Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3)

by David Feintuch

  “Good Lord.” His crew must be at the ragged edge of exhaustion, snatching minutes of sleep at their posts. No ship could maintain Battle Stations for long. Still, he’d saved his ship; they’d been ready when the fish appeared. “Any more sightings?”

  “Just the one, so far. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Quite right.” I rang off.

  “We’re almost there, sir.” Alexi pointed to the broken spire ahead.

  Only one lane of the broad avenue that had fronted the Reunification Cathedral had been cleared of rubble. Tolliver maneuvered us to within a dozen yards of the shattered entrance. I looked to both sides of the street; Annie was nowhere in sight. I checked my watch: eleven-thirty. We were early yet.

  I opened my door. “You two wait here.” I wouldn’t have their solicitous interference. Not at our reunion.

  “Sure you can make it?”

  I turned to Tolliver with an angry rejoinder, but his question had been civil and without truculence. “Yes.” I wished I could leave the vapormask behind, but reluctantly bundled the canister under my arm as I heaved myself out of the car.

  I scrambled over rubble to the sidewalk. The blast had collapsed the ruins of the Cathedral’s twin spires onto its domed roof, which had fallen into the building. Checking my watch every few moments, I stood against the stone outer wall.

  A few yards away Alexi and Edgar Tolliver waited patiently in the car. Could I do anything to alter Tolliver’s behavior? Doubtful. Though Naval discipline was virtually ingrained in us, his demotion was more than a vicissitude of Naval life to be borne with equanimity.

  I picked at a small chunk of concrete, regretting that I’d treated him so severely. But what could I have done, after he’d hurled me out of my seat? I paced the sidewalk, wishing Annie would hurry, peering at the ruins.

  The iron-strapped door hung askew on one hinge. Beyond, smashed blocks from the dome littered the nave amid crushed and splintered pews. The wreckage gleamed in the bright morning sunlight. We’d been married in the north transept. I was disoriented, but knew it would be to my left. I pushed through the shattered door.

  Though rubble blocked my view of the altar, I suppressed an urge to genuflect. I wandered toward the transept, wondering how close I could get to it, aware that I was in no condition to clamber over debris.

  Roof beams blocked the aisle, but in falling, one beam had swept other rubble clear of the nave, and I was able to make my way across the shattered stone floor. So much effort, so much faith, so much veneration had been poured into this edifice. When the fish were conquered, we would have to rebuild; Lord God had been well served here. Perhaps I could volunteer to help with the rebuilding.

  No, I’d be long recalled to Terra by the time resources were marshaled to rebuild the Cathedral, and in any event my help would be a desecration. I’d damned myself, and Lord God would want no contribution from me to His Church.

  Rubble from caved-in walls filled the transept. I turned back, but detoured toward the altar. Blasted or not, this was a holy place, and I wanted to make obeisance. I picked my way across the debris, canister clutched in my hand.

  “You shouldn’a come.”

  I whirled. Annie crouched on a great block of stone that had fallen from some high place.

  “I wan’d ta look all pretty.” Her tone was plaintive. She picked at the remnants of her dress. “Mira, it tore now.”

  I scrambled across the rubble, tearing off my vapormask. “Annie.” A board twisted under my foot. I fell, the air knocked out of me by the impact.

  “I wen’ back ta apartmen’ an’ did my face, the way Amanda useta. Not a lot of paintin’, jus’ lil bit.” Her hands twisted like frantic birds at her ragged dress. “I put on my necklace, Nicky. I kept it safe alla time, ’cause I knew you’d wanna see me innit.”

  I staggered to my feet, unable to breathe, not caring. “Annie, what did they do to you?”

  She fingered her throat. “Rubies gone.” Her lipstick was smeared with dirt and grime.

  Dust motes floated in the bright glare of afternoon. I lurched across the litter of the nave. “Annie!”

  “Mira my dress!” Her eyes teared. “Was nice threads, Nicky.” A great red bruise blotched half her face, as if she’d been clubbed. “I tried ta tell ’em; how c’n I get ’notha dress now, alla stores broke?”

  I cradled her head on my shoulder, but she pulled free.

  “Tried so hard ta look pretty fo’ you.” A whimper.

