Home Fires

2. WHEN JANIE COMES MARCHING HOME

The sky seemed oddly threatening. Patches of clearest blue separated cloud towers the color of city faces. Like all the rest, Skip studied the sky and watched for the shuttle, buffeted by the crowd and striving to shelter Vanessa from similar shoving and elbowing. “I thought they’d be about my age,” he whispered. “I wasn’t ready for these kids.”

“They are waiting for their fathers and mothers, for parents they’ve been told about but can’t remember.” She seemed cool and collected, small and splendid in the black wool coat he had bought her and a black pillbox hat whose scarlet feather matched her earrings.

“There are some as old as we are.” It sounded more defensive than he had intended.

“Some. Not many.”

Then there were cheers, and the young man on Skip’s right pointed and shouted. Very far away, a shining dot had emerged from one of the gray-faced clouds. The crowd surged against the fence, which bowed but held. Military Police—big men with polished white helmets above tired, brutal faces—were clearing a path with white batons, shoving people aside and whacking the shoulders of those who refused to move.

Half a dozen uniformed women unrolled a red carpet; somewhere nearby a band struck up “El Continente de los Héroes.”

“Catchy, isn’t it?” Vanessa whispered.

There seemed to be no point in answering her, and Skip did not. To the north, the shining dot had sprouted stubby wings.

“It looks too small to hold many people.” Vanessa was shading her eyes with her hand and squinting; there were tiny lines at the corners of her eyes.

Skip said, “I think it must be the size of a bus.”

It was far larger, swooping down toward the end of a runway as long as many highways, a runway so long that its end was well beyond their sight. The thunder of rockets—just the little braking rockets, Skip reminded himself—was like a storm at sea.

“Her name,” he said.

Vanessa turned to him quizzically.

“Chelle Sea Blue. Her eyes are as blue as the sea down around Tobago.”

Perhaps Vanessa replied; if so, Skip did not hear her. He was watching the shuttle bringing Chelle. It looked as large as a ship without masts—a ship in drydock, with no part hidden by the sea. Stopping, it turned and rolled toward them, moving slowly and ponderously on landing gear with so many wheels that Skip, who often counted things by reflex, lost count of them—huge rubber wheels, some of which (and perhaps all of which) were clearly powered.

A man standing behind him said, “Imagine how big the mother ship is!”

Skip nodded, though he knew he had not been addressed.

A stunned silence had settled over the crowd; the band was heard distinctly once more, a band that seemed much too small for the occasion, a little band of children welcoming a stainless-steel archangel. “The Union Anthem” had always sounded as though it had been composed by a machine, but never more than now.

A silver gangplank unrolled from an airlock a hundred feet in the air, a gangplank that stiffened as it came and brought its own spidery railing of slender posts and still more slender black cords.

Someone shouted, “Here they come!” But they did not come.

Vanessa was sniffling. After a moment, Skip gave her his handkerchief, a man’s handkerchief, white with a dark gray border, a handkerchief so large that it might easily have been knotted about her slender throat like a bandana. “My baby!” It was gasped, not said. “My baby!”

He put his arm around her shoulders.

“I only had one. I never wanted more. But … But…”

“I understand.”

An officer with a bullhorn had appeared, tiny at the top of the gangplank. “… WHO TOUCHES ANY SOLDIER WILL BE TAKEN INTO CUSTODY. ANYONE WHO BREAKS THE MILITARY POLICE LINES WILL LIKEWISE BE TAKEN INTO CUSTODY.”

The crowd growled in response, one vast beast with a thousand savage heads.

The officer disappeared into the shuttle. For thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes and more, nothing happened.

The band struck up a march, a bass drum thumping the cadence while two trap drums pranced around it, the whole punctuated by trumpets that for once sounded like trumpets on a battlefield.

And they came, a single file of women and men in blue garrison caps and dress cloaks, booted feet drumming the long silver gangplank and arms swinging. Someone shouted, “Oh, don’t they look fine!”

In reply Vanessa whispered, “They don’t tell anyone when the dead and wounded come back.”

