Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3) Page 20

  “Jerence.”

  “May I sit for a while?” His mother and I both nodded. He pulled a chair closer to me. “I came down from bed when Mr. Volksteader’s hauler brought you.”

  “I think I remember.”

  He leaned forward, as if imparting a secret. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  After a moment I inquired, “Am I?”

  No one answered directly. Jerence said, “We’ve all been worried for you. Ms. Triforth called three times, and Mrs. Palabee sent soup.”

  Sarah Branstead added, “We’ll fly you into Centraltown as soon as your infection’s down. To the clinic.”

  I nodded, growing sleepy. The room faded.

  Dr. Avery packed away his diagnostic puter. He was a small man, graying, with a crisp air of authority. “Yesterday I started you on antibiotics, Mr. Seafort. They’ll help, but we need to get you to Centraltown. They have better equipment than I carry.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow, if your fever stays down.”

  “I need to report.” I looked around for a caller. “Is the Admiral groundside?”

  “Worry about that when you recover, Mr. Seafort.”

  My tone was churlish. “I have to report to Admiralty. That can’t wait.”

  He shrugged. “Using the caller won’t hurt, I suppose. If you can get through. Harmon?”

  Harmon Branstead said, “We can use low-power radio from here to Zack Hopewell’s. That’s where the old landline runs.”

  “Landline?”

  “Before we licked the sunspot problem, they buried an old-fashioned fiber-optic line along the road. We’re using it again, now that we’ve gone to radio silence.”

  I sat up straighter. “What are you talking about?”

  Harmon pulled a chair alongside my bed. “I forgot you were stranded in south forest. Your Navy ordered a complete radio blackout after the fish dropped the asteroid on Centraltown. They don’t know if fish can hear radio waves but they’re not taking a chance until we know more.”

  Centraltown. Images of Belfast after the IRA nuke. I wondered what was left. “Is Admiralty House standing?”

  “It seemed all right when I flew in yesterday. The blast knocked over their dish, but they had that fixed.”

  I looked around eagerly. “Where’s your caller?”

  “The main set is in my study. If you’d—”

  I swung my legs out of the bed. “Now?”

  “Just a minute,” Dr. Avery said testily. “Bring along your mask.”

  “It’s only for a few—”

  Hands on hips, he glowered. “Or I’ll put you down with a sedative. Your choice.”

  I glared back. Unimpressed, he held my eye until I was forced to surrender. “Alexi, Mr. Tolliver, help with my gear, would you?”

  A few moments later I was seated at Harmon Branstead’s desk, blanket thrown over my knees, fuming with impatience for the connection.

  At last Forbee’s voice came on the line. “Mr. Seafort, you’re all right! Wonderful. Sorry we couldn’t send a heli for you, but the relief work at Centraltown came—”

  “Of course.” I had to stop until I had my breath. “Can I speak with the Admiral?”

  “He’s on Vestra. We’re moving the tactical group to Orbit Station. I leave in about an hour. He’s authorized a tight-beam relay to his ship, so I might be able to get you through.”

  “What’s happened since the last attack?”

  “It never ended, I’m afraid. Since Tuesday we’ve lost nine ships.”

  “Oh, Lord God.”

  “About half our remaining warships are deployed to protect the Station. The rest of the fleet is in position to intercept an attack on Centraltown. Meanwhile, the fish Fuse in and out at odd intervals. They’ve learned, Mr. Seafort. They go for our shipboard lasers the moment they Defuse. We’re still taking out a few of them, though.”

  “Lord God help us.”

  “Amen. Would you like me to try to get you through to the Admiral?”

  “Please.” I waited in the silent, somber study, with Harmon Branstead, Dr. Avery, and my two officers. Nine ships. Hundreds of souls. How long could we stand against the aliens?

  A crisp voice interrupted my reverie. “Admiral De Marnay is on the line.” I clutched the caller.

  “Hello, Seafort?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Who the hell shot you down?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “No way to investigate now. All our people are working with emergency rescue. Hell of a mess. You all right?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be in Centraltown tomorrow.” I ignored Dr. Avery’s rebuke.

