“It’ll do, ’til another time.”
I righted his bicycle. It seemed undamaged. “Let’s go home and soak it in ice.”
“Soak my bike?” His tone was incredulous.
“Your hand, you twit.” Then I saw his face. “I could kill you, sometimes.”
“Yeah. You try, sometimes,” He walked his bike to the road and hopped on.
Father read the newschip gravely while Jason sat at the table, his hand in a bucket of icy water. Father raised his head and his eyes found mine. “So, Nicholas.”
I studied the table.
“Is that why you fought?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“I would be disturbed too, at such proof of my folly.”
“Folly? What did I do?”
“You questioned your Lord’s will. Didn’t I tell you, if He’d wanted you summoned to Academy you’d have been admitted? He spared you the horror of that inferno.”
My voice dripped scorn. “He killed those cadets just to teach me humility?”
Father slapped me, hard. “Alone with your friends you may mock Him. Not in my house.”
Jason drew in a sharp breath, but was silent. My hand crept to my reddened cheek. I muttered, “Aye, sir.”
“If it’s His purpose to teach you humility, He still has work to do.”
I nodded. It wasn’t safe to say anything else.
“We’ll pray for them tonight.”
My voice was barely audible, “I’d like that.”
Much later, after dinner, after chores, after my evening verses, in the solitude of my darkened room, I knelt at my bed and closed my eyes in the customary manner. I’m sorry, Lord, for having doubted You. I didn’t understand. I still don’t know why they had to die, but thank You for sparing me. Yet, I wanted so much to go to Academy. Do You understand that? Can You find me something else to want as much? Could I ask that of You?
Please?
My eyes roved the room, to the Captain’s insignia on my jacket that hung on the chair, to the scarred desk, to the window out of which a boy had occasionally climbed, his heart pounding, knowing disobedience was sin but anticipating the glory of a night ride in the moonlight through caressing wind, tires whispering on the dark asphalt.
I left my creaking bed, walked to the window. Lord God knew where my old bike might be now. And if I wanted to ride, I had but to walk out the door; I was too old to be climbing through windows. I wandered the room. My fingers stroked the desktop. No dust; Father had kept my room clean. I sat at the chair. Had everything shrunk? I felt almost a Gulliver.
I opened the drawer. Pencils, lined neatly in a row. Old scraps of paper, a teen’s doodles. A folder, neatly labeled by hand in block letters. “ACADEMY APPLICATION.” The letters “U.N.N.S.” had been carefully added before “ACADEMY,” as if in clarification. I opened the aging file.
The letter had come four days after.
September 1, 2190.
Circumstances have required the Selection Board to reopen admissions for the U.N.N.S. Naval Academy’s entering class. This is to inform you that your application has been reviewed and that you are accepted for admission as a cadet in the United Nations Naval Service. You are to acknowledge by return mail, and to report on September 10, 2190, to Academy in Devon.
Lauron E. Kearsey, Commandant.
I closed the file, turned from the desk. I knelt at the bed. Lord, help me find that boy, the one who’d reread that letter until each word was burned into his memory. The innocent lad who’d vowed to do his best, to straggle through cadethood to the exalted rank of midshipman. You see, he’s been extinguished, somehow. He left behind a vindictive, deceitful man who’s broken every rule he cherishes, who disobeys orders, lies to his superiors.
May I pray to You? Will You be offended, even if You don’t listen? I know I’ve forfeited Your grace, and that You will punish me. What I don’t know, Lord, is why. Why did I do those awful things?
Is that what You had in mind for me when You sent me to Academy?
Chapter 3
THE CAB WAITED IN the lane. In the doorway Father stood gray and worn. I paused, laid my duffel at my feet. “It’s been good to see you.”
“Aye.” His blue eyes met mine. “And the fence is fixed.”
“That too.” I shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll be closer to home now, when I’m not at Farside. I could help keep it mended.”
“There’s always work to be done.” It could have been a reproof.
“I could come at Easter, if you like.”
