Title: Consequence of Alliance
Author: Laura Anne Kincaid
Rating: PG
Summary: When Baltar captures Sheba, Apollo must overcome his demons to go
and rescue her. . .
Disclaimer: Um, I don't own these people. You all knew that, didn't ya? I
want Apollo & Sheba though. And Starbuck. Hell, I'll just have 'em all. I'll
sneak them out the back door.
Author's Notes: OK, after being threatened ::cough:: sorry, convinced by
Katrina to post this, I am. Please don't be too hard on it. This was the
first thing I ever wrote and so far, it's not finished. If you like it, I'll
post the rest.
Also it's very Apollo/Sheba heavy. So those of you who can't stand them
together (or apart <g>), please turn back now :-)

*~*

Chapter 7

Tinia sat back in her seat, her eyes trained on the other members of the
Council of Twelve as they took in the end of her story. She had done her
best, used all her skills as a politician to make them sympathetic towards
Adama but the victorious look in Antipas' eyes told her all she needed to
know.

She was failing.

It had been over a centar since the Commander's viper had left for the
prison barge and since then, Tinia had heard nothing. Outside Adama's
quarters, Tigh had promised to let her know the centon there was any news
but with all the uproar concerning the Commander's decision, Tinia doubted
very much that he'd be willing to give her it during the meeting. The
meeting that, she was certain, was going to last a substantial amount of
time.

She watched Councillor Anton, looking for some sign that he was still in
support of Adama and prayed to the Lords of Kobol that Antipas wouldn't-
couldn't- be successful in his plan, whatever that truly was. As the new
"President" of their quorum, he had already won the first battle. Tinia
vowed that he wasn't going to win the second one.

The murmurs of the group finally died down to a rather subdued silence, as
the other Council members regarded her dubiously. She could see a varying
range of emotions in each person's eyes. Emotions that ranged drastically
from anger. . . to worry. . . confusion. . . and then finally triumph, as
her eyes came to rest on Antipas.

When she was only a young girl, Tinia's father had, on more than one
occasion, brought her along to the Council meetings he, himself, had
presided over. She remembered vividly the first day she had hidden in the
far reaches of the chamber, watching and listening to her father fight for
what he believed to be the common good. It was from there that her passion
for politics began.

When her father had died, a tragedy she had always blamed on the military
personnel meant to protect him, she had become disillusioned. Alone, for the
first time in her life, and angry with everyone for the death of her father,
it had been many yahrens before she had become part of the political
movement of the twelve worlds.

As a rule, she disliked the military and their need to fight. She understood
all too well that they had no choice, that was more than obvious, but it was
the ones that seemed to live for war, the ones born to fight, that she just
couldn't accept, and, for a time, that was what she believed all warriors
were like.

But Adama was different, and the people under him, that was all they were
too, underneath it all. People who hurt and felt and wanted more than
anything not to have to fight the Cylons to survive. That was the issue
here; how to make them all see that following Antipas was wrong. The
military controlled because they had to, not because they wanted to. They
weren't in it for power or glory but for the survival of the human race,
something that the rest of the Council just could not understand.

Her father had always taught her to fight until the end, but he had also
taught her how to recognise a losing battle. If her next words couldn't
shift the balance away from the young Sire, she didn't see what else
possibly could. Rising from her seat one last time, Tinia faced her opposers
and took a deep breath.

"Only yesterday," she began, before Antipas could speak, "we were a
civilised quorum of the people. A council who knew how to conduct
investigations in an orderly and *fair* manner, according to what was best
for those that would put their trust in us." Her eyes met Antipas' and held.
"Now, less than twenty four centars later, it would seem that we are more
interested in ourselves, and how best to serve our own wishes than those of
anyone else.

"It *must* end here," she stressed finally. "It is time for common sense to
reign again, and I, for one, will tolerate nothing less." She paused. "Yes,
Adama should have discussed Baltar with us, I admit that. And, perhaps, he
should have discussed the situation of Lieutenant Sheba with us as well.
However, he did not. What he *did* do was to act in the best interests of
the people around him, something that we, as the Council of Twelve, ought to
be doing too.

