Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3)

by David Feintuch

  I ENDURED DAILY SESSIONS with the bone-growth stimulator. My mouth ached constantly, but the hours after my therapy with Dr. Zares were sheer misery.

  Lieutenant Kahn greeted me civilly whenever he saw me. Occasionally he even attempted light conversation. Grunting in reply, I searched his face for a sign of his revulsion but found none.

  From a locked Level 2 cabin, cries of torment and pounding on the hatch. On my first visit after I’d left Jerence to wrestle with his demon, he greeted me red-eyed and trembling. “It’s been a whole day. Mr. Seafort, please say that’s enough!”

  “Where’s the juice?”

  “I hid it so I—” He swallowed, burrowed under the mattress, came up with the vial. “Here, I haven’t touched it. Let me sign up now. I’m begging you.”

  “Twenty more days.”

  “You bastard!”

  On that note I left him.

  The next day I shared a watch with Tolliver. He was unusually pensive. I did my best to concentrate on a chess problem, on an imaginary board. If I moved Queen to King’s Bishop five, behind a pawn screen...

  He cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to keep wardroom problems from the Captain’s attention, but...”

  “Eh?” The chessboard wavered, faded.

  “Since you talked to me, I’ve tried. Believe me.”

  I worried at a knuckle. “And?”

  “Maybe you’d best get someone else. It’s beyond me.”

  I sat up, attentive. “Go on.”

  “I didn’t know Fuentes in Hibernia, but I gather from your remarks he was a good-natured joey.”

  “The best.”

  “He taunts Ross as if the consequences don’t matter. And Thomas...” He shook his head. “He’s beside himself. Venomous. Nothing I say reaches either of them.”

  “A first middy has his resources.” Did he expect me to tell him how to run a wardroom? It was supposed to be beneath my notice. A first midshipman who couldn’t hold his wardroom could expect little sympathy.

  “Yes, sir.” A sigh, barely audible. “I’ll deal with it.”

  What malady plagued Victoria? The first lieutenant beached, the second under strict orders to hold his tongue, the third suicidal. Drug-crazed passengers, the wardroom at each other’s throats.

  And a Captain who had no right to walk the bridge, if the Navy were just. I was the problem, and the unsettled state of affairs was merely a reflection of that.

  I sighed. “It’s not your fault. Tell me.”

  He seemed pathetically grateful. “Sir, I can demerit them ’til their tongues hang out. And I will, if I’m sure that’s the way. But it will only make them hate me as they do each other.”

  “It’s not so much hate as...” I stood, with an urgent need to pace. “Their lives are askew. They want to revere their Captain as I did Captain Haag, but they know it’s not possible in my case. The conflict is too much.”

  He snorted. “Now you’re a psych as well as a mad bomber?”

  “Damn you!”

  He shrugged. “Oh, I’ll admit you’ve caused your share of the world’s problems. But you can’t take credit for them all.”

  Well, I had told him I’d suffer his insolence, in private. I waved away my ire. “What else could explain their behavior?”

  “With Ross, in part it’s because he revered his Captain, precisely as you said. He can’t forgive you—”

  “For murdering him.”

  “No, for replacing him.” He leaned forward. “Sir, you have to understand: at this point, no one in command could satisfy Ross’s expectations. And Holser was killed, not transferred. A sudden, terrible loss. No good-byes, no time to accept the inevitability of—”

  “Stop!” My cry echoed from the bulkheads. I swallowed.

  “Sorry, sir.” His tone suggested he meant it. After a moment he cleared his throat. “But even that doesn’t explain Ross’s malevolence. He rags at Bezrel ’til he has the joeykit in tears, which I’ll admit is easy enough. He says vile things about Kahn and the Chief. He called me a—” His mouth tightened. “I took him to the exercise room, and he’s more cautious now. But still...”

  “His ratings were excellent before I took command. Clearly I’m the cause.” Moodily I tapped the console.

  Tolliver said, “And what’s come over Ricky Fuentes?”

  “Have you asked him?”

  “Yes, and he stalked out in a rage. You may have noticed three demerits, a couple of nights ago.”

  “I wondered.”

