Mutiny (8 page)

"Then you'll have to go into the booth with him," said the woman.

"I understand."

"There's another problem," said Cole.

She gave him an annoyed look. "What now?"

"I want this to go on the broadest possible wavelength, and I want it aimed not into space but at the mountain range that's to the southwest of here, and also at the spaceport on the other side of the planet."

"Then you don't want to make a subspace transmission at all," she said irritably.

"Yes, I do," replied Cole. "It will be received by a starship and a shuttlecraft of alien design. I know they can receive a subspace transmission; I don't know if they can receive anything else."

She frowned, pulled a manual up on a holoscreen, scanned through it, and finally froze a page. She took a small slip of paper and wrote a four-digit number on it, then pushed it across her desk toward Cole.

"That's the subspace bandwidth you want," she said coldly. "Now, is there anything else you need, or can I get back to work?"

"Now that you mention it, there's one more thing," said Cole. "Can I route this message through a series of stations on nearby planets and then have it beamed back to Rapunzel so that the recipients can't trace it to its source?"

"Given enough time every message is traceable, but I'll program Booth Three to bounce it back and forth between some nearby Republic worlds before sending it back."

"Thank you."

"You're sure that's all?"

"I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time."

"We're here to serve," she said in automatic, bored tones, already concentrating on her computer again.

Cole and Potter went to Booth Three, where Potter immediately got his credit certified.

"It's just as well you're here," said Cole. "I probably need a witness. But it means you're going to have to go into hiding, too. I don't want them killing you for an act of friendship."

"Just do whatever it is you have to do and don't worry about me. Not only is this the most fun I've had in years, but I have the feeling that if I stick near you, I may get the chance to avenge my daughters."

Cole followed the instructions he found in the booth, then sent his message through a T-pack so that it came out in an unidentifiable mechanical monotone: "We understand that Wilson Cole is your prisoner. Will you allow him safe passage off the planet to return to his ship?" Cole deactivated the T-pack and leaned back on his chair. "It'll take a couple of minutes to reach them, and probably just as long to get the message back to me."

"Waste of time," said Potter. "You know what they're going to say—that you're an escaped prisoner and they refuse to give you safe passage to leave Rapunzel."

"I know. I just want to make it a matter of record."

And five minutes later it became a matter of record, when the Bortellites, demanding to know who was making the transmission, unequivocally stated that Wilson Cole was a military spy and under no circumstances would he be allowed to leave the planet.

"Very good," said Cole after breaking the connection. "Now let's find a vidphone."

"Right down the hall," said Potter, pointing them out.

Cole walked up to the closest one, then turned to Potter again.

"I know," said Potter. "No money or ID, right?"

"Right. But before you pay for it, tell me the name of the biggest news organization on the planet—video, disk, holocube, I don't care which."

"The biggest is probably the Francesco Organization. But we've also got a division of New Sumatra News here. It's not very big on Rapunzel, but if you add all their outlets together they reach a couple of hundred planets."

"That's the one I want. Get them on the vidphone for me."

Potter went through the same verification procedure again, then contacted the New Sumatra News offices and stepped aside so that Cole could sit in front of the camera and speak to them.

"I want the news desk," he said.

"City, planetary, or interstellar?"

"I don't care. Just put me in touch with a competent reporter. I've got a breaking story here."

A moment later a young woman's face appeared. "This is Cynthia Duvall. How can I help you."

"Cynthia, I don't have any ID with me, but I want you to take a good look at my face. I can also transmit a fingerprint if you want."

"Why would I want that?"

"To verify my identity."

"I thought you were calling in a news story. At least, that's what I was told."

"You were told correctly. I
am
the story. My name is Wilson Cole."

Her eyes widened. "Stay right there!" she said excitedly. A moment later a man and another woman were standing beside her, staring into the screen at their end of the connection.

"It's him, all right," said the second woman.

"Yeah, I'll vouch for it," said the man. "I've done half a dozen stories on him over the years. What are you doing here, Captain Cole?"

"Commander
Cole," Cole corrected him. "I must ask you to please not attempt to trace this transmission to its source. I am currently in hiding from the Bortellites, who captured me early yesterday. I managed to escape, but they have stated that they have no intention of allowing me to leave Rapunzel."

"What were you doing here?"

"That's classified information."

"Why are you in contact with
us?"

