“Yes, sir. You’re senior officer in Hope Nation system.”
23
I SAT DESPONDENT WHILE evening darkened outside the window, unnoticed.
We’d been over the regs a dozen times. I couldn’t find an escape.
“Governor Williams—”
“Is a civilian, sir. He doesn’t have jurisdiction over the Navy.” Captain Forbee must have studied every line of the regs as I had, hoping to escape his unwanted responsibility. The relief he’d have felt when he found I had more interstellar time as Captain than he ... “Governor Williams can no more appoint a Captain than you can set local speed limits,” he added.
“You made your point!” Abashed, I lowered my voice. “I can resign.”
“Yes, sir. Nobody can stop you.” He’d said it correctly. Resigning for any reason except disabling physical illness or injury, or mental illness, was dereliction of duty. The regs I’d sworn to uphold required me to exert authority and control of the government of my vessel until relieved by order of superior authority, until my death, or until certification of my disability.
But no one could stop me from violating my oath.
“I won’t put up with this!” I glared at Forbee. “Someone in Hope Nation system must be rated interstellar, damn it!” I was so frustrated I skirted blasphemy without caring.
“I’m afraid not, sir. Believe me, I’ve looked.”
“You have captains with interplanetary ratings. Any of them would be senior to me.”
“In service time, yes, sir. But any Captain Interstellar is senior to a Captain Interplanetary. Surely you know that.”
“Don’t tell me what I know!” I snapped.
“I’m sorry, sir.” His tone was placating.
We sat in silence. At length I said, “Hibernia can’t sail with me at the helm. That’s too dangerous. And if Telstar’s missing, she may never have even made Detour; we must sail. Our supplies would be needed there more than ever.”
Forbee folded his arms. “I agree.”
“Will you search for Telstar?”
He looked surprised. “That’s for you to decide, sir. You’re in charge.”
I stood, fists bunched.
“You’re senior,” he blurted. “I can’t help it. The naval station is under your command.”
“Of all the ... I’ll—by Lord God—” With an effort I brought my speech under control. “These are my instructions: run the naval station exactly as you would if I hadn’t arrived! Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. Aye aye, sir!”
“Are you going to search for Telstar, Forbee?” I was too put out to use his rank.
“We have nothing to send after her, sir. None of our local ships have fusion drive.” That was that. Search and rescue were impossible.
We couldn’t just ignore the fact that Telstar was missing. Word had to be sent back to Admiralty at Luna, but Hibernia was the next ship scheduled to return—in fact, the only fusion vessel in the system. My mind spun. That meant I had to—
Enough was enough. “By Lord God, I’ll resign!”
“Will you, sir?” His voice was without inflection.
“Yes. Right now. Give me my Log; I’ll write it in.” It was time to free myself from this madness. If Admiralty tried me for dereliction of duty, so be it; at least I’d kill no more passengers and crew by my stupidity. If the regs required me to remain Captain, the regs were wrong. I would follow my conscience.
I keyed the holovid to the end of the most recent entry, tapped the keys. “I, Nicholas Ewing Seafort, Captain, do hereby res—” I halted, the hairs raising on my neck. Slowly, I turned, called by the familiar touch of Father’s breath as he watched me struggle with my lessons.
Day after day, in the cold dreary Welsh afternoons, I worked my way through the texts, struggling to master new words and ideas, scrawling answers into the worn notebooks he bade me use. When I was right he gave me another problem. When I made a mistake he said only, “That’s wrong, Nicholas,” and handed me back the page to find my errors, waiting patiently behind my chair until I did.
One day I’d dropped my smudged assignment on the table and cried bitterly, “Of course it’s wrong! I always do it wrong!” He spun me around, slapped me hard, swung my chair to the table, and thrust the lesson book into my hands. He’d said not a word. Blinking back tears I worked, my cheek smarting, until I got it right. After, he gave me another problem.
Now, in Forbee’s office, nobody was behind my chair, the breath I’d felt but a wisp of breeze. I shivered, shook off my memories, and turned back to the holovid. “—do hereby resign my commission, effective immediately.” I put the point of the pencil to the screen to sign below the entry.
