by Hack ’n Slash Garcia

A billion stars and a billion more shone through the thick layers of plastisteel doming the Celestial Chamber. Their distant light bathed the room in a faint radiance. Silence hung heavily in the shadows, as if all sound were being held back by some dark enchantment. Then, the sound of footsteps ringing hollowly against the cold metal floor cut through the stillness. Twin beams of pale yellow light played through the gloom.
Cautiously avoiding the maze of metal struts and supports that were left exposed in this part of the battlestar, two men crept timidly through the darkness. Peering through the half-light, they were reminded of walking among the bones of some ancient, behemoth creature. They consoled one another with nervous whispers of encouragement and moved forward like children secretly exploring haunted rooms, afraid of what might be waiting for them in the dark. But one of their kind was lost, and they determined to find him. So they searched, ignoring the lesser fears for the greater fear of their search ending in emptiness.
Finally they came to a place of lesser shadows and the dim light filtering in from high above their heads revealed to them that their search was over. Halting abruptly, they stood frozen into silence by the horrifying vision before them. Lying in a dusky pool of starlight, eyes staring blindly at nothing, was the body of their friend. One searcher moved slowly forward, dark eyes filling with moisture as he knelt beside the immobile form. He neither saw nor heard as a sudden rush of emotional outrage broke through the spell of disbelief holding the other man and sent him bolting across the room to fall upon the body with an anguished cry of denial.
“He’s dead, Boomer!” Starbuck shrieked. “Oh, gods, he’s dead!”
“No shit,” Boomer muttered sympathetically.
Sobbing pitifully, the blond warrior clung to the body of his friend. “How can we go on without him?” he moaned. “Things’ll never be the same.”
“His leadership,” Boomer recalled.
“His laughing eyes,” said the other man fondly.
“Those are your laughing eyes, Starbuck,” Boomer correctly gently.
“Oh. Well then,” Starbuck sniffled, “his bravery, his undying devotion to duty, his uh...his....”
“His quick wit. His boyish chuckle,” Boomer added helpfully.
Starbuck nodded his head in dumb agreement.
“His stash of ambrosa,” he mourned sincerely.
“He always gave us short patrols,” Boomer reminisced, sadly.
“That’s all gone now,” Starbuck lamented.
“It was pretty damn inconsiderate of him to go and die on us like this, wasn’t it?” Boomer scowled down at the body in disgust.
“Yeah. Some nerve. A fine friend he turned out to be!”
“He was gonna write me a three-day pass to the Rising Star,” Boomer remembered with growing irritation.
“The cheap bastard owed me ten cubits!” Starbuck hissed.
“Starbuck,” Boomer asked curiously, “do you think it’s against regulations to punch a superior officer in the face once he’s dead?”
“Let’s see,” Starbuck suggested gleefully.
“Hey, don’t hit,” the body yelled suddenly. “I was a nice guy, remember? All those times I fixed you up with my sister?”
“There is that,” Starbuck conceded with a wistful smile. Then, realizing where the voice had come from, he looked down into the smiling face of the dead warrior. Swallowing convulsively, he leaped to his feet, ignoring the sound of Apollo’s head thumping noisily to the floor, and staggered away from the body.
“Boomer!” Starbuck gasped. “It’s him! He knows we’re here! He’s talking to us from the Astral Plane!”
“He’s talking to you from the floor, you dumb shit,” Boomer announced angrily. “He’s not dead!” He glared down at Apollo and yelled, “You stupid crud! What the hell are you trying to pull now? We thought you were dead!”
“Missed me too, didn’t you,” Apollo said happily as he climbed to his feet. Boomer snarled. Starbuck stared stupidly and asked, “Apollo? I thought you were, well,” he hesitated, “you know.”
“Well I’m not!” the captain snapped. Gingerly massaging the back of his head with one hand he gripped Starbuck’s arm with the other and said conversationally, “Dammit, Starbuck! I thought I told you about pouncing on people like that. I can’t even feel my damn lungs!” He coughed experimentally, to make sure the organs in question were still functional, then, noticing the tear-stained face of his comrade, he asked, “What’re ya crying about?”
“Your death,” Boomer interjected sourly. “It sort of bothered him.”
