Children of Hope (47 page)

Bullshit. It’s about Fath.

White lights, as we eased into
Olympiad
’s bay.

Anselm guided me from the gig. “Come along.”

“Where?” Oops. I’d vowed not to speak.

“To the bridge. And it’s ‘aye aye, sir.’”

I muttered something that might have been what he asked.

Mr Tolliver paced before the giant simulscreen.

“Lieutenant Anselm reporting, sir, with the ship’s boy.” He came to attention.

Still suited, except for my discarded helmet, I made no effort to salute.

“As you were, Tad.”

“Any word, sir?”

“From that ass Palabee. He refuses to tell me Anthony’s status. He had a Churchman by his side, someone named Hambeld.”

I blurted, “Scanlen’s man. He helped hold me at the rectory.”

Tad asked, “What news of the Captain?”

“Nothing. Kenzig’s lodged a protest.”

“With whom?”

“The Archbishop. And Palabee.”

“To what effect?”

“I gather they’re ignoring him.” Tolliver stopped his pacing long enough to glare at us. “I want to send a force groundside. Kenzig refuses absolutely.”

“Excuse me.” My voice was cold.

“Yes?” Tolliver raised an eyebrow.

“General Thurman spoke of burning.”

“Andori—the Archbishop—lodged a charge of heresy for attempting to arrest Bishop Scanlen. That would be the penalty. They’ll try him on the civil charges first.”

“Which are?”

“Crimes against humanity. Primarily, dealing with our friend the outrider.” He gestured wearily toward Level 2. “They want the fish destroyed. Which reminds me.” He took up the caller. “Ms Frand? I need you to go below and try to communicate with the outrider. Tell it to wait in its own ship. Er, in its fish. We’ll open our lock when we’re ready to resume negotiations.”

“Well … that’s a fairly complicated message, sir.”

“I know, Sarah. Do your best.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Tolliver turned back to Anselm, but I’d had enough. “When’s the trial?” My tone was truculent.

“This afternoon, at criminal court. They want it over and done.”

“What will you do?”

His tone was bleak. “What
can
I do?”

I said, “You have the Station’s cannon, and our own. For a start, blast the Cathedral to rubble.”

“And then all of Centraltown? Would your guardian approve?”

I shouted, “It’s not his decision!”

Anselm whirled me around. “That’s quite enough, Mr Carr!” To the Captain, “He’s been through hell, sir.”

“I know; I’ll make allowances. Randy, when we brought Mr Tamarov aboard he told us your part in this affair. I can’t commend you highly enough. I’ll enter it into the Log.”

I stared at him as if his words were gibberish.

He flushed, turned to Tad. “It seems the latest upheaval was too much for our passengers. More than a few want off.”

“Idiots.”

“That’s as may be. Some are Hope Nation nationals. I’ve pledged to Palabee not to try to slip a Naval force among them. He knows my sworn word is good, besides, we have his Station.

He’s agreed to let us land passengers at Centraltown. We have two shuttles standing by. You’re to supervise the disembarkation.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Mr Carr, get some rest. Again, I commend your work. I’ll call you the moment we hear—”

“I really did well?”

“Yes.”

“Then may I ask a favor?”

“What?”

“Remission of enlistment.” Into the shocked silence, I said, “We both know they’re going to kill … I don’t want to sail with you after—after—” I faltered. “Please.” I looked to the deck

“Are you sure, Randy?” Oddly, Tolliver’s tone was gentle.

“Yes, sir.” I held my breath.

“Nick would want you safe, raised by friends who—”

“Please.” My voice cracked. “For him, for me, for Derek. It’s all I’ll ever ask.”

A long while passed. “Very well, granted. Go with Mr Anselm. Fare thee well.”

“And thee, sir.” At the hatchway I paused. “Tell Mik that I lov—” I couldn’t say it. “Tell him good-bye.”

Midshipman Yost led me past Corrine Sloan’s seat on the second shuttle. I stopped abruptly, still hot and miserable in my spacesuit. “You too?”

“I have to, Randy.” She sounded subdued.

“Why?”

Her eyes glistened. “The heresy charge. I was there for John. I can’t do less for Nick.”

“But you loved John.” Some races of my mind wondered from where I summoned such cruelty.

She started to answer, choked, bowed her head.

Tommy Yost stirred. “Please take your seat.”

I did, nearby. “What about Janey?” She was nowhere in sight.

Corrine’s shoulders shook.

I buckled myself in, forcing myself silent. I’d done enough evil for one life.

