Children of Hope (12 page)

“Aye aye, sir.” Mikhael gathered himself. “When I was fifteen my father died in the Rotunda bombing, where they tried to kill Mr Seafort. I was … very upset. I hadn’t seen Alexi in years, and was so looking forward to his leave. I hated Mr Seafort for taking away my chance—”

“Stop it!” My voice was shrill. “Get out!” I launched myself from the bed, propelled him to the hatch. “Get away from me!”

Anselm swept me off my feet, laid me on the bed, held me in place. “That won’t do, joey.” He studied me. “Why do I see tears?

“Get off me!” I spun on my side, away from him. My voice was unsteady. “Don’t mock me.” I forced the word. “Please. Just don’t.”

The middy said plaintively, “Mr Anselm, what did I—”

“Wait, Mik.” To my astonishment, the lieutenant patted the small of my back. “Mikhael meant no harm. It’s what he felt. I was there.”

“Where?”

With a sigh, Anselm recounted Seafort’s last days as SecGen. He described his own drunkenness as a young middy, Mikhael’s despair when his father was killed, Seafort’s dogged efforts to reclaim them both while Earth tumbled toward revolution. Seafort took Anselm onto his staff, along with a cadet named Bevin. At that, Tad’s eyes glistened, and for a moment he was still.

Then, a smile to Mikhael, and Anselm turned to me. “Mr Seafort called in Derek Carr to tell Mik stories of his father Captain Tamarov in the old days. Poor Mik didn’t know what to make of it. He so wanted to hear the stories, but he was annoyed at Mr Seafort for reining him in …”

I blurted, “Dad told me about a Tamarov once. When he was a cadet on
Hibernia.
”

Mik said softly, “That was my father. They served together in
Portia
too.”

Anselm cleared his throat, resumed his tale. While Seafort battled to steer clear of enviro fanatics and Naval reactionaries, Anselm was so unruly, he had been broken to cadet. Then, the expedition to Lunapolis, for risky surgery to undo the SecGen’s paralysis. While they were aloft, disgruntled officers attempted a coup and seized
Galactic.
Nick Seafort arranged to go aboard to clear the way for a small party of civilian raiders, and Dad insisted on going along, over Seafort’s vociferous objection. Dad even smuggled Mikhael aboard, lest the boy harm himself from fear of abandonment.

Dad and Anselm—and Mikhael—fought alongside Seafort to save the ship. By now Dad was a lieutenant—he’d made the Captain reenlist him.

After they won, they used
Galactic
in a maneuver to recapture Lunapolis and Earthport. When the rebels fired their laser cannon, the ship was lost. Dad had died a hero, helping others into their suits.

The tale wasn’t new to me, but when Anselm lapsed silent, my cheeks were damp.

He handed me a handkerchief, and the small kindness undid me utterly.

At length, I struggled toward composure. Casting about, I said, “What is four and four watch?”

Mik colored. “Four hours on, four hours off, twenty-four hours a day.”

“Tolliver makes you do that? For how long?”

“ ’Til we reach home port, he said, but I hope he doesn’t mean it.”

Anselm said quietly, “Mr Tolliver was quite upset. We’ll have no criticism.”

“None meant, sir.”

“Well,
I
criticize.” To my astonishment, I giggled. “What can he do about it, hang me?”

“Yes, if Pa dies. I mean, Capt—Cap—” Mik’s face crumpled.

Anselm was off the bed, at the hatch. “Good day, Mr Carr.” He swept Mikhael through, slapped it shut.

Mr Branstead came again, in the evening. His eyes were hollow. “Nick is on life support.”

I said humbly, “I’m sorry.”

He snorted.

“I’m sorry you may lose a friend,” I added. “I’m sorry I’m the cause. My hating him doesn’t alter that.”

“Thank you.”

“Is it true that Mr Seafort had Dad help Mikhael?”

“Derek was glad to do it. It disrupted his trade negotiations, but he and the SecGen were such friends that it didn’t matter a whit.”

I stared at the floor.

He folded his arms, studied me. “You’ve changed. What’s happened, Randy?”

I shrugged. “I’ve had nothing to do but think.”

“Feeling sorry for yourself?”

I faced him. “No.” Not at this moment, at any rate. “Sir, instead of talking, do you think you might …” I reddened. “… get me something to eat?”

“You don’t like your provisions?”

“I don’t eat much. The jailer spits in it.” Was there reason to be embarrassed? I could hardly meet his eye.

