Challenger's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 2)

by David Feintuch

  I followed, benumbed. The Admiral’s launch was at the aft airlock, on Level 2. His party descended the ladder and followed the corridor around the bend.

  “Mira da man! He da bossman, mira alla gol’!”

  Furious, I pushed into the crush of jabbering joeykids. “Get away from him! Don’t touch him!”

  “Watchadoon, man? Whatsa fatman doonhere?”

  The transpops, in a playful mood, shoved and pointed derisively at the braid on Tremaine’s dress uniform. “Mus’ be a Boss Cap’n, mira alla gold!”

  I collided with Eddie’s large form. The boy whirled angrily before recognizing me. I hissed, “Get them away from him, flank!”

  Something in my tone reached him. He flung the nearest boy aside and collared the girl closest to the Admiral. “Gii’m room, trannies! Oudahere! Backoff! Oudahere!”

  In moments Tremaine was free of the jostling, livid with rage. “Who are those—animals! God curse it, Seafort, what kind of ship do you run here?”

  “They’re transients, sir,” I said quickly. “They were assigned at the last minute in Lunapolis. I’m sorry, sir. They don’t know any better.”

  “You let that trash run wild with decent passengers aboard? Lock them up! It’s no wonder your ship is a mess!”

  “I’m sorry, they—”

  “They’re scum! Brig the lot of them the next time I board!” With that he turned and disappeared into the airlock.

  The look on my face kept the transients well clear as I stalked to the ladder. A few moments later I was in my place on the bridge, but I couldn’t keep to my seat. I paced back and forth, my fury welling. Vax had the good sense to say nothing. Rafe Treadwell sat very still, his eyes glued to his console.

  After a time I was calm enough to drop heavily into my soft black leather chair. This would pass; soon we would Fuse and continue on our way.

  I could guess, though, what the Admiral’s visit would do to Portia’s morale. My lieutenants had heard him disparage how I ran my ship; his stinging rebuke wouldn’t help my authority. And what the midshipmen witnessed was hardly a proper example for their own conduct.

  The midshipmen! What was I to do about Philip Tyre? I rocked back and forth, dismayed. The Admiral had given me a direct order; I was to have Philip caned.

  The order was utterly unjust; I was Captain of Portia and in charge of my ship’s discipline. Tyre’s demerits littered the Log because of Alexi’s attitude, not Philip’s. The nightmare relations between Tyre, Alexi, and myself had just begun to be resolved, and Lord God knew what effect an unwarranted caning would have on the young middy now.

  Could I appeal Tremaine’s order? Call him, after he calmed down? It was unlikely to succeed, and I’d refocus his wrath on myself. Better for Portia’s sake to let the order stand.

  A wave of disgust made me cringe. Cane Philip, because I was afraid the Admiral would be annoyed at my protest? What kind of coward had I become? Unconsciously I rose from my chair and began to pace, my ire rising anew.

  After a time I was aware of the intense silence. Midshipman Treadwell was still trying to make himself invisible. Vax watched with a pensive look. When I caught his eye his glance dropped. My disgust rose to new heights. Now my own officers were afraid to meet my gaze.

  I made an effort to smile. As calmly as I could I said,

  “Rafe, do some nav problems. Determine our position and plot a course to Caltech. Lieutenant Holser will help if you run into trouble. Vax, if you would?”

  With the two of them concentrating on their console I resumed my pacing. Well, I had to try to change the Admiral’s mind, even if he didn’t like it.

  I would wait two hours; perhaps then Tremaine would be more agreeable. I yawned, realizing I was still exhausted. There was no reason to stay on the bridge. I left the middy to his calculations with Vax, trudged to my cabin for a nap before dinner. I told Amanda what had transpired, as I slipped off my jacket and tie.

  “Oh, poor Philip.” Her eyes glistened. “You won’t let them hurt him, will you?”

  “I’ll try to get him out of it,” I said. “But it was a direct order. There’s not much I can do if Tremaine won’t listen.” She wanted to argue but I was too tired. I set the alarm, rolled over, and went to sleep.

  Three hours later I felt no better. I stopped at the bridge before going to the dining hall. At my console I smoothed my hair, straightened my tie while the comm room connected me to Challenger. Captain Hasselbrad came on the line. “The Admiral’s not aboard, Captain Seafort. He’s at dinner on Kitty Hawk with Derghinski. You could page him if it’s important.”

