01 - Buck Rogers in the 25th Century Read online

  As the two mechanical beings departed, Wilma Deering approached Buck Rogers, her appearance of restrained poise and trim attractiveness a telling contrast to the overwhelmingly barbaric beauty of the Princess Ardala. “How did you like the presentation, Captain Rogers?” Wilma asked Buck.

  “Impressive,” Buck commented. “Did that light-show come all the way from her daddy’s kingdom?”

  “I don’t understand your terms of almost contemptuous familiarity Captain.” Wilma frowned sternly, then continued. “I would suggest a more respectful form of reference than—daddy. The Emperor Draco may well be the greatest leader that this galaxy has ever known.”

  “He is impressive,” Buck conceded. But the expression on his face and the gesture he made with his hands, indicating King Draco’s imposing girth, suggested that Buck was still not taking the leader with total seriousness—or at any rate, was far from awed by the imperial Draconian presence.

  Before Wilma could reply, Buck continued, “I wonder why Draco didn’t come in person. Or do peaceful conquests bore him?”

  “Conquests? You’d better get your understanding of the treaty squared away, Captain Rogers. This is a mutual trade pact concluded between equals.”

  “Uh huh!” Buck grunted ironically. “And the princess up there and her boyfriend Kane are just a couple of down-home folks, doin’ their jobs and ekin’ out a livin’. Is that it?”

  “I think we all know why you resent their presence,” Wilma replied coldly. “It spells the finish of you and your pirate pals, Rogers!”

  “A word of advice, Colonel,” Buck replied with equal remoteness. “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.”

  A look of real puzzlement crossed Wilma’s face. “Greeks?” she repeated. “What are Greeks?”

  “I guess it’s pretty far back now,” Buck explained. “You folks have apparently lost most of Earth’s history. Do you remember the story of the Trojan Horse?”

  “Is that some kind of sign of the zodiac?” Wilma asked.

  “Never mind.” Buck shook his head hopelessly. “Forget all about it. I guess I come from a time that was hopelessly paranoid. See ya around.”

  He started to walk away just as Twiki and Theopolis returned from the mission upon which he had sent them. Twiki carefully balanced a satin pillow in his arms. A perfect red rose with tiny dew drops sparkling on its petals reposed on the pillow.

  As the drone scuttered up, Wilma said sternly, “I thought I told you to stay with him. There’s definitely something not right with that man, and I want to find out what it is!”

  “He isn’t feeling well tonight, Wilma dear,” Theopolis intoned.

  “He looks like he feels all right to me. Hmph!” She stood with her fists balled on her hips as she looked into the distant crowd where Buck had disappeared. Finally she turned her eyes back to the mechanicals and noticed the pillow and rose for the first time. “What’s that for?” Wilma demanded.

  “We don’t know,” Theopolis replied. “It’s just something that Buck asked for. He seems to be up to—Twiki, stop!” As the drone scuttered away again Theopolis called back to Wilma, “I don’t know what’s got into Twiki tonight. He seems to have developed a mind of his own all of a sudden!” Theopolis blinked his lights furiously. “Twiki, you’re at it again. Twiki, stop, where are you going this time? We can’t run away from Wilma like this, Twiki!”

  But Twiki was scuttling determinedly toward the reception line where Buck Rogers was standing in place, impatiently awaiting his turn to be presented to the princess. The little quad scuttled up to Buck and lifted the satin pillow toward him, presenting the red rose for his approval.

  “What kept you, Twiki?” Buck asked. “Here, let me have that.”

  Dr. Theopolis flashed his lights. “Buck, no one else is giving flowers to the princess. You’re going to make everyone else in the hall look—”

  “Stick close, fellas,” Buck interrupted. “We’re in the on-deck circle.” He waited while the man ahead of him in line, a pompous, middle-aged bureaucrat with a twittering, overweight wife on his elbow, was presented to Princess Ardala.

  Then it was Buck’s turn.

  He drew back his shoulders and stepped into position before the princess. Ardala responded to Buck’s splendid appearance and to the force of personality that she felt radiating from him. Her lovely, subtly tilted eyes—what the poet-bard of an earlier age would have poesied as her downward-slanting eyes—glowed under long, curved lashes that were both delicate—and cruel.

