Children of Hope (58 page)

“Of what?” Fath.

“He’s overwhelmed by loss after loss. His father, whom he loved dearly, his nephew the Stadholder, his best friend Dakko, his home, even one of his limbs. No wonder he’s depressed.”

A silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you?” The doctor’s voice rose an octave. “How could you not know?”

“It’s not my … I don’t think in terms of… Lord, what have I done to him?”

A knock at the hatch.

“Saved him. In every way possible.”

“Lieutenant Anselm reporting, sir.”

“A moment, Tad. Saved him? Look at him.”

“He’s overwrought. Not unheard of in adolescent—”

“Don’t joke of it!”

Romez said quietly, “I’m not, sir. We can give him mood levelers, if he needs them. What’s important—”

“He spoke of rebalancing.”

“He’s not unbalanced, just distraught. You need to address his feelings of low worth.”

Anselm cleared his throat. “I’d best wait outside, sir.”

“Be seated and be silent. How, Doctor?”

“Be his father, Mr Seafort. That’s what he needs. Now, say what you will to Lieutenant Anselm. I’m about to knock you out.”

From Fath, a sigh. I drifted on billowy clouds, until his voice came anew. “Tad, I’m leaving the outrider in your hands. Do what you can.”

There was something I ought to say. I struggled to wake.

“If Harry wants to leave, sir?”

“Let him, of course.”

“Aye aye, sir. I’ll do my best.” Anselm paused. “You watched us this morning, didn’t you? We gained a few more words, but I’m at a standstill as far as real communication.”

“Murf.” My mouth was full of cotton.

“We know they want peace.” Fath.

“So it seems, sir, but to achieve it we need to deal in abstracts, and I’ve no idea how.”

“I don’t—I can’t … all I know, Tad, is that I can’t think. Hell itself can be no worse than …” His voice grew tight. “Sorry. No point in self-pity. I’ll be skipping a few sessions; Dr Romez will have me asleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, Doctor, do your worst.”

With a mighty effort, I roused myself enough to fall out of bed. “Wai.” I cleared my throat. “Wait.”

The three of them stared, their expressions beyond description.

“Couple a things.” I grinned foolishly. No, that didn’t seem right. I forced myself to frown. “Jus’a sec. I’m fuzzy.”

“Romez, you said he’d be asleep! Tad, help him into—”

“Tolliver, f’r one,” I said conversationally. “Hates Harry. Fath can’ leave him in charge. Ol’ Tad won’ be able to …” I waved vaguely. The fog was closing in.

“Hold off, Doctor.” Fath pushed aside the medgun. “Perhaps I’d better have a word with—”

“Sir, you’re on the ragged edge. Let me—”

“No, Randy has a point.” With an effort, Fath tried to breathe deeply. “Edgar and I go back a long way, and I treasure him, but he loathes the fish. At this juncture, I can’t leave him in charge.”

Romez shrugged. “That’s not for me to—”

I blurted, “An’ talkin ta Harry. Lemme help.”

“Randy, you’re in no condition to—”

“Helped you before.” I yawned prodigiously. “Wanna take my mind offa m’self?”

Fath tried to turn on an elbow to study me. Something jarred; he went white. After a moment he said through clenched teeth, “Anything else?”

“Yeah.” But I couldn’t think what.

Anselm hauled me back onto my bunk.

The pillow was so damned inviting. But I pried open my eyes. “Tommy.”

“What?”

“Middy Yost. Torturing him. I was listenin’ at hatch.” I curled up, clutched my pillow. “Stop ’em, Fath.” My tone was drowsy.

“What do you mean, son?”

I closed my eyes. Voices murmured, and at last the world faded out.

I sat up abruptly. “Urg.”

“Shhh, you’ll wake Pa.” Mikhael.

“Shhh, I’ll wake
me.”
I fell back with a thump.

“A call to Battle Stations couldn’t wake the Captain, sir.”

After a time I reopened my eyes, peered past Mik at the strange voice. An attentive med tech perched on a stool near Fath’s bed. He grinned. “Captain will be out for another watch, at least.”

Mik said, “Randy’s up, and they sedated him the same time—”

“Randy had a sedative; the Captain’s in deepsleep.” The tech leaned forward, clapped his hands sharply. Fath didn’t stir. “See?”

“Stop that!” Mik’s tone was indignant.

“Aye aye, Mr Tamarov. But no need to talk softly.”

Mik tried to look stern. “No need to talk at all.” To me, “How are you feeling?”

Hungry, but that could wait. I regarded him glumly. “You hate me.”

