Colonial Chaos
By Anna C. Buchmann
3 pages.
To download an epub file of this story, click here.
It had been an exceptionally long and trying patrol and Starbuck was tired. Long-range patrols really got on his nerves; the last thing Starbuck liked to be was alone, and he was tired to begin with. Keeping awake had been a chore.
After landing and going through decon, Starbuck started on his way to the bridge. On the way, he noticed the silence hanging over the Galactica. It felt almost deserted. He unconsciously quickened his pace, a feeling of dread settling over the pit of his stomach.
He sighed with relief when he came within earshot of the bridge. From the sound of it, it was functioning normally. Ah, good, he thought. I can get this report over with and get some sleep…
He stopped abruptly in the bridge archway, wondering for a brief moment if the fumarello smoke had finally reached his brain and was fogging his vision. His jaw dropped slowly as he stared at the scene before him.
The commander was nowhere to be seen. Colonel Tigh was tied to the command chair on the bridge, a gag in his mouth, looking thoroughly disgusted. Apollo and Athena were arguing violently in front of him. On the bridge level below them, Omega was eating some choice mushies and cheering them on, while Rigel was sitting on top of her console, her legs crossed in the lotus position. All around the bridge, the personnel had turned away from their stations and were engaged in various activities as swinging from the rails of the slowly revolving high bridge and playing the latest Corroded Cylon recording through their consoles.
Physically pushing his lower jaw to meet his upper with his hand, Starbuck walked carefully around a group of bridge techs doing aerobic exercises to the high bridge where Apollo and Athena were arguing. As he started to tap Apollo’s arm, Omega shouted around a mouthful of mushies. “Hey! Get out of the way, brother! You’re blocking my view!”
Starbuck hastily obeyed. A technician at the base of the high bridge popped a circuit, and the high bridge began to spin a little faster.
“I don’t care whose idea this was!” Apollo was yelling over the din. “I’m next in command, and I want that medallion!”
“But that’s the commander’s meda…” Starbuck began, but Athena interrupted.
“No! It’s mine! I told you at the start that I was going to be the commander, and I am!”
“What happened to the Comman…” Starbuck tried again, but Apollo reached out and jerked his sister’s hair, shouting, “Give me that medallion!”
“Ouch!” shrieked Athena. She turned and leaped down the stairs, shouting, “If you want it, you’ve gotta catch me
first!”
Apollo leaped after her. Starbuck turned to Rigel and asked, “What the frak is going on here?”
Rigel’s eyes remained closed, and she began some archaic chant. Omega tugged Starbuck’s sleeve and said, “Hey brother, don’t bother. She’s into her own space.”
Starbuck started to ask Omega the same question, but the bridge officer burped once and relaxed blissfully into a state of semi-consciousness.
Realizing that he wasn’t going to get an answer from Omega either, Starbuck turned to release Colonel Tigh from the command chair, but the technician working at the bridge machinery suddenly popped an entire series of circuits, causing it to spin madly. Starbuck went flying over the rail, landing on his rear end in what remained of Omega’s mushies.
An amiable sergeant helped Starbuck to his feet. “Hey, brother, that was one mean fall,” he said in a far-off voice, and held out a small white cigarette. “Take a puff of this. It’ll cure all your woes.”
Starbuck backed away. “Uh, no thanks,” he declined. “Look…do you know where the Commander is?”
The sergeant took his own advice and puffed twice on the cigarette. His eyes began to glaze over as he answered, “Dunno… maybe in his quarters…”
He sank into the flattened mushies and began to mutter something about Caprica yo-yos. Starbuck shrugged and left the shambles that had once been the bridge, narrowly missing being sideswiped by one of the aerobic dancers. He intended to get to the bottom of this.
When Starbuck walked through the door to the commander’s outer office, he was promptly knocked flat by a six-yahren-old girl who had crouched on top of Adama’s desk waiting for unsuspecting passers-by.
“Hey, Loma, get off him – that’s Starbuck! He’s all right!” a voice shouted.
Loma reluctantly got up from Starbuck’s chest, and the disgruntled lieutenant stood up. Boxey jumped from the couch where he had been practicing handstands and weaved through the children in the room to stand in front of Starbuck.
