Note: This is totally unbeta'd, unproofed, and even unspell-checked. And
remember, I just had eye surgery.

This takes place sometime during the journey to Earth.

In Defense Of My Honor

by rita (mommacita1@juno.com)

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just like to play with them.

Summary: This story was written in response to a list thread about who 
tortures SB the most. As such it contains graphic scenes of StarbuckTorture.


"I'm sorry, baby," Apollo whispered as he restrained the man on the bed. "I
wish I didn't have to do this, but..."

"It's all right, Apollo," Starbuck replied. "I know you do. I can't be
trusted alone."

"If those frakking Cylon raiders would just give us a break! But with all
the injuries, I can't stay here with you and I can't ask anyone else."

"It's my own fault," was the soft reply. "I have no control."

"It's not your fault, baby. Even Athena doesn't blame you. And do you think
Father would let me keep you here if he thought you *could* control your
... impulses." Starbuck shook his head. He knew his best friend was right,
but he couldn't help feeling his own weakness played a part. Apollo
continued soothingly, "As soon as we're in a clear quadrant, Dr. Wilkes and
Dr. Salik will figure out why this happened."

A klaxon began blaring. Apollo kissed his lover's forehead and
straightened, calling over his shoulder as he ran out, "Colonel Tigh will
be in to check on you and give you nutrients if this takes too long." The
door slid shut and clicked locked behind him.

'Oh, Gods!' thought Starbuck, 'Not Tigh! Reese would be better than Tigh.
Frak! *Baltar* would be better than Tigh!' Tears flowed down his cheeks and
he was helpless even to turn his head and wipe them on the coverlet.
"Please, not Tigh. Dear Lords, not Tigh," Starbuck murmured, turning it
into a litany, until he fell into an exhausted sleep.

***

Tigh looked down at the sleeping figure. He frowned. This wasn't what he
had intended at all, but he had no idea now of how to get out of it. When
he had trained others, there had never been this reaction. Something in the
man's lost history, perhaps. Well, there was no point in worrying about
that now. He had to continue and see the project through, for his own sake
as well as that of the young man spread out before him.

Reluctantly he reached down and placed his hand on the coverlet over
Starbuck's groin. Before he even applied any pressure, an erection began to
form and Starbuck arched towards him against his restraints.

Starbuck woke to a heat and need he was getting used to having as an almost
constant companion. Opening his eyes, he saw Colonel Tight standing over
him, staring down at the obscenity his body had become. 'Anyone else -
anyone - would back off,' he thought bitterly. 'But not the Colonel. Oh,
no. He'll want to see how far it's gone.' Aloud he called attention to
himself by asking sarcastically, "Time for the next step in the
'experiment' yet, Colonel?"

Only Tigh's deca-yahrens of tight control over himself kept him from
jumping at the voice. "You came to me, Lieutenant," Tigh reminded him. "I
had no way of knowing what giving up control meant for you. But you're
still fighting it, I think. Until you surrender completely to your body's
demands - however inappropriate - we can't begin rebuilding."

Starbuck didn't see the sadness or concern in the eyes turned towards him.
He didn't hear the defensiveness in Tigh's voice. He heard accusation. Tigh
agreed with him - this was Starbuck's own fault. Of course, only Starbuck
and Tigh knew how it had all come about. Even the good Colonel hadn't
suggested that Starbuck confess. Confession might be good for the soul, but
in this case it would definitely be bad for the career, and it really
wouldn't solve anything.

While the two men were lost in their related thoughts, Starbuck's body had
continued surging against Tigh's hand. Now with a cry he couldn't suppress,
Starbuck climaxed violently and painfully. Alone with Tigh, Starbuck did
give in to his body. "Please," he panted, voicing his physical need,
"release me."

Tigh considered the request for a micron before acting. He removed his hand
from the wet coverlet and dropped it to his laser pistol, just in case
Starbuck's next move was an attack. With his other hand he released
Starbuck's bonds.

Starbuck immediately rolled off the pallet he had been tied to. Tigh
stepped back and his hand tightened on his laser pistol. But Starbuck only
rolled to his knees, one hand diving into his semen-soaked sleep pants and
pumping his cock back to hardness, the other reaching behind him and
thrusting twisting fingers into his own body, searching for his prostate.
Tigh relaxed and waited, allowing his own arousal to proceed as he watched
the wanton display. Overbalanced by his twisted and writhing body, Starbuck
fell over onto his side, never ceasing his frantic rhythm. Finally, with a
long scream, Starbuck stiffened and straightened, stretching his body into
a rigid, straight line as he shot cum into his fist and already soiled
pants. His arm was wrenched out of his anus by the ferocity of his
ejaculation and he lay in a boneless heap at Tigh's feet, panting. After
only long enough to be able to form words, Starbuck looked up at Tigh and
pleaded, "More. Need more. Please."

Ignoring his own body's response for the micron, Tigh looked calmly down at
the exhausted man and asked, "What do you need?"

For a moment, the Colonel thought Starbuck would be unable to answer, but a
shudder ran through the Lieutenant's body and Tigh saw the physical
resignation as Starbuck recognized what he needed to say. Swallowing hard,
Starbuck replied in a strained voice, "I need you to fuck me. Take me
hard."

Tigh nodded. This was better. Much better than Starbuck's first realization
of his need: attacking Athena, who would have willingly given herself to
him, while screaming at her to shoot him, kill him, end his misery.

Starbuck's screaming plea broke Tigh's reverie; the man was now totally out
of control. "Now! Take me now! In need it now!"

Tigh's voice remained quiet. "All right, I will. But it will be for my
pleasure, not yours. If I take your body, I will use it until I'm done. Is
that what you want?"

"Yes," Starbuck screamed. "Yes. Do it! Do it now! Use me up!"

Tigh wasted no more words. Reaching down, he ripped the sleep pants from
Starbuck's prone body and slammed him face down over the pallet,
disregarding the pain he was causing. Pausing only to pull his rigid cock
out of his pants, he entered his in one hard thrust and began pounding, not
allowing Starbuck to join his thrusts or to establish a rhythm of his own.

Starbuck came twice more, untouched, and his battered bladder gave way as
well before Tigh was sated. Tigh sat back finally, holding his deflated
cock to ensure his own uniform remained unsullied. When he was rested
enough, he cleaned himself up and redressed. Then he efficiently set about
restoring Starbuck to the pallet, cleaning his rectal area, but not his
penis, pulling the stained and stiff sleep pants back onto him, and
arranging the coverlet so its stain matched Starbuck's position before
restraining him again.

Starbuck cooperated passively, his eyes warily watching the Colonel. When
all was restored to its original condition, save the evidence of his lack
of control, Starbuck whispered, "What now?"

Tight looked at him in some surprise. "Why, Lieutenant," he said, "I've
come to give you your nutrients. Didn't the Captain tell you I would be by
if the battle was lengthy?" He busied himself in the kitchen area for a few
centons, returning with an adult-sized drinking bottle "Now," he continued.
"I did release your hands to hold the bottle, but you immediately began to
abuse yourself, didn't you?"

Starbuck nodded, understanding what he was being told.

"So I had no choice but to restrain you again and feed you myself." So
saying, Tigh upended the bottle and placed the nipple in Starbuck's mouth.
"Drink up."

Starbuck obeyed, feeling his spent cock rouse painfully as he sucked.
Starbuck made no attempt to repress the ejaculation when it came, adding to
the wet mess already covering his lower torso

Tigh tut-tutted and patted the wet peak still visible in the coverlet. He
changed bottles when Starbuck finished the first one, ignoring Starbuck's
moan. Before Starbuck finished the second large bottle of nutrient
solution, his sphincter relaxed, and the smell of warm urine permeated the
room. He gagged at the smell, which the Colonel appeared able to ignore,
only to have the bottle pushed more firmly against his lips. He resumed
sucking wearily.

"You really have no control left at all, do you?" Tigh asked, removing the
now-empty bottle.

"No," came the tired reply.

"Well, then, I think I can answer your original question. Yes, you are
ready for the 'next step'."

***

'If Apollo hadn't walked in just now...' Starbuck abruptly stopped that
line of thought. Apollo *had* walked in and that was what mattered. Apollo
was his savior. Apollo walked in as the Colonel was unzipping himself once
again, forestalling whatever 'next step' he had in mind. Apollo had walked
in as he was raping Athena, begging her to kill him, pushing his pistol
into her hands even as he thrust into her body. Apollo was the one who kept
him out of a psycho ward on the Senior Ship. Apollo anticipated his urges,
channeled them when he could, cleaned him up when he lost control anyway.

And Apollo was also the reason he had gone to Colonel Tigh in the first
place.

//flashback//

Starbuck was drunk that night. Drunk seemed to be the only way he could get
it up for the ladies, and he did have his reputation to uphold. He giggled.
"Get it up to uphold," he chanted as he weaved down the hallway. "Get it up
to uphold," he greeted the Sires and Siresses he passed, raising his bottle
of ambrosa in salute.

'One too many Sires and Siresses, it appears,' he thought ruefully, trying
to maintain attention both physically and mentally as his Captain dressed
him down. 'Rather you undressed me than dressed me down, 'Pol,' he thought,
provoking another giggle.

The Captain was not amused. "And then you had the nerve - you find
something funny in all this, Lieutenant?"

Starbuck sobered immediately. "No, sir. Nothing funny, sir." 'Pathetic,
maybe,' he reflected, 'but not funny.'

"Good. Then perhaps you would care to explain why you then broke into my
quarters and tried to climb into bed with me?"

'Try to explain? No, I don't think so.' Starbuck remained silent.

"That wouldn't have been so bad," Apollo continued speaking, but Starbuck
fixated on those six words.

'No, Captain, that wouldn't have been bad at all.'

"Lieutenant, are you listening to me?"

"Hmm? What? Yes, sir. I'm listening, sir."

"Maybe I'd better just list your infractions. You don't seem capable of
keeping your mind on me."

'On the contrary, Captain...'

"Starbuck! Pay. Attention. To. What. I'm. Saying." Starbuck nodded and drew
himself back to rigid attention. "One: You were drunk and disorderly while
in uniform. Two: Sire Dunlea, Siress Melpha, and Sire and Siress T reported
you - in three separate incidents. Three: You broke into a Senior Officer's
quarters. Four: You woke Boxey who is still waiting for me to explain what
was wrong with Uncle Starbuck last cycle and why he was climbing naked into
Daddy's bed." Apollo continued silently, 'Five: you were stinking of sex,
ambrosa, and Cass's favorite scent. Were you trying to rub my nose into the
fact that I'll never have you?' He cleared his throat and made sure
Starbuck was still listening and that he hadn't spoken that last aloud.
"I've discussed the situation with the Commander and Colonel Tigh. It's
clear you lack self-control of any sort. And you're not a kid anymore,
Starbuck, this can't continue. The Commander and the Colonel informed me
that Colonel Tigh has some experience in control training. It's my
recommendation you take advantage of that experience - if he's willing to
put up with you."

"And if I don't - sir?"

"If you choose not to attempt rehabilitation, Lieutenant, the agro ship is
short-handed and the Commander is looking for candidates to do alternative
service for the next sectare or so."

//End flashback//

Starbuck became aware that Apollo and Tigh were speaking while Apollo
cleaned him and the pallet up. Keeping his eyes closed, he listened to the
two of them debating his fate.

"Don't you think you've done enough, Colonel? I'm not stupid. Whatever you
did to 'train' Starbuck is what got him into this condition."

"Precisely, Captain. One has to break down before building up. The process
never failed before. Admittedly, it seems to have had unforeseen
ramifications this time..."

"A little euphemism, Colonel? You never minced words when a warrior under
your command made an error."

The Colonel brushed the remark aside with a gesture. "Nonetheless, Captain,
since the situation is obviously not self-correcting, I would like to
continue working with the Lieutenant. I think if I start enforcing control
externally, he might..."

"He *might* what? You don't really know, do you? Something went wrong in
your methods and you don't know what. It's reduced the man..." 'the man I
love more than anything,' "the man I've called my best friend for over 15
yahrens," Apollo continued aloud, hoping Tigh hadn't noticed the break in
his speech, "from one of the best viper pilots in the fleet to someone who
can't control his own body, let alone a viper. And you want to - to
experiment further?"

"Do you have a better alternative?" Tigh didn't bother denying the truth -
whatever he did now would be no more than an experiment.

"I'd like Salik and Wilkes to try again."

"They've already admitted defeat. Salik's solution is to keep him
permanently sedated. Wilkes is suggesting bio-restraints controlled by, in
effect, a keeper. We both know Starbuck better than that. He'd rather you
tossed him out a garbage chute."

"Yes, he would." Both men jumped at the voice coming from the pallet. "Do I
get any say, Apollo? Or have I been judged incompetent?"

Apollo paused to process what his best friend was asking. There was no
sarcasm in the tone, and the blue eyes that met his were asking only for
the truth. "You're not incompetent, Starbuck," he replied, "Just..."

"Out of control?" There was sad humor in Starbuck's tone. "It's okay. I'm a
little surprised the powers that be recognize the difference." He took a
deep breath. "If I do get a vote, I'd choose to try whatever the Colonel
has in mind." He closed his eyes, not really believing he'd said those
words, made that choice. But Starbuck knew he couldn't let Apollo become
his permanent caretaker. Starbuck might be reduced to nothing but a set of
primitive urges, but Apollo had a future ahead of him.

***

"Atten-shun!"

The Lieutenant scrambled to his feet and came to Academy-perfect attention.
It was not perfect enough for his current commanding officer, however.

"When I say 'attention', Lieutenant, and we are in these rooms alone, I
want *all* of you at attention, is that understood?"

The Lieutenant closed his eyes and tried to will his recalcitrant member to
fullness. It responded reluctantly, slowly coming to half-mast before his
concentration was interrupted.

"Perhaps you need a reminder of what 'attention' means, Lieutenant. Eyes
forward. Chin up. Shoulders back. Chest out. Arms at sides. Stomach in.
Buttocks tucked."

Starting with 'chin up', the sting of the riding crop against the body part
in question accompanied each command. When it snapped against his buttocks,
the rest of his body tightened, completing the position.

"Better," the Colonel purred and Starbuck just barely managed not to sag in
relief. "Penis rigid and at right angles to the body."

The riding crop merely tapped the member and Starbuck forced himself not to
react.

"Scrotum tight," was accompanied by a gentle stroke between his legs. "And
knees forward," the Colonel concluded with a tap at the back of Starbuck's
knees. "Very good." He went on to the next part of this particular exercise
in physical control. "Parade rest."

Holding his muscles tense, Starbuck moved his right leg outward so that his
legs were a shoulders' width apart and swung his arms behind his back,
right hand encircling left wrist. After a micron's hesitation, he thrust
his left thumb into his anus.

The Colonel circled him, stopping immediately in front of the Lieutenant,
and nodded approvingly. "At ease," he said softly.

The Lieutenant allowed his shoulders, spine, and knees to relax slightly.
"Permission to speak, sir." He forced the words out of his mouth. Better to
get it over with.

"Permission granted."

"In view of my ... lapse ... I should be disciplined, sir."

"Agreed, Lieutenant. What do you recommend?"

Starbuck knew the right answer had to involve "punishment fitting the
crime". He answered carefully. "Since I showed no need of release of any
kind, sir, the next release period should be skipped."

The Colonel considered the response, then smiled. "Excellent. Suggestion
accepted," he replied, tapping the catheter plug that prevented both
ejaculation and urination. "And for closing your eyes?" he prompted.

