Children of Hope (32 page)

“Yes, sir.” I dared not say else. Through the fog of my misery, a beacon of comfort flickered. I sat curled in my chair, half rocking, eyes closed, willing away the pain.

An hour later the shuttle docked. Crewmen hoisted their duffels, made their way to the crew berths.

Not long after, Mr Tolliver came to the bridge. “Seven absconders, out of forty-five.”

The Captain’s voice came in a hiss. “That many?”

“Because of the fish, sir.”

“They’re deserters.”

“Young joeys who’ve never seen war.”

“They had duty!”

“As most of them remembered.”

“Hmpff.” Mr Seafort folded his arms.

“Permission, sir?” A voice, from the corridor.

The Captain swung his chair. “Jerence? What on earth—”

“I caught a lift on the shuttle.” Mr Branstead grinned. “Hallo, Tad.”

“Sir.”

With a gesture of exasperation, the Captain beckoned him in. “You were safe and sound ashore.”

“I needed to speak with you. Ah. Randy.” A nod.

“Bless it, Jerence, I left strict orders. Crew only.”

“I pulled rank.”

“You have no rank.”

“Then I pulled friendship. I need advice.”

Mr Seafort’s face softened. “What’s wrong, Jer?”

“I’ll be belowdecks, sir, setting up the laser room watch.” Tolliver made his exit.

“I planned to go home to Earth when this was done. If Earth is home.”

“That’s what you came to find out.”

“Quite so. And now I’ve had an offer. It seems young Mr Carr—Anthony, the Stadholder—wants to make me his chief of staff and deputy Stadholder.”

Mr Seafort’s creased face broke into a smile. “And how do the plantation families feel about it?”

I nodded. On Hope Nation, it was the families who counted.

“I’ve met with the Mantiets and the Hopewells. I ran into Henry Winthrop downtown, and we had a few words. So far, no dissent. But …” His face slumped.

“What, Jer?”

“I’ve spent my life in the service of the U.N. Am I too old to change masters?”

“Lord God knows I’d miss you, but think of it … to go home at last.” The Captain’s face was wistful.

“Is it my home? I was a joeykid when I left. Randy’s age.”

Mr Seafort stood, paced haltingly. “Anthony would gain a treasure. You have a genius for administration. If he appreciates your worth …”

“I won’t blush with false modesty; I’m good at organizing. But still, it’s a small pond.”

“You’ve no future at the Rotunda. Kasra and Boland have no patience for advice.”

“Sir, I don’t know.” Mr Branstead sounded glum.

“Think on it. No doubt he’ll give you time.”

“You leave when? A week?”

“Thereabouts. I’ve debated sailing at once, directly for home.”

“The fish?”

“Aye.” Mr Seafort frowned. “Home system needs warning.”

“Centraltown is agog about the fish. There’s a goodly contingent thinks it’s all made-up.”

“Whatever for?”

“To aid the recolonialization party.”

“The re-what?”

“You heard me.” Mr Branstead’s tone was tart. “Apparently Scanlen and his brethren had more adherents than seemed likely.”

“Is the Stadholder aware?”

“He is now. He’s somewhat apprehensive.” Mr Branstead rubbed his scalp. “Is our new ship’s boy learning to stand watch?”

“You heard about Kevin Dakko?”

“Randy’s friend?”

“He died yesterday, killed by the outrider. Randy was with him.”

“Oh, Lord Christ.” Mr Branstead dropped to his knees before my chair, lifted my chin. “I’m so sorry, lad.”

“Thank you.” My voice was muffled.

“And now,” said Mr Seafort, “Randy’s agreed to be my son.”

Branstead’s face lit. “Wonderful. May I?” He clapped me on the shoulder. “All the best. Does your brother know?”

“Zack Carr? Billy?” Why would my half brothers even care?

“Mikhael.”

“Oh!” It had never occurred to me. I fought a smile, let myself surrender. A dark cloud began to dispel.

“Comm Room to Bridge. Incoming traffic from Centraltown.”

“Route it here.”

The simulscreen flickered with incoming visuals.

“
Olympiad
?” A worried face emerged from the static.

“Seafort. Good day, Stadholder.”

“Ah, Captain. I was hoping it would be you.” Anthony grimaced. “I thought it best we coordinate efforts. How can my government help?”

“The offer’s appreciated, but …” The Captain shrugged.

“Could you tell me your plans?”

“If I knew them.” Mr Seafort scratched his head. “I ought to race for home.”

“But you’ve a schedule to keep.”

“Kall’s Planet expects us, yes.”

“If you sail home, have no concern for your passengers groundside. We’ll provide for them.”

