Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3) Page 18

  With practiced skill the pilot countered its sway, lowering the line until the pack was within a few feet of the ground. Then it dropped with a thud. I stood, dizzy.

  Alexi bounded forward, pulled at the straps. “A tent, Mr. Seafort.” I grunted. He pawed through the bundle. “Mattresses, self-inflating.”

  “I’ll help with those.” Tolliver’s tone was cold. With a brusque motion he swept Alexi’s arm aside.

  “I can open—”

  “I know how. You don’t.”

  I tapped him on the shoulder. “Give Alexi the respect due his rank, or answer to me for it.” He swallowed at my wrath. With savage satisfaction I stalked back to my seat.

  “Stand clear below for a second load!” I looked up as a bundle emerged from the bay overhead.

  When the package hit the ground Tolliver opened the straps, stood aside with careful courtesy while Alexi bent over to look.

  “Dinner!” Alexi’s grin was joyous. “A portamicro, steaks, drinks, coffee...even extra Q-rations.”

  “And this.” Tolliver held up a military radio pack. I beckoned; he brought it. With icy fingers I fumbled with the transmitter. “Rescue heli, do you read me?”

  “Loud and clear, Captain. That gear should make you more comfortable.”

  “Very much so.” Behind me, on the only meager patch of level ground, Alexi and Tolliver were already setting up the tent.

  “Do you know who shot at you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Orbit Station tracked the missile from half a minute after launch. They think it originated about a hundred miles south. You should be safe for now; I doubt anyone can travel through that underbrush by night.”

  “Right.” We’d barely managed during daylight.

  “Orbit Station is in position to keep a radar lock on the area tonight. Any suspicious blips and we’ll be back in a flash. Anyway, you can reach Centraltown with that caller. You might even get through to the Station. We’ll pick you up at first light. Sweet dreams.”

  “Thank you.” I watched the heli lights recede toward Centraltown.

  The micro and the radio were powered by the same Valdez Permabatteries that ran our electricars. We had power to spare, and the techs had even included a couple of ground lights. An hour later I gnawed gratefully on my steak, an open sleeping bag wrapped around my shoulders. I stared moodily into the fire, coughing occasionally from the cold that had settled into my chest. The radio crackled at my feet, a reassuring contact with civilization.

  Alexi crouched at my side. “I suppose Earth was once like this, Mr. Seafort.”

  “Earth could never have been so quiet.” Though I knew Hope Nation had no animal life except what man had brought, still my ears strained for absent night sounds. Other than the logs spitting in our campfire, we heard nothing but the rustle of the trees.

  “At home when I went to bed I could hear the supersonics take off.”

  “In Kiev?”

  “Yes.” He sat looking into the flames, hypnotized. “I should be grateful to be alive, but Lord God, I want to be whole again.”

  “I pray you will.”

  Across from us, Tolliver threw another chunk of wood onto the fire. We watched the sparks fly.

  “What was it like when we were midshipmen, Mr. Seafort?”

  “You were fifteen when I met you. I was first middy, you were junior.”

  “Were we friends?”

  “From the start.” Until I’d become Captain, when I’d allowed him to be so brutalized he’d begged to resign from the Service.

  “Tell me about the wardroom.”

  I sought words to describe the complexity of feelings, of interactions among the youths in that crowded space. “There were conflicts. Vax Holser and I. He was a bully, at first.”

  “He treated you badly?”

  “No, I was first middy; he couldn’t. It was you he abused. You and Sandy.”

  Tolliver said, “Like all wardrooms, everywhere.”

  “When you’re young you can handle that sort of thing,” I said.

  “I’m not young.” Tolliver’s voice was bitter.

  I flared, “You made your bed, Middy, now sleep in it.” My chest ached.

  Tolliver stood, stared into the fire. “I think I’ll do just that.” He spun on his heel and stalked to the tent. He paused. “Good night, sir. And you, Lieutenant.” His tone held the precise courtesy expected of a midshipman.

  I grunted. Alexi, perhaps unaware of the byplay, bade him good night, eyes locked to the fire. After a time he asked, “Mr. Seafort, what was I like as a boy?”

