Fisherman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 4)

by David Feintuch

  As soon as Jerence pulled the last bolt Rene Salette changed footholds, carefully dropped to her knees, extended the spare sensor. “Here.”

  Jerence fitted it into place. I stooped, unclamped the line, fastened it to the new sensor while Jerence turned the nuts.

  “SEAFORT, LOOK OUT!” Tolliver, his voice ragged.

  I looked up, frozen. A fish, no more than seven meters away, bow on to us, drifting ever closer.

  “I CAN’T THRUST TO STARBOARD, ANOTHER ONE’S TOO NEAR! GET THE HELL INSIDE—”

  “Leave it!” I pulled Jerence to his feet. The fish’s skin swirled.

  Rene scampered along the hull. Jerence stared, mesmerized. I thrust him past me toward the sanctuary of the lock.

  “GET IN! GET IN!” Tolliver was hoarse with frustration.

  The fish’s skin went indistinct. Abruptly a outrider was pulsing on its surface.

  Rene clambered toward the lock. As she groped for a foothold the alien flung itself across the gap. It wrapped itself around her faceplate. Her foot came loose from the hold. She shrieked. Together, they floated off the hull.

  “Please oh God please not like this help me—”

  Branstead tugged on my arm until he finally penetrated my funk. “Come on, sir! The lock!”

  Beyond us, the girl’s shape seemed to waver. A yelp, and the radio went silent.

  I took another step, still clutching the tools and spare sensor.

  Jerence tugged at my arm. “Hurry, it’s coming!”

  The fish had drifted almost close enough to touch. Its nose came within a meter of where I stood.

  “Captain, we have to Fuse NOW! Get in the lock!”

  The fish had no eyes, no mouth, no discernible features. The skin at its prow began to swirl. In seconds another outrider would emerge.

  Jerence tried again to pull me to safety. I shrugged free, all the rage in the cosmos exploding within me. I set my boot in the foothold, inches from the fish. “BE GONE, THING OF SATAN!”

  The alien’s translucent skin parted. The form of an outrider began to appear.

  “ENOUGH!” My voice broke. “LUCIFER! IN THE NAME OF LORD GOD ALMIGHTY, I BANISH THEE!” In a frenzy I swung the sensor over my head, plunged it into the widening, swirling surface. My foot twisted. I slipped to my knees.

  The fish convulsed. Almost instantly a blowhole tore open. A swirl of propellant streamed over my head, shot past the curved hull of the Mothership.

  The fish receded, its colors a violent swirl.

  Jerence tugged. I lost my balance, and my foothold. I floated helplessly while he hauled me toward the waiting lock. He steered me in, pushed me to the inner bulkhead. I made no effort to grasp it. Jerence swung himself in, slapped the hatch closed.

  His hands scrabbled at the caller. “Sir, we’re inside!”

  The stars blinked out.

  Unresisting, I let Jerence Branstead strip off my suit. When he was done I stood for a moment, walked with toddler’s steps to the bridge. I found my seat.

  “Sir—” Tolliver’s eyes searched my face. “You—I’ve never—” He said nothing more.

  I gazed at the screen. Could there be so many fish in the universe? Hundreds upon hundreds. Their blips punctuated the screen like ... I knew not what.

  Jerence crept into the cabin, took a seat, stared at me as if in awe. I studied the screen. Lights began blinking out, reappearing closer, searching for our drive tubes.

  I found it hard to form words. “Time, now. Fuser Three.”

  Tolliver said, softly, “Captain ...

  “Time to kill Tommy and Kyle.” I reached for the caller, couldn’t close my hand around it.

  Tolliver was far away, “He’s in shock. Get the medkit!”

  I brought the caller to my lips. “Captain Seafort to Fuser Three.” What was it I had to tell them? Something about fish.

  “Christ, Captain, hang on. I’ve got to—” Tolliver’s hands slammed the thruster controls.

  Jerence skidded back onto the bridge.

  Tommy Tsai, Tommy Keene. It was my task to kill Tommys. I smiled.

  “Fuser Three here. Midshipman Tsai reporting.”

  Jerence held my right arm. Tolliver abandoned his controls, brought the medgun toward me. My left hand lashed out, snatched it away, smashed it on the edge of the console. “Not yet, Mr. Tolliver.” My eyes made him recoil. “It still has to be done, you see. And the guilt has to be mine.”

