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rabid1stICED
By Rabid1st
BSG – K/L
RATING: NC-17, baby!
BETA BABE:Dualbunny and Winter_Queen82
SPOILERS: I don’t think this fic has spoilers other than aired S2. But there is speculation of the coupling kind based on S2: Flight of the Phoenix.
SUMMARY:This is a ‘nugget slang’ fic and a sequel to Shoot Your Shade. Which was a sequel to Burn the Pipe. Lee shot his shade (overreacted) last time out when he learned about Anders and dumped Kara cold. Now the path to togetherness is about to be iced...made smooth and easy.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own these characters. They belong to the SciFi Channel, R&D and Ron Moore…whose e-mail address I don’t know. So, I can’t really ask him for permission or anything. But I’m not making any money or perks off of these characters…so please don’t sue me.
PART ONE
Helo felt responsible for the breakup. Or whatever the hell Kara and Lee were calling the barbed wire fences between them. Even after Kara told him to stop being such an ass, he continued blaming himself. The fifty-third time Helo blamed himself Kara smacked the side of his head.
This led to an exchange of slapstick pokes. Playful pushing escalated into wrestling. The scuffle became a tag-and-tickle game and roamed across the hanger bay, ending only when a jostled Chief Tyrol told the roughhousing pair to do everyone a favor and get a room. After freeing an arm to salute, Helo turned a diabolic grin on a protesting, but still smiling, Kara. She was backing away, both arms up in mock surrender, when Helo dipped his shoulder into her midsection and hoisted her from her feet. Balancing her in a fireman’s carry, he tackled the ladder to the barracks passageway. At one point in the ascent, the almighty Starbuck squealed.
Lee’s trigger finger itched.
He rubbed his hand along his jacket seam and, swallowing hard, tried to focus on Cally. She’d explained his power problem three times but meaning wasn’t sinking in. His attention kept wandering, first, to the infuriatingly girlish Starbuck and then, to the bane of his current existence. As he turned away from the Helo spectacle, he’d seen it. It was partially obscured by a tool chest on the far side of the hanger. The chest door stood ajar but behind it Kara Thrace sprawled in all her glory. One of the knuckle-draggers had the poster up. Lee longed to rip the offensive thing down but he knew better than to start a scene over a magazine centerfold his own father had called “unexceptional.”
Running out of places to settle his gaze, Lee transferred it to Cally’s chest. Only a sliver of skin showed above her orange coverall but the promise of any fantasy outside of the officer’s ready room was enough to focus his attention. Unfortunately, from the corner of his eye Lee could surreptitiously follow Kara’s fruitless, and obviously half-hearted, struggle to escape Helo.
The whole shameful display seemed tailored to make Lee nauseous, not to mention painfully aware of one inescapable truth…in Helo’s place he probably would have strained something. Not that Lee was a lightweight. Most men would have trouble carrying Kara Thrace off against her will. Helo made it look easy. Of course, he had more height and brawn than most men and, Lee thought bitterly, was just generally manlier. This was probably the point Kara was trying to make with her ridiculously ineffectual squirming.
“Up here, Captain.”
“Hmmm?”
“My eyes.”
Lee blinked and raised his line of sight to meet Cally’s mischievous twinkle. “What about them?”
Cally sighed. She didn’t mind being ogled but truly hated being ignored. “Your primary injector is shot, sir.” She held out the dripping hunk of machinery for his inspection. “It must have happened last time out, that final kill. The turn was too steep. You’re lucky you didn’t rupture your own spleen, never mind the poor Viper’s.”
“Couldn’t let number eighteen get away.”
“I thought we didn’t keep score on Galactica,” Cally said, but Lee had drifted into dreamland again. It really was a wonder he was still alive. Shaking her head in dismay, she looked past his shoulder to Tyrol.
The Chief snorted derisively. “Don’t kid yourself. Just because our pilots don’t paint kill symbols on the side of their ships,” he said, sweeping a loving hand along the pristine nose of the Mark VII. “Doesn’t mean they aren’t keeping score.” He raised an eyebrow at the distracted C.A.G. as he asked, “An eighteen kill run is one better than Starbuck’s record, right, Captain? Which means she will be gunning for nineteen the next time and we’ll have to dig up some vital part for her Viper.”
“Maybe she can’t beat eighteen,” Lee mumbled, barely hearing the Chief.
A distressing thought had just occurred to him. Kara couldn’t know he’d docked, unless she’d noticed the Mark VII coming down or listened in on his radio transmissions. Was that too much to hope for? He’d listened in on her…once or twice. It would be even more surprising if she’d noticed his ship with all the other activity in the bay. She couldn’t have expected him home.
He was supposed to be searching for a way around the Cylon bases holding the fleet in this forsaken backwater of space. Kara couldn’t have foreseen the damage to his ship. Like him, she knew the mission was paramount. But, if she didn’t know Lee was there, then her floorshow with Helo wasn’t staged for his benefit. Which meant he would have to beat Helo senseless. No, it meant something else. Lee stared toward the corridor that had recently swallowed them. Lords, was she really frakking Helo? The thought cut into his chest, making him sick and weary.
Tyrol gave Lee’s back a quick up and down appraisal as he remarked snidely, “With all due respect, sir, maybe Viper parts will start falling out of my ass.”
A fight looking to happen, Lee pivoted aggressively, pinched mouth primed with explosive emotion. Tyrol, shuffling through a hasty backpedaling retreat, knocked his head on the Mark VII’s undercarriage. For a second everything balanced on a knife’s edge of split decisions. It took visible effort but Lee managed to check his impulse to lash out with his fists. Despite his stiff-kneed, attack dog bristle, he held his ground while he chewed over his first few ill-considered comments. His jaw muscles bunched and his blue eyes burned but he searched until he found a rational remark in his brain’s catalogue of rash reactions.
Using a velvet glove tone, he ground out one sentence. “I’ll try to put a damper on any unhealthy competition, Chief.”
Tyrol released the breath he’d been holding and gave a tense nod. It was the kind of barely perceptible tribute a man might offer a noted gunslinger. Lee holstered his anger, drew an equally audible breath and then turned to stride off across the hanger bay toward another ship.
Cally waited until he was well out of earshot before whistling softly and giving the Chief a sympathetic glance. “Is he on drugs?” she asked.
“He should be.”
“Do you think he’s going out again?”
“Not until he cools down,” Tyrol decided. He nodded toward the ship, Lee had commandeered. “Find something wrong with that Viper.”
Cally nodded agreement. As she scooted around him, she remarked, “And you know what? Helo, told me the Captain was getting laid.”
“Well, obviously, he’s not frakking the right girl,” Tyrol grumbled.
*********************************************************
An hour later, Lee ripped his clothes off and headed for the shower, wondering if this day could get any worse. Kara and Helo were somewhere having mind blowing sex. And now, apparently, there wasn’t a sound ship in the fleet. Folded arms braced into a steel wall, he let the hot spray pound the anger out of his muscles and the grime off his body. Dee didn’t like the smell of the cockpit.
Kara found it stimulating.
Damn. He had to stop doing that. No more Kara. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the comparison. Dee was the only woman who mattered now. Lee had, for the past four years, intentionally taken lovers as far from Kara’s physical type as he could manage. Dee was the most recent in a string of exotically beautiful women. There’d been red-heads and brunettes…delicate, graceful and entirely fashionable women. Women who would never even considered smoking a cigar.
Unless he asked…which he seldom did.
He didn’t like pretending. It only made the hunger worse. And he liked to think he was too much of a gentleman to risk a verbal slip. He paid attention to his lovers, kept his eyes open, especially in the throes of passion.
Lee pushed hard against the thought of what Kara would like…what she might be doing even now with Helo. He focused his thoughts on Dee. He could recall exactly how she’d looked last night, taut and panting under him. So beautiful she left him breathless. He held the picture of her in his mind, toffee skin and smoky green gaze, as he closed his eyes. The positive image faded to a negative one…Kara in a scrap of purple silk, wearing a bright smile and nothing else. Chin smeared with motor oil, cigar smoldering in her right hand, she reclined in queenly repose on the wing of her Viper.
Lee sighed in resignation. It was that frakking poster again, “Hot Pilots of the Winter Solstice.” Damn, Gaeta and his fleet news rag to the third circle of Eternal Torment. Grunting in frustration, Lee shoved away from the wall. He concentrated on lathering and scrubbing, trying to cleanse his soul of this obsession. He’d ripped down two more copies of Kara’s centerfold on the way to the showers. Starting next rotation, anyone caught with a copy of the magazine was going to pull a week of double duty.
As Lee roughly handled himself, the scene on the inside of his eyelids changed. It was still Kara but this time she was in the shower with him, purple silk clinging to her soap slicked skin. He grabbed her, yanked her into his arms, and kissed her, tongue sliding into her heat. She wrapped her long legs around his waist and…
Someone coughed.
Lee’s eyes snapped open. Kara was standing right in front of him, a few inches beyond his splash radius. For a moment his brain refused to process her. Unlike his fantasy, she was fully dressed, standing at ease and frowning slightly. Lee barely registered her reality until he saw her gaze dip. She caressed him with her eyes, slowly dragging her teeth across her lower lip. Lee felt his cock jump like the well-trained dog it was and quickly turned his back to her.
“You want something from me, Lieutenant?” he asked over his shoulder.
“You got nothing I want, sir,” she said as if her cheeky perusal had found him lacking. Lee very nearly pounced on her. But there was a good chance she’d use those steel-toed boots on him. And Kara could put a soapy, naked man at some disadvantage. From the edge of his vision, Lee saw her gesture vaguely toward the duty room. “The old man left you a message. He wants to meet. A.S.A.P.”
“In C.I.C.?”
“No, his quarters.”
“I’ll be there,” Lee told the wall. A few silent seconds later, he checked behind him and found her staring at his ass. “What?” he mouthed before remembering he probably didn’t want to know. “Dismissed!”
His bark inspired Kara to smirk at him before delivering a languid salute. Lee shook his head as she took her leave. Why did she always make him think about ancient forms of ship’s discipline? He finished his shower with a short burst of icy water. The cold draught banished his bondage fantasies. No Captain’s privilege. No chaining her to the mast. Feeling better, he wrapped a towel around his waist and padded on damp feet to his rack. There was no sign of Kara but her privacy curtain was looped to the side revealing an empty bed and the damned poster tacked to her wall.
Lee almost laughed at this brazen challenge. Was it a breech of regulations to post a display of your own body? Relaxing for the first time in days, he twitched the curtain down to hide the picture. She’d won a round. He didn’t need to suffer the implied criticism of her stare. He dried off, tossed his towel down the laundry shoot and dressed with quick efficiency. Out of the barracks in minutes, he was halfway to his father’s quarters when he remembered Dee. She’d left a note for him, too. It took time to locate a call box and forwarded a message to her.
Hurrying to make up for his side trip, Lee arrived at his father’s door a little out of breath. He smoothed a hand though his hair and, after checking the set of his jacket, knocked. Without waiting for a summons he pushed the door open. The room had a soft candlelit glow. His father and Kara were already seated in the two best chairs. Kara slouched cozily. The familial intimacy threatened to swamp Lee’s defenses as soon as he crossed the threshold and saw Kara smiling infectiously in response to whatever his father was saying. Lee’s gaze strayed to the dining table laid with three place settings. He reacted without checking his anger.
“If this is a social call, sir, I already have plans.”
Commander Adama looked up, surprised but not delighted by this opening salvo. “It’s not, Captain,” he said in a low rumble. He indicated the room’s least comfortable chair. “Please. Sit down.”
