Midshipman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 1)

by David Feintuch

  We swooped lower into a horizontal flight pattern. Now I could spot patches of greenery, and soon, checkerboard fields dotting the landscape. Tall trees grew in random patterns. I found a road, then another. We were approaching what habitation we’d find on this recently barren planet.

  The pilot powered back for touchdown. We glided over the runway, wings in VTOL position, and hovered before drifting to a landing. Silence assaulted my ears. The Pilot grinned. “Welcome to the center of civilization, Captain.”

  I smiled back. “Thanks. It’s good to be here.” The hatch opened and I took a deep breath. A distinctly sulphurous smell. My eyes watered. “Gecch. Do you get used to this?”

  He looked surprised. “Used to what? Oh, the air? Sure, just takes a week or so. Don’t worry about it.”

  I climbed out of the shuttle. About twenty men and women were gathered beyond the wingtip, waiting. One of them came forward, a tall, graying man with an air of authority.

  “Captain Seafort? Welcome to Detour.” He held out his hand. Around his shoulders hung a blue and white ribbon from which was suspended the bronze plaque of office.

  I shook his hand, then saluted. “Governor Fantwell? I’m honored.”

  The colonial Governor smiled. “Let me introduce you around. Mayor Reuben Trake, of Nova City. Walter Du Bahn, president of the Bank of Detour.” I began shaking hands. “City Council President Ellie Bayes, Jock Vigerua, who owns the mines nearby. You don’t realize, Captain, what an event it is for a ship to come in; we only get two a year. Miss Preakes, editor of the Detour Sun ...”

  The introductions were finally completed. He guided me to an electribus; we all clambered in and found seats. “We’ve put on a lunch at City Hall.” The Governor was genial. “Then we’ll show you the town.”

  “I don’t suppose you have any Naval personnel about?”

  “Not a one,” Governor Fantwell said cheerfully. “Nary a seaman. Are you shorthanded?”

  “There’s a billet I wanted filled.” My own. But I’d known there was no Naval station on Detour and wasn’t surprised.

  City Hall was a plain, metal-sided building in the center of town. I could tell immediately it was City Hall; a large sign hanging over the door said so. In other respects it was exactly like all the surrounding structures.

  Seated at a table draped with a fancy cloth and festooned with bright silverware I said quietly to the Governor, “Actually, I came to talk to you before dumping a problem in your lap. Yours and the judge’s.”

  “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. I wondered if any problem I brought could faze him. “Just a sec. Let me get Carnova.” He beckoned across the hall to a rugged man who promptly joined our table. “What do you propose to dump on us?”

  I told them briefly about the Treadwell situation. “I’ve decided to let the boy enlist, and the parents will explode when they hear. They raised quite a ruckus on Hope Nation.”

  “This isn’t Hope,” Judge Carnova said bluntly. “We do things differently. The Navy isn’t under my jurisdiction. I won’t even give them a hearing.”

  “I’ll back you up,” the Governor told him. He turned to me with an easy smile. “You see? Your problem is solved.”

  I fiddled with a fresh fruit cup. Oranges and grapes, kiwi, bananas, and other fruits I couldn’t identify. “I wish everything were that easy.”

  “Tell me,” said the Governor. “Is it that I’m getting older, or are you rather young for a Captain?”

  I sighed and launched into the familiar explanation.

  27

  AFTER RETURNING TO MY SHIP I summoned Rafe Treadwell to the bridge. He entered hesitantly, his apparent calm betrayed by the fingers twisting at his shirt.

  “I’m prepared to enlist you.”

  “Thank you.” His shoulders slumped. “I was afraid you’d change your mind at the last minute.”

  “Sit at the console. Write a note to your parents telling them you’ve enlisted voluntarily. Give them your reasons. As soon as you’re done I’ll give you the oath.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Before you do, I have to warn you. Conditions are, uh, rather strained at the moment. You’ll be subjected to unusually intense hazing, even for a cadet.”

  He swallowed. “Yes, I’ve heard.” Of course, his sister would have told him. He bent to the console and typed his note.

  After I administered the oath I thumbed my caller. “Mr. Tyre, bring Mr. Tamarov to the bridge.”

