“You’re telling me to fire on Galactic, sir?”
“Handle it as best you can. No, I’m not ordering you to open fire, but I authorize it if necessary. Certainly do so if he threatens our land forces or Earthport. And keep this quiet, for God’s sake.”
“Aye aye, sir.” They rang off.
We were discussing our options when a new recording came from Galactic.
“Admiral, this is Seafort. Please inform the Secretary General that I’d prefer to avoid embarrassment to the Navy, but unless he halts laser fire on the city of New York within thirty minutes, I’ll take what further action I deem necessary.”
“Nick? Listen to me!”
Silence.
I said, “There’s your threat. You’d better ready an assault.”
“I heard no threat, but I’ll tell Kahn.”
The SecGen listened without comment. Then, “I want every laser cannon in your arsenal on continuous fire, carrying out Ruben’s strikes. All but one. Save that for Galactic.”
“Sir—”
“I’m in charge, not Seafort. If he fires, destroy his ship. Utterly.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Thorne replaced the caller.
I said, “Jesus, Jeff.”
“Don’t alarm yourself. I’ll bet you dinner at the Lunapolis Hilton that Seafort doesn’t even power his guns.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not his style.”
“You think he’s bluffing?”
“No,” said Thorne. “I don’t.” With a grimace of disgust, he called down new instructions to the banks of lasers.
For the next half hour, I paced the Naval command center, biting my fingernails.
“Admiral, this is Nick Seafort.”
We waited for the recording to continue.
Silence. Hesitantly, Thorne keyed his caller. “Nick?”
“Yes.”
“You’re relieved! Put yourself under arrest, open your outer locks and—”
“No, sir.” The Captain’s tone was firm.
I stood rooted, stunned. Now he would be hanged.
“Nick, for God’s sake—”
“Your laser fire continues. It’s an abomination. It will stop.”
Thorne said quietly, “How?” He covered the caller, keyed another line. “Splice Mr. Kahn into this link, flank!”
From Seafort, a grim chuckle, “I’ve been busy. I needed Galactic for her comm channels; the launch’s radio is much less versatile.”
“What have you done?”
“Galactic has some competent technicians; they’re to be commended. I set young Zorn to modifying comm links with the launch; it now has video as well as audio. And whatever she sends will be rebroadcast down to Earth at full power by Galactic. Though, really, the launch’s radio would suffice, now they know where to find her.”
“Down? To where?”
“Holoworld, Newsday, WBC, BBC, Satelnews, United Commlinks, a dozen others. They’re standing by for a flash feed at seven AM Eastern. I’m going to make a speech, in time for the breakfast news. Our comm room is cleared of techs and sealed; the ship’s puter Corwyn will control our comm circuits.”
I whispered, “Oh, my God.”
“I’ll be sealing the bridge and leaving Galactic in a few moments. But don’t try to board her; I’ve given very specific instructions to Corwyn.”
“And they are?”
“I’ve declared a state of emergency and superseded the puter’s standing instructions. Corwyn is instructed to log but otherwise ignore all signals from Earthport or Admiralty. He’s to construe any approach as an attack, and open defensive fire. Our own launch excepted, of course. My instructions lapse upon my return or the destruction of the launch.”
“You’re forcing us to destroy you!”
“Not forcing, Jeff. Just offering the option. Excuse me a moment.”
We waited.
“Kahn here. What’s that bastard up to?”
Thorne told him, while we waited for Seafort.
“God damn him!”
I licked my lips, suddenly uneasy.
“Shoot him down! Destroy the launch!”
Thorne said quietly, “Sir, Captain Seafort has made no physical threat to my command, to Earth, or to any other vessel. I will obey your order when it is faxed to me in your own writing, with your thumbprint and seal.”
“You goddamn sea lawyer!”
“If you wish, you may have my resignation.”
I listened to Kahn’s heavy breathing.
“Very well, the order is ... suspended.”
Seafort’s voice suddenly resumed. “Sorry, a few last-minute details to settle. Thank you for waiting. I trust you’ll listen to my interview, and notice my vessel’s course.”
