Part Three
The God in the Machine, by Syble
"Steady," said Boomer. "Steady. At least we've found him."
"How do we get him out?" demanded Starbuck.
"We don’t," said Boomer. He pulled Starbuck back a pace or two. "But Grant's on his way with someone who knows how to do it. We just have to wait, Starbuck."
"What we have to do is get him the hell out of there. We can't stand here and watch when—" Starbuck broke off, abruptly, and grimaced.
"First of all, pulling him out of there without knowing how that's going to affect him isn't smart, Bucko. Second, we don't know how to do it without hurting him more." Boomer shivered, and Starbuck only slowly realised how cold it was. His breath steamed on the air. "And third, he's been here for nearly ten sectons. Waiting another few centons until we can do it safely… well, I don’t know that he'll even know it."
Starbuck looked at Apollo's thin, pale face. "No," he said, choking on knowing that Boomer was right.
He let Boomer pull him into the middle of the chamber, and didn't even protest when he was turned away to face the opposite quadrant to the one where Apollo was screaming and writhing and trying to get out of the pod. Boomer pushed him down to sit on the floor, and stood beside him, his hand on Starbuck's head like a benediction.
They sat through more than ten pulses before Grant appeared over the wall, Acer and one of the Menath G'Tath with him. The Menath G'Tath was rigid with wrath and indignation, but was silent under Acer's watchful gaze and unwavering gun. Starbuck looked up when he heard them coming over the wall, and struggled to his feet. Boomer got a hand on his arm and helped.
"Cool place," said Grant.
"Not really, no," said Boomer. He stared at the Menath G'Tath for a centon and tapped his earpiece to activate the translator unit. "Do you know how to get people in and out of these pods?"
The Menath G'Tath stared back haughtily.
"Okay," said Boomer. He walked over the wall, followed by the others, unholstering his laser as he went.
"Shit, shit, shit," said Grant, savagely, when he saw Apollo.
"Now I can't see any way of opening this. If you run your hands down the sides of it there aren't any catches or levers that I can feel. So I guess, if I want to get our friend here out, I use this, huh?" He hefted the laser and set the muzzle to the curved top of the pod. "If I'm lucky, it should vaporise the lid and I can just pull him out."
The Menath G'Tath's eyes widened in almost comical horror. "You can't do that!"
"No?"
"You can’t take a component out of the machine once it's wired in. You just can't."
"A component," said Boomer. "These are people."
The Menath G'Tath's lip curled. "You are not of the People," he said, dismissively.
Boomer nodded. "Oh. Okay. Look, I'm not going to stand here and argue that with you. I'm going to tell you what we're going to do. You are going to tell me how to open—" He broke off as the pulse happened, not looking at Apollo writhing and screaming in the pod, but keeping his level, angry gaze on the Menath G'Tath.
"Shit," said Grant, ashen-faced, and even Acer looked shocked.
"You are going to tell me how to open this pod," resumed Boomer in that same quiet tone, "and then you're going to help me get our friend out of it. And then, if you do that, I may not kill you."
That was enough to make even Starbuck stare. Boomer meant it.
"Components may not be removed," the Menath G'Tath said, but he was looking considerably less sure of himself.
"You never take them out?"
"Only to replace drained components…"
"Well, that means you can take them out. Let's do that, shall we?"
"No! It would damage the machine to have an empty pod go through the diode bridge. We can never allow it."
Boomer turned his head quickly and looked at the point at which the lightning would flash across to reach the spire. It was only half-a dozen pod widths away. "There, you mean?"
The Menath G'Tath nodded.
"What would happen?"
"I don’t know," said the Menath G'Tath. He looked bewildered. "I suppose that the machine would be damaged. The components are necessary to balance the charge."
"Would it now," said Boomer. He looked calculatingly at the distance to the diode bridge. "Grant, time the interval between pulses, will you?"
As if on cue, the energy pulse flashed. Starbuck turned away with a sob.
