Heritage of Flight (5 page)

Abruptly the air currents failed again, and the lights went dead. The silence, even of those children most distraught by the invasion of these uniformed adults and their unwelcome news, was uncanny. Occasional rustles and whispers told the adults that the children moved.

Pauli had been this silent herself in survival training, had felt the same buildup of tension as she searched out a new star system for enemies who might, at any moment, reduce her and her ship to frozen vapor. That was her risk: she was an adult who had chosen combat flying. It sickened her that a child would understand those fears.

"No one's hunting us,” she announced, making her voice deliberately cheerful. “Why is everyone so quiet?"

"Oh, well done!” whispered Alicia Pryor.

The rustling increased, came closer, like rats padding in a slum. If someone flashed a light across the room, she had the sensation that all over the room, drawing closer and closer to her, would be pairs of eyes, gleaming like the eyes of wild beasts. She wanted a wall at her back, and preferably someone else to defend her back for her.

"Not again,” grumbled ben Yehuda, deliberately jovial. “Ari, get my torch. I never get any rest around here.” Thin, nervous laughter spattered out.

"You think it's funny that I don't get to sleep? I don't. I will give those lights until three to come back on. And then I will be seriously angry at the lights. One...” the children's laughter intensified—"two ... you don't believe this, do you?” Now more of the children laughed. Even their footfalls had more sound now. “Say, I don't think this is working. Two and a half? Lights ... anywhere?"

"Try two and three-quarters?"

"Well enough, Lohr. Two and three-quarters..."

With a hum and a sigh, the lights flashed back on, and the hum of the air conditioners resumed.

The children laughed and cheered. At least they laughed and cheered until they saw the tall, pale man in the dark uniform of the Federal Security marshals standing in their midst.

Becker had crept in like a hunting cat or a wild child himself. How long had he stood there, his pale eyes scanning the entire bay, pausing to evaluate each officer who had been dispatched to assist the refugees?

"Dammit, did he stage that?” asked Pauli in a furious undertone. “Kids have enough problems without his setting up dramatic entrances."

Rafe shrugged. “Becker's not all that bad, for a marshal. The evacuation from Wolf was mostly his doing. He won't say, but I think—” he thinned his lips, his usual signal for ending an unwelcome discussion. “Sometimes he comes in and talks."

"If you want to hear regulations, why not access armscomp? It doesn't pretend to be human."

"Becker knows what he's doing. And you're talking like one of the civs. You're a pilot, not a social worker. At least, that's what you told me when you accepted assignment to
Leonidas."

Another futile argument with Rafe! Under the sweat and grime, Pauli knew she was flushing. She wanted a bath and a rest, and to get herself away from Rafe before she did or said something irrevocable and idiotic. But Becker stood there, tall and dispassionate, scanning the mob of children and civilians until he caught sight of her in her drab flightsuit.

"Lieutenant Yeager? You're wanted on the bridge."

"Now?"

"Right now. That's a direct order. From me.” All around her the children murmured, their whispers intensifying into a growl. Pauli started forward, and two or three of the girls caught at her hands. She remembered how on Wolf IV they had scratched and screamed at any attempt to separate one of them from a group—and the silence that fell after the child was removed: as if she were gone now and, since it was irrevocable, there was no point in tears.

"No one's going to hurt me. Or you. They're on our side,” she called, even as she hurried over to Becker, easing past a knot of refugees who tried to block her way. “I'll be back. I promise I'll be back."

Now what had inspired her to say that? In order to convince the children that not all authority was murderous, now she'd have to return: and this place, these refugees, broke her heart even as their tension, their thinness, and their unnatural quiet made her want to retreat. She would have to burn her flightsuit, she decided, wanting to scratch all over. How long would it take the
Amherst
to get the stink out of this bay?

She started toward the exit, and the children followed her.