“Seafort! Stop what you’re doing!”
“Will you do likewise, Mr. SecGen?”
“You dare to threaten me?”
“Not physically. I’ll give you a way out, if you listen closely. Try to control your rage. Signing off.”
“Thorne! Jam every channel he uses! Close down the newsfeeds!”
“That too will require your written order, Mr. SecGen.”
“When this is over ...” Kahn’s threat was implicit.
“Yes, sir. Please call back if you need me. I must devote my attention to the crisis and our laser fire.” Thorne broke the connection. “Ugh.”
I warned, “Kahn has a long memory.”
“He’ll need me, when this is done. I doubt he’ll be able to afford wholesale firings.”
I paced. “This is ... astounding.” Seafort had turned the tables on us utterly. From a supplicant, he had made himself the focus of events. If it hadn’t been for the freak circumstance that put him senior to Flores ...
I whirled, stared at the Admiral. Could it be? I replayed the day, and slowly, doubt melted.
I raised my hands, and began to clap.
When I didn’t stop he said, “What’s that for?”
“I’m applauding your performance, Jeff. Magnificent.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You knew all along.”
“Knew what?”
“Every Captain in the Navy is aware of his place on the seniority list; it’s practically a reflex. Just because you made Admiral, you wouldn’t stop noticing.”
“So?”
“You gave him Galactic. You were so smooth I never realized, though you did it under my very nose.”
Jeff Thorne’s voice was like ice. “Assemblyman Boland, you accuse me of something akin to treason. Dare you suggest I subverted the war policy of my government that I am sworn to uphold?”
“Beautiful. That’s the only position you can take. Brilliant.”
“You will by God cease this line of accusation, or I’ll have you thrown out of my office!”
“Thank Lord God you found a way to help him.” His steady blue eyes met mine, and there was not a hint of confirmation in his face.
Chapter 60
PEDRO
I DREAMED OF SHOP, an’ doin’ trayfo. Dreamed I’d climbed stair, long stair, to reach room where I kep’ best stuff. I pawed through piles an’ boxes, searchin’ for what the waitin’ tribe joeys wanted. Meantime, trannies I left downstair in shop were gettin’ impatient, stompin’ round mutterin’, but I was stuck upstair gropin’ what to use for trayfo.
I woke in sweat. Had no idea of time; they’d taken watch along with caller.
Light flicked on. “Come with us.” Voice was cold, hostile.
“Now where?”
But they wouldn’ answer.
I followed soldiers through halls. Caught glimpse of window. Dark night, lit by eerie glow.
They took me to different room, bigger. White lights ova-head, desks everywhere, most deserted. In corner, glassed office. Inside was General Ruben, caller to ear, boots on table. He waved guards to bring me in.
Coverin’ caller, he told soldiers, “Leave us.” They closed door behind. He asked caller
, “How many? Armed? Of course they have knives, but anything else? Use the damn megaphones, instruct them to surrender.” He ran fingers through his short red hair.
I pulled up chair, sat. Woulda put legs on desk like his, if coulda gottem up so high. I didn’t have joeykit’s body I useta.
“Promise you’ll take them to safety if they—no, do not let them break through the lines, regardless. Hmm? Call Wirtz, I put him in charge of transport.”
Ruben sighed, set down caller, raised his voice to soldier outside. “Walt, I’m available for the SecGen or Admiral Thorne, but no one else.” He regarded me, face bleak. “So.”
I said nothin’, waitin’. Had good practice, over many years of trayfo.
Ruben put fingertips together, like spider on mirror. “We have disturbing reports.” If he ’xpected me to ask, he’d be disappoint; wouldn’ give him satisfaction for life itself. “So many deaths,” he said. “It’s over, Chang. You have no significant weapons, no way to escape. It’s time to lay down your arms, what little you have.”
I raised flaps of coat. “Don’ got none.”
“You know damn well what I mean!” Ruben dropped feet to floor. “Don’t you care?”
I studied him. Why he bother arguin’ with sick ol’ man captive, when time for negotiate past? What I got that he want?
He sat somber, arms crossed on desk.
