"Primitives!" said Dillon, looking at me and shaking his head sadly. "What are you going to do with them? They're all alike!"
"This gun fires in all directions," I said ominously.
"Has it ever occurred to you to use your brain instead of your brawn?" said Dillon.
"Quiet, Dillon," said Troy. "We've still got a decision ahead of us. I think I should let them take me."
"Take you!" I said. "What are you talking about?"
"If you use Jamie's field, it'll only take you an hour or so to get back to the Viper, charge your own energizer, and then come back and get me out of wherever they put me. But my controls are broken; if they take you, I still could only bring one useful screen back."
"I see your point," said Dillon. He gestured to me. "Come over here, Guidry, and stand as close to Jamie and me as you can."
"To hell with you!" I snapped, peeking out the door. "Let 'em come on up after us—I'm ready!"
"Colonel Guidry," said Dillon, "if you don't do as you're told I'm going to come over and break your arm."
I spun back to him, prepared to tell him where he could shove his idiot orders, and found myself staring at that weird handgun. With a sigh I raised my hands and moved where he gestured me.
"Good luck, Troy," said Jamie.
"Thanks," he said.
And then Jamie touched something on her belt, and suddenly we were absolutely invisible! I held my hand up to my eyes and could see right through it!
Troy walked over to the doorway, stepped out to the head of the stairs, and cleared his throat. Ten seconds later he was surrounded by Nazis.
"I've been waiting for you," he said calmly.
24
RECONSTRUCTED FROM
TROY'S DEBRIEFING SESSION:
"Your name?"
"Troy."
"Rank?"
"Captain."
"Serial number?"
"None."
CRACK!
"Serial number!"
"None."
"Are you American?"
"No."
"English?"
"No."
CRACK!
"American?"
"No."
"English?"
"No."
CRACK!
"What is your assignment in Obersalzberg?"
Silence.
CRACK!
"What are you doing in Obersalzberg?"
"Answering your questions."
CRACK!
"What is your connection with the woman Ramona Brandhorst?"
"Who?"
"Ramona Brandhorst."
"I've never heard of her."
"Who told you to go to Number Three Morganstrasse?"
"No one."
"Then why were you there?"
"It was a chilly night, and I—"
CRACK!
"Oberleutnant Branham," said a new voice. "I believe that this is the man who caused the commotion during the decampment proceedings."
"Were you at the railroad station earlier today?" said the now-familiar voice of Branham as the questioning continued.
Troy blinked his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks from the blindingly bright lights that were focused on him.
"Yes, I was."
"And you attacked German soldiers?"
"No."
CRACK!
"And you attacked German soldiers?"
"No. They attacked me. I merely defended myself."
"And incapacitated more than thirty of them," said Branham.
"If you say so."
"What weapon did you use?"
"I don't understand you."
"The weapon," said Branham. "What was it?"
"I don't know what you mean."
CRACK!
"Where is this weapon?"
No answer.
"Captain Troy, I have very little patience remaining. Where is this weapon?"
Silence.
"Captain Troy, do you see this cigarette I am holding in my hand?"
"I can't see anything. The light is in my eyes."
"Then you will have to accept my word that I am holding a lighted cigarette," said Oberleutnant Branham. "And I now tell you to further accept my word that if you do not immediately tell me where the weapon is, I shall snuff this cigarette out in your left eye. If you still do not tell me who sent you here and where your weapon is, I will light another cigarette. You will have the length of time it takes me to smoke it, perhaps five minutes, certainly no more than seven, and I will then put it out in your right eye. I will ask you just one more time: where is the weapon?"
"What weapon?" said Troy.
"Maybe he means this weapon," said a familiar voice.
There was a hum of power and Troy heard two bodies collapse. Then Dillon was untying him and helping him to his feet.
"You cut it awfully close," Troy said, rubbing his burning eyes.
"Sorry," said Dillon, "but it took a little longer to charge my energizer than I thought it would. Are you all right?"
