Not With A Whimper: Survivors

by D. A. Boulter

  “I picked myself. We don’t really care that much, just mildly interested. Me, I told you, I came here for companionship. I’m not Family; you’re not Family. We’re just otherhires. Sometimes ‘Family Talk’ gets tiring.”

  Wen sighed. “You can see I’m not very companionable; why are you still here? Why haven’t you left?”

  “I’m waiting for my story.” She watched him out of very serious eyes.

  He’d never experienced anything quite like this. Anyone else would have left long ago. He’d turned down her offer of bed time, avoided all her questions, made it obvious she intruded, and still she stayed.

  “You want a story?”

  “Please.”

  “Well, all good stories start with ‘Once upon a time,’ don’t they? So, Once Upon A Time there lived a man – we’ll call him Joe. Joe rose to the top of his profession, but skill doesn’t mean everything. Sometimes the choice of where a man plies his trade makes a difference. And Joe, well, he hired on with the wrong Dukedom. He didn’t realize at the time that his Dukedom would never become leaders in the field in which Joe plied his trade, and thus his choice would not bring him quite what he desired.

  The leaders in that field, you see, would never accept Joe because he had worked for the Black Duke, and having worked for the Black Duke, they would never trust him, never allow him into their castles. Still, he had his job. He made money; he traveled and did things the multitudes of his land, and of other lands, could never even aspire to do.

  “One day, although middle age had come upon him, he met someone. Let’s call her Princess Lil. Joe and Lil? Well, they made quite a team, and the fact that he would never find a job outside of the Black Duke’s domain no longer bothered him so much. Simply being with Lil made everything right.

  “Then, one day, he did something stupid and, as punishment, his liege made him go to a deep and dark part of the castle to perform a routine chore, instead of taking the position that his rank and skill should have entitled him to during times of possible danger.

  “And on that one occasion, instead of being in a position to do anything when disaster struck, when the barbarian hordes broke through the portcullis and then into the very keep itself, where Princess Lil and the others took refuge, he could do nothing, for burning oil separated him from his love.

  “Thus, the only one he had ever loved, and all those whom he called friend, died in the barbarian raid. Yet Joe lived. And he lived with the knowledge that he had not done his part. His presence might have changed everything. At the very minimum, he could have died fighting with his love beside him. But he had failed both her and himself. And now, for his act of cowardice, he lives in exile.”

  “There’s your story, Carly,” Wen concluded. “Not all stories end happily.”

  “She must have been beautiful, Joe’s Lil.”

  “Princess Lil? To Joe, perhaps; to anyone else, perhaps not. In the fashion of the times, one of your visage and figure would rank above her.” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “And one such as Angela? Well, Angela has beauty to spare, as well as the other advantages of youth. But, for Joe alone, none could match her beauty.”

  Carly sat up, and slipped her feet into her shoes.

  “Joe could have done nothing to alter the course of events.” She went to the door.

  “Something he’ll never know. They might have faced the end together, found comfort in that. Instead he hasn’t even the portrait painted by a passing artist to remember her by. Memory is not kind; details become forgotten. The sound of a voice fades.”

  The door slid open. Carly stepped into the corridor, then turned around. “You tell a sad story, Pilot Pearson. I have one last question.”

  Feeling utterly weary, he gestured with an upturned palm, fingers spread. “Ask your question.”

  “Were the positions reversed, do you think that Joe would have wanted Lil in the keep at his side, or would he have taken a final comfort in the face of the enemy, knowing that she might survive the barbarian raid, hidden deep within the castle’s dungeons as she was?”

  The door slid shut, and Wen found it hard to breathe. The tears started rolling down his face, and he turned to seek the solitude of his bedroom.

  An hour later, the door chimed again.

  “Now what?” This time he said it aloud. Feeling shredded, he went to answer the door – just in case something of importance had come up.

  Carly stood there. “I forgot my wine goblets,” she said. He stepped aside. She walked in and picked them up.

  “Two things,” she said.

