Children of Hope

by David Feintuch

  Ghent was far younger than Mik, curly blond hair, a slight build. For some reason, as if unconcerned, I glanced about, noticed a slight tremor of his legs.

  “Mr Carr, I advise you that the charge is capital, in that the victim is an officer in the United Nations Navel Service on active duty. Under said circumstances, you are entitled to the assistance of an officer to act as your defense counsel. If you wish the appointment of a particular officer, every consideration will be given to your request. Else, if you wish counsel, one will be selected on your behalf.”

  Ghent’s shoes were spit-polished, his uniform immaculate, his pose stiff. A sheen of sweat gleamed on his forehead.

  “Do you wish the assistance of counsel?”

  “When will—I don’t—” A rough rope closed around my neck, chafing the tender skin. I shuddered.

  “If you wish counsel, you are advised to consult with him or her prior to commencement of trial, which is at fourteen hundred hours nominal ship’s time, or two o’clock in the afternoon.”

  “Let me think!”

  “Do you wish me to return?”

  I hunched over my lap, lay my head in my hands. “Give me an hour.”

  The moment he was gone I launched myself in a frenzy of pacing. If my ribs ached, I took no notice. I scratched at the walls. No, they were called bulkheads. I must remember that.

  I could demand they appoint Mikhael. Fine irony; the middy who’d tried to kill me would try to save my life for having tried to kill his father. No, it would only get him in more trouble, and whatever he’d done to me, he didn’t deserve that.

  Anselm, then. He’d shown himself to be fair, intelligent … Mik liked him, and that was a strong recommendation. He’d stood up to Ms Skor; that showed he wasn’t afraid of her. And Seafort apparently liked him; he’d taken Tad into his extended family. If Anselm worked to defend me, perhaps the court would take into account …

  It wasn’t right. How could I face myself, putting Tad in that position?

  Easily. This was about my life. My first duty was to save it.

  No. My duty was to undo the mess I’d made of it.

  Would they let Jerence Branstead speak for me? “An officer,” Ghent had told me. Mr Branstead was a civilian. Perhaps they’d bend the rules, to appear fair. He was a hero, they’d have to listen if he—

  Dad, help me, if only for a moment. I’m confused, I’m lonely, I need your hand on my shoulder, a quiet word of advice. Please. I’ll pray if you’ll come. I haven’t prayed in five years, and I’ll do it now. Watch.

  In a fever, I sank to my knees.

  Please, Lord God. If You exist—I’m sorry, I don’t mean that.

  Yes, I do. So many people believe in You, and I feel nothing. If You’re real I want to face You with honesty. I can’t say I know You exist, but if You do, give me Derek Carr my father, for this most desperate moment of my life.

  Please. I don’t know how to beg, but I’m begging.

  A long while passed.

  Dad what would you do?

  There was no one but myself, in a bleak, sweaty cell.

  At length I climbed to my feet, knees sore. I sat again on the clammy mattress, rested elbow on knee, put my chin in my hands.

  I’d decide alone.

  What would Dad do?

  Dad wouldn’t be here. He’d have more sense, more pride in himself, more integrity than to sit at a table and bludgeon his host.

  What would Dad tell me to do?

  When at last the hatch slid open I was still sitting, head on hands.

  The tense young midshipman, Mr Ghent. “Have you reached a decision, Mr Carr?”

  “Yes.” A deep breath. “I don’t wish counsel.” I was rewarded with a flicker of surprise. But he said only, “I will so inform the Captain.” They left me for the night.

  In the morning, one of the master-at-arms’s mates brought breakfast. They even allowed me a spoon. Harmless plastic, but more than before.

  After I’d eaten, I gathered my courage. I stood before the hatch, calling louder and louder. “Master-at-arms! Hello! Master-at-arms!”

  It seemed forever, but eventually someone came. “What is it?”

  A sailor, no petty officer’s stripes. “Are you the master-at-arms?

  “No, I’m all you get. What do you want, grode?”

  I tried to make my tone like Anthony’s, when he was irked. “Get your chief. I’ll speak only with him.”

