“You have a right to believe whatever nonsense you wish,” Flanders agreed. “But you don’t have a right to push it on the public.”
“Oh? Religious evangelists do it all the time. That’s in the Constitution, too.”
“Are you claiming that your notions about the mind are religious?”
“Certainly not, not unless you use a broad definition of ‘religion’ as including any idea about the fundamental nature of human beings.”
“That’s fortunate, because there are specific laws against public proselytizing via interactive media, which were passed when mass conversions got out of hand.”
“Those apply only where collection of money is involved,” Terry reminded him. “I have never asked people for money or anything else of which they’d be deprived by believing me, so I don’t think the claim that I’ve committed fraud by misrepresenting myself will hold up in court.”
“We’ll see about that. In any case our claim against your ship will hold up, and without it you won’t be able to cause any more trouble.”
Terry froze. What claim against his ship? He hadn’t been tried yet, let alone convicted, so they couldn’t impose a fine.
“According to the laws of civil forfeiture, an asset is forfeit if used in the commission of a crime whether or not its owner is convicted of anything,” Flanders said. “That’s an old principle of law, dating at least to the twentieth century in America if not further back, that you should be familiar with if you’re as knowledgeable as you think you are.”
Terry did recall having seen something about that, and about the protests against the unfairness of it, when reading history. He hadn’t known it was on the League books. But Estel hadn’t been used in the acts with which he was charged, it had only been mentioned. At the time of his underground work on Ciencia it hadn’t even existed. Except . . . oh, God. The later broadcast had been made from Estel, and the transcript said so. Therefore, according to Fleet’s reasoning, the ship had been used to incite revolution.
He doubted that the officers at Stelo Haveno could have dug up an obscure law in the hours since he’d arrived here, or even that those at Fleet Headquarters could in the few days since the Estelans had officially opened Ciencia to communication with the League. This whole scheme to discredit him had obviously been initiated by Quaid in league with his like-minded friends on Earth—a backup plan, no doubt, in case the bounty hunters failed to locate him. And Quaid had known very well what would hurt the worst. He’d be happy to see him back in prison, but even happier to know that he’d lost Estel. . . .
It was not true that he couldn’t achieve anything more without Estel. It had accomplished a lot as an imaginary ship, and then as a real one that no one had ever seen. If he were free, he could keep the legend about it alive—unless Fleet destroyed it publicly, and even then it might retain its symbolic value. But he himself would be crushed by the loss. He was not sure he would feel up to any more campaigning.
And in any case, he was not free, and was not likely to be free for a long time.
~ 40 ~
Apart from the prospect of losing Estel, what concerned Terry most in the days that followed was worry about what was happening to Alison—and to Jon and Gwen too, of course. They had virtually no money; there hadn’t been much credit left and he had transferred nearly all of it to his own account for a down payment on servicing the hyperdrive engine. They had no knowledge of Earth or how to get work there. Their new League IDs might not even entitle them to work; since unemployment was high on Earth, non-citizens couldn’t often get work permits, and in fact those for the Maclairnan mentors brought to Earth in Promise had been forged along with their League citizenship. Would Fleet really dump his crew without means to support themselves? He thought of the endless hordes of homeless street people on Earth, and shuddered.
On top of these problems was the fear that if Ciencia was now open to League contact, their past might catch up with them. Presumably, they had been listed as dead on Ciencia, and he had not gotten new names or histories for them when Zach forged their worldless citizenship. So if and when Ciencia’s records were transmitted to League Headquarters, a mismatch might turn up, and then they would be subject to arrest for ID tampering if not for whatever crimes Ciencia might charge them with. It was even possible that Jon’s name might be connected with his alleged captaincy of Vagabond, and then, since he was known to have been aboard Estel, the whole string of Terry’s crimes and the crew’s implication in them would come to light.
If he could get in touch with Jenna, Terry thought, she could create new IDs and work permits. But Jenna and Walt would probably never know what had happened to him. They would wait in vain for him to return for the refugees, and when he didn’t keep his promise, they could only assume that he had made off with Zach’s money. In their eyes, and those of anyone they talked to about Estel, the reputation of its legendary captain would be tarnished.
He was housed in a secure compartment of the warrant officers’ barracks, Stelo Haveno’s Fleet installation being too small to need a separate brig. It was a large step up from the prison on Ciencia, but confinement itself was galling enough to bring him to desperation. He could not believe this was happening to him, not after all he’d gotten through in the past. When he was spared from death after crashing Venture, he’d believed it meant something—meant he could help ensure humankind’s future. What good could he do locked away here, awaiting a trial that would serve only to condemn him to long-term imprisonment? The Elders had thought he could serve Maclairn’s cause when they gave him Estel, yet he’d had it for mere weeks before it was taken from him. And he’d been with Alison so short a time, when he’d expected they’d be together for the rest of his life. . . .
