20 Million Leagues Over the Sea (43 page)

Wallace remained silent.

"You weren't thinking, were you, Wallace?
You're a font of knowledge with intrigue and regulations, but you
are an absolute dunce when it comes to the basics of space travel.
Despite my apparent lack of inherited knowledge, I have managed to
learn a few things along the way. The
Iron Wind
is just a
shuttle, you fool, not a starship. Its engines aren't strong enough
to get you back home. You would have died out there, and Maggie
with you! Eventually the TIA will have a fleet that might be able
to rescue ships in distress, but now there are no other
ships--"

The venomous snake of a smile that slithered
across Wallace's blood-encrusted face made Christophe's blood run
cold.

No, oh no
, he thought.
Sweet mother
of mercy, no
.

"Let me go," Wallace hissed through his
broken mouth. "Let me go, Moreau, or they will board you and finish
the job. I'll make sure you go down in history as the rogue captain
that we had to hunt down. That will still be enough to capture the
world's attention. But if you let me go, you'll all die with
dignity."

"Not when I wire back--"

"No one will listen to you now, Moreau. I've
already received word. Thorvaldson is no longer in control. My
people have taken over. If you turn around, you'll be blown out of
the sky. Even if you make it back to Earth, Shackleton won't let
you dock. There's nothing for you to go back to." He spit a gob of
blood onto the floor. "The memorial CDVs are already on the
presses. People will trade your death over lager and chips. The
news stories and the memorial speeches are in the wings, waiting
for the curtain to fall. You're already dead. You just don't know
it yet."

"I don't believe you."

"Have you received any messages from him in
the past few hours? Thorvaldson is not in a position to help
you."

"Did he know? Did he know about the second
ship?"

"It was under another admiral's supervision.
Thorvaldson is as lost as you are."

"Another admiral? Who?" Christophe asked.
When he received no answer, he went on. "If that is truly the case,
then you're dead, too. Before they find us, I'll let my crew use
you for a piñata. And they will, when they know you are responsible
for Cervantes! If your friends board us, there won't be anything
left of you to rescue."

"Temper, temper! Think of history,
Moreau."

Christophe slipped a hand into his pocket and
fingered the key to Wallace's cuffs as he listened to Maggie's
growling. It was a menacing sound that he had never heard from her
before.
No
, the growl told him, Maggie would refuse to go
with Wallace, no matter what. In his mind's eye, he saw his
Kiwi
Clipper
in flames; the life he had hoped to see again dissolved
into the imaginary smoke. He thought of Chief Davies' little
daughter and all the other things his people would lose if this
weasel were somehow uttering the truth.

Something brushed his hand as he fumbled in
his pocket. He pinched it, and he remembered the lock of hair that
he had taken from Gemma. He thought of Pugh. If they were about to
snuff it, the old man deserved some peace first. No matter how
Christophe felt, and even if she were about to die with them, Pugh
needed to know if he had found his daughter at last. Wallace would
not take that from him, at least.

"Hang your dignity, Wallace," Christophe said
at last. "If we go down, then you go down with us. Our fate is your
fate."

Christophe turned to Maggie. He held the lock
of hair to her beak and whispered, "Maggie, decode this, please.
This is from Gemma."

Maggie warbled at him with a shade of
chastisement in her tone.

"Yes, I know, I know. She won't be very happy
with me for this, either. I did shoot her, after all. I didn't have
much choice." The Martian opened her beak and allowed him to drop
in the lock. "Compare it to the other codes you have. Tell me if
anything is familiar. Don't tell Elias what you find, just yet, not
until you've talked to me."

Maggie chirped a question back at him as she
nibbled the hair. Christophe turned back to his prisoner.

"Maggie has a point. Is the other ship armed?
How far away is it? How much time do we have?"

Wallace fell silent again. His only answer
was to stare daggers at Maggie, who had settled down into a nest of
her own tentacles, with only the occasional rumble emerging from
deep within her.

"I leave you in her tender care," Christophe
growled. "Maggie, bar the door."

