Soon they would come and try to get ours and we prepared to evacuate when they did. Evidently they had heard rumors of Strelas for their aircraft kept well away from the Cove, but our scouts, watching the road into Standish, reported that truckloads of troops and tanks on transporters were moving into the town, ostensibly to restore law and order after outbreaks of rioting. But Guardsmen were filling the local bars with stories about the number of fertile women they had liberated from the other three Settlements in the State, and how they would soon be rescuing the ones we were supposed to be holding captive.
Legally we were now in revolt. Outlawed. “Wearing the wolfs head.” Fair game for anyone. We knew we had a way out, but we didn’t want to take it until we had to. And when we had to we found that way suddenly blocked.
XVII
Our escape route was blocked by the arrival offshore of a Coast Guard cutter. Our relationship with the US Coast Guard had always been good; they were fellow sailors and our boats seldom got into trouble. But on that foggy September morning the sight of the white ship with her blue and red stripe lying off the Cove was an omen of trouble to come.
Enoch went out to find why the cutter was there and returned with bad news. “Lieutenant Jenson’s the Skipper. All he’ll say is that his orders are to stop any boats from leaving Sutton Cove.”
“His orders? Whose orders?” demanded Yackle. “The Federal Government has no right to interfere with our fishing. We have an agreement with Washington—”
“He doesn’t take orders from the Federal Government no more. Told me Coast Guard’s reverted to local control. The States are regaining their rights—they are!” He sucked moodily on his empty pipe. “Jenson’s taking his orders from the Governor of Maine. When I asked him why, he said he had to take orders from somebody!”
So Lieutenant Jenson was stamped by the same die as had marked the Captain of the Strike Force. In a collapsing civilization they were disciplined men cut adrift, looking for some authority to tell them what to do. Judith had accused me of being feudal, of seeking someone to serve. To serve perhaps—not to obey blindly!
“One cutter can’t blockade us,” said Jehu. “We’ve more’n fifty boats, most of ’em faster than that one out there. He can’t stop us all—even if he tries to sink us. And I doubt he’d do nothing like that. Not Craig Jenson!”
“Craig Jenson’ll do as he’s told,” snapped Yackle. “It’s the 209
Ranula hell want to stop. And board. Captain Rideout, do you think you could get past him?”
The Captain of Ranula tugged on his moustache and shook his head mournfully. “No way I can think of. He could come alongside as he liked, and I couldn’t stop him. Not without a lot of shooting. And against his guns there wouldn’t be much point to that now, would there? Not with the children aboard.”
“What about at night? Could you slip past him in the dark?”
“With his radar—night’s as clear as day.”
“Not quite,” I interrupted. “I’ve got a radar spoiler in the shop. I’ve been rigging it in Sea Eagle.” They turned to listen and I explained, “It’s a gadget that masks a radar echo by making it look like a rain storm. Useful for creeping inshore on a raid.” I fidgeted, uncomfortable at having to confess I knew about such things. “Of course, it doesn’t work if there’s good ECM defense—”
“Good what?” asked Yackle.
“Electronic Counter Measures. Sophisticated radar. But that cutter of the Coast Guard will only have a standard rig, and the spoiler might fool it.”
“It’d have to be at night, then?” said Captain Rideout. He sighed. “I guess it’s worth trying.” He looked out of the window. “There’s a fog closin’ in.”
“That cutter’s come here today,” said Enoch. “So to my mind it looks as if those tanks of theirs are likely to be coming down the road right soon. What do you think, Chuck?”
“I think you’re probably right.” Yackle rested his face in his hands, then looked up. “In fact I’m sure you’re right. Cutter or no cutter, we’ll have to move today. Gavin, can you finish rigging that spoiler thing by this afternoon. That may be all the time we’ve got.”
I promised to try, and went to my workshop, cursing the indecision which was endemic in the Settlement. As usual, everything had been left too late. I lugged the spoiler unit down to Sea Eagle, which was lying alongside, and found her with engines running, Barbara at the wheel, and Midge about to cast off.