“What’s going on here?” Starbuck had to shout to be heard over the screaming voices. The room was seething with children.
“Grandpa told me to stay here, and he was gone for a long time, and I got lonely!” Boxey shouted back. “We’re having a party! There’s all kinds of neat stuff in here!”
“Yeah, I see,” muttered Starbuck sourly. One industrious little boy had taken every Dataprint out of Adama’s desk and was making paper Vipers. A few other children were drawing some questionable figures on the battlestar tapestry on the wall. Others were playing on the floor and on the commander’s desk. “Are there any other kids in here?”
“Yeah – there’s some older kids in Grandpa’s bedroom. But they didn’t want us to stay in there. They were playing some kind of mushy game.” Boxey made a face to express his opinion of the older children’s activities.
Starbuck decided to quit while he was reasonably ahead. “Yeah, well, uh… did the Commander say where he was going?”
“Yeah… he said something about going over to the Rising Star.”
“All right. Try not to destroy your grandpa’s quarters, okay?”
“Okay.”
Starbuck turned and exited, welcoming the silence the corridor provided. As he walked toward the launch bay, Starbuck pondered upon what he had seen. Had everyone in the fleet gone insane or had he himself gone
insane? He didn’t have an answer for that one but he hoped it was not the latter…
Starbuck came to a screeching halt in front of Blue Squadron’s quarters. The sounds that issued from the room were ones the lieutenant had never thought he’d hear from there. He cautiously sidled around the archway and looked into the room.
There were pillows, food and girls all over the place. Someone had replaced the normal lighting fixtures with ones of psychedelic pink, purple and blue. Everywhere, pilots were lying on the pillows being attended by the girls who were all voluptuous Leons, wearing clothes scanty enough to make a Cylon blush. The music was wild and frenzied, being of definite Leon origin. Boomer, Jolly, Bojay, Giles… they were all there.
Starbuck, showing an admirable display of self-control and willpower, edged away from the door and moved quickly down the corridor, swallowing. It would have to wait. Before he joined Blue Squadron in the Leon
harem, he had to find the commander and see what was going on.
As he passed the dining hall, Starbuck heard a great cheer go up into the high support beams. He stuck his head into that room, too, almost regretting he’d ever come off his patrol.
Dietra was standing on the stage, and the room was filled with a vast group of female Warriors and technicians. Starbuck had never realized that there were so many of them before.
“And I say it’s about time we stopped letting those hotshot chauvinists push us around!” Dietra hollered, and an enthusiastic cry issued from the group. “They’ve ordered us around and treated us like their slaves long enough!” Dietra continued. “And from now on, I say we show them which sex is superior!” The words carried such force that Starbuck was tempted to shout, “Amen!” with the ladies.
Suddenly Dietra spotted Starbuck across the dining hall. “There’s one of ‘em!” she screamed. “Get him, girls!”
Starbuck barely made it to the launch bay, into his cockpit, and out the launch tube before the women surged in after him. He sighed with relief and started to push his fingers through his hair, only to jam his little pinky painfully against his helmet. This was definitely not his day.
However, he was on his way to the Rising Star, where he hoped to find answers. He had time to trim his toenails before landing in the Rising Star’s landing bay.
If what he had seen on the Galactica had been strange, the Rising Star was bizarre. Gone were the bare walls and unfurnished corridor doors. The entire ship was now covered with plush furniture and wall tapestries, and strains of more subtle music than the Leon in Blue Squadron’s harem floated from the wall speakers. And all up and down the corridors, signs pointed toward where Sire Uri’s private quarters used to be, reading, “THIS IS IT!” “BEST IN THE FLEET!” And “WE SUIT EVERYONE – NO APPOINTMENT NECESSARY!!”
Starbuck shrugged. Maybe someone here would know what was going on.
When he reached the room, Starbuck groaned and collapsed against the wall.
