Patriots

by David Drake

  19. The Home Front

  The starship landing system for the Spiker was housed in a rough stone-and-concrete hut between the tavern compound and the magnetic mass. Beside the hut was an internally braced antenna thrusting up a hundred feet like a silvery needle. The four modules in the hut included a flat-plate display, keyboard, and output/input ports under latched flaps. The designers had built a gooseneck light into the terminal module, though the screen alone could have provided enough illumination to work by.

  Mark suspected he was the first person to call up the unit's embedded menu and take a look at what the equipment could really do. Default mode was fully-automated operation: a ship in orbit engaged the landing system, which brought the vessel down without anybody on the ground being involved or even aware of what was happening. That had been good enough for Greenwood up till now.

  The situation had changed with the Zenith trouble, Mark figured. This equipment was the same as that installed in major ports where a human operator oversaw traffic movements. It cost less to build the full capabilities into every set than it did to degrade individual units to minimum local needs.

  Mark wasn't an electronics technician, but the landing system was meant to be installed by construction workers with only the most rudimentary knowledge of anything more complex than a backhoe. For three years Mark had used teaching software of a much higher degree of sophistication. By now he'd enabled the identification and tracking functions. His next job was to set parameters so that he could switch the whole system whenever he wanted to remote-control from the standard VHF radio in Yerby's compound.

  Yerby's bulk darkened the doorway. "Morning, lad," the big man said. "Blaney said you were out here."

  Mark laughed. "I wouldn't call three in the afternoon morning," he said. "Did you and Amy just get back?"

  "Ah, the trip to Bottomless Pool," Yerby said with a slight frown. "No, to tell the truth, I spent the night here, lad. Met a few of my friends last night and, you know, partied some."

  Mark felt his expression harden. "Amy's been looking forward all week to seeing the fish in Bottomless Pool," he said. "I'm sorry to hear that you missed the appointment again, Yerby."

  Dr. Jesilind had visited the site with Yerby. According to him, the Bottomless Pool was the vent of an ancient volcano that siphoned salt water from the ocean at least a hundred miles away. The crater lake was rich in brilliantly colored plant life and fish with no resemblance to shallow-water forms.

  Mark didn't wholly accept the doctor's claim of a unique ecology, but the pool certainly sounded interesting. He'd have asked to go with the Bannocks except for the overhanging threat of Zenith invasion. It was more important to finish his work with the landing system.

  Besides, Mark had the vague thought that maybe after Yerby showed his sister where the pool was, Mark and Amy would go by themselves.

  "Oh, well, that's all right," Yerby said. He sounded a trifle uncomfortable. "The doc knows where the place is, so he offered to take Amy there. I know, she don't get along with Doc the way you'd like, but she wanted to go so bad and me, well, I just wasn't up to coming home last night for another dustup with Desiree."

  "I see," said Mark. Actually, Amy got along with Jesilind exactly the way Mark liked, which was just barely. But as Yerby said, she'd really wanted to see the pool.

  "To tell the truth, though," Yerby said, "I'd sorta thought they'd be back before now. They're off in the blimp, but the guidance beacon isn't working real good and, you know, I can't seem to raise them on radio."

  "They're not back at the compound?" Mark asked, feeling suddenly cold.

  Yerby scratched his ribs with a look of great concentration. "Desiree says not," he admitted, glaring at his fingers. "Says they went off at first light and that's the last anybody's seen of them. Desiree said some other things too."

  He raised his eyes to Mark. "Might be she was right about some of those things," Yerby said. "Not that I really think there's a problem, but if you ain't seen her like I hoped you had, maybe I'll take my flyer out to the Pool. Want to come along?"

  A series of possibilities clicked through Mark's mind. His face remained frozen. Turning from Yerby, he called a movement chart up on the landing system's screen. The unit had to be able to track aircraft also in order to bring ships down safely in busy environments.

  "The Pool's south of here, isn't it?" he asked sharply.

  "South-southwest of the Spiker, south from the house," Yerby said. "What's wrong, lad?"

  "Nothing," Mark lied. He could almost hear his father's voice saying, "Generally, almost always, there's a better way than charging straight in."

