"Run, Apollo," Xiomara whispered huskily. Even as he heard the panic in her voice, he realized it was the first time she had addressed him as anything other than 'hero.' "Get away, before they get you."
"Xiomara—"
"Run! Please, run!"
She pushed against his shoulders violently. He grabbed her hand and started to pull her along with him. She pulled out of his grasp and gestured for him to run on his own. Ahead of them, Croft and Sheba were running. Croft was looking upward over his shoulder at the recruiters. Behind them, Beskaroon had almost caught up, apparently unaware of the danger in the skies.
"No, Apollo, no!" Xiomara screamed as a recruiter descended upon him. Just before the recruiter grabbed him, Apollo looked up and saw his assailant. Twisting sideways, he seized the recruiter's legs and pulled him downward. The move caught the recruiter by surprise and Apollo was able to slam him to the ground. The hum of the creature's flying device came to an abrupt halt and the creature, a lizardlike being, went limp.
Nearby Croft was in a fierce battle with another of the recruiters, but was losing. The recruiter had one of Croft's legs already off the ground. Croft's other leg lost contact with the ground as the recruiter swept him upward. Captured, Croft nevertheless kicked wildly, making contact now only with air.
Suddenly the sky above them was dense with recruiters. Beskaroon and his mob finally saw them and immediately began scattering in all directions. They became easy prey for the recruiters, who picked them off.
Xiomara stood still in the middle of the chaos, her sad frightened eyes concentrating on Apollo. She mouthed his name silently. Apollo was snatched in a sneak attack. One recruiter drew him forward while another flew down behind him, grabbed his shoulders and lifted him like a child. Like Croft, he struggled in the recruiter's grasp. In the distance he saw Sheba in the arms of another of the creatures.
Soon only Xiomara was left on the ground. She stared up at the now retreating recruiters with their new captives, and she did not see the lone remaining creature who flew down, plucked her off the ground and made her the last recruit of the raid.
CHAPTER NINE
Numbness seeped through Apollo's body. The recruiter had jabbed his arm with something, apparently a chemical to make him go limp. The other victims appeared to hang immobile from the grasps of their recruiters.
Picking up speed, the recruiters soared higher. At this height, Apollo noticed, the air was much colder, stinging the skin of his face. He could freeze to death. His body was so numb from the chemicals, he wouldn't be able to tell. The recruiter holding Sheba flew by. Sheba's eyes were closed. She looked dead. These bastards would let her die, wouldn't they, as they indifferently carried their prey.
He lost sight of Sheba and her recruiter as they disappeared into the flying crowd. The flying horde was an impressive sight, scores of recruiters grouped tightly together and flying in a loose but definite formation. In one pass, he saw Beskaroon still fighting the chemicals and struggling in his recruiter's hold. There seemed no point in struggling though. One of the lessons he'd learned back in space academy was that a warrior, once he knows he's captured, shouldn't fight back futilely but use his energy to look for escape opportunities. Beskaroon's struggle at this height was absurd, anyway. If he did break the recruiter's hold, it was a long fall to the ground.
Nothing to do now but see where these louses were taking their prizes. Since Xiomara had said the recruiters captured soldiers for a war, the chances were their destination was a military one. He was eager to get there. Then he could find the way out.
A cloud of doubt crossed Apollo's mind. What am I thinking of? he thought. I go along assuming we're going to escape. We've been in scrapes before and we've always escaped. How can I believe that now? We're stranded on a planet. We don't know where our ships are. We don't know where any ships are. We may never see the Galactica again.
Apollo remembered the prophecy. He didn't know where the story had come from, but it had swept the ship. Suddenly everyone knew it had been predicted that most of the people aboard the Galactica would not reach Earth. The prophecy went on to state that perhaps Earth would not be reached by the people in the present fleet but by other generations. Commander Adama and his command staff had done their best to quell the rumor, but it still remained, whispered in dark corridors, printed in privately circulated pamphlets. There were always dissidents ready to pounce on any piece of information or speculation that would cause doubts throughout the easily swayed population of the ragtag fleet.