"Do not persecute this man because of his love for his family or of that he
holds for others. It is not a weakness, and if you consider it such I would
wish that more would have it. He is human, and humans make mistakes. *No
one,*" she emphasised, "has the type of responsibility that Adama has
resting upon his shoulders. I suggest you think of that before you condemn
him."

Leaving that thought hanging in the air, Tinia sank back, exhausted, into
her chair.

For an endless moment, all were silent, until Sire Domra finally rose from
his seat. His face lined with uncertainty, his eyes clouded with worry, he
regarded the other Council members.

"It would seem to me," he began gently, "that Adama's ability to lead us is
coming into question. Much as I dislike it, the fact is that Adama's family
*must* come second to the needs of the Fleet. Until now, that has always
been the case, if it no longer is. . ." He trailed off, silent for a micron
as he let that sink in.

"By your own admission, Tinia, what he has done is wrong. And while I'm sure
there must be more to his agreeing to. . . give himself to Baltar, the fact
remains that he has." He paused, looking to Antipas for support. "However
this situation is going to end, I, personally, don't see any choice but to
revoke the order of martial law and retain from Adama command of the Fleet.
Only then, can we make certain that something like this will not happen
again."

Stunned at this unexpected turn of events that she, in effect, had
orchestrated, Tinia watched as each of the others in turn slowly nodded
their agreement.

*~*

There had not been many times in his life when Adama had felt completely
helpless. In fact, the Destruction and the deaths of Zac and Serina were the
only ones he could easily name.

Growing up a witness to the War and taking his place as leader to the Fleet,
the Commander's faith had been tested many times. Yet, each time he, and the
people around him, had been strong enough to pick up the pieces after every
tragedy.

This time he could not be so hopeful.


Whatever had transpired on the prison barge in the last thirty centons, he
knew it was far from over. And if Sheba died, Adama could be sure there was
no way his son would survive it.

Not for the first time did Apollo's father think that the warriors he
commanded already knew far too much loss in their young lives. In finding
Earth, he had hoped to bring an end to the pain his children suffered.

He knew that now to be only a wishful dream.

As long as there was love, there would always be suffering; there was no way
to guard against it. Still to be seen, however, was how much the two went
together at the end of this day.

His eyes trained on the incoming shuttle, the Commander couldn't help but
wonder if it was already too late as he began trying to establish radio
contact.

*~*

The pain in Apollo's shoulder had been getting progressively worse with each
passing centon. Serpents tongues of fire seemed to run down the nerves of
his arm, beads of sweat forming on his brow, yet still he held fast to the
controls of the shuttle.

The pain was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

In his deepest nightmares, Apollo had seen all this before, and the fear
that followed it was no stranger. The image of Sheba, as he had seen her
last, would be forever burned into his soul, and that hurt far more than a
laser wound ever could.

Guilt was a powerful emotion, a driving force as intense as love or hate,
and able to destroy just as easily. For Apollo, it was a constant shadow,
always waiting for him there, in the darkness, when he slept. . . when he
dreamed. . . and when something made him *feel*.

Like Sheba did.

Starbuck understood that, and had said nothing since his friend's resolve to
escape the prison barge. As far as Apollo was concerned, everything that
happened here today was his fault and nothing he could say would convince
his friend otherwise.

There was only one person that could do that.

Glancing at Apollo from the corner of his eye, Starbuck noted with growing
concern that his friend's condition seemed to have worsened even in the last
few microns. The Captain's skin had taken on a deathly white tone and his
breathing seemed to be getting more and more laboured as time went on. He
had known there was no way Apollo would let his wound be treated while
Sheba's life was still on the line, but now, if it wasn't. . .

"Cassi?" Starbuck called anxiously over his shoulder.

Looking back to Apollo as the blond medtech made her way to the cockpit, he
saw his friend slump over the controls, a gasp of pain escaping his lips as
he finally surrendered to the fire coursing through his body.

