From under hooded eyes, Pecora greatly enjoyed watching the blood drain from Yoon’s face as the implications of the diplomatic note and its declaration of limited military action sank into his shocked and disbelieving mind.
At last, Yoon finished reading. He looked up, mouth working but unable to get the words out. Pecora just sat and watched, his eyes pitiless, his stare unwavering, as he saw Yoon struggling to come to grips with the enormity of what he had been given.
Finally, Yoon managed to collect himself, clearly unable to believe what he had just read.
“This cannot be true!” he blurted out. “You cannot be serious. Attacks on two Hammer systems! For an alleged hijacking? This is just lies. Unprovoked aggression. I don’t think you-”
Pecora cut him off, rising to his feet, his voice brutal with barely controlled anger.
“Frankly, Ambassador Yoon, neither I nor my government cares what you think. It’s all there in the statement of facts, chapter and verse, as required by the New Washington Convention. So unless you have any questions that the note does not answer, I suggest you leave now. I am sure your government would like to know of our declaration sooner rather than later. My staff will show you out. Goodbye.”
With that, Pecora was out of his chair and gone. Yoon just sat, shocked into paralyzed immobility, the cheerful floral pattern of the armchair hugely at odds with the high drama of the moment.
Thursday, November 19, 2398, UD
High in the mountains above the upper Clearwater Valley, the old man sat staring into the distance, the stress showing in stark lines cut across a face that had aged a decade in only weeks.
The midday sun beat down relentlessly, bleaching the color out of the timber deck that looked toward the distant Karolev Ranges. The trees and mountains that framed the house were shimmering visibly as the heat of the day began to build up, the air trembling as it started its long climb thousands of meters into the sky. Behind the house, clouds already were building up as humid air started to fight its way across the Tien Shan Mountains.
Andrew Helfort knew there might be a serious storm later in the day. The air was thick and heavy with the promise of it, but he did not care.
Many minutes passed before he turned back to the young man sitting patiently beside him at the well-used table that had pride of place on the deck. The deeply varnished surface was immaculate, the deck around it pristine, kept that way by the habits of a lifetime of Space Fleet service. In the end, it had been all that had held the tortured mind, body, and soul of Andrew Helfort together.
Andrew Helfort could barely speak, his voice coming out as a half-strangled croak. “You couldn’t be wrong about this, could you?” His voice cracked with doubt. The terrible, aching fear that the news of Kerri’s and Sam’s survival might not be true wracked his body.
The immaculate young officer, his formal dress blacks at odds with the rough informality of the setting, shook his head emphatically. “Not a chance, sir, I can assure you. Federated Worlds forces are right now moving to recover your family and the rest of the passengers and crew from Eternity. Everything we know is available through the Corona persona. You have priority access, so please, see for yourself. Take all the time you need.”
Andrew Helfort finally allowed himself to believe.
The nightmare that had started that awful day when a police flier had arrived unannounced finally started to clear. The process was as slow and uncertain as the morning mist burning off the hills that surrounded the Palisades, tendrils of fear and doubt and grief coming back to wrap themselves around his mind, blotting out any newfound hope before disappearing as hope reasserted itself.
He nodded.
Reluctantly he commed the Corona persona. He half smiled as its avatar appeared. This one was a middle- aged woman clearly designed to radiate both sympathy and confidence in equal measure. He didn’t stay talking long. The holovids of
“No,” he said. “There really doesn’t seem to be any doubt.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “When do they come home?”
“The operation to recover them is under way now, and allowing for debriefing, they should be home in a bit over a week. But we’ll let you know an exact time as soon as we have one. But there’ll be no delays. We’ll be as quick as we can.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant, thank you. With all my heart, thank you.”
“My pleasure, sir. Believe me.”
But then Andrew Helfort’s growing happiness collapsed as he suddenly realized that the Federated Worlds were in the middle of the biggest military action against the Hammer in almost twenty years and he had no idea where Michael was. His last message had been just before
His mouth was suddenly dry, his heart thudding. “My son. What of him? Is
The young officer’s eyes skidded off Andrew Helfort’s face to look into the far distance. He couldn’t help it as he was asked the one question he dreaded. “Well, sir, as you know, operational security means I cannot say…”
The young lieutenant’s voice trailed off under the full force of Andrew Helfort’s best “I’m a Fleet captain and you’re not, so don’t fuck with me” look.
“Er, yes, sir,” he stammered unhappily. “Well, as I was saying…”
Andrew Helfort threw his hands in the air. “Young man, for God’s sake, get to the point. Is
“Yes, sir,” the man said reluctantly.
“Right. Are you allowed to tell me in what role?”
“No, sir.”
“Fine. I don’t like it, but I do understand. When can I expect confirmation that
“The operation is scheduled to complete no later than 09:00 UT. I can tell you that Fleet will be in touch with you as soon as they have received
Andrew Helfort nodded. He knew that was the best he could expect. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Now that the business is over, can I persuade you to stay and have some lunch?”
“No, thanks, sir. Another time maybe. This is a great place you’ve got here.”
“It might be, Lieutenant, it might be again one day,” Andrew Helfort said softly. But not until the whole family was back sitting alongside him. Which, God willing, they would be soon.
Thursday, November 19, 2398, UD
Digby settled down in the thinly padded seat of the big half-track as it swung out of the security compound and made its way down the road toward Eternity Base.
The half-track splashed through the puddles of water left over from the day’s torrential downpour. What little twilight there was was fading fast, the setting sun obscured by thick gray-black clouds scudding across the sky, driven by a blustery swirling easterly wind; the humidity was about as bad as it ever got. Digby didn’t much care. Bad weather or not, it was now part of his routine to drive around the base, making sure that all was as it should be before climbing Humpback Hill to think about the day that just past and what the next day might bring.
Therein lay the problem that was taxing him. He could not understand why the Feds had done nothing. It had
