by J P Nelson
“Seedle, Char’Li … we will speak of this at morning.”
Teak looked sternly to Seedle, “You rest, son. You have earned it, do you hear me?”
“Yes sir!”
“Look to me sailor! You are no piece of meat. The sport is a sport. It is not the essence of life. Do you not understand this?”
The masseuse looked from one to the other with curiosity; Seedle gritted his teeth in angst.
Char’Li demanded, “Here Seed, let us get these off. This fellow is waiting.” To the masseuse he said with a cheerful expression, “He is exhausted. The competition was strong tonight … but not strong enough, eh?”
The discussions went long and Seedle all but begged to stay active. It was finally decided for him to have one last defense, so he could go out his way.
The next contender, a top-notch two hundred and ten pounder named Kahoon, had been already determined and fight scheduled two weeks before the Clarise was to be launched. The launching of the Clarise had become a subject of excitement among navy personnel, and Commander Redding had already made it clear his wish for Seedle to sail with her. Announcing Seedle’s retirement from the sport by tying in his appointment to the vessel should go smoothly.
The man had been hesitant for such promotion, mostly to keep fighting. But now there would be no reason not to move forward. The new captain, Jha’Ley, had not yet been confirmed, would need know nothing other than Seedle was the best man for the job, and he was; his qualifications were spot on. It would be up to the new cob to share such information.
It would solve another problem in Seedle’s personal life as well, but that was an issue not publicly known. Those closest to him believed getting Seedle out to sea would be good all around.
With all in mind, he trained for a blitzing match, strictly south-paw-style, to go out with the same dazzling fire with which he started his sport boxing career. By Seedle’s request, his pap, Azona, and Hatcher, all worked the corner with him.
Kahoon was a bull in the ring with eleven wins of as many fights, ten by knockout. Damned if Seedle didn’t get his nose broken one more time, and he took the worst cut in his career over his right eye. Once, Kahoon got a shot into the champion’s left temple and scored a knockdown in the eighth round. Back in the corner Char’Li said no word of the blow, but gave him the instructions he needed to go out and bring it home.
From the bell, Seedle went full sail with hurricane force … straight at him he threw chopping hook after chopping hook to Kahoon’s body … the crowd yelling at top of their lungs as Kahoon’s corner was screaming at their man to get out of there. His trainer was hammering fists upon the apron, screaming instructions and crying tears as Seedle measured two left-handed hooks to the head, then switched one last time to lay in his right chopping hook for the win.
The festivities were big and it was nice. But as far as he knew, only Char’Li and Teak knew about his hands. He had a hunch his pap knew, but he never said, and maybe Hatcher … Hatcher was smart that way. Maybe it was a good-sign omen that this should be his last, after all; his hands did not shake this time, at least not for a few days.
Seedle looked about to the fellows of the camp. They were making comfortable for sleep as much as possible. He knew they were concerned about this new development. The thought of being trapped by ice away from the rest of the world was not comforting. There was a grave possibility they may die here. But they may die slipping on refuse in a sunny yard behind their home.
Had he, Seedle, left behind enough to say he had made accomplishment? Was he ready to put life to end in this icy realm if it was to be so?
He had made a difference in Vedoan Navy Boxing. That powder had been made illegal, the heavyweights had begun coming to him for training advice … oh shikes … all the weight classes did, so it was all good in the long course.
He was part of the original Clarise crew, which was something of itself. He had sailed the totality of the Mon’Cique, been part of the most impressive string of victories in Vedoan Naval History, mapped the V’Pohra Tanzhi … shikes, had actually been in the V’Pohra Tanzhi … had been a regular member of Jha’Ley’s away-team, of course he, Seedle, made those initial choices, but the commodore could easily say no.
There were now only five of them left from the original launch of the Clarise, the first Clarise that is. What had happened to the first vessel? She had not been scuttled, had she? There was Jha’Ley, of course, Telroy, who was a ship’s boy then, Mister Bourevund, and the cook, Easley.
