He wasn't angry with Sheba. She was merely being open and honest about her own feelings and her perception of his, but he was just as glad that she was out on long range patrol with Bojay. He'd spent a lot of time examining those feelings and he'd come to no real resolution yet. He wasn't sure just what he felt for Cain's daughter besides friendship. Sometimes he wondered why he couldn't be more like Starbuck and live life without always looking for answers and explanations. Why couldn't he just go have a fling with Sheba and enjoy it for what it was? But he knew that wasn't what she was looking for and more importantly, it wasn't in his nature either. He didn't know why but he did know he was weary of all the introspection. He also knew deep down that it was more than just his own emotional problems nagging at him. Whether or not to become involved again wasn't really what was bothering him the most. It was merely the latest issue heaped on top of a very big pile.

He was tired of everything... the constant fear of pursuit, the crowded conditions, the shortages and vigilant rationing. But most of all, he was tired of people. That's why he wasn't enjoying his evening immersed in this throng. People and their fickle loyalties were giving him one supernova of a headache.

It was only natural for him, he guessed, to take personally any bad-mouthing of the Commander, but there'd been grumbling before and he'd been able to take it in stride. Why was this time so different? Why was he taking it so much to heart this time... brooding about it until even his closest friends couldn't stand to be in his company. Maybe it was because part of him understood their disgust of any deals with Baltar, but mostly he felt it was because he knew what it had cost his father to make the decision. He'd witnessed firsthand the tremendous struggle Adama had waged within his own soul.

The people of the fleet had no idea the price their commander had paid for their lives and obviously didn't care as far as Apollo could tell. He had to consciously fight back the indignant part of himself that wanted to jump on top of the table and start lecturing everyone in the casino. How dare they enjoy themselves so thoughtlessly while his father tormented himself with self-doubt on their behalf. He sighed and reached for his ambrosa.

"Kinda thick around here, isn't it?"

Apollo glanced up to see Boomer pull up a chair and plop down. The captain refrained from commenting. He merely sipped at his drink.

"Why so gloomy?" Boomer pressed. "A person would think you'd just caught inspection duty."

Apollo shrugged. "I'm afraid I'm not very good company tonight, Boomer. Starbuck's playing pyramid if you're looking for him."

The lieutenant shook his head and flashed a grin. "Already found him. He's gone through his own cubits and now he's looking for backers. I got outta there in a hurry."

Apollo chuckled in spite of himself. If he wasn't careful, Boomer just might lift him out of his depression.

Boomer must have picked up on his friend's subtle shift in mood and decided to push it further. "There's a new dance act in the cabaret. Wanna go take a look?"

Apollo considered a moment. Where was all this worrying getting him? He came to a decision. "Why not?" He scooted back his chair and got to his feet. "Could be just what I need."

"Now you're talking." Boomer laughed as he rose from the table himself. "C'mon." He started for the cabaret.

Apollo moved back to the table to grab his mug of ambrosa, then followed after his friend. Getting through the crowd was a fight as he tried to keep one eye on Boomer and at the same time keep his drink intact.

"Apollo!"

It was Starbuck. Hearing his name called from across the casino, the captain turned, momentarily distracted, and immediately collided with a surly-looking Gemon. The mug slipped from Apollo's hand and doused them both.

"Sorry." Apollo smiled sheepishly.

The man stood silently glaring at the captain. The apology went unnoticed. Apollo's grin faded slowly as he became aware of the anger in the Gemon's eyes. He reached out to try to wipe some of the offending liquid off the man.

"It's kind of crowded in here," he explained. "I didn't see you until..."

The Gemon took a step back to avoid the warrior's touch and Apollo let his voice trail off. His hand hung frozen in mid-air. The man only continued to glower at him.

Apollo sighed impatiently. "Look, I said I was sorry. It was an accident." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a cubit. "Why don't I buy you a drink?" He held out the coin as a peace offering.

The Gemon angrily slapped at the offered token. The cubit flew out of Apollo's hand and clinked onto the floor. It took Apollo a centon to register that he'd heard it hit and he realized the casino had grown quiet... too quiet. Even the music had stopped.

"I don't want your money," the Gemon snarled.

"What's going on?" came a voice at Apollo's elbow. He hadn't noticed when Starbuck had shown up at his side.

The captain shrugged. "I seem to have upset this gentleman."

"Is that so?" the lieutenant asked the Gemon calmly.

"Stay out of this, Starbuck," someone warned from out of the crowd gathering around them. "This isn't your fight."

"It doesn't have to be anybody's fight," Apollo persisted. He was trying his best to keep things calm. He was afraid of his own mood tonight... afraid of losing command of the situation, though he had a sinking feeling it was already out of his hands.

"Are you backing down, Warrior?" the Gemon taunted smugly.

Apollo felt Starbuck tense beside him and he placed a restraining hand on his friend's arm. His own impatience at the whole affair was quickly being replaced by anger and he didn't want that to happen.

"It was only a spilled drink. No reason for any fighting." He turned to Starbuck. "Come on. Let's go find Boomer."

"Right behind you, ol' buddy," Boomer piped up. "Can't leave you alone for a centon."

The three friends turned to leave. The crowd, taking their actions as an end to the conflict, began to disperse. The Gemon stood his ground, unwilling to let go of the argument. It was deeply ingrained in his Gemonese soul to get in the last word. As he gazed after the backs of the three warriors, he couldn't stop himself from shouting after them.

"Cowards in uniforms, that's what you are. But I should've expected it from the son of that traitor, Adama."

Apollo stopped. He clenched his jaw and every muscle he had grew taut with the effort to maintain control. He felt Boomer and Starbuck holding onto his shoulders as he clenched his fists and fought the urge to turn around.

"Let's get out of here," Boomer advised in an undertone. "He's not worth the trouble you'll get into."

The Gemon noted his words' effect and was eager to press his point. Besides, he was playing to an audience again as the crowd had started to return.

"It was all a plot from the beginning!" he shouted. "Adama and Baltar are two of a kind. They were in league together. They both sold us out to the Cylons!"

Apollo took a step forward then suddenly ducked backwards, to elude his friends' hold on him. With his blood racing, he turned and launched himself at his tormenter. All his pent-up pain, frustration and anger burst forth and flooded through his soul, venting their release on the hapless Gemon, whose only crime was having too big a mouth and too much to drink.

He never heard Starbuck or Boomer... he was aware of nothing but the Gemon beneath him. Something had been unleashed inside of himself, something uncontrollable. Pain... Injustice... Anger... Denial... Serina... Zac... Mother... Their faces all blended together. And Father... what about his pain? Hasn't he suffered enough? Haven't these people demanded enough of him? When would it all end... when would it be enough? He felt himself being dragged away and struggled to get free, but his arms were held fast. No matter how he twisted or kicked, he was held tight.

Slowly, the rush of adrenaline subsided. His hearing returned, his heartbeat slowed. He stood still, his chest heaving, as the beast retreated back to the depths of his soul and sanity returned.

"Apollo... Apollo..."

"Boomer?" He turned his head to meet the horror in his friend's eyes. He glanced down and saw the lieutenant had hold of one of his arms.

"Good Lord, Apollo," Starbuck whispered from his other side. He still gripped Apollo's other arm. "You nearly killed him."

"I... what?"

He glanced over to where several people were kneeling beside the Gemon. The man lay unmoving, his face a mass of blood and torn flesh.

"Did I..."

Apollo glanced down at his hands, only to find them swollen, his knuckles torn and bleeding. As he stared at them in mute disbelief, they began to tremble uncontrollably. He felt himself sway unsteadily and would've fallen if Boomer and Starbuck hadn't been holding onto him. He didn't think he was capable of such violence and it scared holy frack out of him.

"Is... is he all right?" he asked, his voice quavering.

"I don't know." Boomer shook his head. "You did quite a number on him."

"I didn't mean... I mean, I..." He trailed off as he noticed the many people staring at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

"Okay, okay, move aside. Move it."

A group of council security came shoving through the crowd.

"Frack," Starbuck cursed under his breath. "All we need is a bunch of Black Shirts."

"What happened here?" the security chief demanded. He noticed the fallen Gemon and called for some med techs. He glanced around the murmuring crowd. "All right now. Somebody tell me what happened."

There was a brief moment of silence then a woman with a shrill voice pushed her way forward. "They did it," she accused, gesturing wildly. "Those self-righteous warriors."

The security guard moved over to confront the trio from Blue Squadron. He let his gaze wander over all three of them, but it came to rest on Apollo's bloody hands. His eyes narrowed and he grabbed the captain by one of his wrists. He held it up high for all to see then turned back to Apollo.

"All right, Captain. Let's go."

Instantly Starbuck stepped between the two, his hand on the guard's chest, ready to muscle him out of the way. "You're not taking him anywhere, Black Shirt. That Boray was asking for it."

"You've got no authority here, Starbuck," the guard informed him icily. "It's not for me to decide whose fault it was, but it is my job to place the captain here under arrest. You know that as well as I do."

Starbuck glared at him for a moment, then looked over to Boomer in appeal for some backup.

"You gotta let him go, Starbuck," the dark warrior told him helplessly. "You can't fight all of security, not to mention this mob."

After another moment the lieutenant dropped his hand from the guard's chest and released his hold on Apollo's arm. "Sorry, buddy," he muttered.

Apollo remained silent, his eyes focused on the deck. He'd barely registered the exchange.

"Okay, let's go." The guard pulled Apollo away from his friends and pushed him ahead.

The med techs had already taken the Gemon to the life station but the crowd had remained and it was difficult to get through. The council guards had their hands full clearing the way.

Apollo went quietly, without protest. He was dimly aware that Starbuck and Boomer had followed and were once more flanking him on each side. What he was most conscious of were the faces of the people they passed. They watched him go and their looks of loathing and disgust cut him to the heart. His lack of control had just given them one more reason to find fault with his father.

* * *

Tigh shifted his feet uncomfortably as he watched Adama pace the length of his quarters and back. "I can't believe it," the commander murmured once more.

Tigh remained silent. He knew his friend's moods well enough to know when to hold his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Athena. She too was watching her father intently, apparently waiting for his reaction to the news that Apollo had nearly killed a civilian on the Rising Star.

By now the Commander had reached the far side of the room. Abruptly he stopped his pacing and turned to face his first officer.

"You're certain you got the report right, Tigh? It's not like Apollo to go around attacking people."

The colonel nodded reluctantly. "Yes, Sir. It was Captain Apollo. They have him in the brig now. The guards did say there may have been some provocation, but..."

"Provocation? Provocation?"

Tigh watched in concern as the incredulity left Adama's weathered face and was replaced by anger. No, he amended his thoughts, wrath would be a better word.

"What provocation does it take to kill a man in a bar? By all the Lords, does he know what he's done? How could he let himself do something like that?" Adama shook his head. "I never would have believed it of him."

Tigh moved forward, momentarily stepping out of his comfortable role of second-in-command. "Don't believe it of him yet, Sir," he pleaded earnestly. "At least not until you've seen him... talked to him. Hear his side of it first."

Adama's white head moved slowly. "I won't be talking to him. I can't go down to the brig."

At that moment the doors swished closed and both men turned. Athena had left the room. Tigh assumed she'd heard enough. The commander sighed wearily and moved to stand by his portal. He stared out at the view of space, his back to Tigh.

The colonel sensed a change in his friend's state. He stepped up behind him and placed a hand on the blue-clad shoulder. "Adama... he's your son. You know he would have a reason for whatever happened on the Rising Star."

"Don't you think I'm aware of that?" the commander asked quietly, without turning.

"Then at least go down to the brig and hear him out."

"I can't!" came the anguished cry, torn from the commander's throat. He finally turned a stricken face. "My hands are tied," he explained helplessly. "This couldn't have happened at a worse time. With the mood of the fleet, if I show one drop of compassion... one speck of mercy... Apollo is my son. Whatever I do, I'll be accused of favoritism. I can't allow any more fuel for their resentment." He turned back to the stars. "I can't even allow myself to go down to the brig and see my own son. I must be his commander now, not his father... at least until this whole business quiets down."

Tigh felt he was being dismissed and he dropped his hand. He started for the door but stopped halfway there.

"Commander," he said formally, once more the first officer. "There is nothing that would keep me from visiting Captain Apollo, is there?"

Adama's head turned quizzically. "No, of course not. Especially since you're in charge of the squadrons."

Tigh smiled. "Well then, is there anything you want to tell him... in an official capacity, of course?"

Adama pondered a moment and then let a smile play on his own lips. To Tigh, it was like a light coming on in a dark room. The commander walked over to where his friend stood.

"Don't tell him anything. You could be overheard... misconstrued." He reached down and twisted the thin, gold band off his little finger. He held it out to Tigh. "Just give him this. He'll know it. It will have to do for now."

Tigh took the ring and clasped it tightly in his hand. "Yes, Sir." He then turned on his heels and walked out the door.

* * *

Athena marched rapidly down the corridor, her eyes kept purposefully straight ahead. She resisted the urge to glance to either side at the inhabitants of the cells in the brig. Ordinarily on the Galactica the brig was used only for service personnel, usually those who'd had too much R & R or those rare occasions of insubordination. Since the disaster however, conditions called for the use of all available space and the brig had been turned into a holding cell for those waiting for council hearings. She ignored the jeers and catcalls as she walked past.

She stopped at the guard station to exchange a few words with the man in charge. Then she walked on again, slowing only when she came within a few feet of her brother's small area of confinement.

Silently she moved to stand in front of the transparent barrier. The sight that greeted her was a lonely one. Apollo sat on the edge of the bunk that jutted out from the wall. His elbows rested on his knees. His head was buried in his bandaged hands.

"Apollo?" Athena spoke softly.

The warrior's head snapped up. When he saw his sister, he leapt to his feet and rushed to the door.

"Athena. I'm so glad to see you. No one will tell me anything around here. The Gemon... is he all right?"

"He will be," she assured him hastily, eager to allay his fears... to remove some of the dread from his eyes.

Apollo breathed a deep sigh of relief. "I never meant to hurt him," he mumbled. "I just... I couldn't stop myself."

"Are you okay?" Athena asked.

He held out his hands for inspection and gave her a thin, tired smile. "Cassiopeia was here earlier and took care of them." There was a long pause before Apollo spoke again. "I suppose Father knows what happened."

Athena nodded solemnly. "He's awfully upset. Things were bad enough as it was."

Apollo avoided his sister's reproachful eyes. "I know, I know. But I'm sure he'll understand. I just need to explain how it all happened."

Athena bit her lower lip and shook her head ruefully. "I don't know when you'll get a chance. He won't be coming down here. Apollo, he's very angry."

Athena watched in sorrow as her brother's face fell and he turned away from her. He walked over to the far wall and leaned one hand against it.

"I wanted to see him," he said without turning around, "to explain. I need to talk to him."

As she heard the catch in Apollo's voice, Athena struggled to keep back tears of her own. He was usually the strong one.

"Give him some time, Apollo," she urged. "Let things cool down. You don't realize how widespread this has become. It's all over the fleet. Give him a chance to deal with it." Her brother refused to turn and there seemed to be nothing more she could say. "I guess I'll go then. Don't worry about Boxey. I'll look after him."

"Does he know what happened?" Apollo asked dully.

"Most of it. He knows you're here. He wants to come and visit."

"No!" Apollo whirled to face his sister, the look on his face a mixture of anger and despair. "I don't want him to see me here."

"But Apollo..."

"No. I mean it. I'll talk to him later, but I don't want him to see me here."

He was adamant and Athena gave him a reluctant nod. "Whatever you say. I really need to go now. I'm supposed to be on the bridge. Take care of yourself."

Apollo had once more turned his face to the wall, silent as stone. Athena moved away from the cell and turned to leave. The trip back through the brig seemed to take a lot longer than it should have.