Time passed.
After a while the pencil fell from my fingers, rolled unheeded to the floor.
I couldn’t do it. I knew right from wrong; though Father wasn’t watching, he might as well have been. “I, Nicholas Ewing Seafort, do swear upon my immortal soul to preserve and protect the Charter of the General Assembly of the United Nations, to give loyalty and obedience for the term of my enlistment to the Naval Service of the United Nations, and to obey all its lawful orders and regulations, so help me Lord God Almighty.” I’d administered the selfsame oath to Paula Treadwell and to Derek Carr. I was prepared to hang them should they break their pledge. I could not violate it myself.
Still, for a brief moment, my resolution wavered. Was my self-respect worth risking Hibernia and her crew? Was even my immortal soul worth that? In the distance, Father waited for my reply. I will—he’d made me promise—let them destroy me before I swear to an oath I will not fulfill. My oath is all that I am.
I covered my face, ashamed of my tears. When I’d brought myself under control I put down my dampened arm, blinked in the sudden light.
I erased the entry. Captain Forbee sat motionless.
“I’m sorry. Very sorry.”
He nodded as if he understood.
“We won’t speak of it again.” My embarrassment was painful, but no more than I deserved. “I’m going back to my ship. Carry on victualing and off-loading. Report only if it’s necessary.” I stood.
“Aye aye, sir.” He got to his feet when I did. “If there’s anything I can do to help ...”
“I need experienced officers. I don’t care where you get them. Find me at least two more lieutenants.”
“Aye aye, sir.” As I left the room he picked up his caller. “Get a shuttle ready for the Commander at Admiralty House.”
Two hours later I strode through the mated airlocks onto Hibernia. Vax Holser, waiting at the hatch, fell into step beside me. “Are you all right, sir?” His manner was anxious. “Did they accept your report?”
“I’m fine.” I started up the ladder to Level 1.
“Will they call a court of inquiry?”
“No.”
“Do you know who’ll replace you, sir?”
Why did he insist on goading me? “Mr. Holser, your duties are elsewhere. Get out from underfoot and stay out!”
Vax stopped short, shock and hurt evident. “Aye aye, sir.” Quickly he turned away. I strode onto the bridge. Dejected, I slumped in my armchair. Vax had been worried for me, but I’d turned on him with savage anger. Would I ever learn? How often could I lash out without turning him back into a cold, unfeeling bully?
The crew’s leave roster, prepared by the Chief, awaited my approval. I signed it. During Hibernia’s mandatory thirty-day layover on Hope Nation the entire crew would be shuttled groundside, except for a few maintenance personnel whose shifts were rotated to provide the maximum leave. At least one officer would remain on board at all times, although he wasn’t required to stand watch.
By now all the passengers had disembarked, even those who were going on to Detour.
“Mr. Tamarov to the bridge.” I replaced the caller and waited. A few moments later Alexi appeared. “You’re on duty rotation the third week,” I told him. “That means you have two weeks off st
arting today, and another week at the end.”
“Aye aye, sir!” His eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation.
“Just one thing.” His grin vanished. “As senior middy, you’re in charge of the cadets. I’m not holding them aboard the ship and we can’t turn Ricky and Paula loose in a strange colony unsupervised. Take them with you and keep an eye on them.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
He looked so crestfallen I offered a little cheer. “I didn’t mean at every minute, Alexi. You can still go out on the town. Either take them with you or bunk them down before you go. Just bring them back to the ship unharmed.”
He brightened. “Aye aye, sir. When are you going down, sir?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Will I see you before you’re transferred out?” A natural assumption; a new Captain wouldn’t want his predecessor looking over his shoulder. I’d have been reassigned to another ship until the next interstellar vessel arrived.
“You’ll see me,” I growled, suddenly anxious to be rid of him. “Dismissed.”