He raised an eyebrow. It was just what Fath would have done.

“For spying. I told Fath, I think.” I searched my scattered memory. “Yeah. Just before …”

“You told him lots of things.” Mikhael’s glance was frosty.

My stomach growled. “Shouldn’t I have? What did I say? Can we go eat?” Perhaps that wasn’t the most logical order, but I was doing my best. It wasn’t easy, thinking through dense fog.

Mik eyed Fath dubiously, checked his watch. “They’re still serving in officers’ mess.”

Cautiously, I worked my way out of bed. “I’m not an officer.

“You might as well be,” he said sourly.

“What does that mean?”

“Change your shirt.” He pulled a fresh one from the drawer, helped me peel the old one off. Despite his tone, his hands were agreeably gentle.

In the corridor, I asked again, “What did you mean?”

“You caused quite a ruckus.”

“I don’t remember much.”

“I’ll fill you in. Understand, wardroom affairs are private. You’re not to repeat them.”

“If you don’t trust me …”

He glared. “Do you want lunch or not?” Before I could answer he stalked off.

I trotted after. “All right, you have my word.”

Mikhael steered me past the bridge to the small compartment that served as officers’ mess. Half a dozen officers lingered over their trays. Lieutenant Frand was in animated discussion with a couple of middies at the long table.

The mess was serving soup and sandwiches. It was too much trouble to choose; I took both.

I tore into a chicken salad. It was wonderful. Today, anything would have been wonderful. Don’t let Dr Romez give you a sedative if you’re on a diet.

“I heard this from Tad Anselm.” Mik’s voice was low. “After you passed out, Pa called in Mr Tolliver. They had a bit of a row. Pa made him promise to leave Tad and the alien alone, unless it tried to break loose. And Pa’s just off watch for a while, not relieved.”

“That’s only fair.”

“It’s not normal.”

“But—”

“Stuff it, there’s more.” He glanced about. “What in God’s own hell did you say about Mr Riev?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Noth—oh!” I shrugged. “I never mentioned Riev. Just Tommy Yost.”

“Pa actually asked Tad and Mr Tolliver what was going on.”

“So?”

“Don’t you understand? Midshipman affairs are left to the first middy. Senior officers never pay attention, not officially. Tolliver didn’t know, of course; he pays us no heed off the bridge. But even though Tad’s a lieutenant now, Pa asked him outright.”

I asked, “Why?”

“That’s what I want to know. What did you say?”

“I told Fath they were torturing Tommy.”

“You stupid—” Mik slammed down a spoon, startling Lieutenant Frand. “What business was it of yours?”

I didn’t really answer. “Is it always like that?”

“You’ve no right to stick your nose—”

“You joeys having a problem?” Ms Frand loomed over us.

“No, ma’am.” Mikhael shot to his feet.

“Then decorum is in order. Especially as you chose to bring a guest.” Frand’s glance swept over me, in cold disfavor.

“Aye aye, ma’am. Sorry.” Mik waited until his lieutenant had gone. “You’d no right to tell Pa—”

“Is that what hazing’s like for middies? Cold hate?”

“I won’t discuss—”

I cried, “Then why’d you bring me here?”

“Shhh!” After a moment Mikhael asked, “What were they saying?”

At Riev’s venomous “You little shit,” Mik flinched. “Alon gets carried away.”

“He’s done it before?”

A long silence. “Yes.” Then, “Since they came back aboard, Mr Riev hasn’t let up on Yost for a minute.”

My hand shot out, pressed his. “Mik, if Tommy’s done wrong, he doesn’t need to be told.” My voice trembled. “Believe me, he knows.” I busied myself with my soup.

Mikhael cleared his throat. “Anselm was a middy not so long past, in the wardroom with Alon. Lord God knows what he said to the Captain. Then
I
was called in.” His face went dark.

“Imagine it, my lieutenant and the Captain—Pa and my friend Tad—ordering me to tell them what was going on in the wardroom. Demanding I betray Mr Riev.”

I said softly, “Did you?”

“I tried not to.” His gaze was distant. “But Pa was hurting so, he could barely speak. How could I argue?” His voice caught. “I told them Mr Riev was a bit rough. That like all of us, he knew Yost had gotten Andy killed. And Pa wouldn’t let it go. He made me repeat exactly what I’d heard.” To my amazement, Mik’s eyes were damp. “It was a direct order. And … I’d heard … well, Tommy cried a few times. At night, after Mr Riev was done reaming him. Before he went out to work off demerits.”

I set down my soup spoon, kept quite still.

