Hope of Earth (71 page)

S
AM WAS LOADING AMMUNITION ONTO
a railroad car when he got the call. “Sam—your brother is on the phone.”

That would be Ned. There were those who thought Sam should be resentful of the fact that his little brother was an officer while he was an enlisted man, but Sam could have been an officer if he wanted command. He preferred to exercise his muscles and leave the management to others. Ned had the mind for tactics and strategy, so was an officer. His only problem qualifying had been his German wife, Wild-flower, who the officials suspected was potentially disloyal. But she had finally been cleared, and he was doing well. Sam was glad. After all, his own wife, Snow, was Austrian. What counted was not a person’s origin, but her loyalty to family and nation.

He picked up the receiver. “Sam here.”

“Ned. I have a problem. I brought Bry in to see his friend Jacques, but there’s a problem down the line and I have to investigate it. Can you take Bry instead?”

“Bry shouldn’t be here during an active alert!” Sam protested. “Don’t you know that? He’s underage.”

“Officer’s prerogative. If it comes to war, we could have women and children manning our bulwarks, so they had better be prepared. Bry’s sixteen, old enough to learn the way of it. But I have to go to a region not cleared for civilians. So if you could take him on to Jacques—”

Something was going on. Ned wouldn’t have called him about a routine thing that he could have assigned any private to do. “Where are you?”

“At the command post nearest your block. I’ll wait for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam said, with the faintest edge. How could Ned have brought Bry in during this activation, when there were bound to be emergencies?

He checked with his subaltern, who took his word; that was an advantage of being reliable. If his brother the captain needed him, he was available.

He rode the ammunition train down the tunnel to the main depot, then reported to the personnel section. There was Ned, quite striking in his uniform, and his younger sibling.

Sam’s face froze. It wasn’t Bry—it was Lynn! She had a heavy hat over her bound hair, and wore male coveralls and shoes, but he had no problem distinguishing his brothers from his sisters. Suddenly he knew why Ned had called him. If word got out that there was a girl here…

“Sam will get you there, Bry,” Ned said. “I must be on my way.” He nodded to Sam, and walked away.

“Well,
Bry,”
Sam said, slowly shaking his head. “How did you ever talk Ned into this?”

“Wildflower did it,” Lynn murmured.

Wildflower. Lynn’s closest friend, more sister than sister-in-law. Ned had taken time to notice her, thinking of her as a little sister, but once she had succeeded in making an impression on him, her slightest wish had become his command.

“And why did Wildflower do it?”

“I asked her.” Then, before he could question that, she added, “I haven’t seen Jacques in two weeks.”

Two weeks. And at her age, that was like two years. So, dying for romance, she had prevailed on her brilliant but in some ways soft-headed brother to bring her in to visit her boyfriend. New love was heedless of consequences. And now Sam was stuck with this treacherous chore.

“Snow sends her love,” Lynn added.

How could he be mad at her? Lynn had always had his number. She was such a small, pretty thing, in such need of protection because of her hand, that they all served her in their ways. She took advantage of that, and they all knew it, but it remained almost impossible to say no to her. She had reminded him of his own romance, kindled during a trip to Austria at the time when his first marriage was breaking up. Second love had proved to be better than first love. He didn’t like being separated from Snow, but because she was his wife, he did get leave time to be with her. Lynn and Jacques lacked that avenue, being merely in love.

“This way,” he said gruffly.

“Thank you, Sam.” She wasn’t fooled; she knew he was glad of her company despite the circumstance. Family members always liked to be together, whatever the circumstance; they watched out for each other.

Another ammunition train was going out. Sam waved to the diesel engineer, and the man slowed the engine enough to let them hop on to a car. Cooperation was essential, in order to get the confusions straightened and the work done. Sam lifted Lynn up onto a rack of shells, then stood beside her.

“You’re so strong,” she said.

“And you’re so light,” he said. “Save your charm for Jacques. But make sure you answer only to the name Bry.”

She laughed. She was enjoying this adventure, heedless of the inconvenience to others. She kicked her feet against the metal below her.

“I wouldn’t,” he said. “That’s high explosive.”

The feet stopped. “It must really be fun, here in these tunnels all day.”