"This is a Republic world, and I'm a Republic naval officer being hunted by enemies of the Republic. That's news, and you're newspeople. I've got to run. Please don't try to find me. My life depends on it."

He broke the transmission.

"All right," he said to Potter. "Now we get the hell out of the building, because of course they'll trace the transmission and they'll have someone here in five minutes."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Out to the suburbs somewhere. You'll need to get some cash along the way; we don't want them tracing credit transactions. We'll rent a place for a few days, maybe a week at most."

"Why not just go to my place?"

"By now they know you paid for the transmission. That's the first place they'll look."

"All right, the suburbs it is," said Potter. "Then maybe you'll tell me what the hell this was all about."

"I serve under a couple of rigid, by-the-book officers," said Cole. "They're going to believe that I exceeded my orders when I took a shuttlecraft to Rapunzel after I saw enemy activity here, and they're never going to risk a military engagement with the Bortellites on their own authority, even though Bortel II has just joined the Teroni Federation. If we wait for decisions to come down through channels, the Bortellites will finish plundering that mountain range and leave the planet. And since we're at war, they might very well poison the air or the water when they're done. So we're going to put a little pressure on the Navy to do the right thing."

"Just by speaking to the press?"

"Right now almost no one knows that Bortel II is no longer neutral, or that they've got military personnel on Rapunzel. But by tomorrow hundreds of worlds will know that they're here, that they captured me when I landed, that I escaped and I'm hiding somewhere on the planet, and that they've stated that they will not let me leave Rapunzel. By tomorrow night quite a few million people are going to want to know why the Navy is not doing everything within its power to rescue the most decorated officer in the Fleet. The Navy, being the Navy, will ignore the pressure for a day or two, but that will just make it build until, against their will and their better judgment, they are forced to do the right thing."

"You really think it'll work?"

Cole smiled. "I
know
it'll work. They don't give a damn about saving me, they may not even care with happens to a strategically unimportant little world like Rapunzel—but believe me, they'll do whatever they have to do to save their image."

They found a nice, nondescript house for rent in the middle of an unmemorable residential area. Potter paid for a month's rent with cash, they bought enough food to hold them for seven days, Cole bought some civilian clothes, and then they left the aircar in a private underground garage and took public transportation to their new living quarters.

"Ugly as sin," remarked Potter as they began filling the kitchen cabinets with food and disposable dishes and utensils. "And small."

"You ought to try living on a starship someday," said Cole with a smile.

"I don't know how you keep from going crazy, being cooped up on one of those ships for months, maybe years."

"You work long hours," answered Cole as he changed clothes. "You do everything you can to keep occupied and not dwell upon the fact that while you may be flying all over the galaxy, your personal universe is two hundred and sixty-three feet long, forty-four feet wide, and from five to seven levels deep." He tossed his tattered uniform into the kitchen atomizer, eliminating all trace of it.

"I thought they were bigger than that."

"They are—much bigger. But the rest of it is taken up by the FTL drive and the weaponry." Cole smiled wistfully. "You don't know how we envy those luxury liners with their pools and gymnasiums and dance floors."

"They cost an arm and a leg, and probably an eyeball or two," noted Potter.

"Serve even one month on a military ship and then tell me you wouldn't pay it."

They put the last of their packages away. "We should have rented one with a robot butler," said Potter. "One that could cook and clean up after us."

Cole shook his head. "Robots are expensive."

"I told you: I've got nothing to spend it on."

"You're not following me," said Cole. "We took this dump because it
is
a dump. The rental agency knew it: they took cash and didn't ask for any ID. You rent a place with a robot, you're going to have to put at least a thousand credits in escrow, and they won't return it until they check the robot out at the end of your stay."

"So?"

"Do you have a thousand credits in your pocket?" asked Cole.

"All right, I see your point. If I give them anything but cash, it can be traced." He paused. "But do the Bug-Eyes know enough to trace it?"

"They won't have to," said Cole. "The media will trace it and camp outside, waiting for a statement or a holo, and the Bortellites will just follow them."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"No reason why you should have. You've never run for your life before."

"What's it like?"

"It's not as exciting as bad books and worse entertainments would lead you to believe. If it works, it's boring as hell, and if it doesn't work, you
wish
it was boring as hell."

Potter looked around the house again. "I guess we're in the boring part," he said.

