Fisherman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 4)

by David Feintuch

  Rather than chewing me out and sending me back to the books, he’d taught me the mnemonic, and begun to rectify my ignorance. Thank you, Chief.

  For a time Kyle and I worked peaceably at our tasks. The companionable silence mellowed me; I felt almost light-headed.

  The gawky youngster stretched. “Thanks a lot, sir, that’ll really help my weeklies.” He flashed a grin that lit his sallow face.

  His relief seemed to affect me; I felt a burden lift. It was as if I were pounds lighter. “I’m glad. Better get back to barracks before Lights Out.” I lifted my cup for another sip, and slopped steaming coffee over my shirt. “Damn!”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Kyle stood. With a startled look he waved his arms as if to catch his balance. “Whoa!”

  Alarms shrilled. As I spun to my console the puter came to life. “MALFUNCTION IN THE GRAVTTRON CONTROLS! COMMENCING SYSTEM SHUTDOWN! POWER DIVERTED!”

  Something was terribly wrong.

  I grabbed the caller. “Emergency close all corridor hatches! All hands stand by for suitup! Tolliver, Thorne, to the Commandant’s office!”

  “SYSTEM DISCONNECT COMPLETE! LUNAR GRAVITY PREVAILS. COMMENCING DIAGNOSTIC RUN!”

  “What in hell?” I jumped to my feet, banged my skull on the overhead. I caromed down to my desk, managed to anchor myself. Kyle Drew watched, mouth ajar.

  The caller panel lit like a Christmas tree. I rubbed my aching forehead.

  Jeffrey Thorne poked his head into my office. Grinning, he entered with the slow-sailing lope characteristic of Lunar gravity. “They did it!” he sounded exultant.

  “Did what? Who?”

  “The middies finally got to the gravitrons!” His eyes sparkled.

  “That’s nonsense, they’ve never ... I reached to the console, thumbed the caller. “Gravitron Control Room!” I waited.

  A knock. Tolliver, taking careful Lunar steps. Sergeant Kina Obutu was close behind.

  “We tried for years, all of us!” Thorne’s face was flushed. “They made it at last!”

  Kyle Drew’s face widened into a grin.

  Little pitchers. I frowned: “Cadet, back to barracks.”

  “Aye aye—”

  Tolliver. “He can’t, sir. You have all the hatches closed. It took me forever to key in the codes.”

  “Very we—”

  The caller buzzed. “Gravitron Tech Siever reporting, sir. I’m in the power station at the moment. The little bastards recoded my hatch. I can’t get in!”

  “What happened?”

  “A cadet came with a message. The engine-room caller wasn’t working, and would I go help—”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Long blond hair, bushy eyebrows, how should I know? They’re all the same!”

  Sergeant Obutu muttered, “A wig? None of them have long blond—”

  “Sir, even after I figure out how to get in it’ll take a good hour to restart—”

  I grated, “Have Maintenance burn through your hatch. Get the bloody gravitrons up and running!”

  Savagely, I punched a caller button.

  “Sergeant Radz here, sir. We’ve lost pow—”

  “I know, damn it!” I spun to Thorne, almost launching myself from my chair. “Find out who did it! Have them thrashed and expelled!”

  “Let me use my judgment, sir. I’ll handle it.” Thorne sounded solemn.

  “Not this time, you won’t. Send them home! Better yet, send them to court-martial!” I stood to pace, thought better of it.

  Ms. Obutu coughed. “It’s only a prank, sir.”

  “Only a—” I stared at the alarms, fuming. Lord knows what harm they’d caused. Thank heaven it had been late in the evening. As it was, they’d caused me to spill hot coffee all over myself, and even now I couldn’t get to my feet without risking ballistic flight. The gall of those middies, skulking around off-limits corridors, raising havoc in the night. When I was their age I knew better than to—than ...

  Jeff Thorne stared at me fixedly. When he was sure Kyle’s eye was elsewhere, he winked.

  After a moment the corners of my mouth twitched. “All right, Thorne, straighten out this mess as you see fit.” I hoped he’d have the sense to apply the cane, if nothing else. Long-sought triumph or no, the middies must be taught that all things come at a cost.