Back in his cell alone, Apollo sank wearily to his bunk and flopped onto his back, his feet still draped over the edge. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling and tried desperately to think of absolutely nothing. It didn't work and he finally gave up. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tried to keep in the tears that threatened to spill out. He wasn't entirely successful and a few warm drops escaped out to disappear into the dark tangle of his hair.

"Father," he whispered to the empty air. "Father, I'm sorry."

He flung one arm across his eyes then turned to face the wall, shutting out the mocking silence.

* * *

As Tigh left the elevator and entered the detention section of the Galactica, he was nearly bowled over by Athena. A fast side-step avoided a head-on collision.

"Sorry, Colonel," Athena quickly apologized. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"That's quite all right," he assured her. She seemed upset and he cast a quick glance down the corridor where she had come from. "Have you seen Apollo?"

Athena nodded. "Yes. He's really torn up about everything. He wants to see Father pretty badly."

"I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment," Tigh informed her. "You heard the commander."

"Yes, I heard." Athena's voice rang with bitterness. "If you'll excuse me, Colonel."

With that, she slipped past him toward the still-waiting elevator. She disappeared as the doors slid shut after her.

Tigh stared after her for a time, then continued on his way. When he reached Apollo's cell, he motioned for the guard to let him in. The door moved silently, then closed again behind him.

The commander's son hadn't moved from where he lay stretched out on his back, one arm covering his face. Tigh stood a moment, gathering his thoughts, then he spoke authoritatively.

"Captain Apollo."

The warrior lifted his head, then sat up quickly when he realized who his visitor was. He scrambled off his bunk and stood at attention.

"Captain, I've come to inform you that there is to be a formal hearing tomorrow. The commander himself will be presiding."

Apollo nodded his acknowledgement. "Thank you, Sir," he replied quietly. "Colonel, I would like to talk to my father before the hearing. Do you think you could..."

"I'm afraid I can't," Tigh interrupted. "The commander has made his decision and he was quite firm on that point." Tigh winced inwardly at the crestfallen man before him. "However, I do have something for you. Maybe it will help." He held out his hand, open-palmed, to display the ring Adama had entrusted to him.

Apollo stared at the glinting object then picked it up to examine in closely.

"Mother's ring," he whispered in amazement. His brow creased in confusion. "Father found it in the ruins of our house on Caprica." He looked back up at the Colonel. "You're certain I'm to have this?"

Tigh nodded emphatically. "Positive. At least for the duration."

Apollo wordlessly slipped the band onto his little finger. When he looked up again Tigh had let his face drop the look of formality.

"Apollo... things are going to be pretty rough for a little while... on everyone. Don't let this get you down."

"All I want to do is talk to him. I need to know what he's thinking. Is that too much to ask?"

"At the moment, yes," the colonel answered. "The ring will have to suffice."

Apollo's eyes again focused on his mother's ring as he twisted it on his finger. He wasn't happy, Tigh could tell. It was a poor substitute for his father, but at least it was something he could hang on to for now.

Tigh signalled the guard to release him. As he left the cell, he turned back to Apollo. "Remember, Captain," he said, once more the superior officer. "Tomorrow for your hearing."

"Yes, Sir," Apollo answered distractedly as he sat down on his bunk to study his father's enigmatic token.

* * *

FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS: I don't know if I can put into words how I felt during the hearing for Captain Apollo. It has occasionally been awkward to have my own children under my command, but until now I have never considered it a disadvantage. Sitting there as my son's commanding officer, passing judgment on my first born... it is an experience I would not wish upon anyone. In spite of my heartache however, I did feel a surge of pride as I watched him. His eyes never wavered as he listened to my sentence. I longed to go to him... to take him in my arms as I used to when he was a small boy. I knew he was hiding a deep pain under that starched stance of formality. Tigh has told me how much my son wanted to see me, but I could not be there for him this time. Sometimes the needs of the fleet have to come ahead of personal desires. Apollo knows that as well as I. I only hope I will be able to make it up to him.

* * *

"You will remain on duty alert at all times," the commander read from a long list. "Only during actual emergencies will you fly your Viper. You are restricted from the officers' lounge, suspended from Triad games. You are not to go to the recreation facilities aboard the Rising Star. Your duties will consist of flying shuttles and intrafleet inspections. These restrictions are to be in effect until we deem you worthy to be restored to all rights and privileges of a Colonial Warrior. In addition, your pay will be docked for the next three periods. It will go to the Gemon as payment for the suffering you inflicted upon him."

The commander finally looked up from his notes. The atmosphere in the council room was charged with tension... a tension Adama knew was felt throughout the fleet. Hopefully though, some of that would now dissipate from the civilian populace. For this express purpose he had broadcast Apollo's hearing on the intrafleet channel. There could be no accusations of covering up or playing favorites. Everything was above board for all to see and hear. The fact that it was Adama's son who had to bear the brunt of the shame and public humiliation was a sorrow the commander could only allow himself to feel privately.

"Captain Apollo," he continued sternly though his heart cringed inwardly. "You realize, of course, that under normal circumstances your attack on a civilian would have meant certain demotion in rank, if not court martial. The situation being as it is, we cannot afford to lose the services of any of our warriors, certainly not one as experienced as yourself. Consider yourself fortunate. That is all for now. Report to Colonel Tigh for your new assignment. Dismissed."

Apollo gave one curt nod then turned and strode out of the room. Adama watched as Boomer and Starbuck followed hurriedly after him... not of course, without insubordinate scowls back. He chose to ignore them. They just didn't understand and he would not fault them for it. He'd played chief judge enough for one day. As he stepped down from his seat, he suddenly felt very old and tired.

* * *

"Apollo, wait a centon, would ya?" Starbuck called after his friend's rapidly moving figure. Boomer followed behind Starbuck, not quite so much in a hurry to disturb the captain at this point.

"Starbuck, maybe he doesn't want..."

But Apollo had halted, apparently waiting for them to catch up. When the two lieutenants reached him he turned to face them. His face was set calmly, his eyes cool, but his fists were clenched tightly, betraying his distress. Suddenly Starbuck found himself searching for something to say.

"Apollo... look, why don't we go get a drink or..." he trailed off at the sight of his friend's flushed face.

Apollo shook his head. "Sorry. Can't do that." He tried to smile but gave up with only half an effort. "See you around." He whirled and quickly disappeared down the corridor.

Boomer reached out and caught Starbuck's arm before he could follow.

"Easy, buddy. Let him alone for right now."

"Holy frack, Boomer," Starbuck blurted out. "All this because of one loud-mouthed Gemon." He shook his head in disbelief. "And Apollo of all people."

"The commander was pretty rough on him," Boomer agreed.

"Yeah, and knowing Apollo, he'll blame it all on himself. I wish I knew what we could do to help."

Boomer was quiet a moment. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well," he drawled out slowly. "We could sort of share his punishment."

Starbuck stared at Boomer in puzzlement. "What do you mean?" A look of horror crossed his face. "You mean stay away from the Rising Star?"

Boomer laughed. "I don't think Apollo would ask that of you, Starbuck, but maybe we could volunteer for some of that daggit duty he's pulled. You know, go along on the inspections to keep him company."

Starbuck looked relieved. "I think I could handle that."

"I thought so," Boomer said with a smile. "Let's go find the Colonel."

* * *

Apollo sank down gratefully on the edge of his bunk. It felt good to be back in his own quarters. He breathed out a heartfelt sigh and tossed his jacket onto a nearby chair, then bent down to unbuckle his boots. Everything officially required was over with and he was glad. He wanted some time away from everyone, well-meaning friends included, to just think... or not to think, whichever turned out the easiest.

Kicking off his boots, he meant to flop out on his bunk for about the next thousand yahrens or so. He never made it. Halfway there, he heard a familiar, mechanical yapping and he froze where he was. Muffit's presence meant Boxey's as well. He knew this moment was going to have to be faced at some time. He supposed it might as well be now.

"Dad?"

Boxey's voice reached Apollo's ears only moments before the boy's small face appeared in the doorway. Only a fraction of hesitation showed in his eyes before a grin lit his face and he catapulted himself into the captain's arms.

"Dad! Athena told me you were home."

Apollo hugged his son close and wished somehow that he could make Boxey understand everything through mere contact. He wasn't sure what to say, mostly because he hadn't been able to explain it to himself yet. He really didn't want to have to talk about it but Boxey was only a child after all, and children require explanations. After allowing himself to be hugged what he considered long enough, the boy wiggled free from his father's embrace and stood to face him.

"Muffey and me are glad you're home, Dad," Boxey told him solemnly. "We missed you."

"I missed you too," Apollo answered. There was a long silence. Apollo finally had to shift his gaze away from those questioning, brown eyes.

"Boxey," he began slowly. He took the boy's hands in his own and focused his attention on them. "Boxey, you know where I've been these last few days."

The boy nodded. "In the brig," he stated so matter of factly that Apollo winced.

"Boxey, I wanted you to know... what I mean is..." He stood up and walked across the room. This was harder than he thought it was going to be. "I want you to understand about what happened... why I was there." He turned back to face his son. "Do you understand?" he asked hopefully.

Boxey shook his head in confusion. His father seemed to expect him to say something and he wasn't sure what it should be.

"The brig is where you go when you're bad, isn't it?"

Apollo nodded quietly.

"Dad." Boxey padded over to take his father's hand. "Did you do something bad?"

The captain glanced down at his son, then turned away again before he lost his composure.

"Yes, Boxey... I did. Something very bad. I hurt somebody. I didn't mean to, but that doesn't matter. I still hurt him."

Boxey appeared to be pondering the information. Apollo moved over to sit down in the chair. Neither spoke for a moment.

"Is that why Grandfather's mad at you?" Boxey finally asked. He walked over to stand by his father's side.

"Mad? I don't think he's mad so much as..." He stopped, unable to trust his voice much longer.

Sensing there was something terribly wrong, but not really sure what, Boxey did what he always did when the world got confusing. He climbed into his father's lap.

"If grandfather's not mad at you, Dad, then why did he punish you?"

Apollo gave his son a rueful smile. "I deserved the punishment... and the commander, he... I think he's ashamed of me more than anything."

That admission nearly burst the emotional dam that had been building in Apollo since the incident with the Gemon. He pulled Boxey close and buried his head against his son's neck, waging a silent war with his own guilt and shame.

Knowing Apollo was upset, but at a loss what to do, Boxey stroked his father's hair and murmured vague words of comfort. After a few centons, Apollo raised his head to meet his son's anxious eyes.

"I'm sorry, Boxey," he apologized. "Things are kind of mixed up for me right now."

"It's okay, Dad," the boy assured him brightly. "I guess even dads gotta worry sometimes."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Apollo sighed. "But as long as you're not mad at me I think I'll be okay."

"I'm not mad at you, Dad." Boxey's small voice was all seriousness. "I love you, no matter what."

Apollo smiled. For the first time in days, he actually felt glad to be alive. "Me too, Boxey. No matter what."

* * *

As Starbuck picked up his tray in the officers' mess and turned to find a table, he caught sight of Apollo sitting with Boxey in a far corner. He hesitated briefly then decided, what the heck. Respect for Apollo's mood was one thing, but to Starbuck's way of thinking, there was a time for stewing and a time for going on and making the best of things. As far as he was concerned, it was time Apollo went on with the business of living.

"Room for one more?" he asked cheerfully and set his tray down next to Boxey.

"Sure, Starbuck," the boy piped up. "Dad and me always have lunch together when he's not out on patrol."

Starbuck pulled up a chair and flashed Apollo a grin. "Hope it's okay."

"Of course it is," Apollo said with a smile of his own. "Everybody has to eat."

"My feelings exactly," Starbuck agreed. He was pleased with the way things were going. "You know, being on those long patrols makes a guy hungry and..." He stopped and felt his face flush with embarrassment. Just as suddenly, he felt exasperation take its place. "Look, Apollo. I can't go around watching what I say all the time."

The captain regarded his friend quietly. Starbuck was sure he saw a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"I never said anything, Starbuck."

"I know you didn't." Starbuck fidgeted uncomfortably. "I know you didn't. I guess I just know how I'd feel if it were me."

Apollo reached across the table and gave his friend an affectionate pat on the arm. "Don't worry about it. It's okay, really."

Starbuck breathed easier. It seemed Apollo was finally putting things into perspective. Maybe everything would get back to normal now.

It was at that point that Boxey knocked over his glass of milk and drowned Starbuck's lunch. Starbuck jumped back to avoid the mess. Boxey's guilt-stricken face alternated between bending down over his plate and darting quick glances at Starbuck. The lieutenant was doing something that looked like a new dance as he tried to avoid getting wet. Both of them stopped what they were doing however, at the sound of Apollo's laughter.

Boxey took his father's cue to mean all was well and added his own giggles to the merriment.

Starbuck gave both father and son a wry smile. "Thanks. What is this, a conspiracy?"

Apollo managed a degree of composure and was able to sputter out a reply. "It was your idea to have lunch with us."

The lieutenant was now making a serious attempt to salvage his lunch. "I take it this happens often?" he asked as he held up a soggy piece of bread.

"Oh, only once or twice a secton," Apollo informed him.

"I'm sorry, Starbuck," Boxey offered as his fit of giggles subsided somewhat.

"Don't worry about it, kid. I wasn't that hungry anyway."

He bent down to pick up his tray when he noticed that Apollo's laughter had stopped, his face frozen in that mask of soberness that had been so much a part of his countenance these last few days. Starbuck also saw a flicker of pain flash in his friend's eyes.

Instinctively he looked over his shoulder to find out what had caught Apollo's attention. Colonel Tigh and the commander had just walked in and were serving themselves at the counter. Starbuck felt awkward just standing there so he slipped back into his chair. Apollo turned back to his plate and never once met Starbuck's eyes.

The lieutenant's own gaze shifted uncomfortably from Apollo to over his shoulder at the commander. Boxey, he noticed, was doing the same thing. His wide eyes never missed a thing. The silence was heavy and the tension almost tangible. Out of the corner of his eye, Starbuck saw the commander turn, see his son and stop. At the look on his face, Starbuck's heart went out to him. Eventually Tigh came up behind him and led him to another table. Boxey's voice pulled Starbuck's attention back to their own meal.

"Grandfather's here, Dad," he announced gravely.

"I know, Son. Eat your lunch." Apollo's voice was calm but he still refused to look up.

"I think he wanted to sit with us," the boy persisted.

Apollo remained silent. With one more wistful glance over at his grandfather, Boxey continued eating, but it was a half-hearted effort.

Starbuck sighed heavily. He'd been wrong. Not everything was back to normal. He wondered just how long this wound would take to heal. He slowly rose to his feet.

"I guess I'll see you around. We've got the next duty."

Apollo nodded and glanced up at his friend. He smiled but it was only a faint trace of his earlier expression.

"I know and I appreciate what you and Boomer are doing. You didn't have to."

Starbuck shrugged the thanks aside. "What's life without a little diversity, right?" He reached down and tousled Boxey's hair. "Take it easy, kid." He casually sauntered out of the mess, lighting up a fumerello as he walked.

* * *

The shuttle slowly separated from its moorings at the Rising Star. Under Apollo's skillful hands, it effortlessly wove its way through the fleet. In the co-pilot's seat, Starbuck was doing his best not to appear as extremely bored as he felt. The intrafleet chatter coming in on his comset was strictly routine... nothing to break the monotony. He tried to stifle a yawn. He wasn't quite successful and had to hide it behind his hand. He started guiltily when he noticed Apollo watching him.

"That bad, huh?" the captain asked with a smile.

Starbuck laughed self-consciously. "Well, you know me. Don't like sitting still." He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd of passengers. Most of them had overdone the relaxation and had gotten very little rest. "Where's our first stop?" he asked.

Apollo consulted his route then rolled his eyes. "The Gemini Freighter," he announced.

"Lovely," Starbuck muttered sarcastically.

