“To Admiralty, Lunapolis Base, Captain Nicholas E. Seafort reporting.” Diligently Tolliver typed my words.
“U.N.S. Victoria is returned to Solar System under my command. The U.N.N.S. fleet left Hope Nation ten months ago under orders of Admiral Georges De Marnay and is in passage home.” Our fastship had outraced the fleet; the other ships would arrive six months from now.
“Due to a rebellion on Hope Nation, I was unable to rejoin the fleet.” I paused, waited for Tolliver. “With help from several planters, I suppressed the rebellion. On my own initiative, as senior military officer and plenipotentiary of the United Nations Government, I granted the colony of Hope Nation status as a free commonwealth, and full and irrevocable membership in the Assembly of the United Nations.” Tolliver shook his head, knowing as well as I that Admiralty would be appalled.
“After the fleet sailed, the aliens continued to attack Hope Nation. Fish entered the atmosphere and settled to ground level. They destroyed and overran the Venturas Base.”
Even I, brazen as I had become, found the next confession difficult. “I concluded that Hope Nation could not survive unless the balance of forces was drastically altered. Therefore, acting alone and in secret, I caused the disabled ships on Orbit Station to attract the fish by caterwauling their fusion drives. Many fish responded. When Orbit Station was disabled, I deliberately caused a nuclear detonation that destroyed some five hundred twelve fish.”
“Plus the four hundred seventy-two my father shot,” Billy said proudly.
“Puter, be silent. Commander Vax Holser, a courageous officer, lost his life in an unsuccessful attempt”—I stopped dead. It was my last chance to redeem my honor. The truth, or a vile lie? I took a deep breath—“to save Orbit Station from detonation. I emphasize that no person other than myself took any part in the destruction of the Station.”
I cleared my throat. Why was the simulscreen blurred? “I therefore turn over command of U.N.S. Victoria to Lieutenant Jeffrey Kahn and await your further orders. Mr. Tolliver, transmit at once.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
I turned to Lieutenant Kahn, saluted. “I’ll be in my cabin with my wife. Do not disturb me until they reply.”
“Aye aye, sir.” An awed whisper.
I strode from the bridge for the last time, keeping my head high, my expression calm, until I was’ around the bend of the circumference corridor. Then I hurried to my cabin, groped for the hatch.
Annie sat in her chair, looking at a holo, humming. She took no notice of my entry. I took off my jacket, my tie. I lay down on the bed.
I’m sorry, Father. At the end, even duty has failed me. I am nothing in the eyes of Lord God, and now I am nothing to the Naval Service. Let it be over.
I lay staring at the ceiling. After a period I drifted to other places, other times. Strange dreams disturbed my sleep. Vax Holser, enraged, did push-ups in the wardroom. Amanda talked to fish, who made no reply. Philip Tyre...I couldn’t hear him, for the banging on my hatch.
I stirred, drifted back to sleep, but the hammering persisted. I woke. Hours had passed, and someone pounded in the corridor. The impertinence amazed me. I jumped to my feet, flung open the hatch.
“Did you know, you conniving bastard? Did you?” Tears ran down Edgar Tolliver’s cheeks. “Was it another of your tricks?” He slammed his fist into the bulkhead.
“Know? What are you talking about?”
“I can’t even hate you anymore! Yet I was ready to see you die, to put an end to it!” He sobbed in fury, wiped his cheek with his sleeve. “Tell me you knew!”
I grasped his shoulders, shook him. “Explain, Edgar.”
“God damn you, read it yourself!” He thrust me a holochip.
I turned back to the desk, put it in the holovid.
I keyed the screen.
“To: Captain Nicholas E. Seafort, from ComHomFlt, U.N.N.S., Lunapolis Base. Eleven months ago, on 4 March, 2200, United Nations Security Council Resolution 8645 was amended to read: ‘The threat of nuclear annihilation having for generations terrorized all mankind, it is enacted that use, attempted use, or conspiracy to use nuclear energy for the purpose of destructive detonation shall in all cases be punishable by death, UNLESS SUCH ACT SHALL (A) TAKE PLACE OUTSIDE THE SOLAR SYSTEM, (B) BE COMMITTED FOR THE PURPOSE OF DEFENDING UNITED NATIONS COLONIES OR MEMBER STATES FROM DESTRUCTION BY ALIEN ATTACK, AND (C) BE PERSONALLY AUTHORIZED BY THE SENIOR MILITARY OFFICIAL WITHIN THAT COLONY OR MEMBER STATE.’