"Cassi!" he called again, more frantically.

"I'm here, Starbuck," she replied, coming up behind him. "What-"

Cassiopeia stopped short as she saw Apollo. He looked. . .

Moving quickly forward, she pulled the Captain back in his seat and slipped
the flight jacket from around his shoulders to reveal a blackened,
smouldering laser burn on his right shoulder. His eyes slipped open.

"Sheba?" he whispered.

"She's fine for now, Apollo," Cassi replied softly, "but I need to see to
you."

Unable to protest, the Captain allowed himself to be supported by both
Starbuck and Cassiopeia as he struggled to rise from his seat. Putting his
good arm around her shoulder, Apollo let the medtech lead him towards the
rear of the shuttle as Starbuck sat back down in the pilot's chair, intent
on getting them home as soon as possible.

If he didn't, who knew how much they would lose?

The beep of the comm unit roused him from his darkening thoughts. Reaching
over to activate it, Starbuck sighed sadly as he spotted the Commander's
lone viper flying through the stars towards them. How did he tell Adama he
had to worry about another one of his children?

The Commander's face appeared instantly on the screen, the lines of age
etched in even deeper around his dark brown eyes as he asked, "Starbuck?"

Starbuck looked down, unsure of what to say. He struggled for what seemed
endless microns before replying, "I think we have to hurry, Commander."

*~*

As Cassiopeia tended to Apollo's wound, her gaze couldn't help but wander to
the prone form of Sheba, lying unconscious on one of the long chairs lining
the opposite wall of the shuttle. Having only been a medtech for the better
part of a yahren, she had neither the expertise nor the experience to gauge
just how serious her friend's injuries were. What she did know was that they
were running out of time. . . and there was nothing more she could do to
help.

Her friend had not woken again since Apollo had left her in Cassi's care and
although Cassi herself held great hopes for Sheba's recovery, she had
absolutely no way of knowing whether or not those beliefs would turn out to
be well founded. For the moment, she was stable, her burns already treated
and the blood wiped from her face. She could have been sleeping, merely
resting her eyes after another tiring mission. . . only Cassiopeia knew
better.

As did Apollo.

>From where she knelt beside him, gently cleaning his wound, Cassi could see
his eyes never once moved from the delicate features of Sheba's face, almost
as if he was scared to lose sight of her in case she somehow slipped away
the moment he looked elsewhere. She could almost feel him willing her to
wake up, and with all her heart she wished she had the power to grant him
that one small glimmer of hope.

But she didn't, and, she told herself, she was the only one to blame.

More times than Cassiopeia could remember, Dr. Salik had offered her the
training she needed to elevate from her position as a medtech, and more
times than she could remember, she had turned him down, believing that she
was not yet ready to face that challenge.

Now she cursed herself for her stupidity.

Seeing just how much Apollo was hurting called out to every instinct in her
to help, only there was nothing she could do. . . was there?

She understood what hurt him and why it hurt him, but she also understood
that when it came to Sheba, he was especially afraid of admitting his
feelings because of her status as a warrior. As a pilot she was one of the
best, but even the best pilots could make mistakes. A mission to a planet
could easily end in tragedy should an unknown assailant like the Cylon on
Kobol decide to make sudden use of an energy weapon. All too soon, Sheba
could become nothing more than a memory, and if Apollo had to go through
that again, it would undoubtedly destroy him.

Even so, Cassi had to admit, something had changed since their escape from
the prison barge. Leaving the Galactica, she had sensed in Apollo a
multitude of conflicting emotions, the predominant one being fear. Only, it
wasn't just a fear of losing Sheba, of losing another woman he loved. It was
the fear of failing, the fear of being depended on and then letting that
person down.

For the first time that Cassiopeia could remember in the two yahrens she had
known Apollo, he had been afraid to go on a mission.

And that was the turning point.

Now, as she finished bandaging the Captain's shoulder, Cassi realised that
for Apollo to come to any kind of peace she had to give him the time he
needed alone with Sheba, or watch as he retreated back into his shell. And
she wasn't about to let him do that.

