Текст книги "Midshipman's Hope"

Автор книги: Дэвид Файнток

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

“In the wardroom, sir. I believe he’s sleeping.”

“In the middle of the day?”

“Yes, sir. I had him standing regs last night. Then he did some exercises.” His wide blue eyes regarded me without guile. “Shall I wake him?”

“I was going to take him groundside.”

“Yes, sir. I’d told him he was confined to ship during the layover for his insubordination, but of course your wishes prevail.”

“I’ll take Mr. Tamarov, then.”

“Him too, sir. Unless you countermand my orders.” As he’d spoken in front of Alexi, it was impossible for me to countermand him. Discipline had to be maintained.

I turned to Alexi. “What did you do, Mr. Tamarov?”

“I was insolent, sir,” he said without inflection. “So I was informed.”

A cruel punishment. The midshipmen had long leave in Hope Nation so they weren’t entitled to go shoreside as a matter of right, but to travel so far and be denied what could be their only chance to see the colony was harsh indeed.

“Very well. I’m sorry, Mr. Tamarov. You’ll stay aboard, I’ll go alone.” As I left the bridge the rank injustice helped steady my resolve. I saw Lieutenant Crossburn coming up the ladder from Level 2.

“Mr. Crossburn, find young Mr. Treadwell–Rafe Treadwell–and take him to your cabin. Keep him there until I order otherwise.” I would keep the Treadwell twins together. Their parents be damned. Injustice was the way of the world.

Crossburn gaped. “Aye aye, sir. Don’t the passengers disembark today?”

“They’ll start later this afternoon. Do as you’re told.” I went on to my cabin.

A few minutes later I was climbing into a shuttle in the station’s launch berth. Everything about Detour Station was smaller than at Hope Nation: far fewer personnel, smaller corridors, lower ceilings. Even a smaller shuttle. This one held only twelve passengers and looked well used.

“I’ve radioed down to tell them we’re coming, Captain,”

the shuttle pilot said as we drifted clear off the station.

“Thank you.”

“A ship from outside is a major event. You’re the first since Telstar,half a year ago.”

“TV/star made it, then?”

“Of course.” He waited for me to explain.

“She didn’t reach Miningcamp.”

“Where is she?”

“No one knows.” I stared bleakly at his console.

The pilot shrugged. “She’ll turn up. Anyway, have you brought us the polyester synthesizer?”

I tried to remember my cargo manifest. “I think so. Why, are you short of clothing?”

“Somewhat. We’ve made do with cottons over the years, but all the fashions are in polyester and the ladies are restless.

Hang on, atmosphere is building.” In a moment the buffeting from pockets of denser atmosphere occupied his full attention.

Detour was considerably smaller than Hope Nation, smaller in fact than Earth, but its greater density made for nearterrestrial gravity. I peered through the porthole. Much of the planet was still barren, with patches of lichen and moss taking hold on the outcrops of bare rock. If I could see the patches from our height they must be huge, evidence of massive terraforming.

We swooped lower into a horizontal flight pattern. Now I could spot patches of greenery, and soon, checkerboard fields dotting the landscape. Tall trees grew in random patterns. I found a road, then another. We were approaching what habitation we’d find on this recently barren planet.

The pilot powered back for touchdown. We glided over the runway, wings in VTOL position, and hovered before drifting to a landing. Silence assaulted my ears. The Pilot grinned. “Welcome to the center of civilization, Captain.”

I smiled back. “Thanks. It’s good to be here.” The hatch opened and I took a deep breath. A distinctly sulphurous smell. My eyes watered. “Gecch. Do you get used to this?”

He looked surprised. “Used to what? Oh, the air? Sure, just takes a week or so. Don’t worry about it.”

I climbed out of the shuttle. About twenty men and women were gathered beyond the wingtip, waiting. One of them came forward, a tall, graying man with an air of authority.

“Captain Seafort? Welcome to Detour.” He held out his hand. Around his shoulders hung a blue and white ribbon from which was suspended the bronze plaque of office.

I shook his hand, then saluted. “Governor Fantwell? I’m honored.”