Troy nodded. "I'll be a little stiff and sore until I can get to a MedKit, but I think they were mostly trying to frighten me. The real brutality was still half a minute away."
Dillon handed Troy an energizer and the invisibility field controls.
"What's the situation?" asked Troy.
"I snuck in," said Dillon. "I knew I'd have to subdue a few Nazis once I reached you, and I didn't want to alert them with too much noise on the way in. Bullets hurt, even if they can't see what they're firing at."
"I'm just grateful that the Allies eventually won this war," said Troy. "I'd hate to have to help the Nazis."
"Not real lovable folks," agreed Dillon. "Well, if you're up to it, let's get moving. There's a corridor to the right, then an open courtyard leading to a heavily guarded gate. Trucks go in and out every five or six minutes, so we'll just wait and walk out when they open the doors."
"Wait a minute," said Troy as Dillon faded from sight. "I don't know where I am."
"I almost forgot," said Dillon. "You're in the Luftwaffe Headquarters, in the southeast section of Obersalzberg. Our Vipers are about six miles due south of here. Once we get out, keep walking along Ravenstrasse for about four blocks, then turn right on what looks like a major thoroughfare leading out of the city. As soon as I'm sure no Nazis are around I'll switch off my field and you can just follow me by sight from there on."
"Lead the way," said Troy, also fading from sight.
25
EXCERPT FROM THE DIARY OF
COLONEL JOHN H. GUIDRY:
They returned before sunrise, carrying a number of German uniforms. I asked where they got them, but they just ignored the question and Troy motioned me to put one on.
They kept talking about something called a Viper, or a pair of Vipers, I'm not sure which. These Viper things are obviously very important to them, and they worry about some kind of field flickering off, but it's all Greek to me.
Except that, from various things I've overheard, I got the impression that these Vipers were within a few hundred feet of us—and yet, we were standing in the middle of an empty wheat field! More invisibility, I guess.
When the sun rose we waited a few hours until it seemed to be about noon, then began making our way to the V-2 launching base.
"Is this what all the fuss is about?" said Troy incredulously when his eyes finally fell on the rocket. "Just a crude pulse jet?"
What kind of men are these???
26
FROM RECOLLECTIONS AND NOTES
MADE BY JAMIE HAMILTON:
Yodel was dubious.
Wars were fought with tanks and artillery and foot soldiers. He had lately come to the realization of the major role air power now played in modern warfare, but rockets were still beyond his ken.
He paced back and forth in a bunker near the launching area, occasionally looking out the window at the V-2.
"Considering the price, and the small payload of explosives, it has done ver
y little but frighten a few English civilians," he said at last.
"But that was only the beginning," said Colonel Conrad Werner. "What you will see today is the second generation . . . the V-2 . . . completely programmable to land wherever we want, and to carry a payload that is the beginning of the end for the Allies."
"Bah!" said Yodel. "The Allies will be landing somewhere in France any day now, and we waste soldiers in this forsaken hellhole! And me—a general—they have pulled out of action and placed in charge of Obersalzberg for the past two weeks. I should be with my army, not here looking at the Fuehrer's newest tinkertoy. Why can't that damned Bohemian Corporal leave the fighting to his generals?"
Werner cringed at Yodel's contemptuous description of Hitler, but said nothing. There had already been one attempt on the Fuehrer's life; if Yodel were this open about his dislike of the man, possibly another assassination plot was in the making. Or possibly the war effort was going worse than anyone yet suspected. In either case, he found the general's attitude disquieting.
Yodel turned to Werner. "I am curious about this defector who seems to have provided us with such a miraculous breakthrough. Tell me more about him."
"He's an Englishman who has perhaps made a few minor contributions," said Werner hastily, "but I assure you, General, that our own scientists would have reached the same conclusions on their own, in a mere matter of months."
"When you are losing a war, a few months can make all the difference," said Yodel.
