I had no soul.
Chapter 25
ROBERT BOLAND SAID, “SIR, no answer from Mr. Diego in Six. I tried three times.”
“All right, go help Mr. Tolliver.”
I sat alone in the comm room, listening to static on Fuser Two’s frequency.
Keene’s new position put him sixteen million miles closer to the Sun than Trafalgar. Drained of all emotion, I watched the seconds drag across the clock.
“May I come in, sir?” Jerence Branstead, shifting from foot to foot. “Mr. Tenere gave me permission. If it’s all right with you.”
“What do you want?”
“Just to talk.” His eyes appealed.
I shook my head.
“To be with you,” he blurted. “Please!”
“Behave yourself. Go back to your post.”
“I wouldn’t—aye aye, sir.” Dejected, he made his retreat.
How dare he. A cadet, pestering his Captain? What were things coming to?
Armageddon.
No wonder Jerence was unnerved.
The speaker came to life. “Fuser Two to Commandant Seafort on Trafalgar. Midshipman Thomas Keene reporting.” The middy’s voice was crisp and formal, as it would be on a drill, with the Captain frowning from the bridge. “We’ve Fused to new position. Orienting ship.”
Silence. If I spoke, how long for him to hear? I was too tired to calculate. A minute and a quarter, more or less.
An age passed. Then, “We’re caterwauling at sixty-five percent. No fish yet. Accelerating toward the Sun. Our thrusters combined with gravitational pull will give us a hell of a velocity.” For a moment his voice wavered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be flippant. No fish yet.”
I unbuttoned my jacket. The heat would be awesome.
It was necessary. Tolliver was right.
“God, the Sun is huge from here! Our heat shields are on full, and cabin temperature hasn’t risen much, but it feels hot. Probably my imagination. No fish.”
I’d denied, him honor.
“Still no aliens. Aiming directly toward the Sun helps the heat shields, I think. Less hull for the radiation to—whoops! A fish. A big one, close.”
I’d denied him truth.
“Its skin is changing, sir. Darkening. It’s squirting toward me, I’ll try evasives. The side thrusters don’t work very well.”
Why should one more betrayal matter? I’d hurt everyone I’d ever known. Even poor Jerence, just now. A boy frightened out of his wits, and trying to hide it.
Like Keene.
“Sir, I commend Cadet Elena Von Siel, who managed the Fuse. And Rafe Slater, who’s on comm. We’re falling faster now. I’ve adjusted the gravitrons; we’re not uncomfortable yet. Another fish, some distance off. Whoa. Two others. No ... Hey, one Fused away!”
Christ, no.
“I’ve got a fish close, skin dark red, with an oddly shaped blotch. If it manages to throw, we’ll be”—he hesitated—“off the air, I think. Five more fish. Seven. Here they come, sir! Commandant, my cadets are frightened. I’ve told them it’s all right.”
I closed my eyes.
“Dozens of fish, now. They orient themselves toward my fusion tubes. The red one is trying to throw, but it can’t seem to form a pseudopod. Solar gravity, I guess. Just a minute, sir.”
Silence.
My knees trembled. I tried to still them, could not.
“Sorry, sir. Cadet Frow lost control of himself. I left the conn to give him a sedative. I know it was against orders, but the problem was ... distracting.”
Lord, take them gently. Please. Please please please.
My deceit seemed a mercy, now.
“Sir, reports from the fleet!”
I hissed, “Not now, Boland.” He crept to the corner, sat waiting.
“The red one just moved closer. It’s ... convulsing? Wow, it’s gone. Just Fused away.” A long pause. “I don’t blame it.
Sorry, please excuse that. A lot more fish now, sir, almost too many to count.”
I summoned my voice. “You’re doing fine, Mr. Keene. I’ll have you up for lieutenant as soon—as soon as you get home.”
“THE RED ONE’S BACK!” Keene’s voice trembled with excitement. “Sir, they can’t stay away. Praise Lord God, we have them!” I stood, hair rising on my neck. “They can’t get away! That red fish isn’t as close this time, but I see it clearly and it’s the same one! I don’t—it’s all right, Mr. Slater, anytime now he’ll give the order to Fuse. A cold shower, after we get home. Sorry, sir.”