Seedle scuffed his toe in the ice, Fhascully and Kravieu had been there at first launch, as well, but they took different assignments from time to time. Yeau had been one of those awarded the Medal of Merit with Chako, Jha’Ley, and the others. But he had not been on the original Clarise’s launch, he came aboard with this new vessel.
And yes, there was Chako. Wel-l-l, sort of. He had been there from the beginning for him, he, himself, Seedle. They had never been close, but they had been mates of a sort.
Chako and he transferred from ship to ship together, and when Chako had been honored by Queen Morella with the Medal of Merit, Seedle had been one of the fellows cheering him on. Chako kept getting into trouble and busted down, but they had even been in the shipyard together.
Seedle had seen men killed in battle, but the thought of seeing … of seeing Chako hanging like that. Seedle had been the one to cut him down. It damn shiking sucks.
His tea cup was empty, and it was a good thing, his hands were beginning to shake. Not bad, but it was there. And what was worse, ever-so-often, his head felt like it was starting to shake a little, too.
Shit! Seedle took a reassuring grip of his little pouch.
It was two more days before Seedle’s team could see the sea by telescope. There was no doubt the snow was slowing them down, and the surface they were climbing across was not the most stable. The ridge they had to climb was pretty high, but you could not tell how much so.
Seedle did not believe they were in danger of sliding into water below, but you never knew. His biggest fear was the snow would get so bad they would lose visibility. Thankfully, they were able to get back to the Clarise safely.
Sergeant Corad’s team had gotten back the fastest, estimating an expanse over six miles thick of ice. Jha’Ley’s had been out the longest, go figure, and calculated a spread of nearly fourteen miles. Nobody saw any indication of a way through. They were trapped.
Jha’Ley declared, “It is not a dire consequence. We have tools, invaluable resources, and a unique opportunity. Let us commence to explore and map the coastline, while seeking shelter for the winter.”
Sailing was good and the wind steady, but the snow kept coming and at times the visibility was poor. Keeping close to the coast was no problem and in Seedle’s opinion the view was breath-taking.
The men were kept busy for sure, but Seedle noticed a definite change in Jha’Ley. He did not believe the rest noticed, except for perhaps Caroll, and Dessi.
The Sealer fellow was a good man and had an eye for detail, but he was contently busy between both ships with his fishing detail. What was more, Sealer did not really know Jha’Ley, his mannerisms and way he thought, not like those who had known him for years. So Seedle doubted he would know what changes to pick up on.
On the aside, Seedle was sure they would be continually thankful for Sealer’s presence. And he liked his sort of humor, too. One day he would like to sit to table and just trade tales.
Caroll was close to the commodore, had known him since Jha’Ley was a boy. But would he say anything? He had a deep code of honor, one so deep he was not casual. After all, Jha’Ley was commodore. Caroll would be concerned, but Seedle had a hunch he might not bring anything up unless he was asked, and Jha’Ley carried everything on his own shoulders … Seedle knew that … Jha’Ley would not ask.
As for Dessi, he was sharp, really sharp about a lot of things. But he was a Marine, he technically was not part of the ship’s crew. He was ship’s su
pport. Seedle and Dessi had become good friends, best mates, even, but Dessi would consider that breeching barriers, especially since he was not an officer.
That left S’Getti. He had the moxy to say something, and he could do it well. But he was on the other damn ship.
So-o-o-o … if anything was going to be said … Seedle breathed in deeply. What would pap do? He grinned, he knew shiking well what pap would do.
Seedle was alone at ship’s rail when the Marine came to stand beside him. After a few moments of looking through the snow at shadow of the coastline Dessi brought it up, albeit keeping voice low, “Crew’s too busy to notice, and he keeps them that way, but I give worry to Jha’Ley.”
“Yep …” Seedle pondered his words and squeezed his hands in his mitts, “… the man has never lost.”
“You think he has lost this one?”
