The Devil's Eye ab-4

by Jack McDevitt

  FORTY-ONE

  The house was closing in on us. Doors were slamming, windows were shutting. "Get out," she said. "While you can." "But, Ilena," I cried, "there is no way." "Find one. Or make one."

  - Nightwalk

  The security people came. Then the CSS. They took Krestoff away, finally subdued. They collected Wexler's body. Asked some questions. Took notes. Moved Alex to a different room. Set a guard, just in case. An hour or so after they'd gone away, we got a call from one of Kilgore's staffers. "We heard about what happened," she said. "We wanted you to know we appreciate the strain you've been under. And we're glad the danger is past."

  "Thank you," said Alex.

  "When an opportunity presents itself, we'll find an appropriate way to express our gratitude. Meantime, if there's anything we can do for you, don't hesitate to get in touch." She gave us a private code that would allow us to reach her. We never did eat dinner that night. Alex's meal had gotten as cold as his appetite. We went down instead and sat in the Pilots' Club. It was empty. "They're all out running refugees to Sanctum," said the host. We had a couple of drinks. Two or three people came in. Then, after about an hour, my link sounded.

  "Ms. Kolpath?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm with the Coalition Transport Authority. As I'm sure you're aware, we're moving people off-world. I'm sorry to say that, acting in accord with executive order 504911, we've impounded your interstellar."

  "You've already done that once."

  "Really? Well, however that may be, we're doing it again."

  "I wish you wouldn't."

  "I understand completely. In any case, we have no discretion in the matter. We'll be making some improvements in the ship, and we'd like you to remain as the captain, and help in the evacuation effort. Can we count on you to assist us?" Alex shook his head. "I wonder what happens to people who don't have friends in high places." "Sure," I said. "I'll help."

  "Excellent. Can you leave tonight?"

  "Tonight?"

  "We've no time to waste, Ms. Kolpath."

  Alex was signaling me that he'd call Kilgore's people. Get it killed. "Sure," I said. "Can you give me an hour?"

  "We can do better than that. Your passengers are already in the station. We've scheduled you out at midnight."

  That finished the drinking, at least for me. We sat in desultory silence, contemplating a bleak future. Three years hauling refugees for me, and God knew what for Alex. While the world slowly tumbled toward oblivion. When the time came, we said good-bye. I left him alone in the Pilots' Club, the guy who'd figured it out and warned the world, who'd made the rescue effort possible. He wouldn't be allowed back in without me to escort him. I went back to my room and got my gear, much of which, fortunately, I hadn't unpacked. I sent it down to the loading dock and checked out of the hotel. Then I headed for the operations center. If I was going to be taking people to Sanctum, it seemed like a good idea to find out where the place was. Fourteen thousand light-years, in the general direction of the galactic rim. It was one of eleven worlds in the system, and its sun was a yellow dwarf. Of course, at that range, it was invisible to the naked eye. I got my vectoring data and headed for the ship, which was waiting at the dock when I arrived. A technician assured me the Belle-Marie was all set to go, that they'd made some adjustments inside, and stored food and water for the flight. Each boarding area was designed to service two ships. A second vehicle was also preparing for departure. It was small, smaller even than the Belle-Marie , but it bore Ashiyyurean markings. I stood for a minute, watching while four kids were separated from a small group of adults and led on board by a young woman. A female Mute stood off to one side. The captain, I suspected. The last of the five passengers disappeared into the tube, and the Mute hesitated. She and the remaining adults regarded one another with caution. And uncertainty. Then she raised one long arm in farewell. Or good luck. Or God bless. The humans waved back. A scene like that, a few months earlier, would have been unthinkable. We boarded the Belle-Marie , and the technician showed me six additional acceleration couches, doubling Belle 's carrying capacity. And they'd upgraded life support. "When you get back," he said, "we'll put in an extra washroom. In the meantime, you'll have to get by as best you can. Let us know"-he didn't crack a smile-"if we can do anything else." He checked something in his notebook, said Okay, that's good to no one in particular, and started for the hatch. He put one foot into the tube, stopped, and turned. "By the way, your AI will have the names of your passengers, and the time of their arrival, which I think will be just a few minutes now. It'll also have contact information for when you reach Sanctum." He left and I sat down and said hello to Belle. "Hi, Chase," she said.