  “And then there’s Bezrel, who might be a good middy, if ever he’s old enough. Sir, I’m in over my head.”

  “Nonsense!” I paced with renewed vigor. “Do your duty, Midshipman, and don’t whine about it.”

  “I wasn’t—aye aye, sir.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes. Your friend Alexi loathes the sight of me. I’m getting nowhere as his aide.”

  “I think you’re overreact—”

  “It’s his sarcastic asides that rankle. He’s my superior, so I’m not free to compl—”

  “Nor are you free to complain about him to me!”

  “I wasn’t!” He shot from his seat, fists clenched. A deep breath, then another. “Sir.” His fingers opened. “Sorry.”

  “As you should be.” I was appalled at the discussion into which I’d stumbled. Bad enough that he’d asked my advice; worse, he’d given me his, unbidden. The more I thought about it, the more I...That’s quite enough for today, Mr. Tolliver. I’ll finish the watch.”

  “You want me to go?”

  “It would be a great pleasure.” I regretted the words almost instantly as he saluted and stalked to the hatch. He’d told me of Alexi’s sarcasm, and I’d responded with my own.

  On Hibernia, on Portia, relations with the passengers consumed a significant part of my attention. Here on Victoria, few had anything to say to me. I didn’t particularly mind, but it left me with little to brood on, beside the crew.

  Still, there was Jerence.

  I found him huddled in the corner of his cabin. “Well?”

  He got up, fished in his pocket. “I still have it.”

  “Good boy.”

  “You said you’d come every day.” An accusation.

  “I have.”

  “It’s been...” His brow knotted. “A long time.”

  “Eighteen hours. Endure it.”

  He pulled out the vial, rushed across the room. “Here.” He made as if to drop it in my lap, but his fingers halted, as if they had volition of their own. “Maybe I’d better...just in case...No!” With vehemence, he tossed it at me.

  I let it fall to the deck. “Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten my terms.”

  “How long yet?”

  “Thirteen days.”

  “Oh, God.” A deep breath, and another. His eyes were bleak as he retrieved the juice. “It’s not worth it. I thought I wanted to be a middy, but...”

  “Fine.” Steeling myself, I stood to go. “I’d rather not watch, if you don’t mind—”

  He cried, “Why won’t you help me!” His eyes brimmed.

  Why did his pain pierce me so? Had he not brought it on himself? I crossed to the bed, sat, patted the sheet. “Put that down; sit here. We’ll talk.”

  “Would you take it away?” He sat. “You don’t know how bad today is. Every minute, I...”

  I took his chin, turned it so his eyes met mine. “Wherever you go, there’ll be juice. You can’t hide from it.”

  He rocked. For a moment his forehead brushed my shoulder.

  “Think of the next hour. Don’t worry about tomorrow.” How fatuous I sounded.

  He threw himself flat on the bed, curled toward the bulkhead. “You said you’d tell me stories.”

  I swallowed. Father never told me tales; all I knew was my own life, and there was no part of it without pain. What did he want of me?

  No, that was unfair. I’d promised I would visit with him. I took a long, slow breath. “I gre
w up in Cardiff. That’s in Wales. Once, when I was young, I had a friend called Jason...”

  I didn’t know how much he heard. From time to time he sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

  Two days later they caught Ricky Fuentes forcing open a cooler in the galley, late in the night. The steward brought him to Alexi and Tolliver, who shared the watch, and Tolliver took the unusual step of summoning me directly.

  Moments later, buttoning my coat, I strode onto the bridge. Ricky stood stiffly at attention midway between hatch and the console. “What in blazes...?”

  “Not just a raid. He used a pry bar.” Tolliver’s voice was cold.

  That Ricky Fuentes could do such a thing was the ultimate betrayal. If there was one joey aboard with sense, with decency, it was he.

  “Damage?”

  “Scratches. A bent hinge.”

  I’d been standing near my seat, listening, chest tight. When the red mists cleared I found my fingers curled around Ricky’s lapels. The boy’s mouth worked in panic.

  “How dare you, Fuentes!” My nose was inches from the middy’s. “Vandalize my ship? I’ll break you! I’ll put you back to cadet! Ship’s boy! Common seaman!”

  He whimpered.

