Deluge (3 page)

Oddly enough, her father and Gabriel’s passed away within weeks of each other, leaving Gabriel as the head of his family and its business concerns. Madelaine married his closest friend, who entered into the Algemeine family business as well.

With her respectability assured, Marmion often returned with baskets of food, toiletries, and books for the prisoners in both the men’s and women’s sections of the Bastille. She was careful to always bring similar dainties for the guards and prison employees, and asked after their health and their families. This was not because, as she let the prisoners old enough to remember her know, she was grateful for the care given her as a child, but so they would permit the prisoners to keep and use her gifts. Many of these people were no more criminal than her parents, and had in fact been friends and comrades of her parents, but were not fortunate enough to have someone to see to their release.

Oh, yes, she was familiar with prisons, with guards and matrons and inmates alike, but once her own business acumen and the enterprises she had inherited from her husband made her wealthier than anyone had ever imagined possible, those who spoke of her origins mentioned only the original luster of the de Revers name. She thought it unnecessary to disillusion them about the less-than-glamorous aspects of her past.

So, although Marmion dreaded going back into captivity, she did not experience the fear or the humiliation Colonel Zachariah Cally no doubt hoped she would. Her main concern was for her crew and passengers.

When they arrived at what was euphemistically referred to as the reception area of the prison, they were separated by gender, but the initial order was the same. “Shave ’em, strip ’em, hose ’em down, and suit ’em up.”

The Kanaka women accepted this mistreatment stoically, their misery showing only in their eyes, but some of Marmion’s women crew members tried to fight. “Tell them to cooperate,” Marmion whispered to Adrienne. “Accept it as the local style. The shave seems brutal now, but it’s that or involuntary dreadlocks and lice later. Don’t fight, no matter what. You cannot win, and they will do you real damage if you resist.”

“Shut up, you,” the nearest guard said, yanking Marmion’s head back by her flowing curls. “You’re no different than the rest of these sluts to us and you don’t give orders here.” She shoved her toward one of the chairs surrounded by piles of hair. “Take a load off, queenie.”

But a stern voice contradicted her. “Not her, not yet. Put her in uniform and give her one of our VIP suites. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.”

They led her down claustrophobic corridors between cold cell blocks to a tiny bare room with a hard slab for a bed and bench and a stinking hole in the floor to drain waste. The door had no bars, just a slot for food at the bottom. She was sure there would be cameras hidden somewhere in the ceiling or the door and that the door would have a one-way panel through which they could observe her without her being able to see them.

As the door closed and locked behind her, she heard other cell doors clanging shut.

CHAPTER 4

R
ONAN
, M
UREL, AND
Sky cleared the bay and burst into the port master’s office. The port master, a whippetlike woman with a silver buzz cut, stood staring out into the bay and spun around to face the interlopers.

“What are you kids doing here?”

They didn’t know her, but her name tag said,
CHIEF C. BROWN
.

“We came to warn you,” Murel told her. “Marmie—Madame—has been arrested and taken to Gwinnet Incarceration Colony by some corrupt Company Corpsmen. We need help getting word to her friends and allies so they can get her released.”

“Why did they send kids to tell us? The
Piaf
—”

“They confiscated the
Piaf
and all of the crew and passengers,” Ronan told her. “They may be headed here—”

The woman returned her attention to the docking bay, shaking her head. “Nope. You’re a little late. They just arrived.”

The twins followed her gaze. The big ship’s hatch had opened and triple files of Company Corpsmen marched double-time over the gangplank down the bay, heading straight for them.

Come on, Mur, we gotta get out of here,
Ronan said, pushing through the office’s interior hatch.

Where to?
Murel asked as they raced down the long corridor.

Marmie’s house.

That’s the first place they’ll go!
she protested.

I don’t think so. Not with her in custody already. They’ll be too busy taking over everything else. Meanwhile maybe we can use her com system to get word out about her arrest.

But they’ll take over the com systems first,
she argued.

They found the first lift that scaled all levels of the station and took it up to Marmie’s penthouse. The weather was set on fine—a nice spring day. The house was open, being run by Marmie’s housekeepers in her absence.

“Slainté, Mrs. Fogarty,” Ronan called as they raced for the com room.

“You’re back!” the housekeeper said. “No one told me you were coming. And me without dinner for herself!” She followed them to the com room, where Murel sat at the keyboard composing a message to send to Marmie’s entire list of contacts. There was no time now to sort out who was who. “You’re tracking water all over my floors again, and what
is
that animal with you, a big rat?”

Ronan said, “No, Mrs. Fogarty. He’s an otter.”

“First seals, now an otter. This place is turning into an aquarium.”

“Never mind about that, Mrs. Fogarty. Soldiers are on their way, probably to impound the station and arrest us all.”

