"Thank you all for being here," he said, clearly and strongly. He had an excellent voice for public speaking, as little as he chose to make use of it. No doubt that detail had been carefully planned. "And thank you for the many good wishes you've expressed, and the gifts you've sent. I plan to feed and clothe two or three planets with them, later in the mission."
Light chuckling.
"I'll make this a brief address. Those of you who know anything about me probably know that I'm here to do a job, not a stand-up act. Besides, the hotel and taverns have a great number of launch-day specials I'm sure they want to advertise, so I really need to make room on the stage for some representatives of Titan's Chamber of Commerce. Quickly, though, I'll introduce my officers..."
He did so, as if he needed to. Titan's crew consisted of the most biographed humans living, at that given moment. Still, the audience made appreciative grunts. They applauded Sestus Blaurich, and there were many wolf whistles, from both males and females, when he stepped forward. Kaya fared almost as well. The rest were received politely, except for a certain measure of fearful silence which greeted Celia Faulkner.
"How do your officers feel about the Titan's curse?" called out a reporter near the front.
Atal slouched his shoulders disgustedly. "Oh, must we?"
"It's their favorite story," said Sestus Blaurich, through his teeth.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Atal, "I believe Titan has established itself as very much not a cursed ship. If you don't count my arrival today as her captain."
Again, light chuckling.
Atal continued. "Seriously, decades of service, all without a major incident or significant loss of lives, should put this matter to rest. Frankly, I'm not sure I understand why there's even talk of 'a curse' in our technologically advanced culture."
The reporter pressed on, "Very good point, Captain, but could you explain, for the audience –"
Applause and cries of assent drowned out the rest of the request, but its meaning was clear to all.
Terry Metcalfe grinned and whispered to his Captain, "Tell us a story, Uncle Jan."
Atal made an unhappy face, and then became thoughtful for a moment. He gestured for silence again, and said, "I suppose a bit of foolishness is called for on any festive occasion." He smiled a crooked smile. "My executive officer, Mr. Metcalfe, will be happy to supply the necessary background for you."
Metcalfe gave Atal a panicked glance. Silence fell over the crowd. Atal stepped back.
Metcalfe cleared his throat, and began the tale he had learned as a child, enriched with more accurate details he'd picked up as a cadet. "Uh, as you know, Titan was designed by the great Lindstrom Douglas, the developer of the process of L-Mapping, which allows us to take shortcuts through the fabric of space without becoming lost forever." He stopped and surveyed his listeners to see if they were registering. Learning nothing, he plunged forward.
"The name of the ship was a point of contention. Throughout the history of sea and then space travel, only one ship, to that time, had been named for the race of elder gods of my planet's Mediterranean region. That ship, the Royal Mail Steamer Titanic, sank on her maiden voyage."
"Sank?" asked the reporter.
"In water," said Metcalfe. "It was a sea-going ship, the largest built, to that date. Anyway, although the Titanic incident was centuries ago, the general public found it in questionable taste to similarly name a ship. Titanic was considered unlucky, and cursed by the gods. You see... to build so large a ship was considered arrogant on humanity's part. Her destruction so early said to many people that the gods were unhappy with humanity's attempts to become too godlike themselves. That the gods had taken their revenge, by sending an iceberg to destroy the ship and kill two thirds of its passengers.
"They felt Titan was, similarly, ambitious, prone to failure. In fact, Douglas gave her the name to challenge directly the attitude that humankind's destiny is one of meek acceptance of nature's dictates. He intended Titan to be a monument to our refusal to submit to the whims of fate."
"Mr. Metcalfe, as a Terran, do you feel our conquest of space is also seen as arrogance by the gods?"
"If I did," Metcalfe asked, "would I be here?"
Undaunted, the reporter said, "There are those who suggest that a Terran agent might join the Navy with an agenda. That he or she might wish to be on the inside, as part of a plot to help fulfill religious prophecies about human arrogance."
