Fisherman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 4)

by David Feintuch

  Chapter 10

  JERENCE SAFELY BACK IN barracks, I returned to my apartment, exhausted. The search of Lieutenant Sleak’s quarters would take hours; in the meantime I needed sleep. I settled into bed with the visage of Mr. Sleak’s head, after he’d pulled the trigger. I put it aside, but other images plagued me, among them Cadet Dustin Edwards, huddled lifeless in the Farside corridor.

  I snapped awake to urgent pounding on my door, a voice shouting. I lurched to the door in my shorts, hurled it open. “Belay that nons—”

  “Hands up!” The Marine’s laser rifle brooked no argument. I flung my hands over my head, retreated several steps.

  “Easy, Jodson, he’s the Commandant. You all right, sir?” The burly lieutenant of Marines.

  “Of course I’m all right! Why in God’s own hell are you bursting in—Oh, my Lord.” I flamed crimson. “Call them off, Lieutenant. I ... forgot to call you.”

  His expression reduced me to a charred spot on the rug. “Forgot. I see. Very well, Commandant.” He raised his caller. “Corporal Manners, sheath weapons, release the guards. This is a no go!”

  I lowered my arms. “How did you get past the sentries? Was there damage?”

  “Not much, sir. We took out the front guardhouse, where your man was half asleep. Then we secured the helipad in case the enemy tried to bolt. Next we surrounded Officers’ Quarters. In the next corridor we have three Naval officers under guard.”

  “Let them go,” I said quickly. “It was a false alarm. Just a training exercise.”

  “Right.” He saluted, but allowed himself one last dig. “If you’d ever like readiness training for your guards, let us know.”

  I slipped into my pants and shift, hurried outside to Lieutenant Sleak’s flat. Tolliver stood in the doorway, arms folded, arguing with a Marine guard. He raised an eyebrow.

  “Not a word, do you hear me?” I tried to turn embarrassment into fury. “Just get back to work!”

  The Marine lieutenant followed me, to call off his guard. His young Marine said urgently, “Sir, there’s blood in there. Someone’s been—”

  I snarled, “Lieutenant, get your man out of here, flank!” To my relief, the Marines complied. I followed them back to the helipad, waited for their transport to arrive while my own sheepish guards did their best to avoid my eye. While their heli settled, I warned the Marine lieutenant of consequences should word of this fiasco leak.

  I doubt I overawed him, but perhaps taking pity on me, he agreed. When they were finally gone I turned on my heel and hurried back to Officers’ Quarters. The door to Sleak’s cabin was ajar.

  Seated at Sleak’s console, Tolliver said only, “Nothing yet, sir. Thank you for arranging a stimulating work break. We were just admiring—”

  I growled, “I don’t want to hear it.” I shut the door, returned to my cabin. I tossed and turned for hours before drifting off at dawn.

  “He must have left a clue somewhere.” Tousled and bleary, I glowered at Ibarez and Tolliver.

  “I went through everything, even his sister’s letters.” Tolliver seemed weary, too. “Ms. Bien is checking his puter files one. more time.”

  “Don’t you—” I forced down an unreasoning anger. “Did you find any notes, anything at all?”

  “Of course, like anyone would leave. Lunch appointments, figures jotted. Nothing special.”

  “What kind of figures?”

  His voice grew testy. “One note looked like logistics for transporting plebes up to Station next term. The others, I have no idea. Would you like to see them?”

  I checked my watch. “Let it wait ’til after breakfast.”

  Darwin Sleak’s death made no sense. He’d been angry with me, had asked for a transfer because I’d set Tolliver to investigate his accounts. But Edgar had found nothing to incriminate Sleak, and the man wouldn’t destroy himself out of pique.

  Tolliver had frightened me by sealing the base, but I had to admit his actions made some sense. The Navy mustn’t wash its dirty laundry in public. Because my name was involved, the mediamen would look for a scandal connected to the suicide, or even invent one.

  I sighed. My lieutenant’s body was in the cooler, and must be dealt with. In addition, I didn’t look forward to breaking in his replacement when I myself was still a novice. Beyond that, I was tired, I had rocket-lag, and I missed Annie. At least now that I was groundside I could visit her, as soon as matters were under control.