  “How dare you! Answer me!”

  Ricky stammered, “A bet. I told Mr. Ross I could—I’m sorry—it was—”

  I tore off my cap, hurled it across the bridge. Alexi flinched as it sailed past his head. “Call Mr. Kahn; we’ll have Fuentes caned this instant!”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Tolliver spoke into the caller.

  The gall, sneaking into territory that was off-limits to all middies, to destroy Naval property. I’d show him and the others. Any middy might irk his superiors from time to time, but there were limits. As every midshipman knew, an enraged Captain was a calamity not to be borne, and by God, I was he.

  The hatch slid open. “Lieutenant Jeffrey Kahn reporting, sir.”

  “Do you know what this ruffian’s been up to?” I swung to him, my voice an accusation. No matter what Kahn’s feelings for me, he would be incensed. Raiding the galley was one thing; more than once I’d led midnight forays on Hibernia. Luckily we hadn’t been caught, though one time, as a cadet...Well, that was another story. But a pry bar...

  Kahn’s eyes flicked to the Log, and Tolliver’s most recent entry.

  I said, “Thrash him. Don’t dream of going easy. I’ll want to see him after.” Whatever had come over Ricky?

  “Aye aye, sir. Middy, come along.” He strode to the hatch.

  They were well along the corridor before my last thought penetrated my consciousness. What had come over Ricky, my old shipmate? And wasn’t it time I found out?

  “Edgar, call them back.” If Ricky were punished to the degree I contemplated, I’d not be able to get much from him after.

  On leaving the bridge, Ricky had wheeled, marched after Kahn with commendable dignity. Apparently it had been a show for my benefit. When he reappeared he tried manfully to check the tears that had flowed once he was out of sight.

  My rage vanished like air from a ruptured hull.

  I retrieved my cap from the deck. “Well.” A few breaths. Adrenaline left me shaky. “Mr. Kahn, wait in your cabin. He’ll be along.”

  I needed privacy. Should I send Tolliver and Alexi out? No, the bridge was no place for an inquisition such as I had in mind. “Come with me, Fuentes.” I led him to the passengers’ lounge. At this hour it was deserted. Inside, I sealed the hatch. “Now.” I guided Ricky to a couch, pulled up a chair, sat with our knees almost touching. “What have you to say for yourself?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  I regarded him, unsure how to proceed. “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen, sir.” Light brown hair, a face that barely knew a razor. A slim body grown like a weed. And once, a ready smile that had lit his eyes, an eager enthusiasm that brought an ache to the heart.

  A sniffle. He flushed with embarrassment.

  I blurted, “Remember Sandy’s orchestron?”

  He gaped. “On Hibernia? That was...years ago.”

  “You were twelve.”

  “And ship’s boy.”

  “He held it over your head, and you couldn’t reach. You’ve grown since.”

  A wan smile.

  “You used to bring my eggs and toast.”

  His eyes teared.

  “Remember when I shrieked at you in my cabin, because you wouldn’t relax?”

  Again a smile, but his mouth quivered. He made as if to turn away, instead searched deep into my eyes. Somehow, I held his gaze. With a cry of anguish, he fell upon me, buried his head in my shoulder, held me as if a lifeline.

  Stunned, I managed to raise my hand, stroke his hair. “It’s all right, boy.”

  Sobs.

  “Tell me.”

  For a long time nothing but the shaking of his shoulders. At last, with a shuddering breath, he raised his head from my dampened jacket. His eyes widened with dismay at the realization of what he’d done.

  “Never mind that. Tell me.” My voice was soft.

  Instead, he looked away. “I wish...”

  “Yes?”

  “That Victoria were a happy ship. She used to be.”

  “Under Mr. Holser?”

  “Mr. Martes too. The fish killed him, didn’t they?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  His fingers twisted. “I cried myself to sleep the night Mr. Holser was—died.”

  “I wish I could have done the same.” But I didn’t deserve remorse.

  A long silence. “Sir? Could you tell—I know it’s none of my—” He poked at a split in the seat cover. His eyes rose to mine, with resolve. “They say you killed him.”

  I dared say nothing.

  “That you let him stay on the Station, knowing it was too late to stop the bomb.”

