Challenger's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 2)

by David Feintuch

  “And should have ended that way.”

  “Nick, what he did was unforgivable.”

  “Abandoning us? There was no room on Portia for everyone.”

  “Then he should have sent your ship on ahead, and waited. Or, at most, transferred his flag to Portia.”

  “It’s what I would have done, perhaps. But it’s not my prerogative to second-guess my superiors.”

  He nodded agreement. “Up to a point, his actions were defensible. But look at the whole and you see his cowardice.” Again he brooded. “Bringing as many passengers as possible onto Portia was legitimate. But taking your food, even your lasers ...” He shook his head before resuming fiercely, “And off-loading passengers he didn’t like, to leave them drifting interstellar. Despicable!”

  “He was selecting the most useful passengers, sir. As he did with the crew.”

  “That wasn’t his judgment to make!” the old man said fiercely. He shook his head in sorrow. “Abandoning children in space!” He put his hand over his eyes, but not before I saw them glisten. “Nicky, I’m ashamed.”

  “Ashamed?” I echoed.

  “For what he did to you in the name of our Service.” He stared into the bulkhead and his mouth became grim. “He’s a disgrace. As I said, you could justify many of his actions. But put them together—stealing your ship in the first place, interfering with your internal discipline, deceiving you into approaching his vessel rather than issuing a straightforward command, off-loading the transients, taking Challenger’s lasers, leaving her without a doctor ...” He shook his head. “He’ll be court-martialed, of course. And convicted. No board of captains could stand for that.”

  We sat in silence. He said, “I’ve studied your reports. Minutely and repeatedly, I might add.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I was aware his remark was ambiguous.

  “That boy who didn’t do so well on Hibernia last time, he turned out to be a good officer, eh?”

  “Lieutenant Tyre died doing his duty, sir. I will miss him.”

  “I’m glad of that.” He got up heavily and went to his desk to get something from a drawer. “This is for you.”

  I untied the leatherette folder and opened it. I stared dumbly at the contents. Before embarking, every officer was required as a matter of course to dispose of his property in the event of his death. I’d left mine to Amanda, or to Father.

  Philip had left his to me.

  There was a receipt for his duffel, now in storage, and his few personal things. A couple of letters. The stubs from his uncollected pay.

  I began to cry.

  Admiral Brentley waited, saying nothing. When I was able to collect myself he smiled gently.

  “So much blood,” I whispered. “So much death.”

  “Yes. You’ve seen more than your share.” He looked pensive. “The information you brought us is invaluable. The body itself—the xenobiologists have gone wild. And Naval Intelligence is spooked out of its collective mind at the thought those beasts have reached our home system.”

  He smiled briefly. “Our physicists are muttering incomprehensibly about augmented N-waves. Those fish of yours travel faster than we do, Nick. They must, if you were able to get back in sixty-odd days from where it took you seven months to sail.”

  He stood and began to pace. I wondered if he saw himself on a bridge, far interstellar. He said, “I imagine there’ll be some new devices coming out of the labs that will considerably shorten the distances between colonies. And so the world changes again.”

  He sat heavily. “But I won’t be here to see it.” I looked up in surprise. “I’m retiring, Nick. As you can see, I’m not well, and I want—” He broke off. “My daughters are buried on Vega Two,” he resumed after a moment. “Been a long time since I’ve seen them, though I talk to them at night. I want to be with them, when my time comes. If the war heats up I won’t be able ... well, it’s time for an old man to move on.” His eyes misted.

  I dared say nothing. Eventually he cleared his throat and tried a tentative smile. “So this is the last I’ll be able to help you, Nicholas Seafort. After this you’re on your own.”

  “You’ve done more than enough for me already, sir.”

  “Probably. But I’ll do more. I told you I’d put you back to Captain after your next voyage. You’re still younger than I anticipated, as you got back earlier than expected. But as of today you hold full Captain’s rank in the U.N.N.S.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, trying to simulate the elation I knew he’d expect.

