Apollo whispered to Croft, "Count to five . . . now!"
Gazing at each other's lips, the two quickly counted to five, then they ran to the wall near the crates and pressed their bodies against it. Everyone in the corridor spread themselves against the wall. In the darkness behind them there was a mild animal grunt, then a growl, then a roar, then a clangor of howls, squawks, and yelps. Out of the shadows, stirred to action and stampeded by the scientists behind them, came the animals taken from the lab. They were a strange-looking herd, all sizes and shapes, all moving their legs differently but pushed forward by the surge of the entire throng. They were led by a gargantuan and scaly two-legged, six-armed beast from a small unnamed desert planet in uncharted territory. It was colored a deep blue and was normally the gentlest of beings. Croft saw a burran, a hefty equine animal used as a beast of burden on his home planet of Scorpius, and the tiny almost emaciated Konchee, whose normal habitat was icy mountains where its tendrillike digits could grasp the smallest of outhangings in order to get to the out-of-the-way places where it could dig out its insect food supply. Most of the animals, however, were a mixed lot whose names and origins were unknown to him.
As the odd animal herd roared by them, Apollo and Croft felt strange fur, bumps, warts, and who knew what else brush by them. Running with the stragglers at the rear, Apollo and Croft joined the herd. The herd turned out to be, as Chameleon had suggested, a perfect cover for getting far into the landing bay without being detected.
"Smells like a plowed field in here already," Croft remarked.
Apollo, as they followed the animals through the astonished ranks of the mutineers, signaled backward and shouted: "Now!"
Apollo's motley army came roaring out of the corridor, their ranks looking not much different from the stampeding animals in front of them. Led by Sheba, who waved her arms frantically to direct them, they leaped over crates and flung themselves into the landing bay.
The mutineers, preoccupied by the sudden appearance of a herd of bizarre stampeding animals, did not perceive the human intruders. Apollo and Croft were more than halfway to the shuttle before they had to fire a shot. Both Chameleon and Sheba had nearly caught up with them, with the motley crew, still mostly in soiled lab smocks, to the rear.
Apollo took a bead on the apparent leader of the shuttle's guards, and fired. The man grabbed at his chest and fell. In the confusion nobody noticed his fall. The attackers got off several more shots before the mutineers returned any fire.
"Apollo!" Croft screamed. "Watch out!"
Apollo ducked just in time to miss having his head sheared off. The shot set some fur burning on an adjacent rodentlike but large mammal who didn't even notice the small conflagration on his back. Croft, sweeping his arm across the animal's fur, quickly put out the fire.
"Nice," Apollo commented, as he dropped another of the mutineer guards.
"Always be kind to animals," Croft said, while shooting wildly all around him.
Soon the landing bay was in such chaos that Apollo began to doubt the wisdom of the attack. He'd lost sight of Croft. Except for Sheba, a few meters to his right, he couldn't see any of his team. All he could see was animals. Fur swirled all around him, and the odor of seared flesh was nearly overpowering. He stumbled over a fallen animal, a lizardlike being whose throat had been torn open by laser fire. For a moment he regretted the loss to science of one of the preserved species. His feelings almost cost him his life as a mutineer took aim at him. The shot would have caught him in the chest but Sheba saw the man in time and got her shot in first. The man fell under the hooves of one of the stampeding animals.
Apollo didn't even have time to nod thanks, as he wildly plunged forward, looking almost indistinguishable from the charging beasts. He didn't even see how close he'd been to the shuttle when a shove from a large animal rammed him against its side. He was dizzy for a moment but recovered quickly. Scrambling to the shuttle hatch, he threw it open. A trio of guards rushed at him, but he fired three rapid shots, and they were down. Looking behind him, he marveled at the fierceness and tumult of the battle.
He waved toward his motley army and shouted, "Into the shuttle. Everybody!"
As he started into the shuttle he was thrown off his feet by a sudden throbbing blast. Even as he picked himself up, he had calculated that the rocking explosion couldn't have come from any weapon in the landing bay. It sounded like a direct hit on the Eureka itself.
