Authors: David Feintuch
“Edgar, you go too far.”
“Sir, you risk your life. He’s unstable.”
“It’s my life to risk.”
“He should have been hanged.”
“We won’t execute Derek’s son, no matter what the cause. You know that.”
“
You
know that, sir. I don’t share your certainty.”
“Enough. We’ll speak on it, after.”
“After what?”
“After we calm down. Go, all of you. I’ll speak with Randy alone.”
“Sir, you won’t be safe.”
“Randy, will you harm me?”
“No, sir. I swear it by—by God, by my father, anything you want.”
“There, you see? Out.”
In a moment we were alone.
“Sit right there, boy. Now …” Mr Seafort’s eyes bored into mine. “Tell me. Everything.”
And I did.
Afterward, reeling with exhaustion, I found my way to the cells, but Janks wouldn’t let me in. He had to call the purser, who called the officer of the watch, who called the Captain, who’d been taken by wheeled chair to his cabin.
I finally found myself in a tiny cabin immediately adjoining Mr Seafort’s. I kicked off my shoes, began to undo my shirt, perched on the bed for convenience, and passed out.
When I came to, the clock indicated it was morning. I went to the head, but had nothing to wear but my slept-in clothes.
A soft knock on my hatch.
“Come in.”
A high-pitched voice. “I can’t, sir. You locked it.”
I keyed the control.
A youngster. He couldn’t have been more than twelve, but wore a sailor’s work blues. He bore a tray. “Hi, sir. I’m Alejandro. Ship’s boy. They call me Alec.”
I blinked.
“Cap’n thought you’d like breakfast.”
Food? I ought not even be alive.
He threw back a napkin. A mound of toast, a dish of scrambled eggs and potatoes. Sausage. Probably soy, but nonetheless …
My mouth watered. I gestured to the table built into the far bulkhead. He set down the tray, spread the napkin, pulled out my seat.
I watched him work. Someone had gone to great trouble to cut down a uniform to his diminutive size, or stitch one. What he wore couldn’t be standard issue.
I asked, “What does a ship’s boy do?”
“I help.” He seemed to think it explained his role.
I inhaled half my serving of eggs. “How?”
“Whatever’s needed. Like, the galley’s shorthanded, now almost everyone’s ashore. Or, I run to get things for the middies and work crews. Or put things away when they’re done. You’ve never seen a ship’s boy?”
“I’ve never seen a ship.” Just through the station porthole, visiting with Dad.
Two pieces of toast disappeared. I reached for another.
“Isn’t she a zark? Took me a week to learn my way around. ’Course, I was only ten. I’ll be twelve next week. Gotta go, sir.”
I nodded, too consumed with my task to answer.
At last, somewhat sated, I leaned back. A sigh of relief, in the empty chamber.
“Oh, good, you’re up.”
I whirled. Captain Seafort, in uniform, in the hatchway.
I jumped to my feet. “Good morning, sir.”
“Everyone wants to know what to do with you. Feed you, I told them. Then we’ll see. I’ll be heading to the bridge and could use your assistance.”
“Of course.”
“I spent some months in a wheelchair, and loathed it.” He took my hand. “This helps when I get dizzy.”
“Yessir.” If I sounded fawning, obsequious, it didn’t matter.
The incident I’d begun in the Dining Hall was far from over—I wasn’t an utter fool—but I didn’t care. I had made a gesture on Dad’s behalf, however misguided. The burden of that folly was lifted. Mr Seafort would survive; I’d escaped a guilt so great I couldn’t have borne it. Now, in his good time, would come punishment. I could wait.
He took me to the next-door cabin. Considerably larger than mine, low dividers carved it into sections: a bedroom area and a common room with another, narrower bed in a corner.
Mikhael lounged in a soft chair, in shirtsleeves, his collar open. Janey sat in his lap. Lifting the child, he stood. “Pa.”
“He was awake.” Seafort steered me to a seat.
“Hi, Randy.” Mik sounded shy.
Seafort took a sip from a half-finished cup of coffee.
“Mikhael.” I nodded.
“You all right?” we asked simultaneously.
I giggled. “Yes. Is this what you do when you’re off duty?”
“As often as not. I used to live here, before Pa let me enlist.”
With a glance at the Captain I said, “Is he still angry at you?”
“Of course not.” Before I could figure that out, he added, “Pa says you told him your whole story.”
I nodded, suddenly shy.
