Buck Rogers 1 - Buck Rogers in the 25th Century (13 page)

And now this wisecracking, overconfident woman, this hotshot colonel who hadn’t been born when he was a fully rated space exploration pilot, was telling
him
not to touch anything on his own ship except for the throttle! “Thanks a lot, colonel,” he gritted resentfully, “is it all right if I look out the window once in a while, or am I supposed to sit here and study the operator’s manual while I fly?”

“This is no time for levity!” Wilma snapped back. Her eyes showed an angry annoyance at the new pilot’s insubordinate attitude.

“We’ve lost nearly a third of our ships in this vector to pirates,” she told him. “When they hit, they hit fast. You can’t outfly a computer. Your reflexes just aren’t as fast as its are. So let the ship take care of any necessary evasive action to avoid those training missiles. If you get in the way of one you’ll cost us an expensive ship, as well as the trouble of training a replacement for yourself. And the Inner City tax rates are high enough now!”

“I appreciate your concern,” Buck told her. “I just wish I’d brought along a copy of
Thrilling Wonder Stories
to read.”

Wilma Deering started to respond, then halted. Her eyes snapped wide. She opened a channel to the entire squadron. “Commanding officer here. I make a target on vector four zero one.”

Another pilot responded. “Roger, Colonel. I have visual on a target just to starboard.”

“Check range,” Wilma instructed the pilot. “If you have visual at this apparent distance, it must be gigantic!”

Through the window of his own sleek Starfighter, Buck Rogers had sighted in on the flying behemoth. “You’ve never seen anything like this, lady, I’ll bet on that! Not even in the twenty-fifth century!”

From the Draconian flagship, long-range space-telescopes kept the terran Intercept Squadron carefully in view from the moment its gleaming, needle-nosed ships poked their snouts above Earth’s seething atmosphere to the instant they arrived in deep space and commenced to swarm around the Draconian behemoth like a horde of frantic bumblebees swooping and dancing in the air around a grizzly.

The Princess Ardala had received word of the first sighting of the Intercept Squadron’s blastoff. From that moment onward, at her stern command, she was kept informed by the lookout bridge of every move, every significant maneuver, of the tiny, swarming, streamlined interceptors.

Kane had assumed personal command of the lookout bridge, and maintained constant electronic contact with the princess, but now he turned over command of the bridge to a Draconian subordinate of unquestioned competence and loyalty, and trotted anxiously through the corridors and companionways of the ship to the princess’ personal stateroom in order to apprise her, face-to-face, of the startling message received on the bridge from the earth ships.

When she heard the request, Princess Ardala’s face assumed an expression of astonishment.

“Permission to come aboard,” she repeated the Earth ships’ request. “But why, Kane?”

“They claim they’re escorting a special envoy, Ardala. And that’s all they’ll say.”

“But that isn’t according to protocol!” The princess paced uneasily, the lines of a puzzled frown marring her normally flawless physiognomy.

“I don’t like this, Kane,” she grumbled petulantly. “I don’t like this even one little bit. What could they possibly be up to?”

“I don’t know,” Kane replied. “But if we refuse them permission to come aboard we’ll rouse their suspicions.”

“And if we let them come aboard, Kane, then we’ll
confirm
their suspicions. We’re in a gorgeous double-bind, an absolutely gorgeous double-bind.”

She stopped pacing and glared at him, the superior conferring with a subordinate. “I want your recommendation, Kane. You’re always patting yourself on the back and claiming you’re such a grand strategist. Let’s hear a plan from you!”

“Of course, my princess, of course.” Kane’s previously gruff manner was replaced by an oily confidence, as if Ardala’s demand for a plan from him was exactly what he’d been maneuvering for. “We’re not in a double-bind at all, Ardala. We’ve had plenty of warning. As soon as the bridge sighted the Earth interceptors I ordered preparations aboard the ship. They can come aboard and wander around to their hearts’ delight, and they’ll find nothing whatever to make them suspicious.”

Ardala smiled in relief. “Well, that changes things, Kane. You
do
have a brain after all. Issue commands for the communications bridge to message the earth squadron that they’ll be most cordially welcomed aboard. Have the flight deck prepare to receive the landing party.” She laughed a low, sinister laugh that raised the hairs on the back of even Kane’s bull-neck. “And send word that I will personally receive the special envoy who’s coming up to see us.”

