Children of Hope
Page 64
Fath winked.
“Very well, old friend. Thank you. We’ll start the shuttles groundside.”
When he rang off, I said to Fath, “Let me help.”
“No.”
“Why not?” My tone was petulant.
“You’re brilliant, son, but a creature of impulse. I don’t want you to—”
“That’s not fair. I’m doing what you tell—”
“And the other reason …” His tone was level. “That day, in the fish, you reminded me you were a joeykid with responsibility beyond your years. It was true. So I’ll make the decisions, and raise you as best I can.”
I wanted to hug him, and kick him. I retreated to my cabin.
Tommy dragged his duffel toward the crowded shuttle lock; he was due to report to Admiral Kenzig and the sleepy Centraltown base. I walked along for company.
As he neared the lock, Fath hurried down the corridor. “Yost!”
“Yes, sir!” The middy jumped to attention.
“As you were. I’ve been on the line to Mr Kenzig. Your orders are canceled.”
“They are?” His voice was small.
“Yes. Disappointed?”
“I … I understand why he wouldn’t …” He scuffed the deck. I frowned. Mikhael would have demerited him on the spot. “I wasn’t very … I’m sorry I …”
“Oh, it’s not that, I want you.”
“You do?” His voice came out a squeak. He blushed.
“Would you accept a few months duty on the Station? Under my command?”
“I … yes, sir.” His chest swelled.
“There’ll be no shore leave.”
“I understand.”
“Very well. Unpack your gear.”
“How many more, Fath?”
“Two shuttles. We have about an hour.”
And so the time came.
Minutes after Colonel Kaminski boarded the final shuttle, six hundred fish began their slow drift toward the Station.
An outrider floated into our open airlock. It twitched and quivered while the lock cycled.
Fath and I met it in the corridor.
TIME NOW.
Fath stooped with the etching tool, but saw the plea in my eyes. Silently, he handed it to me.
I bent. “Humans / fish Fuse together home system.” And then I added, “Time now friends.”
Fath’s eyes smiled.
A woman’s voice. “Hon, we ought to be together.”
“Yes, we ought.” Fath took her hand. For the moment, I took his other. Janey trailed alongside.
Minutes later, I paced the Comm Room. My Comm Room. I was the sole tech on duty, personally appointed by Fath.
In the screen, I could barely see stars for the mass of fish.
After we’d all exchanged reassurances, I’d been to my cabin, and brought my favorite holo of Derek. I set it on the console, gazed moodily. I understand now, Dad, why you’d follow him anywhere.
It’s not going to be easy, making him proud. You were easier to please, and more forgiving. Of course, I was younger then. But he’ll be good for me. Keep me on my toes.
Nobody but he would have thought of it, Dad. A matter of putting things together, perhaps, but he was the only one to see it.
The fish agreed to take cargo. They couldn’t take us, not inside them. The outriders of One-Arm had asked me if my suit was secure, before Fusing. Without a suit, I’d have died. I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps they’d learned it was so, with some poor souls during the war. And we couldn’t possibly Fuse the many months home, suited all the way.
Yet, during the war, Fath had embedded Challenger’s prow in a fish, and it had Fused for weeks. No one aboard wore suits.
In the war, a squadron of fish had Fused to our upper atmosphere with an immense rock. An external object they’d somehow enveloped within their Fusion field.
Our Station had launches and gigs, but they were all too small. We could fit in, though quarters would be cramped, but we couldn’t possibly squeeze in the supplies needed for months of Fusion.
The Station itself was another matter.
I’d asked Fath, “Won’t they accuse you of breaking your word?”
“No, I’m keeping it to the letter. I promised to wait on the Station, until my banishment is lifted. And so I will. I can’t help it if Scanlen assumed the Station was, er, stationary.” His eyes danced.
I tried to imagine the uproar in home system, when Orbit Station unexpectedly appeared, surrounded by fish. And Earth itself … Dad had told me tales, and Fath too, but I’d never been to visit. I wondered if I’d like it.
I said, “At home you’ll have first word, as he called it. The Bishop will be livid.”
“Oh, worse than that. The wicked shall see it, and be grieved; he shall gnash with his teeth, and melt away.” Fath didn’t look overly troubled. “You’re puzzled? Read Psalms. Memorize a dozen verses a day.”
“Fath!”
“What else have you to do? Arcvid with Yost? Enlighten your soul, then play.” He softened his edict by ruffling my hair.
Dad, I’ll always miss you. But he’s truly my father now.
The fish drifted closer. I could make out individual swirls on their mottled skins.
Soon, we’d be on our way.
The cost to Hope Nation would be great—two years of Mr Dakko’s transport credit, and Mr Branstead’s government would have to make do with a temporary Station, cobbled from shuttles and launches lashed together—but the alternative was inevitable defeat.
For days, shuttles had been uplifting foodstuffs, supplies, gear, everything the few of us would need for months of travel. Janey, Corrine, Fath and I, Tommy Yost. Five techs who’d volunteered for mankind’s new adventure.
Mr Branstead had thoughtfully uploaded holos of the Church correctional farms, and close-ups of the children delivered from them. Olympiad’s Log was safely stored in our puter banks, along with Bishop Scanlen’s vicious taunts, which Colonel Kaminski has been kind enough to record. In six months—nearly a year before Olympiad—we’d Defuse in home system. By then, I’d be a well-trained comm tech, and manning the Comm Room, I’d have a box seat for the Church’s long-awaited comeuppance.
A console light flashed. Proudly, I answered. “Orbit Station, go ahead.”
“Randy? Chris Dakko. I just wanted to wish Mr Seafort Godspee—”
The screen blanked.
We were Fused.
So.
After a time, I switched on my holovid, scrolled through dull, endless verses.
I suppose I believe in You, You old fraz; You leave me no choice. But I hate what You did to Dad. I hate that You’ve tortured Fath. And You weren’t all that kind to me, You know. I have nothing good to say to You. But I’ll read. I’ll try to understand.
Someday, we’re going to have a talk, You and I.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 2001 by David Feintuch
cover design by Michel Vrana
978-1-4532-9565-6
This edition published in 2012 by Open Road Integrated Media
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