  At breakfast assembly I sipped moodily at my coffee, watching the scrubbed and shining cadets. No one at my table commented on Lieutenant Sleak’s empty place.

  On the way out, Lieutenant Bien caught me alone. “The quartermaster has indent requests, and there are daily systems reports for Mr. Sleak.”

  “What do you want me to do about it?” Her look of resignation infuriated me. With an effort I contained myself. “Sorry, Ms. Bien. Pass the word Mr. Sleak is on special detail. All reports and requests go to you.”

  “Aye aye, sir. And the barrel?”

  That was the first lieutenant’s chore. I hesitated. “Take it to Tolliver, he’s senior.”

  I walked through the compound to my office, shut the door. I paced, gnawing at the mystery of Sleak’s death. We’d found no clues in his apartment. Perhaps there were none to find, and the man had simply succumbed to depression. If so, a simple announcement would suffice. I sat at my desk, played at drafting a statement. Deep in my stomach a knot began to form.

  At length I erased my scribblings, buzzed the outer desk. “Tell Ms. Bien I want her.” I waited impatiently until she knocked. “You stayed late in Mr. Sleak’s cabin. What did you find on his puter?”

  “Nothing much, sir. Notes, letters, reports. About what I expected to find.”

  “No hint of a problem?”

  “No, sir. Check for yourself. I locked his files under your personal security code.”

  Two hours later, we’d found nothing out of the ordinary. Finally I gave it up. I dismissed Ms. Bien to her other duties, sat back to brood.

  By lunchtime I decided I wanted the incident done with, mediamen or no. I snapped on my holo to draft a statement.

  Sergeant Kinders knocked. “Weekly reports are ready to be sent to Admiralty, sir. Shall I—”

  “Send them.” The damned reports didn’t matter, no one read them. As far as Admiralty was concerned, I was on my own, as Commandant Kearsey had been. I was free to spend or misspend my budget, cashier errant cadets, train them as I saw fit. Unless, of course, I failed to coddle Senator Boland. Then, Admiral Duhaney called me to account. Admiralty would do better giving me some reasonable guidelines rather than letting politics—

  Guidelines. Very well. If Duhaney wanted to meddle in Academy I’d give him something to meddle with. “Mr. Kinders!”

  The door opened. “Yes?”

  “Put in a call to Admiral Duhaney. It’s urgent.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” He disappeared. I paced my office in relief. I’d tell Duhaney the truth. Let him figure out what to make of the problem. And let the announcement come from his office, not mine. The mediamen would withhold—

  I cursed, flung open the door. “Cancel that call, Sarge.”

  Sergeant Kinders looked up, his face noncommittal. “Aye aye, sir.”

  “I can’t tell him over the air, for the same reason Tolliver couldn’t report—” I stopped short, studied his face. “How much do you know?”

  “Officially? Nothing. But something’s happened to Mr. Sleak, that’s obvious.”

  I had to trust my own staff. “He killed himself in his cabin. I have to go see the Admiral.” Another bout with the harsh acceleration, and I would miss seeing Annie. But there was no other way, unless ... “On second thought, I’ll draft a message. Call in a middy.” I fumbled for a name, any name. “Mr., uh, Thayer.”

  An hour later I put the chip in a pocket case, gave it to the red-haired youngster waiting at-ease in front of my desk. “See Sarge for your travel orders. Go to Lunapolis Admiralty,
announce yourself at Admiral Duhaney’s office. You’re not to surrender this chip except personally to him.” Without that precaution, my notice might get lost in the stacks of reports Admiralty received daily. “These orders may not be countermanded. You understand?”

  The boy’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Aye aye, sir!”

  “Dismissed.” I watched him stride out. His eagerness was understandable; it was his first trip aloft without supervision. And when his errand was done, he’d have some hours in Lunapolis, perhaps even overnight. An inquisitive young middy could augment his education, in its seedier warrens.

  I leaned back. One way or another, Sleak’s death would be handled. That aside, the man had to be replaced; Terrestrial Academy was understaffed with three lieutenants, to say nothing of only two. Aboard ship, on a long, dreary interstellar cruise, I would make do, or promote a midshipman. In home system I had only to call BuPers. Even with a staffing freeze, they’d give me whoever I wanted.

