Battlestar Galactica 9 - Experiment In Terra Page 9

  "Wow boy, I can sure see why they bounced you out of City Tech," the dark-haired young woman remarked. "I mean, a good teacher doesn't always ridicule other points of—"

  "Hey, folks," said Starbuck, holding both hands up in a let's-quit-this gesture, "I didn't come all this way to referee a debate. What's this Complex you mentioned, Susie?"

  "Heck, that's whereat I used to work," Will/F said. "Before I discovered how to—"

  "It is also the place," the girl said to Starbuck, "where you're going to have a good part of your trouble."

  "If Apollo is there," said Starbuck with a nod at Snell's broad back, "can you show me a quick and sneaky way to get in there, Will?"

  "Shucks, getting in the Complex ain't no problem. That there's easier'n spitting in a creek," the robot said. "What's a real bugger, though, is getting out again."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "I ought not to be doing this," said Doctor Horning as they approached the door to Apollo's cell.

  "You ought not to be locking me up," said General Farris. "That's what you should be concerned about."

  "I only work here. If I don't follow—

  "Yes, yes, that's what they all say. But every man is responsible for—"

  "I used to believe that," said the doctor, halting before the cell door and glancing nervously up and down the empty corridor, "a long time ago." After another cautious look around, he used his special keycard to unlock the door. "You can see Colonel Watts for five minutes, General, and then I'm going to have to return you to your own cell. I really shouldn't even be allowing you this—"

  "Stand aside, so I can go in." Farris reached for the door handle.

  "Now, be prepared to leave sooner, in case someone comes along this—"

  "You really must learn to relax, Doctor."

  Farris strode into the cell. "Well, damn," he exclaimed when he spotted Apollo, "it really is you, Charlie."

  Apollo stood up. "I'm afraid I don't—"

  "He's having some memory problems, General Farris," explained Storm.

  "Farris?" said Apollo. "Are you related to Brenda?"

  The general was scowling. "What the hell have they been doing to you, my boy? Don't you even remember that I'm Brenda's father?"

  "Actually, I—"

  "Wait a minute," cut in Storm, moving closer to the general. "We can talk this all over later. You did come to get us out of here, didn't you?"

  Shaking his head, Farris replied, "I'm afraid not. Brenda and I are prisoners, just like you two."

  "Brenda as well?" said Apollo. "But she's the one who turned me in."

  "She thought they were going to help you, Charlie," the general told him. "The child had no idea you'd be locked away like this."

  "Why have they grabbed you?"

  "Because our President is running scared. He doesn't want anyone who knows the true situation out in the satellite planets to talk."

  Storm said, "Hell, he's going to have to keep locking up an awful lot of people."

  "Unless he comes to his senses darn soon." The general put a hand on Apollo's shoulder. "My boy, I don't have much time. I had to bully that fool Horning to give me a few minutes with you before locking me up. What I want to know is this . . . if I can manage to get word to the Precedium, will you testify as to the real conditions out there?"

  "You bet I will," Apollo assured him. "That's why I came to Terra in the first place."

  "I was certain I could count on Charlie Watts."

  "It might do your cause more good," suggested Apollo, "if I testified as myself."

  "As yourself? What are—"

  Three anxious taps on the door interrupted him. The door swung open a fraction. "That's all the time I can give you, General. Sorry," said Doctor Horning. "We must go."

  "But—"

  "If we're caught here, it'll mean trouble for all of us."

  Farris studied Apollo's face for a few seconds. "Try to pull yourself together, my boy." Turning, he left him.

  "Hot dang!" observed Will/F. "If that there ain't a sight and a half."

  He and Starbuck, with the robot in the lead, were traveling along an abandoned subway tunnel. Each held a short lightstick.

  "What are you hooting about now?" inquired the lieutenant, catching up with his mechanical guide.

  "I was merely remarking on that dapper feller up yonder. He sure manages to keep right spic and span . . . and it's almost like he's glowing some."

