I visited Alexi’s cabin at odd intervals, afraid of what I’d find. To my relief, all I encountered was sullen withdrawal, and no sign of the rope.
Three days after Jerence was freed he rampaged through Level 1, flinging tubes of softies at everyone he met, shouting gibberish. Midshipman Ross made the mistake of trying to collar him unaided; Jerence went along, docile enough, until he suddenly spun Ross around and butted him down the ladder to Level 2 where the middy lay groaning, out of combat. Eventually Jerence was subdued by three sailors who seemed to enjoy the unforeseen sport.
Woken from my first good sleep in several days, I had the boy hauled to the sickbay and strip-searched by Dr. Zares while the middies tore his cabin apart looking for more juice. They found none.
Jerence was again escorted to the brig.
Too tired to sleep, I roamed the ship, not caring where I went. I barged into the dining hall, ignored the sullen mess crew stiffened to attention among the starched linen. A quick look, then back out the hatch.
I passed Bram Steiner’s cabin. Beach him? If he wanted off the bridge, I’d put him off the bridge, all right. Let him spend the rest of the cruise in the brig with Jerence.
Down the ladder to the engine room. Chief Arkin was on duty, with a hand. I growled, “Attention!” They stood stiffly while my eye roved the consoles, the cabinets, the machine shop. “Very well, carry on.”
Back to Level 1. I passed the wardroom, stopped. By custom the wardroom was free of the Captain’s interference, except for announced inspection. The hell with custom. I banged on the hatch. “Ship’s inspection. Stand to!”
Tolliver rose immediately, with Ricky. They’d been playing chess. I noted the spotless deck, the immaculate bunks. Well, Tolliver was a seasoned hand; I would expect no less.
I slapped the hatch shut on my way out. By the time I reached my cabin I’d begun to cool. Annie was elsewhere; perhaps visiting. I left the cabin, looking for her. I checked the lounge.
Alexi sat with a holo. “Hello, Mr. Seafort.”
“What are you doing?” I made an effort to smile.
“Reading.” He showed me the screen. “Walfort’s Guide to Colonial Farming.”
“You’re no farmer.”
“I’m no anything.” He snapped off the holo. “Better than just sitting.” I stared at him. Finally he snapped, “Mr. Seafort, I told you I had nothing to do. If you want me to sit staring at the wall, say so!”
My fists clenched. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”
He gulped. “I’m sor—”
“Damn your sorry!” I stalked to the bridge. Lieutenant Kahn rose, saluted properly. I waved him back to his seat. He deliberately turned his chair away from me.
I sat for an hour, rage mounting. Finally I could bear it no longer. “Mr. Kahn, call Mr. Steiner to relieve you.”
“Aye aye, sir.” His tone was cool.
Steiner came, took his seat as Kahn left. Hours passed. I broke the silence with comments, but his only response was an occasional grunt of acknowledgment. The silence was maddening.
“Carry on.” I went back to my cabin. Annie slept. I sat on the bed beside her, loosened my tie. She stirred. Annie, tell me it will be all right. Hold me. Lightly I caressed her arm.
She snapped awake, eyes wide with fear, and clawed at my hand. “Don’ touch me!” She bounded to the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry. Please, I just wanted—”
“Don’ touch me! Never!” With a sob she dashed into the head, slammed shut the hatch.
I got up, went to the mirror, stared at the gaunt face that it framed. Alexi was right; better to die than to live in misery. The entire ship had sent me to Coventry, and I was writhing in it. I had no refuge in my cabin or anywhere.
Well, so be it.
It meant I was free to do as I wished.
I stalked to the bridge. Lieutenant Steiner came to his feet. I growled, “Sit and be silent.” I keyed the caller. “Mr. Tolliver, find Mr. Tamarov and bring him to the bridge.”
Moments later Tolliver and Alexi reported, came to attention.
My voice was harsh. “Puter, record. As of this moment, Lieutenant Abram Steiner is placed on the inactive list.” From his seat, Steiner gaped. “Put the following note in his personnel file: Mr. Steiner is placed inactive at his own request, for personal reasons. His performance as an officer has been satisfactory and his inactive status shall not be construed as a rebuke.” I turned. “Steiner, off my bridge!”
