Mik frowned, but said nothing.
“Yes. Yes, sir.” I licked my lips.
“Don’t skulk about hatches, you colonial trannie.” To Mikhael, “In or out?”
“In, if you don’t mind.”
The hatch slid closed behind them, leaving me in the corridor fuming.
27
“BECAUSE I HAVE NO one else to talk to.” I faced Corrine Sloan, eyes locked on the deck of her Level 5 cabin. “Fath’s sedated, Tad Anselm’s busy with the alien, and Mik …” I grimaced. His loyalty lay with the wardroom.
“What happened?”
I made myself tell her. Perhaps speaking as one outcast to another made it easier. Though, from my point of view, she was a hero, not an—
Her tone was dry. “Curiosity isn’t so terrible, Randy.”
“I was listening at the hatch.”
“An open hatch. If they’d wanted privacy … Do you seek pardon? I forgive you.”
“No, I want …” Bile flooded my throat, as I realized what I wanted. “Excuse me.” I made for the hatch. “I shouldn’t have come.”
A ship’s lounge is an awful place to sleep. The lights are too bright, joeys come in and turn on the holovid, and the seats aren’t comfortable. Not for hour after hour. And not when a long-dead face floats accusing in the dim light, until you rouse yourself and shout, “I never said I was as good as you!” And you gulp, because still the eyes burn into yours, and you say brokenly, “Please, Dad!” And you turn away, hoping to see it no more.
In the morning, ship’s time, just as I was steeling myself to do what had to be done, Alejandro, the ship’s boy, peered in. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
I rubbed my face. “Why?”
“Cap’n said to find you.”
“Well, you did.” I knew I sounded sullen, but a night such as mine will do that.
“Better hurry. He didn’t sound real pleased.”
No, he wouldn’t. “Soon as I wash my face.” I splashed water, one-handed, and made a rudimentary effort to comb my hair. By then, Alejandro had departed. Apparently, his instructions didn’t include escorting me back to quarters.
I trod my way upward, step growing lighter despite my darkening mood. Level 3, where I’d slept, was at full grav, but Fath’s cabin—all of Level 1—was set to Lunar Standard. Not our moons, of course. Luna, back in home system.
Outside the hatch, I took a deep breath. Almost, I knocked. No, I still lived there, at least for the moment. I slid open the hatch, took resolute steps.
Fath, wearing a faded robe, sat tensely in an easy chair, a caller by his side. His fingers gripped the armrests. His face was gray. He was alone, or had been so until I came in.
I took one look. “Is it bad?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you stay in bed?”
“Don’t tell me my business.” His tone was short. A flick of his head, toward my unused bunk. “You’re in trouble. Wandering the night—”
I said evenly, “I’m in more trouble than that.”
He closed his mouth, set aside what was no doubt a blistering rebuke. Then, “Tell me.”
“Didn’t Mikhael?” For a moment, I hoped he had. It would make it easier.
“I haven’t seen him of late. Get on with it, Randy. I’m not feeling …”
With perverse pride, I set myself before him, as I’d seen Andrew Ghent do, when reporting to the bridge for discipline. “I went to the wardroom. Two middies were talking. I listened. And you know what? If the hatch had been closed, I’d still have listened.”
He said, “You can’t know that.”
“I wanted to live up to Dad, and failed. I wanted you to be proud of me, and I c—c—can’t do that. I hate what I am. I’m not good enough for you, for Olymp—”
“I never said that.”
“I’m saying it, Fath … Mr Seafort. I wanted to tell you before …”
His tone had no inflection. “Before what?”
“Going groundside. To annul the adoption. We’ve—you’ve—made an awful mistake.”
His eyes fell to the deck. Silence, that stretched eons. When he looked up, his eyes glistened. “I want more than anything to get out of this chair.”
To strike me down.
“To hold you tight, squeeze this nonsense out of you. But I can’t, son. I think if I let go of these armrests, if I let the chair hold my weight, I’ll pass out. So I’ll have to communicate with mere words. You’re my son and will stay so. No, don’t interrupt, that’s decided, and I’ve never had a moment’s regret.”