“It’s dull.” But now, seeing it through her eyes, he realized that the scene was remarkable. The train was following its tracks down the lighted tunnel, which was six meters high and seven meters wide, with a power line running along its ceiling. The half-circle dome of concrete was bleak and dirty, but for a young person, surely thrilling.

“Ooooh—a turnoff!” she exclaimed.

“That leads to the main magazine of the ouvrage, the main fort,” Sam explained. “But this load is going farther down the line.”

“How deep down are we?”

“About fifty meters.”

She laughed. “Fancy a whole train going through the ground!”

“It’s to ensure that German bombs can’t interfere with our communications.”

The tunnel narrowed. “Are we there?”

“No, just passing through a section where the tunnel can be closed off by a seventeen ton blast door.”

“Ooooh,” she repeated, suitably awed.

Beyond the narrowing, the tunnels split again. “That goes to the barracks,” Sam explained. “But we have to go on to Jacques’s block, some distance down the line. He is stationed at one of the smaller casemates.”

“Jacques,” she breathed, her eyes shining.

Sam thought again of Snow. How could be begrudge that delight to his little sister?

The train slowed. It was reaching its exit to the surface. “We’ll have to get off here,” Sam said. “And walk on down. It’s not far.”

He helped her down to the base of the car. Then as the train emerged into the light of day, they both jumped off. Sam waved to the engineer as the engine disappeared into the landscape.

“There’s an incomplete shunt going in that direction,” Sam said. “We can follow that a way, if you like the tunnels.”

“I love them. Besides, it’s cold out here in the wind.”

So they turned back into the tunnel, and took the turnoff that led in the right direction. The isolated casemates were not connected in the way the major forts were; there was simply too much terrain to cover. Sam would have liked to show off one of the cannons that could rise to the surface to fire, and descend into the depths at other times, but the authorities would never allow such a breach of security.

They moved on down the passage. Lynn walked along a rail, spreading her arms for balance. She got little joys from everything.

“By the way, Hugh knows Guillaume,” she remarked.

Sam was lost by this non sequitur. “Who knows whom?”

“Hugh, the musician with the lovely dancing wife.” She paused, giving Sam time to make the connection. He did remember that wife. “He knows Guillaume—Jacques’s commanding officer. That’s how Ned got clearance for Bry’s visit to the block.”

“But what about a girl?”

“That would be more complicated.”

To be sure.

Then they came to another turnoff. “What a labyrinth!” Lynn remarked, loving it.

“It’s less complicated than it seems. The tunnels connect the magazines where the ammunition is stored, the main barracks, the cannons—”

“It’s still fun to explore.”

They followed the tracks through an airlock. It was open at the moment, but the massive panels could be seen. “That’s so that nothing can get at the defenders,” Sam explained. “Especially not poison gas.”

“Poison gas! Would they do that?”

“They might. We can’t presume too much on the good graces of an enemy.”

Then they came to a region where water dripped from the ceiling. “This shouldn’t be,” Sam said, disgusted. “How can it be airtight, if it’s not watertight?”

“Somebody’s going to get in trouble!” Lynn said in a naughty sing-song.

“No, we’ll just have to
get
it fixed. Meanwhile, this is our only way through. We’ll just have to avoid the drips.”

But the drips got worse. At one point there was a veritable sheet of water coming down, and the floor of the tunnel was flooding. Sam tramped through, his boots protecting his feet. But Lynn, walking on the rail, lost her balance and fell full length into a puddle. There was a great splash.

Sam leaped to help her. “Are you hurt? Oh, Lynn—”

“Bry,” she said wryly. “No, I’m all right. The water cushioned my fall. But I’m all wet.”

“We’ll have to get you changed. It’s cold in here.”

“I know.” She was turning blue.

“The block barracks is right ahead. They’ll have clothing.”

“Sam.” Her tone made him stop. “I can’t change here.”

Oh. Of course. She would be revealed as a girl.

Sam pondered, but couldn’t think of an alternative. “You need to strip, to get dry, and put on new clothes. And get warm. I might bring some clothing out here, but—”

“Someone might come,” she agreed. “I guess I better not change.”

But her teeth were chattering. If she caught cold, and it led to pneumonia, and—what would Flo say? “We must get you warm,” he said.