"Boomer?" said Starbuck, feeling broken. "Please just get him out."
"We will, Starbuck. We will. But we're going to time it so that we empty four pods, the four that will each hit the diode bridge at the same time. That should really damage this damn machine, wouldn't you think?"
"You can't," whispered the Menath G'Tath, grey-faced. "That's a dreadful thing! The whole of Menath G'Tar is powered here. We… we need it."
"Oh I think you'll find I can because I don't give a fuck for what you need. How do I get him out?"
The Menath G'Tath shook his head.
"If I unhook him, by pulling out those wires, what will happen?"
The Menath G'Tath shook his head again, mouth drawn into a tight line.
"Okay," said Boomer. "You’re no fucking help." He raised the laser and fired it.
The Menath G'Tath collapsed. Starbuck stared at the crumpled body, then at Boomer, his mouth dropping open.
"It was on stun, Starbuck," said Boomer. He looked at Grant and Acer. "Right, I counted fifty of those pods in each quadrent. We let Apollo go through the diode bridge, then Starbuck takes him out while we each empty the corresponding pod in the other quadrants. How long will that give us, Grant, to get clear of this place before all four empty pods reach a diode bridge?"
"I'll let you know in a micron—"
They all endured the next pulse, all carefully not looking at Apollo.
"Exactly two centons five microns between pulses," said Grant. "We'd have over a centar to get out of here."
"Then that's good enough. Go and find the corresponding pods to Apollo's and get ready. Vaporising the lid and pulling them out is all we have, gentlemen."
"What about the others we pull out? What do we do with them?" said Acer.
Boomer scowled. "We'll have to leave them. Apollo's our priority." He waited until the others, both looking doubtful, had run to find their pods. "Can you do this, Bucko?"
"Yeah," said Starbuck. He watched Apollo's pale face for a few microns. "Yeah. I can."
He didn’t think it would be so easy. Whatever was holding Apollo up in the pod failed at the instant Starbuck carefully vaporised the clear lid, and Apollo just fell forward into Starbuck's waiting arms. The wires fell away of their own accord, and all Starbuck had to do, swearing and sweating, was to lift Apollo up and over the edge of the pod. He sank down onto the floor, holding Apollo to him.
He had him back. He couldn't believe it. He had him back.
"Apollo?"
Nothing.
Whatever else he was, Apollo was deeply unconscious.
Boomer skidded to a halt beside him. "How is he?"
"Out of it." Starbuck looked up, tried to smile. "Probably for the best."
"Here." Acer appeared, a Menath G'Tath robe in his hands. "Wrap him up in this," he said. He grinned at Starbuck and jerked his head towards the stunned Menath G'Tath. "I don't reckon his high and mightiness there needs it."
Starbuck grinned, and helped swathe Apollo in the robe. It was too big for him. Acer stooped down and got Apollo over his shoulder in one smooth movement.
"Time to go," said Boomer.
And then they were running and running, even over that fucking narrow bridge over the chasm, and Acer didn’t even slow down and Starbuck had thought he was sure footed?; running along the narrow dim-lit corridor; and in the elevator Acer shifted Apollo so that he was carrying him in his arms the way that Starbuck had seen Apollo carry Boxey to bed, as if Apollo were a tired child; and then they were in the upper Dome, and Boomer was yelling at Jelly over the comm while Starbuck sat on the floor holding Apollo in his arms and telling him it was all right, everything was going to be all right and he was on his way home and please wake up, Apollo; and Jolly had the shuttle there in centons and they were on their way; and Boomer was warning Artur who was crying at him over the comm about the trade that was ruined and ruined and would never be the same again; and then Boomer was shooting at satellites with the shuttle's lasers, clearing them a passage through the defence grid while Jolly's calm voice read off the numbers; and then, behind them, came the enormous beam of light shooting up into the heavens as the entire Dome vaporised, probably taking a lot of the city with it, Wilker thought; and they were safe, they were safe, they were on their way home and it was over.