Long silence. Outside, callers buzzed, soldiers pored over maps.
He said slow, “It took a hundred years before the world forgave my people. Genocide is an ugly word.” He hesitated. “Am I using language you understand? Words in your vocabulary?”
I moved sudden inside coat. Hands trembled with rage. I tried to speak, but figured God would curse him if He exist; what diff what I say? My chest seized with ache. Face stony, I sat.
“I’m a professional soldier.” He stood, paced room as if examine walls. “We have one Government, one Church. By serving them, I serve humanity. My loyalties can’t be divided; it’s morally impossible. Lord God’s Government has ordered me to put down this uprising.” He faced me. “And I will. They’ve ordered me to furnish coordinates to Earthport, and I do. There is no chance I will go against my instructions.”
He pulled chair around table, set it next to mine, settled self close. “Yet as a human being, I feel a certain ... distress, given the history of my nation. The more so because I was selected to lead our forces.” He leaned forward. “Help me put an end to it. If your people surrender, there’s no need of lasers.”
I told self to be still, but answer welled forth. “Wan’ me to sell my trannies inta slavery to soothe ya conscience? Bah.” I looked for place to spit.
“It’s not slavery, but even if it were ...” His gray eyes didn’ flinch. “Slaves might free themselves, in this generation or the next. The dead cannot.”
I shrugged. “I don’ lead trannies; they jus’ sent me as speakfo.”
“As one man to another, I ask: will you help end this?”
Was preposterous. What could I do? Yell out window, “Stop”? Made me so mad I said as if meant it, “Sure. Fix water. Turn off laser. Call home Unies an’ leave us ’lone.” ,
“You fool!” He leaped from chair. “This is not a joke, not a contest of wills! By God, you’ll—Wait!” He flung open door. “Two guards, on the double!”
Back ta windowless prison, I thought. But no.
“Take him—not so rough, he’s fragile—to the elevator! Now!” They hustled me through halls, Ruben stalking ahead.
Officer stuck head outa door. “Sir, where are you—”
“Downstairs. Streetside.” General stabbed at button as if plungin’ shiv in my heart.
“I’ll have a platoon ready in about five—”
“Don’t need one. Come on.” Ruben tapped foot ’til elevate arrived, shouldered past opening door. Guards piled me in after.
We plummeted ninety floors in min, while my heart bumped hard. Who he think I was, some Uppie ’customed to droppin’ outa sky?
Below, he marched down corridor, demanded guards open door. Hassle, growling, snapped orders. With drawn guns, guards unlocked.
To me, “Come along. You men wait here.”
“But sir, you need an escort to—”
“Who’ll take a shot at me? Ghosts?” Ruben flung open door. “Let’s go, Chang.”
I buttoned coat against night cold an’ stepped out. After min, realized coat wasn’ necessary. Air sultry an’ heavy, like before rain. Sky had glow, enough to see by, as eyes got used to.
I blinked, stopped to orient self. Franjee Tower was on Forty, jus’ two block from Halber’s lair. Did General know? Dunno; filmatleven. But somethin’ was wrong, like tower was moved to smaller city. Street even shrunk. Took me min to figure why.
Most of builds ’cross street from tower had tumbled into road, so hardly any street showed under. I saw why Ruben wasn’t afraid of snipers. Where they gonna hide?
I stumbled over rock, and General grab my arm gentle. “Careful, now.” Like old friends we walked togetha arm in arm down avenue.
Forty One as bad as Forty. Coupla block west, builds still stood. East, I wasn’ sure; too dark to see.
“We haven’t targeted east from Lexington yet,” Ruben said, as if read my mind. “That’s scheduled for midafternoon. First priority was to prepare a killing ground outside the towers.”
“Killin’ ground.” I pulled loose my arm.
“A military term. It means a fire zone where the enemy can’t approach without—”
“I know what it mean.”
We picked our way towar’ Four Two. Road churned up like giant worm burrowed under. I tried to hide my sick.
Relentless, he pointed to north sky. “See the glow? It’s Harl. The fires are out of control.”
