Children of Hope

by David Feintuch

  The Captain frowned. “I’ll follow my conscience. Does that suffice?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Would you watch Janey awhile? Randy’s going to escort me to the bridge.”

  “Sure.” To me, “Ever had a sister? It’s cool.”

  “Mik,” Seafort said, “is practicing for parenthood.” It drew a blush all the way up to the middy’s ears. The Captain chuckled.

  He took a firm grip on my hand.

  Traversing the corridor, I saw little sign of his dizziness, though we did walk slowly.

  I tried to make conversation. “Where does Janey sleep?”

  His grip tightened. “She has a cot in the corner. Mostly, she’s with her mother.”

  “You’re married?”

  “No.” Perhaps he sensed I had no way to puzzle it out. “I was married a long while.”

  “Arlene. Dad liked her.”

  “So did I.” Something in his voice made me not dare to speak. Then, after a time, “Arlene had her eggs and DNA stored. When they gave me Olympiad I hired a host mother. Corrine Sloan traveled with us.”

  “But you said—”

  “When the baby was born, there was no one other than med techs to look after her. Of course, I did my share, but often I was on watch. Corrine helped. Over time …” He favored me with a stern glance. “I’ll trust you with this, but it’s not for public consumption.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “She’s grown to love Janey, and Janey her. It’s irregular. We’re not married, never were. We’ve never been intimate. But, bless it, she’s the child’s mother. When she asked to stay aboard …” A sigh. “I could have refused her—I had the authority—but it seemed inhumane. We have … an uneasy relationship.”

  “Kevin’s host mother lives on Constantine.” I didn’t know why I said it.

  “Ah, yes, Kevin. It’s just as well you’ll be present.”

  Holding my hand as with a small child, he led me to the bridge. I could do naught but follow.

  At the hatch, he paused. “Behave yourself today, Randy. I have authority over you, and I won’t hesitate to use it.”

  There was nothing unkind about his tone, no warning in his eye, but I blurted, “Yes, sir,” as fast as I could, and felt a prickle of sweat.

  Still leading me by the hand, he deposited me at the pilot’s console. Ms Skor stood and saluted.

  “Hallo, Joanne, I have the watch. When’s your shuttle?”

  “An hour and a half. Anything I can bring you, sir?”

  “Not really. Have a good leave, and don’t forget what I said about the Ventura Mountains. Oh …” He waited, while she paused at the hatch. “Thanks so much for staying aboard during my … illness.”

  “You’re welcome.” With a casual salute, she left us.

  I said, “Who’ll run the ship?”

  “We’ll manage. Good morning, Jess.”

  A pleasant baritone, from the speaker: “Good day, Captain.”

  Seafort eased himself into his chair, let go my hand. “Whew.” To me, “Jess is our puter. I’m teaching him chess.”

  From the speaker, a snort. A puter could laugh? I hadn’t known.

  He keyed his caller, waited. “Edgar, could you join me? Later will do, if it’s inconvenient. All right, thanks.” To me, “A few minutes. Let me finish reading.” He scanned his holovid.

  After a time, a voice from the hatchway. “Lieutenant Edgar Tolliver reporting, sir.”

  “Ah. Have a seat. Randy, would you wait outside?”

  “Yes, sir.” I did, and the hatch slid closed.

  With almost the whole ship’s company on leave, the corridor was silent as a tomb. For a moment, I paced, wondering what they were up to.

  My life might depend on it.

  I shouldn’t but … I padded to the hatch, pressed my ear tight.

  “… going to overrule you, and I wanted you to know first.”

  “You’re under no duty to explain—”

  “You were acting as Captain. I ought let stand your decisions where possible.”

  “As with the Carr joeykid?”

  “That had to be overruled. You knew so yourself.”

  “Is that so, sir?”

  “Yes. Else you wouldn’t have goaded me to walk to the bridge.”

  “Did I do that?”

  “Weren’t you aware of it, Edgar?”

  A long pause. “Sir, this has been a dreadful week. I’m not sure what I …”

  “You wanted to come close to executing him. It was closer than you thought. Would you have gone through with it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I set it up so I’d have to.”