Seedle shrugged, “You never give up until the ten-count is made. Even then, you go lick your wounds and figure on the rematch.” He looked into the snow, “But I think he thinks he has lost.” He gritted his teeth, “I think he thinks he has killed us all and he does not know how to handle it.”
“I hope you are wrong.”
“Yeah … me too.” Seedle looked to his friend, “But I do not think so.”
“What can be done?”
“Someone needs to share words with the fellow … something.”
Dessi’s eyes became wide as he tilted his head to his friend, “You are serious?”
“He is a man reserved. Always accessible, always friendly, but he has no true mates. Jha’Ley is a warrior of the first rate, his courage knows no bounds, and a good leader of men, but he shares not responsibility. He levies task, for sure, and he shares glory in great measure, but he absorbs all harm upon his own shoulders.”
“But, is it your station? I mean no offense, you are chief of boat and senior of all enlisted … but would he take well to such?”
“Who then? Dalton? He is a good man, and will be a good captain one day. But he holds his commodore in an exalted light. Should Jha’Ley tell him to jump into the pot, he would do so blindly. Rufus and Yeau I hold in highest regard, but they respect the order of commission. Lieutenant Boin? He may make it one day, he is a good lad, but he is still learning the ropes.”
Seedle passed another deep breath and wrinkled his nose, “I fear it falls to me.” He looked to Dessi then gave a tired grin, “After all, I am the irreverent one.”
Dessi shook his head and just looked at the man beside him, “You are charting a course which could be very dangerous.”
“Do I not know it? But I …”
It was at that moment Jha’Ley came up from behind them and said, “Mister Seedle, would you accompany me? I would like to discuss a matter with you.”
Seedle and Dessi looked to each other, both raising eyebrows in an ‘Oh shite’ manner.
“Yes sir. Straightway sir.”
Seedle turned and followed the commodore to his cabin. He had a bad feeling about this.
Chapter 44
JHA’LEY OFFERED SEEDLE to take seat, then a mug of steaming tea. Seedle noticed Jha’Ley had large circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and although he was prim in uniform, there was a haggard look to his overall appearance.
The commodore began with, “I know you are expert with realms of physical fitness …”
Seedle let out a big sigh of relief.
“… what? Is something wrong?”
“No sir … I mean, there is an issue at hand, but it can wait. What can I do for you sir?”
Jha’Ley discussed his interest to implement regular exercise drill into the daily regimen. He did not feel the crew was busy enough. There was too much time to sit and brood over things as they were. It was tough enough to redirect growing ill tempers and what have you.
“It is not a problem sir, I can come up with some things and present them to you in short order.”
“Excellent, I appreciate you and all that you do.”
Seedle waited to see if there was anything more before replying, “It is my pleasure sir.” He hesitated, then asked, “Permission to speak candidly, sir?”
Jha’Ley looked to Seedle with curiosity, “Of course, please.”
Seedle paused, “Are you okay sir?”
There was a deep, Tai’Jhi breath, “How do you mean?”
Seedle was not sure how to broach the subject, so he just came out with it, “You are being selfish, sir.”
Jha’Ley was caught by surprise, “Ex-cuse me?”
“Sir, it is too often a leader will boast in their team’s credit, and pass loss of failure down the line. But you are opposite, sir. You make sure a fellow get the sunshine for things he does well, but when the wind does not blow right or the fish do not fill the nets, you hog all the burden to yourself.”
Seedle was waiting for Jha’Ley to explode with anger, throw a mug at him, yell, have him put into stocks, and a big part of him wished he would. What he really wanted to do, was get him in the ring and smack him around until he started hitting back.
Jha’Ley just sat there, looking incredulous, “Explain yourself.”
“Sir, the others, they do not see it, but I do. You are acting like all of this is your fault, as if you could have prevented the quakes, the ice filling the way, losing men the way we did. You are carrying it all on your shoulders and you have no right to it.”
Jha’Ley sat his mug down and for just an instant, Seedle thought he was going to have a tantrum. He really did not want to see the commodore have a tantrum, the man reeked of deadly physical ability, but if that was what he needed to get the funk out of his system, then so be it.
