"I'll be darned," said Apollo, smiling. "Never thought I'd be glad to see you, old buddy, but—"
"Save the tearful reunion stuff for another day," Starbuck said, crossing the threshold. "Gather up your belongings and let us depart. Who's your roommate?"
"George Storm, this is Starbuck."
"Pleasure," muttered Starbuck. "You want to join us on this flit, Storm?"
"Yeah, getting out of here sounds appealing."
"Time's awasting, Starbuck," reminded Will/F from outside.
"New associate of mine. Not as cute as you, Apollo, but smarter." He pointed at the robot with his thumb. "A renegade who has an intimate knowledge of this joint."
Apollo hurried to the doorway. "We have a couple more people to break loose before we can go."
"Listen, this isn't universal amnesty day, chum," Starbuck told him, biting hard on his cigar. "There isn't time enough to—"
"Which cell would General Farris and his daughter be likely to be in?" Apollo asked Storm.
"Only vacancy was 237. That's most likely where they put them."
"C'mon." Apollo sprinted to cell 237. "Use your gun on this lock, Starbuck."
"I suppose eventually, when you're weary of ordering me around, you'll find time to thank me for this daring rescue."
"Sure," said Apollo, "thanks."
Brenda had been sitting, hands folded, on the edge of the cot. "You have the same feeling about him, father?"
"Yes," answered the general. "There's definitely something different about Charlie."
"And that uniform he's wearing is . . . well, it's not like anything I've ever seen," the young woman went on.
"You say he told you he wasn't Charlie Watts?"
"When I first picked him up out beyond the city, yes. He acted as though he'd never seen me before. Yet he'd called me to . . . But, no, I'm not at all sure if he's the one who phoned me."
"What do you mean, princess?" The general was standing near the door, in an at-ease position.
"I was asleep when the call came, so I was a little fuzzy anyway," she answered. "And the phonescreen stayed blank. All I heard was a voice. 'This is Charlie, I'm in trouble. Come get me . . .' Then directions on how to reach him."
"But it wasn't Charlie?"
"I don't think so." She shook her head. "And it wasn't this man who may or may not be Charlie. The voice was . . . strange . . . unusual."
"Yet you went."
"Yes, because . . . at the time . . . there was something about the voice . . . I just automatically believed him. Whoever he was."
"But who else could've known where Charlie was?"
"I have no idea."
"There's something strange about all this," said her father slowly and thoughtfully. "As though we're dealing with some kind of entity that we can't quite . . . Wait! Stay right there."
The handle of their cell door had begun to glow and shimmer.
A moment later the door opened.
Starbuck, gun in hand and cigar tilted at a jaunty angle, was grinning in at them. "I can see why you'd want to save the lass, Apollo," he said over his shoulder. "The old boy, though, doesn't look like he's worth the—"
"Your uniform," said Brenda, "it's just like his . . . like Charlie's."
"Charlie?"
Apollo stepped into the cell. "Brenda, we're going to get you and your father out of here. Let's move."
The young woman took hold of his arm, allowed him to guide her clear of the cell.
General Farris, frowning deeply, followed. "Who are you, young man?" he asked Starbuck as he brushed by him.
"Just a freelance jailbreaker."
"You're a bit too flippant."
Starbuck took a puff on his dead cigar. "Would you be surprised to learn that you're not the first person to mention that?" he asked. "Now, if you'll fall in behind my robot buddy, we'll get your butt to safety."
"Heck, I know a dandy place," said Will/F.
The party was making its way along a snaking underground tunnel.
Starbuck and the robot were leading, followed by Apollo, Brenda and the general. Storm brought up the rear.
"A safe place?" asked Starbuck.
"Shucks, you already been there, Starbuck. It's our hideaway in—"
"Yeah, but I don't know if—"
"What's he talking about?" asked Apollo, moving up next to the lieutenant.
"A safe location for you folks to hole up while you're making plans and such," explained Will/F. "I heard you and the general gabbing about needing a base of operations."
