Battlestar Galactica 8 - Greetings From Earth

by Glen A. Larson

  "They're going to feel funny," said the little girl. "Waking up and they aren't where they thought they were."

  "Maybe they won't wake up," said Boxey.

  Athena gave him a frowning look. "What do you mean by that, Boxey?"

  "Well, Doctor Wilker may make a mistake and they'll all die before he can get them out of their coffins."

  "Why are they in coffins?" asked a lanky boy near the rear of the room.

  "You said they weren't dead," Loma said. "If they're alive how come they're in coffins then?"

  "Boxey was using a figure of speech," said the young woman. "As I understand it, the space travelers are resting in glass cubicles."

  "When will they wake up?" another child wanted to know.

  "As soon as it can be safely done," answered Athena.

  "Sooner if Doc Wilker messes up," said Boxey.

  "Young man, it really isn't polite to be so critical of the doctor."

  "He's an arrogant nitwit," said Boxey. "I know, because I heard my father say so. And Lieutenant Starbuck agreed. He said Wilker was a cold fish, too, Starbuck did. I'm not exactly sure what—"

  "You mustn't pay attention to most of what Lieutenant Starbuck says," the teacher cautioned.

  Loma's light flashed again. "What do you think the Earth people will have to tell us?"

  Athena answered, "I really am not sure."

  She found him in a long blank-walled corridor. "Apollo," called Athena.

  The captain had been strolling purposefully along a few yards ahead of her. He halted, turned around and smiled. "Ah, my favorite schoolmarm and sister."

  Instead of returning his smile, the young woman frowned. "I want to talk to you."

  "Something about Boxey?" He rested one palm flat against the metal wall. "Last report I had from him, he was doing okay in everything except deport—"

  "It's about you as much as it is about Boxey," she said.

  "I really didn't help him with that last math paper, no matter what he says."

  "It's about the Earth people."

  "Possible Earth people," he corrected.

  "The children are quite excited about what's happening," she went on, "and naturally we've been discussing the whole thing in class."

  "Just about everybody aboard the Galactica is excited. This is a big event."

  Athena said, "That's why I don't want your negative attitude upsetting the kids."

  "Negative? Starbuck and I are the ones who spotted the ship and brought it home. Maybe I don't jump up and down and wave a cigar like Starbuck does, but I assure you, Athena, I'm just as—"

  "I can understand your talking freely in front of Boxey, although I might not raise a child of mine that way," she said. "The thing is, Apollo, the boy isn't old enough or sophisticated enough to know when you two are maybe kidding. And sometimes you voice opinions in front of him that should be kept to yourselves."

  "You sound like you're accusing me of telling him dirty stories."

  "He was repeating in class some nasty remarks you and Starbuck made about Doctor Wilker."

  Apollo gave a short laugh. "Come on, Athena," he said. "I'm not going to pretend that I think Wilker isn't a cold-blooded, officious son of a—"

  "I'm not trying to change your opinion. I just object to those opinions being passed out in my classroom," she said. "The morale of these kids can be undermined if they start thinking the people, the grownups, are fools and incomp—"

  "Starbuck and I were criticizing one guy," he told her. "Boxey heard us. You're not doing any of the children any good if you try to give them the idea that grownups are all perfect and it's only kids who screw up."

  "What they learn ought to be decided by me and not—"

  "Whoa now," said Apollo, putting his hand on her slim shoulder. "Everybody is running at a high pitch today. So let's call a truce, Athena. Okay?"

  She turned away from him for a few seconds, studying the rivets in the wall. "Okay, but . . . well, don't make Boxey cynical before his time."

  "I'm trying not to," said Apollo.

  Athena faced him, taking a deep breath. "What do you really think'll happen?" she asked. "Will these people be able to tell us something?"

  "I sure hope so," Apollo answered.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lieutenant Boomer was slouched slightly in his chair, chin resting on his fist, and staring out of one of the lounge's view windows. He turned away from contemplating the vastness of space when Apollo joined him at his table. "You don't look much like the conquering hero," he observed.

