"How is she doing, Doctor?" He had to practically yell over the growing crackle of the flames.
"Not good, Corporal. The drugs I have access to are inferior and impure. She's having a mild reaction. It'll be worse when we begin phasing."
"Can her baby withstand the phasing? I know that children are easily overcome with prolonged phasing. And we'll need to phase the entire trip."
Barrett shook his head. "To be honest, Corporal, I don't know. Normally, the unborn react remarkably well to phasing. Since they are completely supported by the mother while in the womb, there aren't any side effects. But Kate is very weak herself. She may not survive the phase. But we really have no choice, do we?"
"I'm sorry, Doctor. We were unaware of her presence. We'd been able to determine the clinic's size, shape, and location, which is how we developed our plan. But we had no idea what it looked like on the inside. Nor who would be here."
There was a yell from Fulton, his third man, stationed at the far end of the east wall. Yashimoto jerked his head and saw Fulton slumping over the sill. Even in the dim, flickering light of the flames that lapped the south wall, it was possible to see a deep stain spreading across his back. At that moment, the room suddenly became darker as the compound lights were finally shut off.
"That's not good," Mayberry commented.
"Excuse me, Doctor. I'm needed elsewhere." He gripped his rifle and rose to his feet. He needed to get to Fulton's position, which meant crossing the landing zone. A big risk, but not as big as leaving that position unmanned.
He took two steps then jerked back. The air suddenly crackled and shimmered. He felt his breath being sucked out of his lungs, then was thrown down as a pocket of hot air blasted him. The evac hov had arrived.
The rear door lifted open, knocking over a table. No one came out.
"This party is over, people!" shouted Yashimoto. He helped Barrett carry Kate into the hov. He didn't seat them but instead ran down the ramp and over to the west wall, which was now afire. Mayberry and Hernandez were climbing on board, carrying Fulton between them.
He nimbly jumped through the wall and into the damaged hov. He ran to the engine panel and jammed the engines to full, while simultaneously engaging the gravity brakes. The containment field indicator plummeted from fifty percent to thirty, then began dropping at a slower rate. He had perhaps twenty seconds.
He activated the nav computer and released the gravity brakes. The hov jerked and rose up, following a previously inputted flight path. Yashimoto ran to the side door and jumped back into the warehouse just at the craft began to move. He ran to the evac hov and ducked inside, slamming the hatch switch, closing the rear door.
It was very tight. Normally designed to carry five, there were now nine people in the hov. He sat in the seat left open for him just as the phase kicked in.
Everything became translucent. The interior of the hov brightened as the fire from the building shone through the walls. He watched in fascination as the craft plunged into the ground. Moss didn't want to be anywhere near an overloaded ion engine when it exploded, and was wisely putting as much ground between them and it as quickly as he could.
He had a start several seconds later as a metallic object flashed into his view and passed through him. This would probably the only time in his life that he'd be able to actually see a deployed phase mine, which was fine with him. It didn't go off, meaning the phase frequencies must be very nearly matched.
Moss canted the hov further into the ground and made for bedrock. It was still going to be a long trip home, but it was shortened considerably by the presence of all his men, the doctor, and an unexpected, very welcome, passenger. Yashimoto closed his eyes and relaxed as best he could, letting the gentle hum of the McDonald phase unit lull him to sleep.
***
Colonel Forncheth was a lot longer getting to bed. Dawn had come and gone before he returned to his small home. The exploding hov had solved one problem for him by killing all four of the miners they had captured the previous night. It had also created a few problems as well. He was now without a prisoner infirmary and a prison doctor. Both had been vaporized in the blast, as well as a female prisoner who was going through a pregnancy. This was going to make for a very long report.
He crawled under his covers, feeling a small loss. Barrett had kept his prisoners healthy and productive. His own NATech medical staff could pick up the duties. But they would be without the drive or the devotion that Barrett had had toward his friends and comrades.
He would also miss Barrett as a pleasant distraction. The man could carry on a conversation and had an excellent way of expressing an opinion without being insulting. He'd miss their occasional nightly talks.
It was as he was drifting to sleep that Forncheth had an odd thought cross his mind. Was it possible that Barrett's access in the puterverse only four nights ago was somehow connected to last night? If it was, he would be in deep trouble.
But how could it be? And even if it was, what did it really matter? Barrett was dead, as was the pregnant Resistance prisoner, four miners, and twelve of his men. It was best to just let the whole incident slip into the past. If he pressed it, then he might indeed find that he shouldn't have allowed Barrett access the other night. And if he, Forncheth, found that out, then someone else would, too. No, he would forget the entire sordid affair, and pray that by choosing to forget about it, it would go away.
