Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3)

by David Feintuch

  “Another demerit, Mr. Fuentes, for disobedience. What did you say to Mr. Ross?”

  “Yes, sir. I apologize. He told me my tie was knotted wrong. I said it wasn’t his problem anymore.”

  I tried to catch Tolliver’s eye, but it was elsewhere. I growled, “I was a middy once too, Mr. Fuentes; perhaps you can remember. If I heard such insolence in my wardroom I’d make sure you regretted it the rest of the cruise.”

  He flushed deep red, squirming. “Yes, sir.”

  “If your behavior is called to my attention again, I’ll thrash you myself. Dismissed. Not you, Tolliver.” I waited until the hatch was shut. “Well?”

  “Is that a question?” His tone was cool.

  “Don’t goad me. What in hell is going on down there?”

  “Ricky learned how far he can push Ross. It’s a self-correcting problem. I’m just minding my own business.”

  “As you were.”

  He relaxed, flexing his shoulders.

  I studied the empty screen. “A pity,” I told it.

  After a moment he asked, “What is?”

  “I deserve you, Edgar. But they don’t.”

  For the first time his manner showed uncertainty. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “When we get home you’ll have your wish. You’ll see them lead me off the ship in irons.”

  He said nothing.

  “My career is finished, along with my life. Your—what shall I call it? Your style?—it aggravates me, as you intend. It communicates your contempt. But I’m not the issue.”

  “My career’s finished too,” he said with passion. “No one will take me aboard after I’ve been broken to middy.”

  “You’re not the issue either!” I spun my chair around. “We’ve destroyed ourselves, but their lives are still ahead of them!”

  “It wasn’t I who—”

  “They’re children, Tolliver, and you’re ruining them!”

  He was shocked into silence.

  I demanded, “Tell me how you felt the day you made lieutenant.”

  His smile was brief and bitter. “I—” His gaze penetrated the screen. A time passed. “It was the most joy I’d ever felt in my life. Or have since.”

  “And they’ll never feel it, any of them.”

  “You can’t know that. Even Ross—”

  “Thanks to you.”

  He gripped the console until his knuckles turned white. “What do you want of me?”

  “I could have left Ross in charge. You’ve given me so many grounds to cashier you I’d find it hard to choose among them. I left you in the wardroom for a purpose.”

  He raised his eyes, repeated, “What do you want?”

  “Ricky isn’t spoiled yet, but he’s green, else he’d know better than to goad Ross. He needs an example, and you haven’t set one. Ross needs to learn how to handle his disappointments. Bezrel...I don’t know what he needs, but he’s got to find it soon. Otherwise they’ll all be failures, as we are.”

  When he turned to me his eyes were tormented. “Pull me out of there, sir. I’ve nothing left to give.”

  I cried in sudden anguish, “Neither have I, but still I try!” Immediately I was ashamed, but it was too late.

  He hunched over in his chair. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “Is there still time?”

  “I don’t know. There’s so much hatred.”

  “Some of it’s been mine.” He was silent awhile. “Nuking the Station,” he said. “You made a terrible choice; I can’t possibly condone it. Orbit Station’s gone, and for all we know a new flotilla of fish is attacking Hope Nation even now.”

  “Lord God forbid. None had Defused for an hour, and—”

  “An hour.”

  I flushed. “I know, but there were too many lives at stake to wait any longer.” Yet if anything was more obscene than what I’d done, it was the thought that I’d done it for naught.

  Tolliver sighed. “I’ve hated your treason, but you’ll pay the penalty when we get home, and I have to respect how you face that. But Kahn and Steiner and Ross, they’re wrong about you. I know you lied about Vax Holser.”

  “How dare you!”

  He raised his face to mine. “I saw your eyes, when they brought you from the lifepod. Whatever went on between you and Vax on the Station, it wasn’t what you said in sickbay.”

  “You weren’t even in the sickbay!”

  “I made Ross tell me.”

  “It’s none of your business.” I turned away, passed my hand casually across my eyes.

  “About the wardroom...I’ll try, sir.”

  “Thank you, Edgar.” I said no more, and we sat in silence.

