“There, sir!” Tad jabbed at his console. “He’s gone in! Cycling.”
“Hull view.”
The simulscreen blinked. Abruptly, our hull stretched to infinite distance. I tried to orient myself, spot the outer hatch.
“Sir …” The Pilot. “I’d like a view of the fish, for reference.”
“Jess, split screen. Go ahead, Mr Carr.”
“Did Branstead call you?”
“Last night.”
“Palabee’s gone over to the Church, I’m sure of it. He’s helping hide Scanlen, so Andori will appear blameless. We’re headed for crisis. Where’s Chris Dakko?”
“He went groundside this morning.”
A sharp regret stabbed my gut. I’d meant to have a last goodbye with Kev. He deserved it.
The fish loomed, alarmingly close. Mr Van Peer nudged the thrusters.
“Mr Braun, don’t fiddle with your console.” Fath’s voice was a rasp.
The middy jerked in his seat. “Aye aye, sir.” He pressed his hands in his lap.
“I’ll try to find him. His people haven’t been cooperative, but …” His people? I thought Mr Dakko was a victualler. Anth made it sound as if he had a cadre, a political—
The Captain said, “Jess, sensor report, Level 2 east airlock.”
“Pressure twenty percent and falling. Hatch integrity undisturbed. Anomaly within lock.”
“The outrider?”
“I presume so. Airlock sensors are not programmed to recognize motion of other than humans or servos.”
“It’s the outrider.”
“Substitution noted.”
“Mr Seafort, may I be frank?”
“Of course.”
“If I had your experience, or Grandpa’s … Sir, for most of my life you headed a government that dwarfs mine. What should I do?”
“Just a moment, Stadholder. I’ve a situation here.” The Captain drummed the console. “Sorry I snapped at you, Mr Braun.” His voice was quiet. “Nerves.”
“Thank you, sir.” The midshipman sat very straight.
“Eleven percent,” said Jess. “Five. Vacuum achieved.” A gap in the smooth surface of the hull. The outer hatch slid open.
The Pilot, with gentle nudges of his thrusters, positioned us closer to the fish. At last, we came to rest relative to the alien.
Virtually ignoring the fish, the Captain stared at the outrider. “If he skitters along the hull …”
I blanched. The outrider could melt through the hull just about anywhere, and wreak havoc. Even here on the bridge. I glanced about. Where was the suit locker?
“Mr Seafort, are you there?”
A shapeless form, at the hatch.
Eyes riveted on the simulscreen, the Captain clasped his hands behind his back.
The fish’s colors pulsed.
The form on our hull quivered, flexed.
“Godspeed.” Fath spoke in a whisper.
The outrider launched itself into the infinite cold of space. I swallowed. If it missed …
It landed on the fish amidships, seemed to stick to its surface. The fish’s skin swirled, became indistinct. The outrider shrank.
It disappeared within.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.
“All right, Anthony. For the moment I can give you my full attention.” A pause. “Understand, my own conflicts with the Church skew my judgment.”
“Still, sir, I want it.”
“Very well. The Bishops are inevitably allied with Earth. In my view, you can’t govern in their name.”
My breath caught.
“Disestablishment? I’m not sure I could carry it.”
“Excommunication is a mighty club.” Fath was quiet. “And Andori will use it, without qualm.”
“Whether I govern with Church or without, he has that power.”
“Only among those who listen. How many are they?”
“Hope Nation remains conservative.”
“Then you’ll fall.”
“Not without a fight.”
“I should tell you, by the way, that our Reverend Pandeker has spent many hours on the caller, consulting his cohorts in Centraltown.”
“About what?”
“I’ve no idea. I’ve no right to listen in.”
“Then how’d you …”
“The Comm Room thought I’d want to know. Never mind that. What does Jerence say?”
“I can’t risk repeating it, sir. Only face-to-face.”
“Oh, I know him. You’ve told me enough.”
“Thank you. I’ll make my decision shortly.”
“I’ve been little help.”
“More than you know.” The line went dead.