"Brenda's place isn't safe. Neither is the general's," said Apollo. "They'll obviously look for us there."
"They ain't got any idea our hideout even exists."
"What we want to do is set up a meeting with the Precedium," said Apollo. "Can we contact them from there?"
"Sure enough, Apollo. Mr. Snell built us our own private phone system. Oh, the images get a mite fuzzy now and then. Heck, though, considering we don't pay no phone bill, why, it's a beaut."
Apollo asked Starbuck, "You've been there? What sort of a building is it?"
"Not a building, a cave."
"Cave?"
"Nothing fancy, mind you," said the robot. "Secure and safe, that's for sure. Nobody'll ever find you there."
Apollo came to a decision. "Okay, that's where we'll go"
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"It's my own design," said Snell proudly, gesturing at the picturephone sitting on a lopsided crate against one wall of the cave.
"Somewhat unorthodox in appearance," observed General Farris, "but if I can use it to contact the Precedium and set up a meeting, that's fine."
"It works better than most phones you're used to," Snell informed him. "Sit yourself down on that barrel there, General, and give it a try."
Starbuck was a few yards from the scene, puffing absently on his stogie.
Someone tapped his elbow.
"Huh?"
Longsight Sue had moved up close to him. "Got something to tell you," she whispered.
"Go ahead."
"Let's move over against the wall."
"Okay." He linked arms with her and they crossed the earthen floor. "What is it, Susie?"
"I . . . sense something."
"Another hunch, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Well, you were right about the Complex. Lots of guys tried to make trouble for me there, but—"
"You're in danger again. All of you."
"You mean because the military folks from the Complex are hunting for us? I don't think there's much chance they'll pick up our—"
"Not that," she said, taking hold of his arm. "I'm . . . getting a message that . . . someone is going to . . . betray you."
Starbuck looked into her thin face. "Someone here?"
She brushed a lock of stray hair back under her head scarf. "I'm sorry I can't get a clearer impression . . . but I am sure someone here with us is going to cause you trouble. Tell them where you are . . ."
"One of your gang, one of mine?"
"Can't be sure."
"You ought to work on polishing these visions, Susie. Get 'em into focus so—"
"You're making fun of me."
"Nope, no," he assured her. "Just wishing you could give me more details."
Her grip on his arm tightened. "He . . . he's going to send a message to them, tell them you're here with us," Sue said. "That'll foul us up, too."
"He? So it's not Brenda."
"She's not the one, no."
"How about the general? He's supposed to be calling the Precedium on your homemade phone, but he might be—"
"I . . . I don't know if it's him or not."
Starbuck glanced away from the girl and noticed Storm step into the mouth of one of the tunnels.
Storm had his hand slipped in under his tunic, clutching something.
"Stay here, Sue." Starbuck broke away from her. "I want to follow up a hunch of my own."
Starbuck's str
oll across the cavern looked casual. He even paused to relight his cigar, although it was already burning. When he was near the mouth of the tunnel, he ducked in.
He whipped out his lightstick, clicked it on and sprayed the beam.
Storm was crouched a dozen yards in, some kind of voice communicator in his hand. "This is how to get to the place," he was saying. "They're hiding in a—"
"Show's over, old chum." Starbuck went galloping across the rocky floor, and, without even breaking his stride, booted the communicator clean out of Storm's grip.
The gadget cracked into the wall, squawked, hit the floor, bounced twice and cracked in half.
"Damn it." Starbuck swept the crouching figure with his light. "Here I risk my neck to save you and you turn out to be a fake. A spy planted to pump Apollo."
"You're misunderstanding what you just saw me doing and—"
"I suppose you were really broadcasting weather reports to the banana growers in the area?"
"Look, I'm on your side, Starbuck. I was locked up just like the rest of—"
"Heck, you were planted. Oldest trick in the world." He spit out a fleck of tobacco. "Good thing I got to you before you—"
"We can work out some . . ."
