Buck Rogers 2 - That Man on Beta (17 page)

“I have a better idea,” Ardala said. “Wilma and that stupid box of flashlight bulbs can go home. I’ll even furnish them with a ship and an escort. You stay here.”

“Nope,” Buck shook his head. “Good, but not good enough.”

“Oh, all right,” Ardala said sweetly. “Obviously Wilma is causing the difficulty, so if you won’t let me send her home I’ll just have the guards kill her. Right here and now.

“Guards!” She gestured commandingly.

“Here,” Ardala said, “take this woman away and kill her. Don’t take too long about it, but don’t hurry too much. I want you to enjoy yourselves thoroughly before she’s all used up.”

The guards seized Wilma and prepared to hustle her away.

“Uh, wait a minute,” Buck said. “Come to think of it, Princess, I might reconsider your first offer.”

“Now you’re cooking with gas, Rogers. As some of Von Norbert’s twentieth-century forebears might have said.” She turned. “Guards, release her. But don’t go away, hey?”

“You can do anything you want to with me,” Wilma snapped at her rival. “You’ll never get either Buck or me to do anything for you. We’ll never collaborate with Draconia against Earth!”

Buck turned to face Wilma. “Wait,” he urged. “Let’s at least hear what Ardala has to say.”

“Buck!” Wilma exclaimed in shock.

“Hey,” he said. “The lady flew thousands of light years through hyper-null space just to come and see us. The least we can do is hear what she wants to say to us. There’s no harm in listening, Wilma.”

“Buck, I never thought you’d commit treason!” She started to stomp away in anger. Her guards shot an inquiring look at Ardala, to see whether they were to stop Wilma from departing. Instead, at Ardala’s gesture, they accompanied the earthwoman as she strode to the opposite end of the garden and stood pouting.

“How convenient,” Ardala commented. She smiled and drew a breath. “Now, Buck, I’ll be honest with you.”

“Really?” he asked in astonishment.

Ardala ignored the jibe. “The Draconian race is dying out,” she said. “We’re slowly being decimated by diseases. Simple little diseases that were of no consequence in your day because people had antibodies to fight them with. You have those antibodies, too, Buck. They were bred into the chromosomes of the human race. But in the past five hundred years they’ve disappeared. Only you still have them. That’s why we need your help.

“Buck,” she stood very close to him
—very
close to him. She was almost the same height as he, and their faces nearly touched as she spoke. “If you’ll do us this one favor, we’ll do anything we can in return. Aaaan-y-thiiiing,” she said slowly.

Buck remained silent for thirty seconds, carefully considering the reply he would make—and, also, carefully timing the moment of maximum impact. Too quick an answer would not be so effective as one led up to by a dramatic pause—but if he waited too long, Ardala’s tension would peak and begin to subside again.

“Will you let me know everything,” Buck asked finally, “that your genealogical computers can turn up concerning my family?”

Ardala decided that she was getting off with astonishing ease. “Absolutely,” she said.

“All right,” Buck gestured toward the path leading out of the garden. “Let’s go.”

“Wait a minute,” Kane put in. “How do we know this earthworm will keep his word, Ardala? We have nothing to make us believe in his good faith.”

“I’ve got to admit you’re right, Kane. For once in your life.”

Kane faced Buck Rogers, chuckling in triumph. “All in good time, me Buck-o. Once we
know
you’re serious about helping us.
Then
we can see about satisfying your curiosity.”

“Provided there’s a mutual pledge,” Buck agreed. “Ardala, we have our disagreements, but I believe you’ll keep your word about this. But there’s another condition. I want you to sign a non-aggression treaty with the Inner City.”

Kane roared with laughter. “Are you joking, Rogers? Don’t you remember—Draconia was ready to sign a treaty with the Inner City and
you
meddled with the negotiations and botched the whole deal!”

“That was a false treaty, Kane. A cover story for a treacherous invasion, as you well know. I mean an
honest
treaty, with full provisions for enforcement and inspection.”

“Never,” the burly Kane snarled.

“Agreed,” Ardala overruled him, provoking a glare of pure hatred from the oily Kane.

“And the first thing you do, to show your good faith—since you’re the ones who first raised that question—is to send Wilma back to Earth. In the Earth ship standing on the Villus Beta landing field right now!”

