Challenger's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 2)

by David Feintuch

  Defiance. Then, slowly, his shoulders slumped. “He said we were free to join you,” he whispered. “I’m going.”

  “No, you’re not.” I was firm. “I refuse your service.”

  He roared, “You what?”

  “You’re not going to Challenger. You’ll stay here, and so will the others.”

  “No.” The word hung like a rock.

  I was desperate. “Vax Stanley Holser, listen to what I say. You will stay with Portia. Acknowledge that order and carry it out, or I swear by Lord God Almighty I will execute you for treason myself!” I held my breath, my very soul in the balance.

  Slowly he sagged. His breath came out in a long, tired sigh. He turned for the hatch. “Orders acknowledged, Captain Seafort.” He opened the hatch. “I understand what you’ve done. Do you?” And he was gone.

  I slumped weakly in the chair. I had put both of us in mortal peril. Had Vax disobeyed me I’d have been forced to carry out my oath or see my soul forfeit. I felt my knees trembling.

  Hours passed; it was early morning. My duffel packed, I sat at the gleaming bare table amidst the shambles of my career and my life.

  At last, another knock. Time to go, then. “Enter.” It emerged as a croak and I had to repeat it. As I reached for my duffel, Derek Carr strode in, glaring. “I’m going with you, sir.”

  “You are not.”

  “I’ve volunteered. I told Captain Hasselbrad.”

  I leaned forward in my chair. “A Captain may choose his officers, within reason. I don’t accept you.”

  “Why not?”

  I said as cruelly as I could, “You’re a middy. You have no useful skills. If I needed anybody I’d take Vax.”

  “That’s a bucket of goofjuice and you know it!”

  “Watch your mouth, Mr. Carr!”

  Ignoring my rebuke he came close, and loomed over my chair. “I don’t believe that crap any more than you do. I know why you won’t take me; skills have nothing to do with it. It’s my life, and I’m capable of making the decision!”

  “No. You stay, and that’s final.” I wondered how much more I could take. “That’s all, Derek. Good-bye.”

  He stared past me to the bulkhead. Then he nodded once, as if to himself. “All right.” He turned to go.

  “Don’t you salute an officer, Midshipman?” I asked. My voice was gray and tired.

  From above he contemplated me, hands on hips. “I’m not sure you deserve it.”

  My mouth twisted in a grim smile. “Then you and the Admiral are of the same mind.”

  A bellow of rage. “Stand up and say that!” White-faced, he stood ready, fists clenched.

  “Easy, Derek.”

  “Bastard!”

  That stung me, and I rose to face him.

  He cried, “I trusted you! You told me the Navy had integrity, and I believed you! You told me the system had worth, and I followed you! I put my life in your hands, and you toss it on the deck like garbage! May God damn you for that!”

  “He probably will, and for other sins as well. The Navy does have integrity, Derek. This is how the system works. I accept that.”

  “You know right from wrong. Stand up and fight him!”

  “I obey lawful orders, Derek, as I’ve sworn to do. I remind you of your own oath.”

  “He’s killing you!”

  “Not necessarily. He’ll send help, when you reach port.” I wondered how much Derek knew. If the rescue ship was unable to find us, or Portia failed to get through, we were consigned to slow death.

  “If it’s not so dangerous, you have no reason to refuse me.

  I was glad he knew why I wouldn’t let him transfer, though I couldn’t show it. “It’s not your choice, Midshipman Carr, it’s mine. We’re friends, and we’ve been through a lot together, so I’m making allowances for that. Now I want—I need you to pull yourself together and carry on as I’ve trained you. Do you understand me?”

  “I understand.” His glare showed no softening.

  My voice was low. “You’re making this hard for me, Derek.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.” Then he capitulated. “But Lord God, I’ll miss you!” He came very close. In utter disregard of regulations he rested his hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Godspeed, Captain Seafort.”

  “Godspeed, Derek Carr.” Briefly I touched his hand. He came to attention, saluted smartly, and wheeled. In a moment I was alone once more.

  After a while I realized it was morning and I had slept not at all. I blinked, trying to stay awake.