Storm suddenly lunged, grabbing up a stone from underfoot. He charged at Starbuck, striving to club him. The lieutenant backed, kicked out again. This time the toe of his boot connected with the man's chin. Storm groaned, staggered, stumbled into the wall, fell and passed out.
Starbuck was about to bend over him, but he spun around instead. "Don't . . . Oh, hello, Susie m'love."
"You okay?"
"Tip top," he replied. "And, say, that was a pretty good hunch you had."
"They often are," she admitted.
General Farris stepped away from the makeshift phone systems. "We'll meet with the Precedium in one hour at their central headquarters," he announced.
"That ain't all that far from here," said the robot. "You'll have plenty of time to sneak over."
The general added, "The President will be there, too."
"He'll deny everything," said Brenda, "accuse us all of being crazy or traitors. We really, you know, can't prove any of this."
The general turned to Apollo. "Charlie . . . Apollo . . . You're the only one who's actually been out there," he said. "You were on Paradeen, you saw what the Eastern Alliance did."
"I intend to tell them everything we know," said Apollo.
Brenda was shaking her head. "They may not believe him," she pointed out. "All President Arends has to do is say that this man is Colonel Charles Watts. Charlie has suffered a complete mental breakdown and thinks he's somebody named Captain Apollo from another system. Just more proof that he's a madman."
"He might try that," acknowledged her father.
"Not," offered Starbuck, "if we give them a little tangible proof that we're what we say we are."
"Such as?" asked Apollo.
"Our ships, the vipers," said the lieutenant. "Nobody on this planet builds anything like that. If I was to fly over this Precedium headquarters building in my viper, do a few stunts, that'd—"
"Good idea," said Apollo. "And maybe we can also contact the Galactica. Get them to put on some kind of show of power or strength."
"What's the Galactica?" Brenda wanted to know.
"Maybe we can show you," said Starbuck. "Apollo, old chum, you go to the meeting. I'll fetch a viper from out in the woodland glade where I . . . oops! Maybe the ships ain't there no more."
Apollo's grin faded. "Right, the lawmen may have confiscated 'em."
Starbuck looked over at Longsight Sue. "Any hunches, love?"
The thin young woman pressed the fingertips of her right hand to her forehead. "I . . . I can see the two craft," she said slowly. "Still where you landed them . . . but . . ."
Starbuck gave an impatient chomp on his stogie. "But what?"
"There are three guards watching your ships."
"Only three?" He snapped his fingers. "No problem. C'mon, Willie. Let's go fetch a viper."
The robot's head bobbed. "You other folks can get to the Precedium okay if I don't guide you?"
"I'll do that," volunteered Sue, adjusting her head scarf.
Rubbing his metal hands together, Will/F said, "Then let's us get a move on, Starbuck."
No one but Apollo saw him.
John, white suit faintly glowing, appeared on the far side of the cavern.
While the general and his daughter talked about the upcoming meeting with the Precedium, Apollo eased away and crossed over.
"Now what?" he asked him.
John said, "You've been doing quite well, all things considered."
"Thanks. Did you drop in just to congratulate me?"
"No, I brought you some news," John said. "Not very good news, I fear."
Apollo took a deep breath before asking, "What's wrong now?"
"The Eastern Alliance is voting, even as we speak, on a surprise strike against these people."
"Missile attack?"
"Yes," said John, nodding. "If that happens, this nation will automatically launch a counterattack."
"Won't that destroy most of the planet?"
"Yes."
"Then they ought to have more sense than to—"
"Sense and politics don't often go hand in hand."
"How much time do we have?"
"Possibly no more than a few hours."
"That may be time enough," said Apollo.
"You have a plan?"
"You wouldn't have popped in here if you hadn't expected me to, John, old buddy."