  "What fellow?" Starbuck swept the tunnel ahead with the beam of his stick. "I don't see any . . . whoops!"

  "We do meet in the oddest places, don't we, Starbuck?" John came drifting out of the darkness toward them. His suit did seem to be glowing faintly. "I assume you're planning some violence, eh?"

  "I . . . I think I remember you from . . . before . . ." Starbuck, cigar drooping, was frowning as he tried to remember.

  "Try hard, it'll come back to you."

  "You travel in a . . . ship of lights . . . belong to an advanced race," recalled Starbuck, the memory blurred still. "Yeah, and you thrive on butting into other people's business."

  "We have a parental interest in the less fortunate," said John. "Like all thoughtful and caring parents, our efforts are sometimes misunderstood by our childish—"

  "Hey!" Starbuck took his cigar from between his teeth and pointed it accusingly at John. "I suddenly understand what Apollo was getting at in that message he left me. About being involved in something I wasn't going to believe. You're behind this, aren't you?"

  "I'm taking an interest in a dangerous situation that might well—"

  "Yeah, you dragged Apollo here, right in the middle of an important mission so—"

  "Starbuck, Starbuck," said John patiently, "when are you going to realize that you really have no idea of what's important and what isn't in this universe? Part of wisdom is learning to accept the wise counsel of—"

  "You may be wise as heck, but all I see is a guy in a white suit who's kidnaped my buddy and brought him into some screwball situation," said Starbuck, jabbing at the chill tunnel air with his cigar. "Did you know, old chum, that they've tossed Apollo into the jug more or less?"

  "Of course I know that. Why do you think I'm here to brief you on—"

  "What did you con him into doing this time?" demanded Starbuck.

  John raised a placating hand. "Listen to me for a moment," he requested. "Unless the situation that's been building up on this planet is altered very soon, the two major powers will destroy each other."

  "What do you mean by very soon?"

  "Right now it's a matter of hours."

  "Doggone," said Will/F, who'd been quietly drinking in the conversation. "This is dang exciting."

  John gave him a disdainful glance. "Can you hear me?"

  "Heck yes. See you, too. Ain't I supposed to?"

  John sighed. "I assumed only Starbuck was aware of me. I don't like to have a lot of rustic primitives ogling me when I—"

  "Oh, shucks, John," said the robot. "I ain't no primitive at all. Listen, heck, the way I modified myself, I'm near about your equal in the smart department."

  John couldn't refrain from letting his nose wrinkle slightly. "I doubt that."

  "Hey, later on you guys can have a wrestling match to decide," put in the impatient Starbuck. "Right now, John, you're supposed to be telling me what's going on."

  "We want to avert an all-out destructive war on Terra that would destroy a good portion of the population," he said. "Having, as is usual in an emergency situation, to work with the materials at hand, I recruited Apollo. He's volunteered to—"

  "Oh, sure, I just bet he volunteered."

  "He's obliged me by coming to my aid," said John. "After all, it's to your advantage, too, to keep these fools from destroying each other."

  "Okay, maybe so," conceded Starbuck. "But how does Apollo bring that off while sitting in the jug?"

  "You get him out and help him get to the Precedium, which is the governing body in this part of th
e world. Simple." He smiled and spread his hands wide.

  "You planned all this from the start? Knew it would go like this?"

  John said, "In any game there are bound to be unexpected variations now and then. Which is why I'm compelled to intercede directly at certain intervals so that—"

  "A game? This is a game to you?"

  "In a way, yes," he admitted. "But perhaps that was an unfortunate word to use with someone as hot-tempered as you, Starbuck."

  "Hot-tempered?" He took three steps toward the man in the white suit. "What gave you the idea I was hot-tempered?"

  Smiling, John said, "I'll let you get on with your rescue mission. Try, though, to keep the gore and bloodshed down to a minimum."

  "Are you trying to tell me how to . . . John?"

  He simply wasn't there anymore.

  "Wowee," exclaimed the robot, whistling out of his ears. "That there feller puts on some show, don't he now? Friend of yours, is he?"