Cassiopeia was sitting at a desk against the wall. There were men, civilians and Warriors alike, sitting in a lounge centered around a door marked “Entrance.” On the wall above Cassie’s desk, a large sign read:
CASSIE’S PLACE
Yes! After a long absence, we are BACK IN BUSINESS!! Socialating is no longer a thing of the past!!! It’s now, and it’s for you. Join us at CASSIE’S PLACE – no appointment necessary. Satisfaction guaranteed, or your CUBITS are CHEERFULLY REFUNDED!!!
Just as Starbuck was about to demand that Cassie tell him what was going on, the door marked “Exit” opened, and out walked Commander Adama.
Cassie smiled at Adama and said, “Next, please.” A middle-aged man Starbuck recognized as a Council member stood and went through the door marked “Entrance.”
As Adama walks toward him, Starbuck gulped, “C…Commander? What are you doing here?”
Adama lifted an eyebrow and said slowly, “Wait a centon… Where’s the damn cue card? Oh, yes – I’m retired, Lieutenant. I left Colonel Tigh in command of the Galactica.”
“But…” Starbuck began helplessly, and was cut off yet another time as Athena came pounding down the corridor, Apollo in hot pursuit. When she reached her father, Athena hid behind Adama and cried, “Daddy! Daddy, he’s being ugly to me! Make him be nice!”
Apollo stuck out his tongue. “Ah, she’s acting like a baby. I’m the oldest – I should get that medallion!”
Athena’s reply was destined never to be heard, for at that moment a wave of females came charging down the same corridor, led by Dietra. When she caught sight of Starbuck she screamed, “There he is, girls! He’s all yours!”
Starbuck backed against the wall, trying desperately to fend off the mass of scratching, kicking women…
“Starbuck! Starbuck, wake up!”
“Huh!” Starbuck asked groggily, trying to focus on the object of his torment.
“Starbuck, honey, we’re almost in range of the fleet. You said to wake you.”
“Oh… CORA!” Starbuck almost banged his head against the canopy of his Viper in his relief at being awake and realizing that the whole scene on the Galactica and on the Rising Star had been a dream. “Thank the Lords!”
“Starbuck, what’s the matter? Are you all right, honey?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll take over here, CORA.”
He rubbed his eyes. It had been an exceptionally long and trying patrol and Starbuck was tired...
3 pages.
To download an epub file of this story, click here.
It had been an exceptionally long and trying patrol and Starbuck was tired. Long-range patrols really got on his nerves; the last thing Starbuck liked to be was alone, and he was tired to begin with. Keeping awake had been a chore.
After landing and going through decon, Starbuck started on his way to the bridge. On the way, he noticed the silence hanging over the Galactica. It felt almost deserted. He unconsciously quickened his pace, a feeling of dread settling over the pit of his stomach.
He sighed with relief when he came within earshot of the bridge. From the sound of it, it was functioning normally. Ah, good, he thought. I can get this report over with and get some sleep…
He stopped abruptly in the bridge archway, wondering for a brief moment if the fumarello smoke had finally reached his brain and was fogging his vision. His jaw dropped slowly as he stared at the scene before him.
The commander was nowhere to be seen. Colonel Tigh was tied to the command chair on the bridge, a gag in his mouth, looking thoroughly disgusted. Apollo and Athena were arguing violently in front of him. On the bridge level below them, Omega was eating some choice mushies and cheering them on, while Rigel was sitting on top of her console, her legs crossed in the lotus position. All around the bridge, the personnel had turned away from their stations and were engaged in various activities as swinging from the rails of the slowly revolving high bridge and playing the latest Corroded Cylon recording through their consoles.
Physically pushing his lower jaw to meet his upper with his hand, Starbuck walked carefully around a group of bridge techs doing aerobic exercises to the high bridge where Apollo and Athena were arguing. As he started to tap Apollo’s arm, Omega shouted around a mouthful of mushies. “Hey! Get out of the way, brother! You’re blocking my view!”
Starbuck hastily obeyed. A technician at the base of the high bridge popped a circuit, and the high bridge began to spin a little faster.
“I don’t care whose idea this was!” Apollo was yelling over the din. “I’m next in command, and I want that medallion!”
“But that’s the commander’s meda…” Starbuck began, but Athena interrupted.
“No! It’s mine! I told you at the start that I was going to be the commander, and I am!”