  I swiveled to Tolliver. “There’ll be chaos in the dorms tonight. Pillow fights, or horseplay. Maybe worse. Pass the word to let them be.” I shrugged off his surprise. “In the history of Academy, no middy ever reached the gravitrons. Very well, let them celebrate.”

  Kyle Drew grinned like an idiot. I snapped, “Don’t get ideas, joey. It isn’t funny.”

  It really wasn’t. But even the Lunar gravity couldn’t explain my lightheartedness.

  “I really must protest.” Ardwell Crossburn wore the stubborn look I’d come to know too well. “The damage they caused. We didn’t get the gravitrons back on-line until past—”

  “Why not?” I demanded. Crossburn was maintenance officer, and after Lieutenant Sleak’s death he’d taken the base’s Systems responsibilities as well. All too seriously, it now seemed.

  Across the conference table, Jeff Thorne rolled his eyes. Tolliver looked solemn.

  “The techs had to burn through the hatch, as you know. Mind you, at the cost of a new hatchplate. Then they had to unscramble the gravitron passwords those criminals had changed. I’m astounded Thorne won’t tell me who they are.” The man was a fool; he had only to observe which three middies were walking with uncomfortably stiff gait.

  Crossburn had gone red. “It’s most odd, your letting them off. I must say, most odd indee—”

  I came to my feet. “You must say? You dare judge me?”

  “Not at all. The comment was in a, ah, private capacity.” His tone turned sullen. “I won’t speak of it, if you insist. But my advice is to cashier whoever’s responsible before the Naval Affairs Committee learns next week—”

  I slammed my holovid on the table. The shattered lensplate skittered to the deck. “Mr. Crossburn, pack your gear! I want you off base this very day!”

  Crossburn was smug. “Without me you don’t have enough officers for five hundred, cadets. Mr. Kearsey issued a base regulation on that. Anyway, I’m not needed at Devon and my responsibilities here—”

  “Jeff Thorne will take your duties. Don’t go to Devon. Report to Captain Higbee at BuPers in Lunapolis.”

  “And what would you like me to tell him? Everything I know?” Crossburn had thrown caution to the winds.

  My tone was glacial. “Tell him you’re no longer employed at Naval Academy. Get out! Now, before I call Mr. Tenere to help!” Adam had recent experience in removing uncooperative superiors. I wondered if he’d find a posting anywhere, if I allowed that into his record.

  Crossburn threw his notes onto the table. “You’ll hear about this, sir. I’m not done—” He saw my expression, and fled.

  For a moment all was silent.

  “Very instructive, sir. I must remember that technique next time a middy—”

  “Edgar, shut up!” He was truly impossible; why did I put up with him?

  Jeff Thorne asked in a plaintive tone, “What, exactly, does a systems and maintenance officer do?”

  I growled, “There’s a manual someplace. Read it.”

  Tolliver said helpfully, “His main duty is keeping the middies away from the gravitr—”

  “EDGAR!”

  “Yes, sir. Perhaps we ought to get back to business.” He pondered his notes while I stalked the cabin, working off my ire. He said, “Your former associate Crossburn had one good point. The annual Naval Affairs visit next week. They’ll expect red-carpet treatment, as usual.”

  I stopped in midstride. “How?”

  “One of Mr. Duhaney’s assistants was most helpful on that point. For one thing, we serve them decent food. Steaks, not synthos.”

  “Take care of it.” My mind was still on Crossburn. I should have gotten rid of him
months ago. Thank heaven I’d done it now, before he buttonholed some Senator with his ubiquitous black diary.

  “I’ll order up some fancy fruits and vegetables. Just for the VIP tables, of course.”

  A bad example for our cadets; in the Navy all ranks were fed alike. It couldn’t be helped. Duhaney would have a stroke if I didn’t cultivate the Naval Affairs Committee.

  “And wine. I can—”

  “No.” I resumed my pacing.

  “Aye aye, sir. These Senators vote our budget. Let them stay thirsty.”

  I growled, “If they don’t like it, let them stay home. No wine.”

  “Jeff, help me, he’s in one of his moods again. Sir, it’s only for a week.” Tolliver made a note. “I’ll bunk with Mr. Thorne for the duration; Ms. Bien can join the middies in the wardroom. That will leave enough cabins empty, if you take two guests in your suite like Commandant Kearsey did.”

