Challenger's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 2)

by David Feintuch

  “Inoculate yourself first, and your med tech. Then the bridge watch.”

  “Aye aye, sir. And you.”

  “Never mind me, I’m all right here. Get down to the crew berths.”

  “You first, sir. That’s how it’s going to be.”

  I was astounded at his audacity. “Dr. Bros, if you think—”

  “Nicky, shut up and take the vaccine!” Amanda. “Have you no sense at all? You’re needed!”

  I capitulated as gracefully as I could. Nate woke and began crying fitfully. Amanda went to soothe him and I broke seals to go to the infirmary. I let Dr. Bros give me my shot; he had the grace to apologize for his peremptory manner.

  “Never mind; let’s get your vaccine distributed. How do I help?”

  There was nothing useful I could do, but he let me feel as if I were assisting, wheeling the cart of vaccine, handing him fresh shotgun heads. We went directly to the crew berths; my presence was barely enough to prevent a riot when the hatches were unsealed. Men at the end of the line were nearly desperate for their turn at the cart. Then we inoculated the passengers.

  Afterward, we turned the crew mess into a hospital for those who were ill; dialyzers were wheeled down from the infirmary to filter toxins from the bloodstreams of the affected.

  Slowly my ship was unsealed and returned to normal—or, as normal as might be, drifting in space waiting for the rest of the squadron, fearing another alien attack, with the Admiral and his ship in parts unknown, and twenty-two dead awaiting burial.

  Alexi Tamarov unsealed the bridge, sweat-stained, bleary-eyed, swaying with exhaustion, his arm bared for the inoculation. I took his salute. I should have returned it. Instead I embraced him, disregarding the consequences to discipline. His head rested a moment on my shoulder. “Get some sleep, Lieutenant.” My voice was gruff. “You too, Mr. Van Peer.” I watched them trudge off to the showers and their cabins. Vax Holser and I took our places on the bridge. Welcome air poured from the recyclers.

  I thumbed the caller. “Mr. Carr!”

  In a moment the answer came. “Yes, sir?”

  “Take the gig. Carry samples of the vaccine across to Kitty Hawk.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” In other circumstances Derek would have seen the opportunity as heaven-sent, putting him for those few moments in command of his own tiny vessel. Now, surrounded by death, I knew the midshipman had no such thoughts.

  Another crewman died in the makeshift hospital, his body too ravaged by toxins to respond to treatment. I put Chief Hendricks’s detail to building coffins; we arranged to hold our service at the forward airlock, so as not to be within sight of the grim patches near the aft lock.

  Damage control reported that our bridge override circuits to the aft airlock were damaged beyond repair, though the airlock controls themselves still functioned. Shuddering at the thought of our transient joeys unthinkingly yanking on levers at the airlock, I ordered a sentry posted there.

  At end of watch I went to my cabin to change for the funeral. Nate was teething and fussy; I suggested Amanda stay with him instead of attending and she gratefully agreed.

  All officers not on watch were present, as were many of our passengers, and representatives from each crew station. I strode down the corridor to the airlock, resplendent in my dress uniform. White slacks gleamed against my black shoes, the red stripe down each leg sharp and bright. My white jacket over white shirt and black tie was broken only by me black mourning sash thrown over my right shoulder and my gleaming length of service pins.

  The airlock was not big enough for all the coffins; the ejection would have to be in two cycles. A sailor waited in the closed airlock, fully suited, while I read from my holovid the somber words of the Christian Reunification service for the dead, as promulgated by the Naval Service of the Government of the United Nations. “ ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ...’ ”

  The airlock pumps hummed.

  Surely I could have avoided this. Why hadn’t I kept each section sealed, from the moment of invasion until the virus was discovered? We didn’t carry enough bottled air for that. But still, it was my responsibility.

  “ ‘Trusting in the goodness and mercy of Lord God eternal, we commit their bodies to the deep ...’ ” Annie was crying, her head buried in Eddie Boss’s shoulder. Walter Dakko stood uncomfortably nearby. Gregor Attani was the only immediate family of any of the dead; he stood with the officers, pale but composed.

  The sensor light flashed; the airlock was decompressed.

