Midshipman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 1)

by David Feintuch

  In our room, after dinner, he moped on his bed while I got ready to turn out the light.

  “What’s bothering you, Anthony?”

  His voice was quiet. “Please belay that, Mr. Seafort.”

  “What’s wrong, Derek?”

  “This is my house. I should be at the head of the table.”

  “Someday.”

  “But in the meantime ...” He brooded. “Fenn mentioned one point two million bushels of wheat. The reports they sent my father listed seven hundred thousand. Someone’s been skimming. Who knows what else Plumwell’s stolen? I’ve got to do something.”

  “Why?”

  He was surprised. “It’s my money.”

  I had no sympathy. “You have your pay billet. Are you hurting?”

  “That’s not the point,” he said with disdain. “Should this—this thief get away with what’s not rightfully his?”

  “Yes, if he’s improving your estate.” He was shocked into silence. “You’re out of the picture, Derek. You’re so wealthy you won’t even miss what he steals. In the meantime, he’s opening up new acreage that permanently benefits your plantation. He’s doing a good job, stealing or not.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Derek said bitterly. “You never had anything, and you never will!”

  I snapped off the light, determined not to speak to him before morning. I yearned for the isolation of the Captain’s cabin.

  Presently he said, “I’m sorry.” I ignored him, cherishing my hurt.

  After a while he cleared his throat. “I apologize, Mr. Seafort.” I made no answer. He snapped on the light. “Am I talking to the Captain now, or Mr. Seafort the ex-midshipman?”

  A good question. In fairness to him, I wasn’t Captain at the moment. “The ex-midshipman.”

  “Then I won’t stand at attention. I didn’t mean what I just said. I was angry and wanted to hurt you. Please don’t make me grovel.”

  I relented. “All right. But I repeat what I told you. He’s doing a good job building Carr Plantation even if he does skim the profits.”

  “What if I tell him who I am, just before we leave. That’ll show him he can’t—”

  I felt a sudden chill. “Don’t even think about it, Derek.” Thousands of uncleared acres adjoined the cultivated fields. Some of them had hardly been explored.

  He shivered. “Well, maybe not while we’re still here. But when I get back to town I’ll file suit.”

  “No.”

  “He can’t be allowed to get away with it. If I move fast I’ll save—”

  “No, I said.”

  “Why not?”

  I was nettled. “Do you plan to stay on Hope Nation to fight a lawsuit?”

  “I guess I can’t, unless you let me resign, but—”

  “Get this straight, Mr. Carr! For the next four years you’re a midshipman in the United Nations Naval Service! You go where the Navy sends you. Understand? You took an oath, and a gentleman shouldn’t need reminding. The life you see here—it doesn’t exist yet.”

  “But—”

  “This is a form of time travel. Perhaps someday you’ll live here and worry about your riches, but not now. I took you on a visit to the future. You can’t touch anything and nobody can hear you!” There was silence. “Understand?”

  He didn’t answer. I rolled over and snapped off the light. Presently I heard Derek Anthony Carr, scion of the Hope Nation Carrs, cry himself to sleep after his Captain’s tongue-lashing.

  In the morning I felt guilty for having spoken so sharply. We brought our duffels down to breakfast. I had Anthony thank everyone in sight. Even Plumwell smiled as we tooled down the drive in our electricar.

  “Now what?” I asked when we were out of sight.

  Derek’s tone was petulant. “I’ve seen enough plantations, if I won’t be—” His fingers drummed on the armrest; when he spoke again his voice was subdued. “Sorry, sir. Do you still want to take me to the Venturas?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think I’d like that.”

  We headed back to Centraltown, camping once along the way. By the time we were back Derek was in good spirits, and I found to my surprise I’d begun to miss the organized bustle of shipboard life.

  I decided to shuttle up to Hibernia for a couple of days before leaving for the Ventura Mountains; Derek opted to stay in Centraltown. The peasant and the aristocrat parted company with awkward shyness.

