Patriarch's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 6)

by David Feintuch

  Philip and Jared sat with me when Arlene was out.

  The second night, Tad Anselm didn’t return to their hotel. Mikhael told Arlene, perhaps out of spite. She went back to sleep, informed me the next day.

  I was saddened, more than anything else. Despite intimations I should have heeded, I’d come to expect better of Anselm.

  Derek came to visit, sat awhile. “I’m going groundside to wrap up my trade talks ... Sometimes you have to be in the room, and watch their eyes.”

  I smiled. “To learn what?”

  “The last Unidollar they’ll go. Nick, the grain tonnage we’ll be sending ...” He shook his head. “It’s huge, and your delegates have no choice but to buy. Only the Navy’s outlandish freight charges keep a semblance of a trade balance.”

  “Enjoy it while you can In a few years our production—”

  “You’ve said that before. I hope this time it’s true.”

  “Why? You’ve got us where you want us.”

  “Ultimately, our interest coincides with yours. Most of us know that.” He glanced at his watch.

  “When do you leave?”

  “This evening.”

  There was no reason to feel betrayed. None at all. “Very well.” We’d had little enough time together over the years. “Mikhael will be sad.”

  “Nick, may I give you advice?”

  “Of course.”

  “You gave him a terrible scare.”

  “Me? What are you talking about?” I’d punished him, true, but he was hardly terrorized.

  “He lost Alexi. You reached through his misery and made him trust you. Then you threatened to abandon him.”

  “It was he who ran away, not—”

  “Nick, the way Alexi left him.”

  I was silent. “I mean that much to him?”

  “He’s moping about the hotel, fragile and weepy.”

  “He needs rebalancing.”

  “He needs you.”

  “I’m no psych. These things are—”

  “Midshipman Anselm reporting, sir.” Thadeus, from the doorway. His tone was belligerent, his uniform disheveled and stained.

  “How dare you show your face!”

  “Shall I go to the hotel?”

  “Where were you?” Not that it mattered. He’d broken one rule too many.

  “The lower warrens, mostly.”

  “Get out of my sight. I’ll decide what to do with you.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” He was gone.

  I asked Derek, “How would you handle him?”

  He shrugged. “I never made it past middy.”

  “Still.”

  “He’s not much different from Mikhael, really. Young, lonely, and in pain.”

  “We’re all in pain, Derek. And he’s not my son.”

  “Why did you take him on?”

  I fell silent.

  “In the old days, you saved them. Us.”

  “I’ve nothing left to give.”

  “You’ll cashier him?”

  “I don’t see how to avoid it.”

  “Damn it, Nick, the Navy is more than calisthenics and canings.” Derek was immensely proud of his five-year enlistment. “What about mercy?”

  “They shouldn’t have graduated Anselm. He’s not ready.”

  “Don’t destroy his life.”

  “He did that.”

  Derek had no reply.

  I watched Jerence Branstead on Newsnet. He sounded utterly convincing. We’d won the Assembly, had six votes to spare in the Senate. Would that it were true.

  They cut me out of my body cast. I could move, slowly, carefully, only in the moon’s one-sixth gravity. Earth’s one gee could shatter my healing spine.

  Mikhael came to see me. “Don’t dismiss him. Please.”

  “You made sure Arlene knew he was missing.”

  “Yeah. “He slouched.

  “Sorry you did?”

  “Yeah.” He stirred. “Mr. Carr talked to me.”

  “Why do you hate him so?”

  “Because you like him so!” He scuffed the deck. “Whatever I do isn’t good enough.” His tone was bitter. “See, I’m not one of your frazzing cadets. I don’t wear a godda—a uniform and stand stiff at attention. I don’t shout ‘aye aye, sir’ and jump at your every command. But Anselm does, so you respect him.”

  Because I like him so. I tasted the idea. Anselm disappointed me, infuriated me. A seasoned middy, he knew better than to fail to report to barracks. And it wasn’t his first offense.

  Yet ...

  I liked him so.

  “Mikhael, I don’t expect a middy’s behavior from you. And I’m sorry I was so ill.”

  “What does that have ...” He ground to a halt, blinking tears.

