The Forever Hero (63 page)

Cool, cool…Gerswin could feel the dampness across his forehead, a contrast to the heat of his body.

He tried to open his eyes, but the dampness blocked his vision. His arms felt leaden, and his throat was raspy and dry.

“Uhhhh…,” he croaked.

The faint pressure on his forehead eased as the cloths were removed from across his eyes.

A white-haired visage wavered in and out of focus.

“Corson? Can you hear me?”

Corson? Who was Corson? Corson was dead, dead at the hands of
the Guild? Was it Allison, asking for her son? But Allison was long gone…

“Urrr…”

For some reason, he could not speak.

“If you hear me, blink your eyes.”

Gerswin blinked.

“That's good. At least you understand. You shouldn't be alive, but Hyveres says if you have made it this far, you should recover completely…in time.”

Corson, Hyveres—who were they?

Frozen—that was the way his face felt, with the hint of needles tingling under his skin.

He wanted to ask how long he had been immobilized, but could not. Instead, the darkness, with its hot needles and forgetfulness, crept back over him.

When he woke again, the cabin—and this time he could tell he was lying in the crew-room bunk—was dim. The hot points of needles burned and jabbed through most of his body, but the pain was worst in his legs.

“Urrr…”

The woman—was it Constanza, Caroljoy, Allison—must have heard him, because she appeared with damp cloths to help soothe the drumming staccato of the needle jabs behind his blistering forehead.

“Just relax. You should be better soon.”

Relax? How could he, lying paralyzed with needles driving through him? What if the paralysis were permanent? How had anything gotten through the screens?

The questions spun in his head until the overhead blurred into red dimness, and then into hot blackness.

When the darkness lifted once more, the jabbing of the needles seemed less intense, nearly gone from his face. He tried to move his arms, but while they twitched, they did not lift from his sides.

“…hello…,” he rasped.

He could hear the light pad of footsteps, and a face appeared. He pulled the name from his recollections.

“Constanza?”

“Yes. I'm here, Corson. Can you swallow?”

“Can try.”

“Please do. You're terribly dehydrated.”

He could feel the coolness of the water against his lips, wetting
the cotton dryness inside his mouth. Nearly gagging, he concentrated on swallowing, managing to force the water down.

“That's enough for now. In a bit, we'll try again.”

The pounding in his temples eased, and the blurriness of his vision cleared, although his eyes seemed to wander at will.

“Could…more water?” he husked.

“A little.”

She was right, he discovered, because the second sip felt like lead as it dropped into his stomach.

Closing his eyes, he waited, letting himself drift back into the not-quite-so-hot darkness.

When he woke again, the throbbing in his head was gone, and only a tinge of the needlelike pain remained, and that in his lower legs and feet. The cabin was lighter, but he did not hear Constanza.

Should he try to lift an arm?

Gerswin realized he was afraid he might not be able to. At last, he concentrated on reaching his belt.

Shaking, almost as though it did not belong to him, his arm strained up and touched the square fabric edge of his waistband. Slowly he turned his head toward the arch between the crew cabin and the control area.

No Constanza, not unless she was standing nearly on top of the control screens.

Where was she? How long had he been totally out of commission? What had happened?

At that, he remembered his right arm and turned his head. A pressure bandage from the first-aid kit covered the spot where the arrow had entered.

An arrow! He would never have thought of that.

A scraping sound caught his attention, and he gently eased his head to where he could view the inner lock door as it was manually cranked open.

Constanza came in with a basket of food on her left arm and a loop of cord in her hand.

“Hello.”

“You seem much better.”

“I am, I think.”

“Can you restore the power?”

“Power?”

He blinked, recognizing for the first time since his collapse that the only illumination was from the emergency lighting.

“How long has it been?”

“Three days.”

“Is everything down except the screens?”

“I think so. I didn't want to experiment much. I don't understand the manual controls, and the ship did not recognize me.”

“Not designed that way.” He licked his dry lips and tried to ease himself into a sitting position.

“Let me help. You're still weak, and I'm not sure Hyveres believes me when I keep telling him you're still alive.”

“Hyveres?” The name still meant nothing to him.

“He is the rebel leader in this forest cell.”

She stood behind his left shoulder and folded the quilt into another pillow, then slipped it behind him. Gerswin could feel the tightness in his muscles protesting the movement.

“More water?”

He was too tired to object to her holding the beaker for him.

Three days? He shivered. By now, even the most disrupted of governments should have been getting the power system back into service.

“Has the government resumed scouting flights.”

“Not here. Hyveres says there are reports of some limited resumptions on Conuno.” She perched on the end of the bunk.

“Conuno?”

“First continent. We're on Contrio. That's why I asked about power. Hyveres was hoping we could leave. He doesn't want to use the few weapons they have collected in trying to destroy your ship. They don't want the government seeing it and attacking.”

“Probably couldn't destroy us. Jolt it enough so the concussion might kill us.”

“Can you take off?”

“Technically, yes. Once I can get to the controls. Not sure I could last through the sequence to jump. Besides…not done here. Don't have what I came for.”

“And what was that?”

He saw no point in dissembling further.

“I wanted seeds, spores, whatever the propagating mechanism is, for the house tree. We funded the original research.”

“House tree?”

“What we saw through the trees just before your friends the rebels stuck me with their little arrow. What was on that arrow? Did they tell you? How did you get the food with the ship shut down?”

Now that he was beginning to think, the unanswered questions were piling up.

Constanza laughed. “You will recover, Ser Corson.” Her face smoothed out, and she went on. “Hyveres told me that no one could cross the screens without dying. Is that true?”