  I coaxed her toward the door. My foot caught. I glanced down. A hand. An arm. The remains of a man, his head smashed by a rock. A pool of blood soaked the surrounding rubble. Lord God.

  My breath caught until the jagged walls began to swim in red mist. I clawed at my vapormask, got it over my face.

  “You be hurt, Nicky!” She raised a begrimed hand, traced the outline of my mask.

  “It’s no matter.” I tried to lift her, wanting not to see the angry scrapes on her legs. “Come, Annie. I’ll take you to the clinic.”

  “Don’ wanna.” She uncrossed her legs, smoothed the ragged dress with an attempt at modesty.

  “You have to see a doctor.” I tugged at her, but she wouldn’t move.

  “I be all righ’.” She tittered. “Buncha big men. Whatcha doin’ here, girl? Who be witcha?” Her hands brushed at the lacerated dress. “Don’ run now, joeygal.” Her voice dropped. “Come here, girl, we have zarky time.” Her voice rose again. “Scratchin’. Beard scratch my face!”

  I had to stop her, before she shattered the remnants of my soul. “Please! Come with me.”

  “Don’ yank onna necklace, please, mista. I goin’ witcha. No, leave me Nicky’s jewels!” She rubbed the red welt on her throat. “Aw, don’!”

  “Annie.” I drew my breath. “I can’t walk to the car. Help me!” I pulled at her arm, and her vacant stare fixed on me. Comprehension came slowly. “You got a mask, Nicky. Means ya be sick. I din’ take care of you.” She slid off the block. “Come lean on Annie. Three joeys ran away, afta. Safe now.”

  “Help me. Please.” Wanting to support her, afraid to try, I pretended to lean on her as we hobbled to the door. She limped, one shoe gone. Lord God damn them eternally. Please, Lord. Nothing for myself. Just damn them for her.

  We tottered to the street. In the car, Alexi and Tolliver were deep in conversation. I couldn’t summon breath to shout. Annie blinked in the shadowless light, hands flitting over the tatters of her dress.

  “Just a few steps, hon.” She held back. Cursing, I staggered across the rubble to the curb, and pounded on the window. “Open the door! Get out!” My hands clawed at the latch.

  Alexi, startled, stared at me, then, with horror, past me. He jumped from the car, put a protective arm around Annie.

  She screamed.

  Dr. Abood snapped off the ultrasound. “Your pneumonia is down, and you’re fighting the rejection.”

  “Never mind me. What about Annie?”

  “You’re in worse shape than she.” He met my glare, relenting. “We’ve sedated her, Captain. Cuts and bruises, but no serious injuries.”

  “But she’s been...”

  “Raped, yes. Repeatedly. She’ll be quite tender for a time.”

  I clutched my canister, as if for comfort. “Her mind...”

  “She’s in shock. Warmth, fluids, rest. That’s all we can do at this stage.”

  “God knows what she stumbled into. I found her standing over a corpse.”

  “She’s lucky they didn’t murder her too.”

  “I’ll kill them when I find them.” My voice was hoarse.

  “Of course. Anyone would.” His gentle hand pushed me back down on the gurney. “But you’re in no shape to go looking.”

  I recoiled from his touch. After a time I said, “You heard her. Will she be able to identify them?”

  “Perhaps. The mind defends itself against the unbearable, Captain. She may block it out.”

  It was my fault. I’d known she needed l
ooking after, yet I’d sent Eddie Boss away and hadn’t replaced him. It would have taken more than three assailants to subdue Eddie, had they attacked Annie.

  My fists tightened on the mattress. “Leave me alone. Please.” After he’d gone I lay gripping the bed, fighting for self-control, nearly gaining it, in the end, losing.

  Annie...

  What have they done to you?

  Part 3

  March, in the year of our Lord 2200

  14

  DAYS PASSED, ONE UPON another. My pneumonia cleared to the point where I could dispense with the vapormask for hours at a time, until even Dr. Abood expressed cautious optimism that I might retain my damaged lung. I no longer objected to visiting the clinic daily; Annie was there, and I’d have spent all my time with her if I could.