"So... " said Metcalfe thoughtfully. "You think that I'm the curse of the Titan?"
Atal stepped forward. No doubt he was afraid Metcalfe would lose his temper. It was a reasonable fear.
"I wouldn't say that you, personally –" the reporter began.
"I am not aboard Titan as a Terran," Metcalfe cut her off. "I am aboard as an officer in the Navy. An officer goes through a rigorous battery of physical and emotional tests. If I'm here to sabotage the ship in the name of superstitious fear of technology, then either I'm a very clever lunatic, or the psych jockeys haven't done a very good job of screening me."
The reporter was silent now.
"I'll only add to that that the story of Titan's curse has been perpetuated by inworlders, not Terrans. Even though Titanic's story is chronicled in the Book of Heroes, it is not we who made the original comparisons between this, Lindy Douglas's greatest design, and the Terran steam vessel."
"And I will add," said Atal, "that I have the utmost faith in the officers I've chosen to serve on my ship. I find any questions about their loyalty – especially when based on the ethnic heritage – patently offensive." He looked to his officers. "Now I believe we're done here."
* * *
As they dispersed, Aer'La moved to catch up to her fellow Arbiters. She was glad no one had asked her to speak. She could have done without that question about the curse. The Inihu were strong believers in curses. She had heard many grisly tales of demons and angry gods while a child in the barracks. Nothing in her experience had convinced her that there were not dangerous, otherworldly forces. Such stories made her nervous.
She was so focused on thoughts of impending doom that she jumped a bit when Dr. Flynn suddenly spoke in her ear. He'd followed her off the stage and into the corridor.
"Well, Bos'n," he said, "very generous of the Captain to ask you to stand with the other officers."
"The Captain is a very generous man," said Aer'La tightly.
"Oh, I don't doubt that fact," agreed Flynn. "But perhaps he's a little reckless, given the circumstances, don't you think?"
"What are you talking about?"
Flynn shrugged. "Only that it will likely prove quite an embarrassment when the public learns who and what you are."
Aer'La froze. Blind fear and an impulse to lash out at the man combined in her, resulting in an inability to react to him at all.
He smiled, clearly savoring her reaction.
"Surely you didn't expect to fool competent medical personnel? Or that your friends Faulkner and Atal could protect you forever?"
"Leave them out of this!" Aer'La hissed, clenching her fists.
He took a step back from her, but kept his composure.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, my dear. You see, they've implicated themselves. When my report goes in to the Admiralty –"
"Report?" Aer'La demanded, damning herself for the fear in her voice. "Captain Atal won't let you –"
"Captain Atal has no choice," he cut her off. "Nor will the Admiralty, for that matter. According to all precedent of law – and all common sense – you belong back in Varthan Freespace. I suggest you start packing, young lady. You're going home."
He strode away, casually. Watching after him, Aer'La reflected that perhaps a curse could manifest itself in a very human form.
* * *
"It was all my fault, Captain."
Atal reached out and took Aer'La's hand, holding it gently. He was not a touchy person, normally, nor was Aer'La prone to let people touch her in such a way. Still, the gesture fit
the moment for them both.
"Don't be ridiculous," Atal said. "Is it your fault that your people are abused throughout the galaxy? That you have to masquerade as a member of another race just to be left alone?"
"No, but... I panicked. When Flynn started asking questions about growing up on New Bedford – where I lived, who I knew .... I just froze up. I couldn't think of a story and I just... blabbed."
"There's no sin in finding it hard to lie, Aer'La. Lies are difficult things to construct and keep consistent. That's main reason to avoid telling them."
She shook her head. There were tears in her eyes. Atal had rarely seen them there. He was confident no one else had, either. "It's just that no one's ever really questioned the story before, not since you and the Doc made it up for me."
