Seeds

by Chris Mandeville

  “We found her. We found Brandt’s girl. She’s in bad shape, but she’s alive. They’re taking her to the hospital now.”

  “Finally! Did you hear that, Linus? Soon, revenge will be ours. What are we waiting for? Let’s go to the hospital.”

  “Is, uh, is Linus coming, too, sir?” Gomez asked.

  “What’s wrong with you? Of course he’s coming. Where would I be without my right-hand man?” Gomez was usually sharp as a tack. Pascal wondered if he should be concerned that the man was slipping.

  Despite Gomez’s uncharacteristic mental deficiency, he’d managed to rally the troops and move the command post to the hospital in record time. Even so, Pascal was still annoyed. Gomez had asked him twice more about Linus, followed by three different nurses asking to take Linus to his own room.

  What was wrong with everyone? Linus was staying right by his side in the command post where he belonged. Pascal had finally obtained a bed for the boy so he could rest, but he’d practically had to threaten a nurse with beheading to get her to bring it.

  Linus was his right-hand man. A brilliant strategist. A wise counselor. He was needed for brainstorming and advice. Moving him elsewhere would be inefficient. It was out of the question. The next person to suggest it would be beheaded.

  Pascal paced beside the bed, talking through his plans with Linus.

  “Sir?” Gomez interrupted.

  “Leave us alone. We’re working. Whatever it is, handle it yourself.”

  Gomez slunk away, but Pascal’s focus would not return. He kept glancing over at Gomez. Mousy Gomez, soft and weak in his sweater and bookish glasses. That dotard had no place running his empire. The empire he built for Linus. The world had never borne a more natural leader than Linus, one with such innate charisma and intellect. With Pascal’s tutelage and guidance, there was no limit to his success. There was no one with a greater destiny.

  Pascal paced faster, losing himself in his thoughts. He pulled them around himself like the blankets that shrouded Linus, and the sounds and smells of the hospital faded away.

  “Sir?”

  Pascal looked up to see Gomez. “It had better be important,” he growled.

  “A report from the pirates, sir. The southern fleet is in the harbor. They were attacked by the northern pirates at their home base on San Clemente.”

  “By the same pirates who attacked us?”

  “No, a separate contingent. The attacks appear to have been orchestrated to occur simultaneously. Now the southern pirates want to retaliate and attack the northern base on Catalina, but they’ve suffered casualties and are outnumbered. They’re awaiting your orders.”

  Brandt escaped on one of those ships.

  “I want him captured alive!”

  “Who, sir?”

  “Brandt. Send everyone to Catalina, every boat that’s seaworthy. Arm them to the teeth. Put Minou in command. Have her bring Brandt to me. Alive. And that outsider, too. They’re going to pay.”

  “Yes sir.” Gomez pivoted on his heel.

  “Wait! Are there any northern pirates in the Tank?”

  “I’ll find out, sir,” Gomez said.

  “If there are, send them with Minou. Maybe she can trade for Brandt. Go on, get moving.”

  Gomez exited and Pascal felt like he could breathe again.

  “This is better, eh Linus? Yes, this is good. Now we wait for news. News of Justine and news of Brandt.” He drummed his fingers together. “Ah, here’s a lesson for you, son: do not listen to those who say waiting is the hardest part. Those are the words of the weak and powerless. What most men call waiting is a prime opportunity for planning. We won’t wait while the doctors patch up Justine and the soldiers fetch Brandt. Instead, we’ll use the time to our advantage. To plan their reunion.”

  Ninety-Seven

  Pacific Ocean, aboard the Belle

  Nikolai stretched out his legs and propped up his feet in the cockpit. It was his favorite time to sit the watch, when all was quiet except for the lapping of the sea against the hull, and the stars were his only company.

  Getting underway had gone smoothly. Nikolai had placed Will in command of the Belle, and Will handled the job so efficiently, there had been little for Nikolai to do. Rather than feeling at loose ends, though, Nikolai found it satisfying. Enjoyable, even.

