Fisherman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 4)

by David Feintuch

  I growled a rebuke, rang off. The man could be impossible. Still, he was conscientious, and knew me as few others.

  Fifteen minutes later he sat on my couch, legs crossed, scanning his notes. “I’ll tell you right off I haven’t found anything specific, sir. But in many cases there’s nothing to find.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Fuel deliveries, for example. There’s nothing in the files to show whether we’ve actually received them. No invoices to check, no receipts.”

  “How does the quartermaster explain that?”

  “I haven’t asked Sergeant Serenco, sir. You told me not to be obvious-And it’s not just fuel. The uniform allowances—”

  I felt uneasy. “Perhaps we ought to get Sleak in on this.”

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t, sir.” His eyes met mine.

  I grimaced. If my systems lieutenant was engaged in accounting fraud ... “Keep searching. See what else you find.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” He closed his file. “By the way, I checked with Lunapolis on that other matter. It seems—”

  “Other matter?”

  “The way expenses are broken down per cadet. It seems your expense guidelines are rather pointless. They’re only valid if you assume the same number of cadets each year. But—”

  I was nettled. “What else can we assume? We take three hundred eighty.”

  “Yes, sir, but apparently that’s just tradition. The number of cadets is a function of the budget, not the other way around. If—”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Perhaps you might occasionally let me finish a sentence. It means that historically the number of cadets we enrolled depended on how much money they gave us. But Naval staffing, like all tradition, hardens to stone, so when we achieved three hundred eighty cadets all future budgets were based on the assumption we’d admit that number the next year. If you want to spend more on each cadet, you can reduce enrollment. There are no orders or regulations to stop you.”

  “Good Lord.”

  “Fascinating institution, the Navy.”

  “Well, it’s of no consequence. We’re not about to cut back when a third of the fleet needs replacement. Keep tracking those expenses.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” After he left, I turned out the lights and went to bed.

  Chapter 7

  MIDAFTERNOON. I LEFT MY office, crossed the compound to the meeting hall.

  “ATTENTION!” The clump of recruits tried unsuccessfully to imitate the stiff demeanor of their sergeant.

  “As you were. Line them up, Sarge.” Boys and girls settled into two ragged lines. “I’m Nicholas Seafort, Commandant of U.N.N.S. Naval Academy. I am about to give you the oath of enlistment into the Naval Service.” I paused, trying to recall the speech I’d made to the first group, some weeks before.

  “By this oath you will be bound to the U.N.N.S. Navy for five years. You will be my wards until I deem you ready for graduation.” One older boy sniffled, wiped his eyes. I looked away. A sergeant would have his hands full with that one.

  “The U.N. Navy is the finest fighting force in the world. You will be privileged to join it. Those of you who wish to take the oath of enlistment, raise your hands.” I waited a solemn moment. Sixty youngsters stood with right arms raised.

  “I—your name—”

  Someone cleared his throat, loudly. I whirled, furious at the interruption. Tolliver pointed urgently to the front row. No, not sixty arms raised. Fifty-nine.

  I glared at a tall, ungainly joey of fifteen. “Raise your hand for the oath!”

  Hugging himself, he mumbled, “I changed my mind.” He shuffled his feet. “I want to go home.” Other youngsters stared.

  “I—but—” I stumbled, to a halt. “Good Lord.”

  A red-faced drill sergeant moved toward the recruit, murder in his eye. I waved him back, looked helplessly to Tolliver, who shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. Has it ever happened before?”

  “Sarge?”

  Sergeant Olvira said, “Not since I’ve been here. Eleven years.” Someone snickered.

  The ceremony tottered on the verge of chaos. “Take him out,”

  I snapped. “Flank!” Two instructors converged on the miserable boy, hustled him out the door. Should I talk to him? No. A cadet had to aspire to Academy. The Navy wouldn’t beg for recruits.

  “Raise your right hands.” The gap-toothed row complied immediately, as did the row behind. Our recruits were volunteers, not draftees. We’d send the unworthy child back to his family in disgrace. “Now. I—” Damn. I ground to a halt. “Keep them in place!” I strode to the door.