It was over.
Apollo didn't stir. Starbuck sat on one of the double seats with Apollo stretched over it, Apollo's head in his lap. He carded his fingers through Apollo's dirty hair.
"Apollo?"
Still nothing.
Starbuck had had a headache ever since Menath G'Tar. It sat behind his eyes, making them blur, and not even the pills Cassie was slipping him were helping much. It was stress, of course. He wasn't eating or sleeping much, spending every free centon sitting tense in a chair beside the life-support pod, reaching in to hold Apollo's hand in his. Sometimes—often—the Commander sat on the other side of the bed, holding Apollo's other hand. Starbuck wondered if the Commander hated the almost-boneless feel of Apollo's slack fingers in his, the way that he hated it, but they never discussed it. They didn’t say very much to each other at all. The Commander had given him a speculative look the first couple of times he'd found Starbuck there, but he'd not said anything. Starbuck was grateful for that. He didn't want to explain and didn't think he could say anything that would make any sense. The Commander had enough grief.
He thought the Commander understood without being told.
He didn’t want to talk much to the Commander, anyway. He wasn't sure that he could forgive him for not ordering an assault earlier. If they'd got Apollo back after only a few days, then maybe the damage wouldn't have been so great. And there was a great deal of damage, Salik had said in his quiet voice, and not just wasted muscle and malnutrition. There was neurological damage that, said Salik sadly, was possibly irreversible and life changing, and the coma, Commander, shows more than moderate brain injury. If they'd gone in earlier, then maybe Apollo would have woken up by now, and everything would be all right. Apollo would be back and… and… maybe…
He couldn't think beyond getting Apollo back, getting him back for real. Everything else would come after that. Until then he'd sit and hold Apollo's flaccid hand in his and wait; and he'd nurse his headache, and eat little and sleep less.
Sometimes he did doze, it was true, but never for more than a centar or two and he'd awake suddenly, imagining he heard voices, or Apollo laughing, or Apollo telling him he was late for patrol and you'd better get up right now, Lieutenant if you know what's good for you. But there was never anything there. Apollo was still and silent and Starbuck would sit for the rest of the night in a half-dark lit only by the machines keeping Apollo alive. When morning came and Cassie, or Salik, bustled in to do whatever it was medics did for people who were in a coma, Starbuck and, often, the Commander would get up slowly, stiffly, easing muscles that were tight with tension. The Commander, if he were there, would nod at Starbuck and leave to start his day, putting all his energies into keeping the fleet on track. Starbuck had a routine too; not as demanding, maybe, but just a deadening to the senses.
It was just like those long sectons when Apollo was missing: the same despair, the same despondency, the same inability to think of anything else. At least this time Apollo wasn't missing. He wasn't exactly there, maybe, but he wasn't missing. Starbuck's life had Apollo to revolve around again. It was a shame that Apollo wasn't awake to know it.
Boomer—dear, faithful Boomer—was there, of course. Just like before, he dragged Starbuck away for meals, made him go and rest, gave him a structure to his day with work and patrols. But Boomer wasn't all joy. He was adamant that he wouldn't let Starbuck slip away, and one day he made Starbuck go with him to the school to collect Boxey. Starbuck hadn't seen much of the child since they'd got Apollo back, what with spending every spare micron he had in Life Centre and he ached to get back there, but Boomer wouldn't take no for an answer.
"The kid needs us," said Boomer, harsh and uncompromising. "You can't hide away from him forever."
"I'm not," protested Starbuck. "I don’t want to be away from Apollo for very long, that's all."
"You've been hiding from that kid ever since we got Apollo home."
Starbuck shrugged, angrily.
"You brought his dad back," said Boomer, watching him. "You did what Boxey asked you to do, Starbuck."
"No." Starbuck shook his head. "No. We don't have him back!" Suddenly dizzy with it, he couldn't breathe. "We don't."
