Children of Hope (15 page)

“Stand aside. That’s an order.”

Automatically, Burns did so. “Sir, I’ll have to call the master-at-arms!”

“Good heavens, why?” Anselm stopped, threw him a curious look. “We just spoke to Captain Tolliver, not two minutes ago.”

“You did?” The med tech looked from one to the other of them for reassurance.

“Is it not so, Mr Tamarov? Come along, you.” He hustled me through a passage. “Come with us, Burns. See that Mr Seafort’s comfortable.”

The passage widened to an alcove. Beyond it, a room larger than the standard cubicle. There were flowers on a sill, two chairs for visitors.

A gaunt man in loose bedclothes, half covered with a sheet, holovid in hand. His head was heavily bandaged, but his eyes were alert.

“Lieutenant Anselm reporting, sir.”

“Midshipman Tamarov reporting, sir.” They were both at rigid attention.

“As you were.” Seafort’s voice was thready. Carefully, he set down the holovid, flexed his fingers. “What brings you two?”

“We came to visit, sir, if we have your permission.”

A wintry smile. “I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Who is this?”

I held my breath.

He stared at me, his expression blank. “Mr Anselm, I don’t … Oh!” He jerked as if galvanized.

Burns dived to the bed. “Sir, are you all—”

Seafort stayed him with an unsteady hand.

Anselm swung me around so my back was to the Captain. “He’s securely cuffed, sir, and can do you no harm. I stake my life on that.” He spun me again.

“It’s all right, Burns. I was startled.” Seafort’s piercing gray eyes searched my face. “You’re the miscreant I brought to dinner.”

“Yes, sir.” It was no more than a whisper. I tried again. “Yes, sir.”

“Why is he here, Lieutenant?”

“He asked to see you. I thought it compassionate to agree.”

“They haven’t sent me the court files yet. I asked for them, but Tolliver refused to discuss the interrogation or the case. When I’m stronger, he said.” Seafort peered at me. “You’re Carlson, aren’t you?” Carefully, the Captain resettled himself. “My back aches dreadfully, thanks to you. I thought I was over that.”

“Sir, his name is—”

I blurted, “Tad, don’t! Please, as God is my witness, I beg you.”

The Captain pursed his lips. “Um … Randy, yes, that’s it. I’m able to recall details. It’s a very good sign.” He stirred restlessly. “Burns, I’ll have that pill now, I think.” With an effort, he focused on me, but he was tiring visibly. “A life wasted is a tragedy, boy. Mine or yours. I’ll see you again, before …” He drifted. “I really need to sleep. Thank you, boys, for visiting. Mr Carlson, I’ll visit your cell. That’s a promise.”

The two saluted, and hustled me out.

Our walk to my cell was silent. At one point Anselm said, “Mik, you didn’t tell him?”

“Pa and I agreed on a rule when he let me enlist. No ship’s business, no matter what. It’s the only way we …” Mikhael rubbed his face. “And I was afraid to tell him it was Derek’s son.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Why?”

Mik’s eyes glistened. “It would break his heart.”

Galvanized, I lurched in a convulsive effort to free my hands. I twisted against the cuffs, regardless of the pain.

If somehow I could have stopped my pulse, fallen dead, I would.

I had no right to cause such misery to so many. Thank Lord God for Lieutenant Skor’s resolve.

“I’m going to break my rule,” Mik said.

“Mr Tamarov …” My voice was unsteady. “Don’t do it.”

“I can’t just—”

“If there’s a God and He wants him to know, he’ll learn. Your relationship with your father is more important than any of this. Believe me, I know.”

We walked in silence to the brig.

“He’s on the road to recovery,” said Jerence Branstead.

“I saw.”

“Yes, and that escapade to Level 1 cost you your contact with your two cronies. Tamarov’s confined to the wardroom. Anselm’s confined to quarters, facing summary court-martial.”

“Is Tolliver a despot?”

“Not really.” He settled back in the couch. We were in a passenger lounge, two of Janks’s minions guarding the hatch.

I wondered how Mr Branstead had arranged it. “He feels the boys should have told the whole truth. Instead they answered his questions and gave not an iota more.” A mischievous smile. “It’s exactly what Nick pulled, time and again. Maddening, but effective.”

“Will they be cashiered?”

“I doubt it. Tolliver will cool off. In the meantime, it’s good they learn it’s never wise to tweak the Captain.”

“I asked Mik not to tell Mr Seafort who I am.”