Taking a swig of her drink, Kara watched Lee over the rim of the glass as he stiffly obeyed his father’s command. The sweet ambrosia left a sticky sheen on her lips. She pressed them together, enjoying the slight pulling sensation. Pouting just a little, she dragged a fingertip along the curve of her mouth. The movement drew Lee’s eye and he sat mesmerized, thinking only of kissing her.
His father broke the spell. “I need the two of you to set aside your differences,” he began only to stop as Lee and Kara both spoke at once.
“I don’t have any differences…”
“He’s the one that started this whole…”
“Enough,” Adama said, very softly. He didn’t need to raise his voice. They both fell silent. “I don’t care who started it. I don’t care if you are both guilty or innocent or misunderstood. Neither of you are children. You’re fleet officers. My ship is in jeopardy. Every minute we stay in this quadrant we risk losing everything. The two of you will work together to get us past that disrupter line.”
Stiff necked and hollow cheeked, Lee inclined his head very slightly as he said, “Yes, sir.”
Kara offered an insolent lift of one shoulder. Then noting the Commander’s steady stare she came to a semblance of attention and also said, “Yes, sir.”
“We’ve wasted enough time searching for an alternate route.”
“What other option do we have?” Lee asked, already knowing the answer in his gut. “The disrupter beams interfere with FTL drives. We can’t jump until we clear their radius of influence.”
Kara said what he wouldn’t. “Take out the disrupters.”
Lee shook his head, fatalistically. “We’ve tried it. They’re shielded. Not even Galactica’s ordinance can get through.”
“No. But ships might. Raptors,” the Commander said solemnly. “Four raptors jumping in close. Each with a skeleton crew of two.”
“A suicide mission? With all due respect, sir, we don’t…”
“Not suicide.”
“Sabotage,” Kara guessed and was rewarded with a paternal smile from her Commander.
“Sabotage,” he repeated. “Each raptor will set down far enough away from the disrupter shields to avoid detection. Small teams, small risk. Our saboteurs will make their way to each bases and set off charges. If any two of the teams are successful, we should have a window in the beam and be able to jump.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“Iced,” the Commander agreed, “as the kids are saying.”
“Iced?” Lee raised a brow, a small smile on his lips.
Kara started to explain, “It means...”
Only to have Lee cut her off.
“I know what it means,” he said, with an exaggerated sigh and a cutting glance a twelve-year old would envy. Kara’s doubtful expression challenged him to prove it. “Slides down easy. No hang-ups, no fuss.” She shrugged, grudgingly accepting his definition and Lee turned back to his father. “You’d like us to suggest pilots?”
“No. Colonel Tigh and I have already put together teams based on individual skills. We are facing assorted challenges from these bases. I would, of course, like your input on the people we’ve chosen.” He stood, crossed to his desk and picked up a pile of papers. After settling most of the load on the dining table, he handed Lee three folders.
“I thought you said there were four teams,” Lee said, taking his seat at the table and flipping the first file open. Hot Dog’s face stared up at him from the top sheet.
When his father didn’t respond, Lee lifted his gaze to an even grimmer face than his own. With a sinking heart, he let his glance float toward Kara and they both put it together. Pinching the lip of her half-empty glass between finger and thumb, she rose from her chair to approach the table. Lee shifted in his seat, almost climbing the ladder back of his chair to avoid her. Sliding past him, to take her place she brushed his knee with her thigh. The soft contact sent a shiver up Lee’s spine.
“The two of you will be the fourth team,” his father said.
Lee opened his mouth to protest but Kara got there first. “Both of us? Is that a good idea? If we crash…”
“Don’t crash,” the Commander said, lowering his chin as if in prayer. “Don’t get captured. Don’t die in any of the many interesting ways offered by the planet’s atmosphere. If you do…I’ll lose something much more valuable to me than my two best pilots.”
Put like that there was little they could say to escape their fate. Lee, however, needed to know more.
“Why us?”
“The bases occupy vastly varied terrains. They are spread out on the moons and planets in this system.” The Commander used the side of his hand to roll a solar chart open on the table. “There is little we can do with the gas giant. The barren primary planet and the far orbiting moon need low-G training for space walks. Several members of the crew qualify. But the other two targets require specific abilities on the part of the teams. This one,” he said, indicating one of the moons on the chart, “is a high altitude climb.”
“Helo,” Kara murmured.
Lee resisted the insane urge to ask her if she really had frakked Helo. What if she told him more than he wanted to know?
“Yes, Mr. Agathon. And Mr. Gaeta.”
“Gaeta?” Lee snarled.
He didn’t believe it. Shoving papers aside, he snatched up the folder with the high altitude moon’s coordinates and dumped its contents. The report on Gaeta’s climbing experience slid out onto the tabletop. The list of peaks mastered spoke volumes. The little weasel was a frakking mountaineer. Kara leaned close to see which high altitude challenges Gaeta had taken on. It was a long list.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” she said, taking a moment to fondly caress Gaeta’s picture with her thumb.
“Isn’t that what they say about psychopathic killers?” Lee remarked soto voce before pointedly snatching the list and picture out of her grasp.
“Gaeta is a sweetheart,” Kara asserted in a sultry purr. “He let me keep that photo shoot dress.”
“It’s not a dress,” Lee said through clenched teeth. “You need more than a few inches of silk to call it a dress.”
“You haven’t had a good look at it,” Kara said, leaning very close to him. “If you would leave one of the posters up for two seconds…”
“Again we are drifting from the point,” Adama said. He tapped a finger on the map. “Lee is being overly protective, Kara. Because you’re family. I understand it even if it is ill considered. However, it is time to put all of this aside.”
“Yes, sir,” they said together.
Eyes downcast, Lee pinched the bridge of his nose. He held the pose for a moment, seeking some composure, before saying, “So I can assume you think Kara and I are uniquely suited to succeed with the other target.”
“You have the essential skills.”
Lee craned to read the chart, comparing it to the file his father had opened. The planet in question had a breathable atmosphere but a thin one. The orientation of the axis meant the heat of sunrise dropped quickly away as the day progressed, leaving sub-zero temperatures at night.
“An ice planet?”
“I’m a warm weather girl, sir.”
“You’ve had artic training. And Lee spent much of his childhood in the north.”
“Elius province is hardly the artic. Summer breaks and vacations, until I was ten? That hardly qualifies me for this.” Lee swept a dismissive hand over the map. “Surely, there are other people onboard with…”
“Yes,” Adama interrupted him. “If we had snow cats or sleds, or we could land a raptor close enough to hike in on snowshoes, any number of crewmen would be better qualified than you or Lt. Thrace. But the base is on an island, one of a chain, in the middle of a frozen sea. The approach will be difficult. You will have to cross the ice at night to mount your attack, moving at considerable speed. And there is nobody else on this ship with your skill on a Swan.”
“A Swan?” Kara’s eyes lit up and she sat forward in her chair.
“Ice Swans,” the Commander confirmed and for the first time he smiled broadly, certain of her delight.
“You have a Swan?” Lee asked, carefully.
“More than one,” Adjusting the set of his glasses, his father searched for and found a manifest listing. He pulled the list free of the other papers and handed it across the table to Kara. “Our choice of equipment is naturally limited. But one of the mining vessels, the Medusa, has five discontinued Ice Swans. Two of the four hundred series and, unfortunately, three six-sixties. You will need to patch together two working bikes from the five. And you will need to do it by this time tomorrow.”
Kara tilted the manifest so Lee could read it and he scooted his chair closer. She glanced up, smiling, and her inviting expression sent Lee’s mind back to the first day, the first moment he saw her smile like that.
**************************************************************
“Excuse me,” he said with polite authority, though he’d had difficulty tearing his straying gaze away from a Caprica City Olympiad advertisement sporting his own likeness. “I’m looking for,” he shifted his helmet to his right arm and consulted the name scrawled on his left palm, “A Lieutenant Thrace.”
The brig guard, a young man with a swatch of red hair and watery blue eyes, didn’t bother to glance up from his copy of Caprica Now. “Starbuck?”
Lee checked his left palm again. The ink had smeared into an unreadable smudge. “No…I think it was…Karen…Kara, maybe…? Let’s say, Kara.” He held his palm up to show the guard, who wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention.
“Starbuck,” the guard said. He gestured vaguely over his shoulder toward the hall behind him. “Third cell block on the left. Leave your weapons on the desk.”
“I’m not carrying. And I need to bail her out.”
Obviously inconvenienced by this request, the guard sighed mightily but he turned his reading material face down on the desk and sat forward in his chair. His fingers flew across computer keys for a few seconds. “Waste of time and money. She’ll be out this afternoon. Russo never presses charges.”
“Russo locks people up all the time?”
“Just Kara. If you want to bail her out it’ll be 18.53 local currency or 16 exact if you use Colonial standard.”
“Colonial,” Lee said, setting his helmet on the desk and leaning into the retinal scanner that had just risen before him like Aphrodite from the sea. He kept his stare steady as the beam hit his irises.
“I heard one of these malfunctioned on Virgon and burned right through some guy’s optic nerve,” the guard said, as the scanner beeped through the confirmation process. He added a helpful sizzling noise before reading the output screen. “Oh, hey! You’re him. Lee Adama. Zak’s brother? The one they call Apollo.” The guard turned and pointed at the banner ad for the Olympiad.
“Not really news to me,” Lee said, loftily. He was already weary of his celebrity. Hot, tired and in need of a shower, he briefly considered calling H.Q. to report the appalling lack of discipline at this station. But the effort was currently beyond him. “And I just drove over three hundred miles so if we could spring the lady…”
“No, but it’s funny. You coming here to bail out Starbuck when you’re the reason she’s doing time.”
“I’m the reason?”
“Sort of…there was some lose talk about your skill on the Swan last night in the canteen. Kara’s Base Champion, see? But she didn’t want to tangle with you…because you’re…”
“Fleet Champion?”
“Uh…no.” The guard actually chuckled at this. When Lee stared at him he stopped what he was doing, looking as if the very idea of this Starbuck person fearing Lee’s skill hadn’t occurred to him. He checked Lee’s pride by saying, “Because you’re Zak’s brother.”
“Ah,” Lee could feel his mood lifting. “And somehow this led to a bar fight?”
“Yeah,” The guard pushed a few more buttons and started processing Lt. Thrace for release. “I’m surprised Zak didn’t tell you all about it.”
“We didn’t have a lot of time to chat this morning. I was on the road. He was going before the review board for disciplinary action.”
“Oh, well, don’t worry about the board. Like I said, Russo is going to let them both off with a warning. Zak’s a first time offender and Kara never serves time for drunk and disorderly.”
“Never? She gets locked up a lot, does she?”
“Starbuck runs a little hot. But she’s the best pilot.”
Lee waited for the guard to finish his sentence. It took him a moment to realize it was finished. No qualifiers. Best pilot…period. It galled Lee to have his own skills dismissed out of hand. But he couldn’t blame the, as yet, unseen Lt. Thrace if some idiot guard tossed a gauntlet down at his feet.
The guard was speaking again. Holding out an orange plastic card, he said, “Take this back to the cell and collect her.”
Lee took the offered card and headed down the hall. He had no trouble finding the lieutenant. She was doing leg lifts while holding onto the crossbar near the top of her cell door. She stretched out like a sinner on the rack, her toes barely skimming the floor. Lee stood transfixed as she curled closed and jackknifed open again. She’d worked to a fine sheen of perspiration and her muscles slid smoothly under her skin.
“Lt. Thrace?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I…I’m Lee Adama,” he said, appalled by his slight stutter and the way he added, “Zak’s brother,” as if he needed to produce some further credentials to impress her.
