“We’ll win in the Assembly. We’ve lost the Senate.” Branstead looked glum.
“Robbie?” I turned to Senator Boland, down from New York for the day.
“He’s right. I can’t swing enough votes.”
“Our campaign, my speeches ...”
“It’s helped. North American mail is running three to one in our favor, European mail two to one. But only a third of the Senate faces election next year, and—”
“What can we offer we haven’t already?” They stared. I could hardly blame them. For years I’d eschewed the give-and-take of compromise. “The emigration bill? Banking reform?”
“We’d gain ten, at best,” Robbie said. “We’re still nineteen short. I’ve scratched my head over and again, asking what tricks my father would have used. If there’s a way, I can’t find it.”
We were undone. Short of martial law, there was no way to override a veto by the United Nations Senate. “We can’t persuade them?”
“Sir, they’re insulated from their constituencies by longer terms, and they resent the pressure you put on the Assembly. I’ve run out of arguments. Frankly, if the SecGen were anyone else, I myself might be on the other side.”
I said gently, “You’d vote for me, not the enviro package?”
“I trust you, sir. Despite your disclaimer at the Von Walthers banquet, your moral compass is truer than mine.” We’d parted company over the transpops, years back, and he’d come to regret his failure of conscience.
“If somehow the Patriarchs would climb aboard ...” Jerence eyed me hopefully.
“That’s out.” I wouldn’t encourage them to meddle in politics, and in any event their sympathies lay with the opposition.
“What, then?”
“I don’t know. Play it out.” Sometimes, on ship, it was all I’d known to do. At times, it had worked. But under the circumstances, that was unlikely. How, if we failed, could I face Philip? “Does Valera have a hand in—”
“Excuse me.” Anselm was at the door. “May I join you?”
Had he no sense? “Senator Boland is the majority whip, Jerence is my chief of staff, our enviro package is failing, and you’d barge in for a chat?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Out!”
He swung shut the door.
Boland and Branstead exchanged glances.
“ANSELM!”
He reappeared.
I beckoned him in. “Sit.” To Robbie, “Is Valera undercutting us?”
“Not actively, but you’re destabilizing the party. He wants to hold the Supras together; he’s heir apparent.”
Idly, I toyed with my puter, keyed up an Arcvid simulation, turned the screen to the boy. He gaped. “Go on, show me your stuff.”
He grasped the controls, braced himself, took a deep breath.
Boland asked, “Did you and Cisno have words? He’s, ah, more cautious than usual.”
My smile was bleak. “I didn’t want him to bolt us.”
“I’m glad I’m not in his shoes.” A glance at his watch. “By the way, I’m taking Jared to dinner. Care to come along?”
“Thanks, no. You ought to have time to yourselves.”
“Oh, I see him often enough. Join us. It’s a new Ukrainian restaurant. Real meat.”
I hesitated, reluctant to abandon Arlene. On the other hand, it would give her time alone with Philip. And if Ghenili accepted me as a patient, who knew how long I’d be away. Charlie Witrek was scheduled after dinner; a therapist from Johns Hopkins would drop him off at the compound. Still, I would enjoy a good meal out. “All right.” Security would go ballistic, but that was their problem.
Later, when Robbie had gone to change clothes, I asked Anselm, “What was that about?”
“I was bored, and wandering the house.” He shrugged. “I found myself in the living room, staring at your liquor cabinet.”
“So you came to me?”
“I shouldn’t have interrupted, sir.”
True, but I’d kept him on staff, knowing his disabilities. I said, “All remaining demerits are canceled. Well done, Mr. Anselm.”
He broke into a pleased grin. “Thank you.”
“Inspection tomorrow morning. Have your gear ready.”
“Aye aye, sir, but Ms. Seafort told me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Told you what?”
“About Lunapolis. What time do we leave?”
So much for secrets. “And you, of course, told Bevin.” Who no doubt told a guard, who told Newsnet, who would tell the entire world.
He drew himself up. “I did not.”
“Hmpff. The shuttle lifts at nine in the morning.”
“I’ll be ready. She said you’re taking us all.”