No. There’d be more. I unbuckled, made my way to the hatch. “Mr Anselm!”

“Now what?”

“Come with us.”

He looked startled. “It’s against orders.”

“Weren’t you told to disembark the passengers?”

“I’m sure the Captain didn’t mean—”

“You were more adventurous the day you took me to sickbay.” To visit Fath. Mr Seafort, before he became Fath.

“Is there some reason …”

My lip curled. “Don’t you want to see him?”

His glare could have melted the hull. At last, he muttered to Yost, “Tell the bridge we’re ready to cast off.” He sealed the hatch from within.

We began our journey. Solemn, a bit forlorn, I watched
Olympiad
recede through the porthole. I’d never see her again.

An hour passed, while I fidgeted and sweltered, wondering if I was doing right. Perhaps they’d let Fath off with a warning, or disgrace. Perhaps a few months in jail. Perhaps …

The worst part is the buffeting, as the shuttle fights the outer atmosphere, and its own velocity. By sixty thousand feet, it becomes a calm flight, no more bumpy than a suborbital.

I unbuckled. Quickly I made my way toward the cockpit. As I passed, Anselm looked up in surprise; one didn’t move about on a shuttle in flight.

I knocked on the cockpit hatch.

“What?” The pilot sounded annoyed as he swung it open. I thrust myself inside.

Behind me, Anselm leaped out of his seat.

I reached into my pouch.

Tad stopped short.

As well he ought. My laser pistol lit his midriff. I glanced at the instruments. The altimeter hovered at sixty thousand feet. I said to the pilot, “Tell the puter to fly us.”

“You can’t—”

I fired, dissolving a pressure gauge. “Move!” Fifty-five thousand.

“Puter, autopilot on!”

“Get out.” I beckoned to the hatch.

He scurried past, to the cabin. Tad edged closer. “Where’d you get that?”

“At the Station. No one took it away, after.”

Another casual step.

“Don’t, Mr Anselm. I warn you.”

“You’ll shoot me?”

My eyes met his. “If I must. I swear it.” Forty thousand.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m going to land the shuttle.”

“You can’t fly.”

“I’ll ask the puter to help. We’ll probably crash.”

“Randy, we’ve ninety passengers!” His wave encompassed them all.

“Yes. For them, not for me, I ask your help.” Thirty-three thousand.

“Doing what?”

“Give me your word as an officer—and your oath—that you won’t interfere, or try to take my pistol, or subdue me. That you’ll land as I tell you.”

“If not?”

“I’ll do it myself.”

“Good Christ.” After a long moment. “All right. I so swear.”

“By Lord God.”

“By Lord God.”

“And your solemn word as an officer.”

“Yes!” He looked ready to kill.

Twenty-five thousand. “Get in.” I stood aside as he brushed past, and lowered myself into the copilot’s seat.

“Randy, why?”

“I’m going to rescue Fath.”

“You’re insane!”

“Does it matter?”

After a moment, his lips twitched. “I guess not. Puter, autopilot off.”

“Voicerec failure. Please identify speaker.”

“Lieutenant Thadeus Anselm, U.N.N.S. ID is N-123—”

“Authority denied.”

Fath had told me of his difficulties with puters. I bared my teeth. “Puter, safety check. Where is your CPU box?”

“To the right of the copilot’s yoke, between the fuel gauge and the—”

I set my beam to low, burned the box until it sizzled.

“Jesus Christ son of God!”
Tad leaped from his seat.

“Don’t blaspheme.” Odd, how much I sounded like Fath.

After that, Tad didn’t have much to say. Centraltown Control didn’t seem to notice the change in voices, and gave us our usual runway.

At fifteen thousand feet I broke the news. “We’re not landing at Centraltown.”

“Then do it yourself!”

“No, I have your word.” Heart pounding, I leaned back, closed my eyes. For good measure, I laid the laser pistol on the dash.

Almost a minute passed.

“All right, you win.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Where?”

“Churchill Park. At the southeast corner, there’s an open strip. No trees.”

“We’ll crash!”

I said, “Shuttles land VTOL.”

“With the puter’s help. I’m not good enough to—”

“Oh, I have faith. You’re better than you think.” Lord knew why I said it. Perhaps I no longer cared. “And don’t tell Approach Control.”

“They’ll know, when we change course to—”

“When Fath took me groundside, our glide path took us just past Churchill Park. Bleed off speed, lose altitude early. Hell, I landed a heli there, not that long ago.”

