Word Count:
Date: 11/6/05
Series: Alternate Universe
Rating: K+
Category: Drama
Pairing/Focus: Kara Thrace
Warnings: none given
Summary: none given
Spoilers/Disclaimers: none given
Part 1
Pain sucked.
Right now, Kara Thrace was far too familiar with the sensation of it running through her body. Her side ached abominably, to the point where she'd try shooting it off.
It could've been the weightlifting session she'd gotten into with Apollo last night. Kara snorted soft to herself, and then tried stretching out on her bunk, groaning the entire way. Session, her ass. A flat-out frakkin' challenge to the death was more like it. She'd lost track of who'd challenge whom to begin with, but by the time they'd been through, they'd hit every machine in the room, and invented a few little drills that didn't need any weights to be accomplished.
Anything to thrill the audience, which had grown to a considerable size by the time the two of them had wrapped up. Actually, Kara couldn't help but be a little shocked. She'd half-expected her back, her thighs, her knees and her shoulders to feel like this, too. Must've been the abdominal crunches they'd ended with. She'd finally had to call it quits at 110, giving Apollo the edge and a cheer from what she'd determined had to be a pretty biased crowd.
Frakkin' Adamas. Always had to be the best at everything. Even when she herself practically owned the gym these days. It just wasn't fair that pretty boy could come into town and take over on a whim. Granted, she thought with a smile, he wasn't too bad of a physical specamin. There had to be SOME reason the females in the crowd were cheering for him. Tight asses seemed to run in the family - both figuratively and literally.
Kara snorted softly to herself. She'd have to remind Apollo of that later, when they went out on CAP and had plenty of time to burn. Besides, it never hurt to have the cold, hard vacuum of space between you and a superior officer when you were going to insult him.
Kara stretched again, and swallowed back a grimace. A few hours of flight and some verbal sparring would be the best way to make him pay for last night.
IF her stomach would let her get any sleep between now and the CAP, in any case. She pulled herself into a ball and pulled the blanket over her head, but as she did, she let out a low groan.
It didn't go unnoticed. A few bunks down, Hotdog's voice suddenly came to life.
"The great and mighty Starbuck...undone by stomach crunches."
The LAST thing she needed right now was a smartass nugget. Muttering epithets, she reached over and pulled the curtains shut against her bunk. Then, and only then, did she deign it time to offer a response.
"The great and mighty Starbuck...who will hang the next person who talks up by their toenails and use them for a punching bag."
The resulting silence was gratifyingly sweet.
Part 2
"Pass the word for Lieutenant Thrace. Lieutenant Thrace, report to the flight deck immediately."
The words jarred Kara out of a sound sleep, disorienting her so badly that she sat straight up before she had an kind of grip on her bearings. Her forehead collided with the bottom of the bunk above her, and she collapsed back to the bunk, nauseous, dizzy and in pain.
"Frak!" her stomach knotting up on her, Kara swallowed back hard against the nausea, then forced her eyes open so she could see her chronometer. She blinked once, then refocused her eyes. It read the same as it had the first time.
Two minutes before her scheduled launch time. Kara swore loudly, earning a few muffled exclamations from pilots trying to sleep, then smashed open her curtains and swung her feet to the floor.
Only to keel over at the waist, her head spinning so bad that her stomach knotted in on itself. There was a fresh wave of pain from her side, and Kara felt the world swim away temporarily as the sensations overloaded her brain.
Suddenly, a hand squeezed her shoulder.
"Starbuck?" She looked up to find one of the other nuggets, Kat, staring at her with a look of horror and concern. Kara grimaced, and pulled herself upright. She would be damned if she'd worry the nuggets on top of losing face to Captain Tightass himself.
Grabbing onto the bunk above hers, Kara muscled herself to her feet. She instantly regretted it, as the world went grainy with clarity, and then started to fade away. Grey crowded into the edges of her vision, and only her locked knees kept her from sinking to the ground.
"Starbuck, sit down. Let me call sickbay." Kat was already moving toward the phone on the opposite wall, and as Kara's vision cleared, she could see curious faces looking out of at least three other bunks. She gritted her teeth, and reached out to snag Kat's shirt before she got too far.
"Not a chance in hell, Kat. I'm fine." Gods, Kara was anything but fine, but she'd be damned if she'd show it to this bunch. Frakkin nuggets already had too much ammunition from Apollo's little escapades last night, not to mention having seen their instructor grounded for the last month.
She struggled to her feet, this time gratifyingly without any nausea or sharp pain. Stumbling towards her locker, she glared at every last face she could see. She slammed open her locker for good measure, grabbed a handful of flight suit and her helmet, and turned on her heel for the hatch.
When she reached it, another spasm of pain tore through her side. This time, she refused to give into it. She clenched her right hand into a tight fist, digging the nails deep into her palm. As soon as the pain eased, she pushed open the hatch and put one foot out.
Before she put the other out, though, she turned and glared at the assembled audience - now everyone who was in the bunk area.
"Not a word of this," she hissed. "To anyone. Or I'll put you on latrine duty on the Astral Queen, so help me Lords."