“You are to resume command of U.N.S. Victoria. Proceed to Lunapolis Base, where you will testify at a Board of Inquiry to determine whether the destruction of Orbit Station was necessary and within your province to command, and whether you had the requisite authority to alter the status of the colony of Hope Nation. End message.”
Tolliver whispered, “How did you know the law was amended?”
I snarled, “Look at the date of the amendment. How could I know?” He made no response. I said, “Go to the bridge. I’ll be along shortly.”
Tolliver stumbled to attention, saluted. “Aye aye, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Epilogue
“ADMIRAL DUHANEY WILL SEE you now, sir.” The staff lieutenant held the door. All eyes in the crowded anteroom were on me, as they had been from the moment I’d entered. It was so everywhere I’d been in the Lunapolis warrens.
I straightened my tie, took a last tug at my jacket. “Very well.”
“Seafort.” Admiral Duhaney rose from behind the desk, extended a hand. I took it. In his forties, I judged. Smooth black hair, a politician’s smile. A far cry from Admiral Brentley, my old mentor. He asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Well enough, sir.” I’d recovered from the implant of my new lung, and I’d just about run the course of the antirejection meds, but still I was grateful Lunapolis had only one-sixth Terran gravity.
“Have a seat.” He gestured to the couch. “I understand your wife is still in, ah, treatment. Will she travel with you?”
“Travel? Where?”
He looked surprised. “On your next ship. You have your choice of assignments, you know. If there’s some particular ship we can give the Hero of Hope Nation—”
“Don’t call me that!” I came to my feet, trembling. “If you’re going to jeer at me—”
“Jeer? Look at the holozines!” I glanced at the printouts scattered on the table. Of course my scarred face was on all of them still. I could go nowhere without the cameras whirring.
“I’m no hero.” I slumped back into my seat.
“You’ve been exonerated by a Board of Inquiry.”
Whitewashed, he meant. The holozines had gotten my story, probably by decoding my wideband broadcast, and had emblazoned it across the world’s screens. “Seafort Saves Hope Nation”; “Captain Kills A Thousand Fish!”; “Nicky Nukes Alien Fleet!” Other headlines didn’t bear thinking about.
After that, the Navy could do nothing but concur in the general adulation. They’d heard my report on the Venturas attack, read William’s confirmation, and endorsed my treason without batting an eye.
“You can have Hibernia, when she gets home, or any other ship you—”
“I resign.”
He stopped short. “You what?”
“Resign, I said. I’ve done enough harm. I’ll do no more.”
Admiral Duhaney got up, crossed slowly to the couch, sat next to me. “You can’t, Seafort. The public wouldn’t stand for it, and we need you.”
“No.”
He studied my face. “What happened, out beyond? Is this about the Station?”
“No, sir. It’s about the people.” Vax, why do you haunt me? I was trying to protect you. Gladly I would have given you the glory.
“Your return on Victoria must have been...difficult.”
“Somewhat. That doesn’t matter.” Victoria’s officers had judged me more truly than had Admiralty.
“Nine months is a long time, if you’re not liked.”
“Not liked?” Despised. No time in my life had been as lonely as those nine endless months.
Admiral Duhaney cleared his throat.
“Sorry.” Where were we? “It’s not the trip home, sir. I’ve had enough.”
“We need men like you commanding—”
“Whatever your Board of Inquiry said, I’m not fit to command. I’ve broken my oath, I’ve destroyed a station, I’ve far exceeded my authority. If I didn’t have that foolish reputation in the zines you’d have cashiered me, or worse. You should have hanged me. When I blew the Station I had no idea they’d changed the nuclear resolution!”
“That doesn’t matter, boy. The resolution was amended. It had to be. The hysteria after that first fish followed you home in Challenger...” He shook his head.
“I thought I was committing treason.”
