Buck Rogers- A Life in the Future

by Martin Caidin

  A Life in the Future

  They gathered in the officers' mess with hot coffee all around.

  "I have a feeling of deep satisfaction," Inoyue said quietly. "Those men were nothing but scum, preying on helpless people."

  Barney was his usual ebullient self. "Not anymore they're not." He filled a bowl with steaming beef stew. "That sort of rhumba makes a man powerful hungry. Buck? Wilma?"

  "I'm not really hungry, sir. Thanks, but I'll pass," Wilma replied. She was still thinking about the hundreds of men, and perhaps women, in the destroyed submarines. No matter how many battles she had seen or fought in, she couldn't shake her revulsion of bloodshed.

  "What about you. Buck?"

  "Pass the stew and the bread," he answered. "I'm hungry, and there's just enough time for a drink and a nap before we arrive off Valparaiso."

  Captain Ardala held up her coffee mug. "On to Atlantis, gentlemen!"

  Chapter 18

  lo eased northward along the western coastUne of Chile at slow speed, taking advantage of every concealing swell of ocean bottom, island, and strong currents to reduce to a minimum any chance of early detection by the Chileans.

  "You know what this reminds me of?" Black Barney remarked dourly to the group assembled on the bridge of/o. "Fabled crystal palaces and flying dragons that can kill an elephant with one swipe of their claws, then roast it for dinner with a blast of fiery breath. Can you imagine what that would have been like? Good old King Arthur and his sodden knights, traipsing around the countryside with a hundred pounds of armor, taking advantage of any unfortunate maiden they encountered. History has a way of showering nonsense with respectability, covering the foul deeds of miscreants with fables of honor and loyalty to some lofty cause. In the ancient times, I can think of nothing more stupid, more foul, more selfish, or more bloodthirsty than the so-called nobles of medieval Europe and their crusades against the so-called heathen of Islam. Bad enough that good King Richard led so many of his men to slaughter at the hands of the so-called primitives of the Mediterranean lands, but the darkest pages of all were written with the Children's Crusade!"

  "Who turned you loose?" Ricardo Sanchez asked, then looked

  A Life in the Future

  sideways at his twin, Ricki Chavez. They were both enjoying Hs-tening to Barney, who held high degrees in history.

  "Don't push me," Barney snarled. "Remember you're on board this boat by our good graces. But let's not pretend we're bosom buddies or that I have any inkling of affection for either of you. You're merely allies of convenience, and I doubt if I'll ever get the stink of you off of me."

  Ardala Valmar moved in between them. "He asked a perfectly reasonable question, Admiral. These two haven't done a thing to earn such a barrage from you. What's turned you on like this?"

  Black Barney leaned back against a console, his eyes still blazing with anger. "I'll tell you what brought it on. Captain," he said, still speaking in harsh tones but without his former blustery volume. "It's where we're going and the fact we're taking this garbage along with us. If there is an Atlantis, then we are about to encounter a people from a very distant past who, from everything I've heard about them, are basically a gentle folk. They possess no great military forces, no grand armies or navies. None of that. They're a people who came to this planet simply to escape the death of their own. I'd have liked to meet them in something other than a death machine."

  "You mean this boat?" Valmar asked coldly.

  "Yes! This boat," Barney answered. "I'm sorry. Captain, but it's just been festering inside me."

  "We didn't dictate this mission, Admiral Barney," Valmar replied in her same steely tone. "Perhaps it might mitigate the situation if you remember that it is the Chileans who are the purveyors of weapons here."

  "You don't know that," Barney growled.

  "And you don't know otherwise," came Valmar's immediate rejoinder.

  "Perhaps," Sanchez said with a smile, closely examining his fingernails, "the admiral might be less rigid if he examined his own history."

  His twin joined in. "Don't get him started," Chavez said hastily. "Before you know it, he'll be moaning about the great slave trade. People like him lean that way at every opportunity."

  "Baiting me won't do you one damn bit of good," Barney spat. "The fact is there isn't a single race on this planet that hasn't practiced slavery. White, black, brown, tan, red—we're all guilty."