Acknowledging Boomer’s explanation with a snort of derision, Apollo looked into Starbuck’s face and ridiculed, “You jerk!”
Starbuck’s eyes widened with shock. How could a man for whom he had done some of his best grieving speak to him so callously? He moved closer to the captain and asked simply, “You’re alive, then?”
“Most of me,” Apollo growled, rubbing painfully at his chest.
“You’re sure?” Starbuck insisted. “Lemme feel your pulse.” He reached for the other’s wrist.
Snatching his hand away, Apollo yelled, “Knock it off! I’m sure!”
Starbuck drew away, his eyes narrowing into menacing shards of hatred. Apollo watched in mounting apprehension as the lieutenant slowly reached for the powerful blaster riding easily at his hip.
“Starbuck?” he asked needlessly. “What are you going to do?”
“Make you dead for real.”
“Starbuck! No!” Boomer bellowed.
“Listen to him!” Apollo pleaded.
Starbuck’s deathly laughter reverberated through the chamber as he lifted his weapon and announced, “You made me cry, Apollo. I don’t like to cry. Now I’m gonna make you cry. You rotten twerp!”
Alarmed, Boomer thoughtlessly stepped between them. He fought to control his voice and keep his gaze steady as he spoke to the maddened warrior.
“Starbuck, this isn’t the way,” he said.
“It’s the only way,” Starbuck droned.
“But we can think of a better way,” Boomer bluffed desperately. “Something, uh, more painful. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Boomer!” Apollo howled.
“Outta my way, Boomer,” Starbuck said as he raised his blaster and aimed it with deadly precision at Apollo’s heart.
“Okay, Starbuck. But you know this is really going to get the Commander pissed.”
Starbuck ignored Boomer’s warning and sneered at Apollo, “Okay, hero,” he said. “This is where you get yours!”
Apollo stood transfixed, mesmerized by the cold finality of Starbuck’s tone. He looked fearfully towards Boomer, who waved good-naturedly, shrugged his shoulders helplessly and busily occupied himself with wiping away an imaginary spot on his jacket.
“Starbuck, please?” he croaked.
“On your knees, scumsucker!” Starbuck ordered meanly.
Apollo made a rapid and wise decision. He knelt. Suddenly Starbuck lifted the muzzle of his blaster, tossed the weapon lightly into the air and caught it, then slid it smoothly back into its holster. His eyes twinkled with delight as he said, “Had ya goin’ there for a centon, didn’t I?” Breaking into loud peals of laughter he bellowed happily, “Gods, you shoulda seen your face! I thought you were gonna puke!”
Of those next few centons of confusion, all Boomer could remember was a maddened howl of anger before he fell beneath a human avalanche. All of a sudden he found himself buried beneath a tangle of grappling arms and legs and fighting for his breath. Swearing viciously, he managed to free himself from the snarling, clawing warriors, and against his better judgment pulled them apart before they killed one another. Apollo stood off to one side, breathing heavily and trying unsuccessfully to reattach a torn sleeve to his tattered jacket. Giving up the effort as useless, he stuffed the scrap of cloth into his pocket and glared meanly at his opponent. Starbuck returned the glare from behind the protective shoulder of Boomer.
“Good lords, Apollo!” Boomer screamed. “What’s the matter with you?”
“And ask him where he’s been for the past three days too!” Starbuck added.
Boomer obliged. “Well...?”
“I don’t know,” Apollo admitted. A puzzled expression crawled up one side of his face and down the other. Rubbing his jaw thoughtfully and still feeling the sting of Starbuck’s fist, he added, “Besides, it’s not really any of your business, is it...Bucko!”
Starbuck’s glare intensified in response to the hated nickname. He quickly decided that from this time forward, Apollo’s number one friend status was to fall drastically in favor of Boomer, as well as fifty or sixty people he had meet casually at one time or another and even beneath some he had only passed briefly in the corridors. He couldn’t be sure but on later recollection he believed he might have growled. Sensing the tension remounting, Boomer hastily demanded, “Apollo, you’ve been gone for three days now! Your old man’s had us looking in every rathole on this miserable barge for your carcass, the Colonel’s issued a warrant for your desertion, and your nutty sister’s driving everybody crazy trying to rent your room! So what’s going on?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” Apollo conceded. “But first, tell pig parts over there to keep his mouth shut!”
