Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3) Page 14

  I parked at the spaceport. I’d made it with a half hour to spare. The field was only a few steps distant.

  I coughed. Jerence wasn’t my concern. As inspector-general my task was to check our military readiness. On the other hand my posting as liaison to the planters hadn’t been canceled. But that didn’t mean...

  Damn. I restarted the car, wheeled out of the lot. Unmindful of traffic I hurtled down the road toward Centraltown, watching both sides of the street.

  Something moved. I slowed, peering between houses. Nothing. I drove another mile. Jerence couldn’t have run so far yet; I stopped, turned around. When I reached the house where I’d seen movement I got out, walked up the drive. All was quiet.

  The house seemed empty, unlit in the twilight. The side yard was overgrown with weeds. No sign of the boy, and I didn’t want to trespass. I started back to my car, hesitated, turned again. Cursing my foolishness, I loped to the rear of the house, praying an enraged homeowner wouldn’t charge at me with a stunner.

  The boy bolted from the back porch, tore across the yard.

  I lunged and missed. He dashed out the drive, raced toward downtown, knapsack thumping his back.

  I galloped after.

  Jerence was the swifter runner. My jacket pulled at my chest. I fumbled at buttons. The boy glanced back, spotted me, ran faster. I pulled one arm free, then the other, and tossed the jacket aside. At Academy we’d run the four-forty, the six-sixty, the mile. I was never the fastest in my squad, but I’d usually managed to keep ahead of the instructor who brought up the rear. If he tagged you with his baton, it meant the barrel.

  My vision narrowed to the sidewalk ahead, I strove to maintain rhythm. Another block. At least I was keeping pace. It was all I could do to keep my legs pumping. My breath came in racking sobs; my heart pounded.

  Slowly the gap began to narrow.

  A woman weeding her yard gaped as I raced past. I hoped she’d call the police, thought of telling her but knew I was too winded to speak. I couldn’t keep this up much longer.

  Ahead, Jerence stumbled. He rolled to his feet, raced on his way, but I’d gained precious yards. Now, he too was slowing. I pictured my drill instructor, summoned the dreaded baton, managed to pull within feet of the fleeing boy. Abruptly he veered to the left. I lunged, caught his waist, held tight as we rolled in unmown grass.

  Jerence kicked desperately in an effort to break free. My chest heaving, lungs on fire, I rolled on top of him to sit on his back. Sweat poured from my face while I panted. Below me, the boy was firmly pinned.

  At length I felt able to speak. “Get up!” I kept a tight grip on his arm.

  “Lemme go! You don’t have a right—”

  I hauled him to his feet. “Walk.” My legs trembled; I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

  “Why?” A sullen voice, a look of hate.

  “You were running away.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Mind your own business!”

  “It’s not my affair.” I sucked in more air, thrust him toward my car, blocks away. “But I know your father.”

  “So?”

  “I saw his face when he found you at the car wreck.” Jerence stopped, braced himself against my pushing. I shoved violently with both hands; he staggered and fell. “Up, boy. And don’t try running, or...”

  “Or?” It was a sneer.

  “When I catch you I’ll break your arm.”

  He eyed me, sizing me up as I approached. Reluctantly he nodded, fell into step beside me. “Yeah, you’re big enough to beat me up. I suppose you would, too; you’re just like the rest of them.”

  I still hadn’t caught my breath. “Rest of whom?”

  “Pa, and the others. ‘Do what you’re told. Be a farmer. Live out on a plantation, in the middle of nowhere.’”

  I snorted. “You have so much to feel sorry about.” Eventually he would inherit more than I’d earn in a lifetime.

  “You don’t understand.” He trudged ahead. “No one does.”

  After what seemed like hours we reached my car. I opened the passenger door, shoved him in. “Touch the doorknob and see what you get,” I said, striving for confidence I didn’t feel. I tottered to the driver’s side. Jerence slumped in his seat while I drove back to the spaceport.

  “What you gonna do?”

  “Call your father.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “You’re welcome.” That ended the conversation.

  I parked, got out, opened his door. Jerence came out, shivering. He buttoned his jacket against the night air. I steered him to the terminal.