"There won't be any trouble," the captain informed him flatly.

"With Gemons?" Starbuck demanded.

"There won't be any trouble," Apollo repeated.

The determination in his face made Starbuck uneasy but he refrained from commenting. He did exhale very noisily, however.

"I mean it, Starbuck." Apollo's voice was adamant. His face had become hard.

"Okay, okay. Relax. I'm not going to do anything," he protested. He always grew irritated when Apollo used that tone with him. It made him feel like he was Boxey's age.

Apollo returned his attention to his controls and didn't say anything else. The silence between the two warriors continued as the shuttle docked with the old freighter. The hatch opened to allow the transfer of passengers.

Starbuck watched with disinterest as the new arrivals boarded. This goodwill gesture was threatening to become more of an effort than he'd expected... especially if Apollo was going to be such a grouch.

His interest was suddenly heightened however, when one particular Gemonese boarded the shuttle. The lieutenant sat up straight and glanced over to see if Apollo had noticed, but the captain was occupied with his console. Starbuck nurtured a weak hope that things might stay that way. They might have if it had been anyone but a Gemon involved. They had a tendency to cancel out anything like luck.

There was no doubt the man had seen the two warriors. Starbuck watched his eyes narrow to the merest slits as he recognized them.

"Oh Lords," Starbuck muttered under his breath as he watched the Gemon approach.

Apollo must've heard his remark for he looked up at his friend and then over his shoulder where Starbuck's attention was focused. He saw the Gemon standing there. The bandages across his nose stood out starkly white in the dim light of the shuttle. After only a brief instant of indecision, Apollo turned back to his controls, doing his best to ignore the situation.

But Starbuck had seen the moment of panic in his friend's face and decided it was time for some friendly intervention. He took off his headset and casually rose from his seat to stand in front of the Gemon.

"All seating is in the back, fella. Why don't you take yours? We're ready to depart."

"I have some things to say to the captain." The Gemon wasn't budging.

"He's a little busy right now." Starbuck smiled sweetly. "Maybe later, huh?"

The Gemon sneered derisively and half-turned to go take a seat. "What's the matter? Afraid Daddy will do more than just slap his hands this time?"

Starbuck couldn't help himself. He raised his clenched fist but felt it stopped. He turned to meet Apollo's stern face.

"Sit down, Starbuck," he said firmly.

The lieutenant considered a moment then pulled his hand away from his friend's grasp. He regarded the Gemon angrily and made no move to take his seat.

"That's an order, Starbuck!" Apollo commanded darkly.

Starbuck glared at his captain but reluctantly started to sit down.

"That's an order, Starbuck," the Gemon mimicked laughingly as he turned to go back to his seat.

Starbuck had taken enough. He lunged after the man only to be tripped up by Apollo who'd jumped up ahead of him. He stumbled off balance and sprawled onto his backside. The Gemon merely walked away, his laughter joined by anyone else close enough to have witnessed the confrontation.

Apollo reached down to help Starbuck to his feet but the lieutenant jerked away from him. He stood up on his own, his face flushed with embarrassment, his eyes burning with anger.

"Starbuck, I'm sorry," Apollo said earnestly. "But you were just making things worse."

"Spare me, buddy," he retorted sharply. "I've just been made a fool of. I don't need your lectures." He climbed into his seat and pulled on his headset. He began working at communications... his eyes refusing to meet Apollo's.

The captain studied his friend for a moment then sat down himself and began to move the shuttle out. The silence between the two warriors was heavy and awkward and it continued for the rest of the trip. There were no more incidents and they managed to return to the Galactica in one piece.

Starbuck left the shuttle first and with little ceremony. Apollo followed after him, unwilling to let the situation remain as it was. His friend had quite a lead but he caught up with him at the lift.

"Starbuck... wait. I want to talk to you."

The lieutenant stopped but didn't turn. He waited for Apollo to speak his mind.

"Starbuck, I'm sorry, but you know what would've happened if you'd hit him."

"I would've finished what you started," Starbuck replied angrily. "He was really after you, ya know. It was your fight. But you just sat there taking it. Well, I don't need it. I don't have to sit there on those damn shuttle flights and be insulted without lifting a finger."

"But I have to," Apollo reminded him. He was getting angry himself now. "I have to take it. I can't lose control of myself again. I don't have that privilege."

The two friends stood and regarded each other fiercely, each caught up in the fervor of his own feelings. All at once, Apollo turned, slammed his fist against the bulkhead, then marched into the lift. It carried him away, out of reach of Starbuck's anger, but it couldn't take him away from his own frustration.

* * *

Apollo stopped just outside the door to his quarters. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself. He wasn't really mad at Starbuck. His friend just didn't understand. It seemed no one did, not even himself. He tried to clear his mind. He didn't want to enter in his present state, especially if Boxey were home. The past few days had been hard enough on his son. He didn't want to add any more upheaval to the boy's life.

"Apollo!"

His eyes shot open at the sound of Sheba's voice. The time since his hearing had all sort of blurred together and he didn't remember when she'd gotten back from patrol. He straightened up as she approached from down the corridor. He could tell by her face that she'd heard about his suspension. News traveled fast on the Galactica. He tried to put on a cheerful countenance for her. The last thing he needed was her well-meant pity.

"How'd the patrol go?" he greeted, trying to stall any probing questions.

"Fine," she answered slowly. "Looks like that Basestar was the only one around."

"That's good news." He felt an inexplicable need to get away from her. He had no desire to hurt her, but he was in enough turmoil right now. He didn't want to have to deal with the confusion she caused. He moved toward his door. "I've got to go in. Boxey's expecting me."

Sheba reached out to grab his arm, keeping him from escaping. "Apollo... are you all right?"

He considered a flip remark but decided she wasn't going to be put off. He smiled tightly. "Yeah... I'm fine. Don't worry."

She dropped his arm. "You wanna talk or anything?"

Apollo's expression softened. After all, she was only trying to help. He appreciated her concern, but she wasn't the person he needed to talk to right now. He shook his head. "I don't think so."

Her face fell slightly with disappointment and Apollo felt badly that he couldn't be what she wanted him to be right now. Sheba was proud if anything though and she instantly brightened, covering what she might be feeling. "If you're sure?" He nodded. "Okay then. I guess I'll see you around."

She started to leave, but Apollo couldn't let her go like that. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. "Sheba, wait." She turned questioningly. "Sheba... I just wanted to say..." Apollo hesitated, suddenly not sure how to put into words what he wanted to tell her. "Thanks," he concluded simply, hoping it was enough.

Their eyes met for a long moment, then Sheba smiled and nodded. "Any time," she told him. She turned again and headed off down the corridor in the direction of the officer's club.

Apollo watched her go, more unsure than ever about his feelings. After she disappeared from his sight, he sighed and turned to enter his quarters. He was scheduled for an inspection run in a few centars. He'd better get some sleep.

* * *

Boomer headed down the corridor at a brisk pace. He was due for shuttle duty and he didn't want to be late. As he rounded a corner, he nearly ran headlong into the commander.

"Excuse me, Sir," he apologized as he stepped to the side. "Wasn't watching where I was going."

"That's quite all right, Boomer. I was a little preoccupied myself."

The lieutenant smiled and started on his way again. Adama took hold of his arm and stopped him before he could take more than a few steps. Boomer stared at him in puzzlement. The commander looked terribly ill at ease.

"Sir. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Boomer... I was just wondering." Adama took a step closer. When he looked up there was worry in his eyes... concern etched in the lines on his brow. "Is Apollo all right?"

"Sure, Commander," Boomer answered. "I'm not quite certain what you're getting at though."

Adama shifted his feet uncomfortably. "What I mean is... well, I haven't seen him much lately. I was just wondering how he was handling things."

Boomer shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I guess. He keeps to himself more than usual. I think that's because of his suspension though."

Adama gave Boomer a weak smile. "Yes, of course. I was just worried about him. As long as he's all right."

Boomer nodded and the commander smiled again. He gave the lieutenant's arm a grateful squeeze, then turned to go. He had only taken a few steps however, when he halted in his tracks. Apollo had just come around the corner, obviously headed for the launch bay to join Boomer.

The captain stopped abruptly. His eyes darted between Boomer and his father, taking in the situation. He stood that way for a moment then nodded a formal acknowledgment to Adama.

"Commander," he said, then moved to walk past them. "Come on, Lieutenant. We don't want to be late."

Boomer cast a quick, apologetic glance at Adama then followed after his friend.

Adama stood and watched his son disappear down the corridor. He was torn between his desire to call him back and the uncertainty of the reception he would get. Finally, unable to bring himself to call out, he lowered his head and walked away in the opposite direction.

* * *

"Apollo, you really should've talked to him," Boomer said reproachfully as the shuttle shot out of the bay. "I would've taken a walk."

"We were going to be late," Apollo reminded him dully, without looking up from the controls.

"That's a bunch of felgercarb and you know it," Boomer told him scornfully. "I could've taken the shuttle out."

Apollo was silent for so long that Boomer began to regret his rash words. Perhaps he'd said too much. He glanced over at his friend.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay. I shouldn't have interfered."

Apollo shook his head. He looked over at Boomer, then returned his gaze back to the viewport.

"No, Boomer. That's all right." He heaved a sigh and rubbed at his eyes as if he had some sort of awful headache. "It's me. I can't... I don't know what to say to him." He shrugged his shoulders resignedly. "I embarrassed him... humiliated him throughout the fleet at a time when he needed all the help I could give him. I let him down. How can I face him after that."

"But he wanted to talk to you," Boomer reasoned.

Apollo shook his head emphatically. "No he doesn't and I can't blame him." He turned to face his friend. "He never came to see me in the brig... not once. I needed to see him and he wasn't there. The only thing was..." He paused and gazed down at the small ring that glinted on his finger. He shrugged again. "I don't know. I just know that I can't face him now."

Boomer studied the view of space. He was at a loss as to what to say to ease his friend's mind. He knew that both Apollo and Adama were punishing themselves for hurting the other but neither seemed able to come out of himself long enough to see the other's need.

"I guess it'll just take time," he offered lamely. He knew it probably wasn't much help.

Apollo gave him a tired smile, then turned back to the instruments.

"What's the flight plan today?" Boomer asked, deciding to steer the subject to safer ground.

"We've got a complaint of energizer trouble on the Freighter Borella. We've got to check it out and report on it to engineering."

"The Freighter Borella! Oh that sounds exciting. Just what I was looking forward to... spending the day with some Nomen."

"You sound like Starbuck now," Apollo laughed but then sobered abruptly. "I'm afraid it didn't go too well last flight."

"Yeah, I heard," Boomer said. "You did the right thing though. You know Starbuck. He'll get over it."

Apollo glanced over at him. "I seem to have a knack for making enemies lately," he said with a dry chuckle.

"Well, we all have our bad days, right?" Boomer asked cheerfully.

"Right," Apollo agreed wholeheartedly. "Let's hope today isn't one of them."

* * *

Apollo settled the shuttle smoothly onto the old hangar deck. The Borellian ship was ancient and received little maintenance from her inhabitants. It seemed the Nomen had very limited skill in that area and even less interest. They depended on the fleet to keep the old girl running while they kept to themselves, nursing old grudges and planning the Lords knew what. A call for service wasn't common, but neither was it out of the ordinary. Still Apollo felt uneasy about spending much time on the freighter.

"Okay, Boomer. Let's get this over with."

The lieutenant nodded his agreement. "Suits me just fine."

Apollo hit the stud that opened the shuttle hatch and the warriors walked down the ramp. The huge hangar was curiously empty.

"That's funny," Apollo commented. "They seemed pretty anxious for an inspection. You'd think somebody would be here to meet us."

"We're talkin' about Nomen... remember?" Boomer shook his head. "Who knows what they consider normal behavior."

Apollo sighed. "I guess we better go find their energizer." He started towards the exit. Boomer echoed his sigh and followed after him.

"Warriors."

Startled, Apollo spun around, barely managing to keep from reaching for his laser pistol as he faced the large Noman lurking behind them. A sideways glance told him Boomer had been as surprised as he was. The lieutenant's own fingers were hovering over the gun at his side. Apollo took a deep breath to steady his rattled nerves before he took a step toward the waiting Noman.

"Captain Apollo," he greeted. "This is Lieutenant Boomer. I understand you're having energizer problems."

"Yes," the Noman responded in a low, even tone. The expression on his face never changed. "There is a problem... but it is not the energizer... and it is not ours."

"Now what's that supposed to mean?" Boomer muttered in an undertone.

Apollo refrained from answering but he eyed their host suspiciously, all his warrior instincts telling him things weren't as they should be. He took a moment to rein in his impatience. The last thing he needed was a confrontation.

"Now look... we were called over here to inspect your energizer. If it was a mistake, then we'll..."

"It was no mistake." The Noman made no outward gesture, but suddenly he was no longer alone. Several others had appeared... seemingly from out of nowhere.

Apollo instinctively reached for his laser, but before he was able to draw it, he felt himself grabbed from behind by a pair of strong arms. Someone pulled his gun from its holster, quickly disarming him. The captain could see Boomer was in the same predicament.

"What in Hades..."

"Boomer," Apollo cautioned. He turned to the first Noman and made an attempt at reason. "What's the meaning of this? What is it you want?" he demanded. "If you need something, this is no way to..."

"Silence him," came the gruff command.

Instantly one of his captors pressed something cold and sharp against Apollo's throat. He couldn't see it but could only assume it was a Borellian long knife. He winced at the sting as it bit into his flesh... felt the small trickle of blood, and for the first time experienced the beginnings of fear. He fell silent and tried hard not to swallow. The leader of this group walked over to stand in front of him.

"You are the son of Adama." It wasn't really a question so Apollo felt no need to answer. He waited for the man to continue. "I am Bena. That is all you need to know for now... except that you are our prisoners." He nodded to the men holding them. "Take them."

* * *

FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS: The mood of the fleet has quieted somewhat. My son's brief flare of temper and his resulting punishment seems to have acted as a catharsis for most of the bitter feelings. If any good has come out of this, then I suppose I should count myself fortunate. However, I cannot bring myself to feel much other than a vague sense of relief. The entire episode has put a wall between Apollo and myself that neither of us can seem to break down. I can only hope...

The insistent buzz of the comline intruded upon Adama's train of thought. He sighed as he replaced his personal recorder. This was supposed to be his sleep period. Tigh wouldn't be bothering him unless it was urgent. He wasn't sure how long it had been the since he'd been able to go an entire cycle without some kind of interruption. He reached over and hit the switch. The colonel's face appeared on the screen. Adama had known Tigh for so many yahrens that he could read his friend's face like a book and right now, worry was showing plain and clear.

"Yes, Tigh... what is it?"

"Commander... we've just received a communication from the Freighter Borella." Tigh paused and drew a deep breath. "It seems a group of Nomen have seized one of our shuttles. They're holding the pilots and they say they'll talk only to you."

Adama frowned and repressed a sigh of exasperation. The Nomen seemed to be causing nothing but trouble recently. "Did they give any indication what the problem is?"

Tigh shook his head. "They won't speak to anyone but you."

"Very well, Colonel. I'll be right there." Adama broke the contact. He was glad he hadn't taken the time to undress yet. He left his quarters and made his way hurriedly to the bridge, wondering all the way what the Nomen could possibly want this time. They were a brooding race, holding to long-standing grudges and ancient traditions. He'd always let them remain as autonomous as possible, even after Maga and his bunch had collaborated with Baltar to try and escape from the prison barge. He could hardly fault an entire people for the actions of a few. Now he wondered if he'd made an error in not taking some kind of punitive action. In any case, there was no use dwelling on what he should have done. He would have to deal with the matter at hand.

It only took him a few centons to reach his destination. Upon entering the bridge, he moved immediately to the upper level beside Tigh.

"Colonel," he greeted. "What's their status?"

