Deluge (15 page)

“Sean, we were talking about how safe it is for the soldiers to have them in the longhouse with no fire, and how dangerous we were afraid it would be to let them build one,” Sinead said, filling him in.

“It’s been sorted out,” he said cheerily. “I’ve been talking on the com to some of the distant villages. They’re sending sleds and snocles to collect their share of our honored guests.”

“You’re splitting them up, then?” Sinead asked.

“That I am,” he replied. “First they’ll be going to each village’s Stranger Cave to make their manners with Petaybee, then those who are accepted will have a latchkay in their honor and those who don’t will receive the appropriate treatment. By dividing them, even if we don’t exactly conquer, at least we’ll prevent them from planning any mischief together. I think this is one strategy they’ll not be counting on.”

Clodagh smiled and began stuffing medicinal items in a bag made of woven rabbit skins.

“Did you try the com farther afield, Sean?” Yana asked when the general comment had died down. “Any news of the kids, or from Johnny and the others?”

He shook his head. “No, but I didn’t try. I was busy contacting the villages to take care of the current problem. I’ll try to reach Johnny now, shall I, and see if they’ve been able to get a message to Marmie’s allies.”

“Try the relay to
Versailles Station
too, if you can get offworld,” she said. “That’s the logical place for the kids to look for Marmie’s allies.”

“For that matter, I could try a few of them from here, if I can get out at all,” he said.

Clodagh shot a look at Yana and said to Sean, “But stay and warm up a moment first, love.”

“No, no, I need to get back to the cave and let the others know what’s going on here. The rock flock are supposed to be helping our newest citizens, but you know how transported they can get in the communion cave. No need to alarm the others any more than they are already. They’ll want to know when it’s safe to come home again.”

“I’d wait,” Clodagh said.

“Yeah,” Aidan agreed. “They’re a good enough lot, but they’re new and we’ve no idea where their loyalties may lie. No sense burdening them with more information than they might want to have. Another ship might land soon, and we’re down to just the one hijacker.” He dipped the tassel on his hat in Yana’s direction. “We don’t want to put the newcomers in the way of bein’ interrogated.”

“Nor any of us,” Aisling added.

“Indeed. So they’ll need to stay in the cave a bit longer?”

“Aye, and the rest of us will need to be gettin’ back there as well,” Sinead said. “At least to sleep. We won’t want to be caught out if another troop ship lands. They’ll not be happy about us hostin’ their personnel.”

“Back to the com station with me it is, then,” Sean said. “The first sleds and snocles should be here in a couple of hours, so keep an eye out for them.”

Sean trudged back out to the com station. It was the old com shed with a Nakatira cube added. The soldiers had sacked it, but hadn’t damaged anything of importance, probably thinking they might have a need for it themselves later on.

For a change he got a clear signal. He tried
Versailles Station
first, since the hijacked troop ship had only departed a short time ago. He’d become very familiar with the station’s routing procedure while the kids were in school there and expected to hear one of the voices he’d come to know.

Instead he was answered by an unfamiliar female voice that gave the station’s registration number but not its name or corporate affiliation, as previous comoffs had. “Please identify yourself and state your business,” she said.

“You first,” Sean replied, putting a bit of the Irish blarney in his tone to sound flirtatious and perhaps as if he’d been into the blurry. “You’ve a lovely voice.”

“Please identify yourself and state your business,” she said.

“You don’t sound like the usual operator. Let me talk to Yasmine. She knows me, and you see, I’m a bit shy.”

“Identify yourself,” she repeated, then added, “I can trace this, you know. Only authorized communications are acceptable.”

“How about putting me through to Colonel Cally then?” Sean asked. “This is a classified situation.”

“There is no Colonel Cally at this station. Colonel Montgomery is the officer in charge. But he will not speak to unidentified callers.”

Sean broke contact. The station was under Corps control. He hailed the troop ship next. Again a clear signal, which was a great relief, since he felt an urgent need to talk to an offplanet ally.