“What happened to the Comman…” Starbuck tried again, but Apollo reached out and jerked his sister’s hair, shouting, “Give me that medallion!”
“Ouch!” shrieked Athena. She turned and leaped down the stairs, shouting, “If you want it, you’ve gotta catch me
first!”
Apollo leaped after her. Starbuck turned to Rigel and asked, “What the frak is going on here?”
Rigel’s eyes remained closed, and she began some archaic chant. Omega tugged Starbuck’s sleeve and said, “Hey brother, don’t bother. She’s into her own space.”
Starbuck started to ask Omega the same question, but the bridge officer burped once and relaxed blissfully into a state of semi-consciousness.
Realizing that he wasn’t going to get an answer from Omega either, Starbuck turned to release Colonel Tigh from the command chair, but the technician working at the bridge machinery suddenly popped an entire series of circuits, causing it to spin madly. Starbuck went flying over the rail, landing on his rear end in what remained of Omega’s mushies.
An amiable sergeant helped Starbuck to his feet. “Hey, brother, that was one mean fall,” he said in a far-off voice, and held out a small white cigarette. “Take a puff of this. It’ll cure all your woes.”
Starbuck backed away. “Uh, no thanks,” he declined. “Look…do you know where the Commander is?”
The sergeant took his own advice and puffed twice on the cigarette. His eyes began to glaze over as he answered, “Dunno… maybe in his quarters…”
He sank into the flattened mushies and began to mutter something about Caprica yo-yos. Starbuck shrugged and left the shambles that had once been the bridge, narrowly missing being sideswiped by one of the aerobic dancers. He intended to get to the bottom of this.
When Starbuck walked through the door to the commander’s outer office, he was promptly knocked flat by a six-yahren-old girl who had crouched on top of Adama’s desk waiting for unsuspecting passers-by.
“Hey, Loma, get off him – that’s Starbuck! He’s all right!” a voice shouted.
Loma reluctantly got up from Starbuck’s chest, and the disgruntled lieutenant stood up. Boxey jumped from the couch where he had been practicing handstands and weaved through the children in the room to stand in front of Starbuck.
“What’s going on here?” Starbuck had to shout to be heard over the screaming voices. The room was seething with children.
“Grandpa told me to stay here, and he was gone for a long time, and I got lonely!” Boxey shouted back. “We’re having a party! There’s all kinds of neat stuff in here!”
“Yeah, I see,” muttered Starbuck sourly. One industrious little boy had taken every Dataprint out of Adama’s desk and was making paper Vipers. A few other children were drawing some questionable figures on the battlestar tapestry on the wall. Others were playing on the floor and on the commander’s desk. “Are there any other kids in here?”
“Yeah – there’s some older kids in Grandpa’s bedroom. But they didn’t want us to stay in there. They were playing some kind of mushy game.” Boxey made a face to express his opinion of the older children’s activities.
Starbuck decided to quit while he was reasonably ahead. “Yeah, well, uh… did the Commander say where he was going?”
“Yeah… he said something about going over to the Rising Star.”
“All right. Try not to destroy your grandpa’s quarters, okay?”
“Okay.”
Starbuck turned and exited, welcoming the silence the corridor provided. As he walked toward the launch bay, Starbuck pondered upon what he had seen. Had everyone in the fleet gone insane or had he himself gone
insane? He didn’t have an answer for that one but he hoped it was not the latter…
Starbuck came to a screeching halt in front of Blue Squadron’s quarters. The sounds that issued from the room were ones the lieutenant had never thought he’d hear from there. He cautiously sidled around the archway and looked into the room.
There were pillows, food and girls all over the place. Someone had replaced the normal lighting fixtures with ones of psychedelic pink, purple and blue. Everywhere, pilots were lying on the pillows being attended by the girls who were all voluptuous Leons, wearing clothes scanty enough to make a Cylon blush. The music was wild and frenzied, being of definite Leon origin. Boomer, Jolly, Bojay, Giles… they were all there.
Starbuck, showing an admirable display of self-control and willpower, edged away from the door and moved quickly down the corridor, swallowing. It would have to wait. Before he joined Blue Squadron in the Leon
harem, he had to find the commander and see what was going on.
