Battlestar Galactica 9 - Experiment In Terra

by Glen A. Larson

  "We can label Farris a traitor, say he's sold out to the—"

  "They won't buy that. Not without a heck of a lot of proof. Which we don't have the time to manufacture."

  The President was scowling. "How am I going to win them over, then?"

  "Maybe," suggested Moore, "you might offer them the truth and—"

  "The truth? Are you out of your mind, Art? I can no more—"

  "Not the whole truth . . . merely an edited version," said Moore. "Then spring the treaty idea."

  "I was saving that for my Fireside Chat telecast next—"

  "You don't have much choice."

  "I guess I don't."

  The hovercraft was dropping down toward the landing area atop the massive grey Precedium building.

  "What?" General Farris was staring at Apollo, face pale. They were in a small grey waiting room behind the Central Assembly Hall.

  "There's a strong possibility," repeated the captain, "that the Eastern Alliance will be launching an all-out missile attack on you within the next few hours."

  The general asked, "How do you know this, young man?"

  "Let's just say I got it from a reliable source."

  "If that happens," said Brenda, "our own missiles will automatically be launched in retaliation. There's no hope to avert—"

  "There's a hope," Apollo told them, "if the Galactica is as close to Terra as I think it is."

  "And," asked the general, "if it isn't?"

  "Well, it's been nice knowing you," replied Apollo.

  Will/F held out his metallic hand. "Good luck to you, Starbuck," he said. "You reckon as how you can do it?"

  "The Galactica is out there, according to my instruments," he said as they shook hands. "Once I get clear of Terra I'll be able to get into voice communication with the battlestar."

  "And they can stop this missile attack?"

  Starbuck hopped up into his cockpit. "Willie, the Galactica's got enough laserguns mounted on her to stop two or three all-out missile wars."

  "Dang, that's something, ain't it?" He whistled. "Good thing Apollo thought of that and got in touch with you."

  "I would've thought of it myself, old chum, once I heard what was going to happen." He settled into his seat. "Got to shut the hatch now."

  The robot stepped back. "Been right nice hanging round with you, Starbuck."

  "Same here."

  "Don't imagine we'll ever meet up again, but . . . well, heck, you better get going."

  "Hey, you're not Longsight Sue. You don't know if we'll meet again or not," Starbuck told him. "I'm betting we will. See you around, buddy."

  He threw a switch and the hatch cover whapped shut.

  The viper engine roared to life a few seconds later, the ship's sleek little body quivering.

  The robot scurried farther away and stopped at the edge of the clearing.

  Starbuck's ship wooshed up from the ground, climbed clear of the treetops and then went zooming away from there.

  "Good thing I ain't a human," reflected Will/F. "Or I'd bust out in tears. And that ain't manly at all."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Chairman of the Precedium sat at a wide desk on an oval dais at the front of the enormous domed hall. The members of the governing group, some hundred and fifty of them, filled the tiers of seats that rose up from the dais.

  The Chairman was a lean black man of about fifty. He tapped his gavel for silence as General Farris, Brenda and Apollo entered the vast room and took chairs on the dais to his left. President Arends and Moore were already seated at his right.

  "We've called this special emergency session," the Chairman began, "because of some very serious allegations made by General Farris. Since the general is a highly respected member of the military, his charges deserve a serious hearing. General?"

  Before Farris could rise and cross to the podium next to the desk, the President was on his feet.

  "Mr. Chairman," he said, walking to the podium. "I believe I can save us a great deal of time if I—"

  "Mr. President, you are out of order, sir," reminded the Chairman.

  "Perhaps, but—"

  "I must request that you await your turn, sir."

  Arends was at the podium now. "I merely wished to say that I am aware that General Farris has accused me of withholding information from you all about the satellites which provide our food and fuel. He will tell you that they have been attacked and, in some cases, destroyed," he said. "There is some truth to his charges."

  There was a considerable murmur rising from the members of the Precedium. Almost all of the exclamations were ones of surprise and anger.

