Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3)

by David Feintuch

  “It was only a suggestion,” I muttered. “And anyway—what’s your name, again?”

  “Ter Horst, Ravan G., Lieutenant, sir,” the young man said cautiously. I could understand his anxiety. Though I’d never been a lieutenant I remembered the awe that a Captain—any Captain—inspired in me as a midshipman. For all this fellow knew, I consorted with Admirals, if not Lord God Himself, and a word from me could do him inestimable harm.

  “Well, Mr. Ter Horst, we have no idea how long it takes the fish to respond once they hear us. Or even where they come from.” I shivered despite the afternoon warmth. “They might be on their way even now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You needn’t be afraid of me,” I snapped. “I don’t bite, at least off duty.”

  He attempted a grin. “Sorry, sir. Anyway, we’re ready for them this time. Thirty-eight ships, all armed to the teeth with laser cannon. I’d like to see the fish that can run that blockade.”

  “Not a blockade, Ter Horst.” Captain Derghinski was gruff. “We’re scattered all over the system; we have to protect miners’ ships and local commercial craft as well, you know. And ten of our ships are posted near Orbit Station; we can’t afford to lose the Station under any circumstances.”

  No, we certainly couldn’t. Our huge interstellar vessels, assembled in space, couldn’t heave themselves out of a planet’s gravity well. The ships were floating cities and warehouses that carried passengers, crew, and cargo across the immense reaches of interstellar space, on voyages that took months or years to complete. Hope Nation’s cargo and passengers were off-loaded at the huge, bustling Orbit Station, where they transferred to shuttles for reshipment groundside.

  If Orbit Station and its shuttles were destroyed, only the starships’ frail launches would serve as lifelines to the colony. Hope Nation’s trade would be crippled.

  “Still, sir,” said the lieutenant, “we’ve got more than enough force to handle any imaginable attack.”

  “I hope so,” I said. Though I wished I were aloft, part of me silently thanked Lord God I was ashore; the thought of the fish appearing to hurl their acid globs at my ship sent chills down my spine. I turned away, ashamed of my cowardice.

  Captain Derghinski stared bleakly at the lieutenant. “U.N.S. Resolute, hmm? I don’t remember that she encountered any fish on the way out.”

  “No, sir,” Ter Horst agreed.

  “I remind you, sir, that you speak to Captain Nicholas Seafort of Hibernia, Portia, and Challenger. He discovered the aliens and fought them three times. He hardly requires your advice.”

  Lieutenant Ter Horst wilted under Derghinski’s rebuke. “Please forgive me, Captain Seafort,” he said quickly. “I spoke without thinking.”

  I tried not to show annoyance at Captain Derghinski; after all, he was my guest and my senior as well. “No matter, Lieutenant. I’m glad you’re eager to do battle for us.” I turned to Derghinski as Ter Horst gratefully made his escape. “Thanks for your concern, sir. I’m really all right, though.”

  “Hope so,” Derghinski said bluntly as we drifted toward the buffet. “Not according to rumors I’ve heard.”

  “Oh?”

  He sized me up with a glance. “They say you’re at the end of your tether. Not just your wound, but the word is the psych report blew you off the bridge.”

  “Dinner, Nick. Gentlemen?” Annie’s blessed appearance at the door saved me from the need to answer.

  “Wouldn’t hurt you to get a word in at Admiralty House,” Derghinski muttered, as we drifted inside.

  No, it wouldn’t, if I could get through to Admiral De Marnay. I’d already tried twice for an appointment.

  I suppose dinner was delicious. I didn’t notice.

  I pointed to the prefab going up across the street. “Last time I was here, all that was open land.”

  Annie shrugged. “It better havin’ somethin’ on it.” I nuzzled her hand as we strolled toward the spaceport, and Admiralty House beyond. She’d survived the streets in Lower New York, where every lot held either a decaying building or rubble; to Annie, open spaces were dangerous jungles to be crossed to the safety of abandoned tenements. She added, “What’s so special about a piece of land, anyways?”

