Finally they came. Rogoff’s feet lashed out, trying to trip the two sailors, reaching to wrap around the ladder posts. I could hear cries beneath the gag. So could everyone else. Halfway down the ladder Rogoff caught sight of me. His eyes fastened on mine, terrified, pleading.
“Mr. Holser, Mr. Vishinsky. Cuff the prisoner’s feet and place him on the gallows.” A sharp intake of breath. I whirled around, expecting to be clubbed to the deck. A sailor had broken from attention, mouth agape, chest heaving. His mates watched.
I had no choice but to play it out. “You! Two paces forward!” My voice was so sharp, so high-pitched it startled even me. The attention of the massed crew deserted the unfortunate prisoner, focused instead on me.
The seaman, half-dazed, stumbled forward. With all the force I could muster, I slapped him. It echoed like a shot in the appalled silence. The sailor staggered, almost fell.
“BACK IN RANKS!” My face almost touched his. My fury penetrated his daze. He stiffened into attention, a red blotch blossoming on his cheek. My hand stung like fire.
Cuffed hand and foot, Rogoff teetered on the plank, beseeching me with his eyes. The gag muffled his incoherent sounds. For a moment I poised on the edge of mercy, before recollecting my duty.
“Mr. Rogoff, I commend your soul to Lord God.” I flipped the switch on the dolly. A moment later he was gone.
I held the crew in ranks until both bodies were removed from the chamber. I frantically repeated regs under my breath, to divert myself from vomiting in front of the entire ship’s company. “Crew Berth One, two steps forward! Right face! March! Mr. Vishinsky, escort the men to their quarters.”
One by one each group marched back to its berth. At the end only the officers and I remained. We looked at each other, no one wanting to speak. It had been a close call.
I sent Vax and Alexi to unlock the passenger cabins, and started back to the bridge. On the ladder from Level 2, I had to stop and grip the rail, before anyone noticed the trembling of my legs. Chief McAndrews quietly put his hand under my arm and helped me up the stairs. I didn’t take notice; it would have been a capital offense.
That afternoon I ran a Battle Stations drill, followed by decompression drills. It made clear to the crew that I wasn’t afraid to give them orders, and at the same time it occupied their minds. I strove to occupy my own mind, but was unsuccessful.
That afternoon, I ordered the two bodies quietly ejected from the airlock.
Dinner hour came. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold down my food, but I knew it was necessary for me to appear in the dining hall. The passengers I met in the corridor were distant, their looks hostile.
I met Amanda outside the hatch. I went to her immediately, wanting to explain what I’d done.
She gave me no opportunity to speak. Her look passed right through me. I’d anticipated her anger, yet I stood disconcerted, staring at her receding back.
In the hall there was silence when I rose to give the Ship’s Prayer. Afterward, the only persons to say “Amen” were my officers, Mrs. Donhauser, and Derek Carr.
After forking food around my plate I retreated to the bridge. Alexi shared the watch; for once he had the sense to stay quiet. I sat in my Captain’s chair, pinned in merciless silence, while Tuak’s purple face was again hauled up to the rim of the shaft. His sightless stare was directed solely at me.
The caller buzzed. “Pilot Haynes reporting, sir. Will we Fuse tonight?”
“No. In the morning.” The Pilot had said he wasn’t yet ready to tackle Darla’s reprogramming, and in my present state I didn’t trust myself to do the manual calculations.
“Aye aye, sir.”
At midnight I turned over the watch to Vax and Alexi and started back to my cabin. I stumbled with weariness, dreading the solitude. I stripped off my jacket, undid my tie, unbuttoned my shirt.
A knock at the hatch. I opened, half-dressed. Chief McAndrews. With him was Dr. Uburu.
She held a flask and two glasses. “This is for medicinal use. As medical officer I direct you to take it. The Chief will help administer the prescription.” She handed her wares to the Chief and departed.
The Chief met my eye, impassive. I sighed. “Come in.”
“Thank you, Captain.” His tone was formal.
I went to the safe and got out his pipe and the canister. “Go ahead. I order you to light it.” I sniffed at the flask. Some kind of whiskey. I poured two glasses half full.