  "Don't feel much like one."

  The black lieutenant frowned. "You and Starbuck brought home the bacon," he said. "You ought to be feeling proud, respected and so on."

  Apollo shook his head. "Guess I'm having second thoughts. And I'm also worrying about what's going to happen to those six people."

  "How so? We're doing all we can for them, aren't we?"

  "It's risky, fooling with their life support system," Apollo said. "Maybe we just ought to let them alone. Four of them are just children, you know, and the idea of tinkering with kids makes me damn uneasy."

  Boomer said, "I don't think we ought to leave them alone. These folks are the first humans we've encountered who are from some other civilization for sure."

  "We've encountered humans before."

  "Nope, not since we left range of our own planet systems," said Boomer, leaning toward his friend. "Everybody we've bumped into up to now, Apollo, has been a drifter or a pioneer from one of our own worlds. Whatever colony or outpost we've come across, the population has been like that."

  "Even so."

  "But even if a few of the humans we've run across were descendants of the lost thirteenth tribe, they were just stragglers left behind," continued Boomer, his voice intense. "Now, right here on this ship of ours, we have human life forms that are from a technologically advanced civilization. But a civilization different from anything we've ever hit before. And that, to my way of thinking, is what the whole point of this voyage of Galactica has been."

  "The lad's right," said Starbuck, strolling up and taking the third chair at the table. "That is why we've risked our lives and kept on residing in tin cans rather than stopping at one of the planets we've passed that could've supported life."

  Apollo made his right hand into a fist and rested it on the table top. "That's not exactly the way I heard it, good buddy."

  Starbuck grinned and signaled to an orderly to bring him an ambrosia. "Tell me your version of the truth, Uncle Apollo."

  "We've kept moving across space because we're a hunted people. We haven't really been strong enough to stop and settle, because we aren't certain we can defend ourselves."

  "Aw," said Starbuck, "we haven't seen a Cylon in sectons. I say we've just been dealt a terrific hand and we have to play it out. We're going to win, too."

  "Starbuck, you're a nifty viper pilot and the best fighting man in the fleet," said Apollo, "but—"

  "Stop there," suggested Starbuck as his drink arrived. "I like flattery, but not the criticism I have a hunch is coming."

  "But you have a damn annoying habit of thinking in absolutes," Apollo went on. "We win, we lose. We find Earth, we don't. A girl says yes, she says no. The quality of civilization is determined by the values placed between extremes."

  Starbuck took a slow sip of his drink. "Would you run that by once more, that last part? It sounds profound enough for me to copy it down and have it embroidered on a pillow or something. 'The quality of . . .' How'd the rest go?"

  Shaking his head, Apollo said, "I know how Athena must feel, trying to drum some knowledge into a bunch of restless kids."

  "Wait now," said Starbuck, grinning. "Athena I'd listen to. In fact just about any pretty lady has a heck of a good chance of reaching me with her message."

  After a few seconds Boomer said, "You were about to make some other point, Apollo. Before the hotshot here came traipsing in."

  "Traipsing? Are you insinuating
that I—"

  "I've just been thinking about those six wayfarers," said Apollo. "Especially the four children, but all of them really. I don't know, when we were out there and we saw that ship of theirs I was elated. Here it was, a chance to get more input about Earth. So we brought them here."

  "Which," said Starbuck, "was absolutely the smart thing to do, old chum."

  "Maybe."

  "Maybe?"

  "It's been occurring to me, especially when I see Salik and Wilker and a whole army of doctors and technicians swarming all over the craft, that the best thing to do would be to let them continue on their way unmolested."

  "You mean like taking out the hook and tossing the fish back into the stream after landing it?" asked Boomer.

  "These six aren't plunder," said Apollo. "They're people and we've interfered with them. We may very well keep them from ever fulfilling their mission."