  Ardala extended her hand in formal greeting. At the same time she spoke to Buck. “Congratulations to you, Captain Rogers. And may I offer my imperial thanks. We are grateful to you for saving the Draconia from plunder by those horrible privateers.”

  “Not too loudly, princess,” Buck answered. “Around here, they seem to think that I’m a privateer myself. Thanks to you!”

  “Thanks to me?” the princess asked in surprise. Buck tried without success to tell whether her expression represented mockery or real astonishment, or some combination of the two. “I hope I didn’t cause you any embarrassment,” the princess continued. “You aren’t angry with me, are you?”

  “Does this look like I’m angry?” Buck snapped his fingers at the robot by his side. Twiki raised the rose-bearing pillow to Ardala as Theopolis intoned in his syrupy tones, “On behalf of the people and the government of—”

  Buck took the rose from its satin repository and handed it to Ardala. “From me to you,” he said simply.

  Beside the mirrored wall of the ballroom, Wilma angrily observed Buck’s intimacy with the royal guest of honor. Wilma’s heart was a seething cauldron of mixed emotions: attraction to Buck, jealousy of Ardala, anger with the man for paying attention to the princess rather than to herself. She was realizing that her own feelings were complex and difficult—and that the difficulty swirled maddeningly around the vortex of William Rogers!

  Wilma saw Ardala take the rose greedily from Buck, clearly aware that it was not merely a beautiful flower but a symbol of triumph in the contest for his attention. She lifted the rose to her nostrils and sniffed eagerly. Kane at her side snarled silently. The princess glanced down at the robot and the brain.

  “And who is your charming little friend?” Ardala asked Buck.

  “His name is Twiki,” Dr. Theopolis volunteered.

  “And that thing around his neck,” Buck added, “is Dr. Theopolis, former member of the Inner City Council of Computers.”

  Twiki bowed, Theopolis dangling from his tunic.

  “Your majesty,” Theopolis intoned.

  “May I have the honor of the next dance?” Buck asked Ardala.

  Jealously, Kane put in, “The princess does not—”

  “Does not mind if she does,” Ardala interrupted him. She reached for Buck’s arm, took it and descended at his side, from the throne-bearing dais to the gleamingly polished dance floor. The crowd parted to permit them room as Buck and Ardala made their way to a position near the orchestra. At a signal from Buck, given over the shapely shoulder of Princess Ardala, the orchestra began once more to play.

  Wilma Deering, watching this show, frowned angrily. No, for all that she had virtually dismissed Buck from her presence, grading him as a boor at best and a traitor at worst, she was not in the least pleased to see him moving on intimate terms with the Princess Ardala.

  While Buck carried on his odd triangular relationship with Ardala and Wilma, Dr. Huer and Kane had left the Grand Ballroom and were conferring on serious matters outside. Their setting was a beautiful balcony, beneath which the vista of the Inner City presented a breathtaking view. But neither Huer nor Kane was interested in the sight. Both were concerned with what information they could obtain—and what information or misinformation, they might be called upon to provide to the other.

  “I must say that I owe you a debt of gratitude, Kane,” Dr. Huer said in his dry, old man’s voice. “Or perhaps more accurately, I should say that this entire planet owes you a
debt. You know, there are those who consider you a traitor to the world of your birth for giving up your Earth citizenship and becoming a subject of the Emperor Draco.”

  “A traitor—me?” Kane burst into raucous laughter. “Surely you’re not serious!”

  “I definitely am. But they must all see by now that you have been our friend at court. It was your efforts that made this trade treaty possible for Earth and Draconia.”

  “We have all worked, Dr. Huer. It’s been hard, I’ll admit.”

  “If the Council were so to honor you, Kane, would you consider resuming your Earth citizenship?”

  “Nothing would suit me more! I must say that I’ve missed the Inner City. Draconia has its splendors, but you know, Doctor, once you grow up in a place….” Kane pointed across the vista before them. “That building over there—it was the Communications Center when I was a boy. I wonder, is it still?”

  Huer nodded. “And the Department of Water and Power is now in the copper tower over to the left.” He raised a dark-tunicked sleeve and pointed.