"A Noman named Bena is waiting to speak to you. He's refused to answer any questions."

"What about Ramma? Have you contacted him?"

Tigh nodded, his face barely concealing his own exasperation. "He hasn't been much help."

Adama could well imagine. Ramma could only be loosely termed liaison between the Nomen and the Fleet. He had no real authority over the many clans. "Let me speak to him anyway."

Tigh gestured to Omega, who nodded crisply and flicked a switch on his console. Immediately Ramma's impassive face filled the main scanner. Adama knew there was no way to read the man's thoughts in his expression. Ramma, as all Nomen, had been schooled to control his outward demeanor.

"Commander," he began in a voice that betrayed no emotion. "I have been informed of the situation."

"I was hoping, Ramma, that you might be able to shed some light on their reasons." Adama worked at keeping his own voice even.

"Then you have not spoken to them yet."

"No," Adama replied. "I thought perhaps since you are the representative of your people, you might be able to be of assistance."

The old Noman shook his head. "It is a clan matter," he stated. "I do not know their motives, nor would it be my place to ask. I cannot interfere."

Adama mentally counted to ten. "Then I can at least assume this is not the work of your entire people."

"It is a clan matter," Ramma repeated. "You will have to deal with them directly."

Adama signaled for Omega to cut the signal. Only after Ramma's face disappeared, did Adama allow himself to sigh heavily. "So much for that." He turned to Tigh. "All right, Colonel. Put them through."

The screen came alive and once more the image of a Noman filled the scanner, only this man was definitely younger. Less schooled than old Ramma, Adama thought to himself. He was certain he'd caught a spark of defiance shining in the Noman's eyes.

"This is Adama," he began in a firm tone. "I'm told your name is Bena."

"That is not important," came the surly reply.

The Noman stepped back from the scanner, allowing the entire room to be seen. Adama's heart sank as he saw the pilots Bena had been blocking from view. Apollo and Boomer stood there, their hands obviously bound behind them. They both looked disheveled and he thought he saw blood on the front of Apollo's uniform, but otherwise they appeared unharmed. After a moment, Bena moved to stand beside them. He addressed Adama again.

"As you can see, we have something you might value. We propose a trade."

Adama worked at keeping his own face impassive. It was essential not to let Bena know just how much he valued the hostages. "What sort of a trade?"

"Your shuttle pilots in exchange for that daggit, Baltar."

Baltar! Adama couldn't have been less prepared for that. He'd been expecting demands for more rations, fuel, weapons... anything. But Baltar... He glanced over at Tigh, but his friend was as baffled as he was by the unexpected request. Adama turned back to the screen.

"Why Baltar?"

Bena's eyes narrowed slightly. "Our reasons are our own. They do not concern you."

"They do now," Adama insisted firmly. "You've made them an issue."

The Noman nodded slightly. "Very well. The traitor cannot be allowed to go free. It is as simple as that."

Adama felt a heaviness descend upon his shoulders. It was back to that. The bargain with Baltar. Was he to have no rest from the repercussions of that decision? He couldn't repress the sigh that escaped his lips.

"Bena... I understand how you feel, but you must know that I cannot trade one man's life for another."

The Noman seemed prepared for Adama's refusal. Without changing his expression, he nodded to one of his cohorts. Obediently, the man grabbed a handful of Apollo's hair and jerked his head back. Another Noman reached up, and with a forceful wrench at his jaw, forced the captain to swallow a draught of liquid. It happened so fast, it was over in an instant and the Nomen were standing once more as if nothing had occurred. The only thing different was Apollo's muffled choking as he recovered from whatever it was he'd had poured down his throat.

Adama wasn't sure what he'd just witnessed, but before he could react, Bena was once more in full view of the screen.

"What he has just been given is the juice from the Renarga fruit. It is, of course, poisonous, but do not worry. It will not kill him... today." Bena allowed the trace of a smile to lift his mouth. "We know he is your son, Commander. Take your time in deciding, but remember... each day you delay, he will receive another dose. It is up to you."

The Noman cut their signal and the screen went dead, leaving only stunned silence among the bridge officers. Adama himself stood staring at the blank scanner for a full centon before he registered Tigh's presence beside him. He turned slowly to face his friend.

"Adama..." the colonel began, but the commander interrupted his well-intentioned words.

"Colonel... contact Dr. Salik. We need to find out everything we can about this Renarga fruit. I want to know what we're dealing with." He straightened up, forcing his mind to distance itself from the panic he was feeling for his son's fate, yet he couldn't quite keep away the nagging dread that there was no way out of this terrible dilemma.

* * *

Starbuck coolly studied the cards in his hand. Three fourths of a pyramid. This one was his, he was certain. That was of course, not allowing for any unwelcome surprises. He cast a quick glance over the table at Chameleon. The old man had an annoying habit of ruining perfect hands. Feeling the warrior's eyes upon him, Chameleon looked up and flashed him a fast smile. It gave nothing away.

Starbuck slowly leaned back in his chair and puffed on his fumerello. He tossed a handful of cubits into the pot and returned Chameleon's grin. The old man went back to studying his own cards and Starbuck felt his confidence grow. He'd caught a glimpse of hesitation in Chameleon's eyes. As the other players in turn threw in their cards, Starbuck relaxed. He was ready to revel in his victory.

He was waiting for Chameleon to make his move when he felt a timid tug on his sleeve. He turned quickly and found Boxey standing at his elbow. The boy looked anxious. Starbuck raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Boxey? What are you doing here?" He turned his attention back to the game.

"Can I talk to you, Starbuck?" The child's voice sounded concerned.

"In a centon," Starbuck stalled. "Let me finish this hand."

It was his play and he laid down his cards triumphantly. "Beat that if you can," he gloated, his cigar held between his teeth.

Chameleon looked at him and then down at the cards Starbuck had displayed. Then, ever so serenely, he placed down a perfect pyramid.

"I believe the pot's mine," he announced sweetly.

Starbuck's grin faded and he nearly dropped the cigar from his mouth as his jaw fell open. He grabbed at it and leaned forward to stare disbelievingly at the cards.

"Holy Frack! How'd you do that?" he finally managed to say.

"Oh, Lady Luck, I suppose," Chameleon remarked unruffled.

There were groans of dismay from the other men. They all courted the elusive woman but none had ever had much success at keeping her. Chameleon seemed to have won her as a constant companion.

Starbuck now shook his head and grinned. "Every time. You do it to me every time. But I'll get even some day, you'll see. Shall we go another hand?"

Chameleon gave Starbuck a "will you never learn" look and nodded his head. Quickly the cards were shuffled and dealt out again. Once more Starbuck felt the impatient pull on his arm.

"Starbuck, please. You said after that hand."

The lieutenant was ready to argue but when he turned and saw Boxey's determined face, he knew the boy would not be put off.

"Okay, okay. Deal me out, fellas. I've got some business to attend to." He pushed back his chair and moved away from the table. He stopped long enough to point a cigar at Chameleon in a mock threat. "I'll be back."

"No hurry, Son. We'll be here."

Starbuck smiled and then led Boxey out of the officers' quarters and into the corridor. The ever-present Muffit followed after them.

"Now, what's all the excitement?" he asked.

"It's Dad. He went out with Boomer and hasn't come back yet."

"He hasn't? Well, maybe they got hung up somewhere."

"But he was supposed to meet me and Muffey for lunch. He's three centars late."

"Three centars?" Starbuck's brow creased with concern. "Does the commander know?"

"I don't know. I didn't want to bother him. I just wondered if you knew what was keeping him."

"No, I don't. But you know, Boxey, it's not unusual to run a little late, especially on patrols."

"But he's not on patrol, Starbuck. He's still suspended. He just went on a shuttle for inspection. I'm worried about him."

Starbuck could see that and knew his own concern would just make the boy more afraid.

"Why don't we go on up to the bridge. Your grandfather will know what the problem is."

Boxey brightened visibly at Starbuck's optimism and they started for the bridge. Starbuck only wished he felt as cheerful as he sounded. Three centars was awfully late, especially for an inspection detail. The mood of the fleet these days didn't help to ease his mind any either.

He hoped it was only Boxey's contagious fear that was nagging at him but he felt a leaden weight begin to grow in his stomach. A strange sense of foreboding enveloped him and he subconsciously quickened his pace. The sooner he got to the bridge the sooner he could tell himself he was being foolish. For the first time in his life he hoped he would be proven wrong.

* * *

Apollo sat on the bunk, his mind curiously detached. He marveled at the relative comfort he and Boomer had found themselves in. The compartment was small, but adequately supplied with a turbo flush and runing water. He could only assume it had been originally intended for use by the freighter's crew. Obviously the Nomen disdained such creature comforts, instead making use of the large, cavernous holds for living quarters. Maybe keeping them here was meant as an insult. To a Noman's mind, a being who needed these kinds of amenities was obviously inferior. Apollo didn't care at the moment. He was just as glad they'd been put here instead of in some dark, damp hold.

"How you feeling?"

Apollo repressed a sigh as he glanced over at Boomer. He knew his friend was worried, but Apollo didn't really want to be reminded of his health every ten centons.

"I'm fine, Boomer. Just like I was the last time you asked."

The lieutenant wasn't phased by the remark. "I just wanna know if you start getting sick or anything."

Now Apollo did sigh, but he managed a slight smile. "I appreciate your concern, buddy. But I don't want to keep dwelling on it... okay?"

"Okay," Boomer agreed amiably.

"Besides," Apollo continued wryly. "Bena said it wouldn't kill me today."

"There's always tomorrow." Boomer caught his gaze and held it. "What do you think the commander will do?"

The smile disappeared from the captain's face. There was no doubt in his mind about his father's choices. "He won't bargain," he stated fiercely.

Boomer casually shrugged his shoulders. "Figured he wouldn't," he replied calmly. "I was just wondering if he might play their game for a while. You know... try a rescue."

Apollo absently twisted at the ring on his finger. "I don't know, Boomer. I don't see how they can attempt anything without being noticed. The only thing I do know is that he'll never trade for us."

Now it was Boomer's turn to sigh. "Maybe I wouldn't feel so bad if it wasn't Baltar we'll be dying for."

Apollo shot his friend a glance. "You're not going to die, Boomer. You're only here because you were with me."

"You really think they're gonna just let me go?" the lieutenant asked softly. He shook his head. "I don't think so. We're in this together, buddy."

Apollo closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bulkhead. Boomer was probably right. However this turned out, the two of them would most certainly share the same fate.

* * *

"There's got to be something we can do!" Starbuck slammed his fist on the large desk.

"Lieutenant!" Tigh barked sharply but the commander waved him silent.

"Sorry, Commander," Starbuck muttered, not really penitent, but aware he was flirting with insubordination. "It's just hard to sit around and do nothing."

"What do you propose we do?" Adama asked quietly. "Storm over there with lasers firing? Apollo and Boomer would be dead the centon the Nomen saw us."

The lieutenant's jaw worked silently for a moment. He turned and moved over to stare out the portal. It was still hard to believe that less than a centar ago he was happily playing pyramid with Chameleon. He would never forget the sinking feeling he'd experienced as he walked onto the bridge with Boxey, nor the look on the commander's face as he saw his grandson. Athena had stepped in and whisked the boy away with some flimsy tale about Apollo being delayed on his rounds. Adama had then ordered Starbuck and Tigh to accompany him to his quarters. On the way there, the Colonel had briefly explained the situation and for the last few centons they'd been discussing their options, which were pitifully few.

"Believe me, Starbuck," Adama continued solemnly, "I know how you feel, but I've been going over it and over it. I just don't see any way we can attempt a rescue."

Starbuck blew out his breath noisily and looked out at the view of the fleet. He couldn't see the Borellian ship from here, but his mind gladly conjured up several different ways he could happily blow it out of the sky, taking the Nomen with it of course. He'd had nothing but trouble in all his dealings with them. It wouldn't hurt his feelings a bit if they disappeared forever.

The door chimed and the warrior turned as it slid open to admit Dr. Salik. The Galactica's head physician was not an overly cheerful person anyway and now his dour face was positively grim. He entered the room at the commander's bidding. He wasn't the type to mince words or worry about delicacy and he spoke right up.

"You have three days... maybe four, but I wouldn't count on it."

Adama was silent for so long that the doctor turned to Tigh to continue his report. "The Nomen use the Renarga in one of their rituals. Two men who've challenged each other can chose it as the weapon of choice. The one who can take it the longest is the victor."

"What about the second man?" Tigh asked.

"He dies."

"There's no antidote?"

Dr. Salik shook his head. "The Nomen don't believe in antidotes. Survival of the strongest is how they live."

"So there's no hope?" Starbuck demanded.

"I didn't say that," the doctor replied defensively. "You won't need a cure if the dosage doesn't go past a certain point. The poison is cumulative. Today's amount won't hurt Apollo, but the substance doesn't flush out of the body very quickly. If you add another dose tomorrow, it acts as if he'd gotten twice as much... and so on as long as they keep giving it to him. Each additional amount affects the body faster. But if you stop, then after some time the body's defenses will take care of it... so long as it hasn't been damaged beyond its ability to heal itself. A person of Apollo's age, given his size and metabolism... I calculate he could take three days worth... four at the outside, and still be able to recover. Of course, it won't be pleasant for him."

"How so?" Adama finally spoke up, his voice low.

The doctor hesitated briefly at the pain so evident on the commander's face, but he'd always found it best to be completely honest with patients and their families. Apollo was, after all, a long distant patient.

"The first symptoms will show up tomorrow. It starts with a fever, then pain in the joints... headaches... chills. The third day the pain will start spreading throughout the body and the fever will shoot up... sometimes causing seizures. If it goes on long enough, the poison starts affecting the body's internal systems... damaging the organs. If there's enough damage to prove irreparable, then the person dies."

"Good Lord!" Tigh whispered. "There's got to be something we can do."

Under different circumstances, Starbuck would've found it humorous that the colonel was echoing his earlier sentiments, but there was nothing funny about what was happening. He watched the commander sitting silently behind his desk, his face dark. It seemed hopeless unless... He straightened up.

"There is one thing you could do," he stated evenly. All three men turned to give him their attention. "You could give them Baltar."

Adama rose from his seat. He wasn't a large man, but for a moment he seemed to tower there, so intense was his expression. Starbuck instantly regretted his rash words. This was the very dilemma Adama had been wrestling with in his soul.

"I cannot do that." The commander hadn't raised his voice, but his tone brooked no argument. "I will not trade one life for another... not even for Apollo's."

Starbuck had to choke back the immediate rebuttal that sprang into his mind. But it's only Baltar! You're going to let Apollo die for that traitor? And probably Boomer too! He couldn't give voice to his protests. Adama knew too well who and what Baltar was. Besides, Starbuck had already pushed the commander too far for one day. That didn't mean he agreed with the decision. He just knew when to quit.

* * *

Boomer paced the short length of the crew's quarters. He was normally a patient person, but this kind of waiting would definitely not qualify as normal. He glanced over at the empty bunk where Apollo should've been sitting and wondered how much longer it would be before he returned. He also couldn't help but wonder what condition his friend would be in when he finally did come back.

He'd gotten very little sleep during their rest period and from the tossing and turning he'd heard, he knew Apollo hadn't slept much either. After what had seemed an eternity, the Nomen burst in unannounced and dragged the captain off. Boomer had lost track of time and could only suppose they meant to administer the second dose of poison. He clenched his fists in frustration. If only there was something he could do... some way to help his friend, but there seemed no way out of this prison... no way to stop what was happening to Apollo.

He'd reached the drab, gray bulkhead and stopped, resisting the urge to slam his fist into the metal. He knew it would serve no purpose. He settled instead on leaning back against the wall and wishing fervently for his laser pistol so he could blow away the first Noman who stuck his ugly head in the door. None did however, and he stood there listening to the heavy stillness. His stomach grumbled noisily in the silence. That was another grievance he had against his captors. They hadn't bothered to feed their hostages, reminding Boomer he was so much excess baggage in this situation. As far as the Nomen were concerned, his fate was unimportant. He felt his jaw tighten and he fought to keep his anger under control. He would have to remain calm if he was going to be any help to Apollo. He hated to think about what his friend was going through.

