Fisherman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 4)

by David Feintuch

  I took a deep breath, fired a short squirt from the starboard thrusters. We lurched toward the Station.

  Tolliver screamed, “WRONG WAY!”

  “I know!” For two more seconds I let us drift closer. Our line slackened. On the Station hull, the alien gathered itself.

  I fired port thrusters at full power, added stern thrusters to boot.

  The alien leaped across the chasm.

  A crack sounded through the bones of the ship. Our broken line, recoiled against the Station hull. I jammed down the thruster levers, as if forcing them through the console would add to our speed.

  We slipped away from the Station.

  The alien drifted closer.

  Unbreathing, I willed our thrusters to carry us away. Ever so slowly we gathered speed, but the creature floated within feet of our lock.

  Finally, our velocities matched. Then the gap began to widen. The alien receded, until it was but a quivering blot against the uncaring stars.

  Chapter 23

  “JESUS, SON OF GOD.” I let out my breath, released the thrusters.

  Tolliver sagged against the porthole. “Amen.”

  My hands fiddled at the console; in a moment, the gravitrons began to hum. I felt weight settle on my frame. Across the cabin Tolliver hugged himself.

  Adam Tenere lay on the deck, lost in a private hell.

  “It’s all right, lad, pull yourself together.” My voice cracked.

  A cadet stirred. “Sir, are we—what should we do?” Robert Boland.

  It seemed a great effort to think. “Open your helmets.”

  On the console a comm light blinked. I switched frequencies.

  “Mid—Midshipman Thayer reporting, sir! Are you there? Wha-what do we do now?” Close to hysteria.

  Stop stammering, for one thing. I made no response.

  Robert Boland squinted out a porthole. “I don’t see any—”

  “Speak when you’re spoken to!” Tolliver’s voice was thick.

  Time to take control. Laboriously, I sat up straighter. My muscles ached as if I’d just run the Academy track.

  I keyed the caller to Four. “Mr. Thayer, any fish in your vicinity?”

  “I—no, sir. Not right here.”

  I made my voice casual. “Good. Take a moment to organize your boat. See who’s had engine-room training, set two cadets at the Fuser console. Put another at Nav, the last one at radionics.” I groped for something familiar. “I’ll grade you on the results, so do your best. Report back when you’re done.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Thayer sounded more steady.

  Now my own ship. I had Tolliver, Adam, Boland, and ... who? I was supposed to know these things. “Call off by rank.”

  “First Lieutenant Edgar Tolliver reporting, sir.” His tone had a sharp edge.

  Adam Tenere made no response. His eyes were shut.

  Tolliver hauled the midshipman to his feet, shook him like a rag doll. “Report to the Captain, or by God I’ll—”

  “BELAY THAT!”

  My throat was raw. Tolliver retreated. The middy stared at the deck plates.

  I got to my feet, came close. “Adam, I need you.”

  “I—can’t.” A sob caught.

  “Of course you can.” As my hand came up he flinched, but I only took his chin in my palm and lifted. “Report, Mr. Tenere.”

  Liquid eyes stared into mine. Then, he shuddered. “Midshipman Adam Tenere reporting, sir.”

  “Very well.” My hand rested on his shoulder, squeezed once.

  “I’m sor—” He bit it off. I turned away, feeling a Judas for my encouragement. “Continue.”

  “Cadet Robert Boland, sir.”

  “Cadet Rene Salette.”

  Still facing the bulkhead, the last cadet mumbled something inaudible.

  “Speak up!”

  He braced his shoulders, took a deep breath, and turned. “Cadet Jerence Branstead reporting, sir.”

  For a moment my mouth worked. I launched myself across the cabin, slammed him against the bulkhead. “How did you get here?” My slap spun him sideways, gave him no opportunity to answer. “I forbade it! Why, damn you?”

  “I—sir, I—” His eyes teared.

  Another slap, like a rifle shot. He squealed, “No excuse, sir!”

  I raised my hand in fury. It came down hard, on a shoulder that had interposed itself. Tolliver was between us, hands thrust deep in his pockets. I flailed at the youngster I’d sworn to save. Again the shoulder blocked me.

  “Tolliver, I told you he wasn’t to be allowed—”

  Jerence cried, “Sergeant Ibarez left the hall before you turned me down. That’s how I knew I could get aboard!”

