Battlestar Galactica 9 - Experiment In Terra Page 5

  "Not yet? What the devil do you—"

  "Certain things must be attended to first." The Cylon's hand snapped out, snatching up the detonator.

  "Damn you!" Baltar's hand swung down toward his holstered lasergun.

  But the second Cylon had left his seat.

  Before Baltar's fingers closed around the gun barrel, the mechanical man was gripping his wrist.

  "Idiot," cried Baltar as the pain went zigzagging up his arm. "You're to obey me. You've been programmed to do that."

  The Cylon lifted Baltar's weapon from out of its holster, tossed it far across the cockpit. "That is no longer true, sir."

  "What are you babbling about?"

  The other Cylon had by now succeeded in dismantling the detonator. "We've been reprogrammed, sir," he explained.

  "So I've been doublecrossed by Adama after all."

  "Yes, such is the case, sir." The Cylon dropped the ruined detonator to the floor and activated a toggle.

  The hatch wooshed open.

  "I won't say bon voyage, Baltar," said Starbuck as he came bounding into the cockpit with pistol drawn, "since you ain't going anyplace. Except back to the prison barge."

  "Damn, I should never have trusted any of you." Baltar's shoulders slumped.

  "You forget," said Apollo, who'd followed the lieutenant into the ship, "that we know a few tricks ourselves."

  "Dirty tricks," added Starbuck with a grin.

  Sire Domra's face appeared on the scanner screen. "Now that we're all safely back aboard the Galactica, Commander," he began, "the Council has taken a vote."

  "I see," said Adama.

  "We've decided to rescind our edict and extend your emergency powers. You are once again in full command of the battlestar and the rest of the fleet," Domra told him. "The vote, I might add, was unanimous."

  "That's most gratifying."

  "I'd also like to add . . . Well, I admire the way you put your own life in jeopardy to help us. And . . . that's all for now, Commander." Looking a bit embarrassed, the Council member signed off.

  Adama settled back in his chair, watching the blank screen thoughtfully. "Things certainly have changed," he remarked.

  Colonel Tigh was seated nearby. "Let's enjoy the situation while we can," he said. "The Council's scared now, but once their goose bumps go down, they'll start riding us again."

  "Probably so," said Adama. "Right now, however, I have other things on my mind."

  "Such as the Alliance destroyer that got away."

  "That was allowed to get away," corrected the commander.

  "I know. We had to let them escape in order to grab Baltar and keep him from blowing up the shuttle."

  "And it worked," said the commander. "We've already launched a Recon Patrol to track them to their base on Luna Seven."

  "Then we'll find out the strength of the Alliance on that outpost."

  "I hope to find a good deal out about this Alliance." Adama stretched up out of his chair. "If you'll take over on the bridge, Tigh, I believe I'll return to my quarters for a rest."

  "I didn't know you ever did that."

  "Now and then," admitted Adama, walking away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  He awakened far out in space, with an immense dark silence all around him.

  Apollo straightened up, his sleep period over, and checked the control dash of his viper.

  "Rise and shine," came Starbuck's jaunty voice from out of the talkbox. "Give a look at your scanner screen, old chum."

  The Alliance destroyer, a distant dot, was showing on the screen.

  "We've sighted 'em," said Apollo.

  "While you were in the land of nod. Any instructions for the troops?"

  Apollo glanced out of his cockpit at the viper ships hurtling along in formation with his. "Attention, Blue Squadron," he said into the talkmike. "This is Flight Leader Apollo. We now have our destroyer on the scanner. We'll follow 'em." He paused. "But hear this. I do not, repeat do not, want the ship overtaken. Starbuck, you move out on point. Be careful, stay out of their range."

  "Gotcha," replied Starbuck.

  "The rest of us'll begin to spread out on either flank of that destroyer," continued Apollo.

  Boomer's voice inquired, "How come, sir?"

  "To increase our scanner range in case they have any idea of bringing in more ships from the sides to catch us in crossfire."

  "Sound plan," agreed Boomer.