The princess disappeared behind a dressing screen and continued her conversation with the oily mannered Kane. When she reappeared from behind the screen she had exchanged her satiny lounging costume for a more elaborate but highly provocative court outfit. “Do I look fit to receive Earth’s special envoy?” the princess asked Kane.

He nodded and grunted his approval, not trusting himself to utter a word to the splendidly voluptuous princess.

With Tigerman, Ardala’s fierce, huge bodyguard, hovering behind her, the princess and Kane advanced across the great ship’s flight deck to greet the newcomers. Colonel Wilma Deering and Captain Buck Rogers led the Earth party, followed by three other veteran pilots.

Kane spoke the first ceremonial words:

“Welcome aboard the flagship
Draconia,
representing the Emperor Draco, Conqueror of Space, Warlord of Astrium, and Supreme Ruler of the Draconian Realm. I present to you the Princess Ardala, daughter of our king.”

The princess greeted the Earth party graciously. “I am most delighted to receive you. This pleasure is an unexpected one. We were hardly prepared to greet you with proper circumstance.”

“Your presence alone, your highness, is far more than adequate greeting,” Wilma Deering replied with like ceremony. “I am Colonel Deering, Commander of the Third Force of the Earth Directorate. With me are my senior officers. And I believe you have already met Captain Rogers.”

Buck stepped forward, a grin on his face. He bowed slightly, reached for the princess’ hand and planted a kiss on it.

“A most promising foretaste of what to expect on Earth, I’m sure.” She looked straight into Wilma’s eyes. “But no, I’m sure that if I’d ever met so dashing a young captain, it would not be an event I would easily forget.”

Buck shot a quick glance at the princess, found her gazing at him. “I can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure,” she remarked.

Buck received a wilting glance from Wilma, ignored it, turned a charming smile on the princess. “I think you’re mistaken, princess,” Buck muttered, “I never forget a knuckle.”

“Captain,” Wilma interrupted.

Buck became more businesslike. “Listen, we came a long way to get to the bottom of things. Would you like me to describe some of the inner sections of this ship, to prove I’ve been here before?”

“Please, Captain Rogers. Stop.”

Ardala’s curiosity was aroused. “What inner sections?”

“Just the sections of his mind,” Wilma replied drily.

“Aw, now, that’s hitting above the belt,” Buck complained. “I may not be memorable to the princess, but I’ll never forget her. I especially love that dress with the peacock feathers. They set off your neck so beautifully!”

Wilma turned to another officer. “Major, please guide Captain Rogers and the rest of our pilots to their ships.”

“But we haven’t told the princess why we came, yet,” Buck complained. “The pirate forces are at their worst in this sector. We brought our ships up to escort the princess’ ship and assure its safe arrival.”

“That’s very reassuring, Captain,” Kane commented smoothly.

Wilma attempted again to shut off the conversation. “Captain Rogers!” she repeated.

“As a matter of fact,” Buck went on, “if you would like us to attach a squadron directly on board your ship . . . just to be on hand in case of attack, you see . . .”

“Most generous of you,” Kane said. “Most generous, Captain . . . Colonel Deering. But I’m sure that your mere presence in this vector will assure our security.”

“And it is the strict interpretation of our mutual treaty,” Princess Ardala added, “that this ship not bear arms of any kind. I would interpret that to mean . . . arms . . . from either side.”

“I had a feeling you’d interpret it that way,” Buck commented.

From Wilma Deering’s point of view the conversation had been an unmitigated disaster, starting with Buck’s kissing that horrible space vamp’s hand and ending with the quarrel over the neutrality treaty. The best she could do was to end it as fast as possible. “To your gracious majesty,” she said, “our thanks and our prayers for a safe arrival. I wish you good day.”

“Good day,” Ardala replied, smiling smugly. She started to turn away.

Suddenly—a resounding shock rocked the ship.

“What in Draco’s name!” Ardala exclaimed.

Kane reacted instantly, shoving Tigerman forward to guard the princess. “Protect her! Attention! Alert all stations! Secure ship!”

A voice echoed through the deck, coming from the bridge above. “Hostile aircraft approaching. Ship under attack!”