She released her grip, dropping to land softly on the balls of her feet. Spinning elegantly to face him she saluted. Her smiled implied they’d shared a secret down through the ages. “Captain Adama, sir.” She drew his name and rank across her tongue, holding the syllables a little longer than necessary. “This is an honor.”
Heat burned in Lee’s cheeks. Women often sincerely admired him but Lt. Thrace’s saucy look held a challenge, a sly spark of humor, as if the honor was more his than hers. He swept her with a contemptuous assessment. His expression told her exactly what he thought of her. She was scruffy, barely attractive: too wide in the mouth, hips and shoulders. She lacked grace and breeding and, apparently, the good sense to stay out of prison. A slight twitch of her shoulders conceded his unspoken criticism and dismissed it as irrelevant.
Given the dangerous tension in his jaw, anyone who knew him would have taken a step back. But she sidled closer to the bars. She didn’t lower her gaze and her steady stare seemed to leech the certainty from him. She had a compelling directness, a sensual aura that made him decidedly uncomfortable. It had been years since anyone but his father had shaken him at his foundation, made him doubt he was good enough. He wondered if this Starbuck walked around challenging people, waiting for them to lash out at her.
The thought struck him as absurd and he laughed. Her smile widened, in response to his mood change, becoming one tinged with genuine affection. Lee felt curiously happy. He cocked his head and, flashing the bail card, waited for her to acknowledge it. After a second more, she dropped her line of sight and nodded toward a slot in the cell door. Sliding the card through the reader, he released the cell lock. Kara pushed the door open.
“Did you bring the 380?” she asked, eager as a child expecting a treat. She was already moving into the corridor, not waiting for him. Lee hurried to catch her.
“About that. I gather you ride?” He tried not to sneer as he said it. “But a 380 Swan is a delicate machine. Despite what Zak may believe I can’t take you as a passenger.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“There’s a balance issue.”
“I was born on a high wire. You want me to drive?”
“No! I don’t want you to drive. What kind of question…”
“Hey, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t let some stranger drive my Swan and it’s a lousy 420. But if you can’t handle a passenger…”
“The 420’s a good bike,” Lee said, skirting the issue. “Not a dog like the 600 series.”
“Oh, don’t get me started. Can you believe they sold the company?”
“It was a loss.”
“We won’t crash,” she assured him, returning to her argument. She waved a casual greeting at the guard as they entered the lobby on the way to collecting her belongings from a locker.
“Good hunting, Starbuck,” the guard called.
“See you at training in two days, Blinkie?”
The damned guard stood to attention and saluted. “Yes, sir. I’m going to make that turn this time, sir.”
“You’d better or I’ll bust you back to basic.”
“Uh,” Lee said, rushing to keep up as she shrugged into her jacket and headed for the exit which opened on bright sunshine. She’d paused just beyond the entryway and stood, breathing deep, apparently savoring her freedom. He bumped into her as he rushed the door and had to check sharply. “Look, my credit is good. I’ll put you in a cab.”
Her brittle predatory gaze targeted him again. “You and what squadron?”
Lee didn’t rise to the bait. “Or…you can make your own way home.”
“So, I’m walking because you don’t have the chops to take a passenger? What’s Zak going to say to that? The grand Apollo can’t control his chariot well enough to take me home?”
“This is not a question of my skill.”
“Yeah, well that ship won’t fly so you’d better come up with a better story.”
She started to walk away from him again. Frustrated, Lee grabbed at her elbow. “Hang on, we’re not finished.”
She turned into him, treading over all civilized borders, until they were nose to his nose. “We are,” she rumbled.
Her fingers curled into the leather of his jacket front. Lee felt his gut clench and his mouth water as her quick, hot breath pulsed against his upper lip. Her eyes were like fathomless pools. Lee thought he might suffocate, sliding into them, sliding into her world where a sharp punch did your talking for you. He really didn’t know how to explain brawling with his brother’s girl a few minutes after bailing her out of the brig.
“Zak is going to thank me for keeping you in one piece,” he said. His cold smile didn’t reach his eyes as he released her with a careless twist and push.
She lost her grip on him, stumbling slightly, but recovered the way a pushed tiger might. Lee thought about claws as she raked him over with coal-hot eyes. “Coward,” she said, in a low, dismissive way.
It was a true hit to his sensitive spot, the old charge that he was coddled, daddy's or mama's boy. He flinched from the implication, his heart hardening in an instant. As she turned away, he dropped his civilized veneer and seized her arm again. She squawked in surprise, obviously used to her audacity carrying the day. She struggled in vain to wrench free but, having learned his lesson, Lee offered her no opportunity to pivot closer to him. Instead put his shoulder into her back and force-marched her down the stairs. He yanked her around with a masculine brutality that was almost alien to him. The crossed the street corner to the parking area. When they neared his bike, he shoved her hard, propelling her toward it.
“You want to kill yourself?” he said. “Be my guest.”
She was learning, too. This time she didn’t stumble. Applying just enough resistance, she braked and stood rubbing her arm and glaring at him. He glared back until, quite suddenly, she cracked a manic smile.
“You’re going to let me ride your 380? Just like that?”
She didn’t sound like she believed he would. So, he nodded once, tersely and then watched amazed as she slowly circled the bike. Head tilted curiously, she placed each foot down as if she were treading on rice paper. She didn’t trust him. Lee was momentarily offended. Pulling a cigar from her jacket, she bit and spit and lit up. Then, she looked across the Swan at him. Shaking her head, she spoke around the stogie.
“Gods, you’re easy.”
“Easy?” he said, surprised. Nobody had ever considered him easy before. Hard-assed, stubborn, devious and cold…but never easy.
She pinched the cigar from her mouth and shrugged. “Come on, what are you going to ride tomorrow if I wreck your Swan? Zak has a week’s pay wagered on you.”
“Thought you said you wouldn’t wreck it.”
“I said we wouldn’t wreck. You drive. I’ll get your back.” She took another long drag on her smoke before dropping her hand to her side and letting the foul thing smolder.
“I don’t take passengers.”
“But you could,” she seemed to have settled the issue in her own mind. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Or isn’t the grand Apollo allowed to have fun?”
He met her teasing look, the sharp anger still seething behind his schooled expression and gave a tight little smile. “I’ll have to check the regulations,” he said. Holding her gaze, he pulled a small device from his pocket. Pointing the thing at the Swan, he pressed his thumb into the end to start the ignition. The engine hummed to life and the 380 spoke a greeting.
-Hello, Captain.-
“Personal identity ignition.” Kara sounded impressed. “So I couldn’t have roared off with your pretty machine.”
“Coward, remember,” Lee said, with a bitter edge to his voice. “Not a fool.”
She dipped her head to one side, chuckling over his anger. “You pushed my buttons,” she admitted.
“Did I?”
She gave him nothing more, just stood there smoking while she considered his ride.
“What would it have done to me?” she finally asked, nodding toward the purring Swan. “If I’d been crazy enough to touch it?”
“Incapacitating shock.” He shrugged. “I’d have dumped you in a cab.”
The cigar fell to the pavement and bounced as her hand rose, swift and sure, to where she probably wore her sidearm. She didn’t have a gun. But her fingers twitched slightly as if they itched to draw on him. Lee was suddenly very glad things hadn’t gone as he’d planned. He wouldn’t want to see her vengeful. She didn’t look at all forgiving. The tip of her tongue traced along her lower lip. Cigar smoke furled up from between her braced feet to wreath her in grey.
“You pushed my buttons,” Lee said and saw her relax a little.
“I guess Zak got all the charm.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
Keeping an eye on her and avoiding any sudden moves, he slid his hand down the curve of the Swan’s chassis. His fingers found the latch for the boot. Opening it, he extracted his racing helmet and handed it across the bike to her. Once again she assessed his offer with cool detachment. “Take it,” he urged. She didn’t react for another breath or two and then she came out of her fighting stance and reached for the helmet.
Lee didn't release his grip immediately. He held on, pulling her attention to his face, “You’re base champion?”
“Want to see my laurels?”
A quick, almost bashful, smile warmed Lee’s eyes, transforming him into a Zak’s older brother. Kara leaned toward him, caught off guard by his boyish allure. He shook his head ruefully as he let go of the helmet. When she'd strapped it on, he slapped the Swan saddle in invitation. His smile widened into a grin when she obediently dropped a leg over his bike and settled back on its curved chassis.
Two minutes later he had no reason at all to doubt her claim. His seat against her was surprisingly soft. All of her hard edges seemed to melt into yielding heat. She flowed effortlessly with him as the Swan glided through a few tight turns. They took back roads, learning all there was to know about each other. Kara snuggled closer and let her arms slide down his body as their weight shifted. She began to anticipate his reactions, timing hers to compliment them. Sooner than Lee would have believed possible he was steering them toward the highway. They hit smooth pavement and picked up speed.
The familiar kick of adrenaline hit Lee low in his belly as the Swan responded under him, surging forward. They darted through traffic, skimming between huge transports with black-toothed grills. Kara added a thrilling new dimension to the ride. Lee knew her slightest miscalculation, a zig to his zag, would send them tumbling, spin them under crushing wheels. He tried not to think about it. It didn't seem likely to happen.
Kara seemed to know his mind better than he did. She anticipated when he would turn, where he meant to go, which slot between vehicles he would take. Riding him, she became part of the bike, like the Goddess of Swans, almost uniting him organically with his machine. He rode her, too, pushed her like the pedal under his foot. Chin nested in the dip of his shoulder, she rested her arm along his. At first, gripping his forearm, and then, when they accelerated, sliding her fingers down to cup his on the throttle.
The base exit arrived too soon for Lee. A week would have been too soon for him. He wanted to go on riding, for days, until they lost power and coasted. Until they slid exhausted from the saddle and spilled onto soft grass somewhere. But he could feel Kara yearning toward the exit. He sat taller in the saddle, rotating his hips forward to slow their momentum. She shifted her grip, pushed her soft thighs into his ass as they braked. They did a final dance through the base streets before coming to a stop at the barracks.
Unnaturally frigid air seemed to rush into Kara’s place as she peeled free of him. Lee shivered at the loss of warmth and intimacy. Turning his head, he watched her smooth dismount. She stripped his helmet from her head and combed a hand through her tangled hair.
Lee’s mouth ached with a dry need. He could barely speak. “That was…” Words failed him but he knew if she looked at him she would find a world of meaning in his face. Riding with her wasn’t better than sex. It was sex.
She didn’t look at him, though, as she praised him, “You’re good. Maybe better than me.”
Focused on something beyond his shoulder, she absently handed him the helmet. As he took it, Lee turned to follow her gaze. A lump lodged in his throat. Zak was standing on the far side of the street. Reality smacked Lee hard. He’d been lusting after his brother’s girlfriend. He was worse than a coward. Lee watched Zak shake free from a crowd of nuggets and start toward them. Kara skirted the Swan, rushing to fall into his arms. After a heated kiss, she tossed a bone at Lee.
“Do you want to take the 440 out after dinner?” she asked, still looking at his brother. “See how you do as passenger?”
“Oh, Great!” Zak moaned theatrically. “I knew this would happen. Lee buzzes into town on his shiny 380 and steals my girl. Can I have nothing of my own?” He pushed Kara to arms length and playfully accused her, “Admit it! You love my brother!”
“Do not,” Kara huffed, with some good humor.
“Do so,” Zak countered, catching her in the crook of his arm and stepping toward Lee. He held out his hand even as he declared, “You, sir, are a weasel.”