“Why? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“They’ve taken Marmie and are confiscating all of her stuff, arresting her staff as accomplices,” Ronan told her.

Bollocks!
Murel swore, and turned around with tears of frustration in her eyes.

No luck?
Ronan asked her.

I don’t think so. Just as I hit Send, the system shut down.

The com screen came on and a uniformed man said in a deep gruff voice, “Attention all personnel of the space station designated as
Versailles.
This property is under an impound and seizure order according to statute 68795-Zed and all personnel are subject to questioning regarding the alleged criminal activities of the owner.”

“That’s preposterous!” Mrs. Fogarty exclaimed. “They can’t do that! That’s piracy, that is.”

“’Fraid they can, missus,” Ronan said. “Look!”

The surveillance screens showed three flitters landing in the east garden. An improbable number of armed troops poured from each and fell in behind the last passenger, who wore the official robes of a Federation Councilman.

“That’s just wrong,” Mrs. Fogarty said, pointing to the councilman. “They don’t dress up like the Grim Reaper unless they’re presiding in court or some such official function. It’s myself should know, since there’s many the time I’ve done up Madame’s robes before and after she’d need of them.”

The twins didn’t answer. “Please don’t tell them we’re here, missus,” Murel said instead. “They’re after us too. We have to hide.”

“What I have to tell them is nothing they’ll be happy to hear,” Mrs. Fogarty said with a grim set to her lips. “Excuse me. I’ve a brand-new broom around here somewhere that I bought before Madame installed the central vacuum to spare me back. I feel the need of it now.”

Ronan and Murel were already dashing for the nearest access to the pool, Sky running circles around them. It wasn’t actually a pool. Marmie had built it specifically for them, fashioned as a sort of artificial river that ran under the house and out around the grounds, among garden fountains and small ponds, before looping back inside again to form a lovely stream inside the great room. They felt they could hide there.

What if they catch us in seal form and make us change?
Murel asked.

Why would they do that? Our secret may be a bit more public than it used to be but I doubt it’s the gossip of the Corps. Besides, they’re very noisy. We’ll know they’re coming long before they know we’re there, and that will give us time to change.

Otters dig dens in water banks,
Sky said.
Dens are good to hide in.

I don’t think we can dig into the stuff under Marmie’s lawn, Sky,
Murel told him.
It’s not real. It would be like trying to den into the side of the spaceship.

While their otter friend was thinking about that, they zipped out of their dry suits and tucked them into the pouches strapped to their backs. Then they dove into the pool, swimming quickly to the portion flowing under the house. To preserve their secret, Marmie had not set cameras near or within the banks of the waterway. Most views of the house and grounds included only glimpses of it.

Now what?
Ronan wondered.

We
keep our ears peeled,
Murel said.
If my message was transmitted before they cut it off, this will all get sorted out soon.

If not?

Perhaps we can sneak into the com center, disable the soldiers there, send again, and skedaddle?

And how would we do that?

I don’t know. But we must do something or we might as well have stayed and waited to be arrested at home.

They’d kept their heads above water so they could hear what was happening above them. The house was well soundproofed, but their hearing was much better in seal form than the average human’s.

“Children? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Mrs. Fogarty was saying.

“You’d do well to cooperate, lady. Two children and a small brown mammal were seen running from the docking bay by our crew when we docked.”

“There are many children who live here. Madame runs a school, you know. And children do have pets.”

“They were seen entering the maintenance lift. That’s off-limits to children, is it not?”

“As if that sort of thing ever stopped an inquisitive youngster!” Mrs. Fogarty scoffed. “But there are no children here, as you can see for yourselves. They must have popped off on one of the other levels.”

“Tear the place apart,” the soldier who’d been doing the questioning said.

“Here now!” Mrs. Fogarty protested.

“Lay that broom down, lady, and step away from it,” the trooper demanded.

“I’ll lay it up side of your head,” she threatened. There was a sizzling sound and a thump and no more from the housekeeper.

I hope they just stunned her,
Ronan said.

Murel hoped so too, because she knew that not only was Mrs. Fogarty loyally defending Marmie’s property and privacy, she was also providing a distraction. Murel had never been stunned. She hoped it didn’t hurt.

“Search the grounds,” the officer in command said. “Look for the kids, the animal, or any fresh sign. Our orders are to remove all personnel, including children.”

“Right, Captain, sir. Uh—permission to ask a probably dumb question, sir?”

“Granted, but make it snappy.”

“If we remove all personnel, who’s going to run this thing? It’s a valuable piece of property.”

“Very astute of you, Private. You aspire to company management, do you?”

“Sir, no, sir. There is no higher aspiration than to serve the Corps, sir.”