With a sigh, Fath rubbed his face.
The fish floated before us.
“Now what, sir?” Tad.
“We wait, Lieutenant.”
“How long?”
“However long it takes.”
Braun shot Tad a look of commiseration. Tad frowned.
The Captain paced a moment longer, sank into his seat.
Anselm seemed unfazed. “What, exactly, are we waiting for?”
Fath said with some asperity, “I’ll know when I see it. Anything else, Mr Anselm?”
“No, sir.” To my astonishment, Tad caught my eye and winked.
Fath swiveled. “Mr Carr!”
I jumped. “Yes, sir!” My voice was a squeak.
“Coffee, if you’d be so kind. Tad?”
“No thanks.”
“Pilot?”
“Black, please.”
The nearest dispenser was in the officers’ mess; I hurried along the corridor, a touch resentful he sent me on menial errands like … well, like a ship’s boy. My annoyance faded to a grin. I was crew. This was my work.
When I returned the Captain thanked me absently, sipped at his steaming cup. On the simulscreen was a holoview of section four, where the alien had been housed. In replay, the outrider careened wildly up and down the corridor, hatch to hatch. Its momentum was such that it climbed halfway up the bulkhead, in passing.
Over and again Fath replayed the sequence. The alien, across the barrier, waited for a plate to be shown him. His quivering seemed no greater than usual. He moved to one side, as if balancing himself.
The outrider had no feet. Well, he did, but temporary ones. His weight seemed to roll over onto extended bulges, when he moved. Only in slow-mo playback could I see just how.
“Tad, what’s the fish up to?”
“No change, sir.”
“Mr Seafort, may I suggest we withdraw?” The Pilot.
“How far?”
“How about another solar system?” The Captain glared, but Van Peer seemed unfazed. “At least a few hundred meters, sir. That beast is far too close for comfort.”
“Well … all right. Two hundred meters.”
“And may I suggest we shift position relative to the fish and the Station? We were blocking their shot if—”
“That was deliberate.”
“Oh?” Mr Van Peer said no more, but his silence spoke volumes. Delicately, he tapped the starboard thrusters. In the screen, the fish began to recede.
One eye on the fish, Fath took up his caller. “Comm Room, locate Jerence Branstead, groundside. I want a secure—”
The fish pulsed, disappeared.
“Hello? Comm Room to Bridge. Say again?”
Fath stared.
“Captain?”
19
IT WAS A STORMY evening on the bridge.
The fish didn’t reappear. The watch changed, and we waited.
Andrew Ghent logged two demerits, Mikhael one. There was a spectacular set-to between the Captain and Tad Anselm, when Tad proposed that we reboard our passengers and leave forthwith. Before it was over, I’d been chewed out for fidgeting and sent below to amuse Janey until dinner. Fath was in a dangerous mood. I knew I wasn’t really the cause, but still it rankled.
To make matters wo
rse, Corrine Sloan was uneasy, and a touch morose. When I asked her why, she just shook her head.
The only one whose mood was unaffected was Janey. I showed her a holovid word-building game, and in a few. minutes she was running it on her own. Nonetheless she insisted I stand by, and was quite imperious about it.
Corrine stirred. “You asked about my going ashore.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The reason I’m reluctant is John.”
It made no sense whatsoever, but I kept silent.
“We were to be married, you see.” Her gaze was distant.
“And you broke up.”
“No, not really.” She toyed with her fingernails. “He was a Pentecostal.”
“They’re the devil’s children!”
“Where did you hear that?” Her tone was sharp.
“It’s what the Bishop calls them.” Not that anyone in Hope Nation had ever seen a Pentie; they were a banned sect, crushed almost two centuries ago, in the days of the Reunification. But they were still held out as an example of the folly of religious anarchy. “They’re long gone.”
“Not exactly,” she said. “A number of families remain. They practice their faith underground.”
“In caves?”
“Randy, please don’t be sarcastic.”
I flushed. “I wasn’t.”
“Underground means away from the eyes of the authorities.”
“Oh. Sorry, ma’am.”