"True." He smiled and vanished.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Will/F raised his head up above the protecting wall of brush. "Three of 'em," he announced as he ducked back down next to Starbuck. "Two got rifles, third gent's merely wearing a little old pistol in his holster. Imagine he's the head cheese, seeing as how he's sitting on a stump while them other two is standing stiff and straight front of your vipers."
The lieutenant double-checked his pistol, making sure it was set at the stun position. "You up to creating another small diversion?"
"Sure thing, I get a kick out of that. But don't leave me standing around yacking so long this time, huh?"
"A promise."
The robot gave Starbuck an encouraging punch on the upper arm, then started away from him.
His further progress through the woods was no longer quiet and surreptitious.
Will/F's feet clanged on the sward, his elbows made the underbrush rattle, his ball head agitated dangling vines.
"Hold it right there, mister!" called out the uniformed lawman with the pistol when the coveralled robot came stomping into the clearing. He left his stump, drawing his weapon.
"Well, I swan. Ain't this something and a half." Putting hands on hips, Will/F pretended to give the two vipers an awed look.
"What're you doing here?" The officer stalked closer to the robot.
"Getting me a close look at these here flying machines," explained Will/F. "Danged if they ain't everything I heard tell they was and then some. Yessir, I'm glad I come to get a gander for myself so—"
"Who told you these ships were here, mister?"
The robot scratched at his fur cap. "You know, that's a dang good question. Don't go hollering at me for a spell and I'll see can I remember," he said. "Now, I know it weren't Grandma Malley over to—"
"Never mind. Just get the . . . hey!"
He'd heard the hum of Starbuck's stun beam and turned just in time to see his two subordinates go flopping over onto the grass.
"What the heck's going on here?"
"Oh, shucks, ain't you figured that out yet," said the robot. "You're being ambushed."
"Ambushed?" He was facing the vipers, but didn't see Starbuck as the pistol hummed again.
The beam took him in the lower chest. His arms flapped out once, and he gurgled and collapsed.
"I'll admit you was faster that time, St
arbuck, but you still took a heck of a time getting—"
"I had to crawl on my belly." Starbuck holstered his gun. "I'm not exactly used to that means of transportation and it . . . Oh, for pete's sake."
"Doggone, if it ain't the feller in the shiny suit."
John had appeared next to Starbuck's viper. "I suggest you turn on the communication unit in your ship, young man."
"Why?"
"Apollo is most anxious to talk with you."
As Starbuck went climbing into his ship, he inquired, "Something else wrong?"
"This whole planet may be on the brink of a disastrous war."
"Oh," said Starbuck, "is that all?"
President Arends was staring out the tinted, bulletproof side window of his hovercraft, watching the city unroll below him. "Tell me this again, Art," he requested.
Moore was sitting next to him on the rear passenger seat of the Presidential craft. "We have to expect that General Farris will have this fake Charlie Watts address the Precedium."
"You're sure, now, he isn't Colonel Watts?"
"Not according to what Storm reported to me from—"
"You think Storm is dead, by the way?"
"We don't know yet. All communication broke off before we could get a fix on his position."
"I don't like to pick on you, Art, but I think you messed up there," said the President, stroking his chin. "Had we been able to capture them back before—"
"Storm is a good man and—
"Was a good man. He's not any more, whether he's dead or alive."
"Was good, then," said Moore. "They simply tumbled to him somehow. At any rate, he learned that the fellow's real name is Apollo."
"Odd name. Couldn't it be that he's Watts and just plain goofy?"
"We only said he was crazy so as to have an excuse to lock him away, remember? There's no real evidence he's unbalanced at all."
The President narrowed one eye. "Okay, so Farris introduces him to the Precedium and then what?"
"He'll tell them what he knows. That our bases on places like Paradeen have long since been destroyed."
"Still, he's an alien, Art, and it's his word against mine. I'm the President after all and—"
"This is an alien being presented to them by Farris," reminded Moore. "The general is very popular with the Precedium gang."
Battlestar Galactica 9 - Experiment In Terra Page 10