Children of Hope (19 page)

“Kall’s Planet, then home.”

“Will you ever go down to Earth again?”

“Every day it seems more possible. We don’t have the gravitrons turned particularly high while we’re moored, but usually—”

“Permission to enter bridge, sir.”

Seafort didn’t bother to look at the screen. “Granted.” From his console, he keyed open the hatch.

“Midshipman Andrew Ghent reporting, sir.” The boy’s eyes widened when he saw me, but he quickly brought himself to attention.

“Well, now.” Seafort flicked a thumb toward his console, on which the Log was displayed. “What are we to do with you?”

“I’m up for court-martial, sir.”

“Yes, and you deserve it. Your snotty attitude I can understand, if not condone; you haven’t matured.”

Ghent colored.

“But this preposterous misstep …” The Captain’s tone was severe. “How could you refuse a direct order?”

“Sir, I—Randy was—no excuse, sir.” The boy was sweating.

“I’ll have an answer.”

“How can you tell someone he has to die?” Ghent’s eyes were troubled. “A joeykid? I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t.”

“I understand.” But the Captain’s tone was cool. “The circumstances were … ‘unusual’ is hardly the word. That’s why I’m setting aside the court-martial. Now, Andrew … if you’d been cooperative and willing in recent months, I’d let you off with demerits. But you’ve been sullen, rebellious, fighting with Midshipman Yost—you weren’t like that when we sailed from Earthport. What’s come over you?”

“I don’t know, sir.” The middy’s eyes were troubled.

“Well, now you pay the piper. My compliments to Lieutenant Skor, and she’s to cane you thoroughly for insubordination.”

Ghent blanched.

“It will also cancel your demerits, so when she’s done, pack your gear and take your leave.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

With a crisp salute, the boy marched out to his fate.

“It will probably do him good.” But the Captain’s tone was doubtful.

I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to himself or to me, so I said nothing.

“Very well, that’s dealt with. Now, to the rest of it.” He took the caller, dialed a station. “Seaman of the watch.”

“Seaman First Class Ardin, at aft Station lock, sir.”

“Is Mr Dakko still waiting?”

“In the Station corridor, sir. Pacing like a tiger.”

“I can imagine. Open for him. Ring Mr Janks for an escort to the bridge.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Mr Seafort tapped his console. “I won’t enjoy this.”

I made myself small in my chair. Neither would I.

It wasn’t long before Janks appeared, Mr Dakko saw me, stopped short.

The Captain got to his feet. “I’m Captain Seafort. Please, come in. I presume you’ve come about your son.” He offered a hand.

Mr Dakko shook hands, studied him intensely. “Kevin’s unjustly your prisoner. He had nothing whatsoever to do with—”

“I know; Tolliver was miffed. We’ll let him go at once. Mr Janks, release young Dakko and bring him to the bridge.”

Mr Dakko gaped. I suppressed a smile; at least I’d had a couple of days to get used to the Captain’s style. “Release—really?”

“Yes.”

“No agreements, waivers, consents …”

“We had no right to hold him. I apologize.”

Again, Mr Dakko studied him. At length, he said, “You don’t remember me.”

“Have we met?” The Captain frowned. “As SecGen I met … Dakko … oh, Lord, you’re
that
Dakko? I never dreamed … Chris?”

Mr Dakko burst into a smile. “Yes, sir.”

“Lord God in Heaven. Here, sit … Randy, make a place for Mr Dakko. He served with me ages ago, when we were both children.”

“I gave you quite a hard time.”

“Over enlisting, yes, I remember. And about the transpops. Water under the bridge. By the time
Hibernia
reached Hope Nation you were a fine sailor. I was sad to see you go.”

Mr Dakko flushed with pleasure.

“What became of Walter?”

“My father died last year.”

“What a pity! I’d have loved to talk over old times.”

“He was ninety, and had a good life.”

“Ninety!” The Captain shook his head. “Let that be a lesson, Randy. Spend your life, before it slips through your fingers.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dad!” A familiar voice, at the hatch. Kevin flew across the bridge, into his father’s arms.

“Oh, thank God.” Mr Dakko rocked his son back and forth. “Kev …”

I turned away. It was indecent to watch.

A hand fell on my shoulder. Mr Seafort’s voice was soft. “We’re making it right, boy.”

I could only nod.

His hand remained on my shoulder, an umbilical of comfort.

“Midshipman Andrew Ghent reporting, sir.” The boy’s voice wavered. “Lieutenant Skor’s compliments, and discipline has been administered.”