The colonial Governor smiled. “Let me introduce you around. Mayor Reuben Trake, of Nova City. Walter Du Bahn, president of the Bank of Detour.” I began shaking hands. “City Council President Ellie Bayes, Jock Vigerua, who owns the mines nearby. You don’t realize, Captain, what an event it is for a ship to come in; we only get two a year.

Miss Preakes, editor of the Detour Sun... “

The introductions were finally completed. He guided me to an electribus; we all clambered in and found seats. “We’ve put on, a lunch at City Hall.” The Governor was genial.

“Then we’ll show you the town.”

“I don’t suppose you have any Naval personnel about?”

“Not a one,” Governor Fantwell said cheerfully. “Nary a seaman. Are you shorthanded?”

“There’s a billet I wanted filled.” My own. But I’d known there was no Naval station on Detour and wasn’t surprised.

City Hall was a plain, metal-sided building in the center of town. I could tell immediately it was City Hall; a large sign hanging over the door said so. In other respects it was exactly like all the surrounding structures.

Seated at a table draped with a fancy cloth and festooned with bright silverware I said quietly to the Governor, “Actually, I came to talk to you before dumping a problem in your lap. Yours and the judge’s.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. I wondered if any problem I brought could faze him. “Just a sec. Let me get Carnova.”

He beckoned across the hall to a rugged man who promptly joined our table. “What do you propose to dump on us?”

I told them briefly about the Treadwell situation. “I’ve decided to let the boy enlist, and the parents will explode when they hear. They raised quite a ruckus on Hope Nation.”

“This isn’t Hope,” Judge Carnova said bluntly. “We do things differently. The Navy isn’t under my jurisdiction. I won’t even give them a hearing.”

“I’ll back you up,” the Governor told him. He turned to me with an easy smile. “You see? Your problem is solved.”

I fiddled with a fresh fruit cup. Oranges and grapes, kiwi, bananas, and other fruits I couldn’t identify. “I wish everything were that easy.”

“Tell me,” said the Governor. “Is it that I’m getting older, or are you rather young for a Captain?”

I sighed and launched into the familiar explanation.

27

After returning to my ship I summoned Rafe Treadwell to the bridge. He entered hesitantly, his apparent calm betrayed by the fingers twisting at his shirt.

“I’m prepared to enlist you.”

“Thank you.” His shoulders slumped. “I was afraid you’d change your mind at the last minute.”

“Sit at the console. Write a note to your parents telling them you’ve enlisted voluntarily. Give them your reasons.

As soon as you’re done I’ll give you the oath.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Before you do, I have to warn you. Conditions are, uh, rather strained at the moment. You’ll be subjected to unusually intense hazing, even for a cadet.”

He swallowed. “Yes, I’ve heard.” Of course, his sister would have told him. He bent to the console and typed his note.

After I administered the oath I thumbed my caller. “Mr.

Tyre, bring Mr. Tamarov to the bridge.”

A few moments later they appeared. Alexi was heavily flushed and breathing hard; I must have interrupted a session in the exercise room.

“Mr. Tyre, I’m seconding Mr. Tamarov for special duties for two days. He’ll guard our new cadet until we leave port.

Kindly release him from your other requirements.”

“Of course, sir.” Tyre smiled pleasantly. “Will they stay in the wardroom?”

“Not until we leave Detour.” Knowing the Treadwells, I would take no chances, even in orbit far above the planet. I ordered Alexi and Rafe Treadwell bunked in the crew’s privacy chamber on Level 3. Alexi couldn’t conceal his relief at escaping Mr. Tyre, however briefly.

Tyre appeared not to notice. “I’ll help them move, sir,”

he said. “Can I do anything else to be useful?”

I sent them away, reflecting on the irony. Other man an insane desire to destroy his subordinates, Philip Tyre was an excellent midshipman, eager, helpful, diligent at his studies.

I was sure he felt no guilt for the torture he inflicted.

I made a gesture of disgust. Imagine Derek standing regs, at his age. Ridiculous. I wondered how Philip had passed the psych interviews, and how he’d been dealt with as a cadet.

Had he been brutalized? Not that it would be the slightest excuse for his own behavior. Still, I wondered.

At dinner Lieutenant Crossburn asked, “You’re keeping the Treadwell boy on board?” I braced; obviously his question was but a preliminary.

“Yes.” Another affair for him to probe.