"At the next control review, I should be blindfolded since I demonstrated a
need to..." he paused to find words suitably euphemistic for the Colonel,
"to reduce visual distraction."

The Colonel chuckled. "Very good, Lieutenant. 'Reduce visual distraction' -
I like that. Done. Now, I believe it's time for mid-day meal."

Starbuck moved unhesitatingly to the eating area, while the Colonel entered
the cooking alcove. With a silent sigh, Starbuck seated himself in the
"training chair", which resembled an adult-sized version of a child's high
chair. He removed his thumb from his ass and perched at the edge of the
seat. Drawing a deep breath to prepare himself, he slid onto the dildo
affixed to the lower seat back, then bent forward and pulled the
restraining strap up between his legs, sliding the cock ring centered on
its center strap over his rigid member. He looped and tightened the
appropriate straps and buckles until he was properly restrained, raised the
bottle holder over his shoulders to rest against his chin, then pressed
down on the arm rests and back on the chair's front legs causing wrist and
ankle restraints to click into place.

Colonel Tigh entered with their mid-day meals: liquid nutrients in
adult-sized bottles for Starbuck and meat roll, glass of agua, and small
plate of greens for himself. He paused to admire the view. "You've come a
long way, Lieutenant," he said after a centon. "Your physical control is
almost perfect now, only a few lapses. If your internal control continues
to improve - unlike at this last review - we might be able to progress to
solid foods soon."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Starbuck responded. He opened his mouth to
receive the nipple as Tigh slid the bottle into the holder. 'Only two
bottles,' he noted. 'I guess I'm being rewarded for choosing the right
punishment.' He began sucking on the nipple as soon as Tigh raised the meat
roll to his lips. When Tigh turned to exchange the empty bottle for the
second, full one, Starbuck decided to push his luck. "Permission to speak
again, sir?"

Tigh raised an eyebrow. Starbuck was displaying more initiative than he had
since the control training had initially gone awry. "Permission granted,"
he responded, curiosity evident in his voice.

"With all due respect, sir," Starbuck phrased his words carefully. The last
thing he wanted was to undo the good marks he had achieved thus far. "I
believe the Colonel neglected to switch on the chair motor."

In fact, the Colonel had forgotten that part of the routine in his pleasure
at Starbuck's positive responses. Now he asked, "Do you want it on,
Lieutenant?"

Starbuck was perplexed. The stimulation wasn't unpleasant - not at all -
although without the plug it would have more than taxed his weak control,
but it clearly wasn't meant as either reward or punishment; more as
preparation for yet another control test. He shrugged mentally. "I leave it
to the Colonel's discretion," he replied.

'Oh, you're being *very* good today, aren't you?' Tigh thought. 'Well,
let's up the stakes a bit.' He reached over and flipped the switch on the
back of Starbuck's chair. The dildo began vibrating and the cock ring
rhythmically tightened and released slightly. When Tigh pushed the bottle
of nutrients into Starbuck's mouth, he sucked in time to their rhythm. Tigh
found his hand straying between his own legs and stroking his hardening
member in the same rhythm. He finished his lunch absently while he watched
and reacted to the younger man's display.

***

Reluctantly Tigh rose and cleared the dishes and bottles. Without turning
off the motor, he released Starbuck's arms and legs. The younger man didn't
move, waiting obediently for direction.

"Release the straps."

Starbuck undid the restraining straps and cock ring, remaining impaled on
the vibrating dildo. His unrestrained cock pulsed.

Tigh pulled his attention away from between the man's legs and turned the
motor off. "You may get up now," he said. As Starbuck slid himself
carefully off the dildo and cleaned it with a wet cloth, Tigh continued, "I
don't think we'll actually skip the release drill, that would be breaking
routine and routine is very important to your training at this point.
Instead, you will watch while I release. Follow me."

Starbuck followed the Colonel into the turboflush and stood at attention
while the Colonel suited action to words, urinating and then jerking
himself off in front of Starbuck. Starbuck pressed his lips into a thin
line to keep the moans inaudible. His bodily control was vastly improved,
but with the slightest provocation his sexual urges still took over, as
now.

Starbuck's whole life had devolved into a cyclic routine: awakening;
physical inspection; first meal; release period; discipline period,
depending on the results of the inspection; "free time", subject to
observation; control review; mid-day meal; release period; control review;
discipline period; new control instruction period; last meal; cycle review;
discipline period; release period; sleep period.

Starbuck followed Tigh into the sitting room. The Colonel sat himself
comfortably on the couch and Starbuck stood in front of him, waiting for
the command that would begin the next control review.

Holding out a swath of cloth, Tigh ordered, "Blindfold yourself and stand
at attention."

***

Colonel Tigh gazed at the results of his efforts with satisfaction. True,
there had been that horrendous false start, but once they had gotten past
that, and tamed the Lieutenant's stubborn personality when it began to
reassert itself, they had made excellent progress. He should probably let
the young man know that he was pleased. "Look at you, Starbuck! Not an
external plug or restraint on you and you've maintained control for three
centars! Excellent."

/From his position, kneeling up in front of the Colonel, Starbuck stared
straight ahead and replied with military crispness, "Thank you, sir."

"Are you ready for something a little more challenging, Lieutenant?"

"At the Colonel's discretion, sir," Starbuck responded.

"I believe you *are* ready. We might call this a final appraisal."

"Sir?"

"When you succeed at what we'll call," he paused to think of an appropriate
term, "a controlled release period, you will be ready to re-enter Colonial
society - or fleet society, such as it is."

Starbuck risked a hopeful glance up at the Colonel's face and swallowed
hard.

"Of course the re-entry will have to be gradual. You have a lot to relearn.
It will take some time."

Starbuck lowered his gaze and tried to mask his disappointment. The Colonel
only had his best interests - and the fleet's safety - at heart. "Of
course, sir."

"But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll begin with controlled release.
Define control, Lieutenant."

"Control is the ability to contain one's physical and biochemical needs,
repressing them if necessary until an appropriate time to fulfill those
needs."

"Very good. You have attained control. Now define release."

"Release is the relaxation of control to allow fulfillment of one's
physical and biochemical needs."

"Correct. Now, given those definitions, what would you think controlled
release might be?" At Starbuck's hesitation, the Colonel reassured him.
"There will be no punishment for an inaccurate response, Lieutenant."

Starbuck relaxed minutely. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He paused to think
about the question. "Perhaps controlled release is the ability to only,
umm, partially fulfill physical and biochemical requirements?"

"A good answer. And partially correct," He chuckled at the pun. "Controlled
release is the ability to start, stop, and resume release on command. Does
that make sense."

"Yes, sir."

For a micron, Tigh wondered whether Starbuck was giving a rote answer, one
guaranteed to avoid punishment, but discarded the thought as irrelevant.
"Let's begin, then," he said brusquely. "Into the turboflush with you," he
began just as his comm unit began beeping. "Wait," he ordered, and Starbuck
stopped in the entrance to the turboflush.

Tigh positioned himself so that Starbuck was not viewable from the comm
unit. "Tigh," he announced tersely.

Commander Adama's image appeared on the small screen. "Colonel," he greeted
his second in command and immediately go down to business. "I granted you a
quarton with Lieutenant Starbuck before providing evidence of
rehabilitation, but I'm afraid I need to re-evaluate that assignment."

"Is something wrong, Commander?"

"In a word, yes. The Cylons have unleashed a new version of warrior, far
superior to the Centurions: more like an IL-class Cylon with Centurion
physical structure. They think and act faster. And with our casualty rate,
we're past shuttle pilots and veterans; we're down to cadets as replacement
viper pilots. I need Captain Apollo back in a viper, and that means I need
you back on the bridge. Ideally I'd like Lieutenant Starbuck back on duty
as well."

"That's out of the question, Commander."

"Now you sound like Dr. Salik, old friend," Adama said mildly.

"Sorry, sir. But Lieutenant Starbuck is not ready to return to duty. And I
don't feel..."

"You feel guilty about his condition. You feel the need to take care of
him," Adama completed his long-time comrade's thought. "I do understand,
Tigh." He sighed. "I understand all too well. And that's why I will make
the decision. I've held off as long as I could, hoping to hear of some
progress."

"There has been progress, Commander. A great deal of progress. But..."

"I'm sorry, Colonel," the Commander cut him off. "I'll judge that for
myself. I will be in your quarters in one centare. I will interview you and
the Lieutenant - he can be interviewed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I'll interview both of you in a centare. Adama out."

"Tigh out." Tigh closed down the connection and sighed. Turning, he saw
Starbuck stepping out of the darkened turboflush. He quirked an eyebrow.

"I ... I didn't release, sir," Starbuck hastened to assure him, stammering
in his fear of discipline. "I ... I realized this might not be ... that is,
the Commander might ... might misunderstand if he ... if he saw me ... like
this."

"Ah, you heard, then. Well done, Lieutenant. Yes, he might well have drawn
the wrong conclusions. Come here."

Starbuck obeyed instantly, his face a mixture of relief at having done the
right thing and tension at having to continue to control his increasingly
urgent needs.

"Turn around," Tigh ordered, cataloguing the welts and bruises that the
discipline required to enforce control had left on the younger man's body.
"No, it won't do at all for Adama to see you like this. Nudity he'd
understand, but he was never one to see the usefulness of corporal
punishment." He martialed his thoughts. "All right. Use the turboflush - as
fully as you need to. Then use the turbowash. Can you do all that
yourself?"

Tigh wished ruefully the young man had at least bristled at the question,
but he didn't. He merely responded, "Yes, sir."

"Good. By that time I'll be back with clothing for you. Don't answer the
comm or the door in my absence."

"No, sir."

***

The interview went smoothly. Starbuck followed Tigh's instructions to
answer Adama completely and honestly, without checking with the Colonel
first.

"Do you feel you could handle light duty, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir," Starbuck responded, regret evident in his voice. "I don't think
so. Just the thought of being around people who ... who know..." He shook
his head and swallowed hard. "I couldn't handle it. If you have work I
could do in isolation..." He let the idea hang.

"Frankly, it's not what I need now, and it wouldn't free up anyone who
could man a viper. But I'll keep it in mind." Adama chuckled, more to
soften his words than because he found anything humorous. "But I'm always
hearing complaints that there's too much paperwork to be done. So perhaps I
can find something to occupy you."

"That would be very kind, Commander," Starbuck replied softly.

"Do you think you would be all right alone for a duty cycle at a time?"

Starbuck thought about it before answering. Without the ... discipline ...
of Tigh's training, he couldn't be sure. He said as much.

"Perhaps with some kind of minimal restraint?" Tigh suggested mildly.

"Yes, sir," Starbuck responded immediately. "At least at first. Then,
maybe, if I don't seem to need it..."

"We would remove it, of course," Tigh finished smoothly.

"Then it's settled. I'll leave it to you, Colonel, to handle restraint and
checking on the Lieutenant's condition." Adama rose and put a hand on
Starbuck's shoulder. "It's good to see you so improved, Lieutenant. And
thank you for your willingness to be placed under restraint."

"It's all I *can* do for the fleet right now, sir."

***

"All right, then, let's go over the logistics, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." Starbuck stood at parade rest - as defined for when he and the
Colonel were alone - as the Colonel paced back and forth, striking his
riding crop idly against his thigh and various parts of Starbuck's anatomy
at random.

"You'll have to be dressed, minimally perhaps, but enough to cover any
disciplinary marks, just in case someone other than myself checks on you.
That will strain your control, but it can't be helped. You'll be
disciplined should you stain or soil any garments, of course.

"Yes, sir."

"Now, we obviously will have to wait to begin controlled release training.
In fact," the Colonel turned away as a smile crossed his face, "this might
represent a setback for you, Lieutenant. That would be a pity, but perhaps
unavoidable."

"I'll try my best, Colonel."

"I know you will," Tigh reassured the younger man, patting him on the
shoulder. He smiled again at the shudder that ran through Starbuck at his
touch. A healthy dose of fear was not misplaced in one's subordinates; it
ensured instant obedience in crisis situations. "To continue. Awakening,
inspection, and first meal periods will continue as they have been.
However, there will be no time for both of us to ... release and relieve
ourselves and, since I'll be going on duty, I'll have to take precedence.
So, until I can check on you during my shift break, you'll be on, shall we
say, an extended control exercise."

"Understood, sir."

"I will, as we agreed with the Commander, restrain you during my absence.
My first thought was to simply leave you in the feeding chair," he noted
with approval that Starbuck repressed a whimper while his cock jerked at
the image. Tigh's cock jerked in response. "But I decided that wouldn't do,
especially if someone else checks on you. In fact, we'll have to ensure
that all items that might raise questions are out of sight of anyone
checking on you. That will be your job while I'm relieving myself prior to
leaving."

Starbuck breathed a sigh of relief. That meant Tigh would use the
turboflush rather than his mouth or ass to relieve himself.

"I believe I'll restrain you in the punishment pen." A whimper did escape
Starbuck's mouth at that and Tigh responded with a sharp slash of the
riding crop across his buttocks. "Think about it. There are restraints.
There's room for a lap desk, should Adama come up with 'paperwork' for you
to do - which he undoubtedly will." Starbuck's shoulders tensed in
anticipation of another blow, but it didn't come. Instead the Colonel
chuckled. "No, no, you didn't do wrong in suggesting that; quite the
contrary. It alleviated any suspicions the Commander might have had about
your training and progress. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. It also has that
waterproof liner for easy cleanup should you have any lapses. Oh, and I'll
expect you to continue your 'free time' activity - in an extended fashion -
during my absence. Now then, when I check on you, you will either have a
release period or a disciplinary period, depending on whether you've been
successful in the control exercise. At mid-cycle meal, we'll follow the
same procedure, but there will be no release or relief unless I don't
require it - we'll play that by ear. That will be followed by a long
control exercise again, no new control instruction - we won't have time for
that at my break, just release or discipline, I'm afraid. Once I get
off-duty, of course, we'll be able to follow our usual schedule. How does
that sound?"

"Very logical, sir. I'll do my best to maintain control."

"Of course you will. Now, where were we?"

***

The door chimed just as Tigh was about to enter Starbuck to complete
discipline for an egregious lapse. "Who is it?" he rasped, annoyed.

"Dr. Wilkes. Colonel, I've thought of something that will solve several
problems at once."

"Enter."

Wilkes keyed in the code Tigh had given him and entered, locking the door
behind him. He grinned at what he saw and raised his eyebrows as he asked,
"Am I interrupting something, Colonel?"

The Colonel resumed stroking himself and Starbuck, on hands and knees began
to shake. Dr. Wilkes was the only one who had "assisted" the Colonel with
his training and he seemed to especially enjoy the disciplinary aspects.
The Colonel responded, "Not at all, Doctor, not at all. In fact, the
Lieutenant has suffered a setback - not unanticipated, but unfortunate,
nonetheless. I was going to have to hurry his discipline, but since you are
here, we can have our conference while we ensure that he doesn't regress
further. That is, if you would agree to participate, Doctor?"

"Of course, of course. Pity, he's regressed, but in your absence, it was to
be expected. I warned the Commander that might happen. How can I help?"
Wilkes pulled his penis out of his pants as he spoke.

"Up, Starbuck." The Colonel tapped Starbuck's already bright red buttocks
and Starbuck kneeled up. "Face the Doctor and masturbate in time to his
preparations while I continue physical discipline." As he bent to pick up
the strap he had dropped, he added, "No release, now. And no slacking off
either. Match the Doctor's pace precisely."

