by F Stone
“What I meant was that if your statement was off the record, would that satisfy you?”
“No. Actually, I’m still thinking about you out of your uniform. No disrespect intended.” She studied alternatives in her mind. “You have some other clothes, Captain? Just plain street clothes?”
Sam stood up and took a few steps closer to her. “You look like you’re conjuring up something, little miss witch. What is it?”
Sidney smiled. “Ever been on a picnic, Captain?”
“Sure, with Joy and the boys.”
She straightened her posture. “Captain, I’d like to go on a picnic, but not with Captain Waterhouse. I want to go on a picnic with Sam.”
Sam took a deep breath. “You don’t go on picnics on a ship, and you can’t separate me into two people.”
Sidney moved closer to Sam. “I know you’re not two people. But you can be just Sam, a man with no ties to your rank. Yes?”
“No!”
“No picnic. Pity.”
“Why is that a pity?”
“Well, it would be the only way I could tell you so much more.”
Sam could tell he was being drawn into something he’d have little or no control over. Still, his intense curiosity urged him to pursue her train of thought.
“So, why can’t you do that now?” he asked.
“Well, as captain your behavior and choices are dictated by a rigid set of rules established by Admiral Garland and the government. You’ve taken an oath to abide by those rules. But as Sam, you’re free to weigh the pros and cons, come up with your own set of values and rules. In these things, the Sam part of you is guided by a higher power that I trust with my life. That’s why I’ll reveal all only to Sam.”
“And I suppose I’d be expected not to pass the information on to the admiral.”
“I see you as an honorable man. I believe information told to you in confidence might be revealed to others, but with the intentions of the higher good.”
“Sidney, you’re asking too much. To participate in something like that would be tantamount to … well, almost treason.”
“By whose definition — yours or the admiral’s?”
For a while, Sam simply studied Sidney and her proposal. It could be done, but it would mean complicating his already difficult situation. The officers started to gather in the boardroom for their breakfast meeting. Time had run out.
“Sidney, what you’re suggesting isn’t possible. There’s nothing more to discuss.” Sam activated his comlink and directed Bridges to get Sidney.
“Guess I’m a bit relieved. Wasn’t feeling too comfortable with baring my soul, even to Sam. Lord knows you probably think I’m weird enough now without adding more to the heap.”
“Why a picnic?”
“Well, because it’s fun and it’s a million miles away from duty, for both of us.”
As Bridges entered his office, Sam directed him to let Sidney have her exercise time on the deck for the rest of the morning. After they’d left he went to the boardroom. The officers stood at attention as he entered the room.
“As you were,” he instructed.
Once they had filled their plates, the usual routine began. Robert John reported that the new engine part was a problem. “Going to have to replace the sleeve again in Honolulu. In fact, I’ll be grateful just to get there. Damn thing just isn’t holding the pressure. Going to have to slow down, Skipper.”
“I’ll have a replacement ordered.”
Moon reported there had been an increase in attacks on merchant ships. “In fact, one small ship was completely ransacked last night, and all twenty-four hands were killed.” The officers became quiet.
Sam reassured his staff. “We have our sub shadowing us. It’s been more than seven months since any attempt was made on the Nonnah. Still, we better initiate a yellow alert until the Nonnah arrives at Honolulu. Moon, make sure all personnel carry a weapon. Place a seaman on each of the gun turrets around the clock. Casey and Morton, I want continuous watch, port and starboard. No more problems with the radar equipment, Casey?”
“Other than being antiquated, no, sir.”
“Any questions?”
They nodded in agreement that there was little risk. Sam continued. “Admiral Garland has ordered that the prisoner is to be executed today.”
The officers fell into silence again. “Lieutenant Bridges, she wants to get this over with as soon as possible — before lunch. Dr. Duncan, she’s requested that Lorna be present. Lieutenant Paddles isn’t required to do anything. Sidney said she just wanted her nearby. Ask her if she’s willing to attend. The execution will be conducted in one hour.”
