“Is what?” I asked, unbelieving.
He said hurriedly, “I meant emotionally intolerable. Not everyone is as strong as you, sir. Most of the crew can’t accept the notion that there’s no way out, and would go glitched if they did. If we had no fusion drive they’d demand that you invent one, or teleport us to Lunapolis. Logic has nothing to do with their reaction.”
“And?”
“If you’ll excuse my saying so, you can continue acting in a logical fashion, which is your prerogative, or you can recognize their illogical needs.”
“Get to the point, Mr. Dakko.”
He shook his head. “I’ve gone about as far as I can, sir. I’ve read your regs and I have no desire to be hanged.”
I grunted. He recognized, at least, the thinness of the ice on which he skated. The right of petition was not uniformly granted. On some ships it was not even to be considered. Presenting an appeal was one thing, but telling me what the crew demanded was quite another. He was quite sensible to stop where he had.
“I order you to tell me your thoughts, Mr. Dakko.” If he’d read the regs, he’d know that I’d taken him off the hook. He could be hanged for refusing to obey, but if he spoke he couldn’t be touched no matter what he said.
“Aye aye, sir. They need to believe the drive can be fixed. So, you might let them try to fix it. They can’t possibly succeed, but it will keep them occupied and give them a goal.”
“A false one.”
“A necessary one, in my opinion. They need to believe in something.”
“And when it doesn’t work?”
“Some of them will begin to accept reality, and the others will keep trying. Let them. They can get mad at the drive, if need be. At least it won’t be you.”
I unfolded the petition. “Ms. Battel signed this. I’m surprised.”
“Yes, sir. I imagine she knows the drive isn’t repairable. I think she signed to be one with the crew, sir. For her own reasons.”
“Um.” I perused the list; nearly everyone in the crew berth had signed. Except ... “Chris’s name isn’t here.”
“No, sir.”
“Why not?”
A wary glance. “Are you ordering me to answer?”
“Yes.”
“He wanted to sign. I took him into the head and told him I would beat the living hell out of him if he did, and he believed me.”
I said after a moment, “You’ve changed, Mr. Dakko.”
“Yes, sir. Six months ago I was too civilized to threaten him. I was too ... sane. I was principled.”
I smiled. “For all your telling him he was on his own, you still look after him.”
“I wasn’t sure how you’d react, sir. I’m still not. I don’t want him hanged, no matter how unlovable he’s become.”
“Nobody will be hanged,” I said with a long, tired sigh. It seemed I’d played the part of the tyrant all too well. “Tell your messmates their petition has been received, and I’m inclined to grant it. I’ll work out the details with Dray. You understand, if they weld new plates over the hole, I’ll allow low-power testing, but there’s no possible way we’ll fire an untuned drive, and the fusion drive will be untunable no matter what they do.”
“Yes, sir. I don’t intend to pass on your last remark.”
I sent him back to the crew berth and remained in my cabin to mull over this latest development. The crew was fortunate to have a spokesman as prudent as Dakko. It occurred to me that he might have engineered his own selection, to present the matter in the least inflammatory manner.
Later, when I told Dray what I had in mind, he emphatically shook his head. “There’s no way to repair the drive.”
“Nonetheless, there’s no harm in their trying. Drag the work out as long as you can. I don’t look forward to dealing with their disappointment.”
“I’ll bet you don’t.”
I wanted to smash his face, to claw the smugness out of it. I swung my chair to face him. “Listen carefully.”
“To another threat?” His tone was sour.
“A statement. If you want an apology for what I did, you may have one. In fact, here it is: I apologize. I regret I pretended to be insane and threatened to burn your fingers off. It was wrong of me to do it. I’m sorry for it.”
He contemplated me. “It sounds like you have more to say.”
“There is. Drop your contemptuous manner and speak to me with Naval protocol. The first time you don’t, I’ll toss you in section four with the rest of the mutineers and there you’ll stay for the rest of the cruise. I so swear by Lord God’s grace. You have until tomorrow to decide. That’s all.”
He studied my face intently. I met his gaze, expressionless. Grimly, he nodded and left.