“No, I’ll get by. It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have come.”

How could he blame her, when she blamed herself? “Come on. There has to be a way.”

“Let’s just hurry there.”

They climbed endless stairs to the surface, where a guard checked Sam’s credentials and let them out. Now they were beside an ordinary road, with a path leading through hills to the rear of an almost buried bunker. Sam wished their destination were closer, but at least the fast walk helped warm her.

He led her the rest of the way to the casemate, which was the combat block where Jacques was stationed. It had fifteen men and a lieutenant, with barely room for them and the supplies. They entered it from behind. Sam had to get permission to enter from the officer in charge before a metal grate dropped across a deep ditch and the armored door opened to admit them.

Sam saluted. “Sam and Bry reporting, sir.”

“This is highly irregular,” the lieutenant said, returning the salute. “We are on alert; no visitors are permitted.”

But he had admitted them. “The musician sends his appreciation,” Sam murmured.

The lieutenant nodded curtly. Evidently he was repaying a favor, but was not completely comfortable with the matter. Then he saw Lynn. “But the boy’s soaking wet!”

“There is a leak in the transport tunnel,” Sam said. “We must notify the command post.”

“We already have. They say they will get to it in due course.” The lieutenant grimaced. “It seems that there are many such leaks. No one noticed, until the alert came.” He looked again at Lynn. “He is shivering and blue; he must be changed immediately.”

“He—prefers not,” Sam said. “He has no other clothes.”

“We have supplies. I will have a man attend to it.” The lieutenant turned, about to give an order.

“Please, sir, no,” Sam said quickly.

The man frowned. Officers did not like hearing the word “no” from enlisted personnel. “No?”

Sam wished he had Ned’s ready mind. He couldn’t think of a suitable explanation. “He—he is uncomfortable changing in the presence of others.”

“But he will have to. We have no privacy here, no spare space at all.”

“Still, sir,” Sam said awkwardly.

The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. “What are you concealing?” Then, as Sam hesitated: “That is an order, sergeant.”

Worse and worse! But what could he do? Sam leaned forward and whispered, “He’s a girl. Lynn. Bry’s sister.”

The lieutenant’s look of astonishment was abruptly replaced by a cold mask. “Come with me.” He made a military turn and descended a curving flight of steps.

They followed him to the basement, where the troops bunked. The lieutenant led them into his tiny separate room and closed the door. “Explain.”

Sam looked helplessly at Lynn.

“I just had to see Jacques,” she said. “I love him! I didn’t know I was going to get wet.” Her face was wet with more than the puddle; she was crying.

The lieutenant reacted in the classic French manner. “Ah, love.” He faced Sam. “I will fix this. But there will be no word of it outside.”

“No word,” Sam agreed. No one wanted a scandal, least of all the officer who would be held responsible.

The lieutenant spoke into his phone. “Jacques—bring a complete change of clothing to the CO’s room. Small size.”

“Jacques!” Lynn echoed, brightening.

In a moment there was a knock on the door. The lieutenant opened it. A smartly uniformed young man was there. “Jacques, you will have precisely ten minutes to handle this matter in complete privacy before we return.” Then he stepped out, his eyes signaling Sam to follow.

Jacques looked confused. Then he saw Lynn. “Yes sir!”

Sam exited, and Jacques entered, limping, and the lieutenant closed the door behind them. “Perhaps you can return with a personal report, possibly eliciting some action on the flooding tunnel,” the lieutenant said, showing the way into the adjacent barracks, where several soldiers were sleeping. Because the block had to be vigilant twenty-four hours a day, the troops worked in three shifts. One soldier was awake, but studiously ignored them; Sam suspected that standing orders were to pay no attention to the commanding officer unless he asked for it. “It isn’t simply the leaks; supplies are incomplete, so that we could withstand a genuine siege of only a few days. Our block is inadequately heated, as your little brother has noted. Lighting is sparse, and no provision has been made for decoration.” He gestured at the triple-decker metal frame that held fifteen bunks. “No paint on ceiling or walls, no pictures, no decent floor covering. No privacy. This is bleak indeed. We are patriotic, but I believe we are entitled to at least minimal amenities while we serve our country.”