Patriarch's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 6)

by David Feintuch

  Galactic had a crew of eight hundred; where the devil were they hiding? Not at the east ladder. We pulled ourselves down. I worked mostly with my canes, that had become admirable zero-gee tools.

  At Level 4 we met resistance. Tobrok and Derek took aim with their lasers. They missed, but abruptly the stairwell was deserted. We hurried past the landing.

  We worked our way down to Level 6. The engine room was in section nine. We advanced. Section seven. Then eight. Mikhael had the most trouble moving in zero gee; I stayed near, gave him a hand when I could.

  We were in the midst of eight, propelling ourselves to nine, when abruptly the hatches closed. The long-silent speakers came to life. “We have them trapped on Level 6, section eight! All sailors who’ve been issued arms, assemble outside the engine room!”

  Instantly Arlene snatched a laser from Speke’s hand, slapped it in mine.

  “What are you—”

  Gripping the handhold, she gave me a mighty shove toward the section seven hatch. She launched herself after. I braked myself with my canes, nearly tearing out my arm sockets. Arlene seized a handhold, aimed her pistol at the hatch seal from close range. Mikhael, in his stolen midshipman’s uniform, hauled himself laboriously toward us. The rest of us dived into cabins, behind whatever cover they found handy. Philip shoved Jared behind him, aimed coolly at the hatch to section nine. He waited for the enemy to appear.

  The section eight hatch seal smoked and sputtered in the relentless beam of Arlene’s laser. “Come on, God damn you!”

  I muttered, “Don’t blaspheme.” It was unthinking. She paid no heed.

  The seal gave way. Grunting with effort, she forced the hatch panels apart. “Move, Nick!” She blocked a panel with a foot, used her freed hand to shove me through. With a cry of alarm, Mikhael thrust himself after.

  “What will you—”

  “Save yourself, Captain! I love you.” She glanced at her laser; it still had a charge. She kicked off to defend the entry to nine. Unimpeded, the corridor hatch slammed shut.

  Mikhael clung to me. “Get us out of here!”

  I shook him off. “Steady, son.”

  “Hurry!”

  I was hurrying, but to where? My voice was dull. “The laser room.” As a last gesture, I would disable the lasers. I pulled myself along the handholds. “Mikhael, it’s over. I’ll put you in a cabin. When things quiet down, surrender. They won’t harm you.” I devoutly hoped it was true.

  “I’m staying with you.”

  My heart was leaden. “No.” Arlene was likely dead, and Philip. I would join them. But not by my own hand. I might, with great fortune, surprise the laser-room guards. And the hatch couldn’t be defended.

  We took the ladder to five. No one stopped us. I hammered on the first cabin hatch I came to. No response. I remembered the corridor panel, slapped the hatch open. “Mikhael, inside.” I pushed him through. “Don’t make a sound. Wait until—”

  A wiry form swarmed atop him, flailed with fists and feet. A blow caught Mikhael in the forehead. Fingers clawed at his eyes. “Out of my cabin! Out!” The frantic passenger caromed off a bulkhead, launched himself anew. “You frazzing—” He slammed Mikhael into the bulkhead. “Get—”

  I drew my pistol, fired, caught him square in the chest. A bubbling sound. Clots of blood spewed forth. I grabbed Mikhael by the scruff of the neck, threw him into the corridor. I slapped the hatch shut, and drifted, shaking from adrenaline.

  Mikhael kicked desperately at the far bulkhead, shot back across the corridor. With a squeal of terror he wrapped himself around me. I tried to pull free. One of my canes went sailing off. I wrenched at his fingers. “Mikhael ...” No use. He was a straitjacket. I bellowed, “LET GO THIS INSTANT! BEHAVE YOURSELF!”

  “I’m scared, Pa!”

  “STOP THAT SNIVELING!”

  It shocked him into letting go. He recoiled. I snatched his arm before he could drift off. “Easy, son. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Oh, God!”

  “Fetch my cane.” Carefully, I shoved him in the right direction. He snatched it as he sailed past, bounced off a bulkhead. With the cane as an oar, he managed to propel himself back to me. His face was ashen.

  There was no time. But if nothing mattered, everything did. “Do you need a hug?”

  “Yessir.”