Chapter Three
Wednesday evening, November 26, 2679 (Arizona time)
Lieutenant Gratz motioned a hand toward me. I rose from my chair along the side wall and stepped up to him. I folded my hands and bowed before him, awaiting his order. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Major Deiley would need his wine glass chilled and refilled. But I must see to the major's guest first.
"Yes, Lieutenant? How may I serve you?"
"I wonder if I might have another small helping of your delicious stuffed pork chops, Miss DeChant." I served him, making certain to balance it with some more lemon noodles and a taste of apple tart. He openly admired me.
"I am always impressed, sir, by Miss DeChant's gracious obedience. I doubt there is a better servant anywhere." He looked at me. "No offense, ma'am."
"None taken, Lieutenant. This what I've been made to be. This is what I want to be." I placed the plate in front of him and refilled his glass to the proper two-thirds level. I flicked the stem of the glass lightly and the wine chilled to eight degrees. I repeated the action for the major's glass as well after filling it. Since it was the end of the meal, I set the bottle of wine down between them, closer to Major Deiley, so they might serve themselves. Major Deiley smiled at me slightly and nodded.
"Thank you, Miss DeChant. You have, as always, excellent timing."
"Hear, hear!" Lieutenant Gratz pronounced enthusiastically. The Lieutenant was Major Deiley's preferred guest, and had been here four times in the past month, and several times during my first period of service. He very clearly knew that I had but one function: to be a domestic servant. Nevertheless, he had taken quite a shine to me.
Quite a shine? Now, what in the world did that mean, and why did I think it? I had never even heard that term
WHU--WHERE WAS I? I WAS STANDING AT A TABLE, BETWEEN TWO NATECH OFFICERS. ONE OF THEM WAS DEILEY. BUT I HAD BEEN IN THE PUTERVERSE. WAS THIS ANOTHER OF CHRIS' DISTRACTIONS? WHY WASN'T I
forced down the sudden dizziness and concentrated on gathering an armload of dishes as a gentle indication to Lieutenant Gratz that dinner was concluding. Major Deiley's smile had faded and his eyes had hardened with concern and knowledge.
They continued their conversation and I departed to the kitchen to put on the coffee and begin heating the cinnamon apple pie. I had been the major's servant for just about two months, counting both periods, so I knew that he preferred having the dessert served in his living room about forty-five minutes after the meal. By heating it now, I could use a liberal amount of apple butter and brown sugar on the surface, to be to
pped with razor thin apple slices just before serving. The resulting blend of baked apple and chilled slices always elicited a favorable response from the major's guests. And Professor LeClaire's before him.
I heard their talk fade as they walked into the living room. I pinned back my hair and put on an apron. I placed the pie in the pulse oven and began clearing the table. I then washed the dishes. Unless rushed, I always preferred washing the dishes by hand. It gave a sense of accomplishment and comfort knowing I had personally cleaned each dish, rather than trusting an indifferent machine or pulse field to do the job.
Finishing the first tray of dishes, I gathered up those remaining on the table, then pulled the table cloth for cleaning. I listened in very briefly and determined by the major's tone and subject that his wound was annoying him again. He would want dessert served soon, so he might bring an early end to the night.
I hurried into the kitchen, dumping the tablecloth into the hamper to clean later, and fetched out three apples from storage.
SPACE IN THE LOWER LEVELS WILL BE ALLOCATED ON AN AS NEEDED BASIS, WITH TENANTS WITH LONGER LEASES HAVING SENIORITY IF DEMANDS BECOME TOO HIGH. PLEASE NOTE THAT LOCAL ORDINANCE REQUIRES THAT ONLY NONVOLATILE MATERIALS MAY BE KEPT IN THESE AREAS.
Another spell came over me. I had the distinct impression I was just a building, taking care of my tenants I shook my head to clear it. I quickly cored and sliced the apples, =then retrieved my pie from the oven. I started the pressure perc to brew coffee, very strong. By the time I had spread the slices evenly over the pie, the coffee was done. I poured out the coffee into a carafe, then poured it from the carafe into two cups. Major Deiley always took a whole clove in his coffee, the lieutenant preferred fifty milliliters of heavy cream I put in only thirty, knowing the sweetness of the pie would compensate for the difference. I then sliced two pieces from the pie and put them on plates with dessert forks and napkins. I left the remainder of the pie uncut. The lieutenant and I had worked out this signal during my first stay. If the pie was cut, he knew the major wanted to continue the conversation. If I left it uncut, he knew he should finish his dessert and excuse himself. I appreciated guests who held the concerns of their host so highly, and was quick to help them do the right thing. Moving everything to a carrying tray, I brought it to Major Deiley and the lieutenant.
