Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3) Page 12

  Eiferts said, “Aye aye, sir. What are we looking for?”

  “Anything odd. Evidence that the base isn’t well run. Sloppy security or lack of readiness.”

  “We already know their security is sloppy,” Tolliver said.

  I scowled. “How so?”

  “They’re letting us land, though we’re unexpected and have no flight plan filed.”

  “I’m a U.N.N.S. Captain,” I snapped.

  “They only know you said you are,” he replied coolly.

  I bit back an irate reply. He was right.

  When we were a few miles from the airfield I took over from the autopilot. I followed the beacon until the base was in sight, and set down on their parade ground, as instructed.

  The field was a parade ground in name only. Around it, red earthen roads gouged from the plain were a mass of ruts; after a hard downpour the base must be a morass. Prefab barracks and stark operations buildings lined the perimeter road.

  I straightened my jacket, tugged at my tie as a handful of officers approached, ducking under the slowing blades.

  “Captain Seafort? General Khartouf.” I shook the proffered hand. “My adjutant, Major Rinehart.” He introduced me to the rest of his staff.

  I took a deep breath; time for work. “Impressive place you have, General.”

  “A bit rough, still.” He grinned through even white teeth. “But we manage.” His eyes flickered to my scar. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Captain.”

  I grunted. I wasn’t here to talk about myself. “How many men do you have, sir? Last time I was in Western Continent I saw nothing but wilderness.”

  “Three thousand. And they’re hardly enough.” We strolled toward the main building. “Join me for a drink, Captain. And your officers too, if you wish.”

  “My lieutenants can look after themselves,” I said offhandedly. “Eiferts, Tolliver, you’re off duty until the morning.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” My two aides watched me saunter off with the Base C.O.

  Dinner was served by an enlisted steward. Though I’d dismissed my lieutenants in cavalier fashion, the General’s dining hall was crowded with his own officers. It was only after the soup, while we were engaged in animated conversation, that I realized they’d all come for a glimpse of me. Dismayed, I forced my attention back to General Khartouf’s comment.

  “They’d be easier to fight if we had weapons designed specifically for them.”

  “Pardon? The fish, you mean?” I toyed with my second course. It happened to be fish, imported frozen from home, and I felt my appetite subside. “Unfortunately, we don’t know what weapons would work best.”

  “That’s what I was saying.” The General eyed me askance.

  A middle-aged colonel cleared his throat. “Pardon me, sir, but what was most effective in your own encounters with the fish?”

  His neighbor turned his head, so as not to miss a word. I stopped, fork halfway to mouth, realizing the entire table was hanging on my answer. Did they expect a blow-by-blow account of my battles? Was that the price of my dinner? Nausea battled with disgust. I wouldn’t have it. Not for all the fine Terran wines on the starched white tablecloth.

  No, it wasn’t the price of my dinner. It was the price of my two lieutenants having the run of the base, free to ask innocent questions. I forced a smile. “Well, on Challenger, they attacked three times...”

  Unnoticed, the forkful of fish returned to my plate.

  “So?”

  My two lieutenants exchanged looks. Eiferts gave a small nod, and Tolliver began. “Venturas Base has been in operation over a year, sir. They’ve had the prefab factory set up for half that time, but the enlisted men are still living five to a two-man unit.”

  I thought of the transients, shipped to Hope Nation six to a cabin, packed like sardines. “Go on.”

  “The prefab factory was run by civilians brought from Terra on six-month contracts. They agreed to an extension, but demanded and got return passage after nine months. By then the Army was supposed to have men trained to replace them. Because it took so long to get the factory operating, the workers weren’t well trained. Apparently production is minimal at best. No one’s seen any celuwall leave the plant in months. I couldn’t ask too much more without making the sergeant suspicious.”

  I waited, but that was all Tolliver had to say. I turned to Eiferts. “And you?”

  “I took a long walk, sir. None of the roads are paved. Someone told me in winter they’re virtually impassable.”

  “That’s all you learned?” My tone was scathing.

