His tone was gruff. “I wish we could have done more. We never got to the gravitrons.”
“No one ever does.” We smiled.
“As for the rest, I’m sorry.” He clapped me on the shoulder, and was gone.
Our orders came two days later. I was to go to Helsinki, Arlene to Freiheit. We would join our ships at Earthport Station, after four days leave in Lunapolis.
Leave? We stared at each other. For two years we’d been shepherded to meals, to barracks, to exercise, to haircuts. We had barely an hour of our own.
Now we were midshipmen, granted our majority by statute of the General Assembly itself. While civilians of our age were still subject to the dictates of their parents, barred from adult entertainments and pleasures, we were free to drink, go where we desired, even drive electricars if we knew how.
A heady thought.
Five of us took the Farside shuttle to Earthport Station, and thence to Lunapolis. I don’t know about the other new middies, but a lump formed in my throat as I peered through the porthole for one last look at the domes of Academy. At the moment, I loved it all, even Sergeant Swopes. Well, perhaps not all. Not Jenks.
Hours later we took our seats on the connecting shuttle for Lunapolis. We all had plans; mine included a tour of the First Warrens and of the Spaceflight Museum. We could have booked rooms in one of the less expensive hotels, but Arlene and I signed into Naval barracks. Though we were now on salary, we had no savings to squander. I’d had to draw against advance pay for my leave.
By the first night I exhausted the tourist sights I thought would last a week. The Museum of Spaceflight consisted mostly of replicas, and I’d seen more vintage craft in my years at Academy than in the exhibits. First Warrens were fascinating, though. I struggled to picture the early settlers living in such primitive conditions.
I spent my second day of leave in a bar, and my second night curled over a toilet, retching until there was nothing more to bring up. I passed my third day battling a monumental headache and an overwhelming sense of shame; by evening I sought out the Reunification Church and prayed forgiveness for my folly.
It was the fourth day, my last, that I summoned the courage to explore the lower warrens.
Like any city, Lunapolis had its good districts. Old Lunapolis wasn’t one of them. Dives beyond description offered vices I’d dreamed of in the privacy of my sheets, as well as others I’d hadn’t dared to imagine. The health officer’s lecture ringing in my ears, I studiously avoided most establishments, ended up alone in a seedy cafe that my young eyes saw as worldly.
I ordered dinner, boldly agreed to wine. I had no experience with liquors, and let the waiter choose. What I was served bore a strong resemblance to bulkhead cleanser. Nonetheless, I sipped it in manly fashion. Presently, a young woman drifted past my table, stopped to say hello. Shortly after, she was sitting across from me, chatting comfortably. Lynette.
After dinner she took me for a walk. I’d read of a certain type of woman, in histories. I prepared to refuse, indignantly, her demand for money. To my relief, she asked for none. Instead, she put her arm through mine, whispered her desires in my ear. I stared unbelievingly. Did people really do those things?
I had no apartment, and bringing Lynette back to Naval barracks was unthinkable. With little more than a reproachful look she galvanized me into thumbing through my wallet. I tossed bills onto the hotel counter with desperate bravado. The room was as dingy as its location had promised, but Lynette didn’t seem to mind. “You and me are the whole world, Nicky. Nothing else is real.”
She planted me in a chair, draped herself in my lap, nestled close. I kissed her shyly while she fondled me, whispered of the bliss to come. She put my hands where she wanted them.
At her urging I stripped off my wonderful new uniform, trying to pretend I was back in barracks, that no one but fellow cadets observed my exposed skin. Lynette took off her halter, pressed her hardened nipples against my hairless chest.
A few moments after, I slipped between cold sheets, aflame with fantasies. Lynette pressed close, and I strove to please her. Somehow, her twists and turns were always in the wrong direction. I locked my arms around her, pulled her tight, but to no avail. My lust faded to insignificant proportions. I closed my eyes, willing away the shame.
At first I thought Lynette was trying to excite me anew, and I struggled to cooperate. That seemed to please her, but despite my passionate desire, my tumescence faded to naught. Now her fingers grew cruel, jabbing at my groin, dispelling what little excitement remained.