"Get back,” the marshal gestured sharply. They obeyed, but only just. In the moments, apparently, that Pauli had spent in the bay, quarrelling with their caretakers, the children seemed to have determined that she was an ally. She was small—as short as the black woman she had heard Dr. Pryor call Beneatha, and far shorter than Rafe or Pryor, let alone the marshal who appeared to have her under custody. She had wanted to comfort Lohr. Though she wore a uniform and a sidearm, she had not smelled like a threat. And now a man in a uniform appeared to threaten her.

The children growled. Even Lohr emerged from wherever he had hidden. Becker raised one eyebrow, then deliberately turned his back and headed for the door, his steps measured, slow, as if he sought to bluff wild animals.

"Well, Lieutenant?” his voice lashed out. A muttering rose.

"Quickly,” murmured Rafe.

Pauli forced herself to smile at the children, wave reassuringly, then follow the marshal. Two of the eldest children started to follow. Then Dr. Pryor walked forward. Though her movements seemed as leisurely as the marshal's, she reached his side quickly and gestured the children back. Then, with practiced, unhurried speed, she waved the marshal and Pauli out. The door slid shut, but not before Pauli heard a scream of anger that died away into the wail of a frightened child.

"To the bridge,” ordered the marshal. “And move it!” He headed toward the nearest elevator at a pace that made Pauli break into a lope to keep step with him.

"Obviously you're not going back in there,” Pauli retorted. “Why did you set that up? Rafe Adams told me you'd been in there before, that you'd acted human in there before. Now, if you go back in, you'd better go guarded."

"I said move! You're needed on the bridge, and so am I,” Becker told her. He all but thrust Pauli into the elevator that opened so rapidly after he slapped the wall signal that she suspected he had locked it there to wait for them.

"Bridge. And fast,” he ordered. The door slid shut, but not quickly enough for his taste. His long fingers tapped beside controls where Pauli saw herself reflected: nondescript and sturdy, her face grimy, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her flightsuit. The weight! Abruptly it felt like nothing at all. She felt herself begin to rise, her stomach threatening to precede the rest of her.

Free fall! Pauli lurched across the tiny cubicle and slapped the glowing crimson alarm panel. Hooting rang out, then subsided as backups cut in.

"Damned Jump,” she muttered. “What this ship needs is planetfall. I'd dump every system on board, then test and reload before I tried to Jump again."

Becker was nodding. “Very good, Lieutenant Yeager.
Very
good. You justify your captain's faith in you."

"My captain died on board
Leonidas,"
Pauli reminded him.

"And Captain Borodin?” The whine of the elevator subsided and the door slid aside, pausing halfway. Angrily she slapped the “manual open” and stalked out onto the bridge where too many people stared at boards and glowing screens dominated by red and amber lights. Commander Banez, Borodin's exec, had turned to ask him a question, but she stopped dead when Pauli and the marshal entered. Curious, that: Pauli would have bet that only a laser would have kept Banez from any decision she wanted to make.

Amber and even scarlet lights gleamed, some of them on the primary systems boards. More
malfunctions,
she groaned. Tiny knots of people stood or crouched before their duty stations, one or two calling out instructions to other people who knelt, heads and shoulders hidden, as they sought to repair what needed a shipwide refit. Banez glanced at them, then turned back to the captain, dismay etched into a face that should have been plump and cheerful.

Captain Borodin was slumped into his chair, security webs still loosely fastened about him. He stared into the holographic system display projected by NavComp as if it were a campfire at which he huddled, seeking warmth and refuge from wolves.

"Lieutenant Yeager reporting, sir,” Pauli said softly. She had meant to be crisp, angry; she had a right to her anger and sorrow. But then the captain turned. He had not been a young man when she had started this tour of duty, but he had been vital, energetic. Now his hair shone pale in the dimmed lights of the bridge; it had turned gray, and was slick with neglect. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, and his cheeks seemed to sag. He seemed as tired as the ship itself: would he break down too?