  “Yes?” not knowing if he could take any more.

  “Sean. He said that you were the only one who treated him as a ‘real’ person instead of just a kid. None of us knew he felt that way.”

  Wen gave her a bleak look. “And the other?”

  She held up a datastick. “Amalgamated Shipping put up a memorial site for those of 684, ‘missing, presumed dead’. Lillian Morton. Picture and bio. Her family put up a memorial site, too. Pictures and a few videos – with sound.”

  “She never once mentioned family.”

  Carly bowed her head, and looked at him through her eyebrows. “Your picture is up there, too, as is Angela’s. Strange that.”

  She placed the datastick in his hand, and if she saw the tears start again, she said nothing. She simply turned and walked away with the goblets, letting the door swish closed between them.

  CHAPTER 17

  Haida Gwaii

  Monday 26 July

  “Matt, someone to see you,” Ellen said softly, regretting the sudden appearance of Pierre Fontaine with the request to see the League President on a matter of utmost urgency. Couldn’t they leave her husband alone?

  Matt raised his head from his desk, and looked blankly at her for a moment. “Okay, send them in.”

  He sat up straight, and brushed his clothes back into order. Ellen showed Pierre in, but did not leave. She had taken to accompanying her husband everywhere, and screening those who would see him. That Pierre got past her, proved his determination.

  “Hello, Monsieur Fontaine,” Matt said, when he recognized him. “What can I do for you today?”

  “Be quick and to the point,” Ellen told him.

  “Now, Ellen, let the man speak.”

  Pierre looked from one to the other. He bowed his head to Ellen. “I understand, Madame. Monsieur Yrden. To the point, then. You remember my provider of seeds?”

  “I do. We have them safely put away. Does he wish to sell more?”

  “Indeed he does. He wishes to sell on a scale that is difficult to imagine. His price: A place in the Families, precious metals worth perhaps millions, and safe passage from Earth for up to thirty people.”

  “Good God!” Ellen exclaimed. “Just how many seeds does he wish to sell?”

  “All of them.” Pierre held up a hand. “I will try to explain using few words, but must provide context. Last time, I told you that he worked in Enforcement. He has since been promoted, and now has access to his corporation’s seed stash at the Seed Vault – the so-called Doomsday Vault – in Spitzbergen. He has authorization to withdraw seed at need.”

  Matt shook his head. “He wishes to steal his corporation’s property and sell it to us? Is he mad?”

  “No, Monsieur. Entirely lucid and sane. He has, he tells me, done some investigating, and has found out that the reason for his rapid promotion lies in the abandonment of Earth by the higher-ups in his corporation. Further, he has talked with compatriots in other TPCs, and discovered a similar theme.

  “It appears that, like us, those in the higher echelons of the TPCs now expect a major war on Earth, and have removed themselves to the stations in space to avoid it. My client is not stupid. He now believes, as do we, that not only war, but nuclear war is imminent. He wishes to escape this. He does not wish to emigrate to a backwards planet without technology, so he wishes a place on board our ships and stations, with the ability to go down to planets as he plea
ses.”

  Matt blinked. “You said, ‘Like us.’ Why do you think we believe a war is imminent?”

  “I have spoken first with my Uncle Simon. I wished to pass this along, and he has told me about your Professor Preston.”

  Ellen felt outrage. “And he will plunder his company to get this?”

  “Please, Madame, allow me to finish.” Pierre started pacing, but stopped at a look from Ellen.

  “If a nuclear exchange – and, as Professor Preston suggests, biological, chemical and other depraved forms of warfare – is unleashed, there will no longer exist any Trans-Planetary Corporations, nor governments, nor, in fact, people on Earth. And no one will find it easy to get to the seed repository. The very attempt might kill all who try.”

  Ellen could see Matt take that in. He bowed his head, looking at the desk in front of him for at least a minute, during which Pierre said nothing further.

  “As I understand it, your friend will sell the seeds for the aforementioned price if, and only if, this war comes to pass.”

