Battlestar Galactica 12 - Die, Chameleon!

by Glen A. Larson

  "You're not as smart as you think you are, Chandra," she said.

  "I'm smarter," Chandra said, her voice staying at a dangerously steady level. "Anyway, we're free out here, can't you feel it?"

  "We're always free," Brynt said. "This is a free society."

  Chandra's look at him could have wilted flowers.

  "Oh, yeah?" she said. "If they shone a hundred bright lights on you, you'd still be in the dark, Brynt. Can't you feel it?"

  "Feel what?"

  "There's no pull here. Nothing tugging inside our heads. It's a genuine free zone, away from whatever it is that controls us."

  "What in blazes are you talking about?" Zossie asked. "Controls?"

  Chandra began picking pieces of bark off the tree. The bark was brittle and broke into long thin shards when she closed her fist.

  "I can't believe you two don't feel it," she said. "Aren't you aware that we occasionally lose time? Don't you have suspicions that sometimes we act bizarrely, our minds and bodies being manipulated by someone else? Don't you wonder about those ugly nightmarish creatures who don't seem connected with us, except to herd new people into the prison compound?"

  "Chandra, I don't—"

  "Yes, Chandra," Brynt said eagerly. "Yes, I do. I know what you mean. Just like you say, little tugs inside your head."

  Chandra's body relaxed. She had thought she might, after all, be the only one to sense the control. The only one insane enough to feel it.

  "And you, Zossie?" she asked.

  "You're playing a game on me, aren't you, you two? This is a game. It's gotta be!"

  "You feel it, too, don't you?"

  Zossie stared at the ground. She pushed up dirt with her heel.

  "I don't know," she mumbled. "Maybe. It is just us, just the three of us?"

  "No," Chandra answered. "I think it's everybody."

  "Even Mommy and Daddy?"

  "Even them. I'm not even sure they're our mommy and daddy."

  "Chandra!" Zossie thought Chandra's words blasphemous.

  "I'm not sure you're my sister," Chandra went on. "Not sure Brynt's our brother. I'm not sure of anything. I just have this sense, vague memories almost, that my life didn't start here in The Joyful Land."

  "That's silly," Brynt said. "Where did it start then?"

  "I don't know. Someplace else. Mommy and Daddy come from somewhere else. I've heard them talk about it. Why not us, too?"

  "Because we were born here."

  For a quiet boy, Brynt could be relatively stubborn.

  "But I don't know if we were," Chandra said, not so sure now that she was on secure ground. "I don't think—what was that?"

  The sound of footsteps came from the path to their right. Gesturing to Brynt and Zossie to be quiet, Chandra sneaked forward in a crouch to the fringe of the path. Parting some high grass, she saw two figures approaching. She scurried to shelter behind trees, while Zossie and Brynt found hiding places next to her.

  Starbuck and Boomer walked rapidly but carefully along the path. They were following the city's glow, which they perceived beyond the trees.

  "All that light, looks like a pretty big place, Boomer."

  "I know. Should we get this near to it?"

  "Take it easy. That's where Apollo probably is. In that city, or damn near it."

  "Near as I can tell, we're close to where we tracked that ship."

  "There you go. Way the light's coming through, there must be an open field ahead."

  They passed the area where the children hid. In the shadows, Chandra's jaw dropped open in surprise. Zossie found it extremely difficult to keep quiet until the two men had gone on.

  When it was safe to speak, she said excitedly, "It's the Starbuck! It's the Starbuck!"

  "Hush, Zossie," Chandra cautioned. "They might hear you. "

  "What difference does that make. I want to meet him, want to touch him."

  "I know. Me, too. But let's see what he's up to. Maybe there's an adventure."

  The chance of watching the Starbuck actually having one of his adventures thrilled the children. Eagerly, they slipped out to the path and proceeded in the direction the Starbuck and his companion had gone.

  After a few steps, Brynt muttered, "Funny."

  "Funny?" Chandra asked.

  "Yeah. I didn't think the Starbuck was real. I thought he was an invention of the Imagescan people. I thought it was all made up."

  "Let you operate the control box and you think you know everything. There's the Starbuck up ahead. Right there. Doubt your eyes, then."

  The children slowed down so that the two strolling warriors wouldn't look back and detect their presence.