Alone, I cursed my lack of self-control. If Dray chose to challenge me, I was bound by my soul to banish him, but I needed him. To whom else could I trust the engine room? Deke?
The enthusiasm with which the crew embraced the repair project astonished me. Virtually everyone asked to be assigned to the project in off-duty time. One of their first tasks was clambering outside the hull in magnetic-soled suits, measuring the hole in the drive shaft. I used it as an opportunity to give Gregor suit training; I bade Philip escort the cadet through the lock to the work area.
It was a long walk down the hull from the aft airlock on Level 2 to the drive shaft, at the very stern of the vessel. For each step Gregor must make and break magnetic contact with the hull, while Philip hovered near in his thrustersuit. I knew hull-walking could be exhausting to the novice, and was no great fun for the experienced sailor. But if Gregor misstepped and pushed himself off the hull, Philip would be there to bring him back. By custom, such a blunder by a cadet or middy was rewarded with enthusiastic hazing, but Gregor would be spared that.
They came aboard flushed and exhilarated. Gregor’s elation didn’t even dampen when I met them in the corridor near the lock, though his manner became more reserved and much more cautious.
“Well, Mr. Tyre, will the cadet become a spaceman?” I deliberately spoke to Philip rather than Gregor; I’d already parted with tradition too often.
“I think he’ll manage, sir. If I can give him more practice.”
“If it’s practice he wants, make him a tool carrier. That should build up his leg muscles.”
Both boys smiled at that. Gregor would be sent the length of the hull carrying instruments for the working party, perhaps several times each trip Outside. He’d soon get the hang of hull-walking. I grinned, recalling my own pleasure at the occasional opportunity to go Outside. Did all middies feel that way? Certainly all the ones I’d known.
“Very well.” I added, “See that he has two hours of nav drill for every hour he’s allowed out.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Maybe it was the oxygen; their exuberance was undiminished by the work I’d assigned. Feeling as decrepit as old Mr. Reeves I left them to their youthful pleasures.
I summoned Walter Dakko, issued him a stunner, and brought him to the infirmary. Seaman Clinger was well enough to be discharged. One look at the master-at-arms told Clinger all he needed to know, yet he begged piteously for a reprieve.
“No, I won’t listen. Mr. Dakko, take him below.”
“Please, sir, don’t make me go back! Andy and me ... There’s bad blood now. Twice he’s hit me on the head, like to kill me. You put me back there, I gotta kill him or he kills me for sure, there’s no’ other way.”
“So be it, then.”
He groaned. Walter Dakko took his arm. Clinger was too weak to offer any resistance, and didn’t attempt any. I led them down to the section four hatch. The inside control was disabled so the men couldn’t get out, and the outer control was sealed to my code. “Be ready to open fire, Mr. Dakko.” I entered the code.
Clinger blurted, “Could I at least talk to Elena sometimes, sir? It wouldn’t do no harm, if once in a while ...”
“Elena? Elena?”
“Ms. Bartel, yes, sir. She got to talkin’
with me a lot, back up there, and got me to thinkin’. If I can’t get out of here ...” He shuddered and went on quickly, “Could I talk to her once in a while? Please?”
“In!” I roared. He scuttled through the hatch! I slapped it closed.
Within a week I began to notice sailors skimping on their regular duties to make time for the repair project. Because we were so shorthanded, the men were already overworked trying to accomplish tasks necessary for our survival. Only by giving up all remaining idle time were they able to tend their project at all.
Now the recycler’s mates short-checked the system gauges, rather than bleeding down the pipes to recalibrate the controls as the book required. I put the whole detail on report and banned them from working on the drive for a week. Despite the example I made, slackness increased.
Anxious to begin with, I had to watch helplessly from the bridge for endless hours as novice crewmen set out with more experienced sailors on dangerous hull duty. Their suits were constructed of tough fiber alloy, and the hull had no sharp edges, but some tools had points, oxygen tanks could run low, and there were myriads of ways my sailors could get themselves killed.