  Their plan had been to take a short sail up the island to a protected cove to loosen out the kinks. They’d spend the night tucked out of sight in case the southern pirates arrived, then begin the long voyage in the morning. But the Belle and the Emancipation had sailed in concert like they’d been doing it for years, and the sky was so clear even Finola could have navigated, so Will saw no need to stop at the cove. Kennedy agreed, so they’d continued sailing north into the night.

  Nikolai always preferred sailing after dark when the sea was deep and the stars were close. This night was particularly sweet. He was content to be back at sea on the Belle with his family. No more Democracy, no more bureaucrats. He looked forward to never seeing another manifest again. He was happier than he’d been in years.

  “Sir?”

  It was Will’s friend, Gordo. Nikolai had known him since he was a pudgy toddler. “Is it that time already?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Then the watch is yours.” Nikolai stretched and headed belowdecks.

  Though it was late, he wasn’t sleepy. Normally he’d pop in for a snack and conversation with Finola, but she’d be with Olexi now. Will’s cabin was shut, but the infirmary door was ajar and a light was on. Maybe the medic could use a break or some company.

  He poked his head in and saw Reid sitting by the girl’s bedside. Nikolai listened for a moment as the young man read aloud. He’d just decided to leave without interrupting when Reid looked up.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Nikolai said.

  “Not at all,” Reid said, standing. “What can I do for you?”

  “I thought perhaps I could do something for you. I wouldn’t mind sitting with her so you can get some rack time. I don’t think I could sleep anyway.”

  “I don’t like to leave her, but I will visit the latrine while you’re here, if you don’t mind.”

  It took Nikolai a moment to realize what he meant. “Oh, the head. Sure, go on.”

  After Reid stepped out, Nikolai sat and picked up the book.

  “The Secret Garden. Let’s see where you left off.” He opened the book to the marker and cleared his throat. “‘There was a bright fire on the hearth when she entered his room, and in the daylight she saw it was a very beautiful room indeed. There were rich colors in the rugs and hangings and pictures and books on the walls which made it look glowing and comfortable even in spite of the gray sky and falling rain.’”

  When Nikolai reached the end of the chapter, he found Reid sitting on the floor with his head resting against the cabinet, sound asleep. Nikolai was struck by how different he looked without the heavy responsibility he wore when awake.

  It reminded him of Will after Jess died. All day, the little boy had carried the burden of grief until he cried himself out at night and slept. Only then did he look like the child Nikolai knew. It had been harder for Tatiana. She’d lain in bed for hours while Nikolai read aloud, her arms wrapped around an old rag doll even though she was almost a teenager. After she fell asleep, Nikolai would often keep reading. He couldn’t bear to go to bed where Jess’s absence was most keenly felt in the long hours before dawn.

  He looked at Mia now, her eyes moving beneath the lids while she dreamt.

  “Let’s make sure they’re pleasant dreams, sleeping beauty.”

  He settled back in the chair and began the next chapter.

  Ninety-Eight

  Aboard the Belle

  He was behind the dumpster watching Mia kick a can down the road. Then he heard the low rumble of a man’s voice, followed by the tinkle of Mia’s laughter.

  Somewhere in his mind he realized this was not a memory. He was dreaming. He swam for the
surface, forcing himself to open his eyes.

  “Mia!” She was awake. Reid pushed himself up off the floor. “Why didn’t you wake me?” he barked at the captain. He pushed his way between them, pulling Mia’s hand away from Nikolai to take her pulse.

  “Mmm, don’t be angry.” Mia’s voice was raspy, her speech lethargic.

  “I’m not.” Reid kissed her forehead. Relief washed over him. She was going to be okay.

  “My head hurts.” She hung her arm across her face, covering her eyes.

  “It’s from a head injury, but you’re also dehydrated. Can you drink some water?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Mia?” He touched her arm.

  “Lemme sleep.”

  “Try to stay awake.”