  The mists began to recede. I looked down at my cocked fist, willed it open. My legs seemed shaky. “That will be all, Mr. Tolliver. I’m—myself, now.”

  He muttered, “How reassuring.” He stood aside, unmoved by my laser glare.

  The speaker squawked. “Midshipman Tsai, sir. What are our orders?”

  I keyed the caller. “Just a moment.” I skewered Branstead. “You. I expected better.” His face was red, whether from my blows or shame I couldn’t know. “You’re unfit—” With an effort I stopped myself from saying worse.

  “Tolliver, get him out of my sight. Assign all of them stations.” I strode back to the console. “All right, Mr. Tsai. Report.”

  “Very well, all boats stand by for further orders.” My uniform was soaked. A precious hour had slipped past, but my Fusers were organized. The hardest to deal with had been the four unnerved cadets in Fuser Eight. None were adequately trained for their mission. I should have chosen experienced cadets instead of calling for volunteers. And I should have ... No matter. Add it to the multitude of regrets that comprised my life.

  With luck, Eight would be able to manage. If necessary, we’d instruct them, switch by switch, how to work the controls.

  “Adam. Nav drill.”

  He roused himself. “Aye aye, sir.”

  I took my time explaining. It was important that he fully grasped the problem.

  The middy’s eyes grew wide. “But, sir, that would—I mean, you can’t—”

  “Mr. Tenere!”

  He flinched. “Yes, sir. I mean, I’m—Aye aye, sir!”

  “How long will it take to set up coordinates?”

  “For all of them? It shouldn’t be too—twenty minutes, sir?”

  “Very well. I’ll be in the comm room.” I eased myself out of my chair. Though I could speak to Robert Boland from my console, Adam would work better if I wasn’t staring over his shoulder.

  “Don’t get up, Mr. Boland.” I took a place at the comm console, reached for the controls, pulled back my hand. Might as well allow him to help; why else had I brought him? “Merge the incoming Naval comm frequencies.”

  Perhaps the fish were withdrawing, or at least tempering their attack.

  “Aye aye, sir.” His hands flitted to the keys. “To earphones?”

  He’d learn the truth soon enough, in any event. “No. To the speaker.”

  A blare of reports permeated the tiny chamber.

  “—huge tidal wave rolling across the Sea of Japan—”

  “If we don’t Fuse now it’ll be too late! Sir, let me save my ship!”

  “—fish massing over the atmosphere, we’re standing back, we have to. There’s no way—”

  “MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY—”

  Reports poured in. Many fish had withdrawn, as the tide from a tsunami. I was certain they would return. When they came ...

  “Acting Fleet Ops to all capital ships. We will retrea—er, regroup the fleet around Deimos. Maneuver to begin in thirty minutes. All ships move at flank speed to positions from which you can Fuse. Prepare Fuse coordinates for—”

  “NO!” I snatched the caller, spun the frequency dial. “BELAY THAT! DON’T FUSE!”

  Boland’s jaw dropped.

  “Stay off this channel, whoever you are. Repeat, all ships are to
Fuse—”

  “Captain Nicholas Seafort in U.N.S. Trafalgar. Sir, if you Fuse in a coordinated maneuver you’ll lose the fleet!”

  A new voice came on the speaker. “Admiral Richard Seville, acting FleetOpsCinc. Get the hell off my frequency and maintain radio silence!”

  “Aye aye—no, sir, I can’t! For God’s sake, Admiral, countermand your order.” I was beside myself.

  Adam Tenere appeared in the doorway. “Sir, I have coordinates—”

  I spun to the middy. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”

  “Yes, sir, I’m sure. But—”

  “Send each Fuser its coordinates, to execute at my command. Don’t forget our own engine room. And get Tolliver in here.” Adam disappeared. A moment later the lieutenant strode in.

  “Edgar, walk the cadets on Fuser Eight through the steps. First their engine room, then the console. Tell me when they’re ready.”

  “Aye aye, sir. But Jerence is alone in the engine room. If you’re about to move us, I should—”

  “Adam will be there to handle it. Move, Edgar!”

  I tried again. “Admiral, the fish will return en masse at any moment. If you Fuse to Deimos they’ll follow and wipe out the fleet!”

  Seville’s reply indicated he’d run out or patience. “How the bloody hell do you know what a fish will do ?”

