Sandhill Street: The Loss of Gentleness

by Rob Summers

Chapter 27 The Navy Ball

  A few hours later, when Chief Sordid of City Intelligence entered Mayor-elect Therion’s hospital room, he found him out of his bed and sitting up in a chair, his face pale, and a bandage on his head. Mr. Power was already there, looking pale himself and in need of a shave. Sordid hoped that neither had any intention of discussing the growth that had been removed from the Mayor-elect’s head by emergency surgery during the night. Sordid had taken one look at the thing, which the doctors had showed to him sealed in a clear plastic bag, and had almost vomited. It was a horn, about three inches long, tinged blue and cruelly pointed. He had ordered it destroyed. The intelligence chief had already believed Therion to be an evil man. Now he was convinced that the Mayor-elect was something more, or something less, than a man.

  “Did you bring the pictures?” Power asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Show them to Dr. Therion.”

  As he said this Power nodded to the plainclothesmen who Sordid had passed to reach the bed, and they went out, shutting the door behind them.

  Sordid removed some glossies from a folder he had brought with him and handed them to the invalid. “These are the best our spy planes have brought back so far.”

  With a weak grip Therion shuffled through them, each a picture of a ship, identified in the margins as the H.M.S. Gloria Dothan. He nodded as if grimly satisfied. He seemed to have nothing to say.

  “She looks big. How many guns?” Power asked the intelligence man.

  “My people say ships of this class carry thousands.”

  “Thousands!” Power reeled on his feet. “How big is it? What’s its length?”

  “They’re rechecking the figures. The estimates they’ve been giving me seem way off. They say the Dothan is seven miles long.”

  “That’s ridiculous. That would make it twice as long as the City is across. No, that’s nonsense. It isn’t still coming our way?”

  Sordid nodded glumly. “We estimate that it’ll be here in about three hours.”

  “Damnation, it’s an invasion. Any declaration of war yet?”

  “No, but who would expect it from them, sir? They’d like to pull a Pearl Harbor on us.”

  “So what are you doing?” Therion asked them. “How will you stop them? What have you got in the way of big guns?”

  Sordid looked away. Right, what? He was so stumped that it made him angry but had no one to take it out on. All he could do was finish his miserable report.

  “I asked Captain Brutality about mobilizing some artillery, sir, and he tells me we’ve got two World War I era pieces on the courthouse lawn and a Civil War eighteen-footer sitting on a hill out at the cemetery with its business end blocked up with cement.”

  “Haven’t you been preaching military preparedness for decades?” Therion said to Power. His words were labored, for he was breathing hard, apparently due to pain.

  “Sure I have, and I meant it. But our budget’s—”

  “Never mind, I know your answer. Too many debts to my people. Well, you should have trimmed some of the fat by reducing your own personal fringe benefits. I’ve seen the past budgets, so I know that’s an area that never felt the ax.” He put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. “The nurse is supposed to come give me some more pain pills in a minute, so we need to get through this. What’s your military plan then? The City’s going to undergo siege shelling, that’s a given. How will you repel them if they’ve brought ground troops?”

  Power turned to Sordid, who looked up at the florescent lights as if he wished to fly away through the ceiling. “We hope it won’t come to that,” the intelligence man said. “A ship that big—it’s got lots of decks, so the square footage could easily come to an area bigger than the City.”

  “You really believe it, don’t you?” Power challenged. “This seven miles long garbage?”

  “Well, maybe not miles, sir.”

  “But it would hold a damn lot of marines. Is that what you mean?” Power said.

  Therion lifted a hand. “Leave it be, Power. The ship is as big as he says.”

  Encouraged by this unexpected support, Sordid hurried to lay out the rest of the unwelcome facts. “The fact is, I can’t find anything wrong with the math our boys used to figure the length. If that holds, then the crew of a ship that size could outnumber the City population. Never mind anyone else they’ve brought along. To oppose them we’ve got a few hundred police and firemen and what not.”

  “Troops, I’m asking about troops,” Therion said. “Soldiers. How many?”

  Sordid devoutly wished that he could go back to spying on City citizens and dragging them into jail. He didn’t want to say that the City had no soldiers at all.

  “If Hell can’t send us reinforcements, we’ve had it,” he answered.

  Power said to Therion, “Can’t you get on the phone to your people and ask them to send a fleet?”

  “Certainly, if we had one.”

  Power looked as if he hoped he hadn’t understood. “What do you mean? We need support. One really big battleship that moves on land like this Heavenite one, that’s all we’re asking.”