The first marching soldier stepped off the end of the gangplank, and the crowd surged toward her—toward her and toward those who came behind her. The white-helmeted MPs shouted. Their white batons rose briefly above the heads of the crowd and fell upon them.

More soldiers came, and more, an endless stream; and the crowd parted for white-helmeted MPs dragging a gray-haired woman in handcuffs.

“There she is!” Vanessa was shouting and pointing. “Chelle! Chelle, darling! Over here!”

With Vanessa in his wake, Skip fought through the crowd and pushed past a white-helmeted MP to seize Chelle and kiss her. The shock of a white baton on his shoulder was less painful than Chelle’s startled stare. Goaded to savagery by pain and stare, Skip whirled, grabbed the coat of the MP who had struck him, butted him in the face, kneed him in the groin, and let him fall.

When he turned again, Chelle was gone, the crowd was rioting, and soldiers were no longer marching out of the ship. Grinning as she was forced tightly against him by the rioters, Vanessa asked, “Where the devil did you learn that?”

“Law school,” he told her.

* * *

He had nearly unpacked when Vanessa knocked at the door of his hotel room. “I can’t speak for you, Skip, but I’m starved. There’s nothing like stoning the police to give one an appetite.” She sniffed. “You still have that dreadful gas on your clothing. You must change—shower and change.”

“I will,” he said, and returned to his shirts.

“You brought so many clothes!”

He nodded absently.

“I brought everything I have, but it isn’t much.” When he said nothing, Vanessa added, “That’s a hint.”

“I thought so.”

“Two dresses and a pants suit. A few cosmetics. I ask you.”

“Ample. Now get out of here. I have to change, as you suggested. I have to shower. I’ll get you when I’m ready to eat.”

Vanessa leveled a long, crimson-tipped finger. “I am starving, I’ve scarcely a nora, and I’m not leaving ’til I am fed. If you try to throw me out bodily, I’ll scream my glamorous little head off. I bite, too.”

“I’m going to strip—”

“Shut up! Do you think I’ve never seen a naked man?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“One must shout at idiots when kindness doesn’t work. You have a robe, I see it in your closet. Take your robe and go into the bathroom. Take off those clothes and have a nice shower. Put on the robe and I will bring you fresh clothes piece by piece. Why did you bring so much anyway?”

Skip sat down on the bed. “Chelle has a year’s leave coming. I was hoping—I don’t know that it will happen—that we could go off together right away.”

“The EU?”

His shoulders rose and fell. “Wherever she wanted. Paris or Antarctica or around the world.”

“Without me.”

“Correct.”

“You will stop paying, and I will die again. Is that right?”

“Only if you turn yourself in.”

“I’ll be broke and friendless. Starving on the streets, and they’ll be counting on that.”

He sighed. “I specialize in criminal law, Vanessa. Maybe you knew that.”

“It must be interesting. Serial killers, hijackers, burglars, and counterfeiters. The woman who drove me to the station told me.”

“Then let me tell you something. Nearly everything is against the law on this continent. Cockfighting. Using a few watts over your energy allotment. Signing with someone too young to contract. Picking your nose in a public park. On and on and on. As a result there are at least seventy million fugitives, and there could be more. Nobody really knows.”

“Most of whom nobody gives a hoot about.”

He sighed. “You’re right.”

“Reanimation would care a great deal about me. More than enough to offer a reward. Enough to have its private security run me down, a friendless woman without money.”

The telephone on Skip’s nightstand caroled; the screen lit to show Chelle’s anxious face.

* * *

While they waited for a room-service dinner, Skip said, “If they won’t let anybody off base, what are you doing here?”

Chelle grinned. “I hopped over the fence. Went AWOL. Bad, bad Chelle!”

“Won’t you be punished?”

She shook her head. “I could be—court-martialed and reduced in grade. All that shit. I won’t be. There are too many of us, and we’re just back from the smokehouse and in line for uppity-ump awards and citations. I’ll go back tomorrow morning, get a chewing-out and a lecture, and keep processing. I’m going to sleep here, right? With you?”

Skip nodded. “I certainly hope so.”