“I think I can understand why. You’re ashamed, that anyone connected to your father would hurt him?”

I nodded.

“Well, Mikhael will probably honor your plea. He understands these things.”

“Good.”

“But I probably won’t.”

I slumped. “God damn it, why?”

“Don’t you dare use foul language with me! What comes over you?”

I swallowed. “I’ve never been able to hold my … I apologize. Please tell me why?”

“I saw Nick get into one of these feuds of honor with his son Philip. The whole family was miserable. Honor is well and good, but when joeys begin destroying those they love, out of the best of motives …” He grimaced. “This madness has got to stop.”

“I want Dad left out of it.”

“It’s all about Derek, Randy. Not just from your perspective. From Nick’s too.”

“But Mr Seafort will decide for the wrong reasons! Let—”

Mr Branstead leaned forward, clasped my knee. “Do you still want to crush him?”

I took a long, deep breath. “No.”

“I’ve known him forty years. If he isn’t told before you die, it will destroy him.”

I sat a long while, taking in the full import, realizing what it told about his relations with Dad.

I really was a worthless piece of scum. All the more reason not to tell Mr Seafort the truth.

“I can’t stop you, but I’m pleading with you. Say nothing.”

“I’ll think on it.”

Mr Branstead accompanied us on our walk back to the brig. We neared a stairwell; an officer was striding down briskly. Lieutenant Skor. She stopped short, frowned at me. “Are they treating you properly, young man?”

“Yes.” Almost, I said, “Yes, ma’am,” but something prevented me.

“No repercussions from your foray topside?”

“Not for me. Only for those who carried out your orders.”

She glanced at Mr Branstead, rolled her eyes. “That’s not your concern.”

My voice was Dad’s, when truly incensed. “Madam, you’re mistaken.”

For an instant she was taken aback. “You’re a civilian.”

“If my requests bring punishment to my wardens, I’m intimidated from my requests.”

“Hmmm. Carry on.”

When she was gone Mr Branstead said, “Don’t push it much further, boy.”

I snorted. “What have I to lose?”

“Tolliver could rule that your sentence won’t be commuted.”

“He intends so anyway.”

We reached my cell, and stood outside, while the master-at-arms waited nearby.

“Quite possibly. But Nick’s recovering. When he takes the conn, it won’t be up to Edgar.”

For a moment I was silent, struggling to explain. “I’m afraid to die, but I’m not afraid of being punished, even though it works out the same. I won’t try to avoid execution.”

His fist shot out, slammed against the bulkhead. “These laws are barbaric! Since when is it just to treat joeykids as if they’re grown?”

“When they commit the acts of a grown—”

“Oh, I’ve heard that prattle. Even the Church forsakes mercy for Old Testament justice. They actually burn heretics! I wonder at times what’s come over the Patriarchs.”

“Lower your voice!” It came out an order. I worked the harshness from my tone. “Mr Branstead, don’t talk like that when you go groundside. Be cautious.”

“Don’t offend the Bishop?”

“Right.”

He stared at me a long while, until I went red.

“Yes, I know, sir. I was an idiot.” Dutifully, I turned to my cell.

It was as if I were holding court. The master-at-arms, midshipmen, sailors, Mr Branstead, came to visit, to provide me with food, clothes, exercise, conversation. Almost, I began to enjoy it.

My biggest surprise was Mikhael Tamarov, the evening after my words with Lieutenant Skor. “I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”

“You’re freed?”

“And off report.” He shook his head, as if in wonder. “The Captain was a bit curt, but civil. He said he’d overreacted, that Ms Skor had called to his attention that I was acting within the scope of her orders.”

“So what makes you think I—”

“I sense your hand in it. Neither of them would …” He shook his head. “I can’t discuss those matters outside the Navy. But was it you?”

I said coolly, “I expressed my displeasure to Ms Skor.”

He grinned. “Now you sound like Pa.”

I recoiled. “Don’t say that.”

“I meant no—” Seeing my distress, he said lamely, “I’m sorry.”

I sought a new topic. “Why are you here?”

“I have visiting privileges.” His smile faded. “Mr Tolliver said it’s only for a few days.”

“Spiteful of him.”

He bowed his head.

“But realistic,” I added. “What about Tad? Is he free?”

“I didn’t dare ask. Mr Tolliver seemed at the end of his patience.”

“And your father?”

“Better. He still can’t really walk. He gets dizzy.”

“If he—when he recovers, Mr Tolliver will go back to lieutenant?”