  "Not exactly," answered Starbuck.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Fingers steepled and chin resting on fingertips, Commander Adama sat in a comfortable chair in his quarters. "So they're starting up again already, are they?"

  "It was to be expected," said Siress Tinia.

  Lowering his hands, Adama rested them on his knees. "And what exactly does the Council intend to do?"

  "Mutter and complain," she answered, smiling. "For now, anyway."

  The commander nodded. "There's some precedent for that."

  "They're very upset about your taking the Galactica away from the fleet. The majority feeling is that you're making an error, possibly a grave one."

  "Is that the unanimous feeling?"

  She smiled again. "You must realize I don't agree with my colleagues on this, Adama, or I wouldn't be here."

  "I appreciate that."

  "Many of them feel that approaching so near to a planet like Terra may put the battlestar in a dangerous position," she told him. "I tried to convince them that—"

  "The Council may be quite right," he said quietly. "We really can't be sure what we'll have to face."

  "Yet you're going?"

  "Apollo and Starbuck are in serious trouble, at least that's my assumption," he said. "Apollo's my son, but I see it as my duty to back up all our warriors. There's a risk to the battlestar, certainly. Being commander of the Galactica, however, means I have to calculate the risks, weigh the dangers against the possible results."

  Tinia said, "I have a good deal of faith in your—"

  A speaker announced, "Colonel Tigh to see you."

  "Admit him," instructed Adama.

  The black colonel came into the room, a sheaf of papers in his hand. "Commander, Siress," he said, bowing slightly. "We've just determined, sir, that the two vipers are actually on Terra. They apparently landed there."

  "Anything as to why?"

  "Nothing," answered the colonel. "In one centare we'll be within striking distance of the planet. Do you wish to reduce speed?"

  "No," said Commander Adama. "Continue at light speed."

  Will/F whispered, "There'll be two of 'em 'round the next bend in this here corridor."

  "Armed?"

  "You bet your butt, Starbuck. A rifle each, the kind that kill you graveyard dead right off."

  Easing his pistol out of the holster, Starbuck told him, "Okay, you go on up to these guards and distract them. I sneak up in a jiffy and stun 'em."

  "They might shoot me."

  "So? You're made out of metal."

  "Even so, it might put holes in my carcass. I don't cotton to having no unsightly holes perforating my—"

  "They won't have time to perforate you," Starbuck assured him. "Trust me."

  "Oh, shucks, I do. Sincerely. But—"

  "G'wan."

  After bobbing his ball of a head twice, the robot trotted off along the shadowy underground corridor.

  "Halt!" ordered the first guard who noticed him.

  There were two of them, grey-uniformed, stationed in front of a wide metal door in a pale green wall.

  "Wowee," exclaimed Will/F as he went shuffling closer to the guards. "I surely must've took me a wrong turning. I'm looking for the Rapid Transit subcar train to East—"

  "Hands in the air!" commanded the other guard.

  Both rifles were trained on the robot.

  "Hey now," said Will/F. "There ain't no need to get all in a sweat, fellers. Just a small mistake. Surely, I bet you I know exactly what happened. I bet you one of my directional tubes is on the fritz and so I—"

  "Step over here to us," said a guard. "Keep those hands up."

  "I'm starting in to suspect you fellers don't work for the Rapid Transit at all," said the mechanical man. "Nope, your uniforms ain't the right color and your attitude ain't the usual combination of courtesy and amiability one comes to associate with Rapid—"

  "What are you doing here? This is an entry to a government building."

  "No kidding? Don't that beat all. Here I thought I was—"

  Starbuck fired his pistol, twice, set to stun.

  Before either of the guards could turn his attention to the lieutenant, they were tumbling over.

  "You sure as heck took your own sweet time about springing into action, Starbuck," said the robot, lowering his metallic hands and glancing back at the approaching lieutenant. "I must've sweat me about a gallon of—"

  "Robots don't sweat."

  "I was speaking metaphorically."