  “Doesn’t mean much, eh? Well, you’ve had a rough time. Are you up to taking out a ship?”

  “Yes.” I would have long hours in Fusion when there’d be nothing required of me but to sit in my cabin. Days and weeks of blessed nothingness.

  “I’ve got two possibilities for you. Churchill will leave for Arcadia in about four weeks. And I’ve got a ship just come in from Caledonia, that we’re sending on to Hope Nation.”

  “I’ll take her.” I’d spent most of my career trying to get to and from Hope Nation. Perhaps I’d reach it this time. There were always the Ventura Mountains. Perhaps I could sit overlooking the cliffs with my memories of Amanda.

  “She’s Hibernia, Nick.”

  The folder slid from my lap. My heard pounded. Hibernia! I’d come to Captain her by tragic accident, and managed to guide her safely back to Earth. A full ship of the line, but more. A familiar ship. A home.

  “My seniority, sir,” I stammered. “I—she—I’m way down the list for a ship so large.”

  “Yes, ordinarily you would be.” He leaned forward, arm on his knee. “But I’m Admiral Commanding of Fleet Ops, and she’s mine to give. We owe you for what you’ve gone through, and besides ...” He trailed off.

  “Yes, sir?” My curiosity was piqued despite my lassitude.

  “There’s something about you, Seafort. You have luck, intuition, integrity”—I snorted in derision—“and you always seem to be in the right place at the right time. And you do the right things.”

  My fist knotted. “I’ve fouled up about as badly as a Commander can. Why do you keep rewarding me?”

  “You brought Hibernia back against all odds. You did the same for Challenger.”

  “I didn’t bring her back, the fish did!” I cried. “Can’t you see? It wasn’t me, it was fortune!”

  “Or Providence,” he rejoined. He shook his head in wonderment. “Captain Von Walther. A legend, when I entered the Service fifty years ago. There’s never been another like him.” Nor would there be. Hugo Von Walther, Commander of the search vessel Armstrong, who’d found the remains of Celestina, opened two colonies to settlement, fought a duel with the infamous Governor of Hastings Colony, and been appointed Admiral of the Fleet before serving as Secretary-General.

  The old Admiral touched my knee awkwardly. “Son, sometimes I see another Von Walther in you. Or more.”

  “Goofjuice!” I said with vehemence, entirely forgetting my place.

  “Oh, you may think so. But you’re not far into your twenties, and look what you’ve already done.

  “By God, Seafort, if you’re not another Von Walther, then what are you?”

  “Accursed,” I said bitterly. “In both senses. People around me die. I wish—” I bit it off. I only wished I could die as well.

  “Someday soon, when I’m in my dotage, I’ll tell them I knew you. No one will believe me, of course, but I’ll know it was true.”

  “That’s nonsense,” I said with force.

  “One of us is right.” He stood carefully, hands on knees to help himself straighten. “Hibernias leaving in two days. It won’t give you any time to go down.” Groundside, he meant.

  “I have no need. “Something occurred to me. “Sir, Admiral Tremaine relieved me before. When I get to Hope Nation, he may want to do so again.”

  “He might. But you’ll carry orders for his dismissal. That’s the last thing I’ll be able to do for you, boy. When you get back I’ll be g
one.”

  “Sir, I swore to kill him.”

  “Your duel?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He shrugged. “So be it. I’ll shed no tears. Once he’s relieved, the dueling code is operative. You’d save us the trouble of a court-martial.” He looked at me closely. “Choice of weapons is his, you know.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “He’s quite good with archaic powder-fired handguns. He may well kill you.”

  “I won’t mind,” I said truthfully.

  He studied me. “You’ve been through a lot, boy. I’m sorry.” He stood. “I’ll have my staff brief you tomorrow on the technical details. But I’ll tell you now, our strategists believe the fish hear our ships Fuse or Defuse rather than the Fusion itself. So orders are to make one long jump, as close to Hope Nation as you can.”

  “That makes sense.” It was the opposite of Admiral Tremaine’s orders, of course.