“Bevin may be useful. And it’s not fair to leave Mikhael behind. He’s my foster son.” The court had approved our petition. Jerence Branstead, as usual, had worked with smooth efficiency.
“Five of us, counting Ms. Seafort.”
“You have some objection?”
“Of course not. It’s just ... sir, Danil is no difficulty. But if you’re in the clinic, who’s to look after Mr. Tamarov?”
“Arlene.”
“Won’t she be with you?”
“Most of the time.” It would be a problem. I added, “I think I have a solution.”
We raced through blocked streets in an armor-plated ground-car, pulled up directly to the restaurant. As quickly as they could manage, my guards hustled me inside. Thanks to my speaking tour, my chair and I were instantly recognized. I had time for a quick wave at a blur of astonished faces before I was rushed to a private room. Jared Tenere and Robbie were already seated. Security checked the room, waited just outside.
We fussed over wine, ordered dishes of genuine meats off the lavish menu.
Jared raised his glass. “Thank you, sir. You’re making Philip very happy.”
“It’s still only words. The Senate ...”
Boland nodded glumly. “They’re a problem.” He brightened, patting Jared’s knee. “My boy tells me you saw my ... ah, investment.”
I puzzled it out. “Cardiff, you mean? I’m embarrassed P.T. came to you for the mortgage.”
“It was my idea,” said Jared modestly. “I knew Uncle Robbie would understand. And P.T. ... once he saw the place, he had to have it.”
I said without thinking, “You truly see yourselves living there?”
“When the air’s breathable. In the meantime we could hermetically seal the house, but ...”
I nodded agreement. Quite impractical. “Why outside Cardiff, of all places?”
His voice was quiet. “It’s a good place to raise a child.”
My wine spilled, and I dabbed ineffectually at the cloth until the waiter came.
“I’m sorry. Shouldn’t I have said that?”
“No, it’s just ...” I gave it up. “You startled me.” P.T. and Jared were more serious than I’d known. I tried not to imagine myself as a grandparent. How could it be so? I’d barely finished raising my son.
Jared smiled. “P.T. will make a good father.”
I said something polite.
Later in the meal Robbie Boland leaned close. “A word, if I might.” To Jared, “This is private. You won’t repeat it to anyone.”
“Of course not, Uncle Rob.”
I waited.
Boland kept his voice low. “That Burns woman. Are you sure she was the only bad apple on your staff?”
A stab of alarm. “We rechecked everyone. As far as we know ...”
“Sir, make absolutely sure.”
He had my full attention. “Rob, what do you know?”
“Nothing.” A grimace. “That’s what’s so frustrating. But I’ve rarely seen politics so unsettled. If the enviro bills go through, joeys stand to make fortunes, others to lose them. Someone else might have a go at you.”
“There’s not much I can do. Besides, it all comes back to the Senate. We’re losing them.”
“Yes.”
A frown.
Jared said softly, “I’m not in politics, but growing up around you and Uncle Rob ...”
“Yes?” I hoped my voice didn’t show my irritation.
“Why don’t you just announce you have the votes?”
I stared.
He licked his lips. “I mean, you know how politicians are about getting on a bandwagon. Declare you have pledges from enough Senators to pass the bill. It’ll bring others on board.”
I said coldly, “That would be lying.”
“Oh, goofjuice.”
“Jared!” Robbie’s eyes were sharp. “He’s the SecGen.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, but it’s not lying, it’s a ruse of war.” His tone was defiant.
“I’m not at war, Jared.”
“Of course you are. A war for their hearts and souls. A war to save the Earth from itself. And don’t tell me it isn’t done; candidates always claim polls show them ahead, even when they’re behind.”
“I never did.”
Rob Boland’s mouth twitched in a smile. “You never had to.”
“And I wouldn’t have. I’ll speak truth, no matter what the cost.”
“Well ...” Jared toyed with his bread. “Would it be a lie, if you make it true?”
