Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3)

by David Feintuch

  Tolliver gave me a strange look, but said nothing.

  I sat next to Annie.

  Dully, her eyes met mine, strayed back to the floor. Two hours passed in near-absolute silence. I greeted the next approach of footsteps with relief; our hostility wore on the nerves. It recalled the wardroom in Helsinki, my first posting, before our senior midshipman had taken us in hand.

  The door swung open. Armed men clustered in the corridor; among them was Laura Triforth. My lip curled. “You!”

  “In the flesh.”

  “Let us go.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” She smiled regretfully.

  “Then why are you here?”

  Laura hesitated. “I suppose I’m cursed with a sense of style, Captain. It seems only fair that the last representative of the old order witness the birth of the new.” She glanced at her watch. “But we’ll have to hurry.”

  “Prong yourself.” I wished I didn’t sound like a peeved middy. I’ll stay here.”

  “I’m afraid you misunderstood. It’s a summons, not an invitation.” She gestured. Two of her minions advanced, guns drawn.

  Tolliver came off the desk, placed himself between us. “You’ll have to go through me first.”

  “Very well.” She gestured at one of her men. “Kill him.”

  “Wait!” I jumped in front of him. “Tolliver, back to the wall. Move!”

  He hesitated only a second. “Aye aye, sir.” He stalked to the far wall, shoving Mantiet out of his way.

  “Think of it, Captain, as a box seat in the theater of history.”

  “I’ll think of it as kidnapping.”

  “You go in these.” She held up a pair of handcuffs.

  “Over my dead—”

  “No, over his.” She gestured at Tolliver with her pistol. He raised his eyebrow, waiting.

  I sighed. Saying nothing, I raised my wrists. Ms. Triforth cuffed my hands in front of me. “Your young friends will wait here.”

  “I want them along.”

  “Now, now.” She patted my shoulder. I threw off her hand.

  “What about me?” Mantiet’s quiet voice penetrated the tension.

  “You’ll wait with the children, Frederick.”

  He shook his head. “Think about it, Laura. I deserve a seat in the theater. I’ve earned it.”

  Ms. Triforth met his eye for a long moment. “Yes, I’ll admit that. You’ll manage to be silent?”

  “Oh, I won’t speak. I just want to observe.” He added, “You have my word.”

  Laura Triforth beckoned Mantiet forward. “Unfortunately, I only brought the one set of cuffs. You’ll have to bear the thongs again.”

  “Looser this time. They cut off the circulation.”

  Ms. Triforth laughed easily and bound Mantiet’s wrists with the cord. She turned on her heel. “Bring them both.”

  Shoved from behind, I had time for a quick glance at Annie before they had me in the narrow hall. I followed Ms. Triforth outside. A welcome gust of fresh air greeted me as we emerged from a low prefab building, in a clearing surrounded by trees. We seemed to be on the edge of town; lights glowed in the near distance.

  A Naval heli stood waiting, doors open, pilot in his seat. Laura beckoned to the door, helped me climb in. “Your colleagues were kind enough to leave this,” she said, indicating the craft.

  “Not for you. For the authorities.” My arms hurt.

  “We’ve become the authorities.” She spoke with calm assurance.

  The last of her men crowded aboard; the pilot snapped the switches and the blades began to turn.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.” We lifted off. After a moment she added in a reasonable tone, “You brought it all on yourself, Seafort. I’d have been happy to let you go with the rest of your Navy.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I stared out the window, able to orient myself at last. We were in the northwest end of town. Our prison was a few hundred feet off the main road. Occasional cars moved below.

  “You didn’t tell me your signal to leave Hope Nation had arrived. You left me guessing, and you were taking Frederick downtown for interrogation. I couldn’t risk that.”

  “He wasn’t going to be interrogated.”

  “No?” Ms. Triforth chuckled grimly. “You should have told me when I asked. As I said, you brought it on yourself.”

  To my surprise, we flew south toward the spaceport and Admiralty House. We were almost there when the speaker crackled. “Admiralty calling Captain Seafort. Admiralty to Captain Seafort. Please respond.”