“If it be His will.” I knew that passed for assent. I made no effort to hug him; it wasn’t his way and he’d be as embarrassed as I. I turned to go.
He spoke suddenly. “Pray to Him.” He raised a hand, as if to forestall my objection. “He may turn His head, but pray nonetheless. It is right, and it does you good.”
“Aye, sir.” How could he know? I hadn’t spoken the words aloud. “Good-bye, then.” He nodded, and I hurried to the waiting cab.
Struggling for an expression of polite interest, I looked down on rows of shining young faces, gleaming buckles, immaculate gray uniforms, while Commandant Kearsey continued his interminable address. Every cadet in Academy had been brought groundside for Handover. A waste of resources in wartime, but it was an odd war. Only one fish had ever been seen in home system, and we had no idea where the aliens bred, or where they might next appear.
A few seats from me, Lieutenant Tolliver’s eyes glinted with amusement; he knew how I hated the necessary ritual.
Kearsey said, “Just twelve years ago Mr. Seafort was a cadet like you. Who’d have thought that quiet youngster of thirteen would soon astound the world?”
Not I, certainly. More to the point, who’d have thought that eager youngster would commit treason and damn himself?
“As a midshipman, Mr. Seafort was posted to U.N.S. Helsinki.” A green young middy, reporting to the bridge of a U.N. warship, trying to control the trembling of his limbs.
“Mr. Seafort’s next posting was to Hibernia.” A starship on the Hope Nation run, sixty-nine light-years from home. We’d Fused for seventeen months, Defusing only for nav checks.
“Most of Hibernia’s officers were killed in an explosion of the ship’s launch.” It had left my friend Lieutenant Malstrom the sole commissioned line officer, until his death soon after from cancer.
Kearsey said heavily, “Now Captain, Mr. Seafort brought Hibernia to Hope Nation, but was unable to find new officers.”
Lord God, would he never end?
“He sailed on, but on his return from Detour he encountered the wreck of Telstar and, in it, the first alien creatures ever seen by a human being.”
I recalled the alien form that had quivered inches from my face. Moments later there had emerged from behind Telstar the bizarre fish that was home to the outrider I’d found.
“Captain Seafort sailed home with his momentous discovery. Admiralty confirmed him as Commander and gave him U.N.S. Portia, part of Admiral Tremaine’s relief squadron to Hope Nation. En route, Mr. Seafort’s son was killed by fish and his wife died soon after. Then the Admiral’s flagship Challenger was disabled.”
How would Kearsey phrase the events that followed?
The Commandant said firmly, “The Admiral transferred his flag to Portia, and decided unwisely to off-load those he disapproved of to the disabled Challenger. Mr. Seafort agreed to stay with Challenger.” Mr. Seafort chose to die with Challenger, but Lord God did not allow him his wish.
“Despite starvation and rebellion, Mr. Seafort impressed a new crew, trained them, and fought off the aliens. In his final battle he rammed a fish just as it Fused, and by the grace of Lord God the fish Defused in our home system.”
I’d brought Challenger home, but at the cost of my soul. I’d sworn not to harm a rebellious sailor, then I’d killed her at the first opportunity. For that, I am damned.
The Commandant paused, examining the young faces of his audience. “Eve
n you plebes know that Captain Seafort sailed yet again to Hope Nation, and was groundside when the fish devastated Centraltown. Mr. Seafort was left in charge of the few shoreside Naval officers.
“Hope Nation was again attacked, and the fleet sailed for home. Ailing and alone, Mr. Seafort managed to lure the aliens into attacking Orbit Station, where he destroyed them by detonating the Station’s atomic self-destruct device.”
Until a few weeks before I’d planned my sabotage, even a proposal to use atomic weapons had carried a mandatory death penalty. When I’d nuked the Station, I’d thought it treason.
“Captain Seafort’s courage and resourcefulness need no further detail. On my retirement, I can leave the training of our cadets in no better hands. Ladies and gentlemen, I present your new Commandant, Captain Nicholas Ewing Seafort.”