  Captain’s intuition, or the grace of Lord God. I couldn’t tell him that; I groped for a rationale. “I was at Hope Nation. I saw their tactics.”

  He snorted. “Hope Nation survived because those weren’t their tactics. The fish never came back en masse. We’re under heavy attack, but their numbers are diminishing. We’ll try to finish them off with groundside lasers and preserve the remainder of the fleet for—”

  “Emergency bulletin from U.N. Command. They’ve just told me Melbourne, Australia was struck by a—by a—” The voice caught. “At 11:15 P.M. Greenwich time a huge meteorite or other object hit the city center. First reports indicate there is nothing left. Of the city. Of the ... people.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I sank to my knees. Lord God, gather those souls into Your arms. Show them Your mercy. I know what You think of me; I ask nothing for myself. Soon, now, I’ll go willingly to Your judgment. Please, don’t take more innocents.

  After a moment I struggled to my feet.

  Ignoring Robert Boland’s frozen horror, I keyed the caller to all my Fusers’ frequencies. “This is Commandant Seafort. We’ve sent you a set of Fusion coordinates. On my command, bring your fusion drives on-line as you’ve been taught. Remember, we’ll have a substantial radio time lag after you Defuse. Be ready for further orders.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” A voice tremulous with fear.

  “Orders received and understood, Capt—”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, aye aye, sir.”

  “Orders received, Commandant Seafort.”

  When the last boat had acknowledged, I drummed my fingers, waiting for Tolliver to finish instructing Fuser Eight.

  “HELP ME!” The anguished cry rattled my speaker.

  Befuddled, I stared at the frequency indicator. It wasn’t on a Fuser channel.

  “THEY’RE COMING! OH, GOD!”

  I spun the dial. “Jerence, is that you?”

  His voice was husky. “No, sir.”

  “GOHHHHDD! GET AWAY FROM ME!” Panting.

  Cadet Boland. “That’s a suit frequency, sir.”

  But who neglected to desuit, in one of the Fusers?

  Lord God, have mercy. The girl who’d run away, at the Station. I didn’t even know her name.

  I spun my dial. “Cadet, hide behind a—”

  A shriek of agony, abruptly cut short.

  “Eight is ready, sir.” Tolliver. “As ready as they—”

  I grabbed the caller. “Execute!” I ran my finger down the line on my screen.

  The stars vanished. Seconds later the cutoff alert flashed, and I Defused, flinching unnecessarily. Had the explosion come, I would never have felt it.

  “Boland, Tolliver! Encroachments?”

  “Yes, sir, one!” Robert had it first; he had faster reaction time.

  “Forty thousand kilometers, sir.” Tolliver. “She transponds as Fuser Eight.”

  It was why I’d flinched on Defusing. I’d had Adam send identical coordinates to Eight and our own engine room. Absolutely forbidden by Naval doctrine, though the one percent inherent inaccuracy of Fusion made the risk of collision almost infinitesimal. But doctrine was doctrine, and so I’d flinched, just in case.

  “Trafalgar to Seven. Respond.” I ticked off the seconds. Seven and her cadets were now five million miles outward of Trafalgar’s new position. The reply would take almost half a minute.

  We’d all started from Lunar orbit; one AU, or some ninety-three million miles from the Sun. Now Trafalgar was near the tail of a string of Fusers, spread between one AU and point two five AU. Fuser Eight, with Jacques Theroux and four other unsupervised cadets, was nearest the Training Station. The rest of the Fusers, except for Seven, were inward of us.

  “Fuser Seven to Trafalgar. Cadet Tanya Guevire, in the comm room.”

  “Very well. Who’s on thruster controls?”

  Another maddening minute. “Cadet Arnweil.”

  “Put him on.” Again I waited. If only we were bunched closer.

  “Cadet Arnweil reporting, sir.”

  What I had in mind would take coordination. Five co-equal cadets probably couldn’t achieve it. On the other hand ... “Kevin, you’ve done well. I’m appointing you Cadet Corporal. Tell the others. You are to commence a fusion drive test at sixty percent power, random coordinates.”

  Tolliver’s eyes widened.