The major's face lit up when he heard me enter. He rose, something I had difficulty getting used to, and glanced approvingly at Lieutenant Gratz, who also had come to his feet. Trying to hide my discomfort at being extended a courtesy normally reserved for women above my station, I set down the tray and began serving.
They did not linger over dessert, but neither did they rush. The lieutenant finished his coffee and pie, then stretched.
"I hope you don't mind, sir, but I'd like to turn in. I'm taking the Fifth Cohort out on mountain retrieval maneuvers tomorrow at 0400, and I'd like to keep their respect by not falling asleep in front of them." He smiled and stood.
The major saw him to the door, they exchanged good nights, and the evening was over. He sagged back down into his rocking chair, unbuttoning the stiff collar of his uniform. I had just put the dessert tray into the kitchen to attend to in an hour or so and stepped behind him, working his left shoulder and back. He was always more stressed from entertaining than from any other function. He reached up and patted my hand.
"You were superb tonight, Miss DeChant." He chuckled quietly. "I think the lieutenant is beginning to have feelings for you."
"I am sure they are only passing fancies, Major. He knows I cannot and will not return such affection."
"A man's heart is not to be trifled with, woman. Be on your guard. I hear that Lieutenant Gratz can be quite the charmer."
"You cannot charm a person who is incapable of"
FIRING THE FORWARD THRUSTERS. COLLISION ALERT! ALL EMERGENCY CREWS TO DOCKING BAY ALPHA THREE. COMMENCE STATION EVACUATION PLAN MAGENTA FIVE. ALL CIVILIANS AND NON-EMERGENCY PERSONNEL TO REPORT TO DOCKING BAY FOXTROT NINER. FIRING REPULSOR BLASTS AT HULL OF THE DL WHITE. SPEED SLOWED TO TEN METERS PER SECOND. IMPACT IN TWENTY-TWO SECONDS. FIRING REPULSOR BLASTS AT HULL OF THE DL WHITE. SPEED SLOWED TO SIX METERS PER SECOND. IMPACT IN THIRTY-FOUR SECONDS. FIRING REPULSOR BLASTS AT HULL OF THE DL WHITE. WARNING! DL WHITE REPORTING OUTER HULL BREECH. SPEED SLOWED TO FOUR METERS PER SECOND. IMPACT IN FORTY-SIX SECONDS. EMERGENCY CREWS ONE, FIVE AND SIX ARE IN POSITION. EMERGENCY CREWS TWO AND THREE ARE DISPATCHING THROUGH DOCKING ACCESS ALPHA THREE D FOR EXTERNAL RESPONSE.
IMPACT IN TWENTY-NINE SECONDS. EVACUATION PLAN MAGENTA FIVE IS FIFTY-EIGHT PERCENT COMPLETE. EMERGENCY CREW FOUR REPORTS EVACUATION PLAN COMPLETION IN TWO MINUTES, TEN SECONDS. IMPACT OF FREIGHTER DL WHITE INTO GAMMA STATION AT DOCKING BAY ALPHA THREE IN EIGHTEEN SECONDS. CHARGING PRIMARY REPULSORS. DL WHITE REPORTS CREW EVACUATION TO AFT EMERGENCY PODS COMPLETE. IMPACT IN FOURTEEN SECONDS. EVACUATION PLAN MAGENTA FIVE HALTED. ALL PERSONNEL TO BRACE FOR IMPACT. NON-EMERGENCY POWER SHUTOFF IN PROCESS. FUSION GENERATOR CLAMPED AND SEALED. IMPACT IN SEVEN SECONDS. FIRING FULL REPULSORS AT HULL OF DL WHITE. WARNING! THE DL WHITE REPORTS INNER HULL BREECH! VENTING ATMOSPHERE. SPEED SLOWED TO TWO METERS PER SECOND. IMPACT IN EIGHT SECONDS. ALL EMERGENCY CREWS STAND BY. BLOWING DOCKING BAY HATCH ALPHA THREE. WARNING! BLOWN DOCKING BAY HATCH COLLISION WITH FORWARD HULL OF DL WHITE. DL WHITE HULL INTEGRITY FAILING. SPEED SLOWED TO POINT SIX METERS PER SECOND. IMPACT IN THREE SECONDS. STAND BY.
