The Counterfeit Captain

by Henry Vogel

  For instance, what happened to the real captain? Sko’s genuflection suggested the captain disappeared a very long time ago. Before I could pursue that line of thought, Sko broke my reverie.

  “Captain, can I ask you something?” Trepidation filled Sko’s eyes, as if he feared he might be entering dangerous waters.

  There was little chance I could answer Sko’s question, but the man saved my life back at the elevator. Besides, I liked him. I couldn’t crush his spirit by refusing. “Of course, Sko. You may ask me anything.”

  Sko was silent for a few seconds, though whether he was puzzling his way through my words or selecting his own, I can’t say. We resumed walking toward the distant village before he spoke again.

  “What happened to you? Where have you been?”

  Talk about your loaded questions. What stories did Sko grow up hearing about the Captain? I thought about simply telling Sko the truth, but I knew too little about this ship and its people to take that risk. They might simply label me a crazy woman, but I might also run afoul of some taboo and end up dead. No, better to continue playing Captain until I had some idea of the lay of the land.

  In a quiet voice, Sko asked, “The mootners—did they take you to…to earth?”

  What a strange question, especially when I saw Sko shudder at the mention of ‘earth.’ Did he mean something other than our mutual home planet? I didn’t think so.

  I offered a neutral response. “I have been to earth.”

  Tears formed in Sko’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Captain. I hoped you went to coe lonny”

  Coe lonny? That’s just what I needed—yet another mystery and yet another vital phrase my implant hadn’t managed to translate. The real Captain would understand but I was clueless.

  I patted Sko’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Then I steered the conversation in a slightly different direction, hoping to discover a few answers instead of more questions. “What do you and your people know about the Cap- um, my disappearance?”

  It took me the rest of the walk to Sko’s village to get the whole story. But with careful, leading questions from me and with a lot of time puzzling through Sko’s terminology—plus some handy translations from my implant—I got the gist of it. And it made one hell of a story, too.

  I have no idea how much fact forms the foundation for the myth and I have even more questions now than I did before, but at least I’ve got a starting point for my further investigations. And now I know what a mootner is.

  Long, long ago, the People lived hard and horrible lives in—not ‘on’—earth, where they were ruled by a Tyrant and forced to work as slaves for the Tyrant’s people. Then the Captain rose and challenged the Tyrant’s rule. The Captain and his Crew fought bravely and won their freedom from the Tyrant.

  The People wanted nothing more than to live in peace, but the Tyrant and his people despised working for themselves. They wanted to enslave the People again and return to their decadent ways. Knowing peace was impossible, the Captain created the Ship and brought the People aboard.

  The Tyrant could not reach the People within the Ship, protected as it was by the Captain and the Crew. But evil is nothing if not clever. The Tyrant sent his agents in among the People. From within, the Tyrant’s agents spread lies and fear and secretly organized those who resented the Captain for his prestige and coveted his position. When the Tyrant’s agents judged the time was right, they led those mutineers against the Captain and Crew.

  Many generations have passed since the War, but the People have not given up hope that the Captain will return. When he does, the Captain will usher in a new golden age and lead the People to the promised land of Coe Lonny.

  I think that last bit means ‘colony.’ And, of course, ‘mootners’ are mutineers.

  I’ve got to admit, it’s not bad as exodus stories go. It’s a bit short on rivers of blood and plagues of frogs, but maybe I’ll find something like that in the unabridged version. That’s if I decide to dig more deeply into the story. I mean, how many questions can the savior ask of her people before the people decide she’s a false savior and turn on her? Can I even hope to find a way to get word, not only of my predicament but that of this entire ship, to the Federation without the Captain’s mystique?

  We reached the edge of Sko’s village as I pondered my situation. The Naval Academy prepared me to lead people. But did it prepare me to lead the People? Looking around at the squalor of Sko’s village, I prayed I was up to the task.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Village Admin

  People from Sko’s village gathered along the main…I guess I have to call it a ‘street’ even though it’s nothing more than the widest dirt track running through the village. Young children gawked and laughed and pointed. Some braver little kids did all three while dancing around us. Sko grinned at them, greeting each of them by name and tousling more than a few heads.

  An older woman planted herself in our path and spat. “You were sent to hunt meat, Sko, not women.”

  Behind her, an attractive young woman gyrated her hips and called, “Am I not good enough for the mighty hunter?”

  Half a dozen other women joined in, their hips swinging in unison as they called, “What about me?”

  A hand grabbed my hair from behind, yanking hard, and a woman spoke close to my ear. “What kind of children will she bear for you, Sko? She is skinny and weak.”

  I spun and bent at the waist, easing the pressure on my hair, then rammed the heel of my hand up into the chin of my tormenter. Her teeth clashed together and her head snapped back. As the woman lost her grip on my hair, I grabbed her arms. Rising from my crouch and spinning again, I flipped the hair-puller over and slammed her back onto the ground in front of the old woman. Air whooshed out of the younger woman at the impact.

  Ignoring the gasping hair-puller, I stood and glared around me. “Would anyone else like to find out just how skinny and weak I am?”