  “What did you feel when I came on the speaker?”

  “Dismay. Relief. Damn it …” A long pause. “If only Carr had broken. Explained himself, asked for mercy … I even went to his cell, in the night.”

  “Edgar, pride is all I left him.”

  “You?”

  “After killing his father. No, don’t shake your head; he’s quite right about that. Derek wanted to go along to retake Galactic, but it was in my power to stop him.”

  “You said he swore he’d alert the rebels unless you let him go.”

  “He couldn’t have meant it.”

  “His sworn word?”

  “Derek would have found a way around it. He loved me. And I sent him to his death.” Seafort’s voice was bleak. “Do you know, Edgar, I haven’t prayed since? Not once.”

  “I heard you muttering, one time when—”

  “I talk to God from time to time. I berate Him. That’s not prayer.”

  “I’m not sure I agree.”

  “When He let me lead Derek to a useless death—”

  “We’ve been down that road, sir.”

  “Yes, and it’s still before us. Young Randolph worshiped him. Last night, when he described his good-byes, and his dreams … his tears had no end. And I can tell you, I haven’t slept since.”

  “Then I curse Derek, for laying such a burden on you.”

  “I can bear it; I’ve borne worse. Arlene, for example. The boy asked me about her, today, and it was all I could do to keep my voice steady.” A sigh. “This is all afield. Let’s get back to Ghent.”

  “Are you asking my opinion, sir?”

  “Obviously, your view is to send him to court-martial.”

  “I confirmed the death sentence; Carr had to be informed. Ghent refused outright. Sir, I know how he feels; it’s a horrid duty. But he’s an officer.”

  “I know. In that sense, he did wrong. But I’m going to let him off.”

  “It’s your decision.”

  “And I’m confident that in the end, you’d have done the same. Perhaps you’d have held trial first.”

  “Don’t attribute me your mercy. I don’t have it within me.”

  “You’ve proven otherwise.”

  “How? When?”

  “Five years ago, Edgar, just before we cast off, you showed up on the bridge of Olympiad, to accompany me into exile. If that wasn’t an act of mercy, I don’t know … good heavens!” A scrape. “Tears, from you? I don’t think I’ve ever … take my hand.”

  A moment.

  “Thank you, Edgar. For everything, over the years, thank you.”

  A mumble I barely heard. “I’d better go.”

  I leaped back across the corridor.

  The hatch opened. Tolliver strode out, his face showing nothing.

  “Randy?”

  I resumed my seat, eyes downcast.

  He regarded me a long moment. “You listened?”

  “No, I—it was just—yes, sir.”

  “Skulking about, when I asked you for privacy? Do you wish me to spy on you?”

  “No, sir.” My cheeks flamed.

  “Then you ought not spy on me.” He took my chin in his hands, forced my gaze upward to his. “I knew your father well, and loved him. I tell you, the Derek Carr I knew wouldn’t hold hi
s ear to the hatch. Do you understand me? I rebuke you!” He let me go.

  I sat wishing I could crawl into a hole and die. “… won’t do it again.”

  “What?”

  I cleared my throat. “I won’t do it again.”

  “Very well. Compose yourself.” Once more, he keyed the caller. “Mr Janks.”

  A pause. “Master-at-arms Janks repor—”

  “Release Andrew Ghent. He’s to make himself presentable and report to the bridge.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  After a time, he swiveled to me. “Step by step, I can undo almost everything except your father’s death.” He reached to scratch his scalp, winced. “And this.”

  There was nothing I could say; he knew I was sorry.

  Another flick of the caller. “Mr Anselm?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No, I was reading.”

  “Why were you demeriting Ghent? I know it’s a wardroom matter, but you’re out of the wardroom now.”

  “The demerits say—”

  “What’s the real reason?”

  “Attitude, sir. He’s a good joey at heart, but lately he’s had a chip on his shoulder. It grew annoying.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Sir, about his court-martial …”

  Seafort glanced at me, but said only, “Yes?”

  “Might you let him off? When he wouldn’t deliver the news to Randy, I had to, and I almost lost my dinner. Sir, that was horrible. Ghent’s only sixteen.”