“Is that how a man acts?” Her voice was cruel.
“I’m—I need—stop that!” I caught her wrist, pulled it away.
“If I knew you were so tiny I wouldn’t have bothered. How old are you, joey? Thirteen?”
I twisted away, lay with my back to her, nursing unspeakable hurt. Along with the shame came remorse that I had failed her. “I’m sorry, Lynette. Give me a minute, I’ll be all right.”
She seemed to calm. Presently she stroked me again. “All right, honey. It’s okay. Don’t cry.” Gratefully I turned back to her arms. For many minutes she was patient, until at last I began to respond. In her eagerness she kissed too hard, bit my lip. I yelped, jerked my face away, tried to concentrate. My hands roamed her body, settled on her breasts. She went inert as a rag doll.
After a moment, I stopped. It was no use; perhaps our chemistry was wrong. I sat up. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
“Running away?” Her voice held disbelief.
“No.” I fished for my shorts. “Just going.”
She sat up. “Your daddy’s in Wales, you said? How would he feel if he knew you were with me?”
About the way I felt, just now. I grabbed my shirt.
“Know something, little boy? The one thing that would disgust him more than you lying here sweating is you not even being man enough to do it!” Her eyes blazed. There’s nothing down there, joey! You’re a blank!”
“Why are you doing this?” I jammed my feet into my shoes.
“You’ll never be good enough, not for any woman! Try men!”
I slapped at her. She pulled her head out of the way; my fingers barely grazed her cheek.
“Go home, joeyboy! Play with it until you learn how!”
I snatched my jacket and tie, ran to the door. Somehow I got it unbolted, fled down the hall, fumbled at the corridor hatch.
A shrill voice pursued me. “Freak! Do you have a vagina hidden down there?” Her breath came in short rasps as she followed me into the hallway. “You’re useless!”
I glanced back, frozen in the agony of my degradation.
Her face was contorted with passion, her lips full. She rubbed her hand against her crotch. “Faggot freak!”
I dashed blindly through the dirty corridors as if Satan himself were behind me. Perhaps he was.
Long hours later, I stumbled back to Naval barracks, my feet aching from the unnoticed miles I’d plodded. By now I was past tears, past caring, past life itself. I averted my eyes, certain everyone could read the humiliation in my face, and its cause.
I tapped in my hatch code, slipped into my cabin. I leaned against the hatchway, eyes shut. I tried not to weep, failed. Clawing off my sweat-soaked clothes, I dropped on the bed, jumped off immediately. I wasn’t fit for bed. I fled into the head, turned on the shower, stood gratefully under its steaming warmth. Endless minutes passed while I tried to wash away the woman’s foul imprecations.
Why had she destroyed me? Could I have deserved that? The hot spray of water caressed me. Despite myself, my body began to relax. Finally, reluctantly, I took a deep breath, turned off the tap, toweled myself dry.
Celibacy wouldn’t be so terrible; someday I might even get used to it. In the meantime there was U.N.S. Helsinki; duty would help.
A towel wrapped around my waist, I stepped into the bedroom. Far too miserable to sleep, at least I could pray, and perhaps, before morning, find peace.
Someone p
ounded at the hatch. I ignored it; in my new life I’d be a hermit. Anything else was unthinkable.
More hammering. If I refused to answer, they’d go away.
“Nicky?”
Damn it, Arlene. Not now. Not even you. I flung myself onto the bed, buried my head in the pillow.
After a time she went away, and I was left alone with Lynette. The vile words echoed. “Freak! Play with it! Try men!” I tossed and turned, sat to retrieve the Bible from my duffel. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I leafed through its familiar pages. Father, forgive me. I was foolish, and I despise myself.
Keep thee from the evil woman, from the flattery of the tongue of a strange woman.
Please, Lord. I repent. Let me forget.
For by means of a whorish woman a man is brought to a piece of bread.
I let the Book fall closed. A lump of bread. For the sake of lust, I have reduced myself to that.
Another knock. “Nicky?”
I sighed. She’d knock again every few minutes, unless I spoke. “Not now, Arlene.”