  Some time afterward a rating came to fetch me. Passive, I let him carry my duffel to the lock. Armed sentries were posted at the corridor hatches. In the small group of officers waiting at the lock was Captain Hasselbrad. I saluted.

  “You’ll carry a copy of Portia’s Log with you.” He handed me the chipcase. I pocketed it. “I’ve ordered a portion of Portia’s reserve propellant transferred to Challenger. All we can spare.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I was surprised the Admiral had allowed it.

  As if reading my mind, he said grimly, “He can’t very well relieve me too.” He gestured to Alexi Tamarov, standing nearby. “Your lieutenant asked to speak with you.”

  “Very well.” I stepped aside to make what privacy was possible.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” whispered Alexi, eyes downcast. “I couldn’t do it. I should volunteer, but I—just can’t!”

  “Oh, Alexi, of course not!” His shame pierced me like a dagger. “No, you did the right thing. I wouldn’t have let you aboard, be sure of that.”

  “But you’re going.”

  “Two months ago I’d have fought it. Now, it doesn’t matter.” His glance met mine, and our pain merged. I clapped his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Alexi. I think well of you.”

  He attempted a smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll—I’ll see you in port.”

  “Yes. Of course.” I turned back to the waiting Captain.

  “The Admiral asked me to convey his orders. He won’t see you himself.” Hasselbrad’s expression spoke silent volumes.

  “I understand.” My voice was dull. None of it mattered.

  “You’re to make your way toward Earth, in case we fail to reach Hope Nation to send a rescue party. In any event, home system is far closer than proceeding toward Hope. Put out radio beacons. The search and rescue ship we send will take your movement into account. Take what evasive action you’re capable of, should you meet the enemy.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  He looked at the deck. “The Admiral ordered four of Challenger’s laser units transferred to Portia,” he muttered. “Ordered the Engineer directly, without going through me.” His eyes were bleak. “I’m sorry, Seafort.”

  “Yes, sir.” Without Fusion we couldn’t escape an attack anyway; extra lasers would just prolong our agony. “What officers and crew will I have?”

  “Very few crew, I’m afraid. He’s made the selections himself.” His face was impassive. “I understand you refused to let your officers accompany you. We’ve transferred our own staff to Portia, except for the Chief Engineer.”

  I took my duffel from the seaman. Captain Hasselbrad added, “We’ve been ferrying Challenger’s passengers by launch to the forward lock here. Two more trips, and we’re done. Then we’ll Fuse. Anything special I should know about?”

  I could think of nothing. I shook my head. Then, “Do you play chess?”

  “Not very well.”

  “The puter likes to play. His name is Danny. He doesn’t mean any harm, even if he’s a little ill-mannered.”

  Captain Hasselbrad smiled reluctantly. “It’s just a machine, Seafort. Don’t get emotionally involved. Ours calls itself Kerren. Very polite, but I normally turn off the conversational overlays.”

  There was nothing more to say. I saluted and stepped into the lock. As the hatch slid shut he said quickly, “It wasn’t my doing.”

  I nodded.

  Portia’s gig carried me across.
/>
  10

  BEHIND ME, THE GIG broke free of the outer airlock suckers and spurted propellant for its return to Portia. I stepped through the open inner lock onto Challenger. The airlock corridor was deserted except for two sentries who came briefly to attention as I desuited. Their side arms were ready to fire, safeties released.

  “What are your orders?” I asked the nearest sentry.

  He licked his lips. “To guard the aft airlock against unauthorized departures, sir, until the launch makes its last trip. Then we’re to go aboard and sail with Portia.”

  “Very well.” I looked about. The corridor was spacious, almost as wide as Hibernia’s. Challenger, though a sloop, was a three-disker, barely smaller than a ship of the line. Admiral Brentley had meant well by posting me to her.

  As on all ships, the bridge would be on Level 1. The ladder would be somewhere around the curve. Exhausted, I left the guards behind and trekked along the corridor.

  Discarded belongings lay about, deepening my sense of abandonment. I climbed to Level 1. The bridge hatch was sealed. I pounded. “Open, there! This is the Captain!” A camera eye swiveled to find me. The hatch slid open.