  He looked at me with contempt. “You don’t give orders here.”

  “Tell him.” My voice was a lash. I’d heard Dad speak so, tried beyond endurance.

  I paced for an hour, before the master-at-arms appeared. “I’m Janks. What do you want?”

  “Tell your Captain I won’t go to trial like this.”

  “You’re daft.”

  “I want a long shower, real clothes that fit and look decent. Everything clean and fresh. A comb. Else you’ll have to drag me to trial and I won’t participate, not a word. Tell Tolliver!”

  He frowned at me a long minute, disappeared.

  I was a descendant of the Carrs of Hope Nation. I would stand proudly at judgment.

  Lunch came. I left it uneaten; my stomach wouldn’t permit else.

  I tried prayer again, and found no solace. If there was a God, He wasn’t speaking to me. No matter. It didn’t lessen my resolve.

  Two sailors, and Midshipman Ghent. “You’ll come with us, Mr Carr.”

  “No.” I sat on the deck, prepared to be dragged.

  “To the shower.”

  “Is this a trick?”

  The middy’s teeth bared in a gesture of disgust. “My word as an officer.”

  I knew from Dad that that was sufficient. I got up, allowed them to cuff me.

  Instead of the spartan stall in the cell block, they took me down the corridor to a passenger cabin, locked me within. Compared to what I’d known, it was huge and luxurious. The head was clean, ample, well stocked with towels and soap.

  Until my imprisonment I’d found showers an unwelcome annoyance, to be had only when Dad or Anth insisted. The cell had changed my views; I understood adults’ appreciation of cleanliness and grooming. If I ever got free, I’d—

  My smile faded. I wouldn’t be getting free. Not in this life.

  I stood under steaming water for what seemed like hours. At last, I dried myself, went out to the bedroom.

  Fresh clothes were laid out on the bed. A stylish cut, an expensive feel. And they fit.

  Quickly, I dressed, stood before the mirror and made myself as presentable as I might. I knocked on the outer hatch.

  A sailor opened. I stood before Ghent. “I’m ready.”

  He held out the cuffs.

  “You don’t need them. You know that.” I held his eye.

  After a moment, he nodded. “This way, Mr Carr.” His detail fell into step beside me.

  Together, we marched into the compartment set aside for the court.

  Lieutenant Skor sat at the head table. At the back of the room, a surprising number of officers and crew had gathered. Well, no doubt I was rather notorious.

  My eyes darted this way and that.

  Mr Branstead was there. For some reason, I was heartened.

  Captain Tolliver was not present. I was disappointed, but not surprised.

  I looked about for Kevin, couldn’t find him. Had they already tried him? I’d forgotten to ask.

  Mikhael and Anselm were present, seated separately from the others, along with Dr Romez, others I vaguely recognized.

  Witnesses.

  I stood before the table.

  “Let us begin. This court sits by authority and direction of Edgar Tolliver, Captain of UNS Olympiad. We are convened to consider a capital charge of attempted murder against one Randolph Carr. You are Randolph Carr?”

  “Yes.” I wouldn’t call her “ma’am.” She’d been nasty to Mik.

  “Lieutenant Frand will act as prosecutor.” She indicated a bony, older woman at the tab
le opposite. “Has the charge been—”

  “May it please the Court…” A fleshy man, of middle years. He got to his feet. “I call to your attention that this … person, this defendant, is a citizen of Hope Nation, where he’s wanted for various misdeeds. In fact, Bishop Scanlen, on behalf of holy Reunification Church, has petitioned him—”

  Ms Skor tapped her gavel. “Mr Pandeker, you have neither authority nor standing to interf—”

  “I wish to see justice done. The Church has prior claim.”

  “I suggest you take it up with the Captain.”

  “I have, but he won’t—”

  “Your statement is noted. Please be seated. Now, Mr Carr, the court takes note that you are a minor of fourteen years. While the law allows for special proceedings in the case of juveniles, I must advise you—”

  “My act was that of an adult, and I ask that I be tried as an adult.” My voice was firm.

  In the courtroom, a buzz of surprise.