My hand crept to the caller. I dialed the bridge. “Mr. Branstead to the comm room.”
“Sir, we’re at eighteen five million miles and accelerating. Comm room says about a hundred sixty fish. The number keeps growing. A while back some were Fusing away, but none anymore. And they aren’t throwing at us. Either they’re unable or they’re confused by the caterwauling.” A pause. “And the heat. Our shields may not take much more.”
I came to my senses. Perhaps there was time. “Your commendations noted, Mr. Keene. And yourself, especially.”
“Cadet Branstead reporting, Cap—” The boy’s voice quavered. I beckoned, opened my arms. He plunged into them, buried his head in my chest.
From the speaker, static.
“Commandant, I’ve sent the cadets to the outer cabin and had them turn off their speaker. My father’s name is Raphael Keene, from the Midlands district. You have his address, of course. Please tell him I was thinking of him. Holy God! Hundreds of fish, with a huge rock! It’s a miracle they didn’t Fuse into us!”
Oh, Thomas.
Keene’s voice was fervent. “Sir, they’re shriveling! Steam bursts out their blowholes! It’s working, sir! That’s what you needed to know, and why you sent us.”
The transmission was breaking up. He spoke ever faster. “I liked Academy, I really did. Hazing didn’t bother ... much. I’m sorry if I failed you as first middy. My favorite course was Astrophysics ... must have changed the textbooks since ... took the course ... essor Hoskins taught us quite clearly the B’n Auba Zone is a constant ... twenty point three million miles and doesn’t change ... gardless of the mass of ship.”
I shouted into the caller, clutching it with both hands around the tousled bundle buried in my chest. “Forgive me, Mr. Keene! Please! I only meant—I’m sorry! Mr. Keene, I’m so sorry!”
“... easily three hundred of them, all shriveling, no one left in the comm room to cou ... terrible heat ... breaking up and we ...
Static.
“Mr. Keene, I’m sorry!” I was still begging absolution when Jerence tugged the silent caller from my hand.
Chapter 26
“HOW MANY OF US left?”
Jerence sat very close, his head resting on my arm. “I don’t know, sir. Bobby was in charge.”
Boland said, “Sir, we have Mr. Thayer in Three, and Mr. Tsai in Four.”
“That’s all?”
“And us.”
“Yes, of course.”
I switched frequencies. “Trafalgar to Four. Here are your orders.” Again I went through the ritual. “Acknowledge.”
Fuser Four was ten million miles outward; nearly two minutes until a reply from Midshipman Tsai. I asked, “Mr. Boland, what word from the fleet?”
“Hundreds of aliens, sir. More keep Fusing in. They hit Denver with a rock. Rotterdam’s gone too. The tidal wave—Holland’s in bad trouble. And fish have landed near Cairo.”
Two Fusers and Trafalgar. Not nearly enough. Our effort would fail.
“Sir, ships keep asking what to do. What do I tell them?”
It shouldn’t come from the boy. I switched to fleet frequency.
“—to Seafort. If you’re in charge, answer, or we’ll assume you’re—!”
“—last only another couple of minutes and then I’m going to Fuse, I don’t care what his bloody orders—”
“—IN OUR ENGINE ROOM! WE’RE GOING TO LIFE-PODS!”
I keyed the caller. “Nicholas Se
afort, Acting FleetOpsCinc, to all ships.” I glanced at my watch. “We’re calling the fish away from Earth and the fleet. You should already be seeing results. No vessel is to Fuse for two hours. Unless I issue further orders, command will then revert to Admiralty London and you may Fuse at will. For now, Trafalgar remains in command. I now initiate radio silence for two hours.”
For eternity. I switched off the caller.
I should have told them how the fish were being destroyed; it would have given them heart. But I couldn’t bear to admit what I’d done. After we were gone, they’d figure it out. Or perhaps they would not.
Jerence searched my face. Ignoring him, I hurried down to the engine room.
Midshipman Tenere’s eyes were troubled.
“Adam, you and Selette be ready to test at sixty-five percent, then Fuse, and test again. We may repeat that several times.”
“Aye aye, sir.” He hesitated. “Sir, what’s happening to the Fusers?”
