor of the Fleet, the power of life and death would be his.

Naya lay dead at his feet. Not his first victim, nor, should things go well, his last. He had his network in place, some who believed in the Void, some only interested in the promises of power Stark had made. It had taken a long time, longer than he’d liked, speaking in hushed voices in dark corners, gathering followers, but now they were waiting for the sign.

A council security man arrived at his door, not even looking at Naya’s body as Stark came out into the hall. He was escorted down to the shuttle bay, where a private shuttle was already waiting. It didn’t matter that the shuttle would be immediately tracked, by the time he stepped out of it again, he would be untouchable.

_______

Cassiopeia was also leaving by shuttle, returning to the Galactica with a warrior piloting it. She thanked him hastily, jogging out across the hanger, bouncing anxiously as she passed through the security check, a requirement of the lockdown. Once through she went directly to Adama’s office at a run.

She’d been instructed to go there anyway, Adama had been keen to hear the report on Apollo and Starbuck, but now she had another message. She was breathless by the time she got to his office.

“They think there’s a bomb on the Nephthys,” She blurted out the moment she was through the door, “they didn’t know if they could trust their comms not to be intercepted inside the ship,” she added, trying to order her thoughts as Adama stared at her.

“Apollo and Starbuck,” she clarified, “Valens was a deconstructor, and he was on the Nephthys before he died. He thought we’d all be better off if we’d never escaped the Colonies.”

Adama blinked, absorbing the information, “a bomb?”

“Yes,” Cassiopeia panted, “Apollo says to contact them on emergency channel five-seven-five.”

Adama nodded, he used the communicator on his desk, “Adama to Apollo.”

“Apollo here,” Apollo replied, “did Cass tell you what’s going on?”

“Yes. I’m going to the bridge, we’ll scan the Nephthys and see if we can bring up anything. There was an unsanctioned launch from her just before Cassiopeia’s shuttle, we think it might be this ‘Stark’.”

“We’re going towards the engines,” Apollo said, “if they want to destroy the ship, that’s the most likely target.”

“I’ll see if there’s anyone there who might be able to help.” Adama said.

“Yes sir,” Apollo said.

“Keep me updated,” Adama said, closing the comm. He turned to Cassiopeia, “Thank you.”

She smiled. “Both their medical checks came out fine, too. Just bruises.”

Adama smiled back. He liked Cassiopeia, kind, gentle, level-headed, and with a core of pure tritanium. He suspected if he asked her to return to the Nephthys and dispose of the bomb herself, she would do so. “I appreciate it.” He urged her along with him as he moved to the door, “go back to your work, the rest is down to us.”

Chapter Text

The vial was no bigger than his little finger, but it was about to change the direction of humanity. Bodo admired it in the bright, cold light of his room, the liquid inside was viscous, greenish yellow with specks of dark brown. This was the Void in a bottle. He was one of only a select few, but they would be enough. The Void was unstoppable.

He’d been on the Rising Star when the Destruction happened, a dealer at the Pagau table, when the world had fallen out from under him. At first the reports had sounded like a joke, albeit a sick one. Then the refugees in small ships had come pouring in, from the hysterical to the catatonic. They’d joined the Fleet and sailed out into space, and what was supposed to be a three month job had become permanent, and he would never see his family again.

He didn’t feel much of anything any more. The centons lasted hours, the centars lasted days, days into weeks, weeks into months. He was never really hungry, exhausted but never tired.

He looked at the vial again.

His communicator bleeped. He opened the door of his quarters, pulled the lid of the vial, and inhaled deeply as he stepped out into the hall.

Two security guards approached him.

“Sir, please return to your room,” one of them said, “we’re in a stage three-”

With a feral roar, Bodo attacked.

________

Athena and the other signal specialists were searching reams of data, from the Nephthys own sensors, the ships around her, and from the Galactica’s own powerful scanners. They were looking for anything out of the ordinary, a rogue signal, a reading that was off, anything that could indicate something was where it shouldn’t be.

Two Vipers from yellow squadron were tracking Stark’s ship, not getting too close, but ready to fire if it did anything suspicious.

Colonel Kiel arrived on the bridge with a sharp salute. She was the most senior deconstructor in the Fleet, a woman who knew how to tear down just about anything with a few explosives. At first she had struggled to adapt from Cylon targets to rock faces and asteroids, but she’d soon learned to delight in the challenges presented to her by hostile alien environments and the nuances of breaking something just enough, rather than completely. She wasn’t sure why she’d been summoned in a hurry, though. Generally speaking, even directly against the Cylons, deconstruction wasn’t an emergency job. In fact, it was only the second time she’d ever been on the bridge at all.

