Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3)
Page 32
Tolliver tackled Triforth, swarmed atop her. He seized a shock of her hair, raised her head off the ground. His fist slammed down.
It was over.
I sat exhausted, stinking, shaking helplessly as I labored for breath. “Comm room.”
“What?”
“Radios. Hookup. Where?”
“I don’t know.” Mantiet thought. “Triforth broadcast from the Governor’s Manse, the first day.”
“Back.”
“Let us take you to the clinic.”
“After.”
“You lunatic.” His look held awe. “I’ll get the others.” He ran off.
Moments later we were again in the air, Tolliver at the controls. Dazed and cuffed, Triforth sat in the back seat between Mantiet and Hopewell.
“Arrest...Palabee and Volksteader.”
“We’ll have to find them first.”
I nodded.
When we set down they carried me into the Manse. Other than the main entrance, little damage was visible. A few walls were scorched, and one room...the sight was not for the squeamish.
We found the Governor’s broadcast center in the basement. I had them put me in the swivel chair at the desk. Branstead and Mantiet cursed and fumbled with the switches.
“Video.”
They looked up. I waved at the holocamera.
Tolliver muttered, “I’ll do it, but it won’t be pretty.” At first I thought he meant the focus. No, he meant me. I must be a sight. He swung the holocamera to me, turned it on.
Harmon looked up. “We have a tightbeam linkup with Orbit Station. The station will beam it back down on all channels.”
“Station...is abandoned.”
“Their puter responds, though. Say when.”
Annie would be pleased. Her Nicky on the holo. She’d hold her head high when she shopped...
“Mr. Seafort?”
I drifted back. “Now.”
The light went green. I spoke.
No sound came.
I heaved for breath, spoke again. “This is...Captain Nicholas Seafort...commanding...United Nations forces.” I struggled not to cough. “On behalf of...lawful United...Nations Government, I hereby...” The room grayed. I gasped at air. Zack Hopewell’s eyes bored into mine. “...declare martial law...throughout Hope Nation.” I had little time. The room drifted in a slow, alluring circle. I spoke firmly into the approaching dark. “The revolutionary...treason has been...put down...Triforth under arrest.”
“I do appoint...as military...Governor of Hope Nation...Zachary...Hopewell, of Hopewell Plantation.” I searched, found his astonished eyes. There was more to say. I tried, stopped. I tried again. Chest heaving, airless, I waved to Branstead. The broadcast lights dimmed. I reached for a breath, found none. “Tolliver!” It was a gasp.
He dashed across the room. I coughed endlessly. No relief came. I gagged. A mouthful of bright red liquid cascaded onto my white shirt. I looked down, horrified, and up again at Tolliver. The room pulsed to red. He scooped me in his arms and ran to the waiting heli.
18
A MASK WAS STRAPPED to my face. Bright lights probed, disembodied voices echoed. “The lung’s lost, he’s septic as hell. Prep him fast, we operate in five minutes.” A needle stung my arm.
Black.
Drifting. Misery. Lights, faces.
Pain.
I couldn’t swallow; tubes blocked my throat. I couldn’t breathe, but something breathed for me. I slept, awakened, slept.
Pain.
Sleep.
I awoke flat on my back, to the rushing sound of air, silence, air. My chest inflated to the sound, and it hurt.
“You have a hell of a constitution or you wouldn’t be with us.” I squinted, focused on the floating face. Dr. Abood, of the clinic. I tried to speak, couldn’t make a sound. It frightened me and I tried to cry out. Silence.
“We yanked what was left of your lung, sewed you up, and pumped you full of antibiotics.”
I gestured at my mouth. I had to use my right hand; my left arm was full of drip lines.
“You’ve been on a respirator for three days. You need to start breathing on your own. Can you try?”
Tentatively I tried a breath. Pain lanced through my chest.
“Work at it; we have to wean you soon. If you develop pneumonia again, it’s all over.” Abruptly he left. I tried to gesture him back, hadn’t the strength. My fingernails clawed at the sheets.