“Thank you.” Mr Seafort pondered. “Frankly, my mind’s divided. If we Fuse, would we attract the aliens here, or to us? I don’t want to leave you under attack.”

“Either way, you’ll Fuse on leaving.”

“I know. If the fish follow us, how can I expose three thousand passengers to such peril?”

“Spacefaring has risks. They knew that.”

Mr Seafort waved it away. “I’ll decide in a day or so. Meanwhile, I understand you intend to co-opt the best aide I’ve ever had.”

Jerence flushed with pleasure.

“If he’ll jump ship. Our government could use some cosmopolitan know-how.”

“And there’s another matter.” The Captain eyed me. “Randy and I have decided …” He explained the upheaval in my life.

I held my breath, fearing my nephew’s refusal, and his consent.

The voice in the speaker asked, “Randy, is it what you want?”

“I have to, Anth. Alone, I’ve been …” I swallowed. “He’ll help steady me, and he loved Dad.”

“Pity you didn’t understand that before you bashed him.”

“Enough!” Mr Seafort’s tone was sharp. “That subject is closed. It won’t be raised again by any of us.”

Anthony’s face disappeared in a moment’s static. “As you say, sir. Though I find it a touch eccentric to discuss adoption while fish roam about.”

“Nonetheless, you’re head of the family. I ask your consent.”

“Sandra has custody, not I. Though much of the time she’s … somewhat absent. She’ll sign, if I ask it. As for my consent, you have it, Captain. I’ll contact the judge who assigned him to the Church farm, though he’s allied with … no, you made Randy a U.N. citizen. Who has jurisdiction?”

“Technically, the U.N. Department of Child Welf—no, that’s ridiculous; we can’t wait until we’re in home system. Randy will be near grown.” Mr Seafort tapped his console. “I’m plenipotentiary of the U.N. Government; every Captain is. I suppose I could declare … subject to confirmation by the authorities …”

“And I’ll have it confirmed here, to tie loose ends. There are more pressing matters. If more fish come into theater …” Anthony hesitated. “Captain, I’m not sure this is a secure circuit. May I confer with you aloft?”

“It’s a risk.”

Anth shrugged it off. “Might Jerence join us?”

“At your convenience.”

“Very well. This afternoon. Thank you.” His face disappeared.

Mr Seafort turned to Jerence. “And what’s that all about?”

“He can’t trust his people. That’s one of—”

“Station Comm to
Olympiad,
come in. Emergency.”

Mr Seafort grabbed the caller. “Yes?”

“Sentinel satellites report encroachment, thirty-two degrees over horizon. General Thurman said to tell you immediately. He’s on his way to laser defense
.”

“Just one contact?”

“So far. Sir, it reads as a fish.”

“Coordinates.”

The tech gave them. “We’ll have line of sight in, oh, ninety minutes.”

“Are your sentinels armed?”

“No, they’re set to passive only.”

Mr Seafort said, “We’re in similar orbit. I should see the alien when you do.”

A new voice.
“Thurman here. I’ll take out the fish.”

“Very well. Going to Battle Stations.” Mr Seafort stabbed at his console; alarms shrieked.

I jumped to my feet, but hesitated. They still hadn’t told me where my battle station was.

“You’re off duty, Randy. To our cabin. I’ll call you when—”

“Could I stay?” My voice was small. “I won’t make a sound.”

“No, you’d better—Very well.” His tone was gruff. “Pull your chair closer.”

I knew it couldn’t have been his dizziness, but still he caught my hand, held it while we drifted toward the horizon.

The fish hovered just over the atmosphere. General Thurman, on the Station, opened laser fire at long range. The fish pulsed and disappeared.

After two hours, Mr Seafort stood us down from Battle Stations. I flexed my fingers. My hand was clammy from his grip.

Tolliver, who’d joined us on the bridge, sighed. “I don’t understand their tactics.”

“We’ve never understood—”

“You know what I mean, sir.”

“It ought to have Fused closer,” the Captain acknowledged. “Perhaps there are so few left …”

Tad Anselm stretched, rubbed his back. “Then why attack at all?”

“Because they do.”

“That makes no sense, sir.”

“Who knows if they’re rational?” Mr Seafort turned to me. “Find Mikhael. Try the wardroom, or the Arcvid lounge. Ask him to join us for lunch. We’ll go down to Dining Hall and take a meal with the passengers. Restore some sense of normalcy.”

I wrapped my wrist around the armrest, as if someone might drag me from the chair. “Couldn’t you page him?” Was I insubordinate? No; he’d told me I was off duty. I was speaking to my guardian, not the Captain. My head spun. How did Mikhael keep track?