“You’d have been, a few months earlier. Lord God must be with you.”
That was so preposterous I didn’t bother to answer. Duhaney was a fool. “It doesn’t matter, sir. I resign.”
“You mustn’t. Do you know how many ships we’ve lost? We need the public behind us for the cost of rebuilding the fleet. And recruiting is more important than ever. We need your face on the recruiting posters to—”
“Cashier me, damn you, but don’t mock me!” I scrambled to my feet. “Well, don’t look so surprised! Admiralty taught me over and again I could get away with insolence; this is the result! Good day to you, sir.” Fuming, I strode across the room.
“Wait, Seafort, I—”
I flung an angry salute, slammed the door. In the anteroom conversation melted into stunned silence. The duty lieutenant stared, aghast. I ignored them all as I stalked out.
My quarters were a half-kilometer distant, through endless tunnels. Rather than wait for the mini-shuttle I chose to walk. Soon my pace was almost a run, aided by the lesser gravity. By the time I reached my rooms I’d begun to cool, and felt not a little embarrassed at my tantrum. For an officer to carry on in front of an Admiral—it was unheard of. My behavior was worse than that of a rank cadet at Lunar Academy on Farside.
Well, Duhaney couldn’t do much about it. It mattered not whether he placed a rebuke in my file or even demoted me for my insolence. I was through.
They’d given me a suite of rooms—a small bedroom, sitting room, kitchenette, and head—in the military housing complex. Luxury accommodations, for crowded Lunapolis. I let myself in, threw off my jacket, washed my hands and face. I wondered how Annie was doing, in the New York clinic. I’d go down to see her again, as soon as I could. I supposed I’d hear from the Admiral, one way or the other. Perhaps a court-martial for insubordination would accomplish what the Board of Inquiry had not.
I slept.
The next morning I was mopping my breakfast plate when the bell rang. Still in shirtsleeves, I opened the door.
Admiral Duhaney’s braid gleamed. Automatically I came to attention.
“As you were, Mr. Seafort. This is an, ah, unofficial call.” He gestured to the civilian at his side. “I don’t believe you’ve met. Senator, may I present Captain Nicholas Seafort. Captain, of course you know Senator Boland.”
“Senator who?”
The Admiral frowned. “Senator Richard Boland, of the Security Council Naval Affairs Committee.”
“An honor to meet you, Captain.” He held out his hand. “May we come in?”
“I was just—very well.” I shook hands and stood aside.
They found places in the sitting room. The Senator said, “Admiral, may I? Let’s get to the point. Mr. Seafort, your foolish remark about resigning is forgotten, of course. I’m here to help negotiate a course of—”
“Negotiate? Admiralty doesn’t negotiate its assignments.”
The Admiral cleared his throat. “In your case, we do. You don’t seem to understand we really need you.”
“Why?”
“Because the war’s unpopular,” said Boland. “Some people want us to stop fighting the fish, pull back to home system, abandon the colonies if need be—”
“That’s absurd!” How could we turn our backs on millions of our own people, scattered among the stars?
“Yes, of course. But it may come to pass. We need heroes, and you’re our most prominent. You thought the Admiral mocked you when he spoke of putting your picture on a recruiting poster. It’s already on one.”
“Lord God in heaven!”
“You have no idea how popular you’ve become. In fact, if you insisted on resigning, we could run you for the General Assembly and you’d win in a minute.”
“I’m not running for—”
“But we need you in the Navy. Recruitment jumped fifteen percent since we began showing the spot of you and your wife disembarking at—”
I snarled, “You dragged Annie into this?”
“Dragged? No, we have just the one shot of you coming through the airlock into Earthport Station.”
I stood, trembling with rage. “Get out! Both of you!”
Boland looked up curiously. “What’s wrong, Captain?”
“Annie’s ill! She needs privacy!”
“Don’t be silly. You won’t have privacy for years, whether or not you resign. Anyway, you’re the perfect recruiting couple: the dashing young Captain and his beautiful trannie—excuse me—transpop wife. It attracts the educated classes to the service academies, and the working joeys as well.”