  Triforth froze. After a moment she said, “Why not?” She reached for the caller. “Talk to them.”

  “No.”

  “It’s your chance to say good-bye.”

  I made no answer. She twisted around in her seat. “Do as I say, or you’ll never see your friends again.”

  “Kill me, then.” I had failed in everything; it would be fitting.

  “Not you. Your silly sniveling wife.” She uncuffed my hands, thrust the caller at me.

  My hand shook with suppressed rage. I thumbed the caller. “Seafort reporting!”

  “Just a moment for the Admiral.”

  I waited until the familiar voice came on the line. “Seafort? Why in hell weren’t you on the shuttle?”

  Ms. Triforth shook her head, warning me. I said, “I was trying to find some of my officers, sir.”

  “How many are with you?”

  “Lieutenant Tamarov, sir. And two middies, Tolliver and Bezrel.”

  He sighed. “A pity about Bezrel; I promised to keep him close. We’ll all have Fused in another hour or so, Seafort. I’ve no time to send another shuttle down.”

  “I understand, sir.” The conversation held an air of unreality.

  “We’ve evacuated Orbit Station too, though the fish have shown little interest in it. Maintenance functions are under the control of their puter. It’s programmed to fire on any fish that appear.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Catalonia is due back from Detour anytime now. I’ll leave a broadcast beacon with instructions to pick you up. If she gets here safely, you’re to sail home. There’s a shuttle at the Venturas Base; use that to go aloft. In the meantime, carry on as best you can. You’re in charge of what’s left.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Good luck, Seafort.”

  “Godspeed, sir.” The line went dead.

  “Interesting,” said Laura. “You had it planned to the last detail.”

  I glowered. She recuffed my hands, this time behind my back. Our heli landed close to the terminal entrance, in a lot full of cars and helis. Courteously, Laura helped me out. Just short of the door she pulled me to a stop, fingered her pistol. “You’re here to watch, Seafort, because I think it fitting. But let’s be clear: if you open your mouth to speak, I’ll burn you on the spot.”

  “Prong yourself.” I could think of nothing better to say and half expected her to hit me. With a frown she shoved me toward the door.

  Inside, a large number of folding chairs had been brought to supplement the terminal seating. Most were occupied. At one end of the concourse a small dais had been erected. Ms. Triforth guided me toward it, stopping to shake hands along the way with admirers and well-wishers.

  “Why here?” I asked.

  “This is one of the few buildings big enough for a public meeting that wasn’t pulverized by the rock.”

  I grunted, too angry to reply. By my presence I was being made a party to treason. But she would have killed Edgar Tolliver otherwise; what choice had I?

  “Sit here. Remember what I warned you.” She beckoned a guard. “Tell Norris to get folks seated; it’s nearly midnight. Then come back and watch this one.”

  “Right.” Her accomplice took off. Ms. Triforth kept an eye on me until he returned, then drifted among her audience, shaking hands easily, smiling. I noticed that Mantiet had not been placed on the dais, but in the front row, hands still bound.
Was Triforth truly jealous of him, or was it a show to make me relax my guard in his presence? But, to what purpose? The Navy had left, taking Governor Saskrit and his administration.

  Puzzled, I stared at Mantiet until he became aware of me. He raised an eyebrow and smiled without mirth. I twisted in my chair, my arms aching.

  People began to take their places on the dais. Among them were Arvin Volksteader, Tomas Palabee, and, to my disgust, Harmon Branstead. His son Jerence sat in the front row. I looked for old Zack Hopewell, but he was nowhere in sight. Harmon caught my eye, reddened, looked away. Ms. Triforth took her seat at the center of the dais.

  A woman with a holocamera crouched in front of the seats below the dais. She turned the lens toward a man I didn’t recognize. He came forward to the small lectern set at the front of the stage. He pulled a gavel out of his back pocket, banged for silence. The few people still wandering hurried to the nearest seats.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re here for an occasion we’ve all awaited. Without further ado, I give you the founder of the Republic of Hope Nation, the leader of our long-underground movement, Laura Triforth.”