  A drill sergeant had the boy by the collar, as if to prevent his escape. I planted myself in front of the abashed youngster. “Name!”

  “Loren Reitzman.”

  “Age!”

  He gulped. “Fifteen, last March.”

  “Inside, I have thirteen-year-olds who know what they want. Why don’t you, Reitzman?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Answer my question!”

  “I don’t know, sir. I wanted to be a cadet. But the soldiers, the yelling ... He wiped his eyes. “If I go back now, Dad will ... He hugged himself tighter. “I can’t ever show my face at school. But if I stay—”

  “Yes?”

  He whispered, “It’s just ... The other joeys are all smarter than me; I couldn’t even understand their jokes today. I don’t want to be with people like that. I get scared.”

  I said softly, “You’d rather go home, remember all your life you gave up without trying?”

  He shook his head. “What if ... I can’t make it?”

  “Then you’ll have failed. But you’ll have tried first.”

  He bit back a sob. “I’m afraid.”

  “Very well. Sarge, take—”

  “Wait! I’ll take the oath. Give me another chance.”

  I turned his face to meet mine. “You’re sure?”

  He swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

  Was I doing the right thing? I couldn’t know. “Sarge, take Mr. Reitzman back inside.”

  Moments later I was intoning the familiar ritual. “To give loyalty and obedience ... to obey all its lawful orders and regulations, so help me Lord God Almighty.” I waited until the last murmurs had subsided. “You are now U.N.N.S. cadets.” I saluted, turned to the sergeant. “Get them out of here,” I growled. I pointed at Loren Reitzman. “Except him. He’s to be caned for bringing dishonor to the ceremony of enlistment.”

  I ignored Cadet Reitzman’s anguished look of betrayal. Harsh, perhaps, but necessary. He’d get over it, and he’d serve as an example to his mates that Naval traditions were not to be trifled with.

  After dinner I went to my apartment, loosened my tie. I sat at my newly-installed console, idly flipping through cadet files.

  The caller buzzed. “Yes?”

  “Lieutenant Sleak.” His voice was tense. “I’d like to meet with you as soon as possible.”

  “Come now, then.” I rang off, perused my folders until his knock.

  He saluted, followed me into my living room.

  “Well?”

  “You have my resignation if you’d like, sir. Or if you prefer I’ll request a transfer.”

  I blinked. “The boy was way out of line, refusing the oath in front of all the others. If I’d known you felt that strongly about—”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  I ignored his acid tone. “Loren Reitzman. The cadet. I know it was his first day but—”

  “This isn’t about a bloody cadet!”

  “What, then?”

  He faced me, hands on hips. “Your clumsy undercover examination of my accounts. Your man Tolliver sneaking about, checking serial numbers on laser rifles. His innocent questions to my quartermaster.”

  “He’s doing that at my—”

  “Whatever you’d like to know, ask me outright. Or, if you don’t trust me, cashier me! I swore an oath just as
those cadets today, and I’m not about to betray it for a few bloody unibucks!”

  “It’s not that—”

  “Commandant Kearsey would never have—”

  “How dare you interrupt a Captain!” My voice rose. “HOW DARE YOU?”

  His tirade ground to a halt. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, sir!”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I apologize for interrupting. But that doesn’t negate my point.”

  My tone was icy. “Stand at attention, First Lieutenant Sleak.” He complied immediately. “You’ll pardon my confusion. I’ve spent my career on ships of the line, where a lieutenant couldn’t imagine dressing down his Captain.” He flushed. “So, not knowing the proper shoreside protocol, I’ll respond as if we’re in the real Navy. Will you go along with the pretense?”

  “I—yes, sir. Aye aye, sir.”

  “Very well. Three weeks’ pay for insubordination, and a reprimand in your file. One more incident and I’ll write you up for court-martial. Is that understood?”

  His look was wary, his voice under control. “Yes, sir.”