  I swept him into an embrace, squeezed as if to crush the life from him. After a long while, the tension oozed from his body. He rested a hand on my shoulder, buried his head under my chin. A sound, that might have been a sob.

  After a time I held him away. “You all right now?”

  Unable to meet my eyes, he nodded.

  “Good lad. Let’s go.” I pushed off, a firm grip on his arm.

  We worked our way upward toward the laser room.

  “Seafort, it’s over.” Captain Stanger. “We have a few of your survivors. There’s no one loose except you. Turn yourself in.”

  “I’ll see you in Hell.” Had I spoken aloud? I wasn’t sure. We labored up the ladder to Level 3.

  “Pa?”

  “Yes, son?”

  “I’m so scared I can’t think.”

  “We all are.”

  In the corridor, near the stairs, three sailors maneuvered a cart with electronic gear. I brandished my laser. They fled. Their abandoned cart drifted idly in midair.

  Level 2.

  “I want—” Mikhael’s breath shuddered. “I want to say this while I can.” He helped me around the landing. “I know you’re not really my father. But ...” He squirmed with embarrassment. “I wish you were.”

  “Don’t ever say that.” Alexi’s reproachful face floated beyond the bulkhead.

  “I’m sorry for all the stupid things I did. I know I’d never mean to you what P.T. does, but that’s all right.” He clutched my arm. “That’s what I wanted to say. It’s all right.”

  I should reproach him, but I couldn’t. Not after he’d unwrapped his soul. “Thank you.” It was a whisper.

  “You’re going away.” It was more statement than question.

  “I’m going to die now, yes.” Strangely, I felt peace.

  “How can I—”

  “There he is!”

  I whipped up my laser, fired without aim. A yelp, a shower of sparks. With one cane I launched myself up the ladder. A shadow. I fired.

  “Get him, Middy!”

  They let off a shot that wasn’t even close. The bulkhead blistered. I grasped the rail, hurled myself upward with a vigorous shove. I rocketed past the landing, firing as I slammed into the overhead. A screech. More shots.

  Silence.

  I’d lost most of my momentum. Helpless in midair, I waited for inertia, in slow motion, to carry me to a bulkhead.

  Mikhael kicked off, caught me, transferring his inertia. Together we sailed into the stairwell landing. I snatched a handhold, propelled myself to the ladder.

  One more Level.

  “How can I help, Pa?”

  “You can’t. I want to save you.”

  “No.” His voice was tremulous. “I’ll help.”

  Years past, I’d offered P.T. his death. Gladly he’d joined me in the launch to brave the lasers of Earthport.

  It was my fate to annihilate the youngsters who laid their trust at my feet.

  “You’re sure, son?”

  “Yes, sir.” He looked down at his pants, and blushed.

  Level 1. Here, the corridor hatches were sealed. Voices. Instinctively, I thrust Mikhael down the ladder.

  “Got him!” A laser rifle, aimed unwaveringly at my chest. “No, you frazzin’ grode, push yourself up. Let go the laser!”

  I’d be dead before I could raise my pistol. Bleakly, I did as he told. Three of them, all armed. But only one laser; the other joeys had stunners and billies.

  “Stand at attention, all of you!” The voice was ice. A very young middy launched himself from the ladder.

  One tried to stiffen, realized he couldn’t in zero gee. The others gawked. �
�Who are you, sir?”

  “Midshipman Tamarov. I’m new.” The voice was proud. “You caught him? Wonderful. I’ll take him to the Captain.” He held out his hand. “Hand over the rifle.”

  “Sir, I’d better—”

  “That was an order.”

  Discipline was a reflex. “Aye aye, sir.” Edging away from me, the sailor handed Tamarov his rifle.

  “Come here, you.” The middy hauled me closer. “You joeys, Lieutenant Garrow needs help in the galley. Give him a hand.”

  “If this one gets away ...”

  “I’ll be the one gets the caning.”

  It brought nervous smiles. “Aye aye, sir.” They retreated down the ladder.

  “When they were gone, Mikhael thrust the rifle into my arms. “I think I’ll be sick!”

  “No, you won’t.” Casually, I squeezed his shoulder, gave him a reassuring pat, as if his courage were no more than I expected. “The laser room’s in section nine. Let’s go.”

  At the corridor hatch to eight, I aimed the rifle, fired into the seals. Alarms screamed. I fired again, higher. Mikhael forced open the panels. We squeezed through.