“What?” Starbuck screeched and lunged. Avoiding Boomer’s grasp he grabbed a double handful of the startled captain’s flight jacket and started screaming incoherently into his face.
Determined that he would be intimidated no further by a junior officer, Apollo frantically reached inside the lieutenant’s jacket and yanked out his entire store of cigars. Starbuck recoiled in horror, watching Apollo’s face contort into an ugly snarl of satisfaction as he viciously tossed them onto the floor and ground them mercilessly beneath his heel.
“How do you like that...slimecake!” he bellowed.
Stunned, the blond warrior looked towards Boomer. Lips quivering, he asked pathetically, “Boomer, did you see what he did? He broke my cigars!”
“Nevermind, Bucky,” Boomer consoled. “I’ll make you some more.” He looked grimly at Apollo. “You didn’t have to do that!”
“Well, he started it,” Apollo whined defensively.
“I did not!” Starbuck yelled, kneeling down to scoop tobacco lovingly into his hands.
“Go play, Starbuck,” Boomer suggested. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Take care of him real good!” Starbuck grinned, eyeing Apollo gleefully.
Leaning back against the wall, Boomer cast a judicious eye upon the captain. Knowing how anxious Apollo always got when he thought he was being stared at, Boomer smiled to himself and concentrated on staring even harder. Finally, his efforts won results. Apollo yelled, “I can’t stand that! What do you want me to do?”
“Apologize to Starbuck,” Boomer stated simply.
“No. I don’t have to,” Apollo pouted.
“Okay. If that’s the way you want it.” Boomer focused his eyes and stared unblinkingly at Apollo. The captain resolutely turned his back on Boomer. Boomer smiled to himself again and stared some more.
Apollo turned around, hands over his face. Peeking through his fingers, he asked, “Are you still staring at me?”
“Still staring,” Boomer confirmed.
“All right!” Apollo suddenly yelled, ending the stalemate, “I’m sorry!”
“Tell that to Starbuck. Those were his cigars you murdered!”
Apollo fought to hide his irritation, knowing the wisdom of concession. “Okay, where is the little—”
Boomer coughed a warning and Apollo turned away to look for Starbuck. The black lieutenant leaned against the wall once more, watching Apollo’s figure retreat into the shadows, and let his mind wander to more pleasant figures, specifically that of a shapely little ensign down in Engineering who had promised him hitherto unknown delights. Lost in his own fantasy of unknown hitherto’s, Boomer almost missed Apollo’s shouts for attention. “Boomer! Hey Boomer!”
“Boomer left,” he mumbled. Then, resigning himself to the hopelessness of avoiding fate, he walked into the darkness to find Apollo.
He found the captain standing in the same pool of starlight where they had first encountered him. He cast off the unfriendly thought of how much simpler his life might be if Apollo had actually been...No, Boomer. That’s not thinking with the noble heart of a warrior, he told himself.
Seeing the other man approach, Apollo hastily announced, “Starbuck’s gone!”
“Starbuck’s smart,” Boomer commented dryly. He looked around the chamber and chanced a brief glance upwards toward the dome. Looking again at Apollo he bit back a profoundly caustic remark at the sincere look of concern in the man’s eyes. How could the good captain be so concerned for Starbuck’s welfare when as soon as the two were back within punching distance they’d be at it again? Ignoring the tiny voice in his head telling him, serves the creep right! he said, “Apollo, Starbuck isn’t gone. Look.” Pointing to a spot above their heads, he watched as the other lieutenant gracefully scaled the network of support struts. Reaching a platform, Starbuck grasped its edge and swung himself deftly over the top. Settling into a worn leather chair, he reached up and pulled a large telescope into reach. Scrinching up one eye as he peered through the lens and making simultaneous adjustments on a mysterious looking panel, he broke out in an old Academy tune. Apparently satisfied with the view, he grinned broadly and set the chair spinning in rapid revolutions on its swivel base. Apollo couldn’t repress a warm smile as Starbuck clung happily to the telescope and gave joyous shouts of “Bandits at four o’clock!” and “This one’s for the Commander, you lousy gleaming son-of-a-Cylon!” It seemed that Starbuck’s imagination had carried him into realms far beyond the pain of torn and crushed cigars.