Starbuck strove to obey, despite his already purpled and pulsing member. He
kept his eyes on Wilkes' hands and cock, but tears of humiliation coursed
down his cheeks at Wilkes' chuckles and comments.

"I believe I'm ready to proceed, Colonel," Wilkes said after what seemed
like centars.

"Would you do the honors, then, while I ... freshen myself, Doctor?" Tigh
asked, offering the strap.

"I'd be delighted."

Starbuck turned around without waiting to be prompted and adjusted his
rhythm to that of the Colonel.

"Do you prefer front or rear, Doctor?" Colonel Tigh asked politely.

Starbuck could hear the smirk in the Doctor's voice, as he replied, "Oh,
couldn't we each have both?"

"Hmm. I don't see why not," Tigh replied thoughtfully, then noticing the
look of absolute horror on Starbuck's face, stroked his cheek. "There,
there. We wouldn't expect that much control of you. Go and get your cock
ring and catheter plug."

"Thank you, sir," Starbuck managed to gasp as he scrambled to obey.

External controls in place, Starbuck resumed his position on hands and
knees as Wilkes entered him dry and hard, while Tigh pounded his face,
almost asphyxiating him with his cock. The men made their pleasure last as
long as they could, holding each other's arms to remain upright as they
lost rhythm in the throes of climax.

When Tigh recovered enough to speak, he instructed Starbuck to lie on his
back and pleasure himself to arouse his trainers. Starbuck fondled and
squeezed his balls, pinched and rolled his nipples and rotated the catheter
in his penis until the other two men were once again hard. At Tigh's
command, he kept his eyes open and focused on them and their reactions to
his performance.

Finally, Wilkes handed him an absorbent glove and ordered him to dry his
rectum, so that the Colonel could enjoy it as much as the Doctor had.
Starbuck rolled onto his side and obeyed, fisting himself with the glove on
until streaks of blood appeared.

With a slap, Tigh indicated that Starbuck was to rise to hands and knees
again. Wilkes filthy dick entered his mouth at the same time Tigh's thick
cock tore into his dry anus. When they finished and slid out, Starbuck
collapsed, only to be slapped in the face with Tigh's limp member. He
licked it clean without further instruction, then lay his head down,
sobbing.

The two men redressed, then Tigh led Wilkes to the couch Tigh then called
negligently to Starbuck, "Take your restraints out, pull up your pants, and
jerk yourself off. You might as well piss yourself as well. I guess you
might say we've, umm, disciplined you in advance for this lapse." The two
men laughed together at the joke as Starbuck, still crying, obeyed. Still
chuckling, Tigh turned to the Doctor. "So, what was the inspiration that
brought you to my door, Doctor?"

***

"What is it, Father?" Apollo asked, his concern growing as he gazed at his
father's solemn face.

"I've made a terrible, terrible error in judgement, Apollo," came the
answer.

"What happened?" the younger man demanded.

"I reported to the Council on my interview with Starbuck."

The statement, on the face of it, was straightforward. It took Apollo a
micron to realize all the implications hanging from it. "They didn't."

"They did. He's to come before the Tribunal - a civilian tribunal - to
answer for Athena's ... rape ... within a secton. The notice has already
gone out to Tigh to send Security to arrest him."

"But how can they? Athena won't press charges - she didn't agree to that,
did she?"

"No, Son, of course not. She's been labeled 'traumatized' and treated as an
incompetent victim."

"Lords. Can I see Starbuck?"

"Unfortunately, no. Tigh felt he actually would be traumatized by this
sudden turn of events - he's completely routine-oriented, that's how
they've made the progress they have - and put a no-visitors proviso on his
detainment."

"He'll be found guilty." Apollo's voice was mournful.

"No doubt. The Tribunal is a mere formality."

"Then what?"

Adama's could barely whisper the words. "The Prison Barge."

***

In another part of the Galactica, two other men were reacting to this
unforeseen interruption in their plans.

"Everything's ruined if Starbuck is convicted. We'll never get another
'volunteer'."

"Perhaps not. Let me make a call to confirm something." The second speaker
reached for the comm. "Commander Croft? A question on prison ... ah ...
protocols. Do you still have the indentured servitude program? What are the
entry criteria? Mmhmm. So a violent criminal, say a rapist, would only be a
candidate if his life were endangered? ... No, no, on the contrary, that
seems very ... humane."

***

"This Tribune will come to order. Does the Defender have any opening
remarks?"

"Yes, Sire. My client would like to address the Tribunal."

"So be it."

Starbuck rose in his shackles. He knew what he had done and what his
punishment would be. None of his friends had even acknowledged his
detainment; not that he blamed them. Why put anyone through the wasted
effort of a Tribunal. "Sires, Siress. I confess to raping Lieutenant
Athena. I ask that I be found guilty as charged immediately and that
sentence be passed. There is no need to waste this Tribunal's time and
energy, or the fleet's funds, on my inexcusable actions."

After a brief conference with the other members of the Tribunal, the
Opposer, and the Defender, the head of the Tribunal spoke again. "Starbuck,
you are permanently stripped of all rank in the military and sentenced to a
term of no less than 20 yahrens on the Prison Barge for your crime.
Sentence to be carried out immediately."

***

Darkness and pain. Hooded and naked, Starbuck hung by one arm from a
shackle high up in the wall of his cell. Periodically he was lowered to his
haunches and given a bowl of indeterminate edible matter or of water.
Periodically he was ordered to shit or piss where he squatted. Periodically
he was hauled into the common room of the prison barge and left to the
mercies of those prisoners to whom he had been given as a reward.
Periodically one or more guards or trustees, he judged that's who they were
by the Billy clubs, electrified prods, and handcuffs they used, entered his
cell and played with him. Periodically he awoke on a clean-smelling pallet
in the infirmary, but that happened far less often than the other, less
pleasant events. Even then he was hooded and shackled, in darkness and
pain.

Then the darkness ended, if not the pain. His hood was jerked off and he
was hosed down thoroughly, the whole cell was, dried roughly, his shackles
removed long enough for him to dress in the prison drawstring pants and
rough shirt, and brought at laser pistol point to the Commander's office.

Commander Croft looked at the skeletal figure shivering in front of him
with understanding in his eyes. 'At least I knowingly and purposely did the
acts I was punished for,' he thought. "Starbuck," he said aloud, "From time
to time I'm called upon to provide volunteers from among the long-term
prisoners for indentured servitude in experimental research. The servitude
is counted as time served and, depending on behavior and circumstances, may
result in a reduction in sentence. Such an opportunity has presented itself
and, since the requirement is for someone with piloting experience - viper
piloting experience - you are the most likely candidate. Would you be
interested in volunteering?"

It took Starbuck a few microns to process what Croft was saying. It took
him longer to find the strength to look up and assess Croft's intent.
Finally, he spoke, his voice no more than a croak. "Yes, sir. I would be
interested in volunteering."

***

"Where *is* he?" Apollo demanded, pacing up and down in front of his
father's desk.

"Which 'he'?" Colonel Tigh asked mildly.

Apollo's head jerked up. His eyes narrowed. "Whichever 'he' you have
knowledge of the whereabouts of, *Colonel*," he said, his voice dangerously
low and even.

Colonel Tigh knew when to squirm. "Hmm. Yes. The Commander is on his way
here."

"And the *other* 'he'?" Apollo prompted. Before Tigh could speak he
forestalled an evasion. "And don't ask me where a twenty-yahrens
violent-crimes prisoner *should* be - I already know that's not where he
is."

"I ... I believe he volunteered for indentured servitude."

"Commander Croft told me that much," Apollo was snarling now, one step away
from outright stalking of his prey around the room. "He also told me that
you took charge of the 'volunteer'. He seemed somehow relieved that he
wouldn't be the bearer of further information." The stalking actually began
and Colonel Tigh found the desk suddenly at his back.

"Well, you know what we're up against, Captain," Tigh stammered.

"Explain." The command came not from the Captain's mouth. Quite probably
the Captain was incapable of forming words at the moment. Colonel Tigh
worried that the next time Apollo's mouth opened it would be to rip his
throat out. The command came from the office doorway, through which
Commander Adama now strode.

"Commander!" Relief was evident in Tigh's voice.

"Explain," the Commander repeated, his single-word command underscored by a
growl emanating from his hunting-feline-like son.

"Well, with the new Cylons, faster and smarter yet built into the Centurion
framework to fit into the Cylon raiders, we need faster reaction times from
our viper pilots."

"Continue." Again the growl accompanied the command.

"Hmm. Well, Dr. Wilkes came to me with a concept..." Tigh thought better of
presenting the facts that way. "That is to say, Dr. Wilkes developed a
viper that is controlled by its pilot in a... cybernetic way." Tigh
swallowed. "And he needed a volunteer to test the, ah, the theory." Silence
hung heavy in the small office and Tigh found he needed to fill it quickly.
"I, that is *we*, felt it, err, killed two fowl with one clod. We could get
Starbuck off the prison barge and test the new cybernetic viper at the same
time.

"Where. Is. Starbuck?" Apollo hissed so close to Tigh that the latter could
feel the animal heat radiating from him.

"With, with Dr. Wilkes," Tigh gulped.

"Captain Apollo," Commander Adama said in an inappropriately calm tone, "I
would like you to investigate this potential boon to our survival."

Apollo snapped back to cold professional instantly. "Immediately,
Commander!" he confirmed, coming to attention. He saluted crisply and left
the room at just short of a run.

Adama casually walked to the back of his desk and keyed open a locked
drawer. He pulled a tiny assassin's laser from the draw and turned it on to
check its charge. Then he carelessly tossed it onto the desktop. It landed
with a soft thud next to Colonel Tigh's right hand. "Colonel," Adama said
quietly, "I will leave you to tie up any loose ends."

Tigh remained with his back to Adama, as though still guarding against a
threat from within the room. "Of course, Commander," he answered hollowly.
'Dear Lords, I went too far. Is there no way I can redeem myself?' Tigh
prayed to his gods but got no response. He heard Adama's footsteps approach
the door. "Commander? I *am* sorry."

"So am I, old friend. So am I." Adama's voice was thick with grief and
regret, but he said no more, merely signaling the autolock on the door as
he walked through. He heard the whine of a pinpoint laser as he moved into
the corridor, but his steps did not falter.

***

Dr. Wilkes was overjoyed to show the Strike Captain his new toy. "It's a
wonderful use of both technology and, umm, personnel who might otherwise be
wasted," he explained as they headed towards the experimental ship's bay.

"I'm sure it is," Apollo agreed gravely, hoping that he had learned enough
about conning from Starbuck to fool the single-minded scientist.

"Now, I should warn you that the volunteer is the former Lieutenant
Starbuck. I mean, I wouldn't want you to be shocked or anything," Wilkes
went on. "I know the horrible crime he committed against your sister..."

"Understood, Doctor, don't worry about it. This seems a very ... meaningful
way for him to make amends to the fleet and our family."

"Right. Good." Wilkes was relieved. He had had a brief horrible vision of
his pride and joy being destroyed as the distraught brother decided to
avenge his sister by tearing the cyber-pilot limb from limb.

There seemed nothing more to say. They reached the bay in silence and
Wilkes ordered the lights up. "Ah, here we are."

"Rather large for a viper, isn't it?" Apollo asked, walking around the
ovoid spacecraft.

"Well, yes, although that's because it's designed as a two-seater. We did
that mainly for control purposes, rather than running through the
Galactica's comm system and tying up bandwidth. A standard viper could be
adapted, perhaps replacing the CORA unit with this technology, and voice
controlling from the bridge or from a protected shuttle or viper staying
out of the battle."

"Who's been the controller so far?"

"Myself." There was no small amount of pride in Wilkes' voice.

"But you know nothing of battle conditions!" Apollo protested.

"Well, you don't have to be insulting!" Wilkes retorted. "Colonel Tigh has
been most helpful there." He paused and shrugged mentally. "Actually, he's
acted as controller on a few runs himself. On his own time, of course."

"Of course."

"Would you like to give it a try?"

"Is he, uh, ready to go out?"

"Always. We keep him in a kind of standby mode during duty cycles."

"He doesn't sleep at all?" Apollo asked, honestly curious.

"No, no, of course he sleeps. He's still completely biological, you
understand. The cybernetics are, hmm, attachments would be the best lay
term, I guess. We push sedation through the IV to induce sleep during sleep
cycle. Oh, and don't worry. Part of the cybernetic connection is filtering
so that *he* can't tell who's giving him verbal commands. He just knows he
needs to obey them."

Wilkes opened the canopy and leaned in. "Starbuck, we'll be starting a
training run with a new controller shortly.

"Aye, sir."

Starbuck's voice was clear and Apollo looked puzzled. "I thought you said
the audio was filtered.

Wilkes looked annoyed. Lay people were so slow to understand the simplest
concepts. "It's one-way filtering. He hears a mechanized voice, but replies
using his own vocal cords. Here, get in, and I'll continue explaining."

Apollo complied and could only hope his expression didn't tip his hand as
he looked at his best friend and lover.

Starbuck was seated naked in the pilot's position. His forearms were
clamped onto the armrests of the seat, his hands in manipulation gloves,
like those used for microsurgery. His thighs and legs were spread and
clamped to the seat bottom and legs.

The top half of Starbuck's head was hidden by an opaque helmet, resembling
the helmets used in virtual reality simulations. His ears held metal
cylinders, probably the filters, Apollo thought.

But the most horrifying items were the tubes. An IV went into each upper
arm; a feeding tube entered at the navel; a catheter snaked into his
semi-erect penis, and what looked like a solid plug with a cable coming out
of the end protruded from his anus. Electrodes were clamped to both nipples
and both scrotal sacs.

Dr. Wilkes described each item in turn and Apollo tried to contain his
nausea. "Now, once you've launched, give him commands - you know better
than I what might help you judge his efficacy. If he performs poorly,
discipline him; if he performs exceedingly well, you can reward him if you
wish."

"What do you mean 'discipline him'?" Apollo asked hoarsely.

"Why, let's let Starbuck explain it," Wilkes suggested jovially. "Then you
can see how well trained he is. Starbuck, explain and demonstrate reward
and punishment to the new controller."

"Yes, sir. If I don't correctly perform an action, you can turn this dial,"
Starbuck moved a finger in the right glove and a dial in front of Apollo
lit up red, "to the desired voltage to discipline me."

"Demonstrate," Wilkes insisted.

"Yes, sir." Starbuck sighed. "For example, if I exhibit hesitancy, as I did
now I guess, you can order me to turn the dial up to enforce your
commands." He made a larger movement with the glove and the dial clicked up
a notch. He jerked slightly in his seat. "Or you can turn the dial yourself
to prompt me to perform more quickly."

"I think I get the idea," Apollo said, swallowing. "What about the reward?"

"Starbuck?"

"Yes, sir." Another slight finger motion and another dial lit up green.
"This dial stimulates me as a ... reward ... for good performance. I can't
control that one."

"Try it," Wilkes encouraged.

Apollo reached forward and turned the dial. The rectal plug and catheter
began vibrating. Starbuck's erection grew and his lips opened as he began
panting. "But he can't, err, climax."

"No, of course not. He can receive pleasure, but fulfillment - well, after
all, he is a convicted criminal, Captain."

Apollo reached forward quickly and turned the dial back down. Starbuck
relaxed slightly in his seat, his lips compressed into a thin line.

"What's wrong?" Apollo asked.