  I hesitated. “Cheerful. Good-hearted. Willing.” Until I’d forced him into a vendetta with Philip Tyre that nearly swallowed his soul. “As you are now.”

  “I’m hardly cheerful.” His smile was wan.

  I yawned. Despite the steak I still felt unwell. “Shall we turn in?”

  “May I sit and listen to the radio?”

  “Of course, but there won’t be much traffic at this hour. Do you know how to spread the dish?”

  He nodded. “I’ll come to bed in a while, Mr. Seafort. I won’t wake you.”

  I stood slowly. “I doubt you could.” In the tent I undressed and huddled on my mattress. A few feet away Tolliver breathed slowly, steadily. Was he awake, feigning sleep? Well, I’d provided him a miserable day. I wondered if I could stand being broken to midshipman as I’d done to him. Certainly my own behavior to Admiralty had warranted it, more than once. I shivered from cold, then, as the mattress warmed, drifted into blessed sleep.

  “Mr. Seafort?”

  I groaned, forcing my eyes open. It couldn’t be morning yet.

  It wasn’t. “Yes, Alexi?” I stifled a groan.

  “You’d better come listen.”

  “To what?”

  “The radio.”

  “Bring it in—no, let him sleep.” Coughing, I threw on my chilled clothes, swept the flap aside. “This better be imp—”

  Static distorted a constant stream of urgent messages. “Maneuver C in effect! Two off the port bow! Tarsus, where are you?”

  “Oh, God, Alexi.” My voice was a whisper.

  “Hibernia to Fleet, we’re under attack! Three, five—Lord God, seven fish. Engine Room, prepare to Fuse! Forward lasers gone! Fusing!”

  Alexi clutched my wrist, then snatched his hand away as if it had been burned. “Sorry! Please, I didn’t mean to touch—”

  “Belay that. Listen.”

  “Mr. Seafort, they threw something.”

  “What do you mean?” My head spun. I blinked.

  “The radio said they dropped a missile, or whatever. At Centraltown.”

  I snatched up the caller and changed frequencies. “Admiralty House, Captain Seafort reporting.” I waited. “Captain Seafort reporting to Admiralty House.”

  The wait was maddening. Finally the answer came. “Forbee here, Mr. Seafort.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Full-scale attack. The Admiral left for Orbit Station the moment he heard the first reports. He’ll be there in an hour. Eight ships are under assault, a couple of dozen fish at least. Are you still in emergency camp?”

  “Yes. You heard about that?”

  “We all did. Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Dizzy and feverish, and it hurt to talk. But...What’s this about a missile?”

  “A wild rumor. By coincidence, a meteorite hit near Centraltown tonight. Just a small one.”

  “Thank heavens.”

  “Sit tight, Mr. Seafort, and we’ll have you out of there by morning.”

  “Right. Uh, Forbee...you remember when I was here three years ago? I met someone who said he was Captain Grone.”

  “I heard the story, sir. Things are a bit busy at the moment.”

  “He told me a wild tale about meteorites spraying something. The epidemic began shortly after.”

  “It was never confirmed, as I recall. But I’ll alert the hospital just in case.” I heard ur
gent words in the background, then Forbee’s cry of dismay. “Oh, no!”

  “What?”

  “Bolivar’s gone.”

  Sickened, I closed my eyes. After a moment I said, “Godspeed, Mr. Forbee.”

  “And you, sir.” We rung off.

  While we huddled over the flickering fire, scattered reports of losses swelled into a disaster of major proportions. Fish roamed Hope Nation system, Defusing without warning alongside our ships. Alexi threw on wood until the fire blazed. I shivered nonetheless.

  The tent flap moved; Tolliver emerged, buttoning his jacket against the evening cold. “What’s going on, sir?”

  “Attack.”

  “Where?”

  “The fleet is engaged.” My voice was hoarse.

  He pulled a log next to the radio and sat. “Lord God help our men.”

  “Amen.”

  Long minutes passed. “Hibernia reporting; Defused in sector twelve; no fish in sight.” Thank Lord God, Hibernia was intact.

  “Acknowledged, Hibernia.” The Station.

