Patriarch's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 6)

by David Feintuch

  “If Mikhael can stay a couple of months. He needs ...” I wasn’t sure what.

  “It’s up to him.” Softly, she brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. “Or you can go with us to Kiev.”

  We waited.

  “I’m spoiled and sullen, remember? And you don’t like me.”

  “Can we be alone a moment?” I waited until the door shut. “You’re all that I said, joey. And I despise your behavior.”

  He bridled.

  “As Alexi would.” I let go his chin. “You need kindness. More than I’m used to giving. But that’s not all of it.”

  His voice was subdued. “I’ve been upset.”

  “Cry for Alexi. I’ll respect that. But act to make him proud. And yourself.” It was all I knew of life.

  “I miss him so!” A cry from the heart.

  “As do I. Are you staying?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Decide now.” My back throbbed abominably, I was near tears, and I needed an end to it.

  “You’ll be rough on me.”

  “When you deserve it.”

  “I’m almost grown. I don’t need someone trying to be my father.”

  “Then leave with Moira. Or go off on your own.” I raised my voice. “Moira, is my chair upstairs?”

  He pounded a pillow. “All right, God damn it, I’ll stay!”

  “No dinner tonight,” I shot back. “I won’t tolerate blasphemy.” Straining, I managed to reach the doorknob. Bevin and Arlene waited with my chair. “Roll it in, would you?”

  “And if I say it again?”

  “I’ll have you strapped. On the other hand, two hours with Anselm tomorrow and you get as much with Mr. Carr. And more time with me. I’ll try to think of stories he doesn’t know. Cadets manage two hours. You can.”

  “I’m going to hate this.” His wave took in the room, the house, me.

  I smiled. “But it’s good for you.”

  In the morning when Bevin and I came in to work, a hand-scrawled note was propped on my holovid. “Sir, I’m placing myself on report as ordered. Midshipman Thadeus Anselm.”

  I groaned. “Where’s our middy?”

  “In his room, I think.”

  “Get him.”

  Bevin glanced at the caller.

  “Run upstairs and fetch him. I expect him here in the next minute.” I was barely civil.

  “Aye aye, sir!” He dashed out.

  When they raced in Anselm was still thrusting his shirt into his pants. “Midshipman Anselm reporting!”

  “Stand at attention. Danil, wait outside.” Holding his note, I regarded him balefully. “You disobeyed?”

  His eyes were locked front. “Yes, sir.”

  “Give me specifics.”

  “I had—” He took a deep breath. “Yesterday afternoon, sir, while you were with Mikhael, I went to your liquor cabinet, helped myself to some bourbon.”

  I roared, “You won’t get away with it!” My fist crashed on the desk, sent the holovid flying.

  He made no response.

  “Well?” I knew that was unfair. I hadn’t asked a question, and held at attention, he wasn’t free to speak.

  “Yes, sir, I won’t get away with it. I knew that when I put myself on report.” His forehead had a faint sheen.

  “How much?”

  “Bourbon? A few slugs.”

  Thanks to my dead legs I couldn’t launch myself from my chair. I pounded the arm. “Contemptible. Disgraceful.”

  “Yes, sir, it is.” His voice quavered.

  I eyed him sourly. His stomach was sucked tight, hands pressed to his sides. Sighing, I reached for my official letterhead. It didn’t take long to write my note.

  “Finish dressing. Go at once to the Potomac Naval Station, give this to the duty officer. This time you’ll be put across a real barrel.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” He took the note.

  “On your return, stop at a liquor store and replace my bottle of bourbon from your own funds.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Report to me afterward, Mr. Anselm. We’ll talk. Dismissed.”

  With proper precision he saluted, wheeled, and marched out.

  Whatever work we dealt with that morning, I barely knew. It was just before lunch when Anselm knocked dejectedly at my door.

  “Midshipman Anselm reporting discipline, sir.” He had no need to tell me. It was evident in his gait and the misery in his countenance.

  “Very well. That’s all for now, Danil. Tad, stand or sit, as you prefer.”

  Gingerly, Anselm put himself in a chair, twisted so he rested on his side.