Any death would be a calamity, and from a cold-blooded perspective, I had no way to replace a man who died. I hated having to let them go out. I particularly could ill afford to lose any officer.
I gritted my teeth the first time Gregor lost contact with the hull. Every greenie floats at least once in his training; I wish I could forget the time I did it. Philip let him drift helpless a few minutes to learn his essential safety lesson, then I had him bring the cadet inside for the day.
Two days later I was enduring their idle chatter on the suit radios when it happened again.
“Whoops! Oh, damn!”
“Having a problem, Cadet?” Philip, with gentle malice.
“Could you get me down, Mr. Tyre? Please?” I knew the absolute dependence he felt was not pleasant.
“Perhaps later. I was thinking, the wardroom needs cleaning. The bunks taken down and the bulkheads scrubbed.” Philip was doing his job: Gregor’s carelessness could cost him his life, and a penalty was appropriate. But we didn’t have time for hazing.
I keyed the caller. “Just bring him in, Mr. Tyre. Until he learns to be careful.”
“Aye aye, sir. Let’s go, Gregor. Stick out your arm. Watch it. Now let your heels settle to the deck. That’s right. Now a step at a time. Walk, don’t dance. You remind me of a girl I knew once. Okay, you’re on your own.”
A moment later Gregor yelped. “Oh, not again! I’m sorry, Mr. Tyre!”
“Take hold of him!” I roared. “Keep your hands on him until he’s in the airlock!” Fuming, I left the bridge unattended and stomped down to the suiting room. Seeing me they immediately stiffened to attention. “Mr. Attani, my compliments to the Chief Engineer, and would he encourage you not to be such a clumsy dolt!”
Gregor swallowed, his look imploring my mercy. He found none. “Aye aye, sir,” he murmured.
Philip said hurriedly, “He meant no harm, sir. I didn’t make clear how important it—”
“Cadet, out!” As the boy scuttled to the corridor I rounded on Philip. “You’re nineteen, Mr. Tyre. Six years you’ve been in the Service? You know better than to skylark Outside, and you certainly know better than to argue with me. Do you think a midshipman may countermand a Captain’s orders?”
“No, sir. I wasn’t countermanding—”
“You’re arguing. Most nineteen-year-olds aren’t caned, as you well know. They know their duty, and their place.”
“Yes, sir.” Philip was pale.
“Report to the Chief. Tell him I said to put you over the barrel. Remind him this is the second time you’ve argued with orders and I intend it to be the last time.”
“Aye aye, sir!” He dashed to the hatch.
“If you behave no better than a cadet, you’ll be treated like one!” A cheap parting shot, at a target who couldn’t fight back, but I thrust down any hint of remorse.
A short while later Philip and Gregor, chastened, reported to the bridge. For the first time in the years I’d known him, Philip Tyre seemed sullen. I didn’t dare call him on it, for fear of plumbing its depths. If I’d finally broken his irrepressible goodwill, the consequences on my prison ship would be grim indeed.
I had no doubt whatsoever about Gregor’s disposition. It was brooding and ominous. He reported civilly enough, saluting properly and requesting his discipline be entered into the Log. But I had the sense that if I pushed him one iota further he would turn on me and lash out, perhaps kill me.
I knew I couldn’t allow that. If I were not to fear him from now onward, I had to confront his behavior. “Philip, to your quarters.”
“Aye aye, sir.” He saluted, wheeled, and marched out, the performance marred only by his stilted gait.
“You have something to say, Mr. Attani?”
“No, sir.” Gregor’s eyes were fastened on the deck.
“I find your manner unpleasant. Change it.”
“What do you want me to do, sir?”
I slapped him. He recoiled in dismay.
“Do you know a cadet’s legal status, Mr. Attani?”
“I guess so.”
I slapped him harder. His fists clenched, but thank Lord God he didn’t raise his hand. Had he done so I’d have been bound to execute him. “A cadet is the legal ward of his Captain. He has no personal rights. He is as a child to a parent. How many times would you like your face slapped, Mr. Attani?”
“Please, sir!”
I shouted, “Answer me!”
“No times! I don’t want you to hit me, sir!” His eyes brimmed.