  “Gibraltar reporting, sector three about twenty thousand kilometers above Hope Nation. Two fish, five hundred kilometers abaft. Make that three fish. Five! Station, they’re—Good Lord!”

  Admiral De Marnay, calmly. “Gibraltar, report your sighting.”

  “A swarm of fish! Maybe two dozen, and more Defusing in. Our radars show them clustered around a large object, not a fish, something else, much bigger. It wasn’t there a minute ago. It could be—three fish, alongside! Engaging!”

  We huddled around the portable dish, sleep forgotten. The speaker crackled with reports from ships announcing course changes.

  “Gibraltar here. Forward lasers out of commission; we’re Fusing!”

  “Intrepid reporting. We’ve taken out two fish, engaging a third. Damn it, the bastard Fused clear!”

  I shook my head, cursing the dizziness that resulted. “They’re winning.”

  Tolliver said, “Maybe not. We’re getting them too.”

  “But how many are there?” Our losses, horrid as they were, might be supportable if we took out a high enough proportion of the fish.

  “And where do they come from?” Tolliver.

  “And why are they here?” The cold air burned my throat. “Obviously they hear us Fuse. But we’ve been in Hope Nation for ninety years. Did they just begin hearing us, or—Good Christ!” I stumbled to my feet.

  The sky to the east, toward Centraltown, lit a brilliant orange.

  I stared into the night, my heart pounding. A moment later the distant trees rustled, and then the shock wave hit, an overpowering thump on my chest. I staggered, but remained on my feet. “What was that?”

  Tolliver’s voice was hushed. “They got Centraltown.”

  “How—you can’t—”

  “What else is east a hundred miles or so?”

  I croaked, “Annie!”

  “Didn’t I hear something about a meteorite?”

  Alexi hugged the radio. “You’re just guessing, Mr. Tolliver.”

  “Yes.” Tolliver looked at him with hatred. “So call Admiralty House, Lieutenant Tamarov, sir. Ask them who lit up the sky.”

  I spun around. “Tolliver! Another word out of you and—”

  He looked at me without expression. “And what, sir?”

  I strode across the clearing, shoved him back toward the tent. I pushed him until his back bumped the tent poles. “Not a word, Middy! Do I make myself clear?”

  For a moment he held my gaze. Then he swallowed. “Aye aye, sir.” The venom was gone from his tone.

  I sat. “Call them, Alexi.”

  “I don’t remember how,” Alexi said miserably.

  I snatched the caller from his hands.

  I couldn’t raise Admiralty House.

  I couldn’t raise anything.

  “What will we do, Mr. Seafort?” Alexi’s eyes begged for comfort.

  Blindly I thrust the radio into his lap. Each breath of cold air pierced like a lance. I unearthed a series of great hacking coughs, tottered into the tent. Deep in my throat a sound escaped. I fell onto the bed and passed out.

  “Mr. Seafort?” The voice summoned me from a great distance. I groaned. “Mr. Seafort, please!”

  I opened an eye, squinting at Alexi silhouetted against the daylight. I croaked, “What?”

  “It’s midafternoon. You’ve slept ten hours.”

  I tried to sit up, fell back dizzy. “Lord, it’s cold today.”

  Alexi looked at me oddly. “It’s rather warm, actually.”

  “Is it?” I tried to think. “I must be feverish.”

  Alexi shot out his hand, withdrew it suddenly, waited for my nod. He held his wrist to my forehead. “You’re burning.”

  “I was dreaming...” I clutched his arm, struggled to sit. “Centraltown?”

  “No dream. They’ve been hit. We don’t know how bad.”

  “The heli...it was supposed to pick us up at dawn.”

  “It never showed, Mr. Seafort.”

  “Can you raise Centraltown?”

  “No. I get static, an occasional word, but they don’t answer.”

  “I thought you didn’t know how to use the caller.”

  “Mr. Tolliver showed me.” Alexi hesitated. “He’s very angry.”

  “About what?”

  “Everything, it seems.”

  I grimaced. “Help me, would you?”

  Alexi held out his arm; I pulled myself up and sagged against him until the dizziness passed.

  Outside, the fire was long dead. Tolliver, sitting on the log, watched me without expression. I asked, “Nothing on the radio?”