A lie sprang, to my lips, died unuttered. Face-to-face, I couldn’t manage it. “We’re losing them. One by one they’re calling fish.”
“To where?”
“The Sun.” Seeing his face I couldn’t leave it at that. “They’re magnificent, Adam. They’re heroes.”
The maturity of his answer came as a shock. “Does it matter, now they’re dead?”
“Be ready for Fuse,” I said curtly. “Whatever you do, don’t let our tubes overheat.”
I turned, and had almost reached the safety of the corridor when his voice pierced me. “Sir, forgive me, I know it’s not my place ... sir, you’re doing the right thing.”
“How dare you!”
His tone held resolve. “You were right, sir. We have to stop them. I just wanted—you to know that.”
I managed not to strike him, slapped the hatch shut, stalked back to the comm room in a blazing fury, in time to hear Midshipman Thayer’s distant reply.
“Fuser Four to Trafalgar, orders acknowledged.”
A good lad, Anton Thayer. “Execute.”
In a few moments, Four began to caterwaul.
“Tolliver!”
He ducked around the bulkhead and appeared in the comm room hatchway. “Yes, sir?”
“Once we start caterwauling we’ll get a lot of fish. Be ready to Fuse a short way out of the main mass.”
“You know better than that. Minimum Fuse is seven hundred thousand—”
“Run it like a nav drill!” We routinely taught middies to plot two Fuses, out and back, to reach a point closer than the minimum Fuse. The maneuver, though a good teaching tool, was rarely used because the margin of error made results erratic.
There was little I could do until Tolliver finished his calculations, except prepare Tommy Tsai. “Trafalgar to Three. Respond.” I waited out the lag.
“Captain?” Jerence was subdued. “Was it true, what Robbie said? Are they going to hang you?”
I said gruffly, “No. They won’t.”
“You’ll be acquitted? You had cause?”
“No.”
After a long moment my meaning reached him. He clutched my arm, forgetting all he’d been taught. “After the last Fuser it’s—it’s—”
Cruelly, I waited him out.
“—our turn.” He licked his lips. I nodded.
“Fuser Three to Trafalgar. Cadet Kyle Drew reporting.”
“Enter the following Fusion coordinates, Mr. Drew.” I read them off. “After you Defuse ... I went through the ghastly instructions. “Acknowledge and wait for my order to execute.”
Another lag. I turned back to Jerence. “I ordered you not to go. I wanted to save you.” Ashamed, I had to look away. Lord God had rebuked me for playing favorites.
“I thought you were mad at me, that I wasn’t good enough.”
“None of you knew what I was asking, or you’d have known better than—”
“I understood!” He added, “Don’t you remember? You were about to give me a licking when the reports came in. I knew about the fish!”
I said, unbelieving, “And you came? Even if you had to sneak aboard?”
“I wanted to be with you.” His bruised face wrinkled. “You protected me, always. And if you were going into danger—” He spun away, his voice muffled. “I wanted to help ... for you.”
“Oh, Jerence.” I let my hand stray to his shoulder.
A new voice on the caller. Johan Stritz. “Fuser Four to Trafalgar, too many fish! Over a hundred, and they—oh, God, Commandant! Please! Help us now!”
“Engine Room, sixty percent Fusion!” I changed frequency. “Fuser Four, discontinue test!”
We would gather fish as long as we could, then send them to Three. That would doom young Tommy Tsai. And Kyle Drew. He’d bear no more guilt for shattering Dustin Edwards’s helmet.
“Tolliver, hurry with those coordinates. Stand by to maneuver!”
I sat brooding until Tolliver’s voice crackled in the speaker. “Coordinates are ready. I think you want to stand by to help.”
I stood. “Jerence, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want us to die.”
I tried to grasp his sentiment. Only the assurance of death, of Lord God’s most awful hell, sustained me.
For the last time, I took the bridge of a U.N.N.S. starship, Tolliver’s eyes met mine. Sensing something of the formality of the moment, he rose to salute me.
“Carry on, Mr. Tolliver.”
“Seven fish, so far.” He pointed at the screen. None were near.
Alarms clanged; Trafalgar lurched.