“Yes.”

“What about all the enemies he’s made?”

“What are you talking about?” He regarded me. “You really know nothing about the Navy, do you?” Unbidden, as if we were old friends, he settled beside me on my meager bunk. “Look, the Captain’s authority is absolute. Do you understand that much?”

“Of course.” We’d studied Naval traditions in school, though Hope Nation had left the U.N.

“With Pa—with Captain Seafort incapacitated, he
had
to take firm control. No one will hold that against him.”

“Threatening a fellow lieutenant with court-martial?”

“Tad wasn’t a fellow lieutenant. He was a lieutenant dealing with his Captain. It’s of no matter that Mr Tolliver’s rank was temporary. He was Captain of this ship, and he must be obeyed.”

“Then why did you flout his authority?”

“Why do you ask the hard questions?”

We both grinned.

“Randy …” Suddenly, his voice was tentative. “Part of me can’t forget that you tried to kill Pa. And Pa may never be the same; if the dizziness persists, if his sight remains impaired, he’ll be retired.”

“I’m sor—”

“Somehow, I don’t still hate you. It’s gone. When I saw you in court …” He fussed with his sleeve, his shoe. “God, I admired you. That was magnificent. I was proud to be your …”

I waited but he said no more.

“It’s all right, Mikhael.”

“Friend.” It was a whisper.

I swallowed a lump in my throat, and was silent.

Midshipman Ghent found us together, about an hour after. He planted himself before me, in the at-ease position. “Mr Carr.”

I waited.

He ignored Mikhael. “By order of Captain Tolliver, I inform you that he will interview you this evening at twenty-two hundred hours, that is, ten
P.M.
nominal ship’s time, concerning the sentence of the court. You will be brought to the bridge at the appropriate hour.” A curt nod, and he departed.

Mikhael said, “When they take you to the bridge, don’t provoke him, Randy. He’s a decent joey, but …”

I shrugged.

“He has a temper. He was a Captain, you know. Came out of retirement and took lieutenant’s rank to sail with Pa. He’s used to having his way.”

“Mikhael …”

“He’s not as hard as he seems. If you—”

“Mik.”

“—apologize, and ask forgiveness, he may well—”

“Mik!”

“Grant some form of—what, Randy?”

“There is not a chance in Lord God’s Hell that Tolliver will grant clemency, and we both know it.”

“You can’t be sure—”

“I’m as sure as you.”

That silenced him.

We sat, each with his own thoughts.

I wasn’t sure I wanted clemency. I wouldn’t ask for it; that was certain. I’d forfeited any right to beg for my life. If given, would I rejoice?

I no longer knew.

At my urging, Mikhael left so I could await the Captain’s call alone. I half expected Mr Branstead, with some last-minute advice, but he stayed away.

Once more, Ghent slid open my hatch. “The Captain’s ready for you.” He held out a pair of cuffs.

“Last time you didn’t use them, Midshipman.”

“We weren’t going to the bridge, Mr Carr.” To my annoyance he fastened my hands behind my back. Very well, I would make the best of it, act as if I took no notice.

He led me to the outer hatch.

“Why are you aboard ship, Mr Ghent?” I would match his formality. “Isn’t this long-leave?”

“I reached ten demerits.” He spoke with distaste. “It was a week of leave, or the barrel.”

“I’d have chosen the barrel.” I let him hurry me along the corridor to the lift.

“Have you ever been caned?”

“No.”

He said only, “It’s worth a week of leave.”

“Who gave you the demerits?”

“That’s not your affair.” He seemed affronted. We crowded into the lift; he punched the button for Level 1. Then, “They weren’t all at once. My first midshipman issued a number of them.”

“Mr Anselm?”

“Yes.” His tone held warning. I glanced at his eyes; they seethed.

We paused outside the bridge. The middy ran fingers through his hair, straightened his tie, knocked at the hatch.

The corridor camera swiveled; the hatch slid open. “Come in.”

Ghent marched in, hauling me in tow. “Midshipman Andrew Ghent reporting with prisoner Carr as ordered, sir.” He let go my arm, snapped to attention.

Edgar Tolliver swung his chair. The Captain’s face was thin, lined. His gray hair was cut short and trim. He was slim but not unduly so, and looked fit. “Very good, Mr Ghent. Wait in the corridor, if you will.”

“Aye aye, sir.” A salute. The boy wheeled and marched out. The Captain closed the hatch behind him. We were alone.