  The Chairman tapped his gavel again. "General Farris, will you step to the podium, please?"

  Farris obliged and was standing next to Arends.

  The general took hold of the mike handle and tilted it toward him. "Since the President has seen fit to discuss one of my charges, I'll address myself to that one first also," he said. "Yes, I have proof that he has been keeping back the truth from us for some time now. Our bases on the Luna satellites as well as the one on Paradeen have all been wiped out by attacks of the Eastern Alliance. Not one word of this has been allowed to reach us."

  The angry murmurs were growing louder, echoing in the hollow hall.

  The President straightened his broad shoulders, help up a hand for silence. "Although the situation is not quite as black as the general paints it," he said, "there have, indeed, been some attacks and considerable losses. You know me well enough to be certain that my main concern is for the people of this land of ours. I firmly believe that premature word of our enemy's attacks would prompt our generals to demand massive retaliation and—"

  "It certainly would have," cut in General Farris. "And that's the only sound way to counter a—"

  "No, my dear general, a counterattack would only have increased the devastation on both sides," said the President. He reached inside his coat and, slowly, extracted several folded sheets of crisp white paper. "I have kept certain facts from you, my most respected colleagues, because I thought the greater good of our nation demanded it. I have, for many long and grueling weeks, been in constant secret negotiations with the Eastern Alliance." He held the sheets of paper high. "And I am pleased to announce that we are very near to signing this treaty. A treaty, my friends, which calls for an immediate halt to all hostilities."

  There was a moment of stunned silence and then the members of the Precedium began to applaud the President.

  "They'll never honor a treaty," said the general. "In fact . . ."

  The shouting and applause killed his words.

  The viper was rocketing swiftly away from the planet.

  Starbuck lit a fresh cigar and prepared to try to contact the Galactica.

  His scanners had already informed him that the battlestar was approaching Terra at light speed.

  "Good thing I set my emergency beacon back then," he reflected, "or otherwise . . . Hey, no stowaways."

  John had materialized beside him in the small cockpit. He looked cramped and uncomfortable in the narrow extra seat and he was brushing away a speck on his white-suited knee. "I have some further news for you."

  "As good as the last?"

  "In the same vein at any rate."

  "The Eastern Alliance has gone ahead and launched its missiles, right?"

  John nodded in confirmation. "Exactly. So you haven't any time to lose in getting help."

  "I'll make it, won't I?"

  "Why ask me?"

  "I figure any guy who can flit through time and space the way you do ought to be able to peek into the future, too."

  "I don't go in for cheap fortunetelling tricks, the way your gawky lady friend does."

  "Don't go making cracks about Sue, because she . . . Heck, John, I've got no time to argue with you."

  "You haven't, no." He vanished once more.

  Commander Adama picked up the talkmike. "Go ahead."

  Behind him on the bridge C
olonel Tigh stood, watching him anxiously.

  "We have Viper Four coming in on the comline, sir," came a voice out of the speaker.

  "I know. Feed it to the bridge quickly. Come in, Viper Four."

  A crackling, frying sound spilled out of the speaker.

  That was followed by Lieutenant Starbuck's voice. "Commander? This is Viper Four calling."

  "I read you, Lieutenant. Go ahead."

  "Apollo's okay, by the way. In case you were wondering."

  "I was."

  "I'm in jim dandy shape, too. We'll go into all that later. Right now, though, we got us an emergency situation," he said, talking rapidly. "You folks are close enough to Terra to pick up what's going on down here, aren't you?"

  "We're close, but what do you—"

  "Haven't time to go into all the details," Starbuck cut in. "The upshot is that any micron you should be picking up one whole stewpot of flying objects angling across the planet."

  Tigh had moved to a scanner screen. "We're picking up rising missiles now," he said. "Clearing the planet's atmosphere and entering the ionosphere."

  "That's them," said Starbuck.

  "Readout shows them to be armed devices of some primitive nuclear kind."