  “Don’t know when I’ll be down. The attack may be tapering off, but it’s too early to tell.”

  “Right, sir.”

  “Did you hear they found Tenere alive in Freiheit’s launch?”

  “Thank heaven!”

  “He’s on the station, recovering. Every ship we’ve got is on patrol. Except for Forbee, you’re the only Captain on the ground.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Eh, speak up. You sound muffled.”

  I tore off the vapormask. “Sir, Victoria. Captain Martes was to be transferred.” I panted for breath.

  “He has Prince of Wales now.” De Marnay seemed distracted.

  “Can I have Victoria, sir?”

  “Hmm? No, I gave her to Holser. He was a lieutenant.”

  Bile flooded my throat. “Yes, I knew him.” I coughed.

  “Overdue for promotion. Commander, now. He took Victoria to Detour and Kall’s Planet on a special errand.”

  “I see.” With irritation, I waved away the vapormask Dr. Avery thrust at me.

  Admiral De Marnay’s voice changed. “Seafort, I have contingency orders for you. We’re on tightbeam?”

  “Only the link from Admiralty House to you.”

  “Then I’d better send a middy down. He’ll have a chip coded for your eyes only.”

  “Can I meet you at Orbit Station? If there’s any ship I could take—”

  “No, stay there. Don’t worry about the delay, your orders may never go into effect. I’ll be in touch. Out.” The line went dead.

  I sagged. Even in extremis, Georges De Marnay would not call on me. I barely heard Dr. Avery’s insistent demands.

  Alexi knelt. “Mr. Seafort, you’d better put this on.” He held the vapormask.

  Dully, I fastened it around my face. I essayed a smile. “Help me back to bed, then. Harmon, would you fly me to Centraltown later?”

  “As soon as Dr. Avery allows. In the morning, I imagine.” He hesitated. “The war isn’t going well?”

  “We’re losing ships.” I stood, hanging on to Harmon’s arm, surprised at how dizzy I felt. I let them help me back to my room.

  I dozed for several hours, waking in late afternoon. Jerence was sitting by my bedside. He left as soon as I woke and appeared a few moments later with his father.

  “Are you well enough for company?”

  “You’re always welcome, Harmon.”

  “Thank you, but I meant Zack Hopewell and some of the others. They’ve heard you’re with us.”

  “No, I—” The last thing I needed was to let them see me smothered in a vapormask. Still, my purpose in taking the heli jaunt had been to confer with them. The attack on Centraltown made their grievances less urgent, but...Yes, I mean. Just give me time to dress.”

  “This evening, then, after dinner.” I nodded agreement.

  Zack Hopewell shook his head, his face grim. “A missile.” We sat in Harmon’s study, much the same group that had met on my earlier visit.

  “Thank heaven they only fired one. We couldn’t have escaped two.” I avoided Edgar Tolliver’s eye.

  Laura Triforth growled, “Mantiet, of course.”

  “We don’t know that.” Hopewell.

  “Who else? He already tried once.” Laura grimaced. “What’s the world coming
to? Bombs in the roadway, missile attacks...”

  I said, “Yes, I’ve been lucky. Why does Frederick Mantiet want me dead?”

  Tomas Palabee glanced at Laura, shook his head. Arvin Volksteader looked uncomfortable. For a moment, silence.

  “Maybe he thinks it will hasten the Republic.” Plumwell, manager of Carr Plantation. His tone was defiant.

  “Nonsense,” said Hopewell. “He—”

  “That’s just wild talk!” Laura.

  “Republic?” I demanded.

  Harmon said, “He’s just speculating, Captain.”

  “What republic?” I gripped the chair arms and pushed myself to my feet. The room seemed overly warm.

  “I—”

  “Let me—”

  “I’ll tell him.” Zack Hopewell’s tone was firm. The others lapsed silent. “We’ve long had a party, Mr. Seafort, who’ve argued—theoretically, mind you—that Hope Nation would be better off as an independent republic.”

  I was shocked into silence.

  “It will happen sooner or later,” he said, almost apologetically. “The sheer distance—”

  “How could you survive on your own? Where would you sell your grain?” I found my face growing hot. “Can you manufacture the implements of a high-tech society you now import? Is your—”

  “Technology isn’t everything. We—”

  “Have you no gratitude? Men devote their lives to bringing you supplies!”