Wilkes chuckled. "You should ask him, but you need to address him by name
to get a response. Otherwise, he's been trained to ignore voices around
him."

After a micron's hesitation, Apollo spoke. "Starbuck, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, sir. Just the continued discipline makes control more ...
difficult. I'll try to do better, sir. Please ... don't increase it."

Wilkes frowned angrily. "Just for that -"

He reached to turn the red dial up, but Apollo turned toward him at the
same time, asking casually, "May I take it out for a spin now, Doctor? My
time is limited."

"Yes, of course, of course. I'll get out of the launch tube." Distracted,
Wilkes straightened without touching the dial and Apollo brushed it into
the off position as he turned in his seat to give the command to launch.

Once in space, Apollo commanded Starbuck to take the modified viper through
a series of basic training maneuvers. Although he watched closely, he could
detect no sign that Starbuck recognized him. As they headed back in, Apollo
asked, "Starbuck, does the, uh, green dial really give you pleasure."

There was a micron of silence, Starbuck replied softly, "No, sir." He
quickly amended, "Not that it gives pain, just that, well, it's more
teasing than pleasuring. Frustrating, knowing that I ... can't finish."

Apollo could see the blush creep up Starbuck's neck and cheeks and was
sorry he asked. "In that case," he said, "I'm not going to turn it on. But
I do want you to know you performed very well. Far faster than any viper
pilot acting without the cybernetic connections could."

"Thank you, sir." The relief was evident in Starbuck's voice.

As the canopy rose and Apollo climbed out, he addressed the cyber-pilot
again. "Thanks for the demonstration, Starbuck. I appreciated it."

Just before Apollo moved away from the viper, almost too low to hear,
Starbuck replied, "Goodbye, Apollo."

***

Is there anything *else* you neglected to tell me during my prior visit,
Doctor?" Apollo asked Dr. Wilkes.

Wilkes thought for a moment. It really was a shame, that pistol
malfunctioning while Tigh was examining it. Wilkes was not at all sure he
should be turning over the cyber-viper to the military with no strings
attached - and with Starbuck still attached. But Wilkes knew his mind
couldn't possibly work through the political implications and possible
impact of doing so. So he explained the various cocktails of drugs that
kept Starbuck in whatever condition was required: alert, standby, asleep,
or thoroughly sedated. When prompted, he assured the Captain that Starbuck
was fully capable of waking and sleeping without the drugs, but that using
them ensured he could be activated at any time and function without a
diurnal schedule. Wilkes thought Apollo's eyes narrowed at the word
'activated', but he wasn't sure why. He couldn't think of anything else the
military would need to know to control the cyber-pilot, so he asked, "Such
as, Captain?"

"Oh, let's see," Apollo said in a voice anyone who knew him would have
recognized as far too casual to be safe, "like why he needs to be put into
a 'standby' condition - and what exactly that means. Or why he would need
to be thoroughly sedated. And, oh yes, why a *human being* needs to be
'activated' - since you assured me on my first visit that he was still
fully biological - didn't you, Doctor?"

Even Wilkes couldn't miss the threatening nature of the Captain's voice as
he completed his list of questions. "Well," he said, clearing his throat.
"Ah, he doesn't *need* to be put into standby, although I would think, as
with the drugs for activation, that would be far more efficient for his
quick usage. However, that's up to you, of course. And if he isn't put into
standby and drugs aren't used to regulate sleep, why, then, he wouldn't
need to be activated." Wilkes hoped these more complete explanations would
allay the Captain's interrogation.

Wilkes was mistaken. "All right, let's try one question at a time," Apollo
said through clenched teeth. "First, what exactly is a 'standby
condition'?"

"Why, one in which the, ah, subject is mentally alert and prepared for
action, but his body is in an enforced state of muscular relaxation. It
prevents the physical wear and tear that occurs in normal biologicals
because they use their bodies for other than duty-related activities."

Apollo nodded curtly. "Why would St- the cyber-pilot - need to be
'thoroughly sedated'?"

Wilkes managed to contain his frustration at the Captain's lack of
technical expertise. "Well, he does need to be cleaned occasionally, you
know. I just assumed you would understand that and arrange for a med-team
to coordinate with the viper maintenance crew. We've been running on a
bi-secton schedule, but if he's used more regularly, you might want to
increase that."

"What the frak are you talking about!?" Apollo lost his temper at the
scientist's euphemisms and technical jargon.

"Oh, really, Captain!" Wilkes was thoroughly annoyed at the man's
inadequate scientific education. "Starbuck will start to smell bad, just
like any biological, if he isn't washed regularly. Also, from the medical
standpoint, the tubes and other interfaces need to be checked regularly,
blockages cleared, wiring resoldered, and so forth. It's most efficient to
do this with the subject unconscious. Among other things, if he's sedated
properly, the cleaning and repair teams need not worry about unexpected
resistance, for example."

Apollo counted to ten slowly, then backwards, then in Classical Kobolian,
then in medieval Caprican. Finally he thought he might have control of his
temper and be able to speak to the scientist without banging the man's head
against the nearest bulkhead for emphasis. "Thank you, Doctor. I will take
charge now."

Wilkes hesitated a moment, then realized he was being dismissed. He started
for the entry to the bay, but found his way blocked by Dr. Salik and two
black-uniformed guards.

"A moment, Dr. Wilkes," Salik said and walked past him. The guards folded
their arms and prevented Wilkes from leaving.

"You heard?" Apollo asked Salik.

"Every word," Salik confirmed. He shook his head. "I wish I could say I was
shocked, but my colleague has always been more interested in the research
aspects of medical technology than in the more usual, life-saving and
pain-reducing aspects. May I?" He gestured towards the cyber-viper. At
Apollo's hesitation, he explained, "I'd like a first-hand look to verify -
although I have no doubt what I'll find will only be worse than what I
heard. But I'd also like to order the proper equipment to begin disengaging
Starbuck from this monstrosity."

"Of course," Apollo murmured, abashed. He stepped aside to let Salik pass.

Salik returned quickly, pale and grim. He approached Dr. Wilkes who turned
to face him. The two guards stood at attention behind Wilkes. "Dr. Wilkes.
By the powers vested in me as Chief Medical Officer of the Colonial Fleet
by the Council of Twelve, I charge you for crimes against humanity.
Further, by the extraordinary powers given me by the Council to take action
as I see fit in this case, I find you guilty of the charges and order you
remanded to the prison barge to complete the term that Starbuck was
sentenced. Take him, guards."

Wilkes pulled free of the hands that grasped him. "What in Hades are you
talking about, Salik?"

Salik pointed back over his shoulder. "That."

"What? I conducted an experiment with a prison volunteer in return for
which he gets off the prison barge and is awarded a reduced sentence for
the time spent in the experiment."

"This is not an experiment. This is abuse and torture of a human being."

"But he volunteered."

"Really? In full knowledge of what his participation entailed?"

"Well, I don't really know. Colonel Tight, may his soul soar with the Lords
of Kobol, made the actual arrangements."

"Then you admit you didn't ensure you had informed consent before you began
the ... experiment?"

"Well, I'm sure he would have volunteered anyway. He was being raped and
beaten every centare he was on the prison barge."

"But you admit you didn't ensure that he was completely informed and
continued to volunteer?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Bring him."

The guards half-dragged Wilkes to the viper.

Salik crouched next to the cyber-pilot. "Starbuck, can you hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who asked you if you wished to volunteer for this duty?"

"Commander Croft asked me if I wanted to volunteer for an experiment."

"Did he tell you what the experiment would be?"

"No, sir."

"But you did volunteer."

"To get off the barge? Yes, sir."

"See?" Wilkes pulled free again and straightened his lab coat.

Salik held up a hand for silence. "Starbuck?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who explained the experiment to you?"

"Colonel Tigh told me the general idea when he brought me here."

"Did he ask whether you still wanted to volunteer?"

"No, sir."

"Would you have if given the choice?" Starbuck was silent. Dr. Salik
prompted, "Starbuck...?"

"I'm not sure, sir. He explained I'd be hooked into a viper to increase my
response time against the new Cylon raiders, but he ... he didn't say it'd
be ... like this." Starbuck's hitherto calm voice cracked.

"When were you told exactly how you would be 'hooked in'?"

Starbuck thought for a moment. "I don't ... no, I'm sure I wasn't told,
sir. They just ... did it." The response ended in a stifled sob.

"Who did it?"

"Colonel Tigh and Dr. Wilkes, sir."

"Starbuck, if Colonel Tigh or Dr. Wilkes had explained in advance exactly
what the experiment was, would you have agreed to volunteer?"

Starbuck's voice was firm and clear. "No, sir. I'd rather die on the prison
barge than ... than be like this."

Dr. Salik turned to Wilkes and the guards. "My decision stands. Escort him
to the prison barge and report his sentence to Commander Croft." He turned
his back on his former colleague and strode to the nearest comm unit. "I
need a mobile crash cart, fully equipped, to my location immediately. I
also require the following pharmaceuticals..." he reeled off a list of
drugs, signed off, and turned apologetically to Apollo, who had remained
silent since Salik had taken charge. "I'm sorry, Captain, but I will have
to administer one more dose to Starbuck in order to release him."

***

"Starbuck? Are you awake, love?"

Starbuck didn't move, but responded as crisply as he could, "Yes, sir."

"Are you in pain?"

Starbuck took mental inventory of his body. His rectum and penis felt
strangely empty, but other than that, he could answer honestly, "No, sir."

"Then what's wrong, love?" Apollo sounded puzzled and concerned.

Cautiously, Starbuck answered, "Nothing, sir."

"Why don't you open your eyes, then?"

Open his eyes? Were they closed? Starbuck realized they were. He opened
them and gasped. He was looking not at a virtual image of the interior of a
cockpit, or at a display of ships in space, but at his lover's concerned
face. "'Pollo?" he asked.

"You can see me, then?"

"Y-yes - yes, sir." Starbuck blinked but made no other movement.

"Do you need help sitting up?" Apollo held his hand out for Starbuck to
grasp for support.

Sit up? He wasn't, was he? He was lying down. He took the proffered hand
and pulled himself into a sitting position on the - on a bed? Was he in an
infirmary? The bed was far too comfortable for a prison barge pallet, even
in the infirmary. He risked a look around and began to shake. He must be
hallucinating. He was either still in the cyber-viper or back in prison -
Tigh and Wilkes had threatened that often enough, but either way this
couldn't be real. Which meant Apollo probably wasn't real either. A tear
coursed down his cheek. He wanted Apollo to be real, even if it meant
Apollo thought of him only as part of a war-machine.

Apollo slid his arm around his shaking lover. Dr. Salik had reluctantly
administered the drug package for complete sedation to spare Starbuck the
pain and humiliation of the disconnection process, but had insisted that he
was in relatively good condition and could safely awaken at home.
Obviously, Salik had been mistaken. Something was very wrong. "Can you tell
me what's wrong, Starbuck?" Apollo asked.

"'Pol? Are you real?"

"Yes, I'm real. Can't you feel me?" Apollo wrapped the blanket around
Starbuck and pulled him into his lap, holding him tightly.

"I feel you. I just ... I don't ... I can't..." Starbuck stammered to
silence, still shaking.

"Tell me what's wrong, Starbuck," Apollo begged.

"Where am I?" Starbuck whispered finally, then cringed. Questions weren't
allowed and he knew better. The punishment would undoubtedly be severe. He
straightened as abruptly as he had cringed; he had to face his punishment
or it would be increased.

"Easy, easy," Apollo soothed, not sure what the sudden movements and the
expressions flying across Starbuck's face meant. "You're home, in our
quarters."

"Home?" Starbuck risked a look around. Apollo felt his movement and
loosened his grip so that Starbuck could turn in his arms. Finally, he
turned back and looked into his lover's green eyes. There could only be one
reason he would be allowed back here. "Am I dying, Apollo?" he asked.

***

"I don't understand it." Salik shook his head. Starbuck dozed on the
examining table. "There's no physical reason his body should reject food.
It's just shutting down entirely."

"He thinks he's dying," Apollo mumbled, stroking the blond hair.

"What?"

"He thinks he's dying," Apollo repeated. "He didn't believe me when I told
him he was fine, that the Council had given him a full pardon. I knew he
agreed too easily." He swallowed to prevent a sob. "Now he's making it
true."

"Apollo," Adama said, putting an arm around his son's shoulders, "start at
the beginning."

Apollo sighed. "When he first woke up at home, he was, um, disoriented, I
guess is the word. He couldn't understand where he was or why he was there.
Then he looked around and asked me if he was dying." Apollo shook his head.

"What happened then?" Dr. Salik prompted him.

"Well, I was just shocked - too shocked to answer. I just stared at him.
And then he smiled and reached up to stroke my cheek." Apollo touched the
cheek as he remembered the moment. "And he said, 'It's okay. I don't mind.
And you'll be with me, so I won't be afraid.'"

"Go on."

"I just kept staring at him. So after a centon, he pulled away and sat up
by himself - I was holding him until then - and he said 'It really was nice
of them to let me come back here, was it Tigh who arranged for it?' And I
said, 'No, Tigh's dead. The Council gave you a pardon.' And he laughed and
said, 'Really? I didn't think they had it in them!' Then he snuggled down
into the pillows and said, 'I'm not in any pain. That's nice.' He looked at
me then and said, 'How long?' And I said 'How long what?' So he said, 'How
long before I ... go?' That's when I realized he really *did* think he was
dying. I felt so stupid!"

"What did you do?" Adama asked gently.

"Well, I told him he wasn't dying, that the Council had given him a pardon
because of all he'd been through and because Athena had pleaded in his
behalf. And he just smiled and said, 'Okay, Apollo.' And he never mentioned
dying again. But I guess he really didn't believe me."

"I'd say that's exactly right," Dr. Salik confirmed. "So psychologically he
began to prepare for dying and his body's followed suit."

"Well, what can we do? We can't just let him die."

"Then we have to convince him to live," Commander Adama said firmly.

***

Starbuck blinked awake, disoriented. He wasn't home. Was that just a dream?
No, because he wasn't attached to anything either. He was ... where? It
came to him relatively quickly: Life Center. He must have fallen asleep
during the examination.

"Starbuck?"

Starbuck turned toward the familiar voice. "Commander? Where's 'Pol-
Captain Apollo?" Panic tinged his voice.

"He's spending some time with Boxey." Starbuck nodded his acceptance of
that. Adama approached the examining table and took Starbuck's limp hands
in his own large, warm ones. "Do you trust me, Starbuck?"

"Of course, Commander." Starbuck sounded almost affronted that he even had
to ask.

"You know your body's shutting down."

"Yes, sir. I'm dying. I know."

"No. Your body is shutting down. There is a difference."

"Yes, sir." Starbuck didn't sound convinced.

"We need to reverse that."

"How? Sir," Starbuck added the respectful honorific belatedly. A faint hope
stirred inside him. If anyone could defeat death, it was the Commander.

"We need to train your body to respond normally to stimuli again." Starbuck
trembled at the word 'train'. Adama nodded his understanding at the
response. "That's why I asked if you trusted me, Starbuck."

"I do, sir. I trust you with my life," Starbuck answered unhesitatingly.
"Besides," he grinned, "I'm dying anyway, what harm can it do."

Adama shook his head. Leave it to Starbuck to make jokes in the face of
death. "All right, then. You'll come back to my quarters and stay with me
until we change your body's attitude. Lords know we'll never change *your*
attitude."