  "Primitive or not," said Starbuck, "they're plenty sophisticated enough to wipe out a good chunk of Terra. We've got to destroy those missiles, Skipper, before these nitwits down here end up destroying each other."

  "Can do," said Adama.

  "Okay," said the lieutenant. "I'm heading your way. See you soon."

  "Battlestations," announced the commander. "Standby force shields. Maximum laser power."

  Apollo made his way up to the podium. He planted himself between the President and the general.

  Addressing the assembled members, he said, "Gentlemen, forgive my intruding into this domestic squabble, but I was sent here to give you some information and . . . I intend to do just that."

  The President frowned at the Chairman. "Colonel Watts has been under severe strain of late," he said. "In fact, he's an escapee from a mental institution whereat—"

  "I'm not Colonel Watts," corrected Apollo. "And the place I escaped from is a detention station for people who don't agree with you, President Arends. The fact that you dumped me, General Farris and his daughter there we'll get to later. Right now there are more important—"

  "This man is obviously suffering from mental problems, Mr. Chairman," said the President. "I suggest we summon—"

  "This is the man I asked to bring here," said General Farris. "I think he should be heard."

  "In light of what President Arends has told us about the new treaty," said the Chairman, "do you, General, still wish to pursue this?"

  Before the general could respond Apollo said, "That treaty isn't worth one heck of a lot. The Eastern Alliance is about to launch an attack on you, treaty or no treaty. That's—"

  There were many angry shouts from throughout the assembly hall now. Men and women were jumping to their feet, waving fists.

  "Order," said the Chairman, banging his gavel. "Order, please."

  The President spread his hands wide. "Colonel Watts is obviously suffering from delusions of—"

  A loud hooting siren commenced sounding. A section of the wall behind the dais slid back to reveal a large videoscreen.

  "Red Emergency," said a voice from speakers dangling overhead. "Red Emergency!"

  On the screen showed a hazy patch of sky. The missiles knifing across it looked like dark predatory birds.

  "The Eastern Alliance has launched a missile attack against us," said the voice out of the speakers.

  General Farris sighed. "So much for your treaty, Mr. President."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Commander Adama strode from scanner to scanner. "Fire again," he ordered.

  More laser beams went sizzling down from the Galactica toward the arcing missiles. More explosions followed.

  Tigh was chuckling. "We've got them just about wiped out," he said. "The initial wave of missiles as well as the retaliatory wave from the other side."

  "Yes, we've been quite successful."

  On the nearest screen to the commander a laser beam went crackling toward a missile. It connected with a warhead; there was an immense sparkling and then a throbbing explosion.

  "Very satisfactory," murmured Adama as he turned his back on the screen.

  "We're getting a chain reaction! Missiles destroying each other," said Colonel Tigh, elated. "Looks like we've stopped a war, sir."

  "And saved millions of lives," added Adama.

  "That, too, of course. But I was just wondering . . . we aren't even sure who's fighting who down there. Which side is in the right, which is in the wrong."

  "I don't think the conflict is that cut and dried, Colonel," said Adama. "No war ever is. I imagine, though, that one of the sides must be the Eastern Alliance. I'll wager they launched the first strike."

  "Someday, though, I'm going to want more details."

  "I'm sure my son and Lieutenant Starbuck will provide you with all you'll want to know."

  "I'll make it a point to see they do," said Colonel Tigh.

  Lieutenant Starbuck was sitting back in his seat, hands locked behind his head, gazing up through the clear roof of his cockpit. "Zow, some show!" he observed, exhaling smoke. "Too bad my pal Will/F isn't up here to see it. He'd say it was dang interesting."

  Far above him, out in the ionosphere, missiles were exploding and making the most enormous display of fireworks he'd ever seen.

  "Viper Four," came a familiar voice, "Viper Four, please come in."

  Starbuck straightened up, smoothed his hair and responded, "Viper Four here, sir."

  "This is Commander Adama, Lieutenant."