“I’m sorry.” Charlie clutched my shoulder as I rolled to the sofa. “I don’t know the living room as well. In the office, I could find the chair blindfol—as I am.” He felt for the upholstered armrest. “Ah. I have it now.” Cautiously, he sat. “I don’t mean to inconven—”
“Don’t.” It was a plea. “Charlie, don’t apologize. We did this to you.”
“No you didn’t.” His voice was cheerful. “Those fucking eco bastards did. Oops. Sorry for the language.”
“Nonsense.” I waved it away, forgetting he couldn’t see.
“Just one thing I beg of you. Catch them.”
“We have most of them, and we’ll get the others. “I spoke with confidence I didn’t feel. I poured him a softie from the waiting tray, placed it in his hand. “So. The doctors will try again?”
“In a week or two, they say.” His fingers brushed through his hair. “This time it had better work.”
“I feel responsible. If there’s anything I can do ...”
“You’re doing it.” A wry smile. “I was thirsty.” He made a show of tasting his drink.
“Charlie ...”
“I know.” His voice was quiet. “It’s ghastly, isn’t it? Do you have scars?” His hand flitted to his ravaged face.
“No, son.”
“They’ll repair mine. They’re waiting to know whether the eyes will be real, or cosmetic. But ...” A long silence.
“Yes?”
“Even if the transplants take, I won’t see well enough for the active list. I won’t get a ship.” A smile, that seemed forced. “If I see at all. Most likely, I’ll be the youngest middy on the retired list.”
I raised my head, to the heavens. Lord, if You have any mercy, any decency ...
“What will you do?”
“I wonder that, sometimes, at night.” A laugh. His voice was bright. “There’s a lot of night nowadays.”
My luxurious dinner sat congealed in my stomach. “Oh, Charlie.” I wheeled myself to his side.
“Don’t feel pity, Mr. SecGen.” He shied away. “These things happen. You’re by far the worse off. I’m so sorry for what they did to you.”
“I’m managing.” For now. Until Ghenili healed me, or I ended matters.
We sat quietly.
“Funny thing,” he said at last. “When you have no eyes, you can’t cry.”
Late in the evening I sat in my living room, staring at my unexpected visitor. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I don’t believe so.” Derek Carr’s tone was cool.
“You already lost a week’s negotiations when I called you for Mikhael. I’ll be fine; even if Ghenili accepts me, he may not operate immediately.”
“I’ll set up holoconferences, and fly groundside next week for final negotiations. I’m going with you.”
Mikhael watched the byplay, as did Arlene.
“Isn’t that for me to say?”
“Only if you close all of Lunapolis.” Derek folded his arms.
“I appreciate ...” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Truly, it’s not necessary.”
“Say then that I’m going in Alexi’s place.”
“He wouldn’t have—”
“The hell he wouldn’t!” For a moment, Derek’s gaze was fierce. “I’ll have no more of it. You insult me.”
I stole a glance at Mikhael. His eyes were riveted on Derek.
“I suppose,” I grumbled, “we can make a place for one more.”
The boy’s mouth relaxed into a goofy smile.
“I don’t suppose you have any more stories?”
“A few.”
“Not a one, if you hear anything from his mouth not fit for a nunnery.”
Derek’s eyebrow shot up. “Mikhael, have you been giving him trouble?”
“No, sir. Not—I mean, not lately.”
“Come along, joey. Let’s take a walk.” He uncoiled his lanky frame from the couch. “Did I ever tell you about the time Alexi got caned?”
That night, slowly, carefully, Arlene and I made love. We’d been sixteen, our first time, middies on our first leave. Then, I’d been ignorant, unsure, and she’d helped me along. She did so now. It was hell, having legs that wouldn’t go where you sent them, muscles that failed to respond, nerves that sent only erratic sensations from my groin.
Afterward, content in the fullness of satiation, we lay drowsing.
“Nick, you know I’ve had eggs frozen.”
“What?” I snapped awake.
“We’re not too old. Having Mikhael ... seems to make you whole.”
“I’m doing it for Alexi.”
“And for yourself. You take joeykids under your wing. Look at Danil and Tad.”
“What are you saying?”
“That it’s not too late to have another child.”
“When he was grown I’d be ...” I was scandalized. “In my seventies!”