***

Adama turned more serious once they were in his suite of rooms. "Starbuck,"
he said sitting opposite the small figure tucked into the couch, "This
isn't going to work unless you're really trying to get better."

"I know," Starbuck admitted quietly.

"So I'm going to ask for your solemn word as a warrior that you will be
working with me and not just going along."

"I'm not a warrior any more, Commander," Starbuck reminded the older man
sadly.

"You're not an official Defender of the Fleet, no," Adama agreed. "But
you're still a warrior. I think you'll always be a warrior."

Starbuck considered that for a long while. Adama sat patiently waiting, his
gaze unwavering. Finally Starbuck sat up straight and held out his arm to
begin the complicated ritual that marked one warrior giving his promise to
another. Adama moved closer and grasped the arm in the proper superior
position, lending physical as well as spiritual support to the unsteady man
next to him with a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Where do we start?" Starbuck asked, moving his hand to unfasten his shirt.
He asked the question fully aware of where these things usually started. To
his surprise, Adama stayed his hand.

"It's not that kind of training, Starbuck. My interests don't lie that
way." It was a lie and they both knew it, but Adama would not follow
through on his desires with this fragile young man, and now they both knew
that, too." Adama felt Starbuck relax under his hand.

"Okay," Starbuck said warily. "What is going to happen, then?"

"Someone will be with you around the chrono." When Starbuck started to
stiffen in tension again, Adama clarified, "Either myself, Apollo, or
Athena. We'll make sure you're able to keep your actions, um, appropriate
and we'll make sure you try to eat." Starbuck reddened at the reminder of
his lack of sexual control, but nodded. "Dr. Salik gave me a list of
increasingly more complex nutrient combinations and we'll start with the
most simple liquids, agua alone at first, in small amounts once a centare.
Once you're system is accepting and processing those, we'll move on to
larger amounts and more complex nutrient solutions less frequently. When
we're at three-centare intervals and portions large enough for you to
sustain yourself with, we'll discontinue the intravenous supplements and
move to solid food, backtracking in amounts and intervals as necessary."

"That's all?"

"We're trying to convince your body to go on living, Starbuck, so, yes,
that's all." He hesitated. "Unless we find you still have, err, control
problems." Starbuck dropped his head, but nodded. "Starbuck," Adama raised
his head with a finger under his chin. "I advocated Colonel Tigh's
techniques because they had worked in the past. I should have investigated
more thoroughly when he ... modified them after your ... response. But I
don't *use* his techniques. We'll observe at first, that's all. It's an
invasion of your privacy, but I think it's necessary."

Starbuck shrugged. Privacy was a luxury he had no right to.

Adama continued. "If necessary, we'll restrain you, as minimally as
possible. You may need some behavior modification exercises, but that will
be the extent of it. You have my solemn word." And to Starbuck's total
astonishment, Adama held his arm out in offer of the warrior's ritual once
again.

"That's not necessary, Commander," Starbuck stammered. But when Adama
didn't pull his arm back, Starbuck took it firmly and completed the ritual.
Then, exhausted, he fell back against the couch cushions.

Adama looked at him appraisingly and spoke softly. "I think it would be
better to begin when you're fresh. First duty cycle tomorrow. For now, let
me give you the hypospray and show you your room. The door can't be locked,
and for now I want you to keep it open when you're alone. All right?"

***

Athena did not shirk her share of the work of bringing Starbuck back to
life. She had unhesitatingly agreed to participate. She was horrified by
the thoughts that went through her mind every time she was alone with the
weakened man and tried to mask them as best she could, but Starbuck was
well aware of her mixed emotions. He avoided making eye contact with her
and answered her infrequent questions in monosyllables.

One particularly bad day, when he was so weak from vomiting that he had to
be spoon-fed the loose porridge that was the current goal for his body to
accept, Athena lost control. She jammed the spoon down his throat, cutting
off his air, and held a cushion over his mouth and nose. Starbuck merely
lay there as his vision greyed. "Fight me, frak you, fight me," Athena
yelled.

Starbuck managed to shake his head no. The motion snapped Athena back to
reality. She tossed the cushion aside, but Starbuck made no attempt to
remove the spoon that was choking him. Athena ripped it out of his mouth.
"What is wrong with you? I know you promised Father you'd try! Why didn't
you stop me?"

Softly, Starbuck answered her question with one of his own. "What didn't
*you* stop *me* when I raped you?"

Athena didn't answer. There was no need.

"You still love me, Athena, that's why. Help me now. I gave my word, and I
can't do this myself anyway, I'm too weak. Finish it, Athena," Starbuck
urged. "I won't stop you. I deserve to die for what I did to you." She
shook her head violently, afraid to look into his eyes. Afraid he would
convince her. His soft voice continued hypnotically. "I've been choking and
vomiting for three cycles now. You can say I vomited and you went to get a
wet cloth to clean me up. When you came back I was dead. I must have tried
to feed myself and choked on my own vomit. Nobody will question it, Athena.
And we'll both be free. Do it."

***

Athena upended the entire tray in her hurry to get out of the room.
Yelling, "No, no, I won't!" she fled, running straight into the arms of her
brother.

"What in Hades is going on?" he asked, steadying her.

"Apollo," she said keeping her voice steady with difficulty, "I cannot be
alone with that ... that person any more!"

Apollo, his hands still gripping Athena's arms, looked from her grim face
into the room, then back. Starbuck was struggling out from under the
feeding tray, a defeated look on his face. Apollo sagged. "He lost control?
Tried to...? He couldn't finish the question.

Before Athena could correct him, Starbuck answered bitterly, "That's right.
The walking dick strikes again."

Athena made a sound of negation and Apollo turned towards her, missing the
warning headshake Starbuck gave her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Apollo," she said, hating to support Starbuck's lie, not
understanding why he was doing this. "Yeah. I'm fine. He was too weak to
overpower me. But I don't think I can help you care for him anymore."

Apollo nodded. "I understand. Better tell Father. I'll clean up here and
restrain him." He turned with a sigh, cursing Colonel Tigh and wishing him
an afterlife of eternal pain.

***

"Where's your other hand, Starbuck?"

It was in his lap, just lying there, in the same position as Apollo's other
hand, but Starbuck didn't bother to argue. He just brought it up and put it
in sight on the table. This was what his lie had brought him: constant
surveillance and restraints when he couldn't be watched. 'It's worth it.
The alternative was breaking up the only family I've ever had,' he reminded
himself. In retrospect he was glad Athena hadn't succumbed to his
persuasion and killed him - not glad for himself, but glad he hadn't put
the burden of his death on Athena.

Starbuck looked across the table at his ex-love, no - ex-lover, but not
ex-love. He would always love Apollo; but he would never again be allowed
to express that love. Apollo's attention was on his food, satisfied that
Starbuck wasn't fondling himself. 'Don't you ever wonder that you've never
caught me doing *anything* out of control?' Starbuck asked him silently.
'Guess not.' He turned to his own plate and forced the unseasoned primaries
into his mouth.

"Do you want to eat in the OC tonight, Bucko?" Apollo asked into the
silence, hoping the offer would indicate that he was willing to trust
Starbuck.

Starbuck considered and discarded a number of responses. 'Sure, Apollo.
Want me to go naked and stand while I'm eating so everyone can feel safe?'
No, too vicious; Apollo was trying to make amends. 'No, thanks, Apollo;
just lace my drink with the heavy sedative you use when you want a few
centars of freedom from guard duty, tie me up, and go.' No, same problem,
and it would let Apollo know that Starbuck was aware of that little
subterfuge. Finally, feeling Apollo's eyes on him, Starbuck settled for a
negative headshake, not looking up.

***

"'Pol?"

"Hmm?" Starbuck so rarely spoke these days, and then in monosyllables to
answer direct questions only, that Apollo was startled.

"Didn't mean to scare you. Do you have a centon?"

Apollo put down the stylus he was using. "Of course."

"I had an idea about what to do with me."

"What do you mean, Starbuck?"

"Well, I'm able to eat pretty well now and I haven't shown signs of a
relapse, so I figured it was time I thought about starting to take care of
myself."

"Starbuck, your, uh, eating disorder, seems to be under control, and you've
put on some weight, but there's still-"

"My sexual depravity? Yeah, well, I think I need to come clean on that one.
And let Athena tell ... the truth, too." Starbuck looked down. 'Well, a
version of the truth, anyway,' he thought. "But could we set that aside for
the micron? If I can convince you and the Commander that my ... control
isn't an issue, I have an idea."

"Okay. Go ahead."

"I don't have a credit to my name - which is only fair seeing as I've been
in prison. But I need to start over somewhere else - off the Galactica,
somewhere nobody knows me."

Apollo started to object, but saw the logic in Starbuck's statement. He
nodded reluctantly.

"I ... I want to go to one of the manufacturing ships. They always need
workers and some of the workshops provide a place to sleep as well. But I
need a small stake - enough for a shuttle ticket there and to buy food and
necessities until I find a job and start getting paid."

"You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do." Starbuck swallowed hard, then continued. "Nobody who knows who
- or what - I am will ever really trust me aagain." He dropped his head.
"It's really difficult to ... to go on that way, knowing everyone's on
edge, waiting for me to lose it. I have to start over."

Apollo acknowledged the truth of what Starbuck was saying with a nod.
"Okay. *If* you can convince us that you're okay on your own, Bucko, I'll
give you that stake."

"No, I don't want it as a gift. I want a loan. I'll pay you back out of my
first pay packets."

***

"...so, you see, I did lose control - but not over my body. I tried to
convince Athena to kill me." Starbuck raised his head and looked around the
table, hoping this edited version of the events would be enough.

Athena supported him. "Father, that is what happened. I didn't contradict
Starbuck when he said he tried to attack me, because I was so ashamed that
I almost did what he wanted. I ... almost ... tried to kill him." She
looked down, tears filling her eyes.

" It would appear that we've been on guard for nothing. You kept your word,
Starbuck, and you are well enough to be on your own now. I do expect you to
continue to keep it, though," Adama cautioned.

"Oh, yes Sir. I have no intention of trying to kill myself - or starve
myself. I just want to go somewhere and start over."

"Very well, then. I can voice no reasonable objection," Adama concluded. He
turned to his son. "Apollo, you've been very quiet. Do you have anything to
contribute?"

Apollo shook his head. "No, Father. I have no *logical* objections." 'Other
than that I'm letting the man I love walk out of my life forever.'

***

"You didn't have to see me off, Apollo." The two men stood waiting for the
late-cycle shuttle to the Eli Whitney manufacturing ship.

"I wanted to. Actually, what I want to do is beg you to stay."

"Don't. Apollo, you need to get on with your life, too." Starbuck looked up
at the docking signal. "I've got to board. Thank you, for ... everything.
And I'll send the credits back as soon as I've got them."

"Take your time, it's not a big deal. Don't stint on yourself to pay me
back."

"Goodbye, Apollo." Starbuck turned and walked towards the shuttle, then ran
back and risked hugging Apollo one last time. He backed away quickly before
his beloved could respond or push him away - he didn't want to know which
he would do. Swinging on board the shuttle, he called softly, "I love you,
Apollo. I always will." Then the doors closed and he was gone.

Apollo sagged against the bulkhead, trying to hold on to that last
impression of Starbuck in his arms. Inside the shuttle, Starbuck wrapped
his arms around himself trying to keep that same feeling.

***

Adama did not make a point of visiting the Eli Whitney. As Commander of the
Fleet he couldn't do that. But when it came time for the Annual Review,
perhaps it was something more than coincidence that he selected the Eli
Whitney for a personal inspection.

After the mandatory tour, Adama asked Commander Barton if he might be able
to help him. "One of the warriors who was under my command, ah, retired
here," Adama explained. "I wonder if you could help me look him up."

"Of course," Barton answered graciously. "What's his name?"

"Starbuck."

"Starbuck, Starbuck. Yes, here he is. He's a loom-tender in the weaving
mill. He should be finishing up work now."

"You track what duty cycles the Whitney's residents are on? I'm impressed."

"Don't be," Barton laughed. "The mill is only allowed to operate first
cycle. It takes two cycles to clean the air of the dust. If we hurry, we
can get there before they close down."

Commander Barton introduced Adama to the Master Weaver and explained their
purpose in being there, before excusing himself. Before the Master Weaver
could more than look around at the sea of heads in the dust-filled
workroom, however, Adama had spotted Starbuck. His crisp appearance,
clean-shaven and well-groomed even in worn civvies, stood out among the
workers.

Starbuck was shocked when Adama hailed him. He recovered quickly though,
shut down his loom, and came to a close approximation of attention.
"Commander," he greeted the older man. "This is a surprise. What brings you
here?"

"Fleet Review, Starbuck. I thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing.
Is there somewhere more private we can go?" he asked, as the Master Weaver
hovered.

Starbuck glanced at the Master Weaver. "Okay if I leave a little early,
boss?"

The Master Weaver grunted his assent, but warned, "Don't expect to be paid
for time not worked, boy."

Starbuck flushed and grimaced, but responded equably, "No, of course not."

Adama studiously ignored the exchange by examining his surroundings. When
Starbuck turned back to him, he remarked, "I'll make up the loss," and,
changing the subject before Starbuck could object, asked, "Do you sleep
here?" He toed the thin pallet tucked under the machine.

"I should," Starbuck replied, not quite meeting the Commander's eyes. "But
... I, uh, had a few problems here and, well, a sleep tube isn't that
expensive and I can lock it from the inside and outside..." He trailed of,
sighed, flipped a few switches to close down the loom, then turned back to
Adama. "I'm sorry, Commander. I know I should sleep here and save the
credits to repay Captain Apollo. And I tried. But I *can't*," he laughed
bitterly. "I can't give the off-cycle customers what they want - you know?"

Adama winced as understanding dawned. He did know what such "off-cycle"
customers would want; the use of on-site dormitories as brothels was an
open secret that the Council chose to ignore.

"So then, well, I don't get paid; he," Starbuck nodded in the Master
Weaver's direction, "doesn't get paid; and he either docks me for the loss
at double-rate or uses me himself. He doesn't seem to care whether I'm
fully responsive or not. Either way, I end up losing credits, so spending
them on a sleep tube didn't seem out of line." He scuffed the toe of his
second-hand boot in the dust and watched the patterns it formed. "That's
why I haven't sent the Captain anything yet."

"Starbuck, I didn't come here to ask about that. The credits Apollo gave
you don't matter." Adama didn't know where to go with this. He wanted to
rescue Starbuck, but knew the young man wouldn't allow it. "Look, let's get
something to eat, all right? Can I rent a private cubicle and order from
there?"

A look of resigned understanding settled on Starbuck's face, but as he
opened his mouth to reply, he began to cough. "Frakking dust," he gasped.
"Sorry, sir. The dust gets into my lungs. I seem to be more sensitive to it
than most. But," he was interrupted by another bout of coughing.

Adama took the opportunity to reassure him. "All I intend is to share a
meal with you. What's the best eatery on-board?"

"All right, Commander," Starbuck managed, still choking slightly. "I'll let
you feed me. And I'll take you up on making up my lost pay, too. I *will*
repay Apollo - if it's the last thing I do."

***

Starbuck cursed in every dialect he knew. 'So much for locked sleep tubes,'
he thought. 'Someone must have seen the Commander give me the pouch of
cubits and followed me.' He checked further in the ransacked tube. His
stash of saved cubits was gone, too. And payday was two sectons away. He
laughed softly and bitterly, remembering his explanation to Adama. "Can't"
would no longer be in his vocabulary. Even his personal hygiene kit was
destroyed, and his clothes ripped to shreds in the search for more
valuables. It looked like "clean" wouldn't be in his vocabulary for a while
either. 'Sorry, whoever you were. Guess you wasted a bunch of time.'
Shaking his head, he pushed the sleep tube closed as best he could and
headed back to the mill.