  "You folks did one heck of a . . . um . . . you did a commendable job, sir."

  "We did," said the commander. "Are you all right, Starbuck?"

  "I'm fine, since those things are going off beyond the atmosphere and I'm still snug within it."

  Adama asked, "When will Apollo be returning to the battlestar?"

  "His mission's finished, so I guess any time now."

  "His mission was to trail that destroyer."

  "Oh, that mission? Well, you see, sir, there was another mission that sort of took . . . He'll explain it all to you when he gets home. You bet."

  "I trust he will."

  President Arends sat slumped in his chair upon the dais, long arms dangling straight at his sides. "I don't quite understand all this," he said in a faraway voice.

  "The Eastern Alliance says they're ready to sign a new treaty," said General Farris, holding the memo up to him again. "They were, so I've been informed by my intelligence people, very impressed by how we took out their missiles."

  "But we didn't do a blessed thing except launch our own missiles back at—"

  "Right, the Galactica took care of all the missiles," said Apollo, who was sitting on the edge of the chair that Moore had long since vacated.

  "Galactica?" The President's voice appeared to be dimming.

  "You never allowed me to introduce Captain Apollo," said Farris.

  "He really isn't Colonel Charlie Watts?"

  "No, he's from the Battlestar Galactica, a ship from a world and a star system far from our own."

  Arends looked over at Apollo. "How did this battlestar manage to . . . do what it did to those missiles, Captain?"

  "Let's just say we're from a civilization more advanced, technologically, than yours," answered Apollo. "Simple missiles such as these present not much of a chall—"

  "Simple? Why, they're highly sophisticated and costly. The defense budget is . . . ah, but I guess I shouldn't interrupt you," apologized the President. "You were saying?"

  "Handling those missiles wasn't tough for the battlestar," said Apollo, rising. "I might also point out that we can always make a return trip, in case more trouble starts here on Terra."

  "I don't think," put in General Farris, "that th
e Eastern Alliance is going to be making any trouble for a while. They were truly impressed by what went on. Of course, they think we're responsible, but I think we'll let them go on thinking that."

  "Just so you don't start trouble for them," cautioned Apollo.

  President Arends was watching him. "Why did you people take an interest in our problems at all, Captain?"

  "There are things I'm not exactly permitted to tell you," he answered. "Even our civilization has its military secrets. Maybe in time our Council will choose to open relations. In the meantime . . . well, we have a journey to complete."

  "You intend to leave?" asked the general.

  "I have to, yes. If you can arrange transportation back to my ship I'd—"

  "I'll drive you," offered Brenda, who'd been sitting quietly at the other side of the podium.

  "Fine. Let's go, then."

  The President, not getting up, held out his hand. "Thank you, Captain Apollo. "You've opened my eyes to a great many things."

  "I know General Farris will make darn sure they stay open," said Apollo.

  Brenda pulled her vehicle off the road, parking under a stand of trees. "This is just about where I picked you up originally," she said. "Seems like an awful long time ago."

  "It does," agreed Apollo.

  "Can you tell me something?"

  "I can try."

  "Is Charlie alive?"

  "Yes, he is."

  "Where?"

  "He was being held on Luna One," answered Apollo. "Now that the war's over, he'll be coming home to Terra."

  "I'm glad," she said quietly.

  "You don't sound . . . enthusiastic."

  "You look like Charlie," Brenda told him, "but . . . in most ways you're not like him at all. Charlie's handsome and charming, but . . . he's not a very caring, supportive sort of man. Even though he and I were . . . What I'm getting at is that I wasn't the only woman in his life and I probably won't ever be. Even if he comes back safe and sound and we get married. I loved him enough to put up with all these . . . quirks. Now, though, having known you for a while, I . . ."

  "Don't forget I've been on my best behavior," said Apollo.

  "Even so."

  "Well, listen. It's one heck of a big universe and you're a fine woman. So, if Charlie can't live up to your standards, Find someone else."