Rising from her kneeling position on the floor of the shuttle she sealed the
lid of her medkit and watched as Apollo straightened, his gaze still never
leaving Sheba. An almost inaudible "thank you" passed his lips, but not once
did he look Cassiopeia in the eyes.

Taking the only opportunity she was likely to get before the shuttle landed
on the Galactica, Cassi moved to sit beside the Captain, her hand reaching
out to rest gently on his arm. Finally, he looked up, taking in the serious
expression on her face as a confused one came over his own.

"Cassi, what. . .?" Apollo's voice trailed off as he stole another glance in
Sheba's direction.

"Apollo," Cassiopeia's tone was serious, "listen, I. . ." She paused, unsure
of how to continue. "I know that you've been. . . avoiding Sheba the past
few days, and. . . I know what you talked about in the raider. I'm not
making any judgements," she added quickly, seeing the familiar guarded
expression shadow Apollo's face. "I just want to make sure that. . . when
she wakes up. . ."

"Don't you mean, 'if she wakes up'?" Apollo asked quietly, as he finally
turned to face her.

"No, Apollo," she replied solemnly, "I said 'when'."

The Captain allowed himself a small smile before he looked down, tears
filling his eyes. "You don't have to worry, Cassiopeia," he whispered, as
she rose from her seat, "I'm not going anywhere."

Cassi smiled as she moved off towards the shuttle's cockpit, giving Apollo
the privacy he needed. Before she passed through the doorway she turned,
watching as he slowly made his way over to where Sheba was lying.

"Apollo?" He looked towards her. "You have to confront your own demons," she
said quietly. "No one can do it for you."

He nodded, a look of understanding passing over his features. "I know," he
said. "I know."

*~*

A few hectares from the fleet, Boomer scanned ahead for the Galactica as he
returned from a deep patrol. It had been a long few centars and the dark
Lieutenant was looking forward to getting home. Muscles he didn't even know
he had were aching and he longed for the soothing heat of the turbowash.

Absently, his hand rose to his neck, a long sigh escaping his lips as he
tried to ease the tension there. He hoped that, by now, the tension he'd
left brewing on the battlestar had eased somewhat as well, but knowing his
friends as well as he did, he had to admit it was unlikely.

In Apollo and Sheba both, he had noticed a definite change since the
destruction of the Cylon base star. They were distracted, on edge and
completely miserable. Avoiding each other. He had his own suspicions as to
why, but other than asking his wingmate if she was all right, he had not
voiced his concerns to anyone other than himself.

An urgent beeping broke Boomer out of his thoughts. Frowning, he leaned
forward, taking in the data now flashing on his screen. The scans were
complete, only. . . there was no sign of the Galactica.

"What the frack. . ?" he whispered.

He checked the rendezvous co-ordinates that had been programmed into his
viper before he left, then the ones on his screen. As he'd thought- they
matched.

Worried now, Boomer hit his comm. "Bojay?" he asked.

It took a moment before the Pegasus Captain responded. When he did, his
voice was low and rough from having been woken up.

"Yeah, Boomer. What's up?" As he spoke, Bojay stretched, as far as he could
in the cramped conditions of his viper, trying to ease his stiff joints.

"The Galactica," Boomer replied. "We're at the rendezvous. . . but she's
nowhere in sight."

"Are you sure?" Bojay asked, the concern evident in his voice.

"Well, take a look for yourself." From inside his viper, Boomer gestured
with a wave of his hand to the expanse of space that lay ahead of him. "If
she's out there, I can't find her. And neither can my scanners," he added.

Bojay frowned and shook his head as he ran a confirmation scan. "I can't get
her either." He adjusted his scanner. "I am reading a lot of interference,
though."

"What kind?"

"I'm not sure. . ." Bojay paused as he rechecked his instruments. "Looks
like it could've been caused by-" He stopped, realising what he was about to
say.

"An explosion?" Boomer asked quietly.

Bojay stayed silent.

"Bojay?"