“Close. God, sir, if we only had a laser.” The screen was filling with encroachments.
I asked, “How many now?”
“That’s your bloody job!”
Chastened, I made a rough estimate. No more than sixty.
“JESUS!” A fish loomed. Tolliver rammed down a starboard thruster. A snap, as the lever broke in half.
“God damned half-arsed Naval consoles—” His hands danced from thruster to thruster.
He pushed up the jagged stub, quieting the thruster. “The lever still works.”
“A hundred ten fish!” Was there no end to them? Within the mass, a small asteroid, a hundred meters in diameter. “Edgar, we’ll have to Fuse in a—”
Lights flashed from one end of the screen to the other, each indicating a fish. He shouted, “NOW!”
I jabbed my finger down the control. The stars blanked. Two seconds later I slapped the Defuse. I called up our return coordinates. Again I Fused.
No encroachments within throwing range but the screen was white with fish—
An immense explosion. The air inside our ship slammed against the hull, popping my ears with the sudden change in pressure. The simulscreen went black.
“WHAT HAPPENED?” I could barely hear.
“A fish must have Fused inside another.”
“No, the explosion was too big—” Then I had it. “Rocks! They must have Fused one into—”
“I can’t see with the screen out!”
I punched in the alternate circuit. It restored most of the screen, but our starboard fore sensor was gone. Trafalgar was half blind. Tolliver swiveled on our linear axis so our port sensor faced the fish. Over half of the accumulated mass had been obliterated when their rocks met.
As I watched, other fish Defused to take their place.
“Tolliver, you’ll have to handle them alone.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Outside. We have spare sensors in the rack in the—”
“You idiot, what if I have to Fuse?”
“Then you’ll lose me. And a cadet.” I keyed the caller. “Rene Salette, get your suit on, flank!” When we’d raced to board the Mothership, it was she who’d skittered expertly along the hull footholds.
I ran to the lock, grabbed my suit off the rack, fumbled into the legs. Rene was already sealing her helmet I cursed as my foot caught in the webbing. No time to be clumsy now. I thrust one arm inside,
struggled with the other.
“Here, sir.” Jerence Branstead helped me insert my arm. While I grappled with my helmet, he dived into his own suit, faster than I’d have thought possible.
“You’re staying here.” I snapped the clamps.
He thrust in his arms, reached for his helmet. “Please, sir, don’t make me disobey again. I’m still a cadet.”
I swallowed, nodded reluctant assent. The three of us entered the lock. I slapped shut the hatch, opened the lock’s supply rack. I’d only need one spare; no other sensors had faced the blast. Still, best to bring two, in case we inadvertently let one loose and it floated off. “Hold this!” I dumped the first replacement in Rene’s arms. I clutched the tools and spare sensor.
The airlock pump took forever. Too late, I remembered to check my suit air. Enough. If I didn’t slow down and follow procedures, I’d get someone killed. I snorted at the irony.
“Captain, hurry! We’re picking up fish like fleas on—”
“Hold your water, Tolliver.” I slapped open the outer hatch.
Jerence gasped. A dozen fish, plainly visible.
“Move!” We clambered onto the hull. “Don’t miss any footholds.”
The girl pointed aft. “Which one is it? There?”
“No, forward.” Agile, she swung around, slipped her foot into a hold, drifted forward along the line of footholds in dreamlike slow motion. I did my best to follow.
Urgency sped our steps. In a minute we’d reached the sensor mount. My breath rasped in my helmet, clouding the faceplate as fast as the suit could clear it.
“Captain, move! One of them is only seventy meters—”
As I watched, the fish drifted closer.
My wrench fumbled at the mount. Jerence said quietly, “Sir, if you let me, it’ll go faster.”
Astounded, I looked up, saw calm confidence. I handed him the wrench. Still in the same foothold, he knelt, turned the bolts easily. He slipped it into his suit pouch. After a moment, another bolt. He grinned, ignoring the looming fish. “These are like the motor mounts on my electrobike. I used to tear it apart all the time. Dad hated—” His face clouded. “Dad.” Harmon Branstead had stayed on undefended Hope Nation.
Tolliver fired our port thrusters. The fish receded slowly.
Fisherman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 4) Page 51