  Stepping across the fallen bodies of the stunned and unconscious guards, Starbuck pointed at the door. "This leads to the section of the Complex that we want?"

  "Heck yes. Didn't I already explain all that to you? Once you used that there communicator of yours to get the exact location of your pal, I called on my vast and intimate knowledge of the Complex to pick us the best sneaky route in."

  "Okay," said Starbuck. "How many other guards are we likely to encounter before we reach Apollo's cell?"

  "Heck, it's going to be a snap from here on," said the robot. "I don't guess we got to overcome more than fifteen or twenty guards."

  Storm tapped his plastic spoon lightly against the edge of the plastic meal tray resting across his knees. "I've been kicking an odd notion around in my head," he said.

  Apollo was leaning, arms folded, against the cell wall. His meal tray, the food untouched, was sitting atop his cot. "This is a good place for odd notions."

  "When General Farris was here, you started to tell him something," said Storm. "You were going to explain that you aren't really Charlie Watts, weren't you?"

  Apollo unfolded his arms. "Yep, I was."

  After watching him for a moment Storm went on. "I'm starting to believe you really aren't Charlie Watts at all. At first I figured you were acting funny because these bastards had shot you full of drugs or something."

  "They didn't."

  "Now, though, I can see another explanation. Namely, that you don't know things that Charlie would know because you aren't Charlie."

  "Congratulations. You're starting to think logically."

  "Who are you, then?"

  "My name's Apollo."

  Storm dropped his fork onto his tray. It made a faint click. "Apollo, huh? Where do you come from, what planet?"

  "I don't reside on a planet. I live on an immense spaceship called a battlestar."

  "Never heard of anything like—"

  "We're new to your part of the universe."

  "Why are you here at all? Are you the front runner for some kind of invasion team from—"

  "Nothing like that, no," Apollo said quickly.

  "Then what?"

  "I'm not here completely by choice. Let's just say I was sort of persuaded to volunteer for this job."

  "What job? Getting yourself locked up?"

  "The job is to get certain information to your Precedium."

  Storm shook his head. "Doesn't look like you'll make it."

  "It's much too early to give up," A
pollo told him. "The people I'm working for are pretty good at getting their way."

  "So you expect to get free of here?"

  "Eventually."

  "How?"

  "That's the part," admitted Apollo, "I don't know as yet."

  A guard spun on his heel, went running for the nearest alarm box on the wall.

  "Better stop that there gent from pulling that red lever," warned Will/F, who was crouched beside Starbuck in the corridor leading to the cell they were seeking.

  Starbuck fired his stun-set pistol.

  The beam hit the guard in the middle of his back and he went spreadeagle in midair. He seemed to float there for an instant before dropping to the ribbed metal floor.

  Straightening, Starbuck surveyed the narrow hallway. "You underestimated, old chum," he said as he lowered his weapon. "That last makes twenty-three guards encountered so far."

  "According to my figures, Starbuck, it's twenty-four. And that feller ought to be the last for a while."

  Starbuck skirted the two unconscious guards sprawled near his feet. "Apollo should be in one of these cells coming up on the right."

  "That one numbered 232 if our calculations are right," said the robot, walking along with him.

  "Then let's us get him the heck out of here fast." The lieutenant stopped in front of the door he wanted. "A couple dozen guards asleep on the job is going to attract attention pretty soon."

  "I can pick this here lock easy as heck," offered the robot. "Got me a special tool for just such a task built right into the pinkie of my left hand." He held up that hand.

  "This is quicker." Starbuck reset his pistol and fired at the lock.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Apollo had gotten up from his cot. "You hear a noise?"

  "Nope. What sort of noise?" asked Storm.

  "A thump, out in the corridor. Sounded like something falling over."

  "Probably they're just escorting another guest to his suite."

  "Yeah, I suppose that—"

  The area around the lock was starting to glow a fiery orange.

  "Stand back," suggested a voice from out in the corridor.

  The now lockless door came rattling open.

  "Starbuck to the rescue," announced the lieutenant.