  Laura rasped, “Is that what you expect from your minions? Gratitude?”

  It brought me to my senses. “No, of course not. I was out of line. Forgive me. But...” I paused to regroup. “Regardless of the merits, that’s not a decision we can make.” Only the U.N. Security Council, or its plenipotentiary, could grant independence to a colony.

  Hopewell was a trifle less frosty. “I didn’t say it was. You know we sent representatives to Terra years ago, but nothing came of it. I’m not saying anyone in this room—or any planter—would rebel against lawful authority, but voices have grown stronger over the years. Now that Centraltown’s devastated, some feel that the time has come.”

  “Don’t you need the Navy now more than ever?”

  Laura’s lip curled. “What’s your Navy done for us? Did it stop the fish from bombing Centraltown?”

  My face was white. “Do you know how many died trying?”

  “Many,” said Hopewell. “God rest their souls. Sit down, Laura, I’m not done yet.” He waited. “It’s becoming clear that a change is overdue, even if it falls short of independence. Our complaints about shipping rates are ignored, and—”

  “With independence, you’d be utterly at the mercy of the Tariff Board. Who else would buy your grain, other than home system?”

  He went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “We’re stifled by authoritarian government imposed from afar. Do you think a local administration would order a military base hidden in the Venturas?”

  “Obviously not. But now is no time to—”

  “I agree. This is not the time. But perhaps Mr. Plumwell’s sneering reference to a republic is now clear.”

  “I didn’t sneer about—”

  Laura’s tone was cold. “Stuff it, Plumwell; as a manager you’re here only by sufferance.” She stared him down. “In any event, Mr. Seafort, what have you accomplished for us?”

  I sat, trying to conceal the trembling of my legs. “The Venturas Base was a fiasco. We’ve begun to remedy that.”

  “You canned General Khartouf, yes.”

  “And put a competent man in his place. We’ll get the generator completed shortly, and the supplies moved from Centraltown.”

  “Ah, yes, the supplies.” Laura’s voice was acid.

  “The Station’s been downloading cargo faster than the Venturas Base can receive it. Hopefully that will untangle itself with the change of command.”

  Tomas Palabee stirred. “Appointing a new commander doesn’t address the basic issue. We need control of our own affairs.”

  “You have a legislature...”

  Laura snorted. “Your constitution gives veto power to the Governor. And in any event, the riffraff at Centraltown can outvote us. Idle hands! Whoever heard of giving unemployed field hands a controlling vote?” A general murmur of agreement.

  “I can’t rewrite the constitution. But I’ll ask Admiral De Marnay what concessions are possible.”

  Plumwell smiled tightly. “Take your time. Meanwhile, men like Mantiet will handle things their own way.”

  I slammed my fist on my chair. “Why haven’t you caught him?” My anger gave them pause. “You’ve had...how long, four weeks? He’s your countryman. You know his habits, you know the terrain! Find him!”

  “We’ve tried.” Hopewell’s ire matched my own. “We almost took him in Centraltown. He’s gone, Lord God knows where. Maybe the meteor got him!”

  Laura sighed. “If Frederick’s alive, we’ll find him; give us time.”

  “I will.” I was stopped by a spell of coughing. Finally I added, “Just as you’ll give me time to resolve your problems.”

  “A fair trade.” Zack Hopewell stood. “We’ve had our say. Let the Captain recover from his ordeal. We’ve tired him.”

  Over my protests, they bade good night and took their leave. With profound relief I let Alexi and Tolliver help me to bed. In moments I was asleep.

  In the morning I walked with careful step to Branstead’s heli. To my surprise, Laura Triforth was waiting to see me off. She took me aside. “About last night...” She ran a hand through curly auburn hair flecked with gray.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “For heaven’s sake, call me Laura. We’ve all...” She hesitated, seemed to pull herself together. “Our emotions run strong,” she said abruptly. “Harmon was right, that day he said we’d grown imperious. I’m afraid in my case the passion of our cause overcame my manners.” Hazel eyes met mine. “Captain, I’m truly sorry for the injury to your Lieutenant Tamarov. I don’t think I’ve made clear how distressed I am. And the missile—it’s unheard of. Ghastly.” Her voice caught.

