Children of Hope

by David Feintuch

  “Until our dinner.” Glumly, Mr Seafort watched them go.

  “It’s all my fault,” I said glumly.

  “Much of it is.”

  I took comfort in his agreement.

  He tapped the console. “Wayward minor.”

  I flushed. “It’s best if you send me groundside,” I said. “They’ll deal with me.”

  His finger waved in my nose. “I, not you, will decide your punishment. Is that clear?”

  “Yessir!”

  “Very well. Go to my cabin. I’ll be along presently to take you to lunch.”

  “Yes, sir.” I made my escape. Treading the corridor, I marveled at how thoroughly he’d taken charge of me. It was as if I were a little joeykid and Dad—

  No!

  Dad was Derek Carr, not Mr Seafort. I was the Captain’s prisoner, not his son. To think otherwise, even for a minute, was betrayal.

  I’m sorry, Dad. It’s just that his manner … and he’s the same age as you, and thin and fit, and his salt-and-pepper hair … and that glance he has, as if he wants you to make him proud …

  I wiped my eyes, knocked at the hatch. “May I?”

  “Hi.” Mikhael closed the hatch behind me. “Janey’s napping. Is Pa coming?”

  “In a while.” Morose, I flopped in a chair. “He told me to wait here.” I looked about. The Captain’s bunk was austere: gray blanket pulled tight as a drum, gear neatly stowed. Nothing visible except a worn Bible on the bedside table, along with a clock so ancient it still had hands.

  Mik said, “Did he read you off?”

  “You mean, chew on my butt?”

  He nodded.

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “He does that sometimes,” Mik said. “It took me a while to get used to it.”

  I said, “Yesterday, when he slapped you …”

  “Man, did I have that coming.” A smile. “Trying to hide your identity. I should never have agreed.”

  “But you’re grown.” I couldn’t conceive allowing an adult to strike me, at his age, or bearing it so calmly.

  “I’m twenty.” I couldn’t tell if it was agreement or refutation. “Look, Pa saved me. God knows what I would have become. I love him almost as much … well, I love him. If he occasionally treats me young for my age, that’s fine. Sometimes I feel young for my age.”

  “I wish Anth …” He’d done his best, but he wasn’t all that much older than me. More a big brother than a father.

  A soft knock. Mik went to the hatch. “Oh. Hi, ma’am.”

  “Is she up?”

  I peered round the divider. Flowing brown hair, a soft face, lined.

  “Napping.” Mikhael seemed ill at ease. “Did you want to …”

  “He doesn’t like it.” Her eyes fell on me. “Oh. Hello.”

  “Ma’am, this is my friend Randy Carr. Randy, Corrine Sloan, Janey’s mom.”

  “Ah, that’s what you look like. Mikhael, does the Captain know Randy’s visiting?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It was his idea.”

  “I suppose …” She chewed at a lip. “You’ll keep an eye on Jane Ellen?”

  “I don’t brain babies.” My tone was bitter. “Just adults.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s only that … it was a horrible shock. Janey was terrified. No one knew quite what to …” She studied me. “Come out and say hello.”

  “You can’t …?” I pointed to the cabin.

  “It’s not quite against the rules, but it makes him so uncomfortable, I try to stay outside.”

  I slipped into the corridor.

  “You’re his old friend’s son.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That’s why he pardoned you, no doubt. He and I, we don’t get along well. We’ve no real relationship, except through Janey. But I can tell you, he didn’t deserve your attack.”

  “I’ve learned.” I scuffed the deck plating. “I was very stupid.”

  “Will he let you go?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “I suppose you could try to slip through to the Station,” She gestured toward the lock, just past the porthole.

  “Goofjuice!” It wasn’t the strongest epithet I knew, but my tone added volumes. Did she think me a coward, ashamed to admit my assault? Why not strike in the night and flee, then? Or hire an assassin?

  From time to time I’d gotten myself in hot water—the activities of recent days were the worst, I’d have to admit—but I’d never sneaked about and denied the truth. Dad would have had a fit.

  Her fingers brushed my arm. “When Janey wakes, give me a call. I’m in five seventy-five. I’ll take her to lunch; Nick won’t mind.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Was I meddling in private affairs? No one had instructed me.

