Challenger's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 2)

by David Feintuch

  I said quietly, “Don’t let him hurt you, Derek.”

  “I won’t, sir.”

  “Promise.”

  “I promise, sir.” Abruptly he added, “Thank you for caring.”

  I touched his shoulder and walked away, not trusting myself to speak. What it must have cost him, I couldn’t know. I made a note to watch the Log for demerits. If Philip started again, I would beach him. Permanently.

  Freiheit Defused in the middle of the night, sending alarm bells clanging and my heart slamming against my ribs. I conferred with Captain Tenere, and delivered Captain Derghinski’s instructions. Freiheit plotted her course for the next rendezvous point. A half hour later she Fused and was gone.

  At dinner the next day the transients were subdued, almost obsequious. It took me a while to realize that they were reacting to my stand with Chris Dakko on their behalf. Eddie shyly asked me if Amanda would be giving any more reading lessons; I told him gently that she would, after she recovered.

  After the meal I accompanied them back to Level 2. They clustered around the sentry posted at the airlock, teasing him and jostling each other until I snapped, “Knock off joeys!” They obeyed immediately. It occurred to me that for all my prestige as Captain, I hadn’t truly been a figure of authority to them until I’d faced down an Upper New Yorker.

  I spent a full half hour trying to separate myself from the transients. With the death of Melissa Chong I seemed to have inherited her role as liaison between the transpops and the civilized denizens of the ship. No matter that I had put Alexi Tamarov in charge; they ignored him and came to me with their problems and complaints.

  Raull wanted Jonie to stop beating him up; Deke complained that Gregor Attani and his friends were still making fun of them. Jonie wanted to get her hair done like Annie’s and Annie wouldn’t tell her who had done it. At least, I thought that was what they were trying to tell me.

  After I extricated myself I went to the infirmary and knocked on the hatch. Dr. Bros himself let me in; his med tech was off duty. In his tiny office he sat back and looked at me gravely. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

  “It’s Amanda,” I said. “What can you do for her?”

  “She’s no better?”

  “At times,” I admitted. “She cries for Nate, and I think she’s going to be all right. Then she’ll wake up because it’s time to get him breakfast. It’s worse because all his things are still in the cabin. His crib, his clothes, the baby food. Should I have them packed?”

  “How long has it been? A week?” I nodded. “No, I would say not. She needs to grieve. Taking his things away won’t distract her; she’s already trying her best not to think about his death.”

  “Is there anything you can do? Drugs, or medicine?” I hoped he’d understand. The horror of what went on in my cabin was more than I could speak of. And still I felt that tiny hand on my shoulder ... I cleared my throat briskly. “Anything?”

  He considered. “Well, we know there’s a strong hormonal element in grieving. Tears flush out harmful chemicals and actually cure the mind. That’s why women are often more mentally healthy than men; they’ve been taught to cry more easily. We could examine Amanda for hormone rebalancing.”

  “Amanda, a schizo?” I was horrified.

  “Not only schizophrenics go to hormone rebalancing centers, Captain,” he said with a small smile. “In any event, we can’t do a full rebalance with our limited equipment. But it’s not absolutely necessary; it’s just an option.”

  “What would you do, yourself?”

  “I’d probably run her blood chemistry through the analyzer and see what we found. Or you could wait.”

  “How long?” I didn’t know how much more I could stand.

  “A week, certainly. Not more than a month; her behavior patterns will become fixed and much harder to change.”

  “Is there any harm in waiting?” I wanted Amanda to snap back on her own; I hated the idea that she might be mentally ill.

  “Not for a while,” the doctor said gently. “Let her be for now.”

  “A week,” I said. “After we’re Fused again I’ll decide what to do if she hasn’t recovered.” On that note we parted.

  When I got back to the cabin Amanda was almost cheerful. “Hi, Nicky, where’ve you been?”

  “Taking care of the trannies,” I said, half truthfully.

  She winced. “Don’t let them hear you saying that.” I smiled. “It’s odd, though. When Eddie wants their attention he yells, ‘Yo, trannies!’ Apparently they only take offense when outsiders say it.” I sat wearily in the chair by the conference table.