  “Fast as you can!” One section to go. I shouldered the rifle. Using my canes as ski poles, I bounced off bulkheads and deck.

  The rifle still had charge. I raised it, began firing many meters from the section hatch. The seals smoked, melted. A panel buckled. Mikhael dived to grab it.

  “Careful, the metal’s hot.”

  Cautiously, he forced open the corridor hatch. I pushed through, firing as I went. A face ducked behind a cabin hatch. Passenger or sailor? No matter; I couldn’t take the chance. I fired into the bulkhead. From behind, a moan.

  I strained to reach a handhold, worked my way onward with desperate haste. Alarms shrieked. Stanger knew exactly where I was.

  Outside the laser room, three guards. Only one faced my way. At the same instant, we fired. Heat kissed my boot; the deck under me smoked and sizzled. The guard dissolved in a burst of blood and flame. I yelped, kicked away from the heat. A warning beep. I fired again, caught a bulkhead. Fiery droplets splashed a sailor’s face. He bounced screaming from bulkhead to deck. The third guard fled.

  My rifle glowed empty. With a savage curse I hurled it along the corridor, pulled out my pistol. Thrusting Mikhael into a supply compartment, I launched myself at the ruined laser-room hatch.

  Inside, frozen with fear, three techs.

  I pushed off, sailed to a chair bolted to the deck. “GET OUT!”

  They clawed at each other in their haste to reach the corridor.

  Two rows of laser consoles, each with its simulscreen and radionics. In battle, every chair would be manned.

  No time for subtlety. Steadying myself with my canes, I took aim at the first console, pressed the trigger. The console glowed, burst into flame. Alarms wailed.

  The second. I would need a recharge, to disable them all.

  The third.

  “Move and I’ll kill you.” A low voice, deadly. One I knew.

  Slowly, I turned my head. It couldn’t be. But it was.

  Karen Burns.

  I meant to swing my laser. I wanted to. Instead, turned to a pillar of salt, I gaped, uncomprehending.

  “Don’t even twitch, Seafort.” Her pistol was aimed and ready, the charge light green and unwavering.

  “What are—how did—my God!”

  “Eloquent.” Her pistol moved, in a suggestion. “Put the laser down.”

  “Why are you on ship?”

  “You never had a clue, did you?” A harsh chuckle. “Bet you thought I was one of those Eco League loonies.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Stanger’s rather annoyed; you led us a merry chase. Set down the pistol, or I’ll blow your arm off. I’d just as soon kill you, but the Captain wants a public execution.”

  “Shoot.” My laser remained at my side. I would have answers. “The Eco League was against supporting the Navy. If you’re not with them, what were you doing?” My knuckles tightened on my canes.

  “The ecos were too timid. They needed prodding; I was glad to help. The Rotunda bomb got things moving. It was a win-win situation. Either you’d be dead, and we’d have Valera’s support for the Navy, or you’d survive, and you’d have no choice but to crack down on the enviros.” A frown. “Only you didn’t. Somehow, you kept the lid on. Damned if I know how, but you were doing it. We had to escalate.”

  “By kidnapping me? Why?”

  “You were rounding up sweet Sara and her joeys. They didn’t know my name, but they’d seen me. I was out of time, so we went after you. If I’d gotten you out of the compound, we had a groundcar waiting, and eventually a shuttle. We’d have brought you here. If I succeeded, we’d have the power of your proclamations at our disposal. How the hell did you get out of that closet? You can’t walk.”

  “I teleported. Why, Karen? What was the point?”

  “Ultimately, to restore the Navy. You knew that. For a time, we even hoped you’d join us. Keep your hand quite still.”

  I did. “So why bomb my compound?”

  “Even you can figure that out. You wouldn’t work with us, and you were in the way.”

  They’d won. Utterly, completely, with finality. The United Nations would be no more. The Navy, in its arrogance, would rule the worlds.

  “And Booker?”

  “Dead. A weakling. Such pangs of remorse. He’d have given us all away.”

  “Barcelona?”

  “The call? Faked.”

  We’d been gulled, down the line. I steeled myself. There was nothing left. Only useless revenge. The safety was off; I had only to let go the cane, whirl, fire. If I took her with me ... To distract her, I asked, “How did you get here?”