  “Come take my hand.” We sat awhile, peaceably. Then, “I like who you’re becoming, Mikhael.”

  “You’re all over me. Sit up. Get that tone out of your voice. Behave.”

  “Know how to make your children like themselves?”

  He shook his head.

  “Make them likable.”

  “Is that what you’re doing, Mr. Seafort?”

  “I’m trying. And I told you not to call me that.” I’d asked for custody. This is what came of it.

  “What should I call you? I have a dad.”

  “Pa. Father. Sir.”

  “You really take this seriously, don’t you?”

  I said wonderingly, “You don’t?”

  He sat for a moment. “May I tell the truth?” I nodded. “Yeah, I do. I’m lost, sometimes. Dad is gone, and I’m glad to have someone who understands. I’ll call you anything you want, but not ‘Dad.’ Not ever. He’ll always be that.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I was proud of him.

  “I’ll try ‘Pa,’ but it’s embarrassing. And, about the middy ... he was nice to me, when you had him in charge.”

  “It’s my decision. I’ll think on it.”

  “Yes, sir. Pa.”

  Arlene thought I should cashier Anselm. As always, she stated her opinion, but didn’t try to impose it, aware I followed her advice more often than not. “He knew better,” She said. “And did it anyway. What if he were on ship?”

  “He wasn’t.” Restlessly, I wheeled myself about the clinic cubicle.

  “It makes no difference.”

  Still, I was reluctant to do as I ought.

  Derek was coming in the afternoon, to say good-bye. P.T. and Jared would be in tonight. I summoned the midshipman, to get our confrontation out of the way.

  Anselm came to my clinic room, deep circles under his eyes.

  I released him from attention. “You drank, of course?”

  “I went from one bar to another. The warrens are full of them.”

  “I’m disgusted with—”

  “But I didn’t have a single drink.”

  “Nonetheless, you—”

  “Not one.”

  I shouted, “Stop interrupting!”

  “That’s why I went. To drink myself unconscious.”

  “Are you glitched?” A Captain ought to be as God to a middy: august, remote, uninterruptible. And as SecGen I was so far above a Captain ...” yet he overrode me at will.

  “Yes, I think I am.” His eyes met mine. “I didn’t forget your orders. Midnight, you said. I chose to ignore them.”

  “You leave me little choice.”

  “I know, sir.” He sounded regretful. “Get it over with.”

  “Very well, you’re—” Cashiered, I was about to say. “Why didn’t you drink?”

  “I wanted to know I could stop myself. Just this once. At first I didn’t intend to stay out all night. I wanted scotch, and it made me so bloody angry I couldn’t have it, nothing else mattered.” He was bitter. “I’ll have plenty of time for liquor, after.”

  My tone was gentle. “Anselm, I can’t risk leaving you in command of cadets, or a squad of sailors. You’re not fit. As Commander in Chief of U.N. military forces, I withdraw you
r commission.”

  “I’m cashiered.”

  “No, you’re back to cadet.”

  His jaw dropped.

  It was the only alternative I saw. To let him off with any lesser rebuke would be an insult to his comrades. And he knew it. Yet I wasn’t ready to wash my hands of him.

  “You can do that?”

  “I just did. And of course a caning. Report to the Naval quartermaster and indent for a set of grays. Then see Arlene for your punishment.”

  “Ms. Seafort?” He blanched.

  “I’d send you to the Lunapolis duty officer, but it would call attention to my presence. This way, I doubt you’ll try this stunt again.” Arlene would see to that. She’d been first lieutenant in Wellington, and had little tolerance for middies’ nonsense. “Pull in your horns, Anselm. A cadet is treated as a child. You’ll call everything that moves ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am.’ I won’t hesitate to enforce cadet discipline.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “This misbehavior is about missing your father?”

  “I don’t know.” His eyes were tormented.

  “You wanted to show him your ratings, eh? Very well, we’ll do that. Write him a letter.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. A letter explaining what’s happened since his death. Address it to him. Tell him how you act, how you feel about it. Mention everything.”

  “You can’t make me do that.”

  The caller buzzed, but I ignored it. Unsteadily, using the two sturdy alumalloy canes they’d provided, I hoisted myself from the bed. “I can’t, Cadet?” Lightly, I cuffed him.