  Amanda perched on my lap. “I wish we were happier, Nicky,” she said wistfully. She bit her lip. “God, I miss him.” I hugged her gently, not daring to speak. We sat like that for several minutes. I loved her so much at that moment, knowing she was truly with me. Then she got up to get Nate a blanket, and my world crashed at my feet.

  The next afternoon two ships arrived within minutes of each other; the first time the alarms sounded I ran to the bridge at full gallop; the second time I was already there. Hindenburg Defused seventy thousand kilometers from us; we exchanged recognition signals and I gave Captain Everts the message to proceed to the next rendezvous. She nodded grimly, waited while her course was plotted, said good-bye, and disappeared.

  Captain Hall glowered at me from the bridge of Soyez. “I’m senior to Derghinski, Seafort. His orders don’t bind me.”

  “No, sir,” I agreed. “But he is senior to me, and my orders were to give you the message.”

  His visage softened. “Yes, I understand. Hell of a mess, isn’t it? It would be a lot easier if we knew where the Admiral went.”

  “Yes, sir.” There was no need to say more.

  “Very well, he’s probably right. I’ll go on. How long has it been since Derghinski Fused?”

  “Six days, sir.” He’d told me to wait seven.

  “The rest of the squadron is still behind us somewhere, Lord God willing.” He brooded. “Can you wait a few more days, Seafort? I don’t want to order you, but it would be in all our interests.”

  “I’ll wait.” It didn’t seem to matter anymore.

  “Give it three more days, Seafort. That should be enough, no matter what the variation in our fusion drives. If they’re coming they’ll be here by then.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” We said our good-byes and broke the connection. I watched his ship, barely visible against the backdrop of innumerable points of light, until he Fused and was gone.

  I waited with impatience for our vigil to end, spending much of my time on the bridge. The morning after Captain Hall Fused, the Log listed Derek Carr with two demerits, issued by the first midshipman. I gripped my chair arm. I would allow five. No more. Then Philip Tyre was through.

  That afternoon there was a knock on the bridge hatch. Philip Tyre, requesting permission to enter. I regarded him coldly. “Well?”

  He stood at attention; I hadn’t released him. “Sir ...” His tone was determined. “I’d like you to cancel demerits issued in error.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, sir.” He blushed.

  “To Mr. Carr, I presume?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What kind of error, Mr. Tyre?”

  He took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. “An error in judgment, sir. Mine. Mr. Carr did not deserve any demerits.”

  “Very well.” I was vastly relieved. “His demerits are canceled.”

  “Thank—”

  “You may have them instead.”

  His relief was unabated, despite the hours of hard calisthenics I’d just consigned him to. “Thank you very much, Captain. Thank you! Am I dismissed?”

  “Yes.” He wheeled for the door, but I thought better of sending him off on that note. “You showed good judgment this afternoon, Mr. Tyre. It will be noted.”

  He broke into a shy smile. “Thank you, sir.” He left. After my watch some curious urge took me to the exerci
se room. I looked in; I wasn’t noticed. Philip Tyre was energetically working off a demerit. Derek Carr was accompanying him, the two chatting amiably while they exercised. I closed the hatch quietly. Would wonders never cease?

  The next day I was on watch with Vax when a delegation of passengers asked to see me. I had Rafe Treadwell escort them to the bridge: Dr. Antonio, on behalf of the Passengers’ Council. Walter Dakko, Emily Valdez, and several others I hardly knew.

  “Captain, we’ve paid for passage to Hope Nation on a passenger vessel. Instead we’re drifting, waiting for God knows what, in the middle of a battle zone. We’re civilians, all of us. It’s unfair to subject us to the risks of war.”

  “We’re a U.N.N.S. Naval vessel,” I corrected him. “Part of the military forces of the United Nations, as is every U.N. ship.”

  “Technically, perhaps. But you have over a hundred civilians aboard.”

  “Technically?” I slammed my fist on the console. “You booked passage knowing we’re a military vessel.”

  “We booked passage because it was the only way to get to Hope Nation.” Walter Dakko.

  “And we just want to make sure we get there,” Dr. Antonio interjected. “Look, Captain, we know you carry weapons to protect the ship, and we’re grateful for that. But to wait here looking for trouble, when we could be on our way ...”

  “Those are our orders.” My voice was stiff.

  Walter Dakko asked, “From whom? The Admiral? And where is he now?” It sounded like a sneer.