  Philip Tyre stiffened to attention as he rose from the console.

  “You?” I shouted. “What the devil are you doing here?”

  “Admiral Tremaine assigned me, sir!” His words tumbled as if he were desperate to please.

  “I told them I wanted no volunteers from Portia!”

  “Yes, sir.” Philip blushed. “He said with my record I’d be suitable company for you.”

  I swore under my breath. “I’m sorry, Philip. Terribly sorry.”

  The boy tried to smile. “That’s all right, sir. I’d have volunteered, if I had the courage.”

  I turned away, moved but angry at his foolishness. “What crew do we have?” My tone was gruff.

  “I don’t know exactly, sir. I thought I’d better stay on the bridge until you arrived.”

  “That was right,” I said. “Wait here while I go investigate.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” He called after me. “I did see Seamen Andros and Clinger getting out of the launch, sir.”

  I stopped. “Those troublemakers?” I’d had them at Captain’s Mast no less than three times each.

  “Yes, sir, I think so. If they’re still aboard.”

  Cursing under my breath I hurried along the Level 1 corridor, opening cabin hatches as I passed. The officers’ cabins were empty, all personal gear removed. I passed the wardroom. Impulsively I looked in. It had been stripped bare, except for four neatly made bunks and the built-in dressers. I quickly shut the hatch.

  Near the ladder, in the passengers’ section, an elderly woman accosted me, leaning on her cane. “Is it true you’re going to make repairs? And we’ll get moving again soon?”

  “I’ll do what I can, ma’am,” I said, my voice tight. Beyond her, through the open hatch, was an old man, no doubt her husband. He sat fully dressed on the bed, a vacant expression on his weary face. “What are you doing here, ma’am? On this voyage?”

  “My brother is on Hope Nation, Martin Chesley. We’re going to live with him. He wrote us every chance he could. He made the colony sound so wonderful. Our children are grown, so Mr. Reeves and I ...”

  “I understand.” I excused myself and hurried on. The Level 2 cabins were mostly abandoned. I saw no one except for the airlock sentries. I stopped trying cabin hatches; I would learn soon enough what passengers were aboard. I continued down to Level 3. At the foot of the ladder I turned in the direction I thought would take me fastest to the engine room; if I was wrong I would still get there; the corridor was circular.

  I found the engine room hatch. No one answered my knock, so I opened, glanced into the deserted outer compartment. At the far end was another hatch, leading to the monitor room where the fusion motor controls were housed. I peered in.

  A disheveled man sat at a grimy metal table in the center of the compartment, sipping from a large stoneware coffee mug.

  “Are you the Chief Engineer?” I demanded.

  His laugh was savage. “I was.” He looked me over. “Who’re you?”

  My uniform should have told him. “Your new Captain,” I said. “Stand at attention.”

  “Why bother?” He shrugged. His gaze dropped to his cup.

  I was astounded. “Put that down!” I raged. “Stand!” He got to his feet, stared at me blearily. He staggered, then caught his balance. I picked up the mug, sniffed. “Liquor!” My voice shot into the upper registers. “Alcohol aboard ship? You? Contraband?”

  He grinned, and it was too much. I slammed him against the bulkhead. “An officer! Look at you!” I cuffed him across the face. “Drunk!” He put up a hand to ward off my blows.

  Hopeless. I glanced around. A glass jar sat on the corner of the table. I hurled it to the floor along with the mug.

  He whined, “Do you know how much trouble it is to make that? All the fruit and grain it took?” I rounded on him, cuffed him again.

  “You don’t like me drunk?” His voice was a sneer. “What else should I do? Have you seen the mess back there?” His thumb shot to the emission chamber shaft, in the next compartment. “Take a look, before you go hitting people!”

  Disgusted, I shoved him away and turned, to the emission chamber.

  The shaft opening had been patched with a makeshift air-seal. I studied the viewscreen that pictured the lower half of the shaft. My breath caught.

  To starboard, three meters of shaft wall had melted like butter. Even I knew that the complex alloy comprising the shaft couldn’t be fabricated outside a dockyard. And the exquisitely machined curve of the shaft wall was essential to produce the pattern of N-waves that allowed us to Fuse.