  "Yerby," he said, facing the big frontiersman again, "I've got to pick up some tools at the compound right now. It's important to get this system working so that we at least know who's landing here before they arrive. I'm sure you can take care of any little problem the blimp has by yourself."

  Yerby's head jerked back in surprise. "Sure, I see that, Mr. Maxwell," he said. "Well, I'll leave you to your business, then."

  Yerby ducked out of the hut and jogged toward the compound where he must have left his flyer the day before. His arms pumped more vigorously than his pace seemed to justify.

  Mark got into his own flyer beside the hut. His guts felt heavy and frozen by Yerby's shocked disapproval; but Mark knew that if he'd told Yerby the truth, the result would have been as violent and certain as pulling the trigger of a gun.

  Yerby's compound lay at the northern edge of the circle the system's plotting lidar swept. The dirigible's track from the compound at 6:47 in the morning was clearly marked, and as the vehicle rose to a thousand feet it stayed on the screen for another twenty miles.

  Dr. Jesilind was headed northwest, not south toward the Bottomless Pool. There were a number of reasons Jesilind might have gone off with Amy in a direction nobody would think to search for them.

  But all of them added up to Mark wanting very much to join the pair as fast as he could.

  20. An Afternoon in the Country

  Mark's holoviewer rested on his lap, projecting a holographic terrain map in the air before him. He kept the flyer a thousand feet high, so he didn't need to worry about what was directly in front of him unless a bird got very unlucky.

  Or, come to think, unless he managed to collide with the dirigible itself. Mark assumed his quarry would be below him, probably on the ground; but he could imagine his first gymnastics coach shouting, "Always check the fastenings of equipment before you trust your weight to it! Assume makes an ass of U and me, boy!"

  Dutifully, Mark raised himself in the saddle to peer over the top of the opaque hologram. The sky was as empty as a politician's promise.

  He didn't know where Jesilind had gone, but the dirigible had flown straight from the point it lifted from Yerby's compound until the track vanished at the limit of the lidar's range. A one-hundred-foot cigar of royal blue fabric ought to show up pretty well. By keeping high and swiveling his eyes constantly, Mark figured he'd find the dirigible sooner or later.

  It had better be sooner, though, or he was going to run out of daylight.

  The flyer overflew another wooded ridge. It might be the one where Yerby took me and Amy to picnic when we fast arrived on Greenwood.

  As the thought struck him, Mark saw the waterfall. It was richly golden in the low sunlight, so lovely that Mark flew for some moments further before he noticed the dirigible nestled near the cliff face at the bottom of the falls. He banked and brought the flyer down like a brick, a risk he'd never have taken if he'd been thinking about it.

  Dr. Jesilind stood on the gondola's open deck. There was no sign of Amy. The howl of air past the flyer's frame tubes drew the doctor's attention.

  Jesilind grabbed the door of the closed cabin, but it wouldn't open for him. He fumbled an object from his pocket, dropped it on the deck, and finally used both hands to pick it up again.

  "Mark!" Amy screamed from a side window of the dirigible's cabin. "Stay back!
He's got a gun!"

  Jesilind leaned over to grab the window. Amy slid it shut, barely in time.

  Mark's landing strained the flyer's framework but halted him within ten feet of his touchdown. His holoviewer flew onto the pebbly ground.

  He remembered how he'd worried about the viewer when the thugs surrounded him in the caravansary. Not now. He wasn't worried about anything. That utterly amazed the part of Mark's mind that viewed the situation from a cool distance.

  Mark clambered out of his flyer. Dr. Jesilind remained on the dirigible's deck, clamping the gate of the railing closed with one hand. He'd thrust the other into the pocket of his jacket again.

  "Hello, Doctor," Mark said. He walked toward the dirigible.

  Jesilind took his hand from his pocket with a gun. It had a wide, slightly flared muzzle. Mark supposed it was lethal.

  "Stop where you are or I'll shoot!" Jesilind said. His voice was as high as if he'd gotten his balls caught in a car door.