I’d learned to drink after Academy, on my first leave. I drank because we all did, at one time or another. I didn’t dislike it; I didn’t much enjoy it either. Tonight, I was a drinker. I downed half my glass with the first swallow, finished the rest a moment after. Wordlessly, the Chief poured more.
In the haze of the smoking artifact we sat, mostly in silence, sipping at our drinks. I told him about my visit to the holds, earlier in the day. I explained how I felt when I slapped the frightened sailor’s face. I told him about Father. He listened, he nodded, sometimes he prompted. Occasionally he told an anecdote of his own.
My mood eased as the evening passed. Our commiseration grew into a discussion, then finally a wake. Afterward I recalled my voice, oddly loud. I remembered standing to go to the head, the wall rushing up to smash me in the face, and the Chief’s steadying arm.
I couldn’t quite recall what followed, though I had a dim recollection of the Chief pulling off my shoes, loosening my belt. I seemed to recall someone’s voice, very silly. “Thank you, Chiefie. What a nice name for a grand man, aye, Chiefie?” Someone giggled. Then I slept.
The next morning we Fused, after laborious calculations repeated over and over on my demand. They were not made any easier by my stupendous headache. Vax said something, his voice too loud. I snarled, but he didn’t seem to mind. By the following day I had settled down, even thinking to make amends to Vax with extra cordiality when he left watch.
“Going to hunk down, Mr. Holser?”
“No, sir. I’m off to the exercise room.”
“I should have known. Taking some middies with you?”
“No, sir, I’m meeting Mr. Carr.” I raised an eyebrow. “He apologized and asked if he could resume, sir. We’ve been exercising together four days now.”
“Ah.”
“Yes, sir. Yesterday we went from an hour to two hours. Is that all, sir?”
“Carry on.” Interesting. I thought I knew what would come next. I only wondered when.
The week passed uneventfully. The crew absorbed its graphic lesson in discipline and steadied down to routine. I saw no sullenness, no insubordination. The unfortunate sailor who had glared at Alexi was fined and given extra duties for a month. Mr. Herney, pathetically grateful for his reprieve, waited out his time in the brig.
Amanda listened impassively to my apology. She let me explain my reasoning. Then she turned away without a word. I resolved to let her be. As Captain I could not force myself on a passenger.
It was a few days after, as dinner ended, that the overture came.
I looked at my watch. “Thank you for an interesting evening. Mrs. Donhauser, Mr. Kaa Loa, Mr. Carr.” I stood to take my leave.
Derek stood also. “Sir, may I speak with you privately, when it’s convenient?”
“It will be convenient on the bridge in about an hour.”
“Thank you, sir.” He waited politely for me to leave.
I was sitting at the console when the knock came. Sandy, escorting Mr. Carr. As a passenger, Derek couldn’t approach the bridge on his own.
I swiveled to face the hatch. Derek came in hesitantly, carrying a holovid. He took in the complexity of the instruments and screens, and seemed impressed. “Thank you for allowing me here.”
“What did you want, Mr. Carr?” My tone was cool.
He eyed me uncertainly, standing in front of my chair like an errant schoolboy. “Captain Seafort, I was furious when you said I couldn’t handle life as a midshipman. In our family we’ve assumed we could do what we set our m
inds to. Sir, I think you’re wrong.”
I was impassive. Within, a faint glimmer of hope stirred.
“Captain, I can be a midshipman. I know saying it isn’t enough, so I’ve tried to show you. No discipline? Until now I’ve never called anyone ‘sir’ in my life, including my father. I call you ‘sir’ now. I’ll keep doing it. All I want is for you to have an open mind. Not to prejudge me. Please ... sir.”
He had my full attention. “Go on.”
“I took geometry and trig in school, but no calculus. You didn’t believe me when I said I could learn it. Look at this, please.” He offered me the holovid. I flipped it on.
“The ship’s library had a calculus text. I’ve done all the problems in Chapter One, and most of Chapter Two. I understand differential equations. The differential of velocity with respect to time is acceleration. The differential of displacement with respect to time is velocity.”