“So, she’s guilty as hell, Sam?” asked Robert.
“Always knew she was guilty. There are still a lot of unanswered questions. However, the admiral is finished with her.”
The officers were again silent and finished their breakfast quickly. The meeting was adjourned and all returned to their duties.
Sitting at his desk, Sam opened the drawer containing the mysterious hawk’s feather. He pulled it out of the envelope and held it in his hand. Trying to get his mind off the execution, he gazed at the red plume. At first glance, the feather appeared rather plain, but the more he studied it, the more he noticed the details of the black bar markings and its softness. In spite of the delicate nature, he noted its strength as he stroked the edges across his hand. He could imagine it still attached to the large bird as it supported her, gliding on the air currents high above the ground. He felt more relaxed than he had in years. His mind calmed and flowed with the bird on the high cliffs.
The buzz of his comlink sounded. It was Bridges advising him that he was preparing for the execution. Sam carefully tucked the feather back into the envelope and locked it in his desk.
His heart began to beat rapidly. He busied himself with shutting off his computer and activating the security systems. The crystal was again moved back into its designated resting place. He barely considered the reasons why he kept finding it in another location. Grabbing his coat and hat, he went to the main deck.
As soon as he left the air-conditioned hallway, the tropical heat hit him. Normally he’d have found it unpleasantly hot. Instead, it was welcome relief from the chill he felt over his entire body. He noticed his hands had become cold and clammy. Bridges, Dr. Duncan, and Lorna waited near the chair placed in the usual spot. Their solemn expressions were rigid, set as if their faces were made of stone. They made no attempt to converse with him.
Sam looked about for the guards and Sidney. Several yards toward the bow, he saw her. Sidney was seated on the floor of the deck several feet beyond the guards. She was in her meditative state. As he stepped up to her, she remained in her trance.
He bent down on one knee, waiting for her to open her eyes. They remained closed. He could barely detect her breathing. He was astonished by the peace evident on her face. She showed no trace of fear. The breeze gently lifted her long hair away from her face. Her body, sitting erect in her lotus position, didn’t tremble. Her hands rested on her knees, palms open to the sky, receiving the loving caresses of the sea breeze.
“Shall I pick her up, Captain?” the guard asked.
Sam shook his head. “No.” He waited a moment longer. Slowly, Sidney opened her eyes.
“It’s time?” she asked.
Sam stood up. “Yes. Stand up,” he commanded.
Sidney rose to her feet. For a moment, she gazed out over the horizon.
“This way.” Sam said.
She followed him to the chair with the guards close behind her. Standing beside her, Sam asked, “Is there anything you wish to say?”
Sidney thought for a while, and then smiled. “Words alone don’t seem to be enough. And anything more than words could bring that rule book of yours to the surface.”
Sam looked deeply into Sidney’s eyes. It was a mistake. The tightness in his chest made it difficult to breathe. His throat become restricted, as if a hand was s
queezing his Adam’s apple. Swallowing hard, he flexed the muscles in his back to stand as rigid as the spine on his rule book. Bridges waited with the pistol in its holster on his hip. Finally, Sam was able to breathe again. Stepping back, he began the procedure.
“Sidney Davenport, you’ve been found guilty of spying and sabotage and sentenced to death. Under the regulations established by the United States of America Naval Authority, you’re hereby to be executed forthwith. Lieutenant Bridges, you’re commanded to carry out the execution of the prisoner.”
Bridges stepped forward and ordered the guards to place Sidney in the chair. Before they could, she knelt down in front of Sam. As the guards were about to hoist her onto the chair, Sam waved them off. “She can remain there.”
The guards began to place the handcuffs on her. She slightly resisted.
“Leave the cuffs off.” Sam ordered, and the guards stepped a few feet back.
Dr. Duncan and Lorna stood beside Lieutenant Morton. They made no eye contact with Sam. Their gaze remained on the prisoner. “Proceed, Lieutenant,” ordered Sam.