  He shook his head.

  I sat by the fireside, blinking in the sunlight. “Try Orbit Station.”

  “I did. If we got through, they’re not responding.”

  “We’ll wait until morning. Try to raise Centraltown and the Station every hour.”

  Tolliver nodded. I waited, and he added reluctantly, “Aye aye, sir.”

  I stumbled back to the tent and slept.

  I woke at dawn, burning with thirst. I crawled across the tent to the water bottle, drank greedily while Alexi and Tolliver slept.

  Cautiously I dressed myself, waiting for the accustomed dizziness, but I seemed stronger than last evening. I opened the tent flap, plunged into the cold mist, searched for firewood. I coughed, doubling over from the pain it brought. When finally I was able to stop, I tottered to the pile of branches they’d stacked near the firesite. I laid a few in the firepit. The effort left me panting.

  I found a firestarter in the bundle of supplies, set it to the kindling. In moments my blaze was fierce enough to provide warmth. I sat as close as I dared. After a time I thought of coffee, and made my way to the micro. I foraged in the bundle of supplies, found coffee, set it heating.

  “I’d have helped, Mr. Seafort.” Alexi, tousled, shirt over his arm, looked out from the tent.

  I smiled, steaming cup in hand. “I’m not an invalid, Mr. Tamarov.”

  “I hope not.” He hurried to the fire, huddled near while he dressed. “You’re feeling better?”

  “Much.” As long as I sat quietly. “What did you hear last night on the caller?”

  Alexi poured coffee and rejoined me. “Static, faint voices. No answer.”

  “Try again.”

  Obediently he went to the tent, returned with the radio. He called Admiralty, the spaceport. Orbit Station.

  Still no reply.

  I brooded. After a time I said, “Wake Tolliver.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Tolliver stood by the tent flap, fully dressed.

  “We won’t wait,” I said. “Get the supplies together; we’ll walk to Plantation Road.”

  “Lugging all this?” Tolliver waved his hand at the tent, the micro, the foodstuffs.

  “Everything came down in two bundles. We’ll take turns carrying them.”

  Tolliver’s look was cool. “I doubt it. We’ll end u
p carrying you.”

  I tried to stand, decided against it. “Tolliver, I’ve about—”

  Alexi’s tone was icy. “Mr. Tolliver, gather the supplies.”

  Tolliver glanced at him with surprise. “Have you returned to active duty, Mr. Tamarov?”

  “No.” Alexi leaned on the tent pole. “But do as the Captain said.”

  “You can’t—”

  “Be silent!” Alexi stood nose to nose with the older, taller man. “You’re a midshipman. Act like one.”

  They glared at each other. Tolliver’s smile was cruel. “Do you remember how a middy acts?”

  Alexi met his gaze. “No. Show me.”

  After a time Tolliver lowered his eyes. “All right.” His voice had lost its truculence. “Help me collect our gear, would you?”

  As soon as Tolliver was out of earshot Alexi whispered, “Sorry I interfered. I know I have no right—”

  “You did fine, Alexi. It was how I remember you.”

  “He seemed so—”

  “You did well.”

  In a few minutes our bundles were wrapped and tied: Alexi and Tolliver each shouldered one; there was no discussion of my helping. I managed to get to my feet without assistance. I checked the compass and pointed. “North.” I followed them from the glade.

  We’d gone no more than a few steps before I was gasping for breath, but I said nothing and did my best to keep pace. I grasped at vines and low-hanging branches, pulling myself onward through the dense brush.

  Alexi looked over his shoulder. “Mr. Tolliver, slow down.” He waited while I caught up to him. “Lean on me, if you like.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Please.”

  “All right.” An arm draped around his shoulder, I let some of my weight rest on Alexi. With his free hand he held branches aside. I found the going easier.

  After a time I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist. Alexi shifted his load to his other shoulder. I struggled on, sweating profusely.

  Endless hours later we came upon an opening where a great genera tree had crushed a swath through the forest as it fell. Alexi called, “Let’s rest here, Mr. Tolliver.”

  Tolliver checked his watch. “It’s only been an hour and a half.”

  “I don’t care,” Alexi said. “I’m tired.”