  “This way, sir.” Tolliver hurried toward me. “The shuttle’s about ready to—are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” I spotted a public caller and headed toward it, a firm grip on Jerence.

  I let go of the boy and settled in the booth, grateful for a chance to sit. I punched Harmon Branstead’s code. I’d have an airport official hang on to the boy until he arrived. Outside, Jerence watched in sullen silence.

  Tolliver rapped on the transplex. “We only have a minute. Shall I ask them to hold the shuttle?”

  “No, I’ll just be—”

  Jerence bolted.

  Tolliver stared. I surged to my feet. “Get him!” I shoved him toward the fleeing youngster. “Move!”

  He blinked, slow to understand, then wheeled and charged after Jerence.

  Tolliver always ran ahead of me in Academy drills.

  He caught the boy in the parking lot, grappled with him, twisted his arm behind his back, frog-marched him inside. Jerence lashed out in vain.

  Tolliver snarled, “The Captain wants you now, joey!” He hurled the boy forward, almost into my lap.

  I glanced at my watch. No time to call Harmon, no time to arrange a baby-sitter. “God”—I caught myself—”bless it! We’ll miss the shuttle!”

  “What’s this about, sir?”

  “He’s Branstead’s son. A runaway.”

  “Should I stay with him and join you in the morning?”

  “No, I need you along.” I made up my mind. “Bring him. We’ll call Harmon from the Station.”

  Jerence looked sulky. “Kidnap me and Pa will throw you in jail!”

  Tolliver wheeled on him. “You’ll do what the Captain says.”

  “I’ll scream!”

  “Hang on to this ruffian.” I hurried to the gate.

  Tolliver’s tone was as savage as I’d ever heard at Academy. “I’ll give you a reason to scream! Move, while you’re able!”

  Jerence scurried alongside Tolliver, his defiance gone. “Don’t make me go off-planet,” he begged. “I’ve never been in one of those buses. They’re dangerous.”

  I saved my breath for walking. At the hatch the steward waited. “Have room for an extra?” I asked. Jerence tried to twist loose. Tolliver collared him.

  “We have seats, sir. The boy too?”

  “Yes.” From Jerence, a yelp of protest. I controlled an impulse to look back. “Naval business. He’s my guest.”

  The steward glanced at my pass, nodded. “Have him stand with you on the scales.” Jerence complied, rubbing his arm, a reproachful eye on Tolliver. Our weight computed, we took our seats. I set Jerence between us and strapped in, settling myself for acceleration.

  Jerence twisted and squirmed, peering down the aisles, out the portholes. “What will happen? Does it hurt?”

  “Yes,” Tolliver growled.

  I lowered my seat. “Don’t do that to him.” The joey would be frightened enough. “Jerence, lie back. A few moments after takeoff you’ll feel a great pressure. Ease up. Relax your chest muscles. Let it press down on you without fighting back.”

  Tolliver’s lips twitched. “You sound like Sarge, sir.”

  I smiled despite myself. One learns from one’s betters.

  We lifted off, the shuttle’s stubby wings biting the air. At a few thousand feet the wings shifted backward, the nose flipped up and the thrusters caught. Jerence whimpered. Before the acc
eleration became too great I reached over and squeezed his hand. Then, I gripped my armrests and tensed my chest.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  I thrust away Tolliver’s hand. “I’m fine.”

  He leaned over me, worry in his eyes. “You passed out.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Falling toward the Station.”

  My chest ached. Running after Jerence had done me no good. Blinking, I looked about. Jerence was green. He swallowed over and over, clutching the armrests as if to keep himself in his seat.

  Tolliver followed my gaze. “Puke on me, boy, and I’ll wrench you inside out and stuff the pieces in the recycler.” Jerence moaned.

  I snarled, “Don’t brutalize him.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Tolliver seemed puzzled.

  I closed my eyes, heart thumping. When we docked, I would face endless walking, through and about the Station. I would also face the certain hostility of General Tho when he discovered the purpose of my visit. I’d have to tell Harmon Branstead I’d shanghaied his son off-planet. And I’d have to find a place to park the boy while I did my work.