The door to the compartment slid open suddenly and Boomer looked up to see Apollo shoved unceremoniously inside. As the captain sprawled to the deck, Boomer rushed to his side. He was just in time to see the door close silently, cutting them off from any chance of escape. He tried not to dwell on that and turned his attention back to his friend. Apollo looked like he'd been handled pretty roughly.

"You okay?" He grabbed his friend's arm to give him a hand up.

"I'm fine." Apollo managed to get to his feet and make his way over to the bunk. When he noticed Boomer studying him, he tried to smile. It was a weak effort and not very reassuring.

Boomer watched him as he tried to catch his breath. He certainly didn't look very good. "Did you talk to the commander?" he asked quietly.

Apollo shrugged, his eyes focused on the ceiling. "They did. They wouldn't let me say anything. Father tried to reason with them, but they refused to listen. The minute he said anything they poured that stuff down my throat and cut communications."

"Those golmonging snitrads!" Boomer spat out.

"My sentiments exactly," Apollo agreed. He glanced down at his hands and twisted the ring on his finger. "You know Boomer, it's funny. After the whole thing with the Gemon... all I wanted was to talk to my father. Then... I just couldn't find the words. Now... I'd give anything to be able to talk to him... at least one more time."

"You will," Boomer promised fervently, wishing he could sound more certain.

"Yeah?" Apollo glanced up and his eyes held a depth of despair that Boomer had never seen there.

He sat down on his own bunk. He had to do something to help ease his friend's mind.

"What would you tell him?" The words were out before he'd had a chance to think about them.

"What?" Apollo opened his eyes to give him a curious look.

"Your father," Boomer continued, hoping he was taking the right track. "What would you say to him if he were here?"

Apollo didn't answer for a long time. He sat on his bunk, first staring solemnly at Boomer, then down at his hands again. Boomer began to fear he'd made things worse, when Apollo finally spoke up.

"I wanted to tell him how scared I was." His voice was so low, Boomer had to strain to hear him.

He studied his friend for a moment. Apollo seemed uncomfortable about what he'd just said, as if he were embarrassed. "You've got a right to be scared," Boomer told him consolingly. "Anybody would, with what the Nomen are..."

"It's not the Nomen," Apollo interrupted irritably, then sighed wearily. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be taking it out on you." He got up and walked slowly over to the door. He stood there for a moment, flexing his hand absently. "I'm talking about before... on the Rising Star."

"You looked more mad than scared," Boomer observed wryly. "And we both know that loud-mouthed Gemon..."

"Had it coming?" Apollo finished. He turned to face his friend. "Boomer... I nearly killed him. "

"But you didn't."

"Only because you and Starbuck pulled me off." He stared down at his hands for a moment, curling and uncurling his fists. "I couldn't stop myself. It was like something horrible took over... but it was me... all that anger was in me. That's what scared me. To know that all that rage was there inside and I had no control over it."

Boomer studied his friend's worried face. "We all have dark places inside of us," he observed. "Nobody likes to admit it, but they're there."

Apollo shook his head. "I never knew mine was so ugly." He heaved a great sigh. "That's what I wanted to talk to my father about. I let him down so badly..." He stopped and grimaced.

"What is it?" Boomer asked in alarm.

Apollo held out his hands and flexed them both again, his face working at not showing the pain the movement caused. "They're starting to hurt," he admitted.

Boomer was at his side instantly. "They look swollen. Just your hands?" he asked.

Apollo took a swift silent inventory. "My legs too."

"Come on and sit down," Boomer instructed. He took his friend's arm to lead him back to his bunk.

Apollo sat down, wincing a bit as he bent his knees. He breathed out heavily and ran a hand across his face. "I guess it's starting," he murmured. He glanced up at Boomer. "Thanks."

"No problem, buddy. Anything you need... just let me know." Boomer couldn't help but notice the sweat beading up on his friend's forehead and the flush that had come on his face. So this was the beginning. Once more he felt a wave of frustration swell up at his absolute helplessness. He had no way to know what was going on outside this compartment, but if Adama stuck to his resolve not to bargain, Boomer would have no choice but to sit here and watch Apollo die.

* * *

Starbuck drained the last dregs of ambrosa from his mug and set it down heavily on the table. He could've easily downed another, if regulations would've permitted it. He was in that kind of a mood. Nothing seemed as inviting as getting good and drunk, but all Viper pilots basically lived on call for duty and that left no room for such self-indulgence.

The Officers' Club was quiet... not many customers this time of the duty cycle. Starbuck had a corner of the room all to himself and it suited him just fine. He didn't really feel like talking to anybody right now. The only person he might've made an exception for was Cassiopeia, but she was in the lab with Salik, buried in research on the Nomen's use of plants and herbs. Like finding an antidote was going to help Apollo as long as he and Boomer were stuck on that wreck of a freighter. This was one time he wished the commander weren't quite so straight-laced and upright. If Starbuck were handling this matter, he'd have wasted no time in delivering Baltar in a nice little package to the Borellian freighter.

"Mind if I join you?"

Starbuck looked up to see Sheba standing at his table. She looked almost as miserable as he felt and he didn't have the heart to turn her away. Not that he would have. It went against his nature to say no to beautiful women. He waved at one of the several empty chairs.

"Be my guest," he offered, trying his best to dredge up a smile.

Sheba sat down and gestured to the tender to bring her a drink. "Can I get you one?" she asked Starbuck.

He lifted his empty mug. "Already had mine," he told her. "Gotta stay alert, you know."

She scowled at his sarcasm, reminding Starbuck that she was related to Commander Cain. She wouldn't approve of his dark thoughts. She really was a lot like Apollo... so straight and narrow, follow the book, duty first and all that felgercarb. Watching her now, as she sipped at her ambrosa, he could see the pain on her face and he remembered her tearful farewell before the raid on the Basestar. Cassie had accused him of being dense, but he wasn't. He knew Sheba had feelings for his friend. He also knew that Apollo had tried very hard to lock up his own emotions after Serina had died. They both needed to loosen up as far as he was concerned. Life shouldn't be so complicated, although at the moment it certainly seemed that way.

"I know it's tough to just sit around and wait," he offered, trying his best to be consoling.

Sheba gave him an unfathomable look. "Is that what we're doing? Sitting around, waiting for him to die?" Starbuck started to protest but Sheba interrupted him. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean..." She raised her hand to her face in a flustered gesture. "I'm not sure what I mean."

Starbuck waved aside her explanations. "You don't have to tell me," he assured her. "I've been sitting here for I don't know how long trying to figure out a way to board that ship."

Sheba sighed and shook her head. "Short of showing up with Baltar, I don't know how we could do it."

Starbuck snorted. "I already suggested that. The commander nearly bit my head off." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigar. He lit it and sat puffing on it thoughtfully. Sheba was right. Showing up with Baltar was their only hope. If only...

The thought came to him like an perfect pyramid hand and he couldn't keep back the smile that lit his face. He saw the look Sheba gave him turn from curious to suspicious.

"You're up to something," she accused in a low voice.

"Not at all, Sweet Lady. You just gave me an idea." He grinned from ear to ear as he took her hand. "Come on. You and I have some work to do."

Sheba didn't argue as she followed him out of the lounge.

* * *

FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS: My heart is so very heavy, yet even in my sadness I cannot help but feel pride in my son. He stood calm and strong and did not struggle as the Nomen gave him the second draught. This pride will be an empty solace however, if I have to let my son die. I have gone over and over the situation and I see little hope for a rescue. A small voice keeps nagging at my soul to make the trade. It would be so easy to go back on my word... hand Baltar over to them. But how could I ever face Apollo again? Could he forgive me for turning my back on my honor to save his life? Could I forgive myself? Is saving my son's life worth any cost?

Adama lay down the recorder and leaned his head forward to rest against his hands. Everything seemed so futile. The endless struggle to save humanity from Cylon tyranny, the many lives lost to that battle, the sacrifices... both great and small... and now the hardest decision he'd been asked to make was coming at the hands of human beings. The worst test to his integrity as a man was happening over the fate of a person who'd never possessed a drop of it. He supposed there was irony in that, though he wasn't exactly in the mood to appreciate it.

The door to his quarters chimed and he lifted his head, wondering who it could be. Tigh would have called if there'd been any new developments.

"Enter," he called, and the door slid open. At first he saw no one there, but when he leaned forward he saw Boxey standing shyly in the doorway. Seeing him there was a badly needed lift to Adama's spirits and he smiled brightly. "Boxey... come in."

The boy took a few steps inside. When the door closed behind him, he leaned against it. Adama had never seen him act this timid before and it concerned him. "What's wrong?" he asked kindly.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want me to come here," Boxey began. "I know you and my dad are kinda mad at each other."

Adama closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. He pushed back his chair and beckoned his grandson over. The boy came willingly and climbed up into the commander's lap, nestling down with his head against his grandfather's chest.

"Your father and I aren't exactly mad," Adama tried to explain.

"I know," Boxey told him wisely. "Dad told me that too. But it sure seemed that way to me."

Adama smiled down at the boy. "I know it's hard to understand grown-up people sometimes. Just remember... you're always welcome here, no matter what." Boxey gave him a weak smile and remained silent. Adama could tell there was something else bothering him. "Now... there must've been a reason why you stopped by."

Boxey nodded slowly. "I miss my dad. Do you know when he's coming home?"

The commander's heart cringed. He didn't want to lie to the boy, but he wasn't sure if Boxey was old enough to understand what was happening.

"I don't really know right now," he began cautiously. "He's involved in a rather dangerous assignment."

"Grandfather." Boxey's eyes were reproachful. "I know where he is. Athena told me."

"She did?" Adama scowled at his daughter's decision. She hadn't even consulted him.

"Don't be mad," Boxey insisted. "I made her. I was gonna find out anyway. Everybody's talking about it."

"Hmmm... I suppose you're right." He shifted Boxey's weight to a more comfortable spot. "If you know what's going on, then you know he's in a pretty tough situation right now."

Boxey nodded solemnly. "I heard some warriors talking and they said you weren't trying to get my dad back. They said you weren't going to do what the Nomen wanted. Don't you want my dad to come back?"

Adama took him by the shoulders. "I want that more than anything. You know how much your father loves you... that's how much I love your father. I promise you, Boxey... I'm going to do whatever it takes to bring him home."

"And then you two won't be mad anymore?"

Adama grabbed his grandson up in a fierce embrace. "I promise you that too."

* * *

Starbuck entered the bridge with Sheba right behind him. They had no time for protocol. Spotting the commander on the upper level talking to Tigh, he rushed over and practically skipped the steps altogether, as he bounded up to greet his superior officers. Sheba followed with only slightly more decorum. Both of the Galactica's senior officers turned, their faces scowling at his breach of regulations.

"Starbuck..." the colonel began.

"I know, I know," Starbuck interrupted, forestalling the reprimand. "Sorry Commander... Colonel, but Sheba and I have a plan to get Apollo and Boomer off that ship." The hope that flamed in Adama's eyes was enough to put a grin on the lieutenant's face.

"I'm listening," the commander told him.

"Great! Now we all agree that there's no way to sneak into the landing bay unnoticed. We'd never be able to put an assault team onto the ship without the Nomen seeing them." Adama nodded. Tigh looked less patient and Starbuck tried to focus on the commander. "So this is what we're going to do. We take Baltar over in a shuttle..."

"I already told you no!" Adama's stern voice rang throughout the bridge, causing everyone to pause at their posts for the briefest of moments. "If that's your brilliant plan, Lieutenant..."

"No, wait..." Starbuck protested indignantly. "You didn't let me finish."

Adama's eyes flashed angrily but he gave one crisp nod. "Proceed."

Starbuck continued, his enthusiasm only a bit daunted by the commander's stern countenance. He glanced over at Sheba and she smiled her encouragement. "What I meant was... we're going to give them Baltar... but we're not really going to give him to them. You agree to the trade so we can get a shuttle over there. We have a small team waiting to sneak out. While you're dealing with the Nomen, the team finds Apollo and Boomer and brings them back to the shuttle. Once they're on board, we can leave any time."

"That's your plan?" Tigh exploded. "Just sneak out and find them while the Nomen are all watching?"

"Colonel..." Adama put a placating hand on his first's shoulder. He turned back to Starbuck and Sheba. "I'm sure you're both aware there are a few flaws in your plan. Tigh is right. How do you intend to sneak an assault team out of the shuttle without being seen? And if you do, how do you know where they're holding the hostages? What makes you think they won't be there in the bay with the Nomen?"

Starbuck repressed a sigh of exasperation. "Commander... I've had dealings with the Nomen in the past." He ignored the slight smile that Adama tried to hide. "I know they live in the big holds. I guess it makes them think they're camped out or something. Anyway, we pulled up the plans for that freighter on the computer. There's a small set of crew compartments very close to the bay. That's got to be where they're keeping Apollo and Boomer. There's nowhere else that could be secured very easily."

"All right," Adama conceded reluctantly. "Let's assume that's where they're keeping them. Who's to say they'll be there when we land?"

"I know the Nomen," Starbuck insisted. "They don't trust anybody outside their own clan. There's no way they'll bring prisoners up for an exchange until they see you're being straight with them." Starbuck grimaced slightly as he went on. "That's why you have to have Baltar with you on the shuttle. They'll demand to see him. If everything goes right, you won't have to turn him over to them."

"If everything goes right." Adama's brow furled. He was still unconvinced. Sheba took a step forward.

"Commander... Starbuck and I have studied that ship in detail. We know every inch of it. This will work."

"Besides," Starbuck piped up, "what other chance have we got?"

Adama paced the short length of the upper bridge. "What about the team?" he asked.

"It can't be an entire assault force," Starbuck informed him. "You're right... they'd never get out of the shuttle without being spotted. We have to send a one..." Sheba cleared her throat and he corrected himself. "Or two man team. Quickly in and quickly out. Once we're back on board, we'll give you the signal. That's the most difficult part. You have to stall them so they don't send for Apollo and Boomer too soon."

Adama stood silently pulling at his chin. Starbuck could tell he was considering all aspects of this hastily put together plan.

"This is their only chance," he added quietly.

"The commander is aware of that," Tigh reminded him.

Adama finally looked up at them. "This whole thing depends on them believing we've actually decided to trade. They have to accept that I've changed my mind and agreed to bargain." He paused, his face once more reflecting the pain he was feeling. "We'll wait until after the third dose."

"Adama..."

"Commander..."

"No." Adama shook his head firmly. "I've been too adamant about not trading in lives. We have to wait long enough for them to believe I'm desperate. Dr. Salik says Apollo can last three days. I'm afraid that's what he'll have to do."

Starbuck clamped his mouth shut so he wouldn't argue. He could see the doubt in Sheba's eyes and knew what she was thinking. They were betting an awful lot on Salik's opinion. Starbuck hoped to Hades the doctor was right.

* * *

Apollo sighed and turned over in his bunk, regretting it instantly. Even the smallest movement sent the room spinning, while the throbbing in his head increased its tempo until it was nearly unbearable. The pain that had started out in his hands had quickly traveled to every joint in his body. Maybe he wouldn't have felt so miserable if it wasn't so hot. Even shedding his uniform tunic and boots hadn't helped much. He supposed he had a fever... he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he'd never felt this terrible in his entire life.

Boomer had tried to be helpful... bringing cool rags and water. It was little enough relief and had soon become ineffective. Apollo felt bad that his friend had to sit by helpless and watch. It might've been better if he was going through this alone. He only hoped that when it was all over, the Nomen might let Boomer live. He glanced across the room to where the other bunk jutted out from the wall. The lieutenant looked like he might be asleep finally. Apollo hoped so. He wished he could sleep as well but he was so hot... and there seemed no position that was comfortable anymore. He sighed again and tried not to think about what was happening. The only way to take his mind off himself was to think about his family and that was almost as painful.