“Just for a minute.”
Cursing under my breath I crossed to the hatch, flung it open. “Now what?”
Cadet Sanders—Midshipman Sanders, now—grinned at the towel around my waist. “I like your style. Quite a uniform.” Her eyes danced, her breath smelled of sweet wine.
“What do you want?”
She studied my face. “Headache?”
“For God’s sake, Arlene! Have your say and let me alone!”
She drew herself up. “Prong yourself! I came to say farewell; wine makes me foolish. Skip it!”
“You stupid bitch!”
Her slap rocked me back on my heels. My hand shot to my stinging face.
“What an ass you are, Nicky! I hate you!” She stalked off.
I paced my room, rubbing my face, cursing a steady stream of obscenities. Passing the chair I gave it a savage kick, spent the next minutes hopping and clutching my throbbing toes. Finally, exasperated, humiliated and in misery, I thrust myself into bed and turned out the light.
For weeks I tossed and turned. At last I gave up, turned on the light, learned that less than an hour had passed.
Damn it, Arlene, why did you have to stir me up? So what if I forgot my manners? I’ve had the most awful day of my life, and—
No, it wasn’t my most awful day. That had been spent kneeling over a blanket on the cold damp grass, in a stadium far, far away.
“Geez, you have a temper, Nicky.”
Oh, shut up, Jason, you’re dead and gone. I miss you, but don’t nag.
“All right.” The voice faded.
No, Jase, come back!
Silence. I hunched over my knees, bowed my head, weeping. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.
The reply was as if a whisper. “You talking to me or her?”
You. No, her. Both of you.
Silence.
I reached for my clothes. Moments later, I slipped through the hatch, started down the hall, realized I didn’t know her room number. Why was life so bloody complicated? I plodded to the front desk, waited for the rating to look up from his holo.
“Midshipman Sanders; what room?”
His eyebrow raised. “We don’t give out rooms.”
I spoke with someone else’s voice. “You do tonight!”
He stared, found something in my eyes that persuaded him. “Three fifteen.”
I climbed the stairs two at a time, hurried to her door. All right, I’d abase myself. She meant that much to me, or had once. For old times’ sake, she deserved it.
I knocked. No answer. “Arlene?”
I waited, heard no sound. I swallowed. “I understand, Arlene. Whatever you think of me, you’re right. I’m sorry.” It was so inadequate, I could say no more. I crept away.
I opened the stairwell door, bumped into someone coming through the other way. “Sorry, I—”
“What are you doing here?”
“I went to your room. Where were you?”
Arlene’s voice was small. “At your room, knocking. You wouldn’t answer.”
“What did you want?”
I held up a hand to forestall her answer. “I came to apologize. I’m a fool, and cursing you was”—I turned away—“despicable.” I forced myself to meet her eye.
She said, “I don’t know what came over me, telling you off. I just wanted to say good-bye. In barracks I acted tough, but inside, I feel sentimental. Lonely. I—Nicky, don’t turn away, let me see! Your eyes, I’ve never seen you look—why are you crying?”
I mumbled, “It’s nothing.”
“Oh, Nicky.” She drew my head against her shoulder. Grateful beyond words, I succumbed to her caress. After a moment, I straightened, wiped my eyes. “It’s been an awful day.”
“Tell me.”
I couldn’t possibly. Still, the urge to confess was almost unbearable. I could talk about some of it, perhaps. Not the worst parts. “Not here.” I led her to my room.
Arlene perched on my bed, cross-legged, as time and again she had on Farside. “Tell me.”
I began with the casual conversation at my restaurant table. Bit by bit, as if drawn by a magnet, the story tumbled forth. I thought to pass over the details, found I could not. At the end I lay on my side, eyes shut tight, humiliated.
I expected consolation, but her tone was hard as nails. “Can you find her again?”
“Why?”
“I’ll kill her.”
Awed, I looked up, found her eyes. She meant it. I muttered, “I deserved it.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” She jumped to her feet, paced, stopped to slam the bulkhead with her fist. “The Molesters, they call themselves. A sex cult. The men find young girls, the women boys. They ... humiliate them. It’s how they get their zarks.”
