Battlestar Galactica 13 - Apollo's War

by Glen A. Larson

  CHAPTER THREE

  His name was unknown to anyone on Yevra. On the planet he came from, he belonged to a religious cult whose members' names were kept secret from anyone outside the cult. He had left his home planet because life was too dull for him there. He had wanted adventure, glory, a lifetime of intense emotion. Instead he had become a soldier and found only war. He had just come off the front lines and been assigned to a training division. He was the Field First Sergeant, and they called him Sarge.

  Most humans would have called Sarge a lizard—a tall, upright lizard who walked on his pair of legs more gracefully than most humans, a lizard with strangely humanlike eyes (world-weary, the look of one who's seen more than he'd expected), a lizard with a lean and muscular torso and long prehensile fingers that never stopped moving. His face, though as close to grizzled as a greenish, unevenly scaled visage could be, had a sculptured look, as if the sculptor had wanted his fingers to form a face that could simultaneously frighten children and draw respect from adults. Its most disconcerting feature for a human observer was the pair of narrow elongated holes in the center of the face which functioned as both an organ of breathing and an aid to speech. While his small slash of a mouth was capable of forming words in many languages, he could not vocalize them without the aid of vibrations from a thin membrane just inside his long nostrils. The combined sounds from mouth and nose could chill the coating off a skeleton's bones. What it did to live listeners was the stuff of nightmares.

  Sarge stood in front of a large scanner console watching on its screen Apollo confront the peasant who had taken the animal. Sitting at the scanner console was the Sarge's chief aide, Barra. Barra was a partially humanoid being. His apparently normal human body was topped, however, with an extraordinarily long thin neck leading up to a small head with heavy lidded eyes, a long pointed nose, and heavy lipped mouth. Although his head was small, it contained an intelligent and clever brain, one that Sarge relied on. Barra appeared to have what most humans would call a pot belly. Actually, since Barra came from a desert planet, the belly was a storage organ with several compartments, some for food, some for water. He could live on the nutrition he stored for some time and, in fact, rarely was seen at the company mess hall.

  Both Barra and Sarge were fascinated by the disgust which the new human being showed at the idea of eating the animal alive. The animal had, after all, been located by a tracking mechanism in the belt Apollo wore. In Sarge's cult there were elaborate food rites involving both cooked and uncooked food, but on Yevra it was considered the custom to take any food at any time, wherever it was found and in whatever state of life or death. An army had to be opportunistic when it came to food. Sarge himself had been forced to violate the food customs of his cult almost daily since he had come to Yevra.

  Barra turned away from the screen after they had watched Apollo bury the animal.

  "You think he's from a vegetarian species, Sarge?" he asked.

  "Maybe, but he's probably just a softhead. A being with values. Humanoids tend to be soft when they first get here. Especially the civilized ones. Give him time, and he'll be like the other one, tearing at animal skin with his teeth."

  "But he looks like a good prospect for us, don't you think?"

  Using his neck like a fulcrum, Sarge's head made a brisk and awkward side to side movement. It was his species' version of a nod.

  "I do think," Sarge said. "His musculature is impressive, and there is a keen intelligence in his eyes. Definitely a good prospect."

  "Should we bag him now?"

  "No, give him some time. I'd like to examine him further."

  "But what if somebody from the Pelters spots him?"

  "We have to take that chance. Fortunes of war. Activate the directional on his belt."

  "Right, Sarge."

  The stubby digits that passed for fingers on Barra's hand made some lightninglike movements on his console. On the screen it was clear that Apollo was being guided in a direction out of the forest toward a main road that passed nearby. He began to walk along the road. His steps were slow and careful in spite of the tugs from the belt. Apollo's caution impressed Sarge. He also liked the way the man appeared to be checking every potentially dangerous area. He looked like a first-rate fighter.

  "Where's the other man now?" Sarge asked Barra.

  "Very close."

  "Bring them together."

  Barra's affirmative reply sounded quite gleeful. Barra liked playing with the console, guiding the movements of new potential victims.