  “Thank you for your advice. That will be all.”

  He folded his arms.

  For a while I fiddled, not quite daring to touch the controls, though the console’s master switch was clearly off. I peered at the simulscreen, tried to imagine the bridge while a cruise was under way. “Where does Olympiad go next, sir? Home system?”

  “Kall’s Planet, then home.”

  “Will you ever go down to Earth again?”

  “Every day it seems more possible. We don’t have the gravitrons turned particularly high while we’re moored, but usually—”

  “Permission to enter bridge, sir.”

  Seafort didn’t bother to look at the screen. “Granted.” From his console, he keyed open the hatch.

  “Midshipman Andrew Ghent reporting, sir.” The boy’s eyes widened when he saw me, but he quickly brought himself to attention.

  “Well, now.” Seafort flicked a thumb toward his console, on which the Log was displayed. “What are we to do with you?”

  “I’m up for court-martial, sir.”

  “Yes, and you deserve it. Your snotty attitude I can understand, if not condone; you haven’t matured.”

  Ghent colored.

  “But this preposterous misstep …” The Captain’s tone was severe. “How could you refuse a direct order?”

  “Sir, I—Randy was—no excuse, sir.” The boy was sweating.

  “I’ll have an answer.”

  “How can you tell someone he has to die?” Ghent’s eyes were troubled. “A joeykid? I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t.”

  “I understand.” But the Captain’s tone was cool. “The circumstances were … ‘unusual’ is hardly the word. That’s why I’m setting aside the court-martial. Now, Andrew … if you’d been cooperative and willing in recent months, I’d let you off with demerits. But you’ve been sullen, rebellious, fighting with Midshipman Yost—you weren’t like that when we sailed from Earthport. What’s come over you?”

  “I don’t know, sir.” The middy’s eyes were troubled.

  “Well, now you pay the piper. My compliments to Lieutenant Skor, and she’s to cane you thoroughly for insubordination.”

  Ghent blanched.

  “It will also cancel your demerits, so when she’s done, pack your gear and take your leave.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  With a crisp salute, the boy marched out to his fate.

  “It will probably do him good.” But the Captain’s tone was doubtful.

  I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to himself or to me, so I said nothing.

  “Very well, that’s dealt with. Now, to the rest of it.” He took the caller, dialed a station. “Seaman of the watch.”

  “Seaman First Class Ardin, at aft Station lock, sir.”

  “Is Mr Dakko still waiting?”

  “In the Station corridor, sir. Pacing like a tiger.”

  “I can imagine. Open for him. Ring Mr Janks for an escort to the bridge.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Mr Seafort tapped his console. “I won’t enjoy this.”

  I made myself small in my chair. Neither would I.

  It wasn’t long before Janks appeared, Mr Dakko saw me, stopped short.

  The Captain got to his feet. “I’m Captain Seafort. Please, come in. I presume you’ve come about your son.” He offered a hand.

  Mr Dakko shook hands, studied him intensely. “Kevin’s unjustly your prisoner. He had nothing whatsoever to do with—”

  “I know; Tolliver was miffed. We’ll let him go at once. Mr Janks, release young Dakko and bring him to the bridge.”

  Mr Dakko gaped. I suppressed a smile; at least I’d had a couple of days to get used to the Captain’s style. “Release—really?”

  “Yes.”

  “No agreements, waivers, consents …”

  “We had no right to hold him. I apologize.”

  Again, Mr Dakko studied him. At length, he said, “You don’t remember me.”

  “Have we met?” The Captain frowned. “As SecGen I met … Dakko … oh, Lord, you’re that Dakko? I never dreamed … Chris?”

  Mr Dakko burst into a smile. “Yes, sir.”

  “Lord God in Heaven. Here, sit … Randy, make a place for Mr Dakko. He served with me ages ago, when we were both children.”

  “I gave you quite a hard time.”

  “Over enlisting, yes, I remember. And about the transpops. Water under the bridge. By the time Hibernia reached Hope Nation you were a fine sailor. I was sad to see you go.”

