The trick had worked better than Starbuck, with Kyle's aid, had planned. Kyle rode out from his hiding place and told Goodchild and Arno Armwaver that they did not have to post a guard.
"Let's go back, see if we can help the others," Kyle ordered.
Megan drifted in and out of sleep. When awake, she discovered that her problem with focussing her eyes had become worse. She could make out little that was distinct, and she found it better to sleep. She wanted to sleep, and that was all she wanted right now, maybe all she would ever want from now on. Dimly, the pains in her shoulder throbbed, felt like a miniature ballet ensemble laboriously rehearsing a new and difficult piece of choreography all along her nerves.
Once she awoke and Kordel was standing over her. She could see him distinctly, no blurred edges—so distinctly that she wondered if perhaps this was merely a dream. How perverse, to dream of the cell she lived in, the straw bed on which she slept.
Kordel's eyes were unusually concerned.
"I don't think you're going to make it, Megan," he whispered kindly. "Something's happening to your wound, your dressing is bloodier than it was when that ugly tincan brought you back here."
"I'm . . . all right. I just want to sleep."
"Don't sleep. Try to get up, walk around maybe."
"Had . . . enough exercise . . . went on a trip . . . let me sleep."
"Try to sit up."
He took her hands in his and pulled her to a sitting position but, no matter how much he struggled with her, that was as far as she could go.
"Can't, Kordel. Let me sleep, please."
"Damn them!" he muttered bitterly. "Here, let me see if I can bind that dressing any tighter." He stood up, called to the other prisoners of the cell block, "Anybody here got any bandages, any medical equipment?" He was answered by silence. "I need some strips of cloth, anything." The silence remained, but it was interrupted by the sounds of ripping cloth.
Soon Kordel was holding several soiled fraying strips of cloth, passed along from several prisoners. Carefully he started working at Megan's dressing. Soon he was cursing himself. There seemed nothing he could do to stem the small but steady flow of blood out of the wound. As he tried to press his makeshift bandaging tighter against the wound. Megan slipped easily again into unconsciousness, mumbling something odd about a ballet company and how they were never going to get it right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
FROM MIRI'S BOOK:
"Miri," Starbuck exclaimed, "this isn't just a secret passage. It's a labyrinth, a real maze. I've seen catacombs that looked like simple caves compared to this!"
For some illogical reason, I was pleased by his astonished remarks.
"I'm so used to following my one route, Starbuck, that I'd forgotten how many corridors there were down here. Now I remember how long it took to find that route, how many times I found myself in blocked off corridors, dead-ends, or passages that were of no use to me."
In the torchlight, the uneven craggy surface of the passage's walls suggested all the dangers we were heading toward. Starbuck had asked me to lead, while he followed directly behind. The children, as ordered by Starbuck, lingered behind and came forward in surges at his command.
As we passed the room that hid all we had salvaged from the settlement museum, I said to Starbuck:
"The woman on the unicorn painting is in there. We hid away a lot of our art."
"Hope I get a chance to look at it."
The air inside, the passage was still and cold. Colder than I'd ever remembered, or else my imagination, out of fear, was making it feel colder to me.
At last we came to the fireplace entrance. I explained to Starbuck how it worked.
"Let me reconnoiter first, see there's nobody in the warehouse," I said.
"No, I'll do it. I'm the—"
"I'm smaller and I'm used to it. I know the terrain, remember? My job."
"Good point."
Sliding the fireplace panel sideways, I scanned the immediate area in my usual fashion. I saw nothing. However, a thud on the other side of the first row of boxes told me there was somebody else in the warehouse.
"Wait here," I whispered.
"Be careful, Miri."
"Always."
I tiptoed to a pile of boxes near where the sound had originated. Peeking around them, I saw two tincans opening cartons. I reported back to Starbuck.
"Two of them. Working on cartons."
"Okay. We don't want to attract the attention of anybody from outside. Ariadne?"
"Yes, Starbuck?"
"I'll need you. Herbert and Jake, too."
"Right."
My hands felt odd. I looked down at them. They were trembling. I didn't remember trembling before.
"Starbuck?" I said.
"What is it, Miri?"
Ariadne, Jake, and Herbert reported for duty. I did not like the look of fun in Ariadne's clear green eyes.
"The cartons the tincans are opening," I said. "They were never there before. I think they hold rifles."
"Interesting. Somebody's ordered out more arms. We must be spooking them. Good."
"What's good about it?"
"It means our diversions are working. Okay, Ariadne, got your trusty slingshot?"
She held it up for him to see.
"Okay, you know what to do."
"Sure, Starbuck."
I wished I could be as confident as twelve-year-old Ariadne looked and sounded.