“Yes. Form of field inhibitor. Stops most energy, and since thought is energy…”

“I pointed out that unless I could get you to recover, which takes food and water, sooner or later the armed forces would find your ship and do their best to destroy it.”

Gerswin nodded for her to continue, but this time reached for the water beaker himself. He managed to take a solid sip with a trembling left hand.

“We reached an accommodation—”

“What about the house trees?” interrupted Gerswin.

“They have hopes, but none of them grow much bigger than what you saw.”

“Know why,” he answered. “And the arrow?”

“They have found a local nerve poison. How did the arrow get through the ship's screens?”

“Arrows…nonenergy…low velocity…should have thought about it.” Suddenly he was drained.

His abrupt weakness must have showed because Constanza stood up from the end of the bunk where she had been sitting.

“Lean back; just relax.”

Could he afford to? What about the government?

“Until you are stronger, you cannot do any more.”

He let the held breath out through his teeth, trying to relax and not wanting to. There was so much to do…

…but he dozed.

When he woke once again, he discovered two things. He was soaked, and the tingling in his legs was gone.

He eased himself upright and let his legs dangle over the edge of the bunk.

The gentle sound of breathing from the control room told him that Constanza was sleeping.

He stood slowly, and began to peel off the stinking trousers and tunic. Then he leaned against the bulkhead to rest. A moment later he straightened.

“Activate—status.” He followed the command with the activation codes.

“Returning to active status,” the AI acknowledged for the ship, and the normal lighting, returned.

Gerswin dragged himself into the fresher, standing there while the spray cleaned him of grime, sweat, and urine. By the time the charged air had dried him, he was leaning against the inside of the stall.

After dragging himself back to the lockers, where he pulled out shorts and a black shipsuit, he struggled into the clean clothing.

All the time Constanza slept, which told him how tired she was.

Finally, he stuffed his filthy clothing into the cleaner, along with the quilt and the sheet, then collapsed onto the uncovered bunk to catch his breath. In time, he sat up and finished the last drops in the water beaker on the bunk ledge.

A few minutes later he shuffled toward the controls, where he half leaned, half sat on the bottom edge of the accel/decel shell seat where Constanza lay curled into a half circle, her tiny white-haired figure fragile against the black yield cloth.

“Interrogative power status.”

The figures appeared on the data screen. He nodded. The loss wasn't as bad as it could have been. He still had enough for liftoff and through two jumps, with minimum reserves.

“Exterior views from the sensors.”

The scenes in the screen had a reddish cast, indicating it was night and that infraheat was used for imaging. Outside of the footprints from the lock ramp, there was no sign of any activity. The rebels must have swept up their tracks every time they had brought food to Constanza.

The lady moaned in her sleep and turned, her foot striking his back.

He waited until she seemed settled again.

The acrid scent of air recycled too little burned his nose.

“Full interior recycle. Exterior air through filters.”

All he could do now was wait. Even if he woke her, trying to find the rebels in the hours before dawn would be useless, except to find another batch of arrows aimed in his direction.

“Wake me with the alarm if anyone approaches the ship or if she leaves the control couch.”

With that, he shuffled back to the bunk and stretched out, not willing to make the effort to remake it.

Cling!

Gerswin started out of his sleep at the alarm, slowed his reactions
as he sat up gingerly while Constanza peered through the arch at him.

“You restored the power.”

“While you were sleeping.”

Gerswin felt guilty. She still wore a now grimy tan and white tunic and tan trousers, while he was relatively clean in fresh clothing.

“Would you care to use the fresher?”

He stood and headed for the control couch, by way of the water tap, where he refilled the beaker. His legs felt steady.

“After you're through,” he said, “we need to make some decisions.”

“What about my clothes?”

Gerswin remembered he had never removed his own outfit and bedding from the cleaner.

“Put them in the cleaner—the brown and cream tab there. You'll have to take out my things. Put them on the bunk for now.”

“Why don't you—” She broke off the sentence. “It is hard to remember how sick you are when you talk so clearly.”

“Not that bad now.”

“Hyveres says you are the first to survive the poison.”

“Wonderful.”

He turned away to devote his attention to the control readings and data displays.

“Can you pick up any commercial news?” he asked the AI.

“Negative. No satellite relay.”

“What about audio?”

“Byzania has no separate commercial radio.”

“Armed forces tactical freqs?”

“Imprecise command.”

“Pick up the strongest armed forces tactical signal.”

The only sound Gerswin could hear at first was static, which was barely audible over the hiss of the fresher. As he concentrated he began to be able to distinguish some phrases.

“…Red command…blue attackers…”

“…corvette down…Illyam…”

“…flamers…flamers…”

“…grid still down…Jerboam…”

“…forest cell tiger…fire at will…”

Gerswin shook his head slowly as he listened to the story play out with each fragmented transmission.

“It is that bad?”

He had been aware of Constanza's return and her listening with him, but not how much time had passed until she touched his shoulder as she asked the question.

Turning his head, he nearly whistled. The lady looked nearly as picture-perfect as before their first tour of the countryside.

“Amazing what a ship fresher and cleaner can do,” he marveled.

“Thank you. What is occurring?”

Gerswin told her.

“But why?”

“My guess is that someone wouldn't believe someone else. Once the secret is out, they can't keep control the way it has been. Probably why the armed forces kept after the tree houses, because free shelter would have been a first step to escaping the generals.”

“The house trees do not grow large enough.”

“They would if they had more time and water. You can't grow them too close to other trees. Need a lot of solar energy. But any time someone grew them out in the open, I'd bet the armed forces fried them.”

“I still don't understand why there's fighting between segments of the armed forces.”