  My lips pressed tight.

  “That you let him die, because on Hope Nation he refused to talk to you!”

  “Oh, Ricky.” I wasn’t sure I was changing the subject. “Didn’t you like Mr. Ross, once?”

  He seemed startled. “I guess.”

  “Mr. Tolliver says you ride him to distraction. Why?”

  “The things he says about you!”

  “And if they’re true?”

  “They can’t be!” A pause. Then, softer, “They mustn’t be.”

  “Look at me.” I waited. “I blew the Station. I let Captain Holser on board, knowing he’d come to stop me. I deny none of it.”

  “You set the bomb so he couldn’t disarm it? Did you do that?” In his eyes, appeal.

  “It’s not your place to ask.”

  “I need to know!”

  Abruptly I stood to pace. The burden of Orbit Station was mine to bear. I couldn’t inflict it on an innocent middy, no matter how great his need for reassurance.

  “Why’d you break into the cooler?”

  “They didn’t think I could—”

  “Ricky!”

  His look was defiant. “What difference does it make? A hinge, a cooler, a frazzing fastship! Regs!”

  “Is that all you—”

  “Go ahead, have me caned! I can take it, you’ll see!”

  With slow steps I walked to the couch, gently lifted his head. Our eyes met. After a long time I said, “Do I mean that much to you?”

  He spun away.

  I knelt. “Ricky, there are things I mustn’t tell you. But surely you know Vax meant a great deal to me. At the Station he was incredibly brave. His first thought was to save me, though I wasn’t worth it.”

  “And you killed him!”

  Despite my resolve, the cry was wrung from me. “Could I have?”

  For an eternity he looked into my eyes. Finally his face softened. At last his gaze held a modicum of peace.

  A while later I walked him to Kahn’s cabin, my hand on his shoulder. “There’s still punishment. That can’t be helped.”

  “Yessir. I guess I deserve it.” Ricky’s head
slumped, and I gave an extra squeeze.

  I knocked. “Mr. Kahn, you need not go particularly easy, but disregard the rest of what I said.”

  Kahn nodded. I walked back to the bridge.

  Annie took more interest in her surroundings, and I grew hopeful. She went for endless walks around the circumference corridors, and from time to time visited the lounge.

  One afternoon she said, “Nicky, why don’ they like me?”

  “Because you’re with me, hon.”

  “No, it’s somethin’ more. They look at me, talk ’bout me after I go.”

  “How would you know—”

  “I listened, at the hatch.” She folded her arms against my disapproval. “‘See how she hold her head, like tryin’ ta be somethin’ she’s not!’” Her voice mimicked scorn.

  I got to my feet. “Who?”

  “It don’t matter. I be used to it. Besides”—she giggled—“the middy tol’ ’em good.”

  “I’ll make him lieutenant,” I said, only half in jest. “Which one?” Tolliver, most likely. Or Ricky. Bezrel hadn’t the gumption to—

  “Tommy.”

  “Ross? Thomas Ross?”

  “Yesterday he called Suliman Rajnee a grode an’ a bigot for funnin’ at me. Said Rajnee didn’ know what a gentleman was, an’ be too stupid ta learn.”

  “Good Lord.” Why would Ross protect my wife, given his thorough dislike of me? I was grateful, but still, foul language to a passenger was unacceptable under any circumstances. I’d send him to Rajnee with an apology.

  “I’ll be back in a while, hon.”

  I found Ross on the watch, with Ms. Arkin. “What have you been up to, Middy?” I sounded more severe than I’d intended.

  “Sir?”

  “Yesterday. Suliman Rajnee.”

  “We had words.”

  “Tell me what you said.”

  “I’d rather not.” Outright defiance.

  “You insulted him. Called him names.”

  “I figured he’d whine to you about—”

  “One demerit. Make that two.” I pursed my lips. Rajnee was no longer the issue. “Ross, I’ve had it with your—”

  “Beach me, then! It was good enough for—”

  “ROSS, ENOUGH!” Sandra Arkin.

  “Thank you, Chief, but I’ll handle it. Mr. Ross, apologize!”

  A sullen silence. Then, “Very well, I apologize.” His tone belied his words.