  “I found a woman who looked like me and borrowed her ID. She was U.N.A.F., but it got me to Earthport.” Her smile was cruel. “And then I called Stanger.”

  Numbly, I reached for an ancient rite. Hail Mary, full of grace ...

  Karen’s eyes narrowed. Her pistol steady as a rock, she reached for a chair to steady herself.

  Abruptly I felt it too. Slowly, the deck came up to meet me. Reflexively, I threw out my canes, caught myself. My laser skittered along the deck.

  I began to grow heavy.

  I was too far from a console to reach it. In seconds we were at a full gee, Terran standard, as the bow gravitrons came on-line. Beads of sweat popped from my skin. Desperately, I clung to my canes. Somehow, balanced, I remained on my feet, but white fire clawed at my spine. I breathed in shallow gasps.

  “Why, Mr. Seafort.” Her voice was a purr. “You have difficulty standing? You’ve been to Dr. Ghenili?”

  I gritted my teeth.

  “All crew to the Level 2 dining hall. Machinist’s mates, report only when you’ve restored midship and aft gravitrons.” Stanger.

  Karen made as if to push me. I flinched, expecting to break in half.

  A lithe form hurtled from the corridor. It leaped onto her back. She staggered. Fighting to stay erect, I could do no more than watch. Mikhael snaked a forearm around her throat, squeezed with all his might.

  With a convulsive lunge, she threw him off. A paralyzing chop to the shoulder. A kick to his stomach; he squealed and clutched himself.

  Coolly, Karen glanced to me, saw I was no threat. She hauled Mikhael to his feet. Methodically, brutally, she began to beat him. Panting with exertion, she drove blows into his ribs, stomach, chest. Her fists hammered his face.

  “Stop it!” My voice was hoarse.

  A vicious blow to the gut; Mikhael’s spittle flew. His face was deathly green.

  I tried to take a step. Lightning surged along my spine. I gasped.

  Mikhael sagged, semiconscious.

  “Don’t, I beg you! Let him be. I’ll do whatever you want!”

  “He jumped me.” With a grip of iron she held him against the bulkhead, slamming her fist into his side, his stomach, his groin. “I don’t like that.”
<
br />   “Karen, for God’s sake—”

  Blows to the face. A backhand across his mouth that was a rifle shot. Another.

  At last, she let go. Mikhael slid senseless to the deck. His blood oozed.

  She sucked air into her lungs, until her breathing eased. “Now, where were we?”

  I dared say nothing. Only white-hot rage held off the all-consuming pain. If I opened my mouth it might all come rushing out, and engulf the laser room. With tremendous effort, I held myself erect.

  She reached to a console, keyed the caller. “Bridge, Lieutenant Burns reporting. I’ve got him, Captain. He’s helpless; he can’t walk in gravity. Where do you want him?”

  A pause. Idly, she turned her back, covered one ear. Ignoring what passed beyond agony, I eased more weight onto my left foot.

  “Aye aye, sir. He’s in bad shape; I might have to carry him. It’ll be a few minutes.”

  She replaced the caller. “He’ll let you witness the exec—”

  I flipped my right-hand cane, caught it by the toe. As I fell, I whipped it around in a vicious arc. The handgrip slammed into her temple.

  She toppled to the deck. I crashed nearby. Something wrenched. My legs drummed convulsively. I clenched my teeth, desperate not to bite off my tongue. The pain was beyond horrid.

  A ghastly sound. Mine.

  Silence.

  To my dismay, Karen struggled slowly to her knees; I hadn’t hit her hard enough. I’d never get another chance. “You ... fucking ... son of a bitch.” Her words were slurred. She groped for her pistol.

  The safety was on. She clawed at it, shook her head, froze as if listening. A moan. She clutched her temples, rocked back and forth. Tormented eyes met mine. Her hand came away from her ear, red and dripping. Slowly, as if in a dream, she pitched forward onto her face. Blood poured from both ears. Massive cerebral hemorrhage. A pity.

  I tried to retreat from the spreading pool. A lance of fire. Somehow, I hunched onto my elbows, waited for the red haze to dissipate. I dragged myself toward the hatch. Mikhael slumped against the bulkhead, as if asleep. His breath was shallow and ragged. His face was pasty.