I sat in my leather armchair on the silent bridge. Eventually, I realized there was no reason to stay. I wandered down to Level 2, where parties of sailors clustered around the airlock, laughing and joking, awaiting dismissal. To avoid passing them I went back up the ladder. I strolled past the wardroom, past Vax’s cabin, formerly Ms. Dagalow’s. I stopped in front of Lieutenant Malstrom’s quarters. For a moment I had an urge to go in and set up the chessboard.
My friend floated forever in empty space, while I had reached safe haven in Hope Nation. I recalled our mutual plans and promises. The drink I would buy him, the trip we would take to the Ventura Mountains. My eyes stung. I resolved to do those things for him. I would take a shuttle groundside in the morning. I’d go into the first bar I saw and order an asteroid on the rocks. Then I’d check on transportation and arrange a trip across the sea to the Venturas.
On the way back to my cabin I realized how lonely my leave would be. I hesitated for a moment, swore under my breath, turned back to the wardroom. I knocked.
Ricky opened, stiffening to attention.
“Carry on, all of you.”
He and Paula Treadwell were packing their duffels, clothing strewn across their beds. Derek Carr, his duffel ready, sat on his bunk waiting for the call to the shuttle.
“Mr. Carr, a word with you, please.” I took him out to the corridor. He listened, obedient but aloof. “I thought—that is, I’m going on a journey, uh, for sentimental reasons. To the Ventura Mountains. Someone was going to take me there once.” Once more I hesitated, afraid to open myself. “I thought perhaps you might like to come along as my guest.”
“Thank you, Captain,” he said, his voice cool. “I have other plans. I’m visiting my father’s plantations, and then I’ll see Centraltown. My regrets, sir.” I heard the message behind his words. Derek could take anything he set his mind to, as he’d proven, but that didn’t mean he would forgive me for the undeserved humiliation of the barrel the day I’d lost my temper. I’d never be pardoned for that, not by a boy with his pride.
“Very well, Mr. Carr. Enjoy yourself.” I turned away.
“Thank you, Captain,” he said to my retreating back. He added, “You too.” It made me feel a little better.
Early the next morning, Hibernia bore an eerie resemblance to the wreck of Celestina. Lights gleamed in deserted corridors. No sound broke the stillness. Somewhere on board—probably in his cabin—was the Chief, serving the first week’s rotation, but most of the crew had departed, except a galley hand and a few maintenance ratings.
I shouldered my duffel and crossed through the airlocks, strode along the busy corridors of the station to the Commandant’s small office.
“May I help you, sir?” A corporal looked up from his puter.
“I’d like a shuttle groundside.”
“Yes, sir. Just a moment, please.” Within moments I was ushered into General Tho’s office. He was distinctly more cordial than on my prior visit.
“You might as well wait here, Captain, while the shuttle is prepped. Coffee?” I joined him for a cup and chatted until the craft was ready. As I left he said, “If there’s anything further I can do, let me know.” His manner suggested we were senior officers exchanging courtesies. I supposed we were.
The shuttle was much larger than the one on which I’d first gone ashore, but I was the only passenger, apparently the small launch wasn’t available and General Tho had decided not to make me wait. I had a different pilot, less interested in conversation.
Groundside once more, I inhaled several lungsful of clean fresh air under the bright morning sun. The temperature was warm and pleasant; at this latitude Hope Nation had long summers and mild winters at sea level. One of Hope Nation’s two moons was dimly visible overhead. It appeared slightly larger than did Luna from Earth’s surface.
I decided not to check in with Admiralty House. If Forbee had any news he’d have called. If I showed up now, he would dump onto me decisions he could make himself. I went directly to the terminal building and out the other side, as I’d been directed earlier by the quarantine nurse.
A giant screen anchored to a metal pole greeted me. “Welcome to Centraltown, Population 89,267.” I watched for a few moments, wondering how often the number changed. According to the guidebook the screen was tied directly to the puters at Centraltown Hospital; each birth and death were reflected within moments on the welcome sign. Centraltown was the largest, and virtually the only, city on Hope Nation; the remainder of the colony’s two hundred thousand population was spread among several small towns and the many outlying plantations that justified the colony’s existence.