He nodded absently. “Damage control?” he asked the comm panel set in his chair ... “malfunctions ship-wide, sir ... lifesupport ... we're on backups now, but they're failing. Possibly twelve hours before we go to stored power ... we only have the one set of replacements..."

"Bozhe moi!
you won't think of it, much less hint it!” Borodin snapped. “Before
Amherst
turns scavenger, I'll blow it up like
Leonidas!"
Borodin slumped back into his chair. Tactfully Banez turned away. The captain drew a deep breath, then shivered all over, as if emerging from deep waters. Finally, reluctantly, he turned back to the newcomers.

"Captain,” said Becker, “call in the riderships."

"Riderships haven't finished preliminary scan,” Banez reported. “Shall I activate stealth features?"

Borodin nodded. Instants later, interference twisted the view of space from the bridge and fizzed in the in-ship communications gear. Stealth used immense quantities of power.

"Captain,” Becker said in that same expressionless tone, “ask your helm to lay in a trajectory for landing."

Becker glanced sharply at him, and Pauli froze. Like all Jump-capable ships,
Amherst
was built in space. Though such a ship could make planetfall, deceleration and gravity would strain to the limits a freshly refitted vessel approaching a fully equipped landing field, let alone a ship like
Amherst,
whose systems were stressed by faulty components and hard running.

We won't survive reentry,
Pauli thought bleakly, and glanced at the captain. All during the rescue operations on Wolf IV, he had been imperturbable, a source of refuge for crew who found themselves unable to deal with the survivors and their own guilt at never having lived on a world slagged by hostile ships or—as happened on Marduk's World—atomics. In this one last Jump, he had aged years.
If we weren't at war,
Pauli
thought, if, we didn't need him, he wouldn't be in space now. He'd some comfortable ground or station berth,
and die that much faster of boredom.

The captain turned toward her. “Lieutenant Yeager. Your recommendation as regards the proposed landing?"

"I'd want to refit before we Jump again."

"Log that into the records,” said the captain. “You do realize, Becker, that this ship isn't in optimum shape for a landing, that we're already depleting resources by using stealth gear when we might just have easily used our riderships to conduct a preliminary investigation?"

"On my authority, Captain,” said Becker. “Your engineers indicate that the ship can survive planetfall and liftoff. Which do you prefer: landing, or detaching riders to ferry the refugees down to the surface of...” he gestured and, though the navigation holos were allegedly keyed onto the helm, the configuration altered until Pauli saw the planet at which he pointed. In its simulation, rapidly scudding clouds covered much of the northern hemisphere where high mountains loomed.

Pauli studied the holo intently, hoping to see the familiar glow of an Alliance outpost, blue against the glow of planets and stars.

"We will be landing shortly,” Borodin announced.

He raised his head and met Pauli's eyes.
Assuming the ship can land,
the weariness in his gaze appeared to say.

"Landing, sir?” She could ask at least that much.

"There.” He gestured, and the holo changed configuration again, rotating to give Pauli and the captain a better view of the world toward which
Amherst,
however feebly, made its way.

"Instituting preliminary surveys,” announced one of the bridge crew.

"You don't have a First Survey report?” demanded Borodin.

"Storms,” reported the junior officer ... “wait, Captain: we're getting interference here...” his hands crossed on his boards as he struggled to turn up the information feed. “Too much of a power drain; we can't get much input on account of the stealth."

And if they turned off the stealth features, they were exposed to any Secess’ ships in the system.

Pauli raised an eyebrow, asking for permission to inquire. No human settlements, Alliance or Secess'.

"I thought we were headed toward resettlement,” she remarked. “One of the refuge worlds like Halcyon or in the Marduk system."

Borodin shook his head. “Helm!” he called. “You're off-shift. Get your relief up here. Pauli, you assist."

"But, Captain...” Borodin was sending the senior helmsman below because the man was tired? If he wanted someone fresh on the boards, just how serious was this problem?