  “Am I dismissed, sir?”

  “When you’re ready.”

  He got to his feet, saluted, walked to the hatch. He paused. “Why do you let them treat you that way?”

  “Who?”

  “All the officers. They despise you and don’t even care if we know it.”

  “They’re right to despise me. It’s only wrong of them to show it.”

  “You’re the Captain! Put a stop to it!”

  I turned my chair. “Should I start with you?”

  He stumbled for a reply, smiled weakly. I waved him out.

  When my watch was done I persuaded Annie to join us for the evening meal, and bore the inane chatter of the few passengers who deigned to sit with us. After, I escorted her to the lounge. “I’ll be back soon.”

  The brig was unguarded; with only one prisoner, a passenger, we had no need of a sentry. Daily, the master-at-arms brought Jerence his food and clothing and went about his other duties.

  I entered the codes and let myself in. The boy sat slumped on the floor of his cell, ignoring the bunk and chair nearby. He looked up.

  I asked, “Are you sane now?”

  “Hah. I’ve always been sane.” He kicked listlessly at the deck. “Can I get out? I’ve been here a month.”

  “Only a week.” I sat in the unused chair. “Jerence, what should we do with you?”

  He shrugged. “Leave me here. It’s all the same.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Smash his stuff?”

  “Use the juice.”

  A scornful laugh. “What else is there?”

  “It’s addictive. Keep it up and you’ll never get free of it.”

  “So?”

  “Does your life mean nothing?”

  He shouted, “I have no life! All I have is growing up to be a planter. I hate it and I hate you and I hate everything!”

  I reached forward to touch his shoulder, but he scooted away. “Jerence, I’ve got—”

  “Captain, call the bridge!” Chief Arkin. With a curse I scrambled to my feet, let myself out. I dialed the bridge. “Seafort.”

  “Sir, Lieutenant Kahn needs you at his cabin, flank.”

  Was there no peace? “Coming.” I hurried to Kahn’s quarters, at the top of the ladder. The hatch was open. Kahn stood, hands on hips. Alexi Tamarov sat on his bed, head in his hands.

  “What, Mr. Kahn? Can’t I get anything done?”

  He pointed. I followed his hand.

  “Oh, Lord God, he didn’t mean it. Forgive him.” I wasn’t aware I’d spoken aloud.

  In the center of the room, a chair. Above it, on the base of the light fixture, a rope. It ended in a noose. I cleared my throat. “How did you find him?”

  “I came back for a holochip and Mr. Tamarov was on the chair.”

  Weak from relief, I sagged against the hatch. If Kahn hadn’t wanted his holochip...Alexi, why couldn’t you come to me?”

  “What’s the point?”

  “I’d help you.”

  “But you can’t.” He flung out his hand in a gesture that encompassed the whole ship. “Here’s another life for me to sample. And then it will be over like the others, and again I’m nothing.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He twisted his hands. “When you used to come to the hospital...” I
hung on your every word. I was afraid to walk down the hall for a holozine, for fear I’d miss your visit. Then we crashed the heli and had to hike to Plantation Road. I did what I could to help you, and imagined I might be of real use someday.

  “But afterward you were sick, and the hospital was gone and I had nothing again.” He looked up, eyes bleak. “That job in Centraltown, I know you fixed it for me, but still it was something I could do. I found my way around town, learned to use their puters, started to make a life. Now suddenly I’m on the way home. I have no memories to anchor me. Every time I try to establish myself, you haul me away.”

  Why was I so self-centered, so oblivious to the needs of others? “Alexi, I’ll find someth—”

  “I’d refuse it!” He kicked savagely at the bunk. “You think I wouldn’t know it was makework? You already have two extra officers, and there’s nothing for them to do but fight in the wardroom! I don’t want your damned charity!”

  I said stiffly, “I didn’t mean it as charity.”

  Alexi shrugged. He stared at his lap.

  I could find nothing to say. Finally I patted Alexi’s knee, looked to Kahn. “Take him to the infirmary. I’ll explain to Dr. Zares.” Kahn crossed to the bed, tugged gently at Alexi’s arm. I closed the hatch behind them and picked up the caller.