  “Very well, your request is granted.” Lieutenant Skor consulted her holovid. “Do you wish a reading of the charge?”

  “No, I understand it.”

  “Are you sure you wish to waive counsel?”

  “Yes.” It was easier than I’d feared. My voice was strong, my knees steady. If only I wasn’t fighting a constant urge to whimper.

  “How do you plead?”

  A long moment’s silence. I forced myself to meet her gaze.

  “I am guilty of the offense charged. I tried to kill Captain Nicholas Seafort.”

  Anselm’s face tightened. He shook his head.

  Ms Skor studied me. Then, “Very well, the court accepts your guilty plea.” Again, she consulted her holovid. “Have you anything to say in your own behalf?”

  “I do not.”

  She pursed her lips. “Whatever you may think, this is not a kangaroo court. I am not the Captain’s pawn, and will judge independently. If you have any mitigating facts or circumstances, you should present them now.”

  Thank you, ma’am, for making it easier for me. “There are no mitigating facts or circumstances.”

  “You understand this is a capital charge?”

  “I’ve thought of little else for a week.”

  “Is this a form of protest? Do you deny the authority of the court?

  “Not at all. I’m on your ship, in your custody, subject to your law.”

  In the courtroom, utter silence.

  “Lieutenant Frand, does the prosecution wish to be heard regarding sentence?”

  “Yes, I—” Her eyes fixed on mine, and held them a long while. “No, ma’am. The case speaks for itself. We leave it to the court.”

  Ms Skor rapped the table. “Very well, the court will consider sentence. We are in recess.” She stood, strode out a far hatch.

  I looked about, found an empty seat behind me, took it.

  Jerence Branstead’s face seemed lined, older. He approached with diffidence, looked to Midshipman Ghent, glanced to me. Ghent nodded. Branstead drew up a chair.

  “A brave show, boy. But why?”

  My lip trembled. Not now, Randy. Hold tight. “I loved my father. You have no idea how much.”

  “And?”

  “I had a rough time in my cell last night. I decided the best way to show that love was to act as Dad would have. To make him proud of me.”

  “He would have defended—”

  “I shouldn’t have done it, Mr Branstead. Even if Mr Seafort was every bit as evil as I thought, I had no right to slaughter him before his crew, his family. Had Dad done something so horrible, he’d have submitted to justice. As I have.”

  He waved it away. “It’s too heavy a price to pay for honor.”

  “It’s better this way. I nearly destroyed Anthony, with the Bishop. I may have destroyed your Captain. I don’t want to do more harm.”

  “The Bishop? What are you—”

  “You’ll hear about it groundside, no doubt.”

  The hatch slid open. Lieutenant Skor made her way to the table. “Randolph Carr, please stand.”

  I did so.

  “The court has considered your youth, your willingness to admit guilt and accept responsibility. These are laudable traits. Balanced against them are the stark facts. You split Captain’s Seafort’s skull without warning or mercy, before his four-year-old child, who to the court’s own knowledge is still dazed with shock and is utterly unnerved. Captain Seafort’s survival is not yet assured. The purpose of the law is to deter and punish.”

  She tapped the desk. Her face was steel.

  “Randolph Carr, I sentence you to be hanged by the neck until dead. The sentence shall be carried out by the master-at-arms unless commuted by the Captain within fifteen days.”

  My legs gave way. Midshipman Ghent grabbed me from behind, helped me stand steady. His touch was surprisingly gentle.

  “You shall remain in the brig until that time. You shall be provided with facilities to record any communications you wish to be forwarded after your death. May Lord God have mercy on your soul.”

  Ghent’s firm hands supported me, under my arms. I began to lose my battle for composure.

  “One more thing. Master-at-arms Janks, step forward.”

  A figure threaded through the crowd. “Aye aye, ma’am. Master-at-arms Janks reporting.”

  “It has come to the court’s attention that various petty cruelties have been routinely inflicted on the prisoner. He will be treated with courtesy and respect from this moment forward. He will be allowed to bathe, given fresh clothing and nutritious, tasty, unadulterated food. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Very clear.”