So it was true! The Allies had done much more damage than his superiors had admitted to. The situation was even more desperate than he had feared.
Suddenly Werner didn't want to be the ranking officer nearest to General Yodel if the V-2 didn't work to perfection. There were no higher officers around, but he could send for the Englishman. At least, if anything went wrong, he could direct Yodel's fury at the turncoat scientist.
"Have Doctor Xaviar brought to the bunker," said Werner to an orderly.
"But sir," said the orderly, "he has requested permission to continue working in his laboratory, as usual. I think he must be a very shy man."
"Get him here schnell!" snapped Werner. "Or he's going to be a very unhappy man!"
"We're going to have to get beyond those trees if we're going to destroy it," said Guidry.
"What good will destroying a rocket do when they still have the technology to build more?" asked Dillon of no one in particular.
"There was a real tug-of-war going on between various factions of the German military over where to concentrate the last of their resources and fuels," said Jamie. "But even if we succeed," she continued, puzzled, "the program wasn't cancelled. The Germans did build rockets."
"Did?" repeated Guidry. "What are you talking about?"
"But if Xaviar's rocket works, they'll pour everything they have into the V-2," said Troy. "Destroying this rocket will delay their progress for a few months, Earth time."
"Earth time?" said Guidry.
"Figure of speech," said Troy. "Anyway, the Germans aren't supposed to have a functional V-2 rocket in June."
"You guys are crazy!" said Guidry. "As of this moment. I'm taking charge of this operation. You," he said, pointing toward Jamie, "stay here with the kid. You two, follow me."
"I think I'll stay behind too," said Troy. "I'm still a little beat up from last night. I'd only be in the way."
"Suit yourself," shrugged Guidry. "Just don't get in the line of fire. How about you?" he asked Dillon. "Are you coming?"
"I wouldn't miss it for the galaxy," said Dillon with a smile.
The two men set off for the landing field, moving in low, crouching walks.
When they were a few hundred yards away Troy opened the MedKit. He withdrew something that looked vaguely like a syringe, held it to the little girl's arm, and pressed a button. The girl collapsed in Jamie's arms.
"What did you do?" she demanded.
"Just gave her a two-hour nap, nothing more," said Troy reassuringly. "Let's put her in one of the Vipers, where she'll be safe. Then you and I have work to do."
Xaviar entered the room, his cold gray eyes darting hither and thither. His battered overcoat and German hairstyle couldn't hide a certain contemptuousness, a certain alienness to his bearing.
"This is the English scientist, General," said Werner.
Yodel walked over to Xaviar, studying him intently. "Doctor Xaviar," he said at last, "I understand you were able to provide us with a few minor aids to our cause."
"Minor?" said Xaviar haughtily. "I and I alone made this entire event possible."
"The English are such a modest people," said Yodel with an amusement he didn't feel.
"Most Englishmen have a lot to be modest about," agreed Xaviar coldly. He stepped back as a pair of technicians placed shields with eye-slits over the windows.
"It is most curious," said Yodel. "We follow your scientific ranks quite closely. Yet I don't recall ever seeing a Doctor Xaviar mentioned as a part of the British rocket program . . . or any place else, for that matter."
"Yet here I am," replied Xaviar, staring boldly back at him. "And the proof of my competence stands on the launch field out there."
Yodel walked to an eye-slit, looked at the rocket, frowned, then turned back to Xaviar.
"You may as well know, Doctor Xaviar," he said, "that were the choice mine I would prefer to build more tanks, more guns. Dependable weapons of war. But I am willing to be proven wrong."
"Rest assured, you will be," said Xaviar.
Yodel glared at him for a long moment, then went back to looking through the eye-slit. As he did so, two uniformed officers materialized out of thin air at the rear of the bunker.
Xaviar had been smiling nastily when Yodel walked away. The smile was wiped off his face as he recognized the taller of the two officers, to be replaced by a look of total surprise.