  I changed back into Navy blues and tried to tame my wild hair before checking in at Admiralty House. Forbee confirmed that there was still no interstellar Captain in the Hope Nation system. Unless Telstar unexpectedly appeared, none was scheduled to arrive for another five months. In the meantime they’d radioed all local vessels to ask for lieutenants and midshipmen. If none volunteered, Forbee would simply assign me the necessary officers, and leave the local fleet short-handed.

  After boarding, I took a luxurious hot shower in my cabin, ran all my clothes through the sonic cleaner, and hunted up a barber on Orbit Station. Hair trimmed back to my normal Navy length, I felt a new man. I roamed my empty ship as if looking for something, but I knew not what. Vax, when I stumbled over him, greeted me like a long-lost brother. He too found the ship’s silence eerie and disturbing. I even unbent so far as to try a game of chess with him, to his delight. He was no match.

  Vax had learned through the grapevine that I would remain with Hibernia. To my astonishment he was pleased rather than apprehensive. I’d have thought he had more sense than to look forward to a cruise with an unqualified Captain who had my peculiar emotional disabilities. I didn’t remind him that depending on what officers were reassigned to Hibernia, he might be transferred out as a replacement. Time enough for that if it happened.

  Depressed and not knowing why, I took the next scheduled shuttle back down to Centraltown. Customs and quarantine waved me through; by now I’d become a regular. Small-town life was amazingly relaxed compared, say, to Lunapolis.

  I still had two days before I was to meet Derek for our trip to the mountains. I toured downtown Centraltown, explored the local museum, and ate in two of the recommended restaurants, occasionally encountering crewmen and former passengers. I stayed overnight in a prefab inn with the usual plastic furniture and decor. I bought a newschip and stuck it in my holovid; on page three was an announcement of an Anabaptist revival meeting in Newtown Hall. Mrs. Donhauser wasted no time. I thought of attending, but decided I didn’t care to meet her in her professional capacity.

  Thoughts of our passengers reminded me I’d promised to look up Amanda Frowel. I immediately decided against it. Then I spent the best part of an afternoon wandering aimlessly up and down the streets, arguing with myself. Sheepishly, I dug her address out of my duffel. After dinner I strolled across town to the address she had given.

  “Nicky!” An apron around her waist, she smiled happily through her screen door, old-fashioned and domestic, inflicting a pang of regret that I soon had to leave the colony. “Come in!” Her home was the back half of a comfortable wood house on a quiet side street on the edge of town. She rented, so help me, from a widow trying to make ends meet.

  “I was just passing by,” I mumbled, sounding an idiot.

  “But I was hoping you’d come. Look, my books are all over the place!” She brushed aside a pile of holovid chips scattered on a table. “I started work three days ago. Know what? They don’t want me just to teach natural science; I’m supposed to set up the whole science curriculum! They’ve never had one, isn’t that ridiculous?”

  “Hasn’t anybody been teaching geology and biology?”

  “Sure, but not in any organized way. They just got people who knew their subjects to come in and talk about them. Isn’t it quaint?”

  “Very.” My tone was sour. Our world aboard Hibernia seemed light-years away.

  “Would you like to take a walk? I’ll show you the school.” She was so enthused I agreed to go, wishing I hadn’t come to visit. She threw on a light jacket again
st the evening cool, and we set out for the school, about a mile away. She chattered with animation at first, but after a while she sensed my mood and grew quieter. We walked, hand in hand, under two moons. Their crossed shadows began to make me dizzy.

  The public school was a one-story building encased in sheet metal, apparently a popular local building material. Amanda unlocked the door and took me inside. “This is where I work.” She showed me a classroom. The consoles at the student desks struck no chord of recognition, as my own schooling was at home with Father. Amanda’s desk and master console were to one side, where, she could watch both the large screen and the students.

  “The new term starts in three weeks. Nicky, it’s so exciting! The joeys will be so different from northamericans.”

  “You think so?”

  “Wouldn’t they, growing up in such a wild, free place?”

  “I suppose.” I was feeling more and more depressed. “Amanda, I have to go. I have an appointment.”

