Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3)

by David Feintuch

  That night I persuaded Annie to return to the Captain’s cabin; I felt like an awkward middy on his first date. After dinner she sat watching a holo.

  “What’s that?”

  She flicked it off. “Just some history stuff. Story ’bout...” She cleared her throat. “Why, thank you for asking, Captain. I was watchin’ a story about the Last War.” She looked up with a mischievous twinkle. “Is that right, sir?”

  I kissed the top of her head. “You do remember.”

  She nodded. “Sometimes.” She let me pull her into my arms. “You know, dis—this ship be good for me, I think. Get me away from dat place.”

  “Centraltown?”

  “All of it.” Her head nuzzled me. “That rock, all those places burning, our ’partment all broke...I was so scared I went trannie an’ hid. And then somethin’ happen...I don’ remember much, ’xcept smashin’ bad man’s head.” She held me as if for strength. “Doctors and nurses, an’ you sick or you be gone, an’ I jus’ wan’ be near you.” She reached up, caught my tear on her finger, carried it to her tongue. “Then da shuttle, all noise and pressin’ on me, and the fish, the fish, the fish...” Her voice rose.

  “It’s over now. I’m with you.” Until we get home. Then you’ll have to be strong.

  “I know. It be quiet here, an’ dat doctor be nice. An’ you not goin’ nowhere, dat be nice too.”

  I didn’t have watch until four in the morning. Saying nothing, I took off my jacket, untied my tie. Clothes across the chair, I slipped into the bed. She lay down beside me. I turned off the light. We nestled close, not moving. After a time I dozed. When I turned in my sleep, my hand fell across her breast. She sprang awake with a cry and thrust me away. For a long while she lay on the edge of the bed, as far from me as she could manage. Eventually she snuggled closer, breathing deeply, pretending sleep. As did I.

  28

  I SAT AT THE CONSOLE, willing the hours to pass. As always in Fusion, the simulscreens were dark.

  Midshipman Ross sat stiffly in the second officer’s seat. I fed him navigation problems, more to keep him busy than for his real benefit. Since his outburst the day I boarded, we’d had no words for each other beyond what our duties demanded. His attitude was taut and unyielding, which bothered me not, but with a righteousness I wanted to wipe off with a club.

  Again I flipped through the manifests. Victoria was traveling light, though even fully laden her holds couldn’t carry much. She was an oddity, built for speed, but at the cost of the cargo, passengers, and weaponry that justified a starship’s existence.

  A knock on the hatch. I opened. Midshipman Bezrel shuffled in, eyes red, struggling against tears. “Mr. Steiner’s compliments, sir. Please cancel ten of my demerits.” His hands were pressed to his sides. He’d been caned. But why?

  “Very well. You may go.” I snapped on the Log, looking for demerits, knowing Tolliver must have been at him. Damn the man, picking on a helpless child. I traced the demerits. No, only three had been issued by Tolliver. Others had been issued by Steiner, by Kahn, even by Chief Engineer Arkin. Inattention to duty, talking during math class...

  I called Steiner. “Only nine demerits are logged for Mr. Bezrel.”

  “Yes, sir. Mr. Kahn just issued the last two.”

  At my side, Ross was silent. He might have spoken volumes, but that would be unthinkable, even aside from his barely concealed loathing. A middy who carried tales to the Captain wouldn’t see another posting, and rightly so. By custom, the wardroom was beneath the Captain’s notice.

  Bezrel was something of a weakling, but I was surprised he’d offended so many officers. He’d seemed willing enough to me.

  “Mr. Ross, scout around the ship. If Mr. Kahn is awake, summon him. If he’s in his cabin, leave him be.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  A few minutes later the boy returned, Lieutenant Kahn a step behind.

  “Mr. Ross, this is private. You may go to”—I’d been about to release him from watch, to the comfort of his wardroom, but his attitude didn’t deserve rewarding—“to the passenger lounge to finish your exercises.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  I turned to Kahn. “Sit, if you wish.” I cleared my throat. “I’m curious as to why you issued Bezrel demerits.”

  “I won’t if it displeases you.” His tone was cool.

  I let my manner match his own. “I asked a civil question. If you can’t answer likewise, you may go.”