I turned on my back. “How do you know?”
She colored. “When the middies had me standing regs, one of them thought it would scare me.” She swore fluently. “The worst hazing we ever had wasn’t that awful.”
“No.”
The bitch wanted to scar you forever.”
A whisper. “She did.”
Arlene pushed me aside without thinking, sat. “Now you’ll think of her every time. Have you ever had sex?”
“Arlene!”
“Just asking. I have. Last year, twice. With joes from a second-year dorm.”
“Lord God in heaven.”
“Forget I asked. It’s no big thing.” She patted my forehead. “Jesus, Nick.”
A long moment passed. My voice was muffled. Tonight was the first time.” I studied the far bulkhead, my cheeks on fire.
Arlene looked at her watch. “I report in six hours. So little time.”
“I know. Get some sleep.”
That’s not what I meant.” She began to unbutton her tunic.
“What are you doing?”
Taking off my clothes. It’s better that way.”
I sat quickly. “Stop it! Not with you, and anyway I couldn’t, after tonight.”
“Why not with me?”
“You don’t do it with bunkies!”
“We’re not, anymore. I’m Freiheit and you’re Helsinki, remember?” She slipped out of her slacks.
I cried, “Arlene, I can’t! Don’t make me try, I’m begging you.”
She hesitated, leaned over to brush her cheek against my chest. “If that’s what you want. But I’m lonely. Can I stay, just to talk?”
I cast about for a way to refuse without doing her more hurt. I found none. “All right.” Somehow, the night would pass.
A while later we nestled in the dark under the covers. “Poor Robbie. He wanted so much to make middy.” Her voice was soft.
“They won’t keep him long.”
“I know.” She sighed. “He cried, after Lights Out.”
“I heard too.”
“Hold me, Nicky.”
An hour passed. I dozed in the comfort of her warmth. Then, abruptly, I woke. “Arlene, wha
t are you—”
“Don’t talk.” She snuggled closer. “You’re decent, Nicky. You’re kind, under that righteous pose. Anyone can see that.” Her soft fingers stroked my flank.
“Oh, Arlene, if only it were true.” Still, grateful, I offered a shy kiss.
Her voice held wonder. “I think I love you, Nicky.” Her lips met mine. I delved into her mouth, and presently, elsewhere.
Arlene’s fingers brushed my Captain’s bars. “Who would have thought, sir? So soon.”
I closed my eyes, tried to shake away the despair. “It didn’t happen like the holo stories. Not remotely.”
“I know.” As if recalling her surroundings she took a step back, cleared her throat. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“I’m all right.” My tone was gruff. “Tell me about yourself.” We cleared the ladder well, started down to Level 3.
Her laugh was light and brittle. “They bounced me all over the Navy. Freiheit, then Bolivar, then Admiralty. Now here.”
We climbed down to Level 2. “When did you make Lieutenant?”
“Four years ago. A fluke, really; if Captain Voorhees hadn’t—”
The alarms shrieked. “BATTLE STATIONS! ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS!” Pritcher’s voice echoed in the speakers.
Arlene Sanders stamped her foot. “What’s the matter with the man? We’ve all had enough!” She started up the ladder.
“He wants to impress the brass. If they—”
The Captain’s tone was ragged. “Battle Stations! This is no drill!”
“Oh, Jesus!” Arlene tore up the ladder to Level 2. For a second, I gaped. Then I raced after.
Swiftly as she ran, Arlene was only a step ahead when she charged through the bridge hatch. I dived past just as the Captain slapped the emergency close. The hatch slammed, isolating us from the rest of the ship. The middy of the watch was nowhere to be seen; only the Captain, Admiral Duhaney, Arlene and I.
Arlene dived for her console, flipped to the plotting screen. “Lieutenant Sanders repor—”
“Three of them!” Pritcher’s voice quavered. He waved at the simulscreen. “In the training holos the fish didn’t seem so ... so big ...
Reports crackled from the speaker. “Comm room manned and ready, sir!”
Fisherman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 4) Page 36