“Pa told Mr Tolliver he’d lived with cruelty too long, that it had been his constant companion on all the ships he’d sailed. That, by Lord God, it was time for it to stop. That Mr Riev couldn’t be left in charge.” Now it was Mikhael’s hand that caught mine. “I begged and pleaded. He ordered me silent. And he said to pull Mr Riev from the wardroom.”

“For how long?”

“Nobody knows. It’ll go on Alon’s record. It could ruin him. And imagine running into him in the corridors, if he’s beached!”

I shrugged. “Better for Tommy.”

His hand tightened on my wrist. “Don’t you understand, you frazzing grode? I’m senior; I’ll be first middy.”

“Congrat—”

“No!” His eyes searched mine, saw that I didn’t comprehend. “I wanted it, dreamed of it, but not like this! They all know the Captain called me to his cabin. When Riev is suspended, they’ll every one think I washed our laundry in public, and hate me. With reason. Because
I did.
”

I said, “It was a direct ord—”

“Who’ll believe that?”

“I’ll tell—”

“You will
not!
”

I tried to wrest free my arm. “Please, Mik.”

Sullenly, he let me go.

I swallowed. “Mikhael … the truth. Is Riev a good officer?

“He coached me in nav. He saw that we kept current on—”

“Is he?”

“He’s quite devout.” After a moment, Mik added reluctantly, “He has a cruel streak.”

“Will you?”

“Christ, I hope not.”

“What about Tommy?”

“I hate what Yost did.”

“Do you
know
what he did?”

“Everyone says—”

“Were you there?”

A long pause. “No, I was organizing the refueling.”

“It was …” I searched for a word that fit. “Chaos. Remember? Night had fallen, we were waiting for the godda—for the shuttle to fuel … Fath might have gotten himself shot, if they hadn’t stopped him from going outside. We were all scared, and the radios kept buzzing with joeys calling each other …” I stared at my congealing soup. “I don’t think Yost realized …” Smoke curled from Andy Ghent’s jacket. The stench of burning flesh … I pushed away my bowl.

After a moment, Mik sighed. “We’d better go. I don’t want to leave Pa for long.”

“What about the wardroom?”

“Riev’s still bunking there, for the moment. Frand—
Ms
Frand and Tad are keeping a close eye. Officially, I don’t know he’s to be beached. For now, I’m seconded to cabin duty, to watch the two of you.”

I followed Mik into the gray corridor. As we passed the bridge, he snapped his fingers. “Oh, one more thing. You’re to help Mr Anselm with Harry, soon as you’re physically able.”

F
ATH SLEPT ON. MED
techs tended his needs. Sometimes, perhaps for propriety, they chased me from the cabin.

From time to time they woke him, barely, enough that he might look about with a vacant expression, eat soft foods. Then, a touch of the medgun, and his eyes closed.

Restless, I wandered the corridors, taking advantage of the relief from parenting. I could stay up as late as I wanted, wear what I chose; Mikhael was no obstacle. And I had my run of holovids, with no one to look over my shoulder.

Still, from time to time I was lonely. Well, to be honest, it was most of the time. I missed Fath, despite his occasional scowl, his tendency to rein me in. I sought out adults I knew.

On the third day, I was full of dinner. Tad Anselm and I were walking Corrine Sloan and Janey to their cabin, followed dutifully by her two guards, master-at-arms’s mates personally approved by Mr Janks. Politely, they’d detached themselves a couple of paces that we might enjoy a moment’s privacy, but their stunners were within an instant’s grasp.

As we passed an open lounge, Corrine let go of Janey, clutched my forearm. “Listen.” I wished joeys wouldn’t keep doing that; everyone from Mik to Fath to Dr Romez seized me at will. It wasn’t as if I could pry myself free with my other hand.

“For behold, the Lord cometh out of His place to punish the inhabitants of the earth for their iniquity; the earth shall also disclose her blood and no more cover her slain.”
Reverend Pandeker looked up from his holovid, his steady gaze meeting each passenger and crewman in turn.
“In that day the Lord with His sore and great and strong sword shall punish leviathan the piercing serpent, even leviathan that crooked serpent”
—a long glance to the porthole, and beyond—
“and He shall slay the dragon that is in the sea.”

Anselm frowned. “Not very subtle.” His voice was low. “Care to guess which leviathan he has in mind?”

I muttered, “Next he’ll be preaching about the whore of Babylon.” I grimaced at his evident surprise. Fath’s verses were good for
something. “And the ten horns which thou sawest upon the beast, these shall hate the whore, and shall make her desolate and naked, and shall eat her flesh, and shall burn her with fire.”