***

"Sorry, Starbuck. I've already locked up. You'll have to make it worth my
while to let you back in before next shift," The Master Weaver said,
ignoring the fact that he'd unlocked the door to so inform the ex-warrior.

"I ... I have nothing until next payday, Master Weaver," Starbuck said
softly.

"Can't wait that long. Won't remember to dock your pay. But," the Master
Weaver stripped Starbuck with his eyes, "you *do* have something to pay
with, just not cubits."

Starbuck didn't even argue. "All right," he said, "Whatever you want of me.
But my clothes got trashed, too. At least let me wash them out so they can
dry overnight."

The Master Weaver chuckled and agreed. "Why not? I'll be waiting at your
pallet. Don't be long though. Oh, and use the back turbowash."

'Of course, the one farthest from my pallet,' Starbuck thought as he nodded
and moved towards it. He stripped and washed the clothes quickly, then
padded out and across the workshop to the accompaniment of catcalls, snide
comments, and not a few whistles of admiration from the occupied pallets
under the darkened looms. "Satisfied, Master Weaver?" he asked when he
arrived at his loom.

"Just 'Master' will do - at least until next payday," came the response.
"Turn around." Starbuck complied, rotating slowly until he was once again
facing his - temporary, he hoped - master. "Very nice. Unblemished, too.
The Commander must be a true gentleman."

"The Commander wouldn't touch me. And if he ever wanted to, I would be
honored!" Starbuck snarled.

The slap echoed across the silent workshop and more than a few heads poked
out from under looms at the noise. Starbuck blinked back tears of pain, and
put a hand up to his reddened cheek. "Do that again," the Master said
calmly, "and you could find yourself out in the hallways - where there are
laws against public indecency."

Starbuck bit back the response that came to his lips and bowed his head.

"Apologize," the Master said, waving in the general direction of the
growing bulge below his belt.

Starbuck knelt and undid the lacing of the man's trousers, then coaxed the
large organ out and sucked it into his mouth. Once his member was hidden
from view, the Master called out for lights and Starbuck was revealed to
all the watchers as he sucked his Master off in punishment for his wayward
mouth. Just before he bucked and came, the Master called the lights off,
lest anyone see his private pleasure.

***

Starbuck was somewhat surprised to find his pants and tunic still in the
turbowash the next cycle, although his underwear was missing. He dressed
amid the jostling and remarks of the other loom-tenders, doing his best to
ignore the groping and accidental brushing against his body. He had nowhere
else to go and knew he had to endure.

Over the course of the next two sectons, long unused defenses arose, along
with talents and knowledge of pleasing others that he wished he had never
had reason to learn. His own body's unresponsiveness kept him from being
rented, but the Master made sure he earned his pallet-space and what little
sleep he got. He ate only the mid-day meal provided as part of the job,
having no cubits to buy anything to break his fast with nor to fill him at
the end of the long work cycle.

Payday came and Starbuck fully expected to be told he had no pay coming to
him. But the Master Weaver was too canny for that. He gave him half the
hourly rate in his packet. "Tell me, Starbuck," he said in a low voice,
"Will you be renting another sleep tube?"

"No point," was the curt reply. "But your generosity will allow me to buy a
second set of clothes and perhaps a bite to eat at cycle's end."

"So your services will be available this pay period as well?"

Starbuck hesitated over his reply. "If you desire them ... Master," he said
finally. He had to pay Apollo back. "In fact, Master, I could do without
the second set of clothes if you prefer." He looked up coyly from under
long lashes. "If I didn't need to go out to buy food so I don't lose more
weight, I would probably not need to waste the time of washing this set
either."

"We would need to move you to the loom next to my office, so that you
wouldn't be ... embarrassed should a visitor arrive unexpectedly, but I
believe we could come to some mutually agreeable arrangement, Starbuck,"
the Master Weaver said. Why don't you go on in there now and find a shelf
to put your clothes on, before they get all dusty. I'll arrange the loom
exchange." As they walked towards the office, Starbuck was filled with
self-loathing. The Master Weaver called out to the man at the loom outside
the office, "Flailing, I want you to work at this loom for a while so I can
keep an eye on this lazy *warrior* - I'd like an honest cycle's work out of
him once in a while!"

***

Starbuck was surprised to find the Master Weaver honest in his way, so his
cubits were safe, stored in his one set of clothes. For purely personal
reasons, the Master Weaver wanted Starbuck to smell and look good, so he
made sure Starbuck had time and equipment to clean himself and adequate
nourishment, although nothing expensive or evenly vaguely tasty. He paid
Starbuck for the hours he worked the loom every payday, and accepted his
other services as payment for room and board.

There were only two problems. First, Starbuck was forced to revert to a
lifestyle he hadn't needed since the orphanage: giving his body to another
in return for the basics of life. Second, to be close at hand to the
Master, Starbuck used the loom closest to his office. Unfortunately, that
loom was the one directly above the exhaust vent used to clean the
workshop's air of dust. And Starbuck was sensitive to the dust.

As Starbuck stood at the loom or lay on his pallet, the dust precipitated
out of the air onto him. His cough grew worse, his breathing turned to a
steady wheeze. His lungs' fight for clean air got to the point where lying
flat on his back meant he couldn't breathe. What sleep he got was done
propped into a sitting position against one of the loom's legs. He was less
and less able to work the loom for any length of time. The cycle came when
he could no longer stand steadily at all.

The Master Weaver helped him up and into the office. "Put your clothes on,
take some of those cubits you're hoarding, and go to Life Center to get
your lungs cleared out."

"Yes, Master," Starbuck wheezed. He dressed slowly and stumbled unsteadily
from the mill. But he didn't go to a doctor. Instead, pausing in an
isolated alcove to try to control his breathing, he counted the cubits he
had saved up. He had enough to repay Apollo with a small amount left over
for a secure courier to deliver it. That meant paying no interest on the
loan, 'But Apollo will understand,' he thought. He headed for the secure
courier's office and ordered an anonymous delivery.

Light-headed from his inability to breathe properly, Starbuck didn't notice
the interested eyes watching him as he counted out cubits, then tipped the
courier with the last of his savings, ensuring speedy and honest service.
The owner of those eyes was too far away to see that the gratuity was paid
with the very last of the cubits. So he followed Starbuck as he finally did
head towards Life Center, waylaying him in a darkened corridor.

The robber was furious to find there was nothing left to steal. He took his
anger out on the unresisting man in front of him, not stopping until his
fists were raw and bleeding, his own blood mixing with Starbuck's.
Starbuck's face was blue, his breathing an occasional rattle in his chest.
The robber dragged Starbuck to the nearest garbage chute.

In the semi-darkness, the robber didn't notice the trail of blood he left.
And some misplaced sense of self-preservation kept Starbuck from letting
himself slide into the oblivion of unconsciousness and then the vacuum of
space. His world reduced to one of cold and pain, his vision a narrowing
tunnel of clarity amid swirling and darkening gray, Starbuck scrambled to
keep the chute door from closing, but didn't succeed. Then he desperately
felt for a handhold to keep him from sliding to the airlock, which would
automatically cycle open at his weight. That he found and clung to. The
tunnel of vision closed. The chute became colder. The pain inside and out
would have been unbearable had he been fully conscious. His clinging
fingers became numb. 'At least I paid Apollo back. He'll know I have some
honor,' Starbuck thought. Then, as the darkness became complete and his
grip on the hinge to the chute door loosened but he tried to hold on. He
spoke out loud, his voice echoing in the closed chute. "I love you,
Apollo."

***

"Momma, is something dripping from that sac?" Rigel called, following her
mother to the garbage chute.

"No, darling, I don't think so, why do you ask?"

"Just that there's a wet streak on the floor here. Oh, well, don't worry
about it," Rigel answered catching up to her energetic mother.

"Oy, this ship is falling apart. Everything's broken. Now the chute door
won't open."

"Here, let me try." The tiny women pulled together and managed to pull the
door towards them. They were completely unprepared for the body that flew
out and knocked them over."

"Ahh! Cylons!" Rigel's mother shrieked, flailing at the body atop her.

Rigel pushed the light weight off both of them and glanced down. "I don't
think so, Momma. Cylons generally aren't blond." She took a closer look.
"And they don't bleed red blood - if they bleed at all." She scrambled to
the nearest comm unit. "Medical team to corridor 3J, stat!"

Momma had now regained her pragmatic demeanor and rolled the body over.
"Pretty fella," she commented. "Beat up though. And I think he's dead. Is
the garbage chute the way we're handling the dead now, baby?"

"No, Momma, not usually," Rigel answered, distracted. "Move over and let me
see." She pushed her mother to one side. "Oh Gods! It's Starbuck!"

***

"There was no note with this?" Apollo asked for the third time.

"No, sir," the courier answered, shifting nervously from one foot to the
other.

"And you have no record of who sent this?"

"No, sir. He paid cash and didn't wait for a receipt, sir."

"Well, what did he look like?" Apollo demanded, exasperated. It had to be
Starbuck, but why was there no note?

"Um, dusty, like a mill worker. He was in pants and a tunic. Not
overweight."

"What color was his hair?"

"Well, it was full of dust, so I can't be sure. Not black, though. Maybe
light colored."

"What color were his eyes?"

"Oh, that I can tell you - they were bright blue."

"How long ago was the delivery logged?"

"Sir." Affronted, the courier drew himself up to his full height - still a
full head shorter than the Captain. "The sender paid for immediate, high
priority delivery. I left at once and came on the next shuttle. We pride
ourselves on meeting our customers' deadlines."

"Yes, yes, of course you do," Adama stepped up from behind Apollo. "Here's
something for your efficiency and effort. Thank you very much."

The courier just managed to croak out a thank you when he realized who had
handed him the gratuity. Then, dismissed at last, he almost ran to the
shuttle bay. The other couriers would *never* believe what had just
happened!

Apollo was turning angrily towards his father when the comm unit beeped.
"Rigel to Apollo!"

***

"How come Uncle Starbuck lives with us now, Dad?"

"Because we're his family and we love him."

"Didn't you love him before?"

Apollo grew uncertain. "What do you mean by that, Boxey?"

"Umm, well, you know last year, when Uncle Starbuck woke me up fighting
with you and he had no clothes on and you told me he had an upset tummy
from too much party?"

"Ye-es, what about it?"

"Well, you were all kinds of upset on account of he was in bed with no
clothes on, right?"

"Because he was in *my* bed with no clothes on. Right."

"But he was in bed with you when both of you had no clothes on before that.
And then after that he was never in bed with you again. And now..."

"You knew that Starbuck and I sometimes ... slept together?"

"Sure. Just like you and my mom and you and Sheba used to do, only now it
was you and Starbuck." The boy shrugged. What was his father's problem?
"Starbuck was much nicer to me than Sheba," he added helpfully.

"Sheba and Starbuck knew that you knew that they spent the night?" 'Great,'
thought Apollo, 'Now I even sound like a little boy.'

"Sure. When I'd get up for a drink or to go to the bathroom, Starbuck
always came out to make sure I was all right. I only saw Sheba 'cause she
was coming through the living room to leave. She just said, 'Go back to
your room.' Starbuck always tucked me in. Can he tuck me in again now?"

Apollo shook his head to clear it. This was all just a little too much.
"What was your original question, Boxey?" he asked.

"'Pol?" A soft, uncertain voice interrupted the conversation.

"Starbuck!" Apollo ran to the side of the unsteady man leaning on the
doorjamb. "You shouldn't be up!"

"'Kay." Starbuck's head drooped, but he turned and took a step back into
the darkened bedroom.

Apollo's hand on his arm stopped him. "Do you want to be out here with us?"
he asked. Starbuck nodded, but didn't lift his head. "Okay, then, let me
help you to the couch." He put his arm around Starbuck's shoulders to guide
and support him. "Boxey, would you get some pillows and a blanket?" Boxey
scurried to comply and Apollo turned back to Starbuck. "I didn't mean you
had to stay in the bedroom, love," he explained. "Just that you shouldn't
be on your feet." He looked closely at Starbuck. "Did you think I was
hiding you?"

Starbuck shrugged. "It's okay. Whatever you want is fine."

"Will you tuck me in again, Uncle Starbuck?" Boxey asked returning.

"If it's okay with your Dad, when I'm strong enough to get to your room by
myself, I will," Starbuck answered, looking at Apollo, who had taken the
pillows and blanket and was busy arranging them around and over Starbuck.

"Of course it's okay with me." Apollo turned to Boxey. "Hey, how about we
picnic here for mid-day meal - I'll even let you make it yourself."

"Ahh, you just wanna get rid of me so you and Uncle Starbuck can talk."
Boxey said. "That's okay. You talk. I'll make soup so Uncle Starbuck can
eat it, too. He can eat soup, right?"

"That's right," Apollo said laughing. "You know everything." He turned to
Starbuck. "Salik said you can start having liquids and soft foods. Feel up
to trying Boxey's soup?"

"Sure." He managed a smile a Boxey.

Once Boxey was supposedly out of earshot, Apollo asked Starbuck as gently
as he could, "Why do you think you're here?"

"I'm not really sure," Starbuck admitted. "I'm not sick enough for Life
Center, but I should probably be on the Rehab or Senior ship." He thought
about it for a micron, then shook his head. "I don't know, Apollo. I'm too
weak to do any work or even pleasure you, and I'm certainly not a danger to
anyone. Maybe because you feel sorry for me - but what happened to me
wasn't your fault."

"You're not here because I feel guilty about what happened. You're a free
man and I couldn't stop you from doing what you felt you had to. Maybe I
should have tried harder to persuade you to stay..."

Starbuck grinned for the first time since he had regained consciousness in
the Galactica Life Center. "See? Guilt really is your strong suit."

"Did it ever occur to you that I love you and want you with me?"

"Yes and no," Starbuck answered promptly. "Lords, Apollo! Why couldn't you
start this discussion before all this happened? When I could love you
back?"

Apollo jerked his head up. "You don't love me?"

"No, no," Starbuck hastened to assure him. "I love you. I'll always love
you, whether I can be near you or not. But I can't love you physically
anymore. I haven't been able to since I was unhooked. Doesn't matter - when
I'm stronger I can at least pleasure you and give you my body." He waved
Apollo's protest away. "But what I meant was - why didn't you say this when
I was healthy? Then, you made me sneak around - no one could know."

"Boxey knew anyway."

"Well, yeah, and he didn't care. Your dad knew, too. He met me in the hall
a couple of times. He didn't care either."

"What was he doing in the hall at the hours you were leaving here?"

"Ask him, not me. Anyway, the point is now, when even *I'm* ashamed of me,
when I have no ... honor ... left at all, *now* you want to make our ...
love - I can hardly believe you still love me - make our love public?"

"When you put it that way, it doesn't make a lot of sense, does it?" Apollo
said sheepishly.

"No, it doesn't," Starbuck answered. "But, Apollo? I'll take your love any
way I can get it. I'll do or be whatever you want - or try anyway."

Apollo gathered his love into his arms and held him close. Boxey walked
carefully into the room carrying a tray of full soup bowls. Muffit followed
at a cautious distance. "Aw, gee, Muffit, look at that," Boxey whined,
"They're doing mushy stuff now."