“I’m glad there’s peace between you.”
“Not—” Not peace. The calm before the storm. I looked over my shoulder. “Mr Seafort?” I hesitated, but best to have it out in the open. “What did you mean about parole?”
He set down his cup. “You were adjudged guilty. I vacated your sentence. So now, technically, you’re awaiting resentencing. I paroled you from the brig.”
“Why?”
“To get to know you.”
“Will you let him go, Pa?”
“That’s ship’s business, son.”
“Should I put on my tie and ask it as a middy?”
The Captain frowned. “I’ll follow my conscience. Does that suffice?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you watch Janey awhile? Randy’s going to escort me to the bridge.”
“Sure.” To me, “Ever had a sister? It’s cool.”
“Mik,” Seafort said, “is practicing for parenthood.” It drew a blush all the way up to the middy’s ears. The Captain chuckled.
He took a firm grip on my hand.
Traversing the corridor, I saw little sign of his dizziness, though we did walk slowly.
I tried to make conversation. “Where does Janey sleep?”
His grip tightened. “She has a cot in the corner. Mostly, she’s with her mother.”
“You’re married?”
“No.” Perhaps he sensed I had no way to puzzle it out. “I was married a long while.”
“Arlene. Dad liked her.”
“So did I.” Something in his voice made me not dare to speak. Then, after a time, “Arlene had her eggs and DNA stored. When they gave me
Olympiad
I hired a host mother. Corrine Sloan traveled with us.”
“But you said—”
“When the baby was born, there was no one other than med techs to look after her. Of course, I did my share, but often I was on watch. Corrine helped. Over time …” He favored me with a stern glance. “I’ll trust you with this, but it’s not for public consumption.”
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s grown to love Janey, and Janey her. It’s irregular. We’re not married, never were. We’ve never been intimate. But, bless it, she’s the child’s mother. When she asked to stay aboard …” A sigh. “I could have refused her—I had the authority—but it seemed inhumane. We have … an uneasy relationship.”
“Kevin’s host mother lives on Constantine.” I didn’t know why I said it.
“Ah, yes, Kevin. It’s just as well you’ll be present.”
Holding my hand as with a small child, he led me to the bridge. I could do naught but follow.
At the hatch, he paused. “Behave yourself today, Randy. I have authority over you, and I won’t hesitate to use it.”
There was nothing unkind about his tone, no warning in his eye, but I blurted, “Yes, sir,” as fast as I could, and felt a prickle of sweat.
Still leading me by the hand, he deposited me at the pilot’s console. Ms Skor stood and saluted.
“Hallo, Joanne, I have the watch. When’s your shuttle?”
“An hour and a half. Anything I can bring you, sir?”
“Not really. Have a good leave, and don’t forget what I said about the Ventura Mountains. Oh …” He waited, while she paused at the hatch. “Thanks so much for staying aboard during my … illness.”
“You’re welcome.” With a casual salute, she left us.
I said, “Who’ll run the ship?”
“We’ll manage. Good morning, Jess.”
A pleasant baritone, from the speaker: “Good day, Captain.”
Seafort eased himself into his chair, let go my hand. “Whew.” To me, “Jess is our puter. I’m teaching him chess.”
From the speaker, a snort. A puter could laugh? I hadn’t known.
He keyed his caller, waited. “Edgar, could you join me? Later will do, if it’s inconvenient. All right, thanks.” To me, “A few minutes. Let me finish reading.” He scanned his holovid.
After a time, a voice from the hatchway. “Lieutenant Edgar Tolliver reporting, sir.”
“Ah. Have a seat. Randy, would you wait outside?”
“Yes, sir.” I did, and the hatch slid closed.
With almost the whole ship’s company on leave, the corridor was silent as a tomb. For a moment, I paced, wondering what they were up to.
My life might depend on it.
I shouldn’t but … I padded to the hatch, pressed my ear tight.
“… going to overrule you, and I wanted you to know first.”
“You’re under no duty to explain—”
“You were acting as Captain. I ought let stand your decisions where possible.”
“As with the Carr joeykid?”
“That
had
to be overruled. You knew so yourself.”
“Is that so, sir?”
“Yes. Else you wouldn’t have goaded me to walk to the bridge.”
“Did I do that?”
“Weren’t you aware of it, Edgar?”
A long pause. “Sir, this has been a dreadful week. I’m not sure what I …”
“You wanted to come close to executing him. It was closer than you thought. Would you have gone through with it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I set it up so I’d have to.”
