Battlestar Galactica 8 - Greetings From Earth Read online

  "If that support system fails, they die," said Apollo. "That is sure as hell serious."

  Adama stroked his chin. "You took a good deal on yourself, Apollo."

  "I didn't think there was time for a vote."

  "You showed a certain amount of guts, doing what you did," said his father, with a trace of approval in his voice. "However, I don't actually—"

  "Commander," broke in Doctor Wilker, "I didn't get around to mentioning this to your impetuous cub here, but we found an operations manual in that craft. The ship is most definitely from Earth."

  Apollo said, "That doesn't give you the right to risk their lives, Doctor."

  The commander said, "I'd like to see that manual as soon as possible."

  "It's built into the bridge instrumentation," answered Wilker. "The reference to Earth appeared on a monitor relating to the relative gravity in leaving Earth's atmosphere and that of a place called Lunar Seven."

  "Lunar Seven," said Adama. "Then this is actually as important as we—"

  "What you both seem to be avoiding is the fact," said Apollo, "that we've seized a foreign craft and interrupted its perfectly legitimate course between two unknown points."

  "You can't categorize what we've done as an illegal seizure," his father said quietly.

  "What else do you call it when you take a ship out of flight and then tamper with it until its power sources begin to fail?"

  "There has been a slight power loss, granted," said Wilker. "But that's to be expected."

  The commander studied his son for a few silent seconds. "I'm not sure I know what your point is, Apollo," he said finally.

  "My point is we made a mistake," he said. "Starbuck and me, you and these science boys and the Council. We're all wrong."

  "That's not what you were saying earlier."

  "I was buoyed by the discovery," answered Apollo, "acting like a kid. Now, after thinking, after seeing those people asleep and trusting in those glass coffins . . . well, we're wrong. Doctor Wilker and Doctor Salik shouldn't be allowed to go on."

  Steepling his fingers over his broad chest, Commander Adama asked, "What alternate course of action do you think we have open to us?"

  Apollo spread his hands wide. "Let them go."

  "Let them go?"

  "Right, put them back on their original course."

  The commander left his chair. "In doing that, Apollo, we'd lose any chance of communicating with them."

  "Even if they stay here, there's a good chance they'll die before we can talk to them anyway," his son said. "Four children and a man and woman."

  "You're allowing, if I may intrude in a family squabble," said Doctor Wilker, "sentiment to outweigh logic. I tell you this craft is definitely from Earth and therefore what these six may have to impart to us is of considerable importance—"

  "I doubt those little kids have anything to tell us," said Apollo.

  "You know what I mean," said Wilker, dismissing the interruption with an annoyed wave of the hand. "We're in the business of taking risks, not of running a nursery for every stray—"

  "Commander," said the speaker over the entrance, "Councilman Geller insists on seeing you. At once."

  Adama nodded at his son. "Don't get into a fight with him," he cautioned. "Very well, let him in."

  The door whispered open and the councilman entered. His chins were fluttering and his Council robes flapped out behind him as he hurried in. "Since you hung up on me, Commander, I had no other choice but to come here in person."

  "I had assumed our conversation was at an end," said Adama.

  "On the contrary, it had hardly begun," said Geller, every pound of him looking unhappy. "We have people, important people, arriving on the Galactica. All of them, each and every one of them, interested in the same thing—the secrets to be wrested from the voyagers who repose at this very minute in the—"

  "This sounds like a campaign speech," said Apollo under his breath.

  ". . . Therefore, Commander, I have been sent by the Council itself, the awesome body which is responsible for the efficient running of the vast—"

  "What exactly do you want?" asked Adama.

  "We want to know why you've been so inactive," he said. "While we're reluctant to take matters out of your competent hands, we can't sit around idle while you do nothing. I won't even bother to protest the rude treatment I and several other very important officials have suffered by not being allowed so much as a glimpse at the most significant find we've ever made. No, suffice it to say that the Council would like to take the burden of being solely responsible for this situation off your capable shoulders, Commander Adama."