Lee couldn’t help grinning as he dismounted and stashed his spare helmet. He’d missed his dramatic little brother. “I am the Overlord, remember?” he said, recalling their childhood games.
“Gods, yes,” Zak declared. He turned to Kara, caressing her cheek as he explained the reference, “Do you know he used to make me call him that for days after a victory? It was sheer torment.” He switched to a bombastic tone and announced, “Now, comes the Overlord to the dining table. All hail his magnificence.”
Lee chuckled over the evilness of his youth. He reached his free arm around Kara, casually ruffling her hair, and drew his brother into a bear hug.
“If I win tomorrow you will refer to me by my rightful title,” he declared. “Or your woman shall be mine.”
“If you win?” Zak pushed him violently away. “When you win! There is no doubt. So say we all.”
Kara gave Lee a very strange look before allowing Zak’s arms to comfort her. As he kissed her forehead she repeated very softly, “So say we all.”
One of the nuggets in Zak’s party called for Lee’s attention. He turned humor free eyes toward the camera and the nugget snapped a picture.
*********************************************************
Lee looked down at his untouched plate of food. “If that’s all, Commander. I need to make one stop before we leave.”
Remembering the same thing he was, Kara sat still and quiet. Her lowered gaze was carefully fixed on the file in her hand. Adama looked from her to his son and then nodded.
“Of course. Dee was in the observation lounge earlier. Go make your excuses.”
Lee stood, snapped a salute to his father and then darted a glance at the apparently oblivious Kara. When she didn’t spare him a look, he pulled into his shell again and left hurriedly.
As soon as the door closed behind his departing son, the Commander spoke again.
“Petty Officer Dualla is a nice girl,” he said.
“Great.” Kara nodded, her mouth set in a sickly smile.
“Not right for my son.”
“Not really up to you.”
“True.” He said nothing further but went on staring at her with kind eyes until she had to fill the silence with words.
“This mission? It’s risky.”
He didn't want to talk about the mission. “I was wondering if you remembered the day Lee won the Caprica City Rally Cup?”
“I remember you didn’t make it,” she said, cuttingly.
“I know.” His deep baritone was rich with regret. “I was on maneuvers. I thought my duty was more important than my family. It was a mistake.” He focused for a brief moment on the distant past, days he regretted, before turning his curious attention on her again. “But I’ve seen the pictures. You have one in your berth, on the mirror.”
Kara squirmed uncertainly. “It was Zak’s. From the day before…when Lee arrived?” The commander nodded. “Zak said it was his favorite because…” Her voice cracked and she reached for her drink, taking a quick gulp.
“Because you and Lee are both so happy in it?”
Head tilted, vision clouded over with a film of tears, she pressed the back of her hand to her brow and mouthed, “I guess.” She wouldn't call Lee's expression happy.
“Tell me about that day.”
She lowered her hand and laughed in a mocking way. “Sir, Lee and I are fine. We’re friends.”
It didn’t sound plausible. They could never be friends anymore than they could have been family. She took a moment to fork up some noodles from her plate, hoping the conversation would turn to another topic. Adama continued to look on her with fatherly affection, not backing down from his request, and after chewing and swallowing, she launched into an abbreviated version of the story.
“Lee won the Cup.” She shrugged. “Because…you’re right about his skills on a Swan. I’m good but he’s the best. He could have turned professional.”
“You were in the brig? When he arrived in town?”
“Uh…” She wondered who’d told him. Tigh?
“Lee wrote to his mother. She wrote to me. I was told not to expect much to come out of your relationship with Zak.”
Kara slammed her fork down. “The bastard. He had no right…”
“He was concerned for his brother. He had every right. But it was his mother who paraphrased Lee’s assessment. Caroline didn’t approve of your affect on the boys.”
“Affect?” Kara shook her head over the word. Her mouth twisted from the sudden searing ache under her ribs. Her own mother's harsh judgements echoed in her memory, but she closed off those thoughts and picked up her fork again, viciously spearing at her salad.
“Tell me the story.”
“Zak and I were in a bar the day before the Cup. A brawl broke out. Zak got free of it but violated barracks lock down. I clocked Staff Sergeant Russo and got hauled in for the night. Russo always had a soft spot for me,” she touched her chin with the fork handle to indicate the exact place, “Right here on the jaw.” The commander chuckled, appreciatively. Kara punched out with a quick jab to further illustrate her point.
“Pow! Down she goes. Next morning, I wake up in the brig with the mother of all hangovers. I pop a few Brachiax tablets. Down some juice. I’m doing pull-ups in my cell when I hear…’Excuse me. Do you know where I can find a Lieutenant Thrace?’ It’s Lee, bailing me out. He had that attitude…?”
She paused to let Adama acknowledge the attitude. He spoke with some shadow of pain in his voice, “Like he’s beyond your reach? Untouchable?”
“That one, yeah. But, after a bit of arguing, I touch him, I guess, 'cause he agrees to take me home.”
“On the 380?” Kara’s expression was bold, daring him to make something out of a simple ride home. Not one to back down from a challenge, he did, “Lee loved that bike. He never let anyone touch it much less ride it.”
Kara placed her fork down very carefully, lining it up with her glass, and met her commander’s eye. “Yeah, well…he’s your son. Wound too tight. Always has been.” Her gaze strayed to the shift clock. “If that’s all, sir? I should go pack my gear.”
“You should.” He rose with her and casually returned her salute. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again without speaking. He watched her stride to the door. As she pulled back the hatch handle, he said her name, so softly it couldn’t be mistaken for a command. Kara stilled, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t she turned reluctantly back to face him. The candlelight etched deep craters in his skin. He looked ancient, carved by hard weather, and weary.
“Bring him home again,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
********************************************************
Feeling emotionally bruised, Kara halted a few long strides beyond Commander Adama’s door, furious at the old man.
‘Bring him home?’ What the hell did that mean? Lee Adama could take care of himself. He was a pain in her ass not her frakking brother. Dualla wasn’t the right girl? Was she supposed to ‘bring him home’ from that, too?
How? Find him a more suitable girl? Or ‘bring him home’ to her bed with the blessing of his family? Talk about mixed signals. She’d always assumed Adama would rage against her twisted relationship with Lee. He loved Zak so much. Now, suddenly, he’d turned matchmaker? She spit out a curse encompassing all of the Adama men, even Zak, and spun on her heel to stomp toward the head.
The wrong girl caught Kara’s eye as soon as she stormed into the bathroom. She slammed to a halt already tuning on her heel to leave but Dee glanced up, meeting her gaze in the mirror and holding it.
“Kara, wait,” she said, water dripping from her chin. Kara froze for a moment but quickly recovered her composure. She slunk toward the nearest empty stall, determined to avoid any emotional entanglements. Dee snatched up a towel and intercepted her. While blotting her face dry, she asked. “Have you seen Lee?”
“We had dinner,” Kara said, ducking toward privacy. A wicked streak in her nature made her pause as she reached the stall before adding, “To discuss the mission. Commander’s orders.”
“You’re going together,” Dee said, softly, her hand catching Kara’s stall door before it could close. “You and Lee are the final team.”
Neither sentence formed a question. So, Kara didn’t bother responding. She just tugged at the door until Dee released it.
Dee sighed. This was going to be harder than she’d imagined. How to begin? The stall door told her nothing. She walked back to the sink, turned a faucet on again and unbuttoned her jacket. The mirror reflected her calm certainty. She was the other woman. As difficult as this conversation would be, they had to have it or they wouldn’t be able to work through this.
“It’s over,” she said, raising her voice to carry. “The…what shall we call it…? The affair?”
After a long pause, Kara flushed. When the venting-to-space clamber ended, she inquired mildly, “Just like that?”
Dee smiled wistfully at her own reflection. “Are you surprised?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think you would be. That was part of the problem.”
Kara came out of the stall, zipping up. As she approached the sinks, she prompted, “There were problems?”
“Yes,” Dee said, gently. “But not the ones you’d imagine.” Kara met her eyes in the mirror again. The reflection sharpened Dee’s generally perceptive gaze to a dagger point. Her bitter smile told Kara that she, too, could draw blood, if she chose. “He’s great in bed,” she said. “Makes my knees go all wobbly.”
Pinching her eyes closed and breathing shallowly to abate the pain, Kara murmured. “So, I’ve heard.”
“Heard or know?” Dee asked.
Kara recoiled ever so slightly but she didn’t open her eyes. She pressed her lips into a thin line, holding everything inside. A soft dew of perspiration graced her neckline.
She knows, Dee thought, and nodded. It came together in her mind and only shocked her for a moment. The shock was wrapped up in what she knew about the Commander and his sons. How could they have kept this secret from him all these years? Had it happened before Lee’s brother died? Or in that tiny window afterward before Kara came aboard Galactica?
“He keeps his eyes open,” Dee said when it became clear Kara wasn’t going to admit to an affair of her own. “When we kiss. When he…climaxes. All the time.”
Kara’s lashes fluttered, showing the slits of her eyes, as she hissed, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you don’t seem to know, to understand, what you’re doing to him,” Dee said. She took a deep cleansing gulp of air, steeling her resolve, and rushed out the final humiliation. “He can’t close his eyes when he’s with me. Because he’ll forget I’m there.” She felt no pain as she said it, but there was shame and an empty place in her midsection. She’d let this happen. Let him come to her slow and easy and sweet, when she needed all of that. “In the dark, he thinks only of you.” Finished with confessions and her abbreviated bath, she wadded up the wash cloth for recycling and, lifting the bin lid, dropped it in.
“Lee and I are friends,” Kara said, finally finding the courage to look at her own reflection. She wondered why she had to keep telling people the same thing over and over again.
Dee shook her head, unable to believe how dense this woman was. She stepped into Kara’s personal space, drawing her gaze. Moving slowly, gently, as if comforting a lost child, she placed a firm hand on Kara’s forearm and squeezed, asking, “Are you jealous?”
“I…? No!” Kara yanked free of Dee’s hold.
“Do you want to hurt him?”
“Yes,” the breathy confession escaped before Kara could check it. Remorse made her reel as the thought of losing him hit her and she immediately recanted. “No, I just want him to…give me time…space…”
“How much time and space will it take before you forget him? Move on?” Dee swept her arm in an arc. “You can’t breath. He can’t see.” Kara blinked as Dee stepped back a little and brought her point home. “You’re not friends.”
Could love really be so simple, Kara wondered? So painfully simple? Did it all came down to this cold clenching in her throat when she thought of Lee with this woman, with any other woman? She stood silent and wary, a wild thing trapped by truth and circumstance. She watched as Dee fastened jacket snaps and buckles. Back in uniform, Dee smiled up at her.
“Do you feel better, now?”
“No! I don’t feel better. I feel…” Kara broke off, breathing heavily, and raked a hand through her hair. She wasn’t about to start soul searching with Lee’s ex. She would rather face a firing squad. But she couldn’t help peering into the mirror, into the dark churning in her heart, seeking some light of truth.
“Confused?” Dee encouraged, with a complete lack of animosity. “Frustrated? Hopeful?”
“Pissed off,” Kara suggested, glaring at her.
Dee nodded, sagely. “That’s the other part of what happened last night,” she said, moving past Kara toward the door. “I realized something.”
“What?” Kara asked, cursing herself for the weakness of having to know.
“I wasn’t pissed off,” Dee said, tossing the tidbit over her shoulder. She paused before leaving, unable to suppress the merry sparkle in her eyes as she took a free breath.
“That’s how I knew,” she said. “Lee and I are friends.”
END THIS PART
Hopefully, I will get the next part to you very soon.
