“Here’s my bottom line.”
“Go ahead. I’m taking notes.”
“Halt the laser fire. Send the Unies back to barracks. Stop the demolition. Restore water service to the—”
“Seafort, be serious!”
“I am serious!” Father’s voice shook with passion. “How could we build a new city on the bodies of our citizens? Have you no scruples?”
“I can’t afford them, I’m in politics. One more try: in what area can we compromise?”
“You tell me.”
She said, “We’ve got to clear the abandoned streets; it’s the first chance we’ve had in years.”
“They’re not abandoned. Next?”
“The trannies have to be resettled—”
“Nonsense. The city’s their home.”
“If we clear the streets with troops instead of lasers—”
“No!”
Her voice was a nail scratching glass. “An hour from now you’ll be dead, and it won’t matter!”
“True. So?”
“You’re a lunatic! You’re hateful. You know what, Mr. SecGen? When it happens, I’ll be glad.” A click.
“Fath!”
“It’s all right, son.” He took a long, slow breath. “That’s why it was a joy to leave office.”
I knew I had to distract him. “Fath, you have calls on every channel.”
“Who now?”
“Corwyn, on Galactic. Newsworld. Earthport Traffic. General Ruben. Someone screaming your name over and over and—”
He sighed. “Corwyn first. Yes, puter?”
“All my comm circuits are on overload. They’ve taken to riding over each other’s signals, and it’s hard to filter—”
“Do your best.”
“Aye aye, sir. Engineer’s Mate Zorn is pounding on the hatch. He demands that I open the bridge. He wants a line to Admiralty and insists he has the right—”
“Relay this to Zorn. Behave yourself, boy! Permission to use radio denied. Permission to enter bridge denied. Official reprimand in your file, and Captain’s Mast next Sunday. Leave Corwyn alone except in emergency. End. Signal to all news carriers: requests for interviews denied, for the moment. Perhaps later, stop jamming my lines.”
“Fath, look!”
“And signal to Earthport Traffic—what, P.T.?”
I pointed. A small vessel glided across the void, unmistakably heading in our direction. Puffs of exhaust, as it maneuvered.
“Is your helmet secure? More later, Corwyn, continue as before.” He peered. “It’s a small shuttle. Private.”
I flipped through the frequencies.
“BBC Seven to Galactic; we’d like to schedule Mr. Seafort for the afternoon news summary—”
“Nick, this is Thorne, I have news, please—”
“Earthport Departures to Holoworld shuttle, you are in restricted space, change course immediately to—”
“Attention Galactic launch, attention launch, this is Holoworld News; hold your fire, we’re approaching only for pictures; please hold your fire—”
Father muttered, “They’re groundsiders, or they’re not thinking. Everyone knows launches are unarmed. Hold my fire indee—”
“Hold fire! Mr. SecGen, how does it feel to—”
“Philip.” Fath’s tone was quiet. “Look down at the console. Don’t let them see your face.”
“Yes, sir.” I stared at the blinking lights.
“Ah well. They probably can’t recognize you through a helmet. It’s all right.”
The tiny craft, even smaller than our launch, shot alongside. Through their porthole I glimpsed two figures, holocameras aimed. The pilot tapped his thrusters and his ship drifted closer. With minute squirts of propellant, the shuttle positioned itself some two hundred feet in front of our prow. Her forward thrusters fired briefly, and she no longer seemed to approach.
“Idiots. They’ll sail ahead of us into the cannon.” Father threw up his hands. “Bloody civilian jetstreamers! They shouldn’t be let out of the atmosphere!”
“I’m sure the Admiral will warn them.” I tried to sound soothing.
“I know.” He reached over, keyed the caller. “Yes, Jeff?”
“This is Captain Wilkes.” A stiff voice. “Just a moment, the Admiral’s speaking with—just a moment.”
A click, and Thorne’s voice. “Nick? Don’t go away.” Click.
We waited.
I asked softly, “Why does he call you Nick if he hates you?”
“What makes you think that?”