“But you deserted to see me,” Vanessa protested. “You didn’t even know who Skip was.”

“Yeah.” Chelle paused, looking from one to the other. “Except that I didn’t desert. I went away without leave. You don’t desert unless you put on civvies, and you have to have been missing for more than a week.”

She yawned and smiled at Skip. “Hey, listen to me—I’ve turned into a guardhouse lawyer. You probably know all this already.”

He shook his head. “Military law’s a different field. I should have boned up on it while you were away. I’ll do it, now that you’ve come back.”

Vanessa said, “You’re getting out, aren’t you, Chelle? Getting a discharge?”

“No, sir! Not ’til I use up my paid leave.”

Their food arrived, and Skip signed for it.

“I’ve got a ton of pay coming, too,” Chelle remarked as the waiter left. “How long was I gone?”

“Twenty-two years, one hundred and six days.” Skip cleared his throat. “I didn’t count the hours. I was…”

“Speechless, Counselor?”

“Looking for the best word. Devastated. Knocked off my feet. Half dead. Veritas nihil veretur nisi abscondi. None of those I’ve found are quite right, and I’m still groping for it.”

Chelle uncovered her plate. “This smells heavenly. Army food’s not really as bad as everybody thinks, but I’m starved and this is going to be better. So I’m going to ask questions now, and you two are going to have to answer while I liberate the best chow.” Abruptly her voice grew serious. “This one’s driving me nuts. Why don’t you look old, Mom?”

Vanessa snapped, “Please don’t call me that. You know I hate it.”

“Last time, I swear. Why don’t you?”

“I’ve been away.”

“In space? Sure! You had to be.” Chelle’s strong, white teeth tore the breast of a chicken.

“I shall not say more, darling.”

Through the chicken, Chelle managed, “Where’s Charlie?”

“I neither know nor care. I voided our contract—unilaterally, which is quite difficult. It was after you divorced us, thus you were not notified.”

“Uh huh.”

“Charles grew boring as he aged. Perhaps Skip has as well. You’ll have to tell me.”

“I haven’t grown boring,” Skip declared, “because I was boring already. Chelle found me restful after combat training.”

“Atter lif wi’ you.” Chelle swallowed. “You’re a breakdown trying to happen to somebody else, Mother dear.”

“Why, Chelle! That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Absence makes the heart horny, or whatever it is. Why won’t— I’ve got it! You were a spy! I’ll bet you were good at it, too.”

Skip said, “I can’t imagine how a human being could spy on the Os.”

“Electronically.” Chelle was mining her baked potato.

“We spy on the EU, and they upon us,” Vanessa told him. “Everybody spies on Greater Eastasia.”

“I know, but it doesn’t involve interstellar travel.”

Chelle said, “Right. We’re all allies together out there, arm in arm as we march through thick and thin and all that shit. One of the best noncoms we had turned out to be an EU spy, Master Sergeant Pununto. I killed him. Do you know that as soon as I finish my dinner—yours, too—I’m going to rape you? I just decided on it. Anybody want wine?”

Vanessa held out her glass, and Chelle poured. “While he was in that goddamned bathroom getting dressed I damned near broke down the door. What kind of underwear does he wear?”

Before Vanessa could reply, Skip said, “Not relevant.”

“I’ll find out. Probably those cool silk loincloths—they’re big right now.”

“Chelle, really!”

“Now listen up, Skip, ’cause this is serious. I could be stuck here for weeks. I don’t know, but I could be.” She took a pencil and a small notebook from a pocket of her uniform. “I’m going to give you my service number, and the number of the base commander’s office. Phone tomorrow and ask where I am—what part of the processing. They’ll say they can’t find out without my number. It’s a damned lie, but give it to them and ask when I’m getting out. That’s important. They might tell you, but they won’t tell me. Go all legal on them and you’ll probably get it.”

Skip said, “I understand. What I don’t understand is why they may hold on to you for weeks.”

“They think we’re crazy, that combat’s shoved us over the edge.” Chelle fluffed her blond curls. “Those pricks call themselves soldiers, but there’s not a fucking one of them—”

“Chelle!”