  Kane grunted. “It’s been so long, Doc, so long. Sometimes I can’t even remember. For instance, the central security barracks and the Intercept Squadron launching bays—they used to be concealed on the north side. Least I think I recall that. Are they still over there?”

  Huer hesitated, smiling a secret smile. “That would be secret information, Kane. Not that I distrust you personally, of course. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

  Kane smiled back, showing rows of massive, grinning teeth. The two men resembled a black bear and a pink flamingo as they stood side by side. But he knew that Huer’s power lay in his brilliant brain, not his spare body, just as Huer knew that Kane’s strength lay not in his massively muscled bulk, powerful though that body was, but in his influence with the Princess Ardala and through her the mighty empire that her father Draco ruled.

  “Sure,” Kane laughed at last, “I understand. Besides, what difference does it make where a few troopers keep their foot-lockers, eh, Doc? Besides,” and he smiled again, less menacingly than the last time, “I’ll always be an earthman at heart, regardless of what my citizenship papers say. Maybe I’ll just stay on Earth this time, permanently.”

  “I do hope so,” Huer agreed.

  They shared a last glance at the city’s vista, then returned to the Grand Ballroom where the orchestra was still performing its courtly, formalized, modern-archaic dance-music.

  “Is this the way they dance where you come from?” Buck asked Ardala as she swayed formally in his arms.

  “With slight variations,” she replied. “The universal culture of this space age, you know.”

  “Huh! You’ll have to forgive me then, Ardala. My dancing is about five hundred years out of date.”

  “If you’ve another preference,” the princess replied, “you know, this is my party.”

  Buck turned to the orchestra leader and snapped his fingers to get the musician’s attention. When he had done so he continued to pop his knuckles, setting up a rocking rhythm that he’d learned in the remote era of the twentieth century. He moved like a famous disco dancer of the ancient past. The orchestra leader, the musicians, the dancers, and not least by any means, the Princess Ardala, gaped as Buck demonstrated a sexy boogie step of the late 1980s.

  “What are you doing?” Ardala asked at last.

  “Gettin’ down,” Buck answered. “It’s from before your time, princess. Hope it doesn’t frighten you.”

  “Frighten me?” she answered sharply. “Nothing frightens me!”

  “Great,” Buck encouraged her. “Then why don’t you give it a try. It ain’t hard to do, lady, just lay back and boogie.”

  Princess Ardala joined Buck in the boogie step, at first hesitantly, then with more confidence, finally with a barbaric abandon that brought an admiring gleam to his blue eyes. He even began to hum a familiar tune along with the orchestra’s beat. “Chicago, Chicago….”

  The onlookers stood in awe. Wilma had come to the edge of the crowd and stood watching Buck and Ardala. Her face showed that she was utterly appalled by the abandon of the public performance. Theopolis and Twiki stood beside Wilma.

  “It’s expressive,” Theopolis declared, his lights flashing in time to the emphatic rhythm.

  “It’s disgusting,” Wilma sneered.

  “Primeval,” Theopolis said.

  “I do not approve,” Wilma said, adopting a regal tone more appropriate to the wildly dancing Ardala.

  All the while that Buck and Ardala had been dancing, Twiki had watched and listened, his mechanical circuits and relays clicking over in time to the music. Now he tried a few steps of his own in imitation of Captain Rogers.

  “Twiki, stop that! People are watching!” Theopolis scolded.

  Instead of stopping, Twiki squeaked his pleasure and increased the vigor of his steps.

  Meanwhile, Buck and Ardala carried on a breathless conversation while they danced before the hard-working orchestra.

  “What happens if you bump together?” Ardala asked.

  “You’re automatically man and wife,” Buck replied sardonically.

  “You’re quite a man, Captain Rogers,” Ardala replied. She shifted her position to move closer to him as she continued her steps. “I suppose the Earth people believe your incredible fairy tale about being frozen for five hundred years.”

  “Not on your life!” Buck denied. “They think I’m a spy!”

  “A spy?” Ardala laughed wildly, her head thrown back and her lush, dark hair cascading across her sensuous shoulders and down her smooth, graceful back. “A spy!” she repeated. “One of mine?”