  Mark took another step forward. Close up he could see where Amy's fingernails had raked three long gouges down Jesilind's cheek.

  "Well, Doctor," Mark said, "you've got two choices. You can shoot or you can give me the gun. If you give me the gun, I'll see to it that you get off Greenwood before Yerby learns what's happened here."

  Mark stopped just out of arm's reach of Jesilind. He put his hands on his hips, unconsciously mimicking the stance Yerby used to face down opposition. He continued, "If you shoot, well, I don't give long odds that I'll survive. But I've got a lot better chance than you do."

  Jesilind swallowed. His face was blotchy white except for the scratches. He sidled against the far railing and put the pistol in his pocket. Mark stepped onto the deck, walked to Jesilind, and took the weapon from the pocket. Jesilind didn't resist.

  Amy opened the cabin door. "Stay clear, Amy!" Mark warned.

  Instead of speaking, Amy went to the junction box on the outer bulkhead. She began to reconnect the power and control conduits, which Jesilind had unscrewed.

  "This is all a mistake," Jesilind said. His voice quavered. He was sweating furiously.

  "Yes, I rather think it was," Mark said. His whole body trembled with reaction. More hormones were racing in his bloodstream than even after the fight in the caravansary.

  He cleared his throat. "Doctor," he said, "you'll take my flyer to Wanker's Doodle and board whichever ship there is going to take off soonest."

  Mark looked up at the sky. "I doubt you'll be able to make it tonight," he continued, "but I strongly advise you to get as far as you can. I'll have your goods shipped after you if you're willing to leave a destination. I doubt Yerby will come searching for you when you've left Greenwood, but that's a decision you're going to have to make for yourself."

  Amy walked to Mark's side. She stepped very carefully around the edge of the deck so that she wouldn't come between the two men.

  "That gun doesn't really work," Jesilind said. He tried to wipe his face with a handkerchief. He dropped the square of cloth but didn't notice it. He mopped his forehead with his bare hand.

  "Doesn't it?" Mark said. He looked at the weapon, wondering if Jesilind had threatened Amy with it also. "Well, that doesn't matter."

  He turned and hurled the pistol as hard as he could into the waterfall's spray. It clinked on the rocks somewhere beyond.

  "I fear that you've both misunderstood me," Jesilind said, desperately trying to smile.

  "Well, that's a pity, Doctor," Mark said as he stepped forward. "But I really wouldn't want you to misunderstand me."

  He punched Jesilind in the pit of the stomach. Jesilind doubled up. He must not have had anything to eat that day, because all that sprayed from his mouth was a little bile.

  "Amy," whispered Mark. He sagged against the railing. "Would you mind dragging this fellow onto the ground so that we can get out of here? I don't feel strong enough just now."

  Mark sat in a corner of the cabin shivering while Amy flew the dirigible through the darkening sky. They must be getting near the Bannock compound. Mark didn't look out the cabin windows to be sure.

  "What happened an hour ago," he said wonderingly. "It's as if somebody else did it."

  "You did it, Mark," Amy said. "I don't think . . . I never thought I'd meet anybody who could do what I watched you do."

  "Yerby would," Mark said. "He wouldn't have stopped where I did, either."

  "Being willing to stop is as important as being brave enough to start," Amy said. She kept her eyes resolutely on the terrain ahead.

  "Wonder what my dad would think to see me brawling that way?" Mark said with a sneer for his own behavior. "I guess the only thing I've learned since I left Quelhagen is what your brother taught me: Never hit a man in the jaw with your bare hand."

  He shook his head and added bitterly, "Of course, Yerby'd be ashamed of me for hitting him with my bare hand at all."

  "Yerby wouldn't be ashamed of you, Mark," Amy said softly. Pumps whined, compressing hydrogen in the ballonets so that the dirigible would sink. They must be just about to land. "And I've met your father. I don't think that he'd be ashamed of you either."

  Mark managed to stand. He felt better than he thought he would; just weak, really. The dirigible was descending into the Bannock compound. The lights in all the buildings were on. People were coming outside to wave and cheer.

  Amy looked over from the controls. "Mark," she said, "not everything my brother has to teach you is wrong. It's just that sometimes he doesn't use the best judgment about where to display what he knows."