  Mr Dakko flushed with pleasure.

  “What became of Walter?”

  “My father died last year.”

  “What a pity! I’d have loved to talk over old times.”

  “He was ninety, and had a good life.”

  “Ninety!” The Captain shook his head. “Let that be a lesson, Randy. Spend your life, before it slips through your fingers.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dad!” A familiar voice, at the hatch. Kevin flew across the bridge, into his father’s arms.

  “Oh, thank God.” Mr Dakko rocked his son back and forth. “Kev …”

  I turned away. It was indecent to watch.

  A hand fell on my shoulder. Mr Seafort’s voice was soft. “We’re making it right, boy.”

  I could only nod.

  His hand remained on my shoulder, an umbilical of comfort.

  “Midshipman Andrew Ghent reporting, sir.” The boy’s voice wavered. “Lieutenant Skor’s compliments, and discipline has been administered.”

  “Very well, I’ll make note in the Log. Take the shuttle down, visit Hope Nation, Andrew. I don’t want to see you for at least two weeks.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “And when you return, you’ll have a new start. I know you’ll do well.”

  The boy’s eyes glistened. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  We watched him go.

  “Chris Dakko …” Seafort marveled. “Kevin, your father was about your age. A difficult joey, but so many are. They get over it. Do you give him trouble?”

  “Yes, sir.” Kevin blushed.

  “Chris—may I call you that?—take him home. And if you’ll forgive me enough to allow it, come see us in a week or so. The pair of you, for dinner.”

  Mr Dakko’s visage relaxed, as if for once he was sated. “That would be a great pleasure.”

  “You owe me nothing—in fact, quite the re
verse—but if I could ask a favor?”

  “What’s that, sir?”

  “Give your forgiveness to Randy. He’s desperately upset, and in need of pardon.”

  Mr Dakko’s face set, as if in stone. His eyes bored through me, twin drills through chalk. “I’m sorry, that’s not possible.”

  “Could you do it for me?”

  “He made his bed.” An old Navy phrase: one made one’s bed, and had to lie in it.

  “I killed his father, Chris. Please.”

  “Randy’s done more damage than ever you’ll know.”

  I blurted, “But I’ll be punished. I’ve been convicted. And as far as Kevin …”

  “I know. You didn’t mean for him to be hurt. Nevertheless, what Kev’s gone through … Son, how do you feel about it? Is there something you’d like to say to Randy?”

  Kev snarled, “You ruined it!” He wouldn’t look at me. “It would have been a day to remember. A tour of the ship, zarky new friends in the Navy. Instead, you made a nightmare.”

  Mr Dakko said, “It’s done now, son.”

  Captain Seafort sighed. “I still hope you’ll visit. Perhaps you’d enjoy a proper tour.”

  “Take me home.” Kevin’s tone was bitter. “I don’t ever want to come back.”

  Mr Dakko’s eyes met the Captain’s, with what might have been apology, but he gave his son’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  Mr Seafort asked, “What did you mean, more damage than Randy could know?”

  “Bishop Scanlen petitioned Randy as a wayward minor, and once word got out he assaulted you, the Stadholder could do nothing. Judge Hycliff granted the petition and held trial in absentia; Randy’s been declared a ward of the Church for rehabilitation. You know the Stadholder?”

  “Anthony Carr. Derek’s grandson, I’m told.”

  “He refused to pressure you for Randy’s return, and Scanlen’s threatening excommunication.”

  A groan. I realized it was mine.

  “They still play that game?” The Captain’s tone was bleak. “What sort of pressure did they expect Anthony to apply?”

  “Grounding all shuttles. Cutting off supplies. Refusing to board your passengers. Denial of cargo.”

  “Our cargo for the return voyage is Hope Nation’s grain, Mr Dakko. Desperately needed at home, as your economy needs the sale of it.”

  “For the moment, Anthony’s holding firm. But with excommunication hanging over his head …” Mr Dakko’s eyes were flinty. “Every aspect of this crisis was triggered by this young fool.” A gesture to me. “So you’ll pardon me for not applauding him. Good day, sir.”