"If it's anyone's fault, it's mine," Atal said. "I'd intended to get this matter settled once Titan was underway. I'd intended to contact a few friends in the right places and have enough background evidence established to make your claim unshakable. I didn't count on someone like Flynn, with nothing better to do than put his nose where it doesn't belong." He sighed. "But that's no excuse. I should have moved faster. All that time on the Border must have made me forget what it's like to swim with the sharks."
If she agreed with him, her expression didn't reflect the fact, nor did it reflect anger at his perceived failure. In fact, she looked puzzled. "Sharks?"
"Predatory sea creatures, with very sharp teeth. They hunt the oceans for the taste of blood. The expression refers to how quick everyone is to pounce on weakness and profit by it here in the Inner Worlds."
"I think that happens everywhere," said Aer'La.
"So it does," agreed Atal. "Well, Flynn's discovering you may be for the best, in the long run."
"How can you say that?" she demanded. "He's going to report me! They're going to send me back!"
"Not if I can help it," Atal assured her.
"And what if you can't?" she asked, without a trace of sarcasm.
After a moment, he said, "I'll put in a call to Admiral Fournier this shift."
Aer'La frowned. Fournier was Secretary of the Navy, Atal's superior. He despised the Captain, and the feeling was mutual. "Not exactly a friend you can count on for a favor, is he?"
"Not by any definition of the words, no. But, if I can convince him that helping you will keep him in office, or increase his prestige, he'll be with us."
She looked at him and swallowed. "You know I don't scare easy, Captain."
He nodded.
"I'd follow you into a hot reactor, if you asked me to. I know you'd bring us out alive. But I was told all my life... no one escapes them. No one beats them. If my people want me back..." She covered her face.
Atal felt a stab of pity. Since she'd escaped her home, he wondered, had anyone seen her so vulnerable and afraid? He stepped forward and gently clasped her wrists, moving her hands so he could look her in the eye.
"They won't get you."
"No," she said with resolve. She raised a hand to brush tears from her eyes, and sniffed back those that still threatened to fall. "No, they won't. I'll die before I go back there."
She pulled free of him and went to the door.
"Aer'La –" he called after her.
But she was gone.
* * *
"What the hell were you thinking?"
Flynn, still at attention by the door to Atal's cabin, looked on impassively as the Captain shouted at him.
"I want an answer, Flynn!"
"I felt it only fair to warn the girl –" Flynn began.
"Fair? You don't know the first thing about fairness, Flynn! You saw the chance to bully someone, and you took it! I bet you tortured small animals as a child, too!"
Flynn was silent, but his expression suggested for a moment that Atal had struck a nerve. "I don't see the relevance."
"And I don't see the relevance in terrorizing an innocent –"
"I would hardly call the Bos'n innocent, Captain! Further, I would point out that you have taken no action in this matter since I informed you –"
"You don't know what actions I've taken."
"Well, then, you haven't informed me –"
Atal smiled as coldly as he knew how. "I'm not answerable to you, Flynn. I don't have to inform you of my actions."
"Then you leave me no choice but to assume that you have not reported Aer'La's illegal status. I informed you, Captain, that I considered it my duty to submit my report to Admiral Fournier. I have done so. I estimate it will be in his hands by 1400 hours tomorrow."
Simmering, Atal said "I could have you removed from this ship, Flynn."
"You have no grounds!"
"Do you think that will stop me?" asked Atal.
Flynn clenched his teeth. "I am only doing my duty, Captain."
"Has it occurred to you," Atal asked, his weariness coming through in his tone, "that your duty might include exercising some discretion?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, Flynn, that Aer'La was here less than an hour ago; and it was clear that your little... warning... had frightened her more than I've ever seen her frightened. She told me she'd rather die than go back home. I believe she meant it." He sighed. "You can talk all you like about doing your duty, Doctor. But, when doing it might drive a young woman to suicide, doesn't it give you pause?"
Flynn was silent a moment, then said quietly, "Perhaps you haven't considered, Captain, that the girl's suicide might solve a lot of problems."