As he passed the dining hall, Starbuck heard a great cheer go up into the high support beams. He stuck his head into that room, too, almost regretting he’d ever come off his patrol.
Dietra was standing on the stage, and the room was filled with a vast group of female Warriors and technicians. Starbuck had never realized that there were so many of them before.
“And I say it’s about time we stopped letting those hotshot chauvinists push us around!” Dietra hollered, and an enthusiastic cry issued from the group. “They’ve ordered us around and treated us like their slaves long enough!” Dietra continued. “And from now on, I say we show them which sex is superior!” The words carried such force that Starbuck was tempted to shout, “Amen!” with the ladies.
Suddenly Dietra spotted Starbuck across the dining hall. “There’s one of ‘em!” she screamed. “Get him, girls!”
Starbuck barely made it to the launch bay, into his cockpit, and out the launch tube before the women surged in after him. He sighed with relief and started to push his fingers through his hair, only to jam his little pinky painfully against his helmet. This was definitely not his day.
However, he was on his way to the Rising Star, where he hoped to find answers. He had time to trim his toenails before landing in the Rising Star’s landing bay.
If what he had seen on the Galactica had been strange, the Rising Star was bizarre. Gone were the bare walls and unfurnished corridor doors. The entire ship was now covered with plush furniture and wall tapestries, and strains of more subtle music than the Leon in Blue Squadron’s harem floated from the wall speakers. And all up and down the corridors, signs pointed toward where Sire Uri’s private quarters used to be, reading, “THIS IS IT!” “BEST IN THE FLEET!” And “WE SUIT EVERYONE – NO APPOINTMENT NECESSARY!!”
Starbuck shrugged. Maybe someone here would know what was going on.
When he reached the room, Starbuck groaned and collapsed against the wall.
Cassiopeia was sitting at a desk against the wall. There were men, civilians and Warriors alike, sitting in a lounge centered around a door marked “Entrance.” On the wall above Cassie’s desk, a large sign read:
CASSIE’S PLACE
Yes! After a long absence, we are BACK IN BUSINESS!! Socialating is no longer a thing of the past!!! It’s now, and it’s for you. Join us at CASSIE’S PLACE – no appointment necessary. Satisfaction guaranteed, or your CUBITS are CHEERFULLY REFUNDED!!!
Just as Starbuck was about to demand that Cassie tell him what was going on, the door marked “Exit” opened, and out walked Commander Adama.
Cassie smiled at Adama and said, “Next, please.” A middle-aged man Starbuck recognized as a Council member stood and went through the door marked “Entrance.”
As Adama walks toward him, Starbuck gulped, “C…Commander? What are you doing here?”
Adama lifted an eyebrow and said slowly, “Wait a centon… Where’s the damn cue card? Oh, yes – I’m retired, Lieutenant. I left Colonel Tigh in command of the Galactica.”
“But…” Starbuck began helplessly, and was cut off yet another time as Athena came pounding down the corridor, Apollo in hot pursuit. When she reached her father, Athena hid behind Adama and cried, “Daddy! Daddy, he’s being ugly to me! Make him be nice!”
Apollo stuck out his tongue. “Ah, she’s acting like a baby. I’m the oldest – I should get that medallion!”
Athena’s reply was destined never to be heard, for at that moment a wave of females came charging down the same corridor, led by Dietra. When she caught sight of Starbuck she screamed, “There he is, girls! He’s all yours!”
Starbuck backed against the wall, trying desperately to fend off the mass of scratching, kicking women…
“Starbuck! Starbuck, wake up!”
“Huh!” Starbuck asked groggily, trying to focus on the object of his torment.
“Starbuck, honey, we’re almost in range of the fleet. You said to wake you.”
“Oh… CORA!” Starbuck almost banged his head against the canopy of his Viper in his relief at being awake and realizing that the whole scene on the Galactica and on the Rising Star had been a dream. “Thank the Lords!”
“Starbuck, what’s the matter? Are you all right, honey?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll take over here, CORA.”
He rubbed his eyes. It had been an exceptionally long and trying patrol and Starbuck was tired...