He made his way back to the batteries, where
a host of crewmen cranked away at the flywheels. Dr. Pugh puffed
away at one of his own, moving at a quarter of the speed of the
others. He paused, panting, as Christophe approached him.

"Doing your part, I see," Christophe
observed.

"They've had to break out the overcoats in
the other shelters, but we're managing. We'll need to swap people
out soon." Pugh spoke between ragged gasps in the cooling air. He
withdrew a kerchief from his pocket and wiped sweat from his brow.
"Did you manage to get anything out of him?"

Christophe pulled him away from the bank of
batteries towards the unmanned Oberth control panel. He helped the
elderly man sink down into one of the chairs before he spoke.

"Yes," he replied. "It's as he said when
Cervantes died -- someone in the TIA wants martyrs. Except they
want all of us on the altar."

"Hrmph," Pugh said with a cough. "Explains
why they only sent the
Fury
instead of a fleet. Especially
one without a functioning weapon. It never made sense. Not
really."

"I'm afraid we're falling even deeper into
the fire, Elias. There is another ship."

Pugh's face turned pale. "Another ship? Are
you sure? But how could--"

"He was mum on the particulars, but it's the
only way his attempt to steal the
Iron Wind
makes sense. He
was expecting them to pick him up, presumably after the rest of us
had moved on."

"I knew there was a faction that protested
the mission, but I had no idea--"

"I believe that faction has taken over.
Completely. He indicated that his people have usurped the
Admiralty, that Thorvaldson is no longer in command. I'd like to
confirm that, but I'm not sure how our wireless messages will be
received, if what he says is true. If they've had a coup, I don't
know who is in charge."

"A coup?" Pugh snorted. "Only of the
boardroom variety. The TIA is not a state unto itself, as much as
it might dream of such things. As far as the rest of the world
goes, it's just a change of directorship, I'm sure." He twisted his
lip in thought. "But to the immediate concern, what if the other
ship discovers Wallace didn't escape?"

"I assume that they'll board us in an attempt
to retrieve both Wallace and Maggie. He hinted at that, anyway.
He's responsible for the heat ray disaster, too, probably in
anticipation of something like this."

Pugh nodded. "I knew he wasn't just the
ship's
arbiter elegantiae
. But this! Oh, poor Miguel! Our
poor crew! Even if we live long enough to get back home, can we?"
He shook his head and stared down at the scuffs on his shoes. He
sniffed, wiped his nose with his sleeve, and looked back at
Christophe with hard eyes. "Any other details? What should we tell
the crew? How much time do we have? Will the batteries even last
until then?"

"I don't know. I don't want to stress the
crew any more, but we have to prepare them to defend themselves. I
know my people. They deserve the truth. They deserve a chance to
serve the mission they signed on for." He pounded his fist against
the console. "I can't believe we'll have to fight our own people.
The Martians are honest enemies, at least. They never pretended to
be on our side."

"I agree. Wallace has to have been in
communication with the other ship at some point. Especially if they
are close enough to pick him up in a reasonable amount of time!
They would have to be traveling at an incredible velocity to catch
up with us."

"Depending on when they left, yes."

"Can we read some of his archived messages?
If Humboldt's awake, he's the one you want. Perhaps they could give
us a notion."

"They are certain to be in code, Elias. I'm
not sure we have the time to crack it ourselves. Rathbone did say
he had broken it, but I don't trust him to decode them for us."

"Well," Pugh said, "he has as much to lose as
the rest of us, so perhaps we can trust his desire to live. If not,
perhaps Miss Llewellyn can be of assistance."

Christophe frowned. "After our last
encounter, I don't think she'll be very keen to help me."

"She may seem a wild creature, Christophe,
but she's no fool. She'll certainly do it to help herself. And no
matter what you may think of her, she does care about the people on
this ship. Look at what she did for Chief Davies! And for Maggie.
She kept Wallace from getting away. Even if she did try to kill
him, she's the reason we know what is happening to us. Rathbone
exposed him, and Rathbone was here because she was here. Oh, the
irony!" He shook his head. "She knows how to use ciphers. Let's see
if she can break them. We lose nothing by trying. I'll see to it,
if you wish."