I had imagined raw dirt roads, fresh cuts in the hills, ramshackle buildings set around a primitive main street. Disappointed, I had to remind myself that Hope Nation was opened back in 2081, over a century past. Since then, a massive influx of materials and settlers had been absorbed.
The roads were paved and modern, and seemed clean compared to the crowded and filthy streets of Earth’s great cities. I peered down the main avenue. Clusters of buildings lined the street south toward Centraltown, but a few blocks in the other direction the road disappeared into hills rife with uncultivated vegetation.
I spotted the car rental agency at the end of the terminal building. In no particular hurry I sauntered to the entry. “Knock loud and come in,” read the sign tacked to the door. Inside, a tiny waiting room, with a counter. I banged on the desk.
A young woman popped from behind a curtain leading to the back. “Hi, you must be from Hibernia.” She seemed about twenty. Long brown hair flowed unhindered to her shoulders.
I set down my duffel. “Yes, I am.”
“Looking for a car, huh?”
“That was the idea.” I studied her. If she was a typical Hopian, business here was conducted far more casually than at home.
“I think maybe we’ll have one later.” A shrug. “Yesterday the sailors grabbed all I had. One’s due back this afternoon.” She shot me a dubious look. “You have to be twenty-one to rent. Age of majority. You don’t look that old.”
“I’m a Naval officer.” I pulled out my ID, which still showed me as a midshipman. I’d have to get that changed. “I have my majority.”
“I guess,” she said vaguely. “Come back sometime this afternoon; I’ll see if one’s in yet.”
“Will you make a reservation for me?”
“You mean, hold a car? Sure. What’s your name?”
“Nick Seafort.”
“Right. If I’m not here, ask for me at the restaurant inside.”
“What’s your name?”
“Darla.” I started. She asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I knew a girl named Darla once.”
That brought a smile. “Was she nice?”
“I liked her. Sometimes when she made her mind up it was hard getting her to change it.”
“Oh, well, I’m not like th
at.” It could have been an invitation.
“What can someone do on foot around here?”
“There’s the terminal restaurant. If you want drinks, the Runway Saloon’s just up the block. Just don’t order doubles.”
“Right. Thanks.” I wandered out. The bar reminded me of my promise to Lieutenant Malstrom: a drink at the first bar we came to. I sighed. It was absurd to drink so early in the day, but I could think of nothing better to do, and a promise was a promise. I strolled along the street past the edge of the field, until I came upon a battered building with sheet-metal siding.
“Permanent Happy Hour!” the sign read. “All drinks always half price!” If drinks were always half price, what were they half of? I shrugged.
Inside, the bar smelled of stale alcohol and fried food. The light show bounced patterns off the walls in time to thumping electronic music, making it hard for me to see. A babble of voices indicated that people were in the back of the room.
I waited for my eyes to accustom to the dark. It was the kind of bar where you stared moodily at the drink in your hand; just right for spacemen.
“What’ll you have?”
“Asteroid on the rocks.” An experienced bartender, he knew my uniform meant he could serve me without checking my age. There were very stiff penalties for serving minors, both for the bartender and the minor.
I took my drink and slid into a dimly lit booth to the side, tossing my jacket on the seat beside me. I took a sip and nearly choked. The alcohol tasted almost raw, and there was a lot of it. No wonder Darla had warned me about a double.
An asteroid on the rocks. Whiskey, mixed fruit juices, and Hobarth oils, imported from faraway Hobarth or imitated with synthetics. In this case, probably synthetics; I suspected the Runway Saloon didn’t stock imported liqueurs.
Actually the drink wasn’t bad, just strong. Silently I raised my glass to the empty seat across from me and saluted Harv Malstrom. It would have been great, Harv, to be sitting across from you. You’d, make a joke about the drinks, and I’d grin, enjoying your company, recalling our most recent chess match. The alcohol made my eyes sting. I took another long swig. It burned going down. I had another swallow to ease my throat. After a time I sat tapping an empty glass, staring moodily at the empty seat, while flashing lights danced on the walls.
Midshipman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 1) Page 30