I slapped him again. “Look at your hand, Mr. Attani. It’s a fist!”
He stared at his fingers, his eyes widening. Slowly he opened them.
“Please,” he whispered. “Let me go down to the crew berth with the others.”
“No. You’re a cadet. Go to the wardroom.”
He blurted, “I’m not a child. It tears me to shreds when you treat me as one!” He took several breaths in an effort to control himself. Then the dam burst; he rushed on, “I went to the engine room like you ordered and lay across that barrel, and Christ, he hurt me! I tried to hold still, I know I’m supposed to, but I couldn’t anymore, my rear was on fire and Mr. Tyre had to grab my arms and hold me while I yelled, and please, sir, I don’t understand why! By Lord God’s grace, let me go back to the crew!”
“No. You’re an officer in training and I’ll have you behave like one. Do you want to be hit again?”
He spoke so softly I could hardly hear. “No, sir.” He slumped in abject defeat.
“Do you want to be sent to the Chief?”
“God, no, sir, please!”
“Behave as I expect, and neither of those things will happen. Go to the wardroom.”
Standing helplessly, hands pressed to his sides, he began to cry, choking sobs that racked his body. He made no move to cover his face or wipe the streaming tears.
I dropped heavily into my chair, swung it the other way. I waited a few moments before I said, “You may go to your quarters, Gregor.”
It took a moment for his discipline to reassemble itself, but it held. “Aye aye, sir.” I didn’t turn for his salute. As he left I breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief.
I had broken him. He would do his duty. I had left him nothing else.
I slept that night, but not well. In the morning I forced myself out of bed to face another day. In the head I stepped under the shower, still half asleep, turned on the welcome biting spray of hot water.
A second later I came stumbling out, my squawk echoing from the bulkheads. I rubbed myself vigorously with the towel.
It was the coldest water I’d ever encountered, short of a block of ice.
I let the water run. If anything, it got colder. Cursing a blue streak I wriggled into my pants, flung my jacket over my bare shoulders, charged out into the corridor.
> Chris Dakko didn’t duck out of my way in time; I bounced off him and resumed course for the ladder. Moments later I was down to Level 3, heading for the engine room.
“Jeez, it’s the Captain!” Blurred figures came to attention as I whirled past, coattails flying. I pounded at the engine room hatch in blind frustration until my fist accidentally hit the control panel and the hatch flew open.
I snarled. “What in God’s blue blazes do—”
Deke glanced up from the pipe he held in place.
“Don’t move it, you silly pup!” Dray roared. Jokko, making himself unnoticed in the corner, flinched.
I took in the puddles of water, the dank steamy atmosphere. “What happened?”
Dray grunted. “These damnfool joeykids took their eyes off the gauges.” He wrenched at the pipe. “Let the steam pressure build up, they did. Blew the main feed valve.” He glanced at me, added heavily, “Sir.”
“The water in my shower—”
“Cold, I’ll bet.” His mouth turned up but his eyes held no humor. “The pipes are drained dry now, sir. If I’d gotten here a few minutes later they’d probably have frozen solid. And if they’d burst ...”
“What were these—people doing?”
He gestured at the stores compartment. “Helping Eddie look for a plate the right size, sir.” My mind on the puzzle, I nonetheless noticed his careful courtesy.
I groped. “A plate?” Then I swung to Deke. “For the damned fusion drive? You neglected your watch for that?”
Deke opened his mouth, thought better of it. He hunched over as if afraid I would physically attack him. I’d have liked to. My eye strayed to the barrel mounted in the corner; I wished I could send them to it. Unfortunately I could not. Young officers were subject to corporal punishment, but not ordinary sailors. For them I had recourse only to punishment details or the brig. A wise provision; otherwise a tyrannical Captain would provoke rebellion by crewmen whose manhood couldn’t stand physical abuse. Of all the enlisted men on a Naval vessel, only the ship’s boy, still a minor, could be beaten, and rarely was.
A trickle of water ran down my nose, as a thought crystallized.
Challenger's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 2) Page 35