  I was expecting another load of children. I was relieved when a group of technicians and engineers showed up. I know that sounds hard-hearted, but the prospect of riding all the way to Sanctum with kids in a state of near hysteria was just more than I wanted to deal with. I wondered how the Mute in the other ship, who'd be even more tuned in to it than I would, could handle it. It occurred to me for the first time that maybe they had an off switch. My passengers piled in, and I introduced myself. We could all see that privacy would be at a minimum and we'd have to live with make-do accommodations. Within a few minutes we were on our way. And I discovered this flight would be as painful, in its way, as the shipload of kids I'd anticipated. My passengers were all leaving behind families, lovers, friends, for whom there was no room on the Belle-Marie , or probably on any other ship during the next three years. The kids, and the adults who cared for them, were getting all the priority. Nobody could argue with that, but that didn't alleviate the pain. So my passengers would go out to Sanctum and do their assignments. Afterward, they'd have a choice: They could stay, and be clear of the Thunderbolt. Or they could go back to Salud Afar with next to no hope of being evacuated later, and take their chances. They were, understandably, being encouraged to stay at Sanctum. It was a long flight. We had to establish a sleeping schedule to provide accommodations for everyone. Despite the supplementary life-support setup, the air became oppressive. There were always two people sitting on the bridge. The rest-other than those logging sack time-were spread around the common room, a few relegated to using the deck because there wasn't enough seating. The electronic game systems didn't work too well under crowded conditions, and I made a mental note to bring some cards next time. They took it in stride. Everybody understood that the stakes were high, but the narrow bulkheads pressed on us all. We scheduled the entertainment, one show in the afternoon, one in the evening. We ran musicals, comedies, and thrillers. Nothing heavy. Strictly lightweight stuff. We even resurrected bingo, which, Alex tells me, was invented by the Dellacondans more than two thousand years ago. And might even be older than that. (In fact, Rainbow Enterprises had recently sold a bingo set from that era for a small fortune.) And we talked. Before we were finished, everybody's life story came out and got put on the table. One woman had been abandoned by her parents, one of the guys had lost a son in an accident at sea. One of the structural foundations techs started having breathing problems halfway across. It was a scary business, but fortunately extra oxygen tanks had been put on board, and we were able to bring him out of it. But he was a concern the rest of the way. When, on the thirteenth day, we jumped out into Sanctum space, everybody cheered. I could have arranged to have a patrol vehicle pick up the foundations tech, but he insisted he was okay, and he wanted to stay with the Belle-Marie . I went along with it, and he had another spell the next day. We got him into the hands of the medics okay, but it threw a scare into everybody. While I was in orbit around Sanctum, we picked up a transmission from Number 17 Parkway, in which Kilgore thanked his friends in the Confederacy for the support they'd been sending. He included the fleet, but he was really talking about the private citizens who had swarmed to his aid. I wondered if he'd been smart enough to send a similar message to the Assemblage. Sanctum was, of course, a work in progress. Even the space station was still under construct
ion. The world didn't have a moon, so it was unlikely to become a permanent habitat. But it had oceans and open plains and forests. The only look I got at groundside was from orbit, though, so I didn't see much. Lights were visible on the dark side. And they downloaded a tour of the place for me. Although I never did anything more than take a cursory glance. You've seen one forest, you've seen them all. I'd have liked to stay a couple of days. Get out of the ship for a while. But I had become part of the official schedule, and there were passengers waiting for me back at Samuels. So they serviced Belle while I stretched out for a couple of hours on a real bed. Then I was on my way back to Salud Afar. For the people hauling refugees out to Sanctum, it would be an endless stream. For three years, I expected there would be nothing else in my life, two weeks in a jammed ship, two weeks in an empty one, hauling people who were leaving behind everything, and often every one , they loved.

  I wondered whether Wexler might not have been right.