Another explosion and he was thrown backward, against Sheba, who was just coming into the shuttle. He fell on top of her.
As they struggled to their feet, Sheba said, "What was that?"
"Either the ship just hit something or we're under attack."
"Vipers? To the rescue?"
"Maybe. But I don't think—"
The next hit was a damaging one. The landing bay vibrated. Frightened animals shrieked, howled, and stampeded even more, falling over themselves, sliding along the floor, bumping against the walls. An alert klaxon sounded. Responding to it, many of the mutineers left the battle, shouting something about attack.
"C'mon," Apollo muttered. "This confusion's going to help us escape."
The scientists started pouring into the shuttle, their movements nearly as chaotic as the stampeding animal herd's. Chameleon jumped in with his usual elegance.
Apollo and Sheba rapidly took their places at the shuttle's controls, and got the craft roaring into life. Chameleon settled himself into a seat just behind them.
"Is everybody in?" Apollo shouted.
"I didn't see Croft," Chameleon said.
"He can take care of himself."
"We can't leave him behind," Sheba protested.
"We don't have the time to—"
"There he is!" Sheba screamed.
Apollo looked out the side portal and saw Croft on the back of one of the larger animals, a burran from Scorpius. His left hand clutched a clump of long fur and, kneeing the burran in its side, he urged it forward. Some of the remaining mutineers shot at him, and he downed a couple of them with the lasergun held in his other hand. Yelping, he made the burran charge toward the shuttle. As it reached the craft, the burran reared and tossed Croft sideways, off its back. Croft hit the deck, somersaulted, and dived through the hatchway into the shuttle.
Getting to his feet, he said, "Thought you could leave without me? No such luck, Captain."
Apollo swung the shuttle around, sending mutineers diving out of its way. He taxied it forward toward the massive landing bay entrance, to take it out the way it had come in.
"Okay," he said, "let's get this baby out of here!"
Accelerating, they plunged through the force-field membrane at the landing bay entrance, and swooped outward. Apollo immediately saw the small crafts from the pirate ship swarming in large numbers through the sky, sending grappling hooks over the Eureka. They had already secured the area the shuttle flew in.
"My God!" Apollo yelled.
Ahead of the shuttle were the crisscrossed lines of a lasernet, a wall of laser beams generated by several buoy-relays the small craft had already set in place outside the Eureka.
"Can we crash through that?" Sheba asked.
"No," Apollo glumly replied. He swerved the shuttle just in time to avoid the lasernet, which would have sliced the shuttle, broken it up into fragments, and sent its passengers and crew careening into space. He decelerated the shuttle and headed back the way they'd come.
"Can't you find a way out?" Croft said.
"No," Apollo answered. "We'd just burn up along with the shuttle."
"What'll we do?" Sheba asked.
"Go back into the Eureka."
"Nice flying, anyway, Apollo," Croft said.
Apollo smiled but kept quiet. Chameleon squirmed in his chair and said, "It's like being between the devil and . . . and . . ."
"And a hard place, old man," Croft said, "a hard place."
CHAPTER NINE
Tigh, his face puzzled, left the communications area of the
bridge and hurried to Adama. His left hand clutched a sheet of the thin, nearly transparent type of paper on which fleet messages were recorded.
"Dispatch from Lieutenant Starbuck, sir. Just came in over the coded channel."
Adama turned slowly. His worries were displayed for all to read on his wrinkled sad-eyed face.
"And?" he asked,
"It's hard to understand, Adama."
"Out with it, Tigh."
Tigh held the message out for Adama to see for himself.
"It seems the Eureka has been attacked by pirates," he said.
Adama's daughter Athena, who had been monitoring fleet flight patterns on a limited-range scanner, was distracted by the import of Tigh's statement. She stood up from her console and went to her father's side.
"Pirates?" Adama was saying. "Is Starbuck concocting another of his jokes?"
"No joke, sir," Tigh said, and Athena nodded agreement. "I don't think even Starbuck would pull a joke in a situation like this."
"It's not his style," Athena said.
"What more does he say?" Adama asked.
