I thought for a moment. “Why does it surprise you?” He looked up, astonished at my unsympathetic tone. “We’ve always had brutality, Derek. It just takes different forms. In the eighteenth century the British Navy flogged seamen to death. In the twentieth century, offenders were cooked by twenty thousand volts of current. In the last century the Pentecostal heretics were savagely suppressed, while most people applauded. There’s always been brutality. Why should the Navy be any different?”
“But ...” His lip trembled. “People like you, like Alexi, aren’t—”
“We’re part of the system. We’ve all experienced cruelty.” I scowled. “Do you think you have it worse than we did?”
“Don’t I?”
“No. Once, when I was a cadet, middies washed my mouth out with soap. They didn’t like my bunkmate; they gave him an enema. Did Vax do that to you?”
“Oh, Lord God! No!”
“I was caned several times at Academy, and I’ve been caned by Lieutenant Cousins aboard Hibernia. I don’t know about Academy, but I don’t think I deserved it here. So what? I survived.”
“What about justice? What about decency, or human feelings?”
“What if you were a middy aboard Celestina and only absolute, unquestioning obedience to orders would save the ship?” It shocked him into silence.
“Brutality is part of the human condition,” I told him. “You may encounter a Captain with a sadistic streak. You’ll have to live with him.” I paused to make sure he was listening. “Derek, someday you’ll command squads of sailors. How can you understand what you’re asking of them unless you can obey orders yourself?”
“I’m never going to command.” His tone was bitter. “Look at me!”
“You’re going to make it. Hang on; do whatever he asks. That’s all it takes.”
“I obey orders. He just gets crazier. The things he’s done to me ... I can’t stand it! I want out!” Tears flowed anew.
“You can’t quit!” I said angrily. “I warned you before you took the oath.”
“Then—brig me for insubordination, or whatever you do. I can’t take any more!”
I put both hands on his shoulders. “Derek Carr, I promise you: try your best. Your very best. I’ll know, and I’ll make you midshipman. But it has to be your best. Give it your all.”
He looked into my eyes a long while. His breath shuddered. At last he nodded reluctantly. “I will. But not for him. For you. Because you have the decency to ask, not demand.”
“Whatever you choose to call it. When I’m certain you’ve done your best I’ll make you an officer. Now, this conversation never happened. Cadets don’t cry, and Captains don’t comfort them. Go back to the wardroom, apologize to Vax for your tantrum—”
“I never had a tantrum!” Derek said indignantly.
“I saw you in there, quivering. Not Navy at all! Apologize, and do as he says.”
Derek took a deep breath. “Aye aye, sir.” He swallowed and made a face. Then he saluted. “Thank you, Captain Seafort.”
I returned his salute. “Dismissed, Cadet.”
“Lord God, today is July 23, 2195, on the U.N.S. Hibernia. We ask you to bless us, to bless our voyage, and to bring health and well-being to all aboard.”
“Amen.”
I nodded affably to my companions. Mr. Ibn Saud, seated with me by my invitation for the second month in a row, the Treadwell twins, my old friend Mrs. Donhauser. Other guests: Lars Holme, an agricultural economist going to Hope Nation to work for the administration; Sarah Butler, a friendly young lady of nineteen, with whom I hoped to become even friendlier. And Jay Annah, an astrophysicist going on to Detour to set up a new project. Something about wavelengths and timelines; I couldn’t begin to understand him.
Many passengers now sought invitations to the Captain’s table; after the affair with Darla’s memory banks had become known, my long siege had lifted. It would have been politic to include Yorinda Vincente, but I indulged myself, and did not.
Rafe Treadwell asked brightly, “Captain, why are we Defusing tomorrow?”
I’d long since stopped wondering how everyone aboard ship knew our doings as soon as I did. “A navigation check, Rafe. To sight on Miningcamp.”
“Are we near?”
“Not close enough to see it,” I said, and his face fell. “But if we Defuse where we expect, we’ll be only a few days from landfall.”
He chewed his bread, gathering his nerve. “Captain—sir ... could I watch us Defuse? Please?”