AND DO NOTHING WHILE YOU CLEAN THAT, DO YOU? PLEASE, PROFESSOR, THAT'S FOR ME TO DO. I KNOW I'VE ONLY BEEN YOUR SERVANT FOR A FEW WEEKS, BUT I KNOW HOW TO TAKE CARE OF YOU. NO, I'M NOT BEING OVER ENTHUSIASTIC. THIS IS WHAT I DO. NOW, AFTER I FINISH CLEANING UP THE SHEETS, I'LL FIX YOUR BREAKFAST. WILL SOFT-BOILED EGGS AND GRAPEFRUIT JUICE BE APPROPRIATE? AND TOAST? VERY GOOD, PROFESSOR. AND WOULD MADAME LIKE BREAKFAST AS WELL? PERHAPS A TORT WITH MARMALADE, AND A GLASS OF TEA? VERY WELL, MADAME. HERE, I SHALL CLEAN YOUR CLOTHES AS WELL, IF YOU WILL BE STAYING THE MORNING. NO, NO. IT IS NO TROUBLE, MADAME. YES, I SHALL. BREAKFAST IN TWENTY MINUTES, THEN, PROFESSOR. OUI, I'LL SERVE IT ON THE TERRACE.
"... had your four weeks, Major, and I'm losing my patience."
"Yes, sir. She is quite resilient. I think you realize that, sir. But your wait is over. Miss DeChant went into a sharding episode about four hours ago, and there are indications that she will be entering dissolution very soon."
"I remind you, Major, that the woman's name is Abigail Wyeth, not Miss DeChant. I worry you may be losing sight of that."
"I am not, sir. It's just that I've never known her as Wyeth. It's pointless anyway what I think of her, isn't it, sir? She'll be harvested in the morning."
"In the morning? Not now?"
"No, sir. It would be better to establish she is at dissolution. If it's merely a prolonged episode, it might limit the harvest."
"I'm willing to take that risk, Major. I'm dispatching three cohorts to retrieve her now."
"I'm perfectly capable of ordering my own men to ..."
"Are you, Major? I'm beginning to have my doubts. Have her ready to go within the hour. Good night."
The dim blue light from the terminal flickered off and Deiley came to the bed. He saw that I was looking at him and smiled. I smiled in return and whispered something. He leaned closer to better hear.
I shot my hand up, going for his exposed throat. He stepped back quickly and I hit nothing but air. Overextended, I tumbled out of the bed. He stepped back up and helped me to my feet. I repaid his kindness by sending a knee to his groin. He turned slightly and I hit his thigh. I felt my uplifted leg being grabbed and suddenly I was off my feet and tossed back onto the bed. He held his hands out, open and empty.
"Please, Miss Wyeth. You're too weak to fight me. Settle down and let's talk."
It was his use of the word 'miss' that floored me. I looked down and realized I was a woman. There was a fleeting moment of panic. I crushed it down. I am a woman. I'm Abigail, not John. I shook my head and grunted. Chris' handiwork on me had extended into the real world. I looked up
at Deiley, who had come to the edge of the bed, a look of worry on his face. He said he wanted to talk. I could guess what kind of talk he wanted, so I rose to my knees and jammed a fist at his face. He reached out to block it and I ducked under and around him, bolting for the door. I felt unsteady on my feet. Was it weariness? Or the fact that I felt I was in the wrong body?
I felt an arm around my waist as he grabbed me from behind. I kicked viciously back at his knee, but he simply released me and shoved me into the wall. Again off balance, I stumbled and hit the wall hard with my shoulder. He stood over me.
"Now will you settle down? I don't want this to become more difficult. If need be, I am perfectly willing to risk permanently injuring you to gain your attention, young lady. I hope I have sufficiently demonstrated that I am capable of doing it as well."
"What do you want, Deiley?" I asked, rubbing my shoulder. He frowned.
"You know me? I wasn't aware that ..." His face cleared. "Ah, of course! From the night you destroyed my previous quarters. That was an excellent subterfuge, Wyeth. You had me convinced Miss DeChant was genuinely in trouble." He stepped over me and snapped on a security field around the door and windows of the small room. I should have felt trapped, being alone with a NATech officer who had so completely manhandled me. Oddly, I didn't feel any discomfort. He continued.
"Allow me to upgrade your knowledge. It is now thirty-four days since your failed mission in the puterverse. Other than brief sharding episodes, you have been Miss DeChant the entire time, who has been serving me wonderfully."
Final Book Page 5