  “Stand easy. As to my investigation, I see fit to audit the Academy accounts. They are my accounts, not yours, even though you’re handling them. Since you’re aware of the inquiry, you will give whatever assistance Lieutenant Tolliver may ask. Acknowledge.”

  “Orders received and understood, sir.” A surface calm, flickering anger beneath.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “I request a transfer, sir.” The man had backbone.

  “Under advisement. Dismissed.” I waited until he’d gone, sat staring at my list of new cadets. The nerve! Even groundside, nothing could justify Sleak’s conduct. What kind of commander had Captain Kearsey been, to tolerate such an attitude?

  Yet how was Sleak’s outrage different from mine, when I’d heard of Lieutenant Crossburn’s insinuating questions on Hibernia? I flushed. At least our audit was out in the open. Tolliver would accomplish more, and faster.

  A knock at my door. Was there to be no peace? I flung it open.

  “Lieutenant Paulson reporting, sir.” A sheen of perspiration on his forehead. “I, um, have a message.”

  “Well?”

  “Admiral Duhaney called, and the middy transferred it to me. He—”

  “You should have put him through.”

  “He asked for the duty officer. I was to give you the message, sir. He—” Paulson paused.

  “Get on with it!”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Paulson seemed relieved by my order. “Mr. Duhaney said to tell you he was fed up with your prevarications.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the word he said to use, sir. You’re to give Mr. Boland every cooperation, and stop wasting his time and the Admiral’s. He said he recognizes that you are in charge of Academy, that you are free to act within your authority and carry out regulations as you see fit, but that Naval policy is set from above and you will comply with it.”

  My ears burned. I closed my eyes, forced myself to respond past the humiliation. “Is there anything else, Lieutenant?”

  “No, sir. He ordered me to give you the message word for word, and to log it.”

  “Very we—”

  He blurted, “I wish I hadn’t been there. He shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” I shut the door, paced the silent, accusing room. I’d resign, of course. Admiral Duhaney had delivered his rebuke publicly, before my subordinates. The approach conveyed the clear message I no longer held his confidence. He’d chewed me out like a rank cadet, like—

  The corners of my mouth twitched. Like I’d just done to Lieutenant Sleak. I’d gotten as I’d given. Still, at least I’d had the decency to censure the man in private. Well, no. By taking Sleak’s pay and logging a reprimand, I’d made the matter public for the world to see. I sighed. Perhaps I could withdraw—

  The caller buzzed. I whirled, snatched it from the console. “Now what?”

  “I—Sergeant Olvira reporting, sir. I hope I’m not intru—”

  “Yes, you’re intruding, but that’s why I’m here. What is it?”

  His tone stiffened. “Aye aye, sir. I apologize; perhaps I shouldn’t have called. About that cadet, Reitzman, the one who refused—”

  “Yes?”

  “He’s in my flat, crying and carrying on like a baby, sir. Lieutenant Sleak went hard on him, he’s got a few welts on his rump, can’t sit down. I can deal with it, but I thought, given he didn’t even want to take the oath ...

  “Yes?”

  “Should we cut our losses, sir? Send him home after all?”

  I controlled my ire, considered his suggestion. We had no room for weaklings in the wardroom. Middies had to—no, Reitzman wasn’t a middy, not yet. He was a cadet until I decided he was qualified.

  “He made his bed, Sarge. Now let him sleep in it. Give him a little comfort, he needs that, but put him back in barracks. If he won’t settle down, warn him if you send him to me in the morning, I’ll have him begging to report back to Mr. Sleak.”

  A pause. “Aye aye, sir.”

  I shook my head with impatience. The man didn’t understand. “And, Sarge, see to it that he doesn’t need to be sent to me.”

  His tone warmed noticeably. “Aye aye, sir. I’ll handle it.”

  I replaced the caller, paced anew. What was happening to the Navy? First Sleak’s tantrum, then the Admiral’s appalling message to my duty lieutenant, then Sarge ... I shook my head. It was all my doing. If I hadn’t gone behind Sleak’s back, if I’d trusted him as a conscientious officer, he wouldn’t have taken offense and wouldn’t have been penalized. If I’d obeyed my own orders from Duhaney, the Admiral wouldn’t be incensed.