  “Oui, Monsieur.”

  “And then, with his authorization, he will remove the seeds of his corporation, and have us transport it to true safety – space.”

  “Non, Monsieur. He will gain access to The Vault and bring out all seed – not just that belonging to his corporation.”

  Matt laughed. “He no longer believes in petty larceny. What about these thirty friends of his?”

  “One friend, his present love interest – who the swine has offered to me by way of enticement. She is much better than him, and her I would rescue with no qualms. My client is of low character. The others are those who work at The Vault. Sidney – his name, why should I protect him? – will offer them safe passage to the stars in return for their aid in removing the contents of The Vault.” Pierre shrugged. “I can see no way to do it without them unless we invest in an armed force to remove them from contention. I cannot see the Families agreeing to that. And we need Sidney because they know him there, know he has authorization. It removes many problems.”

  “And you think we should agree to do this?”

  “If at all possible. Think, monsieur. At present, the colonies grow only what the TPCs want them to grow. This would give all humanity back its birthright – the seeds. If they are to be lost to a dead world, why should we not rescue them?”

  Ellen could see Matt growing tired. He needed sleep, and that desperately.

  “Pierre,” she said. “What do you need?”

  “Ah. I require six shuttles. Five to remain on standby to come down as soon as we know that the unthinkable has come to pass. One for me to maintain on the surface such that I can pick up Sidney and his lovely friend, and take them to Spitzbergen when the time comes.”

  Matt grimaced. “You ask the impossible, Pierre. We have need of our shuttles. We are working them hard, bringing up our people, bringing up our orders, shifting people from FTL-1 to Haida Gwaii – and more. And, I fear to tell you, we have another important mission going on.”

  Pierre sharpened at that last.

  “Not, I suggest, as important as this one.”

  “Matt needs his rest, Mr Fontaine. Let him think about it.”

  “No,” Matt said. “I’ve already thought about it. Pierre, we will do our best. You have made a valid point. The seeds are humanity’s heritage, its birthright. We will do what we can. However, I don’t know that we can provide you with even two shuttles.”

  Pierre shook his head. “I need six.” He pursed his lips. “I need at least three to get off all the people and some of the seed. If we do not agree to take all, I fear we will receive no aid, and thus get nothing.”

  “Time to go, Pierre,” Ellen said, seeing Matt start to droop.

  “Pierre,” Matt countered, “go to see Bill Tannon. Tell him you have my backing. He’s the only one who can get you what you need.”

  “I go. I thank you, Matt Yrden. We may yet save mankind.”

  Ellen breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. “Lay down on the cot, Matt.”

  He got to his feet, walked the three paces, and then lay down. “I need an hour, Ellen. Then wake me.”

  He needed much more than that, but she could give him only two. When would this madness end?

  * * *

  Venture

  Saturday 31 July

  The chime of the comm caused Bettina Yrden to look up from her screen, and the madness it held. The vid opened to Johannes. She frowned at the comm, but Johannes didn’t react to the message her face gave.

  “This better be important,” she said. “I’m up to my neck in work.”

  “You and everyone else,” he said unsympathetically. “And I’ve called to let you know that I’m adding to your burden.”

  She glared at the screen. “Why don’t you come here, and take over as captain so I can devote my time to trading. Doing two jobs at once isn’t my idea of fun.”

  Johannes merely gazed into the camera, seemingly unaffected by her complaint. A closer look showed him a little haggard himself. He couldn’t have it easy. Working with a Paxton probably had the two of them at each other’s throats on a daily basis. And Bettina had heard that Jill had put up a fight when she realized she would have to give up shuttle space for grounders that had nothing to do with the Families.

  “Okay, what do you have for me?”

  A smile came to his face. “A tourist. She won a lottery, and gets a month up here with the Yrdens. I thought you might like to look after her, show her a good time. Venture isn’t going anywhere, and you have lots of spare rooms.”

  “What? Who authorized this lottery garbage? For a tourist? I’m going to let Matt have it!”