  If only I hadn’t spotted Jerence and his bloody knapsack.

  I dozed, wishing I felt better. Eons later the airlocks mated and the hatches hissed open. I got cautiously to my feet, waited for dizziness to pass. “Come along,” I muttered. Under the influence of the Station’s gravitrons, Jerence’s color slowly began to return.

  “Where, Mr. Seafort?” In the unfamiliar environment, the boy hovered close.

  “To tell your father what we’ve done.”

  “Must you?” Docile, he trudged along the corridor to the ladder.

  “Yes.”

  His protest died when he saw my expression.

  We plodded through endless corridors, descended to Level 5. From there, it was a long way to the comm room. Though it was nearly midnight, occasional lieutenants and middies still trod the corridors on their errands. As we passed, I returned their salutes absently, hardly aware of their curious looks. Civilians were rare in these precincts; children unknown.

  I made Jerence wait outside with Tolliver while the comm room tech patched me through to Branstead Plantation. In a moment Harmon came on the line.

  I hadn’t thought to ask for a private line; our conversation crackled from the speakers while the two techs listened. Now the station staff would learn of my folly in kidnapping a planter’s child. “Captain Seafort? I really don’t have long; I was on my way to Centraltown. Family business.”

  “To look for Jerence, by any chance?”

  A pause. “How did you know?”

  “I have him.”

  “With you?” He seemed astounded. “Why would he follow you?”

  “That’s not quite how it happened.” I explained.

  “So he’s on Orbit Station now?”

  “Yes.” I waited for the explosion.

  “If you’d left him in Centraltown I could have come for him.”

  “There wasn’t time, and he was in a mood to run.”

  He sighed. “I suppose he’s better off there than roaming downtown. Ever since he got the notion he didn’t want to be a planter, he’s been impossible.” A pause. “Let me know when you’ll be down; I’ll meet your shuttle.”

  “Very well. In the meantime, have you a message for Jerence?”

  His tone was grim. “Yes. Tell him when I’m done with him he’ll regret he was born.” The line went dead.

  Jerence waited anxiously under Tolliver’s vigilant eye. “What did he say?”

  I gave him the message.

  He grimaced. “That’s how I usually feel.” He said no more.

  At General Tho’s office the duty sergeant shook his head. “He’s gone to his apartment for the night, sir. Shall I ring him?”

  “No.” I would serve the General ill enough, nosing in his affairs. “Let it wait to morning.” I led my flock to the Naval barracks and signed us in for the night.

  Exhausted, I tossed and turned for hours. Finally, giving up on sleep, I wrestled into my clothes and went out.

  The mess was closed, as were most offices. Naturally the comm room was manned, as was Naval HQ, but I had no business in either office. I wandered the corridors, hoping to make myself tired enough to sleep, paying little attention to where I went.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  Disconcerted, I stared at the U.N.A.F. sentry. “Um, where am I? What’s in there?”

  “This is Victoria’s bay, sir. You’re on Level 3.”

  My breath caught. “Victoria. Could I get a peek?”

  He gestured to a nearby porthole.

  “Thanks.” I peered through the transplex hatch into the docking bay beyond, but couldn’t see much of the fastship moored alongside. From what I saw of her disks she looked like any other vessel.

  The bell chimed. A light flashed red as Victoria’s inner lock cycled; someone was coming through from the fastship to the Station. Though the seal between ship and station was tight, inner and outer locks were never left open at the same time.

  The station lock cycled. A young middy in crisp, fresh uniform stepped through. He saw my uniform, saluted, and stiffened to attention.

  “As you—Ricky!”

  Ricardo Fuentes, Hibernia’s ship’s boy during my first voyage, struggled to maintain a solemn expression. He broke into a pleased grin.

  “As you were, Mr. Fuentes.” I hesitated, held out my hand.

  “They told me you were somewhere in Hope System, sir.” He gripped my hand with obvious pleasure.

  “Groundside, unfortunately. You’ve grown, boy.” Ricky Fuentes had been thirteen when I’d last seen him, just promoted from cadet to middy, and off to Academy for a year of coursework.

  “I’m almost sixteen, sir.”

  “Good Lord.”