“What did you feel when I came on the speaker?”
“Dismay. Relief. Damn it …” A long pause. “If only Carr had broken. Explained himself, asked for mercy … I even went to his cell, in the night.”
“Edgar, pride is all I left him.”
“You?”
“After killing his father. No, don’t shake your head; he’s quite right about that. Derek wanted to go along to retake
Galactic,
but it was in my power to stop him.”
“You said he swore he’d alert the rebels unless you let him go.”
“He couldn’t have meant it.”
“His sworn word?”
“Derek would have found a way around it. He loved me. And I sent him to his death.” Seafort’s voice was bleak. “Do you know, Edgar, I haven’t prayed since? Not once.”
“I heard you muttering, one time when—”
“I talk to God from time to time. I berate Him. That’s not prayer.”
“I’m not sure I agree.”
“When He let me lead Derek to a useless death—”
“We’ve been down that road, sir.”
“Yes, and it’s still before us. Young Randolph worshiped him. Last night, when he described his good-byes, and his dreams … his tears had no end. And I can tell you, I haven’t slept since.”
“Then I curse Derek, for laying such a burden on you.”
“I can bear it; I’ve borne worse. Arlene, for example. The boy asked me about her, today, and it was all I could do to keep my voice steady.” A sigh. “This is all afield. Let’s get back to Ghent.”
“Are you asking my opinion, sir?”
“Obviously, your view is to send him to court-martial.”
“I confirmed the death sentence; Carr had to be informed. Ghent refused outright. Sir, I know how he feels; it’s a horrid duty. But he’s an officer.”
“I know. In that sense, he did wrong. But I’m going to let him off.”
“It’s your decision.”
“And I’m confident that in the end, you’d have done the same. Perhaps you’d have held trial first.”
“Don’t attribute me your mercy. I don’t have it within me.”
“You’ve proven otherwise.”
“How? When?”
“Five years ago, Edgar, just before we cast off, you showed up on the bridge of
Olympiad,
to accompany me into exile. If that wasn’t an act of mercy, I don’t know … good heavens!” A scrape. “Tears, from you? I don’t think I’ve ever … take my hand.”
A moment.
“Thank you, Edgar. For everything, over the years, thank you.”
A mumble I barely heard. “I’d better go.”
I leaped back across the corridor.
The hatch opened. Tolliver strode out, his face showing nothing.
“Randy?”
I resumed my seat, eyes downcast.
He regarded me a long moment. “You listened?”
“No, I—it was just—yes, sir.”
“Skulking about, when I asked you for privacy? Do you wish me to spy on you?”
“No, sir.” My cheeks flamed.
“Then you ought not spy on me.” He took my chin in his hands, forced my gaze upward to his. “I knew your father well, and loved him. I tell you, the Derek Carr I knew wouldn’t hold his ear to the hatch. Do you understand me? I rebuke you!” He let me go.
I sat wishing I could crawl into a hole and die. “… won’t do it again.”
“What?”
I cleared my throat. “I won’t do it again.”
“Very well. Compose yourself.” Once more, he keyed the caller. “Mr Janks.”
A pause. “Master-at-arms Janks repor—”
“Release Andrew Ghent. He’s to make himself presentable and report to the bridge.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
After a time, he swiveled to me. “Step by step, I can undo almost everything except your father’s death.” He reached to scratch his scalp, winced. “And this.”
There was nothing I could say; he knew I was sorry.
Another flick of the caller. “Mr Anselm?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I was reading.”
“Why were you demeriting Ghent? I know it’s a wardroom matter, but you’re out of the wardroom now.”
“The demerits say—”
“What’s the real reason?”
“Attitude, sir. He’s a good joey at heart, but lately he’s had a chip on his shoulder. It grew annoying.”
“Fair enough.”
“Sir, about his court-martial …”
Seafort glanced at me, but said only, “Yes?”
“Might you let him off? When he wouldn’t deliver the news to Randy, I had to, and I almost lost my dinner. Sir, that was horrible. Ghent’s only sixteen.”
“Thank you for your advice. That will be all.”
He folded his arms.
For a while I fiddled, not quite daring to touch the controls, though the console’s master switch was clearly off. I peered at the simulscreen, tried to imagine the bridge while a cruise was under way. “Where does
Olympiad
go next, sir? Home system?”