  “ ‘To await the day of judgment when the souls of man shall be called forth before Almighty Lord God ... Amen.’ ” I snapped off the holovid. “Mr. Kerns, open the outer lock, please.” The suited sailor pressed the lock control to the side of the airlock hatch. The outer hatch slid open.

  “Eject the remains, Mr. Kerns.” The seaman pushed a coffin gently toward the outer lock. It cleared the hatch and drifted slowly from the ship into the dark of the void. A second casket followed. I realized I had no idea who was in each casket; the highborn and the transients were leveled at the last.

  Finally the airlock was empty. Seaman Raines shut the outer hatch and waited while the pressures equalized. When the lock was fully re-aired he glanced at me, waiting for permission to open the inner lock.

  “Proceed, Mr. Kerns.” The inner hatch slid open. Two sailors helped him slide the remaining caskets into the airlock. Gregor Attani wept openly. Walter Dakko’s arm went around his shoulder. Eddie touched Gregor gently. The bereaved young man slapped away the transient’s hand.

  The inner hatch closed again. One by one the remaining caskets were dispatched into the void. I’d killed nearly half my crew. I had destroyed Mrs. Attani, Melissa Chong, and others I hardly knew. I had been up for three days; the corridor swam lazily. I blinked, knowing I still had work to do.

  When the service dispersed I said a few words of condolence to Gregor Attani; he responded with a vague nod. I wondered if he’d heard me.

  I returned to the bridge and summoned Chief Hendricks. “Chief, make out new work assignments. Pay particular attention to vital systems: Hydroponics, recyclers, power. Take men from the galley, cleaning details, wherever else you think necessary.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” The Chief was grim. “We’re going to need relief before we get there, sir, or they’ll drop from exhaustion.”

  “I know. I’ll ask the Admiral for transfers.” When we find the Admiral, I thought. The Chief left. I served out my watch, Rafe Treadwell tense at my side. Neither of us spoke; I was too exhausted to do anything other than stay awake; the midshipman knew better than to bother me.

  The watch changed; Vax Holser came on with Derek Carr. I stayed in my chair while they got settled. “Keep alert,” I cautioned. “The fish may come back.” My words were hardly necessary; they were both taut with tension.

  I dozed and startled awake. A bad example; I knew it was time to leave the bridge. I went back to my cabin.

  Amanda was rocking Nate, the lights turned low. “He’s finally asleep,” she whispered.

  “I’ll take him.” I reached out.

  “No, I’ll sit with him awhile. How was the service?”

  “Grim.” I hung up my jacket, yawning. “Gregor was distraught. He and his mother are—were close.” I recalled how she’d tried to protect him from my wrath, when he’d fought with the transients. The day Nate was born. I slipped out of my pants, threw them over a chair.

  Amanda hummed softly to Nate as she rocked. “Find something for Gregor to do, Nicky,” she whispered. “Don’t let him sit and brood about his mother.”

  “I don’t think he wants anything from me.” I remembered Gregor’s fury at being made to sit at dinner with the transients. I unbuttoned my shirt. God, I was tired. I went to the crib and threw back the blankets. “Let’s put him down, hon. Come keep me warm while I sleep.” I smiled wearily, held out my arms for my son. Reluctantly she put the baby in my hands and went to smooth the crib.

  I cuddled Nate on my sho
ulder. He was quite cold. He must have been dead for hours.

  We reassembled at the forward lock, my officers clustered protectively around me. Again I wore my dress whites, the mourning sash thrown over my right shoulder. My tight black shoes gleamed; I’d hand-polished them again and again, curtly refusing assistance from the ship’s boy.

  Amanda was dressed simply, as she had been the day before, in plain knit skirt and blouse. Her hand clutched my arm. From time to time she started in confusion.

  The coffin was exactly one meter long and thirty-two centimeters wide. It was made of aluminum panels brazed to angle irons where the sides met. I’d held the torch to one corner until the metal glowed white and threatened to sag, while silent machinist’s mates stood by, afraid to speak.

  The casket was lined with Nate’s pink blanket and made up with the soft yellow sheets from the crib. It was very hard to fold them so the creases were in the corners; I’d had to do it over and over to get it right. His stuffed panda was tucked to one side, his tiny hand resting on it. The panda was black and white, with a soft little red nose. It lay face up, as did my son.