Filled with a curious sense of fondness for the carefree lieutenant, Apollo promised, “I’ll make it up to him...somehow.”
Boomer was beginning to feel the uncomfortable stirrings of guilt but quickly squelched the emotion as ridiculous. Still, he had to admit that Apollo looked sincere. He noticed for the first time that the captain also looked unusually haggard. Knowing he’d probably pay dearly for his lack of resolve, he asked, “Why don’t you tell me about it, Apollo.”
“It?” Apollo asked dumbly. “What it?”
“What it is that’s bothering you, airhead,” Boomer clarified.
“Oh no, Boomer. I couldn’t. It’s too terrible. You shouldn’t know.”
“Okay.”
“But since you insist,” Apollo continued.
“Don’t let me pressure you,” Boomer grunted.
Apollo looked warily around the room and whispered conspiratorially, “He’s back.”
“Who’s back?” Boomer asked through gritted teeth.
Just as it looked like Apollo was about to deliver a coherent answer, he suddenly yelled and shoved Boomer down onto the floor. Cursing angrily, the other man had murderous visions of how best to rid himself of this madman when he saw the large telescope come screaming down from the shadows and crash loudly to the floor where he had been standing only microns before. Half dazed, Boomer pulled himself upright and walked to the crash site to inspect the damage. Large shards of floor had been thrown upward with explosive force as the telescope impacted. He shivered involuntarily at the unpleasant mental image of ending his career as a new paint job for the chamber’s walls. Apollo’s quick reactions had saved his life.
“Son-of-a-bitch. Thanks, Apollo,” he said.
Apollo nodded silently. Looking up again, his eyes filled with terror and he nudged Boomer to look where his shaking hand was pointing.
Having deserted his game, Starbuck was leaning over the railing looking down at them. The remains of the telescope mounting were still clutched in his hand. As the two men below stared in open-mouthed amazement, the blond’s face suddenly paled and he trembled with fear.
“Starbuck, you stupid worm! Come down from there!” Boomer thought yelling might quell his own fear.
“Damn, you guys! I didn’t do that!” Starbuck said in stricken tones. “At least I don’t think I did. Did I? I...,” his voice faltered.
“Well get down from there before you kill yourself,” Apollo ordered. “And take the stairs this time, Tarzan!”
Apollo and Boomer exchanged fearful glances. “Boomer, that telescope was meant for me,” Apollo whispered nervously.
“Apollo,” Boomer said sensibly, “considering that it was me who nearly got the shit smashed outta him, I don’t think so.”
“I’m a marked man!” Apollo moaned.
“You are weird man,” Boomer corrected.
“But Starbuck pushed that thing down on me! I know he did!”
“You sayin’ Starbuck tried to kill you?” Boomer shouted. “You slob!”
“Of course not,” Apollo yelled back hastily. “But you saw him. Somebody or something made him shove that thing down here!”
Boomer had to acknowledge that Apollo’s statement made sense. This disconcerted him considerably. But he had seen Starbuck clutching the ruined mountings of the telescope and unless the man was suddenly fond of collecting scrap metal, Apollo had a point.
“I know,” Boomer said cautiously. “Starbuck can be pretty stupid at times, but he’s no killer.”
“I know he isn’t, Boomer,” Apollo agreed. “I don’t think he could help it. I think he was possessed.”
Boomer looked at Apollo from the corner of his eye.
“But I told you he was back,” Apollo argued. He began pacing the floor and wringing his hands in nervous agitation. “He’s back,” he repeated to no one, “he’s back and he’s gonna get me.”
“Who’s back?” Starbuck asked as he jumped lightly down from a low hanging support.
Boomer shrugged. Starbuck repeated, “Hey, Apollo. Who’s back?”
The captain stopped pacing and stood looking at his two comrades. A heavy silence descended.
“Count Iblis,” he finally whispered.
“Oh, great!” Starbuck groaned. “That’s all we need. Shit!”
“Apollo,” Boomer inquired skeptically, “are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!”
“Maybe it was just somebody who looks like him,” Starbuck suggested hopefully.
