Children of Hope (69 page)

“If only we knew.”
A pause.
“Randy, the instant their attack lets up, I’ll send a launch to rescue you. I’ve called for volunteers.”

I snorted; how would they communicate with the fish? “Have them bring a plate asking Harry to let me go?”

“Don’t you DARE be flippant, you ill-bred young clod!”
Fath’s voice was tight.
“Every middy aboard is ready to risk his life saving you. Including Mr Yost, whom you hate!”

“I don’t hate …” I gave it up. “I’m very sorry, sir. Thank them, especially Mr Yost.”

“Randy, you’re about to hit.”
His words tumbled in haste.
“I take back what I said. You’re no clod. I love you, son. Godspeed.”

I bit my lip so hard I tasted salt. “Fath, I—”

BUMP.

I yelped.

“Randy?… Randy!”

“I’m …” I marveled at it. “Still here.”

“The alien’s skin is swirling; it’s going to absorb the outrider. But it’s changing. Harry is … oh, Lord God, he’s oozing around your suit!”

Even as he spoke, a rubbery membrane flowed over my legs. The suit speaker hissed and crackled. My body convulsed in a galvanic spasm that failed to break me free. “No! Not yet!” Cringing, I tensed to endure the unbearable.

“Rand … beg your
…” Fath’s words faded in and out.
“Speak to me … Jesus, I pray thee … merciful!”

I tried to curl into a fetal ball, but the suit restrained me. I floated, helpless, cursing Harry. Wrapped around my suit, he cut off half my radionics.

A vague pressure, something like a thump. Blind, cocooned, in zero grav, it was impossible to get my bearings. And my stomach ached.

“Station … tenant Skor… Captain is … occupied.”

“Ma’am, should we feed target coord … government? … unified fire control, but … might fire on
Olympiad
?”

“Fath, Ms Skor, anyone! Can you hear—”

“
…
gives a spaceman’s damn whether … you coord … fire on us and we’ll blow you to fragments!”

“Because I’m going to scream and I won’t be able to sto—”

“
…
love of God, Randy, answer!”

“
Olympiad…
Lieutenant Riev … by for message from … miral Kenzig in Central …”

The pressure on my legs eased. My arm came free.

“—I can’t see it coming, and the wait—”

“Gotcha, you son of a bitch!”

Something scraped my helmet.

“Laser room, stay off this freq
—
”

A dim light. I could see!

But then, a horrid rush of air. A chill, around my unclasped helmet.

How long can you hold your breath? How long is a lifetime?

My prosthetic arm thrashed and scrabbled against my ribs. In a moment my ears would pop, my eyeballs would—

My breath expelled with explosive force.

I gagged.

The air was horrible. Unbelieving, I took another breath. Even if it had oxygen, I couldn’t live long on …

Wait, you idiot. Frantically, I clawed at the recalcitrant clamps. This time, they closed with ease, and the helmet seal light blinked. But my suit was filled with a stench that … urk. To clear it, I turned the valve as high as it would go.

Randy, you’ll need that air! Reluctantly, I turned it down.

“Admiralty House to
Olympiad,
respond.” The voice sounded familiar. Alon Riev.

My helmet defogger labored. My visor began to clear. I peered this way and that. Where the hell was I? Where was
Olympiad?

A vague orange glow. Spots. Swirls. Where was Harry?

Without a handhold, it’s hard to twist around in zero gee. No, not hard. Impossible. And the nearest thing to grab was … I recoiled. The fish. I was inside the fish. “Jesus H. Christ!”

“Randy!”
Shock and surprise.

Between me and the … the what? Wall? Skin? … swam a formless black shadow. In the suffused light I couldn’t tell whether it was large or small, near or far.

Abruptly my perspective snapped into place.

It was Harry.

No, I only knew it was an outrider. It might be any of them.

“Go ahead, Admiralty House.”
Ms Skor.

“Fath, I’m … scared.” I could have kicked myself. Of all the dumb things to say. I might be the first human brought inside the enemy. I should have said something noble like … like, “I offer myself as a sacrifice to peace.” Or
something.

Not only that, it might have been my final utterance. What last memory did I want to leave Fath? It certainly wasn’t “I’m scared.” Shit. Too late to take it back.

“Kenzig here. Where’s Seafort?”

“Randy, what are they doing to you?”