  "Okay, Blue, we know where target one is," said Apollo. "Let's look around for any more."

  At that moment a faint murmuring came out of the speaker.

  Frowning, Apollo asked, "Someone trying to contact me?"

  There was no response from the men in his viper squadron.

  Shaking his head, Apollo said, "Then let's move into our new positions."

  The door to Adama's quarters eased open, and his visitor walked in.

  The commander looked up from the printout report he'd been scanning. "I didn't know you were going to continue to keep an eye on me," he said, smiling.

  Tinia said, "This isn't an official visit. Exactly."

  "Sit down," he invited, nodding at a chair facing his.

  After seating herself, Siress Tinia said, "I haven't had much chance to talk with you since friend Baltar staged his little fireworks display the other day."

  "You'll be pleased to know that he's now safely back aboard the prison barge," Adama said, "in more isolated quarters than he had prior to his escape."

  "It was a near thing, though, wasn't it?" she asked, watching his face. "If Starbuck and your son hadn't prevented them from getting farther into the battlestar . . . if those Cylons hadn't been reprogrammed to outfox Baltar . . . people might've been killed. In fact, the Galactica might well have been seized, taken over."

  "I don't think it would've come to that," the commander said. "This is a pretty tough ship to take over, Tinia. But I'm glad we put down the threat with a minimum of trouble."

  "The Council was very impressed with the way you handled things."

  "But?"

  Tinia said, "Some of my colleagues, I must admit, are like children. It takes more than one lesson before they really learn something."

  "I assumed the good feeling between the Council and myself wouldn't last forever. What are they planning?"

  "Oh, nothing definite as yet. It's merely that some of them are commencing to have second thoughts. Maybe you aren't infallible after all, perhaps it was unwise to return full control to you. Doubt is creeping back."

  "Yes, I expected that."

  "What I wanted to tell you, Adama, is that my opinion of you hasn't changed," she said. "I'll continue to support you."

  "Learned your lesson, have you?"

  She laughed. "I guess I'm a better pupil than some of the others on the Council," she said. "Is there any word from Captain Apollo and the squadron that's tracking the destroyer?"

  "I'm expecting a report from Colonel Tigh at any moment," he answered. "If you'd care to stay until we—"

  "I think not, no." Tinia rose to her feet. "I'm not very high on the Colonel's list of admirable people at the moment."

  "He's simply not fond of anyone who's on the Council," explained Adama as he walked her to the doorway.

  "Well, he has good reason not to be." She reached out, caught his hand and squeezed it. "If you need my help, let me know." Smiling quickly, she left him.

  Adama stroked his chin as he returned to his chair. "An interesting woman," he said.

  Strange murmuring sounds began coming out of his speaker. A brilliant, glaring light filled the cockpit of his viper.

  Apollo looked out to his left. "What the devil is that?"

  An immense glowing spacecraft, its silvery surface awash with light, was drifting ever closer to his ship.

  Apollo reached for his talkmike, but found he couldn't exactly control his hands any longer. His fingers felt heavy, numb.

  The noise grew louder and louder. It was something like music playe
d out of tune and something like thousands of crystal pendants rattling in a high wind.

  Apollo didn't want to hear it.

  He tried to bring his hands up to cover his ears. His hands no longer obeyed him.

  "I . . . have to . . ."

  He slumped, passed out. Only his safety gear kept him from toppling forward.

  Lietenant Starbuck exhaled smoke. "Have you bozos ever got a surprise coming to you," he told the tinydot on his scanner screen. "When your blinking destroyer arrives at—"

  "Starbuck." It was Lieutenant Boomer's voice.

  "Lieutenant Starbuck stepped out for a breath of air," answered Starbuck in a falsetto. "This is his gorgeous blonde secretary speaking. You can leave a message, sweetie, or you can take a flying—"

  "Hey, listen," cut in Boomer, "has the captain pulled up there with you?"

  Frowning, Starbuck replied, "Apollo ain't up here, chum, he's back there with you."