“He tricked you onto Galactic. He forced you back into the Navy. He—”
“Oh, Philip.” Fath gazed into the distance. After a time he said, “Perhaps he hates himself, a little.”
“He betrayed you.”
“You didn’t follow the conversation. Remember our talk in his office?”
“Yes ...” I fought to recall the words. “He said he couldn’t take responsibility for shutting down the lasers.”
“And I let him know I would.”
“How? Without Galactic, what could you—”
“I as much as told him I’d seize whatever ship I boarded. He warned me it was a capital crime.”
I caught my breath. “I can’t let that happen.”
“We were very close, when we were boys.”
“And so he ...”
“Gave me Galactic, knowing full well I was senior to poor Flores.”
“But ...”
He leaned forward. “Poor Jeff wants to be a cynic, an opportunist, but he can’t stop himself from doing the right thing. P.T., you mustn’t ever tell. None of this has been spoken; it’s locked within his heart and mine.”
“I swear, Fath.” My chest swelled.
He made as if to tousle my hair through the helmet. “You see—”
“Nick? Captain Seafort?” Thorne.
“Yes, Admiral?”
“That was the SecGen himself, demanding my assurance the lasers won’t cease fire when you cross their path.”
“I see.”
His voice was heavy. “I gave it to him.”
“I understand.” It was a sort of consent.
“Along with my emphatic recommendation to stand down the damned lasers. He said quote the prestige of the entire United Nations is at stake unquote.”
“I suppose it is.”
“I don’t want you dead!” It was a plea.
“Thank you.”
“I’m your superior. I order you to turn away.”
“I refuse.”
“Nick, it’s a hanging offense! We’ll set it aside if you comply—”
“No.”
“I order you to surrender command.”
“I will not.”
Thorne’s tone was bleak. “I asked Kahn to talk to you again; he refused outright. The old city is to be cleared; a pardon’s out of the question; you’re mentally ill and your suicide will be deemed a tragedy though unavoidable, etc. There’s nothing I can do. You understand I won’t hold fire unless he so orders?”
“You’ve made it quite clear.”
Thorne’s tone became more formal. “On behalf of Admiralty I order you—I plead with you—to abort your mission. You’ve made your point. My callers are ringing off the pad, and Ed’s only passing me the priority list.”
“Sorry, Jeff. Signing off now.” Fath nudged me, I clicked the pad. “He makes it hard. Poor joey.”
“Poor?” I jabbed a finger at the slowly nearing Station. “He’ll kill you!”
“He’ll allow me to be killed. That’s not quite—”
Our porthole lit with a blaze of light. I flinched, waited for the sear of heat.
“It’s those fool mediamen and their cameras. Look down.”
My heart pounding, I panted for breath. “I thought ...”
“Let’s listen to the news.” He flicked on the screen. It was a clumsy attempt to divert me, and I was grateful.
“—vote of no-confidence ended his term
in the Rotunda, yet even today there are those—”
“Sharon, his words were ‘commence my final voyage home.’ A ship’s launch has no heat shield and can’t survive reentry. I don’t know how you can assume he meant he’d dock at Earthport and transfer—”
“Although Mrs. Seafort cannot be reached for comment, sources close to the family said—”
“—so questions about his mental stability cannot be discounted. Back to you, Erin.”
Inside my helmet, a yellow light blinked. Time for a new tank. I unbuckled my belt.
“—reporting a larger than normal volume of calls but North American Bell attributes the surge—”
Fath squinted through the blast of light, keyed the caller. “Seafort to Holoworld shuttle, do you read?”
“—calling Capt—yes, we read you clear. Sir, is it fair to say you’re—”
“I want a live feed. I’ll give you half a minute.”
“—making a statement—hang on, you’ll have it.” A muffled voice, a click. A long pause.
“Fath, may I open my helmet? I’m roasting.”
“I suppose. Keep it near.”
Gratefully, I pulled it off, reveled in the fresh cabin air.
