Gene Wolfe - Home Fires

“I’m ashamed to. There wasn’t anything, and I was afraid they’d look for me there. If they had Chelle or her mother, they might know our cabin number. So I climbed up to B Deck instead. I hid there until it got dark.”

“Then you came up here.”

“Correct.” Skip drew a deep breath. “I hoped Chelle and her mother would be here. They weren’t, as well as I could judge, but I decided to try to get in myself. They’d wanted to go here, and I thought there had to be a reason. Perhaps they just wanted to see if you were still alive.”

“Hardly. I know what they wanted—or what Virginia wanted, anyway. I’ll show you in a minute. Where are these bastards holding their prisoners? Have you got any idea?”

“None. But I’m certain they have prisoners. The man who had this gun told me that he was going to hold me for ransom.”

The captain nodded. “That’s where the money is, ransom for the passengers and the ship. The ship is insured, of course. But when an insurer can get a ship back and return it to its owner, he doesn’t have to pay. Ransoming the ship’s cheaper than paying off.”

“What happens to passengers who aren’t ransomed?”

The captain’s smile was grim. “What do you think happens, Mr. Grison?”

“The crew, too?”

“If the company won’t pay to get them back, yes, they die. It’s the threat of death that brings the ransoms, so the bastards have to keep the threat credible. I’ll be ransomed, or I think I will. So will you and Chelle, or so I’d imagine. Virginia?”

“Yes. I’ll call a man who works with me.”

“Good. But the steward who’s been taking care of your stateroom will die. So will the seamen who’ve been working the ship and a good many more. The actors who put on our live shows, for example, and all our cooks and barmen and croupiers. We carry five crew to every four passengers, Mr. Grison. The Union Employment Administration requires it. Some of our crew were ashore when the ship was taken, but only a few. The hijackers jumped us just before sunrise.”

“I see.”

“So did Virginia. She saw what I’m going to show you. She’s a charming woman, isn’t she?”

“Very.”

“That’s why I let her see the arms chest. She had no real need to know, but I was showing off. What caliber is that gun of yours?”

“Nine millimeter parabellum. It’s stamped on it.”

“Good! That’s what we’ve got—all that we’ve got, in fact. You must know something about guns.”

“Not much.” Skip sighed. “I’m an attorney, Captain. I’ve defended cases in which guns were involved. That’s all they ever were to me, the prosecution’s Exhibit A. Now I wish I knew as much as Chelle.”

“Your contracta?”

“Correct. She was a soldier. Technically she still is, although she’ll be discharged next year. Can I see the arms chest?”

“Of course. We’ll reload that gun of yours, too.” The captain stepped past Skip. “We’ll have to move the tele. I’ll show you.”

“May I stand up?”

“Yes, of course.” The captain offered his hand. Skip took it and stood.

“It’s fastened down,” the captain said. “Everything is, even my chair. You can’t have furniture sliding around in a storm.” He reached behind the tele cabinet and pulled. “There’s a self-aligning catch, very clever. Now I can push this to one side.”

He demonstrated, revealing a steel lid with a combination lock. “I’ll bet you were expecting something bigger.”

“I was,” Skip said.

“A pistol for each officer. That’s all the company will provide.” The captain was turning the dial. “Three hundred years ago, ships still carried a weapon for every man in the crew, a cutlass or a boarding ax in most cases. Now—well, I shouldn’t talk against management.”

“You had no chance to issue what you had.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I didn’t even have time to arm myself. They caught me right here in my pajamas and held me on the bridge for most of the day. Two of them were taking me somewhere below when they saw a chance to loot and got busy with that. I slipped away and hid. When it seemed that things had quieted down, I came back here. I almost never lock my door. I doubt that a lawyer would believe that.”

“A lawyer would certainly want to know why.”

“Because the officer of the watch is under orders to call me anytime anything unexpected turns up, day or night. The bridge is right next door.”

Skip nodded.

“I run up there in pajamas and slippers. A robe, too, now and then, but not often. That’s why my door is never locked.” The captain pulled up the steel lid of the arms chest, revealing a row of semiautomatic pistols held in a padded rack. “I locked it behind me when I came in, of course. I got this gun and a spare magazine and locked the chest back up. Then I thought that since I was here I might as well get dressed. That’s what I was doing when you came in.”

The telephone on the captain’s desk chimed. Both men stared at it, then at each other.

It chimed again.

“I think I’d better answer it,” the captain muttered. He seemed to wait for Skip to object; when Skip did not, he added, “It might be important.”

Skip nodded, and the captain picked up the receiver. The young woman who appeared on the screen was neatly and nautically uniformed. The captain said, “Yes. Speaking.”

The young woman spoke at length; and the captain said, “As a matter of fact, he’s right here.” He turned to Skip. “It’s for you.”

Skip accepted the receiver.

“Mr. Grison? Are you S. W. Grison the attorney, sir?”

Skip nodded.

“Of Burton, Grison, and Ibarra?”

“Correct.”

“This is the Judge Advocate’s Department, sir. I’m in South Boswash, and I represent the Coast Guard. My name is Lieutenant Fabre. A young woman from your office called to notify the Coast Guard that your ship, the Rani … I think she said the Rani …”

“Correct,” Skip said again.

“That it had been attacked by hijackers.”

“It’s Captain Kain’s ship,” Skip said, “but you’re correct. It has been.”

“I felt that it might save a great deal of legal wrangling, and expense, if I spoke to you, sir, and clarified our position. The Coast Guard has jurisdiction in NAU territorial waters only, sir. Outside those waters, the UN has jurisdiction. Were you attacked in NAU territorial waters, sir?”

“No. The Antillian Union.”

“I see. And are you in NAU territorial waters at present?”

“I can’t say, although I think it likely. Hold on a moment, please, Lieutenant.” Skip turned to the captain. “We’re headed toward Yucatán, aren’t we?”

The captain nodded.

Lieutenant Fabre said, “That was a leading question, sir.”

“I suppose. We’re not in court at present.”

The captain said, “If we’re not in NAU waters now, we soon will be.”

Lieutenant Fabre smiled. “You’ll have to establish that in court, sir. I’m sure you understand.”

“If we enter NAU territorial waters and are not rescued, there may well be a legal action,” Skip told her. “The Coast Guard could render the entire question moot by rescuing us, however.”

“I feel sure we’re tracking your position.” Lieutenant Fabre did not sound sure.

Skip said, “If you don’t mind, Lieutenant, we’re busy here.”

“I’ll have to check.” Lieutenant Fabre hung up.

So did Skip.

“They won’t do it,” the captain told him.

“You’re probably right, and there’s a chance they may sink us and claim the hijackers did it.”