Apollo turned reproachful eyes on the other two men. “It was him! Gods, do you think I could ever forget him after what he did to me?”
“What’d he do?” Starbuck asked curiously.
“You idiot!” Apollo hissed. “You were there! Or maybe you don’t consider it a memorable experience when your captain is slain by a demon!”
“Oh, that. You expect me to remember every time you get yourself into trouble?” He shrugged. “Besides, I always thought you sorta over-reacted to the whole thing.”
“By dying?” Boomer asked.
“Aw,” Starbuck said knowingly, “he was just showing off for Sheba.”
“I was dead, Starbuck!” Apollo said with cold firmness edging his voice. “And you know it!”
Boomer saw the familiar danger signs in Starbuck’s grin and knew that if he didn’t do something quick to change the subject the two warriors would be trying to tear each other’s heart out. He wished Starbuck would stop baiting Apollo. But then, if the duck sits in front of the gun....
“I believe you, Apollo,” he lied. “But let’s address the problem at hand. So, the Count is back? Have you tried to talk to him? Maybe he has a legitimate reason for being here.”
“You don’t talk to creatures like that, Boomer! The Count’s back for one thing only...he has,” he stopped to look over his shoulder warily, “plans.”
“Architects have plans, Apollo,” Boomer sighed impatiently. “What does the count want?!”
Apollo resumed his pacing. “He said he was going to get even with me. He was going to get me and drag my screaming torn body down into the deepest pits of hell and after making me beg for death he was going to take my tortured soul and condemn me to nameless horrors for all eternity!”
“Wow!” Starbuck said admiringly. “That’s pretty impressive.”
“You guys gotta help me,” Apollo wailed. “I don’t wanna spend eternity like that!”
“In hero heaven, of course,” Boomer muttered sarcastically.
“Everybody knows that hero heaven’s just a myth, Boomer!” Apollo said wistfully.
“His mythtake,” Starbuck quipped.
“You are a bizarre human being,” Boomer said sincerely.
“It’s a bizarre universe,” Starbuck philosophized.
“It’s a bizarre battlestar,” Apollo added, not wanting to be left out.
“Ohfergodsake!” the dark man exploded. “I think I’ve about had enough! Apollo,” he asked, “maybe you’re not well. Have you thought of that?”
“What!” Apollo screamed. “You don’t believe me? You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” His face was growing alarmingly red as he bellowed, “I thought you were my friends! The devil’s here on this ship and he’s not leaving without my soul! Why can’t you understand that?”
“Moody sort, isn’t he?” Starbuck observed.
Apollo’s voice rose hysterically. “Well, if I can’t count on you two to help me then you can just go to...to...,” he sputtered.
“Hell?” Starbuck asked, and looked for a place to hide.
“Okay! Okay! We’ll help!” Boomer said. “Don’t pop your pistons!”
“We’re gonna help?” Starbuck said suspiciously. “Why?”
Casting a warning look at his fellow officer, Boomer moved to stand next to Apollo, wondering, indeed, why? Aloud, he said, “Okay, Apollo.”
“Okay, what?”
Boomer groaned helplessly. “You want us to let you get your butt dragged off to hell or not?”
“You think I’m nuts? Of course not!” he said sulkily.
“Well then, how about raking some of the daggit-doo outta your brain and tell me how this whole mess got started?”
“Okay. See, I was lying over there and then you and Starbuck came and....”
Boomer bit his knuckles in despair. “The Count, Apollo, the Count!”
“Count Iblis?” Apollo asked innocently.
The dark man’s eyes filled with tears. He inhaled deeply and counted to ten. “Apollo. Listen very carefully. Watch my lips, okay? When did you first see the Count?”
Apollo watched Boomer’s lips. “Boomer, don’t you remember either? Back on that planet with Sheba and Starbuck.”
“This time, you maggot!” Boomer screeched hysterically.
“Oh, this time,” Apollo grinned sheepishly. “Well, I guess it was a couple of days ago. Nights, actually. He was in my bathroom mirror.”
“Told ya he was nuts!” Starbuck commented casually as he rejoined the conversation.
“Drop dead, Starbuck!” Apollo snapped.