  “Vicky’s my first posting. Isn’t she zarky? Commandant Kearsey got me the berth as a reward for first in nav class.”

  “Wonderful!”

  “Thank you, sir.” He paused. “What are you here for, sir?” Though it was none of a middy’s business, Ricky seemed unaware of any breach of protocol.

  My smile faded. “I’m on business for the Admiral.”

  “Yes, sir. I meant here outside our lock.”

  I smiled. Ricky had lost none of his youthful exuberance. “Getting a look at the new marvel.”

  We fell silent. I said reluctantly, “I’ll be on my way, then.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s good to see you again.” As I turned he blurted, “Would you like to see her? Inside, I mean?”

  Would I? I’d give a few fingers, if not a whole arm. I pointed to a corridor notice. “She’s restricted, Ricky. Authorized personnel only.”

  “Let me ask Lieutenant Steiner, sir. He has the night watch. After I deliver these reports to HQ.” He waved his chipcase.

  “Don’t bother him. It’s not that important.” I tried to sound nonchalant.

  “Aye aye, sir. But Mr. Steiner is a good joe, sir, and he’ll probably let me show you around.”

  “Well...”

  “Let me drop these off, sir. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  I surrendered. “Very well, Mr. Fuentes.”

  “Right, sir. I’ll try to hurry, but if I get any more demerits for running I’m in big trouble.” He saluted again, scurried off. His pace...well, it wasn’t quite a run.

  Half an hour later I was shaking hands with Victoria’s officers. “I’m sorry, Captain Martes, I had no idea Mr. Steiner would wake you.” As a full Captain I was senior to him, but I had no rights aboard his ship.

  The young Commander grinned, waved away my apology. “He had to, sir. I’m the only one authorized to allow visitors.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, sir, you’ve had three ships of your own. What would you think of a Captain who minded being awakened in the night?”

  “Good point.” I relaxed somewhat. From midshipman on, we learned to catch our sleep whe
n opportunity came, and never to expect a full night undisturbed.

  “Besides, it’s a great honor to meet you, Mr. Seafort. We’ve heard all about you. I’ll show you the bridge first, if you like. That will be all, Mr. Fuentes.”

  Ricky’s face fell. “Aye aye, sir.” He saluted, spun on his heel, and left. Vax Holser, once his senior, had taught him well.

  The bridge was much like Challenger’s. I stood behind Captain Martes’s chair to peer at the instruments while he and Lieutenant Steiner stood by. Only the fusion drive screen was different from ones I knew. Where I’d traced my finger down the screen from OFF to ON, the controls now read OFF, PRIMED, and ON. I raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s Augmented Fusion, Mr. Seafort. We begin by priming the drives, firing them but holding their output just short of Fusion. Then we mesh the Augmentation wave with the fusion drive’s N-wave, and let her go.”

  My head spun. I had never fully grasped the technical aspects of Fusion, no matter how hard I tried. “Holding short...that sounds dangerous.”

  He grinned. “Very. You’re heating the drive shaft walls while you prime, so you’ve only got about twenty seconds to synchronize the waves, or you’d better shut down.”

  “I would turn it off automatically,” said a cold female voice from the speaker.

  “Yes, of course.” He made a rueful gesture. “Captain Seafort, our puter, Rosetta.”

  “Hello,” I said awkwardly.

  “Good evening, Captain.” A fractional pause. “Or good night, as it were. Isn’t it rather late for social contacts?”

  “Rosetta!” Martes was scandalized. “Mr. Seafort is a U.N.N.S. Captain!”

  “I’m aware. William tightbeamed me his dossier. My question was for informational purposes only. No disrespect was implied or should be inferred.”

  “Enough. Rosetta, put the aft view on the simulscreen, please.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” she said primly. Almost instantly a camera view from aft of Level 2 flashed on the huge simulscreen that filled the front bulkhead of the bridge.

  Large ships, such as Hibernia, had three Levels. Smaller vessels like Challenger had only two. The Navy had a few cutters with but one Level, but they were obsolete; it was more economical to build vessels that could transship the volumes of cargo the larger ships supported. Victoria was a two-decker.