“We posted the banns. We lived outside Baton Rouge. There was a neighbor, Arlan Richards … God knows how he knew. Janey, if the word isn’t right, hitting the screen won’t help. You’re a smartie, try again.”
I said, “Were you a Pentie too?”
“I don’t care for that term.”
“Sorry.” It was becoming a refrain. “A Pentecostal.”
“No, but I didn’t mind about John. The truth is Pentecostals are ordinary joeys, religious in their own way. But Arlan Richards went to our minister, and he went to the monsignor.”
“What happened?”
“They forbade the marriage, held John for trial under canon law.”
“What’d he do?”
“The charge was heresy.”
I hissed. That was bad. And the penalties were … I steeled myself. “What happened?”
Her eyes were damp. “I was desperate. My father and I appealed to the Bishop of Louisiana, on behalf of John and his family. The Bishop was …” She grimaced. “Henrod Andori.”
“He refused?”
“By that time they’d held the trial. The conclusion was foreordained, almost literally. But Andori saw us afterward. He called me a whore of Babylon, told me he’d attend the burning himself. And he did.”
“Here, ma’am.” I offered the clean handkerchief Fath made me wear.
“Thank you.” She wiped her eyes. “So did I.”
“Ma’am?”
“Attend the burning. First his mother, then him, then his sister. It was all I had left to give. I wanted him to see me at the last, to know I was with him. It was a terrible mistake, which made it far worse for him. But by the time I knew, it was too late.”
I swallowed bile. “When was this?”
“Seven years ago.”
“Fath was SecGen, wasn’t he? Why didn’t you appeal to him?”
“The government has no authority over the Church. Besides, he was recuperating from that crash in Helsinki, the one that injured his knee. Valera was in charge, and refused even to urge clemency.”
“The bastard.”
“Amen.”
“Daddy says don’t use that word.” Janey tugged at my arm.
“I’m sorry, honey.” Honey? Jeez. If Kevin heard me talk that way, he’d tease …” My smile faded.
“So.” Corrine stood wearily, and stretched. “I don’t choose to go ashore.”
“I understand.”
“Will you join us for dinner?”
I thought of Fath, and his tart manner on the bridge. “I’ll eat with the rest of the crew.” The auxiliary Dining Hall was on Level 4. The Captain never dined there.
To my surprise, not one but two crew tables made a place for me; I had to choose. I sat alongside the other sailors, listening to their chatter.
Often there was banter and argument between men and women, but every joey at the table was so relieved the alien was gone, there was nothing in the air but good spirits.
After, recalling Fath’s rebuke, I wandered the lounges and holoscreen rooms, reluctant to return to our cabin before I actually had to. When I knew Fath would be incensed at any further delay, I made my unenthusiastic way to Level 1.
“Ah, there you are.” Fath lay atop his covers, still dressed. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, sir.” My tone was stiff.
Cautiously he raised himself, pulled me into an embrace.
I broke loose. “What’s it with you and hugs?” I asked scornfully.
“Well, now, I’ll tell you. Come here.” He patted the side of his bed.
Reluctantly, I joined him.
“When I was a boy … let’s see now. I was exactly a year younger than you. In the pre-industrial ages.”
I smiled dutifully, not really caring.
“My father no doubt loved me, in his way, but he wasn’t demonstrative. At least, not with affection. The day I left for Academy, he took me to Devon by train. A long trip, and mostly in silence. From the station it was a long walk across the common to the front gates, where we’d part.”
The Captain paused, lost in a distant past.
“On the way, I practiced how to say good-bye, how to tell Father I’d make him proud.”
I was suddenly attentive.
“He was carrying my bag. When I tried to take his hand, he shifted the duffel. I moved around the other side. Again, he shifted the bag. At the guardhouse I took a deep breath, was ready to begin my speech. He handed me the duffel, took my shoulders, turned me about, guided me through the gate.”
Fath’s eyes glistened.
“When I turned to wave good-bye, he was striding across the common. I watched a long while, but he never looked back.”