On the sixth day of his confinement, Alison was permitted to visit him, having described herself as his common-law wife. Terry was taken from his cell to a guarded room at headquarters to which she was escorted; they were not allowed to talk alone. She and the others were not prisoners. she told him. They had been given decent though spartan accommodations and were free to go anywhere in the dome while awaiting deportation. They would be unable to stay after transport was available, however, as the colony did not accept immigrants. They had applied to go to New Afrika where they knew people and believed they could get jobs, but Fleet didn’t have a scheduled flight to New Afrika from here and it did not intend to make a special trip for them.
Terry explained the charges against him, warning Alison silently to show no surprise and above all, to say nothing to Fleet that might suggest she’d expected different ones. He felt her amazement and relief, and sensed that they had all believed his arrest was due to discovery of Becka and Josh, though they’d been careful not to reveal that they knew about the kids. They had maintained to Fleet that he was totally innocent of any wrongdoing, hoping that there were no telepaths among the officers they encountered.
I’ve got something else to tell you, Alison ventured with silent intensity, and Terry realized that their weeks of telepathic contact during lovemaking, while not in the form of conversation, nevertheless would enable her to convey information she could not give him aloud. He perceived it as if she were communicating words, although she really wasn’t, and his heart rose as he grasped the gist of them.
We remembered you’d sold the wine to an older couple who run a restaurant . . . When we found one with managers who looked right, we asked if they’d been in the crowd looking for the Captain of Estel. And I could sense that the woman was hiding something so I told her we were from his ship and that he’d been arrested . . . And she wanted to know what for and I didn’t tell her about Becka but I could see she was terribly upset. . . .
Thank God. Go back! he told Alison. Go back and tell her you’re afraid of going to Earth because I once said it wouldn’t be safe without a new name and a work permit. Tell her I mentioned something called Zach’s box, so she’ll know the message is from me. She can get you new IDs like she’s gettin
g for Becka and Josh, and if she offers to, you can trust her and tell her everything . . . Nod if you understand!
Alison nodded vigorously, then came into his arms. A few minutes later the guard said their time was up and took him away.
Much relieved by the thought that Alison and the others would be given a chance to survive on Earth, Terry resigned himself to imprisonment. The days dragged but he was allowed read-only Net access, so for a few minutes at a time, at least, he was able to occupy his mind with something other than the loss of Estel. It always came back if he raised his eyes from the screen, though, and at night it became a torment. What did Fleet do with forfeited ships? Would they sell it, hopefully as a charter vessel but more likely to some disreputable smuggler who might turn pirate? What would the Elders think if they knew?
As he was not considered violent, the guard arrangement was informal; he’d been allowed to keep his own clothes and warrant officers who lived in the barracks sometimes brought his meals. Three days after he’d seen Alison, his empty dinner dishes were picked up by Lorenski.
A rush of hope surged through Terry. Here was a way to communicate with Walt and Jenna—a way to know for sure that his crew was taken care of. “Have you seen our mutual friend lately?” he asked.
“I have,” said Lorenski. “He said to tell you your wife and friends are okay.” He continued in a low voice, “No need to be so careful, this place isn’t bugged and there’s no camera. They’re not set up to deal with spies or gangsters here.” Then, casually, he took off his uniform jacket and handed it to Terry.
As Terry stared, he went on to say, “We’ve got to exchange pants. This is where I live and it’s normal enough for me to wear civvies in my own barracks. On the other hand, nobody will notice if an officer in uniform walks out. Your wife says you once were a Fleet officer, so I assume you know how to act like one.”
Flabbergasted, Terry took off his pants and put on the smartly-styled black ones he had worn throughout his youth. They were a bit loose, as Lorenski had gained weight in his later years, but the fit wasn’t bad enough to be noticeable; and though the jacket wouldn’t have passed muster on a formal occasion, it was unlikely that anyone would take that close a look at him.
No one would check his cell before breakfast time, he knew. If he left just before lights out in the barracks, he could pass as an officer heading for a late work shift, as in fact, Lorenski told him, he himself did every night. “You’ll have to wait somewhere till I’ve had time to relieve the guy on gate duty before me,” the warrant officer said. “Once you’re sure I’m there alone, just come on through. Walt’s van will be waiting nearby.”
It was chancy—but Lorenski was taking an even more terrible chance. He was close to retirement. If caught aiding an escape he would spend his last years in some prison light-years away from Stelo Haveno and the job he’d been unwilling to retire from. To be sure, he took chances frequently by letting smugglers and refugees pass the gate, but none so great as this. “Why?” Terry asked in awe. “Why are you doing this for me?”
“Because you’re the Captain of Estel,” Lorenski said, “and I hope to live long enough to see you change how people think about the future.”
~ 41 ~
The stance and stride of a Fleet officer came easily to Terry even after more than twelve years. Just act like you’re on routine duty, he told himself. Don’t worry about what’s going to happen if somebody speaks to you. They can tell if you’re worried, even if they’re not consciously telepathic.
In the barracks all compartment doors were closed and the corridor lights had already been turned down. His cell was at the end farthest from the exit and it seemed like a long walk, but no one appeared. Out in the dome, it took him a few minutes to orient himself; he hadn’t seen much of the Fleet area when taken through it, as there had been more crucial things than sightseeing on his mind. Off to his left was the residential district, on the other side of the business and entertainment establishments. He would have to cross the concourse to get to the thoroughfare that led outside.