  Johannes shook his head. “No, you aren’t. Matt doesn’t know anything about it, and you’re not going to tell him. From what I’ve heard, he’s having enough of his own problems.”

  She considered that for a minute. “That means he didn’t authorize this.”

  “Right. I did. Carol White – that’s her name – thinks she won a one-month vacation. A few days here on FTL-1, maybe a few days on Haida Gwaii, but the majority of that time on Venture. I figure we can give her a nice side trip somewhere special – like Io Station.”

  “You promised her a trip to Io Station? Are you out of your mind? We’re already short of shuttles, pilots, and what not. We’re falling behind on maintenance because of Matt’s demands. I’m not sending a pair of pilots – because that’s what it would take – in Scout-1, because we’re definitely not going in Venture – out to Jupiter just to please some damn tourist.”

  Bettina wished that she were on FTL-1, or that Johannes stood in her trade office, so she could grab him by the throat, and throttle him. But he just stood there, on the other side of the screen, with a mischievous grin on his face as he watched her explode.

  “Now, Betts, don’t be like that.”

  She calmed down, realizing that he deliberately provoked her. “Wait a minute. You said that she thinks she won the trip in a lottery. That means she didn’t. What are you up to?”

  “She’s Helen White’s sister. Helen didn’t include her in the uptake – leaving her only family behind. And Helen’s just about at the end of her tether. She has to be worried about Carol. So Jill Paxton and I came up with this plan and, with a little help from one of Helen’s compatriots down below, we have Carol convinced that she won this trip. As for Io, we have a three-member Family team out there. We have to bring them back. So, Scout-1’s going to pick them up whether or not it takes Carol on the trip. None of our other ships have time for that sort of thing. It’s get them in, get them out.”

  Made sense.

  “I’ll get our new cabin attendant to take care of her.” Bettina bowed to the inevitable. Johannes, though on FTL-1, still held the captaincy of Venture. She wouldn’t win an argument if he had already made a decision. And it appeared that he had.

  “That’s just fine. And, remember, Carol thinks she won a prize. Show h
er a good time. Let her make some good memories.”

  Just like Johannes to think of something like this. Yes, she supposed she could have Angela take care of this tourist, show her a good time. And, yes, if they had to send Scout-1 out to Io Station anyway, then that would get rid of the tourist for several days. Johannes had a heart, and–

  “Hey. You and Jill Paxton thought this up? Together? I would have thought you two would be at war.”

  “She may be a Paxton, Betts, but she’s good people. It’s no fun here as it is. If we fought, everything would probably collapse – and you know how important this is.”

  She did. The Family Heads had decreed that she had a need to know, being the main way station for the researchers coming up. She sighed.

  “So, when can I expect Ms White?”

  “Friday. That gives you almost a week to prepare. I’m nothing if not generous. Someone else would have said, ‘tomorrow’.” Johannes half-turned away from the camera, then turned back. “Speaking of tomorrow, I have another four for you. A family. Hold them until we can ship them out. I believe there’s a Fontaine ship coming in next week that you might put them on. Thanks, Betts.”

  Bettina opened her mouth to swear at the screen, but Johannes had already disconnected. Instead she got on the InShip and paged Angela Fulton.

  “Yes, Captain?” Angela said as soon as she reached a comm station.

  “Angela. We have four people – all one family – coming on board tomorrow. Make sure that we have a room on the passenger deck set up for them.”

  “Yes, Captain. I’ll get right on that.”

  “Thank you.”

  And she would. Although Bettina had cursed when she found out that she would have to hire both Angela and Wen Carson, she now thought that she could have acquired no better employees if she had searched a year for them.

  They both worked – and worked hard. Angela, in particular, made life easier all around. The crew loved her. Innocent, guileless, always ready to lend a hand, and ready to accept anyone into her circle, she had won over at least half the crew. Those she hadn’t won over, hadn’t become well acquainted with her yet. Mostly people in Engineering.