  It was hours later, in my cabin, that I remembered my interrupted conversation with Jerence. Though I was dog-tired I went anyway; better to get it over with.

  Jerence sat up when I came in. “Was there trouble?”

  “It doesn’t concern you.”

  His face fell. “You’re just like Pa.”

  I yawned. “Pa wouldn’t like to hear you say that.”

  “Yes, he would. He likes you.” A pause. “I’m sorry I said I hated you.”

  “Thank you.” It was an opening. “Jerence, your pa wanted me to take care of you. I don’t know how.”

  He was scornful. “I don’t need taking care of. I’m fourteen now.”

  “Where’d you get the juice?”

  He grinned. “I brought it in my knapsack. You never checked. On the ship, I hid it good ’cause I thought you’d search, but you didn’t.”

  “True. My mind was occupied with trivial things, like a few hundred murderous fish, and nuking Orbit Station.”

  He colored. “I’m sorry my juice made trouble for you. Besides, Mr. Torres says you found the rest of it, so even if I want to, I can’t have any more.” He squirmed, scratched an itch. “Mr. Seafort, when this is over, do I have to go back?”

  “Of course you do.” I yawned again, against the wires locking my jaw.

  “God, I hate the idea of watching corn grow for the rest of my life.” His face changed. He looked up at me, said quietly, “You don’t know how much I hate it.”

  “What would you prefer?”

  “There’s nothing.” He stared morosely at the deck. I waited. “Except...” His eyes beseeched me. “Don’t laugh.”

  Moved despite myself, I said, “I won’t.”

  He regarded me, weighing the risk. “Mr. Seafort, I’d really like to be a midshipman, like Derek Carr.”

  I blurted, “Ridiculous.” His look of betrayal stabbed. “I didn’t laugh. Jerence, your father would have a fit if I let you enlist. And you’re still a minor, so you need his permission.”

  He looked up with a quick grin. “No I don’t.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It says ‘parent or guardian.’ An unaccompanied minor traveling on a Naval vessel does so as the ward of the commanding officer. So you could give me permission.”

  “Where in heaven did you hear that?”

  “I asked Lieutenant Kahn, and he read me the regs. Anyway, you don’t need permission. Remember how you enlisted two passengers as cadets a few years ago? We all heard about it.”

  “I already have two extra middies; you think I need a goofjuice addict on top of that?”

  “I’m no addict!” he shouted.

  “Enough!” I stood, unlocked the hatch. “In the morning they’ll let you go. No charges. Stay out of trouble, or...”

  He jeered, “Or what?”

  I said, “You’ll answer to me, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.” I left, hoping I’d impressed him. A middy! Lord God save us.

  29

  THE NEXT MORNING DR. Zares numbed my jaw, removed the wires. Cautiously I opened my mouth. It ached, but nothing jarred loose. I went to the mirror. Lord God. I looked...was there ever anything like what I looked? I tried a smile. The gap-toothed result was so awful that I shuddered.

  “When can you do the teeth?” I wasn’t vain about my appearance, but I had no choice. When they laughed at me, they’d laugh at the Service.

  “We can start anytime. It won’t be comfortable.”

  “I know.” It would hurt like the very devil. I’d bear it. Cellular seeds were planted deep in the gums and stimulated daily with the bone-growth stimulator. I’d had one done once, after my first and only fight in a Lunapolis bar.

  “Captain...” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “May I suggest...”

  “Spit it out.” I looked in the mirror again. A poor choice of words.

  “Why don’t you have that done as well?” He waved at my scar.

  I smiled tightly. “You don’t like it?”

  He blurted, “It’s awful.” He reddened. “Sorry, sir, but you did ask. It’s so unnecessary. Any clinic could fix it. I’m surprised you didn’t have it removed when you were in the hospital.”

  “I chose to keep it.”

  “Do you still?”

  I fingered the scar. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  He was blunt. “Because it puts people off. Skin regrowth is so simple that the scar is obviously an affectation.”

  I flushed. “I’m still your Captain.”

  “And you’re still my patient. Keep your bloody scar, if that’s what you want!” He slammed the cabinet door. “We’ll start on your teeth tomorrow. Let your jaw rest. Soft foods.”