Christophe chewed the inside of his cheek,
lost in thought. "I've got to face her sometime," he concluded.
"Might as well be now. Stay here with Wallace and Maggie. See if
he'll talk to you. Keep me apprised. I'm off to sick bay. Use the
pipephone to call around and have the Booleans meet me there. Let's
include Hui as well." He sighed. "I should deal with this in
person. If she reacts badly, at least Dr. Hansard will be handy to
patch me back together."

~~~~

Gemma

Gemma looked around Hansard's desk at the
Booleans sitting across from her. She could have sliced through the
stunned silence with a butter knife.

"This cannot leave the room, at least not
yet," Christophe said. "I should be the one to deliver the news to
the rest of the crew. And I will tell them. I just want to know
what the truth is before I do."

He rubbed the back of his neck and watched
their silent nods of assent. He continued, "If what Wallace says is
true, and we manage to survive the next day or so, we'll be
renegades. Even if we make it home, the faction in control of the
Admiralty will not welcome us with open arms."

Confusion and anger mixed on Nigel's
exhausted face. "Is there anything we can do to help Admiral
Thorvaldson? Any way we can change this?"

"From here, from so far away, I just don't
know. Let's take this one crisis at a time. Pritchard is making
progress on the power restoration. I need this group to deal with
the next predicament. We need to know everything Wallace knows. Is
there another ship? If so, how far away is it? Will they be able to
catch up with us?"

Humboldt blinked and spoke slowly. He looked
in desperate need of another nap. "I know Wallace spent a lot of
time on the wireless. He didn't bother to hide his messages,
though, since they're all in code. Hiding them would have gotten
our attention. I can pull them up from the archives." He tugged at
the bandage that threatened to slip off his head. "As for the
Admiral, I might be able to get some news out of Jules on the
wireless."

"Forgive me, Mr. Humboldt, but what could he
know about that?"

"Jules is a barkeep, sir. He keeps his ear to
the ground. You'd be surprised at the people that pass through the
Badger and Tentacle and the loose lips that his ale can engender.
Not to mention, if we need anybody to get the truth about us out,
he's the way to go. You don't mess with bartenders. Or their
cousins."

Christophe nodded at him. "All right. See
what rumours he's heard and in turn let him know we are fine. Hold
off on the rest until I give you the go-ahead. It will be useful to
have someone back home know that we're still out here." He turned
to Gemma. "Any chance you can break his code?"

If her eyes had been heat rays, she would
have melted him on the spot. So much for keeping her Peculiar
Occupation a secret.

He seemed to notice the Booleans staring at
him and added, "With your background as a computer, I'm sure you
can work with Chief Davies and his crew on it."

She shifted in the harsh wooden chair,
searching for a comfortable spot. "I cannot tell until I see it,
Captain."

"But will you try?"

She looked around the table, into the eyes of
Caroline, Nigel, and Humboldt. She thought of Pugh and Nigel's
little Gemma back on Earth. She looked up at Christophe and caught
her own rough reflection in the door's window. She was a mass of
shawls and blankets, and her hair was an unholy halo floating about
her head.

"If you promise not to shoot me again," she
replied, her voice dry and rough. Her statement startled the
Booleans; apparently, they did not know the entire history of her
injuries. She cleared her throat and continued. "I can guarantee
nothing, Captain, as these things take time, and that is one thing
we don't have. But I will try."

"That is all I can ask of you, Miss
Llewellyn," he replied gently. "Very well. I will be on the bridge.
Contact me there when you have something. Dismissed."

"Get some rest, Miss L," Humboldt said to
her. "It'll take a while to retrieve those messages. Might have to
burn some midnight oil on this one."

"It's all midnight oil out here, isn't it,
Mr. Humboldt?" she replied softly.

The Boolean patted her shoulder as he passed
her chair and followed the others out of the room. He secured the
door behind him.

Gemma took a long moment to stand up,
shrugging off Christophe's proffered hand. She did not look at him
as she struggled, but she could sense him backing away a step when
she made it to her feet.