A slow smile crept across Ardala’s face, the very opposite of the glare that radiated angrily from Kane’s. Things were working out precisely as the princess would have hoped that they would—and not at all as Kane would have preferred.

Of course, when Wilma Deering heard of the deal that had been struck between Buck Rogers and Princess Ardala, behind Wilma’s back, she was less than delighted. In fact, by the time she reached the spaceport to board the rocket for Earth, she was kicking, screaming, biting, and altogether being carried and dragged more than she was walking to the ship. After a struggle the Draconian guards had her loaded into the ship and locked into its cabin. But as the commander of the detachment commented when he reported to Ardala on the completion of his task, “She is in the ship, Your Royal Highness. But—how can we make her fly it to Earth? And if she refuses, what becomes of your bargain with Captain Rogers?”

“I’ll take care of that, officer,” Buck Rogers said. “If you agree, Ardala—I’ll go and have a talk with Wilma.”

“In a spaceship, fully fueled and ready to blast off?” the princess asked incredulously.

“I give you my word,” Buck stated, “I will return here as soon I’ve talked with Wilma. Whatever the outcome of our discussion.”

The princess sighed. “Very well, Buck. I may be a fool, but . . .” She waved him toward the ship.

As soon as Buck clambered into the rocket ship’s cabin, Wilma Deering tore into him with an attack of verbal viciousness that exceeded anything she had ever said to him before. “You are nothing but a traitor, Buck Rogers!” she screamed.

“Giving in to their demands! Buck! How can you believe that sappy story about saving their race? And why should you help save them anyway? They’re the enemy of Earth!”

“Will you calm down, Wilma?” Buck tried to soothe her by patting her hand with his own, but she pulled angrily away from him. He tried with words again: “What have you to gain by staying here?” he asked. “They’ll kill you, Wilma. They don’t need you—just me. So you’re their trump card against me! If I get out of line, they torture you. Threaten your life, even. I can’t live with that. You got your choice, lady—you can stay here and wind up tortured to death, or you can fly back to Earth in this ship, and be free.”

“But I don’t want to be free!” Wilma sobbed. “I want to protect my planet from these vicious fiends.”

“They’re not so bad,” Buck temporized.

“You’re saying that just because that woman has the hots for you!”

“Don’t be silly, Wilma! I just want us both to play the best odds we can get. You go back to Earth and tell them where I am. You can lead a rescue fleet back here to Villus Beta.”

Wilma thought about that for a long time. Finally she said, half-questioningly, “I can r-rescue you?”

“Yes,” Buck affirmed. “That’s why I want you to go.” Still she hesitated, and he leaned forward and kissed her gently.

“All right,” Wilma agreed.

The Princess Ardala watched the takeoff of Wilma’s starfighter with deeply satisfied eyes. As the ship disappeared into the black void above Villus Beta, the princess turned to the man at her side and asked a question.

“Exactly whom do you plan to have Rogers mate with, Professor?”

“I’ll show you, Your Highness,” Von Norbert replied. He led the princess from the spaceport to the nearby great hall, where she unhesitatingly took the seat of the ruler. “All right, Professor, now let’s see your show.”

Von Norbert gave a signal, and three young women traipsed into the hall from behind a row of shimmering, gossamer curtains. One of them had green hair and eyes, and smooth, creamy skin with a distinctly greenish cast to it. The second was similarly colored in blue—blue hair, blue eyes, beautiful pale blue skin. The final young woman was orange: orange of hair, orange of eye, orange of skin.

Each of the three was more than beautiful: each was absolutely spectacular. Their figures would have astonished the most rabid of spaceborne pinup collectors. Their costumes were suggestive of spacesuits, but instead of protecting the bodies from the ravishes of vacuum and radiation, they exposed all to the devouring eyes of any interested observer.

“Here they are, my princess,” Von Norbert announced proudly. “Three of the loveliest creatures in the known universe. Grenda . . . Blorim . . . and Orell. Selected by computer with the primary desideratum their physical charms, of course—but also with points assigned to stamina, intellect, and esprit de corps.”

The Princess Ardala inspected Grenda, Blorim, and Orell closely, paying no more attention to them as persons than a stockbreeder does in inspecting a herd of cattle. After she had examined all three with an almost microscopic thoroughness, she turned to Von Norbert and said, “Not good enough!”