Rae
By Rabid1st
BSG – K/L
RATING: NC-17, baby!
BETA BABE:Dualbunny and Winter_Queen82
SPOILERS: I don’t think this fic has spoilers other than aired S2. But there is speculation of the coupling kind based on S2: Flight of the Phoenix.
SUMMARY:This is a ‘nugget slang’ fic and a sequel to Shoot Your Shade. Which was a sequel to Burn the Pipe. Lee shot his shade (overreacted) last time out when he learned about Anders and dumped Kara cold. Now the path to togetherness is about to be iced...made smooth and easy.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own these characters. They belong to the SciFi Channel, R&D and Ron Moore…whose e-mail address I don’t know. So, I can’t really ask him for permission or anything. But I’m not making any money or perks off of these characters…so please don’t sue me.
PART ONE
Helo felt responsible for the breakup. Or whatever the hell Kara and Lee were calling the barbed wire fences between them. Even after Kara told him to stop being such an ass, he continued blaming himself. The fifty-third time Helo blamed himself Kara smacked the side of his head.
This led to an exchange of slapstick pokes. Playful pushing escalated into wrestling. The scuffle became a tag-and-tickle game and roamed across the hanger bay, ending only when a jostled Chief Tyrol told the roughhousing pair to do everyone a favor and get a room. After freeing an arm to salute, Helo turned a diabolic grin on a protesting, but still smiling, Kara. She was backing away, both arms up in mock surrender, when Helo dipped his shoulder into her midsection and hoisted her from her feet. Balancing her in a fireman’s carry, he tackled the ladder to the barracks passageway. At one point in the ascent, the almighty Starbuck squealed.
Lee’s trigger finger itched.
He rubbed his hand along his jacket seam and, swallowing hard, tried to focus on Cally. She’d explained his power problem three times but meaning wasn’t sinking in. His attention kept wandering, first, to the infuriatingly girlish Starbuck and then, to the bane of his current existence. As he turned away from the Helo spectacle, he’d seen it. It was partially obscured by a tool chest on the far side of the hanger. The chest door stood ajar but behind it Kara Thrace sprawled in all her glory. One of the knuckle-draggers had the poster up. Lee longed to rip the offensive thing down but he knew better than to start a scene over a magazine centerfold his own father had called “unexceptional.”
Running out of places to settle his gaze, Lee transferred it to Cally’s chest. Only a sliver of skin showed above her orange coverall but the promise of any fantasy outside of the officer’s ready room was enough to focus his attention. Unfortunately, from the corner of his eye Lee could surreptitiously follow Kara’s fruitless, and obviously half-hearted, struggle to escape Helo.
The whole shameful display seemed tailored to make Lee nauseous, not to mention painfully aware of one inescapable truth…in Helo’s place he probably would have strained something. Not that Lee was a lightweight. Most men would have trouble carrying Kara Thrace off against her will. Helo made it look easy. Of course, he had more height and brawn than most men and, Lee thought bitterly, was just generally manlier. This was probably the point Kara was trying to make with her ridiculously ineffectual squirming.
“Up here, Captain.”
“Hmmm?”
“My eyes.”
Lee blinked and raised his line of sight to meet Cally’s mischievous twinkle. “What about them?”
Cally sighed. She didn’t mind being ogled but truly hated being ignored. “Your primary injector is shot, sir.” She held out the dripping hunk of machinery for his inspection. “It must have happened last time out, that final kill. The turn was too steep. You’re lucky you didn’t rupture your own spleen, never mind the poor Viper’s.”
“Couldn’t let number eighteen get away.”
“I thought we didn’t keep score on Galactica,” Cally said, but Lee had drifted into dreamland again. It really was a wonder he was still alive. Shaking her head in dismay, she looked past his shoulder to Tyrol.
The Chief snorted derisively. “Don’t kid yourself. Just because our pilots don’t paint kill symbols on the side of their ships,” he said, sweeping a loving hand along the pristine nose of the Mark VII. “Doesn’t mean they aren’t keeping score.” He raised an eyebrow at the distracted C.A.G. as he asked, “An eighteen kill run is one better than Starbuck’s record, right, Captain? Which means she will be gunning for nineteen the next time and we’ll have to dig up some vital part for her Viper.”
“Maybe she can’t beat eighteen,” Lee mumbled, barely hearing the Chief.
A distressing thought had just occurred to him. Kara couldn’t know he’d docked, unless she’d noticed the Mark VII coming down or listened in on his radio transmissions. Was that too much to hope for? He’d listened in on her…once or twice. It would be even more surprising if she’d noticed his ship with all the other activity in the bay. She couldn’t have expected him home.
He was supposed to be searching for a way around the Cylon bases holding the fleet in this forsaken backwater of space. Kara couldn’t have foreseen the damage to his ship. Like him, she knew the mission was paramount. But, if she didn’t know Lee was there, then her floorshow with Helo wasn’t staged for his benefit. Which meant he would have to beat Helo senseless. No, it meant something else. Lee stared toward the corridor that had recently swallowed them. Lords, was she really frakking Helo? The thought cut into his chest, making him sick and weary.
Tyrol gave Lee’s back a quick up and down appraisal as he remarked snidely, “With all due respect, sir, maybe Viper parts will start falling out of my ass.”
A fight looking to happen, Lee pivoted aggressively, pinched mouth primed with explosive emotion. Tyrol, shuffling through a hasty backpedaling retreat, knocked his head on the Mark VII’s undercarriage. For a second everything balanced on a knife’s edge of split decisions. It took visible effort but Lee managed to check his impulse to lash out with his fists. Despite his stiff-kneed, attack dog bristle, he held his ground while he chewed over his first few ill-considered comments. His jaw muscles bunched and his blue eyes burned but he searched until he found a rational remark in his brain’s catalogue of rash reactions.
Using a velvet glove tone, he ground out one sentence. “I’ll try to put a damper on any unhealthy competition, Chief.”
Tyrol released the breath he’d been holding and gave a tense nod. It was the kind of barely perceptible tribute a man might offer a noted gunslinger. Lee holstered his anger, drew an equally audible breath and then turned to stride off across the hanger bay toward another ship.
Cally waited until he was well out of earshot before whistling softly and giving the Chief a sympathetic glance. “Is he on drugs?” she asked.
“He should be.”
“Do you think he’s going out again?”
“Not until he cools down,” Tyrol decided. He nodded toward the ship, Lee had commandeered. “Find something wrong with that Viper.”
Cally nodded agreement. As she scooted around him, she remarked, “And you know what? Helo, told me the Captain was getting laid.”
“Well, obviously, he’s not frakking the right girl,” Tyrol grumbled.
*********************************************************
An hour later, Lee ripped his clothes off and headed for the shower, wondering if this day could get any worse. Kara and Helo were somewhere having mind blowing sex. And now, apparently, there wasn’t a sound ship in the fleet. Folded arms braced into a steel wall, he let the hot spray pound the anger out of his muscles and the grime off his body. Dee didn’t like the smell of the cockpit.
Kara found it stimulating.
Damn. He had to stop doing that. No more Kara. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the comparison. Dee was the only woman who mattered now. Lee had, for the past four years, intentionally taken lovers as far from Kara’s physical type as he could manage. Dee was the most recent in a string of exotically beautiful women. There’d been red-heads and brunettes…delicate, graceful and entirely fashionable women. Women who would never even considered smoking a cigar.
Unless he asked…which he seldom did.
He didn’t like pretending. It only made the hunger worse. And he liked to think he was too much of a gentleman to risk a verbal slip. He paid attention to his lovers, kept his eyes open, especially in the throes of passion.
Lee pushed hard against the thought of what Kara would like…what she might be doing even now with Helo. He focused his thoughts on Dee. He could recall exactly how she’d looked last night, taut and panting under him. So beautiful she left him breathless. He held the picture of her in his mind, toffee skin and smoky green gaze, as he closed his eyes. The positive image faded to a negative one…Kara in a scrap of purple silk, wearing a bright smile and nothing else. Chin smeared with motor oil, cigar smoldering in her right hand, she reclined in queenly repose on the wing of her Viper.
Lee sighed in resignation. It was that frakking poster again, “Hot Pilots of the Winter Solstice.” Damn, Gaeta and his fleet news rag to the third circle of Eternal Torment. Grunting in frustration, Lee shoved away from the wall. He concentrated on lathering and scrubbing, trying to cleanse his soul of this obsession. He’d ripped down two more copies of Kara’s centerfold on the way to the showers. Starting next rotation, anyone caught with a copy of the magazine was going to pull a week of double duty.
As Lee roughly handled himself, the scene on the inside of his eyelids changed. It was still Kara but this time she was in the shower with him, purple silk clinging to her soap slicked skin. He grabbed her, yanked her into his arms, and kissed her, tongue sliding into her heat. She wrapped her long legs around his waist and…
Someone coughed.
Lee’s eyes snapped open. Kara was standing right in front of him, a few inches beyond his splash radius. For a moment his brain refused to process her. Unlike his fantasy, she was fully dressed, standing at ease and frowning slightly. Lee barely registered her reality until he saw her gaze dip. She caressed him with her eyes, slowly dragging her teeth across her lower lip. Lee felt his cock jump like the well-trained dog it was and quickly turned his back to her.
“You want something from me, Lieutenant?” he asked over his shoulder.
“You got nothing I want, sir,” she said as if her cheeky perusal had found him lacking. Lee very nearly pounced on her. But there was a good chance she’d use those steel-toed boots on him. And Kara could put a soapy, naked man at some disadvantage. From the edge of his vision, Lee saw her gesture vaguely toward the duty room. “The old man left you a message. He wants to meet. A.S.A.P.”
“In C.I.C.?”
“No, his quarters.”
“I’ll be there,” Lee told the wall. A few silent seconds later, he checked behind him and found her staring at his ass. “What?” he mouthed before remembering he probably didn’t want to know. “Dismissed!”
His bark inspired Kara to smirk at him before delivering a languid salute. Lee shook his head as she took her leave. Why did she always make him think about ancient forms of ship’s discipline? He finished his shower with a short burst of icy water. The cold draught banished his bondage fantasies. No Captain’s privilege. No chaining her to the mast. Feeling better, he wrapped a towel around his waist and padded on damp feet to his rack. There was no sign of Kara but her privacy curtain was looped to the side revealing an empty bed and the damned poster tacked to her wall.
Lee almost laughed at this brazen challenge. Was it a breech of regulations to post a display of your own body? Relaxing for the first time in days, he twitched the curtain down to hide the picture. She’d won a round. He didn’t need to suffer the implied criticism of her stare. He dried off, tossed his towel down the laundry shoot and dressed with quick efficiency. Out of the barracks in minutes, he was halfway to his father’s quarters when he remembered Dee. She’d left a note for him, too. It took time to locate a call box and forwarded a message to her.
Hurrying to make up for his side trip, Lee arrived at his father’s door a little out of breath. He smoothed a hand though his hair and, after checking the set of his jacket, knocked. Without waiting for a summons he pushed the door open. The room had a soft candlelit glow. His father and Kara were already seated in the two best chairs. Kara slouched cozily. The familial intimacy threatened to swamp Lee’s defenses as soon as he crossed the threshold and saw Kara smiling infectiously in response to whatever his father was saying. Lee’s gaze strayed to the dining table laid with three place settings. He reacted without checking his anger.
“If this is a social call, sir, I already have plans.”
Commander Adama looked up, surprised but not delighted by this opening salvo. “It’s not, Captain,” he said in a low rumble. He indicated the room’s least comfortable chair. “Please. Sit down.”