  “I wish it hadn’t been necessary to cane you. I admire your courage in placing yourself on report. You acted honorably.”

  “It was an order.”

  “So was not drinking.”

  “I couldn’t ...” His eyes misted. “I couldn’t help that.”

  My tone was gentle. “Help me understand why.”

  “Must I?”

  I relented. “No.” I could punish his acts, but not invade his thoughts.

  For a long time there was only the sound of his breathing. Then, “You ever have a dream that came back?”

  “When I was younger.” I would wake sweating, with the image of Father striding from Academy’s gate. No doubt Father loved me, after his fashion, though he rarely showed it.

  “I have one. It’s ... sir, I know I’ve no right to ask, especially today, but ...” He swallowed. “Don’t laugh at me. I couldn’t stand it.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’ve had it about a dozen times. I’m in a train station, the Hi-Trans terminal, I think. I’m on the platform. I’m with my father, and a train is about to leave.”

  Silent, I rolled from behind the desk.

  “We board the train. Only, he’s inside, and I’m not. I don’t know why. I try to get on, but the doors are shut. And then the—the ... the ...” He fought for control. “The train starts out of the station. Slowly at first. Pa is standing by the door, looking sadly through the glass. I’m running alongside, trying to get in, to go with him. The train moves faster, until I can’t keep up. He’s looking back at me through the glass as the train pulls out. Leaving me alone.”

  I didn’t dare speak.

  “And then I wake. Usually I’m crying.”

  “God in heaven.”

  “I dreamed it again yesterday.”

  “And so you had my bourbon.”

  “Yes, sir. I did.”

  “Very well. I know your rump smarts; take the afternoon off.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Thank you.”

  “If you drink again, you’ll be caned again. It’s that simple.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hesitated, decided to throw caution to the winds. “A standing order: if you have the dream again, you’re to wake me immediately. Acknowledge.”

  “Orders received and understood, sir. If I have the dream again, I’m to wake you.”

  “Dismissed.”

  In a bright-lit examining room at Boland Memorial, I buttoned my shirt. “So?”

  Dr. Knorr said brightly, “It’s going as well as can be expected.”

  Arlene tapped her foot. “Which means?”

  “The incision is healed, there’s no infection.”

  “He has horrid stabbing pains. Sometimes, at night—”

  I squirmed. It was my body, my decision whether to complain.

  “It’s a good sign, actually. The connections aren’t entirely severed.” Knorr’s hands spread in an apologetic gesture. “And now you’re using muscles you never used. Imagine an old house that’s stood for years. You replace half the basement beams. It will creak a bit, as it settles.”

  “That’s the silliest—”

  “Nick.” Her warning tone.

  “Well, it is. Can’t any of you speak plainly?”

  “What do you want me to say, Mr. SecGen?”

  I took a deep breath, and another. “The opera
tion to restore my legs?”

  “It looks promising, especially as you still have some feeling at groin level. I’ll want you to see Ghenili.”

  “How soon can he be here?”

  “You’ll have to go to Lunapolis.”

  I bristled. “I’m paraplegic and I have work waiting. Call him here.”

  “That won’t be possible.” He raised a hand to forestall my objection. “All his diagnostic equipment is at his clinic. He can’t relocate his practice for one patient.”

  I struggled from the table to my chair. “Good day.”

  “Nick, let him—”

  “Out, chair. To the helipad.” We lurched to the door.

  My wife sighed, followed to the hall. Karen Burns and her detail fell into step.

  Arlene asked, “What did that accomplish?”

  “The arrogance of him. That snide, supercilious, pompous—”

  “Hold, chair.” Her tone was a command. Surprisingly, the machine obeyed. “What did you achieve, Nick? A call aloft, and Ghenili could refuse to see you.”

  “I’ll break him. I’ll call challenge. I’ll have him—”

  She bent to put both hands on the arms of my chair, faced me eye to eye. “Enough.”

  I swallowed. “Am I that out of line?”

  “Yes.”