“Colonel,” Adama greeted her, “we suspect, but don’t yet know, that there is a bomb on the Nephthys, planted with the intention of completely destroying her.”

“I see.” Kiel said, “so you need me on hand when you find it.”

Adama beckoned her over to a screen showing a diagram of the Nephthys, “if you wanted to destroy her with as little explosive as possible…”

Kiel frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then pointed to an area of the engine. “Here, where the fuel accelerant meets the ionisers.”

“That’s where we’ll begin,” Adama said, turning to Omega, “sergeant, contact council security on the Nephthys, tell them-”

“Sir,” Omega interrupted urgently, “they’re calling us.”

Adama paused, frowning, “what?”

“There’s some sort of riot breaking out on the Nephthys.”

Adama heaved a breath. “A diversion?”

“Difficult to say, sir.” Omega replied apologetically.

Adama smiled wryly, “it was rhetorical, sergeant.”

“Yes sir,” Omega grimaced, “sorry sir.”

_____

“Level Four Lockdown Alert,” an automated voice spoke over the Nephthys public comm, “Do not leave your location. Level Four Lockdown Alert.”

“What’s happening?” Starbuck asked. They’d paused along the corridor they’d been jogging along, almost to the elevator to the engine section.

“Something must have triggered the final lockdown stage,” Apollo said. He took out his communicator, “Captain Apollo to Nephthys command…” he waited, there was no response. “Frack, they must be jamming comms.”

“Of course they are, this is a full-scale invasion alert,” Starbuck said, “everything will be sealed.”

Apollo growled, “to stop anyone finding that bomb in time.”

“If there is a bomb, and they’re not going to pump the whole ship with that stuff.” Starbuck said, sending an anxious glance towards the vents.

“No, why lock everyone in if you want them to tear each other apart?”

“Maybe they don’t, maybe they just want to give them a taste of the Void.”

“Then they could’ve put it in the water, like they did to us,” Apollo said. He gestured to Starbuck to follow and carried on down the hall, “we’ll have to find a way to force the doors.”

______

“Of course, the riot would be enough to tip the security alert,” Adama huffed as he closed communication with Apollo, “they made sure nobody could get to that bomb.”

“Sir, we’re getting a broadcast on all standard frequencies,” Omega said. “It’s someone calling himself Stark…”

“Alright, let’s hear it,” Adama said, bracing himself.

“People of the Fleet,” Stark’s voice began, “my name is Stark, and if you do as I say, no harm will come to you-”

Adama growled under his breath, “where is the broadcast coming from, the shuttle?”

“Yes sir,” Omega replied, “though it’s being bounced through every ship…”

“Have the Vipers jam-” Adama began.

“Commander,” Kiel interrupted, “if might be possible the detonator on the bomb is somehow tied to this signal. If you stop it, it might trigger the explosion.”

Adama sighed. “Very well.” He addressed Omega again, “have the other ships cut standard broadcasting. There’s no need for everyone to have to hear this.” He turned back to Kiel, “you think the bomb will detonate once he’s done?”

“It would make a very effective exclamation point.” Kiel replied.

______

Casi pressed his ear against the wall, sure he could hear people arguing in the corridor.

“Whatever they’re doing we don’t want any of it,” Casi’s partner hissed from behind him, “what if they’re Cylons!”

“It’s not Cylons,” Casi gestured for them to be quiet.

“Well whoever it is it’s none of our business.”

“Will you-!” Casi turned with a growl, stopped himself, and sighed, “sweet-bun, please.” He smiled pleadingly, “just let me listen.” He turned back to the wall, pressing against it.

He could just about make out two voices, certainly human.

“There’s no other connections from here to the engine bay, if we don’t get this elevator open everyone on this ship is dead!”

“What do you want me to do about it? Tear it out of the wall with my bare hands?”

Casi jolted back. Of course the lockdown had sealed all the doors. He glanced at his own. He had never considered himself a brave man, he put his survival down to luck. During the destruction, he and fifty others had jammed themselves into a short range transport shuttle, designed to take supplies up to the orbital bases. Overcapacity and under-supplied they’d shot into space with only the faintest hope of following the signal that had called to them. Casi had never been to space before hurtling into it in a craft barely fit for purpose. The little shuttle had almost no chance of making it to the burgeoning Fleet, and if the heavy freighter Baron Asterids hadn’t found them drifting near an orbital beacon they would’ve joined the rest of the space junk that had once been the backbone of a civilisation.