Bridges stepped forward. He pulled out his pistol, cocked it, and aimed it toward Sidney’s head. She remained very still with her eyes closed although her shoulders trembled slightly. The lieutenant’s gun was within two feet of her right temple. As he began to squeeze the trigger, his hand shook. He grabbed that hand with the other to steady it. Still his hand shook. “Captain, I … ”
“Step aside.”
Bridges handed the gun to Sam. Almost in one motion, Sam swiftly raised the gun to Sidney’s temple and pulled the trigger twice.
The gunfire echoed throughout the ship’s deck, its noise shattering the awful tension. The pungent smell of the gunpowder blended with the sickening sweet smell of blood splattered on the deck and Sam’s uniform.
Dr. Duncan quickly stepped forward. Sidney laid motionless, face down on the deck. Her head was surrounded by a pool of blood that flowed to the edge of the deck. Dr. Duncan bent down to inspect her wound and used his scanner to detect signs of life.
“The prisoner is dead, Captain,” he pronounced.
Sam stood motionless. He first stared at her body and then the gun in his hands. Both it and his hand had blood splatters, skull fragments, and traces of Sidney’s hair on them. Repulsed, he tossed the gun across the deck. It went skidding along the wood floor. Nausea and dizziness took command of him. The guards were placing Sidney on a stretcher. In another minute, she was out of his sight.
Lorna came forward. “Sam, you didn’t have a choice.”
He spoke in a strained whisper. “Didn’t I?”
Everyone left. Standing alone, he felt as though the breeze could pass right through him. He was certain he’d become transparent, without shape or substance. He tried to find his feet. He couldn’t move.
A year of being the admiral’s accomplice in the expedient disposal of enemies had finally taken its toll. God’s punishment reserved for the damned, he thought. The only good thing about his exploding terror was that it gave him the motivation to find his legs again. They were heavy and awkward but carried him to his office where he tore his coat off and tossed it to the floor.
He collapsed into his chair, groaning like a wounded animal. He buried his face in his hands only to find the stench of the blood unbearable. He dashed to the sink and tried to wash it from his skin. The sink became filled with Sidney’s blood. It splashed onto the counter and the wall. The more he tried to wipe it off, the more it spread.
Sam felt the slow and terrifying loss of his mind. If he still had the gun with him, at that moment, he’d have placed it in his mouth and fired. Never before, even in his darkest times, had he ever considered suicide. Never before had he regretted so much.
Sam began to sob. He continued to feverishly struggle to clean up the red stain. So intense were his efforts he hadn’t heard the knocking on his door.
Lieutenant Bridges stood in front of his desk. “We’re ready for you, Captain.”
Sam was stunned. He was seated at his desk. He looked at his hands. The blood was gone. In his hand was the red feather.
“Ready?” he murmured.
“Yes, sir. It’s eleven-thirty hours. The prisoner is on the main deck. So are Dr. Duncan and Lieutenant Paddles.”
Sam dropped the feather onto his desk and ran out to the ship’s main deck. As he arrived, he saw his staff just as he’d seen them only moments ago. Sidney, still very much alive, was seated in her meditative state. He bent down on one knee in front of her and breathed a sigh of relief. He reached out and touched her cheek the way one would caress a child’s face.
She opened her eyes and asked, “It’s time?”
Sam stood up and said to the guards, “Tell Lieutenant Bridges the execution is canceled.”
The guards relayed the message, and as Lorna turned to leave, she gave Sam a big thumbs up signal. Sidney stood up and looked toward the horizon, smiling as if a friend was in her field of vision. She turned to Sam.
“Captain, I hope this wasn’t a test to see if I’d break under the threat of an execution, was it?”
Sam smiled at her. “No.” He was perplexed by her calm demeanor. “For having narrowly escaped certain death, you appear rather calm.”
She grinned. “I have my ways, Captain.”