  “Very well.” I ran my finger across my mouth. I could even yawn if I wished. What luxury. “Doctor, about Mr. Tamarov.”

  “Yes.” Cooling, he sat across from me. “I gave him a sedative for a good night’s sleep. I’m no psych, Captain. I can give him psychotropic meds, or I can run an analysis for hormone rebalancing.”

  My stomach knotted. There was no reason why patients of a rebalancing ward were greeted with condescension or, worse, with cruel sneers, yet it was so, and my own attitude wasn’t much better. I’d lost my wife Amanda because I’d hesitated to authorize Portia’s medic to check her for rebalancing.

  If I didn’t order a rebalance, and Alexi killed himself while deranged, the blame would be mine. If I allowed it, his career was finished. Yet, what career could he have in his current amnesiac state?

  Surely hormone treatments were the best way. What would I want him to do for me, if our roles were reversed?

  I’d rather die. “Not yet, Mr. Zares. I’ll have him watched.”

  “You can’t guard him at all hours.”

  I stood. “May I look in on him?” He nodded.

  I went to the cubicle, cautiously opened the hatch. Alexi lay asleep, on his back. The lights were set low. I tiptoed in, sank into the chair next to the bed.

  Alexi’s face was relaxed, all cares dissipated as his chest rose and fell. I swallowed. So young. Sleeping, he was the fifteen-year-old I’d come to cherish in my first wary months on Hibernia. He’d done nothing to deserve the misery he’d seen since: my harsh rebukes, the tyranny of Philip Tyre, consignment to Admiral Tremaine’s unjust vessel, the loss of his very self.

  Slowly I eased from the chair, knelt by the side of Alexi’s bed, clasped my hands. Please, Lord God. Restore him. I know You have no love for me, and that is just, but this one thing I ask You. Do with me as You will. But not him. Let me bear his hurts.

  “How long have you been here?”

  I looked up, startled. “You’re awake.”


  “I just woke.” He brought his arm under his head.

  I smiled. “I just came in.” I got up from my knees. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired, actually. I’m here because...oh.” He grimaced.

  “I’m glad we found you. I’d have—” For a moment I turned away.

  “Finish.”

  “I’d have been lonely.” I rested my hand on his. “Please, Alexi. Don’t damn yourself. Be patient.”

  “Oh, of course,” he pulled his hand loose. “Patient. Always patient. I’ll be known as Alexi Tamarov, the man who waited.” He sat up, thrust off the sheet. “Maybe I should go back to the cabin and finish what I began.”

  “You’re not a prisoner.” He turned away. Perhaps I should make him one, for his own safety.

  Afterward, I told Annie about my visit. She said with conviction, “I go talk to him. I know what it mean, not wantin’ live. That be how I felt when you go way. It ain’ right.” She looked at me anxiously. “I wan’ be with you, Nicky. Always. But talkin’ a killin’ myself when you be gone, that ain’ the way. Trannie life too short for throwin’ it away. Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

  “God, how I love you.”

  She came to me. Her diction was careful and precise. “Promise you’ll be with me, Nicky. I can’t stand it without you.” I closed my eyes. Lord God, let her heal. Show her how not to rely on me.

  Jerence was released and installed in a new cabin. Alexi left the sickbay.

  Whenever I went to the dayroom, conversation fell silent. If Thomas Ross was present he immediately left. Bram Steiner asked again to be beached.

  I kept my eye on the Log. The demerits issued by Tolliver went up, those issued by other officers began to diminish. It could be a good sign.

  My jaw and gums hurt abominably as my replacement teeth rooted and began to probe through swollen tissues. I tried to ignore the pain, realized I was unsuccessful when I found myself, red-faced, shouting at Ricky Fuentes over a nav drill error.

  Thomas Ross, also present, watched me with unconcealed contempt. I thought to send him to the first lieutenant, sent him instead to Tolliver. Tolliver could be worse.

  As days passed, Lieutenant Kahn’s manner was scrupulously correct, yet unforgiving. I learned to avoid the bridge during his watch; I preferred loneliness.