  He reddened. “I apologize. Maybe I shouldn’t have issued them.” He drummed on the console. “I don’t know how you’re used to running a ship, but I came off Valencia. Did you know her?”

  “I heard she was a good ship.”

  “Yes. I lost a lot of friends when she foundered, and if last year I hadn’t been transferred...” He stared moodily at the screen. “Captain Groves ran her by the book. The decks were clean, the crew well fed, the troublemakers found themselves at Captain’s Mast. The middies...we had four of them, like any three-decker. They toed the line.”

  He was still lost in the screen, beyond it. “When I transferred here, it was different. A smaller ship, more informal. I understood that. But Captain Holser was busy learning the propulsion system; spit and polish meant nothing to him. Mr. Ross is a good joey, and everyone likes Ricky, but even so, there were times a few more demerits wouldn’t have hurt. I don’t think Mr. Holser ever sent a middy up for all the time he had the conn. He was the gentlest man I’ve ever met.” His look dared me to comment.

  I waved it away. “Go on.”

  “I sent Mr. Bezrel to have the purser refill a softie in the passengers’ lounge. After dinner it was still empty. Bezrel said he forgot.” Kahn shook his head. “All right, he’s young. All I did was chew him out. That would have been the end of it, but the silly pup stood there bawling, and I lost my temper.”

  “No wonder.” I’d have stuffed him down the recycler.

  “Crying when a lieutenant reams him! Captain Grove would have put the first middy on report as well. It wouldn’t have happened twice.”

  “I know.”

  “How did the boy make it through Academy?”

  “He didn’t.” When I explained, Kahn shook his head. “Anyway, you did well, Lieutenant. Carry on.”

  His tone hardened. “Save your praise. It means nothing to me.” He left.

  The speaker came to life. “Personnel problems can be aggravating.”

  “You stay out of this, William.”

  “I prefer Billy; it helps keep things straight.”

  “I prefer silence.”

  Billy’s voice went cold. “Aye aye, sir. Will that be permanent, or just for the watch?”

  I sighed. No wonder the officers were temperamental; the ship herself was. “All right, Billy, I don’t prefer silence. Let’s not quarrel.”

  He sniffed. “It wouldn’t have been much of a fight.” I decided not to probe that.

  Two days later a call caught me in my cabin. “Chief Sandra Arkin reporting, sir. There’s trouble with a passenger. You’d better come down.”

  “A riot?”

  “No, not quite. I can handle it, but perhaps you’d like to be present.” If anything was a summons, that was.

  “Where?”

  “Four west, sir.” I ran from the bridge.

  I could hear the commotion before I rounded the corridor bend. Ms. Arkin snarled, “Use your billy, you fool!” A rending crash.

  “I know my job, just stay the hell—!”

  “Look what he’s doing to my cabin! Leave that shirt alone, it’s—”

  They clustered outside the hatch: the Chief, a pair of sailors, the master-at-arms, an apoplectic passenger, a clump of gawkers.

  “What’s going on here?” I roared. Well, it wasn’t quite a roar. One can’t roar with one’s mouth wired shut. In fact, I was unheard. I grabbed the master-at-arms’s shoulder, spun him around.

  Mr. Torres whirled, billy club flashing. “Oh, my God.” He dropped the club, stiffen
ed to attention. “Sir, please forgive me I didn’t know—”

  “As you were. What’s—”

  Suliman Rajnee charged me, arms waving with indignation. “Do you see what that ruffian’s done? That vandal you forced on me? I can’t get near my cabin! My clothing’s ruined! I want him out! I want—”

  I thrust him aside, shouldered past the master-at-arms and Chief Arkin. “Just what—” I peered into the cabin.

  Jerence Branstead was stomping on the remains of Rajnee’s dresser, a wild gleam in his eye. A torn shirt hung from his teeth. He held a holovid, but not in viewing position. At the sight of me he grinned, pitched it at my head. I ducked, colliding with the Chief, and we went down in a tangle.

  Scarlet with rage and embarrassment, I scrambled to my feet and slapped shut the cabin hatch. “As you were, all of you! Mr. Torres, put this Rajnee person against the bulkhead across the corridor! Sailors, back to your duties; we’ll handle this. You passengers, to your cabins.” I stopped for breath. Even a short speech could take a lot from me, one-lunged. “What’s the matter with him? Did Rajnee set off this tantrum?”