Casi went out the door, despite his partner’s whimpered protest, and stopped when two warriors turned sharply to them. He raised his hands.

“I can get the elevator open but I can’t make it go,” Casi blurted, briefly wondered why the two men looked like they’d been in a brawl. Perhaps something to do with the lockdown, he reasoned.

“You can get the doors open?” Starbuck asked.

Casi nodded.

“How?” Apollo said, “these are sealed by-”

“Pol,” Starbuck admonished sharply, gesturing for Casi to come closer. He shoved Apollo lightly out of the way.

Casi flashed a nervous smile, jogging forward. He pulled a multi-driver from his pocket and set to work on the elevator panel. Within a centon the doors slid open. “It’s an emergency rescue protocol,” he averted his eyes as he put the tool away.

“How do you know it?” Apollo asked suspiciously.

Starbuck rolled his eyes, “Who’s to say, huh?” He smiled at Casi, “thank you very much, you might have just saved this whole ship.”

Casi beamed back, “I… no problem.”

“How do we open the doors at the bottom?” Starbuck asked.

“There’s handles on the inside,” Casi replied, “just pull them.”

“Great, thank you.” Starbuck smiled again, “please go back to your quarters and seal the door.”

“Yes sir.” Casi nodded, backing away.

“Thank you,” Apollo said.

Casi nodded and hurried back inside, sealing the doors behind him.

Apollo and Starbuck were left gazing down a gloomy elevator shaft. Apollo lent in, pulling open a panel on the wall and taking out two metal tools that, while specifically designed to help anchor emergency teams while they worked in the shaft, could also be used to rappel down them, not that it was recommended.

“I hate this part.” Starbuck said, taking one of the anchors and peering over the edge. He took a deep breath, “ok.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s as easy as falling down a pit.” Apollo said lightly.

Starbuck cast him a sidelong look.

Apollo secured his anchor and turned on his personal light, beside him Starbuck did the same. Then, shoulder to shoulder, they descended into the shaft.

_____

“There’s an unaccounted for object below pipe interchange IO-4.” Athena said, glancing across at the officer beside her.

“I see it,” they replied, “faint long wave radiation signature.”

“That has to be it, it has to be,” Athena said, she turned in her seat. “We’ve found it!”

“Good,” Adama said, contacting Apollo on the comm, “what’s your status?”

“We’ve reached the engineering deck,” Apollo replied.

“We’ll send you the position of the bomb,” Adama said, closing the comm. He looked over at Omega, “sergeant, what’s the status of the Nephthys?”

“The commander’s moved her out to the edge of the Fleet,” Omega said, “security are getting the rioters under control, it seems to be isolated pockets of disturbance around the ship.”

“And Stark’s shuttle?”

“Still broadcasting, he doesn’t seem to know nobody’s picking it up. The Vipers are still on him.”

“Good.” Adama smiled thinly, “then we wait for Apollo and Starbuck to locate the bomb.”

____

“Gods, why are our uniforms so light,” Starbuck groused as he jogged through the engine bay behind Apollo, “my pants are filthy.”

Apollo threw him a look over his shoulder, “you’re worried about that now?”

“Just why do they have to be light? Why not some colour that blends in with… anything.”

“Does it matter? You know the Cylons don’t see like we do.”

“So?”

“So it doesn’t matter what colour they are.”

“That’s my point,” Starbuck sighed. “They can be any colour, and they choose the one that shows up everything the second you do anything.”

“Why do you care, anyway? It’s not like you have to wash them.”

“Yeah well someone has to,” Starbuck said.

Apollo stopped abruptly, turning on him, “you’re really worried about this now, when we’re looking for a bomb that might kill everyone on this ship?”

Starbuck was silent, watching him.

Apollo suddenly got it, he huffed, smiling as he turned around again, “maybe it’s the stuff they coat it with. Isn’t powdered quarterine white?”

“And they can’t dye it?”

“Maybe the dye would mess up the effect.” Apollo said. Their uniforms were not just lined to protect them from various weapons, but coated with a substance that helped to scatter Cylon scanners, making them, effectively, harder to ‘see’. “Or maybe the dye wont stick.”

“Then they should use whatever this black goop is,” Starbuck sighed, briefly gazing down at himself.