“Can’t. I’m on duty,” the lieutenant quipped. “Say, Boomer, do I have to stand around here and listen to any more of this junk? I got this girl waitin’, ya know?”
“The girl can wait,” Boomer told him.
“I don’t think I can,” Starbuck said anxiously.
“I said it can wait!” Boomer yelled.
“Won’t take long,” the blond said slyly.
“Filth!” Apollo sneered.
“Ain’t I, though,” Starbuck commented rather proudly.
“Poor Boomer,” Boomer told himself. “I’m leaving,” he announced, not caring whether anyone heard him or not.
As he stepped out into the lighted corridor Boomer felt the mantle of responsibility slip from his shoulders. But before he could even inhale one healthy sigh of relief another realization popped up in his mind to plague him. If the Count was really here, what then? Could he, in good conscience, leave the captain to face such awesome power on his own? Knowing Apollo as he did, Boomer calculated his chances. Apollo’s prospects for salvation were not very good. The man was hell on wheels when it came to tearing into Cylons, but for something that required thought? The captain was definitely doomed.
And Starbuck? How much help would he be? None, not as long as he was obsessed with bickering and acting like a moron. Starbuck ought to be loosed upon the Count, Boomer thought warmly. Iblis’d be down on his knees and begging for mercy in centons. But then, if the stories were true, Iblis was a pretty powerful adversary and Starbuck did frighten easily. No, Starbuck would probably get himself doomed too. So then, could he, as a warrior and a friend, leave his comrades at the mercy of a demented Prince of Hell or whatever it was?
Boomer looked backwards indecisively. Reminding himself that he had always been a man of action, he made his choice.
“I could,” he told the wall and started off down the corridor whistling merrily.
The whistle died on his lips as he was struck by another thought that sent a shiver crawling up his backbone. He had left Apollo and Starbuck alone in the chamber! Without his constant intervention, the two warriors couldn’t go five centons without conflict. The way things were now, chances were it could be getting brutal back there. Not that he didn’t realize that the best thing for him would be to keep on going and just let the two men knock each other senseless, but that would leave him with the tiresome task of making out reports and answering questions. Spurred by the dread of filling in the details in triplicate, Boomer raced back to the chamber.
Plunging through the doorway, he skidded to a halt. Apollo and Starbuck were not engaged in joyously trying to pound each other into the deckplates as he had expected. Rather, the two warriors were huddled against the wall, clinging to each other like Tauran leeches and bellowing for mercy. Looming menacingly over them was a pallid green mist. As it hovered over the terrified men, a maniacal laugh filled the chamber. Boomer sniffed and grimaced at the sulfurous odor that assailed his nostrils. Wrinkling his nose in disgust he spat on the floor and cursed his warrior’s instinct for asserting itself now. He knew what he was going to do! Instead of sensibly turning on his heel and running to safety, he attacked!
“YIEEEEE CAPRICAAAA!!!!” he yelled fiercely as he charged the cloud. Apollo and Starbuck’s fearful shrieks increased at the sound of Boomer’s wild battle cry. Their own cries broke through his berserker rage and he thought miserably, I’m crazy for doin’ this! Frantically he tried to halt his movement.
I’m gonna die, he thought as he plunged into the mist despite himself.
Instead of meeting the expected disastrous fate, he passed through the foggy being and was startled to find himself unharmed by the experience. Turning to stare at the thing, he scratched his head in confusion and commented, “Well, I’ll be damned!”
Seeing that Boomer had apparently made a safe passage through his tormentor, Apollo released his grip on Starbuck and rose to his feet. When nothing happened to him his confidence returned. Looking at the phantom, he seized upon the opportunity for drama. “What manner of being is this?” he shouted.
“Who cares!” Starbuck wailed. “Make it go away!”
Suddenly the mist altered and became a whirling vortex of light, spinning and undulating in a wild dance of green and gold triumph. Deep inside the core an image coalesced and in the space of a shiver became the visage of a tall, and well-groomed, Boomer noticed, man in white robes. Apollo stepped forward and peered into the piercing black eyes of Count Iblis, demon from Hell. The Count smiled chillingly. Apollo moaned.