"Just hope it stays that way."

"Well," said Potter, "there's one way to find out."

He activated the holoscreen, which formed one entire wall of the parlor. A documentary about the rare life-forms on the planet Peponi seemed to fill the room.

"News," he ordered.

"Headlines or in-depth?" replied the holo.

"Headlines."

"Cole in hiding on Rapunzel!" blared the voice. "Parliament takes up tax bill. Blasters defeat Ramparts in overtime."

"Stop."

The voice was silent.

"Give me more coverage of the Cole story."

"Condensed or in-depth?"

"Condensed to begin with."

"Wilson Cole, the most decorated officer in the Republic's military, is known to be on Rapunzel. In an exclusive interview with the New Sumatra News Agency, Cole claimed that he is being hunted by soldiers from Bortel II, which he claims has recently declared its allegiance to the Teroni Federation. He further claims that these same Bortellites have threatened to kill him if he tries to leave the planet. Attempts to locate (Commander Cole or authenticate his claims are ongoing ..."

"Claims, claims, claims!" snapped Potter. "They make you sound like a liar!"

"They
don't know that Bortellites aren't here as a neutral power;
you
do. More to the point, the
Navy
does. This is local news now, but within a few hours someone on some other planet's newsdesk is going to notice my name, and then all hell is going to break loose." He allowed himself the luxury of a smile. "Poor Mount Fuji. I've been on the
Teddy R
less than one day, and suddenly he's going to find himself in a shooting war."

"Mount Fuji?"

"Captain Makeo Fujiama," said Cole. "He's the captain of the
Theodore Roosevelt."

"Will you now require in-depth coverage of the story?" inquired the holo.

"No," said Cole. He turned to Potter. "They're just going to say the same thing with a lot more adverbs and adjectives."

"Probably," agreed Potter. "Get back to Mount Fuji. Why is he the captain of a starship if he's afraid to fight the enemy?"

"He's not afraid," answered Cole. "You don't get command of a starship if you're a coward. But he won't see any reason to risk his ship just because I exceeded my orders."

"Did you?"

"I don't think so—but I'll give plenty of twenty-to-one that
he
thinks I did."

"What if he's not interested in public opinion?"

"I'm sure he couldn't care less about it—but somebody higher up has got to have political ambitions. Give it a day or two to build and—
shit!"

"What is it?" asked Potter.

"Look at the screen."

A large aircar, with all kinds of transmitting equipment attached to the roof, was shown traveling through the suburbs of Pinocchio. It came to a stop in front of a plain-looking house.

"They're here!" exclaimed Potter. "That's
this
house!"

"Let's go out the back," said Cole, already heading to the back door.

They ran across the small yard and raced between two neighboring houses. They hadn't quite made it to the street when they heard the explosion.

"What the hell was that?" asked Potter, stopping.

"Don't slow down. I'll tell you what it was once we're out of here."

He reached the street and flagged down a passing aircar.

"We need a ride," he said as the car came to a stop and hovered above the pavement. "There's two hundred credits in it for you if you'll take us back into the city."

"I won't take money to help Wilson Cole," said the driver. "Get in fast!"

"You know me?" asked Cole as he and Potter piled into the back of the aircar.

"Your holo is plastered everywhere," said the driver. "Did that explosion over on the next block have something to do with you?"

"Yeah," said Cole. "They found us sooner than I figured they would."

"How?" asked Potter.

"The newspeople must have traced your vehicle, then checked to see if anyone had rented a place in the last few hours. The Bortellites just followed the media." Cole grimaced. "I thought they'd have to spend a couple of days finding the damned aircar. I guess they put out a reward for information. I'd be a lot more annoyed at those reporters if they hadn't died for their trouble."

"Where am I taking you to, Captain Cole?"

"I'm not a captain," answered Cole. "Has Pinocchio got a slum?"

"Afraid not," replied the driver. "It's not all upscale, but it's all clean and safe." He paused. "There's a military outpost south of town. Do you want me to take you there?"

"No. Just drive us through the city. I'll tell you where to stop."

"What's wrong with getting dropped off at a Republic outpost?" asked Potter.

"I don't want to put myself in a position where they can give me orders just yet. I've got to remain flexible as long as I'm on Rapunzel."

"If you want to organize a militia, I'll volunteer," said the driver. "So will almost everyone I know."