Boomer grabbed at his arm. "Hey," he said, gently.
"We didn’t get him back," said Starbuck, dull with exhaustion. He allowed himself to say it: "Maybe we never will."
"Salik said it will take time, that's all. Don’t give up on him." Boomer regarded him steadily. "We did the best we could. We couldn't do more."
"He would never have left any one of us behind. I left him…"
"Your ship closed down, Starbuck. You didn't leave him. We came with the rescue shuttle and took you away. You were in hypothermic stasis. You didn't have any choice." Boomer reached out and his hand cupped the back of Starbuck's neck, massaging it gently. "When did you last sleep?"
"Dunno," said Starbuck, helpless. He had to choke back tears. He wished Boomer would stop but he wouldn’t be able to bear it if Boomer let go.
Boomer sighed. "Okay," he said. "This is what we're going to do. You and me are going to go and collect Boxey from school and take him home. Then you and me are going down to the Life Centre and you are going to let Salik look you over before you go in to see Apollo. All right?"
Starbuck shrugged. He didn't much care, as long as he could get to Apollo. He fretted a little over the delay.
"Okay," said Boomer again. He tugged gently on Starbuck's sleeve until Starbuck gave in and followed him. They didn't talk on the way, but Boomer was stiff with tension. Maybe, thought Starbuck, he was tired too.
They got to the compartment that served as the education centre just as the children left it. Boxey appeared almost last, quiet and depressed among the crowds of children pouring eagerly out of school. He smiled a little when he saw Boomer and Starbuck waiting for him.
"Hey Boxey. How was school?" Boomer squatted down to put his hands on the child's thin shoulders.
Boxey's smile faded. "I don't know. I got into trouble for not listening. I didn't want to go today, but Grandpa made me."
Starbuck, prodded painfully in the ribs by Boomer to make him pay attention, put out a hesitant hand ruffle the boy's hair. "Sounds like me and school," he said, forcing the words.
Boomer rewarded him with a grin. Boxey tried, but it didn't look very convincing. To Starbuck's surprise, Boxey didn't ask about his father, but slowly made off down the corridor.
"Where are you heading off to?" asked Boomer, taking a few quick strides to catch up. Starbuck followed, just wanting this over.
Boxey stopped and looked up at Boomer, biting at his lower lip. Boomer knelt down and took Boxey's shoulders in his hands, forcing the child to look at him.
"I want to see my Dad," the boy said matter-of-factly, and every word stabbed at Starbuck like a knife. "Everyone is trying to keep me away from him. I know he can't wake up yet, but he's my Dad and I want to see him anyway." They regarded each other in silence for a micron, then Boxey asked quietly, "Will you take me?"
Boomer shot Starbuck a glance of sheer panic. Starbuck just shrugged, not knowing what to say. "You know, Boxey, your grandfather and your aunt Thenie... they just don't want you to be scared."
"I know," said Boxey. "But I promise I won't be."
"Oh Lords," said Boomer on a sigh. "The Commander will kill me." He straightened up and looked imploringly at Starbuck. "What do you think?"
For the first time in sectons, Starbuck was jerked out of himself. He looked down at the child that Apollo loved so much and realised that here was someone as miserable and wretched as he was himself. It wasn't fair to keep the child from seeing his father. "I think," he said slowly, and softly enough that only Boomer could hear, "that he knows too much already about losing parents." More loudly, he said, "I think that it’s just what your Dad would want, Boxey."
Boxey's whole expression lit up.
"I'm gonna blame you for this," said Boomer, but Starbuck didn't care, not when Boxey's hand slipped into his. He felt a surprisingly little glow of warmth, even though he'd been cold for days. There was something he could do, after all, other than sit in the dark and brood.
Salik was at a workstation in the main triage area when they went in. He looked dubious for a micron, then shrugged. "Hello Boxey. Come to see your Dad?"
