Buck Rogers- A Life in the Future

by Martin Caidin

  Valmar broke the tension. "Barney, you know by heart every major engagement our navy has had for the last few hundred years. Right?"

  Barney shrugged. "Of course. It's mindphase-imbedded in my memory. No problem with the implant for data recall."

  "Have we ever fought an engagement with the Chileans at the base we are approaching? Or within a few hundred miles of this area?" Valmar pressed.

  Barney stood silently for several moments, then shook his head. "No, never."

  "Don't you find that unusual?"

  "Unusual?" Barney snorted. "Hell, it's amazing. If we had really wanted to take out the Chileans, all we had to do was wipe out this base. The Chilean navy was ten times stronger before than it is now. They whipped the Mongols in one battle after another, but in the process they lost most of their own forces. And since then—" he paused to consider his own thoughts— "they've been a pain in the butt to us as well. We've had some scrapes, like we did on the way here. But, no, Captain, we've never attacked this base or fought any battles near here."

  "How do you explain that?"

  Barney stared. "I never thought about it."

  A Life in the Future

  "Wilma, can you explain what you just heard?" Valmar asked.

  "Until several minutes ago, no. I didn't understand even an iota of all this. But since Dawn—and those with her—have been sending me the sensations I've related to you, believe I am beginning to understand. Aggression toward this particular base is blocked. The protection takes enormous effort, extreme energy. And it requires a gestalt —the efforts of many talented or special people concentrating on a single aim."

  "You're telling us," Valmar said slowly, "that bringing together a group of these people, who may be telepaths—"

  "They are," Wilma said quietly, totally confident.

  "Assuming that this is so," Valmar went on, "then, by mental power alone, they have been able to thwart any plans to strike at this base."

  "Yes." Wilma stood quietly, her hands clasped before her. She seemed apart from her own group, uncaring of their questions.

  "Hold it," Barney said. "There's still another possibility. Buck, even in your time, nonlethal weapons were the big thing for the military. Powerful electromagnetic beams on the same brain frequency—twenty hertz—could confuse thousands of enemy soldiers. The soldiers lost their balance, couldn't concentrate, and were unable to fight while they were being beamed. We had the same equipment for a while, but we didn't fight many pitched land battles, so it was simply ignored. The point is, this planet itself generates a radio wave frequency that's the same as the brain—twenty hertz—so a signal sent out from generators is enhanced by the planet's own energy, and it carries for a long distance. We could be experiencing the same effect here, especially since we don't know what kind of generating equipment they may have."

  "You should know better. Admiral," Wilma told him.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Wilma's right," Buck stepped in. Your EM frequencies won't work underwater—not for any distance, anyway. I'm talking a mile or two as maximum range."

  "Captain?" Barney turned to Valmar. He didn't need to voice his question. If anyone knew energy levels in the sea, it was Ardala Valmar.

  "He's right," she said. "It can't be an EM band."

  "We're getting nowhere," Takashi Inoyue broke in. "We bicker

  Buck Rogers

  among each other, and this woman"—he pointed to Wilma— "purports to tell us why. Doesn't it occur to you that this is the chance to pursue the Chileans in their home base? That this is the opportunity to wipe out their seat of power, once and for all? You are thinking like children, not military people!"

  "Wilma." Buck had to repeat her name twice before he could break through the confusion she was feeling. She turned slowly to face Buck.

  "Why aren't the rest of us sensing or feeling what you're receiving?" Buck asked.

  "Damn good question," Barney said. "There's been way too much talking instead of acting."

  "Deering is an empath," Valmar broke in. "That much we know. She is a sensitive, able to home in on the emotions and feelings of others. The council has employed her talent many years in just this way."

  Inoyue moved toward Wilma and stood facing her. "Are you also telepathic?"

  Wilma smiled. "No. I cannot, read minds. My talent—I do not even have a name for it—is empathy. If someone is feeling pain, I also sense that pain. I share it. If they are troubled, I, too, am troubled. If there is fear, I will sense the fear. If they are joyous, I receive impressions of well-being and happiness. But I cannot read the thoughts of any other person," she repeated.