  It was only then that I saw the look of horror plastered on Sko’s face. God above, had I already broken some village taboo? If these villagers turned on me, I was done for.

  Then Sko snapped to attention and saluted. “Please forgive them, Captain. They meant no real harm.”

  I was about to point at the hair-puller and mention my still-aching scalp, but behind Sko I saw the young women stop gyrating as their eyes went wide in fear and awe. The old woman made a reverential gesture, touching both sides of her neck, her eyes riveted on the collar of my flight suit. Where my captain’s insignia were pinned!

  “Please do not banish them to earth.” Sko pleaded, a quavering note in his voice.

  The effect of Sko’s words was amazing and a little frightening. The young women dropped to their knees and buried their faces in the dirt. The old woman also dropped to her knees, but held her hands up at me in a beseeching manner.

  “Captain, please spare my eldest daughter. She is a good girl, just high-spirited. She did not know who you were!” The old woman’s eyes darted to the hair-puller, who stared up at me from a deathly pale face. “Show the Captain how sorry you are, Edda.”

  Appalled, I watched the woman roll onto her stomach, crawl to my feet, and begin kissing them. After each kiss, she murmured, “Please forgive me, Captain.”

  I took a step away from Edda. “Stop that!” Instinctively, I spoke as an officer admonishing an out-of-line rating.

  Every single villager present flinched at my tone. Edda simply curled up and wailed in abject misery. Edda’s mother burst into tears, gathered her daughter into her arms, and rocked back and forth, crying, “No! No! No! Not my Edda! Please, Captain! Please forgive her!”

  Only at this moment did I truly understand who the Captain was to these people. I’d assumed the Captain was just some mythical leader. Someone like King Arthur on ancient earth, a servant of God destined to return at a time of great need. But the Captain goes far beyond that. To these people, the Captain is God. And their god had just yelled at them.

  I
dropped to one knee, took Edda’s hand in one of mine and the old woman’s hand in the other. Summoning the gentle voice I use when speaking to my young niece, I said, “I forgive you.”

  To my horror, both women dropped to the ground to kiss my feet. I caught myself before I could lapse into officer-speak. I cupped a hand under each woman’s chin and lifted them from my boot. “Please do not do that. Rise and stand on your feet.” I raised my voice so it would carry to all the other groveling villagers. “That goes for all of you. Rise to your feet.”

  All around me, people scrambled to their feet. I noted looks of trepidation on the faces of the young women who had teased Sko and realized I wasn’t quite finished forgiving people. Smiling at the worried women, I said, “Have no fear. I am not offended by your teasing.”

  As smiles broke out around me, Sko asked, “May I teach them the proper gestures of worship?”

  I just managed to withhold a sigh of frustration at the idea of a simple salute becoming a gesture of worship. Then I nodded. A few seconds later, I found myself in the middle of a ludicrous scene of villagers, from the youngest to the oldest, holding themselves rigid while attempting to mimic Sko’s salute.

  As I had done with Sko, I returned the salute and said, “At ease.”

  The villagers followed Sko’s example, lowering their arms and relaxing.

  At that point, a gray-haired man stalked into our midst, coming from the middle of the village. Four younger men cleared a path before him, not hesitating to knock aside anyone—young or old—who failed to move fast enough to suit them. The older man carried himself with self-importance, ignoring the boorish behavior of his retinue. I noted a holster buckled to the older man’s side, with some kind of pistol in it.

  I remembered Sko’s reaction to my blaster pistol. This man must be the village admin—my best interpretation for ‘odmin,’ the word Sko used after I shot the boar.

  “What’s going on here? Who gave you permission to ignore work and gather like this?” Irritation contorted the admin’s face when he noticed Sko. “And why do you return without meat, Sko?”

  Drawing a breath, I stepped forward and assumed a position of parade rest. “Sko is acting under my orders.”

  The admin looked me up and down, his lip curling in contempt. “And who are you to give orders to my hunter?”

  Taking an instant disliking to the village admin, I flashed the smile that always sends ratings scurrying to do my bidding. It was time to put the admin in his place. At last, I’d found a perk to being a deity. “I am the Captain.”

  All of the villagers, with the exception of the admin and his four men, jumped to salute. The admin’s eyes narrowed at this display of reverence to me. Even as the admin mimicked the people of his village, one thing was obvious to me.

  The admin was very definitely not pleased to see the Captain.

  The Admin gave me a broad smile that never came close to his eyes. “I am honored to welcome you to my humble village, Captain, and to welcome you back after so many cycles.”

  I returned the Admin’s smile, keeping my eyes free of welcome also. “Thank you, Admin. I’ve had a most…interesting…time since entering the ship.”

  Sko’s face screwed up in confusion. “Pardon me, Captain, but how could you ‘enter’ the ship? The ship is all and all is the ship.”

  Immediately, all the villagers intoned, “The ship is all and all is the ship.”

  And there it was, the little taboo I broke without ever even knowing the taboo existed. Even if I’d ever had time to stop and think through the story of the ship and the mutiny, I doubt I’d have figured this one out. Once Sko gave voice to it, though, one little piece of the puzzle of this ship fell into place.