  “No, my stroll took me to the laser control building. I was enthralled, so the lieutenant on duty showed me through.” Wearily, he made as if to sit, realized he was in my presence. “The base has four huge puter-aimed laser cannon powered by the emergency fission station the planters hauled from Centraltown. The actual cannon are on that rise south of the base. Their combined firepower would be staggering. Unfortunately, they can’t be fired together.”

  “Why?” I gestured to the seat.

  Gratefully he eased himself into a chair. He must have had a long hike. “Thanks, sir. Because the power step-down lines haven’t been hooked properly. Only one laser can be fired at a time.”

  “Christ!” Tolliver, with feeling.

  I glared. “I don’t condone blasphemy.”

  “Your pardon, sir.”

  “Though I share the sentiment. The only real purpose of this base is to man those laser emplacements.” I brooded. “We need to know if Khartouf mentioned these shortfalls to Admiral De Marnay. I’ll call in the morning.”

  “He didn’t, sir,” said Eiferts.

  “Oh?”

  “Khartouf’s progress reports passed over my desk, sir. I brought everything of importance to the Admiral’s attention.”

  “That smug bastard!”

  Eiferts’s jaw dropped.

  “Khartouf,” I growled, “not Mr. De Marnay.” I paced the length of our tiny cubicle, my chest tight. “What do we do?”

  Eiferts said, “How do your orders read? ‘Investigate and correct abuses and inefficiency’?”

  “You saw them?”

  “I posted them.” He smiled apologetically.

  “Call their office and get me an appointment with General Khartouf for the morning.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  I went into my adjoining bedroom and took off my jacket. A moment later, a knock. Lieutenant Eiferts, his mouth set in a grim line. “There’s no answer at Base HQ, sir.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t get through.”

  I swore fluently. Lieutenant Tolliver raised an eyebrow.

  Eiferts said, “I ought to mention, sir, that I’ll be reporting this to Admiral De Marnay.”

  “Never mind that.” I thrust my feet back into my shoes. “Let’s go.”

  “Where, sir?”

  “Out.” I stalked down the corridor, the two lieutenants dogging my heels.

  “HQ building, sir?” panted Eiferts.

  “No. The laser control station first.”

  He winced at the prospect of another long hike. “Aye aye, sir.” He pointed down the perimeter road. “It’s that way.”

  It took several minutes at fast pace to reach the laser installation. The night air was chill, and though the exercise warmed me I felt the tickle of a cold coming on.

  We approached the darkened building. It seemed deserted but as we neared I saw a dim light in a side window. “What’s in there?”

  “I don’t know,” said Eiferts. “I used the front gate, and the sergeant took me directly to the control room.”

  I stopped beneath the window. From that vantage point all I could see was a ceiling. “Boost me up.”

  Tolliver gaped.

  “Boost me. How else am I supposed to see?”

  “Aye aye, sir.” He made a cup with his hands and braced himself.

  I hoisted myself up to cling from the window frame. After a moment I dropped
down again.

  “What did you see, sir?” Eiferts whispered.

  I shook my head, unable to speak.

  “What, sir?”

  “They’re playing cards,” I snarled. “Two men in the comm room, sitting over a deck of cards.”

  “On duty?” Tolliver was scandalized. On ship, such conduct would bring down the Captain’s almighty wrath. With a twinge of guilt I recalled my chess games on the bridge, during the long dreary hours of watch. But we were Fused then. Wasn’t that different?

  “Freeze!”

  I looked up. The sentry’s gun pointed directly at me.

  “Easy, soldier,” said Tolliver. “This man’s—”

  “What are you joeys doing?”

  A face appeared at the window. “Sarge, what’s—”

  The sentry snapped, “Call HQ, stat. We’ve got intruders.”

  “I—”

  “Move it, Varney!”

  The face disappeared. “Stay put, all of you,” the guard ordered. He waved his laser rifle at me. “Well?”

  “I’m Captain Nicholas Seafort.”

  “I know who you are. I asked what you were doing.”

  I approached him, ignoring the weapon he brandished. As I neared, I could see the stereoplug in his ear.

  “What’s that?” Without warning I snatched it from him.