“But—but they’re the
best,
Your Highness!” Von Norbert stammered. “Perfect for our needs. Look—just look at those pelvic regions!” He seized a pointer and prodded one of the young women on display. “Perfect for mothering the next generation!”

“They are not good enough . . . for Buck Rogers,” Ardala reiterated. “The man deserves the very best. He deserves—a princess!”

Kane smashed one mighty fist onto the polished wooden surface of a gorgeously crafted table, splintering the table into little more than sawdust. “That does it!” he shrieked. “I’m calling your father, the emperor! He’ll return from the battle-front when he hears of this insolence!”

Ardala smiled and stroked Kane’s bristling cheek with a set of long, graceful, barbarously painted fingernails. “You’re just being jealous, Kane. But I wouldn’t marry you anyway, even if I hadn’t found Buck. I’m just not interested in your bungling pomposity.”

Kane roared an obscenity and stamped furiously from the hall.

Professor Von Norbert smiled grimly. “I don’t wish to offend Her Highness,” he addressed Ardala. “But we
are
conducting a military experiment. The war with the Gregorians is not going well, and its outcome hangs in the balance. If we can’t produce a new crop of soldiers with full immunities within the next five years at most, we will have to give up our hopes of conquering the Gregorian system.

“Your Highness,” he went on obsequiously, “much as I tremble to interfere with the princess’ personal life, I must submit that we cannot let
anyone’s
romantic ambitions interfere with our work.”

“So,” Ardala replied hotly, “now you’re turning on me, too, Von Norbert? After my personally funding your experiments? Hah! You talk about war. I’m talking about love!
I want Buck Rogers
!”

Professor Von Norbert ran his hand through his thinning gray hair. He had an air of youthful energy about him most of the time, but now he looked, suddenly, far older than usual. “Princess Ardala,” he said, “I’m your friend. I’m a friend of your father the emperor. I used to bounce you on my knee when you were a baby. In fact, I bounced all of the thirty royal daughters on my knee when they were babies.”

“Yes, yes,” Ardala seethed.

“I’ve known you all your life,” Von Norbert continued. “I would do nothing to harm you. But—”

“I knew a
but
was coming,” Ardala complained. “All of that dear old Uncle Von Norbert business had to be a buildup for something. So—what is it, dear old Uncle Von Norbert?”

“We must go by the will of computer,” the professor supplied. “If it says you make an acceptable mate for Buck Rogers . . . and if that is what the royal will desires, of course . . . then you may mate with him.”

“Good,” Ardala said. “The computer won’t dare deny my wishes!”

“We shall see what the readout says,” Von Norbert answered neutrally. “Plus, of course, Captain Rogers’ other mates. There must be hundreds of them. Thousands, in fact. In fact . . .”

Ardala cut him off again. “You listen to me, you professorial nincompoop! I am a princess. I am one princess, alone, the last remaining of the emperor’s daughters who has not married herself to some simpering weakling. If I have to share Buck Rogers with thousands of brood-cows just to conquer the Gregorian system, then we can cancel our conquest of the Gregorian system. Draconia owns hundreds of solar systems, all across the galaxy. Thousands of them! Who needs one more?”

“We are bound by the computer, Your Highness,” Von Norbert said. He began to escort the princess to the Villus Beta computer center. She swept before him with regal hauteur.

The Betan computer center was designed with full attention to the requirements of the machines, and only passing consideration for the needs of their users. Giant panels of circuit modules and indicator diodes filled vast volumes of space, while power supply systems, environmental stabilizers, titanic heat-sinks and high-capacity storage devices extended the size of the center to imposing degrees.

In the very innermost location of the computer center Professor Von Norbert and Princess Ardala halted. Here, in a sparkling, antiseptic room devoid of any sign of human life, a master inquiry-board and communications module stood. It was fitted with keyboard, printer, telescreen, voder, and audio-input circuits, pattern recognition readers, and every other conceivable form of equipment usable for communication with a computer.

“Well,” Von Norbert announced proudly, “here it is! The most advanced computing facility in the entire Draconian realm—probably, in the entire known galaxy!”

“Good,” Ardala commented. “Get out!”

Von Norbert was stunned. “I beg Your Highness’ pardon. Did I hear Your Highness say—”

“You bet your britches you heard me. Scram, Professor!”