Although he put no store in idle rumors, Apollo couldn't help wondering now if the prophecy in some way applied to him. It was beginning to look like he was one of the people who wouldn't reach Earth. There had been times when Apollo had regarded the quest as his father's folly, a simple goal that had grown into an obsession. He had sometimes criticized his father for putting too much energy into the quest, and his father replied that faith was always worth an excess of energy. Now, stuck on this lousy planet, literally in the clutches of an enemy, Apollo couldn't bear the thought of not seeing if the quest had an end, nor did he particularly relish spending the remainder of his days on this planet.
His recruiter took an abrupt turn and Apollo suddenly saw, looming in front of him, an enormous ship gliding across the sky toward them. It was an odd-looking ship, awkwardly constructed and looking as if it were assembled with spare parts and then painted all over in a dismal gray. Its surfaces were plain, with nothing omate visible, not even an insignia. He couldn't recall any ship with this superstructure design in any warbook he'd studied, and that included every warbook he'd memorized since he'd first entered the academy.
As the recruiters headed toward the ship, a large segment of it came open. The opening looked to Apollo like a large mouth about to attack and chew up the recruiters and their captives. The recruiters picked up speed and, with no transition from light to darkness, he and his recruiter were suddenly inside the ship and enveloped in what seemed like total blackness.
He felt himself being carried along through frigid air, penetrating the darkness further. He could see nothing. He heard only the sound of flight around him, felt only the dank cold of the breeze against his skin. Suddenly, Beskaroon uttered an expletive. He sounded as if he were right behind Apollo. Others reacted to the sound, and there were some moans, some shouted words.
He had a sense of being lowered, and his still slightly numbed feet were soon dragging against a soft padded floor. He felt the recruiter gently release him and he stumbled forward in the pitch black. He heard the soft plops of others being deposited all around him. A moment passed before he realized that the floor was moving him forward. He guessed it was a belt carrying them all further into the ship's interior. Concentrating on keeping his balance, he took a couple of necessary steps sideways and bumped into another individual.
"Who is it?" the person said. Apollo recognized Croft's voice.
"Croft!"
"Apollo! Is that you?"
"Yes."
"Where are we?"
"I don't know. Inside a ship. On a moving belt of some sort. Can't tell you anything more than that."
"What's happening, do you think?"
"Don't know that either. We're either being taken somewhere or—"
"Or what? Being disposed of, you mean?"
"Maybe. But I doubt it. Too much trouble in transporting us here. Xiomara said they were recruiters."
"Recruiters?"
"They grab off people to put them in an army. Kind of a forced draft or conscription. We'll just have to—"
Apollo stopped talking because they abruptly felt themselves passing through a series of cloth strips. As the last of the cloth strips brushed past his face, Apollo's eyes were stung by the bright light in a new room. He squinted and gradually brought the world around him into focus. First he saw what he recognized as a control panel, even though he'd never before seen one with such bizarre configurations. On it were many strange symbols, all of which
looked like miniature paintings. He had never seen picture writing so intricate. There must have been a mountain of information within each fancily designed pictograph. There were no levers, buttons or touchplates anywhere on the panel. Instead, there were many small black and green rectangles, each of which had a different number of tiny holes on its surface.
He felt new movement next to him and, taking his attention away from the control panel, he found himself looking up at what appeared to be a giant. Even when he brought the being into focus, it still looked like some kind of mythological monster. A reptilian monster in military garb. Thin arms emerged from short sleeves. The surface of the arms, and that part of the creature's legs that Apollo could see, were spiny and slightly hairy. The spines themselves were sharp, colored a dark pink, and relatively hairless. Long curly hairs were scattered around the base of each spine. The spines themselves went in riverlike lines to the creature's hands. The hands were four-fingered, with each finger ending in sharp points without any sign of fingernails. There were a couple of tiny spines where the joint should have been on the being's largest finger, which was located on the sides of his hands.