The enormous apparatus of the engines hummed and churned around them, making their teeth buzz and their chests rumble. Neither man had spent much time in the engine bays of any ship, and the sprawling maze-like tangle of pipes and catwalks was almost overwhelming. Apollo kept them on track with a scanner, and Starbuck had his communicator tuned to Stark’s broadcast, albeit quietly.

“There!” Apollo pointed towards the pipe junction. They crawled under it, able only to stay on their knees as they approached a box which, they assumed, the bomb was beneath.

Starbuck shuffled around to the other side.

“Ok,” Apollo lifted the box carefully and put it aside.

Starbuck swallowed at the collection of wires and charges. “We need to make this quick, it sounds like Stark is wrapping up.”

Apollo turned his communicator to video broadcast mode and scanned over the bomb.

On the bridge of the Galactica, Kiel tried not to grimace as she watched the screen. “Ok,” she let out a breath, “Apollo, can you hear me?”

“We can hear you,” Apollo replied, “what do we need to do?”

Kiel wet her lip, “it’s parathermic,” she said, “that means if it gets tripped you’re going to expand very quickly followed by compacting very, very quickly.”

“It’ll implode?” Adama asked, standing anxiously by Kiel’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Kiel said, “I guess Stark didn’t want the explosion to damage any other ship.”

“How thoughtful of him,” Adama huffed.

“With all due respect, commander,” Kiel shot him a look, “please be quiet.”

Adama retreated a step, embarrassed.

“Apollo,” Kiel focussed on the video, “listen very carefully and do exactly as I say.”

Chapter Text

Apollo took a breath, trying to steady his hands. Opposite him, Starbuck held the communicator so Kiel could see what Apollo was doing. The work was delicate. Apollo moved as quickly as he dared, and Starbuck could do nothing but watch.

Apollo’s hands were damp, he held his breath as he followed Kiel’s instructions, and risked a glance up towards Starbuck. Starbuck smiled reassuringly.

“At least if we both implode all our most embarrassing secrets will die with us.” Starbuck whispered.

Apollo gave a short, surprised laugh, “shut up I’m saving lives.”

Almost as if the laugh had dislodged something, he started breathing again.

“Alright, this is the final step,” Kiel said over the comm, “you see that cylinder in the middle? Take that out, straight up, very, very carefully.”

Apollo swallowed and nodded, “got it.” He raised his eyes to meet Starbucks. “Here goes.”

Starbuck put on a smile braver than he felt, and nodded.

Apollo drew the cylinder from the centre of the device. He recognised it as the detonation charge, a tiny droplet of liquid Merillium in an oil suspension. From the bottom trailed two wires, one striped, one plain. They would deliver a spark to the cannister, igniting the Merillium. While outside the device it may not have detonated the whole explosive, it would be enough on its own to wipe out himself and Starbuck and severely damage the Nephthys’ engines.

“Ok, cut the striped wire.” Kiel said, “and pray Valens didn’t get smart.”

Starbucks had to put Apollo’s communicator down to take out his pocket utility knife. He drew out the blade.

“Here goes nothing.”

Apollo closed his eyes, and there was a faint ‘tink’ as Starbuck’s knife sliced the wire in two.

A cheer went up over the comm. Apollo opened his eyes again, and Starbuck was grinning at him. Starbuck picked up Apollo’s communicator from the floor.

“Ok!” Kiel sighed with relief. “You’re safe to cut off the other wire. Pull the cap off the cylinder and pour the whole thing on the floor.”

“What?” Starbuck furrowed his brow.

“Just do it,” Kiel replied.

Starbuck put the comm down again, and cut the other wire. Apollo pulled the cap off the cylinder and dutifully poured the contents onto the metal tread plate of the engine bay. The silvery sphere Merillium pooled into a shapeless blob, then fizzled as it hit the atmosphere, turning black and hard.

Starbuck laughed in relief, “science, huh?”

“Congratulations,” Adama said proudly over the comm, “secure the device and return to the Galactica as soon as the lockdown lifts.”

Apollo closed out the comm, trembling all over and grinning uncontrollably.

“Hey,” Starbuck pulled his own comm from his pocket, “Stark stopped talking.”

“We did it,” Apollo said giddily, “Buck…”

Starbuck nodded, grinning back, “we are so good!”

“We are!” Apollo laughed, slightly hysterical, “we really are!” He threw himself at Starbuck in an awkward, fierce hug, and Starbuck hugged tightly back.

