DEMONS ARE FOREVER

Part 2

The three badly shaken warriors followed the maze of dimly lit corridors that wound endlessly through the massive battlestar. Pausing occasionally, Apollo would punch up a brightly-lit deck schematic to check their position. Ignoring Starbuck’s protest that since they were standing right next to an elevator why didn’t they just take it up to bridge level and save themselves a lot of hassle, Apollo traced a glowing red line through the lower decks on the three-dimensional readout before him. Nodding in satisfaction, he motioned for his friends to follow. After taking several steps he paused again to check the time, then hurried on his way.
Emerging from an intersection on the bridge level, they found themselves directly opposite the command chair. A few more steps would bring them to Adama’s quarters. Passing through the bridge, the ever-thoughtful Boomer paused to listen to the night tour as they went about efficiently maintaining ship’s functions. Always conscious of their grave responsibilities, they remained constantly alert as they diligently scanned the heavens for any threat. Boomer smiled happily as he listened to the reassuring exchange of information:
“Get yer freakin’ hands off my console, Aramis! I happen to know what the hell I’m doing!”
“Aw, go pound sand up yer ass!”
“Goddammit! Who left the cracker crumbs on my screen? I though we were being frackin’ attacked!”
“Holy shit! Would you take a look at what those two are doing under there? Unbelievable!”
“That’s not funny, Throcmorton. If the Commander sits in that, I’ll get blamed for it.”
“How in the hell am I supposed to know what it means? If it shoots at us, shoot back! I don’t care!”
“Touch me there again, creep, and I’ll launch this viper up yer ass!”
“I have checked and double-checked, sir, and there is nothing in regulations that gives you the authority to order me to wipe the smile off my face....”
Confident that things were running normally on the bridge, Boomer hurried to catch up with his friends.
He found Apollo standing hesitantly outside his father’s door and whispering conspiratorially with Starbuck. The blond was frowning at Apollo as he joined them.
“What’s the matter?” Boomer asked.
“He’s afraid to wake his father up,” Starbuck said angrily.
“Oh fer cryin’ out loud!” Boomer yelled. “Apollo, knock on the door already!”
“He’ll get mad at me,” Apollo announced with conviction.
“Would you rather me get mad at you?” Boomer asked sincerely. He smiled at Apollo. Apollo thought it was the meanest smile he had ever seen on a human being.
“But you don’t understand, Boomer!” Apollo pleaded. “When I was a little kid, and sometimes I’d get scared at night, and I’d go into his room and wake him up-he’d get awful mad. He used to throw me outta the house and make me sleep on the front porch with the daggit.”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about that here,” Starbuck said encouragingly. “Battlestars don’t have front porches.”
“They don’t have daggits either,” Apollo said gravely. “But that wouldn’t stop him.”
Exasperated, Boomer pounded loudly on Adama’s door and then stood back as he shoved Apollo forward.
“Who the hell is it?” came a disgruntled voice from behind the door.
“Uh.... It’s me, Father,” Apollo announced fearfully. “I, er, have to talk with you, please. It’s very important.”
“Cylons?” asked Adama.
“No, sir,” Starbuck said.
“Then go away! I’m busy!”
“Please Father,” Apollo begged. “It’s really important.”
“The ship is on fire? Somebody die? What?”
“Nothing like that, sir,” his son answered truthfully.
“Then frack off!” Adama yelled. Apollo could envision his father on the other side of the door. No doubt the man was engaged in his favorite hobby of searching through fragmented records for clues to the secret location of Earth. Apollo knew how his father detested interruptions when he was so engaged, and decided to leave.
“I’ll be going now,” he said.
“Good!”
Stepping closer to the door, Boomer grabbed Apollo’s arm and stopped his retreat. Snarling at the captain, he nevertheless said in a calm voice, “Commander, it’s Boomer. Sir, I believe the fleet has encountered another one of those terrible situations, sir. The kind we can’t handle without your expert supervision.”