  Starbuck made an exasperated noise and popped a fresh cigar between his teeth. "Now, Boomer, you see what it's like working with this guy," he said. "He never turns that brain of his off, it's working around the clock. Going back over what we've done, trying to find a way to worry about some dinky trivial thing."

  "You guys did the right thing," said Boomer. "I'd have done exactly the same thing if I'd spotted that ship while on scout patrol."

  "That doesn't make it right," said Apollo.

  "You really want to let these people go, old chum?" Starbuck studied his friend's face. "Push 'em out of the docking bay and let 'em get on with their trip?"

  "It might be the best course, yes."

  "But we don't know where they're bound for," said Starbuck, lighting his cigar with an angry flick of his lighter. "If we toss them out into space that crate may just turn into a derelict. I mean, it could be it long ago forgot where they were suppposed to be going."

  "No, I think the ship is capable, if we don't tamper too much more with it, of delivering its passengers to the right destination."

  "You're being dippy," said Starbuck. "You see a curly-headed little kid dozing in a glass coffin and you get mushy. These six people are important to us. We have to find out what it is they know."

  "Sometimes the price you have to pay for knowledge is just too high," said Apollo.

  At the next table a chubby young man in the uniform of a security guard leaned back and turned toward them. "If anyone's interested in my vote," he said in his nasal voice, "I'm with Starbuck. I say let's go in there and open those damn boxes quick. We have to start interrogating those people, because the lives of every damn one of us depend on what they know."

  Starbuck scanned the plump youth. "You're Reese, aren't you?"

  "Sure, you know—"

  "Reese, you have ten seconds to withdraw your snoot from our conversation," said Starbuck, grinning thinly. "After which time I will personally carry you bodily to the nearest wastechute and eject you into the vastness of space."

  "Listen, Starbuck, I was only—"

  "Say no more," warned Starbuck, pushing back his chair and raising a cautionary hand.

  "Geeze, a guy tries to help you out and you come on like—"

  "The day I need a nitwit sec officer to fight my battles, that will be the day they—"

  "Starbuck," said Apollo, putting a restraining hand on Starbuck's arm and keeping him from hopping up out of his chair, "do your fighting on the triad courts, okay?"

  The security officer stood up. "I'm not the only one who feels like this," he told them. "We can't let those six get away and we have to do whatever's necessary to find out everything they know. If they're human, they breathe fresh air and so there's no need to worry about breaking them out of their boxes." He took a deep breath, face reddening. "Speaking of fresh air, I need some. Being around you, Starbuck, always gives me the bends." He went stomping off.

  Boomer watched his departure. "And here I been hearing so much about your winning personality, Starbuck."

  "I should've popped him one in the—"

  "My friend," said Apollo, gradually letting go of his arm, "you are forgetting the main purpose of the lounge. It's a place to relax."

  Starbuck settled down some in his chair. "Well, damn it, I get unsettled when a nitwit like that starts agreeing with me."

  "You stay here and rethink the whole thing." Apollo rose up. "I'm going to see how the doctors are coming."

  "I'll tag along," offered Starbuck.

  "They don't need a crowd down there," said Apollo. "I'll fill you in soon as I know anything new."

  Nodding, Starbuck picked up his glass. "I'm not voting to risk those kids' lives either, you know," he said.

  "I know." Apollo left the table.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  An unexpected sizzle of yellowish sparks came sputtering out of the wall and showered down on the glass coffin that held the sleeping young woman.

  "Damn!" exclaimed Doctor Wilker.

  "Watch out, take it easy," warned Doctor Salik anxiously. He was hunched at a row of dials and gauges.

  Wilker withdrew the hand-held probing tool he'd been using to test the complex wiring system in the life support room. "I seem to have shorted out a line," he said puzzled. "Which is odd, since this whole setup looks simple and easy to—"

  "There was a temporary drop on every indicator here. Power, gases, everything," said Salik to his colleague. "I'd say you struck a central nerve of the whole system."

  "Well, at least we're getting closer."

  "You might have shorted out their whole ship," said Salik, angry. "You can't keep going this way or we'll kill them all."