I turned away, thrust hands in pockets. “You know what I need? Rebalancing.”
He frowned. Hormone rebalancing was the therapy of last resort for insuperable emotional problems, and bore a well-deserved stigma. “Let’s not overreact—”
“Oh, Fath, can’t you see? Back home, I caused a rift between the Church and Anthony. Then I tried to kill you. I couldn’t stop Kevin’s panic when the alien came, and so he died. Outside the courthouse, I had a chance to save Anth, and blew it. How much more will you forgive?”
“Don’t, son. That’s not how—”
“I skulked outside the bridge listening to you and Mr Tolliver, and again in sickbay. I swore I wouldn’t but …” My fist beat my leg. “I can’t help doing vile things. Do you know, I was sneering at Andy Ghent the moment he was shot? And then, today. I mean, yesterday. Would Derek Carr have sneaked around listening at hatches?”
“Don’t berate yourself for—”
“Tell me!”
“No, he wouldn’t.”
“But I did. That’s who I am!” My cheeks were damp.
Ever so carefully, Fath let go of the armrest, keyed the caller. “Dr Romez to the Captain’s cabin, flank.” He set it down.
“I mean it, about annulling the adoption. It was a fine gesture—a lovely gesture, Fath—but I’m not worth it and—”
“Son, don’t do this to yourself.”
“—even Mik despises me. You should have seen the look on his—”
The hatch flew open. Dr Romez burst in. “What—”
“—and I deserved it!”
“He needs a sedative. I’m afraid he may hurt himself.”
“I do not! You weren’t listening!” It was a hoarse scream. “Get away from me!” I tried to evade Romez’s grasp.
“Easy, joey.” He fished in his bag.
“I don’t want to be calm, I want to face the truth! Why can’t you understand?” I kicked and struggled, but Romez had my only arm. Something stung my shoulder.
Sobbing, hiccuping, dizzy, I let him guide me to my bed. Someone pulled off my shoes. I curled in a ball.
“I’m next.” Fath. “I surrender. I’ll take your deepsleep, but I need Anselm first.”
“Why, may I ask?”
“I won’t be lucid for a while.” Fath’s tone was grim. “I can’t go on like this. I’ll take to my bed and wait it out.”
I took a long, shuddering breath.
“If you’d done that when you came aboard, you might—”
“Doctor, for the love of God!” It was reprimand, plea, or both.
“Sorry, sir.” A grunt. “There. Ease back on the bed, if you can. I’ve got you.”
“Page Anselm.” Fath waited until Romez put down the caller. “What about, um, you know.”
“No need to lower your voice. Randy’s out cold. I’ll look after him.”
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want looking after.
“No, what about him?”
“His outburst? Not unusual, in cases of profound depression.”
“Of what?” Fath.
“He’s overwhelmed by loss after loss. His father, whom he loved dearly, his nephew the Stadholder, his best friend Dakko, his home, even one of his limbs. No wonder he’s depressed.”
A silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you?” The doctor’s voice rose an octave. “How could you not know?”
“It’s n
ot my … I don’t think in terms of… Lord, what have I done to him?”
A knock at the hatch.
“Saved him. In every way possible.”
“Lieutenant Anselm reporting, sir.”
“A moment, Tad. Saved him? Look at him.”
“He’s overwrought. Not unheard of in adolescent—”
“Don’t joke of it!”
Romez said quietly, “I’m not, sir. We can give him mood levelers, if he needs them. What’s important—”
“He spoke of rebalancing.”
“He’s not unbalanced, just distraught. You need to address his feelings of low worth.”
Anselm cleared his throat. “I’d best wait outside, sir.”
“Be seated and be silent. How, Doctor?”
“Be his father, Mr Seafort. That’s what he needs. Now, say what you will to Lieutenant Anselm. I’m about to knock you out.”
From Fath, a sigh. I drifted on billowy clouds, until his voice came anew. “Tad, I’m leaving the outrider in your hands. Do what you can.”
There was something I ought to say. I struggled to wake.
“If Harry wants to leave, sir?”
“Let him, of course.”
“Aye aye, sir. I’ll do my best.” Anselm paused. “You watched us this morning, didn’t you? We gained a few more words, but I’m at a standstill as far as real communication.”