  “He will be allowed daily release from his cell for the purpose of exercise. You, or any officers so assigned, may take whatever security measures are required, but, Janks, don’t cross me! I’ll know, and you’ll regret it. The orders of the court supersede even those of the Captain, until he formally overrules them!”

  “Aye aye, ma’am!”

  “The prisoner will be removed.”

  “Come, Mr Carr.” Ghent’s voice was soft. “Haskin, M’boia, help him. Easy, there.” Solicitously, they guided me to my cell.

  7

  IT WAS THE THIRD day.

  Lieutenant Anselm came, with Mikhael Tamarov. I begged them not to make me leave the cell. All I wanted was to be left alone. Eventually, they complied.

  I’d told them the same the day before, and the day before that.

  I’d allowed Mr Branstead to sit with me, once. Whatever he said, I didn’t recall.

  I ate listlessly, out of bodily need.

  Every day they brought good food, fresh clothes, led me to a passenger cabin to shower. I did as they asked, crawled back into my bunk to sleep.

  I’d committed the one act of my life I might truly be proud of. All that was left was to see it through.

  Mikhael was back; had another day come?

  News: Nick Seafort was healing. He was more alert; his double vision was clearing. I summoned a reserve, tried to share Mik’s joy.

  He, at least, wouldn’t lose a father.

  He nagged me to take a walk. “It does you no good to lie here.”

  I snickered. “Is it bad for my health?”

  “Don’t, sir.” A plea.

  “I’m a convicted murderer. Don’t call me ‘sir.’”

  “The Captain said—”

  “We’re alone.” I took his silence for assent. “Where’s Tad?”

  “Outside.”

  “They trust you alone with me?”

  “Mr Anselm does.” A blush. “And I’m off four and four.”

  “Seafort’s recovery eased the Captain’s mind?”

  “Do you want the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think it was the verdict and sentence.” He braced, as if for an explosion.

  I shrugged. “That’s fair.”

  “Is it?”

  “Let him hate me. You did.”

&
nbsp; “You were vile when you attacked Pa. You were noble in court. I wish I knew you.”

  “So do I. I’m glitched, that’s for sure. I ought to be rebalanced.” Hormone rebalancing was still the therapy of choice for severe mental illness, though the shame attached …

  “I wasn’t much better.” He blushed, at some private memory. “I gave Pa hell, when I was young. I don’t know how he put up with me.”

  “I’ve been pretty rough on Anth.” I sighed, but my spirits weren’t as low as they’d been. “All right, take me for a walk.”

  He knocked on the hatch. “Mr Anselm?”

  Tad looked apologetic. He held the cuffs.

  I offered my hands. He secured my wrists, in front, where it didn’t ache, and where I could scratch my nose.

  In the corridor, he raised an eyebrow, waiting.

  “I get to choose?”

  “Within reason.”

  I named the only place that held any appeal. “Sickbay.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to see Captain Seafort.”

  “Lord in Heaven.” Anselm regarded me quizzically. “Is that a joke?”

  “Else take me back to my cell.”

  “Mr Tolliver would never allow it.”

  “Did he forbid it?”

  “Well, he—not in so many—I mean … I can’t just—damn it, Mik, don’t laugh at me.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Sorry.” Mikhael’s mouth looked solemn, but not his eyes.

  Anselm scratched his head. “I don’t know … A long sigh. “He could break me for this.” He pulled me toward the stairwell. “Move, before I change my mind.”

  “Yes, sir.” I lengthened my pace.

  At the stairwell he held me back. “Just a moment.” He undid my cuffs. “Put your hands behind your back.” A grunt. “There. I think I trust you, but …”

  “Think?”

  “I’m not sure. You’ve changed since we met you groundside, but are you completely done with your venom? I don’t know. I won’t risk the Captain’s life to find out. Besides, if I paraded you into sickbay with your hands usable, I’d face court-martial, and deserve to.”

  It was no worse than I merited. Ears aflame, I let him guide me up the stairs.

  “Hurry. This is officers’ country, and the fewer who see us, the—”