I stood, to the sustained roar of applause. Commandant Kearsey, smiling, joined the acclamation.
“Thank you.” I waited for the din to cease. It did not. I raised my hand for silence, but they applauded with undiminished enthusiasm. The young fools. “Thank you. Enough.”
They began to rise, in a standing ovation. I couldn’t allow it. If only they knew the truth ...
“Be silent!” I bellowed into the mike, fists knotted at my side.
The applause stopped as if turned off by a switch. I paced the stage, my crafted address scattered to the winds of rage. “When I was last here,” I grated, “cadets obeyed their officers.” No one moved. “As you will again, I promise you!”
What was I doing? I lurched back toward my planned speech. “Commandant Kearsey, I thank you for your most generous remarks. Your tenure here has been unblemished.” Unblemished mediocrity, I thought bitterly. Test scores falling, morale low ... I’d been shocked at the reports they’d given me. But the man meant well. “I hope I may accomplish as much.”
I nodded briefly to the outgoing Commandant, took a deep breath, turned back to the stunned cadets. “By order of the Board of Admiralty of the Government of the United Nations, I assume command of Terrestrial and Farside Academies. Dismissed.”
I slouched behind the desk in the luxurious office Commandant Kearsey had vacated only that morning. “I made a mess of it.”
Tolliver shrugged. “If you say so.”
I wished he’d show the respect due my rank, if not my person. But I’d done him too much harm, and he knew me too well to retain any respect for me. He was a penance I bore with as good grace as I could manage.
“I made a fool of myself,” I muttered.
“Oh, you weren’t that bad. They might as well find out you have a temper.”
I growled, “Don’t go too far, Tolliver.”
He showed surprise. “No sarcasm intended, if you can believe it. You’re not one to be crossed, and the cadets are better off knowing it from the start.”
From the start. I grunted. As of this day, Terrestrial Academy, Farside Base, and the Naval Training Station high in Lunar orbit were all under my jurisdiction.
Not for the first time, I wondered how I’d let myself be talked into my new post. After I brought Victoria home from Hope Nation I’d asked to resign my commission, but Admiral Duhaney and his colleague Senator Boland prevailed on me to stay. I should have declined, but at least I’d had the sense to refuse a ship. I’d already killed innocents enough.
“He should be gone by now.”
Tolliver checked his watch. “Anytime now, sir. His aide told me they’d be out of the apartment by three.”
“Edgar, I hope I’ve made it clear ... I fumbled for words. “Your, uh, special dispensation. I won’t have an outsider overhearing you. Be warned.”
He smiled grimly. “I’ll take great care, sir.”
“Good.” Uncomfortable, I stood to pace, changing the subject. “Two days, then up to Farside.”
“Yes, sir. Farside’s personnel files are in the puter, if you want a look. Are you aware there’s no console in your apartment?”
“You’re joking. Have one installed.”
“Already ordered, sir. I assumed you’d want access.”
“Don’t assume,” I said, petulant.
“I can cancel it if—”
“I want the console. Just don’t assume you know what I want.” As always, Tolliver brought out the worst in me.
He raised an eyebrow. “Aye aye, sir. Shall I cancel the order, and reinstate it now that you’ve told me you want it?”
Damn the man. I leaned back, recalled the conversation we’d had in my Lunapolis quarters, after I’d agreed to take him as my aide.
“Do I have a choice?” His tone was bleak.
I gaped. “It was as a favor to you.”
“Of course, sir. Serving with you is a great privilege.”
“How dare you!” His insolence was astounding.
He shrugged. “I wonder that myself, at times. I guess I’ve learned from you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just don’t care anymore.” He thrust his hands in his pockets. “Captain Higbee at BuPers mentioned that I was lucky to get a posting at all, after my misdeeds.”
I closed my eyes. I’d done that by demoting him, after he’d seized control of my heli in an effort to save our lives. “He was right. If I hadn’t taken you ...
“Should I resign, then?” His tone was bitter.
“That’s your decision.” I hesitated. “Mr. Tolliver, it’s hard for me to be fair to you; my memories of Academy are too strong. I put you back to Lieutenant. What more do you want?”