  For God knows how long, these people have lived inside this ship. Enough generations have passed since the mutiny that the Captain morphed from a commanding officer into their god—and the mutineers into evil incarnate. And the ship—surrounding them entirely, blocking all view of the rest of the universe—became their universe. But was a mutiny, no matter how many centuries ago, a big enough disaster to bring about a complete fall of a civilization capable of building something so vast as the ship? There had to be more to the ship’s story, but now wasn’t the time to concentrate on it.

  “Yes, good Captain,” oozed the Admin, “where could you have been if you weren’t on the ship?”

  Sko was honestly confused and simply looking for an answer. The Admin appeared hopeful I had revealed myself as a false captain—someone who wasn’t a threat to his position, in other words.

  I turned a gentle smile on Sko, one which did reach my eyes. “Do you remember when you asked me if I’d been to earth, Sko?”

  Reddening in chagrin, Sko ducked his head. “Forgive me, Captain. In the excitement of our arrival, I forgot about that.” Turning to face the villagers, Sko raised his voice. “The Captain came to the ship from earth, proving our worst fears for her fate at the hands of the mutineers.”

  The old woman, Edda’s mother, dropped to her knees again. “Captain, who has suffered so much for our sins, please forgive us for doubting you.”

  The rest of the villagers—with the exception of Sko, who saluted, and the Admin, who glared at me—dropped to their knees and implored, “Please forgive us, Captain.”

  I know some officers who’d have really enjoyed this treatment. Hell, some of them already thought they were God. They are welcome to it. As far as I am concerned, being treated as a deity sucks. Who in their right mind wants their unthinking selection of words to hold the power of life or death for another person? Obviously, I was going to have to carefully think through everything I said before I said it.

  So I very carefully composed my next words. “At ease, all of you. There is nothing to forgive. It is not a sin to ask questions.”

  “Ah ha!” crowed the Admin. “But it is a sin to ask questions of the Captain. The Regulations are very clear about it—as the real Captain would know.”

  And there was taboo number two, just waiting for any reasonable, god-Captain impersonator to fall afoul of it. The Admin was really getting on my nerves, along with his smug look of triumph for catching me out on this issue. I gave serious thought to shooting the Admin, something that was bound to be within the powers of any self-respecting deity, but I might need the power-hungry man alive and working with me while I tried to find a way to contact the Federation.

  I turned an impassive look on the Admin. “What, exactly, do the Regulations say concerning questions asked of the Captain?”

  The Admin matched my gaze. “They say those who question the Captain shall be put to death.”

  Even taking into account the mythology surrounding the Captain, the ship, and the voyage, that seemed more than a little harsh. “Those are the exact words written in the Regulations?”

  The Admin narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you know? The true Captain would.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and cocked an eyebrow. “Who is questioning the Captain, now, Admin?”

  The Admin’s eyes opened wide at my admonition. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times but no words emerged. That’s when Sko—dependable, honest Sko—spoke up.

  “May I suggest we summon the Louie and ask him?”

  I came within a hair’s breadth from asking who the hell Louie was before remembering the Captain was supposed to know this sort of thing. And then Sko’s choice of words registered with me. He said the Louie, making it a title rather than a name—and I knew that title quite well. I’d carried it proudly enough the day I graduated from the naval academy.

  “By all means, Sko,” I said, “summon the Lieutenant. Better yet, let us go to him so this matter may be resolved quickly.”

  Frowning at this turn of events, the Admin turned and stalked back through the crowd. When one of his retinue reached out to push a child out of his path I reached the end of my patience with the Admin and his bully boys.

  “The next one of you who shoves, hits, o
r otherwise abuses one of my people will be banished to earth.”

  The man stopped himself just before his arm struck the child and actually shrank back from the little girl in his path. The girl stared at the man in surprise before dashing into the waiting arms of a nearby woman. As I passed the child, I smiled and winked. Suddenly bashful, the girl buried her head against her mother’s neck. Her mother mouthed a silent thank you and attempted a left handed salute.

  “At ease,” I whispered.

  A minute later, we reached a long, wooden building in the village center. Unsurprisingly, it had the look of a church about it. One of the Admin’s men hurried to open the door so the Admin never had to break stride. I breezed in right behind him.

  Within were rows of benches leading to a small lectern and, against the far wall, what could only be an altar. A small pedestal rose from the altar, supporting a large set of captain’s bars carved from wood.

  A sudden snore rose from the right side of the altar. A large chair sat against the wall. Within the chair sat a very old man, his head thrown back and his mouth wide open. Another snore rumbled from the old man.

  “Louie, wake up!” the Admin snapped impatiently.

  Startled, the old man’s head snapped forward and he tumbled face first out of the chair. Sko darted forward, assured himself the old man wasn’t hurt, and gently lifted him to his feet.

  The Admin came to a stop before the Louie. “What is the punishment for questioning the Captain?”

  The Louie blinked in confusion, obviously still not fully awake. “Why, um, death.”

  The Admin turned triumphantly to his men. “There you have it. The Louie has spoken. By the power vested in me as Admin of this village, I hereby sentence this woman to death for the crime of impersonating the Captain!”

  The Admin waved two of his men toward me. “Take her outside and execute her.”