  When I got back to Samuels, there was no trace of Alex. I left a message saying hello, sorry to have missed you, catch you next time. They gave me almost three hours to relax, then I was back at the boarding area to pick up my next set of passengers. They were kids this time. All four years of age or under, plus two mothers. They screamed and cried their farewells, and we finally got them all on board. I took a deep breath, and we launched. The kids cried round the clock. The mothers did what they could, and showed, I thought, endless patience. I tried to help to the extent I could. But none of us knew how to calm the ongoing hysteria. By the third day, they both had bloodshot eyes. "Got to be a better way to do this," I told them. I decided a couple of cats might help, and I made a mental note to put in a request. The older of the two mothers, an attractive blonde, commented that they only had to put up with it for two weeks. And the other one immediately dissolved into tears. After I delivered them, I sent a message to the people running the evacuation, ordering my cats, and informing them that, even though I understood the reasoning behind trying to save the kids first, separating children from their mothers was cruel. I knew that if they responded at all, which was unlikely, they'd ask me for an alternative. And of course I wouldn't have one. It didn't matter. They never asked.

  I made the jump back into Salud Afar space and was beginning to wonder whether I could really continue like this for three years. I knew they were trying to train more pilots to give us a break in the routine, but it would take a while. I was about two days out, sitting feeling sorry for myself when Belle came to life: "Chase." "Yes, ma'am. What've you got?"

  "I'm not sure. Intruder alert, maybe."

  "Intruder alert?"

  "I'm scanning a lot of ships. Warships."

  "Where?"

  "Most are near Salud Afar."

  "What kind of ships?" "All kinds. Cruisers, escorts, destroyers- thousands of them." "Hell, that's good news. Belle, the Confederacy has come to the rescue, after all." "Chase, they're not Confederates. They're Mutes."

  FORTY-TWO

  Whatever happens from this moment on, Holly, remember that I was here when you needed me.

  - Nightwalk

  "Belle, are they reacting to us?"

  "They know we're here."

  "Okay, give me manual."

  "You have it."

  They were all around us. None that I could see without the scopes. But the kinds of weapons these

  things carried made that dim consolation. "Let me know if we light up, Belle."

  "Of course."

  "Okay, give me a channel to the station."

  "You're open." "Samuels, this is the Belle-Marie . Approaching from Sanctum. What is status, please?" "You'll have to get in line, Belle-Marie . We see you. Hold steady on present course. I'll give you instructions in a few minutes."

  "Ops, I'm out here surrounded by Mutes."

  "That's affirmative. Don't worry about it."

  "Why not?"

  "They're here to help."

  "How do you know?"

  "They said so."

  "You believe them?" "What's the alternative?" He signed off. Moments later he was back. "You're Chase Kolpath, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. We're going to move you to the front of the line, Kolpath. You're being taken off assignment. We'll have a replacement waiting. When you dock, please report to the ops center."

  "Samuels, can you tell me why?"

  "Don't know why, ma'am. Just come on in."

  The head of the line doesn't mean a whole lot when you're two days out. But I proceeded accordingly. On the way in, I picked up reports that the evacuation was going to go a lot more quickly, and that work was moving ahead on a second, larger, space station. Meanwhile, more shuttles were coming online. Spaceports were being designated around the globe, where landers could descend to pick up passengers. Ships coming in from the Assemblage had already arrived at Sanctum, carrying supplies and engineers. I got in as quickly as I could, burning extra fuel on the way, and reported to the chief of the watch. He said he was proud to meet me, told me a private shuttle was waiting, and handed me two sealed envelopes. One contained the following: Celebration tonight (the 20th) at the Sariyavo Hotel. Your attendance mandatory. Congratulations. Tao Kilgore.

  "You Sirian Koslo?" I asked. He grinned "Yes." "Thanks." "My pleasure. Go get 'em, Chase." The other was from Alex: Chase, they're telling us that if you make a reasonable jump, you'll be able to get to the Sariyavo for the party. If not, the Administrator promises me they'll throw another one tomorrow. Or over the weekend. Or whatever it takes. You're the lady of the hour.