  A few moments later they appeared. Alexi was heavily flushed and breathing hard; I must have interrupted a session in the exercise room.

  “Mr. Tyre, I’m seconding Mr. Tamarov for special duties for two days. He’ll guard our new cadet until we leave port. Kindly release him from your other requirements.”

  “Of course, sir.” Tyre smiled pleasantly. “Will they stay in the wardroom?”

  “Not until we leave Detour.” Knowing the Treadwells, I would take no chances, even in orbit far above the planet. I ordered Alexi and Rafe Treadwell bunked in the crew’s privacy chamber on Level 3. Alexi couldn’t conceal his relief at escaping Mr. Tyre, however briefly.

  Tyre appeared not to notice. “I’ll help them move, sir,” he said. “Can I do anything else to be useful?”

  I sent them away, reflecting on the irony. Other than an insane desire to destroy his subordinates, Philip Tyre was an excellent midshipman, eager, helpful, diligent at his studies. I was sure he felt no guilt for the torture he inflicted.

  I made a gesture of disgust. Imagine Derek standing regs, at his age. Ridiculous. I wondered how Philip had passed the psych interviews, and how he’d been dealt with as a cadet. Had he been brutalized? Not that it would be the slightest excuse for his own behavior. Still, I wondered.

  At dinner Lieutenant Crossburn asked, “You’re keeping the Treadwell boy on board?” I braced; obviously his question was but a preliminary.

  “Yes.” Another affair for him to probe.

  “I could be of assistance with the senior Treadwells, sir. That is, when they find out their son isn’t going ashore.”

  I could imagine Crossburn helping with the Treadwells. Asking how they felt, for instance, to record their reactions in his little diary.

  “No thank you. I’ll attend to it.”

  “How many enlistments without parental consent do you think the Navy’s seen, sir?” His eyes were guileless.

  “That’s quite enough, Mr. Crossburn.” My rebuke, too, would find its way into his record. I didn’t care. I was tired, lonely, perturbed by the effect my new officers had on the crew. I missed Amanda, and in a few weeks I’d pass tantalizingly close to her one last time. That would be almost too much to bear.

  I thought of home. Perhaps Father would take me back, after I was forced to resign. He would say nothing, of course. That was his way.

  As my watch ended, our first departing passengers were crowding into the small shuttles that serviced Detour Station. Several trips would be required to accommodate them. The Treadwells were due to leave in the morning; tonight they would surely notice their son’s absence. I went to bed wishing I knew how to avoid the forthcoming row.

  I woke to a commotion in the corridor. I thrust on my pants and flung open the hatch, peered to the east. Irene Treadwell, trying unsuccessfully to twist free from Vax Holser’s firm grip.

  She caught sight of me. “Tell this brute to let me go!”

  “You aren’t allowed up here, ma’am,” Vax said. He flashed me a glance of apology. “She was trying to get into the wardroom, sir.”

  “Where’s my son?” Ms. Treadwell’s voice rose. “What have you done to Rafe? I went looking for him and he’s nowhere to be found! Are you stealing my other child?”

  “We’re not steal—”

  “Are all of you people crazy?” At last she freed herself and rubbed her reddened wrist. “I tried the purser but he wouldn’t tell me anything. I went to the lounge and Rafe wasn’t there. I tried the wardroom—yes, I know I’m not supposed to—
and a big boy was on a chair in his undershorts reciting a book! He didn’t even stop; they just closed the door on me! What have you done with my Rafe?”

  I thought of sending for Lieutenant Crossburn. I took my holovid, slipped Rafe’s chip into it. “Go back to your cabin and read this.”

  “Does it say you’ve taken Rafe? You monster!” Her scream echoed down the corridor. “Not my boy! You can’t!”

  “Lieutenant, take her away!” I tried to close my hatch but she blocked it with her foot. Vax hauled her into the corridor. I closed the hatch quickly, leaned against it until the shouting died away. My limbs felt weak. I climbed into bed, lay wide awake.

  How often were similar scenes played out, back on Earth? When the origins of melanoma T were understood and the Navy lowered cadet enlistment age to thirteen, did parents face the loss of their children without qualms? How many mothers reacted with hysteria like Irene Treadwell? The Navy required consent from but one parent. I thought of my own host mother, in Devon, whom I’d never seen. What did she look like? Would she have cared?