  Therion shook his bandaged head. “We don’t have any ships.”

  “Well, why in Hades would they have a fleet if Hell doesn’t?” said Power. “Who do they think they’re going to fight, dolphins? Do they spend billions to put ships like that in action when there’s no enemy ships to shoot at?” He began to pace the room. “But maybe this is the only one, huh? Just one to prove they can do it.”

  “They have multiple fleets,” Therion said. “Hellite intelligence knows that, if your people don’t. The Gloria Dothan is one of their pocket battleships, their smallest.”

  “Well, that’s it then,” Power said, snapping his fingers as if he had suddenly seen the solution. “They’ve got to be over their ears in debt. Ha, they must be in worse financial shape than we are.” He laughed out loud. “What sucker did they find to carry the loan on all that?”

  “We’ve never discovered how they finance their armaments,” Therion said. “They’re always flush, we know that. No apparent debts. Gentlemen, I need an answer now. The invasion is hours away. What’s your battle plan?”

  “Sordid?” Power said.

  He hesitated as long as he dared. “They haven’t actually declared war.”

  “And what do you mean by that?” Therion asked.

  “I mean, sir, that maybe they won’t use their artillery, and maybe they won’t disembark marines.”

  “And this is your plan? You hope they won’t shoot?” Therion almost stood up from his chair.

  “My God, it’s the end,” Power said hollowly. “Therion, can you get me on a plane out of here? Just you and me and, yeah, Sordid here too?”

  Sordid listened eagerly for the answer to this. He just might have the good luck to be in the right place at the right time. Of course, he would miss his wife and children, but….

  Therion slumped in his chair. “The Dothan has fighter craft on board, probably dozens of them, remember? If we tried to escape by plane to my country, we’d be shot down.”

  “My God, it’s the end,” Power repeated. “Sordid, tell Brutality to get all the policemen and other effectives to—to wherever the Dothan puts in. What direction are they approaching?”

  “We don’t know, sir.” Sordid no longer tried to disguise the trembling whine in his voice. “They could come from any side.”

  “That’s because you’re an incompetent puppy! Well, when you do know which direction, get everything we have up close and oppose any attempt by anyone to get off. ”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And use those artillery pieces from the courthouse to blow a hole in it and sink it. And have somebody put together a bomb and try that.”

  “Yes, sir. Will you be joining the boys at the front, sir?”

  Sordid asked this with malic
e and enjoyed Power’s wince.

  “No, I’ll keep track of things from here.”

  “Yes, sir. Shall we alert the populace?”

  Power hesitated, looking to Therion.

  The invalid said, “Have the media blitz the message that there is nothing, no big object, outside the City, and that if anyone thinks he’s seen something, he is to not see it.”

  “That’ll only last till the shooting starts,” Power said.

  Therion looked up at him with sweat on his face. “They haven’t declared war. If they don’t, if somehow this isn’t the invasion, then it’s best to keep the citizens pacified.”

  “Right, the ship might just sail away again,” Sordid said with phony optimism.

  “OK, is that it?” Power said. “We’re done? OK, Sordid, come with me. I want you to have two heavy-duty paper shredders, no make that three, delivered to my office within the hour. Get me some information technologists, too. I want my computers’ drives wiped so clean that no one can retrieve a keystroke from them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Step on it.”

  “Yes, sir. Just one thing, sir.”

  “Cough it up.”

  “Maybe it’s not the best time to mention it, but we got a call this morning from Ambassador Grace, saying that Conformity Dread has turned traitor. Grace warns us to keep our distance from the Dreads or suffer the consequences. We also have reports that there’s a Heavenite flag flying over Dread House.”

  Power’s beefy face turned red. “They knew about the invasion in advance. It’s just the start too. If troops come off that ship, you’ll see Heavenite flags flying from every house in town—people trying to save their own hides and ingratiate themselves with the invasion force.”

  “Don’t do anything about Dread House then?”

  “No, but add to Brutality’s orders that no one is to be allowed on the Dothan either. We can’t have these traitors escaping if there’s no invasion.”

  “Right, sir, I’m on my way.”

  But Power followed him outside the room and, telling the plainclothesmen to keep their distance, drew him aside.

  “Get me some of those flags,” he whispered.

  Sordid understood immediately. “There’s none in the City, sir, that I know of. But I’ll make discreet inquiries.”

  “Do it. Money is no object.”

  Power at last let him go.