I swallowed.
“Years later, Randy, I asked him if he loved me. He couldn’t answer it was so.” He worked himself to a sitting position. “I had few hugs, and know the need of them. If I offer too many, you’ve merely to tell me, and I’ll stop. I don’t mean to make you uneasy.”
It wasn’t fair. Once in a while, a joeykid ought to be allowed to hate his parents.
“So that’s what it is with me and hugs, son.”
Did he know Dad was a hugger? That it was what I’d missed most, the one thing I’d always been too shy to mention to Anth?
I studied the far bulkhead. “I’d like one, please.”
In the morning Fath made a point of sitting with Andrew Ghent for breakfast, and when Tad came in, Fath waved him over. Covertly, I watched the two for signs of resentment, saw none. Well, he hadn’t punished Tad, just spoken sharply. And a midshipman was used to demerits.
The morning was my own; I wasn’t on duty ’til after lunch. Fath was on the bridge, but I had the sense I wouldn’t be welcome there; he was preoccupied, staring at an empty screen. I waited out the boredom in a lounge.
A ship’s boy had no watch station; he was supposed to help out as needed. It made for an interesting but uncertain life. Alejandro didn’t seem to mind; after lunch he and I were called to Hydroponics to help reset some tubing. He chattered cheerfully, while I wondered if there’d be any joeys my own age among the passengers. Alec was a bit too young, and the middies too old, and snooty. Except Mik, of course, but he was twenty. And maybe Andy Ghent; since the day in my cell when he’d refused to tell me my fate, I’d seen him in a different light.
Not long before dinner, Mr Branstead came aboard, on a shuttle full of crewmen. He gave me a preoccupied nod, hurried off to find the Captain.
At dinnertime I was still on duty, but a call
came down saying the Captain wanted my assistance. I suppressed a grin. Assistance, my foot. I washed and changed before reporting to the half-filled Dining Hall.
“Sir.” I saluted stiffly. If he wanted to play games, I would too.
Gravely, he returned the salute. “Take your place, Mr Carr.”
“Aye aye, sir. Good evening, Mr Branstead.” A simple courtesy, that would please Fath.
Jerence sat at the Captain’s right, Tolliver at his left. To my surprise, Tolliver clapped me on the shoulder as I sat. He must be mellow indeed.
After Reverend Pandeker gave the prayer, Fath stood. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, we’ve taken part in extraordinary events. Our old enemy, the fish, have met us without hostility. We’ve even exchanged words. I’d hoped, truly hoped, for more …” For a moment, he fell silent. “But perhaps it is not to be. Tomorrow I will issue orders that the remainder of our crew, and those passengers who wish to accompany us, be ferried aloft. Olympiad will resume her scheduled cruise.”
Cheers, from nearly every table. Fath’s face twisted. He sat.
Mr Branstead touched his knee. “They don’t understand, sir.”
“Do you?”
“I… think so.” He met Fath’s eye. “I worried for the ship, and for you. But your aspiration was magnificent.”
“Thank you.” Fath’s tone was stiff. After a moment he said, “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”
“Fairly.” Mr Branstead’s tone was light. “There’s always risk. After our days in the Rotunda …”
“Pray Lord God it won’t come to that.”
I looked mystified. Fath said, “Jerence was held prisoner during the Navy’s attempted coup. He’s lucky to have escaped alive.”
Mr Branstead snorted. “I’m lucky? What about yourself?”
“My point exactly.”
“Sir, Hope Nation’s a conservative society. Ultimately, even Scanlen’s joeys won’t go against their government.”
“Has he been found?”
I said plaintively, “I know I’m only ship’s boy, but could someone tell me what’s happened?”
Fath said, “A sympathetic judge freed Scanlen. On Anthony’s appeal, the order was vacated, but now the Bishop’s nowhere to be found.”
“Is Anth in danger?” I’m not sure.
Well, at least Fath was honest.
After dinner, I tagged along while Fath accompanied Mr Branstead to the lock. “Remember what I told you,” he said.
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