  Only eight Senators. But that didn’t count their innumerable aides. We’d have to move some of the techs to provide quarters belowdecks. An inconvenience, but ...

  “This year, only four of them are bringing family. I’ll arrange for middies to watch the children. They can—”

  “No!”

  “Beg your pardon, sir?”

  “This isn’t the Lunapolis Sheraton! No children!”

  “Be reasonable. You can’t tell them who to bring and—”

  “Who runs this place?” I threw myself into my chair.

  “I’m not quite sure, sir.” Tolliver regarded me gravely. “Do we get hints?”

  Jeff Thorne intervened before I could explode. “I don’t mind moving, sir. It’s in everyone’s interest to please the Committee.”

  I stared balefully at my shattered holovid. It had been my favorite reader since cadet days. “I’m not turning this place into a shambles for a gaggle of politicians and their families! Cancel the visit!” I picked pieces of lens off the carpet.

  Tolliver leaned back, folded his arms. “You really can’t do that, you know. Perhaps we should break for lunch?”

  “Don’t treat me like—damn it!” I sucked blood from my pricked finger. “Get this mess out of—” I took a deep breath. “All right, let them come. But no special food, we’ll feed them out of stores.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Tolliver sounded resigned.

  I wrapped my finger in a handkerchief, muttered under my breath. My officers and I would all be dislodged, our schedules disrupted ... No. I wouldn’t have it. “And you’ll stay in your own quarters.”

  “That’ll leave us six places short, sir.”

  “Eight. I don’t take boarders.” For a moment I relished his surprise. “Send Krane Barracks to the Training Station a week early. That will free thirty places.”

  Tolliver gaped. “A dorm? We can’t bunk spouses and aides and children in a communal cabin!”

  “That’s the Navy way. We do it all the time.” I opened the hatch.

  “But they’re not—”

  I said sweetly, “Isn’t it what they’re here to inspect?”

  By dinner I had calmed myself, but after reflection, I decided to leave matters where they stood. Political visits to Devon were one thing, unwelcome as they were. Senatorial jaunts to Farside were altogether too disruptive, budget or no. Maybe my actions would discourage them. However, I took the precaution of warning Tolliver not to mention our new arrangements to Admiral Duhaney’s office.

  During the next week I busied myself with paperwork. I had recommendations to write for graduating cadets, supply indents to approve, a new inventory program to outline so that Mr. Serenco’s defalcations would not reoccur. Occasionally, in the evenings, I called down to Cardiff. Annie seemed well, but remote.

  The day before the Committee was to arrive, I addressed the cadets about to leave for the Training Station. My goal was to impress on them the need for care without actually threatening dire consequences should they misbehave. I wanted no more deaths on my conscience, and with VIPs looking over our shoulders an accident now would be politically disastrous.

  I wasn’t sure if they heard me, but at least they stayed awake.

  Tolliver and I walked back from the main lock.

  “You have someone cleaning the dorm, Edgar?”

  “Mr. Diego, with two ratings. Not that they’re needed.”

  I agreed glumly. Sergeant Radz would have made sure the barracks was left spotless.

  I was having doubts about my decision to house the VIPs in Krane Hall. I resolved to think it through again, though a change of orders would make me look indecisive.

  In the morning a flurry of outgoing reports occupied my mind. By lunchtime the Senatorial party had arrived in a U.N.A.F. transport, and the die was cast.

  I rounded up my officers, greeted our guests effusively at the lock, and let Tolliver show them to their quarters. For the remainder of the afternoon I managed to be too busy to deal with visitors.

  Kevin Arnweil fell in beside me on the way to dinner. “Evening, sir. I finished the trig we worked on last night.”

  “Good.”

  “Mr. Sties said it was excellent. Should I tell him half the grade is yours?” Well. The youngster had a sense of humor. If I hadn’t forced myself to unbend with my special charges, I’d never have known.

  “No, thanks. I have no desire to be half a midshipman next year.”

  Kevin grinned with delight. I felt a twinge of guilt; a kind word from me meant so much to the lonely joeys I’d put under my wing.

  “Sir, the word is that you’re making Robbie Boland’s father sleep in a barracks.”

  We turned into the main corridor. “Is something wrong with that?”

  His answer was quick. “Oh, no, sir. Barracks is—fine.”