“I’m here, sir, if you need anything.” Tolliver, haggard and disheveled. His chair was alongside the bed. We were in a small cubicle, surrounded by poles, machines, monitors.
I nodded, drifted off to sleep.
When I woke Tolliver was standing over me. He’d had a change of clothes, if not much rest. His eyes were sunken. “Good evening, sir. Try to breathe.” I shook my head. “Please, sir. The doctor says it’s urgent.”
I caught the machine’s rhythm, breathed ahead of it. Misery.
“Again.”
Who was he, a middy, to tell me what to do? I beckoned him to leave.
“I don’t understand, sir. Write what you’re trying to say.” He held a pad near my hand.
I scrawled, “Go away.”
“Breathe on your own, sir.”
I rapped the pad, livid with rage.
He ignored me.
Wild with fury I hauled at the bedrails, heaved myself into a sitting position, ignoring the excruciating pain. I grasped his jacket, unable to spit my curses. In a frenzy I tore at the tubes alongside the rail. The monitors clanged their warnings. Damn him in hell forever! I’d break him! I’d destroy him utterly. I’d take us both off duty and call challenge—
The door flew open. Dr. Abood dashed in. Tolliver stood stolidly, his face expressionless, while I pounded his chest. I turned to the doctor. Get the man away from me! Why didn’t he understand? I turned back to Tolliver, who stared at the silent respirator.
Only then did I realize I was breathing.
“Where’s Annie?” My throat was still raw.
“Here in the clinic, sir. Alexi—Mr. Tamarov has gone to see her. She’s, ah, all right, I guess.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “Does she talk to you?”
Tolliver said, “Not really, sir. She’s sort of dreaming. Awake and dreaming.”
I turned my head. Annie was beyond my help. Nothing awaited me if I recovered. Living...didn’t seem worth the bother.
An endless series of visitors interrupted my reveries. Among them Alexi, regarding me anxiously, saying little. I dozed. When I woke he was gone.
Frederick Mantiet came to visit, offering encouraging words. Though we’d become allies, I was wary in his presence.
Not long after he left, Zack Hopewell looked in. I bade him sit.
“The last of Palabee’s men surrendered this morning.”
I grunted. Hopewell folded his hands in his lap. “Seafort, I want out of this job. I’m no military Governor.”
“Neither was Joshua.”
“Joshua led his people to the promised land. If anything, I’m holding them back from it.”
“Triforth’s Republic wasn’t the promised land.”
“I know that.” His tone was sharp. “Else I wouldn’t have joined you.”
“You’d have violated your oath?”
“I’d have tended my crops!” He waved as if to banish the issue. “I swore no oath to restore a government that had fallen.”
“Then why did you support us?”
“Because...hell and damnation, boy. Because there was no right. Because we’re in chaos. Because you’re a just man.”
“Just!” I snorted. “You know me so little.”
He shook his head. “How little you know yourself.” He raised his voice, overriding my reply. “Palabee and Volksteader demand to be released. Triforth insists on a civil trial.”
“Have them all sent for interrogation. Mantiet too.”
“Frederick? He helped you!”
�
�He renounced his confession.” Could it matter any longer? I brushed away the thought. “I want to know the truth.”
He answered, “And I want Palabee and Volksteader tried or released.”
“After interrogation. Anyway, I should be out of here in a couple of days. We’ll see.”
For the first time Hopewell smiled. “I’m glad for that.”
“Thank you.” I lapsed silent. My convalescence was troubling. The pain meds helped, but I felt alone, isolated. Dutifully I did my breathing exercises and walked slowly in the hallway. From time to time I stopped at Annie’s room.
Alexi visited with me, chatted awkwardly. Harmon Branstead brought Jerence to see me, but kept a stern eye on him throughout.
Tolliver came. I hadn’t seen him for several days. I glowered.
“I’m sorry if I was, er, unsympathetic when you had the tube in your throat. But when you lay there as if you were giving up, I wanted to tear out that respirator, make you breathe.” He turned away from my gaze.
“Damn you, Tolliver, why can’t you let me hate you as I want?”