  “Where he is doesn’t matter,” I told them. “I sympathize with your desire to get moving; frankly I feel the same myself. When we’ve carried out our orders we’ll Fuse.”

  Dr. Antonio nodded. “And if we meet one of those—those beasts again? Will we stay to fight, or Fuse to safety? We’ve a right to know.”

  “A right?” My voice was low. Vax Holser coughed deliberately. I ignored him.

  “Yes, it involves our lives too,” Dr. Antonio.

  “Several people have been killed, in case you forgot.” Walter Dakko’s tone was acid.

  I found myself standing, fists clenched. Vax sang out, “Energy readings normal, Captain.” He indicated his console.

  “What?” I was momentarily distracted. Then I took a deep breath. “All right, Mr. Holser, that’s not necessary. Escort these people from the bridge.” I was trembling slightly. With an effort I controlled it.

  Dr. Antonio protested, “Captain, we have a right to know—”

  “Come along, all of you,” said Vax, his voice suddenly hard. He steered Dr. Antonio to the hatch, his arm sweeping Walter Dakko and the others along.

  “But we—”

  “No, you’re leaving the bridge.” There was a note to Vax’s voice that frightened me. In a moment we were alone. He turned to me. “Are you all right, sir?”

  I slumped in my seat. “That—”

  “Bastard. Aye aye, sir. Dakko forgot your son. He didn’t mean it the way it sounded. He couldn’t have.”

  I leaned back. Vax was right. But for a moment, I would have done anything. Launched myself at his throat, or worse. I heard my boy cry. I held his limp body against my shoulder.

  I tried to swallow, past a lump that barred my throat.

  Some minutes passed before I could speak, “Thank you, Vax.” I looked for a way to busy myself. “Let’s plot the course to the next rendezvous again. Just to be sure.”

  Vax sighed, knowing my fixation. We bent to our consoles.

  I had worked my way through most of the math when a knock came on the hatch. I turned in anger. If it was those self-righteous passengers again—

  “Seaman Allen reporting, sir.”

  I looked stupidly at the sailor. He waited at attention just outside the hatchway.

  “You asked to see me, sir?” he prompted.

  “I did?” My mind was fogged.

  “Aye aye, sir. I was told to report to you.”

  “Who sent you?” The crew was shorthanded, but this disorganization was maddening. I’d have to put someone on it, before—

  “Mrs. Seafort, sir. She said the caller wasn’t working right.”

  “Amanda went to the crew berth to find you?” My mind was on our calculations.

  “No, sir,” he said, his brow wrinkling. “To my station.”

  “What station?” I glared at the figures on my console. Damn these foul-ups. Amanda wouldn’t interfere with ship’s routine; whatever the Sailor had heard he couldn’t have gotten it right.

  “At the airlock, sir. I’m on sentry duty.”

  I got slowly to my feet. “The aft airlock?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  It had to be a mistake. Amanda wouldn’t bother a sentry on duty, would she? Unless—

  Oh, Lord God!

  Danny suddenly came to life. “Aft airlock in use! Inner airlock control activated!”

  “Override!” I roared.

  “OVERRIDE FAILURE! BRIDGE OVERRIDE INOPERATIVE! INNER HATCH SEALED! LOCK CYCLING!”

  “Amanda!” I tore past the sentry. My howl preceded me down the corridor. “Amanda, no! DON’T!”

  As I careened down the ladder Danny’s high-pitched voice echoed from the bridge. “Outer hatch in use! Lock cycling—”

  I whirled round the corridor bend and crashed into a passenger. We tumbled. I staggered to my feet. The airlock was just past the curve. My ribs felt broken. I stumbled around the bend.

  The inner hatch was shut. I pressed my face to the lock’s transplex panel. The outer airlock hatch was open, the interstellar dark licking at the feeble light from overhead.

  Amanda was carrying Nate’s baby-blue blanket. Through the hatch I could see one end of the blanket still wrapped around her wrist; its other end was tangled in the airlock control lever. Outrushing air had swirled the contents of the lock toward the open hatch. What was left of Amanda floated stiffly, a grotesque pendulum swinging from the corner of the light blue blanket.

  I pressed my face against the hatch, my fingers clawing at the transplex. Footsteps thudded behind me; Vax’s huge form was reflected in the transplex hatch. He stopped, moaned. His great hand slapped the outer airlock control. Slowly the outer lock slid shut, blocking the dark.