  "That's just the problem. When he fanned out the squadron, he and I moved off together."

  "So?"

  "Then he disappeared."

  "I'm not hearing you loud and clear," Starbuck informed him. "Sounded like you said Apollo disappeared."

  "I did," said Boomer. "He did."

  "And you saw him do that?"

  "Directly, no. His image vanished, all of a sudden, off my scanner."

  Starbuck set his own scanner to look around for the missing Apollo. After a moment he said, "He's nowhere in my vicinity."

  "Well, he isn't around here either."

  "Then," inquired Starbuck, "where is he?"

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Commander Adama asked, "Any further word, Colonel?"

  Tigh sat opposite him. "Nothing new in the past two centares," he replied. "Frankly, I'm getting concerned."

  "Prematurely. The men can take care of themselves," Adama told him. "What concerns me most is what lies beyond that destroyer."

  "You mean Luna Seven?"

  "Yes, and then Terra. We may well be sailing into a war zone."

  Tigh said, "You think they'll risk attacking us?"

  "It seems highly likely to me," said the commander. "That's why it's imperative we know their strength on Luna Seven."

  Tigh cracked the knuckle of his forefinger. "I'd like to suggest something, but . . ."

  "Go ahead," invited Adama.

  "Suppose we bypassed Luna Seven entirely," suggested the black colonel. "And took the fleet directly to the mother planet, Terra?"

  "What then? How do we find out what the true situation is with the people on that planet? Who's in the right, who's in the wrong?"

  "We can assume the Alliance is wrong and—"

  "No, we can't do that. We haven't heard both sides," reminded the commander. "I don't want to meddle in their affairs unless it's absolutely necessary. And I certainly don't want to lend our superior technology to the wrong side."

  "True, but we have our own people to think of, too."

  Adama shook his head. "We wait," he said firmly. "Wait until our patrol finds out what lies ahead on Luna Seven."

  He became aware of whiteness.

  He was surrounded by it.

  Apollo's half-opened eyes took in a glaring white ceiling, glaring white walls.

  Just at the edge of his vision he noticed two figures. Blurred figures, fuzzy around the edges, standing there silently watching him.

  Swallowing hard, Apollo felt around beneath him. He was stretched out on some sort of padded cot at the center of the room. The cot was white, too.

  "This," he said, his voice weak and dry, "this is a trite question in situations like this . . . but I'd really appreciate an answer. Where am I?"

  He raised up on one arm to gaze over at the blurred figures across the white room.

  Apollo felt suddenly dizzy. He held on, gritting his teeth, and it passed.

  "Welcome back, Captain Apollo."

  The watchful figures, who seemed to be wearing some sort of cowled robes, hadn't spoken. The voice was coming from above him.

  He stared up at the white ceiling. "Could you tell me where I am?" he requested. "And why?"

  "What do you remember?" The voice was a deep one and was apparently coming down from an unseen speaker in the ceiling.

  Apollo considered the question. "Not too much," he admitted after a moment. "There was a lot of light, some odd noises . . . that's about all."

  "That's to be expected."

  "Did you . . . grab me somehow out of my ship? Is that it?"

  "In a manner of speaking, yes."

  "How? Was I teleported right out of the cockpit?"

  The voice said, "Something like that, yes."

  "Okay," said Apollo, "where's my ship? I've got to get it back and continue my . . . But you're probably not going to let me do that, right?"

  "Not immediately."

  "Yeah, but look . . . A lot of lives may depend on me. I have—"

  "A great many more lives depend on your . . . assisting us."

  "Assist you with what?"

  "Do you think you can walk?"

  Apollo thought about it. Then he sat up. There wasn't much dizziness this time. "I can give it a try," he answered.

  "There's someone you have to meet," the voice informed him. "If you'll get up and follow my custodians."

  The two robed figures were already, silently, as though they were floating across the white floor, moving toward a curtained doorway.

  Apollo swung his booted feet to the floor. He took a slow breath and stood up.

  No dizziness at all.