***

"How about going to the OC for dinner?" Apollo asked.

"You go ahead, I'll fix myself something here," Starbuck responded, looking
up from the decryption he was doing for the Commander.

"Starbuck, first you thought I was ashamed of you and wanted to hide you in
a dark room. Now you're doing it."

"I ... I have no defense for what I did," Starbuck answered softly. "I
can't face anyone - they all know. I belong on the prison barge, or locked
up in the Senior Ship's Psycho section. I don't really understand why
you're willing to be associated with me, let alone trust me around Boxey,
but I'll do anything to be near you, so I don't question it."

"If you'll do anything, then come to the OC."

Reluctantly Starbuck nodded, closed out the file he was working on, and
rose to join his love.

***

"Captain Apollo! How nice to see you. Right this way please." The OC
orderly paid no attention to Starbuck, simply because he didn't know how to
greet him. That was fine with Starbuck, although he assumed he was being
ignored out of disgust with what he had done and been. On the way to the
OC, Starbuck had stayed between the bulkhead and Apollo, using the Captain
as a shield from anyone who passed. Apollo, aware of the panic Starbuck was
barely keeping in check, curtly acknowledged those who greeted them and
kept on walking, discouraging either conversation or requests to join them.

The orderly sat them at a prime table in the center of the busy OC, holding
out a chair for Starbuck, which Apollo helped him into. Starbuck was
trembling visibly now. "Cold, love?" Apollo asked. "I should have made sure
you wore a jacket." Turning to the orderly, he asked, "I wonder if we could
have a more sheltered table. The Lieutenant," Starbuck looked up sharply at
this, "is still recovering from injuries and is sensitive to drafts."

"Of course, how about that one near the fireplace?" Apollo nodded and they
moved to the table half-hidden by the piled logs.

"Better?" Apollo asked once they were seated and the orderly moved away to
seat another group.

Starbuck nodded, then hesitantly admitted, "I wasn't cold, just fracking
scared."

Apollo frowned and was about to question Starbuck, but he was interrupted
by the orderly's return to take their drink order. Apollo ordered grog, but
Starbuck just asked for agua. "Starbuck? Are you sure you're all right?"
Apollo queried when the orderly went to fill the order.

"Physically? Yeah, 'Pol, I'm fine."

"Agua?"

"Know anything else that doesn't cost here? I have no credit or cubits
until I finish the work the Commander gave me, remember?"

"My treat, then. I more or less forced you to come."

Starbuck shook his head. "Everything I eat, the clothes I wear, even the
fact that I'm not begging in the corridors of one of the itinerant ships is
your treat. I don't have to charge up your bill when we're out, too."

"You still have to eat."

At first there was no response, so Apollo began scanning the room to see
who was in the OC. Then he heard, "Apollo?"

"Hmm?" he replied without looking at his companion.

"Please don't get angry." He was shaking again. If he were pressed much
further he knew he would lose control and wet himself. He wondered whether
Apollo would discipline him right here in the OC. 'No, that's not right,'
he told himself. 'That was Tigh. And Wilkes. And the prison guards. And the
Master Weaver.' As he the list of those he had been enslaved by grew,
Starbuck's mind reeled. The room seemed to tip and his vision began to
blur. "'Pollo, help me, please. I'm not all right." He wasn't sure he had
managed to get the words out, but Apollo was there, holding him, speaking
soothingly. There were other voices as well, but he focused on Apollo's. He
couldn't make out the words at first, but at least Apollo didn't seem
angry.

Apollo grabbed the agua from the concerned orderly's hand as soon as he
hurried up. "Bring us something quickly - some mushies," he ordered.

"Plain grain-bake would be better," suggested a voice at his shoulder. He
looked around to see Cassie standing behind him. Apollo nodded. "Grain bake
then. Right away!"

"Yes, sir, instantly," the orderly replied already leaving for the kitchen.

"He's having a panic attack, Apollo," Cass explained. "Get him to sip the
agua if you can."

"Starbuck? Love? Here's your agua. Please try to drink it ... No, I'll hold
it. Drink slowly. It's okay, I'm here. Take another sip now. Good. A little
more? Can you manage some sweet grain-bake?"

Cass broke a piece off the loaf the orderly raced up with, and handed it to
Apollo, who put it to Starbuck's lips. Starbuck shook his head and tried to
bat it away.

Cass spoke softly. "Try, Starbuck. I know you're stomach's upset, but the
grain-bake will help settle it."

"Cass?" Starbuck realized his eyes were closed and opened them. He was
still in the OC. He took a deep breath.

"Yes, Starbuck. Try to eat a little grain-bake."

"'Kay." He reached up a shaking hand and took the morsel from Apollo. He
chewed and swallowed, then looked at Apollo closely. "Sorry. I didn't mean
to embarrass you."

"No, I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have forced you to come here."

"'S'okay," Starbuck mumbled, and took another bite of grain-bake. He
reached for the agua to wash it down and Apollo closed his hand over
Starbuck's to steady the glass. "I think I do want something stronger after
all," he said.

Apollo signaled the orderly and ordered a bottle of smooth ambrosa. "But
you have to promise me you'll eat, too," he warned Starbuck.

"I will, I will."

Cass ducked in to kiss Starbuck on the cheek and pat Apollo's shoulder. "I
don't think you need me here any longer," she said smiling and turned away.

"We do need to talk about this," Apollo said. "Maybe we need another..."

"Don't say 'training plan'," Starbuck whispered, but he was smiling. Apollo
breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, we do. Did you call me 'Lieutenant'?"

***

Starbuck sat on the couch, hands clasped in his lap. He trembled whenever
his mind started working, so he tried to keep it blank. Apollo was making
tea - laced with a sedative, he was sure - in the cooking area.

"Here you are," Apollo said, handing him a steaming mug. He set the other
mug down on the side table and pulled the desk chair up so he would be
almost knee-to-knee with Starbuck. Sitting, he took the mug and held it
contemplatively in both hands. Noticing that Starbuck hadn't drunk any yet,
he said, "Drink up, love."

Starbuck put the mug down and smiled sadly. "What would you say if I asked
to switch mugs with you?"

Apollo reddened and returned the smile, equally sad. "I don't know that you
can hear what I have to say without ... what's in your mug."

"Mm." Starbuck said noncommittally. "You mean that the 'Lieutenant' was
just a slip out of old habit? Or is there something worse?"

"Oh, Starbuck, I wish I could just make all of this go away."

"Yeah, well, feel free to try."

"I wasn't going to tell you yet, but Father convinced the Council that
despite your conviction you'd received 'cruel and unusual punishment', even
if it wasn't what they intended and that they had to make amends."

"And they restored me to rank?"

"Yes. Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Was there an election held while I was away? Is this the same Council I'm
familiar with?"

"Same Council. Father and Dr. Salik left it to me to decide when you were
strong enough psychologically to be told."

"You thought the news would frighten me?"

"Doesn't it?"]

"Scares the frak out of me." The blond wrapped his arms around himself and
shivered. "What does it mean?"

"That's up to you to work out with Father. And Dr. Salik will have to
approve."

"You know," he said seriously," "Nobody's going to want me for a wingman."

"Why not?"

"Would you?" There was no answer. "Thought not. Neither would I. How would
it be if I started fondling myself in the middle of a battle, right?"

"Is that what bothers you?"

"No. Yes. Well, partly. That and having ... having to deal with..." he
waved his hand vaguely, "people. Flight crew, squadron ... people." He
shook again.

Apollo didn't answer that either.

"Ah, that wasn't what you had in mind." Starbuck nodded to himself. "So.
You're going to throw me back into the cyber-viper. Frak." He was
completely still for a micron, then suddenly jumped up and raced to the
turboflush.

Apollo put his head in his hands. This had gone very badly indeed.

***

"Lieutenant."

"Doctor."

"I'll hook you up."

"Can I ask you a favor, Doc?"

"Of course, Starbuck. Do you need a break?"

"No, not exactly. This wasn't ... isn't ... as bad as I thought. It's kind
of a cross between a sim and the real thing. Umm, but since there aren't
any tubes or restraints or IVs, is there any reason I can't plug myself
in?"

"Well, no, actually, as long as you can get into the gloves without being
able to see them. That might make this more attractive to other pilots,
too. Give it a try."

"Thanks, Doc. I just want ... I don't know ... maybe a little feeling of
independence? That I can do *something* for myself." Starbuck shrugged and,
seeing the concerned frown on Salik's face, grinned at him. "Ahh, I don't
know what I'm talking about. Pay me no mind." He quickly demonstrated his
ability to don the helmet and gloves. "How's that?"

"Perfect. Well, that will free me up to look after people who actually need
my medical expertise," Salik joked, but his frown returned as soon as he
turned away.

***

"I do *not* overprotect him!" Apollo insisted, pacing up and down in the
confines of Dr. Salik's office. Salik remained silent, letting Apollo get
through his defensiveness and think about it. Apollo, fumed, but his brain
reminded him of his actions.

//Flashback//

"We're going to the Rising Star for dinner tonight. Athena, Father, and
Boxey are all joining us," he had informed Starbuck.

"Okay. What do you want me to wear?"

"Dress uniform. You're a warrior, remember?"

"Okay. 'Pol. Don't get mad. I'll just be a micron."

***

"Starbuck, are you sure you need more ambrosa?"

"No, I guess not. No thanks, Athena."

//End Flashback//

'I treat him like a child - and he lets me,' Apollo realized. 'I embarrass
him in front of our friends and family, and he says nothing,' "Okay, maybe
I am a little overprotective. But Starbuck doesn't seem to mind," Apollo
said aloud.

"Are you sure he doesn't mind - or is he just keeping it to himself?"

//Flashback//

"Starbuck, where's your hand?"

"In my lap, Apollo, same position yours is in."

"I'm only looking out for you, you don't have to get sarcastic."

"Sorry." Starbuck paused. "No. No, I'm not sorry. Look, Apollo, I'm no
longer losing control sexually - the fact is, I'm no longer doing
*anything* sexual. What would be the point of my fondling myself -
nothing's going to happen. I can't get aroused when I want to. I don't
think you have to worry about me suddenly becoming a sexual berserker
anymore." He kept is voice low, attracting no attention to them at their
"usual" table in the corner of the OC, and he brought his hand up into
sight even as he protested.

//End Flashback//

'He doesn't embarrass me, even when I deserve it. Even when he does
protest, it's just to me, and he does what I want anyway.' "No, you're
right. He does mind. Sometimes he'll say something, but he never presses
it. Why? Why does he let me do that?"

"Maybe he's afraid of losing you again."

"Yeah, he's afraid of a lot of things." Apollo shook his head. "Too afraid
to say 'no' to anything, I guess. What made you ask, though?"

"Something he said today. Just an off-hand comment that he brushed away as
soon as he saw my reaction. I don't think I should repeat it. He wanted to
take care of setting himself up in the cyber-viper and I think he was a
little surprised that it was okay with me."

"Can he do that?"

"Oh, yes. I should have realized it before now. It's just a helmet and
gloves, after all." Salik tried to read Apollo's expression. "Is there
anything I should know - as his doctor?"

Apollo hesitated. "Did you know he's completely impotent?"

Salik was shocked. "No! He's never mentioned it and nothing showed up on
any physical. Just a micron." He went to his console and reviewed
Starbuck's medical records. "No, nothing physical should be causing it."

"Well he is. I thought it was me at first, but he told me he'd been that
way since he left the Galactica for the Eli Whitney. Made a joke about
being able to repay me faster if he hadn't been. He sold his body to make
sure he could repay me, you know."

"I suspected as much."

"I didn't want to be repaid. All I wanted - all I want - is Starbuck back -
*my* Starbuck!"

"Maybe you need to tell him that."

"I have. I've told him. I've made it clear I won't hide my love for him,
won't make him sneak around anymore." Apollo gave a short laugh. "Turned
out almost everybody *I* was worried about had it figured out anyway. And
Starbuck knew that and played it the way I wanted anyway."

"Maybe Starbuck needs a little more convincing. It's safe for you to live
together, even sleep together now, because he's impotent and still somewhat
fragile, and everyone knows you're caring for him. Maybe, at some level, he
thinks that's the only way he can be sure of keeping you."

"You know, Doc, I think I may have needed this session more than Starbuck."

Dr. Salik just smiled what he considered his "wise old physician" smile.

***

"They think we're going to do *what*?"

"Hey, take it easy. They're only looking for volunteers."

"Well, they better not look my way."

A ripple of laughter passed through the group of warriors clustered around
the posting board outside the OC.

"I hear Captain Apollo wanted to volunteer, but his father said no."

There were rumbles of discontent from the group.

"And of course *Lieutenant* Starbuck didn't have to volunteer."

"That's not funny. The Lieutenant's been through enough - now they're
making him do this again, too."

"Ah, c'mon. 'Making him'? When could anyone - even Captain Apollo - *make*
Starbuck do anything he didn't want to?"

"Yeah, I heard the way they plug him in turns him on."

"Bet the Captain likes to be around for that!"

Guffaws were interspersed with, "Stop it guys," "That's not funny," and
"You're crossing the line."

The hesitant figure in the shadows backed away, right into Boomer. "What's
the matter, Starbuck?" he asked, steadying his friend.

Starbuck just nodded toward the group, still discussing him and the
cyber-viper in more and more explicit terms.

"I'll put a stop to that!"

"No, Boomer. Freedom of speech, remember? As long as it's just talk, leave
it alone."

"Bucko!"

"They're not the ones hurting me. Hades! They're not even saying anything
that's not true."

"Being plugged into the cyber-viper is arousing?" Boomer looked skeptical.

"Used to be," Starbuck mumbled.

"What?!"

"The way Wilkes had me attached was ... arousing. It was meant to be."

"Oh." Boomer realized he still had one hand on Starbuck's shoulder and
dropped it.

Starbuck smiled a tiny smile. 'Yeah, I guess you'll leave it alone now,
won't you Boom-boom?' Aloud he said, "More than you wanted to know, huh?
Sorry." He stepped back. "Look, were you headed into the OC?" At Boomer's
wary nod, he continued, "Would you tell Apollo I was tired and headed
straight home?" Without waiting for a reply he said, "Thanks," and strode
briskly away.

Boomer looked down at his hand and up at the retreating back of his friend.
"Frak!" he said.

***

"Well, I think it'd be interesting!" Deidre was saying to the group of
cadets clustered around the posting outside their sleep quarters.

"Anything to better the odds, huh Deidre?" someone called from further
back.

"You got it! Shoot more Cylons faster with better accuracy? Sign me up! I'm
going to volunteer next duty cycle"

"Not me!" declared Cree. "Being in a viper at all is a little
claustrophobic. Being *attached* so you couldn't even look around is too
much." He shuddered and others murmured sympathetically. Since his capture
and rescue from the Cylons, he'd become a very cautious man.

"I signed up," quiet little Brie said into the silence. All eyes turned to
her and she reddened a bit at the sudden attention. "Well, Deidre might
want to up her kill rate, but I just need all the help I can get."

"Sure hope you don't have to be 'trained' by Starbuck!" someone said
sarcastically.

Cree whirled around to identify the speaker. "Lieutenant Starbuck is about
the only reason I'd even consider volunteering! I wish I had as much
courage as he does."

"Right," came a jeer from another quarter. "Well, Brie, I'd just make sure
I wasn't alone with him anywhere. I hear he doesn't take 'no' for an answer
anymore."