  "But this Noriega woman, Dawn—are you certain she is telepathic?" he pressed.

  "I am not certain of anything," Wilma replied. "I have felt these thoughts, I have received . . . word pictures—no, not words. Impressions. I sense a feeling of arms held wide open in welcome emanating from this complex. Is it Atlantis? I do not know. I feel that it is. That is the best I can do."

  "Captain Valmar?" Buck said suddenly. She turned to face him.

  "Sir, something very much out of the ordinary is happening here. Wilma is acting as sort of an antenna, and somehow she receives signals along a wavelength we can't even identify. But the rest of us also are feeling something . . . something decidedly mental. But if I may say so, Captain Valmar, indecision has killed just as many people as aggression has."

  His words seemed to galvanize Valmar. She shook her head

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  sharply from side to side as if casting out any mental intrusions. Her hands closed into fists. Buck studied her carefully. She's digging her nails right through the skin of her palms, he noticed.

  Valmar's voice rang out like a clang of steel upon steel. "All hands!" she snapped, her command carrying to every member of her crew. "Condition Red. I repeat, Condition Red. All defensive shields and systems up and ready."

  She looked at Barney, who rewarded her with a cold smile and a nod.

  "Battle stations! All weapons at the ready. All warheads activated. One-third ahead. Probes out, unarmed."

  "Captain, may I recommend—"

  "Forget the diplomacy, Rogers. Say it."

  "Leave all our lights on. Everything. The probes, this boat. . . light everything up like a Christmas tree. People don't hide in the light."

  "Your point is well taken," Valmar replied. She gave the order for every light to be turned on to maximum brightness.

  "Deering!" Valmar turned to Wilma. "Listen to me carefully. Major. And get that wimpy look off your face! You're an officer and a member of this crew on a mission. Do you read me?"

  Wilma seemed jolted by the harsh tones.

  "Yes, sir," she replied, strength returning to her voice.

  "Markham! Follow my orders. Confirm."

  "Markham here. Yes, sir, go ahead."

  "Activate emergency plan Marblehead immediately. Confirm activation."

  They stood silently. What the hell is Marblehead? wondered Buck. One look at Black Barney told him the admiral knew. The admiral didn't like what he heard, but he was obviously in agreement.

  Markham's voice came back within a minute.

  "Captain, Markham here. Confirm plan Marblehead activated and primed. You have the firing sequence. Please confirm."

  "Confirmed, Mister Markham. Remain on standby."

  'Tes, sir."

  "Major Deering." Valmar's voice was ice. "Listen to me carefully. I—" She held up a hand. "No, wait. Markham, send off the signal to the council, direct attention of President Logan. 'Status Marblehead, and we are continuing our program and will make

  Buck Rogers

  every attempt to sustain peaceful contact. Chance of finding Atlantis is—' " Valmar looked at Wilma—" 'nine zero percent. Confirmation or refutation the moment we are certain.' Get that sent off immediately."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Now, Major Deering, I don't know if this Noriega person is really tel
epathic, so I don't know if she can read your mind, or simply send messages like those you've been describing.

  "The closer we get to the base," Wilma said quietly, "the stronger the signal. But even now the messages are sometimes confusing."

  Valmar's impatience showed. She rested an elbow on a control console. "What language is she using? How is she speaking to you?"

  "I don't sense a language. Scenes, faces, seascape . . . strange faces, white, faces of pure white, with large green eyes . . ."

  "Noriega speaks many languages," Valmar broke in. "Her primary language is Spanish. You also are fluent in many languages, including Spanish. Is this correct?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you concentrated on Spanish?"

  "Eight languages, Captain. But I have no recognition of this one."

  Valmar was becoming impatient. "What is the language of the Atlanteans?"

  "They . . ." Wilma's brow furrowed in concentration. "Captain, I get no indication of a language—spoken, I mean. They read the thoughts of one another, paint mental pictures, including schematics, technical details. As fast as these are thought by one person, any other member of their race can read the same thoughts."