  Walking carefully, he followed the two custodians out of the room.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Starbuck gunned his viper until he was flying alongside Boomer's craft. "Not a trace," he said. "I've flown to the edges of the squadron formation and he just isn't with us anymore."

  "Nobody's seen him?"

  "Nope."

  "This," observed Boomer, "doesn't make much sense."

  "Not one heck of a lot," agreed Starbuck. "If Apollo was in trouble he'd have signaled us. If he'd run into an enemy ship, somebody'd have seen it."

  "We got us a mystery on our hands," said Boomer, "for sure."

  "Okay," said Starbuck, "I think we better backtrack, see if we can find some clue as to what happened to Apollo."

  "Okay, but—"

  "Lieutenant Jolly can take over with the Squadron and stay on the destroyer's tail," said Starbuck, "while we go hunting."

  "Yeah, okay," agreed Boomer. "So let's go."

  The next room was also white, but larger than the one Apollo had awakened in.

  There was thick white carpeting on the floor and three white chairs.

  Seated in one of them was a man with close-cropped white hair. He wore a two-piece suit of a cut Apollo was unfamiliar with. The suit was white.

  "Sit down, Captain," the man invited. "Time is running out for us and—"

  "Wait now," said Apollo, stopping beside one of the two empty chairs. His guides were no longer in the room. He wasn't exactly certain where they'd gone. "You still haven't told me where I am."

  "That would require more time than we have."

  Apollo had his head cocked to one side. "You're not the guy who was talking to me out of the ceiling," he decided.

  "No, I am not," the man replied, smiling slightly.

  "Suppose you commence our little talk by telling me who you are?"

  "Names really mean nothing. Call me what you like."

  "Don't tempt me."

  "John," suggested the man. "Will that do? Is that the sort of name you're familiar with?"

  "Not especially."

  "Right, I was thinking of Terra," said John. "On Terra it's a very common name."

  Apollo dragged the chair a few feet closer to the white-suited man, sat in it. "Look, John," he said, "I'm more interested in who and what you are. And why you . . . kidnaped me."

  "Yes, I see. All recollection of your prior visit was blocked out, wa
sn't it." He nodded to himself. "In a way, you and I are brothers. Remember, I'm giving you a simplified explan—"

  "Brothers?"

  "Although we're generations, eons actually, apart, still we—"

  "Are you from Terra?"

  "No, not exactly," answered John. "If I were they wouldn't be in so much trouble." He rested his hands on the arms of his chair. "That's where you come in, Captain. You've got to help them out."

  "Me?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't understand—"

  "In order to help yourself, you must help them," said John. "If events continue on their present course, serious things will happen in less than a fortnight."

  "What sort of—"

  "You've got to move swiftly," John told him. "We'll get you as close to Terra as we can without causing . . . complications. Then you're on your own."

  "What are you talking about? Terra is so far away, it'd take—"

  "Our ship will be there before you know it."

  "Is that what we're on now, some kind of spaceship?"

  John nodded. "Now then, Captain, once you arrive at your destination, you do your best to avert a war."

  "A war?" Apollo got up. "This doesn't make any sense, John. You tell me you are eons ahead of me, but you want me to stop a war on a planet I don't know a damn thing about."

  "The simple truth is, I could not even be seen by the people of Terra beyond the environment of this ship."

  Apollo sat down, frowning at his host. "Why is that?"

  "Because I have no physical body as you know it."

  Pointing at him, Apollo said, "What's sitting in that chair, then?"

  "A reflection of intelligence. My spirit, in a sense."

  Apollo leaned back in the chair, glanced up at the white ceiling for a few seconds. "Do you think, John, that when you folks teleported me from my ship to yours, you left some of my brain behind?" he inquired. "Because I don't seem to be getting much of this."

  "In some ways you're not capable of understanding it all. But complete understanding is not necessary for you to perform—"

  "At least tell me why you even care what happens to people on Terra. If you're so advanced, and I take your word that you are, John, then what difference does it make to you?"