  “Sir, you’re—”

  “Insane. Yes, I know. It doesn’t matter.”

  Jerence sobbed. I took up the caller.

  With a curse Tolliver worked the thrusters, spun us away from a looming fish. The lurching screen made me dizzy.

  “Tommy ... Mr. Midshipman Tsai. It’s your time.” I smiled at Tolliver, spewed my villainy to Fuser Three. “Execute.”

  “Aye aye, executing. Sir, will the fish attack us?”

  It would take a long time for my reply to find him. “Not if you lock in your fusion motors. Mr. Keene is testing, and Mr. Diego. Together you’ll confuse them.”

  Eternity passed.

  One by one the lights of the fish began to blink out.

  “We sent Tommy a lot of them.” My tone was conversational. No one replied. Jerence wiped his eyes. I took the caller. “Fuser Four, respond.”

  I hummed. We had a few minutes, until Fuser Three’s work was done. “Edgar, this time we’ll have to caterwaul a good while. Better set up more coordinates.”

  Tolliver reached for the medkit. “Sir, you’re not well. Let me give—”

  “No, thank you. Tend to your duties.”

  He stared into my eyes. At length he nodded, subdued.

  “Fuser Four. Midshipman Anton Thayer responding.”

  “Jerence, don’t cry. It distracts me.”

  The boy jumped. “Aye aye, sir.” To my surprise, he stopped.

  “Mr. Thayer, stand by to Fuse and test again.” I gave Jerence a reassuring pat. “It will be the last time.”

  I waited out the lag, nodding satisfaction.

  Midshipman Thayer’s voice was troubled. “Commandant, what are we doing? How does this help?”

  “We’re confusing fish so they’ll Fuse home.” I began to tremble. After a time, it ceased. “Take care if fish come close, and don’t forget to lock in your drive for the test.” My head ached. I wasn’t sure if it had just begun, or had been aching all my life.

  Waiting out the lag, I said, “What’s wrong, Jerence?”

  “Nothing, sir.” The boy swallowed. “You’re doing fine.”

  It wasn’t his place to tell me that.

  “We’ll lock in the motors, sir. Standing by to execute on your order.”

  I marveled at how well Thayer had managed the transition from cadet to middy. Foolish, to think of disciplining him over a mere pillow fight.

  The last Fuser, before our own turn. I let relief wash over me. “Mr. Tolliver, begin testing at sixty-five percent.” That was the loudest we could call without risking the tubes.

  “Aye aye, sir.” Tolliver passed the order. “Captain, I want to Fuse sooner this time, before they surround us.”

  “No, we’re summoning them. They need a point to aim at.”

  “Let me Fuse out and back. We’ll last longer.”

  My thoughts were fuzzy. “Very well. You’re in charge of evasives.”

  Fish popped onto the screen.

  I leaned back as if viewing a holodrama. Encroachment lights flashed, a few at first, then by the dozen. Tolliver Fused; we were alone in the deep. Immediately he Fused back. We emerged nearly a million kilometers from our start. A bad roll of the dice from Fusion’s margin of error.

  After a time, the fish found us.

  Some two hundred, now. Rocks were scattered among them. Lord God knew from whence we summoned the aliens. In the last hours, we’d caterwauled longer and louder than had ever been done.

  Hundreds of lights. Explosions. We Fused.

  I contemplated our silent, d
reamlike dance through the cosmos. Perhaps it was His cosmic joke, to fight the evil of the fish through the evil in me. It satisfied me to be His instrument, even in this.

  “Captain. Captain!”

  I struggled back. “What, Mr. Tolliver?”

  “Look at them! We can’t avoid all—” He cursed, sent us spinning, Fused again. “We’ve called at least five hundred of them, maybe more. If we don’t survive we can’t pass them on to Four!”

  I leaned back. Our time was not yet. Fish still swam.

  We Fused clear. The relief of blank screens. Back.

  “Lord Jesus!” Again, we’d Defused into a vast mass of fish. Tolliver slammed his hand against the console screen; the stars vanished once again.

  His hands trembled. “I can’t take any more! Enough!”

  “TAKE US BACK BEFORE THEY DISPERSE!” I pounded the console, catching my palm on the broken lever. Cursing, I sucked at blood, punched in new coordinates. Our return Fuse put us near the edge of the huge flickering mass.