  Who, then? I thought briefly of Alexi Tamarov, decided that even if his mind had cleared, I’d interfered enough in his life and brought him only harm.

  We wanted someone with a special understanding, a special affinity for Naval traditions. A disciplinarian, who might transmit his high standards to future generations. No one I knew fitted the bill. I would have to leave it to BuPers. If I tolerated Ardwell Crossburn, I could work with anyone.

  That afternoon I called the clinic, asked for Annie. She was out on the grounds. Tired and irritable, I waited in my office for Admiral Duhaney’s call until I was nearly late to dinner.

  The cadets stood smartly for my entrance. I strode past the tables, noticed Jerence Branstead with his bunkmates. I sang out, “Gentlemen, be seated.” Chairs scraped, and conversation resumed.

  Edgar Tolliver seemed to have caught up on his sleep; his wit was in full flower. I ignored a sly reference to the visit of the marines, but when he made another I leaned close. “No more, Mr. Tolliver. Granted, I made a fool of myself. But you’re done rubbing it in.”

  His eyebrow raised. “Rubbing it in? Not at all, sir. If I, ah, dwell on the incident, it’s because I enjoyed the relief from our dull Academy life.” He managed to keep his face straight.

  “Dull, is it?” He’d pushed me over the brink. “Very well, I’ll give you some diversions. Finish your report on the indents, the one that irritated Mr. Sleak so. I want it on my desk within a week. And for amusement, you can supervise the morning runs for a month or so.” That would roust him out of bed at least an hour early, every day. He wasn’t a middy, subject to demerits, but he’d learn it was risky to goad a Captain, even shoreside. He ought to have known that by now.

  “Aye aye, sir.” He seemed unperturbed. Perhaps Tolliver was an early riser; I realized that after a year of close contact with the man, I didn’t know.

  “A call for you, sir.” The mess steward, at my shoulder.

  “Yes?” I leaned against the entranceway, blocking the room’s muted roar with my free hand.

  “Duhaney, here. Your chip arrived an hour ago.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You were right, it would make an unfortunate incident, especially after the death of that boy on Farside. We don’t want any problem with enlistments just now. I’ll arrange matters from here. Say nothing. I’ll send some people down for the, ah, package.”

  “The what?”

  “The package!” His voice sharpened. “The one you wrote about. I’ll have it dealt with up here. We’ll reassign some personnel and handle it in a routine manner.”

  Unbelieving, I blurted, “You want to ferry the—the ... I couldn’t refer to the late Lieutenant Sleak as a “package.” It was an obscenity. “You want to transfer the entire problem to Lunapolis, as a personnel assignment?”

  “Damn it, Seafort, isn’t that what you wanted? Why else did you dump it in my lap?”

  “I—yes, sir.”

  “Give me a day or two. I’ll send a heli to take the package to London Shuttleport. The paperwork will be backdated.”

  Suddenly it seemed all wrong. “Sir, if there’s an inquiry, won’t it look, I mean, I—” I was as tongue-tied as young Adam Tenere.

  “Not to worry, Seafort. Security is tight. Remember, um, last month’s false alarm over the mistaken fish sighting. We have these matters well in hand.” He rang off.

  Well, he was right; they’d managed to cover up the sighting. There had been only minor interest from the zines, whose commentators asked why our radionics were so inaccurate. I trudged back to my table.

  “Good news, I trust?” Tolliver was at his most suave.

  “Actually, yes.” I tore viciously at a roll.

  Behind me, a crash of dishes; a clumsy cadet had dropped his tray. Demerits, unless his sergeant was in a forgiving mood. Catcalls and whistles erupted from nearby. I jumped to my feet, stalked to the table whose cadets had jeered. “Sergeant Olvira! Put them all on report!” Conversation hushed throughout the mess hall. “How long ago did they take the oath, Sarge? If you can’t straighten them out, I’ll find an instructor who can!”

  The Marine stood, assumed the at-ease position. “I’m sorry, Commandant. I’ll see that they don’t trouble you further.”

  “You’d damn well better. This is a disgrace! I want these hoodlums in my office first thing tom—”

  “Excuse me, sir.” Tolliver’s voice was urgent.

  I wheeled. “Get back to your table, Lieutenant. If these—”

  “It can’t wait.” He interposed his shoulder between me and Sergeant Olvira. “Please. Right now.”