  "Listen to me carefully, Wilma. You've just described an immense power. Can they plant ideas in our minds without our being aware that those thoughts may not have originated within ourselves?"

  Wilma hesitated, holding both hands to her head. She winced as if in pain, then nodded slowly. "Yes, they can," she said in a half-whisper.

  "Have they been doing this to us?" Valmar asked sharply.

  "No, sir."

  A Life in the Future

  "How in blazes can you know that?" Barney shouted.

  "I don't know. I just/fee/. . . ."

  A wan, sad smile came over Wilma's face. They looked at her, startled, as tears formed and slid down her cheeks.

  "Child, what's wrong?" Valmar asked, gently this time.

  "They will tell you soon. But there is no danger to us unless .. ."

  "Unless what?" Valmar demanded.

  "Unless we bring it upon ourselves. I don't know what that means."

  "It could bloody well mean a hundred things," Barney broke in again. "Captain, we're going around in circles! May I recommend we go right in?"

  "We are. Admiral."

  Markham's voice came into their receivers. "Captain Valmar, we have first visuals from the probes."

  "What do we have?"

  "Sir, there's an enormous depression in the sea floor ahead of us, at least three thousand feet deep, maybe ten or fifteen miles in diameter. A great circle. And there's some structures in there. We can't get details. The probes go in only so far, and then they're up against some kind of an invisible wall. They're stopped dead."

  "Stand by, Markham." Valmar turned back to Wilma and nodded to Buck.

  "Major, will they allow you and Colonel Rogers to penetrate that shield or whatever it is? You'll go unarmed, wide open, as naked as jaybirds to avoid any possible misinterpretation of your actions as hostile."

  Wilma closed her eyes, concentrating. Suddenly she opened them wide and nodded. "Yes, they will."

  "Cortez, stand by with a two-man probe . . . glassite bow, full circumference, hydrostats for propulsion. No weapons of any kind are to be aboard. That includes sidearms. I want that probe absolutely clean."

  'Tes, sir. Right away."

  "Rogers, apparently the people up ahead, Atlanteans or whatever they are, haven't been painting any pictures in your head. Is that correct?"

  "I haven't felt or sensed a thing. Captain."

  "Good. You'll handle contact with us. Your probe has an aft violet maser that can send radio signals for at least fifty miles,

  Buck Rogers

  which should be considerably more than you'll need. Stay on open line with us. Report as you go along."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Rogers, I have to say this. You are not required to undertake this assignment. You're here as a volunteer, and—"

  "Captain, I wouldn't miss this for the world," Buck said with a grin.

  "Commander Cortez! Report here immediately, escort Deer-ing and Rogers to the probe, and launch at once."

  They eased ahead of/o with well-oiled precision. Buck and Wilma were strapped in to the side-by-side control seats, an instrument and data panel shining softly before them. Buck needed little more than a quick survey of the controls to figure out how to handle the probe. Everything was simple and reliable. Propulsion came from tekron batteries that would propel the little sub for at least five hundred hours, much more than they required. Buck checked the maser communications system. It was transceiving perfectly.

  "Wilma, turn on every light this thing has on it."

  "Right." She snapped down control switches. A maser strobe flashed brightly atop the sub, at the stern, and beneath it. The forward strobe was left off so as not to interfere with their visual acuity.

  "Does this thing have a sonar pulser?"

  "Yes. Do you want it on?" Wilma asked.

  "If we had flags and skyrockets, I'd be using them as well," Buck told her. "I want no doubts left that we're making a perfect target of ourselves. No use in getting these people upset."

  "They're aware of what we've done."

  "How far are we from that circular depression Markham reported?"

  "Eight miles. Our speed is a steady thirty knots. We're less than fifteen minutes away."

  Before them, stretching away until visual sight was lost, moved an immense array of undersea life. Huge plants rose up like sunflowers, swaying in the ocean currents. Buck had never seen so many fish, most of them recognizable. Others were

  A Life in the Future

  strange, unlike anything he'd ever seen.