His face was gray. He saluted, saw no response, left.
I wheeled on Alexi. “As for you, Mr. Tamarov, Lord God knows I’d undo what happened to you, but it cannot be. I won’t have you mooning about feeling sorry for yourself. It’s got to stop!”
“Mr. Seafort, I’ll try to—”
“You’ll more than try. Puter, note that Lieutenant Alexi Tamarov is herewith recalled to active duty, on full pay. End recording.”
Alexi gaped. “But I don’t know how to—I don’t remember my training!”
“We’ll retrain you.”
“But how? I’d have to go back to Acad—”
“No, Mr. Tolliver will show you.” Tolliver’s jaw dropped. It gave me mild satisfaction. “Tolliver, you know the ropes. You’re now Lieutenant Tamarov’s aide. Help him do his duty. You’re to share watches with him, eat at his table, spend every spare moment with him.”
Alexi cried, “Mr. Seafort, I can’t stand a watch if I don’t know—”
“Sir! You call your Captain ‘sir’!”
He gulped. “Aye aye, sir!”
“Mr. Tolliver, find this man a proper uniform. Tutor Alexi in every subject studied by a cadet, midshipman, and lieutenant. Start with navigation. He’s a fast learner.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Alexi said, “Sir, I don’t want to do this! I’m not ready—”
I said, my tone icy, “I don’t care what you want.” It brought a stunned silence. “You’re recalled to duty. No discussion is allowed.”
“But—”
Tolliver cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me, Mr. Tamarov. One doesn’t argue with the Captain.”
Alexi looked to my face for comfort, found none.
“Dismissed.”
Alone, I sat tapping the console. I picked up the caller. “Mr. Kahn, report to the bridge.”
A few moments later he was back.
I was brusque. “Sit. Read the Log.”
He did so. He swallowed, looked up, waiting.
“You may pick one, Mr. Kahn. Civility or the brig until we Defuse.”
“Sir!” He groped for words.
“Steiner can’t help you. He no longer has authority to relieve me.”
“I didn’t say anything about—”
“Four weeks pay for insubordination. What do you choose, Mr. Kahn? Will you be civil, or shall it be seven months in the brig?”
“I’ll be civil, sir!” Sweat beaded his forehead. “I thought I was—”
“You weren’t openly disobedient or blatantly contemptuous. But you missed by only a hair. That won’t do. Do you think I’m the only tyrant you’ll ever serve, Mr. Kahn? That’s why cadets and middies go through hell, to learn that they can take what shipboard life may bring! Don’t you remember?”
“Yes, sir!”
“If you can’t survive under me, the Navy doesn’t need you. I’m a part of your training, Mr. Kahn. Keep your hatred to yourself. Don’t let me see it or know about it!”
“Aye aye, sir!”
“Finish your watch.” I stalked off the bridge.
Below, I found the brig unlocked; Master-at-arms Torres was retrieving a dinner tray. Jerence sat cross-legged on his mattress.
I leaned against the hatch. “Why, boy?”
His smile was bitter. “Why not?”
“Have you hidden more juice?”
“Maybe. If not, I could make it, easy enough. I learned how.”
“Why are you throwing your life away?”
He flared, “Why
shouldn’t I?”
“Do you despise Hope Nation that much?”
“Hope Nation? No, of course not!” He got to his feet. “See this prison? That’s what my life is. Pa wants me to be a planter, and I have no choice. Every day it’s the corn, or the wheat, or the God damn beans!”
I slapped him, hard. “Don’t blaspheme!”
His hand flew to his face. “That’s all you care about,” he screamed. “Your dam—your frazzing religion!”
“Not all. It’s what I start from.”
“They all say you’re crazy, that you killed Vax Holser! You’re a monster.”
I nodded. “You’re right about that.” I crossed to the bed, sat. I put my head in my hands. “I can’t lecture you. I’m no better than you are.”
He pounded on the hatch, harder and harder until I thought he’d break his hand. Suddenly he spun to me, his face wet. “You loved him! I saw, that day you tried to talk to him and he walked away.”