  They landed lightly. A dozen of the folk in the courtyard grabbed dangling lines and held the dirigible down against any chance gust that might hit before the pumps had squeezed most of the lift back into the high-pressure tanks between the ballonets.

  Mark reached for the door latch. Before he touched it, Yerby burst into the cabin bellowing, "In the name of all that's holy, girl, where have you been?"

  The frontiersman paused, looked around him, and added, "And where in thunder is Doc Jesilind?"

  "The doctor was called off-planet abruptly. He said it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Yerby," Amy said in a clear voice. "We'd gotten confused on direction, but Mark very kindly guided me home."

  "Direction?" Yerby said, his brows knitting as he tried to understand.

  Amy put one arm through Mark's and led him out of the cabin, clearing a path with an imperious wave of her free hand. "Because we got lost," she said, "I didn't get to see the Bottomless Pool after all. Since human guides are so unreliable, I think the best choice is for Mark to navigate me there using the map in his holoviewer."

  Amy looked at Mark. "If he's willing," she added.

  Mark blushed and cleared his throat. "I'm willing," he said in a squeak.

  21. Company Coming

  Nothing unusual had happened in the month since Mark enabled the full range of the landing system at the Spiker, so he'd pretty well forgotten about it. Now when the alarm he'd rigged in the Bannock compound rang loudly, it took him a moment to recall what it meant. He dropped the extrusion nozzle he'd been cleaning in a shed and ran for the main house.

  The commo room was on one end of the ground floor, across the central hall from the parlor. The kitchen, the large dining room, and an office/workroom completed the floor plan. The second story was broken into spartan bedrooms for guests—Mark had one of them, while the top was for the Bannocks themselves. During the time Mark had been on Greenwood, Yerby had slept in the guest room beside Mark's rather than on the third floor with Desiree.

  Yerby had been asleep when the alarm rang. He crashed into the commo room just behind Mark, still wearing the clothes Mark had seen him in the night before.

  "There's an anomaly in the data the ship's captain radioed down," Mark explained. "He says they're the three-hundred-ton Judy from Hestia, but the ship's own core memory says they're the Aten, a twenty-eight-hundred-ton liner in the Zenith-Earth trade."

  Amy and three of t
he men who worked for the Bannocks arrived in the hallway outside the commo room. Tomse, the cook, wiped his floury hands on his apron.

  Desiree managed the plastics plant, but she must have been up at the compound when the alarm sounded, because she appeared only a heartbeat later. She gestured the employees out of the way so that she could stand stone-faced beside Amy in the doorway.

  "If they bothered to fake their landing announcement," Mark continued, "then this is the invasion we've been expecting. You've got to call out the militia at once. A ship that big could hold five hundred troops!"

  "Now, don't have kittens, lad," Yerby said. He sat at the console, brushing Mark aside without noticing the contact. His big hands rested on the keyboard. "You've took over the whole system here, that's right? They can't land by themselves so long as this—" He rapped the terminal feeding through the compound's radio. "—is hooked to the box at the Spiker?"

  "That's right," said Mark. He hadn't thought Yerby was following the description of the changes Mark had made in the automatic landing system. Yerby's "simple frontiersman" act covered a mind just as surprising as his physical strength. "They'll wait awhile for a control signal, because there might be another ship on the magnetic mass. But before long, they'll just decide to land at Wanker's Doodle."

  Yerby chuckled. He changed screens and began to type information into the keyboard. He used two fingers, but he didn't need to hunt for the keys he hammered.

  "They'll get their control signal, never fear," Yerby said as he worked. "For most nearly a year me and our daddy—"

  He flicked a smile toward Amy. "D'ye remember that, girl? Or was you too young?"

  "I remember," Amy said. She was tense with concern.

  "Anyhow, we brought ships down on Kilbourn when the module packed up and we couldn't get a replacement in. Guess I haven't forgotten how to do it."

  "Yerby," Amy said. Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion. "If you crash the ship, you'll kill hundreds of people. Many hundreds. Even though they're enemies—"