  The safety light blinked. Vax pounded the inner lock control in rage and frustration as the lock cycled and filled the chamber with air. The green light flashed; slowly the inner lock slid open. Instantly Vax squeezed through the opening, bending to Amanda’s still, frozen form. With a sob he snatched her up, brushed past me, and pounded off down the corridor toward the ladder and the infirmary.

  I raised my head. Alongside the hatch control was taped a piece of paper. Dully I took it. I unfolded it.

  Dearest Nick:

  I know you didn’t mean to be cruel, it’s just the way you see things, duty and all. If it weren’t for his crying I could stand it. Can’t you hear him? He’s freezing! He wants another blanket. He needs it, Nicky, or he’ll catch a terrible cold. I’m his mother; I can’t ignore him any longer. I tried to for your sake, and it’s breaking my heart. I’ll come inside soon. I have to find him and give him his blanket. Then he’ll sleep.

  All my love. Amanda

  I crumpled the note. It fell to the deck.

  One foot, then another. I found I was able to walk. Soon I was at the ladder. I had a difficult time with it but after a while I was at Level 1. I knew where the bridge was. I started toward it.

  My seat felt soft and inviting. I gripped the armrests. Rafe Treadwell stared in shock and horror. I studied my Fusion calculations but was too tired to grasp the numbers.

  After a while Vax was back on the bridge, his eyes red. He shook his head grimly, sank into his chair, observed me. No one spoke. The numbers whirled in my brain.

  “What about Seaman Allen, sir?” blurted Rafe.

  I blinked. Slowly I stood. “I’ll take care of it,” I said. I started toward the hatch.

  “Sir, where are you going?” Vax was perturbed.

&nbs
p; “Going?” My voice sounded strange. “Below. I’m going below to the crew berth.”

  “Why, sir?”

  A stupid question. I tried to keep the annoyance out of my tone. “To hang him, of course.”

  Vax was on his feet. He didn’t run, but he was at the hatch before me. “No you’re not, sir.”

  I couldn’t understand. “What do you mean, Vax? Out of my way.”

  His huge form blocked the hatchway. “Come with me, sir. We’re going that way.” He steered me into the corridor.

  “Over there? That’s the infirmary. I’m going below.”

  “No, sir, we’re going here.” His great hands were surprisingly gentle. I allowed him to guide me. As he led me along the corridor I realized tears were streaming down my face. For the life of me I couldn’t imagine why.

  PART II

  May 18, in the year of our Lord 2198

  8

  I TRIED AGAIN TO KNOT my tie. My sallow face, expressionless, stared from the mirror. When I was satisfied I had it right I picked up my jacket from the back of the chair and put it on. I checked my black shoes; their shine was satisfactory. I left my desolate cabin and walked to the dining hall.

  At my table the transpops stood solemnly. I tapped on my glass. When there was quiet I cleared my throat. “Lord God, today is May 18, 2198, on the U.N.S. Portia. We ask you to bless us, to bless our voyage, and to bring health and well-being to all aboard.”

  I sat amid the mumbled amens, looked with distaste at my plate. It was obligatory to eat, otherwise I wouldn’t stay alert to perform my duties. I took some food. I didn’t notice what kind.

  Around me the transients jabbered, poking and punching each other as they wolfed their dinner. I slammed my open hand down on the table. The silverware jumped. Into the silence I said, “No more horseplay.” No one spoke. I turned my eyes to my unwanted meal.

  For two days I’d lain in the infirmary under sedation, flickering in and out of awareness. At times I was alone; more often I saw or imagined Vax Holser, Alexi, or Derek Carr sitting quietly in the corner of the white still cubicle. Occasionally I heard sobbing but had no understanding whose it was.

  Then they helped me dress and took me down the corridor to the dining hall, where a service was conducted. All the passengers and most of the crew were present; far too many for the narrow circumference corridor. I stood numbly while Dr. Bros memorialized my wife; afterward I walked docile between Vax and Derek to the airlock. Vax Holser read from his holovid the words of the Christian Reunification service for the dead, as promulgated by the Naval Service of the Government of the United Nations. “ ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ...’ ” After a time he was finished. He looked at me, as if awaiting permission. I nodded. He gave the order and the casket was expelled.