“Murf.” My mouth was full of cotton.
“We know they want peace.” Fath.
“So it seems, sir, but to achieve it we need to deal in abstracts, and I’ve no idea how.”
“I don’t—I can’t … all I know, Tad, is that I can’t think. Hell itself can be no worse than …” His voice grew tight. “Sorry. No point in self-pity. I’ll be skipping a few sessions; Dr Romez will have me asleep.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, Doctor, do your worst.”
With a mighty effort, I roused myself enough to fall out of bed. “Wai.” I cleared my throat. “Wait.”
The three of them stared, their expressions beyond description.
“Couple a things.” I grinned foolishly. No, that didn’t seem right. I forced myself to frown. “Jus’a sec. I’m fuzzy.”
“Romez, you said he’d be asleep! Tad, help him into—”
“Tolliver, f’r one,” I said conversationally. “Hates Harry. Fath can’ leave him in charge. Ol’ Tad won’ be able to …” I waved vaguely. The fog was closing in.
“Hold off, Doctor.” Fath pushed aside the medgun. “Perhaps I’d better have a word with—”
“Sir, you’re on the ragged edge. Let me—”
“No, Randy has a point.” With an effort, Fath tried to breathe deeply. “Edgar and I go back a long way, and I treasure him, but he loathes the fish. At this juncture, I can’t leave him in charge.”
Romez shrugged. “That’s not for me to—”
I blurted, “An’ talkin ta Harry. Lemme help.”
“Randy, you’re in no condition to—”
“Helped you before.” I yawned prodigiously. “Wanna take my mind offa m’self?”
Fath tried to turn on an elbow to study me. Something jarred; he went white. After a moment he said through clenched teeth, “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” But I couldn’t think what.
Anselm hauled me back onto my bunk.
The pillow was so damned inviting. But I pried open my eyes. “Tommy.”
“What?”
“Middy Yost. Torturing him. I was listenin’ at hatch.” I curled up, clutched my pillow. “Stop ’em, Fath.” My tone was drowsy.
“What do you mean, son?”
I closed my eyes. Voices murmured, and at last the world faded out.
I sat up abruptly. “Urg.”
“Shhh, you’ll wake Pa.” Mikhael.
“Shhh, I’ll wake me.” I fell back with a thump.
“A call to Battle Stations couldn’t wake the Captain, sir.”
After a time I reopened my eyes, peered past Mik at the strange voice. An attentive med tech perched on a stool near Fath’s bed. He grinned. “Captain will be out for another watch, at least.”
Mik said, “Randy’s up, and they sedated him the same time—”
“Randy had a sedative; the Captain’s in deepsleep.” The tech leaned forward, clapped his hands sharply. Fath didn’t stir. “See?”
“Stop that!” Mik’s tone was indignant.
“Aye aye, Mr Tamarov. But no need to talk softly.”
Mik tried to look stern. “No need to talk at all.” To me, “How are you feeling?”
Hungry, but that could wait. I regarded him glumly. “You hate me.”
He raised an eyebrow. It was just what Fath would have done.
“For spying. I told Fath, I think.” I searched my scattered memory. “Yeah. Just before …”
“You told him lots of things.” Mikhael’s glance was frosty.
My stomach growled. “Shouldn’t I have? What did I say? Can we go eat?” Perhaps that wasn’t the most logical order, but I was doing my best. It wasn’t easy, thinking through dense fog.
Mik eyed Fath dubiously, checked his watch. “They’re still serving in officers’ mess.”
Cautiously, I worked my way out of bed. “I’m not an officer.
“You might as well be,” he said sourly.
“What does that mean?”
“Change your shirt.” He pulled a fresh one from the drawer, helped me peel the old one off. Despite his tone, his hands were agreeably gentle.
In the corridor, I asked again, “What did you mean?”
“You caused quite a ruckus.”
“I don’t remember much.”
“I’ll fill you in. Understand, wardroom affairs are private. You’re not to repeat them.”
“If you don’t trust me …”
He glared. “Do you want lunch or not?” Before I could answer he stalked off.