His first thoughts were of Boxey. It always amazed him how quickly and how much he'd come to love the boy. Maybe losing Serina had created a bond between them. Whatever it was, Apollo knew he couldn't love Boxey any more if he'd been his own blood. He could only hope his father would be able to fill the emptiness... the loneliness... His thoughts automatically turned to Serina. That terrible ache was still there whenever he let himself remember. That's why most of the time he tried to keep her memory locked away. It was easier not to deal with it. Now however, needing something to think about besides his physical pain, he let his thoughts wander where they would.

He could picture her clearly... the first time he'd seen her. In the midst of all the destruction on Caprica, she'd been there, demanding an accounting, looking for answers. Later, on the Rising Star, when she'd been so concerned about Boxey... she'd managed to break through the wall he'd put up after losing Zac and make him start caring again. There were so many different ways he remembered her. In her tattered rags on Caprica... in her uniform... in her wedding gown. The first time he'd held her in his arms... and the last time. He turned and for a moment the pain of moving allowed him to stop the flood of memories.

He sighed again and abruptly he could hear Sheba's voice clearly in his head. Ever since you lost Serina, you've taken every high risk mission on the board... She was a very lovely woman, Apollo... but she's dead. He'd gotten defensive at the time, but though she may have lacked a bit of tact, Sheba had been right. Lord knew he didn't want her to be, but she was. He wondered what else she might've been right about. All this time he thought he'd coped with the pain of Serina's death, but it only took a few words from Sheba to bring it all back as acutely as if it had just happened. Was it the intensity of those memories that shook him so much? Or could it have been other feelings... the emotions stirred in him when Sheba kissed him? Had he been running away from any kind of involvement? Was he that afraid of being hurt again?

He supposed it was a moot point now. It was extremely doubtful that he would ever get the chance to find out. The thought of never seeing Sheba again was painful... more than he would've expected. He wished now that he'd been more open with her... allowed her to help when she'd offered, instead of using Boxey as an excuse for escape. It was interesting how many regrets and "if only's" a person discovered when death seemed imminent.

His biggest regret was the rift with his father. How foolish he'd been... childish really. He felt for the ring on his finger. His father had tried to reach out the only way he'd been able, and in his self-pity, Apollo had blindly ignored the gesture. Now he would never have the chance to make things right. That saddened him more than anything and he felt the sting of tears at the suffering his father must be going through. No man should be asked to make this kind of choice... pay this high a price and for a moment he almost wished Adama were a different man... one who could bargain with the Nomen without the qualms of moral integrity. But he wouldn't want his father to be less than he was. That was why Apollo would take the poison without a fight. He knew his father would be forced to watch it happen. He wouldn't cause any more grief than he could help. He closed his eyes, doing his best to ignore his aching body, and once more tried to sleep.

* * *

The first time Boomer realized he'd actually fallen asleep was when the sound of the Nomen coming in woke him. He sat up... years of battle training had made him used to becoming instantly awake. Their captors paid him little attention and he watched as they stood facing Apollo. The captain was struggling to sit up as well, but was having a more difficult time of it. Bena seemed impatient and he motioned at his two henchmen. They moved to Apollo's side and each one grabbed an arm and lifted him to his feet. Boomer could tell that the quick movement had caused his friend a great deal of pain, but Apollo never uttered a sound. He stood, swaying slightly, and faced the leader of the Nomen with unwavering eyes.

"Your father is a fool," Bena stated impatiently.

"Did you think he would just do what you asked?" Apollo asked, unable to keep a touch of pride out of his voice.

Bena growled menacingly and lashed out at the stricken warrior. He dealt a harsh, back-handed blow to Apollo's face, dropping the captain to the deck. Boomer instinctively moved toward his friend, but was shoved back wordlessly by the barrel of a laser pistol. He glared up at the Noman scowling at him threateningly, then glanced back across the cabin. Two of Bena's henchmen reached down and dragged Apollo to his feet. He looked dazed and blood flowed freely from his nose. He sagged in the hold the Nomen had on him. The only consolation to be had was the fact that Apollo had been able to make the young clansman loose his temper. That spoke of a lack of discipline. Boomer wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"You will speak to your father," Bena resumed, collecting himself once more. "If he does not agree to the trade today, you will appeal to him as his son."

It was obvious to Boomer that this young Noman had expected Adama to fold at the first threat to his offspring. Now he found himself in the position of having to carry out his plan and Adama wasn't cooperating. He had to be thinking about what his position would be if the commander let his son die. There would be nothing to stop a full scale assault on the freighter. Knowing the Nomen and their rigid code, Bena would probably face a greater threat from his own people than from the Colonial Warriors. Boomer felt a smile start on his lips at the predicament their captors were now in. Too bad neither he nor Apollo would be around to see how it all ended.

"Take him," Bena commanded and the Nomen supporting Apollo led him out of the compartment.

The captain was having difficulty walking and the last thing Boomer saw was the sight of his friend stumbling in their grip as the door slid shut. Boomer couldn't keep from hurling himself against the locked barricade.

* * *

The atmosphere on the bridge was thick with tension as everyone waited for the call from the freighter. Adama stood on the upper level, his arms folded across his chest, his mouth set in a grim line. Tigh kept watch beside him. He refrained from turning but he knew they were there behind him. Athena, Starbuck, Sheba, Cassiopeia... even Dr. Salik, who wanted to be able to observe Apollo and assess his condition. That thought did little to brighten Adama's dark thoughts. He didn't want to ponder what would happen to his son if the doctor was wrong in his prediction of how much poison Apollo could take and still live.

"Commander?" It was Omega's anxious voice. "The call is coming in now."

Adama cast a quick glance at his communications officer and nodded once. "Put it through."

The screen came to life. Adama felt his jaw clench at the sight of Bena's menacing face. And then his heart cried out as the Noman moved aside, allowing Apollo to come into view. His son was shirtless, his face flushed with fever, his dark hair damp and matted. A smear of freshly-drawn blood ran from his nose and dripped onto his bare chest. That spoke of ill treatment on top of the poison he was being given. He could hardly stand on his own. Adama had little time to dwell on Apollo's present condition however, as Bena's voice cut into his thoughts.

"We put it to you again, Commander. As you can see, the Renarga has started it's work. Will you trade?"

This was it. He thought he'd been prepared to say the words... to make his son suffer another dose of the wretched juice, but now he hesitated. Apollo looked terrible right now. What would another infusion do to him? Adama leaned his hands onto the console, feeling the weight of the decision suddenly too much.

"We are waiting, Commander," came Bena's impatient reminder.

Adama knew what he had to do. He slowly shook his head. "I cannot bargain," he said evenly.

Bena's heavy brow furled in consternation. He made a curt gesture and once more the drink was brought. Apollo stood calmly and didn't fight as they lifted the cup to his lips. In a moment it was done. Adama heard a stifled sob behind him that sounded like Athena but he didn't turn. He kept a stern face toward the screen as he waited for the Nomen to cut the signal. This time however, they didn't. Bena came back to full view.

"You are a hard man, Commander," the Noman began. "It seems you are content to let your son die. Perhaps you would like to talk to him before this happens." He moved aside and his men brought Apollo forward. Adama glanced over at Tigh, wondering at this turn of events. The colonel shrugged in bewilderment and Adama returned his gaze to the scanner.

He could see his son more clearly now... the sweat gathered on his forehead, the drawn look to his features that told of his silent suffering, the pain and regret in his eyes. What he did not see there was accusation. Apollo was still his son, in spite of everything. There was no one who could possibly understand so well the commander and his actions and motivations.

"Commander?" Apollo's voice sounded strained.

Adama stood up a little straighter. It was obvious the Nomen wanted his son to plead for his life. He would not make this any harder on Apollo than it had to be. "Yes, Captain."

Apollo hesitated for a centon. His eyes darted toward his captors offscreen, then back to Adama. His face steeled with resolve. "Father... don't bargain with them. I understand what you have to do. I..."

He got no further. The communications room on the freighter erupted into chaos, and instantly he was assailed by several burly Nomen who dragged him away from the screen, none too gently. Adama could see Apollo struggling, trying valiantly to put up a fight, but in his weakened condition, it took no time at all for the men to subdue him. In a millicenton Bena was there hovering over him, his face livid with rage. For an instant, Adama feared Bena would kill Apollo then and there. Instead, he reached out his hand and someone placed another cup there. It was all too obvious what he intended to do.

"NO!" Alarmed, Adama moved forward and slammed his fists helplessly on the console, trying to make himself heard above the confusion. He was dimly aware of the din on his own bridge. "Bena! Stop!"

Salik was at his elbow, trying to be heard. "Not another one! He'll never survive a fourth dose!"

The Noman's hand lowered the cup to Apollo, ready to make him drink.

"I'll make the trade!" Adama shouted, panic sounding loud and clear.

Somehow Bena heard him. He stopped and slowly turned around. His face gradually lost its anger. "Have I heard you right?" he asked smugly.

Adama lowered his head as he tried to steady his rapidly beating heart. How quickly everything could have gone awry. He silently thanked the Lords and when he looked up again, his face was once more calm. This was the situation they'd wanted, however they'd reached it. "Yes. I will make the trade."

Bena sneered and gestured to his men. Two of them grabbed Apollo's arms and lifted him upright. He hung limply in their grasp, unable to even stand on his own.

"You have chosen wisely," Bena taunted. "We will expect you within two centars."

The signal ended and the scanner went dark. For a centon there was silence on the bridge, then Dr. Salik spoke up.

"That was close," he said quietly from where he still stood beside Adama. "Another dose that soon would've certainly killed him."

Adama didn't answer. What was there to say? He turned slowly to Tigh, his face set determinedly.

"Get my shuttle ready, Colonel. The Nomen have just sped up our timetable." Tigh nodded and moved to obey. The commander glanced over at Salik. "I want a full medical team on board. We know Apollo will need it and we don't have any idea what condition Boomer's in."

"Right away." The doctor moved off, gesturing to Cassiopeia to accompany him.

"Starbuck? Sheba?" The two pilots stepped up and stood at attention, letting Adama know how seriously they took this mission... as if he hadn't known already. "When can you be ready?"

"We're ready now, Commander," Starbuck answered confidently.

Adama nodded knowingly. "Very good. How much time will you need on the freighter?"

Starbuck's face lost some of its formality. "It should only take a few centons to find the quarters, but..."

"But what?"

"Getting back might take longer," Sheba spoke up. She gestured at the blank scanner. "You saw Apollo. If he can't move under his own power..." She let her voice trail off.

"Then we'll carry him," Starbuck finished flatly.

Adama took a deep breath, aware of how much the odds were against them. "These Nomen won't be stalled long," he reminded them. "I can give you fifteen centons... maybe."

"Understood, Commander," Starbuck replied crisply. "We'll make it."

Adama allowed himself a slight smile. If anyone could, Starbuck would be the one. "All right. Report to Launch Bay Alpha in twenty centons."

He watched them go, leaving only Athena. She hadn't moved from where she'd watched the transmission. Slowly, she lifted her head to meet his gaze.

"Father... let me pilot the shuttle," she requested, trying her best to appear unruffled, but Adama could see the unshed tears in her eyes.

He reached out to her and took her hand. "I need you to stay here," he told her kindly. When she started to protest, he shook his head firmly. "A lot of things could go wrong over there," he stated. "It would mean a great deal to me if you were here with Boxey."

He left the rest of it unspoken, but she understood him. He could tell by the fear that appeared in her eyes, but she was still a warrior and discipline took over where her heart balked. She nodded crisply and turned to leave, not however, without squeezing his hand tightly. He let her go, staring after her until Colonel Tigh reappeared at his side to tell him the shuttle was ready. He heaved a sigh. The next few centons were not going to be pleasant.

"Very well, Tigh. Have the pilot plot course for the prison barge."

* * *

"Surely you're joking, Adama." Baltar chuckled drily from where he stood leaning against the transparent barrier to his cell. "That's what I always liked about you... your sense of humor."

Adama's mouth was set in a grim line. He didn't have a lot of time to talk Baltar into going along with their plan. He didn't wish to use the man against his will, but if he had to, he would.

"I'm deadly serious," he answered, trying to remain calm. It wouldn't do for Baltar to see him flustered.

The smile left the ex-council member's face. "You honestly expect me to go along with this ridiculous plan and give myself willingly to the Nomen?"

Adama mentally counted to ten. "I didn't say that," he countered. "We're not actually going to give you to anyone. I merely need you there to convince the Nomen I want to make the trade."

Baltar studied him for a moment, then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You want out of our agreement," he accused angrily. "I did my part, Adama. I helped you infiltrate that Baseship. Now you're going back on your word."

"Baltar..." Adama paused to rein in his temper. He began again. "Baltar, I thoroughly intend to give you your freedom."

"Then why am I still rotting here in this cell?"

"We haven't found a suitable planet yet."

"You expect me to believe you?"

"It's the truth, Baltar. I gave you my word."

"Yes..." Baltar drawled. "Your word. You are a man of your word, aren't you?"

Adama's patience was growing thin. "Yes, I am," he replied stonily.

Baltar smirked knowingly. "That was always your weak point. You never did know how to lie convincingly. It made you very predictable."

Adama ground his teeth to keep from saying something he'd regret. He stepped up to stand face to face with his enemy. "Your crimes were heinous, Baltar," he stated coldly. "You have much to atone for. You helped us before, yes, but I do not believe that makes up for everything. You owe more than you could ever pay." He folded his arms across his chest. "You will help us."

Baltar opened his mouth to argue, then shut it slowly. He regarded Adama coolly then smiled sweetly. "Yes, I suppose I will."

Adama's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank you," he breathed.

Baltar grimaced. "What choice do I have?"

Adama shook his head solemnly. "None."

* * *

Jolly set their ship down smoothly in the freighter Borella's landing bay and Adama stood by the hatch, waiting for it to open. The shuttle was crowded, with a fully equipped life pod taking up a large amount of space. Dr. Salik and Cassiopeia had everything ready and could now only wait anxiously for their patient. Adama prayed there was only one. The Nomen hadn't bothered to produce Boomer since the first contact. The commander knew concern for his son had taken precedence and he felt a certain amount of guilt for that. He prayed fervently that they would be able to get both the hostages back.

Greenbean and Giles stood behind the commander, flanking an apprehensive-looking Baltar. Adama found it hard to believe, but he was actually feeling grateful to the man. It was odd how time and circumstances changed a person's perspective. Starbuck and Sheba hovered near the rear exit. In the cockpit, Jolly and Bojay had nothing to do now but wait. They'd done the best they could to maneuver the shuttle into such a position to provide as much cover for the rescue team as possible. Now it was a matter of timing and sheer luck.

"We've got a welcoming committee, Commander," Jolly reported from the cockpit.

Adama nodded. "Let's get started."

He touched the stud and the hatch slowly opened. With careful, deliberate movements he left the shuttle to greet the waiting Nomen. It was as Starbuck had predicted. There was no sign of the hostages. Adama took a deep breath. Summoning up all his skills as an ambassador, debater and orator, he prepared to take the biggest gamble of his life.

* * *

Starbuck sent up a quick prayer of thanks to whatever Lords governed his fate that he and Sheba had made it out of the shuttle undetected. Now all they had to do was find enough cover to make their way out of the bay and then find the crews' quarters. Then all that remained was to find Apollo and Boomer and get them back into the shuttle... and all within fifteen centons. It didn't look very promising, but then Starbuck had always thrived on long odds.

He glanced beside him. Sheba was crouched down, laser in hand. Her face had a determined look that reminded Starbuck of Commander Cain when he got hold of an idea. He saw her point to a stack of supply crates not far away and he grinned. He was glad they were on the same side.