  "Oh, I don't doubt my eyes," Brynt whispered. "Maybe he's an actor or something. You know, somebody hired to be the Starbuck for the Imagescanners. Maybe they hire people for the parts, maybe—"

  "Oh, stop!" Chandra said irritably. "Criminy, Brynt, you have no imagination. It doesn't even matter if the Starbuck is real or not, especially when we see him out here without the Imagescan controls. This is a miracle!"

  "Oh, yes, Chandra," Zossie said dreamily.

  They were now so close to Starbuck and Boomer that they had to take cover behind trees. It was lucky they slipped in the shadows when they did, for the Starbuck soon looked back.

  "What's the matter, bucko?" Boomer asked.

  "Nothing. I just have this uncomfortable feeling we're being followed, that's all."

  Boomer turned around and peered down the path. The children tried to duck down even more. He probably wouldn't have seen them if they had been visible; his gaze was set too high. The two warriors agreed that Starbuck's uneasiness came from his imagination and resumed their walk. The children crept after them, using the trees as cover all the way to the open field.

  It was the same field where the children had crouched earlier in the day, watching the arrival of prisoners. In the distance, the prison compound could be seen but closer, to the left, was the border of Euphoria.

  "Well, what say, Boomer?"

  "Not sure. Not across the field. We'd be too vulnerable there."

  Starbuck nodded. Crossing his arms, he said, "I think we have to check out the city. The people I can see from here, look at them, they seem perfectly normal. I don't even think we'll be overdressed."

  "What about our guns?"

  Starbuck peered down at his holster, realizing that their armed condition might be perceived as an unwelcome gesture.

  "Well," he said, "I don't want to go in there unarmed. Okay, let's ditch the holsters here, keep the guns inside our shirts."

  "I'll buy that."

  They set the holsters gingerly against a tree, and threw some leaves over them. Hiding the guns inside their shirts, they rearranged their clothing and headed for the city. The children left their hiding places and rushed toward the tree. Brushing away leaves, Chandra picked up Starbuck's holster, and Brynt snatched Boomer's.

  "The Starbuck seems kinda careful," Brynt observed while his fingers stroked the slightly furry surface of the holster. "Not like when we see him on Imagescan."

  "He's on some sort of tricky mission," Chandra said, holding Starbuck's holster against her cheek, and rubbing it gently against her skin. "Any fool can see that. Even you can see that. Oh, my goodness, I love this holster. It's really the Starbuck's holster, think of it!"

  She held out the holster then pressed it against her chest. Brynt thought the silly look on her face was swoony. It disgusted him. Anyhow, she had the good holster, the Starbuck's holster.

  "Big deal," Zossie said. "I don't have a holster."

  "Here," Brynt said, "you can have mine."

  Zossie scoffed at the offer. "That's not the Starbuck's," she said. Brynt, so conscious of that, regretted his kind offer. What right had Zossie to say that? It was his right to say it.

  "They're getting ahead of us," Chandra said. "We got to catch up. Maybe we can get more stuff from them."

  The Starbuck and his sidekick had nearly rea
ched the border of Euphoria. The children had to hotfoot it to close the distance between them.

  Boomer and Starbuck came onto a sidewalk leading into the city. There were no people in the immediate vicinity. Walking along, they felt a cool evening breeze against their skin. There were pleasant trees all along the street, and nice pleasant-looking homes set neatly back from it.

  "You can't tell me the smells here don't get to you," Starbuck said. "It's like back home on Caprica to me. The hometown where my parents—my step-parents—lived. I used to play on streets like this, climb trees like that one . . ."

  "Mess around with little girls in houses like those."

  Starbuck stopped abruptly and grabbed Boomer's arm. His grip was strong, hurtful. He spoke angrily, "It might surprise you to know, Boomer old fig, that I was a shy kid and never had much to do with girls. I was a late bloomer."

  "Yeah, but look how you bloomed."

  Starbuck released his hold and started walking on.

  "I wish you guys'd stop razzing me about—"

  He bit off his words because he saw people walking toward them, a family out for a pleasant evening walk in their neighborhood. There was a father, mother, and a little boy, all of them average-looking. The boy wore clean crisp clothes.