  “Arggh. It’s just ... I hate doctors.” The image flashed of Dr. Uburu, on Hibernia, whose gentle decency succored me more than once. Of Dr. Bros on Portia, who’d delivered my first child. “Well, most of them.”

  She regarded me a moment, kissed me gravely on the nose.

  “Arrange it for me, will you, hon? I don’t want to speak to Knorr again.”

  “All right.”

  “Let’s go home.”

  “In a bit. I’ve arranged a surprise.”

  “Karen doesn’t like surprises.” We’d achieved a truce, of a sort.

  “She knows.”

  The heli lifted off as soon as we were strapped in. It set down, a few minutes later, on a rooftop. “Which tower—”

  “Franjee Four.” It was one of the many towers that had sprung out of the rubble of Lower New York, in the horrid ruin of the Transpop Rebellion. After the devastation of the lasers, it had been all I could do to preserve their culture. For every tower, I’d seen that blocks of neighborhood were rebuilt.

  “Robbie Boland?”

  She nodded. “Dinner.”

  Perhaps he wanted to toast our defeat of the Terries in the Assembly. I wouldn’t begrudge his celebration.

  We crowded into the elevator. As always, Karen sent security joeys ahead. Lord knew how many residents of the tower were barred from their lifts, so I could descend in safety.

  Hands at their guns, Security took us to his apartment. I insisted they wait in the hall. Only Karen accompanied us within.

  “Welcome, sir.” Robbie stood aside.

  In the living room two handsome young men waited to greet me. Jared Tenere, and my Philip.

  “Hallo, boys.” I held out a hand. Jared shook with me. P.T. hugged me. I patted his back.

  We started with cocktails. “What did the doctors say, Fath?”

  I grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Are you well enough to travel?”

  “If I don’t have to dance.” Why did my load seem lighter for P.T.’s presence?

  How could I have let our estrangement drag on for years?

  Over dinner and wine, we chatted amiably about politics, sport, the Navy. For almost the first time, I observed my son with Jared, outside my home. Now and then Jared rested a hand on his. I wondered if they would adopt, as Philip suggested. If he was omni, as he’d said, would I ever see grandchildren of my blood?

  Moodily, I refilled my wineglass.

  He was my only child. There was Nate, of course, long dead. And perhaps I could call sons the many youngsters who’d followed me to their doom. Even now, I held innocent lives in my hands. Danil Bevin, fearless in the passion of truth. Anselm, accepting even my harsh guidance to save himself. Young Mikhael, desperate for a father forever lost.

  If only I could offer more. All I had was myself, flawed, choleric, helpless.

  “Fath, why are you weeping?” Philip rose, hurried around the table.

  “Because I’m becoming an old man. Because I’m drunk. Because I love you.” I fell into his embrace.

  Wisely, they gave me little more wine. Over time, my head cleared. After dessert, we adjourned to a huge room whose balcony and picture windows overlooked the reclaimed park, a view only the very wealthy could afford. When I’d been a young officer, I’d visited apartments such as these, and felt only contempt for the occupants.

  They said time brings wisdom.

  Our mood was mellow. I reminisced about my better days in the Navy. Karen sat quietly in the corner.

  Jared perched cross-legged on the floor, near his guardian. “Have you seen Galactic, Uncle Rob?”

  “Not yet. I keep meaning to go aloft.” As Senator, and confidant of the SecGen, Boland would have no difficulty gaining entry.

  “We could have toured her with Father, if we’d stayed at Earth-port.” Philip.

  “And Mother.” Arlene’s tone was tart. “You always speak as if Nick was the only officer in the family.”

  “Oops. Sorry, ma’am.” Philip smiled weakly. Even in the depths of his adolescence, he’d been unstinting in his courtesy. “You were aboard. Tell us what we missed.”

  “A floating palace. I’m not sure I approve.”

  “I’m appalled,” I said. “Rob, how did we let the Navy go so wrong?”

  “Admiralty has a mind of its own. We can’t micro-manage every detail.”

  “The devil,” Jared said, “is in the details.”

  I eyed him suspiciously, not sure whether he was blasphemous.

  He blushed. “I read that somewhere.”