“Very well, I’ll make note in the Log. Take the shuttle down, visit Hope Nation, Andrew. I don’t want to see you for at least two weeks.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“And when you return, you’ll have a new start. I know you’ll do well.”

The boy’s eyes glistened. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

We watched him go.

“Chris Dakko …” Seafort marveled. “Kevin, your father was about your age. A difficult joey, but so many are. They get over it. Do you give him trouble?”

“Yes, sir.” Kevin blushed.

“Chris—may I call you that?—take him home. And if you’ll forgive me enough to allow it, come see us in a week or so. The pair of you, for dinner.”

Mr Dakko’s visage relaxed, as if for once he was sated. “That would be a great pleasure.”

“You owe me nothing—in fact, quite the reverse—but if I could ask a favor?”

“What’s that, sir?”

“Give your forgiveness to Randy. He’s desperately upset, and in need of pardon.”

Mr Dakko’s face set, as if in stone. His eyes bored through me, twin drills through chalk. “I’m sorry, that’s not possible.”

“Could you do it for me?”

“He made his bed.” An old Navy phrase: one made one’s bed, and had to lie in it.

“I killed his father, Chris. Please.”

“Randy’s done more damage than ever you’ll know.”

I blurted, “But I’ll be punished. I’ve been convicted. And as far as Kevin …”

“I know. You didn’t mean for him to be hurt. Nevertheless, what Kev’s gone through … Son, how do
you
feel about it? Is there something you’d like to say to Randy?”

Kev snarled, “You ruined it!” He wouldn’t look at me. “It would have been a day to remember. A tour of the ship, zarky new friends in the Navy. Instead, you made a nightmare.”

Mr Dakko said, “It’s done now, son.”

Captain Seafort sighed. “I still hope you’ll visit. Perhaps you’d enjoy a proper tour.”

“Take me home.” Kevin’s tone was bitter. “I don’t ever want to come back.”

Mr Dakko’s eyes met the Captain’s, with what might have been apology, but he gave his son’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Mr Seafort asked, “What did you mean, more damage than Randy could know?”

“Bishop Scanlen petitioned Randy as a wayward minor, and once word got out he assaulted you, the Stadholder could do nothing. Judge Hycliff granted the petition and held trial in absentia; Randy’s been declared a ward of the Church for rehabilitation. You know the Stadholder?”

“Anthony Carr. Derek’s grandson, I’m told.”

“He refused to pressure you for Randy’s return, and Scanlen’s threatening excommunication.”

A groan. I realized it was mine.

“They still play that game?” The Captain’s tone was bleak. “What sort of pressure did they expect Anthony to apply?”

“Grounding all shuttles. Cutting off supplies. Refusing to board your passengers. Denial of cargo.”

“Our cargo for the return voyage is Hope Nation’s grain, Mr Dakko. Desperately needed at home, as your economy needs the sale of it.”

“For the moment, Anthony’s holding firm. But with excommunication hanging over his head …” Mr Dakko’s eyes were flinty. “Every aspect of this crisis was triggered by this young fool.” A gesture to me. “So you’ll pardon me for not applauding him. Good day, sir.”

“Until our dinner.” Glumly, Mr Seafort watched them go.

“It’s all my fault,” I said glumly.

“Much of it is.”

I took comfort in his agreement.

He tapped the console. “Wayward minor.”

I flushed. “It’s best if you send me groundside,” I said. “They’ll deal with me.”

His finger waved in my nose. “I, not you, will decide your punishment. Is that clear?”

“Yessir!”

“Very well. Go to my cabin. I’ll be along presently to take you to lunch.”

“Yes, sir.” I made my escape. Treading the corridor, I marveled at how thoroughly he’d taken charge of me. It was as if I were a little joeykid and Dad—

No!

Dad was Derek Carr, not Mr Seafort. I was the Captain’s prisoner, not his son. To think otherwise, even for a minute, was betrayal.

I’m sorry, Dad. It’s just that his manner … and he’s the same age as you, and thin and fit, and his salt-and-pepper hair … and that glance he has, as if he wants you to make him proud …

I wiped my eyes, knocked at the hatch. “May I?”

“Hi.” Mikhael closed the hatch behind me. “Janey’s napping. Is Pa coming?”

“In a while.” Morose, I flopped in a chair. “He told me to wait here.” I looked about. The Captain’s bunk was austere: gray blanket pulled tight as a drum, gear neatly stowed. Nothing visible except a worn Bible on the bedside table, along with a clock so ancient it still had hands.