I trotted after. “All right, you have my word.”
Mikhael steered me past the bridge to the small compartment that served as officers’ mess. Half a dozen officers lingered over their trays. Lieutenant Frand was in animated discussion with a couple of middies at the long table.
The mess was serving soup and sandwiches. It was too much trouble to choose; I took both.
I tore into a chicken salad. It was wonderful. Today, anything would have been wonderful. Don’t let Dr Romez give you a sedative if you’re on a diet.
“I heard this from Tad Anselm.” Mik’s voice was low. “After you passed out, Pa called in Mr Tolliver. They had a bit of a row. Pa made him promise to leave Tad and the alien alone, unless it tried to break loose. And Pa’s just off watch for a while, not relieved.”
“That’s only fair.”
“It’s not normal.”
“But—”
“Stuff it, there’s more.” He glanced about. “What in God’s own hell did you say about Mr Riev?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie.”
“Noth—oh!” I shrugged. “I never mentioned Riev. Just Tommy Yost.”
“Pa actually asked Tad and Mr Tolliver what was going on.”
“So?”
“Don’t you understand? Midshipman affairs are left to the first middy. Senior officers never pay attention, not officially. Tolliver didn’t know, of course; he pays us no heed off the bridge. But even though Tad’s a lieutenant now, Pa asked him outright.”
I asked, “Why?”
“That’s what I want to know. What did you say?”
“I told Fath they were torturing Tommy.”
“You stupid—” Mik slammed down a spoon, startling Lieutenant Frand. “What business was it of yours?”
I didn’t really answer. “Is it always like that?”
“You’ve no right to stick your nose—”
“You joeys having a problem?” Ms Frand loomed over us.
“No, ma’am.” Mikhael shot to his feet.
“Then dec
orum is in order. Especially as you chose to bring a guest.” Frand’s glance swept over me, in cold disfavor.
“Aye aye, ma’am. Sorry.” Mik waited until his lieutenant had gone. “You’d no right to tell Pa—”
“Is that what hazing’s like for middies? Cold hate?”
“I won’t discuss—”
I cried, “Then why’d you bring me here?”
“Shhh!” After a moment Mikhael asked, “What were they saying?”
At Riev’s venomous “You little shit,” Mik flinched. “Alon gets carried away.”
“He’s done it before?”
A long silence. “Yes.” Then, “Since they came back aboard, Mr Riev hasn’t let up on Yost for a minute.”
My hand shot out, pressed his. “Mik, if Tommy’s done wrong, he doesn’t need to be told.” My voice trembled. “Believe me, he knows.” I busied myself with my soup.
Mikhael cleared his throat. “Anselm was a middy not so long past, in the wardroom with Alon. Lord God knows what he said to the Captain. Then I was called in.” His face went dark.
“Imagine it, my lieutenant and the Captain—Pa and my friend Tad—ordering me to tell them what was going on in the wardroom. Demanding I betray Mr Riev.”
I said softly, “Did you?”
“I tried not to.” His gaze was distant. “But Pa was hurting so, he could barely speak. How could I argue?” His voice caught. “I told them Mr Riev was a bit rough. That like all of us, he knew Yost had gotten Andy killed. And Pa wouldn’t let it go. He made me repeat exactly what I’d heard.” To my amazement, Mik’s eyes were damp. “It was a direct order. And … I’d heard … well, Tommy cried a few times. At night, after Mr Riev was done reaming him. Before he went out to work off demerits.”
I set down my soup spoon, kept quite still.
“Pa told Mr Tolliver he’d lived with cruelty too long, that it had been his constant companion on all the ships he’d sailed. That, by Lord God, it was time for it to stop. That Mr Riev couldn’t be left in charge.” Now it was Mikhael’s hand that caught mine. “I begged and pleaded. He ordered me silent. And he said to pull Mr Riev from the wardroom.”
“For how long?”
“Nobody knows. It’ll go on Alon’s record. It could ruin him. And imagine running into him in the corridors, if he’s beached!”
I shrugged. “Better for Tommy.”
His hand tightened on my wrist. “Don’t you understand, you frazzing grode? I’m senior; I’ll be first middy.”
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