“Captain? Sir, we’re live to our world feed. This is Holoworld Newsnet, in the vicinity of Earthport Station, Jed Stroyer reporting. We have Captain Nicholas Seafort on line. Go ahead, sir. Can you tell us who’s with you?”
“I’m approaching Earthport’s laser banks. I have, let’s see ... sixty-three minutes left. I’d have liked to watch the Station, perhaps say good-bye to Earth as well. Instead, I’m about to activate solar shields and sail blind. The last view I’ll have—” His voice caught, “—is of my own console.”
“Why, sir?”
Fath’s tone sharpened. “Because you’re shining ten thousand candlepower directly in my face. I can’t see a thing! You’re distracting me when I need my judgment clear. Is that how you want the fate of New York decided? Is it?”
“No, but—”
“Not to mention that you’re about to back tubes-first into the laser beams. This isn’t a story, sir, this is a crisis of lives! Extinguish that light.”
“Sir—”
“Now!”
The light went out.
“Thank you, Holoworld.” Father keyed off his mike. “Sometimes,” he drawled, enjoying my shock, “I’m shameless.”
I stammered, “You—you can joke about this?”
“Would you rather I cry? At least we can see again, and if I hadn’t chided them publicly ...” Then, after a moment, gently, “Philip ... I haven’t told them about you.”
“I know.”
“I ... this is hard to say.” His eyes glistened. “They mustn’t know.”
“Why, sir?”
“It’s ...” He laced his fingers. “I’m looking ahead, on the chance we’re successful. I don’t want sentiment about a child to muddy the issues. This must be about the trannies. About me.
“Why?”
“I owe it to them.” Brooding, he stared at his knuckles. “I’m betraying you for it.”
“What?” My voice squeaked.
“I didn’t go aloft to look for you; it was for them. I won’t reveal that you’re with me, even to save you. If that isn’t betrayal, what is?”
“It can’t be betrayal if it’s what I want!” I thought to say more, to persuade him I meant it with all my soul, but his look of anguish eased. I blurted, “Fath, was this how you were, in the old days? You’re so good at playing the media. We all thought you were afraid of—you wrap them around your little finger. You must love it.”
“I abhor it!” His vehemence set me back. “P.T., you have no idea ... the way I worked the camera today makes me want to vomit. I didn’t ask to be a ‘hero’ all those years. I hate politics, I only ran because ... What I want is privacy. That’s all I ever ...”
I looked for a way to comfort him. “When this is over we’ll retreat to the compound.”
He looked away, saying nothing.
“You’ll never have to talk to them again. Honest.”
I heard what might have been a sob.
It was 9:01. Forty-six minutes remained. We were five thousand thirty-five feet from the mouth of the cannon.
Father was on the caller.
The Holoworld shuttle had moved to starboard; they’d content themselves with outside views, or glimpses through our portholes.
Groundside, the media pounded a growing cadence of anticipation. I flicked channels.
“—is asking the public to leave lines open for emergencies so that—”
“Ms. Leeson added that regardless of his grandstanding the Administration would—”
“—groundswell of public opinion—”
Into his caller Father snarled, “Tell Ruben only a base coward refuses to discuss—”
“—mayor says the City of Boston has no say in the decision, and to direct their calls—”
“Erin, what’s the mood in Riverwatch Tower?”
“Ah, there you are. Ernst, let me speak to Mr. Chang. The transpop negotiator, that’s who. Are you pretending you don’t—what? Not authorized to negotiate?” Fath slammed his fist on the console. “If not with him, then who? Very well, I’ll announce it immediately to Holoworld. ‘General Ernst Ruben denies all knowledge of a transpop negotiator and says the government has no interest in settling—’ Then get him. So, wake him! You know where to find me.” He keyed off the caller, muttering under his breath.
I said, “Thorne on three.”
“Admiral?”
Mr. Thorne sounded reflective. “You’re astounding. You’ll go down in a blaze of glory. Rex Fizer—did I tell you he called?—he’s buttonholing every Senator he can find. They’re calling here, the Rotunda, the newslines ... if this keeps up they’ll crowd you off the lead.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“I guess ... I thought you should know. Nick, would you do me a favor?”