"Here I am, doing my damnedest to stay alive, and you're lining up to get killed," said Cole. "I appreciate your courage and your patriotism, but there's a Bortellite warship on the planet that can destroy anything you throw against it in seconds."

"Why are they after you?"

"Initially to keep me quiet," answered Cole. "Now it's just retaliation because I've alerted the planet to their new status as members of the Teroni Federation."

"I heard the newscasts," said the driver. "There were all kinds of qualifications and a lot of hedging about that."

"That's probably because someone in your government made a sweetheart deal with them, and doesn't want to end it just because they've joined the enemy."

"Do you know that for a fact?" asked the driver sharply.

"No, but it figures. Probably most of your leaders are good, moral, God-fearing men and woman—but it only takes one to sell you out to the enemy."

"Well, it seems to me if the Bortellites heard it, they'll be out of here before any Navy ships arrive."

"I don't think so," said Cole.

"Why not?"

"Rapunzel has something they desperately need," explained Cole. "They know if they leave without it they're never going to be allowed back."

"So they're just going to sit around and wait for the Fleet to show up?"

"I don't know what they're going to do," admitted Cole. "They're just dumb enough to think I'd make a good hostage—my life for what they want." He chuckled ironically. "As if the Navy cares."

"I'm still trying to figure out how they found us so fast," said Potter.

"Once the press found out that you paid for my subspace message, everything followed logically," said Cole. "That was
our
mistake.
Theirs
was not figuring that the Bortellites would be watching them."

"The war hasn't reached Rapunzel," said Potter. "None of us are used to thinking like that."

"As long as you're on the run from a common enemy, why don't the two of you stay at my place?" offered the driver.

"You got any family?" asked Cole.

"A wife and three kids."

"Thanks for the offer, but there's no sense endangering five of you."

"It's no trouble."

"Forget it."

"It's my duty," said the man stubbornly.

"I'll tell you what," said Cole. "Contact your wife and tell her you plan to harbor a man that every Bortellite on the planet is hunting. Ask her if she's willing to trade the lives of your three children for mine. If she says yes, we'll take you up on your offer."

"She'll probably turn the security system up to lethal before we get there," answered the driver. "But I've got to do
something.
We're at war. I can't just turn my back on a man the enemy is hunting."

"You can do something," said Cole. "What's the closest city to Pinocchio? Not a suburb, but a city?"

"Cinnamon, about forty miles north."

"God, who named these places?" said Cole. "All right. Once you drop us off, wait twenty minutes, long enough for us to get off the street and out of sight. Then contact all the major news organizations and tell them you spotted us heading toward Cinnamon." He paused. "No! Wait a minute. It's going to take them an hour or more to determine that we weren't in the explosion. Let's get them off my back for as long as possible. Wait until you hear a report on any of the newscasts that there was no trace of us and they don't know what happened to us. Then pass the word to the press."

"Can't I do anything more?"

"Believe me, if you do that, that'll be plenty," Cole assured him.

They rode in silence for a few more minutes.

"Say when and where," offered the driver as they approached the center of Pinocchio.

"Here and now," said Cole.

The vehicle came to a stop and gently lowered itself to the pavement. Cole reached forward and shook the driver's hand.

"It's been a privilege meeting you," said the driver. "If you need any help in the future, just ask for—"

"NO!"
shouted Cole so sharply that the driver and Potter both jumped.

"What is it?"

"If I don't know your name, no one can force it out of me," explained Cole. He turned to Potter. "By the same token, don't look back at the vehicle. We don't want to know its ID or any identifying marks." Then, to the driver: "Thanks for your help. Try to make that call in a way that can't be traced. Then forget you ever met us."

He got out of the vehicle and began walking. Potter fell into step behind him.

"Where to?" asked Potter.

"Off the street," answered Cole. "I may have dumped the uniform, but like he said, my face is plastered all the hell over."

They ducked into an office building, and Cole called up the directory on a holoscreen.

"There's an office for rent on the fifteenth floor," said Cole, "and there have to be janitor's quarters somewhere, probably in the basement. That'll do until it's dark, but it won't work on a permanent basis. We're going to need food, and there doesn't seem to be anything resembling a cafeteria or a restaurant in the building."

"I know they went after you out in the suburbs," said Potter, "but would they really attack you in the heart of the city?"