“Damn straight. In answer to your question, however, Private, I don’t suppose you happened to notice that ship that docked a short time after we did?”

“No, sir.”

“Filled with qualified Corps-trained station maintenance personnel. Now round up those kids and that animal so we can load and lock the prisoners up and leave. Is that clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir. One more thing, sir?”

“Anything for you, Private,” the officer said through what sounded like gritted teeth.

“Signs, sir?”

“Sign what?”

“You said to look for fresh signs? Sir?”

“Sign, Private, sign. Where’s your sergeant anyway? Sergeant Montgomery!”

A distant voice barked in a tone that would have done credit to the twins’ seal cousins. “Here, sir!”

“Kindly explain to your man here what looking for fresh sign means in reference to our current mission,” the captain called back.

“Otter shit!” the sergeant barked back, as if he were swearing.

Otters are not messy,
Sky said.
Also, otters do not leave signs when they have not eaten for a long time, and I have not eaten since we left the deep sea otters.

Glad to hear it, Sky,
Ronan said.
Too bad nobody here keeps a dog. I bet most of these Corpsmen wouldn’t know otter poo from doggie doo.

I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Ro,
Murel told him.
The one in command sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Remember, the company gets a lot of its recruits from worlds like Petaybee and Halau. Maybe that soldier and even some of the others are from places where people and animals live close together. For all we know he could be as good as Aunty Sinead.

Aunty Sinead would never track down kids—unless it was to help them, of course—or use stunners on ladies like Mrs. Fogarty. And I’ll bet Mum never in her entire career in the Corps did anything like they’re doing.

Probably not. We don’t really know what she did, though, do we? Or much about her. I never read that journal she wrote for us, did you?

Nope. I was too mad at her for sending us offworld. I wish we had the journals now.

I’m going to read mine first thing when we get home,
Murel vowed.

Me too. I wonder what she’d do in our place now,
Ronan said.
I’ll bet she’d have infiltrated the com center, neutralized the guards, and sent the message already. Or maybe taken over command.

I don’t think so, Ro,
Murel replied.
I think she’d probably be doing pretty much what we are. What worries me is what she’s doing at home now.

T
HE SNOW WAS
so heavy that the invaders of Kilcoole could not see their hands in front of their faces. They put lanterns on their helmets, but the light bounced off the sheets of white and cast a glare even their goggles could not dispel.

The wind blew scarves from their necks and mittens from their hands, and knocked over the smaller men and women. Master Sergeant Missoni rescinded the order to burn the village for fear the wind would blow the fires out of control and injure his people. Instead they sank pitons into the buildings with cables attached, stringing the buildings together like beads. The lines served as they would in a gale at sea, something for the troops to hold on to in order to keep from being blown away as they plodded blindly from one shack to the next. Finally, Missoni called everyone off. The flitters were engineered for low temperatures but not for the gale-force winds, and besides, a driver couldn’t see to navigate. Even posting guards was useless until the wind died down and the snow lightened. They had no equipment of any kind that would let a mortal man or woman see a damn thing under the current conditions. Even with the best gear available, a guard was far more likely to die of exposure than to prevent, protect, or detect anything.

Since returning to the ship was also impossible, they bivouacked in the town meeting hall, a long one-story job with a lot of carvings on the walls and the support beams. Missoni guessed that the long fire pit down the middle was for feasts of some sort. The hospital was larger, but they’d discovered that it was deserted and cold, the many windows already thick with the same frost that iced the inner walls. The long building was more centrally located, sturdily constructed, and free of frost inside,

They built a fire and the smoke rose through a hole in the roof that sucked it out better than Missoni would have guessed. These people had acquired some technology in the last few years, it seemed. Not enough to keep the wind from blowing the smoke back down to choke them and keep a permanent haze between the tops of their hooded helmets and the ceiling, but it helped. The air on Petaybee was supposed to be pure and clean, so they hadn’t brought masks. Missoni used the tail of his muffler to filter out some of the smoke and the others followed suit.

They were an inhuman-looking bunch sitting there, smoke-reddened eyes glittering with tears as they watched the flames leap and dip, red, orange, yellow, white-blue, and some crackly green. The wind roared and shook the walls as if it would bring them down on top of the miserable collection of human beings. How the hell did people live here, and why would they even want to? Missoni wondered. He couldn’t imagine how even fur-bearing animals would live through a storm like this. Well, they lived in holes, didn’t they?

And that, he realized, had to be exactly what the people were doing. This whole place was supposed to be full of caves. People had gone into those caves and come out again thoroughly messed up. Maybe the reason some people stayed on this iceberg was that they had gone down there too and become even more messed up—enough that they actually thought Petaybee was fit for human habitation. Enough that they imagined they liked it.