"Jake," Starbuck said. "We'll use the clubs here, you and I. Not a good spot for pistols. Remember the drill?"
"Yep, Starbuck."
Starbuck motioned for me to slide open the fireplace panel. He looked out cautiously, then crept forward, gesturing Ariadne, Herbert, and Jake to follow. I took up the rear, telling the other children to stay put.
They reached a pile of boxes which Starbuck looked around. The tincans were still there. They had stacked many rifles already. Starbuck nodded toward Ariadne, who—after Jake had given her a lift—nimbly climbed to a place atop a pile of boxes. She drew out her slingshot, squinted her eyes to take careful aim, put a stone in the wellwom pouch of the elastic band (I recalled finding that elastic band for her in this very warehouse), pulled the sling back, and fired. The stone bounced off a Cylon shoulder with a small pinging sound. Ariadne scrunched down as the Cylon glanced upward and saw nothing. He went back to work. Ariadne placed another pellet into the sling and flung it. This one landed at the back of the other Cylon's leg. Same small ping. The two struck Cylons looked at each other, the red lights in their helmets moving almost in synchronicity. A third shot, hitting the first Cylon again, in his back. The two of them started hollering things to each other in that bizarre nasally-metallic speech. They arrived at their decision and began clumsily to walk in our direction, each of them holding up one of the unpacked rifles, ready to fire. I thought my heart had stopped beating. Starbuck and Herbert edged sideways, pressing against the boxes. Jake crouched on the other side of the narrow space the Cylons were approaching.
After they had passed without seeing any of us, Herbert and Jake jumped on the lead Cylon, while Starbuck attacked the other. After shoving the tincans down, Starbuck and Jake performed the maneuver they had planned during the briefing. They each raised their clubs and hit terrific blows against the lower chests of each Cylon. As Starbuck had predicted, the robots' power packs were located there and the blows sent the tincans out of commission. They lay silent, now just piles of metal that, even if repaired, would never be the same beings.
"How did you know the power packs were there?" I whispered to Starbuck as we all cautiously made our way to the warehouse entrance.
"I got a chance to inspect one for a long time in the forest before you guys found me. I told you about that."
"But what if the power packs hadn't been located there?"
"Then we would have had to improvise."
"Starbuck, you're not exactly building up my confidence in you."
He stopped, held b
oth my arms.
"Miri, I'd like for this to be easy. Of course there are risks. I'm conscious of them. And, believe me, if I see we're in extreme danger, I'll surrender."
"Surrender?"
"Yes, that's my ultimate contingency plan. If you and the children are hopelessly trapped. I'll give myself up. They really want me anyway. Their commander needs me for his service record, I think. That'll give you and the others a chance to hide or get away while the Cylons are fussing over me. So, see? I've got it all covered."
"But Starbuck, I don't want to sacrifice you."
"It'd be in a good cause. Now, c'mon, your job—what's next?"
"I'll check the courtyard."
The number of tincans in the yard was obviously depleted. Still, there seemed too many of them for our team to get across to the tower successfully. While I made my observation, I heard Kyle's voice coming from outside the garrison gates. He was challenging the Cylons again. Right on schedule. Starbuck's order for this maneuver was that Kyle should lead the next patrol on a merry chase. He was not even sure they would bite a third time, he had said. He had been wrong. They bit. A tincan officer rushed out of the command room and assembled still another patrol. The gates were opened, Kyle whooped and blew his hunting horn, and I heard the sound of Demon galloping.
"What do you think, Miri?" Starbuck asked after the gates had closed.
"Still a lot of tincans out there. But fewer than usual. I think the three of us can make it."
"Okay. Jake, you ready?"
"Ready."
"Herbert, you know your job. Get to the fuel dump and wait for the signal from Jake's torch. A circle. Then hurl the bombs and get out of the way. The rest of you, be ready here. You all know what to do and you all know the contingency plans."
The children nodded together, as if all controlled from the same source. Starbuck told me to proceed.
Opening the warehouse door slowly, I slipped out first, then Starbuck, then Jake. As we moved from dark place to dark place, I noticed that I had never seen the yard in such chaos before. The tincans didn't seem to know what to do next, didn't even seem sure of what they were doing at the moment. I wondered if our diversions were bewildering them, maybe putting them on the verge of malfunction.
Suddenly Spectre appeared in the command room doorway, his outline highlighted and given an extra blue aura by the bizarre Cylon lighting behind him. I gestured for the others to halt. Spectre appeared to stare right at us, and I thought the game might be up, all our games might be up, but I suppose it was just my imagination working overtime, for Spectre turned around and reentered the command building.
I gestured for Starbuck and Jake to stay back while I checked out the first floor of the tower. We were lucky. None of the tincan guards were on ground level, although I heard some of them clanking around above me. I also thought I heard Megan groaning, and I almost panicked right then and there.