“Ah, Captain,” the Count said congenially. “There you are.” He reached for Apollo. Spurred more by fear than reflex, Apollo recoiled and evaded the grasp. “Lemme ’lone, you!” he screamed and bolted away.
“Yeah! Leave him alone!” Starbuck yelled in a sudden fit of bravado.
Iblis looked at Starbuck and said in a voice that might have come from the grave, “Just how attached are you to your soul?”
“Apollo! Come back here, you sniveling coward!” Starbuck called. He looked questioningly at Iblis and was rewarded with a curt nod of approval. He saluted respectfully and went to stand quietly at Boomer’s side.
They stood helplessly by as Iblis raised his hand and pointed a finger at Apollo’s retreating form. A thin beam of intense blue light flew from the Count’s hand and made contact with the back of his victim’s head, stopping him dead in his tracks. Starbuck applauded softly, ignoring Boomer’s scowl. The captain turned slowly and walked stiffly back to stand helplessly before the Count.
“Like your proverbial rat in a trap, isn’t it?” Starbuck observed. Iblis diverted his attention from his rat long enough to glare another warning at the lieutenant.
Inhaling deeply, Starbuck said, “Well, I don’t suppose they need us around any longer. Let’s be going.”
Iblis frowned in their direction. He asked, “You’re not going to give up that easily, are you?” Boomer was startled at the sincere look of disappointment registering on the Count’s face.
“Wha?”
“Aren’t you going to do something? Plead for his life? Make threats? Nothing?”
“Any suggestions?” Starbuck asked the demon.
“Look,” Iblis continued, “I thought he was supposed to be your best friend. I mean, you can’t just go off and leave your best friend in the clutches of a demon, can you?”
“I have often asked myself that very thing,” Boomer commented dryly.
“I don’t get it,” said Starbuck.
“For pity’s sake! Help this poor man!” Iblis pleaded.
“Okay, dammit!” Boomer yelled. He was growing increasingly confused and increasingly more aggravated. “What is this crap? I thought you came here to drag his torn and bleeding body off to Hell!”
“Oh, I did,” Iblis confirmed.
“And what about those nameless horrors for all eternity,” Starbuck added.
“That too,” Iblis said amiably.
“Then what’s the problem if we leave?” Boomer asked.
The Count’s face grew petulant. “Well, it certainly isn’t any fun if you’re going to make it easy for me!”
“I am dreaming,” Boomer decided. “I am going to wake up in Life Center and find myself committed.”
“All right.” Iblis smiled with sudden inspiration. “I’ll tell ya what. You try to prevent me from snatching the captain’s soul and I’ll reward you. Humans love to be rewarded, you know!”
“Rewards?” Starbuck grew interested.
“Forget it,” Boomer said. “We don’t deal with your kind, Iblis!”
“Boomer, are you crazy?!” Starbuck yelled. “How many times do you think you’ll get this kind of deal! Think about it! Women! Riches! Power! Women!” His eyes clouded with imagination.
“Well, what sort of reward did you have in mind?” Boomer asked warily.
“Anything within reason,” Iblis answered. “It all depends on the value of the item in question. In this case, the captain’s soul would have a fair market value of...well...riches and power?” He paused to consider. “Uh-uh! Think of something else!”
“Well,” Starbuck said, “women are always nice.”
“Let me get this straight,” Boomer said. “If we try to stop you from taking Apollo, you’ll reward us, right?”
“If you succeed, of course,” confirmed the Count.
“And if we don’t try to stop you?”
“Then I’ll just have to blast you and your entire fleet out of existence, I suppose,” Iblis said.
“The Commander wouldn’t like that,” Starbuck told him.
“But there’s no way we can stop you, Iblis!” Boomer said. “I know all about you and your powers. I didn’t just crawl out of the thorn forests yesterday, you know!”
“What if I promise not to use any powers,” Iblis suggested hopefully.
“Ahhh,” Boomer said skeptically.
“No. I really wouldn’t,” Iblis promised.
Boomer chewed his lip thoughtfully. “You’ll understand if I don’t exactly take your word as bond.”
Iblis scratched the back of his head. Then his eyes lit up with inspiration. Boomer wondered if it hurt to make your eyes glow like burning coals, then decided he didn’t really care anyway.