“Don’t I know that.” He motioned for her to follow him to the ship’s railing. They stood for a while side by side, not speaking. Not needing to speak. He felt her calm energy. It was a strange sensation, unifying him with something vaguely familiar. More than ever, Sam felt as though he wasn’t alone. He chuckled to himself as he considered his list of allies. Since Joy’s death there had been Lorna, then Paulo, and now Sidney. And another. Perhaps a hawk. An odd assortment, he thought. A doting-like aunt, an old man, a witch, and a very old bird.
He studied Sidney, gracefully moving with the ship as it swayed on the waves, the breeze tugging at her auburn hair. Without the usual adornments and paint many women fancied, she still had a natural beauty about her. She could have used her strange power dozens of times to overpower her captors and escape. Perhaps her gods were testing her, challenging her to remain true to what she called the higher good.
Sam wondered if the man in her life truly loved her. He was perhaps going mad with grief, believing she’d been executed. He wondered why the man would let her go on such a risky mission. But then, Sam had let Joy follow her own path too.
Sam directed his gaze at the ocean’s horizon. He knew without a doubt that he had to change course. But he was at a crossroads with no directional signals. The only thing he knew with absolute certainty was that he wasn’t going to continue along the path he’d been on.
“Sidney, I think I’ve just been put through a test.”
She grinned. “Did you pass?”
“Don’t know yet. I don’t think the test is over yet.” He looked back at her. “Got a few big hurdles ahead, and I think you’re going to help me get over them. If I pass the test, I might get my sons back, and if I survive that, you might get to go home. How does that sound?”
“What do you mean, ‘get your sons back’ and ‘if you survive’?”
“That’s a long story. You still game for that picnic?”
Sidney stepped closer. “You name the place and time and I’ll be there.”
Sam’s first reaction was to step away, but he resisted the urge and found the closeness with Sidney more comfortable than before.
“‘Course, you know, Captain, there are rules.”
Sam’s eyes opened wide. “Rules? You? That’s hard to believe. Okay, what are your rules?”
“Well, first of all, no uniform. No hint of your rank or connection with the navy. I want to talk to Samaru, not Captain Waterhouse. Second, unconditional trust — both ways.”
“Uh huh. What else?”
Sidney studied him briefly. “You know, I’ve got this feeling I could ask for almost anything right now and you’d agree to it, even the can
dle.”
Sam knew she was right. He felt so good, he’d agree to almost anything she asked for. The impending insanity had vanished. He’d had a taste of a Darkness he thought only existed in the minds of the criminally insane. He vowed he’d no longer be the admiral’s puppet. Sidney was now his ace in the hole. She didn’t know it, but she was going to get him out from under the admiral’s death grip.
He tried to put on an authoritative tone in his voice. It barely qualified. “Don’t push your luck, Sidney,” he said, playfully tapping her nose. “You’re still a prisoner — for the time being anyway.” Then, still feeling elated, he teased. “What’s your schedule like for tonight? Care for a picnic on my veranda?”
“See — you can have a picnic on a ship. Shall I dress up or down?” She grinned.
“My rules are ‘come as you are.’”
“Wow! That’s a relief. Any other rules?”
Sam thought for a moment. “You’ll answer all my questions.”
Sidney hesitated. She looked thoughtfully to the horizon. “Yes, Captain. I trust you’ll use the information wisely.” She looked back at Sam. “I do trust you. I hope you trust me.”
“I have to, Sidney. My sons’ lives depend on it. You see, there’s a method to my apparent madness. It’ll be risky. We may both end up dead. You’d better understand that right up front.”
Sidney shifted her gaze from Sam’s eyes to his forehead and followed his hairline down to folds of his ears, followed his strong jaw line and down his throat to the hollow spot just above his breastbone. She noted how the neatly pressed shirt hugged the muscles of his chest and arms. His left hand rested low on his hip.
“All morning I was preparing to leave this world. Instead, I’m going to a picnic and may eventually return home. Perhaps I’m just too grateful to waste my time worrying about what may or may not happen tomorrow. The present moment, Captain Samaru Waterhouse, is all I need.”