Starbuck and Jake, running low, raced to the tower doorway across open area, and slipped in behind me. Jake stayed by the door, looking out.
"Nobody saw us," he informed Starbuck.
Starbuck drew his laser pistol and said to me:
"Okay, Miri, up to you and me now. Be ready to duck if a Cylon gets in front of us. Lead the way."
Leaving Jake behind to stand watch, I led Starbuck up the narrow iron staircase. We climbed it as carefully as we could, every little metal squeak sending waves of fright through my body. Apparently the Cylons inside the tower were as discombobulated as the ones outside. Not one of them heard our approach.
On the first cell block level, where Megan's cell was located, two guards were busily taking food trays off a cart and sliding them under cell doors. I was surprised that nobody in the cells paid any attention to their food. No-one made so much as a move toward a tray.
I tried to control my breathing. The air inside the tower seemed thinner than usual, as if it were in the final stages of being used up before everyone inside succumbed to suffocation. I could hardly think.
Starbuck brushed by me, keeping his back against the bars of the cells as he edged toward the two tincans. None of the prisoners inside the cells he passed even looked up. He was apparently as unimportant to them as their food trays. The last thing they were expecting at that moment was rescue. Would they be ready for it? I wondered. Or would they reject our help, tell us to go away?
"Hey guys," Starbuck called to the guards when he was practically standing next to them. "I asked you for an extra dessert."
As the guards dropped their trays and spun around toward him, Starbuck delivered two well-aimed shots which sent sparks flying outward from their power packs. They fell in a heap, the heavy clanking sound of their fall interrupting the echo from the dropped trays. The light from the laser pistol briefly lighted up the whole tower and attracted the attention of the guards on the next level. Four of them came down at us. Fortunately, the iron staircase was so narrow, they had to come single file. A couple of shots whizzed by Starbuck's shoulder, but he squeezed the trigger of his pistol four times and the four attackers fell all over each other to create a ragged metal junk pile.
"Megan!" Starbuck called.
"She's over here," Kordel called back.
Starbuck rushed to her cell. But I ran faster and passed him. Megan was lying on her straw mat. Her eyes were closed. A bulky and messy dressing was inefficiently wound around her shoulder. It was covered with blood spots.
Starbuck shot off the cell door lock, and it sprang open. Before we could get inside the cell, Kordel slithered past us, and crouched by one of the fallen jailers. From a compartment in one of the tincan's arms he removed a set of keys and began frantically to open the other cell doors.
I knelt by Megan. She was still alive. Up close I could see that immediately. But she was fading, I could see that, too.
"We've got to get her out of here quickly, Starbuck. I've got to get to my medicines."
"We're doing the best we can."
There was a great deal of noise out in the courtyard, tincans attracted by the commotion in the tower.
"Jake, give Herbert the signal," Starbuck called down. He knelt and picked up Megan. He stood up so easily that she seemed like a light sack in his arms.
Down below, Jake swung his light torch in a circle, the signal to Herbert. Herbert must have responded immediately, for the explosion from the fuel dump came soon, sending tremors across the floor of the tower.
"Come with me, Miri," Starbuck said. I stayed right behind him as he carried Megan out of the cell, into the corridor, and down the staircase.
"They're all running toward the fuel dump fire, most of them," Jake said calmly as we came up to him. "Only one tincan still kept running this way and I picked him off. Sorry for the aggressive action, lieutenant."
"In this case, you're excused, Jake."
Behind us, the staircase clattered loudly with the sounds of prisoners running, sliding, falling, crawling over themselves to get down to ground level. Kordel was in the lead. The way they came at us, I thought for a moment they intended to keep right on going, rush across the yard, past the blazing fuel dump, and out the gates. Their eyes seemed that frenzied. But Kordel held up his hand, and the other prisoners stopped in a bunch behind him.
I looked back at Starbuck. He held Megan tightly to him. Her head rested on his shoulder. If her wound had not been obvious, and all her other illnesses had not so weakened and depleted her, she and Starbuck would have looked like lovers during a moment of peace.
My body was trembling again. I took several deep breaths to calm myself.
Starbuck looked out the door. The yard was virtually empty.
"Okay," he muttered, "this game is called running the gamut. Jake, you lead the way. Miri, stay close to me. In case we're attacked, you'll have to grab Megan away from me."
He turned to the prisoners. They all stared at him, expectantly.
"We're going across to that warehouse," he said to Kordel. "There's a passage out
of the settlement there, you probably know about it. Whoever among your people can make a break for it, let them. I suggest that anyone too weak or too fearful remain here. I promise we'll try to come back for them."
Battlestar Galactica 4 - The Young Warriors Page 15