“Not a fucking one of them who’s been shot at. I’ve put ‘Base’ beside the base number. The one with ‘Chelle’ is my phone. When you’ve got the info, call up and tell me. We can take it from there.”

Vanessa said, “Choose the world cruise, Chelle. He wants to decamp with you, and there’s nothing like a world cruise. Get a first-class stateroom. Veranda and sauna.”

Chelle raised an eyebrow. “Do you really have that kind of money now, Skip?”

“For you, yes. We’re not rich, you understand, but we’re not badly off. May I ask a few questions? There’s something I want very much to find out.”

“Fire when ready.” She laid aside her pencil and notebook.

“You didn’t recognize me when you saw me in the crowd. You recognized your mother immediately, but not me.”

“Right. She looks the same way she did when I left, or just about. You’re older. It took me a while tonight to see you through the changes.”

“Yet you called this room.”

“Oh, that. Simple. I started calling hotels asking for Mother. This was the second one, and they said she was registered, but—”

“As I was,” Vanessa confirmed, “and as I am. Vanessa Hennessey. I have my own room.”

“I didn’t think you two were sleeping together. But you weren’t in there. Want the rest of it?”

Vanessa nodded.

“There was the man who kissed me. I didn’t think that was Skip—I thought it was probably a mistake. Skip might be here just the same, so while I had this hotel I asked if Skip Grison was there. They said he was and connected me. Are you through eating, Mother?”

“Yes, I am. I’m a light eater, darling. Surely you remember.” Vanessa turned to Skip. “I want to thank you for a very pleasant dinner. By the way, Chelle darling, we did sleep together. It was on the train coming up.”

“No shit?” Chelle looked startled.

“We shared a compartment,” Skip explained. “We had to, because the train was full by the time Vanessa tried to book. We did not do what Vanessa implied.”

She smiled prettily. “I suggested it, but he said my berth was too small. To spare my feelings, I’m sure. Most men relish a tight berth.”

“I believe him,” Chelle said. “There’s no way I could ever believe you, Mother dear. Not about anything.”

“Never credit men about sex,” Vanessa told her. “To hear your father talk … Well, they cannot be believed, and I ought to have taught you that.”

“The Army did. Since you’ve finished your food, how about going back to your room?”

“How rude you are!”

Absently at first, then with fascination, Skip noticed that Chelle’s left hand held her pencil and was writing in her notebook with it.

“I remember you,” Chelle told Vanessa. “I know you forward and backward, and you haven’t changed a hair. I need to get to know Skip all over again.”

“I’m sure it will be fascinating exploration for you both—provided that one of you has brought the requisite medications.”

“We’re still contracted, aren’t we, Skip?” For a moment Chelle looked stricken. “You wouldn’t be here if you’d backed out some way.”

He nodded. “You’re not sorry?”

“Hell, no! Want to check that for yourself?”

“Yes. As soon as possible.”

“Then please tell my dear momma to get the fuck out of our room.”

Vanessa rose. “You won’t forget my predicament, will you, Skip?”

He shook his head.

When she had gone, Chelle said, “So Mother’s got a problem, or says she does. Want to tell me about it?”

“No. Ethically, I can’t. But even if I could, I would prefer not to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’d be betraying someone I enlisted to help me, that’s all. If she wants to tell you, fine. But she’s asked my assistance, and I like to think I’m an honest man and not just an honest lawyer.”

Chelle had a charming grin; he wondered whether she knew it. “Lawyers are all crooks. Ask anybody.”

“Right. And all soldiers are thugs. May I kiss a thug? Again?”

Her nod seemed strangely shy.

When they parted she said, “We’ve a lot of catching up to do. Are you good at cross-examination?”

“I am. Very.”

“Just like that?” She smiled.

“Let me enlarge on it. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in cross-examination, and I know it. But when I listen to others trying to do it, I understand why so many tell me I’m good.”

“Then I’m not going to let you ask me questions. I won’t ask you any either. You answered the big question I had when you came here.” Chelle sat down on the bed.