Apollo looked higher, into the face of the creature. It was the face of a lizard, with more spines along its side, which looked like pointed sideburns. Some hair was scattered over the cranium of the creature's head and on his high cheekbones, which jutted out far. The creature's eyes, hidden by the cheekbone ridge, were difficult to see. It had only holes for a nose, and a twisted slash of a mouth. Its massive shoulders duplicated the jut of his cheekbones, seeming to stretch beyond the normal lines of his torso.
When the creature spoke, its words were understandable but distorted. There were secondary sounds that Apollo quickly saw were caused by the vibrations of the being's nose holes.
"Get up scum," the creature said.
"Who are you?" Apollo said. "Why are—"
"Shut up, stupid. Do what you're told, all of you. Get up!"
No one made a move, and Croft muttered, "Take a hike, flybrain."
The creature switched his attention to Croft and said in an angry voice: "Oh, you're the tough one in the group, is that right, boy?"
"Tough enough to—"
Before Croft had a chance to finish his sentence, the creature lifted him up and held him away from his body, then he flung Croft with incredible force against a nearby wall. Croft's eyes went blank as soon as he hit the wall and he slid to the floor, unconscious.
"All right," the creature barked, "the rest of you scum, stand up and stand straight. Now!"
Most of the captives did stand up, but a trio was left sitting defiantly on the floor. Apollo, Sheba and Xiomara. Gesturing with his head toward a subordinate, the creature ordered the standing group to line up-against the wall where Croft sat shaking his head from side to side. Then it walked to Apollo and stood over him.
"A classic case, eh?" it said. "I get at least one of you every batch. I thought you were the type the first I saw you, when you stood up to that filthy flesh-eater. Later, too, when you fought the—"
"You've been watching me all this time?"
"You and your friends, yes. You're a tough bird, and our army always needs a few tough birds."
"Army? You think we'll fight for your—"
"You'll find you'll have little choice." The creature's voice had become smoother. "Here on Yevra anyone we choose fights for us. Unless the other side grabs them first. I know you scum come from elsewhere. One of our officers saw you land, brought you through the camouflage force field to us."
Apollo raised his hand.
"Wait," he said. "You're going too fast for me. You snatched us for your army?"
"That is correct. We're always on the lookout for new vermin, and you people just flew into our laps, you might say."
"And about the force field—camouflage?"
"Some intruders from elsewhere have tried to interfere with our little war here, have tried to bring peace. Negotiations. Talks. We took care of them, but we want no more of that kind of intruder. The force field hides us from outside observation. Anyone investigating Yevra sees a barren planet, instead of the rich and fruitful place it is. Only a few of the dismally curious manage to find their way here. Like you folks."
"We're willing to leave," Sheba said.
The creature turned toward her, and its voice dropped to a mean whisper.
"You'll need your vehicles, won't you? You see, we have them, too."
Apollo stood up, stared defiantly at the creature.
"I'm Captain Apollo from the Battlestar Galactica. I demand you return our vipercrafts to us and give us free passage away from—"
The creature moved threateningly toward Apollo.
"Don't even bother making heroic plays, scum. You're suggesting that your puny battlestar can avenge you. They can't even find you."
"Don't be too sure of that."
"All right, we'll be cautious. But we're not worried. Now, vermin, since you're such a fine leader, assemble these troops into an orderly line."
"No." Apollo's voice was even quieter than the creature's.
"Apollo," Sheba whispered, "you saw what he did to Croft."
"Yep. He's gonna have to do it to me, too."
"My pleasure, scum."