  Astounded, I followed him a few steps toward our table. “What’s so damned important it—”

  “Get hold of yourself!” Tolliver’s mouth was set. His tone was so low I had to strain to hear.

  “No more insolence, or I’ll have you cashiered!”

  “That’s your decision, sir. But while I’m your aide, I’ll protect you even from yourself. The business with the Marines was nothing. Right now you’re making a total fool of yourself in public!”

  Slowly I became aware of the overwhelming silence. I took a deep breath, and then another. With shaky legs I turned again to Sergeant Olvira. I strove to make my tone casual. “Sarge, it’s not decent for them to laugh when a cadet drops a tray. Every mate’s misfortune is their own. Speak to them about it, please.” I turned back to my own table.

  Lieutenant Bien eyed me, turned away. Lord God, what was wrong with me? I’d thrown a tantrum worse than any I’d ever seen from a plebe. Missing a night’s sleep was no excuse; I’d learned to manage without. I muttered to Tolliver, “Thanks.”

  His tone was still low. “There’s Sergeant Olvira too. I’ll have a word with him after dinner, if you like.”

  “Yes.” I closed my eyes, feeling my ears burn. If proof was needed that I was unfit for my duties, I’d just provided it.

  “Pardon me, sir. Another call.”

  I whirled. “Now who?”

  The steward smiled apologetically. “I have no idea, sir.”

  I might as well carry a stereochip caller, like a civilian. “Very well.” I stalked to the doorway, took the caller. I snapped, “Seafort!”

  “Nicky? I told dem not to be bothering you.”

  “Annie.”

  “They said you called.”

  “Yes, hon. How are you?”

  A pause. “I don ... don’t know, Nicky. Times I feel good, other times I’m all confused. I think about ... Her voice trailed off.

  “I understand.”

  “About what they did to me, in Centraltown.” Her tone was determined.

  I closed my eyes, leaned against the wall, my relief almost too much to bear. It was the first time Annie had ever spoken of her brutal rape.

  “Are you okay, Nicky?”

  “Yes, except I miss you.”

  She giggled. “Good, I want you to be missin’ me. Day you don’t, I be in trouble.”

  “Wait ’til you see our apartment, Annie
. It’s huge. And there are all sorts of shops across the Commons, in Devon.”

  She snickered. “Bet I know something else that’s huge.”

  “Annie!” Despite myself, I blushed.

  “Nicky? ...

  “Yes, hon.”

  A sob. “I love you.” The line went dead.

  With heavy step, I returned to my place. I waited for dessert, aching for the solitude of my apartment. I topped off my coffee, relishing its warmth. The bowl of pudding came.

  “Sir, excuse me.” The mess steward.

  “Now what?”

  He said warily, “Another call.”

  I stared at my pudding. “Almighty Lord God in His heaven.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “And His angels! Amen.” I stalked to the caller. “Seafort!” My tone was savage.

  “Sergeant Obutu reporting, sir.” She seemed distant, as she was. “I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”

  “You have, and it had better be important!”

  “That’s for you to judge, sir. Cadet Arnweil was sent to Lieutenant Paulson this evening. To the barrel.”

  Too bad, but I couldn’t do anything about it. “I’ll read the Log later. Why bother me about—”

  “Sergeant Radz sent him. And Kyle Drew just pulled his tenth demerit. He’s to report to Mr. Paulson in the morning.” Drew? He had enough misery, after his accident.

  I paused. “Sergeant, who issued the demerits?”

  Her formality matched my own. “I believe most of them came from Sergeant Radz, sir.”

  I let the silence stretch.

  “The Stritz boy too, sir. The one with the low grades, in Kuhn’s barracks. He’s on punishment detail for a month.”

  “Why?”

  “To improve his grades.”

  Something was going wrong. Sergeant Radz had felt remorse over Edwards’s death, but couldn’t accept his responsibility for the cadets’ plummeting morale. He saw his role as toughening his youngsters into proper Naval officers. Apparently, so did Stritz’s drillmaster, Sergeant Kuhn.

  “Very well, I’ll deal with it as soon as I get back.”

  A pause. “Aye aye, sir. I’ll log off Cadet Drew’s demerits when he reports back from Mr. Paulson.”