“Sorry, no. Anyway, there’s not that much to watch. You can look out a porthole and see the same thing.” That wasn’t really true; the simulscreens gave a view the naked eye couldn’t capture. In any event, passengers weren’t allowed on the bridge, especially when the ship was maneuvering. The youngster tried to hide his disappointment.
Well, what was the point of being Captain if I couldn’t bend the rules? “All right. Permission granted.”
His face lit up. “Wow! Zarky! Can Paula come too?” I wasn’t overjoyed at the prospect of two joeys on the bridge instead of one, but looking after his sister should be rewarded. I consented.
So the bridge was more crowded than usual: the Pilot and I; the two Treadwells, whom I’d placed behind me in the center of the cabin where they couldn’t touch the console; and Vax, shepherding Derek Carr, who was being taught the elements of standing watch. Carr, squeaky clean, in a crisp spotless gray uniform, observed everything with curious, roving eyes, standing at ease as ordered.
I took the caller. “Bridge to engine room, prepare to Defuse.”
“Prepare to Defuse, aye aye, sir.” A pause. “Engine room ready for Defuse, sir. Control passed to bridge.”
“Passed to bridge, aye aye.” My finger touched the top of the console screen and traced the line from “Full” to “Off”.
A blaze of stars filled the screen. Paula Treadwell gasped with delight. Derek took in a sharp breath.
“Confirm clear of encroachments, Pilot.”
“Clear, sir.”
I took in the splendor in the simulscreens. Finally realizing they couldn’t proceed until I gave the awaited command, I snapped, “Mr. Haynes, plot our position. You too, Cadet. Mr. Holser, correct his mistakes.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The Pilot ran his calculations, using the star charts in Darla’s memory. I followed, on my own console. Our positions agreed. Derek misread his figures, but corrected himself when Vax stirred with a growl. He too emerged with a plot that agreed with ours.
“Prepare new coordinates, Pilot,” I said. “Cadet, you also.” At least I’d get to watch Derek sweat over the console, as I’d once done under Captain Haag’s disapproving eye.
To my chagrin, Derek ran through the complicated exercise without error. His figures agreed with the Pilot’s to four decimals. A raw recruit, faster than I was. Muttering under my breath, I worked through the figures, confirming each step for myself. This time no one commented on my delay.
“Proceed.”
The Pilot entered the coordinates. “Received and understood, Captain,” Darla said.
“Chief Engineer, Fuse, please.”
“Aye aye, sir. Fusion drive is ... on.” The screens darkened.
“Oh, it was beautiful!” Paula Treadwell stood entranced, her feet riveted to the spot in which she had been placed.
Her brother swallowed. A few of the vanished stars remained in his eyes. “I didn’t know it was so ... wonderful.” His voice was soft. His eye flickered around the bridge. “I wish I could work here, running the ship.”
“Me too.” Paula looked reflective. “Captain, does Miningcamp have a recruiting station?”
I laughed. “Only I could sign you up. No, don’t even bother asking.”
“Why not, sir?” Rafe.
It was getting out of hand. “Because you’re a couple of joeykids and we already have four midshipmen.”
“We’re both good at math, you know,” Rafe said. “Better than
you think.”
“That’s enough, you two. Dismissed. Cadet, take them down to Level 2.”
“Aye aye, sir!” Derek’s voice was strong and confident. He saluted. “Come with me, please.” He ushered them from the bridge.
I turned to Vax. “Well?”
“Yes, sir. He’s ready. I asked him for fifty push-ups yesterday. He gave me sixty.”
“That’s an old trick. Sandy or Alexi could have told him.”
“Yes, sir. He keeps his bunk spotless. When I give him one chapter to study, he reads two. I did the thing with the heat last week. After a while he was getting up voluntarily to check it before I asked him.”
“Very well. Tell him he’s appointed midshipman one week from today. Give him a few days to look forward to it.”
“Aye aye, sir.” After a moment he asked, “What about Last Night, sir?”