“Where the hell are you going?” I shouted down.
“Out to try to persuade Craig Jenson to let us past.”
“Some hope!” I grumbled, climbing down the ladder, clutching the spoiler. “Anyway, you’ll have to belay that. Chuck told me to finish rigging this.”
“You can finish it as we go out,” said Barbara. Before I could argue Midge had cast off and jumped aboard.
Perhaps the girls would be able to persuade Lieutenant Jenson to disobey his orders, but I doubted it. I set to work rigging the radar spoiler while Barbara picked her way among the moored boats crowding the Cove. The fog was thickening, but the Coast Guard cutter was still clearly visible lying offshore, her white topsides glinting in the misty sunshine.
I hadn’t much hope that we would ever have a chance to use the spoiler, but I worked at it because it was the only thing I could do. In Standish the armored column would be starting to form up. Astern of us the children were starting to go aboard Ranula. Ahead of us lay the cutter, making it certain that they wouldn’t get out of the cove. How the hell did Barbara think she was going to persude this Lieutenant Jenson to let us go? Her methods of persuasion were unorthodox and inclined to be dangerous. She might have some crazy idea—
I threw down my side-cutters and went up to the wheel-house. “Barbara, if you are going to try to ram that cutter—”
“Do you think I’m mad?” she said over her shoulder, without turning her eyes from the swell ahead.
“We’re only going to talk to them,” said Midge. “We’re not going to do anything dangerous. But I know one of the Petty Officers—from the time I spent in Clarport—and he might do something to help.”
“Pity you didn’t choose to sleep with Lieutenant Jenson rather than a Petty Officer,” I remarked, studying the cutter ahead.
“Mister Gavin, please get the hell out of my wheelhouses” remarked Barbara.
“It might be better if you did keep out of sight,” murmured Midge. “Give us girls a chance to see if we can charm those guys.”
“Do that, Mister Gavin,” snapped Barbara. “Get below! Two girls in a boat is one thing. A professional gunman is another!”
I cursed and went back to rigging the spoiler while Sea Eagle eased her way through the slight swell. When a voice from a bullhorn aboard the cutter hailed us and told us to go back into the cove, Barbara cut the motor and let our way carry us to within a few meters of her.
“Why can’t we go fishing?” she demanded. “You know us. You’ve never hindered us before!”
My curiosity overcame my caution. T went to the scuttle and peered through a gap in the curtains. We were almost alongside and a Lieutenant was leaning from the wing of his bridge. “Sorry, young lady. Orders.”
“Whose orders? I’m Barbara Bernard. And this is Midge. We just want to fish. We’re not going to break any laws.” “Sorry, Barbara.” Jenson’s voice showed that he was not enjoying his job any more than the Strike Forge Captain had enjoyed his. But, like the Captain, he persisted in doing it. “No boats to be allowed to leave Sutton Cove today.”
“Why not?” piped up Midge. “Who are those men you’ve got with you? What are you going to do to us?”
A group of men in combat gear were coming out onto the after deck of the cutter. Marines! A Marine landing party! In its death spasm the Affluence was befouling everything it touched.
A Sergeant stepped to the rail, leaning down, trying to reassure the young girl below him who seemed about to burst into tears. “We’re not here to hurt you, Miss.
We want to help you.”
“You’ve come to take us away from our homes!” wailed Midge, starting to weep in earnest.
“No—it’s not that!” The Sergeant looked around helplessly, then fished a handkerchief from his pocket. He tossed it down to Midge. “Dry your eyes and go home. There’s a good kid!”
Barbara had come from the wheelhouse to stand beside Midge, and now started to weep with her. A weeping Barbara was a phenomenon which I had never seen before and could hardly have imagined. This must be a part of some elaborate scam the girls were attempting. Midge had promised they weren’t going to try anything dangerous but—
“Barbara, get back to the wheel!” came a bellow from the bridge. “You men, back from the rail!” All the Marines and half the crew were ranged along the cutter’s port rail, trying to reassure the sobbing girls. “Damn you! Mind my paint! Cox’n, move those men back and get fenders overside!” There was a thud as Sea Eagle nestled up alongside the cutter. Her skipper was a man who could worry about his paintwork while following orders which were helping to destroy a harmless community. “Barbara, you know how to handle a boat! And for God’s sake, stop blubbering. Nobody’s going to hurt you!”