  To a roar of approval Laura got to her feet, slowly made her way to the lectern. A wave of applause washed across the hall. Ms. Triforth waited coolly, smiling, waving with her right hand. From my seat at the end of the dais, I saw her left hand clenched behind her back. Her fingers rubbed at each other in nervous contradiction of her apparent ease.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” She waited for the tumult to subside, cleared her throat.

  “For years we’ve labored under the misguided benevolence of our colonial Government. For years we paid for their errors, financed their bureaucracy, sold our crops at little above cost to feed their starving millions.

  “Tonight, all that is ended. At 1800 hours, a few paces from where we gather, a shuttle lifted with the last U.N. military officers, along with Governor Saskrit and his aides.” She could get no further until the frenzied cheering subsided. She added with a smile, “Except for poor Mr. Seafort here, who got left behind.” I tried to ignore the laughter.

  “I won’t pretend that our Republic was born in ease. Had the aliens not forced the great U.N. fleet to withdraw to home waters, ours would still be an underground movement. Had not the aliens dropped an asteroid on Centraltown, enough government structure would have remained so that we’d have had to fight a civil war to free ourselves. But today, we gain our independence without war. Officers of our movement have merely arrested the judges and those few civil servants foolhardy enough to resist.”

  She took a deep breath. “However the providence of Lord God manifests itself”—bile flooded my throat at the heresy—“it is enough for us to know it is with us.

  “The United Nations has withdrawn its protection from Hope Nation.” She gestured toward downtown. “You can see how much good that protection provided.” Her gibe brought scornful laughter as, unseen, her fingers rubbed at her palms.

  Her smiled vanished. “I don’t make light of our many deaths. But the loss of friends and family have taught us. We know, now, how vulnerable a large city is to enemy attack, and how useless it is to our own defense. So we will live in our plantation homes. While Centraltown must remain a commercial center, it must never again become the administrative nucleus of our civilization.

  “We know also the folly of allowing electoral control to pass out of the hands of responsible plantation families, into the hands of unemployed farmhands and hauler-drivers. So our legislature will consist of two houses, one for the planters themselves; the other consisting of permanent employees and associates of the planters, who live on their properties. Never again will city dwellers displace the productive plantations as the administrators of our Republic.”

  Triforth had to wait for the applause to abate. I wondered how many residents of Centraltown were in the hall.

  She spoke quietly. “There are some who ask why we bother to declare our Republic, when satanic aliens roam the system, destroying ships, dropping their destruction on our city.”

  Yes, one might wonder. I strained to catch her soft-spoken answer.

  “We lived here for generations, undisturbed by alien attacks. It was the fusion drives of our Navy that attracted the fish, and with the Navy gone, the fish will soon follow. If not, we have learned to combat their viruses, and dispersing our government outside Centraltown will help protect us from the havoc of any further attacks.”

  She paused; when she resumed her voice was sober. “And if we are wrong, and naught but devastation and death lie in our path, then I ask: what other course should we pursue? Could we defeat the fish ourselves, when the vaunted United Nations Navy”—she pointed to me—“could not, and has left us to our fate? Should we go to our deaths as peons and wards of the uncaring United Nations, or proudly, as free men and women, as masters of our destiny?”

  I swallowed; something in her speech caught at my own feelings. But my eye caught the fingers rubbing endlessly at each other, behind her back.

  “Therefore, now, at the hour of midnight, on this, the third day of April in the year of our Lord 2200, I do declare the Re—”

  “In the name of Lord God, stop!”

  Laura spun around as the echoes reverberated around the hall with the crash of my falling chair. Her pistol flashed. “You were warned, Seafort!”

  “Shoot me, Triforth!” Contemptuously I strode to the center of the dais, twisting my hands behind me in a hopeless effort to free them. I took a deep breath. “Republic? You deluded fools!” My words were to the assembled crowd, ignoring Laura entirely. “What bilge!”