“Within reason, Vax. Within reason.” Traditionally, on a cadet’s last night, the upperclassmen hazed him unmercifully to remind him how lucky he was to graduate to a midshipman. The harassment was followed by a party by which the middies accepted the cadet as one of their own. I made a note to send a flask from the infirmary to the wardroom.
Vax’s voice was tentative. “If you don’t mind I’d like to go easy on him, sir. He’s had enough.”
“Very well.” Vax, taking pity on a cadet? Times had changed.
19
I GOT OUT OF BED and made myself ready for the day. It was my eighteenth birthday, but I was the only one who knew. I toasted myself with a cup of coffee, then sauntered to the bridge.
I took my seat, prepared to Defuse.
“Engine room ready for Defuse, sir. Control passed to bridge.”
“Passed to bridge, aye aye.” I ran my finger down the screen, Defusing for the first time in inhabited territory. The simulscreen burst into light. A dull red star glowed, brighter than the rest. Somewhere nearby floated Miningcamp, fourth of five dead planets orbiting a failing sun.
“Clear of encroachments, sir.”
“Very well, Mr. Tamarov.” I thumbed the caller. “Comm room, signal to Miningcamp Station.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Our radionics had been useless while we’d been interstellar; even if we Defused to transmit, our signal could travel no faster than the speed of light and we would outrun our broadcast. But now we were within Miningcamp system, on auxiliary power. Our messages would reach the orbiting station in seconds.
Our outgoing signal repeated itself endlessly, on standard approach frequency. “U.N.S. Hibernia to Miningcamp Station, acknowledge. U.N.S. Hibernia to Miningcamp Station, acknowledge.”
Long minutes passed.
“Miningcamp Station to Hibernia. Where are you?” The voice was sharp, with an undertone of anxiety.
I picked up the caller. “Hibernia. We’re approaching on auxiliary power from sector 13, coordinates 43, 65, 220. Approximately one day’s sail.”
A dozen seconds passed. “What’s going on, Hibernia?”
That was not how communications were passed, by the book. “Identify yourself, Miningcamp Station. Your question is not understood.”
A longer pause. After half a minute the voice came back. “General Friedreich Kall, U.N.A.F.” That was as it should be; Miningcamp was run by the army’s Administrative Service. “The November barge never showed up,” he added. “And Telstar was due from Hope Nation January 12. She didn’t come either. What’s going on?”
No wonder General Kall was nervous. Unlike Hope Nation, a planet with breathable air and fertile ground, Miningcamp was a cold, airless island whose inhabitants depended on interstellar deliveries of air, food, and supplies. Miningcamp’s environment was too primitive, its population too large for recycling to sustain them indefinitely. The miners and their administrators could only scan the dark skies for the ships upon which they depended. Without them they would perish.
The ore barges, great hulks manned by skeleton crews, arrived at intervals from Earth or Hope Nation, to carry away the metals mined during the past months. A series of barges was always in the Fusion pipeline between Miningcamp and Earth; the barges’ immense capacity made them far slower than Hibernia.
Because they sometimes docked over Hope Nation to exchange crews before leaving again for Miningcamp, the barges weren’t always on schedule; engine problems, sickness, or other problems could delay them. But an eight-month lapse was unusual.
The nonappearance of Telstar, another ship of the line on the Hope Nation–Earth route, was also disturbing. I shivered, picturing Celestina drifting abandoned in space.
I said, “I have no idea why your supplies were delayed, General. The ore ships are still coming out of the pipeline back home.”
“When did you leave Earth, Captain Haag?”
“Captain Haag is dead. I’m Captain Seafort.” The title was still awkward on my tongue. “We left Earthport Station Sept. 23, 2194.”
“We’ve been a long while without supplies. Can you take some of us off?” The voice was strained.
“How many?”
“One hundred forty-five.”
“Negative. But I have supplies for you, and I’ll be back from Hope Nation with more in a year’s time.”
“We need evacuation, Captain. Your supplies won’t last a year.”
“There are more barges and supply ships in the pipeline from Hope Nation. In the meantime I’m delivering air, energy, and materials.”
Another long pause. Finally the voice resumed. “Very well. We’d still like you to evacuate some of us, if you can. Relieve the pressure on our recyclers. We’ll prepare to dock you.”