  In those thickets Alexi Tamarov had hidden two dirty and disheveled cadets, waiting while a loyal sailor lured me to their hideaway, unable to reveal his secret. “Nothing, hon.” Once I’d passed Judge Chesley in the street. If he recognized me, he gave no sign. I was content to leave it so. Another voyage, another time.

  I would miss Annie, when the transpops were shipped onward. I suspected, though, that the Centraltown authorities would be glad to see the last of them. Freed from shipboard discipline, the rash young streeters had been involved in more than a few incidents. Now, most of them were gathered in a temporary camp on the edge of town.

  The iron gate to Admiralty House creaked as I opened it. Two lieutenants on their way out saluted; I returned their salutes automatically, my mind on the interview I sought. I brushed back my hair.

  “Yes, sir?” The lieutenant paused at his console.

  “I’d like to see Admiral De Marnay.”

  “Have you an appointment, sir?”

  “No.” I couldn’t get one.

  He looked dubious. “I don’t know if I can get you in, sir. The Admiral shuttles back and forth to Orbit Station. When he’s groundside the quartermasters, supply officers and tacticians line up waiting.” His eyes darted to my cheek. “You’re Captain Seafort, sir?”

  “Yes.” My scar was ample identification.

  “I’m Lieutenant Eiferts. Glad to meet you. If you’ll have a seat I’ll pass the word you’re here.”

  “Thank you. Let’s sit, Annie.” Though I wouldn’t admit it, the long hike from Centraltown had winded me. I picked up a holozine and flicked through it.

  “Mr. Seafort?” It was Captain Forbee. “Here for a meeting?”

  “Not exactly. We—Miss Wells and I—took a long walk today, and I thought perhaps Admiral De Marnay could see me.”

  “Did Eiferts say you haven’t a chance?”

  “The Admiral’s that busy?”

  “Well, I might be able to get you a word with him. Depends on his mood at the moment. Come upstairs.” He touched his cap to Annie. “Nice to have met you, Miss, uh, Wells.” Was there a second’s hesitation before he acknowledged the name? He led me up the red-carpeted stairs and along the paneled hall.

  Forbee’s office was bigger than the one I remembered from my first visit to Hope Nation. He parked me in a comfortable chair and disappeared.

  I was looking for something to read when a head appeared in the doorway. “Excuse me, sir. Midshipman Bezrel. The Admiral will see you now.”

  “Very well.” I followed the very young middy down the hall, through a waiting room filled with officers, some of whom I recognized. I saw speculation in their faces; was I summoned back to active duty? If not, how had I managed to slip past them?

  The midshipman knocked and opened the door. He snapped to attention, as did I. “Captain Seafort, sir,” he said. His voice hadn’t quite settled into the lower registers.

  “As you were, Bezrel. That’s all.” Admiral De Marnay stood from behind his desk. “Hello, Seafort. Stand easy.” He put out his hand.

  “Thank you for seeing me, sir.”

  “You’re supposed to make an appointment for this sort of thing,” he said irritably.

  “Yes, sir. I’ve tried several times.”

  “Did it occur to you that I wasn’t ready to see you?”

  “I hoped it wasn’t the case.”

  “Well, it was.” The Admiral’s scrutiny was neither friendly nor hostile. “Sit down. What do you want?”

  “A ship, sir.”

  “No.”

  “Return to active duty, then. In any capacity.”

  “No.”

  “May I ask why, sir?”

  “No.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” I was finished. I won
dered what I was suited for, other than the Navy.

  He relented. “You’re not recovered from your ordeals, Seafort. You were near death for a long while.” That was true. I’d been around death for longer than he knew. Much of it I’d caused by my ineptitude.

  “We walked here today, sir. From downtown.”

  “We?”

  “A friend and I, sir.”

  “Well, that’s good. But physical recovery is only the half of it. You’re overstressed, Seafort. You’ve had more tragedies—catastrophes—than most Captains see in their entire career. You’re not fit.”

  I tried to keep my voice calm. “In what way, sir?”

  “Emotionally, Seafort. You’re a bundle of nerves.”

  “That’s goofjuice,” I said, regretting it almost instantly.

  He ignored the impertinence. “You’re wound so tight you wouldn’t even answer the psych officer’s questions. What if you cracked under the strain of command? You could lose a ship, or even suicide, as your wife did.”