  Far ahead the ocean began to change. A dim glow appeared, growing steadily brighter as they forged ahead. "That's their city," Wilma announced. "The lights are to welcome us. They've lit up their city to maximum brightness, just as we've done with lo and the probes." The huge submarine was some ten miles behind them now.

  "They're sending out an escort," Wilma said. "I have a picture of something bright, with people inside. It will lead us into the city"

  Within minutes, her mental image materialized before them. It was another submarine, but obviously it was never meant for conflict. A material that looked like glassite covered the entire outer structure of the vessel. Interior lights showed the propulsion system, bridge, and long viewing sections on each side of the submarine. The sub swung around to one side, always visible to Buck and Wilma, then took up a position directly ahead of them.

  "They want us to follow them," she said.

  Buck reported this new development to lo, then concentrated on following their escort. Before them, the lights grew ever brighter and larger. Their escort began a steady descent, with Buck following.

  "Looks like we're going into that circular area Markham described," he said.

  "It's their city"

  "City?" he echoed.

  "They'll turn on their other lights, which will illuminate everything."

  "Another message?"

  "It's like a film now, a video or hologram. Everything is three-dimensional."

  "We have a few moments before we get inside, Wilma. Those orders that Valmar gave Markham ... do you know what Marble-head is?"

  "No. I never heard of it before."

  "Well, it sure fired up Admiral Barney. He knows."

  Wilma shrugged.

  "And Takashi Inoyue knows, too. Something about what he heard yanked his chain pretty good."

  "Barney and Inoyue have been together a long time. Perhaps

  Buck Rogers

  they both share the same information."

  "Yeah. Maybe. And pigs have wings."

  "I don't understand."

  "Never mind. It's not important now, and—"

  Several swimmers came into view, wearing globe-shaped helmets and pressure suits. They crossed beneath and at an angle to
their sub."

  "It's a Chilean work party."

  "A what?"

  "Workers. They do the maintenance here at—" her voice dropped to a whisper—"here at Atlantis."

  More lights appeared, flooding the ocean. "They've illuminated the whole area," Buck radioed back to lo. "I've never seen anything like it. They're not floodlights or anything like that. The whole ocean is light. It's like daylight above the surface. The light comes from everywhere, as though the water itself is glow-mg.

  Wilma laughed. "It is glowing—the ocean, I mean. The water itself is producing the light."

  Atlantis came slowly, steadily, breathtakingly into view. Buck was speechless. There was something so totally alien about it that he was captivated. He'd never seen anything like it—an entire city, thousands of feet beneath the ocean, all of transparent material, gleaming, dazzling with color.

  As they continued their descent, he saw something else. If this was the fabled Atlantis, it was not of earthly origin, nor was this undersea metropolis in good condition. Rubble formed talus slopes along the base of the spires and lay in odd clumps about the ocean floor.

  The overwhelming impression was one of decay.

  "How do we make contact with . . . with the Atlanteans?"

  "They are coming to us now."

  Dim forms, ghostlike and moving slowly, rose from the depths.

  "They're swimming in open water," he reported to lo. "Bipedal, like us. But they're . . . white. I mean white like the color of snow or ice. No pink. Just white. They have large eyes, but no pupils. . . ."

  He nudged Wilma. "How can they stand the pressure?"

  "Like all sea life. Internal pressure is equal to outside. The

  A Life in the Future

  same way we withstand the pressure of air at the surface."

  Buck understood. Take a man out to the fringes of space, where the pressure was but a fraction of sea level, and without pressurization he'd explode like a watermelon dropped from a mile high onto concrete.

  "Think of them as albinos," Buck radioed. "They swim with little effort. Their bodies seem extremely supple and fluid, like sharks cruising. I'll bet my bottom dollar they aren't terrestrial. In many places, their city is crumbling. There's some serious problems here. I'm so close now I'm getting impressions like Wilma was receiving before aboard /o."