“Affirmative.” I signed off.
Over the next two watches the ship remained on a steady course for rendezvous with Miningcamp Station. I called up Darla’s simulations of the station one more time, reviewing its design. The next morning, about ten hours out, General Kall contacted me again, asking how many men I could evacuate. I temporized; I wanted to hear more about their problems before I agreed to crowd aboard more passengers.
I understood the strain of the miners’ lonely vigil. Upheaval on Earth, disaster on Luna, any of a dozen causes could strand them far from home with little chance of survival. Miners, recruited from the dregs of society, were sent out for one five-year shift and no longer. The pressure on the administrators must be nerve-wracking; they had to deal not only with their own anxieties but their surly and sullen miners as well.
Four hours before our scheduled arrival, Pilot Haynes reported for watch. By plan, he had been off for several shifts and was well rested.
“Pilot, you have the conn.” My words formally turned the ship over to him for docking maneuvers. Nonetheless, I would remain on the bridge, nervous as a middy on his first watch until Hibernia was safely docked. As Captain, I was ultimately responsible for any mishap.
Vax shared the watch, and as a special treat I called Derek forward as well. Elegant and proud in his new blue uniform, middy’s stripes freshly sewn, he saluted smartly. “Permission to enter bridge, sir.”
“Granted, Midshipman Carr.”
Derek grinned despite himself.
On the simulscreen we watched Miningcamp’s orbiting station drift ever closer. At the moment it was just visible without magnification; we were still two hours from docking.
“I wouldn’t care to be one of them, sir,” Vax said. He gestured at the dark brooding hulk of Miningcamp planet.
I grunted. “A rough life. Three shifts work around the clock, and they’ve nothing but barracks to look forward to.” I had watched the holovid documentaries.
Derek asked, “How long can they go without supplies, sir?”
“How would I know?” I tried to repress the annoyance in my tone. “On emergency rations, if they cut energy and air waste, probably quite a while.”
Vax wondered, “Why are they panicked, then, after only eight months?”
A good question. It was probably the uncertainty; they couldn’t know why their supply shi
p hadn’t arrived, or when it ever would. I said as much.
Vax said, “Captain, if we took even a hundred of them, we’d be—”
“You midshipmen are distracting me.” The Pilot’s tone was sharp. “Mr. Carr, Mr. Holser.” It was petty of him; he wouldn’t have anything to do for at least another hour. We fell silent, acknowledging his control of the bridge.
Vax observed me with interest. I suspected the Pilot’s remark had been a calculated insult. Though Mr. Haynes had ostensibly addressed Vax and Derek, his “you midshipmen” could well have included me, despite his disclaimer. I wondered why the Pilot was so foolish as to provoke me. Though he’d achieved his immediate goal of reminding me of my origins, he could lose much if I chose to retaliate.
Obviously he knew I had that power; apparently he was still angry enough not to care. I sighed. If I hadn’t been so vindictive about his protest in the Log ... My forehead throbbed with the first stabs of a headache.
At last we began our maneuvers to mate with Miningcamp’s orbiting station. The Pilot issued crisp commands, his fingers flying on the console. I constantly rechecked our position from my own screen.
“Steer one hundred thirty degrees, ahead one third.”
“One hundred thirty degrees, one third, aye aye, sir.” The engine room echoed his commands.
“Declination ten degrees.”
“Sir, Miningcamp Station reports locks ready and waiting.” Our comm room tech, on the speaker.
“Acknowledged.” The Pilot seemed preoccupied, as well he would be. Though we had propellant to spare for docking maneuvers, pride would require him to mate properly on the first pass.
I spent the dreary wait planning our unloading of cargo. The miners would be relieved when our stores of oxygen and fuel were safely in their hands, but not as relieved as I’d be. I rubbed my pulsing temples, stopped when I saw Vax watching.
“Relative speed one hundred kilometers per hour, Pilot.” The comm room.
“A hundred kph, understood. Maneuvering jets, brake ten.” The station’s tiny airlocks waited.
Midshipman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 1) Page 24