  And if I had trusted my instincts and sent Reitzman home when he’d refused the oath, the boy wouldn’t have been brutalized and I wouldn’t be dealing with a miserable, frightened youngster, when other, more willing joeys had been denied the chance.

  To top it off, I now had to call Senator Boland and eat humble pie before that situation worsened.

  I stalked the room, whirling to pace the opposite direction. “Policy is set from above and you’re to comply with it.” Damn his policy. Now I was to be a lackey, supervised in every detail. I should have asked for ship duty. Was it too late? Probably, for now. The Commandant couldn’t resign during his first month, it suggested scandal.

  None of this would have happened if Admiral Brentley still had Fleet Ops. Well, Duhaney had admitted he was more politician than Admiral. But how could I command Academy, subject to his every whim? Comply with policy, Seafort. Toady to the Senator.

  I flung myself into my chair. Be fair. That’s not all he’d said. “You’re free to act within your authority and carry out regulations as you see fit.” But what did that signify, if he decided that special treatment for Senator Boland was a matter of policy?

  I was but a cog in the machine. Take three hundred eighty cadets chosen by others, run them through the process, spit them out the other end. Other than Final Cull, I had no say in which cadets we took, or how many, no way to ...

  I stared at my console. “You’re free to act within your authority ...

  Was there a way?

  I chewed on my finger, mesmerized by the console screen. A long time later I roused myself, keyed my caller, spoke to the middy on watch. “Seafort. My compliments to Lieutenants Tolliver and Sleak, and would they meet me in my office in five—what time is it?—ten minutes.” I rang off. It took only a moment to straighten my tie, thrust on my jacket. I crossed the compound, ran up the Admin Building steps, hurried into my outer office.

  Midshipman Thayer came to attention. “They’re not here yet, sir.”

  “What’s keep—very well. Is there coffee?”

  “It’s old, sir.”

  “That’ll do.” I sipped at a cup of warm sludge, grimaced. Tolliver was the first to arrive; like me, he’d recently served on ship and was used to being called at odd
hours. A few moments later Sleak followed; the look he gave Tolliver was within the bounds of civility, but barely so.

  “Edgar, you said if I wanted to spend more on each cadet, I could reduce enrollment. Is that true?”

  “Yes. Are you aware what hour it is?”

  “Belay that.” I looked to Sleak. “Are you familiar with those regs?”

  His tone was aloof. “I understand their import.”

  “Does Tolliver have it right?”

  “Technically speaking. But—”

  “Very well. What if I want to spend less on each cadet?”

  Tolliver said, “Sir, is now the right time to cut back on training just to save money?”

  “Not to save it. To spend it.” Like a child at Christmas I savored the moment before turning to the console. I tapped the keys, working through the menus to the screen I wanted, “Here. The list of admissions.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And this list of candidates before Final Cull. A difference of forty names.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Send a letter, immediate delivery. ‘We regret that an inadvertent miscalculation of the number of spaces available caused you to receive a notice rejecting your application. You are hereby granted admission to the United Nations Na—’”

  “What?” Tolliver was on his feet.

  “‘—Naval Academy. You are to confirm by return mail and report, et cetera. Signed Nicholas E. Seafort, Commandant.’ You know the form.”

  Sleak said, “But we don’t have spaces for—”

  “We have empty beds aplenty, now that all second year cadets have been shipped aloft.”

  “Supplies? Food?”

  “There’s slack in the budget. Use the money set aside to entertain. Cancel staff travel perks. Cancel my liquor ration, I don’t use it.”

  Tolliver. “We’d have to open up another dorm. Who’d take it?”

  “Use one of the classroom instructors, or take it yourself.”

  “Me?”

  “What’s the matter, can’t handle a few starstruck cadets?”

  “No, sir, I’m not—but why?”

  My fist struck the table. “Because I think it right.” And to get even with Admiral Duhaney. I banished the unworthy thought.