  “Hey, give it—”

  “A stereoplug? On sentry duty?” Slap music emanated faintly from the plug.

  “You’ve got no right—”

  With my heel, I ground the plug into the dirt. Over seventy unibucks, in Centraltown, and that a continent away.

  The sentry, wary now, looked back and forth among us. “Just what’s up, here?”

  “I’m acting with the authority of Admiral Georges De Marnay, head of Unified Command. Where is your C.O.?”

  “General Khartouf?” He pointed up the road we’d just followed. “Officers’ barracks.”

  “Very well. Take us there.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t leave my post.”

  “You may now. You’re relieved.”

  “What’s your authority to give me orders?”

  My opinion of him went up a notch. “Mr. Tolliver, your holovid.” Tolliver pulled a portable from his pocket, switched it on, snapped in a chip. “Read this,” I said to the guard.

  By moonlight, on the laser building steps, the sentry read carefully through my orders. At length he said, “Well, sir, I guess they put you in charge. I’m Sergeant Trabao. If you’ll follow me to officers’ barracks...”

  The officers’ dormitory was a hundred yards from the HQ building, not far from our own rooms. Outside, a lone sentry slouched in the shadows. At the sight of us he thrust something in his pocket. “Hey, what are you—”

  “It’s all right, Portillo, they’re with me.” Uncertain, the second sentry stood aside.

  Trabao said, “The General’s—”

  “—right here.” Khartouf stood on the top step, hands on hips. “What in bloody hell are you up to?”

  I said, “You’ll want to discuss it privately, General.”

  “Nonsense. Why are you skulking around my base in the middle of the night? Your answer better be good, or you’ll find yourselves in the guardhouse.”

  “I’m here by order of Georges De Marnay, Admiral Commanding.” Not quite true; De Marnay had authorized my jaunt but he certainly hadn’t ordered it. I pressed on. “I’m inspecting your readiness.”

  “By standing on your flunky’s hands peering into windows?”

  I felt an idiot. “My conduct is not at issue.”

  “It bloody well is, Captain!”

  “Tolliver, show him the chip.”

  Lieutenant Tolliver proffered his holovid. “Here, sir.”

  Khartouf took the holo, let it fall to the dirt. “You men, escort them to the guardhouse. By force, if necessary. We’ll deal with them in the morning.”

  The second sentry reached for his pistol. Sergeant Trabao shook his head. “No, sir. I think you’d better read the holo.”

  “Portillo, put Sergeant Trabao under arrest with the rest.”

  I protested, “If you’ll just read my orders—”

  “Prong your orders. I give you the hospitality of my table, and you sneak around betraying us in the night. I won’t have—”

  Something snapped within. I snarled, “What you’ll have no longer matters. You’re relieved of command.”

  Tolliver, Eiferts, and even Trabao gaped, but I was past caring. “Eiferts, take Sergeant Trabao’s pistol. Move when I give an order! Now, cover Mr. Khartouf. Mr. Trabao, we’ll adjourn to the Commandant’s office. Lead the way.”

  A few moments later General Khartouf slammed the holovid down on his table. “All right, Seafort, I’ve read the bloody thing! You have authority to relieve no one.”

  “You’re wrong.” I turned to the Sergeant. “Mr. Trabao, we’ll be leaving first thing in the morning. Make sure my heli is ready.”

  “We’ll see who ends up relieved,” the General jeered. “The moment you’re gone I’ll be on the caller to Admiralty House.”

  “No, you won’t. I’m taking you along.”

  Eiferts stirred, his uneasiness apparent. “Who’ll run the base, sir? Someone has to be in charge.”

  “True.”

  “Who, sir? I ought to put it in my report.”

  “You.”

  “I—WHAT?”

  “You’re acting Base Commandant, as of now.”

  He spluttered, protocol abandoned. “But—me, sir? Why?”

  “You know the problems; you’ve seen the reports General Khartouf sent. And I don’t know who else to trust. So it’s you.”

  “I’d need the Admiral’s approval for that, sir,” he said slowly. “I don’t know if—”

  “Have you heard of a chain of command?” My tone was savage. “Does a Captain outrank a lieutenant?”