  Chief Arkin adjusted her jacket, brushed her slacks. “Doesn’t look like a tantrum to me.”

  “Don’t give me that goofjuice. It sure as hell is a—” I jerked to a halt. Goofjuice.

  “Yep.” She grinned. “You have the word for it.” Behind the hatch something heavy smashed to the deck. She flicked a thumb toward the cabin. “Mr. Torres and I can take him down, sir. Best if you stand out of the way.”

  I stood back. “Without the billy club, Mr. Torres.” I’d like to wring the boy’s neck, but the billy might do permanent damage.

  “Aye aye, sir.” Uncertain what to do with the club, he handed it to me. “Ready, Chief?”

  At her nod he slapped open the hatch, dived low while she rushed high. A high-pitched shriek, a final crash, and comparative quiet. I poked my head cautiously around the hatch. They had Jerence straddled on his back across the debris, the master atop his legs, Chief Arkin pinning his wrists.

  The boy didn’t seem to notice. He twisted and kicked, but to no avail. The Chief hung on grimly while Mr. Torres fished for his manacles. Jerence giggled, craned his neck, chomped on Ms. Arkin’s arm.

  She squawked, yanked loose. “That does it, joey.” A hard backhand across the face, followed by several quick slaps that snapped the boy’s head back and forth. That quieted him a moment. She spun him onto his stomach and twisted his arms behind him while Mr. Torres slipped on the cuffs. The battle was won.

  The Chief got to her feet, panting. “Now what, sir?”

  I kicked aside a splintered chair. “Brig him, then back here on the double!” They hustled Jerence down the corridor. For no apparent reason, he let out a fearsome whoop.

  Suliman Rajnee could no longer contain himself. “Where am I to stay? Look at what he’s done! I want to press charges! I want my clothing replaced! He’s broken my holovid, I’ll need—”

  I went to the caller, miraculously undamaged. “Purser to cabin twenty-nine.” Lord, what a mess. Barring the hatchway, I endured Rajnee’s diatribe until the Chief and Mr. Torres returned with the purser.

  “Mr. Rajnee, go with Mr. Rezik. He’ll help you list what you need replaced. Now, please, Mr. Rezik.” When silence reigned, I said, “Search the cabin inch by inch. If he has more juice I want it found.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” The master-at-arms hesitated. “What charges should I lodge?”

  “We’ll see.” I stalked back to the bridge.

  The next day I sat in my cabin musing about Jerence, half listening to Annie chatter about the holo she’d watched.

  My officers had found not one, but two more vials of goofjuice, the first in Jerence’s knapsack under the bunk, the other behind the top shelf of Mr. Rajnee’s closet, where it wouldn’t have been found except for the Chief’s literal interpretation of my orders.

  “She was so pretty in that blue jumper, ’til Rafe tore it off, an’—how come you don’ listen to me?”

  I wrapped my arm around Annie’s waist, drew her closer. “I heard you. Rafe and a blue dress. I don’t know what to do about Jerence.”

  “’Cause he got angry and kicked things ’roun’? That ol’ Mr. Rajnee, I’d like to kick his stuff too.”

  “It’s worse than that.” Possession of contraband drugs was a serious offense. Were he groundside, Jerence could face transport to a prison colony. Strict laws made sense; society had endured enough mind-altered lunatics before the Era of Law succeeded the Rebellious Ages. Users were jailed, without mollycoddling.

  Still, I’d promised Harmon to keep Jerence safe. Did that mean a felony should be condoned?

  Annie’s voice was far away. “Onna street, trannie joeykit get outta line, big ’uns take him inna room, alladem. If he get out, he don’ give ’em no trouble.” I shuddered. On the other hand, I knew of ships where the crew did the same.

  “I’ll let him cool off in the brig. We’ll decide later.”

  A week passed. I’d gotten to know some of the passengers, mostly for Annie’s sake. I hated to see her closet herself in our cabin with nothing but cheap holos to occupy her time. Most passengers pointedly snubbed us, either for my own misdeeds or from disdain for Annie. I couldn’t be sure which, so I let it be.

  On Sundays the routine was broken by Captain’s Mast. Since I’d come aboard, Victoria’s sailors seemed quarrelsome and sullen, and at each Mast I meted out the necessary penalties. But when I found Midshipman Ross on the list, I raised an eyebrow to Kahn. “What happened?”