  "Act casual," Starbuck muttered to Boomer.

  "How do we know what casual's like in this place?"

  Starbuck grinned at the oncoming smiles on all three faces. The child's smile, however, quickly disappeared as he scrutinized Starbuck. His eyes grew wide in awe. He yelped, and his mother told him to be quiet.

  "But, mama," the child said. "Look at him. Look at him."

  "I see," the mother said. "And a very nice-looking man he is." Starbuck's smile grew larger and Boomer had to suppress a groan. "I'm sorry, sir. Crenbolt's a little excitable for his age. Say hello to the men, Crenbolt."

  The child's eyes saddened and his greeting was sullen.

  "Hello."

  "Evening," the father of the family said cheerfully.

  Starbuck and Boomer replied together: "Evening." They sauntered on, past the family.

  Behind them, the mother remarked to the child, "They must be soldiers of some kind, son. Looks like uniforms they have on. Never saw any quite like that, though."

  Starbuck glanced back to see the mother peeking back at him. Embarrassed, she turned back, her body straightening as she walked away. The child seemed to be trying, futilely, to tell his mother something.

  "Strange kid," Boomer said. "Impressed by you, though."

  "Crenbolt! Imagine a name like that? No wonder some kids are strange. A monicker like that'd make anybody strange. Crenbolt! Hey, what's that?"

  Starbuck pointed off to his left, his body tensed, his hand rubbing his tunic where his gun was hidden.

  "What?" Boomer said. "I don't see anything."

  "I thought I saw movement over that way. I told you, I got this sense somebody's following us."

  "Shall we wait here and see?"

  Starbuck considered Boomer's suggestion for a moment before saying, "Nah, let's go on. Probably my imagination, anyway."

  They resumed their walk, keeping a fast pace. When they had turned a corner, the children left their hiding places and met on the sidewalk.

  "That was a close one," Brynt said. "He saw us, I think."

  "So what?" Chandra said, shrugging. She was pressing Starbuck's holster to her chest with both hands. "He's the Starbuck. He won't be afraid of us. C'mon, we got to hurry or they'll get away altogether."

  "I'm getting tired," Zossie whined. "My feet hurt."

  "Well," Chandra said coldly, "you just stay right here, then."

  "You're supposed to take care of me."

  "Take care of yourself, small fry. I'm not missing this chance, not for nobody."

  Chandra broke into a run, and Brynt was quickly after her. Zossie, with a child's mild curse, followed them reluctantly. Turning the corner, they saw Starbuck and Boomer up ahead, stopped across the street from a shopping area.

  Standing in the darkness, Starbuck surveyed the brightly lit and well-populated area. It was clear that the round bubblelike buildings were stores, busy with people engaged in normal consumer activity.

  "What say, Boomer? Shall we mingle?"

  "I'd rather stay here and observe, thank you."

  "Come on, we've got to know the people, maybe we can find out where they've put Apollo. Otherwise we just wander around this place as tourists. Have to take a chance, Boomer."

  Their first few steps onto the strangely soft surface of the shopping area's promenade were quite tentative. They were ready to act quickly if anyone challenged them but instead, nobody particularly noticed them and they blended in easily with the busy shoppers. In fact, as Crutch had shown Lucifer not long before, many of the buying choices of the shoppers were being guided gently by Image Lords who found shopping one of the more amusing human activities. To beings who merely took what they wanted, any kind of bargaining seemed a laughable event. On their part, the shoppers did not realize that the little tugs in their mind urging them to buy were not their own impulsive feelings.

  Chandra, Brynt, and Zossie followed Starbuck and Boomer into the shopping area, able to stay close to them now as part of the crowd. A couple of times Chandra walked just behind Starbuck's left elbow. She noticed a couple of grease stains on his sleeve, and she memorized their shapes.

  "You think the Staibuck's doing something, Chandra?" Brynt asked. "I mean, investigating something, looking for some bad guy to blast away?"

  " 'Course he is. He's the Starbuck, isn't he?"

  While some people appeared to take a second look at their uniforms, Starbuck and Boomer mixed in with the crowd easily.

  "Nice place, Boomer. If I didn't have other plans for my life, I could easily settle down in a town like this."

  "I can't imagine you settling anywhere. Heck, you can't even sit still in a chair for long, bucko."