_____

Stark had anticipated a communication from commander Adama. He opened his comm, smiling.

“Commander, how nice to hear from you.”

“Stark,” Adama said coolly, “you will proceed to the Galactica, landing bay 16, and surrender your shuttle.”

Stark paused, then chuckled, “still posturing, commander? What makes you think I cannot do to you what I did to the Nephthys?”

“The Nephthys?” Adama replied innocently, “what exactly did you do to her?”

“She has been swallowed by the Void, commander,” Stark said, “and I-”

“I think you should check your assertions,” Adama said, “the Nephthys is fine. In fact, I can see her on our main screen right now.”

Stark hesitated.

“Surrender to Fleet authority or your shuttle will be destroyed,” Adama said firmly, “and it would be a terrible shame to waste a shuttle.”

_____

“How were the Council?” Tigh asked, accepting the drink Adama handed to him.

Adama sighed as he sat down, “As can be expected,” he said wryly, taking a sip of his own drink. They were sat in Adama’s quarters, by the window.

Tigh nodded, “That good?”

“Well,” Adama shrugged, “sire Goddard wanted to round up every Void worshipper and… who knows, but that won’t solve anything. You can’t beat unhappiness out of people.” He shook his head, “I think siress Celine had the right idea, though. She understands what people have elected her for, to try to solve these problems, not just try to tighten our fists and pretend that’s a solution. People turned to Stark because they were hurt, angry, depressed. We have to look at why, we have to show people that there’s a better way. If a void is nothing, then the way to destroy it is to replace it with something. That way…” he paused, sighing softly, “there won’t be so much fertile ground for the next Stark. The next Baltar,” he took another drink.

“What do you think they’ll do?”

“Oh, they’ll talk a lot, that’s for sure.” Adama said, “but we can at least do our part here. I’m going to organise a meeting with the senior staff as soon as possible. We need to make sure people like Valens aren’t left behind. None of our people should feel like they’re alone.”

“It seems incredible it got this far without anyone noticing.”

“Perhaps that’s part of the problem,” Adama replied. He gave a dismissive wave of the hand, “we can discuss this at the meeting. For now,” he raised his glass to Tigh, “to another crisis survived.”

Tigh raised his glass in reply, “and to Apollo and Starbuck.”

“Yes,” Adama tipped his glass slightly towards Tigh, “and to reliable friends.”

Tigh smiled, toasted his glass, and took a drink.

____

Apollo adjusted the strapping on his wrist, glancing over at Starbuck, who was completing his stretches. The door to the exercise room opened and Cassiopeia walked in and stopped, frowning.

“You’re not sparring again, are you?” She said, exasperated, “your bruises haven’t even healed over!”

“Not sparring, practising.” Apollo nodded up to the Triad goal set up on the wall. “The next tournament is only thee months away.”

Starbuck smiled as he straightened, “come to watch?”

“Well,” She cocked her head, pretending to consider it, “as exciting as that might be, some of us have real work to do.”

Starbuck pouted at her, “Triad is important for moral.”

“Are you sure it’s not just the uniforms?” She replied with a smirk.

“Anyone can wear the uniform, but only a few of us can make it worth wearing.” Starbuck replied with a grin.

She laughed, “well, no argument there.”

“So why are you here?” Apollo asked, adding hurriedly, “not that it’s not nice to see you.”

“I’ve come for your blood,” She said, holding up a box. “Since we don’t know if there are any long term side effects of that stuff you inhaled, we’re not taking any risks.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Starbuck sighed.

“Do you need anything besides blood?” Apollo asked.

She smiled wryly at him as she popped the box open and took out the first dermal probe. “Why captain, what an offer.”

Apollo opened his mouth then closed it again with a blush.

Cassiopeia laughed, taking his blood first, then Starbuck’s with a second probe. “There we go, all done.”

“No kiss for being brave?” Starbuck pouted.

She laughed softly, and pressed a gentle kiss on him before turning to Apollo. “Do you want a kiss too?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” Apollo replied dryly, making Cassiopeia chuckle.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? We’ll show you just how good of a team we are,” Starbuck asked her.

Cassiopeia paused, then grinned at him, “as much as it pains me to refuse,” she blew them both a kiss, “maybe later.”

Apollo watched her leave, frowning softly, then turned to Starbuck, who laughed at him.

“C’mon, captain,” Starbuck said tossing Apollo the ball, “let’s make the other teams cry.”