Atal counted to ten. He quietly dismissed the ship's physician. He counted to ten again, not registering whether or not the man had followed his orders. Then he pummeled the computer console on his desk with his fist until, three times, he had heard the satisfying sound of strained plastic fiber cracking and breaking.
He summoned Dr. Faulkner to tend his bleeding hand, promising himself that he would, someday soon, sign up for a seminar on controlling anger.
Chapter Four
The Fifth Midshipman
Following the launch, Metcalfe and his fellow midshipmen attempted to report to the Deputy Captain, as ordered. Darby had disappeared amidst a throng of reporters, seemingly lost in his natural element. Metcalfe led them to the logical place to wait for him: Darby's office. Darby wasn't in.
"For someone in such a colossal hurry to see us," said Kevin Carson, "he's sure hard to locate."
"He wasn't in a colossal hurry," Kaya reminded him. "Dad ordered us back. Darby just took the credit."
"I hope that isn't going to be a pattern," muttered Metcalfe.
"That would be unfortunate," agreed Cernaq.
"Speaking of unfortunate," said Kaya, nodding toward the opposite end of the corridor, "here comes our shuttle thief."
Metcalfe recognized Sestus Blaurich from the ceremony, although they hadn't been introduced. Blaurich was close in age to the other midshipmen, but hadn't attended the Naval Academy with them. He was handsome, as all Inworlders tended to be, with a boyish face, a confident (if arrogant) smile, and tousled, blond hair. His teeth gleamed so when he displayed them that Metcalfe wondered if a radioactive veneer had been applied to them. He also moved too gracefully for Metcalfe's liking.
Like the orbital station they'd just departed, the passenger sphere of Titan was rotated on its axis at a speed which maintained, via centrifugal force, one full G. Even short-time spacers hated the feeling of full gravity on a spaceship. Arbiter's passenger module, to which they'd grown accustomed, was kept at .5 G. Moving around on Titan, while its gravity approximated that of their home planets, made them feel like they were wearing lead weights on all their limbs.
Still, Sestus Blaurich walked toward them with a practiced grace. He stopped a few paces short of them and grimaced disapprovingly.
"Captain Darby is waiting for us in the officers' lounge. I trust you all know the way?"
"We just got here," said Carson.
"That's unacceptable," Blaurich shot back. "It's an officer's responsib
ility to arrive at a new posting early, and familiarize himself with the area."
Carson began to reply, but Metcalfe cut him off. "We haven't met, Blaurich. I'm –"
"I know who you are, Metcalfe. I studied the dossiers on all the new officers. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have some concerns, but I'll proceed from the assumption that Captain Atal knows what he's doing bringing you all here. I think, with my guidance, you'll all be able to stay out of trouble."
Metcalfe stopped in his tracks. "Any guidance we require we'll take from the Captain, Mister Blaurich."
Blaurich's careful smile turned up sharply on one corner, forming a bit of a sneer. "This isn't the Border, Metcalfe. There's a chain of command here. Midshipmen report to the Deputy Captain. As senior midshipman, I –"
"Hold a moment, Blaurich. You may have seniority on this ship. You may have it in the service, I don't know; but Captain Atal has appointed me his executive officer. You'll find I don't take kindly to peers who try to bark orders at everyone because they were the first to pee on the ground where we're standing."
Blaurich looked blankly at Metcalfe. "'Pee?' As in urinate?"
"As in the way wild animals mark their territory," Metcalfe said.
"I wouldn't know. My travels haven't exposed me to wild animals. Present company excepted." He sniffed. "I'm pleased to see, at least, that you didn't bring that dreadful Bos'n along."
"I'd appreciate it if you'd accord Bos'n Aer'La the respect her rank and experience deserve," said Metcalfe tightly.
"It doesn't pay to be sentimental about the casuals, Metcalfe. Though I understand, given your background, why you might be more drawn to the working class. You'd better adjust to the world you've come into. Isn't that right, Kaya?"
"I wouldn't know, Sestus. I never adjusted to our world."
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