  "Nah. I'm made for the easy life."

  As if to display his newfound commitment to a restful existence, Starbuck slipped a cigar out of his tunic pocket. He rolled it around in his fingers for a moment, listening with pleasure to its crinkling sounds.

  "Thought you were giving up those fumerellos," Boomer commented.

  "I give 'em up. For periods of time. Now's not one of those periods."

  He finally unwrapped the cigar, tossing the wrapper cavalierly over his shoulder. As soon as he had gone on a few steps, Chandra pounced on the wrapper, picking it up and rubbing her fingers over it.

  "It's the Starbuck's," she said dreamily.

  "It's only cigar wrappings, Chandra," Brynt said. He was a little jealous he hadn't thought of retrieving it.

  "I don't care," Chandra said. "I'm keeping it forever."

  Again they closed the gap between themselves and the two colonial warriors, walking only a few steps behind them.

  "We're not getting very far in finding out where Apollo is," Boomer remarked.

  "Patience, Boomer, patience. We'll ask someone. First, we've got to pick a friendly face. Ah, there's one."

  Boomer, amused, noted that the friendly face his buddy had selected was also a pretty one, about the prettiest woman in the immediate vicinity. She had soft blond hair, a couple of shades darker than Starbuck's, and bright blue eyes. That's Starbuck all right, he thought. Starbuck touched the young woman's arm. She smiled warmly as soon as she saw his handsome eager face.

  "Excuse me, miss, I wonder if you—"

  "I know you from somewhere," she said. Boomer, noticing her voice was sexy, thought: God, we're in trouble now.

  "I don't believe we've met," Starbuck said, with some charm, "but—"

  "But we have. I'm sure of it."

  "If we had, I'd surely remember. But you see, I've never been—"

  "I know who you are. I know. I can't believe it. It's you. It's really you, isn't it?"

  Starbuck, confused, wondered if he'd managed to stop the only crazy lady in t
he area.

  "Well, uh, yeah," he said. "Yeah, it's me. I mean, it is me. I've always been me. I've—"

  "I know your name. Can't think of it. Let me see." Her arm darting out suddenly, she stopped a passing middle-aged man. "It's him," she said to the man. "Can't you see it's him?"

  "You do look familiar, son. Can't place you, though."

  Boomer was looking for an exit.

  "Maybe we better get out of here," he whispered to Starbuck.

  "Why, Boomer? Look at all the attention I'm getting us."

  "That's what's bothering me."

  The middle-aged man spoke over his shoulder to an elderly woman in a veiled hat, who had stopped to gawk.

  "It's him," the man said. "Isn't it?"

  "I do believe it is," the woman said.

  "But what's his name? Where do we know him from?"

  "I'm not sure."

  Each of the trio called to other shoppers, asking Starbuck's identity of each of them. Chandra, Brynt, and Zossie, sensing danger, lingered in the background.

  A little girl slipped through the legs of someone in the crowd. When she saw Starbuck, her jaw dropped open. She couldn't speak at first, then she yelled at the top of her voice: "It's the Starbuck! It really is! It's the Starbuck!"

  Murmurs of agreement and recognition buzzed through the crowd. Starbuck removed the cigar from his mouth, and spread his arms in a friendly gesture. Bewildered and pleased simultaneously, he said, "Well, Starbuck's my name, but how did you folk—"

  "I love you!" said the woman he'd originally stopped.

  "Well, I'm flattered, miss, but—"

  The middle-aged man pushed forward and put his hands on Starbuck's shirt, crunched up a small section of material.

  "Let me have something," he said. "A piece off your jacket, maybe, or—"

  Starbuck pushed the man away. The little girl sprang to her feet and announced, "I want his gun!"

  "Hey, wait," Starbuck said to both of them, "I can't give you anything. I—"

  "Just one kiss, a big kiss," the pretty woman said. "I've seen every one of your adventures."

  Starbuck and Boomer exchanged puzzled glances, both of them backing away a step from the crowd.

  "What?" Starbuck said to his new admirers. "I don't get it. You people can't know me."

  A chubby man in the second rank of the crowd punched the shoulder of a buddy and yelled, "See? How humble he is? I knew he'd be humble in person."