  "Just how will you do that, Councilman Geller?"

  "Why don't we simply take a vote of the Council?"

  His brows furrowed, Adama turned to his son. "Apollo, I'm putting you in charge of the security of that ship," he said. "Very well, Geller, call the Council into session at once."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Doctor Salik ducked his head slightly as he stepped out of the mystery ship. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. "Going to be some time yet," he said.

  Starbuck had been crouching near the craft. Taking his cigar out of his mouth, he stood and said, "You may not have as much time as you thought, Doc."

  Salik noticed the growing cluster of people on the other side of the see-through restraining wall. "I'd like it if all these gawkers were herded elsewhere."

  "Some of them are Council members," said Apollo. "And the security force is reluctant to prod them."

  "Anything new inside?" Starbuck asked the doctor.

  "Nothing encouraging," he said. "I'm going up to talk to the commander. You'll see to it that no one gets inside."

  "That we will," promised Starbuck.

  "That no one includes you fellows." Salik walked up to the doorway in the wall and signaled to a security guard.

  A husky young man activated the door release and the door hissed open. "You don't have to worry about anyone getting in there, Doctor Salik," he said. "We'll contain the crowd until the orders arrive."

  "What orders?"

  "Well, the Council is voting right now to terminate the life support systems and let those folks in there out of their coffins."

  "You can't let them do that." He shook his head angrily. "Apollo, Starbuck, see to it that that doesn't happen."

  "Not to worry. Doc. Nobody'll get by us," Starbuck assured him. "You go on up and tell the commander what's going on."

  Nodding absently, the doctor pushed his way through the crowd in the corridor.

  Before closing the door, the guard said, "You seem to have a goofy idea of the way things work, Starbuck."

  Starbuck rubbed his right fist. "I know how this works, pal," he said.

  "The point being, we're in charge here," the security guard informed him. "I'd hate to have to tangle with you over—"

  "This is a military bay," said Apollo. "You and your men only have jurisdiction over civilians aboard the Galactica."

  The guard shrugged. "We'll see." He shut the door.

  "Halfwit," commented Starbuck, rubbing at his fist again. "Seems to me the Council ought to be voting on how to get smarter guys into security ranks."

  "Save your anger," advised Apollo. "We're probably going to have to hold off more important gents than him."

  The dark-haired young man was the first to awaken.

  A new humming started up in the walls and then the lights began to glow brighter. A row of lights mounted over the head of his glass coffin ceased burning pale green and started burning an intense red. The scarlet glow bathed the sleeping man.

  His eyes, slowly, opened.

  Gradually awareness came back into his face. He began flexing the fingers of his right hand. After a moment the young man reached up and pressed his forefinger against a silver button on the wall of the case which held him.

  A new humming commenced. Very gradually the lid of the glass box swung open.

  Th
e young man, taking in a careful breath, sat up and looked around. "We must've arrived," he muttered in a dry, weak voice.

  He took another breath and then climbed out of the coffin. His legs shook and wobbled as he tried to stand up. He put out a hand, steadied himself against the metal wall. He ran his tongue over his lips several times and shook his head slowly from side to side.

  "Atmosphere in here," he said to himself, "doesn't seem quite right."

  Swaying some, he made his way to a small view window and looked out. He frowned, mouth opening, and then pulled his head back.

  He shook his head and began to inspect the other glass boxes. He looked in on the children first. "All okay," he said after a few moments.

  From a slash pocket in his one-piece grey jumpsuit he took a small plastic card.

  Kneeling at the foot of the coffin that held the blonde young woman, he slid the rectangle of yellow into a thin slot at its base. "I think I better talk to Sarah," he said, breathing shallowly.

  A thin humming seemed to come from beneath the girl's coffin. Then the lid rose up.

  "Sarah? Are you okay?" the young man asked, leaning toward the girl.

  Her eyelids fluttered. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with no sign of recognition.

  "Sarah, it's me. Michael."