"The pirate ship was detected by a cadet flyer, one Hera, and was then tracked by our squadron. It homed in on the Eureka and mounted an attack against it. The Eureka was subdued almost immediately. Starbuck reports he thought he saw our shuttle briefly emerge from the Eureka, then return when it was faced with a lasernet. There was no time to make contact with anyone in the shuttle. Starbuck requests advice on whether or not to attack now."
"Did he reveal his own inclination in the matter?"
"Yes. He's still cautious because he doesn't know the whereabouts of Apollo and the others, or even which ship they are in presently."
To himself Adama cursed the Eureka mutineers for their damnfool rebellion. He'd sent out so many directives which emphasized the necessity for the ships of the fleet to remain together, and had often pointed out that a lone vessel was a target for Cylons or any other scapegraces haunting the space-lanes. Now, the Eureka was serving as an unfortunate example of his cautions. It was really tempting to send Starbuck and his squadron up against the pirate ship but, not knowing what kind of being inhabited the vessel, it was just too dangerous an action.
"Instruct Starbuck to maintain pursuit until his discretionary power allows an opening he can use," Adama said sternly.
"Yes, sir."
Tigh crumpled up the paper and strode off the bridge. Athena took her father's arm and started walking with him. Next to them, through the giant starfield window, they could see hosts of stars, in clumps and gatherings or alone and isolated.
"Before duty, I stopped in at Boxey's room," Athena said softly. "Poor kid, he's really in a dither. He knows his father's a hostage now. I tried to keep it from him, but—"
"That's all right, Athena. What did he say?"
"What usually bothers him. He can't bear the possibility of losing his father. He says he's already lost his real parents back on Caprica, and then his adopted mother Serina, and it seems whenever he's happy Apollo gets himself into some new scrape."
Adama rubbed the back of his hand along one cheek and realized he hadn't shaved since the hostage episode began. His tough wiry whiskers felt like they were scarring the skin of his knuckles.
"It's not easy being a warrior's child," he said.
Athena smiled.
"Don't I know that, though?" she said.
Her remark caught Adama off guard. He peered at his daughter affectionately.
"I gave you a lot of anxiety over the years, didn't I?" he said.
"Me, and Apollo, too. We couldn't wait until we were old enough to join the war effort so we could be with you. God, Apollo's got to come back. We can't lose him to some scurvy mutinous—"
"Easy, easy. He'll come back. He always does."
"It only has to happen once."
She felt him drawing back from her. She usually said one thing too many, it seemed. Now was no exception.
Starbuck had ordered all commcircuit channels opened for a squadron conference. It seemed as if he could hear the breathing of several pilots in his ears.
"Boomer," he said, "what do you think they're up to?"
"Looks to me like they're mooring the Eureka to their ship. They're gonna pull it along."
"Why in Kobol would they do that?"
"I guess the Eureka's their prize."
"It's a good thing," chimed in Bojay.
"Good? Why?" Starbuck asked.
"Takes a lot of power to pull a ship the size of the Eureka along. If they had far to go, they'd just take the best of the plunder aboard and leave the Eureka behind, as a derelict. They want the ship."
"Yeah," Boomer said. "I think Bojay's on to something. Wherever they're heading for now, it must be close by."
"I get the point," Starbuck said.
"Starbuck?" Ensign Giles said.
"Yo, Giles."
"I could surprise 'em. You know, drop in on 'em and blast at the anchorings of the lasernet. I think I'd have it disconnected from the Eureka before they knew what happened."
Ensign Giles, a short feisty young man, was known for his daring, both in combat and in romantic matters. Some wagsters aboard the Galactica referred to him as the mini-Starbuck.
"And they'd have you in their sights and blown away before you could execute a good loop. No, don't think so, Giles. Thanks for the offer."
"But what'll we do?"
"Just hang in there, Giles, just hang in there."
After the conference, his ears filled with commcircuit static, Starbuck wondered how long they'd have to hang in there. It went against his nature to be so cautious. Caution was Boomer's specialty. Every nerve in Starbuck's body urged him to go on the attack immediately—blast the pirate ship into pieces only a miniaturist could sort, then dive in and rescue Apollo, and get the job done. But that was a fool's play. Whenever the chance came, he would be fierce. But the chance had to come.
