Midshipman's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 1) Page 16

  A man like Tuak illustrated the pitfalls of guaranteed enlistment. If crewmen were given the same rigorous screening as us officers, Tuak wouldn’t have gotten aboard. But the hazards of seafaring life made it difficult to recruit seamen for the huge starships, especially as government policy put a ten-year cap on service begun as an adult, for fear of melanoma T.

  Government, industry, and academia were all in constant need of educated workers, and the colonies themselves were a drain of educated manpower. Our explosion into space meant that Admiralty had a lot of ships to man, and interstellar voyages took years. Belowdecks they were years of crammed quarters, lack of privacy, hard duties, tyrannical discipline. No matter how good the pay was, the recruits would have to wait years before they could spend it.

  Guaranteed enlistment helped fill the crew berths. So we had men like Mr. Tuak, barely more civilized than the transpops, who responded to the guarantee they would be accepted and the half year’s pay issued in advance as an enlistment bonus.

  Yet Tuak hadn’t done anything more than get caught up in a riot. Well, a little more; he had smuggled in the still that caused the riot in the first place. And he’d been fighting to protect the still from the men who wanted to dismantle it. But should he be put to death for that?

  “Mr. Tuak.” I waited while his excuses ran down. “Mr. Tuak, the master-at-arms will take you back to the brig. You will be informed.” I slapped open the hatch.

  “I din’ mean no harm, Captain. Listen, Captain, I got two crippled sisters at home with my mother. Ask the paymaster, my pay all goes to them, every bit of it. They need me. Listen, I can stay out of trouble, honest, Captain!”

  Vishinsky slapped the cuffs on his wrists, manhandled him out to the corridor.

  “No more fighting!” Tuak said desperately, over his shoulder. “I swear!”

  I was no closer to a decision.

  As I left the dining hall after dinner the Purser handed me a sealed paper envelope. Unusual, in these days of holovid chipnotes. I took it back to the bridge to open. A letter, handwritten in a laborious script, obviously rewritten more than once.

  Hon. Captain Nicholas Seafort, U.N.S. Hibernia

  Dear Sir:

  Please accept my apology for the way I behaved when you visited my cabin. You are the authority on board this vessel. I owed you respect which I failed to offer. I was inexcusably rude to use the tone of voice I did.

  I didn’t know what to make of that. I read on.

  When I thought about my discourtesy, I saw why you don’t think me fit for the Naval Service. I ask you to forgive me. I assure you I am capable of decent manners and I will not be offensive to you again.

  Respectfully,

  Derek Carr.

  Now that was laying it on a bit thick. I could believe that Mr. Carr had decided he’d been rude. It was possible that he might even apologize. But that he’d grovel was hard to swallow. I wondered why he’d done it. I locked the letter in the drawer under my console.

  Some hours later I waited in the empty, dimly lit launch berth. The hatch opened and a head peered in.

  “Over here, Mr. Holser.”

  Vax looked around the huge cavern. Seeing me, he came quickly to attention. “Midshipman Holser reporting, sir!”

  “Very well.” I indicated the cold open space. “What is this, Vax?”

  He said, puzzled, “It’s the berth for the ship’s launch, sir.”

  “That’s right. Now that it’s empty it’s a good time to clean it.” From my jacket pocket I took a small rag and bar of alumalloy polish. “I have a job for you. Clean and polish the bulkheads, Mr. Holser. All of them.”

  Vax stared at me with anxiety and disbelief. The berth was huge; polishing it might take most of a year. It was utterly unnecessary work; one didn’t hand-polish the partitions of a launch berth.

  “You’re assigned to this duty only, until it’s finished. You’re off the watch roster and you’re forbidden to enter the bridge. You may begin now.” I thrust the polish and rag into his hands.

  I had deliberately made it as hard as I could. By removing him from the watch roster and forbidding him access to the bridge, Vax would not again have opportunity to protest or ask my mercy. On the other hand, I’d given him a direct order. I hoped he would pass the test.

  “Aye aye, sir.” His voice was unsteady, but he turned to the partition, rubbed the bar against the alumalloy. He began to polish it with the rag. Alumalloy doesn’t polish easily; it was hard work. After a few minutes of labor he had finished a patch a few inches around. He rubbed the bar of polish onto the adjoining spot and folded the rag to a clean surface. His muscles flexing, he rubbed the rag against the tough alumalloy surface.