  He stared until he comprehended, then his eyes fell. “Aye aye, sir. I’m sorry. Orders received and understood, sir.”

  “Very well.” I paced the office. “We’re too keyed up to sleep. Turn on the office holo. Find the files on the prefab plant. You’ll need what help the General will give you. I think you’ll have your hands full cleaning up this fiasco.”

  “The only fiasco here is attempted kidnapping,” the General shouted. “You think I’ll help you rifle my files? I’ll watch your hanging, Seafort! This is mutiny!”

  I turned. Something in my eyes gave him pause. “Hanging?” My voice was odd. “Don’t bring up the subject, General. I could stretch my authority even further.”

  “You wouldn’t da—”

  “Try me.” I held my gaze until he looked away. “Mr. Eiferts, the General will show you his files now. I’ll be outside. Mr. Trabao, come along.”

  In the hallway, I confronted the guard. “I don’t think much of a stereochip on sentry duty.”

  He reddened. “Things have been sort of slack around here.”

  “You like it that way?”

  He studied me. “The truth? No. I was a drill sergeant back in Rio. But when no one backs you up, it’s hard. You end by doing what the others do. I wasn’t always like that.”

  “You don’t have to be, any longer.”

  “Sir?”

  “Mr. Eiferts will need an aide who knows his way around. Can we trust you, Trabao?”

  He let out a long, slow breath. “Yes.”

  “I will, then. Show Mr. Eiferts the ropes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll be outside.” Shivering, I coughed. The room seemed chill.

  “Stand at attention!”

  I complied at once. Admiral De Marnay, red-faced, planted himself inches from my nose. “What in Lord God’s own hell are you up to, Seafort? Are you power-mad?”

  “No, sir.” At least, I didn’t think so. I felt exhausted. It had been a long, sullen trip back. Lieutenant Eiferts must have radioed ahead; after we landed I had no trouble getting a
n appointment with the Admiral. Not this time.

  He bellowed, “The hell you aren’t!”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Quiet, you presumptuous young—you upstart! You lunatic! You—” He spluttered to a halt.

  Spine rigid, hands pressed to my sides, I stared at the wall behind his desk.

  “Who gave you authority to remove a commander in the field, you insolent pup?”

  “You did, sir.”

  “Be silent, I said!” That was unfair; when he asked a question I was obligated to answer. He growled, “Khartouf was appointed by the U.N.A.F. Chief of Staff! Am I supposed to tell Staff a baby-faced Captain, acting without orders, removed his man from office?”

  I assumed the question was rhetorical.

  “Answer!”

  I’d assumed wrong. “No, sir.”

  “Oh? You’re suggesting I lie to him?”

  Wearily I said, “No, sir.”

  Admiral De Marnay flung himself into his seat. “I ought to court-martial you, Seafort!”

  I knew there’d be trouble, but I hadn’t expected quite so much. Well, I’d often considered resigning; now the Navy would save me the trouble. “On what charges, sir?”

  “Insubordination, incitement to rebellion, mutiny...Don’t worry, we’ll find ones that fit!”

  “Very well, sir.”

  He roared, “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then say it, before I throw you out of here!” His jaw jutted.

  I said, “Khartouf’s base is a shambles. His lasers sit unready, his barracks unbuilt, while he dines in luxury with his officers. He’s a fool.”

  “That’s not your judgment to make.”

  “He’s also a corrupt fool.”

  “I told you—eh?”

  “Lieutenant Eiferts spent the night going through Khartouf’s puter accounts. According to Mr. Trabao, the men have had nothing but Q-rations for the last six months.”

  “Well, it’s a war zone. What of it?”

  “There were indents for tons of supplemental foodstuffs purchased in Centraltown and supposedly flown to the base. No one knows where it went.”

  He was observing me closely. “Go on.”

  “The food may have been imaginary, or it may actually have been sent to the Venturas and resold from there. I have no idea; we didn’t have time to trace it.”

  He shifted in his seat. “All right, assume Khartouf had his hand in the till. Perhaps he should have been removed and tried. But not by you, Seafort. Not by you.”