“Good to hear from you, Sean,” Rick O’Shay, manning the com, said in answer to his hail. “How did it go on that end? Yana get away okay?”

“She took a bit of a dunking, but that was our fault. Sinead set a few surprises for our guests.”

“And how are your guests? Added some, did you?”

“Yes, the crew joined the rest of their party in our largest and most deluxe accommodation. Since heating presents a bit of a problem, however, they’ll be touring the pole with some of our most experienced guides.”

“Ah. We’re doing grand here too. A bit understaffed, but we’re all excellent multitaskers, so that’s no bother.”

“I’d a special reason for wanting to chat, Richard.”

“And that would be?”

“It seems there’s new management at
Versailles Station,
which is most likely where our young ones had their new friends take them. Is there any way you can find out what happened? They may be needing assistance, and we’ve no other way to reach them.”

“I’ll speak with the charming Petula and get back to you, Sean.”

“You know what it’s been like here, Rick. You might get us again and you might not. I’m sure the kids are fine, but if I don’t do something to reassure their mother, she may declare war on the Company Corps, and while they’re being a bother at the moment, I’d hate to see that happen to them. They do have their uses.”

“Understood. Ah, here is our Ms. Chan now. Pet, pet, Governor Shongili himself would like a word.”

“Chan,” she said in a clipped voice that reminded him of Yana on a bad day. “What’s up, Governor?”

“As you may be aware, my children took an alternate form of transport and we think they may have gone to
Versailles Station
to seek help for Marmie. I just tried the regular channels to locate them at the station, and it seems to have undergone a hostile takeover.”

“But all you’ve tried is the direct method?”

“Aye. Is there another you might employ?”

“Perhaps,” she said.

Sean sat there waiting, planning how to handle Kilcoole’s share of the invasion party. He felt unusually impatient and restless. How long could it take them to contact the station? Surely Pet still had contacts there. She’d been Marmie’s security chief for years, after all. When he tried to imagine what could be happening to cause such a long delay, he could think of all too many disturbing scenarios.

Contacting the station could tip off their enemies that the ship was not where it was supposed to be and that the crew was not what it was supposed to be. The station might notify others in the Corps who were closer, and they would recapture the ship and Petaybee’s spaceborne allies and send another ship with more invasion troops to complete the mission.

That was a long shot, though. Johnny, Rick, Pet, and the new guy, Raj, were all Corps veterans themselves and had experience dealing with the protocol and all that. As a native Petaybean, Sean had never served in the Corps or even been offworld, which sometimes made him wonder what a well-versed woman like Yana saw in him. But then, she couldn’t turn into a seal and enjoy roaming the rivers and ocean as he and the kids could.

The kids…Where
were
the little hooligans anyway? What if they weren’t at
Versailles Station
? Where would the aliens have taken them then? And almost scarier, with
Versailles
apparently under martial law, what if they
were
there?

He found himself tapping his foot and drumming his fingers against the instrument panel to the beat of one of the Irish tunes used for latchkay songs. Why didn’t Pet answer him? He watched the instruments carefully, but there were no red spots or blips on the screens indicating that the planet’s magnetic forces were playing merry hell with communications again. He realized that that was partially why he was so impatient. He had no idea how long this clear spot would last.

At last Pet’s face reappeared on the screen, wearing a grim expression. “I’m sorry, Sean. I couldn’t reach anyone I could trust to find out more. We’re monitoring the station’s communications now to see if any mention of the twins or our other people pop up, but for now what it looks like to me is that they must all have been detained—possibly taken off-station. There are mentions of Gwinnet, but nothing specific yet. We’ll let you know when and if we have more-definite information, but for now we think it best to bypass the station and contact Whit Fiske, the Federation board chairman, and some of Marmie’s other friends, as soon as possible. If we can free her, she can help us locate the kids.”

“Thanks for trying, then,” Sean said, attempting not to sound as glum as he felt.

Pet Chan’s visage vanished from the screen, to be replaced briefly by Rick O’Shay’s.

“Good luck to you all,” Sean told him.

“And to you,” Rick said.