  I thanked him and snapped off the screen. There was no point whatsoever in calling the Admiral from his dinner to make my request. He’d refuse instantly and I would probably be relieved from command, as I should be for such bad judgment. I went down to dinner.

  Eddie Boss, Annie, and the other transients stood as I approached. As we sat Annie said uncomfortably, “Din’ mean makin’ trouble wid fatman, Cap’n. Funnin’, was all.” Either their English was improving or I was developing an ear for transpop dialect. Perhaps both.

  “Thank you, Annie. I appreciate that.”

  “We leave’m lone nothertime,” said Eddie, glowering at the others. “Stay way f'mim.” He poked Deke, who nodded sullenly. The others nodded agreement.

  I called Challenger again an hour after dinner; the Admiral still hadn’t returned. I chewed at my lip. Tremaine had snarled, “Do it today.” I waited impatiently on the bridge. At 21:30 ship’s time, I tried again.

  “Is the Admiral back, Captain Hasselbrad?”

  “Yes.” The Captain paused, his face impassive. “He went to bed. He left orders not to bother him except for an emergency.” His glance met mine and I wondered how much he knew. How must it feel to be Captain under the Admiral’s constant supervision? I couldn’t ask, of course.

  “Thank you, sir.” I broke the connection. Well, there was nothing to do but carry out the order. Philip would survive, as he had before. I opened my mouth to summon the midshipman to his fate, then hesitated.

  If I did nothing, Tremaine would never know. Three months from now he’d hardly remember to check my Log for a middy’s discipline. Vax would keep his mouth shut and Philip need never be told what he’d faced. With a sense of relief I knew I’d stumbled on a solution. Philip had been through more than enough, and we’d promised him it was over. I’d be violating orders, but I would have to live with that.

  “I’m going to bed,” I said.

  “Good night, sir.” Vax hesitated. “And Mr., uh, Tyre—?”

  He’d blundered into it. Better nothing had been said. “I’m going to my cabin,” I said firmly. I went to the hatch. “Good night.”

  I tossed and turned for a long while. Then I slept.

  Father and I walked slowly down the shaded walk to the Academy gates. My duffel hung heavy at my side. When we reached the compound his hand rested on my shoulder for the briefest moment, but he said nothing. I turned to look at him. He turned my shoulders, pushed me toward the open gates. I walked through.

  When I turned to say good-bye he was striding away, not looking back. I felt the iron ring close around my neck as the gates swung shut.

  I woke in gasping panic. Amanda was sitting at my side, her soft hand stroking my shoulder. “Nicky, it’s all right. I’m with you. You were having a nightmare.”

  “Ungh.” I swung my legs to the floor, shuddering. “The dream again.”

  “Your father?”

  “Yes.” I put my head in my hands. Would it ever go away? After a while I pulled myself together and went to the head to wash the fear and sweat off me. I’d had the dream off and on since I’d gone to Academy at thirteen.

  Other than the iron ring, it was all true.

  I came back to my bunk. Well, Father wasn’t aboard Portia. He was back in Cardiff, set in the dour hardness of his ways.

  Musing, I was drawn back to my studies at our worn kitchen table, Father watchin
g while I worked my way through the difficult texts. I recalled our Bible readings. He was intoning from Leviticus. I heard myself make some flippant remark about an oath, and recalled his stern rebuke. My sense of shame.

  “Promise, Nicholas.” He waited for my answer. “Promise it, son.”

  “I do, Father.”

  “Say the words, Nicholas.”

  I closed my eyes. “My oath is my bond. I will let them destroy me before I swear to an oath I will not fulfill. My oath is all that I am.”

  I looked up from my bunk, my eyes stinging. I knew the value of an oath; as Lord God knew, I’d taken one often enough. That solemn ritual my first day at Academy: I, Nicholas Ewing Seafort, do swear upon my immortal soul to preserve and protect the Charter of the General Assembly of the United Nations, to give loyalty and obedience for the term of my enlistment to the Naval Service of the United Nations and to obey all its lawful orders and regulations, so help me Lord God Almighty. The oath that still bound me.