  As Apollo passed a thick-trunked tree, a blurred shape jumped out at him. The ambush knocked Apollo off balance, but he recovered quickly and rushed his assailant. The two immediately grappled in a flurry of fists and kicking legs.

  "This should prove a useful test, Corporal Barra," Sarge said. "We should see his mettle now."

  Apollo quickly realized his opponent was his fighting equivalent, matching him in strength and swiftness. He had to exert all his strength to knock the ambusher to the ground. He jumped on him, intending to pin him. Then he saw the man's face for the first time.

  "Croft!"

  "Huh?" Croft seemed not to recognize the name at first, but his body relaxed under Apollo's grip. "I don't—this is—Croft?"

  Apollo released him. Sitting next to him, he nevertheless remained wary, ready to resume the fight.

  "Croft, what's wrong?"

  Croft shook his head several times, as if trying to shake a demon out of it.

  "Croft. Croft is my name. That's right. And you're . . . you're Apollo. Apollo. We . . . we came here together."

  He kept shaking his head. The action did seem to clear it.

  "Are you sick?" Apollo asked, putting his hand on Croft's arm.

  "I don't know. I couldn't, couldn't remember there for a moment. All thought went out of my head, and then I jumped you. I didn't even recognize you. I just felt you were an enemy. I'm all right now. How'd we get here, Apollo?"

  "Wish I knew. I just woke up in a meadow not far from here, in these clothes."

  Croft glanced down at his own garments, which were a near match of Apollo's.

  "How about you?" Apollo asked him.

  "I don't exactly remember. I was with you guys and suddenly I was walking along over there. My ankle was in pain and I had to sit and rest it awhile. Where's Sheba? Is she with you?"

  "No. She must be nearby though. We'll seek her out. Let's try staying along this road."

  The belt wanted him to take the road, he could tell that. He was curious about where the belt was leading him. He helped Croft up, and they began to walk. Croft kept shaking his head every few steps. He couldn't seem to get his mind to work right.

  "Where are we?" he asked. "Any idea?"

  "Presumably the planet we landed on. I feel like we've been captured but I don't know why. And by whom?"

  "I don't know anything about that. But this place, for all its beauty, feels to me like the land just east of Hades."

  "Know what you mean."

  Apollo and Croft both shuddered involuntarily.

  Sarge and Barra continued to observe Apollo and Croft on the scanner screen, whose pictures were sent back by cameras and recording equipment hidden inside the trunks of the roadside trees. They had enjoyed the meeting between Croft and Apollo very much.

  "The new one is an acceptable specimen, too, I believe," Barra said.

  "Agreed," Sarge replied. "This may turn out to be an unusually good catch, Barra."

  "Unusually so."

  "They seem so determined. We see so little determination."

  Barra pointed to the screen, at Apollo pointing to his left.

  "Someone over there," Apollo said. "Looks like it might be Sheba."

  Croft followed the line Apollo's finger indicated. He saw a tall woman lying on the ground, her long dark brown hair seeming to stretch out in several directions.

  "It is, I think," Croft said and started to run toward the supine woman. Apollo followed him close
ly.

  Sheba's eyes were open but dazed. They had been open for some time, but she hadn't really seen anything. Now, as she sat up, she saw two men running toward her. She started scrabbling along the ground away from them. The fear in her eyes was near to panic. She had no idea what these men wanted of her, but doubted it was for anything good.

  "No," she screamed. "Don't touch me! I'll kill you if you touch me, you bastards."

  "Sheba," Croft said, coming to a halt a few meters from her.

  She stopped going backwards and, confused, stared at this broad-shouldered man with the strange weatherbeaten face.

  "She-ba?" she said. "Sheba." She realized it was her name. "How do you know me?"

  Croft walked to her slowly and knelt down beside her. His eyes were uncharacteristically gentle and kind.

  "It's me. Croft. And Apollo."

  She studied the faces of both men. Apollo's friendly smile calmed her. Then she recognized the men.