  Buck Rogers

  He shrugged. "Just once I'd like to encounter another group with an open hand rather than a gun."

  "That might be a good way to get your hand chopped off," Buck interjected. "Remember, Admiral, we all bleed the same color."

  "Ah, a white man with a sense of color," remarked Sanchez. "My compliments. Colonel Rogers."

  Inoyue raised a hand. "If I may say something?"

  His quiet tone caught them by surprise. "Everything each of you says has merit. And you are all saying the same thing, only in different words. I honor my ancestors for their love of life, respect for the aged, and sacrifice for their country. I think of laughing children and beautiful flowers and poetry. But the same blood that flows through each of you has stained these memories. If we did not practice war and slavery on ourselves at different times, it is only because we did so against other people."

  Ardala Valmar knew when it was time to put an end to a conversation. She recognized the signs of cabin fever and pent-up energy. The fight between Buck and Wilma and the Mongol bomber, and the unexpected slaughter of the pirates, had taken a high toll. This was the emotional aftermath. It came as no surprise to her. She had seen it happen aboard a submarine many times before, and now she needed to turn the acrimonious exchange to the issue at hand. Their goal was much too close to waste time in a war of words and useless accusations. "Enough!" she snapped. "I have a mission to perform. So do all of you. It has import that may exceed anything we can imagine, and I want you to save your energies for the task at hand."

  Uncomfortable silence filled the bridge. Buck kept a close eye on Barney. He was a rogue of the old school, and to Buck, it was obvious he would have liked nothing better than to wrap his powerful hands about the necks of the drug-dealing twins from Venezuela. His great fists clenched and unclenched as he forced himself to calm down. He took a long shuddering breath.

  "I apologize. Captain," he said abruptly. "Even admirals can go off half-cocked at times. And I extend my apologies to anyone I may have offended. It was not my intention."

  Sanchez and Chavez acknowledged the apology with slight bows of their heads. They recognized the perfect right Ardala Valmar had to become angry and enforce her rules aboard her

  A Life in the Future

  ship. Everyone backed off. The emotional tension eased as the minutes went by.

  Yet Black Barney's words had struck a sensitive nerve. Barney really didn't care a fig who liked or disliked what he said or his attitude. He had fought all his life for the things in which he believed, and taking a back seat to nonsense wasn't in his makeup. Buck caught an icy stare directed by Takashi Inoyue at his lifelong friend and companion in combat. Whatever his reasons, Takashi is angry with Barney for sounding off . . . Oh, well, I don't know what their rules are, but— Buck forced it from his mind. He was swept up in the growing excitement of the possibility of Atlantis being virtually at their fingertips.

  Ardala Valmar's dislike of unrest among her crew on duty dampened the flames of argument. She strode about the boat for hours, her body language making it absolutely clear she would brook no more bickering, no matter what a person's rank or position. Quickly the crew settled down to the matters at hand.

  Amidst the uneasy truce, the voice of Sally Cortez suddenly cut through the tension. "Captain, bridge reports our destination approximately forty miles due north."

  "Any signs of underwater facilities?" Valmar said quickly.

  "We're picking up something, sir, but we can't make out what it is. Coastal fortifications are consistent with our earli
er aerial reconnaissance. But the water temperature is increasing steadily."

  "Any major movement toward us?" Valmar asked.

  "Nothing unusual, sir. All sensors and scopes indicate normal activity, but increasing in depth and scope."

  "The Chileans are devious people," Ricki Chavez said. "We have dealt with them for many years. We have an operative within their community. She has the means to send a burst transmission from an isolated position in the mountains to one of our comsats, which in turn retransmits it back down to us. That includes the incoming code for this submarine."

  Valmar looked sharply at Chavez. "Why haven't I heard of this before now?"

  Chavez shrugged. "If there was anything important to report,

  Buck Rogers

  you would not have missed it, Captain. It would be received by your own communications center. You would know it even before I did."