“It’s none of your—”
“Tell me! I want to hear it!”
I whispered. “Yes. I loved him.”
He sobbed openly. “You were middies together, I heard. See what you have, that I’ll never know? You think I’ll find friendships like that on a God—on a frazzing farm?”
“No, I suppose you won’t.”
He struggled for composure. “What will come of me? Are you going to keep me here?”
“I have to.” There was no other way.
“The whole cruise?” His cry was agonized.
“Yes. Then I’ll turn you over for prosecution.”
“Oh, God!” He slid to the deck, hugged himself.
“I have no choice, boy. If I let you go, would you give up the juice?”
He was silent a long time. I waited for the inevitable lie, but to my surprise he buried his head in his arms. “It’s too late.”
“What?”
“To give it up. I think about it all the time, Mr. Seafort. The stuff was supposed to last ’til we got to Lunapolis. I’ve used most of it already. I dream about it. I’d do...anything for it.”
Lord God curse the vermin who made and sold the stuff; the death penalty was too good for them. And curse this foolish, uncaring boy, who’d brought foul drugs onto my ship for his own amuse—
No. I’d lost Tolliver, lost Annie, lost Kahn, Steiner, Eiferts, Ross. But not Jerence. Not yet.
“Jerence, it’s time we set things right.” I crossed the cell, hauled him to his feet. “Over there!” I shoved him toward the bed.
His eyes widened. “Why are you taking off your belt?”
“You’re the ward of the commanding officer. That’s me.” I threw him facedown across the mattress. “This is your punishment, for making a shambles of my ship.” I raised my arm. The crack of the belt across his rump echoed like a shot. Jerence shrieked, struggled to free himself. I held him down firmly until I was through. When I released him, he fled sobbing to the corner of the cell, rubbing his stinging buttocks. I threaded my belt through its loops. “I’ll be back tomorrow to talk with you.”
“I hate you! You’re evil and I hate you!” His cries faded as I stalked along the corridor.
I went directly to the sickbay. Dr. Zares looked up from his desk.
“Do you know the chemical properties of goofjuice?”
The question startled him. “I imagine so. Why?”
“Do you know how to make it?”
He came to his feet. “Is that an accusation? I didn’t. I don’t know where the boy—”
“Answer me!”
He stepped back a pace. “Yes, I suppose I could, but I’d never—”
“Make a vial.”
“You’re out of your mind!”
I grinned through missing teeth. “I may well be, by now. That was insubordinate. I want a vial of goofjuice.”
He studied me, shook his head. “Sorry, Captain, there’s no way I could do that.”
“There’s no way you can’t, since I ordered it.”
“I could be jailed. Even a penal colony. Unless you give me a written order—”
“Get out your holo!” Speechless, he handed it to me; I typed in the order. “Can you have it by tomorrow?”
“You’re serious? What in God’s name—” He broke off. “I don’t know. Maybe late tomorrow. I’d have to acidify—”
“Very well, by six. You’re to tell no one. Acknowledge.”
“Orders acknowledged and understood.” He hesitated, then blurted, “You know what you’ll do to yourself?”
“Have you any idea what I’ve already done to myself?” I walked out of the room.
I passed the next day in uneasy anticipation. Annie was friendly, even caring, so long as I didn’t touch her. Lieutenant Kahn met me in the dayroom, greeted me with courtesy, sat at the long table alongside me. His conversation was nervous, his effort to be polite noticeable. I forced myself to respond; after all, it was what I had demanded.
Midshipman Ross entered, saw me, turned to go.
“Mr. Ross!” Kahn’s voice cut like a whip.
“Yes, sir?”
“Sit with us, please.” Reluctantly the middy complied. Kahn said, “We were discussing Kall’s Planet. What did you think of the mines?”
“I don’t know, sir. I have no opinion.” Ross met Kahn’s eyes defiantly.
“Two demerits. Now what do you think?”
I stood. “Good day, both of you.” I left.
I stopped to give special orders to the purser, then took Annie to dinner at our half-empty table. For her sake, I endured the uneasy conversation until the meal was done, then left her at our cabin. I went to the bridge, where the Chief Engineer stood watch. Idly I thumbed through the Log. I saw that Ross had been caned, by Lieutenant Kahn’s order. So be it.