“I could be of assistance with the senior Treadwells, sir.

That is, when they find out their son isn’t going ashore.”

I could imagine Crossburn helping with the Treadwells.

Asking how they felt, for instance, to record their reactions in his little diary.

“No thank you. I’ll attend to it.”

“How many enlistments without parental consent do you think the Navy’s seen, sir?” His eyes were guileless.

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Crossburn.” My rebuke, too, would find its way into his record. I didn’t care. I was tired, lonely, perturbed by the effect my new officers had on the crew. I missed Amanda, and in a few weeks I’d pass tantalizingly close to her one last time. That would be almost too much to bear.

I thought of home. Perhaps Father would take me back, after I was forced to resign. He would say nothing, of course.

That was his way.

As my watch ended, our first departing passengers were crowding into the small shuttles that serviced Detour Station.

Several trips would be required to accommodate them. The Treadwells were due to leave in the morning; tonight they would surely notice their son’s absence. I went to bed wishing I knew how to avoid the forthcoming row.

I woke to a commotion in the corridor. I thrust on my pants and flung open the hatch, peered to the east. Irene Treadwell, trying unsuccessfully to twist free from Vax Holser’s firm grip.

She caught sight of me. “Tell this brute to let me go!”

“You aren’t allowed up here, ma’am,” Vax said. He flashed me a glance of apology. “She was trying to get into the wardroom, sir.”

“Where’s my son?” Ms. Treadwell’s voice rose. “What have you done to Rafe? I went looking for him and he’s nowhere to be found! Are you stealing my other child?”

“We’re not steal–”

“Are all of you people crazy?” At last she freed herself and rubbed her reddened wrist. “I tried the purser but he wouldn’t tell me anything. I went to the lounge and Rafe wasn’t there. I tried the wardroom–yes, I know I’m not supposed to–and a big boy was on a chair hi his undershorts reciting a book! He didn’t even stop; they just closed the door on me! What have you done with my Rafe?”

I thought of sending for Lieutenant Crossburn. I took my holovid, slipped Rafe’s chip into it. “Go back to your cabin and read this.”

“Does it say you’ve taken Rafe? You monster!” Her scream echoed down the corridor. “Not my boy! You can’t!”

“Lieutenant, take her away!” I tried to close my hatch but she blocked it with her foot. Vax hauled her into the corridor.

I closed the hatch quickly, leaned against it until the shouting died away. My limbs felt weak. I climbed into bed, lay wide awake.

How often were similar scenes played out, back on Earth? When the origins of melanoma T were understood and the Navy lowered cadet enlistment age to thirteen, did parents face the loss of their children without qualms? How many mothers reacted with hysteria like Irene Treadwell? The Navy required consent from but one parent. I thought of my own host mother, in Devon, whom I’d never seen. What did she look like? Would she have cared? I tossed fitfully until early morning, then dressed and went to the officers’ mess for breakfast. I sat at the long table, alone except for Lieutenant Chantir, and sipped coffee while waiting for my scrambled eggs and toast. Other officers drifted in, found places. I picked at my food.

“I hear there was a ruckus outside your hatch last night.”

Lieutenant Crossburn took a seat alongside me.

“Urn.”

“Mrs. Treadwell was on the first shuttle down this morning.” A pause. “They say when she went to court in Hope Nation you tried to throw the judge in jail.” Crossburn took a forkful of his eggs.

My tone was acid. “I told you not to talk to her.”

“Oh, we spoke several days ago, before your order. I merely listened.”

“More grist for your mill, Mr. Crossburn?”

“Sir, I fail to understand your objections to my diary.

Frankly, I intend to bring the matter up with my uncle when we get home.”

I stared. No lieutenant could speak so to his Captain.

Mr. Chantir intervened. “Ardwell, I order you to be silent.

Leave the Captain alone!”

“Aye aye, sir.” Crossburn pursed his lips. After a moment’s thought he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and made a note. I considered hurling my coffee at his face, decided against it.

“Pardon, sir, may I join you?” Philip Tyre. My nod was curt, but he sat anyway. ‘.’Good morning.”

I responded with a grunt.