Starbuck smiled admiringly at Boomer.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” said the unseen Commander.
“Sorry, sir!” Boomer said diplomatically while poking out his tongue at the voice.
“All right, just a moment.”
The three warriors stepped back from the door and Boomer acknowledged Apollo’s grateful look with a tight smile of annoyance. Starbuck discovered a small spot on the wall where the paint was beginning to chip and busily engaged himself with passing the time by enlarging the blemish. Taking note of his comrade’s activity, Boomer hastily smacked Starbuck’s hand away from its task. With a hurt look of indignation, the lieutenant stuffed his hands in his pockets and concentrated on balancing on one foot until the Commander opened the door and called them inside.
As they entered, Adama offered his son an angry glare. Flinching, Apollo asked, “Did we wake you, Father?”
“No. I had to get up and answer the door anyway,” Adama said cruelly. He settled himself into his chair and stared at each man in turn. Wearily leaning back, he asked, “Well, what is it that’s so important you have to wake a man up in the middle of the night to tell him? I warn you, this better be good.” He directed his gaze at his son and then let his eyes shift warningly to the starfield glittering outside the viewport. “I understand it gets chilly out there, Apollo,” he said coldly.
Apollo swallowed hard and fought down a sudden urge to grab a pillow and flee the room. Instead, he told his father, “He’s back.”
“Who?” Adama asked.
“Him,” Apollo explained.
Adama gave Boomer a ‘do you know what this jerk’s talking about?’ look. Boomer shrugged and let his eyes focus on a non-existent spot on the ceiling. He was beginning to find imaginary spots concentrated in strategic locations very useful. Starbuck’s eyes followed Boomer’s and he too concentrated on the ceiling. A puzzled look settled over his features, but his attention held.
Adama inhaled, cast a disinterested glance at the ceiling, and asked, “So, he’s back, is he?” He looked disinterestedly at Apollo. “When did he get back?”
“About a secton ago,” Apollo said.
“You’re sure it’s really him?” Adama asked, not really caring.
“Positive.”
“Well.... How do you know it’s him? It could be somebody else, couldn’t it?” Adama was beginning to enjoy himself.
“It had to be him,” Starbuck offered. “Apollo saw him in his bathroom mirror.”
“Try Ajax,” Adama said indifferently.
“I think it’ll take a little more than that to get rid of him,” said Boomer.
“Who’s him?” Adama yawned.
“Iblis,” Apollo whispered fearfully.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. I told you I don’t like your friends hanging around here, Apollo!”
“But he wants my soul!” Apollo wailed.
“Whatever for?” Adama laughed.
“Well, sir,” Boomer advised, “if he doesn’t get it, he’s gonna blow up the fleet.”
“Can he really do that?” Adama asked, suddenly alert.
“Probably,” said Boomer.
Adama looked at Apollo. “Would you miss it? I mean, really?”
“Of course, Father,” Apollo said indignantly.
“Well, Apollo,” the Commander said sternly, “you realize your duty, don’t you?”
“But Father—”
“Dismissed,” Adama snapped. He turned his back on them with finality.
Chastened, the three warriors ushered themselves out of the Commander’s quarters.
“Now what are we gonna do,” Starbuck said.
Boomer made a snap decision. Gods, he thought admiringly, I should be in command. “We’re going to fight fire with fire,” he said dramatically.
“We’re gonna set fire to Apollo?” Starbuck said eagerly.
Boomer sighed. “We’re going to consult a witch.”
“That’s good,” Starbuck said. “That’s very good. Where do we find one?”
Boomer strode to a nearby terminal on the bridge. He erased the arcade game currently displaying on the screen and keyed in WITCH, LOCATION OF. The computer instantly delivered a printout about a metron in length.
Boomer tore it off and checked the list for the most local of practitioners. “One right here on the Galactica. Level 12. Come on!”