  I cast about for an escape. “To obey all lawful orders and regulations.” No doubt, Admiral Tremaine’s order was unjust. Nonetheless, it was lawful. I was bound to obey it, despite my flailing to escape.

  I glanced sharply at the clock: 23:35. I still had time. Philip would have to suffer. My voice rasped over the caller. “Midshipman Tyre to the bridge, immediately.” I threw or my clothes.

  “Nicky, what are you doing?” Amanda, her eyes worried

  “What I must.” I ignored her hurt.

  Philip Tyre was waiting with Vax when I arrived. He looked like he too had been sleeping.

  I managed somehow to meet his eye. I said, my voice harsh, “Mr. Tyre, during his inspection Admiral Tremaine reviewed our Log. It is full of your demerits. You’re to be caned for insubordination. Go to Lieutenant Holser’s cabin. He will be along in a moment.”

  Philip’s astonishment gave way to another expression: betrayal? Emotions flickered across his face before his training reasserted itself. “Aye aye, sir!” He saluted, turned on his heel, and marched out.

  I turned to Vax and rasped, “I’ll finish the watch. Get it over with!”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Vax’s expression told me how he felt, and I was much relieved. If Vax let Philip off lightly, not too much harm need be done.

  As Vax strode to the hatch I recalled with a pang our earlier conversation. How could Vax let Philip off easily, after what he’d said about enforcing discipline?

  No, Vax couldn’t take it on himself to do right by Philip. I was disgusted; now I was making Vax choose between disobeying orders or brutalizing Philip, because I wouldn’t take the responsibility I must.

  “Just a moment!”

  Vax stopped at the hatch, watching me.

  “Vax, I—” The words grated in my throat. I said firmly, “I order you to go quite easy on him. Do you understand?”

  Vax’s face lit up in a warm grin. “Aye aye, sir.” Still smiling, he left the bridge with a jaunty step.

  It was done. Tremaine hadn’t said anything about going hard on Philip, had he? I’d carried out my orders to the letter.

  Despite my sophistry, I felt sick. I had skirted my oath and risked my soul.

  We were Fused, and days passed with dreary slowness. Amanda taught the transients what she could; the girl named Annie laboriously learned to write her name and they were both elated.

  For two days after the Admiral’s inspection Alexi volunteered himself on the watch roster to replace Philip Tyre, though from Phiiip’s gait it clearly wasn’t necessary. I said nothing. Philip Tyre gave me a shy smile on our first encounter after his visit to Vax’s cabin. I didn’t want to be reminded of my folly; I stared coldly until his smile faded.

  My son grew daily. The most precious moments of my life were spent playing on the deck of my cabin while he drooled happily on my white shirt and tie. With an effort he could turn himself over. I wondered when he would begin to crawl.

  After three weeks in Fusion we had settled down once more to ship’s routine. Mrs. Attani arranged a party in honor of her son Gregor’s eighteenth birthday. Naval policy in such matters was ambiguous. There was only one class of passengers aboard Naval vessels; all were provided similar cabins and were served the same meals. But wealthy passengers could buy additional amenities, such as Mrs. Attani’s party. Many of the passengers were invited, though not all, and of the officers only Amanda and myself.

  Amanda and I agreed that the party, even if held in the ship’s familiar dining hall, was too formal an occasion to bring little Nate. We learned that the young baby-sitter who had watched Nate on other occasions had also been invited.

  “Too bad Erin can’t watch him, Nicky. Mrs. Attani’s made such a fuss; she wants the party to be perfect. If Nate cries she’ll take it personally.”

  “Have you asked Philip Tyre?” My tone was gruff.

  Amanda shot me a sharp glance; when she realized I was serious she put her arms around me, kissed me on the end of my nose, and captured my heart afresh.

  Young Gregor stood in the entranceway greeting his guests, his mother at his side. At eighteen, Attani was still four years short of his majority, though I, at twenty-one, had been an adult for five years by act of the General Assembly. As a cadet I’d been a minor, but on promotion to midshipman I’d attained my majority and could drink, vote, and marry.

  At home one occasionally heard agitation to reduce the age of majority to twenty, but I doubted it would come to anything. The aftermath of the Rebellious Ages had left society far more cautious and conservative than once it had been.

  “Thank you for coming, Captain.” Gregor’s manners were impeccable. Well, by virtue of office I was of his class.