  “You’ll get us killed for nothing! Give the order to Thayer!”

  “Not yet.” I watched the ever-increasing lights.

  “It has to be now! We’re almost out of propellant!”

  I checked; he was telling the truth.

  Reluctantly, I gave the order. “Mr. Thayer. Trafalgar to Fuser Four. Fuse and commence test! Acknowledge.”

  Three fish squirted toward us. Tolliver looked up, cursed, used the last of his prepared coordinates.

  I asked, “How far are we?”

  “From the fish? About two million miles.”

  “Go back. I want to see.”

  “Wait until the order gets to Thayer.”

  “That’s less than a minute. Go back.”

  Tolliver sighed. “Aye aye, sir.” He took his time preparing coordinates, but I knew it was useless to complain. He’d only use the interruption to delay further. At last, he was ready, and we Fused.

  Fish swarmed.

  “Thayer didn’t caterwaul!”

  “Be patient,” I said.

  “We Fused here; They’ll have heard that.”

  As if to prove his point, a fish Defused alongside. Tolliver reacted instinctively, slamming the starboard thrusters to full. We veered away. The fish followed. Two others appeared, one directly astern.

  “Captain, you waited too—”

  The fish disappeared.

  Thank you, Anton.

  A few lights blinked out. Then dozens.

  The middy and cadets in Four would be engulfed by fish trapped by the vast Solar gravity, wilting in the unbearable heat.

  Try to understand, Anton. I had to do it.

  I waited. At last the screen was empty of fish. I calculated the coordinates we’d need.

  “Tolliver.”

  “Yes, sir.” Still shaken, he stared at the console.

  “Go below to the engine room. Mr. Tenere may recognize the final coordinates.”

  “He’ll obey.”

  “Go below. Just in case.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Obediently, he left his chair. At the hatch, he hesitated. “Sir, what I said before, about hating you—”

  I was unconcerned. Nothing Tolliver said could harm me now.

  “I want you to know, I don’t hate you. What you’ve done ... sir, it’s beyond love or hate. You’re saving the—”

  “GET OUT!!” I’d been mistaken. He could hurt me.

  I picked up the caller. Suddenly the speaker crackled to life. Freak radio waves, pierced the veil of Solar radiation, cluttered with static.

  Anton Thayer, on Four. A sob.

  “Sir, they’re all around us! You said we’d be safe!”

  I swallowed.

  “Captain Seafort ...” The middy’s voice was sick with hurt and wonder. “YOU LIED!”

  The speaker crackled static.

  I sat still for a terribly long time, blood from my palm dripping on the console. At last, I picked up the caller. “Engine Room, sixty percent Fusion power.”

  Midshipman Adam Tenere, his tone firm. “Sixty percent, aye aye.” The line on the screen began to pulse.

  I waited. Thayer’s voice echoed in the silent cabin.

  I readied our final coordinates: eighteen million miles. As soon as fish responded to our call, I’d go immediately to perdition. I couldn’t risk freeing them if they attacked our tubes.

  Come to me, spawn of Lucifer.

  I stared at the screen until my eyes watered.

  Nothing. On the console, the Fusion line wavered.

  “Mr. Tenere, check your gauges!”

  “Aye aye, sir. Sixty percent.”

  I cursed. “Increase to sixty-five!”

  “Sixty-five, aye aye.”

  I waited, forcing a semblance of calm. No fish.

  Our drive was malfunctioning. Yet it had just Fused us ten times or more. “Adam, what in God’s hell is wrong down there?”

  It was Tolliver who answered. “Nothing, sir. We’re caterwauling.”

  “No we’re not! There isn’t a single—”

  “Come check for yourself. We’re heating. I know there’s power going out!”

  “Comm room to bridge, Cadet Boland reporting. Sir, I’ve—”

  I switched off the speaker. Come to me, you bastards.

  No fish.

  I snatched the caller. “Seventy percent!”

  Adam. “Sir, we’ll melt—”

  I yelled, “Seventy percent, you mutineer!”

  “Aye aye, sir. Seventy percent.” The line on my console leaped. We couldn’t maintain seventy for long, I knew.

  Nothing.

  “God damn you, come to me!” My outburst startled Jerence; he drew back.