T
HE SLEDS AND
snocles arrived in ones, twos, and threes, first the Chugliaks from Kilgalen, then a delegation from Harrison Fjord, and another led by the Flood-Fitzhughs of Perfect Fjord.

Teams and machines were given maintenance and their drivers were fed and rested before the longhouse was opened, and two and three at a time the soldiers, warmly dressed, were given warm soup to drink and smoked salmon to chew before being bound hand and foot and strapped into the sleds or inside the snocles.

When the last of them were gone and Kilcoole’s guests had been dispatched with other sleds and snocles to one of the distant communion caves not in common use by the villagers, Sean returned to their own cave and the newcomers.

He was surprised when Ke-ola, looking massive in furry snow pants and parka, greeted him outside the cave.

“What’s the matter, Ke-ola lad?” Sean asked, seeing yet more trouble clearly etched on the boy’s round features.

“It’s the Honus, Papa Sean,” he said. He’d gone from the formal “Governor Shongili” to “Doctor” to “Papa,” then decided that that was too informal and settled on “Papa Sean.” Most older people were uncles and aunts to the Kanaka kids, but since the twins and Ke-ola had somewhat adopted each other, Ke-ola considered Sean a closer relative than most.

“What about them?” Sean asked. “Has something happened to them?”

“No, not really, but they’re restless, and they swam under the ice all the way here and since then have been swimming in circles in the water.”

“Have they told you what’s bothering them?”

“No. They aren’t talking to me, or any of the rest of us. But they’re real agitated about something. So I was thinking, maybe if you turn into a seal again they’d tell you what’s the matter.”

Sean thought about putting the lad off, since he had quite a few things to organize, but as he and his family had learned before, Honus
knew
things, and he knew very well that what they might know and not be telling was exactly what concerned Ke-ola.

He and Ke-ola were alone outside the cave, so he stripped off and dived into the hot springs, changing at once and surfacing in the midst of the circling turtles.
Now then, my hard-shelled friends, what’s this game you’re playing and why are you not talking to young Ke-ola? He’s beside himself with worry.

Our people need us, but they are there and we are here,
the largest Honu said.

And one of them serves our enemy,
the smallest Honu, the original one who came with Ke-ola, added.

Enemy? That would be that woman scientist? The one we arrested for poaching Petaybean otters and who later gave my kids such a hard time on the space station?

Enemy of Honus!
the Honu replied.
Enemy of seal people and otter people also.

Sean saw that the Honu had his priorities in order as far as he was concerned.
One of your people is serving her, then? So do you mean she’s captured another Honu?

A two-legged,
the Honu answered.
They damage a third person.

Two-legged or four?

The Honus consulted one another, closing their ring to touch noses, their shells forming a flower on the surface of the pool.
No legs,
was the consensus.
Flipper tail and grabbers.

Sean didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all. But he tried to stay calm and project calm as he clarified his suspicions.
Grabbers?

Two-leggeds have them on top. On bottom, legs, on top, grabbers.

Arms and hands perhaps? Sean thought, but mostly to himself. To the Honus, clearly everything was best described as “grabbers.” Instead of waiting for them to change their terminology, he asked a more pressing question.
Have you any idea where the enemy and the two-legged person of the Honus is—damaging—the person with the tail and grabbers?

They consulted again and finally the original Honu said,
We do not know, but the seas are empty, and on the land, others of our people are caged.

Hmm,
Sean said.
I believe I know of the place. Thank you, Honus. Don’t you be worryin’ your shells about this a minute longer. The two-leggeds can take it from here.

Somehow he had the feeling they were not reassured.

He swam to the pool’s edge and found Ke-ola waiting with his clothing. After flipping himself dry, he related the turtles’ message to Ke-ola while he pulled on his dry suit, parka, and mukluks.

“Why wouldn’t they tell me?” the boy asked, clearly wounded by the reticence of the animals he loved.

“They spoke about their people doing wrong, so perhaps they meant one of your relatives,” Sean said. “They might have extended their displeasure with that individual to your whole family.”