“Why, yes, I could.” A pause. “But I asked you to go.”

I reddened. Reluctantly, “Yes, sir.”

“It’s just two sections down the corridor,” he said gently. “Our Level.”

“I know.” I hurried out before my embarrassment grew unbearable.

Mikhael wasn’t in the wardroom. Andrew Ghent was, unpacking his duffel.

I asked, “What about your leave?”

He flushed. “I volunteered for duty, when I heard we were attacked.”

Two separate lounges had Arcvid consoles. The closest was west, halfway around the corridor. I hurried along, half dreading another clang of alarms.

I slapped open the hatch, peered in.

“—desertion!” Mikhael’s voice was hot.

“Oh, come now.” Mr Branstead sounded tolerant. “Don’t overdramatize—”

“He needs you!”

“For what? He’s been out of office for—”

“How many of his friends are left? Derek’s gone, Rob Boland, Dad, Arlene—”

“Mik, he has you, Tad Anselm …”

“We’re not his generation.”

“Tolliver, Jeff Thorne …”

“Thorne’s retired in London. Sir, I know I’ve no right to rebuke you—damn it, Randy, don’t skulk in the corner. What do you want?”

“I’m supposed to invite you to lunch.” It didn’t come out quite right.

“Very well, you did. Leave us our privacy.”

“Now, now.” Mr Branstead’s tone was jovial. “That’s no way to talk to your brother.”

“He’s no more my brother than—”

“You don’t know?” Jerence snapped his fingers, called me forth. “Tell him, Randy.”

I jutted out my chin. “Mr Seafort’s adopted me.”

Mikhael’s jaw dropped. He made as if to speak, muttered something short and sharp. Abruptly he thrust past me to the corridor.

Appalled, I looked to Mr Branstead.

“It’s all right, joey.” He took my arm, steered me to the corridor. “Mik’s a good lad. He was a bit shocked. We shouldn’t have sprung it on him.”

Glumly, I made my way back to the bridge. “Sir, I don’t think he wants to join us.”

“But I will.” Mr Branstead peered in.

“Edgar will be up in a moment.” The Captain grimaced. “I hate leaving the bridge, with fish about. But if I don’t, I’ll be a wreck. I’m not as young as—”

“None of us are.” Tolliver saluted at the entry. “Reporting for watch, sir.”

“Stay in touch with General Thurman, and call me at the first sign of trouble.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Mr Seafort asked, “The laser room’s fully manned?”

“Yes, and will be ’til we Fuse. I added Chris Dakko to third watch. Sarah Frand balked, until I told her it was your direct order.”

“Very well.” We left.

It was a slow stroll to Dining Hall; Jerence and I matched Mr Seafort’s pace. The Captain—should I think of him as Dad? Father?—threw an arm across my shoulder. He liked contact, it seemed, more than Anth. I rather enjoyed it, once I’d gotten used to it. It reminded me of Dad. Of Derek. No,
he
was Dad, always would be. Then what should I call Mr Seafort?

Lunch was uneventful. Janey was there, with her mother. When she saw us, she ran across the hall to wrap her arms around the Captain. He let her sit on his lap, while managing to consume his salad around her. Soup was too risky; with kind words and a pat, he sent her back to Corrine.

We were almost done when Mikhael presented himself with a salute. “Begging the Captain’s pardon, sir, but may I speak with Randy?” His face was flushed.

“You hardly need my permission.” Mr Seafort’s tone was dry.

“Could it be now, sir? Alone?”

“Yes.”

Apprehensive, I got up. The Captain held Mik’s eye. “Son?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I love you.”

Mikhael’s face was very red. “I know that. Kick me if I ever forget.” A hand brushing my shoulder, he guided me from the room.

We ducked into the nearest lounge.

“Jesus, Randy, I don’t know how to begin.” He shifted from foot to foot.

“Don’t let him hear you blaspheme.” My tone was light.

“Let me be serious.”

Were we on duty? Should I call him “sir”? “You don’t have to treat me any different. I’ll stay out of—”

“Do
shut your mouth, just for a moment. Thank you. I’m twenty years old, and I was just in my bunk crying. Can you imagine that?” Apparently he couldn’t; he shook his head with wonder. “And do you know why?”

Yes, I thought I did.

“For all I presumed I didn’t still need Pa, I was jealous. All I could see was his tending your needs, thinking me adult and past wanting his attention.”

“I’ll try not to—”

“If you don’t let me finish—” Mik’s voice was dangerous. “I’ll deck you.”