  The coffin rested now in the airlock where I’d come to do my duty.

  I snapped open the holovid. Amanda begged, “Please don’t do it to him, Nicky. He’ll be so cold.”

  I swallowed. My chest ached. She’d been in that state, off and on, since the day before, when I’d walked heavily to the infirmary, Nate’s still body in my arms. Plaintive, she’d trailed alongside, sometimes crying, urging me to walk softly so I wouldn’t wake him.

  I hugged her now, but she pulled away, pressed her face to the transplex hatch, staring at the lock where the tiny coffin rested in the folded metal arm of the ejection unit.

  I began to read. “ ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ...’ ” Philip Tyre sobbed aloud.

  My gaze flickered between the holovid and the tiny box in the airlock. After a time I was aware that I’d stopped speaking. I found my place but for some reason no words would come. I puzzled over the text. Vax Holser reached gently for the holovid. I wheeled on him angrily. “Mind your place, Lieutenant!” I took up my reading. “ ‘ ...Trusting in the goodness and mercy of Lord God eternal, we commit his body to the deep ... to await the day of judgment when the souls of man shall be called forth before Almighty Lord God.’ ” I nodded to the seaman on duty.

  Amanda buried her face in my shoulder. “Nick, you love him too! For God’s sake, don’t put our baby Outside!”

  The metal arm of the ejection unit slowly unfolded, pushing the side of the coffin, sliding it smoothly to the outer lock. The arm fully extended, the casket floated gently at the end of the chamber, drifting slowly into the immeasurable emptiness.

  Amanda stared lifelessly at the empty lock. “God, how brutal,” she whispered. “I never knew you could be so cruel.” She turned away. Reaching out she ran a gentle finger down Philip Tyre’s tear-streaked face. “It’s all right, Philip. Don’t cry.” Absently she patted his shoulder.

  I caught Dr. Bros’s eye. Helpless, he shook his head. He smiled at Amanda. “Let’s walk, Mrs. Seafort. We can sit in the infirmary and talk a while.”

  “I’d rather go to my cabin,” said Amanda.

  “Let’s talk first,” suggested the doctor.

  “No. I’m going back to my room. Nicky, make him leave me alone!”

  She was in shock, Dr. Bros had told me, and retreating from unacceptable realities. I didn’t want a diagnosis, I wanted Amanda. I struggled not to think of the empty crib waiting in the cabin, fearing loss of self-control. I yearned for her touch, her caress. But for the moment she hated me, though I knew in a little while she would come to me and lay her head on my shoulder in puzzled grief, as she had before. I guided my wife back to our cabin and closed the hatch behind us.

  Days passed, and no ship came. There was no further sign of the aliens. At length Captain Derghinski conferred with me, over the simulscreens. Neither of us dared leave his ship, even for a few minutes.

  “One of us will go on to the next rendezvous point.” He fingered his mustache. “To see if Challenger’s waiting. But if the others show up here ...”

  Passively, I waited.

  “You’ve got the faster drive, Seafort. I’ll go on ahead; you wait here for seven days, then catch up with us.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “If any ships come in, send them on through immediately. Don’t have them wait at this rendezvous.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, good luck.”

  “The same to you, sir.”

  He looked uncomfortable. “Mr. Seafort,” he blurted, “I’m sorry about your son. Terribly sorry.”

  My chest was unbearably tight. “Thank you, sir.”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, then. Godspeed. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Godspeed, sir.” We blanked the connection. Shortly afterward he Fused and we were alone once more.

  I dreaded to go back to my cabin, but knew I must. Amanda was there. Sometimes I would find her prostrate with grief.

  Other times I would find her cheerfully preparing soft foods for Nate’s lunch.

  I stared dully at the blank simulscreen. In the next seat Vax Holser stirred. “Are you going to the cabin now, sir?” His voice was soft.

  “Are you ordering me off the bridge, Lieutenant?”

  “No, sir,” he said, unflinching despite my fury. “I thought you might want to be with Mrs. Seafort. I can handle the watch.”

  “I don’t need your pity, Mr. Holser,” I said, my voice harsh. I swung my seat to face the other way. After some minutes I cleared my throat. “Sorry.”