“That’s an outrage.” He looked as if he meant it. “By the way, Mr Dakko’s aboard. He wants to see you. The Captain’s consented.”

“No!”

“Too bad you weren’t consulted. They’ll come for you in a while. Don’t be afraid if they handcuff you; it’s for security. They’ll bring you back here, after.”

“Why must I see him?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, knowing it was a lie, hating lies. A breath, to steel myself. “Because I’m ashamed, sir.”

“Of what?”

I turned away. “I wish …” A laugh, that sounded bitter. “I was going to say I wish my father were here, so he could help me understand. But if he were here, none of this would have happened.”

“Almost, I feel pity for you.” A sigh. “Not almost. I do. You’re what, fourteen? Come here.”

I did as I was told.

Tentatively, his hands went to my shoulders. Slowly, he pulled me into a comforting embrace. “You’ve done great wrong, Randy. But I think you know that.”

I clung to him as if to Dad, until it was time for him to go.

My hands clamped behind my back, I waited docilely at the outer brig door. Two sailors held me, one at each arm. I didn’t care. I’d be freed from the damned cells, at least for a while. Even meeting Mr Dakko would be worth that. Midshipman Tamarov commanded the party, and Tad Anselm was nowhere in sight. Perhaps they were giving the middy a way to redeem himself.

Or giving him another chance to end my life. I sighed.

They led me far down the cool, airy corridor. I had to walk slowly, from my beating. To break the silence, I said, “It’s nice to see something other than those bare walls.”

“They’re bulkheads, sir.” Mik’s tone was polite. “The floors a deck, doors are hatches.”

I yearned for his forgiveness. “Please don’t call me ‘sir.’”

“Captain’s orders, sir.” A quick glance my way, at the men, back to me, an odd look in his eyes. Perhaps beseeching me not to press him further before his squad.

We halted at a gold-trimmed door. Er, hatch. Mikhael slapped the control. “Inside, please, sir.”

I had little choice.

Two sailors took up position outside the hatch. Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be guided in.

The lounge was huge. Mr Dakko sat at a table, at one end. He looked, well, almost gaunt. In his eyes was a barely contained anguish.

Mikhael and a sailor with a stunner retreated to the far bulkhead. I was securely cuffed, and couldn’t attack Mr Dakko. Their stunner was ready if he assaulted me.

How had it come to this?

In the background soft music played. If we kept our voices low, we wouldn’t be overheard. I slid into a seat.

Mr Dakko’s jaw dropped. “Good heavens, what happened? You look like a raccoon.”

“What’s a raccoon?”

“An animal on Earth.”

“I … got into a fight.” In the corner, Mikhael stirred uncomfortably. I lowered my voice further. “You wanted to see me?” My tone came out wrong, almost a sneer. I tried again. “You wanted to see me, sir?” There, that was better.

His tone was cold. “Kevin is near hysteria. He heard you were dead.”

“Not yet.”

“He’s terrified. For that alone, I could …” His fists knotted.

I swallowed.

Mr Dakko said, “I’ll reassure him on that point. It’s about all I can do for him. He wants to see you safe, and pulverize you.”

“Everyone does.” Perhaps they were right.

He rested his arms on the polished wood. “I can’t believe I let you into my home, you contemptible piece of shit.”

My ears burned bright.

“If they release you, if you ever see Centraltown again, I’ll call challenge the day you’re of age. I’ll put you into the ground, Randolph Carr, and the Stadholder be damned.”

“Sir, I—”

“Could you possibly say anything of consequence?”

“Why’d you ask to see me, then?”

“For Kevin, and …” It was his turn to look uncomfortable. “Captain Tolliver won’t allow the Stadholder any contact with you. I’m not exactly an intermediary, but …”

“A substitute?”

A nod.

“Have you spoken to him?”

“Not directly. No doubt I will, after. I see they haven’t treated you well.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not really true.” I colored. “I deserved what I got.”

“You deserve hanging.”

“You’ll get your wish. He’s dying.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s on life support.” I leaned toward him, my cuffs chafing. “Mr Dakko, I want you to know I didn’t plan it. I had no idea Mr Seafort was on
Olympiad
when we took the shuttle aloft. It was just a lark, to see the ship.”

“What does that excuse?”

“Nothing, sir. Nothing at all.” My tone was bleak. “I went berserk. If I could undo …”

“Oh, please.”

“I hated him so.”

“Past tense? He’s still alive.”