"Yeah," the Captain sighed. "A pretty big one, too."

"Big enough to be the Galactica?"

Bojay didn't have to answer.

A centon passed in an uncertain silence. Finally, Boomer couldn't take any
more.

"Well," he sighed, "I guess there's only one way to find out." Switching
from unicom to standard, Boomer's eyes swept over the starfield as he began
to speak, praying to a God he no longer believed in to deliver both himself
and Bojay to the only home they had left.

*~*

For yet another endless centon, Athena's dark blue eyes stayed fixed upon
the scanner readout of her console. In her head, she counted the microns,
one by one as they flashed up on the screen and froze, leaving her to wait
what seemed forever for the next one to come around.

There had been no word from Apollo's shuttle since the destruction of the
prison barge and with her Father failing to report in as well, Athena
couldn't help but wonder if the intereference from the explosion was the
only reason she wasn't picking them up on her scanners.

Truly, she didn't know what she would do if she lost the rest of her family.
The thought was just too painful to let herself think. . .

A crackling of static burst through her earpiece, startling Athena out of
her vigil. Her hopes soared as the garbled message came through.

". . .actica. . .is Rec. . .obe Two. . .do you. . ? Repeat, this is. . .con.
. .Two. . .come in. . .lactica."

Her shoulders slumped; it wasn't Apollo's voice. Or Starbuck's, or her
Father's.

". . .Galactica. . ." The message came through again, clearer this time. ".
. .is Recon Probe Two. . . you read me?"

The voice was more persistent, and as she recognised the apprehension laced
through it, she also recognised the speaker. For the first time in days she
allowed herself a small smile.

Boomer.

Calling to Colonel Tigh, Athena's fingers moved deftly over her console,
pulling up telemetry and establishing a communications link with Boomer's
viper. At last, things were looking up.

*~*

Nothing.

Boomer's hand clenched into a fist and uncharacteristically struck the
inside of his viper as his frustration overflowed. He saw Bojay looking over
at him from his own viper and shook his head negative. Nothing. Not a damned
thing.
He was about to try again when a burst of static came over his comm system.

"Recon. . .obe Two, this is. . .actica. . .read you. Repeat, we read you."

Athena's voice was the sweetest sound Boomer had ever heard. A grin lit up
his face as he signalled again to Bojay, this time a single sweeping gesture
of success. They were going home.

"This is Recon Probe Two, Galactica," Boomer responded, unable to keep the
joy he felt from his voice. "Athena, are you alright? We made the rendezvous
but-"

Colonel Tigh cut him off, having reached Athena's console. "I'm sorry,
Boomer." The Lieutenant could hear the strain in the executive officer's
voice. "We had to stop the fleet after the prison barge exploded."

"The prison barge?" Boomer asked, feeling his earlier apprehension return.
He caught Bojay out of the corner of his eye, similarly shocked by the news
he was now listening in to.

"But. . ." Boomer stopped as he came to an awful realisation. "Oh Lord,
Sheba?" he asked, recalling the exact reason why Bojay had been flying with
him for the past few centars and not his usual wingmate. "What-"

"We don't know, Boomer." Athena's voice again. "Apollo and Starbuck took a
shuttle over after Baltar. . . and the Commander. . . well. . . it's a long
story." She paused, trying to keep all she was feeling from coming through
in her voice. "But with all the interference from the explosion. . ."

"The Galactica's scanners can't pick them up," Bojay said quietly,
understanding.

"If they're even out there at all. . ."

The sadness in Athena's voice was only just masked by the professional tone
she maintained on duty but to Boomer it screamed out as loud as a battle
klaxon. She was scared, hurting, and while he wanted nothing more than to
take the time to reassure her, every micron counted if they were to get
their friends home safely. The friends he knew were still alive.

"They have to be, Athena," Bojay said. "I'm sure-"

"They are," Boomer said firmly, renewed certainty filling his voice as he
cut the Pegasus Captain off. "And what's more," he continued, "we're going
to find them."

*~*

To be continued. . .