  “You couldn’t stay awhile?” Her voice was wistful. My chest ached.

  “Come, I’ll walk you home.” I wanted to leave and stay at the same time. On ship I’d never felt so bumbling and awkward with her. We walked mostly in silence through the darkened streets; Major had set and only Minor remained to guide us.

  She hesitated, in front of her rustic home. “Will I see you again before you leave?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m taking Derek to the Venturas tomorrow, then I’ll have to go back aboard.” I hadn’t mentioned I was still in command.

  “Lieutenant Malstrom promised to take you there, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.” I was grateful she remembered.

  “Oh, Nicky.” Gently, she kissed the back of my hand. “Life isn’t the way we plan it.”

  “No,” I said miserably. I forced myself to smile. “Good-bye, Amanda.”

  “Good-bye, Nicky.” We looked into each other’s eyes before she turned to go. As if in astonishment, she said, “We’ll never see each other again.”

  “No.” I couldn’t stop looking at her.

  “Well ... good-bye, then.” She crossed her yard.

  “Amanda?”

  She stopped. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I—nothing.” As she opened her door I blurted, “Would you like to go with me?”

  “To the mountains? I can’t, Nicky. I have a job.”

  “I know. I thought maybe somehow—”

  “School starts in three weeks. If I don’t have my curriculum ready ...”

  “They’ll fire you?”

  She giggled. They’d waited three years for her; it would take three more to send for a replacement. “They won’t be very happy.” She frowned. “But I don’t care. I want to see the Ventura Mountains.”

  “Really?” I said stupidly.

  “With you. I want to see them with you.”

  My eyes stung. I felt light-headed and miserable all at once. I ran to her and we embraced. “You’ll really go? God, can we start now?”

  “Give me the night to get ready. And I have to explain to Mrs. Potter.” After a while she managed to get me to leave.

  Derek didn’t seem put out when I told him I’d invited Amanda. He helped me buy a second pup tent and load the extra food and other supplies in the jet heli we’d rented. I had to promise the heli service three times not to tamper with the transponder; Captain Grone’s disappearance must have made them skittish.

  We took off for the Western Continent shortly after breakfast. I was the only licensed driver; they’d taught us helipiloting at Academy but Derek and Amanda had never learned.

  The permabatteries had ample charge for months. From time to time I turned on the autopilot to lean back and rest my eyes. The craft was roomy enough for Derek and Amanda to switch seats; they did so several times before settling down.

  At four hundred fifty kilometers per hour it took us more than eight hours to reach the western shore. The huge submarine trees growing from the bottom of Farreach Ocean sent probing tentacles to the surface to absorb light. Plants somewhat like water lilies floated on the surface, rising and falling with the swells. The ocean was a vast liquid field of competing vegetable organisms.

  The jagged spires of the Western Mountains loomed on the horizon long before we reached the continent; their raw power was breathtaking. The low hills and gently sculpted valleys of the Eastern Continent were tame compared to the vigor of these much younger peaks.

  Derek pored over the map. “Do you want an established campsite or should we find a place of our own?”

  “Let’s find someplace,” I said. Amanda nodded agreement. The cleared campsites would be remote enough, but we had no need to settle for them. Even after a hundred years, there were places in the continent no foot had trod.

  Western Continent had settlements, far to the south, but here in the northern reaches virgin forests covered the sprawling land. At the coast, phalanxes of hills plunged to the sea to bury themselves in the swirling foam. Farther inland, great chasms cowered beneath the bristling peaks of the Venturas. The heli service had marked some of the more spectacular sights on our map. Taking bearings from nav satellites I headed west over dense foliage.

  As dusk neared I set us down on a grassy plain high in the hills. To one side was deep forest; a hundred feet beyond, the plain gave way to steep hills running down to a green and yellow valley. Across the vale a peak thrust upward so steeply that little grew on it. Waterfalls tumbled from the creases in the hill.

  We got out the three-mil poly tents and their collapsible poles. I helped Derek pound stakes into the soft earth. We clipped the thin, tough material across the poles, and the tents were ready. Amanda began trundling in our gear.