  “They aren’t sure,” Buck said. “Yours—or the pirates.”

  “How would you like to join up?” Ardala asked. “Might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb, Captain!”

  “Who do I see to make my move?” Buck asked.

  The princess moved even closer to him, raised her painted lips to Buck’s ear and hissed a single syllable. “Me!”

  Beside Twiki and Theopolis, Wilma watched in fury and confusion. “Is anything wrong?” the computer-brain asked. “You look upset, Wilma, my dear.”

  “I ordered you to keep Captain Rogers out of trouble,” Wilma told the computer angrily.

  “I’m sorry, Wilma,” Theopolis’ lights blinked a blushing crimson, “he just seems to have a way of getting into things before we can get him out.”

  “Yes, I can see that!” Wilma snapped.

  As Wilma turned her back and stalked angrily from the room, Buck caught a glimpse of her over Ardala’s shoulder. He said nothing of the incident to Ardala, but his thoughts, like Wilma’s, were confused. Buck saw Wilma pass Kane on her way from the hall. Kane proceeded across the dance floor, ignoring the powerful rhythm of the music and striding determinedly up to the dancing couple.

  “Your highness,” Kane demanded.

  Ardala, still caught up in the power of the dance but tossing a glance back to Kane, said, “What is it?”

  “Your highness—some of the ministers would like a few minutes of your time. It’s important, your highness.”

  “Later, Kane.” Ardala returned her full attention to the music and to Buck.

  “Business of the realm cannot wait,” Kane insisted. “I’m sorry, your highness, but your duty must outweigh trivial personal dalliances.” He cast a contemptuous sneer at Buck.

  Ardala whirled furiously toward Kane. “Don’t you order me around, you pig,” she hissed in a hate-filled voice.

  Kane leaned forward, spoke in a low tone but with urgency that compelled even the outraged Ardala to pay attention. “Your father expects you to serve the best interests of the realm, Ardala! You’d better remember, if you fail, Draco has twenty-nine other daughters!”

  Ardala made a low, animal growl in her throat Her eyes flashed and she raised her long, talonlike fingernails as if she intended to rake Kane’s face with them. She had actually started toward him, claws extended, when
she felt Buck Rogers’ hand on her wrist. She turned, snarling, toward Buck, then got control of herself and pulled back from Kane.

  The courtier stood before her, his normally swarthy complexion pallid for once. He had escaped by the narrowest of margins a public humiliation unparalleled in his career. If Ardala had clawed his face he would not have dared retaliate here in the Grand Ballroom before the assembled dignitaries of Earth and of Draconia. He would have had no choice but to submit to a public scourging and then withdraw in disgrace.

  Instead, Ardala turned toward Buck and repeated a polite formula through angry, clenched teeth. “It’s been a great pleasure, Captain Rogers. But it seems that we both have our duty cut out for us.”

  She extended her hand, those deadly talons now turned harmlessly down. Buck Rogers took the extended hand, courteously kissed it, murmured sotto voce, “Later, perhaps, Ardala?”

  “I depart aboard my private launch at midnight, to return to the Draconia.” Her eyes met those of the dashing earthman, full of unspoken promise.

  The princess turned, took Kane’s arm demandingly and ascended to rejoin her ministers who awaited beside her throne. Her bodyguard, Tiger-man, watched all of this, the thoughts behind those inscrutable slitted eyes a mystery to all save himself.

  Buck Rogers snapped a brittle wisecrack at Tigerman and strode away from the ellipse, headed toward the balcony outside the ballroom where Kane and Huer had conducted their earlier exchange. This time Buck found Wilma Deering standing there, alone, her eyes gazing sadly out over the beautiful, gleaming spires and shafts of the Inner City.

  Buck approached Wilma from behind and spoke softly. “It’s a very beautiful sight, in its own way. We had city skylines in my era, Wilma, some of them breathtaking to behold. But the Inner City is unique.”

  Wilma’s reply was so soft as to be nearly inaudible, yet it dripped icicles to the hearer. “I would much prefer to be alone just now. If you please, Captain Rogers.”

  Buck heard his name accompanied by a little sound, a sound that Wilma nearly, but not quite, managed to suppress. The sound might have been a gasp—or a sob.