  “Thank you.” I tried to make my voice more gentle.

  “You fight a frightful war with the fish. In that, we’re your allies. You mustn’t think we’re enemies massing on a second front.” Her hand darted to my arm. “Please.”

  “At times I wondered.” I smiled, to take the sting from my words. I turned to the heli and settled into the front seat. My two officers crammed behind. They strapped the vapormask securely about my face, its canister on my lap covered by Sarah’s warm coverlet. At the last moment Jerence trotted out to the lawn. His tone was urgent. “Pa, let me come.”

  “To Centraltown? Not a chance.”

  “Please.” He hesitated. “It’s not what you think. I won’t run away. I just want—”

  “Yes?” Harmon was impatient.

  “To help with Captain Seafort.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Harmon’s hand reached for the starter, but the boy caught his eye in mute appeal. After a long moment he relented. “Get in.”

  We lifted off. Tolliver scanned the skies uneasily, as if expecting another missile. I lay back and closed my eyes. Tolliver’s anxiety affected all but Jerence, who chattered to Alexi.

  Harmon flew low and fast. To break the tension I asked through the mask, “Where’s Emmett?”

  “Helping in Centraltown. I’ll bring him home with me.”

  “Your brother lives in town, doesn’t he?”

  “He has a cottage there, but he spends about half of his time with us. We’ve agreed it’s safer on the estate for awhile.”

  “Safer?”

  “Things have—changed.”

  I brooded on that, while we flew past the edge of the plantation zone, past Hauler’s Rest. At last, the outskirts of Centraltown were in sight. It was a clear, sunny day, and I could see no damage.

  “Will you land at the spaceport?” My car was there.

  “No, south of downtown.”

&n
bsp; “Why?”

  “That’s where they’ve set up the clinic.”

  “Isn’t it at the hospital?”

  Harmon compressed his lips, shook his head. A few moments later I spotted the spaceport, but our angle didn’t permit a glimpse of Admiralty House. Still, I knew it had survived; I’d talked to Forbee the day before.

  Our small talk abated as we neared downtown. I peered down at uprooted trees. Wreckage littering the streets; debris had been shoved aside to clear paths for rescue vehicles.

  I sucked in my breath, heedless of the ache in my lungs. Below, crumpled wood-frame houses sagged to the west, away from downtown, as if too tired to remain standing. My stomach slowly knotted as we flew closer.

  Near downtown, brick buildings were smashed to rubble, and streets had disappeared into ruins. I moaned. “Annie...”

  Harmon asked, “Did she live near the reservoir?”

  “We were across town, about twenty blocks from the barracks. Why?”

  “Armstrong Reservoir was ground zero.”

  “What did they hit us with? A nuke?”

  He shook his head. “Thank Lord God, no. A rock, but from the energy it dispersed, it might as well have been a fission bomb.”

  “We shouldn’t—” I bit off the thought, not daring to involve them in talk of nuclear weapons.

  By the time we dipped toward the grassy meadow that had become an emergency field, I wanted to see no more of the appalling devastation. I sat until the blades stopped whistling. Harmon turned to his son. “I trust you not to run away, boy. But if you do, remember that there’s worse danger than a whipping from me.” He pointed at what was left of downtown.

  Jerence nodded. “I know, Pa. I heard Uncle Emmett. I won’t.”

  I unlatched the door as a U.N.A.F. soldier came alongside. He eyed my vapormask. “This one’s for the clinic?”

  Tolliver spoke up from the back, his voice cold. “This one’s Captain Nicholas Seafort, U.N.N.S.”

  The sentry glanced at my face. His eyes widened in recognition. “Yes, sir. Right up the street, about half a block.” He pointed. “I’ll call the ambulance, if you like.”

  I eased myself out of the heli. “I’m much better, actually.” To my surprise, it was true. “I can walk.” Alexi and Tolliver hovered at my sides.

  “Can I carry the vapormeds?”