“Don’ matter,” I said, stony. “Only buncha trannies.”
He spun me to face him, shook me hard. “Why would I waste my time, if I had no misgivings? Kahn wants the old city gone; very well, it will be gone. But it’s my hands that bear the blood!” His voice tremble with passion. “It was I who advised the SecGen we could suppress the unrest in a few days. It was I who sent in the shock troops. I was wrong, but now we’re committed. Damn it, I don’t want to be a Van Rourke or a Hitler! Help me save your people.”
“How?”
“We’ll send them to reeducation. They say there’s arable land available in North Canada. Late last night I called Senator Boland; he’d support a resettlement bill, and I hear his son Rob is on his way down from Earthport. I’ll explain to him, and he’ll confirm for you. But for a cease-fire I need to present Kahn with an accomplished surrender. Who are your leaders? We have to reach them now.”
I shrugged. “I forget. Gettin’ glitch with old.”
He cried, “I’m trying to help!”
“No you ain’!” Like fierce sparrow I pounded on his immovable chest. “Gonna stop war an’ herd trannies outa streets? Trannies are streets, ya Uppie stupe! No streets, no trannies! Jus’ buncha los’ joes wanderin’ roun’ widout a soul!”
“But they’d survive, build a new life—”
I thundered, “We ain’ ya Apaches an’ Sioux! Ain’ ya Afric slaves! We N’Yawk trannies! Was, willbe, long as one of us left!”
His eyes anguished. “The laser strikes will proceed ’til there’s nothing to target. They clear the streets without risking U.N. troops. I won’t—can’t—stop them. Tell me where to reach your ringleaders.”
“Noway. Wanna know so bad, use ya frazzin’ drugs an’ poly. How long ya think I resis’?” How long he think I’d survive, way heart squeezin’ chest righ’ this min?
“I can’t. You haven’t denied committing a crime. You do have constitutional rights.”
I stopped dead. “Ya burn babykits wid orbit lasers, break builds a hunnert years older ’n God, gas tunnels full a trannies, but worry about druggin’ ol’ man fo’ truth?” I panted. “Ya glitch, Uppie?”
“We live under a system of
laws.”
“Fah.” I spat. “Take me back, I sick.”
Seethin’ with mad, he took my arm, guided me cross rubble. Automatic, my eye swept ruins for useable trayfo, like any trannie.
Chapter 61
PHILIP
ON GALACTIC’S UNFAMILIAR AND alien bridge, Father gently caressed my neck. I closed my eyes, basking in the security he offered, terrified to confess what I’d done since last we’d known each other. How he would hate me.
Allen Zorn raced back to the bridge. “Midshipm—Seaman Zorn reporting, sir. The launch is ready, I stored extra tanks of oxy as you—six, please tell me why.” His once-crisp shirt was damp from exertion. His blue jacket with middy’s insignia lay across the chair, where Father had made him leave it.
“You’re safer if I don’t. I assure you again, I have no plans to harm Galactic. Don’t try anything foolish while I’m away. They won’t hold this against you.”
“I’m not concerned about—aye aye, sir.” The boy’s eyes were troubled.
“The engine room is on standby?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I logged your appointment as Engineer’s Mate; that means you’ll have authority to control the drives and thrusters in the absence of an officer. I repeat my orders: take Galactic nowhere except to avoid imminent physical danger to the ship.”
“Aye aye, sir. Acknowledged and understood.” Zorn chewed at his lip. “May I go with you on the launch?”
“Certainly not. Why even ask?”
“It’s just—I don’t what’s right, don’t know what to obey ...” He seemed on the verge of tears. “Everywhere I go, there’s questions from the crew ...” He hugged himself.
Fath sighed. “I’d better speak to them.” He keyed the caller. “All crew except radar and engine room watches report to the dining hall in five minutes.” Then, to Zorn, “I’ll try to settle them. As for you, I have a task while I’m gone.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Stay with Philip, or bring him along on your rounds. He’s had a rough time of it, and his nerves are frayed. Remember he’s a civilian, and not yet thirteen.”
Voices of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 5) Page 51