“Sir, do you think I might go groundside tonight? It’s been a year since I’ve seen Detour.” A shy grin. “I met a girl there last winter, but I suppose she’s forgotten me.” Your typical lighthearted youngster. I thought of Derek, humiliated, made to stand regs when Mrs. Treadwell barged into the wardroom the night before. About to refuse, I thought better of it. I would play out my hand. “Permission granted, Mr. Tyre. But a word with you first.”

For privacy I took him to the nearby passengers’ lounge.

“Mr. Tyre, I think you’re too hard on the midshipmen.”

He reflected. “I’ll obey every order you give, sir. Please tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

“Ease up on them.”

He wrinkled his brow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.

Should I ignore their violations?”

I lost patience. “No, just ease up. Consider this a warning.

Keep riding them and you’ll get a surprise you won’t like.”

His face clouded with dismay. “I’m terribly sorry I’ve offended you, sir.” Agitated, he ran his hand through his hair. “I try so hard,” he muttered, half to himself. “I really do, but people misunderstand... I wish I could figure... “

Abruptly his gaze returned to the present. He stiffened, almost coming to attention. “I didn’t think I was riding them hard, but I’ll try my best to do what you ask. I’m truly sorry, sir.” He seemed near tears.

I left him for the bridge.

All that day we disembarked passengers and unloaded cargo. I checked the manifest: a poly synthesizer was indeed on our cargo manifest and would be off-loaded with the next shipment. I stayed on the bridge, not sure why. I was free to leave the ship. Should I remain aboard, considering the wardroom tension and my problems with Ardwell Crossburn? No, we were docked at a distant port. I’d be blessed if I’d let those two joeys ruin my leave. I put on a fresh uniform to go shoreside. Too bad Derek couldn’t accompany me. Or Alexi.

Waiting for the aft lock to cycle I abruptly turned away, leaving the startled rating to gape at my retreating back.

I stalked down to Level 3, to the crew privacy room, where Alexi opened at my knock. He seemed fresh and rested.

Cadet Rafe Treadwell stood proudly at attention in his new gray uniform.

“As you were, cadet. Mr. Tamarov, come with me. Mr.

Treadwell, do you think you can you obey orders exactly?”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“That’s ‘yes, sir’.” Alexi, with disgust.

Rafe looked abashed. “Yes, sir, I mean.”

“These are your instructions. Lock the hatch when we leave and open it only when you hear my voice or Mr. Tamarov’s. Understand?”

“Yes, I–which do I say?” he asked Alexi.

“Aye aye, sir!”

“Aye aye, sir.” Rafe’s anxious glance darted between us.

I couldn’t help smiling. “Very well.” I went back to the ladder. Alexi followed, worried. At the airlock I keyed the caller. “Bridge, this is the Captain. I’m going groundside, alone.”

“Very well, sir.”Lieutenant Chantir would log me out.

“Come along,” I snapped at Alexi. The sentry gaped. I glared. “You have a problem, sailor?”

“No, sir!”

“I’m going groundside, alone. Note it hi your report.”

He was a slow thinker. “But the midshipman–?”

I fixed him with a cold glare. “What midshipman?” Eventually the man smiled weakly. We cycled through the lock.

We boarded the waiting shuttle. As we sat I said to Alexi, “Detour is quite interesting. If you weren’t confined to ship, I’d show you the town.” Comprehending at last, his face lit with pleasure.

For the rest of the day we wandered Nova City. Detour, with a population of only sixty thousand, was far less developed than Hope Nation, though it was growing fast.

The countryside bore the fresh scats of construction I’d expected to find in Centraltown. Trees and bushes grew in profusion, planted in their thousands by the terraformers, who’d brought insects and worms to aerate the soil, nitrates to fertilize it, and seeds to sow our crops. After seventy-six years of their labor, the terrain surrounding Nova City had at last begun to resemble home.

I wondered how much of the food chain they’d managed to introduce. Did Nova have rats, or mice? Cockroaches? I never did find out, but I did notice a few flocks of birds overhead. We also saw grain scattered in oversize bird feeders, among the fields.

Alexi relaxed further as the day wore on, grateful both for my company and the respite from his nightmare aboard ship.

“It’s beautiful, sir. If only the air were easier to breathe.”

“They’re working on it.” Huge skimmers sucked air into the desulphurization works, which removed sulphur oxides from the air. The plants had been operating for decades, and Detour’s sulphur level was measurably reduced.