  Derek brought the micro and the battery cooler from the heli. He delved into the cooler and emerged with softies. While I downed mine in two long swallows, he kicked at the grass. “How about going really primitive?”

  I asked, “How?”

  “A bonfire.” A heady thought. In Cardiff, as in most regions of home, wood was scarce and pollution so great that hardly anyone could get a permit to burn outdoors. Even the flue over Father’s hearth had its dampers and scrubbers.

  Here, we need have no such concerns, as long as we were careful. I began clearing space for a fire.

  The tough native grasses didn’t pull out easily; it took a shovel to dig them out. Their shallow intertwined root system ran just below the surface, and I had to spade to break the roots free.

  Derek and Amanda returned from time to time with armfuls of firewood. I wondered if they intended our blaze to be seen from Centraltown. Our work kept us warm in the chill of the upland evening, but when we finished we immediately built up the fire.

  I fed the flames from my cushion near the pit, while Derek and Amanda consulted on dinner like two master chefs sharing a kitchen. It pleased me that they liked each other.

  We ate at fireside under the gleam of two benevolent moons. In the dark of the night, the crackling of the fire and the muted splashing of the waterfall across the valley were our only sounds. Knowing there were none, still I listened for insects and birds calling in the night.

  Hope Nation seemed too silent. I knew our ecologists were preparing to introduce a few bird species and selected terrestrial insects. Bees to pollinate crops the old-fashioned way, for instance.

  “It’s beautiful, Nicky.” Amanda sat between us. We’d devoured our dinner and were lazing around the campfire. Our once mighty stacks of wood were fast diminishing, but they’d last until bed.

  I tossed twigs into the flames. “What will people make of it when they settle here?”

  “They wouldn’t ruin a place like this.”

  I snorted. “You should see Cardiff.” I’d seen photos of home in the old days, before the disposal dumps and treatment plants and the litter of modern civilization had improved the terrain. Still, the picturesque old smelters remained, some of them, as ruins.

  I moved closer to the fire, w
atching my handsome midshipman’s face as he chatted with Amanda. Odd feelings stirred recalling Jason, eons past. I shivered, wrenched myself back to reality. “Have you camped out with a friend before, Derek?”

  He laughed. “On the rooftops of Upper New York?”

  We stared into the firelight.

  After a time he said to the flames, “I’ve never had a friend before, Mr. Seafort.”

  I didn’t know how to answer. In Cardiff I had companions my own age. Together, we ran in the streets and got into mischief. Father, vigilant about my own behavior, grudgingly accepted my choice of associates. Jason and I were especially close, until the football riot of ’90.

  The silence stretched.

  “Mr. Seafort, I want you to know.” Derek’s voice was shy. “This was the best day of my whole life.”

  I could think of nothing to say. Not knowing what else to do, I reached out and patted his shoulder.

  After a while Amanda yawned, and I found myself doing the same. “A long flight. I’m ready for bed.” I stood, and Amanda gathered her blanket.

  An awkward moment. Amanda and I took a step toward the larger tent but stopped, embarrassed. Derek pretended not to notice. Hunching closer to the fire he peeled off his shirt in its warmth. I tugged Amanda’s hand, gesturing toward our tent. On impulse, she let go my fingers, crossed to Derek. She leaned over him and kissed him on the cheek. In the flickering light I saw him blush right up to the roots of his hair. “G’night.” He fled to his tent.

  Smiling, I followed Amanda into our own shelter. We began taking off our clothes, poking and jostling each other in the closeness. I shivered when my skin touched the cold foam mattress. Amanda crawled in beside me.

  Perhaps it was the first night in the exotic wildness of Western Continent. Aroused as never before, I tried to possess Amanda absolutely. My fingers and tongue roamed, caressing, probing, stroking, taking her warmth and making it mine. I sucked greedily at her juices, her feverish hands guiding me gently. When at last I entered her it was as if I had become whole, our bodies thrusting desperately for fulfillment in simultaneous passion.