“Listen, Boomer,” the Count said. “All I want is a little diversion. Is that asking for too much?”
“Not really,” Boomer had to agree. He imagined that stealing souls would get to be pretty routine after a while. “So you just want to play some sort of game.”
“Exactly,” Iblis said.
“Have you tried pyramid?” Starbuck asked.
“Lieutenant, don’t provoke me,” Iblis warned.
Boomer paced a few steps. He turned to look at the Count intently. “Why Apollo’s soul, anyway?” he wondered aloud.
Iblis walked over to join him. He put his arm around the warrior’s shoulders in friendly fashion and explained, “I like you, Boomer, so I’m gonna level with you. Take a good look at Apollo. If you were a demon would you really want that? But I have a quota to fill, see, and I need that soul.”
“But why him?” Boomer insisted.
Iblis chucked dryly. “Easy pickin’s, you might say.”
“I still don’t know.”
“Boomer,” Iblis said confidentially. “Have you thought about what would happen to your squadron if Apollo were gone? It would need a new captain, wouldn’t it?”
Boomer’s eyes flashed. “Do you think I’d let you take Apollo’s soul just so I could have his job?! Gods, you’re a real scuz, Iblis!”
“Thank you, Boomer,” Iblis smiled. “But you’re missing the point. If Apollo wasn’t there, who would be the new captain?”
Boomer groaned audibly. The second-in-command would naturally be up for promotion and that would mean...Starbuck?
He looked over at Starbuck and winced. “You got a deal, Iblis,” he said flatly.
Starbuck stepped up to join the conversation. “Well, what’s going on? Has Apollo had it or what?”
Boomer was too tired to explain. “Starbuck, we’re going to try to stop the Count from stealing Apollo’s soul. Just why we’re going to do this or how, I haven’t figured out yet. But if we can do it, Iblis is going to go away, aren’t you, Iblis?”
The Count nodded in confirmation.
“What if we don’t stop him?” Starbuck asked in uncharacteristic sensibility.
“Well then,” Iblis said, oily, “I get the captain’s soul and reserve the option to destroy the fleet.”
“Hey!” Boomer interrupted. “I thought we were gonna leave the fleet outta this!”
“Never trust a demon, Boomer!” Iblis advised and then popped out of sight. He left his voice behind to tell them, “You have 24 centares to find me. Happy hunting!”
“Where’d he go?” Starbuck yelped.
Apollo’s voice suddenly rang out in alarm. “Oh gods, I’m dead!”
“You’re not dead, stupid!” Starbuck yelled.
“No?” Apollo asked.
“No,” Boomer confirmed.
“What happened then? Did Iblis change his mind?” Apollo asked hopefully.
“No, Apollo,” Boomer said caustically. “Iblis didn’t change his mind.”
“Oh, gods!” the captain wailed again. “Then I’m as good as dead!”
“Shut up, Apollo!” Starbuck said. “You’re not going to die. Boomer has it all figured out, don’t you, Boomer?”
“In a distorted sort of way,” Boomer informed him.
He looked into the two curious faces and said, “I think what we’re dealing with here is a bored demon! Iblis wants to take Apollo’s soul, but he wants to have a little fun doing it, so what he’s done is given us a chance to challenge him.”
“I don’t think I want to challenge any demons today,” Starbuck said.
“Me either,” Apollo said.
“That’s fine with me!” Boomer said impatiently. “We’ll just call Iblis back and tell him to go ahead and take your soul! You want that? Better yet, why don’t we just tell him he can have the whole damn fleet!”
“Sorry, Boomer,” Apollo said.
“What do you want me to do?” Starbuck asked.
“Keep your mouth shut, for starters. And let me think!” Boomer walked away towards the relative privacy of the door. He stared moodily at the floor and wished he were somewhere else. A nice quiet stay on a Cylon basestar would be nice.
“Okay,” he breathed, “this is how it stands. Iblis is off hiding somewhere. What we gotta do is find him, understand?” He waited for them to acknowledge that they understood, then went on anyway. “We have 24 centares to find out where he’s hiding. If we can find him within that time, Apollo’s safe, and so’s the fleet! Got it?”
“Got it,” Apollo said. “Let’s get started!”

ON TO PART 2

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