It was unlikely that he would be noticed in the dome’s civilian sections. What he feared was meeting other Fleet officers who might ask his name; Terry wasn’t sure whether there were so few at Stelo Haveno that they would all expect to recognize each other. If so, he would be unable to bluff, and whether they suspected him to be a prisoner or not wouldn’t matter; merely by impersonating an officer he was adding yet another item to his long list of crimes. But since even the few on his record were enough to convict him, he supposed one more would make no difference.
His first crisis came as a lieutenant approached; in his worry about being identified as a stranger, he nearly forgot that he wore the insignia of a warrant officer and was therefore required to salute. He was, after all, used to having lieutenants salute him first. But he reacted in time and was not challenged.
Getting out of the dome was not especially risky, Terry realized. The danger would come tomorrow, after his escape was discovered and a search began. Presumably, Walt and Jenna intended to hide him, but for how long? Did Fleet have the authority to search private residences? They hadn’t searched the dome for Becky and Josh, but then, they hadn’t known for certain that they were here; it was merely one possibility out of many. His own presence was another matter. How could he ever get onto a shuttle—and even if he could, where would he go? He couldn’t leave Estel in Fleet’s hands. . . .
By the time he reached the dome’s foot-traffic airlock, it was well past midnight. Being a large lock, its operation was totally automated; he had to wait nervously until the next cycle. Entering, he put on the mask from the beltpack Lorenski had given him and watched the hatch slide shut behind him. There were no other occupants at this hour, which gave him a break from vigilance that served merely to provide time for worry. What if some other officer was with Lorenski? Terry thought in dismay—or what if something had happened and Walt’s van wasn’t in sight after he passed through the gate?
When the airlock opened he calmed his heart and dried his sweating hands, using the mind skills that rarely needed conscious attention. As he approached the lighted gatehouse he could see that only one officer was there; he must assume it was Lorenski since he dared not pause for a close look. When he was not stopped, he knew that he was free.
The van was a short distance away, barely visible at the dark edge of the cluster of lighted shuttle pads. He walked purposefully toward it, knowing he must take as little time as possible getting inside. Silently Walt, in the driver’s seat, raised his hand in greeting and the cargo doors opened; Terry was barely inside before they closed behind him. The van started to move and though he couldn’t see out, he knew that they were retracing the route by which he had just come. After a nerve-wracking pause, during which he assumed Lorenski was checking and recording Walt’s ID, the sound of the vehicle airlock’s pump told him they had reentered the dome.
“I wish I could say we knew what to do next,” Jenna said, when Terry was safely inside the Fenways’ apartment and had changed into pants they provided. “I can give you a fake ID, of course, and if we had a way to get our refugees onto a ship, you could go along with them. But so far we haven’t found any captain but you who’s willing to take them, and Lorenski says we may be searched.”
“You shouldn’t have risked yourselves for me,” Terry said contritely. “There’s not much hope I can get offworld, and in any case I wouldn’t leave here without Estel. So sooner or later I’ll be recaptured.” He had known this; he cursed himself now for having been unable to resist the temptation to take action that couldn’t end well for any of them. He hadn’t stopped to analyze it; he had simply fled when given the chance. But what if Becky and Josh were captured because of him? What, then, would have been accomplished by taking them away from Eden at the cost not merely of his freedom, but of his ship?
“There’s always hope,” Walt declared. “Estel stands for hope. It would be a betrayal of all you stand for t
o say it’s not true.”
Yes, Terry thought. Perhaps he should do what he’d done on Ciencia—address the public, give one last speech proclaiming that people should look toward a better future. He could probably rig a broadcast setup, tell people to go on believing no matter what they heard about him. The problem was that if he did that, it could be traced to the Fenways’ location.
He hated the thought of changing the ID the Elders had given him. If he ever did get Estel back, he couldn’t prove his ownership, and besides, he was sick of constantly becoming someone else. He had resisted doing so when it meant inconvenience and even danger; but now there was no alternative. This time he couldn’t keep even his first name—reluctantly, he allowed Jenna to link his ID number to the record of Tom Ryan, the name Zach had given to the fictitious owner of Vagabond. At least the bounty hunters wouldn’t be looking for him under that name, any more than Fleet would if he got away from this world where he’d be recognized. And if he didn’t, Terry thought grimly, they would identify him through a biometric search and he would become Terry Steward again in prison.
“We have to go to the restaurant this morning, but Alison will be along soon,” Jenna said. “She’d have spent the night here if I hadn’t convinced her that overnight absence from her assigned quarters might raise suspicion.”
“I don’t think she should come,” Terry said resolutely, realizing that his longing to see her was another potential trap. “I don’t want to take the chance that they might find her here and assume she’s implicated in my escape.”
“They will assume that no matter what she does,” Walt said gravely. “She and your two friends will be the first people they question. That’s why we didn’t tell them any details.”
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 70