  When Christmas day dawned over the City, the citizens were astonished to see something like a low bank of white cloud looming above their western horizon. Police cars with sirens silent and flashers unused could be seen hurrying in that direction, and those who trained binoculars or telescopes on the apparition were shocked to see a ship’s battlements, many gun barrels, and over all, the forbidden flag of Heaven.

  However, when they hurried to their radios and televisions, the matter was satisfactorily explained. Nothing but white clouds were on the western horizon, the news people said. Do not look in that direction, they were told. If you do look in that direction, see nothing. All is well. Go about your usual Christmas festivities. So they relaxed, looked away, and opened their presents.

  Exceptional were two houses on Sandhill Street. Their inhabitants looked long and appreciatively at the Gloria Dothan, often from upstairs windows and often from the cupola on Grace House. After their presents were opened and breakfast finished, they were much busied with trying on of new clothes, the snow-white formal wear supplied by the Heavenite Navy. Each woman was to be dressed like a queen, each man like a chief of state. Even the children were delighted with their outfits, for the navy had not forgotten them. None of the Grace House residents who were City born had ever seen, much less worn, clothing like this in its richness of fabric and glowing sheen, seeming to transform the wearer into a celestial being. But they were in no danger of vanity, for these clothes had the odd property of making the wearer forgetful of self, so that they were constantly saying to one another, ‘You’re more wonderful looking than I am,’ only to be answered, ‘No, you’re much more striking than me.’

  The day seemed long, but at last the time neared for the arrival of the transports sent by the Captain of the Dothan to take the families to the as yet undisclosed location of the ball.

  “What about the police?” Dignity said to Grace as the Grace House residents assembled in their finery in the entrance hall. “Do they know where this ball is being held?”

  The old man drew him aside. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise for the others, but I might as well tell you that the ball is not at any City location but will take place on the Gloria Dothan herself. That would seem to create some small difficulty, for I’ve been informed that the police have been ordered to intercept and arrest anyone approaching the ship.”

  “Small difficulty, sir?”

  “Negligible, really, because the order can’t be carried out. The ship is so large that the City police force can’t possibly guard her whole length with any more than a picket line. If they were to try to intercept us, Heavenite forces could brush them aside. The Dothan’s Captain, however, has decided to avoid even the possibility of a problem in a manner calculated to be more humiliating to the City authorities.”

  Dignity was on the point of asking about this when he paused to listen to a noise coming from outside the house. Then he smiled.

  “Copters?”

  “Yes, if you’ll take a look outside, you’ll find Humvees blocking traffic at the street corners. Three large helicopters are about to land in the middle of Sandhill Street.”

  Dignity laughed out loud. “This must be costing the navy a fortune.”

  “Do you think you aren’t worth it? The Captain thinks you are. One chopper will pick up the Dreads at their doorstep, and two more will leave from here. Most of us from Grace House will go at once, but I’ve asked Truth and Reason to remain a few minutes to carry out a little plan and I would like for you to join them. Obscurity will need to go immediately in order to prepare with her band to provide entertainment at the ball, but you’ll rejoin her before long.”

  “That’s fine, sir, but what will Reason and Truth and I be doing?”

  There was a stirring and an increase in noise level among the Grace House residents as the helicopters came closer. Humility had to restrain some of the younger ones from racing out of the house into the street. Dignity leaned closer to Grace to hear the old man’s words.

  “With your approval, we have in mind to place a secret operative in Leasing House. We’re leaving it up to you to give her instructions.”

  “You’re sending in a spy?”

  “Oh, heavens, no. We’re already aware of everything that happens in Leasing House, and I might add that what goes on there is of very little interest anyway. No, the mission of our agent will be left up to you.” The huge helicopters were so close now that Dignity could barely hear Grace’s words. “I’ll let her explain to you. She’s coming over from the Embassy shortly.”

  Those were his last audible words. In the following minutes most of the Grace House residents boarded one of the great white copters with rotors at each end and were carried away. The other copter’s rotors stopped, and for Truth, Reason, and Dignity, still in the front hall, there was quiet.

  Dignity asked the two others about the agent Grace had spoken of but found they knew no more than he did.

  As the navy chopper rose high above the rooftops of Sandhill Street, Wisdom, seated by a window, gained a view of the City such as he had never seen before. The high embankment around the town had always cut off his view of the surrounding landscape. He saw that the City was very small in comparison to all those barren, canyon-scarred lands, now powdered with snow. But what really held his attention was the vast and stately form of the Gloria Dothan, like something having come from a dream in which things are wildly out of proportion. A ship bigger than the City! A ship on land, that could sail through land! And it was on their side,
its thousands of gun barrels ready to be employed for Heaven. This was just so cool, it pushed everything else in his life out of the picture.