  A faint smile came to her lips. "Michael? Is the journey over? What's the—"

  "Something's gone wrong," he said, taking her hand carefully.

  Sarah glanced around. "Are the children—"

  "They're fine," Michael answered. "I haven't revived them yet, because . . . well, because I frankly don't know where we are."

  "I don't understand," she said. "You're awake and you awakened me. If we haven't arrived at Lunar Seven then why were you reactivated?"

  "Sarah, I'm not certain," he told the young woman. "We seem to be inside a larger space craft. It's like nothing I've ever seen, so—"

  "Then you don't think we've been captured by—"

  "Not by them, no," he replied.

  "Who then?"

  "They're humans, the ones I got a glimpse of when I looked out the window."

  "Then are they the ones who revived you?"

  He shook his dark head. "Our ship may have assumed we'd ended the journey," he said. "My being awakened might just be the result of a malfunction of some kind. I just don't know."

  She started to get out of the glass coffin. "We'll have to find out," she said. "No matter who has diverted us, we have to confront them and tell them right out that they can't do—"

  "Easy now, Sarah," he said, smiling at her. "Get control of your temper."

  "It's not a temper," she said. "I simply don't let anyone push me around. These people who've captured us, no matter who they may be or who they think they are, have no right whatsoever to do this. We'll just march right out and tell them what—"

  "No, no," he said, putting a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Not just yet, Sarah. I want you to stay here with the kids."

  "While you're doing what?"

  "I want to scout around a bit," he said. "Find out what I can."

  "There's no reason I can't do that," Sarah said. "I'm as good as you are at—"

  "I know, I know," he said. "But you're better with the children than I am. Please, now, Sarah, stay here. I'll be back soon."

  After a few seconds she took his hand in hers. "Watch your temper, too," she said. "Don't let them hurt you."

  "I won't," he promised.

  It was chill in the large domed meeting chamber of the Council and in the brief silences between verbal exchanges the faint metallic chattering of the air circulation systems could be heard.

  Councilman Geller, a look of satisfaction on his plump face, was saying, "Very well. It has been decided. Since the support systems are failing anyway, we will, therefore, remove these humans from their ship as quickly and expediently as possible."

  Commander Adama said, "We can't do that. You just heard Doctor Salik tell you it might well kill them."

  "We'll be as careful and prudent as possible," Geller assured him, rubbing at one of his chins. "We'll begin with the oldest member among our space voyagers. He would undoubtedly be the one most likely to—"

  "Gentlemen, you still don't understand," said Salik, rising up out of his chair.

  "We understand very well, and have voted accordingly," Geller reminded him.

  Doctor Salik shook his head from side to side once. "I will not be responsible for any of—"

  "But you're not responsible, we are," said the fat councilman. "The responsibility is ours, you are merely carrying out the will of the Council."

  "No, I can't."

  "Doctor, let me remind you that you have been ordered to do this."

  Salik took a step back from the vast table. "Let me remind you, Councilman, that you'll have to find another doctor." He pivoted on his heel and went walking out of the room.

  When the startled murmuring faded, Geller turned to Adama. "Commander, go talk to him."

  Slowly the commander rose up. "Oh, I intend to, yes," he said.

  "Excellent. Explain his duties to him and—"

  "Actually, I plan to tell him that I'm quite proud of him," said Adama, smiling to himself. "Somehow, lately, I've been seeing fewer and fewer men standing up for the things they believe in."

  "You can't go condoning insubordination," said Geller, puffing. "The morale of the—"

  "I suggest you gentlemen reconsider your vote," said the commander as he walked toward an exitway. "I'd hate to see this lead to a battle between us."

  "Ah, but it won't come to that," said Geller, with a bit less than complete conviction.

  "Don't bet on it, sir," said Adama.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Starbuck and Apollo stood with their backs to the open entryway of the ship.

  "That smirk on Wilker's face doesn't cheer me," said Starbuck, chomping down on his cigar.