He wandered to the holowindow, flicked the setting to Upper New York. “Seafort, we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Help us win the war. We can give you any ship—”
“I don’t want one.”
“Then we’ll post you shoreside. Public relations, light duties, a few appear—”
“Never.”
Admiral Duhaney said, “Richard, let me try.” He came across the room. “Look at me, Mr. Seafort.” He spoke softly. “I’m used to dealing with politicians, not the working fleet. Perhaps I don’t speak your language, but hear me out. If we pull back to home system, the fish will still be there. Sooner or later they’ll find us. Do you agree?” Reluctantly I nodded.
“Even if they don’t, we’d still be trapped in home system, unable to Fuse for fear of attracting them. We can’t have that. Even I see as much, politician that I’ve become. Seafort, you’re an important cog in our war machine. Not essential, but of great value. You won’t take a ship or work the publicity circuit. Let me give you a job where you’ll be shoreside and able to duck publicity too.”
“What is that?” I asked hoarsely. I was drowning. Where was my lifebelt?
“Captain Kearsey is retiring.”
“Kearsey? Commandant Kearsey?”
“Yes. I’ll appoint you Commandant of Lunar Academy.”
“Good Lord!”
“Think, Seafort. You’ll have not only the Farside Academy but also Terrestrial Academy and the Training Station. They’re closed bases, so you can keep the reporters out. You’ll be free to visit your wife, and have her live with you as soon as she’s able.”
“But why?”
“When we make you Commandant, recruitment will double. We’ll keep using the holo shots we have; no need even to pose for new ones.”
“Let me be! Why won’t you let me go?”
He ignored me. “You’ve always had the pied piper in you, Seafort. You’re good with children.”
I cried, “Good? I kill them!” Sandy Wilsky, dead from my stupidity in Hibernia. The transpops on Portia. Even Philip Tyre, on Challenger. Where I walked I left a trail of misery and death. My own son Nate...
“You’d be wonderful at the job, and I’m not giving you a line of goofjuice. Your reports all show you handle youngsters well.”
No, it wasn’t so. True, some had escaped the effects of my blundering, but others had not. Jerence Branstead, whom I’d locked in a cabin with a full vial of goofjuice. My cruelty to him had known no bounds.
Each day I’d waited for him to break. Grimly he held on. After a time the purser reported tha
t food trays had come back untouched for three days. Again I went to his cabin. It reeked of sweat and Lord God knew what else. The vial was on the table, unopened. Jerence lay across his bed, eyes shut, clutching the sheets.
“Get up, lad.”
“I can’t. It hurts too bad.”
“Come.” I drew him off the bed, pushed him into the head, unbuttoned his shirt. “Take off the rest of it. Into the shower.” He shook his head. I pulled off his clothes.
“Don’t look at me.” He covered himself.
I laughed aloud. “I won’t, but don’t try that in the wardroom.”
“I can’t hold on!”
“Only a few more days.”
“I can’t.” He sagged against the side of the shower. I adjusted the temperature, went out into the corridor and to the caller. “Purser, to the Branstead cabin.” Moments later I gestured at the mess. “Fresh sheets, and get the clothing washed.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Aye aye, sir.”
On the twenty-first day I unlocked the cabin hatch and stood aside. Jerence Branstead’s clothes hung large on his wasted frame. His steps were tremulous. He blinked in the bright corridor light.
“The vial, lad.”
He whispered, “Yessir.” Slow steps, back to the prison of his cabin. He reemerged. I held out my palm. After a long, reluctant moment he placed the vial in my hand.
“Still?”
He nodded. “As bad as ever. Almost.”
“Will you use it again?”
To his credit, the boy was silent a long time. When he looked up his eyes held something they hadn’t held before. “No, sir.”
“Before I enlist you, swear it to Lord God.”
He bit his lip, reached out, put his hand for comfort in mine. “I swear on my immortal soul that I...won’t...ever use...goofjuice again.” He was weeping.
“Very well. I’ll talk to you about the oath after—”
“Hold me! Be Pa for a minute!” He rushed sobbing into my arms. Awkwardly I cradled him. I had no flair for solace. My talent was for torture.
“It was so hard, Mr. Seafort. So hard!”
Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3) Page 52