  It was a reminder of his status, and had the desired effect. He crumpled. “Aye aye, sir.” A defeated whisper.

  “Dismissed. Get your grays.”

  Derek stood aside for him in the hatchway. “Very interesting.”

  “How long were you listening?”

  “Awhile. I assumed if you wanted privacy you’d shut the door.” He shifted. “Nick, my shuttle leaves at eight. Two hours.”

  “I’ll see you again?”

  “I doubt it. My ship sails in a week, and I’m way behind in my negotiations.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “And I you. Will you get to Hope Nation again?”

  “Unlikely,” I said. “I’m getting no younger.”

  Our eyes locked. “Is this really farewell?” His voice held a note of wonder.

  “Oh, Derek.”

  The caller buzzed again.

  “It’s been ...” He couldn’t finish.

  Ms. Gow, the nurse, hurried into the room. “A Mr. Branstead says he’s desperate to reach you. Are you ignoring your caller?”

  “Wait a moment, Derek. Hello?”

  “Turn on the news!” Branstead’s voice was panicky.

  I fumbled with the holovid, keyed in Newsnet.

  “—missing and presumed dead in his Washington home, where he was recovering from injuries in the Rotunda bombing.”

  I tried to sit bolt upright, gasped with pain.

  “Rescue workers say due to the intensity of the laser attack there’s no chance of finding bodies in the smoking ruins. SecGen Seafort was best known as the implacable enemy of the alien race known as the fish. Born in Cardiff, Wales, in—”

  “Lord Jesus Christ!”

  A helicam floated over a mass of rubble. A few pieces of the outer wall remained. Of the house, nothing.

  “Amen,” said Branstead.

  “Who? Why?”

  “Lasers, from aloft. Defense puters say Earthport or Galactic. At the moment they’re so close together—”

  “Who’s in charge on the Station?”

  “Admiral Hoi. There’s more, sir. Admiralty in London took a radio intercept. Just over an hour ago Galactic sent a launch full of sailors to Earthport. They stormed the civilian command center.”

  “Lord in heaven.”

  Iron fingers gripped my arm. “Where’s your pistol?”

  “Not now, Derek. What about the Naval Station?”

  “WHERE IS IT?”

  “In the drawer. Has Earthport Naval Command responded?”

  “I can’t get through to Admiral Hoi.”

  Derek crossed to the hatch, slapped it open, took up position outside, my laser charged and blinking. The safety was off.

  The hatch slid closed.

  Branstead said, “Captain Stanger is apparently leading the coup. He beamed an ultimatum to the Rotunda, the Senate and Assembly, and U.N.A.F. Command. We’re to abandon the enviro legislation at once. SecGen Valera’s to meet him on Galactic no later than Wednesday, or their lasers will target as many cities as it takes to end resistance. He wants an answer in six hours. The first target is the Rotunda.”

  I asked, “What about Dubrovik in Lunapolis?” The Admiral ran our lunar Naval base, at the opposite end of the city from the clinic.

  “He’s on sick leave, you’ll recall. Injured. Captain Simovich is Acting Commander. I can’t reach him either.”

  I said heavily, “Full-scale mutiny.”

  “If we’re lucky, sir.”

  I exploded. “Lucky? What else would you call it?”

  “Revolution.”

  The room spun. I marshaled my thoughts. “What ships have we?”

  The few seconds lag was just enough to madden me. Finally Branstead’s voice crackled. “In home system, nothing to speak of. Melbourne’s gone to Titan, with a full load of tourists. New Orleans is docked at Earthport awaiting a refit. You know the problem.” These days, virtually all of home fleet had been pressed into service between colonies and the homeworld. We desperately needed more ships.

  Captain Stanger’s point exactly. The irony was that the ships he demanded, I’d use against him.

  “You can’t get through to Hoi?” I grasped at straws. “Is it possible he’s still loyal?”

  “McKay was killed. Probably to put Hoi in place.”

  I groaned. I’d had warning, and ignored it. Warning too of the Navy’s dismay at our policies. I’d ignored that. Warning that our officers were becoming politicized. I’d ignored that as well.