“I still …” I squirmed, as if caught whispering in class. “I still hate what happened to Dad. I always knew he was responsible. Except, no one else thinks so. I may have … may …”

“Say it.”

“Misjudged the situation. Him. If you call challenge, I’ll accept. Dad taught me that the Carrs pay for our mistakes.”

“As with the Bishop?”

My voice was small. “Please don’t toy with me. I’m wrong, and you’re right.”

“Too late for humility, joeyboy.” The glint in his eye held no forgiveness.

“Far too late, sir.”

“Did I tell you I served under Captain Seafort?”

I bowed my head. “You too?”

“On
Challenger.
He was given an impossible task, to hold together a broken ship. I loathed him, and fought him every step of the way. He impressed me into the Service against my will. He trained me, forced me to do my duty. Together, we saved the ship and ourselves. Along the way, I became a man.”

My eyes drifted. In the far corner, Mikhael was listening intensely.

“If he lives, I may not call challenge. But I’ll never forgive you.”

“No one will.” I struggled to my feet. “Is that all, sir?”

“Yes.”

I waited for Mikhael to lead me to the hatch.

Mr Dakko called after me, “If there’s anything you can do to exculpate Kevin …”

“I’ve told them all along, but they won’t believe me.”

Desolate, I trudged to my cell.

M
IKHAEL AND LIEUTENANT ANSELM
opened my hatch. “Lieutenant Tamarov reporting, sir. You’ll have to wear these.” He brandished a set of cuffs.

Wasn’t it bad enough I was locked in a cage? “Afraid I’ll hurt you?” My tone was a jeer.

“No, sir. But you can’t go out unrestrained.”

I bounded to my feet. “Out?”

A hint of a smile. “Yes, sir. For an hour or so.”

I turned, presented my hands.

“In front will be sufficient,” said Anselm.

My glance flitted from one to the other of them. “Why are you treating me so …”
Nicely.
I was embarrassed to say it.

Abruptly, Anselm was less affable. “Let’s say we’re doing it for Derek Carr, not you.”

Still, escaping my dreary cell was such a joy that I asked, with a real effort to be polite, “How is Mr Seafort today?”

“Unchanged.”

We left the brig. As it turned out, we had no particular destination. They let me wander the corridor, admiring the sumptuous fittings.

Olympiad
wasn’t quite a ghost city. There were passengers still aboard, for one reason or another, and a few crew could be seen on repair details and the like.

We stopped at the purser’s office, where after a short wait I was given a change of clothes. I’d been allowed to shower every morning, but my clothing was another story.

Mikhael kept a grip on my arm, not hard, just enough so he could say he had custody of me. We walked the whole length of the corridor, until it brought us back to the brig.

He saw my disappointment. “We have more time.”

I turned to Anselm. “Must we stay on this Level?”

“Hmm. I don’t see why. Let’s go below. I’ll take responsibility.”

We rang for a lift, and it wafted us down three Levels. While we were alone Mikhael let go my arm; gratefully I flexed my muscle.

We emerged on Level 6, the lowest Level. I looked about at the corridor, curving either direction. “All Levels are circular?”

“They’re disks,” said Anselm. “The basic design of a starship hasn’t changed in a century and a half. Disks piled one atop another, built around a central shaft.”

We followed the bend. “It’s hard to tell how long the corridors are.”

“They’re infinitely long; they follow the curve of the disk, midway from center to edge. Every corridor meets itself. Part of the fun with green middies—or in Mik’s case, cadets—is blindfolding them and letting them figure out where they are.”

“You made it hard for me,” muttered Mikhael.

“I wasn’t in charge, and I went through it a few months before you did.”

I said, “It must be a zark to have a friend aboard whom you knew from before.”

“We weren’t friends.” Anselm frowned. “Not for a long while.”

An uneasy silence settled. Mik stopped before a double-wide hatch. “The engine room.”

Anselm slapped it open, peered in. “I think the Chief’s groundside.”

“He is, sir.” A young woman, in sailor’s work blues. Short auburn hair, slim build, a competent look about her. She saluted the officers, went back to her gauges.

“We’ll have a look around.” Anselm steered me into the chamber. “The fusion drive is just below us. See the curve in that alumalloy shaft? That’s how N-waves are generated.”

I’d never been on a starship, but propulsion wasn’t entirely new to me. Not only had Dad told me stories, but we studied it in school, and holozines from Earth still glorified the Naval fleet. Nonetheless, the shaft was impressive, for its sheer size.