After several false starts, not knowing how to begin, I blurted, “I’m sorry for what you’re going through.”

He stiffened. “I’m under orders not to discuss it, sir. I’m told it’s bad for morale.”

“They’re countermanded.”

“Aye aye, sir. I hate his guts! I want to kill him!”

I glanced at him, shocked. He meant it. “Don’t, Alexi.”

“He’s a monster! You don’t know the half of it, and I won’t tell you.”

“Can you hang on?”

His smile was bleak. “I’m like Derek, sir. I can take anything.”

“I’m hoping he’ll reform. If not, then we’ll see.” It wouldn’t be fair to Philip to tell his subordinate about my deadline.

“I’ll call him to challenge, when we get home.”

I sucked in my breath. Alexi truly intended to kill Philip Tyre. “Why not challenge him in the wardroom, then?”

He shot me a look of reproach. “I believe in law and

order like you do, sir. It’s the first middy’s place to run the wardroom. I owe the ship loyalty, I owe the same to you.

Even to him.”

My fists bunched. Philip had three times sent this youngster to the barrel. “Still, tradition allows wardroom challenges.”

“I’ve always thought that’s for younger joeys. A way for them to let off steam if they can’t take it. I believe in the Navy and its rules. The regs can’t permit this to go on. If I thought that, I’d have to quit the Service. Either he’ll step over the line and be brought up on charges, or there’ll be some other solution. I’m not going to fight the system.”

I said quietly, “Alexi, you’re the finest officer I’ve ever known.” He was startled. “You’ve been my friend since I first came aboard. You have such decency. I’ve never known you to be mean-spirited or spiteful.”

He shook his head. “Just watch if I ever get a chance with him!”

“Still. I respect you enormously. I love you as a friend and comrade.” He turned away, but not before I saw his eyes glisten. I rested my hand on his shoulder. “Let’s have something to eat before we go back.” After a moment he nodded. We found a restaurant. After the meal Alexi insisted on paying for us both.

Two hours later we were back aboard. Alexi resumed his babysitting duties, while I went to the bridge.

I shared a watch with Vax when the ship’s caller buzzed.

“Captain, you’d better–Midshipman Tyre reporting. We have a, um, situation here, and–”

I snarled, “Report by the book, middy. Two demerits!”

If the boy thought he could niggle over every petty infraction by his charges, then himself get away with-”Aye aye, sir! Midshipman Philip Tyre reporting, from the Level 2 lounge. Ricky Fuentes is–that is, Jared Treadwell has a knife; he’s taken Cadet Fuentes hostage and says unless he gets his children back he’ll–”

I was halfway to the hatch. “Vax, page Mr. Vishinsky to the lounge! Three seamen with stunners. Flank!” I dashed out.I don’t remember using the ladder but I must have plunged down at least three steps at a time. I fetched up panting against the Level 2 corridor bulkhead, outside the lounge.

Philip Tyre poked out his head, saw me, slipped into the corridor, saluting. “They’re inside, sir. The far end. I tried talking to him but he–”

I brushed the middy aside, strode in. Behind me, the hatch slid shut.

Ricky’s right arm dangled as if useless. Jared Treadwell, Rafe’s father, had an elbow wrapped around the boy’s throat, holding him nearly off the floor. Ricky’s head was pressed tight into Treadwell’s chest. The cadet’s good hand pawed at the throat hold, seeking air.

The knife was poised a millimeter from Ricky’s eye.

Treadwell’s voice was a snarl. “Want to bet I c’n take an eye before you stun me?” His swarthy face glistened with a sheen of sweat.

“Easy, Mr. Treadwell. Just put–”

“You think this is how I wanted it, Seafort?”

“No, of course not–”

“Give me my son! And Paula!” The knife flickered.

Ricky’s breath hissed in terror.

From the corridor, pounding feet.

“Mr. Treadwell, Ricky Fuentes has nothing to do with–”

“We tried petitions. We tried going through the courts. No matter what, you had to have your way!” A wrench of his elbow; Ricky squealed. “Call Rafe in here, or so help me, I’ll blind him.”

The hatch burst open. I whirled. “Out, until I call!”

“But–” The master-at-arms.