“Nothing in your power to give.” He turned away. Then, “I’m sorry. I mean that. What I want is to go back and undo the past.”
“The heli?”
“Among other things.” He turned back with a wry smile. “We’re stuck with each other. Your conscience won’t let you abandon me, and if I want a career it must be with you.”
“I allow you to goad me, but nonetheless, I’m your superior officer and you owe me courtesy. You seem to forget.”
“Not for a minute!” His eyes burned into mine. “If I’m, um, difficult with you, it’s my resentment. Never negligence.”
“Do you imagine I find that reassuring?”
He smiled, but his eyes were pained. “When you can’t endure it, cashier me. I may hate you, but I’ll understand.”
Why did his hurt matter to me, after all we’d been through? My voice was gruff. “No, I’ll tolerate you. You can’t help being who you are, and you remind me of what I’ve done.”
“If that’s pity, I don’t want it!”
“Not pity, Edgar. Perhaps ... understanding.”
He’d let it pass.
Now, in my new Academy office, I was restless. “I’m going to my apartment.”
He checked his watch. “Kearsey may still be there.”
“I don’t care.” But I fell back in the chair. “Tell me the schedule again.”
Tolliver’s look was of resignation. “We start shipping most of our joeys back to Farside, some today. Those we graduated will stay groundside until their postings come through. We’ll keep a few midshipmen, of course, for the scutwork.”
I gestured impatiently. “Get on with it.”
“The new class staggers in. They all begin training down here at Devon.”
I growled. “I was a cadet, Tolliver.”
“Right. I must remember that. The first batch of sixty will be here in a week, and about sixty more every five days until they’re all aboard.”
“What am I supposed to do before they get here?”
“What will you do after they get here, sir?” He shrugged. “Answer questions, I suppose. If it’s anything like shipboard, they always have questions.”
I smiled at that. Most inquiries were trivial, and could be answered at random. “How many cadets on base this week?”
“I don’t know, sir; some of the upperclassmen had leave. Just a minute.” He went to the caller, spoke into it, waited. “We have thirty-two graduates without fam
ilies to visit, and about sixty of our plebes slated for Farside. Then there’s about four hundred they brought down from Farside for the ceremony, who’ll be going back.”
I swore under my breath. Our cadets were being moved like chess pieces, and to no real purpose. I got up, restless again. “I’m going for a walk. See you at three.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And set up a meeting after dinner with the middies who’ll be staying.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
I nodded to Sergeant Kinders in the outer office, left the Admin Building, picked a direction and set off briskly. In a few minutes I found myself at the main gate. Many of the upperclassmen “had been selected for graduation this day, and it was odd to see visitors strolling inside the gate, each with a cadet in crisp gray. Other than on ceremonial occasions, no civilian visitors were permitted on the grounds. Shortly, our graduates would change to their midshipman’s blues, which they would wear with inordinate pride until they learned that even middies were insignificant creatures in the eyes of working Naval officers.
I thrust my hands in my pockets, walked with head down. Our real task would start when our new class arrived.
Shipboard, most Naval personnel served belowdecks. They were recruited in their thousands by any means available, including the enlistment bonuses that attracted so many undesirables. But officers were another matter. The Navy selected only the best, carefully evaluating test scores, school grades, interviews and recommendations. Only a fortunate few were allowed to take the oath as cadets.
I reached the heavy iron gate, absently returned the salutes of the guards, and turned onto the perimeter path. Here I was virtually alone.
Unlike midshipmen, deemed by act of the General Assembly to have reached majority, our cadets were minors, by law and regulation the wards of their commanding officer. As Commandant I was their legal guardian, with all the prerogatives their parents had hitherto possessed. I could punish them in any fashion I saw fit; they had virtually no rights. They were the lowest of the low, until they were appointed midshipmen. Then, as Naval officers, they’d begin the slow climb to the exalted rank of Lieutenant, and perhaps thereafter to Captain.
Fisherman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 4) Page 4