The captives from the Eureka were being herded through a massive tube that connected their ship with the pirate vessel. Alien pirates, blobby repulsive creatures, stood on tall metal blocks along the way, urging their prisoners on, sometimes striking at them with a type of laserwhip whose lightninglike lashes could reach an impressive distance while ripping open cloth and leaving oddly straight burns on the skin of their victims.
A few of the pirates moved right along with the prisoners, pushing at them viciously.
"Get your hands off me, slug," Carome yelled and got a laserstroke across his shoulder for his insolence.
"Where are you taking us?" Apollo asked one of the aliens.
"No talking in the ranks," the alien answered and rudely shoved Apollo onward.
"These creatures are genuinely repulsive," Sheba whispered to Chameleon.
"I've seen better-looking objects growing moldy in a bowl of fruit," he muttered back.
Not far behind Chameleon, a pair of Borellian Nomen were keeping close watch on him.
"Is that him?" Maga asked Bora. "Is it Dimitri?"
"Or Chameleon," Bora responded. "His real name, as they told us. Brega and Lingk reported his presence on the Eureka to us, do you recall?"
Maga's heavy eyebrows came together in a frown and looked like a jagged hairy birthmark.
"Yes, I remember," he said. "The blood hunt is still unfulfilled. It leaves me with . . . with an empty feeling."
"But you ordered us to halt it."
"Yes, at the bidding of our captors on the Galactica. Well, we have new captors now."
"I see. What then is your plan, Maga?"
"Inform our people. The blood hunt is resumed. We will wait for our time, then spring."
Croft worked his way back to Carome, who was grimacing and holding on to his pained shoulder.
"See where your pitiful little mutiny has got us, Carome?"
"Shut up, Croft, you miserable—"
Croft guffawed and earned his own stroke of the laserwhip from one of the aliens on a platform. He winced,
but would not remove the nasty smile from his face.
Crutch, together with Lucifer and Spectre, viewed on a monitor the transfer of the humanoids from the captured ship. Lucifer noted that Crutch seemed to derive special satisfaction from associating with ambulatory cybernetic sentients. He called them his two buddy robots.
"A ragged lot, if you ask me," Crutch said, staring at the prisoners shown on the monitor screen.
"Yes," Spectre said in his snobbish voice, "but few humans ever display anything like elegance."
"I'm rather partial to humans myself," Crutch said, shrugging.
Spectre performed his usual obsequious turnabout.
"Well, of course, exalted sir. They are a varied and unpredictable people. I adore them."
"I don't know as I'd go that far," mumbled Crutch.
"Well," he said, "I didn't mean exactly that I adored them. But they're—"
Lucifer, suddenly aroused by an image on the screen, interrupted Spectre's self-serving strategy.
"Wait! Uh, Mr. Crutch—sir—could you enlarge that picture? There?"
He pointed toward the center of the screen. A technician worked controls until the section of the picture Lucifer had requested was made larger and brought into focus.
"Is that better?" Crutch asked.
"Could you freeze on that area?" Lucifer asked.
Eventually, alone in the center of the screen, Apollo, Sheba, Croft, and Chameleon could be seen.
"That insignia," Lucifer said. "On the shoulder patches. It's the emblem of the Galactica. They are colonial warriors, that woman and that man."
He indicated Apollo and Sheba.
"Colonial warriors, eh?" Crutch said. "Is that good?"
"Well, yes. They are the sworn enemy of the Cylons."
"A mark in their favor, I must admit. I'd like to meet 'em."
Crutch clomped a few steps away and spoke with other crewmembers. Lucifer kept watch on the screen where, in a moment, he saw Apollo and his three companions yanked out of line. His attention wavered from the screen, and he soon saw the four humans being thrown onto the bridge deck at Crutch's feet, or at least the protuberances at the end of his legs. The humans sprang up, their limbs tense, their hands closed in fists, ready for any kind of threat.
Battlestar Galactica 12 - Die, Chameleon! Page 9