Not bad at all, for a beginner without an instructor. “You’ve made a lot of progress, Mr. Carr. Why?”
“Nobody ever told me I’m not good enough, Captain. I want you to know I am.”
“So you put yourself under discipline.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How do you like it?”
“I loathe it!” His vehemence startled me. “I hate abasing myself! I hate it!” He swallowed. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop, sir. I can do what I set out to do!”
“All right, Mr. Carr. But why?”
“After you left my cabin I got to thinking. At first I wanted to join because I was so angry. I had to show you.”
He must have seen my expression. “I said, at first, sir. I haven’t finished. When I got over my anger I realized that it was no reason to enlist. Five years cooped in a ship, because someone jeered at me? No. But what would I do for those years, otherwise? The plantation manager won’t want me around, and he controls the trusts. Until they terminate, I’ll be sent off on a tiny allowance, still a minor, having to ask permission for anything I want to do.”
He paused to marshal his thoughts. “Maybe, the Service isn’t any better. I’ll still have to go where I’m sent, do what I’m told. But I’d have my majority. And at least I’ll have done it by my own decision.”
“That’s all?” I wasn’t that impressed by his motives.
“No, that’s not all. I mean, no, sir. Sorry. I thought about some of the officers I’ve met on board. Lieutenant Cousins, he was a—well, I apologize, I shouldn’t be saying that. But Mr. Malstrom, we sat at table with him a month. He was a gentleman, like my father. If a man like him could make a career in the Service, so could I.”
“Is that what you want, Mr. Carr? A career in the service?”
“No, Captain Seafort. Probably not. But at least I’d get to see places. Learn things. Live on a ship.”
“Is this”—I waved my hand with disdain—“what you call living?”
He stared at me a long moment before he remembered. Then his ears turned red. He looked at the deck. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said quietly. “I really am sorry for saying that.”
“You said a lot you should be sorry for.” I was pushing, but if he couldn’t handle it, he certainly couldn’t take what my first middy would come up with.
“I suppose I have. Sir.” Now his cheeks were red too.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen in six months.”
“I’m only a year older than you.”
“I know. That’s one reason it’s hard to call you ‘sir’.”
“Yet I’m Captain of Hibernia, and you’d be a cadet, at the bottom of the chain of command. The very bottom.”
“Yes, sir, I know that.”
“I wonder. Do you understand the difference between a cadet and a midshipman?”
“A cadet is a trainee, isn’t he? A midshipman is an officer.
“A cadet has special status, Mr. Carr. He is, literally, a ward of his commanding officer. The commander has the rights his parents had. He’s not an adult until he makes midshipman. He has no rights at all, and can be punished in any way his commander sees fit.”
I examined his face; I hadn’t yet dissuaded him. I tried harder. “A cadet has no recourse no matter what he’s asked to do. It’s a brutal life. There’s a reason for it: he has to learn that he can stand up to adversity. After cadet training, shipboard life will seem easy. He’s already been through far worse. And he’s already learned that a Captain’s power, like his cadet commander’s, is absolute.”
Derek was reflective. “I understand.”
“Most cadets enter Academy at thirteen, some at fourteen. A very few at fifteen. By the time we’re your age, it’s usually too late; we resent authority as rigid and arbitrary as cadets endure. You’re too old for it, Derek.”
“Not if I decide to take it, sir.” His voice was firm.
I was patient; he’d earned it. “You think calling me ‘Sir’ is discipline? In your whole life, have you ever been shouted at by a person you didn’t like?”
“No, sir.” He squirmed with discomfort.
“Tell me, have you ever slept in a room with other people?”
He swallowed. “No. Except in the cabin with my father.”
“How’d you like it?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He colored. “I had pills. Dozeoff, and stronger ones. They helped.”
I let the silence stretch awhile. He said, “I know; it won’t be easy. But once I decide to, I can do it.”
“Derek ...” I shook my head, frustrated. “You really don’t understand, do you? Have you ever used the head when another person was present?”
“God, no!” he blurted. I’d assumed not.