  An angry growl answered me from below. Ms. Triforth shoved me, nearly knocking me off balance. I rushed on. “Isn’t she a spellbinding orator?” One of her men grabbed my arm, hauling me back to my seat. I shouted. “You’ll never know what she chose not to tell you!”

  “Sit!” Eyes blazing, she propelled me to my chair.

  “Let him speak!” Harmon Branstead was on his feet. His voice carried through the hall.

  “Oh, no. Not now. This is our moment, not his.”

  “Let him speak!” The call was taken up by someone else in the audience. After a moment, another repeated it.

  Branstead pressed his advantage. “You wanted him here, Laura. The representative of the old order, you said. Let him have his say.”

  Ms. Triforth studied her audience, measured its mood. She reversed herself with good grace. “Ladies and gentlemen, before proclaiming the Republic, I give you the last representative of the now-departed United Nations Navy, Captain Nicholas Seafort.”

  “Take off the cuffs.” My tone was that of a Captain to a green young middy. And it carried.

  She hesitated. “You’ll put them back on, after?”

  “Yes.” My arms freed at last, I turned to the audience. “You had grievances. We understood. They’d have been addressed, had the aliens not interfered.” It was met by snickers of derision.

  “But that isn’t the issue.” I searched the audience for a face not hostile, one to which I might speak. Not finding any, I pressed on. “Do you know where you stand? A few dozen miles above me roam the most frightful beings we’ve ever encountered. They’ve tried over and again to wipe you out. Their virus nearly did the job, but we synthesized a vaccine in time. They dropped a rock onto Centraltown with the kinetic energy of a nuke, but it failed to obliterate your city.”

  They were listening, now. “The fish attacked our ships, and the chilling news is that they learned from their attacks. Now they Defuse directly alongside and go for our lasers and tubes. Hundreds, if not thousands, of brave men died trying to defend you.

  “Ms. Triforth would have you believe the Navy abandoned you.” I could hear her stir behind me; I said quickly, “So I’ll tell you the truth.” I searched the audience, wishing I were an orator. My task was beyond me.

  “First, your Government hasn’t abandoned Hope Nation. I and several officers remain. Second, remember
that the United Nations, our Government under Lord God, is steward not only of Hope Nation, but of seventeen other colonies and of home system. The fish have shown no sign of retreating; if anything their numbers have increased. If a colony is attacked, it can be resupplied. If home system is destroyed, we all die.” In the muted light, someone sobbed.

  “Admiralty decreed that when a third of our fleet was destroyed, the remainder must sail for home, to protect our mother planet. I remind you that all our interstellar ships, all our fusion drives, are built at home. With the grace of Lord God, they will return to defeat the fish, stronger than before.”

  Voices rose, arguing. I said clearly, “If not, we are all dead.” It brought me silence. “The fish won’t leave you alone, despite Ms. Triforth’s pious hopes. Our only chance is to fight the fish as best we can until the Navy returns, which it surely must.”

  Laura Triforth stood, sauntered to the lectern. “Wrap it up, Seafort.”

  I nodded, trying to remember her words. “And if I am wrong, and naught but devastation and death lie in our path?” I caught her eye, held it. “What course should we then follow? I call each of you to be true to his oath. Lord God will not favor—”

  “Enough.” She hauled me back, pistol pressed to my side. One of her men grabbed my other arm, pulled me back to my chair, cuffed my arms to it.

  Ms. Triforth returned to the lectern, shook her head. “You see the arrogance with which we’ve had to deal. Very well, he’s had his say. Seafort’s views no longer matter; they are made meaningless by the cowardly and secret retreat of his associates. With pride, therefore, I now proclaim the Republic—”

  I struggled to my feet, chair dangling behind. “As plenipotentiary of the United Nations Government, I declare martial law through Hope Nation! I order the arrest for treason of Laura Triforth and her—”

  The blow caught me on the back of the head. I crumpled into darkness.

  “You fool.”

  I opened an eye and groaned. Frederick Mantiet knelt over me, pressing a compress to my head. “Did you really think you could stop her?”

  I shook my head, regretting it instantly. “No. I only knew I had to try.”