  Valmar nodded. His words made sense, but she didn't like anything that might affect this mission being kept from her. "From now on, Mr. Chavez, you will inform me of any and all activities relative to this boat. Is that clear?"

  "My apologies. Captain. I will do as you order. But I repeat that while I am aboard /o, I could not communicate beyond this vessel without your cooperation."

  "Cortez," Valmar called out on the boat frequency. "Any changes?"

  "No, sir. We are now thirty-one miles from destination."

  Valmar made an instant decision. "Reduce speed to slow forward, ten knots. I don't want us barging in like some underwater battlewagon. That could easily be mistaken for an offensive move on our part."

  "Captain, we are moving into Chilean waters. We've been at odds with these people for years. You can't assume a peaceful reception," Barney reminded her.

  "I remind you, Admiral, the Chileans have also been at odds with the Mongols for an equal period of time." Valmar frowned. "I don't know why, but I have the strangest feeling we're being invited into their complex."

  "That's what the spider said to the fly," Inoyue said quietly.

  "Thank you for that slice of wisdom," Valmar retorted sarcastically. "But we are not spiders and flies. There's something strange going on here. It's almost as if I'm receiving a message of some kind that we're being invited."

  "After what we did to those Chilean boats?" Barney was incredulous.

  "When we had that encounter. Admiral, they didn't know who or what we were. Plain common sense would be to intercept us. And now that they know they've got a lot to handle, they'll be very careful about rubbing us the wrong way." She hesitated. "And I repeat what I said before. I do not want us to come barging in like we're on a mission of destruction."

  "Captain?" Valmar turned to Buck. "You said you had a strange feeling that we're being invited into the Chilean complex. Have you ever felt anything like that before?"

  A Life in the Future

  "Never. It's a strange feeling, and it goes completely against the grain." On a sudden impulse, she stabbed a finger at Chavez, 'Tou said you had an operative within the Chilean community."

  "That is so," Chavez said, nodding.

  "Tell me about her. Limit it to the salient points, if you please."

  "Certainly. First, she is known to your high council, by name and mission."

  Valmar glanced at Barney. "Admiral, you know about this?"

  Barney shook his head. "Not a whisper."

  "All right, Chavez, let's have it."

  "Her name is Dawn Noriega. Mixed Spanish and Chinese ancestry. I regard her as a genius. She speaks many languages fluently and seems to have a sixth sense about her—knowing in advance what direction people will take. She is quite uncanny that way. She is loyal to Amerigo, but not because we are more appealing than other peoples."

  "How do you mean that?" Valmar pressed.

  Chavez smiled. "Noriega always seems to know which side of any conflict is the stronger and thus will prevail in the long run. She trusts us more than she does the Mongols. Perhaps they are more difficult to understand. Certainly many of them remain barbarians, while others, as you know yourself, are slothful. Your drug program works very well. The Mongols are at their best when they are fighting. Without war, they crumble. All this is known to Dawn Noriega. That is why she works with your country. The decision to keep her work as secret as possible was not made by her or my brother or me, but by Vice-President Hasafi herself"

  "Why?" Valmar demanded.

  "May I answer?" Inoyue spoke up. "We—that is, Japan—have suspected this for some time."

  "On what basis?" Barney snapped.

  "A secret that is not repeated remains a secret."

  "It's the old security game," Buck offered. "Makes sense, too. It operates by the need to know. If you don't know something, you can't let it slip to anyone else."

  "Damn it, Takashi," Barney said heatedly, "I asked you how you knew about an operative inside the Chilean camp. I don't want parables or homilies."

  Buck Rogers

  "We simply traced backward," Inoyue answered. "It is not so difficult, yes? We were aware of the supply of drugs to the Mongols. There must be a highway of information as well as supply. It took us more than a year, after we first began to suspect the situation, to accept that your country has what you call an 'inside plant.'"

  "Or maybe," said Ricardo Sanchez, "you also have a plant on the inside, and that's how you found out."

  "I am not aware of any such plant," Inoyue said smoothly.

  "Captain Valmar." Buck's quiet tone caught their attention. They turned to him.