  Though the Captain managed the trip back to his cabin on his own, he appeared to need my steadying hand that evening for the journey to the Dining Hall. I slowed my steps, reluctant.

  “What’s the problem, joey?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  Something in his glance told me I hadn’t pleased him.

  After a moment, “It’s my first time there since … well, you know.”

  “Since you bashed me with a chair.” He favored me with a scowl. “I trust I’m safe today?”

  “Yes, sir! I wouldn’t—I promise, I’ll sit at the far end—”

  He gave my fingers a reassuring squeeze, and I spotted the twinkle in his eye. Relief made me babble. “It’s just … I haven’t been there since that night, and everyone will know—they’ll be looking at me and …”

  He guided me through the hatch. “You’ll sit with me. How are your table manners?”

  I gaped at the incongruity of the question. “Good, I think.”

  “Show me. We’ll see how well Derek raised you.”

  I had no choice but to pass the test, and worked at it. After a time I discovered I’d been too preoccupied with forks and napkins to worry what joeys might think of me. Anyway, the Dining Hall was nearly deserted. After the fresh crisp salad, Mr Tolliver came to join us. A discreet cough from the Captain made me realize I ought to stand.

  “Good evening.” Tolliver indicated a chair, raised an eyebrow.

  “By all means.” Mr Seafort waved to a seat. “Of course, you know Randolph.”

  Tolliver was up to it. “I’m glad we meet in more auspicious circumstances.” He even offered a hand.

  “Thank you, sir.” Carefully, I respread my napkin as I sat. The steward brought a tray of sandwiches and fresh fruit.

  “Any murders planned for the afternoon?” Tolliver’s tone was bland.

  “No, sir, but I might set fire to my cabin.” I managed to look quite serious.

  He eyed me, annoyed, but then the corners of his mouth went up, for just a moment. “Do let us know first. Sir, I arranged that meeting we spoke of. This afternoon, midwatch.”

  “You mean with Randy’s nephew, the Stadholder.”

  I started.

  “Yes, but I meant to be circumspect.” Tolliver’s glance flickered to me.

  “How refreshing, Edgar. You apologized to Anthony, for my remaining aboard?”

  “No, but I reminded him of your health. He was glad to come aloft. And Admiral Kenzig would like a callback as soon as convenient.”

  Mr Seafort scraped back his chair. “That would be now.”

  “No, I told him you were at dinner. He’ll wait.”

  “He’s an Admiral.”

  “And you’re the former SecGen. Finish your pasta.”

  Jaw agape, I listened to the byplay, astounded Mr Seafort didn’t squelch him flat. From what Dad had told me, no one, lieutenant or not, spoke so to the Captain. But Mr Seafort didn’t seem perturbed.

  “Remind me to call him, directly we’re on the bridge. Since Randy scrambled my brains, my memory isn’t what it was.” A reassuring squeeze of my forearm.

  “Perhaps there are other improvements as well.”

  Hot rage suffused my cheeks, on Mr Seafort’s behalf.<
br />
  “As soon as Stanson is back aboard, Edgar, you ought to take your leave. We’ll be months to Kall’s Planet.” Mr Seafort didn’t notice! Or was he so embarrassed he had no response?

  “You’ll manage without me, sir?”

  “Somehow. Randy, why do you glare at Lieutenant Tolliver?”

  I jerked my gaze aside, but his question freed me to speak my mind. “Because he’s unmannerly to you. Uncivil, uncouth, and rude.”

  Tolliver’s jaw dropped.

  From Mr Seafort, a smile that widened into a grin. “Well, I did ask, so I can’t reprove him. Nonetheless, Randy, you won’t be rude to adults in noting their rudeness. Not for some years yet.”

  “Some years?”

  “The duration of your sentence, at any rate. Edgar, was he rude, or merely observant?”

  “Sir, truth to tell, I’m glad he’s alive. But I don’t choose to banter with him.”

  “Hmpff. I thought you were bantering with me.” The Captain let it lapse. Soon, they were immersed in a discussion about the power plant, and I concentrated on table manners.

  Afterward, a firm grip on my hand, Mr Seafort walked slowly to the bridge.