  She uncovered her eyes and frowned. “Water?”

  He reached for a bottle of sugar-water and noticed the captain was gone. He felt a stab of jealousy that Mia had woken for him. He turned back to Mia. Her eyes were closed again.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he said, slipping his arm behind her shoulders and sitting her up.

  “Tired.”

  He held the bottle to her lips. “Take a sip, not too much.” She swallowed. “Good. Now one more.”

  “Let me sleep,” she said, her lids drooping.

  “But I just got you back.”

  She touched his cheek, then her arm slipped back to her side and she was out.

  Ninety-Nine

  Lost Angeles

  Pascal looked out the hospital window. The air still held the grayness of early morning. He checked his watch without reading it. He knew to the minute what time it was. It was premature to expect Minou to return from the pirate battle, but there ought to be news about Justine. He looked at the closed hospital door for the hundredth time—the doctors and nurses had been working on her for hours. If someone didn’t come out in the next ten minutes, he was going in.

  He looked out the window again. No Minou, but he wasn’t concerned. His forces far outnumbered and outclassed the northern band of pirates. Failure was not in the cards.

  Motion caught his eye—finally Justine’s door was open. A doctor emerged and headed toward Gomez at the desk, but Pascal got his attention and met him in the middle of the room.

  “Tell me.” Pascal’s mind raced as the doctor took a breath. This was a young doctor he’d only met once. Pascal tried to read the news on his face, but he was as expressive as a stone. It took forever for him to speak, and Pascal fought the urge to grab him and shake him.

  “She’s alive. We’re treating for shock, dehydration, hypoglycemia, and blood loss.”

  “I want to speak to her.”

  “That’s not possible. She was delirious and combative, so we had to sedate her.”

  “You said blood loss. From what?”

  “She may be having a miscarriage.”

  “May be? That’s not good enough. Is she or not?”

  The doctor blinked slowly. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not an acceptable answer. Try again.”

  “Chancellor, I will tell you everything I know. If I don’t know, I’ll tell you what’s likely and what I suspect. But I will not tell you I know something when I don’t.”

  The doctor did not seem intimidated by him. Good. “Very well, what do you know?”

  “She either had a miscarriage very recently, or she’s having one now. Or there’s the chance she could remain pregnant when the bleeding stops. This is not an exact science. We’ve done all we can for now and we need to give it time.”

  “How much time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you suspect . . . ?”

  “I’m unable to make an educated guess at this time. I’ll monitor her closely and inform you as to any change.” The doctor nodded and turned to leave.

  “Doctor.” Pascal waited while he turned back. “Thank you for the information. Now I have some for you. Number one, Justine is to be kept alive. I don’t care what you have to do or how many resources it takes. If the baby lives, that’s a bonus, but the woman’s life is paramount. Number two, when she wakes, get me immediately. No one speaks to her before I do. Number three, you will be her only doctor and she your only patient. You have no other responsibilities or concerns. You do not leave this ward. When you eat, sleep, or take a piss, you do it here. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, Chancellor. Perfectly clear.”

  “What’s your name, doctor?”

  “Benjamin Lawrence.”

  “Doctor Lawrence, do you have a family? I’ll get word to them that you’re tied up with an emergency so they don’t worry.”

  “Yes, a wife and son. Thank you, sir.” A ripple of relief crossed the doctor’s face. The stone could be read after all.

  “Consider it done. I’ll let you get back to work.”

  When the doctor was halfway to Justine’s door, Pascal called out. “Ben? If that woman in there dies, so does your wife. Understand?”

  The doctor stopped. Pascal assumed that after a moment of anger, he’d resume walking into Justine’s room. He was wrong.

  The doctor turned and took large, confident strides back to Pascal. The only indication of anger in his expression was a tic at the corner of his left eye.

  “Chancellor,” the doctor said, his voice even. “I appreciate you illustrating the gravity of the situation and the value you place on this woman’s life. However, I already treat each patient as if it were my only patient, and I value each life equal to that of my own wife or child. So your threats, while cruel and credible, have no impact on the care this particular patient receives.”