  “That’s not fair!” I cried. “Amanda was distraught. Her baby—”

  “You’re distraught too, whether or not you know it.”

  “No, I’m not! I—”

  He came to his feet in one supple motion. “Look at yourself!” he bellowed. “Why do your eyes glisten? Your fists are clenched, did you know that? Do you realize how you’ve been talking to me?”

  I was shocked into silence.

  “You’ve done more than anyone could ask,” he said more gently. “You’ve proven yourself over and over again. I’m not going to let you drive yourself into a hormone-rebalancing ward. You’ve earned a rest, Seafort. Take it.”

  I sat in abject misery, not daring to speak further. Finally I whispered, “I can’t lie about and do nothing, sir. Please give me a job. Anything.”

  “If you can get clearance from Dr. Tendres in psych, I’ll find you a shoreside billet. Later we’ll see about a ship. That’s all.”

  I opened my mouth to protest but realized I would only work against myself. I saluted and slunk out.

  It was a long walk back to the apartment; past the spaceport, past the prefabs alongside the road, past bars and restaurants, offices and homes. Annie tried to chat at first, but my grim and uncivil replies reduced her to silence.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered, pressing my thumb to the door lock. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Damn ri’ it ain’t,” she responded. “So why you acting like it be?”

  I smiled despite myself. “Because there’s no one else to take it out on.”

  “He said he’d put you back to work, didn’t he?”

  “When I get clearance from the psych officer.”

  “You’ll go see him?”

  See him, and face his probing questions. I could lie to rescue my career, or hold to the truth and stay beached. So grounded I would remain. “Sure, hon. I’ll call tomorrow.”

  She busied herself rummaging through the freezer for a dinner we’d like. “Yo’ problem is you afraid of seein’ him,” she announced. “My Nicky, he be’ent—isn’t—as brave as we thought.” She put the dinners in the micro. “Two minutes on high, then broil for a minute,” she told it, then turned to me, wrapping her arms around me as I slumped exhausted in an easy chair.

  “I never was brave,” I said, pushing away her caress.

  She regarded me thoughtfully. “You really be unzark, huh? Do this my way, then.”

  “Do what?”

  “Promise you won’t call ol’ doctor man for a few days.”

  “Huh? What are you talking about?”

  “That psych man, promise you won’t call.”

  “I’ve got to—”

  She fell into my lap. Her lips pressed against mine, while her hands wandered down to my waist.

  “Hey, you have dinner on. Maybe later, after we—”

  “Promise.”

  3

  THE WALK TO THE hospital was farther than to the spaceport four days earlier, yet I was hardly winded. I squinted in the bright sunlight, forcing my pace to slow. A full hour before my appointment, and I was striding like an anxious middy at Academy. I grinned.

  At the hospital I put a zine in the holovid while I waited. Two years old now, the holozine had reached Hope Nation no more than eight months before. Almost too recent for a doctor’s waiting room. I flipped through the pages on my screen.

  “You’re the first article, Mr. Seafort.”

  Startled, I looked up at the nurse. “I—what?”

  “The lead story, right after the ads. See it?”

  I flipped to the first few pages. Aghast, I saw my haggard face staring back. “I wasn’t looking for—I mean—”

  “At first you were in all the zines. The hero of Mining-camp, savior of Hibernia, all that. Then it kind of died down.” She smiled.

  “Yes.” I snapped off the holo.

  “But they started again when you rescued Challenger and fought off all those fish,” she said without remorse. “Holoweek calls you the Navy’s most eligible bachelor, even with that silly scar.”

  “God in heaven.” I stumbled to my feet, dropping the holovid on the coffee table.

  “If you’re collecting clippings, Mr. Seafort, I’m sure we could help—”

  “No!”

  “Hello, Seafort, you’re looking fit.”

  I turned to see Dr. Tendres waiting in the doorway. “Thank you, Miss, er, um, Miss. Thank you for asking. Offering.” I fled to his office.

  “So, then, how do you feel?” His office lights were off. Though the blinds were open, his desk was in shadows.