  “Are you dizzy, sir?”

  “Perhaps a bit.” Gingerly, he scratched his skull. “It itches, and I’ve a headache.”

  He keyed open the hatch. The bridge was unmanned.

  “Isn’t it always supposed to be staffed?”

  “Not moored to the Station lock. Ah, that’s better.” Settling at his console, he took up the caller.

  “Should I be here?” I poised myself to wait in the corridor.

  “If I say so. Be silent awhile. Comm Room, put me through to Admiral Kenzig, at Admiralty House. Visuals too.” His eye on the simulscreen, he tugged at his tie, made as if to smooth his hair, winced with an indrawn breath.

  I muttered, “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re to be silent.”

  “Yessir.”

  The screen flickered, went black. After a moment, a florid face loomed. “Kenzig here.”

  “Captain Nicholas Seafort reporting, sir.”

  “Oh, good. Are you recovered?”

  “Substantially, thank you.”

  “We have a problem. Who’s that?” He peered at his screen.

  “Randolph Carr, sir.”

  “Good heavens, on your bridge? Why?”

  “To keep an eye on him.” Mr Seafort’s tone was neutral.

  “Well, that’s why I called. Do you think this ought to be private?”

  “Not unless you insist, sir.”

  “No, of course not, Mr SecGen.” The Admiral’s tone was obsequious.

  “My rank is Captain, sir.”

  “I meant it as a courtesy. Sir—Mr Seafort—this unfortunate affair has political ramifications. The Church is involved, and we must steer clear of antagonizing the local authorities.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “The boy.” He stabbed a finger at me. “That—that hooligan you have sitting next to you. The Hope Nation courts gave custody of him to the Church. If you keep him on Olympiad, you’re involving us.”

  My fingers curled around the armrests.

  Mr Seafort said, “He’s in our jurisdiction, tried and convicted. His sentence is under review.”

  “We don’t want him in our jurisdiction. He’s a Hope Nation citizen! That puts us in conflict with Mother Church!” The Admiral made his tone peaceable. “Look, sir, as long as you have him, no one will be satisfied. The Stadholder is under pressure from the Court, Bishop Scanlen views your holding him as interference.”

  “Yes, but … A sigh. “Yes, sir. What are your orders?”

  “I understand you want revenge on him, and it’s bloody unfair you can’t have it, but sometimes, political realities prevail. Look, Mr SecGen, we can’t hold a Hope Nation citizen against the will of the local Church. As long as that’s the case, you must transfer him to their custody.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Very well. Send him groundside. See that he’s put in the custody of the proper authorities.”

  “When?”

  “Today, if possible. Tomorrow, at the latest.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  The Admiral’s tone softened. “Sir, about your injury, is there anything I can get you? Any way I can help? You look awful.”

  “Thank you, sir, I’ll let you know if something comes to mind.”

  “Did the Stadholder keep his promise about supplies?”

  “No interference so far. Dakko & Son are the chief victuallers. I met with—”

  “A good man, Chris Dakko. He seems quite reasonable. Good day, Mr SecGen.”

  “And to you, sir.” They rang off.

  I swallowed. The Church correctional farm was no joke: a strict regimen, arduous daily prayers. Well, Lord God knew I’d earned it, whether I liked it or not.

  Mr Seafort’s gaze was fastened on the darkened screen. His eyes smoldered. “Bloody politicians!”

  Would it be today? A walk through the mated lock, a stroll down the Station corridor, to a waiting shuttle. The buffet of air in the outer atmosphere, a bumpy ride, a VTOL landing at Centraltown.

  Grim-visaged figures waiting, in high church collars. Perhaps a glimpse of Anthony before they hustled me into a heli for the long ride north.

  I would hate every minute of it. Most especially the hypocrisy of prayer to a God I didn’t know.

  And Judy would grow without me, go out with other joeys, become a woman, while I was left to the edgy solace of my palm.

  Scant hours ago, I’d dreamed of freedom, of the clean sea air of home. Now I was dismayed to leave the ship.

  Mr Seafort glanced at his watch.

  Time to face up to it. “Sir, I’d like to change my shirt before I go.”