  The few Admiralty House staff tiptoed about their duties, anxious to avoid my wrath. At times my manner reduced the unfortunate Bezrel to helpless tears, which infuriated me to the point I nearly sent him for another caning. I barked at the lieutenants who came to report, criticized Tolliver’s manner, drove even Alexi into pale and subdued silence.

  At the clinic Annie lay passive, legs drawn up, sheet clutched under her chin, allowing me to hold her hand. Sometimes I found her face streaked with tears. She seldom spoke, and never of the Cathedral.

  The first time Admiral De Marnay called, I was with her. After, I screamed at Lieutenant Anton until my throat was raw for his failure to forward the call, though the Admiral had told him not to bother.

  The Admiral’s second call, two days later, found me dozing in my conference room. I snapped awake, took the caller, waved Bezrel out.

  “You’re recovering, Seafort?”

  “Yes, sir.” From the pneumonia, at any rate.

  “Things seem to be quieting. I suppose I could send someone down to take over.”

  If he did, I could spend my days with Annie. “As you wish, sir.”

  “Still, Hibernia had a possible contact last night.”

  “Possible, sir?”

  “At the edge of her sensor range. She investigated, but found nothing.”

  “I see.” Why was he telling me?

  “Perhaps I should send my staff groundside. We can’t maintain this mode indefinitely. Sooner or later, your people will notice something odd.”

  “Yes, sir.” I held my breath.

  “Have you had any questions?”

  “From a couple of the planters, sir.”

  He sounded preoccupied. “Eventually they’ll stop believing your explanations. I’ll give it another week or so. If we don’t encounter more fish by then, I’ll transfer my command to Admiralty House. In the meantime we’ll keep the shuttles inactive. The fish probably hear us Fuse, but we don’t know what else they hear.”

  “Yes, sir.” What else was there to say?

  “Well, no point relieving you, if it’s only another week. Carry on.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “How’s young Bezrel?”

  “Uh, fine, sir.” It was stretching a point.

  “Take care of him. I took him as a special favor to his father. We were shipmates for years.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Send him up on the first shuttle. I wouldn’t have let him go, but he could be trusted not to reveal the codes.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” For my cruelty to the boy, a day of reckoning loomed.

  “Very well.” We signed off.

  Dr. Abood clasped his arms behind his neck, stretched his back. “Nothing’s fit here. The tables are too low.” I bit back an impatient reply. “The truth is, Seafort, we can’t do much more for her. She needs counseling, love, time to heal. She’d do as well at home as here. Perhaps better.”

  “I’ll find a place for us.”

  “Your home was destroyed?” I nodded. “There’s a housing directory, at temporary City Hall. Perhaps they can help.”

  “Thank you.” I gestured at the vapormask. “Can I leave it off?”

  “Certainly not. Wear it when you sleep, and as often as you can while you’re awake. You might make it.”

  I said sourly, “Thanks for the encouragement.”

  “I warned you a week ago: the lung should come out. When you get back home they can pop in a new one.”

  “I’ll decide in a week or so.”

  “Why, what happens then?”

  I tensed. “I didn’t say anything would happen. I’ll decide when I’m ready.”

  He stood to go. “Stay near a heli, Captain.”

  Easier said than done. I’d imagined that when the rescue efforts eased, our Naval helis would be more available, but they were pressed into service as makeshift public transportation. In the meantime Tolliver found a passable ground route through the ruins to the clinic.

  When we left Dr. Abood I had Tolliver drive me to the housing office, where I put my name on the list for accommodations. They promised to call.

  “Back to Admiralty House.” I climbed into the car.

  Tolliver shut my door. “Aye aye, sir.”

  The temporary City Hall, on the far edge of town, was in a building shielded from the worst of the blast by a high hill. But to reach Admiralty House we would have to skirt the ruined area. I sighed, wishing I had access to a heli. Well, I did have access to Laura Triforth’s, if I chose to accept her offer. I found her manner intriguing; in discussing colonial affairs she was flinty, even acid. But in personal matters, such as Alexi’s health or mine, an obvious warmth gleamed through her prickly veneer.