“Ignoring me. There’s an outrider … whoa, make it two! Three!” They oozed, one by one, through the fish’s flesh. My forehead beaded with sweat. I wanted
out.
If by some miracle I could communicate that to Harry … but which blob was Harry? Impossible to tell.

“Put Seafort on or I’ll relieve him on the spot!”

“Just a moment, sir.”

“Do nothing to provoke them, son. I’ll be back in a moment. Joanne, stay with him. Yes, Admiral? Captain Nicholas Seafort repor
—
”

“Where the hell have you—never mind. Palabee wants
Olympiad,
Kaminski’s Station, and his own ground defenses to coordinate.”

“Under whose command?”

“His.”

Don’t provoke them. Great advice, but what exactly might provoke them? They were drawing closer. I couldn’t kick; I wasn’t touching the fish; a kick in zero gee accomplished nothing. And if I managed to make contact, I’d be bathed in acid.

I’d like to wake up now, please.

“Is that your order, sir?”

“Randy, this is Joanne Skor. Captain Seafort’s on the horn to Centraltown.”

“I hear him. It’s an open line.” Fath’s absence was the least of my worries. If I touched the damn fish …”

“Oops.”

Urk. I
was
touching it. Leaning against it, sort of. And I wasn’t burning. Was that a good sign? Never mind that, try to communicate. Harry, would you loan me a plate and an etching tool? Perhaps I’d been a bit impetuous going to section four to show Harry his old friend one-arm.

“Well, we ought …” Kenzig’s tone wavered. “Mr SecGen, what’s your advice?”

“Sir, I’m under continual attack; it’s not a moment to debate policy. But the Navy’s never put its ships under command of an independent power. Never.”

“Independent? By order of McEwan, Hope Nation is again a U.N. colony.”

“Goofjuice.”
Even from Fath, that was a bit much. He was speaking to an Admiral, who’d just threatened to relieve him.
“McEwan is Ambassador, not Governor. He has no authority to sweep aside a government recognized by the U.N. Assembly. Neither has that ass Scanlen.”

“Mr Seafort!”

“Van Peer, come about; wait any longer and that bloody fish will have us! Sir, I told you I have no time for subtleties.”

“Neither have I. They want me to order you groundside, you know.”

“Will you?”
Fath sounded merely curious.

“Not while you’re fighting off fish.” Kenzig cleared his throat. “I’m under great pressure to cooperate, in fact Scanlen’s sending another delegation this afternoon. Personally, I don’t care to face a heresy charge. Just between us …”

I snorted. Someone had goofed, by not going to secure circuit. Just between them, and everyone in the frazzing worlds I’d manage to tell.

“… I saw no evidence the Branstead government had collapsed. McEwan was a touch overeager.”

“Sir, may I Log that?”

Who cares, Fath? I’m trapped in a fish with three skittery shadows while they argue over their hors d’oeuvres.

A long pause. “By Lord God, go ahead.”

An outrider launched itself in my direction, growing a pseudopod as it neared.
Christ, not again.
To my relief, the appendage turned gray. The other outriders swam closer.

I tried not to flinch. “Ms Skor, they’re touching me. First one, then another.” I tried not to make it a complaint.

“Hang on, joey.”
Her voice was gruff.
“We’ll have you out of there if it’s humanly …
” Yeah, that was the catch. If it was
humanly
possible.

An outrider planted itself before me, quivering.

“You’re
scared? What about me? Stop poking my bloody suit!” Now I was sounding like Fath. I rolled my eyes.

“Admiral, we’re holding them off, but any moment that may change. If I must choose, shall I protect Hope Nation or ourselves?”

“Yourselves, Mr Seafort.” The reply came faster than I’d expected. “To lose another ship such as
Olympiad
would be unthinkable.”

The outrider prodded at the fish’s … deck? … stomach? His movements left lines. I squinted in the dim glow.

ONE-ARM NO FEAR
. Or it could have been,
NO FEAR ONE-ARM.
We really hadn’t worked much on syntax.

“You’re Harry!”

“What, joey?”

“Nothing, Ms Skor.”

Not that it really mattered. Even if I knew what to say to him, I had no writing tool save my boot, and no way in hell would I try to scuff a response into the fish’s living flesh. The thought gave me shudders.

NO WAR.

“Yeah, right.”

Harry’s gray appendage thrust itself at me. All I could do was stand there. Float there. In zero gee, in its home environment, the outrider was far more agile than I. Hell, it was more agile even on our own ship.