  He heaved himself out of his chair, eyes blazing, and bunched the front of my shirt in his fist, hauling me close. “How many times were you told to be silent?” He hauled me to my feet.

  “Twice, sir.”

  “You are wayward indeed, Randolph. Did you disobey your father so?”

  “No, sir!”

  “I’d hope not. You’re in my parole and custody, joeyboy, and I will not have disobedience. I’ll be asking you shortly to tell me what constitutes obedience, and you’d better be prepared to answer. Take your seat!”

  I gaped.

  “RIGHT NOW!”

  I careened into my chair. Satan himself couldn’t wrest a sound from me at that moment.

  Arms folded, Captain Seafort glowered at the simulscreen.

  On the bridge, all was still.

  9

  BY THE TIME THEY showed Anthony through the lock, I’d sorted myself out.

  Mr Seafort was strict, but not nearly as much as Bishop Scanlen’s joeys were going to be. And, really, the Captain expected no more than what I’d have given Dad without a second thought. In any event, I owed it to him, for the hurt I’d done in a moment’s stupidity and rage.

  The tone he’d used, though … he made me feel so young, so helpless.

  On the other hand, twice he’d told me to keep still, and twice I’d paid little attention, like some silly joeykid who didn’t know better. My face burned from shame.

  It wasn’t long that I’d be with him, but I’d show him what a Carr could do. I just wished … wished … damn it, I wished I had longer to prove myself to him.

  Lieutenant Tolliver and a middy I’d never seen escorted the Stadholder to the bridge.

  “Sir, Anthony Carr.”

  With a smile of welcome, Mr Seafort stood. Abruptly he turned white, staggered. Tolliver bounded across the bridge. For a moment the Captain clutched him, head bowed, knees weak. “It’s all right. Let me sit.” Carefully, he eased himself into his console chair. He lay back, eyes shut.

  I sat frozen, fist to my mouth.

  “I’m sorry, Mr Carr. Give me a moment.”

  Tolliver said, “Sir, you need rest. Let me get you to your cab—”r />
  “No.” With an effort, Mr Seafort opened his eyes. “Sorry, Mr Stadholder. I’m only a day out of sickbay, and it catches up to me. If you don’t mind I’ll remain seated.”

  “Sir, I could return after—”

  “Not necessary.” Mr Seafort sat straighter, and his color seemed to be returning.

  I breathed easier.

  “So.” The Captain extended a hand. “You’re Derek’s grandson. It’s wonderful to meet you. Let me apologize most humbly for my role in his death.”

  “No, sir. It’s we who owe you an apology, for the way you were treated.” For a moment, Anthony’s eyes burned into mine. “Grandpa would be heartily ashamed, as I am.” I tried not to flinch.

  Remorselessly, Anth went on, “I apologize for him, Mr Seafort. He should have known better. I’ve always tried to treat him as an adult.”

  “Perhaps that was an error.” Mr Seafort’s tone was mild.

  “I did what I could. I’m not Grandpa.”

  “You did well. Randy took responsibility for his acts.” The Captain cleared his throat. “Do take a seat. Coffee, or refreshments? No? That will be all, Mr Tolliver.” When we were alone, Mr Seafort shut the hatch. “May I be frank?”

  “By all means.”

  “It’s a mess. What are you going to do about it?”

  “The Bishop will have Randy.” Anthony grimaced. “I’ve no way to stop that.”

  “And through him, he’ll have you.”

  Anth closed his eyes. “Not entirely.”

  “Sir …” The Captain’s voice was soft. “I know something of the conflict. I’ve heard from Jerence since he went ground-side. And on his Terran visit, Derek spoke of tensions, of threatened renunciation.” He shook his head. “What, exactly, does Scanlen want?”

  “Can you involve yourself?”

  “No. In fact I was ordered not to.”

  “Then it’s best we not discuss it. Please don’t take offense; it’s for your sake. When there’s talk of excommunication …” Anth shook his head.

  “I’m already excommunicate.” Mr Seafort’s voice was desolate. “Whether the Church knows it or not.”

  “Hope Nation, sir, has its independence. I must safeguard the Commonweal, at whatever cost. There are those who would see us again a colony. In saying so, I make no complaint against the Church.”