“Listen,” Boomer cautioned as the elevator descended, “Scorpians are a little funny, so when we get there, you two try to behave yourselves, okay?”
“Are they really as mean as everybody says?” Apollo asked nervously.
“They aren’t exactly mean,” he explained. “They just don’t like a certain kind of people.”
“What kind of people?” Apollo asked.
“Assholes,” Boomer said dryly.
“Maybe we should have worn disguises,” Starbuck suggested.
“I hear they like to pelt people with their rotten garbage,” Apollo continued.
“Certainly,” Boomer said, rolling his eyes westward. “They save it up for yahrens, just in case the opportunity presents itself.”
“Hey, I didn’t come down here to get dirty,” Apollo warned.
“That’s your trouble, Apollo,” Starbuck said. “You’re afraid of dirt.”
“I am not,” Apollo protested. “Dirt doesn’t scare me in the least. I just think it’s nasty, that’s all.”
“Many things in life are,” Starbuck observed.
“Yeah, and you know all of them,” Apollo sneered.
“Not yet,” he answered placidly, “but I’m working on it.”
“Pig! You wait and see, you’re gonna end up blind or something!”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to loosen up a bit,” Starbuck sniffed.
“Never!” Apollo said staunchly. “I’m a warrior, and warriors never sin!”
“I can see Iblis is going to have his hands full,” Starbuck mumbled.
“If you two are finished discussing the finer points of filth, can we move out now?” asked Boomer.
“Well, I just hope nobody throws anything scummy on me,” Apollo rejoined as the elevator came to a stop.
The doors opened onto a dimly lit corridor. Lighting units had been strung randomly along the walls, leaving long stretches of hall concealed in darkness. Where there was light, it shone in weak pools that only served to accentuate the shadows. Starbuck and Boomer exchanged glances and in unspoken agreement tossed Apollo out through the doors, quickly shutting themselves inside. They stood listening patiently until the warrior’s terrified screams quieted.
“Suppose he’s through?” Starbuck asked.
Boomer considered. “Nah, give it a few more minutes. He could start up again.”
“Why did we do that?” Starbuck asked reflectively.
“Testing the waters, so to speak.”
“Hey Boomer. You think this chick will really be able to help Apollo?”
“I dunno, but it’s worth a shot.”
“I think witchcraft is bullshit.”
“So do I,” said Boomer, and opened the doors onto silence.
Starbuck followed Boomer into the corridor and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dark. Then he started looking around for Apollo. There was no sign of the man.
“Where is he?” Starbuck asked uneasily.
“My best guess is that he ran away,” Boomer responded sensibly.
“Or something took him away,” Starbuck whispered.
Boomer ground his teeth. “Don’t start with that crap, Starbuck. I can’t handle it.” He began to lead the way down the corridor. Affronted, Starbuck bravely cut ahead of him.
“It’s cold,” Boomer complained to no one in particular.
“Wha?” asked Starbuck.
“I said it’s cold down here,” he repeated, glad to have someone acknowledge his discomfort.
“Unnaturally cold,” Starbuck agreed. “Smell that? It smells awful. What is it?”
“The stink of fear,” Boomer said caustically. “Keep movin’.”
Suddenly Starbuck screamed and reeled back into Boomer’s arms. Apollo had leaped out at them from around a corner, shrieking “Boo!”
Boomer shoved Starbuck out of the way. “Damn you, Apollo!” he yelled in frustration. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”
“What’d I do now?” Apollo asked in surprise.
Starbuck clutched at his chest and squeaked, “Help!”
“The hell with you too!” Boomer shouted.
“Don’t start yelling at me!” yelled Starbuck, suddenly regaining his voice. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Whatsa matter?” Apollo screamed, all the yelling scaring him. He looked around frantically.
“Hey, knock it off out there, will ya,” a voice shouted from beyond the wall. “Decent people are trying to sleep in here!”
“Butt out, in there!” Starbuck yelled at the wall.
“You want me to go out and throw some garbage on them, daddy?” a tiny voice squealed delightedly.
“Get back to bed, Samson! Shut up out there or I’m gonna come out and break yer legs!”
“Oh yeah?” Starbuck shouted back. “Come on out and try!”
Apollo tugged at Starbuck. “Starbuck! Shut up! I don’t want him coming out here and breaking my legs!”
“I said, come outta there, you coward!” Starbuck yelled.
There was an angry thrashing beyond the wall and a growl that shook the corridor. Starbuck paled as he realized the enormous bulk it must take to emit such a horrendous sound. He stood his ground and spoke loudly. “When you get out here, ask for Apollo,” he said. Apollo slumped to the floor in a dejected heap of misery.
Suddenly a firm but feminine voice called out from down the corridor. “What in the Nine Names of the Nine Unknown Men is going on?”
Apollo looked up to see a shadowy figure approaching. The figure presented an uncomfortably interesting shape. He stood up. He didn’t want to lay on the floor and be impolite.
“Hello,” he said pleasantly. He looked into a pair of golden eyes and noticed how they seemed to drink in his soul. He considered lying back down on the floor again.
Starbuck moved in to stand at his side, appreciatively viewing the shape that was no longer standing in the shadows. He forgot all about his fight with the behemoth beyond the wall and was instantly all charm.
“Boy, you got a body that won’t quit, don’t you?” he said.
The woman glared at him coldly and commanded, “Silence, worm.”
“We’re sorry,” Apollo said sincerely as he jostled Starbuck aside. “My name’s Apollo.”
“I know,” she said curtly. “Come along and let’s get this over with!”

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Which is where the story was left when the Pyramids crew joined the military. If you’re still out there somewhere...how about part two?!

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