"Futile"
-------
This fiction story is based on the series 'Battlestar Galactica'. This story
is not being sold for profit and no infringement of any copyright rights are
intended on the stories and characters created and owned by Glen A. Larson.
All unrecognized characters and plot lines are mine and copyright protection
is claimed. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely
coincidental.

                    PART ONE
                    -------------

   "I still don't think this is a good idea." Colonel Tigh injected a hint
of scepticism in his voice, a hint that his long-time friend Adama never
failed to notice - and that never failed to slightly annoy him either. Much
to Colonel Tigh's satisfaction too.
   "Oh Tigh, you worry too much. For once, I think, Starbuck has actually
had a good idea. The Rising Star is becoming too expensive for young people
and she wasn't designed for things like concerts and dance parties anyway.
The Hermes was." By the set look on Tigh's face, Adama could see his friend
wasn't convinced yet. So he threw in another argument.
   "At least it'll give our warriors and the people of the fleet a place to
relax and enjoy some music. Who knows, Starbuck may even program some
concerts of classical music."
   "As long as it doesn't involve Jolly and a wind instrument!" Tigh
retorted with the trace of a smile on his lips. As the smile on Tigh's face
grew into a wide grin, Adama knew his friend had resigned himself to Adama's
decision.
   All of a sudden, one of the consoles set on deep scan started to beep
alarmingly. Immediately, Adama and Tigh switched from friendly banter to
professional focus.
   "Transfer that console's scans to the command platform," Adama ordered.
   "Already done, sir," Omega answered, having anticipated Adama's command.
   "Good. Continue."
   "It's a solar system on the very edge of our scanners, six planets in
all. There seems to be an enormous amount of debris on the fourth planet."
Omega readjusted his console's settings to optimally display the scanning
results.
   "By the amount of wreckage I'd say a sizeable ship crashed there, but
it's too far away to get any more details. I recommend we send a viper
patrol to find out more and -"
   "... and scout the vicinity for possible hostile forces," Adama sighed,
finishing Omega's sentence. 'It never stops, does it' - a weary thought that
had kept hounding Adama ever since their trek through the stars began.
   "Surely you don't think it's the Cylons?" Tigh whispered so as not to
alarm the crew to Adama's suspicions.
   "I doubt that. Unless they've overtaken us without us noticing it. But
something brought down a large vessel over there, and I intend to find out
what before it can pose a threat to the ships of the fleet."
   "Starbuck and Apollo, sir?" Omega interrupted his superiors, already
expecting the Galactica's best pilots to be sent on this mission.
   "No," Adama answered, "it's Starbuck's big opening night and this is just
a recon mission."

   "Ah, it's good to see so many people having a good time." Starbuck said
to no one in particular as he was taking in the view from the best table of
the house - HIS house, or rather his night club.
   "And it doesn't hurt that they're paying you for having a good time, does
it, bucko?"
Acting on pure instinct, Starbuck quickly swivelled round.
   "Boomer! You should know better than to sneak up on the manager of what
is sure to become your favourite hangout."
   "Well it doesn't seem every one is having a good time." Boomer nodded
towards Apollo, who was sitting next to Starbuck. Engrossed in deep
contemplation, he kept on moving his glass around, every time making an
awful sound as his glass scraped across the glass tabletop.
   "Oh him," Starbuck replied, "our fearless strike commander is on a
suicide mission right into the heart of Sheba land."
   "Finally," Boomer added, and grimaced slightly at yet another scraping
sound from Apollo's glass.
   "Will you stop fidgeting already!" Starbuck shot out. "And please go easy
on the glass. These things didn't come for free. Frack, you're more nervous
than I get whenever I discover a new betting system."
   "Betting scam, you mean." Apollo's grim glare made it clear he didn't
appreciate Starbuck's humour - self-depreciative though it may be.
   "And don't look at me like that. Anyway, shouldn't those green eyes of
yours be practising charming looks or something? I thought you were going to
'launch an offensive' on a certain female lieutenant, but at this rate ..."
   "You're not going to let up, are you?" Apollo moaned.
   "Well, I don't know. You're strike commander. You could always ORDER her
to have a good time. Or to let YOU lead while you two are dancing. That
would be healthier for your shoes. Or rather MY shoes! My only second pair
of civilian shoes that I'm very fond of and that by now look about as new as
Reese's jokes."
   "Ssh, they're back." Apollo had wanted to deliver a needling comeback,
but as soon as Sheba entered his line of vision, his mind as if on automatic
focussed on Silver Spar's beautiful squadron commander.
   "O ye of little experience," Starbuck quipped and stood up to show Sheba
and Cassiopeia to their table.
   "All powdered and ready for launch, o experienced one," Cassiopeia joked
as she threw her arms around the brash lieutenant's neck. Starbuck was about
to answer when out of the corner of his eye he saw Jolly and Greenbean head
for the exit.
   "Hey guys, I worked my astrum off to get this place to look this good.
Don't tell me it's that bad?! Let me offer you a drink on the house."
   "Great, first you 'convince us' to invest in your latest get-rich-quick
idea and now you offer us a drink with our own money?" Jolly retorted.
   "Ok, I'll BUY you a drink then. Or maybe you'd settle for a plate of
mushies, Jolly?"
   "Sorry Starbuck, orders from the Galactica."
   The words 'orders' and 'Galactica' immediately caught Apollo's attention.
   "What's up?"
   "There's something on deep scan that needs investigating."
   An idea suddenly popped into Starbuck's head.
   "No need for you two to hurry off. Apollo can go, can't you?"
   Apollo gave him a questioning look.
   "You know, as strike commander you wouldn't want to deprive your warriors
of their first chance to relax in a long time." He winked and nodded to
where Sheba was sitting, but Apollo still hadn't caught on.
   "Of course, I can't leave since I'm running this show here, but I'm
sure - say - Sheba can come with you on this one."
   Before Apollo could put two and two together, Sheba had already accepted
Starbuck's offer and they were on their way to their vipers. As he was going
through his pre-flight check, Apollo still wondered if by "I'm sure I can
watch his tail for you" Sheba had meant the tail of his viper or a certain
piece of his anatomy.

   Twenty centons into their mission, Apollo was still struggling to find
something to say, while Sheba's patience was running out. Or rather it HAD
run out.
   "Apollo, I don't know how to say this any way but bluntly, so here goes
no-"
   Bip bip bip. Her front scanner beeped to life all of a sudden.
   'Great frackin' timing,' Sheba muttered under her breath.
   "I've got it on my scanners too. Disengage turbos and head for the fourth
planet, lieutenant." Apollo ordered, stressing Sheba's rank so as to call
her back into military mode. But he saw that wasn't necessary as Sheba had
already carried out that order while he was giving it.
   "There's a large concentration of metallic debris on the southern
continent of the fourth planet, 'sir'." Sheba replied, adding a bit of
playful venom to the last word.
   "I'll check it out while you 'watch my tail' from orbit."
   Apollo angled his viper for atmospheric entry and hit his turbos, while
Sheba maintained orbit around the planet.
   "And such a nice tail it is, sir." Sheba grinned naughtily to herself.
   "I heard that."
   Apollo descended into the atmosphere and easily located the debris. While
approaching it, he tried to get a more detailed scan, but there was too much
radiation. A nagging déjà-vu feeling crept over him as his thoughts went
back to the planet with the strange red glow where they found Count Iblis.
They'd also gone there to scan the debris of a large space ship that had
crashed, only to find too much radiation to get a conclusive scan.
   As he cleared the clouds, the hair on the back of his neck relaxed a bit
when there was no red glow. But what he saw didn't do anything to set his
mind at ease.