Taking a swig of her drink, Kara watched Lee over the rim of the glass as he stiffly obeyed his father’s command. The sweet ambrosia left a sticky sheen on her lips. She pressed them together, enjoying the slight pulling sensation. Pouting just a little, she dragged a fingertip along the curve of her mouth. The movement drew Lee’s eye and he sat mesmerized, thinking only of kissing her.
His father broke the spell. “I need the two of you to set aside your differences,” he began only to stop as Lee and Kara both spoke at once.
“I don’t have any differences…”
“He’s the one that started this whole…”
“Enough,” Adama said, very softly. He didn’t need to raise his voice. They both fell silent. “I don’t care who started it. I don’t care if you are both guilty or innocent or misunderstood. Neither of you are children. You’re fleet officers. My ship is in jeopardy. Every minute we stay in this quadrant we risk losing everything. The two of you will work together to get us past that disrupter line.”
Stiff necked and hollow cheeked, Lee inclined his head very slightly as he said, “Yes, sir.”
Kara offered an insolent lift of one shoulder. Then noting the Commander’s steady stare she came to a semblance of attention and also said, “Yes, sir.”
“We’ve wasted enough time searching for an alternate route.”
“What other option do we have?” Lee asked, already knowing the answer in his gut. “The disrupter beams interfere with FTL drives. We can’t jump until we clear their radius of influence.”
Kara said what he wouldn’t. “Take out the disrupters.”
Lee shook his head, fatalistically. “We’ve tried it. They’re shielded. Not even Galactica’s ordinance can get through.”
“No. But ships might. Raptors,” the Commander said solemnly. “Four raptors jumping in close. Each with a skeleton crew of two.”
“A suicide mission? With all due respect, sir, we don’t…”
“Not suicide.”
“Sabotage,” Kara guessed and was rewarded with a paternal smile from her Commander.
“Sabotage,” he repeated. “Each raptor will set down far enough away from the disrupter shields to avoid detection. Small teams, small risk. Our saboteurs will make their way to each bases and set off charges. If any two of the teams are successful, we should have a window in the beam and be able to jump.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“Iced,” the Commander agreed, “as the kids are saying.”
“Iced?” Lee raised a brow, a small smile on his lips.
Kara started to explain, “It means...”
Only to have Lee cut her off.
“I know what it means,” he said, with an exaggerated sigh and a cutting glance a twelve-year old would envy. Kara’s doubtful expression challenged him to prove it. “Slides down easy. No hang-ups, no fuss.” She shrugged, grudgingly accepting his definition and Lee turned back to his father. “You’d like us to suggest pilots?”
“No. Colonel Tigh and I have already put together teams based on individual skills. We are facing assorted challenges from these bases. I would, of course, like your input on the people we’ve chosen.” He stood, crossed to his desk and picked up a pile of papers. After settling most of the load on the dining table, he handed Lee three folders.
“I thought you said there were four teams,” Lee said, taking his seat at the table and flipping the first file open. Hot Dog’s face stared up at him from the top sheet.
When his father didn’t respond, Lee lifted his gaze to an even grimmer face than his own. With a sinking heart, he let his glance float toward Kara and they both put it together. Pinching the lip of her half-empty glass between finger and thumb, she rose from her chair to approach the table. Lee shifted in his seat, almost climbing the ladder back of his chair to avoid her. Sliding past him, to take her place she brushed his knee with her thigh. The soft contact sent a shiver up Lee’s spine.
“The two of you will be the fourth team,” his father said.
Lee opened his mouth to protest but Kara got there first. “Both of us? Is that a good idea? If we crash…”
“Don’t crash,” the Commander said, lowering his chin as if in prayer. “Don’t get captured. Don’t die in any of the many interesting ways offered by the planet’s atmosphere. If you do…I’ll lose something much more valuable to me than my two best pilots.”
Put like that there was little they could say to escape their fate. Lee, however, needed to know more.
“Why us?”
“The bases occupy vastly varied terrains. They are spread out on the moons and planets in this system.” The Commander used the side of his hand to roll a solar chart open on the table. “There is little we can do with the gas giant. The barren primary planet and the far orbiting moon need low-G training for space walks. Several members of the crew qualify. But the other two targets require specific abilities on the part of the teams. This one,” he said, indicating one of the moons on the chart, “is a high altitude climb.”
“Helo,” Kara murmured.
Lee resisted the insane urge to ask her if she really had frakked Helo. What if she told him more than he wanted to know?
“Yes, Mr. Agathon. And Mr. Gaeta.”
“Gaeta?” Lee snarled.
He didn’t believe it. Shoving papers aside, he snatched up the folder with the high altitude moon’s coordinates and dumped its contents. The report on Gaeta’s climbing experience slid out onto the tabletop. The list of peaks mastered spoke volumes. The little weasel was a frakking mountaineer. Kara leaned close to see which high altitude challenges Gaeta had taken on. It was a long list.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” she said, taking a moment to fondly caress Gaeta’s picture with her thumb.
“Isn’t that what they say about psychopathic killers?” Lee remarked soto voce before pointedly snatching the list and picture out of her grasp.
“Gaeta is a sweetheart,” Kara asserted in a sultry purr. “He let me keep that photo shoot dress.”
“It’s not a dress,” Lee said through clenched teeth. “You need more than a few inches of silk to call it a dress.”
“You haven’t had a good look at it,” Kara said, leaning very close to him. “If you would leave one of the posters up for two seconds…”
“Again we are drifting from the point,” Adama said. He tapped a finger on the map. “Lee is being overly protective, Kara. Because you’re family. I understand it even if it is ill considered. However, it is time to put all of this aside.”
“Yes, sir,” they said together.
Eyes downcast, Lee pinched the bridge of his nose. He held the pose for a moment, seeking some composure, before saying, “So I can assume you think Kara and I are uniquely suited to succeed with the other target.”
“You have the essential skills.”
Lee craned to read the chart, comparing it to the file his father had opened. The planet in question had a breathable atmosphere but a thin one. The orientation of the axis meant the heat of sunrise dropped quickly away as the day progressed, leaving sub-zero temperatures at night.
“An ice planet?”
“I’m a warm weather girl, sir.”
“You’ve had artic training. And Lee spent much of his childhood in the north.”
“Elius province is hardly the artic. Summer breaks and vacations, until I was ten? That hardly qualifies me for this.” Lee swept a dismissive hand over the map. “Surely, there are other people onboard with…”
“Yes,” Adama interrupted him. “If we had snow cats or sleds, or we could land a raptor close enough to hike in on snowshoes, any number of crewmen would be better qualified than you or Lt. Thrace. But the base is on an island, one of a chain, in the middle of a frozen sea. The approach will be difficult. You will have to cross the ice at night to mount your attack, moving at considerable speed. And there is nobody else on this ship with your skill on a Swan.”
“A Swan?” Kara’s eyes lit up and she sat forward in her chair.
“Ice Swans,” the Commander confirmed and for the first time he smiled broadly, certain of her delight.
“You have a Swan?” Lee asked, carefully.
“More than one,” Adjusting the set of his glasses, his father searched for and found a manifest listing. He pulled the list free of the other papers and handed it across the table to Kara. “Our choice of equipment is naturally limited. But one of the mining vessels, the Medusa, has five discontinued Ice Swans. Two of the four hundred series and, unfortunately, three six-sixties. You will need to patch together two working bikes from the five. And you will need to do it by this time tomorrow.”
Kara tilted the manifest so Lee could read it and he scooted his chair closer. She glanced up, smiling, and her inviting expression sent Lee’s mind back to the first day, the first moment he saw her smile like that.
**************************************************************
“Excuse me,” he said with polite authority, though he’d had difficulty tearing his straying gaze away from a Caprica City Olympiad advertisement sporting his own likeness. “I’m looking for,” he shifted his helmet to his right arm and consulted the name scrawled on his left palm, “A Lieutenant Thrace.”
The brig guard, a young man with a swatch of red hair and watery blue eyes, didn’t bother to glance up from his copy of Caprica Now. “Starbuck?”
Lee checked his left palm again. The ink had smeared into an unreadable smudge. “No…I think it was…Karen…Kara, maybe…? Let’s say, Kara.” He held his palm up to show the guard, who wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention.
“Starbuck,” the guard said. He gestured vaguely over his shoulder toward the hall behind him. “Third cell block on the left. Leave your weapons on the desk.”
“I’m not carrying. And I need to bail her out.”
Obviously inconvenienced by this request, the guard sighed mightily but he turned his reading material face down on the desk and sat forward in his chair. His fingers flew across computer keys for a few seconds. “Waste of time and money. She’ll be out this afternoon. Russo never presses charges.”
“Russo locks people up all the time?”
“Just Kara. If you want to bail her out it’ll be 18.53 local currency or 16 exact if you use Colonial standard.”
“Colonial,” Lee said, setting his helmet on the desk and leaning into the retinal scanner that had just risen before him like Aphrodite from the sea. He kept his stare steady as the beam hit his irises.
“I heard one of these malfunctioned on Virgon and burned right through some guy’s optic nerve,” the guard said, as the scanner beeped through the confirmation process. He added a helpful sizzling noise before reading the output screen. “Oh, hey! You’re him. Lee Adama. Zak’s brother? The one they call Apollo.” The guard turned and pointed at the banner ad for the Olympiad.
“Not really news to me,” Lee said, loftily. He was already weary of his celebrity. Hot, tired and in need of a shower, he briefly considered calling H.Q. to report the appalling lack of discipline at this station. But the effort was currently beyond him. “And I just drove over three hundred miles so if we could spring the lady…”
“No, but it’s funny. You coming here to bail out Starbuck when you’re the reason she’s doing time.”
“I’m the reason?”
“Sort of…there was some lose talk about your skill on the Swan last night in the canteen. Kara’s Base Champion, see? But she didn’t want to tangle with you…because you’re…”
“Fleet Champion?”
“Uh…no.” The guard actually chuckled at this. When Lee stared at him he stopped what he was doing, looking as if the very idea of this Starbuck person fearing Lee’s skill hadn’t occurred to him. He checked Lee’s pride by saying, “Because you’re Zak’s brother.”
“Ah,” Lee could feel his mood lifting. “And somehow this led to a bar fight?”
“Yeah,” The guard pushed a few more buttons and started processing Lt. Thrace for release. “I’m surprised Zak didn’t tell you all about it.”
“We didn’t have a lot of time to chat this morning. I was on the road. He was going before the review board for disciplinary action.”
“Oh, well, don’t worry about the board. Like I said, Russo is going to let them both off with a warning. Zak’s a first time offender and Kara never serves time for drunk and disorderly.”
“Never? She gets locked up a lot, does she?”
“Starbuck runs a little hot. But she’s the best pilot.”
Lee waited for the guard to finish his sentence. It took him a moment to realize it was finished. No qualifiers. Best pilot…period. It galled Lee to have his own skills dismissed out of hand. But he couldn’t blame the, as yet, unseen Lt. Thrace if some idiot guard tossed a gauntlet down at his feet.
The guard was speaking again. Holding out an orange plastic card, he said, “Take this back to the cell and collect her.”
Lee took the offered card and headed down the hall. He had no trouble finding the lieutenant. She was doing leg lifts while holding onto the crossbar near the top of her cell door. She stretched out like a sinner on the rack, her toes barely skimming the floor. Lee stood transfixed as she curled closed and jackknifed open again. She’d worked to a fine sheen of perspiration and her muscles slid smoothly under her skin.
“Lt. Thrace?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I…I’m Lee Adama,” he said, appalled by his slight stutter and the way he added, “Zak’s brother,” as if he needed to produce some further credentials to impress her.