By this time I was convinced that if anybody was going to get hurt it would be the Coast Guard. “Sorry, Skipper,” sniffed Barbara, from the wheelhouse, shifting to slow astern, backing away from the cutter. Then she put the wheel hard over, swinging our bows toward Sutton Cove, but with stemway on we began to bounce along the cutter’s topsides. Sailors ran to fend us off, Jenson started cursing, Marines continued trying to comfort Midge.
“Ahead! Go ahead—you silly little bitch!” Jenson yelled as we drifted, stern first, under the cutter’s counter.
“Sorry!” shouted Barbara, shifting to slow ahead. And then I saw Midge stoop and pull the lever which shot out the trawl.
A thousand meters of chronon trawl line went snaking out from the ejection port low in Sea Eagle's stern. So thin as to be almost invisible; strong enough to tow the cutter, it went spewing into the propwash as Sea Eagle moved ahead. Neither Jenson leaning from his bridge nor the sailors leaning from the rail seemed to notice it or realize that Barbara had maneuvered to drag the line across the cutter’s twin screws.
There was a plop as the buoyed tail of the trawl let go, but instead of inflating and floating, the buoy sank as soon as it hit the water. Barbara went to half-ahead and waved to Jenson who, thankful that she was returning to the Cove, waved back. Midge was waving to the Sergeant who blew her a kiss. Nobody aboard the cutter had yet realized that there was a kilometer of chronon line hanging across both propellers, waiting to be wound in when the cutter’s engines were next turned over.
By the time we reached the Cove the fog had thickened and the cutter was only just visible, still on station, still hove-to. “They won’t do much intercepting!” said Barbara as we went alongside the wharf. “Have you got that gadget of yours fixed, Mister Gavin!”
“I have, Miss Bernard.” I locked the final clamp. “One of these days I’m going to risk my life and paddle your ass!”
But before she could pick up the brawl Yackle appeared above us on the dockside. “How did it go?”
“Perfect! That cutter’s out of action.” Barbara did not elaborate. So Yackle had known what these two kids had planned!-
“Thank the Light!” He glanced at Ranula, ready to cast off, children and young mothers crowding her decks. “That armored column has left Standish. Mister Gavin—is your spoiler working?”
“Far as I can tell it is.” I climbed up to join him.
“We won’t need it now!” said Barbara, putting me down. “We may! We may! Mister Gavin—leave it operating. Barbara—you will escort Ranula out into the Bay and wait with her offshore.”
“But with tanks coming along the road—”
“Get movin’, young lady!” said Enoch, looming out of the fog. “We’re looking after the road. You’re needed at sea.”
She scowled and went hard astern, backing away from the dock. I followed Enoch up the now almost deserted village street. “Where is everybody?”
“Aboard the boats or going aboard. We was going to chance it, even if Barb’s idea hadn’t worked. Only chance we got. We may be able to hinder them tanks. There’s no way we can stop ’em.”
“Where’s Judy?”
“Took her bike and went off up the road.”
“What?” I grabbed him by the arm. “You let her go off? They’ll grab her! Or kill her!”
“She said you was to wait above the bridge with Kitty. The Doc knows what she’s doing, even if we don’t.”
“Christ—nobody knows what anybody’s doing in this place!”
“We know we’ve got the kids safe aboard the boats. And we know we can put to sea.” Enoch gently took my hand from his arm and started to fill his pipe. “Why don’t you do like the Doc says. Go and wait above the bridge. This time there will be shooting.”
I was on my bike and away while he was still speaking. I couldn’t imagine what crazy reason had sent Judith to meet an advancing armored column on a motorbike, but the only thing I could think of was to go after her. I skidded around the bend short of the bridge and found the Brinks parked across the road. Jehu waved me to a halt.