Mik said, “Did he read you off?”

“You mean, chew on my butt?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“He does that sometimes,” Mik said. “It took me a while to get used to it.”

I said, “Yesterday, when he slapped you …”

“Man, did I have that coming.” A smile. “Trying to hide your identity. I should never have agreed.”

“But you’re grown.” I couldn’t conceive allowing an adult to strike me, at his age, or bearing it so calmly.

“I’m twenty.” I couldn’t tell if it was agreement or refutation. “Look, Pa saved me. God knows what I would have become. I love him almost as much … well, I love him. If he occasionally treats me young for my age, that’s fine. Sometimes I
feel
young for my age.”

“I wish Anth …” He’d done his best, but he wasn’t all that much older than me. More a big brother than a father.

A soft knock. Mik went to the hatch. “Oh. Hi, ma’am.”

“Is she up?”

I peered round the divider. Flowing brown hair, a soft face, lined.

“Napping.” Mikhael seemed ill at ease. “Did you want to …”

“He doesn’t like it.” Her eyes fell on me. “Oh. Hello.”

“Ma’am, this is my friend Randy Carr. Randy, Corrine Sloan, Janey’s mom.”

“Ah, that’s what you look like. Mikhael, does the Captain know Randy’s visiting?”

“Yes, ma’am. It was his idea.”

“I suppose …” She chewed at a lip. “You’ll keep an eye on Jane Ellen?”

“I don’t brain babies.” My tone was bitter. “Just adults.”

“I’m sorry, it’s only that … it was a horrible shock. Janey was terrified. No one knew quite what to …” She studied me. “Come out and say hello.”

“You can’t …?” I pointed to the cabin.

“It’s not quite against the rules, but it makes him so uncomfortable, I try to stay outside.”

I slipped into the corridor.

“You’re his old friend’s son.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s why he pardoned you, no doubt. He and I, we don’t get along well. We’ve no real relationship, except through Janey. But I can tell you, he didn’t deserve your attack.”

“I’ve learned.” I scuffed the deck plating. “I was very stupid.”

“Will he let you go?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“I suppose you could try to slip through to the Station,” She gestured toward the lock, just past the porthole.

“Goofjuice!” It wasn’t the strongest epithet I knew, but my tone added volumes. Did she think me a coward, ashamed to admit my assault? Why not strike in the night and flee, then? Or hire an assassin?

From time to time I’d gotten myself in hot water—the activities of recent days were the worst, I’d have to admit—but I’d never sneaked about and denied the truth. Dad would have had a fit.

Her fingers brushed my arm. “When Janey wakes, give me a call. I’m in five seventy-five. I’ll take her to lunch; Nick won’t mind.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Was I meddling in private affairs? No one had instructed me.

Though the Captain managed the trip back to his cabin on his own, he appeared to need my steadying hand that evening for the journey to the Dining Hall. I slowed my steps, reluctant.

“What’s the problem, joey?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Something in his glance told me I hadn’t pleased him.

After a moment, “It’s my first time there since … well, you know.”

“Since you bashed me with a chair.” He favored me with a scowl. “I trust I’m safe today?”

“Yes, sir! I wouldn’t—I promise, I’ll sit at the far end—”

He gave my fingers a reassuring squeeze, and I spotted the twinkle in his eye. Relief made me babble. “It’s just … I haven’t been there since that night, and everyone will know—they’ll be looking at me and …”

He guided me through the hatch. “You’ll sit with me. How are your table manners?”

I gaped at the incongruity of the question. “Good, I think.”

“Show me. We’ll see how well Derek raised you.”

I had no choice but to pass the test, and worked at it. After a time I discovered I’d been too preoccupied with forks and napkins to worry what joeys might think of me. Anyway, the Dining Hall was nearly deserted. After the fresh crisp salad, Mr Tolliver came to join us. A discreet cough from the Captain made me realize I ought to stand.

“Good evening.” Tolliver indicated a chair, raised an eyebrow.

“By all means.” Mr Seafort waved to a seat. “Of course, you know Randolph.”

Tolliver was up to it. “I’m glad we meet in more auspicious circumstances.” He even offered a hand.

“Thank you, sir.” Carefully, I respread my napkin as I sat. The steward brought a tray of sandwiches and fresh fruit.

“Any murders planned for the afternoon?” Tolliver’s tone was bland.

“No, sir, but I might set fire to my cabin.” I managed to look quite serious.