He sat beside her. “You answered mine when you asked the hotel about me when you couldn’t find your mother.”

“Thanks. She’s changed somehow. You probably don’t remember how she used to be.”

“Did I…?” He paused. “Yes, I saw her once. We ran into her in some restaurant.”

“Simone’s. You saw her twice. At least twice. The other time was when she went on base and tried to get the Army to turn me loose. We were in the Enlisted Personnel Club watching a couple of my friends play Ping-Pong.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Mother’d gotten through to the base commander—she knows politicians—and he asked me to come to his office and explain that I didn’t want a discharge. You came with me.”

“You’re right. She was vehement.”

“She threw a fit. She’s good at it.” Chelle paused. “I expected her to throw one when I told her to leave, but she didn’t. Was that because she’s so worried about her problem?”

“That’s a question.”

“Yeah, I guess it is. Can I take it back, Counselor?”

“Certainly. You may withdraw it without prejudice if you so choose.”

“Then I do.”

“That’s good.” His arm found her waist. “Because I didn’t know the answer.”

“She’s changed. That’s not a question. It’s fact.”

“If you say so, I’ll accept it. I’m sure I never saw her after you left.”

“I’m glad you’re not wearing a tie.”

“In that case, I’m glad I’m not.”

She toyed with one of his shirt buttons. “I’ll bet you’d like to undress me.”

“You’d win.”

“And I’d like to undress you, but … Those earrings. Maybe you noticed Mother’s earrings.”

He shrugged. “I thought them pretty.”

“They are. But they’re just red feathers. No stones. Her dress looks nice on her because she’s still got a good figure and knows how to wear clothes, but I looked it over pretty carefully, and it’s off-the-rack. She’s poor now.”

He nodded.

“You said the compartments were gone when she tried to book. On the train.”

“I did. Yes.”

“Okay. I don’t think she was going to pay for a compartment. You got her to come, and I think you were going to pay for it. You’re probably tired of talking about her. Undressing is better.”

He smiled. “More interesting, certainly.”

“You know, I’m glad you said that.” Chelle’s hand tightened on his. “It makes it a little easier to say what I’ve been too chicken to say. You’d like us to undress right now. You’d like to go to bed, and so would I. I’ve been—well, you know.”

“There’s something you feel you ought to tell me first.”

“Yeah, and ask a favor, too. Asking a favor isn’t a question. Doesn’t count.”

“Correct.”

“Please don’t get all upset, Skip.”

“I won’t.”

“Just like that? Try hard not to.”

“I won’t get upset. You have my word.”

“Here’s the favor. I’d like us to undress each other with the lights out.”

He rose. “I understand.” A switch near the door extinguished every light in the room.

Her voice reached him through the darkness. “I don’t think you do. I don’t see how you could.”

“You’re a young woman. Biologically, you’re twenty-five. I am a middle-aged man. Biologically and in every other way I’m forty-nine. I’m not overweight—but I’m not twenty-seven, either.”

“That isn’t it at all. Will you please sit back down? I want you to kiss me, and I want you to call me Seashell, the way you used to.”

It should have been funny, but he felt his eyes fill with tears.

“Here it is. I was blown all to hell, Skip. The doctors put me back together as well as they could, but there are scars.”

Unable to speak, he nodded. His hand had found her shoulder in the dark; bowing before her, he kissed her.

“I took my own shirt off. I guess you found that out when you put your arms around me.”

It was difficult, but he said, “I did, Seashell.”

“Want to do the rest for me? If you don’t, just say so and I’ll go.”

* * *

Much later, while she was in the bathroom doing the things that women did at such a time, he thought back on all that he had heard and seen that evening.

The line of light beneath the bathroom door vanished with a click. He heard the door open and her soft barefoot step before she said, “Your turn.”

He rose. As he passed the table at which the three of them had eaten, he picked up the little notebook beside her plate. In the bathroom he read:

Mastergunner Chelle Sea Blue.

Sv #66797-9053-0169101

Base telephone 8897 4434-83622

Chelle 7990 7374-17840

I am Jane Sims Jane Sims I am Jane Sims