  “Some of your older passengers are still too ill to travel, but the Reeves couple in particular asked if you’d be going back to Hope Nation and requested whatever ship you’d be on.” I shook my head in wonderment. People could be mystifying.

  He went on without a pause. “Your, uh, crew. We’ve offered remission of enlistment. Some have accepted. Two asked to travel to Hope Nation as crew, with permission to resign at the end of the voyage.”

  “Who?”

  “The Dakkos, father and son. Would you mind having them aboard?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And a few of the transpops elected to remain in the Service. It’s probably a better life than they’d have otherwise. They’re not what we’d like in the Navy, but under the circumstances I can’t very well refuse them.”

  “All right.”

  “The rest of the transients.” He eyed me, then looked away.

  “I expect that relocation program will be shut down. It was ill-advised to begin with, as we all knew. But everyone feels it best that the transients not be politically exploited back home, so we’re sending the pilot group on to Detour, as originally planned. Would you mind having them aboard?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I didn’t think so. You seem to be a sort of Pied Piper to young passengers and crew. It’ll be crowded, but we’ll make room for them.”

  I stirred. “How many to a cabin, sir?”

  “I don’t know,” he said testily. “As before, I imagine. Six.”

  I took a deep breath. “No.”

  “We’re hard-pressed for room these days, Seafort. We’ve lost several ships, and despite the dangers there’s more traffic than ever. Anyway, they’re used to it by now.”

  “No.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I won’t bunk them more to a cabin than any other passengers. I consented once to Admiral Tremaine’s abominations, and I will not do so again.”

  The old lion stirred within his gaunt frame. “Captain Seafort, I remind you that you’re speaking to the Admiral Commanding.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “I’m giving you an order to ship those passengers.”

  I got to my feet. “No, sir, I will not.”

  He snorted with anger, retreating to the formality of his desk. “Captain, you will obey orders!” We glared at each other. “If you want Hibernia you will take those passengers.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I would have liked Hibernia again.”

  “I’ll have you court-martialed!”

  “That’s your prerogative, sir.” He tried to stare me down. I met his glare as best I could.

  The Admiral gave me an odd look. “You really don’t care, do you, Nicholas?”

  “The truth, sir?” He nodded. “No, sir. I do not.”

  He came out from behind the desk. “Four, then. That’s humane. I’ll off-load some regular passengers.”

  “No, sir.” I spoke with finality.

  “You stubborn young whelp! After all I’ve done for you!”

  “They are human beings, sir. I’ve been taught that the Navy has but one class of passengers.”

  “Yes, but this is different. We’re at war, and they’re used to it. Three.”

  “No, sir.”

  “You’d give up your career for them? Truly?”

  “If you force me.”

  “Two, then.” I shook my head but he persisted, “It’s no worse than married couples are given! Think!”

  I capitulated. “Two, then.” He was right. “But in the larger cabins.”

  “You’re dangerous, boy,” he growled. “Because you don’t care what’s done to you. It’s well I’m getting you out of home system.”

  We both smiled, glad to end our confrontation. “A couple of other things,” he said. “First, the, ah, mediamen have been clamoring for weeks to get at you. A number of them are gathered outside in the amphitheater.”

  “Me?” I gawked.

  “Yes, you. I kept them away after your last trip, and that’s only made them wilder. Your picture is all over the holos and on every photozine. You’ll have to let them at you this time.”

  “But, why me?”

  You’re world-famous, Nick.” He looked at me oddly. “Didn’t you know?” I shook my head. This was ridiculous. I felt a growing anger.

  He gestured toward my cheek. “That, ah, burn scar. Would you like to do something about it?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Um. Well, it’s your choice. Parents all over the world will hate you.”

  He saw my puzzlement. “The fashion you’ll set,” he explained. He opened the old-fashioned hatch. French doors, really. Onto the sublunar chamber.