He turned back, startled. “I thought you did, sir.”
“I’ve yearned for nothing more than an excuse to cashier you.” My face reddened at the admission.
“Will you?”
“I can’t. There’s no one to take your place.”
“Yes, sir.”
I relented. “And I don’t want to replace you. Continue as my aide.”
He blurted, “You mean that?”
Astonished, I could only stare. He stammered, “I’m sorry, sir. Thank you. I mean—thank you.”
“Find me a place to sleep when I’m well. We’ll reopen Admiralty House and work from there.”
“Aye aye, sir. What will we do?”
“I don’t know yet.” I sat back on my bed. “Dismissed, Mr. Tolliver.”
His salute was crisper than his first. “Aye aye, sir.”
“Now do you believe me?” Frederick Mantiet sat in front of the Manse, head in hands, shielding his eyes from the bright sun.
I knew what he was feeling. It would pass. “Yes.”
“So...I worked to establish a republic. Are you going to try me like Palabee and Volksteader?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
A workman mortared a stone into the porch. “With you it was just words. You didn’t take overt action, even if you kept yourself informed of the plot against us.”
“Words can be treason.”
“Are you baiting me, Frederick? In any event you redeemed yourself.” The porch was nearly complete, though it would be many years before it aged to the patina of the foundation. I wondered if the Manse would be standing then, or whether the fish would have dropped another, more destructive rock.
“If I’m free, I suppose I should go home. I have to set matters right.”
“Or you could stay and help us. Would you care to join the Government?”
“No.” He rubbed his eyes. “Not your Government; I’m opposed to it. And anyway, I don’t have the personality. I’m too abrasive.”
So was I, but I was saddled with the job. The Admiral’s words had been, “Carry on. You’re in charge.” Soon Catalonia would arrive. It had been—how long?—two days since I’d left the hospital, Dr. Abood’s admonishments ringing in my ears.
“Captain, when will you hold the trials?”
“I don’t know, Frederick. Mrs. Volksteader is coming to see me in a few minutes, and Palabee wants to talk also. Then I’ll decide.”
“We planters are the foundation of Hope Nation.”
“But treason is treason.” I stood, shading my eyes as I peered into the sun. “Is that her heli?”
“Looks like it. I’ll leave you alone.”
I straightened my tie, smoothed my hair while the Volksteaders’ heli landed. It felt good to be in uniform again, though my shirt rasped against my sensitive chest. Thanks to daily bone-growth stimulation my ribs were fast healing, but my skin was still tender.
When the blades floated to a stop Mrs. Volksteader climbed out. Sarah Branstead followed. I hadn’t expected her. The discussion might be awkward.
We greeted each other civilly, shook hands, found seats on the rebuilt porch. Leota Volksteader got to the point. “It’s not fair of you to hold Arvin. Let him go.”
I temporized. “What is your role in this, Mrs. Branstead?”
She shook her head firmly. “Oh, no. When we last met it was ‘Sarah.’ Nothing changes that.”
I smiled. “Thank you. Still, why are you here?”
“The Volksteaders are good friends. I wanted to come, and Harmon approves.”
“Arvin acted unwisely, Mrs.—er, Sarah. He became involved with treason.”
Leota Volksteader raised her hands. “We’ve never been political. We’re not among the biggest plantations or the most developed. We can’t afford to offend anyone in power. Your Government collapsed, and Laura said she was declaring a republic. If we’d refused to attend, she’d have remembered and held it against us. What were we to do?”
I shook my head. “Arvin took part in their meetings, let the plotters use his haulers and equipment, gave them aid and comfort.”
“Which is no more than we did for you! How can you be so ungrateful?”
I said, “What are you talking about?”
Sarah Branstead said, “I was there, Mr. Seafort. Surely you haven’t forgotten.”
“Ladies, I—” I searched the haze of my memories. “You’ll have to explain.”
“You visited the Bransteads,” Leota said. “With your lieutenant Mr. Tamarov. As we were leaving, I took you aside so Arvin could talk to him. Don’t you recall?”