  I tossed fitfully until early morning, then dressed and went to the officers’ mess for breakfast. I sat at the long table, alone except for Lieutenant Chantir, and sipped coffee while waiting for my scrambled eggs and toast. Other officers drifted in, found places. I picked at my food.

  “I hear there was a ruckus outside your hatch last night.” Lieutenant Crossburn took a seat alongside me.

  “Um.”

  “Mrs. Treadwell was on the first shuttle down this morning.” A pause. “They say when she went to court in Hope Nation you tried to throw the judge in jail.” Crossburn took a forkful of his eggs.

  My tone was acid. “I told you not to talk to her.”

  “Oh, we spoke several days ago, before your order. I merely listened.”

  “More grist for your mill, Mr. Crossburn?”

  “Sir, I fail to understand your objections to my diary. Frankly, I intend to bring the matter up with my uncle when we get home.”

  I stared. No lieutenant could speak so to his Captain.

  Mr. Chantir intervened. “Ardwell, I order you to be silent. Leave the Captain alone!”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Crossburn pursed his lips. After a moment’s thought he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and made a note. I considered hurling my coffee at his face, decided against it.

  “Pardon, sir, may I join you?” Philip Tyre. My nod was curt, but he sat anyway. “Good morning.”

  I responded with a grunt.

  “Sir, do you think I might go groundside tonight? It’s been a year since I’ve seen Detour.” A shy grin. “I met a girl there last winter, but I suppose she’s forgotten me.” Your typical lighthearted youngster. I thought of Derek, humiliated, made to stand regs when Mrs. Treadwell barged into the wardroom the night before. About to refuse, I thought better of it. I would play out my hand. “Permission granted, Mr. Tyre. But a word with you first.”

  For privacy I took him to the nearby passengers’ lounge. “Mr. Tyre, I think you’re too hard on the midshipmen.”

  He reflected. “I’ll obey every order you give, sir. Please tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

  “Ease up on them.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Should I ignore their violations?”

  I lost patience. “No, just ease up. Consider this a warning. Keep riding them and you’ll get a surprise you won’t like.”

  His face clouded with dismay. “I’m terribly sorry I’ve offended you, sir.” Agitated, he ran his hand through his hair. “I try so hard,” he muttered, half to himself. “I really do, but people misunderstand ... I wish I could figure ...”

  Abruptly his gaze returned to the present. He stiffened, almost coming to attention. “I didn’t think I was riding them hard, but I’ll try my best to do what you ask. I’m truly sorry, sir.” He seemed near tears.

  I left him for the bridge.

  All that day we disembarked passengers and unloaded cargo. I checked the manifest: a poly synthesizer was indeed on our cargo manifest and would be off-loaded with the next shipment. I stayed on the bridge, not sure why. I was free to leave the ship. Should I remain aboard, considering the wardroom tension and my problems with Ardwell Crossburn?

  No, we were docked at a distant port. I’d be blessed if I’d let those two joeys ruin my leave. I put on a fresh uniform to go shoreside. Too bad Derek couldn’t accompany me. Or Alexi.

  Waiting for the aft lock to cycle I abruptly turned away, leaving the startled rating to gape at my retreating back.

  I stalked down to Level 3, to the crew privacy room, where Alexi opened at my knock. He seemed fresh and rested. Cadet Rafe Treadwell stood proudly at attention in his new gray uniform.

  “As you were, cadet. Mr. Tamarov, come with me. Mr. Treadwell, do you think you can you obey orders exactly?”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “That’s ‘yes, sir’.” Alexi, with disgust.

  Rafe looked abashed. “Yes, sir, I mean.”

  “These are your instructions. Lock the hatch when we leave and open it only when you hear my voice or Mr. Tamarov’s. Understand?”

  “Yes, I—which do I say?” he asked Alexi.

  “Aye aye, sir!”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Rafe’s anxious glance darted between us.

  I couldn’t help smiling. “Very well.” I went back to the ladder. Alexi followed, worried. At the airlock I keyed the caller. “Bridge, this is the Captain. I’m going groundside, alone.”

  “Very well, sir.” Lieutenant Chantir would log me out.