“Has an outsider ever seen you without clothes on?”
“No.” He blushed red at the thought.
“Still, you want to be a midshipman?”
“Yes, sir.” His tone was determined.
“Take your pants off.”
“What?” Astonishment gave way to wariness, then dismay. He gulped, realizing his predicament; he had to show me he could take it, or give up his plan. Staring fixedly at the bulkhead he slowly unbuckled and stepped out of his pants. Not knowing what to do with them, he hesitated, then bent awkwardly and dropped them on the deck.
I said nothing, letting him wait in his undershorts. After a while he made a visible effort; his fists unclenched. I let the silence drag. He looked about, remembered that he was on the bridge of the ship, blushed crimson. But he didn’t move.
“Derek, are you still sure you can take it?”
“Yes,” he gritted. “I can take whatever you give out, damn it!”
I wasn’t offended, but it was time to turn up the pressure. Better he broke now, than after taking the oath. “Apologize!”
He swallowed. He battled deep inside himself, his eyes distant. After a moment he said in an entirely different tone, “Captain Seafort, sir, please pardon my rudeness.”
“Apologize abjectly!” This was nothing compared to wardroom hazing.
“Sir! I’m sorry I spoke to you the way I did. It’s a sign of my immaturity. I’m very sorry I can’t control myself. I meant no disrespect to you, sir, and I won’t do it again!”
I looked up. His eyes were wet. I eased up. “I hear you’ve been doing exercises.”
“Yes, sir. With Vax Holser.”
“Mr. Holser, to you.”
“I apologize, sir. With Mr. Holser, to get ready.”
“As part of your campaign?”
“Yes, sir. I started with my letter to you.”
I sighed. He could probably survive. Barely. On the other hand, he was educated and could apply himself to a goal. And I needed midshipmen.
“This is how it works, Derek. You take the oath, and enlist for five years. There’s no way to change your mind. The only exit is dishonorable discharge, and you won’t get that without time in the brig first. You know what a dishonorable does?”
“Not entirely, sir.”
“You can never vote, hold elective office, or be appointed to any government agency. You forfeit all pay and military benefits. It’s utter disgrace.”
“I understand, sir.”
“You join as a cadet. You’re not an officer. In theory, you could remain a cadet for five years. You stay a cadet until your C.O. decides to make you a midshipman. You have no say in the matter. You owe the Navy obedience and service regardless of your status.”
“Yes, sir.” He looked at me attentively, waiting for the permission that must be coming.
“Derek, I’ll give you one warning. Do you think I’ve been hazing you?”
“Yes, sir. Some.”
“I haven’t. You’re very sensitive; it gets much, much worse. You should reconsider.”
He surprised me. “I have, sir, while I’ve had to stand here like this.”
“And?”
“I want to join the Naval Service, sir.”
“I’ll think about it. Wait in the corridor until I call. Don’t bother to dress.”
“What?” Fury and betrayal flashed across his face. “You—I trusted you!” He reached down, swept up his pants.
I said nothing.
He flicked dust off his pants and turned to step into them, his face white with anger. He lifted his foot. Then he froze.
For a long while he stared at the pants. Finally, contemptuously, he lifted them high. Holding them between two fingers he extended his arm. His fingers opened. The pants dropped to the deck. He walked to the hatch and out into the corridor. I slapped the hatch closed.
I gave him half an hour; that would be enough. When I motioned, he came in, pale but silent. I handed him his pants; gratefully he slipped into them. “Derek, Mr. Holser is going to be a real trial for you. Hang on. I’ll make you midshipman as soon as I think you qualify.”
“I understand.” His color was returning to normal.
I called Vax and the Chief as witnesses. I gave Derek the oath, there on the bridge, and entered it into the Log.
“He’s all yours, Vax. Show him the ropes.”
Vax gave a wolfish smile and slowly licked his chops. He rounded on Derek. “Cadet, we’re going to the wardroom. I’ll show you your bunk. Being a cadet is easy. You will call anything that moves ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’, children included. And you will do everything any officer tells you, without exception.”
Midshipman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 1) Page 19