"And where'd you hear that?" Deidre said, turning on the second cadet. "*I*
hear he wouldn't even ask *you* the question!" Catcalls and voiced
agreement followed her remark.

"Nonetheless," the first detractor continued, "Starbuck's a convicted
rapist and-"

"And one who's not a danger anymore," came a soft voice from behind them.
"Forgive my intrusion," Starbuck continued, willing his voice to be steady.

He had to do this or lose Apollo. Apollo's mockery the night before still
stung in his mind. "Since when do some borays' words send you running,
Bucko?"

He shook his head to clear it. "I came to arrange a schedule with Cadet
Brie." He turned to her. "That is, if you still want to volunteer. I *am*
the instructor, and I'll understand if you don't want to go through with
this."

Before Brie could respond, another cadet asked, "What do you mean you're
not a danger any more?"

Starbuck pondered the various responses he could give, and opted for the
truth. "You'll have to take my word for it, but I'm not capable of raping
anyone anymore." There, he'd said it. It would be all over the ship in a
centare. 'Well, what's one more thing,' he thought. 'At least this is
true.'

"The cyber-viper did that to you?" "Did they neuter you as part of your
parole?" "Was this how you got your commission back?" The questions
overlapped each other.

Starbuck waited until they died down. "I don't know how it happened. I'm
not even sure exactly when. Maybe it was done on purpose, but if it was,
nobody told me." He shrugged. "Not that it would have mattered; I didn't
exactly have full citizen rights as a convict. But the point is that I am
safe. So, Brie, if you're still interested, can we set up a ... training
schedule?"

***

"Yes, Commander, thank you," Starbuck replied to the compliment on his
trainees' progress. The cyber-squadron was ready for its first real battle.
Starbuck felt that he had finally earned back his Lieutenant's insignia.
His smile at Adama was genuine and he gripped the Commander's forearm
firmly as he accepted his congratulations. "Maybe I really can make a
difference,' he mused, as he turned to dismiss the cadets and warriors in
"his" squadron.

"I can't wait to try this out in combat," Brie exclaimed. "I hope some
Cylon raiders are picking up our signals right now!" The four of the five
others who comprised the squadron nodded their enthusiastic agreement.

Starbuck raised an eyebrow at them. "Is Ensign Cree the only one here with
any common sense? You *want* the Cylons to show up?"

The others looked at their feet, but Deidre spoke up. "Ah, c'mon,
Lieutenant, you know what we mean. It's not that we want the Cylons to find
us, it's just that, well, at least this way we've evened the odds a
little."

Starbuck smiled and shook his head. "And Apollo says *my* deathwish is too
strong! He should hear you! Well, go celebrate, then get some rest, you all
deserve it. The Cylons will be here soon enough, no doubt. Great job today
- all of you. Dismissed!"

The five trooped towards the door, but Brie turned back at the last micron.
"Aren't you coming, Lieutenant?" she asked. "It's your celebration, too."

Starbuck shook his head, managing a sad smile.

"Oh, please," Brie wheedled. "I'll treat." She pulled her arm through his
and smiled winningly up at him.

"No, no," Starbuck chuckled, "They *do* pay me for training you - not
enough, mind you, but I can afford to buy my own drinks."

Deidre took his other arm. "Of course you can. So you can buy a round for
us, can't you?" Without waiting for his response, she called ahead to the
rest of the squadron, "Drinks are on the Lieutenant - order the best!"

Together, Brie and Deidre escorted Starbuck into the OC, Deidre turning to
wink and nod at Boomer as she passed his table. He smiled and gave her a
thumbs up.

***

'So now I'm a hero,' Starbuck thought skeptically. 'How quickly things
change. Guess I'd better enjoy it while it lasts.' He lifted his mug in
toast to his cyber-squadron. Their quick work on the raiders had allowed
the more experienced warriors of Blue Squadron to backtrack and destroy the
basestar. The celebrations would go on for centars, he knew. Already,
though, warriors and support troops were pairing off in various
configurations, the need to rid themselves of the adrenaline remaining from
the battle manifesting itself in sexual urgency. Looking around he saw
bulging groins on the men and the points of hardened nipples on the women.
He glanced down at his own uniform, loose in the groin, if anything, and
sighed.

Looking up again he saw that Brie and Cree, Deidre and Boomer, Sheba and
Bojay had all slipped out of the OC already. Giles was getting ready to
make his move on Cass, Starbuck noted with a smile. And there was Jolly
with yet another redhead. And Apollo, one long leg up on a chair, leaned
forward closer and closer to Greenbean, who was listening attentively to
his Captain. Starbuck's smile faded. "And then there's me,' he thought.
Apollo wouldn't let Starbuck pleasure him, and now Starbuck knew why. 'Why
are you surprised, Bucko? You raped his sister, pleasured anyone and
everyone who wanted it for a few cubits, and now you expect him to accept
your filth touching him? You may have earned back your honor as a warrior,
but not as a man.'

Salik said there was nothing physically wrong with him. Apollo - Starbuck's
mouth twisted as he watched his love slip into the seat next to Greenbean,
still speaking earnestly. Apollo *claimed* that he wouldn't let Starbuck
make love to him because it wasn't fair if Starbuck got nothing out of it.
So maybe it was time to find out if there really was nothing there anymore.
Starbuck signaled the bartender and handed him a small pouch of cubits.
"Use those up and put the rest of my squadron's drinks on my tab, Talit.
I'll straighten up with you next pay cycle, okay?" The other man nodded
agreeably, taking the purse from Starbuck's extended hand. Starbuck left
the OC unnoticed and headed for the cyber-viper bay.

***

Boomer whistled as he headed out of Decon. Another routine patrol with no
sign of Cylons - his idea of heaven. A sound from the small launch bay set
aside for the cyber-vipers caught his attention. He stopped, listening.
Someone was in there, all right, and at a time when no one should be. He
thought about calling Security and then decided to investigate for himself.
After all, he didn't want to look foolish in front of the Blackshirts if it
was some cadet just sneaking a peek at the new technology.

Boomer recognized the too-thin figure and blond hair instantly. That was no
cadet, it was Starbuck! He opened his mouth to call out when he realized
his friend was undressing. His mouth closed with an audible snap. He knew
he should leave; probably Starbuck had a date with him, why else would he
be stripping in the launch bay? 'And why shouldn't he?' Boomer thought.
Apollo certainly was making no secret of his interest in Greenbean. But
something stopped him from turning away. What was Starbuck doing with a
date - impotent Starbuck - and what was he doing in the cyber-viper bay?
Boomer continued watching as Starbuck neatly folded his clothes and padded,
completely naked, across the bay to the original two-man experimental unit.

Starbuck uncoiled the tubes and wires and reconnected them. He shuddered a
little and set aside the clamps and IVs. Then he eased himself onto the
large dildo and, with some difficulty, pushed the catheter into his limp
member. He attached the wires and pushed the buttons that started the
standby routine. Almost immediately the dildo and catheter came to life
and, equally quickly, Starbuck became aroused, his cock lengthening and
hardening in response to the vibrations against sphincter and prostate. He
had already determined that it was his brain, not his body that failed to
respond to human touch. 'I don't deserve human companionship, so I don't
respond to it,' he had decided. The fact that it was meant as a taunting
punishment seemed appropriate, so he kept returning to the cyber-viper.
Sometimes he pulled the catheter out and climaxed, sometimes he used it as
the punishment it was intended to be.

Unaware that he was being watched, he glanced at the pain indicator.
'Wonder if Tigh and Wilkes' conditioning left me responsive to pain?' He
reached across to the dial that sent electric shocks through his body. Sure
enough, even as he arched away from the sources of the pain, he cock began
pulsing. He barely had the consciousness to pull the catheter out of his
penis before he exploded, shooting cum over the cockpit controls. Lacking
the strength to push himself off the dildo, he passed out, his body still
jerking from both shock and arousal. The break in the circuit registered in
the viper's internal computer and it shut itself down, leaving the pilot
held in position by the thick rod up his ass.

"Dear Lords," whispered Boomer horrified. He started towards his friend to
make sure he was all right, when Starbuck moaned and stirred, regaining
consciousness. Boomer slipped back into the shadows, watching as Starbuck
carefully detached himself, cleaned the inside of the viper and returned
all the equipment to its original positioning. As Starbuck bent to pick up
his clothes, stiff and in evident pain, Boomer silently left the bay, still
unsure of what he should do with this unexpected knowledge.

***

Once he knew Starbuck's secret, Boomer became aware of Starbuck's
preoccupation with tidying up the cyber-viper bay after the rest of the
cyber-squadron left. He also noted his frequent absences shortly after the
partying started in the OC. He found himself drawn to the viper bay,
cursing himself for being a voyeur and trying to rationalize that he only
wanted to ensure that Starbuck didn't really injure himself. When he slunk
back to Deidre after Starbuck was done, their lovemaking was the most
exciting he could ever remember experiencing.

Starbuck pushed his pain threshold farther and farther. He got little
pleasure out of his sessions in the dark launch bay any longer, frequently
unable to climax for centons after pulling the catheter out. It became the
norm that his release came while he was unconscious. He would regain
consciousness only to clean himself and the viper, dress, and leave. He was
aware that someone was watching him from the shadows, but didn't accost the
voyeur. It added to his humiliation, but in his mind it was no more than he
deserved.

Boomer watched Starbuck flirt with death, dancing closer and closer with
each session. The electric shocks were not debilitating, but Starbuck kept
increasing them in voltage and in duration. Boomer knew that soon Starbuck
would lose consciousness before he yanked the catheter from his abused
body. If he didn't break the circuit, at a high enough voltage it would
disrupt his biological electrical rhythms and stop his heart.

***

Boomer sat alone in the OC, trying to come up with a plan to save Starbuck.
He knew he had to do something to end the horrible cycle of
pleasure-pain-release before it became fatal. He also knew he couldn't do
it himself. Looking around he saw Starbuck's only hope flirting with a
female socialator. He was going downhill rapidly. When Greenbean hadn't
been amenable to being taught "everything I know", rumor had it, Apollo had
tried Rigel, then worked his way through the launch bay crew until Jenny,
the crew chief, threatened to report him to Adama. Apparently, he was now
turning to professionals. Boomer wasn't sure which was cause and which
effect, but his two best friends were slowly destroying themselves.
Suddenly the plan appeared, fully formed, in his mind.

***

Another basestar destroyed, along with a Cylon refueling station. This time
the cyber-squadron had done the whole thing. Blue Squadron had finally
caught up with them in time to mop up the few raiders that managed to
launch from the station before it became a fireball in space. The two
squadrons were celebrating together. Starbuck treated his squadron to a
round of drinks then, in what had become a customary ritual, passed his
pay-pouch over the Talit and slipped away unnoticed from the OC.

Almost unnoticed. At the end of the bar Boomer put down the mostly full
tankard he was sipping from and beckoned Talit over. He handed him a folded
note and whispered instructions in the bartender's ear. The man nodded
discreetly and moved away. Boomer leaned over to kiss Deidre's cheek
chastely, eliciting a smile, before he melted into the crowd milling around
the overfull tables and made his way out of the OC.

A male socialator had one leg slung over Apollo's lap and was rapidly
moving the rest of his body into close proximity with it when Talit
approached the table. He proffered the note and a carafe of ambrosa to
Apollo, shrugging at his the questioning eyebrow that quirked upwards at
the gift.

Returning to the bar, Talit nodded at Deidre, who slid off her stool and
intercepted the socialator as he made to follow Apollo out of the OC.
"Shame to let that fine potable go to waste, sugar," she purred into the
man's ear.

He looked at her sensual expression, then back at the table, hesitating. He
grinned and shrugged as she took his hand and led him back, pushing him
playfully into the seat vacated by Apollo. She fell languidly into his lap
and reached for a glass. "Pour for me, sugar," she demanded.

***

Boomer was about to call to Apollo and point him in the right direction
when the quiet rustle of clothing made that unnecessary. He remained in his
usual position as Apollo watched his love undress and neatly fold his
clothes.

Starbuck's body gleamed golden in the dim standby lighting of the shut down
launch bay. Apollo was drawn to him, silently skimming past the vipers
between them. He stopped in the shadow of the nearest viper to the original
prototype and watched transfixed as Starbuck climbed into the two-seater
and began his ritual of attaching himself to the machine. The viper hummed
into life and Starbuck reached over to turn the "pleasure" dial to full
power, then slammed back into the seat as the stimulation hit him with
force.

Apollo approached the "passenger" side of the viper, mesmerized by the
sight of his love, aroused and glowing.

Without looking, Starbuck again reached over, this time to the "pain" dial,
and inched it on, continuing to increase the charge running through his
body until his shaking hand could no longer hold onto the control knob.
Rigid with mixed pain and pleasure, he scrabbled at his penis blindly,
trying to remove the catheter before he passed out. Before he succeeded,
all stimuli stopped abruptly. His body jerked once like a broken puppet,
then crumpled. Through a haze of pain and the aching aftermath of
frustrated arousal, Starbuck forced himself to lift his head and find out
what had happened. His bleary blue eyes met furious green ones.

"What the frak did you think you were doing?" Apollo demanded.

"'Pol?" the bewildered blond asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving you from killing yourself? Are you crazy?"

"No," Starbuck said quietly, mentally preparing himself for a fate worse
than the death he had been gradually leading himself towards. "Just
perverted. But you know that. And I wasn't killing myself -" '- yet,' he
finished silently.

"Why were you doing ... this?" Apollo gestured, unable to find words to
describe what he had witnessed.

"I have needs, too. This is the only way I can satisfy them."

"Felgercarb!"

"You know it's true," Starbuck insisted.

In response, Apollo yanked the catheter out of Starbuck, deflating his
erection instantly. Then he pulled Starbuck off the dildo and out of the
viper by his shoulders. Slamming him against the side of the viper, he
grated, "No, it isn't," and ravished Starbuck's mouth, grinding against him
until he felt Starbuck's erection return to greet his own. He continued
with Starbuck now joining him in counterpoint rhythm and removed his mouth
from Starbuck's only to throw his head back and howl as cum stained his
uniform from the inside and out.

When Apollo released him, Starbuck sobbed at the loss and reached out to
keep the contact, holding his lover to him desperately. Then suddenly
realizing what he'd done, he let go and crumpled to the ground. Remembering
his training just as abruptly, he jumped up and stood at attention.

Confused, Apollo looked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Awaiting my punishment, sir!" Starbuck replied crisply, looking straight
ahead.

"What?"

"I didn't have your permission to release, sir. I lost control."

"Frak it, Starbuck!" Apollo's post-sex haze dissolved. "I just raped you!
And you expect to be punished?" Slowly, Apollo realized where Starbuck's
mind was. He took him by the shoulders again. "Look at me," he ordered. The
blue eyes warily met the green. "I'm not Tigh. You didn't lose control - I
took it from you."

The blue eyes lost some of their fear. Starbuck shook his head. "No,
Apollo, you could never do that. Because I'll always surrender it to you. I
always have and I always will."

"Oh Gods, Starbuck," Apollo whispered brokenly. "I love you. I love you and
I nearly lost you again."

"I'm a weak, perverted man, Apollo," Starbuck replied. "I've thrown away my
honor more than once. But if you still want me, if you still love me,
that's all the honor I need."

There was much more to be said, much more healing and renewing to be done.
But there was time for that - a lifetime. But there Apollo stood once again
in defense of Starbuck's honor, and that was all that really mattered.
Starbuck pulled Apollo into a hug that was returned fiercely. In the
shadows, Boomer smiled before he turned away.

End