  "A-pol-lo? Yes, Apollo. And Croft. My head, it's full of images, strange things."

  "Take it easy, darling," Croft said. It seemed right for him to call her darling, although she was vaguely aware he had never called her that before with such gentleness. "I was this way when I came to," he said. "Didn't know who I was or where I was."

  "Where . . . are . . . we?"

  He smiled. The smile, she faintly realized, was a different look for him. Croft usually only smiled at his own sarcastic remarks.

  "Still working on that one, lovely," he said. "Take your time."

  "I'm beginning to remember."

  As Apollo and Croft had done before her, she recalled their landing on the planet, and their subsequent search of the terrain.

  "Then you . . . you started to disappear, Apollo. It was like there were these wavering lines all around you. Then I passed out and woke up here. I've been just lying here, no real thoughts in my head. It was like I've been looking at this world just the way an animal does, an animal without intelligence or language." She shuddered. "It's frightening, you know?"

  Croft helped her to her feet, then turned to Apollo.

  "Well, Captain, what do we do now?"

  "Try to find our Vipers, get the hell away from here."

  "And how do you suggest we do that?"

  "I don't know. I think we should take a good look around."

  "Any idea of where to start?"

  As soon as Croft asked the question, all three warriors felt the same gentle pull northward from their belts. In that direction, appearing to be at road's end, was an aura of light. Apollo gestured toward it.

  "Well, as good a plan as any, I suppose," Croft said. "You up to a little walk, Sheba?"

  Sheba, her head clearer now, smiled. She was definitely not accustomed to such politeness from Croft.

  "I can make it," she said. "I hope we can find a place with some clothes more comfortable than this outfit."

  "It fits you well, though. Very well."

  "Now, that's more the Croft I know. I was getting worried you'd changed."

  "Not me. Let's go, troops."

  Led by Apollo, they started walking toward the light. Croft once looked over his shoulder, toward the trunk of a tree. Without realizing there was a camera planted there, he felt he was being watched.

  At Sarge's headquarters, Croft appeared to look right at them through the screen. Barra leaned backwards, and Sarge almost took a step away from the screen. The man looked formidable. Sarge was pleased.

  "I like all three of them, Sarge," Barra said. "I think we can use the lot. Shall we snare them?"

  Barra's eagerness always impressed Sarge. There was nothing like new recruits to make him happy.

  "Soon," Sarge said, and Barra looked even happier.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Guided subtly by the electronic prods in their belts, Apollo, Croft and Sheba trudged along the road in a nearly hypnotized state. Their attention was on the beacon of light which seemed to be their destination. Sometimes the light diminished in size, so much so that they could barely see it anymore, then at other times it became a strong aura, bright and wavering slightly. Their legs were in pain from weariness but they couldn't stop themselves from continuing to go forward. Sweat poured off Croft's brow as he struggled to keep up with the torrid pace Apollo and Sheba were setting. Apollo felt as tired as Croft did but didn't care to show it. Sheba merely walked in a daze. Once in a while she went off the road a few steps. Then, shaking her head, she managed to return to the others.

  "No matter how far we walk," Croft said, panting, "that light seems to be the same distance away."

  "Optical illusion," Apollo said. "It's just a long walk, is all."

  "A long walk, is all. Tell me another one, Captain."

  Noting Croft's sarcasm, Apollo glared at him. Croft seemed to thrive on sarcasm and insults, and Apollo thought it would be better to avoid bantering with him. That would really annoy him.

  "It's a pretty light," Sheba said softly. Her voice sounded as dazed as her eyes looked.

  "Pretty?" Croft grumbled. "It's a light, and that's all it is."

  Sheba appeared not to notice Croft's comment.

  "Pretty," she said.

  Croft decided to leave her alone. There was something spooky about her. The lady was off her nut or something. They all walked a few more steps in silence, then suddenly Apollo stopped them with a quick gesture of his right hand.

  "What is it, Apollo?" Croft said.

  "Listen."

  "Pretty," Sheba said.