She released her grip, dropping to land softly on the balls of her feet. Spinning elegantly to face him she saluted. Her smiled implied they’d shared a secret down through the ages. “Captain Adama, sir.” She drew his name and rank across her tongue, holding the syllables a little longer than necessary. “This is an honor.”
Heat burned in Lee’s cheeks. Women often sincerely admired him but Lt. Thrace’s saucy look held a challenge, a sly spark of humor, as if the honor was more his than hers. He swept her with a contemptuous assessment. His expression told her exactly what he thought of her. She was scruffy, barely attractive: too wide in the mouth, hips and shoulders. She lacked grace and breeding and, apparently, the good sense to stay out of prison. A slight twitch of her shoulders conceded his unspoken criticism and dismissed it as irrelevant.
Given the dangerous tension in his jaw, anyone who knew him would have taken a step back. But she sidled closer to the bars. She didn’t lower her gaze and her steady stare seemed to leech the certainty from him. She had a compelling directness, a sensual aura that made him decidedly uncomfortable. It had been years since anyone but his father had shaken him at his foundation, made him doubt he was good enough. He wondered if this Starbuck walked around challenging people, waiting for them to lash out at her.
The thought struck him as absurd and he laughed. Her smile widened, in response to his mood change, becoming one tinged with genuine affection. Lee felt curiously happy. He cocked his head and, flashing the bail card, waited for her to acknowledge it. After a second more, she dropped her line of sight and nodded toward a slot in the cell door. Sliding the card through the reader, he released the cell lock. Kara pushed the door open.
“Did you bring the 380?” she asked, eager as a child expecting a treat. She was already moving into the corridor, not waiting for him. Lee hurried to catch her.
“About that. I gather you ride?” He tried not to sneer as he said it. “But a 380 Swan is a delicate machine. Despite what Zak may believe I can’t take you as a passenger.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“There’s a balance issue.”
“I was born on a high wire. You want me to drive?”
“No! I don’t want you to drive. What kind of question…”
“Hey, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t let some stranger drive my Swan and it’s a lousy 420. But if you can’t handle a passenger…”
“The 420’s a good bike,” Lee said, skirting the issue. “Not a dog like the 600 series.”
“Oh, don’t get me started. Can you believe they sold the company?”
“It was a loss.”
“We won’t crash,” she assured him, returning to her argument. She waved a casual greeting at the guard as they entered the lobby on the way to collecting her belongings from a locker.
“Good hunting, Starbuck,” the guard called.
“See you at training in two days, Blinkie?”
The damned guard stood to attention and saluted. “Yes, sir. I’m going to make that turn this time, sir.”
“You’d better or I’ll bust you back to basic.”
“Uh,” Lee said, rushing to keep up as she shrugged into her jacket and headed for the exit which opened on bright sunshine. She’d paused just beyond the entryway and stood, breathing deep, apparently savoring her freedom. He bumped into her as he rushed the door and had to check sharply. “Look, my credit is good. I’ll put you in a cab.”
Her brittle predatory gaze targeted him again. “You and what squadron?”
Lee didn’t rise to the bait. “Or…you can make your own way home.”
“So, I’m walking because you don’t have the chops to take a passenger? What’s Zak going to say to that? The grand Apollo can’t control his chariot well enough to take me home?”
“This is not a question of my skill.”
“Yeah, well that ship won’t fly so you’d better come up with a better story.”
She started to walk away from him again. Frustrated, Lee grabbed at her elbow. “Hang on, we’re not finished.”
She turned into him, treading over all civilized borders, until they were nose to his nose. “We are,” she rumbled.
Her fingers curled into the leather of his jacket front. Lee felt his gut clench and his mouth water as her quick, hot breath pulsed against his upper lip. Her eyes were like fathomless pools. Lee thought he might suffocate, sliding into them, sliding into her world where a sharp punch did your talking for you. He really didn’t know how to explain brawling with his brother’s girl a few minutes after bailing her out of the brig.
“Zak is going to thank me for keeping you in one piece,” he said. His cold smile didn’t reach his eyes as he released her with a careless twist and push.
She lost her grip on him, stumbling slightly, but recovered the way a pushed tiger might. Lee thought about claws as she raked him over with coal-hot eyes. “Coward,” she said, in a low, dismissive way.
It was a true hit to his sensitive spot, the old charge that he was coddled, daddy's or mama's boy. He flinched from the implication, his heart hardening in an instant. As she turned away, he dropped his civilized veneer and seized her arm again. She squawked in surprise, obviously used to her audacity carrying the day. She struggled in vain to wrench free but, having learned his lesson, Lee offered her no opportunity to pivot closer to him. Instead put his shoulder into her back and force-marched her down the stairs. He yanked her around with a masculine brutality that was almost alien to him. The crossed the street corner to the parking area. When they neared his bike, he shoved her hard, propelling her toward it.
“You want to kill yourself?” he said. “Be my guest.”
She was learning, too. This time she didn’t stumble. Applying just enough resistance, she braked and stood rubbing her arm and glaring at him. He glared back until, quite suddenly, she cracked a manic smile.
“You’re going to let me ride your 380? Just like that?”
She didn’t sound like she believed he would. So, he nodded once, tersely and then watched amazed as she slowly circled the bike. Head tilted curiously, she placed each foot down as if she were treading on rice paper. She didn’t trust him. Lee was momentarily offended. Pulling a cigar from her jacket, she bit and spit and lit up. Then, she looked across the Swan at him. Shaking her head, she spoke around the stogie.
“Gods, you’re easy.”
“Easy?” he said, surprised. Nobody had ever considered him easy before. Hard-assed, stubborn, devious and cold…but never easy.
She pinched the cigar from her mouth and shrugged. “Come on, what are you going to ride tomorrow if I wreck your Swan? Zak has a week’s pay wagered on you.”
“Thought you said you wouldn’t wreck it.”
“I said we wouldn’t wreck. You drive. I’ll get your back.” She took another long drag on her smoke before dropping her hand to her side and letting the foul thing smolder.
“I don’t take passengers.”
“But you could,” she seemed to have settled the issue in her own mind. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Or isn’t the grand Apollo allowed to have fun?”
He met her teasing look, the sharp anger still seething behind his schooled expression and gave a tight little smile. “I’ll have to check the regulations,” he said. Holding her gaze, he pulled a small device from his pocket. Pointing the thing at the Swan, he pressed his thumb into the end to start the ignition. The engine hummed to life and the 380 spoke a greeting.
-Hello, Captain.-
“Personal identity ignition.” Kara sounded impressed. “So I couldn’t have roared off with your pretty machine.”
“Coward, remember,” Lee said, with a bitter edge to his voice. “Not a fool.”
She dipped her head to one side, chuckling over his anger. “You pushed my buttons,” she admitted.
“Did I?”
She gave him nothing more, just stood there smoking while she considered his ride.
“What would it have done to me?” she finally asked, nodding toward the purring Swan. “If I’d been crazy enough to touch it?”
“Incapacitating shock.” He shrugged. “I’d have dumped you in a cab.”
The cigar fell to the pavement and bounced as her hand rose, swift and sure, to where she probably wore her sidearm. She didn’t have a gun. But her fingers twitched slightly as if they itched to draw on him. Lee was suddenly very glad things hadn’t gone as he’d planned. He wouldn’t want to see her vengeful. She didn’t look at all forgiving. The tip of her tongue traced along her lower lip. Cigar smoke furled up from between her braced feet to wreath her in grey.
“You pushed my buttons,” Lee said and saw her relax a little.
“I guess Zak got all the charm.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
Keeping an eye on her and avoiding any sudden moves, he slid his hand down the curve of the Swan’s chassis. His fingers found the latch for the boot. Opening it, he extracted his racing helmet and handed it across the bike to her. Once again she assessed his offer with cool detachment. “Take it,” he urged. She didn’t react for another breath or two and then she came out of her fighting stance and reached for the helmet.
Lee didn't release his grip immediately. He held on, pulling her attention to his face, “You’re base champion?”
“Want to see my laurels?”
A quick, almost bashful, smile warmed Lee’s eyes, transforming him into a Zak’s older brother. Kara leaned toward him, caught off guard by his boyish allure. He shook his head ruefully as he let go of the helmet. When she'd strapped it on, he slapped the Swan saddle in invitation. His smile widened into a grin when she obediently dropped a leg over his bike and settled back on its curved chassis.
Two minutes later he had no reason at all to doubt her claim. His seat against her was surprisingly soft. All of her hard edges seemed to melt into yielding heat. She flowed effortlessly with him as the Swan glided through a few tight turns. They took back roads, learning all there was to know about each other. Kara snuggled closer and let her arms slide down his body as their weight shifted. She began to anticipate his reactions, timing hers to compliment them. Sooner than Lee would have believed possible he was steering them toward the highway. They hit smooth pavement and picked up speed.
The familiar kick of adrenaline hit Lee low in his belly as the Swan responded under him, surging forward. They darted through traffic, skimming between huge transports with black-toothed grills. Kara added a thrilling new dimension to the ride. Lee knew her slightest miscalculation, a zig to his zag, would send them tumbling, spin them under crushing wheels. He tried not to think about it. It didn't seem likely to happen.
Kara seemed to know his mind better than he did. She anticipated when he would turn, where he meant to go, which slot between vehicles he would take. Riding him, she became part of the bike, like the Goddess of Swans, almost uniting him organically with his machine. He rode her, too, pushed her like the pedal under his foot. Chin nested in the dip of his shoulder, she rested her arm along his. At first, gripping his forearm, and then, when they accelerated, sliding her fingers down to cup his on the throttle.
The base exit arrived too soon for Lee. A week would have been too soon for him. He wanted to go on riding, for days, until they lost power and coasted. Until they slid exhausted from the saddle and spilled onto soft grass somewhere. But he could feel Kara yearning toward the exit. He sat taller in the saddle, rotating his hips forward to slow their momentum. She shifted her grip, pushed her soft thighs into his ass as they braked. They did a final dance through the base streets before coming to a stop at the barracks.
Unnaturally frigid air seemed to rush into Kara’s place as she peeled free of him. Lee shivered at the loss of warmth and intimacy. Turning his head, he watched her smooth dismount. She stripped his helmet from her head and combed a hand through her tangled hair.
Lee’s mouth ached with a dry need. He could barely speak. “That was…” Words failed him but he knew if she looked at him she would find a world of meaning in his face. Riding with her wasn’t better than sex. It was sex.
She didn’t look at him, though, as she praised him, “You’re good. Maybe better than me.”
Focused on something beyond his shoulder, she absently handed him the helmet. As he took it, Lee turned to follow her gaze. A lump lodged in his throat. Zak was standing on the far side of the street. Reality smacked Lee hard. He’d been lusting after his brother’s girlfriend. He was worse than a coward. Lee watched Zak shake free from a crowd of nuggets and start toward them. Kara skirted the Swan, rushing to fall into his arms. After a heated kiss, she tossed a bone at Lee.
“Do you want to take the 440 out after dinner?” she asked, still looking at his brother. “See how you do as passenger?”
“Oh, Great!” Zak moaned theatrically. “I knew this would happen. Lee buzzes into town on his shiny 380 and steals my girl. Can I have nothing of my own?” He pushed Kara to arms length and playfully accused her, “Admit it! You love my brother!”
“Do not,” Kara huffed, with some good humor.
“Do so,” Zak countered, catching her in the crook of his arm and stepping toward Lee. He held out his hand even as he declared, “You, sir, are a weasel.”