He could hear the sound of voices as the commander talked with the Nomen. He knew they were going to have to step things up.

"Let's move it," he whispered, and crouching down, moved out into the open. Sheba was right behind him.

* * *

Boomer placed a fresh, wet cloth over Apollo's forehead, hoping it was doing some good. He was afraid it wasn't. The captain's fever had spiked not long after the Nomen had returned him and was now so high that the rags soon lost whatever coolness they had. When he'd first come back, he'd been in a great deal of pain, no longer isolated to his joints. It had been almost more than Boomer could bear to have to watch Apollo suffer... sometimes writhing in agony, sometimes curled up into a tight ball. Now he lay more quietly... moaning softly, occasionally muttering incoherently. The lieutenant could only hope the stupor of the fever kept his friend from feeling much of the agony he must be going through. Boomer had never felt so frustrated and utterly helpless in his life.

How could the commander do this to his own son? But he knew. He knew too well that the same qualities that made Adama such a good leader were the same ones that made him chose their fate for them. You couldn't ask a man to be qualitatively moral. He understood that deep down, but it didn't make watching Apollo die any easier.

He sat down on the deck and leaned his back against the captain's bunk. He was tired... tired and discouraged. He wondered if Apollo died, would the Nomen even bother with him? Would they just let him starve to death? Already he was past the point of actually feeling hungry. After not eating for three days, he'd lost any real interest in food. He could tell he was weaker though. His hands trembled as they wrung out the rags he'd been using for Apollo. If he stood too fast, the room would begin spinning. He had a headache that wouldn't go away. He had no idea how long it actually took to die of starvation. He hoped it happened fast.

"Boomer?"

The lieutenant turned. Apollo's voice was very weak, but it sounded lucid. He saw the captain had his eyes open and though they looked glassy, at least they were able to focus on him.

"Hey, buddy," Boomer smiled. "Are you with me?"

Apollo nodded slightly, then grimaced at the movement. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if resting from the effort.

"So hot," he mumbled. He opened his eyes. "So hot," he repeated.

"It's the fever," Boomer told him soothingly. "I've been trying to keep you cooled down, but I don't know what else to do."

"Not gonna make it," Apollo breathed.

Boomer wanted to say something comforting, but knew whatever he could think of would only sound false. Apollo knew the truth. He settled for laying an encouraging hand on his friend's arm, dismayed at the heat he felt there.

"Hang on, buddy," he instructed, but noticed Apollo had once more drifted off and hadn't heard him. "Hang on," he whispered desperately.

* * *

Starbuck flattened himself against the bulkhead, listening to his rapidly beating heart until the sound of footsteps faded down the corridor. He let his breath out quietly.

"That was too close," Sheba whispered beside him. "I thought they'd all be in the bay."

"If he's the only one down here, I'll be happy," Starbuck replied. He pointed ahead of them. "Those are the crew compartments." There were a series of ten doors running the length of the hallway. "It'll be faster if we split up."

Sheba nodded and ducked over to the nearest one. Starbuck took the compartment across from her. He stood at the side, laser ready, and hit the stud. The door slid open easily. He peered cautiously into the dark room. It was empty. Starbuck let out his breath... half relieved and half disappointed. He saw across the way that Sheba had come up empty as well. He motioned for her to keep going.

In actuality, it didn't take that long to check each door, though to Starbuck it seemed an eternity. He was acutely aware of each passing centon... afraid that even if they found their missing friends, they wouldn't have enough time to get back to the shuttle. He glanced down the hall. Only three more left. He took his position to the side of the next one and reached over to punch the button. Nothing happened.

Hope sprang up in his heart and he gestured to Sheba to get her attention. "Over here," he whispered excitedly.

She ducked across the hall and took up a post on the other side of the door. "Did you find them?" she asked hopefully.

Starbuck jerked his head at the door. "This one's locked. Somebody took the time to rig it from the outside. There's gotta be somebody in there."

Sheba nodded and Starbuck reached out his laser and fired once at the mechanism. The metal flared brightly and the glow faded. Once more, Starbuck pushed the button and slowly the panel slid open. The hope he'd felt before flamed even brighter when he saw the room was dimly lighted. With laser held in both hands, he sprang from his position to stand in the entryway. Sheba had followed his move, coming in low beside him. He heard her cry of dismay at the same time he saw his friends. Boomer sat on the floor beside a narrow bunk. Apollo lay on the bed, curled up on his side. As they burst into the room, Boomer lifted his head up sharply and Starbuck heard his gasp of surprise loud and clear.

"Apollo." Sheba barely whispered his name before she rushed over to kneel down at his side. "How is he?" she asked softly.

Boomer's eyes kept moving between his two rescuers, as if unable to believe they were really here. "Not very good," he informed them. He let his gaze rest on his stricken comrade. "I wasn't sure how much longer he'd last."

Starbuck moved over to lay a reassuring hand on Boomer's shoulder. "We're gonna get you outta here, buddy," he stated firmly. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Boomer. "Are you okay?"

Boomer waved aside his concern. "There's nothing wrong with me. Apollo's the one you gotta worry about right now."

Starbuck turned his attention to the bunk. Sheba still knelt there, one hand pressed against the captain's forehead. She glanced up at Starbuck in alarm. "He's burning up."

Starbuck checked his timepiece. "We gotta get outta here," he reminded her. He moved over to the bed and reached down to take one of Apollo's arms. He nearly recoiled at how hot the captain's skin was. He swallowed back any panic he felt. Now wasn't the time for it.

"Apollo?" he called softly. The only response he got was a soft moaning as Apollo rolled onto his back. Starbuck cringed at the sight of his best friend in so much obvious pain. His skin was flushed with fever, his dark hair, damp with sweat, clung to his face, which was pinched with suffering. His hands were curled into tight fists, but Starbuck could tell they were red and swollen.

"Good Lord," Starbuck breathed out.

"It's been pretty bad for him," Boomer commented, his voice breaking up. "I didn't think anybody would come."

Starbuck turned and saw the brightness of unshed tears in his friend's eyes. He could only imagine what it must've been like for Boomer to have to sit here and watch this happen. The thing to do now though was to get both his friends out of this place.

"Come on, Boomer. Give me a hand with him."

Starbuck stooped down and draped one of Apollo's arms around his shoulders. Boomer came over and did the same on the other side. As they started to rise however, Starbuck was suddenly off balance.

"What's the prob..." He glanced over and saw Boomer staggering under the weight. "Sheba," he called, but she was already there, taking Apollo's arm over her own shoulder.

"You all right, buddy?" Starbuck asked in concern. He didn't want to put Apollo back down and Boomer seemed to be recovering from his spell.

The lieutenant looked up at his friends sheepishly. "Yeah... I'm fine. Nothing wrong with me a nice dinner wouldn't cure."

"Oh, Boomer," Sheba cried out. "You mean they..."

"Yeah, well... I guess they didn't see the point of wasting rations." Boomer was back on his feet. He faced Starbuck determinedly. "I guess I won't be much help carrying Apollo, but give me your laser and I'll run point."

Starbuck hesitated briefly, but at the look on Boomer's face, came to a quick decision. "Take it," he told him. "We gotta go as fast as we can."

"Right," Boomer replied. He grabbed Starbuck's pistol and was out the door.

Starbuck nodded to Sheba and the two of them, half-dragging Apollo between them, followed after Boomer. He tried to ignore the muffled moaning coming from the captain. He knew this treatment wasn't very good for his friend, but he could think of no other way to get him out. He hoped they weren't making his condition worse by all this jostling around.

It was tough going. Apollo was practically dead weight. Starbuck could hear Sheba's labored breathing as she struggled to keep going. She was doing a good job of it, better than Starbuck had hoped. Still, it was difficult for both of them. They had to keep going though. Starbuck kept one eye on Boomer ahead of them, fearful that his other friend would give out on them too. There would be no way to get two injured people back.

They were coming to the last junction now and he saw Boomer suddenly stop and wave them back against the wall.

"This way, Sheba," he whispered and they slowly swung around to stand against the bulkhead.

They weren't exactly flat. If anyone glanced down the corridor they would be spotted easily. Starbuck prayed their luck would hold. They didn't have that much farther to go. The bay door was just ahead of them. If they could just get there. They stood unmoving for nearly a centon, the only sound their own heavy breathing. Then all at once Starbuck heard the sound of running footsteps and his laser pistol as Boomer moved from position to fire rapidly at the unseen Noman.

It was over quickly. Soon all was quiet again. Starbuck craned his aching neck but couldn't see Boomer. He motioned to Sheba.

"Come on."

They started out again. As they reached the junction, Boomer came limping down the hall.

"I got him," he told them triumphantly. "He won't tell anybody we're here."

The smile on his face turned into a grimace however, and Starbuck glanced down to see a dark stain on Boomer left thigh.

"Boomer! You're hit."

"My own clumsy fault," the lieutenant answered, with a disgusted shake of his head. "That Boray threw a dagger. I wasn't even watching for it."

"Can you make it on your own?"

"Just watch me."

"Okay, let's get going. That's the bay right there."

The bedraggled party shuffled their way to the door. As it slid open, Starbuck could only hope that the commander would still be standing there parlaying with the Nomen. He knew they'd taken longer than fifteen centons. He prayed they would have just a little more time.

* * *

"Enough of this," Bena growled threateningly. "You did not come here to talk."

Adama glanced surreptitiously at his timepiece, hoping the tension he was feeling wasn't showing on his face. He'd given Starbuck just about all the time he would be able to. He looked back up at the Noman.

"Very well, Bena. You're right. We came to trade. But I don't see any hostages."

"Nor do we," Bena countered.

Without turning, Adama lifted his hand. He didn't have to look to know that Greenbean and Giles had come out of the shuttle with Baltar between them. The reaction of the Noman in front of him was all the confirmation he needed. Bena's mouth lifted in a triumphant sneer. Adama lifted his hand higher... an order to his men to stop where they were.

"You see I am in earnest," he began. His mind was working furiously. Surely by now, Starbuck and Sheba would've found the captives, yet no signal had come that they'd made it back to the shuttle. What they needed now was a bit of confusion to cover their escape. He gave Bena a hard look. "I see no such evidence on your part. Where are my son and Lieutenant Boomer?"

Bena spoke a word to the Noman standing beside him and that man left the bay. "We will bring them."

They stood in stony silence for several centons. Adama could hear the clinking of Baltar's shackles and he prayed his old enemy would not get edgy or impatient and do something rash. Probably not. Baltar was not stupid. He knew how the Nomen felt about him. Adama and his men were the only protection he had at the moment.

Finally Bena's aide came back. Nomen were usually adept at remaining expressionless, but Adama could read the situation clearly from the look on the man's face. He strode up to Bena and exchanged words with him in their native tongue. Now Bena's face broadcast that same confusion and panic. Adama smiled to himself. The prisoners were gone. Starbuck and Sheba had succeeded. Now he could only hope the frenzy of activity wouldn't make it harder for them to get to the bay.

* * *

They were in the bay at least. Starbuck was grateful for that. How in Hades they were going to get back into the shuttle, he had no real idea. They'd taken cover behind the nearest stack of supplies and now that they'd stopped, he realized how bad off they were. Boomer's leg was bleeding badly. Starbuck's own neck and back had been strained to the limit and he figured Sheba's were just as bad. Apollo himself seemed to have passed out completely. His groans of pain and protest had ceased and he lay unmoving where they'd set him down.. Starbuck tried not to think about what that meant. He peered out across the bay. Somehow it seemed a much longer distance than when he and Sheba had crossed it the first time.

The only thing in their favor was that he could still see the commander standing there facing Bena. Greenbean and Giles were also standing there with Baltar. So nothing had been done yet. That meant they still had some time. There also seemed to be a lot of movement among the Nomen. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he felt pressed to move. He crouched back down and faced his friends.

"Okay... here's the way I see it. Sheba, you go with Boomer... make sure he keeps on his feet." There was an instant round of whispered protests.

"I can make it," Boomer insisted stubbornly.

Starbuck shook his head. "Maybe... but I don't want to take any chances. You gotta get across there in a big hurry. I want Sheba to be there just in case."

"But what about Apollo?" Sheba demanded.

"I'll bring Apollo."

Sheba's eyebrows raised in surprise. "By yourself? You'll never make it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Starbuck's face grew firm. "I'm in charge here and those are my orders." His features softened. "If we try it the way we've been going, we'll all get caught. This way we have a chance."

Boomer regarded him sternly. "You mean we have a chance. You two'll be a pretty easy mark."

"Don't worry. We'll be okay." Starbuck grinned confidently. "You wanna lay some odds?"

Boomer finally smiled and shook his head. "No way, buddy." He reached out and clasped Starbuck's forearm. "Thanks," he whispered, "for everything."

Starbuck gripped his arm tightly then let go. Sheba moved from where she'd been kneeling beside Apollo's still form. She paused to take hold of Starbuck's hand. "Take care of him," she murmured. "And take care of yourself."

"You bet," he assured her. "Now get going, you two. We'll be right behind you."

They moved out. Sheba kept one hand on Boomer's arm as he limped along as fast as he could. Starbuck watched as they darted from one scant cover to the next, scarcely breathing each time they ran out in the open. His eyes moved constantly from the Nomen to his friends, willing them not to be spotted. Finally they reached the back of the shuttle. Starbuck grinned as he saw strong arms reach out to help them up. That had to be Jolly and Bojay keeping watch for them. He turned his gaze back down to his unconscious friend and his smile faded.

"Okay, buddy," he said softly. "It's our turn now."

He stooped down to grab Apollo's arm. The captain seemed hotter than ever and something was wrong. Starbuck glanced up at his friend, only to realize that the captain's body was convulsing rhythmically. His eyes were rolled back in his head and he seemed to be having difficulty swallowing.

Oh, Lord! He's having a seizure!

Real fear gripped the warrior. He was out of his element. He had no idea how long this would last or if Apollo would die right here. There was also the very real possibility that the Nomen would hear them, especially if Apollo's thrashing grew more wild. Not knowing what else to do, he knelt down behind the captain and wrapped his arms around Apollo's back and shoulders, trying his best to restrain his friend without hurting him.

"Come on, buddy," he whispered fervently. "You can get through this. We're almost there. Boxey's waiting for you... Sheba too. She'll kill me if I don't bring you back so you better stay with me."

He kept up the litany for uncounted centons, wishing desperately he knew how to help, until miraculously, he felt Apollo's body gradually grow still. Finally the captain's head lolled to the side, resting against Starbuck's shoulder. He sat there for a moment, trying to stop himself from shaking. Then, with a great effort, he managed to raise up to a crouch and drape the captain over his shoulders. Somehow he got to his feet, grunting softly with the strain. "Hang in there, buddy," he muttered. "I'm gonna get you home." He shot one glance up at the Commander's back and started out.

It took a lifetime. He couldn't run. He could barely keep walking. Each spot of cover seemed microns apart, but he wouldn't stop. He couldn't give up. Apollo was his best friend... the closest thing he had to a brother. He couldn't let him die. He couldn't let that happen. And it was more than just for himself. Everyone was counting on him to bring Apollo home... The commander, Boxey, Sheba, Boomer, even Cassie and the doctor were waiting there in the shuttle... waiting for him to come through.

He kept going. His back was breaking but he kept going, making one last, mad dash for the hatch. He could see Jolly and Bojay there, encouraging him on. He could see Boomer and Sheba in the doorway... and Cassie. As he looked up and caught her eye, she smiled. She had such faith in him. Somehow he found a burst of renewed strength and he was suddenly there. He felt Apollo's weight lifted off his shoulders and he nearly cried out in relief. He felt himself being pulled up into the shuttle and he heard the hatch close behind him. He sat there on the deck, content to feel the solid metal under his hands. They'd done it. He couldn't believe they'd really done it.