“A heli!” He swore under his breath. “If I ever get my hands on you …”

“Yes, and I’ll deserve it.” My voice was thin. “Tad, word is that they’ll burn him!”

“Shut your MOUTH!” His tone was savage. “I have to think, to land this beast!”

I patted his knee.

Maybe I’d hooked Tad’s sense of intrigue. Perhaps he cared for Fath as much as I. Laconically, he repeated back Centraltown’s landing instructions, asked wind velocity and direction, gave them our ETA.

I thought our speed was a bit high when he folded the wings back into VTOL mode, but the craft took it. He applied maximum flaps and spoilers; still we came in over the park fast and low.

“You’d better ditch that suit.”

I glanced at him, surprised. I’d forgotten all about it. Awkwardly I undid the clasps, wriggled free. “Thank you.”

“When you jump out, then what?”

“The court.”

“How far?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t all that familiar with Centraltown. “Fifteen, twenty blocks.” It was on Farnum, or one of those wandering roads.

“Do you drive?”

I flushed. “Not a groundcar.” It had been a sore point between me and Anthony, but he’d been adamant that I’d have to wait; I wasn’t of age.

“Hmpff.” He waved me silent, focused on his work. We drifted southeast, toward Churchill Road.

“Shuttle, you’re off course! What are you
—
”

Tad switched off the radio. “Get yourself ready.”

“For what?”

“To make your break. In minutes they’ll have a heli overhead.”

“Right.” I licked my lips.

“The pilot’s in the main cabin, and Tommy Yost. They may try to stop you.” His tone was tense. We swooped toward the trees, and the clearing beyond.

“Why warn me?”

“Don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt anyone.”

“I’ll try not.”

“Brace yourself.”

“Jesus, the trees!”

I clutched the dash, braced for a smash, and oblivion. We glided over the treetops with a meter to spare. Tad threw the engines into VTOL mode, and set us down in a roar of dust and scorched grass.

I took a deep breath, lunged to the cockpit hatch. Fingers closed on my collar, hauled me back.

I cried, “You promised!”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Sourly, he eyed me.

“What?” I had no time; I had to get to the main hatch, jump down, run like the very—“Oh!” I blushed scarlet. I snatched up the laser I’d set on the dash. “Thank you.”

I threw open the hatch.

In the main cabin, pandemonium. Colonists struggled with Midshipman Tommy Yost, who was doing his best to block the outer hatch.

“OUT OF MY WAY!” My scream brought them up short. I brandished the laser. Frantic joeys ducked behind seats, dived into the minuscule head, cowered anywhere that offered an illusion of safety.

I snarled at Yost, “Open it!”

“Open it yourself!” His glare was such that I braced for an assault.

Nonetheless, I aimed past him to the hatch panel.

Behind me, an icy voice. “Mr Yost, do as he says!” Tad Anselm.

“But—”

“THIS INSTANT!”

“Aye aye, Lieutenant!” Yost slammed a fist into the panel. The inner hatch slid aside; the outer door began unfolding itself into steps. With a snarl I launched myself into daylight, teetered on the still-moving stairs, leaped down to steaming grass.

The closest city street would be … that way. I thrust the laser into my belt, and galloped to the road.

I risked a backward glance. The shuttle stairway was down. Tad Anselm sprinted after me. The traitor, the lying … No, I’d made him swear not to interfere with my hijacking, and he hadn’t. Now he was free to do his duty. Thank Lord God that Naval officers didn’t routinely go armed, else he might burn me as I ran.

I threw a glance over my shoulder. Tommy Yost pounded after Anselm, legs pumping madly.

The courts would be … south. I veered off.

Already my breath came in gasps. I’d have to pace myself, or I’d never make it. On the other hand, in a moment or two I’d hear the whap of heli blades; Centraltown spaceport would lose no time chasing down their errant shuttle.

Behind me Tad Anselm lurched into the road, threw himself in front of a slow-moving electricar. His arms windmilled frantically. He hauled out the driver, ducked into the seat. I cursed. Now he’d catch me, and force me to shoot him. I’d do it. Nobody, nothing, would stop me from reaching Fath while I had breath. A gasp wavered into a sob.

Inexorably, Anselm’s car gained on me. My eye searched overgrown yards for a clear path; for Fath’s sake I’d try to evade Tad before I killed him.

The gun of an engine. Tad’s car loomed. He was alone. I veered to the walk, tugged out my laser. In the sky, a growing spot. A heli.