  "I'm being as careful and thorough as I can under the circumstances," said Wilker. "I really do believe, doctor, that we don't have time to move at the pace you'd prefer to—"

  "We have all the time we need."

  "Oh, do we? Already Councilman Geller has been trying to get in here to talk to these people," said Wilker. "I am not about to cross the Council of Twelve or jeopardize my—"

  "It's these people's lives you ought to be worrying about," said Apollo as he stepped across the threshold.

  "We don't need your interference just now, Captain," said Wilker. "I'd advise you to—"

  "Have you learned anything?"

  "We've found that the gas being used is stored in liquid form and is regenerated and recycled," said Wilker impatiently. "Now if you'll toddle off, we'll determine exactly how—"

  "You don't seem to share your associate's optimism," Apollo said to Doctor Salik.

  "I would prefer to work at a much slower rate, to make a good many more tests before we—"

  "There's not time," cut in Wilker.

  "I heard you mentioning Geller," said Apollo. "But he has no authority over this—"

  "Oh, doesn't he? It isn't wise to cross the Council, Captain."

  Turning his back on the scientist, Apollo addressed Salik. "Are things going wrong?"

  "Well, as we probe the circuits in here, we occasionally short out lines, thereby draining off energy."

  "It's nothing critical," insisted Wilker.

  Salik shook his head. "There are still many things we don't know," he told Apollo. "We don't yet know how far it is to Earth nor how far they've come. Therefore, we can't as yet determine how long this system will support their lives. I'd like—"

  "I want you both to discontinue your work at once," said Apollo decisively.

  Wilker blinked. "You don't, young man, have the authority to—"

  "I say I do." He caught hold of the scientist's arm. "I want you out of this ship at once. Doctor Salik, you stay here and monitor the situation, but don't do anything more."

  "Very well," said Salik, rubbing his hand along his side thoughtfully.

  "You and I, Wilker, will go talk to my father," said Apollo.

  "By all means," said Wilker with a chill smile. "I wouldn't miss seeing Commander Adama's face when you tell him what you've tried to do, Captain."

  Commander Adama was frowning at the image on the communicatio
n screen. "I think I've already made myself perfectly clear," he said evenly. "You can tell the Council, Councilman Geller, that until I am absolutely persuaded that—"

  "Then you're refusing me entry to this captured ship?"

  "The vehicle was not captured. It was brought in to the docking bay simply to—"

  "Whatever you want to call the blasted thing," cut in the impatient councilman, "we of the Council believe we have the right to make an inspection."

  "Not at this time."

  "When then do you—"

  "You'll be informed, Geller," said Adama. He flicked off the screen.

  Leaving his chair, the commander made a slow circuit of his quarters.

  A speaker just over the doorway cut in on his thoughts by announcing, "Captain Apollo and Doctor Wilker to see you."

  "Show them in."

  The door hissed open and his son came striding in, followed by the sardonically smiling scientist.

  "I'll let this hotheaded offspring of yours explain the rather nasty situation that's developed," Wilker said.

  "Sit down," Adama invited, settling into a chair. "What's been going on, Apollo?"

  "I ordered the scientific team to quit working on the ship," his son explained, ignoring the chair he'd nodded at.

  "That doesn't seem to be in our best interests."

  "They're running a risk of shutting off the whole support system," explained Apollo, pacing. "Doctor Salik apparently has the patience to do the job right, but Doctor Wilker is rushing things."

  "Just because I don't crawl along like that—"

  "He's caused some damage already," accused Apollo, pointing at the scientist. "There's a possibility that, if he's allowed to keep tinkering, he'll abort the whole business and kill every damned one of those people."

  "I'd hardly characterize my work as tinkering, Captain." Carefully Wilker lowered himself to a stuffed chair.

  Adama glanced at him. "Was there some danger?"

  "Not at all."

  "But you had some sort of accident?"

  "Well, there were a few shorts," admitted Wilker. "And, yes, it did cause the power to diminish. Nothing terribly serious as far as I—"