Boxey nodded and looked nervous. "Is he still asleep?"
"He is." Salik gave Starbuck and Boomer a warning glance. "The Commander's with him right now."
"Oh great," said Boomer, apparently giving up all hope of getting this one in under the sensor array. "He will kill us."
Starbuck found himself shrugging again, waiting while Salik went into the small private room. Not even the sight of the Commander was enough to do what Boxey had done, and break through Starbuck's weariness.
"And what do you two think you're doing?" The Commander wasn't pleased to see them, that was certain.
Boomer sighed. "Sorry, sir, but I think Boxey’ll be better knowing how Apollo is." He looked significantly at Boxey, depressed and subdued beside him. The Commander paused and studied his adopted grandson.
"I know you said Dad hadn’t gone away, Grandpa, but I really, really want to see him." Boxey’s bottom lip trembled "I miss him lots."
The Commander looked away and when he turned back he was the old Commander, gentle and kind; whatever irritation he felt was well hidden. "You know he’s really deeply asleep?"
"Uh huh."
"And there are lots of machines in there, Boxey, that are helping your Dad breathe and monitoring him all the time. I don’t want you to get scared."
"I won’t. Can I see him, Grandpa? Please?"
"All right." The Commander held out his hand and took Boxey into the room, Boomer and Starbuck following in his wake. "If he has nightmares," said the Commander over his shoulder, "then you two can count on being on deep recon patrols for the next yahren."
Cassie sat beside the life-support pod, watching the monitors. She smiled at Boxey and held out her arms for a quick hug. Boxey hugged her back, not letting go of his grandfather’s hand and not taking his eyes off his father’s face.
"What are all those things doing?" he asked
"Watching over your Dad," said Cassie. "See this one? This one shows your Dad’s heart beating."
Boxey glanced at the display, at the regular little frequency peaks that were sometimes Starbuck's only companions through the long nights. "Are they hurting him?"
"No, not at all. They’re just watching." Cassie smiled at him in reassurance. "Promise."
"Okay." Boxey looked again at his unconscious father. "He looks like he's asleep."
"He is. It helps to talk to him," said Starbuck, surprising himself. "Salik says that maybe he can hear us. Say hello to him."
Boxey disengaged his hand from his grandfather’s to come up to the edge of the life support pod. He put his hands on his father's arm.
"Hello Daddy," Boxey whispered, as though he didn't want to wake his father. "Grandpa says you’re going to be okay when you wake up. Just wake up soon, Daddy, please? I miss you and I want you to come home."
Boomer was having trouble keeping his face from showing everything, Starbuck noticed, and more than once put his hand to his eyes. Cassie's chin was trembling and she turned away. The Commander stood like he'd been carved from finest grade granite.
Starbuck, though, had finally found someone who felt exactly as he did, but someone who had more courage than he had. Boxey was able to say what Starbuck himself couldn't. He was surprised to realise that it made him feel a little better, a little more hopeful. The thick headache behind his eyes eased off a trifle, and he was able to straighten shoulders that had been bowed for days. He leaned down and put both his arms around Boxey, pulling the boy back against him. Boxey's mouth trembled, just like Cassie's when she was trying not to cry.
"You and me both, Boxey," said Starbuck. "You and me both."
When everyone had gone again, Starbuck eased himself down into his usual chair and reached into the life-support pod to pick up Apollo's limp hand. He waited hopefully. One day the fingers that lay in his so quietly would tighten, would grip harder as Apollo took a grip on his life and came back to them.
Just not today.
But Starbuck was firmly of the opinion that one day, someday soon, Apollo was going to wake up and realise just what he'd been passing up for so long, he'd finally see what Starbuck was so faithfully offering him ("Faithfully, Apollo!" he said. "Even you can't deny that!"), grab it, and they'd finally have the chance for which Starbuck had been angling for so very long.
One day.
Someday soon.
~end~
18,821 words