  “Better.” I sat in a straight chair in front of the desk, cap on my lap, knees tight.

  “Still having the dreams?”

  “None lately.” For the past few days, at any rate. I’d been too busy at night for dreams.

  “What were your nightmares about?”

  I recognized his test: a few weeks ago, I’d refused to talk about them. I took a deep breath. “The one about Father bringing me to Academy, you’ve seen in my record. I also dream about men I’ve killed—Tuak, Rogoff, and others—coming to take revenge on me. And about how brutal I was to Philip Tyre, a lieutenant I shipped with.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Mr. Tyre? I regret I wasn’t kinder. I wish I could apologize to him. The other men?” I considered. “I don’t know. I had little choice but to execute them.” How glibly the words rolled off my tongue.

  “How badly do you want a ship, Nick?”

  “Badly.” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

  “Enough to tell me what I want to hear?”

  “What I’ve said is the truth.”

  “Yes, but do you feel it true?” He went to the window, clasped his hands behind him. “Tell me how you feel about yourself.”

  It was my turn to stand. “Sir, must I do this?” I twisted my cap in my hands.

  He turned. “You find it painful?”

  “Excruciating.” I forced myself to meet his eye.

  He regarded me. “You may choose whether to answer or not. I only ask that you tell me the truth or nothing.”

  Slowly I sat. “Very well.” It was a moment before I was able to summon the words. “I feel myself a failure, in that I’ve been unable to carry out my duties without terrible cost to those around me and to myself. I know the Navy doesn’t see it that way, sir, but I do.”

  “What cost?”

  “Pain, death, and damnation.”

  After a long silence I realized he wouldn’t speak, and went on. “I’ve hurt many people, and caused the death of people I wasn’t alert enough to save. And I’ve dishonored and damned myself.”

  “Your oath?”

  “My oath.” I willed my irritation away. If he didn’t understand, it was my task to make it clear to him. “I shot a woman whom I’d sworn I wouldn’t harm. I gave her my oath so that I could get close enough to shoot her. I knew when I gave my pledge that I in
tended to break it.”

  “Your purpose doesn’t matter, then?”

  “My motive was to save my ship, yes. You people—Admiral Brentley, back home, and others at Admiralty—seem to think my duty to protect Challenger was an excuse. I do not.” And surely Lord God does not.

  “Our Government is founded on the Reunification Church and we all serve the One True God,” he said carefully. “But there’s more than one interpretation of His will in the matter.”

  My fury welled forth. “I don’t engage in sophistry.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Or heresy!”

  That silenced him, as well it might.

  After a long moment he said coldly, “I won’t argue theology with you, Captain Seafort. It is not germane to our purpose.”

  I scowled back at him, knowing I’d destroyed any chance that he’d give me clearance.

  The silence dragged out. At length I said with more calm, “I’m sorry, sir. I know you view my outburst as more evidence that I’m unfit.”

  “I view it as evidence that you have strong religious convictions.” He sat again. “How will your supposed damnation affect the way you function?”

  “My soul is forfeit; duty is all I have left.” Whatever satisfaction this life gave me would soon be ended; what was to come did not bear thinking about.

  “Can you ever be happy?”

  I considered it. “I was once. For a brief time.”

  “When?”

  “On Portia with my wife and baby son. Before they died.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I have duty. Perhaps with Lord God’s grace I will see contentment again, but I doubt that.”

  “So, again, how do you feel?”

  I closed my eyes to seek an honest answer. What I found surprised me. “Not happiness, exactly, but...a sort of peace. I know the worst that will happen to me, and all other dangers pale before it. I have a—a companion now, and I enjoy her company.”

  “Miss, ah, Wells.”

  “Yes, sir.” Just how much I’d enjoyed her company during the past three days, I didn’t intend to tell him. Hour upon hour of bedplay, soft caresses interspersed with dizzying bouts of passionate love at odd and frequent intervals...Omelettes at the kitchen table, a quick trip to the head, Annie’s hand pulling me insistently back to the bed, her lips and hands exploring, her feverish thighs pressing me tightly, until at last I begged her only half in jest to let me die in peace. It just made her smile, and lay her head against my chest, and...