  We walked together through the outer offices, to the corridor that led through the amphitheater back to Old Lunapolis. As we reached the amphitheater entrance I remembered. “What was the other thing you were going to tell me, sir?”

  There was no time for an answer. A roar of sound, and I was blinded by a hundred piercing lights. They came at me, microphones thrust forward, questions screaming in my ear. I froze in shock, my jaw hanging foolishly.

  “How did it feel to meet the aliens again, Captain?”

  “Do you have any proposals for Naval strategy?”

  “How do you feel about—”

  “Your wife?”

  “All the crewmen who died—”

  “Did your family—”

  I clutched the Admiral’s shoulder. “GET ME OUT OF HERE!” One glance at my face and he swept forward, smiling and waving, guiding me through the frenzied horde.

  Minutes later I sat, head between my knees, trying to control my trembling. We were in some compartment off the main corridor, still in Naval territory.

  “I’m sorry, son. I didn’t realize they’d come at you like wolves.”

  I mumbled something. Then, “I apologize, sir. I’ll be all right.”

  “Good.” He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. “What I was going to tell you earlier—maybe I shouldn’t just now—”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You have a visitor. Your father.”

  I stumbled to my feet. “Father? Here, on Luna?”

  “Yes. He cabled us when the news of your return hit the holos to ask if you’d be going down. We told him it was unlikely, if you accepted another ship, and he said of course you would, so he asked permission to come here. I saw no reason to refuse.”

  Father on Luna? Impossible. That dour old man who’d rarely left Cardiff except to take me to Academy, enduring the peculiarities of one-sixth gravity just to see me?

  My head spun. “Where is he?”

  “Waiting for you, son. Down the corridor.” Admiral Brentley had the grace to look embarrassed. “Shall I take you?”

  “I’d rather go myself, please. Where?”

  “West corridor, toward the end. There’s a waiting room outside the offices.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, sir?”

  .“Yes.” He hesitated. “I probably won’t see you again, Nick, before
you go. Or ... after.” Almost shyly he offered his hand. “Good luck, Captain Seafort. And Godspeed.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I roused myself to give a passable imitation of an Academy salute. It was what he would appreciate.

  I hurried down the corridor.

  The Naval station occupied a separate wing of the teeming new city built onto Old Lunapolis. Two main corridors penetrated its warren of cubbyholes, offices, dormitories, and quarters. After all, Lunapolis held the second biggest Naval Station in existence. The largest was Lunar Farside Academy, halfway around the planet. The Terrestrial Academy base at Dover was tiny by comparison.

  I trudged the length of the main corridor, past the regulation suit lockers every twenty meters, absently taking and returning salutes. Midshipmen and lieutenants, respectful of my rank, stepped aside as I passed. In a daze, I stopped to answer civil questions of fellow Captains, until I realized they were making excuses to speak with me. They shook my hand, flocked around me, touched me.

  Eventually I made my way to the cluster of offices and waiting rooms at the corridor’s end.

  I went into the outer office. “Pardon me, is there a Mr.—”

  He stood. Creased, older than I remembered.

  “Father?” I whispered.

  “Nicholas.” He walked with the careful tread of a newcomer, still half fearing to lose contact with the floor. He raised his hand gently, touched my cheek. “You’re sore hurt.”

  “Aye.” I fell into the old speech.

  “They told me. And in other ways. I’m sorry for your family. Your pretty young wife, and the baby I never met. May He cherish them.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  “I’ve read about you,” he said with a thin ghost of a smile. “Something every day. Much of it made up, I warrant.”

  “Most of it, I’d imagine.”

  We perused each other, strangers. “You’re all grown now,” he said at length, almost in wonderment.

  “Aye.”

  He glanced at his watch. “I’ll have to go back soon, tonight. I only had a three-day ticket.”

  “It can be changed—”

  “No, there’s no need. I’ve seen you, and I’ll say what I’ve come to tell. Nicholas, you’ve done your duty. Through all the fantasies of the mediamen, I can read that. You’re hurt, but you’ve carried on. I just wanted you to know that I know it.”