“So this is how you bid us safe conduct,” Kane snarled at Wilma. “Well, at least you and your fellow traitors will die with us!”

Wilma Deering ignored the insulting accusation, turning instead toward her own party. “To your ships—now!”

Along with the others, Buck forgot all about the just-ended confrontation and put his attention into the emergency. He scanned the deck, looking for the source of the explosions. He took a final quick glance at Kane before running for his interceptor ship, and found himself met with a glare of unspoken hatred.

“Okay, pal,” Buck shot out, “we’ll meet again!”

The pilots scampered to reach their ships. Just as Buck jumped for the entry hatch of his, he saw Wilma standing and glaring at him. “You are under arrest, Captain,” the colonel snapped.

“Sure,” Buck answered. “You gonna put handcuffs on me now, or can I use both hands to fly this toy?”

“You are disqualified for all combat operations, Captain Rogers! You will return directly to Earth and land there, under arrest!”

But Buck didn’t hear the words. He was already inside his ship, busily dogging the hatch and the pilot’s canopy.

Meanwhile the sky around the Draconian flagship was filled with swarming, gaudily painted pirate ships. A marauder decorated with extravagant dragons’ heads screamed across the sky, making a pass at the
Draconia.
The raider sent a cluster of fireballs blasting at the flagship.

The
Draconia
’s early warning net had functioned in time, and the Earth interceptors made their escape from the great ship, swarming away from its monstrous bulk to counterattack the dancing, lethal pirate craft. Buck Rogers, handling his interceptor with an ease and familiarity learned in hundreds of mission-hours half a millennium before, shoved the Starfighter through a sudden snap-roll, righted the ship, found a pirate craft angling in at him from an insanely high angle.

Buck wheeled away, saw the marauder flash by over his shoulder. The one major difference between combat in space and in the air was that aircraft, even though operating in three dimensions, had a constant reference point of the Earth. Up and down were relative concepts, but always relative to the planet’s surface. Here in deep space the same three dimensions obtained, but there was no up, no down. He was fighting within a completely free-form medium.

A second marauder craft streaked in, following the lead of the first. Buck was in the clear, at least momentarily, but the second marauder swerved to attack another Starfighter. “Heads up, major!” Buck shouted. “Enemy craft on your tail. Hit a roll, I’ll pick him up!”

The second Starfighter rolled, turned, snapping through the maneuvers that were programmed into its ship’s computers. The enemy craft stayed dangerously close behind, matching the Starfighter’s maneuvers move for move.

“Not that way,” Buck radio’d, “you’re rolling right into his power!”

The marauder craft fired its lasers, the Starfighter tried to move out of the path of the deadly weapons but the marauder craft seemed to anticipate its every move. There was a horrendous blooming of flame and flying, white-hot fragments as the Starfighter, caught fully by the laser blast, exploded through space.

Buck clutched the controls of his Starfighter, his fine-tuned instincts guiding the spacecraft through its maneuvers while his mind recoiled in horror from the sight he had just beheld.

Nearby in her own craft, Wilma Deering shared similar emotions. She scanned the blackness around her, picking out the maneuvering marauders and Starfighters. Spotting Buck’s Starfighter she switched on her radio and snapped a command to the captain. “Rogers—I ordered you back to Earth!”

“Colonel Deering, you need all the help you can get,” Buck replied. Before he could say anything more he spotted another Starfighter in dire peril. “Look out, Baker,” Buck cried. “He’s on you!”

The young pilot Buck had warned swung around in panic. He spotted a marauder on his tail, about to fire its deadly lasers at his Starfighter.

“Pull up,” Buck shouted, “I can cut him off!”

Baker pushed the automatic evasion button in his cockpit. It was the same button that had led the major to his destruction minutes earlier. The Starfighter rolled away, the marauder craft holding course with it, move for move, turn for turn. After two quick rolls, the marauder fired its lasers.

Baker’s Starfighter blossomed into a second of the deadly fireballs, flames rolling away from the destroyed fuselage, white-hot fragments flying in all directions.

“You jackass!” Buck despaired.

Wilma choked back a cry of horror as she saw Baker’s ship blossom into flame. Suddenly she found the sky on fire around her own Starfighter. She whirled frantically in her pilot’s seat, saw a marauder streaking after her. Desperately she pressed the red flashing evade button.