  Not far off, the second copter was matching their course and speed. He knew his friend Quake was in it, seeing the same wonderful things. Prevarica, of course, was missing all this, wasn’t even aware of it. He felt sorry for her for a moment, then forgot her as more wonders became visible. For as they neared the ship, they saw that armored vehicles had left her and were patrolling the hills on that edge of the City. He saw scores of tanks and half-tracks, monstrous things with churning tracks and fearsome weaponry, vehicles capable of overrunning and capturing the City if the Captain of the Dothan so wished. Further along the City limits were parked some dozens of City police cars, looking small and puny. These were at a place where the hull of the Dothan came within a hundred yards or so of the City’s outer embankment, but the land between was so rough that the cars could not approach nearer to the ship. Though it was hard to see, he thought he saw people moving on foot across the short distance, tiny people beneath the unthinkably gigantic hull side, a white wall seven miles long and thirty stories high. What could they be doing?

  Captain Bleeder crept up the ravine and cautiously raised his head above its edge. As Sergeant Booker had reported, no one was between them and the ship’s hull, not even a soldier, let alone one of the huge tanks they had seen to the south of their position. If they could blow a hole in the hull, this was the opportunity. Bleeder thought it impossible, but no one had asked his opinion. Above him, the outward swell of the hull, made it impossible for him to see up to the deck. The few times he had tried, he had looked down again quickly, for the sight above not only made him sick and dizzy but created the illusion that the ship was about to fall on him.

  Now, as he looked closely at the ground closest to the ship, he could not escape the impression that the hull was moving, ever so slowly, in relation to the earth by it. What if the hull was made of some super substance compared to which solid earth was like water? If so, that might explain why the City had experienced no earthquakes or tremors as the Dothan had approached. The land closest to the ship would simply part like liquid and flow around it, joining again in its wake. Not for the first time, he pondered the tremendous gap that would have to be overcome in order for the City to catch up to these Heavenites technologically. Not that he expected that the City would or could.

  Far off, he could see two large military helicopters coming from the City and headed apparently for the Dothan’s deck. Part of his job was to prevent anyone from the City from visiting the Dothan, but what could he do? The City had only a few light planes, all unarmed. He could only report the helicopters to headquarters. He looked at the hull again. Best to get this over with and then run for it.

  Mr. Power had ordered an attack—code named Operation Corkscrew—on the enemy ship, and rather than lead it himself, Captain Brutality had chosen Bleeder. Bleeder had in turn tried to delegate it to a subordinate officer, but had found that a sudden outbreak of sickness among the ranks, claimed sickness at any rate, had left him with no one to delegate to. He had called Brutality and pleaded that he himself was sick, deathly sick, but had been told to carry out the attack or lose his job.

  Now, with a squad of twenty, he was as ready as he could be. He took his phone from his belt and spoke into it.

  “Booker, what about that artillery cover?”

  Booker’s voice crackled back at him. “Negative on that, sir. They weren’t able to find any shells.”

  So the two ancient artillery pieces would remain on the courthouse lawn.

  “What about the bomb?”

  “They’re bringing Valhalla up to you now, sir,” Booker said stiffly, for Bleeder had forgotten to refer to their secret weapon by its code name. “She’s, uh, pretty heavy.”

  “Tell them to hurry up.”

  In a few minutes two patrolmen, sweating even in the December chill, were heaving Valhalla up the ravine behind him. The bomb had been hastily assembled from parts formerly seized by the Bomb Squad and consisted of several sticks of dynamite, encased in a thick metal box and wired to be remotely detonated. Placed by the hull, it would in theory blow a hole big enough to sink the ship. Bleeder thought it would do no such thing, that it probably wouldn’t pierce the hull at all. Even if it did, he had to wonder what genius thought a ship could sink on land? He just hoped it wouldn’t blow prematurely.

  The patrolmen put Valhalla down near him and sat down together, gasping for breath.

  “No time for a breather, boys,” he said. “The faster we put her in place, the sooner we get out of here.”

  This was good psychology. The two were on their feet at once and heaving Valhalla over the edge of the ravine. Bleeder stayed where he was and watched them place the bomb near the hull and run back to him. The three of them scrambled away, came to the rising embankment around the City, and jogged to the top. The rest of the squad was waiting by parked patrol cars that had somehow been maneuvered to this height. Someone handed him a pair of binoculars. He could see the bomb clearly, black against the white hull.

  “Detonate, sir?”