  If the situation had improved, I wouldn't have known it charging through Samuels. The children were still there, surrounded by dismayed adults, waiting for their rides to arrive. There was still only a handful of Mutes in the concourse. And, considering the way the locals steered clear of them, it was just as well. I was halfway to the shuttle launch area when two CSS agents scooped me up. "Heard you were on the way, Ms. Kolpath," one of them said. "If you'll follow us, please." I love playing the VIP. They opened the hatch for me, the pilot asked to shake my hand, and they provided a box of goodies to munch on on the way down. My luggage arrived, and they stowed it in cargo. Was there anything else they could do for me? "Sure," I said. "What's it about?" "You don't know?" "Should I?"

  "Chase, you're the woman who brought the Mutes."

  There were no other passengers. As soon as I was belted down, we were on our way. We passed through some storm clouds and arrived at the Marinopolis spaceport in a driving rainstorm. They transferred me to a government skimmer, and we took off and headed east toward the center of the city. Fifteen minutes later we landed on the roof of what I assumed to be the Sariyavo, where I was handed over to two other agents. They collected my luggage, refused to allow me to touch it, took me inside, down one floor, and opened a door to a luxury suite. Lights were on, candy had been placed on the bed, music was playing softly. "Your room while you're here, ma'am," one of them said. She opened a closet to reveal an exquisite black gown. "I think you'll find it's the right size." "It's nice," I said. And I know that was a dumb response, but I wasn't functioning at full capacity. "They're just getting started in the main ballroom. When you're ready, call us, and we'll escort you down." She smiled. "Take your time. The party won't really start until you get there."

  I could hear the noise before I got out of the elevator. Music. People laughing and cheering. The agents took me to the entrance and turned me over to one of the best-looking guys I've ever seen. Mash Kavalovski. He was the son of a treasury secretary from one of the associated states. The music stopped, and the crowd cleared a space for us. He kissed my hand, and said he was honored to meet "the hero of the hour." A cheer went up. A few Mutes were sprinkled through the crowd. Times were changing quickly. Mash danced with me while everybody backed away. Then they all joined in. When the music stopped, Mash handed me over to Alex. "Alex," I said, "how've you been? I missed you." He was all smiles. "I missed you, too, love. How was life wit
h the Transit Authority?" Somebody brought me a purple-colored drink that left me feeling as if I owned the world. There were more introductions to people from around the globe. To more people from the Confederacy. To fleet officers. And to Mutes, some in uniform, some not. Eventually I wound up back in Mash's arms. "Chase," he said, "I don't suppose I could talk you into running off to the Golden Isles, could I?" I wasn't very familiar with what passed for dancing in Marinopolis, but I'm fairly flexible. Mash and I were gliding around the floor when the music changed tempo, slowed, and switched to "Time of Glory." It was the cue for the Administrator to make his entrance. And there he came, through a side door, still in conversation with someone. He broke it off quickly, mounted a rostrum, and waited for quiet. The music stopped. Everyone turned to watch. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "I'd like to welcome you all to this special celebration in honor of some very special people. These have been a pretty happy few weeks. And we have more good news tonight. "The good news first: The Confederacy has announced that the bulk of its fleet is being committed-" It was as far as he got. The crowd applauded loudly, and for several minutes it would not stop. Finally, when it did, he proceeded: "-The bulk of the Confederate fleet, virtually all of it, is coming here to assist us-" The applause started again. Kilgore tried to continue, but his voice got drowned out. The crowd was out of control, cheering, clapping, embracing each other. I got hugged and kissed and passed around, and I didn't mind it a bit. Eventually he got control: "-There's more-" he said. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's my happy duty to inform you that we believe we now have the resources to put a shield in front of the world. Even as we speak, work has begun." If the other announcements had gotten everyone excited, that one blew the roof off. The Administrator took a few sheets of notepaper from his pocket, glanced at them, shrugged, and put them back. It was, I thought, not a time for details. While the hall continued to rock, he shook hands with everyone he could reach, including several of the Mutes. Those who were not in fleet uniforms wore brilliantly colored robes. I knew enough about them now to understand bright colors reflected good times.