  “Good.” As we passed through the mess-hall hatch I called out, “Be seated.”

  Normally the Krane cadets sat toward the rear of the hall, but I’d had their unused tables moved closer to the front for the VIPs. Tonight and for the rest of the week my officers and I would dine with our visitors; Thorne had braced the middies to be on their best behavior.

  I took a deep breath, pasted a welcoming smile on my face as I approached the long table. “Good evening. Sorry I couldn’t be with you today.”

  Hostile expressions, from men and women alike. “Do you know where they took our gear?” Senator Dorothy Wade, of Ontario. “I tried all afternoon to reach you!”

  “Is there a mix-up, Senator?” My voice was bland.

  “Our rooms. Your idiot lieutenant”—Tolliver, at the opposite end of the table, affected not to hear—“took us to a barracks by mistake.” Next to her, an aide listened with smug satisfaction.

  Johan Stritz’s face went red; he quickly covered his mouth with a napkin. I felt a moment’s panic. If he were sick in the company of—then I saw his shoulders shake. Kyle Drew nudged him ungently in the ribs.

  I’d gone too far; even my cadets were laughing at me. Best to give the Senators the cabins they deserved, even if it meant ousting my officers on short notice. Blame it on Tolliver; he wouldn’t mind. “I’m sorry, I was tied up all afternoon with—”

  Senator Myemkin set down his fork. “Really, Mr. Seafort, someone’s made an error. They’ve crowded us into—”

  Mrs. Wade said sharply, “There’s not even a plug for a full-size holoscreen!”

  Myemkin’s tone was mild. “Doris, let me handle—”

  She overrode him. “And the bathrooms! They’re unspeakable!”

  I stopped short. “They’re not clean?” Someone’s head would roll.

  “What does that have to do with it? They’re stalls, lined up in a row. It’s an insult!”

  What had I done? I’d have to give them better accommodations, immediately. “Mrs. Wade, please don’t take offense. The heads in Krane Hall are like all the cadet dorms. I’ll change—”

  Her shrill voice echoed through the hall. “They’re fit for animals and trannies! We’re decent people!”

  The mess
hall went absolutely still. Slowly, I folded the napkin. “I’m terribly sorry your accommodations don’t suit you, ma’am.” Tolliver caught my eye, as if in reminder that I’d been warned.

  Thanks to the hushed silence, my humiliation would be public. My gaze swept the dining hall. Cadets, oblivious of their sergeants’ scowls, sat twisted to face the drama. On their faces were odd expressions. Embarrassment. Shame.

  No, anger.

  I stood, made sure my voice was just loud enough for all to hear. “I regret Farside doesn’t have quarters befitting your station. Obviously you can’t stay ... Again I looked at the rows of cadets, and stumbled to a halt.

  Their outrage was directed at her, not me.

  Trannies? Animals? How could I agree with her allegations, in the hearing of these well-scrubbed, starched youngsters? We’d told them over and again that living in close quarters without a shred of privacy was an honor. Ms. Wade’s epithets applied to them as well as me.

  My tone was firm. “Krane Barracks is the only housing we have available. Our cadets find it an honor to be assigned to them, or any other barracks in Farside. Can you imagine how hard they struggled—” I bit off the rest. What did these folk know of Academy tradition? “However, there’s a solution.”

  Richard Boland cleared his throat. “What can you do for us?”

  “I’ll make ready your shuttle, Senator. Anyone who finds our accommodations unacceptable may leave tonight for Lunapolis.” Tolliver put his head in his hands.

  “But the inspec—”

  “We’ll meet groundside, when it suits my schedule. I understand there are excellent hotels outside the Devon gates.” I threw down my napkin. “I find I’m not hungry, and I have urgent work to do. If you will excuse me.” I stalked from the hall.

  My caller was disconnected, my office hatch closed. I paced the cabin, increasingly distraught Why hadn’t I controlled my temper just this once? At the least, Duhaney would dismiss me as Commandant this very night, as soon as the Senators’ furious calls reached him. His contempt for me was already beyond tolerance, thanks to the interviews I’d given on Wellington.

  The personal cost didn’t bother me; now I was free to go home to Cardiff. But my outburst had done incalculable harm to Academy, and to my cadets. I wondered if my successor could ever repair it.