  "Look at Wilma," Buck said softly.

  They had pushed Wilma Deering from their thoughts during their exchange, but what they saw now commanded their attention. Wilma was crouched alongside a computer console, rocking back and forth gently on her feet. She held both hands to her head as if she were in pain.

  Buck went immediately to her side. He held her gently. "Wilma? What is it?"

  She looked at Buck with pain-filled eyes, her expression one of complete bewilderment. "There's—there's this pain inside my head," she said, forcing out the words.

  "A headache? They can stop that in minutes," Buck told her, realizing even as he spoke she knew far more about the medical facilities aboard lo than he did.

  "No. Not a headache. At first I thought I was hearing voices. It was . . . confusing. Then it became clearer . . . like a sense of warmth. Warm light, a gentle feeling."

  "Anything specific other than that?"

  She reached out with one hand to grip Buck's arm. "No. It's .. . like an emotion, but not anger or fear. It's like . . . when two people feel good about one another." Her eyes held steady with his. "Do you understand?"

  Buck had a strong desire to hold her in his arms. He caught himself suddenly. In the middle of this crowd, that didn't make sense.

  "Buck, do you have any ideas?" Valmar asked.

  Buck helped Wilma to her feet and led her to a padded chair. She sat gratefully.

  "Captain," Buck answered. "Wilma is an empath."

  A Life d^ the Future

  Valmar said nothing for several moments, then asked, "How strong is she?"

  "Very."

  Without turning away from Wilma, Valmar addressed Ricki Chavez. "Every time I ask you about this Noriega woman, you never finish your answer. Do it now, Mister, and be quick about it."

  Chavez responded with a slight bow. "We believe she is perhaps forty or fifty years old, but she looks more like a woman in her twenties. She is most beautiful. She operates places of pleasure throughout the world—you understand what I mean?"

  "A brothel is a brothel by any other name," Valmar snapped. "Get on with it."

  "Those places are her safe havens. Her, ah, employees are also quite beautiful, and they are superb in their ability to give pleasure to their clients. Men would kill to spend one night with Dawn Noriega. But she holds men in contempt. Many men are endeared to her, so she is always kept protected."

  "Chavez, all of it, damn you. Now!" Valm
ar said in an icy tone. "You leave anything out, Mister, and I'll have you thrown in irons."

  Chavez paled. He was convinced that Captain Valmar knew much more than she had let on. "She is a triple operative," he added.

  "What the hell does that mean?" Barney broke in. "Sounds like she's working for everybody."

  "Precisely," Valmar snapped. "Go on, Chavez."

  "The admiral is quite correct. She has never broken her word with your Vice President Hasafi, who is aware of all her contacts. "The Han—both the Chinese and the Mongol lords—believe she works for them as an agent deep within the workings of the Amerigo Council. She reports to the Han—mixing fact with fiction, of course. She also is accepted completely by the Chileans. I do not know what hold she has on these people, but as I say, she plays all sides. She derives her real pleasure from living on the razor's edge—that, and amassing power and great wealth of her own. My own opinion is that she is loyal only to herself"

  "Thirty miles," came the voice of Sally Cortez from the helm.

  "All stop," ordered Valmar. They could feel lo slow to a standstill.

  Buck Rogers

  "I know what she is." The voice was Wilma's, and once again they all turned to her. "It is not the Chileans she covets."

  "Then what is it?" asked Valmar.

  "I understand now," Wilma went on. "The pain is gone. I have been receiving messages." She looked from one person to another.

  "Dawn Noriega," Wilma said slowly, "has joined with the Atlanteans."

  They stared at her.

  "You mean to say there is an Atlantis? Are you are certain?" Inoyue asked, his eyes wide.

  "There is," Wilma said with confidence. "They have been trying to let us know we are in no danger from them, nor from the Chileans. You see, the Atlanteans control the Chileans. It was not always so, but it has been for more than a hundred years."

  "How can you possibly know any of this?" Barney thundered.

  Wilma smiled. "Dawn Noriega is a telepath."

  Silence met her last statement.