“Out!”

Vishinsky backed through the hatch. I spun back to Jared Treadwell. “Listen, sir, I know you’re upset–”

“No more talk! I’ll do the first eye to show you I mean it!”

I roared, “By Lord God, you’ll let me finish a sentence!”

It was so ludicrous he was stunned. So was I, but I knew for Ricky’s sake I had to keep the initiative. I flung off my

jacket. “You don’t need the cadet. You have me.”

“Get away!” The knife flicked; Ricky moaned.

“I’m your hostage.” I moved closer.

“Don’t, sir!” Philip Tyre, behind me. I hadn’t seen him enter.

“This was my doing,” I said. Fitting that I pay the consequences.

“Sir, you mustn’t!”

“Another word, Mr. Tyre–just one–and you’re dismissed from the Service.” My tone was ice. “Now, Mr.

Treadwell... “

“Here goes the eye.”

“Do it and I’ll kill you. With my bare hands.” Something in my inflection gave him pause. I took another step.

His manner*became almost conversational. “Irene went groundside this morning. Three lawyers she called, all she could reach. The first told her nothing could be done; you’d already ordered the judge not to hear the case. The others wouldn’t even talk.”

Another step. “You’ll let the boy go. I’ll take his place.”

Now I was quite near.

“You leave us nothing, see. No law, no court, no appeal.”

Suddenly his voice was a shout of torment. “Who appointed you Lord God?”

I swallowed. Who, indeed? Mrs. Donhauser had warned me, months back, of the hazard I’d blundered into. Protecting children was a basic human urge. And I’d set it against me.

“Mr. Treadwell.” My tone was more gentle. “First, let the boy go. I’ll take his place. Then we’ll call Rafe and Paula.

If they want to leave with you, I’ll allow it. Else, they stay.”

“What good’s that, after you’ve brainwashed them?”

“Would you keep them by force?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know what–Lord, help me!” A rasping breath, akin to a sob.

I gave the terrified cadet what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Ricky, in a moment Mr. Treadwell will set you free.

Mr. Tyre, when I sit down in that chair, take Cadet Fuentes out to the corridor and explain to Mr. Vishinsky. Then bring Cadets Paula and Rafe Treadwell to the lounge.”

“Sir, if he takes you host–”

“AYE AYE, SIR! SAY IT AT ONCE!”“Aye aye, sir!”

I sat, kicked my chair to within Jared Treadwell’s reach.

For a moment we were frozen in anguished tableau.

With, a cry of hurt, Ricky tumbled free to the deck.

Treadwell wrenched back my hair, caught my chin, yanked upward. His knife dug at my throat. It took all my strength not to move. Please, Lord. Keep the children safe from harm.

In the edge of my vision I caught sight of Ricky’s face. It was unharmed. “Philip, take him–”

“Shut up, Captain!” The knife pressed.

“–out to the corridor. Flank.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Tyre darted forward, helped Ricky to his feet. The two of them stumbled out.

Silence. Then Treadwell’s voice came in a hiss. “I hate you.

I hate your arrogance, your certainty that you’re doing right no matter how much you hurt others. If it weren’t for my children, I’d slit your filthy throat and have done with it!”

I made a sound.

“What?”

“I said, do it.”

“Jesus, you’re crazed.”

I could think of nothing to say.

A knock on the hatch. “Are you all right, sir?”

The knife tightened. “No tricks!”

“Fine, Mr. Vishinsky. Remain outside.”

Now that the die was cast, I felt more peace than I had in months. I waited, watching the hatch. “They’ll be here in a moment, I think. If I might suggest... “

“Hah. As if I care what you–”

“Do you want your children to see you with the knife?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you–”

“I give you my word I’ll sit still.” My chin ached. It was hard to talk, with his fingers grinding into me. “Do you want their sympathy or their horror?” Nothing. “Mr. Treadwell, you haven’t a chance to persuade them if they see you hurting me.”“Are you insane? Why would you help me?”

I thought a long while. “So the test will be fair.”

His hand wavered. “Shut up. I want to despise you.”

A knock. A tremulous voice, from outside. “Cadet Rafe Treadwell reporting, sir.”

I said quietly, “Put the knife away, Mr. Treadwell. I’ll stay seated where you can reach me.”