But he didn’t.
He threw his hands wide, sat back in his chair, and looked as if he were about to cry like a frustrated, angry father who had just lost his child and could do nothing about it. Seedle could feel it, Jha’Ley was hurting inside, hurting in a grievous way, “What, what am I supposed to do? It is my responsibility. I have let these men---”
“Sir!” Seedle shook his head, “Do not even go there. It is not your responsibility. You had the final decision, but you gave us the responsibility to make vote. I was there, sir, remember? You left the room and we voted. The vote was unanimous, sir.”
Jha’Ley’s fist came down hard on the desktop as he stood, so hard the tea in his mug sloshed upward and many of the articles bounced. In the same movement he spun about, knocking his chair over, immediately coming to a fighting stance facing his chair.
Seedle saw the commodore’s lip and hands were trembling as he closed his eyes, slowly opened his palms wide, bowed his head and turned away from the desk. His hands still up, he walked to the window facing out over the stern of the ship.
There was a sudden, sharp knocking on the cabin door, “Commodore? Is all well?”
With a fight for emotional control, he answered with a solid, “Yes!”
Seedle was standing, he could leave … “Sir?”
“What … Mister Seedle?”
“A fighter who has never lost, can never fully appreciate the power and value of teamwork. Nor do they savor gratification of having overcome something which once rendered them defeat.”
“Mister Seedle,” Jha’Ley rubbed his hand through his hair, and while holding the back of his neck turned and continued, “make sense of your words.”
“You have not known defeat, sir, not so I have seen. You are carrying this as if you have lost the world. We have lost a round. So what? It did not go as expected. The opponent threw a good exchange. Maybe we were knocked down. The round is over, sir. Let us regroup and continue. The fight is far from finished, and if we win only by a decision, it is still a win.”
“I am to see this as a fight in a ring?”
“No sir … we are. We, the team.” Seedle took a big leap, “Sir, you dishonor your men.”
There was an angry lilt in Jha’Ley’s tone, “What did you say?”
“You give orders and seek means t
o keep the men preoccupied from what we face. They should be given to understand exactly the score before us. They should not look to you for survival, but to know it is each man’s part to play … as a team. The officers are our leaders, we are still a military unit, but without a unified effort, we will fail.”
Jha’Ley walked around the desk, his eyes narrowed, his head wavering, “And what should we lose this fight? What then? What should we all perish?”
“Should we lose this fight? Then we lose.”
The commodore’s face showed surprise in the sudden answer, surprise and exasperation.
“Then, sir,” Seedle shrugged his shoulders in nonchalant manner, “We train for the next fight. And if we perish, we perish as men and leave mark for another to find.”
Jha’Ley stared at his chief of boat for a long time before responding, “You make it sound simple.”
Seedle shrugged again and gave a sideways grin, “It is, sir, it is.”
“So this should be regarded as a round in some sport fight? We lost one and keep going?”
“Sir, it is up to you, but that is my suggestion. You will have to do one important thing, however.”
“And what is that?”
Seedle tilted his head, “The hardest thing a fighter can do, you have to admit you lost this one. Then you have to let it go. If you cannot do this … then … then you are going to kill us all.” He pointed to the cabin’s door, “Those men will follow you to Zaeghun’s Lair without question, and I will stand beside you sir, all the way.”
There was another long pause as the two looked eye to eye, “Sir, you once told me something about that Tai’Jhi you do. You said you do not do it to squelch your energy, but to harness it and give you a means of personal regulation. I am not entirely sure what that means, but is it possible we could harness everyone’s whatever, instead of squelching them?”
Seedle held out his own hands in resignation, “I do not know, sir. Just an humble sailor’s ideas. I thank you for listening.” He brought himself to attention.
Jha’Ley sat back upon his desk, crossed his arms, and stared at the man. Clearly thoughts were running through his mind. He nodded dismissal and as Seedle left the room he inhaled deeply, looked to the painting of Greybeard, and slowly exhaled.