"So, Captain Troy," he whispered, "you were able to follow me into the past. Very clever—but you're too late."
"Xaviar, the council orders you to return with me," said Troy, keeping his voice low enough so that only Xaviar could hear it.
"I am beyond the council!" hissed Xaviar. "And if you attempt to stop what I've started here, I'll expose you."
"You'll have to find us first," said Troy calmly. A microsecond later he and Jamie had vanished.
Xaviar, unaware of what to expect next, leaned back against a wall of the bunker, his body tense.
"It isn't going to work, Xaviar," said Troy's voice a few inches from his ear.
"It must work!" whispered Xaviar. "You know it and I know it: to save our people they must develop their rockets more rapidly. They must have already progressed to magnetic field travel before the onset of the 21st Century."
"You can't tamper with history without killing innocent people," said Troy. "And these people you're trying to help—they're the worst fiends in the history of the planet, more barbaric than the lowest savage."
"It's too late to try to stop me!" snapped Xaviar.
"Did you say something, Doctor Xaviar?" said General Yodel from across the room.
"I was just clearing my throat," said Xaviar.
"You look nervous, Doctor," said Yodel ominously. "I thought success was a foregone conclusion."
"Oh, it is," said Werner, making sure the general knew where he stood on the matter. "Or Doctor Xaviar will have a lot to answer for."
Yodel looked wryly amused. "And I thought you said he contributed so little, Colonel."
"Well, I mean—"
"I know exactly what you mean, Colonel Werner," said Yodel. "And let me say that if the V-2 rocket is unsuccessful, many people will have much to answer for. Do I make myself quite clear?"
"Quite, sir," said Werner, swallowing hard.
"All right," said Yodel, turning back to the launching field. "Let's get on with it."
"Two minutes and counting," said a technician.
Dillon and Guidry squatted in tall grass, about sixty yards from
the rocket.
"Look," said Dillon, "I hate to tell you this, but there are two guys right behind us and a bomb about to go off right in front of us."
"I know my job," snapped Guidry.
"Sure," said Dillon. "But what do you know about rockets? They throw an afterburn wide enough to burn you to a crisp."
"NINETY SECONDS AND COUNTING," said a voice over a loudspeaker.
"Okay," whispered Guidry. "When the count reaches sixty seconds I'm gonna take those two Germans out; then I'll go to work with the explosives."
Dillon shook his head disgustedly.
"Didn't you hear me?" he said. "The afterburn radius is—"
"SIXTY SECONDS AND COUNTING."
Guidry stood up, found that the two soldiers were about thirty yards away, and aimed his gun. Dillon rose and, in a single motion, knocked Guidry's gun out of his hand and fired his own weapon at the Germans. They sank slowly to the ground without a sound.
"How did you do that?" demanded Guidry. "Who are you?"
"Isn't it about time you stopped asking questions and started listening to me?"
"When you're programmed to do one job for more than two years, you don't let anyone or anything get in your way," said Guidry, pulling out his explosives. "Take a gander at this stuff. Whatever your unit is, you're not the only one with super weapons."
"What's that?" asked Dillon.
"The latest innovation. They're called plastic explosives. If I can get to the base of that rocket in the next half minute, it's all over."
He took off at a run.
Dillon aimed his weapon at Guidry. It hummed with power, and the American pitched face-forward onto the ground.
"Primitives!" spat Dillon, pulling Guidry back from the rocket.
"THIRTY SECONDS AND COUNTING."
Dillon dropped to one knee and waited patiently.
"TEN SECONDS . . . NINE . . . EIGHT . . ."
He aimed his weapon at a point three hundred feet above the rocket's nose.
"THREE . . . TWO . . . ONE . . . FIRE!"
The rocket's tail belched forth smoke and flame and it began slowly climbing into the sky. Dillon took careful aim, led it by a few yards, and fired. He made a direct hit—and nothing happened.
Battlestar Galactica 5 - Galactica Discovers Earth Page 11