“So? If you’d start enzyme treatments ...”
“I’d look younger, and still be seventy. It’s not natural.”
“Neither are tooth implants. You’ve had your share of those.”
“That’s different.”
“Or new lungs.”
I propped myself on an arm. “Hon, do you want a child?”
A long while passed. “I’m not sure.” She nuzzled my chest.
“But if so, it would have to be yours.” I tried not to cry. “God, I love you.” Her hand crept lower. Presently, I murmured, “Quiet, love. We’ll frighten the horses.”
They sneaked us out of the house in Branstead’s heli, and in Derek’s, just past dawn. We all of us were giddy as children, giggling at the subterfuge. Arlene and I sat together, entwined, on the deck of Derek’s machine. The boys rode with Jerence. From time to time Arlene jabbed me, like cadets when Sarge wasn’t looking. I tickled her beneath the neck, one of her few vulnerable spots.
Derek tolerantly kept his eyes on the instruments, ignoring the guffaws from the back seat.
“I’ve decided,” She said, “that I do.”
I blinked. “Do what?”
“Don’t claim senility on me, you old fool.” She hushed my indignant protest with a kiss.
“You want a child?” My voice soared, almost to a squeak. “You’re serious?”
She nodded.
Bemused, I lay silent, cuddling her all the way to the shuttleport.
Potomac Naval Station had its own hangars, part of the shuttleport complex. To get to Lunapolis we had to transfer at Earthport Orbiting Station. Most shuttles to Earthport were run by U.N.A.F, but the Navy jealously guarded its prerogative to maintain its own.
If I had to trust one unit over the other to maintain secrecy, I’d choose the Navy every time. My own prior service
would help ensure their loyalty, but even more, the Navy’s long tradition of honor was something the more prosaic U.N.A.F. lacked. For further security, only two people at Earthport had been told I would be aboard, and one of them was Admiral McKay.
We boarded the shuttle in a closed hangar, for secrecy. Jerence had gone directly to the shuttleport’s commander, who sent a lieutenant to direct operations. At the sight of him, Anselm fidgeted, blushing. I raised an eyebrow. “He’s the one who caned me,” he whispered.
The lieutenant introduced the Station medico. “Mr. SecGen, it’s not often we send a paraplegic aloft. Understand, the seats are not designed to accommodate—”
I groaned. “Get on with it. I’ll be all right.”
“And in zero gravity, once the shuttle breaks free of Earth ...”
“Arlene, tell him I’m no greenie.”
“Hush, love.”
I bore his anxious instructions with what grace I could muster. Afterward, I craned my head to Mikhael. “You’ve been aloft?”
“Dad took me. I’m used to it.”
At last, liftoff. Strapped securely in my seat, I practiced relaxation, as Sarge had taught his eager cadets. I could still hear his chuckle. “Relax your chest muscles, Seafort. Feel it press you. Just like a woman lay atop you, but I guess you wouldn’t know about that.” At the time, I hadn’t.
After an endless roar and interminable pressure, the red receded from the corners of my eyes. I sucked in air, loosened my straps, floated off the chair.
Behind me, Anselm happily undid his straps. Mikhael gulped, his face green.
I roared, “Don’t even think about it! Sit up straight! Behave yourself!”
It worked. He was too startled to remember he felt sick.
More gently, I said, “Take deep, slow breaths, son. You’ll be fine. If not, there’s the bag.”
“Yessir.” He clutched it like a security blanket.
“Danil, see if you and Mikhael can spot Earthport.” Greenies tended to lose their breakfast in zero gee. A diversion would help.
Derek winked.
“How are you feeling, love?” Arlene floated overhead.
“Fine.” My ribs were sore, but no need to mention them.
The cockpit door opened; the copilot swam back, from handhold to handhold. “Mr. SecGen, a priority message from your chief of staff.”
“Very well.” I took the scrawled note. “Admiral McKay killed in depressurization accident at Earthport. Whom do you want as replacement? Otherwise, Admiralty will appoint Hoi of BuPers.”
Patriarch's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 6) Page 28