I did, vaguely. “Go on.”
“Arvin and I had decided it was best to speak privately with your officer. That way, the conversation would be unofficial, so you could deny it if need be.”
“What did Arvin tell him?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. Arvin said to watch out for Laura, that she was going to move against you. Your man said he’d tell you right away. And then you left, and—and—”
“Laura blew up the hauler,” Sarah Branstead finished. “And nearly killed our son.”
My hand tightened on the chair. The explosion. Eddie Boss, his arm broken, hauling Alexi out of the shattered car. “He never told me,” I said slowly.
“For heaven’s sake, why not?”
“Jerence was with us. Alexi wanted to speak but I told him to wait.” Alexi’s coma, his amnesia, were my fault, then. I’d prevented him from doing his duty. I lay back, suddenly weak. Take this burden from me, Lord. Don’t let me hurt anyone else.
“What a fiasco,” Sarah said slowly. Her hand squeezed my arm. “How you must feel, Captain.”
I looked up to her. “If you knew Ms. Triforth blew up the hauler, what was Harmon doing on the dais with her?”
Sarah said fiercely, “Do you think we knew then that it was Laura? I’d have killed her myself! If you don’t believe that, send me to interrogation! Leota only told us last week, when she asked our help for Arvin.”
“Still, why was Harmon there? He was committing treason.”
“You can’t believe that, or you’d arrest him too. We’re like the Volksteaders, not big enough to fight the government. We had to go along with Triforth, at least for the time being.”
A young aide brought us lemonade from the Manse; I sipped the cold drink and waited until he’d left. “Harmon switched sides, though.” It was too confusing. “I’ll think it over. There’s no point in talking further.”
Leota persisted, “Will there be a trial?”
“There doesn’t have to be. Not under martial law.”
“You’d let him go?”
Sarah took her arm. “That’s not what he means,” she said gently. “Leave it be. He’ll do right.”
“But—” Protesting, Leota Volksteader let Sarah quiet her. She said her good-byes and left.
&n
bsp; I sipped at lemonade in the hot summer sun and considered whether to slaughter her husband.
19
TOLLIVER, BEZREL, AND I REOPENED Admiralty House. I decrypted the puters while Tolliver fussed in the mechanical room resetting the climate controls. In the two weeks since we’d left, the place had acquired a disused look, a dank and musty atmosphere. Perhaps I only imagined it.
We established comm links with Orbit Station. William, in his impersonal manner, confirmed every few hours that he had nothing new to report. When our ships Fused home, the remaining fish had disappeared within hours.
Annie languished in the clinic, unable to emerge from her daze. Our name came up for an apartment, and I had her moved the same day. Emmett Branstead found a nurse to stay with her.
Meanwhile, Zack Hopewell struggled with the details of government. By now the streets were cleared, and crews were demolishing or shoring weakened buildings. As before, looters were shot, but few were found. Hopewell and I met each day, and faced a similar question: what now?
At Admiralty House I settled myself in the anteroom where Lieutenant Anton had presided, and before him Lieutenant Eiferts. No need now for a formal office. Bezrel ran errands for Tolliver and me, not the least of which was to bring us our meals. Though we had use of the softie dispenser and micro, I preferred getting our dinners at the terminal restaurant. For their part, the café was glad of the business, now that the fleet was gone.
Tolliver interrupted my reverie. “Captain, will you take a call from the jail?”
I looked past my feet propped on my desk. “Who, and why?”
“You agreed to see Mr. Palabee today, and they want to know where.”
I sighed. “At the Manse.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Make it after dinner.”
Tolliver could pilot me, or I could go myself. I’d reserved one Naval heli for our own use and loaned the others back to the civilian transport grid. Alexi had returned to his job, but kept his caller with him. I’d made sure of that.
My console lit; calls that previously would have been taken in our comm room went to me now. I flipped on the speaker. “Orbit Station to Admiralty House, please respond.”
“Yes?”
“Good afternoon, Captain Seafort.” William’s solemn voice.