Lee couldn’t help grinning as he dismounted and stashed his spare helmet. He’d missed his dramatic little brother. “I am the Overlord, remember?” he said, recalling their childhood games.
“Gods, yes,” Zak declared. He turned to Kara, caressing her cheek as he explained the reference, “Do you know he used to make me call him that for days after a victory? It was sheer torment.” He switched to a bombastic tone and announced, “Now, comes the Overlord to the dining table. All hail his magnificence.”
Lee chuckled over the evilness of his youth. He reached his free arm around Kara, casually ruffling her hair, and drew his brother into a bear hug.
“If I win tomorrow you will refer to me by my rightful title,” he declared. “Or your woman shall be mine.”
“If you win?” Zak pushed him violently away. “When you win! There is no doubt. So say we all.”
Kara gave Lee a very strange look before allowing Zak’s arms to comfort her. As he kissed her forehead she repeated very softly, “So say we all.”
One of the nuggets in Zak’s party called for Lee’s attention. He turned humor free eyes toward the camera and the nugget snapped a picture.
*********************************************************
Lee looked down at his untouched plate of food. “If that’s all, Commander. I need to make one stop before we leave.”
Remembering the same thing he was, Kara sat still and quiet. Her lowered gaze was carefully fixed on the file in her hand. Adama looked from her to his son and then nodded.
“Of course. Dee was in the observation lounge earlier. Go make your excuses.”
Lee stood, snapped a salute to his father and then darted a glance at the apparently oblivious Kara. When she didn’t spare him a look, he pulled into his shell again and left hurriedly.
As soon as the door closed behind his departing son, the Commander spoke again.
“Petty Officer Dualla is a nice girl,” he said.
“Great.” Kara nodded, her mouth set in a sickly smile.
“Not right for my son.”
“Not really up to you.”
“True.” He said nothing further but went on staring at her with kind eyes until she had to fill the silence with words.
“This mission? It’s risky.”
He didn't want to talk about the mission. “I was wondering if you remembered the day Lee won the Caprica City Rally Cup?”
“I remember you didn’t make it,” she said, cuttingly.
“I know.” His deep baritone was rich with regret. “I was on maneuvers. I thought my duty was more important than my family. It was a mistake.” He focused for a brief moment on the distant past, days he regretted, before turning his curious attention on her again. “But I’ve seen the pictures. You have one in your berth, on the mirror.”
Kara squirmed uncertainly. “It was Zak’s. From the day before…when Lee arrived?” The commander nodded. “Zak said it was his favorite because…” Her voice cracked and she reached for her drink, taking a quick gulp.
“Because you and Lee are both so happy in it?”
Head tilted, vision clouded over with a film of tears, she pressed the back of her hand to her brow and mouthed, “I guess.” She wouldn't call Lee's expression happy.
“Tell me about that day.”
She lowered her hand and laughed in a mocking way. “Sir, Lee and I are fine. We’re friends.”
It didn’t sound plausible. They could never be friends anymore than they could have been family. She took a moment to fork up some noodles from her plate, hoping the conversation would turn to another topic. Adama continued to look on her with fatherly affection, not backing down from his request, and after chewing and swallowing, she launched into an abbreviated version of the story.
“Lee won the Cup.” She shrugged. “Because…you’re right about his skills on a Swan. I’m good but he’s the best. He could have turned professional.”
“You were in the brig? When he arrived in town?”
“Uh…” She wondered who’d told him. Tigh?
“Lee wrote to his mother. She wrote to me. I was told not to expect much to come out of your relationship with Zak.”
Kara slammed her fork down. “The bastard. He had no right…”
“He was concerned for his brother. He had every right. But it was his mother who paraphrased Lee’s assessment. Caroline didn’t approve of your affect on the boys.”
“Affect?” Kara shook her head over the word. Her mouth twisted from the sudden searing ache under her ribs. Her own mother's harsh judgements echoed in her memory, but she closed off those thoughts and picked up her fork again, viciously spearing at her salad.
“Tell me the story.”
“Zak and I were in a bar the day before the Cup. A brawl broke out. Zak got free of it but violated barracks lock down. I clocked Staff Sergeant Russo and got hauled in for the night. Russo always had a soft spot for me,” she touched her chin with the fork handle to indicate the exact place, “Right here on the jaw.” The commander chuckled, appreciatively. Kara punched out with a quick jab to further illustrate her point.
“Pow! Down she goes. Next morning, I wake up in the brig with the mother of all hangovers. I pop a few Brachiax tablets. Down some juice. I’m doing pull-ups in my cell when I hear…’Excuse me. Do you know where I can find a Lieutenant Thrace?’ It’s Lee, bailing me out. He had that attitude…?”
She paused to let Adama acknowledge the attitude. He spoke with some shadow of pain in his voice, “Like he’s beyond your reach? Untouchable?”
“That one, yeah. But, after a bit of arguing, I touch him, I guess, 'cause he agrees to take me home.”
“On the 380?” Kara’s expression was bold, daring him to make something out of a simple ride home. Not one to back down from a challenge, he did, “Lee loved that bike. He never let anyone touch it much less ride it.”
Kara placed her fork down very carefully, lining it up with her glass, and met her commander’s eye. “Yeah, well…he’s your son. Wound too tight. Always has been.” Her gaze strayed to the shift clock. “If that’s all, sir? I should go pack my gear.”
“You should.” He rose with her and casually returned her salute. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again without speaking. He watched her stride to the door. As she pulled back the hatch handle, he said her name, so softly it couldn’t be mistaken for a command. Kara stilled, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t she turned reluctantly back to face him. The candlelight etched deep craters in his skin. He looked ancient, carved by hard weather, and weary.
“Bring him home again,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
********************************************************
Feeling emotionally bruised, Kara halted a few long strides beyond Commander Adama’s door, furious at the old man.
‘Bring him home?’ What the hell did that mean? Lee Adama could take care of himself. He was a pain in her ass not her frakking brother. Dualla wasn’t the right girl? Was she supposed to ‘bring him home’ from that, too?
How? Find him a more suitable girl? Or ‘bring him home’ to her bed with the blessing of his family? Talk about mixed signals. She’d always assumed Adama would rage against her twisted relationship with Lee. He loved Zak so much. Now, suddenly, he’d turned matchmaker? She spit out a curse encompassing all of the Adama men, even Zak, and spun on her heel to stomp toward the head.
The wrong girl caught Kara’s eye as soon as she stormed into the bathroom. She slammed to a halt already tuning on her heel to leave but Dee glanced up, meeting her gaze in the mirror and holding it.
“Kara, wait,” she said, water dripping from her chin. Kara froze for a moment but quickly recovered her composure. She slunk toward the nearest empty stall, determined to avoid any emotional entanglements. Dee snatched up a towel and intercepted her. While blotting her face dry, she asked. “Have you seen Lee?”
“We had dinner,” Kara said, ducking toward privacy. A wicked streak in her nature made her pause as she reached the stall before adding, “To discuss the mission. Commander’s orders.”
“You’re going together,” Dee said, softly, her hand catching Kara’s stall door before it could close. “You and Lee are the final team.”
Neither sentence formed a question. So, Kara didn’t bother responding. She just tugged at the door until Dee released it.
Dee sighed. This was going to be harder than she’d imagined. How to begin? The stall door told her nothing. She walked back to the sink, turned a faucet on again and unbuttoned her jacket. The mirror reflected her calm certainty. She was the other woman. As difficult as this conversation would be, they had to have it or they wouldn’t be able to work through this.
“It’s over,” she said, raising her voice to carry. “The…what shall we call it…? The affair?”
After a long pause, Kara flushed. When the venting-to-space clamber ended, she inquired mildly, “Just like that?”
Dee smiled wistfully at her own reflection. “Are you surprised?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think you would be. That was part of the problem.”
Kara came out of the stall, zipping up. As she approached the sinks, she prompted, “There were problems?”
“Yes,” Dee said, gently. “But not the ones you’d imagine.” Kara met her eyes in the mirror again. The reflection sharpened Dee’s generally perceptive gaze to a dagger point. Her bitter smile told Kara that she, too, could draw blood, if she chose. “He’s great in bed,” she said. “Makes my knees go all wobbly.”
Pinching her eyes closed and breathing shallowly to abate the pain, Kara murmured. “So, I’ve heard.”
“Heard or know?” Dee asked.
Kara recoiled ever so slightly but she didn’t open her eyes. She pressed her lips into a thin line, holding everything inside. A soft dew of perspiration graced her neckline.
She knows, Dee thought, and nodded. It came together in her mind and only shocked her for a moment. The shock was wrapped up in what she knew about the Commander and his sons. How could they have kept this secret from him all these years? Had it happened before Lee’s brother died? Or in that tiny window afterward before Kara came aboard Galactica?
“He keeps his eyes open,” Dee said when it became clear Kara wasn’t going to admit to an affair of her own. “When we kiss. When he…climaxes. All the time.”
Kara’s lashes fluttered, showing the slits of her eyes, as she hissed, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you don’t seem to know, to understand, what you’re doing to him,” Dee said. She took a deep cleansing gulp of air, steeling her resolve, and rushed out the final humiliation. “He can’t close his eyes when he’s with me. Because he’ll forget I’m there.” She felt no pain as she said it, but there was shame and an empty place in her midsection. She’d let this happen. Let him come to her slow and easy and sweet, when she needed all of that. “In the dark, he thinks only of you.” Finished with confessions and her abbreviated bath, she wadded up the wash cloth for recycling and, lifting the bin lid, dropped it in.
“Lee and I are friends,” Kara said, finally finding the courage to look at her own reflection. She wondered why she had to keep telling people the same thing over and over again.
Dee shook her head, unable to believe how dense this woman was. She stepped into Kara’s personal space, drawing her gaze. Moving slowly, gently, as if comforting a lost child, she placed a firm hand on Kara’s forearm and squeezed, asking, “Are you jealous?”
“I…? No!” Kara yanked free of Dee’s hold.
“Do you want to hurt him?”
“Yes,” the breathy confession escaped before Kara could check it. Remorse made her reel as the thought of losing him hit her and she immediately recanted. “No, I just want him to…give me time…space…”
“How much time and space will it take before you forget him? Move on?” Dee swept her arm in an arc. “You can’t breath. He can’t see.” Kara blinked as Dee stepped back a little and brought her point home. “You’re not friends.”
Could love really be so simple, Kara wondered? So painfully simple? Did it all came down to this cold clenching in her throat when she thought of Lee with this woman, with any other woman? She stood silent and wary, a wild thing trapped by truth and circumstance. She watched as Dee fastened jacket snaps and buckles. Back in uniform, Dee smiled up at her.
“Do you feel better, now?”
“No! I don’t feel better. I feel…” Kara broke off, breathing heavily, and raked a hand through her hair. She wasn’t about to start soul searching with Lee’s ex. She would rather face a firing squad. But she couldn’t help peering into the mirror, into the dark churning in her heart, seeking some light of truth.
“Confused?” Dee encouraged, with a complete lack of animosity. “Frustrated? Hopeful?”
“Pissed off,” Kara suggested, glaring at her.
Dee nodded, sagely. “That’s the other part of what happened last night,” she said, moving past Kara toward the door. “I realized something.”
“What?” Kara asked, cursing herself for the weakness of having to know.
“I wasn’t pissed off,” Dee said, tossing the tidbit over her shoulder. She paused before leaving, unable to suppress the merry sparkle in her eyes as she took a free breath.
“That’s how I knew,” she said. “Lee and I are friends.”
END THIS PART
Hopefully, I will get the next part to you very soon.
Rae