Sheba stared at the flight roster posted on the squadrons
barrack's wall. The hand she held the report in tighten
until the paper was nothing more than a small tight wad of
it's former self. The words on the paper swam before her
eyes. She could no longer see them through the fog of tears
that had come with the feelings of betrayal.

"He promised", her mind chanted. "He promised". As the
reality of the situation crystallized in her mind, the tears
dried up in the haze of anger that began to flow over and
through her.

She had been amused the first time she'd been taken off
patrol status. After all, it had to be a joke. When she
found out it wasn't a joke, she had patently explained why
that decision had been a mistake.

The second time it happened, she had been irritated. She had
told him, in no uncertain terms, that she would not give up
her flight status for him and he had better get used to it.
The argument had been long and hurtful, but he had promised
to trust in her ability as a pilot. If he wanted a
relationship with her, he had to take her as she was, not as
he wanted her. He had to value her skills, trust them and
respecter her by allowing her to use them.

Now he was at it again. The lousy son of a Mataka, had not
even respected her enough to discuss the matter with her.
She would not be treated like some Siress of old, who must
do as her intended told her. She was Sheba, daughter of
Cain, and she would not allow herself to be played with like
this. She respected herself too much to put up with this any
longer. She was no longer amused by his doddering concern,
his inability to accept who she was. This time, was going to
be the last time.

Setting her rage on target, Sheba spun around and headed off
down the corridor, strait for the flight captains office.
"How fracken dare he!"

----------------------------

Apollo stifled a yawn as he tried to read the blurring text
on the monitor before him. It wasn't so much that the
reports were boring, in fact some of them were quit
interesting to him. The systems they'd past through had
provided more astronomical events than he could have ever
hoped to read about, much less seen. He found it intriguing
the various reactions his pilots had toward the unusual
sights. No, it wasn't a lack of mental stimulation that was
the cause of his inability to comprehend the sentence he had
just read three times. That distraction belonged to one over
eager, over stimulated little boy who had decide he didn't
need to sleep this past week. How had his father ever
survived the three of them?

Apollo wished Boxey was his only problem, but truthfully
Sheba had kept him awake as much as his rambunctious son
had. What was he going to do with her.

She had spent the last several yarons as the privileged
daughter of command. In essence, she had gotten whatever she
wanted. If she wanted to take the dayshift patrol, she got
it. If she wanted the rear guard patrol, she got that. And
if she wanted to fly patrols nonstop, well she'd gotten that
too.

Now, she expected the same treatment from him. Ever since
he'd acknowledged their feelings, and had begun to openly
date her, Sheba's need to be in control had only become
stronger. She had decided that anytime she didn't get the
patrol assignment she wanted, it was a person slight by
himself. She had even accused him of purposely trying to
ground her because he had not wanted to lose her the way
he'd lost Serina.

They'd had words that night and Apollo wondered if Sheba had
even heard his. She had been all about trusting her, but had
ignored Apollo's protest that it was her time to be rotated
down. A rotation out of flight status, even for a sectar of
training new cadets, apparently was beyond Sheba's
tollerance.

Well, whether she liked it or not, she had to be rotated
down. It was unfair to the other warriors who needed some
flight time in the Galactica's limited vipers.

Apollo looked at the clock on his wall and sighed. She
should be here anytime now.

------

Starbuck inhaled what should have been a rich aromatic brew
of Java. Instead his senses were assaulted by the acidic
fumes of the muddy brown liquid that was euphemistically
called "new Java". Starbuck wrinkled his nose at the
distasteful smell but braved a small sip. His initial urge
to spat it back out was forestalled by a nudge from Sheba as
she marched past him. Surprised, Starbuck swallowed the
noxious concoction.

Sputtering from the decidedly un-java flavor, Starbuck
turned to complain about inflicting such torture but Sheba
had already flown into Apollo's office.

Not ready to let Sheba get away without so much as a
indignant statement from himself, Starbuck approached the
open door. The raised voices from within stopped him in his
tracks.

As Sheba's voice rose, Starbuck's curiosity overcame his
good sense and he crept closer to the door, keeping well out
of sight. He knew that tone of voice, and as much as he'd go
out of his way to prevent Sheba aiming her ire at himself,
he was curious to see how Apollo would handle it.

Not well, he decided as he winced in sympathy for Apollo.
You'd think with all that expensive education Apollo would
have more common since than he was showing.

"Don't let her get into a full rage," Starbuck mumbled to
himself then winced again, "too late."

Between the two of them, Starbuck couldn't decide who was
the more stubborn. As the voices rose in volume again, he
could tell that a flight assignment had nothing at all to do
with this argument.

This was a control issue. Sheba needed it and Apollo
demanded it. Not good.

As a combat team, they worked well together, but a romantic
couple? Starbuck just couldn't see it. When the day's
battles were over, one needed a place to go and relax, not
re-engage the battle.

No, the sooner theses two realized this wasn't going to
work, the better it would be fore the rest of them.