  “Come along,” I snapped at Alexi. The sentry gaped. I glared. “You have a problem, sailor?”

  “No, sir!”

  “I’m going groundside, alone. Note it in your report.”

  He was a slow thinker. “But the midshipman—?”

  I fixed him with a cold glare. “What midshipman?” Eventually the man smiled weakly. We cycled through the lock.

  We boarded the waiting shuttle. As we sat I said to Alexi, “Detour is quite interesting. If you weren’t confined to ship, I’d show you the town.” Comprehending at last, his face lit with pleasure.

  For the rest of the day we wandered Nova City. Detour, with a population of only sixty thousand, was far less developed than Hope Nation, though it was growing fast.

  The countryside bore the fresh scars of construction I’d expected to find in Centraltown. Trees and bushes grew in profusion, planted in their thousands by the terraformers, who’d brought insects and worms to aerate the soil, nitrates to fertilize it, and seeds to sow our crops. After seventy-six years of their labor, the terrain surrounding Nova City had at last begun to resemble home.

  I wondered how much of the food chain they’d managed to introduce. Did Nova have rats, or mice? Cockroaches? I never did find out, but I did notice a few flocks of birds overhead. We also saw grain scattered in oversize bird feeders, among the fields.

  Alexi relaxed further as the day wore on, grateful both for my company and the respite from his nightmare aboard ship. “It’s beautiful, sir. If only the air were easier to breathe.”

  “They’re working on it.” Huge skimmers sucked air into the desulphurization works, which removed sulphur oxides from the air. The plants had been operating for decades, and Detour’s sulphur level was measurably reduced.

  After several false starts, not knowing how to begin, I blurted, “I’m sorry for what you’re going through.”

  He stiffened. “I’m under orders not to discuss it, sir. I’m told it’s bad for morale.”

  “They’re countermanded.”

  “Aye aye, sir. I hate his guts! I want to kill him!”

  I glanced at him, shocked. He meant it. “Don’t, Alexi.”

  “He’s a monster! You don’t know the half of it, and I won’t tell you.”

  “Can you hang on?”

  His smile was bleak. “I’m like Derek, sir. I can take anything.”

&nb
sp; “I’m hoping he’ll reform. If not, then we’ll see.” It wouldn’t be fair to Philip to tell his subordinate about my deadline.

  “I’ll call him to challenge, when we get home.”

  I sucked in my breath. Alexi truly intended to kill Philip Tyre. “Why not challenge him in the wardroom, then?”

  He shot me a look of reproach. “I believe in law and order like you do, sir. It’s the first middy’s place to run the wardroom. I owe the ship loyalty, I owe the same to you. Even to him.”

  My fists bunched. Philip had three times sent this youngster to the barrel. “Still, tradition allows wardroom challenges.”

  “I’ve always thought that’s for younger joeys. A way for them to let off steam if they can’t take it. I believe in the Navy and its rules. The regs can’t permit this to go on. If I thought that, I’d have to quit the Service. Either he’ll step over the line and be brought up on charges, or there’ll be some other solution. I’m not going to fight the system.”

  I said quietly, “Alexi, you’re the finest officer I’ve ever known.” He was startled. “You’ve been my friend since I first came aboard. You have such decency. I’ve never known you to be mean-spirited or spiteful.”

  He shook his head. “Just watch if I ever get a chance with him!”

  “Still. I respect you enormously. I love you as a friend and comrade.” He turned away, but not before I saw his eyes glisten. I rested my hand on his shoulder. “Let’s have something to eat before we go back.” After a moment he nodded. We found a restaurant. After the meal Alexi insisted on paying for us both.

  Two hours later we were back aboard. Alexi resumed his babysitting duties, while I went to the bridge.

  I shared a watch with Vax when the ship’s caller buzzed. “Captain, you’d better—Midshipman Tyre reporting. We have a, um, situation here, and—”

  I snarled, “Report by the book, middy. Two demerits!” If the boy thought he could niggle over every petty infraction by his charges, then himself get away with—

  “Aye aye, sir! Midshipman Philip Tyre reporting, from the Level 2 lounge. Ricky Fuentes is—that is, Jared Treadwell has a knife; he’s taken Cadet Fuentes hostage and says unless he gets his children back he’ll—”