  My follies had destroyed us.

  “Sir, now what?”

  “You’re at the Rotunda? Get out, before they level it.”

  “I have time yet. Will you fight?”

  The hatch opened.

  I laughed, a hawking, bitter sound. “With what? We’ve no ships, no command, and a gun to our heads.”

  Arlene strode in, Bevin in tow. “U.N.A.F. has ground defense lasers.” Her mouth was grim. “Use them. Blast Galactic out of home system.”

  “You heard?”

  “Their ultimatum is on the vids.”

  Jerence overheard. His voice was strained in the caller. “Mr. SecGen, be aware that Galactic was boarding passengers all this week. There’s two thousand civilians already aboard.”

  Arlene grated, “Destroy his ship. He’s mutinied.” Never in history had the Navy faltered. Now, two hundred years of honor were forfeit.

  I said, “It’s mass murder.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “We can’t do it.”

  Hands on hips, she glared down at me. “What, then? Surrender?”

  I didn’t know. “Jerence, who’s with us?”

  “I can’t tell yet. It all happened so fast ...” He took a long slow breath. “U.N.A.F. Command, most likely, once they hear you’re alive. The Board of Admiralty, I hope. But they endorsed the changes in command that put Simovich and Hoi in position. It’s dicey.”

  “What’s public opinion?”

  “The public thinks you’re dead. The news zines are running retrospectives. De mortuis nil nisi bonum.”

  “We’ll have the colonials, the transpops, the enviros.”

  “Right. No one with guns. They’ll have the Senate, half the Assembly, and the Navy. The worst—”

  “They do not!”

  “They’ve got the Naval forces that count: Lunapolis and Earthport bases, and Gal
actic, the only major ship near Earth. They’ve got absolute laser superiority. Sir, we have to rally public support. Tell them you’re in Lunapolis, taking charge; that will firm up U.N.A.F.”

  “How? From a hospital bed?”

  “We don’t say you’re at the clinic.” A pause. “You went aloft for a conference, and you’ve assumed personal control.”

  “Lies.”

  “Mr. SecGen, this is war.”

  I cried, “No, it’s not!” We couldn’t do battle with our own Navy. It was abominable. My spine throbbed. “Let Valera handle it.”

  “You’re not serious. He’d go over to them in a minute. He’s an Earth Firster at heart.”

  I said, “Then we’ll talk to Stanger.”

  Arlene shook her head. “If you let him know you’re alive, he’ll launch a massive manhunt or, worse, a laser strike.”

  “Wait.” Jerence. “I’m getting something on the U.N. public info circuit.” A long pause. “Valera explained Stanger’s ultimatum. He says he’s giving in, to save the U.N. complex.” A pause. “To save lives. Misguided enviro policies—”

  “The son of a bitch!”

  “Regrettable death of the SecGen, et cetera ... you bastard!” Branstead’s voice shook with rage. “As Acting SecGen he’s ordering U.N.A.F. and Admiralty to offer no resistance until the situation is clarified.”

  “Clarified!”

  A long string of oaths from Jerence. “Valera’s been in touch with Stanger. Galactic will hold off blasting the Rotunda. He’s calling a joint session of the Senate and Assembly at seventeen hundred hours to vote down the enviro package. He’ll make a public statement just prior.”

  I swung out of bed, ignoring a warning stab. “Arlene, my clothes. Bevin, find a video caller in the clinic office. Set it up against a white wall; I don’t want any clues where we are from the background. Move! Jerence, take over the nets for an emergency announcement.”

  “On whose authority? Valera will—”

  “Special Rule three eighteen, you know the drill. In this confusion no one is likely to stop you, even if they think it’s Valera’s call to make.”

  “For what time?”

  “Sixteen thirty Eastern.” I checked my watch. Two hours. “We’ll feed to you. Rebroadcast from there.” Perhaps that would conceal the origin of my transmission.

  “What are you—”

  “I’ll speak to the world. They will not take over my Government. They will not scuttle my legislation!” Feverishly, I threw on a fresh shirt. “From now on, go armed, Jerence. If we lose contact, call through Jeff Thorne in London. He’ll be with us no matter what.”