  “It’s our honor, Mr. Attani,” I said stiffly, matching his courtesy. As Captain and an adult I might use his first name, and sometimes did, but it would be graceless to patronize him at his own celebration.

  Arm in arm, Amanda and I moved into the crowd. I felt awkward and unsophisticated among our cosmopolitan passengers. Usually, I depended on Amanda to make casual conversation and tonight was no exception. We nibbled on canapés and settled near a group that was chatting with animation.

  “It’s worth the privation to reach open spaces,” a woman said. “A whole unsettled continent! For the first time in our lives we’ll have room to stretch.”

  “Emily Valdez,” whispered Amanda. “As in the Valdez Permabattery.” She, or her family, had enormous wealth.

  “But all the settlements are on Eastern Continent.” Walter Dakko, young Chris’s father. “The holo said Western Continent isn’t opened for settlement yet.”

  “How long can that last?” A heavy-jowled man, and belligerent. “Land sitting there unused!”

  “I wonder what the colony’s really like,” mused Galena Dakko, her arm linked in her husband’s.

  “Wait a year and you’ll see, honey,” someone said dryly.

  “All of us bound for Hope Nation, yet no one knows quite what to expect,” remarked Walter Dakko. “We’ve put our faith in—in a—”

  “U.N. emigration brochure.” Emily Valdez was rueful. “We may have consigned ourselves to years on this—this coop, only to find we’ve all been had.”

  “Shh, the Captain will hear you,” someone whispered.

  “I don’t care,” said Miss Valdez defiantly. “Captain Seafort, is our imprisonment a good bargain? Is Hope Nation worth the cost of getting there?”

  “What cost, Miss Valdez?” I asked.

  “Well.” A pretty laugh. “The accommodations. I’m sure you do your best, but really!” Amanda squeezed my arm.

  “Is something wrong with your cabin?” I was puzzled.

  “Not in the sense that you could send a man to fix it. But it’s so ridiculously small, Captain. At the hacienda, even my dressing room wasn’t so cramped. How could one expect civilized people to live in such a space for extended periods. Sixteen months? Really!”

  Amanda’s grip tightened further but
I ignored the signal. “Would you care to exchange cabins with one of my officers?” My voice was cool.

  “Which one?” Miss Valdez was smiling.

  “Any of them. My two lieutenants are fortunate; their cabins are about half the size of yours. Well, perhaps a bit smaller. My midshipmen sleep in a wardroom the size of a lieutenant’s cabin, and we carry three middies. On my last trip to Hope Nation four of us shared a similar wardroom.”

  “That’s true, then?” asked Galena Dakko. “You were a midshipman on your last cruise? I’d heard rumors, but it didn’t seem polite to ask.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Dakko. At that time a cabin like yours was beyond my wildest dreams.”

  Mrs. Attani had come up behind us. “But your officers enlisted as children, Captain. Surely they’re accustomed to the crowding.”

  “Yes.” I was curt. How could people of such wealth understand wardroom life? Four joeys of both sexes in the midst of turbulent adolescence, crammed like sardines into the tiny wardroom, living intimately while maintaining the rigid Navy hierarchy even among themselves. No, I couldn’t explain that.

  “You have to understand.” Walter Dakko’s tone was placating. “We don’t have your training in hardships. We’re from comfortable backgrounds and find the cramped quarters quite difficult to bear.”

  I lost patience. “Consider yourself fortunate, then. For lack of space other passengers have to sleep six to a cabin.”

  “That’s dreadful!” said Mrs. Dakko. “In heaven’s name, who?”

  “The Lower New Yorkers.”

  “Oh, the trannies?” Mrs. Attani laughed. “I thought you meant real passengers.”

  “Shall we find a drink, Nicky?” Amanda.

  “No. The New Yorkers are passengers, madam, like yourselves.”

  “Not really.” Miss Valdez spoke lightly. “More like captive savages. Or refugees, if you will. They’re certainly not proper passengers. Anyway, they’re used to crowds. I’m sure the ship is better than what they knew before.”

  “It’s criminal to put them on a passenger ship with respectable people.” Walter Dakko seemed indignant. “Some of us have to share cabins all the way to Hope Nation thanks to those hoodlums! It’s inexcusable.”