“Where’s my wife?” I yelled at him.
“Cornin’ back! Listen!” He held up his hand and I heard the whine of her Yama in the distance, getting closer. “Best go up to the bridge with that gun of yours. So you can knock down anyone who’s chasing her.”
I went scrambling up to the command post overlooking the bridge. Only Kitty was there. Her eyes intent up the road she hardly glanced at me. “They’ve passed the fork,” she said. “The lead tank’s at the fourth click. And Judith’s well ahead.”
I flopped down beside her. “What the hell’s going on?”
“The tanks are coming. And here they come!”
The Yama came first. Judith, without her helmet, her hair streaming, was racing for the bridge. I suddenly realized that the planking was still in place, but it was too late to do anything about it. At least she would be able to ride across.
Instead she skidded to a halt and let her bike heel over, looking as though she had dumped. The commander of the first tank around the bend evidently thought she had and, seeing her as potential loot, went roaring forward, one of the crew emerging from a hatch, ready to grab her.
Before he could she had wrestled her bike upright, jumped astride, and taken off, splattering crewmen and tank with mud flying from her rear wheel. The tank started after her. The planks rattled as she crossed the creek, glancing back, her hair flying. At the last moment the tank driver doubted that the bridge would carry his weight and locked his treads. The tank skidded onto the bridge and then slowly nosed down into the creek as the planks gave way. Judith waved and disappeared around the bend.
“That’s blocked it for the cabron!” said Kitty, picking up her com and calling. “Block in place this end!” As the driver’s hatch started to open she added, “You can start shooting now, Mister Gavin.”
I had been wanting to shoot at something ail day; I bounced a round off the driver’s hatch and it snapped shut. The crewman who had been outside the turret waiting to grab Judith had been thrown into the creek. He was scrambling up when I fired and dived back into the mud. An armored personnel carrier came round the bend, its hatches opening. Rifles cracked from along the ridge above the creek, ricochets went screaming away into the woods, hatches crashed closed. More tanks arrived, their turrets traversing, their cannon searching for something to shoot at. But they couldn’t elevate sufficiently to sweep the ridge and the holiday warriors who manned them stayed in them.
From farther up the road came a series of dull explosions and the ground shivered beneath us. “There goes the overhang!” said Kitty. “Now they’re blocked both ends.” She began to call on her com, “Pull out everyone. Back to the boats!” She listened for a moment, then said to me, “They’v
e still got a few things to get aboard. Do you mind staying here for a short time, Mister Gavin? Keeping those tanks closed down until everybody’s ready to sail?”
“Glad to be of help!” I growled, bouncing another round off an opening hatch. At last here was something I was able to do.
Kitty disappeared down the slope. I caught glimpses of shadows moving back through the trees toward the village. Presently Sam came out of the woods and dropped down beside me. “I’m the last, Mister Gavin. Everybody’s back. And safe too!” He laughed. “Should write a letter of thanks to the Department of Highways for not fixin’ our road!”
“Find out how much longer they want us to stay here.” The fog was thickening and soon even these troops would be venturing out of the carriers.
Sam called on his com, then said, “Evacuation complete, and the boats are out of the Cove. Them tanks won’t catch nobody now. Enoch’s waiting alongside for you and me. Let’s go!”
“Coming!” I used my last magazine to spray the blocked column, then slid after Sam down to the road.
“Will you give me a lift to the wharf on the back of your bike, Mister Gavin? I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”
“You haven’t had enough excitement for one day? Then climb on!” We rode back to the village, down the empty street, past the deserted houses. Our own cottage above the cove was already hidden by the fog, and I wasn’t sorry. I’d been happier there than any place I’d ever been.
Enoch was waiting on the wharf. “Coast Guard’s drifting with her screws all tangled. The boats are hove-to offshore. That spoiler of yours is working fine. They look like a patch of rainstorm on my radar.”
“Where’s Judy?”
“Aboard Ranula with the kids. Jehu took her out. You ready to leave too?”
Edward Llewellyn Page 25