The creature tried to lift Apollo up with the same motion he'd used on Croft. However, Apollo was prepared for the attack and he broke out of the hold easily, in spite of the creature's immense strength. While the creature stood still, surprised by the human's retaliation, Apollo barreled into its midsection, ramming it with his elbow. He must have found a weak spot, for the creature doubled over, holding on to the area. The creature reeled backward. A pair of its aides rushed forward, but the creature waved them away, saying in a slightly out-of-breath whisper, "No, scum like this need a lesson."
"And I'm sure you're ready to be the teacher," Apollo said.
The creature charged at Apollo like a wild beast. Apollo, who had had abundant practice in this kind of frontal assault, dodged sideways easily while managing to land a firm punch on the side of the creature's face. He felt some crunch and give as the punch landed, as if he had cracked the alien's skin. At the same time he felt a strong rush of pain travel up his arm. Ignoring it, he landed a blow on the back of the creature's neck. The creature fell forward. It looked as if it might fall, but it quickly regained his balance and, twirling gracefully on his left foot, he came back at Apollo with such force that he rammed the human against a control panel. Sparks flew all around the two battlers. Shocks from the broken panel seemed to burn through Apollo's entire body, and he felt his legs weaken. The creature took advantage of Apollo's momentary weakness, picked him up, held him over its head for a moment, then slammed him to the floor. As Apollo struggled to get up, the creature kicked him fiercely on his side. He fell back. Hearing Sheba begin to protest angrily to the creature, Apollo lost consciousness.
CHAPTER TEN
In his dream he saw the Battlestar Galactica, majestic against the dark backdrop of space, slowly pulling away from him. He tried to pursue it, his arms making swimming motions, but the ship quickly disappeared. He began to float in space. He began, he thought, to die. Then he was suddenly awake, and Croft was standing over him. Croft grinned crookedly, his usual look when he was cynically amused. Sheba stood nearby, gazing at Apollo with concern in her large eyes. Sitting up and looking around, he saw that they, along with the other conscripts, had been put in cramped quarters. Bunks were placed close together and people sat or lolled on some of them. Others paced a narrow aisle restlessly. Xiomara sat on a corner bunk, her face resolutely turned toward the wall. He looked back at Croft. There was a large welt, and some bruises, on Croft's face.
"I look as bad as you do, Croft?"
"No, it's like usual with you. You're the type tends to come through scrapes unscathed and unscarred,"
Testing his body, Apollo remarked, "I sure don't feel that way. I hurt all over."
"Take it easy," Sheb
a said.
Apollo suddenly realized he felt none of the sense of motion that he associated with being inside an aircraft.
"We're not in their ship anymore," he said.
"Right," Sheba said. "We're in some kind of camp. Leastways, that's what it looked like when we landed here."
Sheba held Apollo's hand and spoke slowly. After he had been knocked cold, she told him, all of the captives had been placed in an enormous dark chamber. Soon they could feel the ship descend. It landed heavily, knocking many of the prisoners against each other roughly. Soldiers came, and led them down a tunnel to an airlock, through which they were ushered, with many shoves from their guards, into the outside world.
Wherever they were, it was night there. That fact made it easier for them to make the transition from the total darkness inside the ship to the few flickering lights near the ship. Firelight spread in a series of straight lines around and between hovel-like buildings. It had seemed to Sheba that, just outside the firelight, there was a lot of noisy and busy activity. However, their captors hadn't give them much chance to look at anything. They pushed their prisoners roughly and quickly to one of the largest hovels.
"And they dumped us in here, and we haven't seen a one of them since. We haven't been here long."
A few bunks away there was a sudden outburst of angry voices followed by a small scuffle. Whatever the fight had been about, Beskaroon emerged the victor. As a sign of his prowess, he started pushing around someone else. Croft gestured in the direction of the altercation and remarked, "They've been like that since we got here. Can't sit still. Going to have to keep track of Besky and his buddies, especially in close quarters like this."
"Acknowledged," Apollo said. He glanced toward Xiomara and called her name. She remained looking at the wall as she responded.
Battlestar Galactica 13 - Apollo's War Page 7