Later, I knocked on the sickbay hatch. “Is it ready?”
“Yes.” Dr. Zares stepped aside, gestured to a plastic-corked vial of amber liquid on his table.
“Very well.”
“Captain, would you let me give you an antidepressant instead? I have meds that—”
“It’s not for me, you dolt.” I put the vial in my pocket, walked out.
He followed me into the corridor. “For the boy? How could you? You’ll addict him and then—”
“Back to your quarters, Doctor.” I headed down the ladder.
I unsealed the brig, went to the occupied cell, opened the hatch. “Come along.”
Jerence sat up. “Where are you taking me?”
“Need another whipping?” My hand went to my belt.
He sneered disdainfully but wasted no time getting to his feet. “Where are we going?”
I led him into the circumference corridor. Jerence followed reluctantly. I unlocked the cabin I’d bade the purser prepare. “Sit.” I pointed to the bed.
I took a chair opposite. “Jerence, your father loves you dearly. The plantation you’ll inherit is worth millions. Can’t you go back willingly?”
“Why should I talk to you, after what you did?”
“I’m all you have. Answer, or I’ll leave you.”
He rested his head in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was muffled. “I don’t want to go back, not if I have to be a farmer.”
“What would you do to earn another life?”
“What kind of life?” He looked up. Hope dawned. “You mean...” He breathed the words. “In the Navy, like Derek?”
I nodded.
He whispered, “Anything!”
“That’s what you said you’d do for the juice.”
“I—” He faltered. “I don’t know. I can’t choose, not if—”
“Here.” I reached into my pocket, drew out the vial. I tossed it onto the bed.
He seized it. “Is this—I didn’t put—how did you get it?” He clutched it to his chest.
“I had it made.”
“Is it real?”
I reached over, pried the vial from his unwilling hands, uncorked it. “Smell.”
He sniffed the tart odor, licked his lips. I replaced the cork, tossed it back to him.
“Oh, God.” He gulped. “Why did—may I?”
“Yes, in a moment.” I waited. He eyed the vial with longing. “I’ll be back to see you, Jerence. I want you to give me the juice back, untouched. If—”
“I can’t!”
“—if you do, I’ll appoint you a cadet in the U.N. Navy. You won’t have to be a planter.”
He tugged at my arm. “Don’t you understand? I can’t hold out!”
“Then you’ll fail. It’s your choice, as it’s always been.”
“Mr. Seafort, please. I’ve got to have it. Just a little.”
“Help yourself. I’ll throw you in the brig afterward, but that’s no matter. You’ll do time in a penal colony, and then you’ll be free to juice yourself into hell.” I stood. “Or there’s the wardroom.”
He stared at the vial. “How long?” he whispered.
“Three weeks.” A cry of grief, which I did my best to ignore. “In three weeks I’ll let you take the oath. On the other hand, there’s the juice, whenever you want it.” I went to the hatch, slapped it open.
He scrambled across the room, barred my way. “Not like that,” he gabbled. “Please, I’ll give up the juice! I swear! But don’t leave me alone with it, I’m not strong en—”
I pried his fingers loose from the hatch. “Find strength.” I thrust him back inside the cabin.
He slid down, clutched at my legs. “Please, sir! Not in the same room with juice! I’ll use it, I’ve got to!”
My voice was cold. “You brought yourself to this, not I. If you can’t—” Amanda swam before me, with Nate. Perhaps my son would have grown to be like Jerence, given the time denied him.
This wasn’t the way.
With a sigh, I reached down, hoisted the anguished boy to his feet. I led him to the bed, laid him down. I sat next to him, stroked his hair. “Steady, lad. I’ll stay awhile.”
He sobbed, “God, Mr. Seafort, take it away!”
“No, Jerence.” I gentled him, unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “Listen, and I’ll tell you a story. Lay back, son. Slow your breathing. There was a boy, once. A boy called Philip. Dry your eyes, now. It was years ago. We were on a ship, a great ship, cruising to a distant star...”
Slowly he calmed.
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Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3) Page 49