  Rob patted him absently. “Sir, have you met with the Board of Admiralty lately?”

  “Not all of them,” I said, “but I intend to.”

  “There’s a clique of officers who aren’t shy about expressing their views. Their politics are ... outdated.”

  “I’ve met a few.”

  “They’re a danger. We can’t start a war to reclaim the colonies; anyone with sense knows that, but these joeys would devote our whole budget to Naval expansion. I’d like to know Admiralty has a grasp of the situation.” Rob was blunt. “The sooner you weed them out, the better.”

  I waved it away. “A long cruise or two will settle them.”

  “Do it soon, then.” Boland sounded uneasy. “What with the eco-terrorists, your disability, the hotheads in the Assembly—”

  “Rob, don’t be alarmist. I’ll look into it.” No matter what, we could count on the Navy. The Naval Service was our lifeline to the colonies; it carried the cargoes that nourished our world. And the Navy knew it. Her officers were steeped in honor and proud of their myriad responsibilities.

  I drowsed on the ride back to Washington, glad for once that we flew in a huge jet instead of the clattering heli. I dialed my light low, stretched out in my seat, dozed contentedly.

  Home at last, I got myself ready for bed, remembering just before I climbed out of the chair to say good night to Mikhael. He was half-asleep, and if he resented my intrusion, he gave no sign.

  Gratefully, I dragged myself into bed. I snuggled next to Arlene, reveled in her warmth, fell into sleep.

  The Venturas were stunning. Their bristling peaks dominated Hope Nation’s uninhabited western continent. Derek sweated happily as we scrambled through scrub and brush to the far side of the valley. We caught glimpses of the icy pool that was our goal.

  “Race you, sir?”

  I was Captain and he a mere middy, but on our glorious furlough we’d relaxed the rules. “Don’t be silly. What’s that?” I pointed up the hill.

  As soon as his head turned I charged ahead, branches whipping at my face.

  “Hey! Wait!” He came crashing after.
/>
  I thundered down the slope, pulling my shirt from my pants, fumbling at the buttons. I risked a glance back. The middy was gaining.

  My legs pumped. My chest heaved. God, it was fine to be young.

  “Nick?”

  I would just beat him. It would be close. I thudded through tall grasses, panting. A low-hanging branch loomed; I scrambled through the gap.

  “Nicky?”

  “Got you, Middy!” I could barely gasp the words. “Last one in is a—”

  “Nick!”

  I came awake, heart pounding.

  “Hon, you were thrashing about. Was it a nightmare?”

  No.

  The nightmare was in waking. I clutched her like a drowning man a liferaft, my head pressed to her breast.

  Wretched hours later, soothed at last by the soft steady stroke of her palm, I slept.

  Part II

  September, in the Year of our Lord 2241

  11

  YOU’LL BEHAVE?”

  Mikhael looked uncomfortable. “Yes, sir.”

  “What do I expect?” I rolled from behind my desk.

  He rolled his eyes. “You know I won’t think of everything.”

  “I’ll give you a start. Courtesy to Arlene, while I’m gone. Calisthenics with Mr. Anselm. A bath every day.”

  “Why are you down on me? I’m trying not to give you trouble.”

  “You’ve done well the past few days. I’m proud of you.”

  “When you get back, Mr. Carr will be gone.”

  “He has to go back to work. We’ll see him again.” Derek’s ship wouldn’t leave for a month.

  “Why can’t I go with you?”

  “P.T. needs me alone. I don’t know why. I’ll call every day.”

  “Yeah.”

  I waited.

  “Yes, sir.” It still came hard. After each day of Derek’s stories, Mikhael came farther out of his shell, made a greater effort to please me.

  I’d asked Derek why. “Not all of my stories are of Alexi,” was all he said. “Some are of you.” Incomprehensible.

  “Tell Philip I’m ready.” I keyed the caller. “Danil?” In seconds, the cadet appeared with his duffel. He must have been waiting on the stair. “Where’s my gear?”

  “In the heli, sir.” Bevin grinned from ear to ear, like a foolish puppy. As instructed, he was in civilian garb so as not to call attention to me.