  The scientist, flanked by two security guards, was hurrying up to the Earth ship.

  "It's my sad duty," said Doctor Wilker, smiling smugly, "to inform you that you've lost. The Council has voted and the six passengers are to be revived at once."

  "You've got to be kidding," said Starbuck. "The whole damn Council can't be as dimwitted as you."

  One of the security men said, "Better step aside."

  "I assure you the vote is official," said Wilker. Turning, he gestured toward the wall of plastic. "Since I can't get any co-operation from the people aboard the Galactica, I've summoned two very efficient, and obedient, Med Techs from another ship of the fleet."

  Lowering his head, Starbuck rubbed his hands together. "What say, Apollo?" he inquired. "Think we can persuade these gents to keep out?"

  Apollo gave a negative shake of his head. "It's no use," he said. "We can't go against the Council."

  "Oh, no?" Starbuck said. "I've done it before and, chum, I'm more than ready to—"

  "Good lord!" Wilker was looking beyond Starbuck, his face suddenly pale.

  Starbuck's eyebrows climbed. "Really scared you this time, huh?"

  Nudging him, Apollo said quietly, "Behind you."

  Starbuck turned to see a tall slender young man standing just inside the doorway of the ship, a strange-looking silver pistol in his right hand. "Don't come any closer, any of you," he said. His voice was slightly blurred and unsteady.

  Starbuck laughed. "Hey, they woke up on their own. That's terrific."

  "One of them did, anyway," said Apollo. He took a step toward the dark-haired young man, holding out his hand. "Welcome to the Galactica. I'm Captain Apollo and—"

  "Please, stay where you are."

  "Listen," said Starbuck, "we aren't going to hurt you, buddy. In fact, we've been risking our butts to see that nobody did you any harm."

  Doctor Wilker was scanning the young man. "We mean you no harm," he said in a different tone of voice than the one he'd been using. "I am a scientist and I want merely to come aboard and help you. You and
the others."

  One of the security guards said, "No use babying these people." He pushed by the doctor and started for the entrance. "We're coming in now."

  The gun in the dark young man's hand hummed. A beam of yellow light came knifing out of its barrel to hit the charging guard's broad chest.

  The guard made a sudden surprised whimpering sound. His hands started up to clutch his chest, but then his fingers went slack. He collapsed to the floor like a sack of dirty laundry.

  "Impressive," said Starbuck, glancing from the fallen man to the gun.

  Wilker dropped to the guard's side and took hold of his wrist. "He's alive," he said. "That thing is some kind of stunner."

  "It can kill, too," said the young man. "If I want it to." He took one step out of the ship. "I would prefer not to kill any of you."

  "So would we," said Starbuck. "Live and let live, that's our motto."

  Apollo said, "I can see why you're uneasy. We ought to just talk and see if we can't come to some sort of—"

  "I want to know why we've been brought here," the young man said. He was taking rapid, short breaths and his face was getting paler as he stood there.

  "Well, we didn't mean any harm," began Apollo, taking a step nearer. "See, you and I . . . all of us really are brothers."

  "No, that's not true." He gestured at the docking bay and the people in it. "None of this is familiar to me. There's not a one of you dressed in any style I know."

  "Brothers," said Apollo, "who were separated, we think, quite awhile ago. We've been searching for—"

  "What is this place? It doesn't seem to be an abandoned Lunar post."

  "You're aboard a ship," said Apollo. "We call it a battlestar and it's named Galactica. We're part of—"

  The young man looked straight up. "The size of the thing . . ." His left hand fluttered and he reached out to try to catch hold of something.

  Instead he dropped to his knees. He gasped, shivered and then toppled forward. His face smacked into the floor and he lay still.

  "Hellsfire!" exclaimed Starbuck. "Is the guy dead?"

  "Don't touch him!"

  It was Doctor Salik, who had just arrived on the scene. Cassiopeia was with him.

  "I'm perfectly capable of handling this," Wilker assured his colleague.