* * *

Adama still stood, outwardly calm. The Nomen hadn't produced any hostages yet, but neither had he received the signal that the team had come back. He clasped his hands behind his back and confronted Bena again.

"I still have not seen my son," he reminded the leader. "If this is some kind of treachery..." He left the threat open-ended. Bena was definitely unnerved. Adama was almost positive he saw the Noman sweating.

"You must have patience, Commander," Bena told him hesitantly. "This is a large ship. It takes time to move prisoners."

"I'm sure it does," he agreed knowingly. "But so much time?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" Bena asked harshly.

"Not at all. I merely..."

The klaxon for red alert sounded loud and long. Confused and flustered already, Bena actually jumped at the noise. To Adama, it had never sounded so wonderful and his heart swelled with relief. In an instant, Jolly was out of the shuttle and at his side.

"Emergency alert, Commander," he reported crisply. "You're needed back on the Galactica immediately."

"Let them know I'm on my way." He turned to Bena, his face stern. "As much as I want my son back, the fleet is my first priority. As soon as this emergency is over, I will return and we will conduct the exchange." He paused and gave Bena a harsh look. "This delay is on your end," he accused. "I will expect no more poison given to Captain Apollo, seeing as how I acted in good faith."

He turned without waiting for an answer and ordered Baltar taken back into the shuttle. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Bena busy with his men. Without another word, Adama climbed on board, relaxing only as the hatch slid shut. He registerd the frantic activity around the life pod but he barely had time to find a seat before Jolly blasted out of the bay.

* * *

Bena watched the shuttle take off, feeling like he'd lost total control of everything and not knowing when. He watched as his men still scurried about, conducting the search for the missing prisoners, but he suddenly knew they would not be found. When he heard the klaxon stop and the red alert cancelled, he knew why. Adama had outsmarted him. Sana had warned him to be careful and he hadn't listened.

He glanced up at the catwalk overlooking the bay. Sana was there, standing beside Old Ramma. They'd been watching the whole time, waiting to see if he proved himself a warrior of the Code. He had failed... miserably, and he knew what would be expected of him now. He felt his hand move to the long knife on his belt. It would be the one way to regain his honor, but even as his fist closed on the smooth handle, his head lowered in shame. He could not do it. He pulled the weapon from its sheath and flung it away. It clattered noisily on the deck.

Up on the catwalk, Sana shook his head. "He is yours now, Ramma. You may give him to Adama when he asks. He is no longer of our blood."

The elder Noman nodded once. "I understand Sana. It will be as you say." He never turned to meet Sana's eyes. "There will be repercussions from this. Adama will not let it go."

"He acted on his own," Sana stated evenly. "Our clan knew nothing of this deed."

Ramma nodded again. "So be it."

* * *

Starbuck sat alone in the back of the shuttle, watching all the activity around Apollo from a careful distance. His friend was now encased in the life pod, with Dr. Salik hovering over him. Adama, after having thanked everyone involved effusively, had taken a position on the other side and would not be moved. Greenbean and Giles were sitting up in the cockpit with Jolly and Bojay to give the medical people more room to work. Sheba sat out of the way, yet close enough to keep a worried eye on the procedures. Cassie had cleaned and dressed Boomer's leg and was now trying to get him to drink something nutritious the lieutenant obviously didn't want. Starbuck smiled softly as Cassie glanced up and caught his eye. She moved over to sink down beside him. He instinctively put his arm around her and drew her close.

"I'm so glad you made it back in one piece," she breathed.

"So am I," he agreed with a laugh, then sobered again. "Doesn't Dr. Salik need you up there?"

Cassie shook her head, a frown disturbing her pretty face. "There's not much we can do now until we get him to the Life Station. He's on assisted life support. Dr. Salik wants to give his body all the help we can in cleansing out the poison." She paused and Starbuck was aware that she was studying him intently. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah... sure... no... I don't know." He shrugged self-consciously. "You should've seen him, Cass. I thought he was gonna die right there in the bay and I couldn't help him. I keep thinking I should've done something sooner. He shouldn't have had to go through all this."

"You can't blame yourself," Cassie admonished gently. "You did everything you could and more. Starbuck... you saved his life... his and Boomer's."

Starbuck drew his arm back and ran a flustered hand through his hair. "I just feel guilty. Maybe because the last time I talked to him I was angry, and then when I found him, he looked so... so... " He leaned back and blew out a noisy breath. It was hard to find the right words. He felt Cassie's hand slip into his. The contact had a calming effect and he turned to meet her understanding blue eyes. "Cass... I was so afraid he'd die and I'd never be able to tell him I was sorry. I didn't want the last time we saw each other..." He had to stop, no longer able to trust his voice.

"Starbuck... I'm sure you'll get to tell him. He's got a chance now. You gave him that."

Starbuck squeezed her hand and noticed her toying with something. "What's that?"

Cassie held up a small, gold ring. "Apollo had it. I had to pry his hand open to get it. I meant to give it to the commander." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'll be right back."

Starbuck watched her make her way up to where Adama was standing. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he saw the commander give her a grateful smile and take the ring. Salik asked her to help him for a moment and Starbuck knew she'd be occupied for a while. He leaned his head back against the seat and wished he had a cigar.

* * *

FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS: It is nearly over. Ramma has turned over the Nomen responsible for all the trouble. They are now secured in the prison barge. I have been assured it was an isolated incident. I know this is probably not the whole truth, yet I have no proof otherwise. We will have to proceed with caution in any further dealings with the Nomen.

Baltar is now freed, according to the terms of our original bargain. I personally escorted him to his new home. The planet we found is most accommodating and I do not think he will be too hard pressed to make a life for himself. He has helped me now on two different occasions and I found myself in the odd position of having to thank my old nemesis. Life is certainly an interesting circle.

As for my son, he is still in the Life Station. He has yet to regain consciousness. I can only hope that for all our trouble, we did not wait too long.

* * *

Adama sat in the chair Dr. Salik had provided for him, watching Apollo breathe. Ila had once told him she did that some nights when the children were babies. He remembered several occasions when, upon waking and finding his wife missing from their bed, he would get up and find her standing in the doorway to the nursery, the most peaceful look on her face. He smiled at the memory and glanced down at Ila's ring, once more on his little finger. There were times, like now, when he missed her more than he could put into words. She would have known how to reach out to Apollo during all the trouble with the Gemon. She would have been his anchor when he was floundering about the choices to make with Baltar and the Nomen. He closed his eyes, even though the lights were already dim in the Life Station, and tried to clear his mind. It never helped to dwell on the past or to sit and think about what might have been.

"Grandfather?"

Adama opened his eyes to see Boxey, dressed for bed, walking softly over to him. Muffit followed quietly at his heels. The boy paused at the side of the life pod. It was open now. Apollo no longer needed any life supporting aids. Boxey reached out and touched his father, as if to assure himself he was still alive. Then he looked up at Adama.

"What are you doing up?" the commander asked kindly. "It's centars into your sleep period."

"I know," Boxey whispered. "I wanted to see my dad." He climbed up into Adama's lap and settled there comfortably. "I heard Cassiopeia saying that Dad hasn't had anything to eat for a long time. I brought him a mushie in case he wakes up and gets hungry." He held up the slightly smashed confection.

Adama smiled and wrapped his arms around his grandson. "I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

Boxey rested his head against Adama's chest. "Do you think he'll wake up tonight?" he asked in a muffled voice.

"It's possible," the commander answered. "Dr. Salik said it could be anytime. Most of the poison is gone now."

"Then can I stay here... in case he does?" Boxey looked up hopefully.

"Of course you may. We'll both keep watch, how about that?"

"Great." Boxey nestled his head back down and it wasn't long before Adama could hear his steady breathing and knew he'd gone to sleep.

Adama settled back. He didn't think he'd dozed off, but he heard Muffit stir and became aware someone else was in the room. He opened his eyes. Boxey still slept soundly in his arms, but a lone figure stood at Apollo's side. It took less than a centon for him to recognize Sheba. He watched silently as she took one of Apollo's hands between her own. Then she reached out and brushed the hair off his forehead. There was so much tenderness in the gesture that if Adama hadn't known before, he would have realized then, how much Sheba cared for his son. He also knew how much Apollo kept himself cut off from those kinds of feelings. As Sheba turned to go, Adama reached out and took her hand. She turned, startled to find him awake, and he could see the tears in her eyes.

"Give him time," he said gently. "You're exactly what he needs, he just doesn't know it yet."

Sheba smiled in embarrassment. "I try to be patient," she admitted. She let her free hand reach out to brush Boxey's cheek. "Only it's hard to compete with a ghost."

Adama glanced down at his grandson, then back up to meet Sheba's gaze. He squeezed her hand to let her know he understood. "Serina's death hurt Apollo very deeply. Those kind of wounds take time to heal. Don't give up."

Sheba's smile grew warmer. "Do you mind if I stay a while?" she asked. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nonsense. Pull up a chair."

She did so and soon they were sitting together in companionable silence, both watching Apollo breathe.

* * *

He floated in a gray haze... not really asleep, yet not awake. There had been pain... a great deal of it, but it was hard to remember now. Everything was hard to remember now. Most of the time he let himself just drift.

There were flashes... Boomer's face, worried and... and angry... but not at him... at someone else. And Starbuck... he could always count on Starbuck... had his friend been mad at him? No, that was a long time ago...

A long time ago... if he let himself, he could drift very far away... back to Caprica and home... two boys playing warriors, driving their mother to distraction. He was always in charge. Zac always did what he told him to. Zac wanted so much to be like his big brother.

He frowned. That memory made him uncomfortable. He searched for others... more pleasant dreams... and he found her. She was there where she always was... just out of reach... but he could see her face... Serina... but he couldn't touch her... and he suddenly didn't want to be here either. There was somewhere else he needed to be... someplace he had to get to... someone... another face in his dreams... Sheba...

"Sheba?" He didn't know if he'd said it out loud or not, but she lifted her head and saw he was awake. She slid out of her chair to kneel by his side.

"Apollo?" she whispered.

It was hard to keep his eyes open. They seemed so heavy, but he kept trying. He could see her face... her hair... her eyes... the tears spilling down her cheeks. He wanted to say something to her but his voice didn't seem to work right. She picked up his hand. He was so weak he could barely feel her touch, but she was here. She was alive... and she loved him. He knew that... he'd known it for some time. What he hadn't known until this centon was that he loved her too. All the running... all the hiding... and it wasn't because of his wife. It was him. He'd held onto Serina, as if there was no room in his heart for anyone else. But she wasn't that kind of a person. She wasn't selfish. She'd loved him and he'd just felt her step aside and make room for someone else to love him.

All this he knew in a moment, but there was no way to make Sheba understand. She smiled down at him. "I'll wake your father," she whispered and reached out toward where Adama slept.

He willed his body to work and managed to move his fingers in her hand. It was enough. She turned back to meet his eyes. He wanted to say the words, but didn't have the strength. He tightened his grip a little more and her smile became radiant as she lowered her head to brush his lips lightly with her own. It was their second kiss. The first one had caught him by surprise and had left him confused and uncertain. There was no more confusion. He felt only a great deal of peace. There was so much he wanted to say to her... so much, but he was so tired. He could already feel himself drifting off again. He was having trouble keeping focused and he couldn't hear what she was saying, but he saw her lips forming the words, I love you. He wasn't sure if he managed to nod his head but he took her image with him as he closed his eyes and surrendered to the darkness again.

* * *

When Apollo opened his eyes again, everything seemed a little clearer. The fog had disappeared and he knew where he was. Not much had changed, except that Sheba was asleep by the side of his life pod, her head pillowed by her arm on the smooth, metal edge. He moved his gaze over to see his father still sitting in his chair... still holding Boxey tenderly. Apollo felt the sting of tears welling up in his eyes. He'd reconciled himself to never seeing either one of them again.

"I'm glad to see you've decided to rejoin us," Adama told him softly.

Apollo blinked back the tears. He hadn't realized his father was awake. "Father?" he managed to croak. It hurt to talk, but at least his voice worked now.

Adama leaned forward and placed a hand over his son's. Apollo caught the glint of the ring on his father's finger.

"Mother's ring," he rasped out. "My fingers were so swollen I took it off. I thought I'd lost it."

Adama shook his head. "Cassie found it in your hand. You were clutching it so tightly, she almost couldn't get it from you."

Apollo stared at it for a moment, then looked back up at Adama. "Father... Father, I'm so sorry."

Adama squeezed his son's hand kindly. "It's all over, Son... over and done with. Let's not waste precious time trying to decide who's to blame. You need to rest."

Apollo nodded, unable to keep the tears back this time. He had so much he wanted to say to this man... this man he loved and respected more than anyone, but he couldn't get the words out. He would have to wait, but he could do that now. They would have the time.

* * *

The casino on the Rising Star was as loud as ever but Apollo didn't care. It was his first night out of the Life Station. Though not released back to duty yet, Dr. Salik had taken pity on him and allowed him to go, realizing his patient was about to go stir crazy lying about. He was still a little weak but on the whole felt pretty fit, considering everything he'd been through. He sat quietly at the table, letting his friends do most of the laughing and talking, but not at all morose. The depression that had nearly drowned him the last time he was here was gone. It felt good to be here, in the company of the people who'd risked so much to save him.

"Apollo... are you feeling okay?" Sheba lay a concerned hand on his arm.

"I'm fine." He placed his hand over hers, at last comfortable enough to do so without feeling awkward.

She motioned to his plate. "But you haven't eaten anything."

He looked down at the food she'd ordered for him. "I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite yet," he explained with a chuckle.

"That's okay," Starbuck piped up from across the table. "Give it to Boomer. He hasn't stopped eating since he got back to the Galactica."

"That's not true," Boomer protested, though he lost whatever credibility he might've had, since he had to say it through a mouthful of mushies. He swallowed and pointed at Starbuck with his fork. "I'd like to see you go three days without eating... or drinking... or smoking... or playing pyramid."

"That certainly wouldn't be very pretty," Cassie laughed. Starbuck pretended to be offended.

"All I'm saying, Boomer, is that you keep going like you have been and you'll start looking like Jolly."

"Hey," the large warrior complained from the next table.

The next few centons were taken up with good-natured bickering and a lot of laughter. Apollo picked up his mug of ambrosa and leaned back in his chair, reveling in the normalcy that was his life again. He closed his eyes and sighed happily.

"So the coward in uniform is back."

The surly voice caused Apollo's eyes to shoot open and he saw the all too familiar face of the Gemon. The bandages were gone, but his nose looked crooked and there were still faint traces of bruises under his eyes. He apparently still held a grudge and was out to settle it. Apollo felt Sheba's hand tighten protectively on his arm.

"Frack," Starbuck muttered. "Don't they ever learn?"

"Starbuck," Apollo cautioned under his breath. He wasn't ruffled by the comments. The man could no longer get under his skin. After a few long talks with his father, he'd gotten past that. He was only concerned that his friends might do something impulsive on his behalf.

"Don't worry," the lieutenant assured him with a smile. "There won't be any trouble."

"I didn't think you'd have the guts to show your face here," the Gemon went on. "Not after that traitor Adama let Baltar go free."

Suddenly, as if on cue, all the warriors at the surrounding tables rose to their feet. Boomer, Starbuck, Sheba, Jolly, Bojay, Greenbean and Giles all stood there, forming a half circle around the obnoxious man. Apollo could barely keep from laughing at the Gemon's face as he found himself facing seven Colonial Warriors. His mouth worked, but for once he had nothing to say. He backed away slowly, then turned and made a rapid retreat through the crowd. The warriors returned to their seats and resumed their meal as if nothing had happened.

"Told you there wouldn't be any trouble," Starbuck said casually.

Now Apollo let go his laughter. He reached across the table to clasp forearms with Starbuck. It was definitely good to be home.

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