  “No problem, sir.” For some reason his understanding rekindled my rage.

  “I’ll be in my cabin. Call if anything happens.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Amanda sat rocking in the dark. “Shh, you’ll wake him.”

  I sighed. “He’s not here, hon.” I knelt by her rocker and put my hand on her arm. “He’s gone. There’s only us.”

  She looked puzzled. “Gone?” Her face cleared. “Yes, I remember now. You put him Outside.” She shivered. “It’s freezing out there, Nicky. That wasn’t right. He’ll catch his death of cold.”

  I was speechless. I squeezed her arm; she made no response. I went to wash up, then sat on the bed.

  A few moments later Amanda came to sit beside me. “I know you miss him too,” she said gently. “You loved him so much.”

  My throat locked and I couldn’t speak. She rested her head against my side. “He was such a lovely boy ...” My arm went around her and we sat in silent misery.

  7

  PORTIA WAITED ALONE, ALERT, anxious, for three interminable days. As tension rose, even the transients quarreled incessantly at dinner, until my manner became so menacing that they subsided. Once, as the transpops and I crowded out of the dining hall, Chris Dakko muttered a derisive, “Electropiss!” Instantly I backhanded him across the mouth. He stared at me in shock and astonishment, blood trickling from his lip. I spun on my heel and strode to the bridge.

  An hour later Chris and his father loomed over me, escorted by Philip Tyre, at their demand. Walter Dakko spluttered with rage. “How dare you strike my son! How dare you!”

  “He’ll behave himself in my presence, Mr. Dakko.” Chris fidgeted, shaking his head in impatience and disgust.

  “We’re paid passengers! He’s not one of your crewmen. You have no right to touch him!” Not correct, legally, but by custom passengers were treated with more respect than I’d shown his son. On the other hand, I didn’t need the boy stirring up a riot with my transients.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Chris said hotly. “You should hear what they call us! You have no damned right—”

  “You’re a child aboard my ship, Christopher. Mind your manners or I’ll do worse!”

  “You can’t—”

  “That was your last warning.” Something in my tone made him silent. “I’ve heard what you ha
ve to say. Get off my bridge.”

  “But—”

  “Both of you. Now!” I gestured to Philip, who put his hand on Walter Dakko’s arm. The elder man shook it off, stalked to the hatch. His son followed, a sneer on his face.

  I served out my watch restlessly, wanting and not wanting to go back to my cabin. At watch’s end, I left the moment Alexi came to replace me.

  I stopped at my cabin door, but turned away. Not yet; I would walk for a while. I continued along the circumference corridor. A few passengers were on their way to the lounge for an evening of holovids and idle chatter. I nodded curtly and went on.

  Outside the wardroom Derek Carr stood at attention, his nose to the bulkhead, eyes ahead. I stopped abruptly. “What’s this, Mr. Carr?”

  “Mr. Tyre’s orders, sir,” Derek said, his voice stiff.

  I was at a loss. “But you—I mean—you and he—”

  “I put myself under his orders, sir. Two days ago. In the wardroom and out.”

  My eyes misted. I knew how hard it would have been for Derek to back down to Philip. He remained at attention, eyes front to the dull gray bulkhead. My anger swelled. “And this is how he treats you? Hazing, at your age? I’ll settle that, and fast!” I turned to the wardroom hatch.

  “No, sir, please!” Derek blurted. I paused, turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He reddened. “I, uh, told Mr. Tyre, sir. To give me whatever orders he wished. Until he was sure I meant it.”

  I said slowly, “You told him to haze you?”

  He started to shrug, then realized he was supposed to be at attention. “Yes, sir, he needs to know he’s in charge. It’s all right. He’s not hurting me, and he’ll let up soon.” He took a deep breath. “Captain, please don’t interfere. Please.”

  I sagged against the bulkhead. “Why, Derek? Why’d you do it?”

  Momentarily he closed his eyes. “It’s right for the ship, sir. I realized that after the attack. We can’t be in conflict now. He’s senior; he should be in charge. The other way isn’t natural.” The corners of his mouth turned up bleakly. “And I can always rebel again, should it be necessary.”