“Don’t ask for—”
“A personal favor. Turn on the visuals.”
Father reached out, flicked the switch. “Yes, Jeff?”
Thorne looked haggard. In the few hours since we’d seen him, he’d aged years. “Nothing. I—just wanted to see you.”
Father’s tone was gentle. “Jeff, I absolve you. This isn’t your struggle.”
“Of course it is. You said as much in my office.”
“I was wrong. It’s too much for one man to bear.”
“Fah. Who are you, that you’d take on our sins?”
“Don’t blaspheme. Jeff, after it’s over, help Arlene. She’ll want to sell the compound. She’ll need to settle my estate—”
“Stop!”
“I’m sorry.” Father looked uncomfortable. “God, I didn’t think. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to—what, Ed? I’ve got to go, Nick. It’s the SecGen.”
“Very well.”
Thorne’s face stared at us a long while. “Good-bye.”
Thirty-nine minutes.
“General Ruben on two,” I prompted.
“Seafort.” He listened. “Yes, unofficial and all that. Just put him on.”
“Allo?”
“Mr. Chang, have they told you what’s going on?”
“General didn’. I heard it from yo’ mizz.”
“Arlene? What’s she—you understand the urgency? If I work out a truce, can Halber call off his people?”
“Dunno. Ask ’im.”
“I will.”
“Mira, Fisherman ...” A pause. “Yo’ Mizz be tuggin’ my arm, sayin’ to trust you. But General Redhair is standin’ with arms fold, glarin’. He lissenin’ every word. You unnerstan’ everything I say go to him?”
“Yes.” Fath spoke quietly. “But it no longer matters. I’ll put the question to you that I’ll ask Halber. If you get water immediately—they’ll send in a hundred trucks every day, while we work out the rest—will you guarantee an end to
the fighting?”
“Unies stay onna street?”
“Not for now. Later, yes. It’s their city too.”
“An’ trannies who fought? Trials? Hangin’?”
“No. A blanket pardon, to everyone involved except me.”
“I ain’ their speak fo’.”
“Mr. Chang, I’m your only chance. Help me. Once I’m dead ...”
A long silence, then a sigh. “I’d tell Halber to accep’.”
“If he agrees, would all the tribes get the message?”
“Streets awful tore up. Trannies still alive be hiding.”
“But you have callers.”
“Some. Take few hours, maybe day. Bes’ way, put Halber’s voice on speakers, ride aroun’ in troop carry. Helis be too loud.”
“I understand. Ruben, keep him in the room with you. I’ll confirm with their leader; when we have an agreement you can initial—”
The General’s voice was sharp. “Mr. SecGen, it’s too late to strike a deal. The streets are to be cleared those are my orders. I’ll recommend a laser cease-fire, but only after unconditional surrender of all armed trannies. That’s nonnegotiable.”
Father spoke as if he hadn’t heard. “I’ll see if Halber agrees to my proposal. Please confirm what water carriers you have available. We’ll—”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Of course.” Father switched channels. “Now who?”
“Everyone. Mediamen, a Captain Reynaud says it’s urgent, some joey from the Security and Defense Agency—”
Father tapped a number into the pad. “Try this code. Tell Halber to wait a moment. Reynaud? Seafort here.”
“Arno Reynaud, on U.N.S. Melbourne.” His voice was stiff. “We’ve cast off from the Station. You’ll see our lights to port.”
“Yes?”
“We’re cruising to coordinates one two five, three nine, oh six four; I’ll begin braking maneuvers in a moment. That puts us between you and the laser fire zone. We’re to remain there. Impact estimated seven minutes thereafter.”
“Just a moment.” Father keyed a switch. “Corwyn, copy this conversation to all news channels.” To Reynaud, “You’ll cause a collision.”
“If that’s what it takes. My orders come directly from Admiralty in London. You’re to be blocked from interfering with the cannon. Please turn about.”
Voices of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 5) Page 53