  “Right, detonate.”

  Someone pushed the button and a tremendous explosion followed, throwing dust and debris high into the air, though not as high as the ship’s side. As Bleeder kept his binoculars on the place where the bomb had been, waiting for the dust to clear, he saw revealed slowly, a large half circle of crater in the earth. As for the hull, it was unmarked. Not a scratch.

  “That’s a shame, sir,” said Booker, who was beside him. “Now, can we get out of here? We’ve got a report of enemy tanks approaching up the beltway.”

  “You in a hurry, Sergeant?”

  “I might as well tell you, Captain. As soon as we get back to headquarters, I’m typing my resignation from the force.”

  Bleeder had no emotional reaction to this. It was the end of the world: what was there to say?

  Lieutenant Retribution had enjoyed watching the awed reaction of the ship’s City guests as they had stepped off the helicopters. The Gloria Dothan was so impressive that she had made them forget the explosion that they had witnessed while still in the air: that feeble attempt by the City police to harm the ship’s hull. Now, after crossing two miles of deck in chauffeured personnel carriers, the guests had been led onto the landing above the grand staircase that led down onto the ballroom floor. Here they were being greeted by the ship’s Captain and could look down across the ballroom, half covered by scores of banquet tables with places for hundreds of navy officers, both men and women, and the other half left clear for dancing. Behind each chair stood an officer, stiff and formal in dress whites. They would stand until their guests were seated.

  Before long the Dothan’s protocol officer arranged the visitors to enter the ballroom, and as they began to descend the stairs, couple by couple, he announced their names with a microphone.

  “Lord Humility Orchard and Lady Faith Orchard.”

  A long pause followed as they were given time to half descend the stairs.

  “Lord Conformity Hope and Lady Chamelea Hope…Lord Gentleness Orchard and Lady Wittily Hope…Lord Joy Orchard and Lady Prudence.”

  Getting the latter name right had not been easy, Retribution knew. Just before the visitors were to be picked up, Ambassador Grace had phoned to tell them to scratch out the name Fret and write in Prudence. Retribution didn’t know the story behind this, but gathered that some little drama was afoot, for the Lady’s partner wore a taut expression and supported her arm like someone brushing against nitroglycerin.

  Some of the younger guests descended the stair paired as brother and sister, but soon the remaining guests were being paired with officers from the ship.

  “Lieutenant Justice and Lady Goodness Orchard…Ambassador Grace and Lieutenant Tempest…Lieutenant Thunder and Lady Obscurity…Lieutenant Sword and Lady Faithfulness Orchard.”r />
  At last only one guest remained, the Orchard’s eldest daughter Love. Lieutenant Retribution would gladly have taken her arm himself, but the Captain had chosen to honor her.

  “Captain Mercy of the H.M.S. Gloria Dothan and Lady Love Orchard.”

  The lady was clearly not at ease, perhaps felt that such an honor should have gone to someone else. She looked around as if for some escape, then took the Captain’s offered arm and began to descend. The orchestra began to play.

  The visitors had all been seated either at the Captain’s table or at other tables nearby. Love found herself at Captain Mercy’s left and feeling rather isolated with him, for to his right were empty places for those who were coming late: Dignity, Truth, and Reason. Down the long table lay the most exquisite feast she had seen since her last trip to Heaven two years previously: dozens of ambrosial dishes sending up aromas. Beyond, lay the banquet area, table after table laid out in shining arrays of white, gold, and crystal, and at each table the banqueters, also gleaming in white, were smiling and carefree. Near the Captain’s table was a gigantic Christmas tree and the platform for the musicians. She was reminded that before long Obscurity and her band the Outlaws would occupy that platform. She hoped Obscurity would have the sense not to wear that earring here.

  After the Captain said grace and the meal began, she looked at him shyly. He was bearded, handsome, and perhaps ten years her senior. Moreover, he was very important and powerful by City standards and even by Heaven’s standards a man to be reckoned with. Why had he chosen her to escort to the table? Surely it was just some obscure rule of protocol.

  “I would like to thank you on behalf of my family,” she said. “This is the most elegant event in our lives since we left Heaven.”

  “You compliment us by your presence,” he replied. “Certainly, the key to our coming to this City was your own Proclamation, the news of which was signaled to us. I just hope your remaining friends will arrive soon from their mission in the City.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry they had to miss a minute of this.”

  “I think they’ll be along in time to eat,” he said, “and certainly in time to dance. Speaking of dancing, Lady Love Orchard, would you honor me by being my partner for the first two dances?”