His moment of decision. Slowly, the knife lowered, disappeared. “Go ahead. Betray me.” Vast bitterness.

“Come in, Cadet.”

Rafe entered, snapped a rough salute. He hadn’t had much time to practice. “Sir, I heard–what’s... “ He gave up, came to a ragged version of attention.

“As you were, Rafe. It seems your father wants you to go ashore. To resign. I’m willing to let you.”

“No!”

Behind me, a hiss of breath.

The boy cocked his head, looked at his father strangely.

“Jared, why are you doing this? I’m a cadet now. I’m where I want to be.”

“You can’t just walk away from your family.” Treadwell’s voice was hoarse. “You’re barely thirteen.”

“Old enough to enlist.”

“And you left us nothing but a note. You didn’t have the guts, the courtesy to tell me to my face!”

The boy’s eyes teared. “Would you have listened?”

I said, “Rafe, it may have been a mistake. You decided so fast. Wouldn’t it be best if–”

“You said it was for five years, and I couldn’t change my mind!”

I nodded.

Rafe cried, “That’s what I want, not a chance to back out! You think it was easy, signing up?” His jaw jutted. “See what you’ve done, Jared? Now he’ll have me whipped for insolence. Can’t you leave things alone?”

At the hatch, a knock.

“Son, I... “ Mr. Treadwell sounded uncertain. “Your mother and I, we thought–” His voice broke. “Rafe, why do you run from us?”

“Because I’m not your son!” Rafe’s face twisted. “I’m a creche boy. Sheila was my nurse, and Martine. I had forty brothers and sisters. God, how I miss them!” He ran fingers through his short-cropped hair. “It was your choice to creche us as babies. When you took us out, Paula and I warned you: we weren’t really a family. Irene paid no attention, and neither did you.”

“She’s your mother!”

From the hatchway, a quiet voice. “She was once.” Paula.

Her eyes roved among us. “Are you all right, Jared?”

“I–yes, I think so.” Her father seemed uncertain.

“Captain, sir?”

“I’m not hurt.”

She took two steps in, halted. The rebuke in her face pinned Jared to the bulkhead. “Why did you break Ricky’s arm?”

“He tried to get away, and I needed–”

“The poor joey is hunched in the corridor, crying. He won’t go to the Doc until Mr. Seafort is safe. Nobody wants to hurt Ricky. He’s too good-natured. How could you?”

“I–” No words came.

She faced me, came to attention. “Sir, Mr. Tyre said you had a question for me?”

“Do you want me to annul your enlistment?”

“No, sir.”

Her gaze, when it met her father’s, held pity, and something more stern. “I’m sorry, Jared, really I am. But it isn’t the way you thought it was.”

My mouth was dry. They wouldn’t be leaving Hiberniawith their father. That meant his attention would be turned to me. So be it. “Cadets, you’re dismissed.”

Paula saluted, turned to the hatch. Rafe clumsily imitated her motions. Seated, I couldn’t return salute; instead, I nodded.”Before you go... “I was proud of them, and probably wouldn’t have another chance. “You’ve done well. This isn’t your fault. No matter what happens–” It was the wrong line. I cleared my throat, and tried again. “The Navy will take care of you. That’s all.”

“Yes, sir.” Paula hesitated. “May I?” I nodded. “Jared, I’m sorry. For hurting you, for Irene, for all of us. Please don’t make it worse.” Another salute, and she was gone. Her brother followed.

A hand, on the back of my neck. I flinched, steeled myself.

“There’s nothing left. Except you.” Treadwell’s voice was ragged. “At least I can see that you don’t ruin any more lives.”

“Yes.” I raised my head, exposing my throat. “If I...”

After a moment, he said, “Well?”

My voice was unsteady. “If I come for you, afterward.

It’s just a dream. Sooner or later, I’ll go away.”

“Lord God.” A whisper.

Then a sob.

Eventually I lowered my head. It was beginning to cramp.

Vax smoldered; I did my best to ignore him. After a while I gave up. “Get it said, Lieutenant.”

“How could you let him go!”

“You’d rather I hanged him? And then ate at mess with his children?”

“He threatened you with a knife!”

“I’m unhurt. He’s groundside, so’s Irene, and the matter is closed.”