  I settled back in my seat for the ride. Few other vehicles were on the road, but blockages made driving difficult, and I was never at ease in an electricar. Tolliver, sensing my impatience, came up behind a slow-moving vehicle, waited for an opportunity to pass. It made me nervous; I sat forward, hanging on to my hand strap.

  Seeing his chance Tolliver swerved around the offending car. As he wrenched the wheel I glanced aside. The other driver stared back, then turned his head sharply. Something about him bothered me. I puzzled for a moment, then cursed and pounded Tolliver’s shoulder. “Stop!”

  He jammed on the brake. “What’s wrong, sir?”

  The other car had turned onto a cross street. “That was Mantiet! I’m sure of it!”

  “Mantiet? The planter?” He gaped.

  “Don’t sit there, follow him!” As he swung around I stamped the floorboard in frustration.

  We squealed around the corner. The car was two blocks ahead and accelerating. Tolliver gunned the engine.

  “Can we catch him?”

  His eyes were riveted on the road. “I’ll try, sir.” After a moment, he cleared his throat and said, “Can you reach the caller?”

  “The caller? Of course I—damn!” I keyed Naval frequency. “Admiralty House, Seafort here!” An eternal moment later the speaker crackled. “Midshipman Wilson here, sir.”

  “Get Anton, flank!”

  “Aye aye, sir.” The line went dead.

  Mantiet’s car swerved around a corner. “Don’t lose him!”

  “I won’t.” His tone was calm.

  “Anton, sir.” The man sounded out of breath.

  “We’re chasing Mantiet!”

  “Chasing?”

  “In our car!” I shouted. “He’s a couple of blocks ahead. Call in all Navy helis, flank! Get any other support the authorities can give us. We’re—where the hell are we, Tolliver?”

  “North on Churchill Street.”

  “—moving north on Churchill, about a mile past whatsis, the road the new town hall is on.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Understood. What do you want the helis to do?”

  I was beside myself. “Stop him! Catch him!”

  “Aye aye, sir. Hang on.” The line went dead.

  I cursed into the mute caller while we careened through debris-filled streets. “Stay left! Don’t lose him!”

  Tolliver seemed to be enjoying himself. “Would you care to drive, sir?”

  “Are you joking?”
<
br />   “You’re in the back seat, sir.”

  “What of it?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  What on earth was he babbling about? In a few moments my irritation eased as I saw he was keeping pace with the fleeing vehicle.

  The speaker came to life. “Anton reporting, sir. Two helis are on their way. Where are you now?”

  I thrust the caller at Tolliver. “Tell him.” Tolliver gave our location, thrust the caller down as he spun us around a corner. “Look out—”

  “Damn!” We skidded into an overturned truck. A crunch. I was hurled against the front seat. Tolliver spun the wheel, jammed down the pedal, slamming me back into my seat. “Sorry, sir.” He loosened his tie.

  The lunatic was humming.

  A moment later he broke off, pointed. “There! Look!”

  I craned my neck. A heli swooped over Mantiet’s vehicle. Please, Lord, let me get my hands on him. Please.

  “How will they stop him?” As soon as I asked, my question seemed foolish.

  “All helis go armed now, sir. Not like the one we flew.”

  I snatched the caller. “Anton, patch me through to the helis.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Just a...go ahead.”

  “This is Captain Seafort.”

  “Lieutenant Hass reporting, sir. I’m over his car.”

  An excited young voice. “Midshipman Kell, sir. I’m right behind. I’ve got him in my sights.”

  “Listen, both of you! I want him captured, not dead.” Mantiet couldn’t have stolen the missile and hidden for all these subsequent weeks on his own. He’d have had confederates. “If you can flatten his tires, do so. If you kill him, I’ll have your—” I lapsed silent.

  “Stripes?” Tolliver offered. “Balls?”

  “Shut up and drive.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” He hummed under his breath.

  “I’ll angle back for a disabling shot.” Lieutenant Hass.

  “Please, sir, let me! I’ve got the angle. I can do it; I was first in gunnery last year.”

  “You sure, boy?” Hass sounded anxious.

  “I won’t shoot ’til I’m positive. Honest!”

  “Go for it, Middy.”

  Tolliver eased the accelerator. We fell back. The second heli swooped away from the car in a wide arc.