  Croft realized suddenly that they were hearing music. Faintly, but clearly. Many voices. Vigorous. The tune was energetic but melodic. Croft thought it sounded like a work song or maybe the kind of chant people sang around a campfire.

  "Where's it coming from?" he said.

  "Up ahead, I think," Apollo said.

  "Everything's up ahead," Croft said.

  "Pretty," Sheba said. "Pretty music."

  "You got any idea how to shut her up?" Croft said, nodding toward Sheba. Apollo ignored Croft's question. Sheba softly began to hum along with the song. She started walking toward it. Apollo recalled a Caprican legend about a young woman in love but unable to reveal her feelings to the man she loved. Frustrated, she wandered into an unknown land, drawn there by strange music. In the meantime, the man she'd loved, realizing she'd gone, went after her, questioning everyone he met, tracing her path to the strange land. He found she had gone to a place called "the city without cares." What neither he nor she knew about that city was that, once inside its borders, each would be affected by a strange perfume that emanated from a well at the city's center. The perfume brought on forgetfulness, and eventually amnesia. By the time the two lovers met again, each had forgotten the other. Seeing something familiar in each other's face, they both smiled, then passed each other by, each going on to a different destiny than either had planned. Sheba appeared to be traveling toward just such an enchanted land.

  "Sheba!" Apollo hollered after her.

  She turned.

  "What, Apollo?"

  "We don't know who's singing. You can't just walk up to them and—"

  "Can't I? Of course I can."

  She walked onward briskly, with purpose. Apollo glanced at Croft, who had a look of cynical amusement. They both picked up their pace to follow her.

  The singing became louder. They rounded a curve of the road and saw the glow of many fires ahead of them. It was like a small aura bordered by the distant light of the city. The firelight was, however, more intense than the shimmering city aura. Sheba suddenly began to run toward the firelight.

  "Sheba, no!" Apollo hollered after her.

  He ran after her. Croft reluctantly pursued both of them. Sheba took an abrupt turn off the road. Apollo and Croft came to a stop at the road's edge. They stared down at a long meadow dotted with what seemed like hundreds of campfires. Around a large central fire a large group of people gathered, singing the song the three of them had been hearing.

&nbs
p; "I know that dialect," Croft said.

  "What are they singing?" Apollo asked.

  "Not sure. Something about the light of a city and the freedom it offers them."

  Sheba had stopped running. She was walking confidently toward the firelight. Apollo and Croft ran toward her. Suddenly two brawny men sprang from behind a massive rock and grabbed Sheba. Apollo made a ghost move toward where his lasergun holster had been, then realized he was now weaponless. Sheba squirmed in the arms of the man who had seized her. Apollo and Croft charged at the two attackers. Before he had even landed a blow, Apollo noticed that both wore the same kind of belt he, Croft and Sheba had come awake wearing.

  Other men appeared from other hiding places. Apollo punched one attacker in the face just before another of the ambushers had flung him to the ground. Looking up, he saw Croft reeling from a blow to his stomach. Apollo got to his feet and threw a solid left hook to the ugly bearded face of one of the men, but two more jumped him and pinned him against a rock. Croft was knocked to the ground and held there by another pair of men.

  One of the ambushers, a thick-muscled tall man with a scrawny beard, walked up to Apollo, smiled at him, displaying several broken teeth, and said:

  "Welcome to the caravan, friends. We are the friendship committee."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Apollo hadn't realized how hungry he'd been. The episode with the small animal had sickened him so much he'd been able to ignore all thoughts of food. Now, with a virtual feast in front of him, he found himself wanting to tear into it like a wild beast. Croft and Sheba seemed equally eager to shovel in food.

  Especially satisfying and tasteful was a speckled green and red fruit which had a sweet, pulpy flavor: a kind of thin sliced yellow meat seemed tasteless after a quick jolt of spicy flavor on first bite. The wine served with the meal was too sweet, but all three of them drank it like water anyway. In plates at the side of their main dish, there was a strange deep-brown paste whose musky odors led them to taste only out of politeness.