  Robert Boland burst into the hatchway. “Sir, the fleet!

  They’re calling from all over home system. No one sees any fish. They’re gone!”

  I shrieked, “OUT!” He recoiled.

  “They’ll come!” I spun to Jerence, my eyes wild. “They have to!”

  He backed away.

  I shouted into the caller, “Come to me when I call you! I’M THE FISHERMAN!”

  Jerence turned and ran.

  “Captain, we’ll melt the tubes!”

  “Throttle down to sixty-five, but no less!”

  The cursed screen remained blank.

  I cried, “Damn you, God! DON’T DO THIS TO ME!”

  Nothing.

  The Lord’s revenge; He would even deny me oblivion.

  Father’s visage swam. Grim lessons, across the kitchen table: “Nicholas, Satan’s deceit knows no bounds.”

  You almost had me there, Lucifer. But I know we’re calling from the wrong place.

  I rechecked coordinates. “Engine Room, Fuse and resume caterwauling!” I ran my finger down the screen.

  The stars refused to blink.

  “Fuse, damn you!” I hammered my fist on the console, caught the jagged edge of the broken throttle. Blood sprayed. Welcome agony flowed up my arm.

  Faces appeared in the hatch. I appealed, “Can’t you see? We have to Fuse!”

  The screens remained dark.

  I pounded the broken lever over and again until my palm was ragged.

  “Fuse! I’m begging you! Don’t make me live.”

  They came closer.

  “Fuse!”

  A gentle hand fell on my shoulder.

  “Fuse!” My voice broke.

  Chapter 27

  I WOKE IN AN unfamiliar cabin. I ran a numb hand across my eyes; a bandage scratched my face.

  Tolliver looked up.

  “Where am I?”

  “Prince of Wales, sir. The first lieutenant’s cabin.”

  “How did ...

  “They met us, yesterday. You were still sedated.”

  My mind veered away from the bridge and my failure.

  “The fish?”

  “None anywhere. That last great caterwaul of ours, before we pitched them to Fuser Three ...

  “Where are we
headed?”

  He said simply, “Home.”

  “Court-martial.” Then, surcease. I could wait, if I must.

  “Yes.” A knock; the hatch opened. A starched midshipman with a tray. He saluted, and left.

  “How soon?”

  “We dock tomorrow. Earthport has only two undamaged bays for the entire fleet, but they want you groundside.”

  “Thanks be to God.”

  He hitched his chair closer. “What do you mean, sir?”

  “They’ll help me end.”

  “You’re that anxious to die, Nick?”

  “Not anxious. Desperate.”

  “The guilt you spoke of.”

  “Edgar, it’s unbearable.”

  “I understand.” His look was one of pity. “But you can’t confess. Not all.”

  “Don’t be silly. I want—”

  “Think, sir.” He crossed to the hatch, made sure it was sealed. His voice dropped. “What do you intend to tell them?”

  “That I stole command of the fleet. That I tricked cadets into volunteering, betrayed them with lies, sent them to—”

  “Captain!”

  His tone brought me to a halt.

  “Imagine you’re the father of a fifteen-year-old. Kyle Drew, let’s say. Proudly, you sent him to Academy. Now you get a fax. Your son was roasted in a Fuser spinning toward the Sun. He didn’t sacrifice himself bravely; his Commandant tricked him into it. All you have left is that memory.”

  “It’s truth.”

  “Truth is too cruel!” He leaned forward until his head almost touched mine. “Our cadets were heroes. Do you understand? Heroes!”

  “I can’t live with betrayal! Confession is—”

  “They volunteered for a suicide mission, every last one of them!” He grasped my lapels. “You have no choice. Demented or no, you can’t be so vicious as to deny their families that consolation.”

  “But you know, and Robert. Jerence. Adam Tenere. It will come out.”

  “I’ve already explained to them. They won’t be charged, Captain; command was yours. So no P and D for them.” He eyed me. “Confess what you must, but not what you did to the cadets. That’s obscene.”

  I shook my head. “The truth, before I die. Just once.”

  Tolliver’s eyes glistened. “Nick, you’d do that to Thomas Keene?”

  I cried, “In Keene’s case it was so! He went knowing!”

  “What about the others? You’ll tell their parents they died fools, not heroes?”