The appendage probed at my hand. I thrust my arm behind me, touched something soft and giving. I squawked, snatched back my fingers. Thank God I was suited.

The pseudopod jabbed at me, forced open my fist.

“What? You want me to shake hands?” Reluctantly, I made my fingers close around the cold gray substance. With scorn that overcame my fear, I pumped as if introducing myself to one of Anth’s cronies.

The appendage came off in my fingers. “Jesus!” Horrified, I flung it down. The outrider shrunk, picked it up, returned it.

“I don’t
want
your fucking hand!”

“Olympiad,
Vince Palabee. My government demands you help form a unified, coordinated defense. Admiral Kenzig says he ordered you to cooperate.”

“Did you, Admiral?”

“Eh? What are you …”

“Play it back, Ms Skor; Palabee’s on another frequency.”

I glared at the appendage. “All right, I’ll take it. What should I …” I stopped dead. Was it a hand, or … a tool?

Cautiously, I bent, braced a shoulder against the fish’s flesh.

“No, I didn’t say that, Captain, not quite in those terms.” Kenzig.

I drew, “One-arm fear. One-arm no-Fuse ship.” We didn’t have a word yet for “go.” “No-Fuse” was as close as I could get. I hoped he’d understand.

I waited for Harry to taste. Instead, a reply.
FISH. NO FISH. NO OUTRIDER
.

I made the erasing gesture. “I don’t understand.” Then, “One-arm. Ship. Now.”

Something indecipherable.

“Christ, damn it, Harry, I’m lost in here! I can’t see anything but you!” I jabbed with the stick/tool/hand. Did we have a word for “see”? “One-arm no taste ship. Fear.”

The outrider touched his fish. Abruptly the outer membrane thinned. It became translucent, then transparent. I’d be damned: a porthole. I peered wistfully at the beautiful lights of home.
Olympiad.
I swallowed.

More portholes appeared. In one, Hope Nation swam, green and distant, unachievable. In the others, a swarm of fish, Defusing, squirting propellant, Fusing. Ughh.

ONE-ARM AND OUTRIDER NO-FUSE.
Abruptly he herded me to a membrane. Go where?

“Hey, wait.” Was that the outer skin? Was he ejecting me?

“This is Palabee. I want an answer, Seafort.”

“Centraltown, tie your lasers to the Station. We’ll coordinate with their
—
”

The membrane opened just as we reached it. A compartment, a larger one. It was infested with outriders. I balked, windmilling my one working arm. Harry nudged me through.

“What is it, boy?”
Ms Skor. I didn’t know I’d whimpered aloud.

“It’s … they … record, please, ma’am. We’re inside the fish; they moved me from a small chamber to a large one. The place is swarming with outriders. A couple dozen. No particular order; they sort of attach themselves to walls and intestines and God knows what. I’m about to throw up.” I swallowed. One didn’t vomit in a suit; the consequences were drastic.

“
Olympiad,
we’re in the Venturas, not Centraltown. We moved the government to—”

The outer membrane swirled. New portholes appeared.

Harry was behind me. I looked for a place to draw him a message.

“Very well. Colonel, coordinate with Venturas Base.”

Another outrider shot out pseudopods. Like a sailor using handholds in zero gee, it skittered across projections and recesses in the fish, stopped just short of my feet.
OUTRIDER HUMAN. NO WAR.

I peered over my shoulder. “I thought
you
were Harry.” No response, of course. I bent to erase, hesitated, erased just the one symbol that made no sense. “Ms Skor, still recording? They want to do something to us. A squiggly symbol, like a snake with a head at each end.” Not a snake, exactly; more like a sperm. Inside my suit, I blushed to the tips of my ears. I’d die before I’d say that to Ms Skor. But what did it mean? “Outrider fuck human”? They were certainly trying hard enough.

I stole a look through the translucent membrane. Dozens of fish nosed about
Olympiad,
but she was of the new generation of ships, built after our experience in the war. Huge, of course, but more important, bristling with lasers. So far, they seemed adequate to their mission. The fish nearest the fusion tubes floated inert, riddled with holes.

I drew, “I don’t understand.”

Another outrider skittled forward. He brandished … Lord God, he brandished Fath’s broken clock.

“How the hell did you get that? And which of you is Harry? Harry’s the one we taught to talk.”

The alien jabbed at the dial. The second hand spun backward.