  The damage was irreparable.

  I turned back to the inner compartment. The Chief sat staring mournfully at his broken mug.

  “Do we have power?” I rasped.

  “The fusion motors themselves weren’t damaged.” He didn’t bother to look up. “They’ll provide all the power we want for ship’s systems. Just don’t try using them to Fuse.”

  “Right.” I left him to his dissolution and stepped out to the corridor. I rounded the bend and approached crew berth two, its hatch ajar. The berth was empty. Past the crew exercise room was crew berth one. Two tense sentries stood vigilant guard, fingers on their weapons.

  “Identify yourself!” The man’s stunner was leveled at my stomach.

  “Nicholas Seafort, Commander, U.N.N.S., Captain of this vessel.”

  “Yes, sir. My orders come directly from the Admiral, sir. This hatch is sealed and not to be opened until after we board the launch, sir.” He looked nervous, as well he might, delivering such instructions to a Captain.

  “Who’s inside?”

  “The crew, sir. The original Challenger crewmen who they haven’t put aboard Portia, and the new Challenger crew ferried from your old ship.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I think about fifteen.”

  “You’re holding them prisoner?” I couldn’t hide my amazement.

  “I’m keeping the hatch shut, sir.”

  “As senior officer present, I countermand your orders.”

  The seaman said hoarsely, “No, sir, I can’t. The Admiral said to disregard your instructions. If I let you open the hatch I won’t be allowed on the last launch to Portia.” His face was shiny with sweat.

  “Very well.” I swallowed bile. “I won’t interfere.” I continued round the corridor to the ladder rather than retracing my steps.

  As I passed an open cabin a small form hurled itself out of the hatchway and flung itself against my shoulder. “Cap’n!”

  I recoiled in shock. “Joni?”

  “Cap’n, din’ know you beinhere too! Mira! It be Cap’n!” Other transients crowded around.

  “What are you doing here?” A chill of foreboding closed around me like a cloud.

  One of them shrilled, “Bos
s Cap’n say I c’n have my own room, man! Alius, havin’ own turf! Lotsa rooms dis ship!”

  “Christ!” The blasphemy burst from my lips.

  Joni added, “Boss Cap’n, he be nice afta all, givin’ us own rooms!”

  “Are you all here?”

  “Eddie’n Deke gonna come next boat. Otha trannies with’m!”

  “No!” I raced toward the ladder and the bridge. Ahead of me, the crew berth sentries dashed up the ladder to the aft airlock on Level 2. I charged on to Level 1, hammered on the bridge. “Open up, Philip!”

  The hatch opened; I dived into my seat, grabbed the caller. “Challenger to Portia, acknowledge!”

  A cultured male voice interrupted. “Excuse me, sir. The forward airlock is cycling.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Kerren, sir. I’m pleased to meet—”

  “Be silent! Portia, acknowledge! Puter, turn the hull camera to the forward lock!” Challenger’s launch flashed onto the screen. Through its transparent portholes I saw passengers crowd toward the mated locks. Many of them were older; two were in wheelchairs. “Portia, acknowledge!”

  The speakers were silent. I swore. “Philip, go see what’s up at the forward lock.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” He jumped from his seat and ran. I waited with mounting frustration. “Kerren, keep paging Portia.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  A few moments later Philip Tyre was back, gasping for breath. “The passengers are unloaded and milling around the corridor. There’s no crew in sight and the sentries are gone.”

  “Which passengers, Philip?”

  “Mr. Fedez, sir, and Mrs. Ovaugh. The Pierces. A lot of others I recognize, but I don’t remember their names, sir.”

  “The older ones.”

  “Yes, sir. Most of them. Some younger joes too, though.”

  The speaker crackled and the screen came to life. “All right, Seafort, I’m here. What’s your problem?” Admiral Tremaine’s jaw stuck out at a belligerent angle.

  “I beg you, reconsider!”

  “There’s nothing to reconsider. I will make note of your cowardice.”

  “I didn’t mean that. Leave me here!” I pounded the arm of my chair in exasperation. “The passengers! The children!”