  “Kevin, the test may attract fish. Watch the screens carefully. Use your thrusters to avoid the fish, but do NOT, repeat—”

  “Thank you, sir!” his response seemed bizarre until I remembered the time lag. He was responding to my earlier praise, not my warning that he’d summon fish.

  “—do NOT Fuse if fish begin to arrive. You need to estimate how long you’ll be able to avoid them, and let me know thirty seconds before that time. You’ll say, ‘Fuser Seven discontinuing test.’ A half minute after you notify me, stop testing. The fish should—”

  “Won’t that attract fish, sir?”

  I roared, “Damn it, don’t interrupt! Remember the time lag!”

  Tolliver glowered. “What infamy have I helped you with?”

  I wheeled on him, a threat in my eyes. “Don’t speak, Lieutenant.”

  For a moment he wavered. Then, “Aye aye, sir.” He made no effort to conceal his fury.

  Kevin Arnweil, chastened. “Orders acknowledged, sir. I apologize.”

  My voice was soothing. “It was an error of enthusiasm. Yes, you might attract fish, but I want—need you to take the risk. Evade them like ... I searched for an example. “Like you would in Arcvid. You MUST keep testing for thirty seconds after you give the quit signal. Acknowledge.”

  An interminable minute. Tolliver’s eyes bored into my side.

  “Acknowledged, sir. If they get too close to avoid, may we Fuse?”

  “That will only make them follow you. If all else fails, use your lifepod.” I forced the next words through unwilling lips. “The pod’s too small for the fish to see. You’ll be safe there until we come for you.” Tolliver stirred. “But I don’t want to lose a Fuser,” I added quickly. “Execute.”

  Tolliver snarled, “Are you trying to kill them?”

  I made no answer, switched channels to Fuser Six, several million kilometers inward. “Stand by to test fusion drive at sixty percent power. Do not begin until I give you the signal to execute. Once you begin—”

  Tolliver wouldn’t be denied. “Why’d you tell Arnweil he’d be safe in a lifepod?”

  “If he thought it would keep him safe, he’d Fuse clear of the fish long before he had to. I want Seven calling fish.”

  “They’re at point nine AU. That’s too close to Earth for
—”

  “We’ll pass their fish inward to Six. You’re disobeying orders, and I’m short of time.” I clicked the caller. “Six, Trafalgar resuming orders. Once you begin testing ... I repeated what I’d told Seven.

  Tolliver. “All right, you send a few fish down the line, and probably lose a Fuser and five cadets in the process. What happens when the fish reach Fuser One, at twenty-five million miles?”

  I said, “The fish are organic. Maybe they’ll have trouble that close in. It’s hot.”

  He spluttered, “That’s the great Seafort plan? Pull them close to the Sun and see what happens? Christ!”

  “Don’t blaspheme.”

  “The fish won’t follow so close. They must have SOME survival instincts!”

  The speaker crackled. “Fish, sir. Two of them!” Cadet Corporal Arnweil, in Seven.

  I changed the subject before Tolliver could think it through. “Edgar, get on the horn. Pass the standby orders down the line to Five.” I switched back to Arnweil. “Acknowledged, Seven. Take evasive action if they come near. Keep testing.” I left Tolliver at the console, strode to the comm room.

  “Mr. Boland, listen for a signal from Seven. Do you know the frequencies?”

  “Yes, sir.” He pointed to the screen, on which he’d posted all the Fuser channels.

  I smiled. In a comm-room drill, Sarge would be outraged by the visual aid. “Very well. Listen to Seven, but set your outgoing to Six. If you hear ‘Fuser Seven discontinuing test,’ then transmit—write it down—‘Trafalgar to Six: commence test. Execute.’”

  Boland tapped himself a note. “Aye aye, sir.” A sheen of sweat dampened his forehead.

  “Captain! This is Arnweil. We’ve got half a dozen now. One was just a few meters off, before I squirted away. May we turn off the drive?”

  I took the caller. “Corporal Arnweil, get this straight. Don’t stop until your area is swarming with fish. Dozens, not just two or three. You have plenty of propellant and your Fuser has so little mass that the thrusters will flit you around like a top. You can keep clear of them.”

  I switched to Admiralty frequency.

  “—huge rock, but it’s breaking up! Jesus, that must have been a hundred miles across! There are dozens of fish around it, they’re—”

  “Captain Seafort to FleetOpsCinc. Urgent.” I gripped the caller.