  “Thank you, Ben. That is good to know. Now if there is anything at all you need, anything to help you do your job, tell me and I’ll see you have it.”

  “I’ll return when I have something to report.” The doctor turned and went toward Justine’s room.

  Pascal considered calling him back again, just to mess with him, but he let him go. He wouldn’t have any trouble with Dr. Ben Lawrence.

  He returned to the window. The sun was coming up, burning away the morning haze. He had a clear view of the door into the hospital.

  “They should be here soon.” He stroked Linus’s hair. “Perhaps Minou will arrive with Brandt even before Nathans returns with your breakfast.”

  One Hundred

  Aboard the Belle

  Mia stretched and moaned.

  “I’m right here,” Reid said, smoothing the scowl from her brow.

  She opened her eyes and smiled. “Reid.”

  “You remember me.”

  “I couldn’t forget you.” She held out her hand and he clasped it, bringing it to his lips. “What I don’t remember,” she said, “is where we are or how we got here.”

  “We’re on a boat—”

  “A boat? Why? Where?”

  “It’s a long story.” He smoothed her frown again. “We escaped from the Tank and now we’re sailing to San Francisco. Do you remember being in the Tank?”

  She shook her head and winced.

  “Does your head hurt?” he asked, grabbing a bottle from the nightstand. “Drink this.”

  She accepted the bottle and took a sip.

  “You’ve been unconscious for awhile so you’re dehydrated. Plus your head probably hurts from the injury that knocked you unconscious. Do you remember what happened?”

  “It’s all so hazy.” She took another swig from the bottle, then sank back into the pillows.

  Maybe it was better she didn’t remember that it was Brandt who hurt her. What good would it do for her to know?

  “Whose boat?” Mia asked.

  “Do you remember the man who was here when you first woke up this morning?”

  “No. All I remember is waking up now with you.”

  Reid knew he shouldn’t feel smug about her not remembering Nikolai, but he did. “Well, he’s the captain—or maybe his son is, I’m not sure. The son escaped from the Tank with us, and now they�
�re taking us far away from Lost Angeles, like you wanted.”

  “To San Francisco.” Her voice drifted off, a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

  Reid sat in the chair by the bed to watch her sleep, but felt his own eyes growing heavy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. He tried to stay awake, but after awhile, he couldn’t fight it any more.

  “Helloooo. It’s me. Yoo hoo. I’m coming in.”

  Reid rubbed his eyes and stretched, wondering how long he’d napped.

  “I heard our girl was awake.” Cook waddled across the threshold in a bright yellow dress. She carried a tray of food. “What’s she doing back asleep? She needs nourishment! Needs to gain back strength.”

  Reid reached over and took Mia’s pulse with one hand, while he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face with the other. “Mia, wake up,” he said gently. Her color looked good, her pulse was strong. Her breathing was easy and regular. But he had no doubt she was dehydrated, and she had to be hungry.

  “Clear a spot for the tray, will you?” Cook instructed, shooing Reid away from the bed and handing him the tray. She plopped into his chair and took Mia’s hand in hers. “Mia, my dearie, my love. Time to wake up,” she cooed. She patted her hand and made clicking noises with her tongue.

  “Hmm?” Mia opened her eyes.

  “I brought you some broth,” Cook said. “Magical healing broth from a recipe handed down on my mama’s side.”

  “Do I know you?” Mia asked.

  Cook laughed. “You and me are old friends. You just don’t know it yet.”

  “It smells good,” Mia said, pushing herself up against the pillows.

  Reid thought the broth smelled revolting, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was the “swamp tea” everyone complained about. But if Mia thought it smelled good, he didn’t care what it was, so long as she drank it.

  “Yum yum,” Cook said, feeding Mia with a spoon like a baby.

  After several loud slurps, Mia and Cook erupted in laughter.

  “What’s funny?” Reid asked.