  “I caught him fighting.”

  “With Tolliver? That’s for them to handle. Stay out—”

  “No. He went after Mr. Fuentes, in the lounge.”

  “Ricky?” It couldn’t be.

  “Not just a push and shove. It was savage. Ross had Fuentes on the deck when I happened to look in.”

  I shook my head, astounded. What was the wardroom coming to?

  “No matter what we think of you, ship’s discipline has to be maintained. I wrote him up and gave Fuentes six demerits as well.”

  “It won’t work, you know.”

  “Sir?”

  “You can’t maintain discipline while letting your own feelings show. You’re asking more from Ross than you’ll give yourself.”

  He eyed me with contempt. “You’re a fine one to tell me how to handle a crew.”

  It was hopeless. Very well, so be it. “Take Mr. Ross’s name off the list.”

  “What Captain would let a middy get away—”

  “Mr. Kahn, leave the bridge.”

  He glared, finally responded. “Aye aye, sir!” When the hatch slid shut I sat in welcome silence.

  It was time to resign. The enmity of the ship was all-consuming, had even filtered down to the wardroom. What was the point of hanging on to command? Duty? The Navy would be glad to be free of me, regs or no. I sat, brooding.

  An hour later, a knock. I swiveled the camera before opening. Bram Steiner.

  He flipped me a cursory salute. “I’ve spoken to Jeff Kahn. He’ll show you courtesy from now on, unless you goad him beyond endurance.”

  “I see.”

  “It just so happens you were right. He understood, really, or he wouldn’t have written up Ross. We’d like you to put the middy back on the Mast list, for the good of the ship.”

  “Very well.”

  “And I want you to beach me.”

  “You what?” I couldn’t have heard aright. A Captain could beach any officer; he’d stop accumulating seniority until restored to active duty. It was a drastic punishment. No officer would request beaching.

  His face was wooden. “Captain, I’d request a transfer, but that’s impossible in Fusion. I won’t try to serve you with contempt, like Jeffrey. I can’t have it both ways either. So, beach me. I don’t want to serve on a ship you command.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “My feelings about...the actions you’ve taken. I don’t
care to be associated with you.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then I will do my duty until I can no longer stomach myself.”

  The risk he was taking was enormous; I could brig him for his revealed abhorrence, and he knew it. This was what my lies had brought us to. “Mr. Steiner, about Vax...”

  “You’re not fit to mention his name!” He stopped, pale. “I apologize. I have no right to say that.”

  “Go to your quarters.”

  “Aye aye, sir. And as to my request?”

  “Get out!” I sat, fuming. The puter was blessedly silent.

  At Mast, Ross took full blame on himself.

  “What did Mr. Fuentes do to provoke you?”

  Ross took a deep breath. “Nothing, sir.”

  “The Log doesn’t show any problem with self-control under Captain Holser. What’s happened?”

  “I have no idea, sir.” His tone was contemptuous.

  I’d allowed him one outburst, in which he’d called me a murderer. That was enough. “Present my compliments to Lieutenant Steiner. You’re to be caned until you agree your conduct will be exemplary in future.”

  “I’m eighteen!” A cry of appeal.

  Should I reverse myself? No, Ross’s manner was intolerable, and if I didn’t chastise him, another Captain would be forced to do worse. I made my voice cold. “I’ll treat you as the age you act, which puts you barely out of Academy. Go.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Mastering his dismay, he saluted, spun on his heel, and left. Well, I admired his valor, but courage wasn’t the issue. I couldn’t have him sneering at me, or brawling in public.

  I closed the Log, sat thinking. The wardroom was Tolliver’s affair, but now I had a right to intervene; a middy had been brought to Mast. I thumbed the caller. “Mr. Fuentes to the bridge. And Mr. Tolliver.”

  After the two midshipmen reported, I left them at attention and scowled at Ricky. “Six demerits, Mr. Fuentes? What’s this?”

  He gulped. “I’ll work them off, sir, honest. I did one yesterday and—”

  “How did they come about?”

  He blushed. “I was rude to Mr. Ross.”

  I asked slowly, “What was it you said?”

  “Please, sir, I—”