  I watched for several minutes. “Report for other duties when all four bulkheads are done.” I turned and walked to the hatch twenty meters from where he had started. I glanced behind me; he was hard at work. I slapped the hatch open, started through it. He kept polishing.

  I stepped back into the launch berth. “Belay that order, Mr. Holser.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” His eyes darted from the bulkheads to me, and back, slowly taking in his reprieve.

  I walked back to where he stood. “Vax, what did I demonstrate to you?”

  He thought awhile before answering. “The Captain has absolute control of the vessel and the people on it, sir. He can make a midshipman do anything.”

  “But you already knew that.”

  “Yes, sir.” He hesitated. “But not as well as I know it now.”

  Thank you, Lord God. It was what I’d prayed to hear. “I’m canceling your special orders to report every four hours. You may resume your wardroom duties. You know what I expect from you?”

  “Yes, sir. No hazing, under any circumstances.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” I was angry. If that’s all he had learned, all this had been a waste of time.

  “I thought that’s what you wanted, sir. For me to control myself.” He was puzzled.

  “Yes, that. And more. Come, let’s go raid the galley.” He had to smile at that. At the beginning of the cruise, the four of us would occasionally sneak into the galley late at night and raid the coolers. We would catch hell if we were caught; that made it all the more attractive.

  Now I entered the galley with impunity. The metal counters were shiny clean; the food was securely wrapped and stowed. I opened the cooler and found some milk. Synthetic, of course. In the bread bin was leftover cake that would have gone to next day’s lunch. Well, they’d never miss it. I served my midshipman and myself. I indicated a stool for Vax; we ate off the counter. “It tasted better the other way,” I said.

  “Yes, sir, but I’m glad for it now,” he said politely. Our Vax had come a long way.

  “Now, Vax. About hazing. You’re first middy. You’ve been too busy to spend any time in the wardroom, so you haven’t taken charge. But I want you to. And with a change of command there will be some settling in. You’ll have to make sure they both know who’s senior.”

  “Yes, sir.” He listened attentively.

  “So, you may use your authority. Hazing, as we call it. What I want you to stop isn’t hazing, but your bullying. You enjoy hazing so much you let it get out of control. You’re to control the pleasure you take in it. Stop yourself from going overboard and being cruel. You told me once you’re not nice, that there’s nothing you can do about it. If that’s still true, go back and start polishing the launch berth until you can do something about it. I’ll wait.”

  He swallowed. I think no one had ever talked to him like that before.

  I added, “You’re better off with the rag and polish, Vax, if you’re not sure you’ll control yourself. I meant it when I said I’ll wait. If you tell me I can trust you and I catch you being cruel like you used to be, I’ll break you. I’ll make your life a living hell for as long as I’m in command, until you can’t stand any more. I swear it by Lord God Himself!”

  Vax said very humbly, “Please let me
think for a moment, sir.”

  I gave him all the time he wanted. He studied his fists, clasped on the metal work counter. Vax was slow. Not stupid, not retarded. Slow to make up his mind. I appreciated the corollary of that. Once he made up his mind he was utterly dependable.

  “Captain Seafort, sir, I think I can do what you want. I mean, I know I can, if I may ask a favor.”

  “What favor?” This was no time to start bargaining.

  “I know the senior middy is supposed to handle wardroom matters and keep the other midshipmen out of your hair. But if I’m not sure of myself, could I come and ask you if you’d approve? I mean, of a hazing?”

  I could have hugged him. It felt as if a fusion engine had been taken from around my neck. “I think so,” I said soberly, after a moment’s reflection. “I would allow it, yes.”

  “Thank you, sir. I promise I’ll control myself. I will haze the other middies only when I think it’s good for discipline. I won’t let myself get carried away. Sir.”

  “Vax, the wardroom is yours. I won’t spy on you; I accept your word. You have a job to do, and you’d better get on with it. Thanks to you, poor Alexi ended up over the barrel when all he needed was a lecture and a few hours of calisthenics.” That wasn’t fair; it was my fault more than Vax’s.

  “I’m very sorry, sir. You can count on me now.”

  I should have saluted and dismissed him. Instead, I broke regs, custom, and all propriety. Matters must have been getting to me. Slowly, looking him in the eye, I offered my hand. Just as slowly he took it in his big paw and clasped it firmly. We shook.

  13

  “LORD GOD, TODAY IS March 30,2195, on the U.N.S. Hibernia. We ask you to bless us, to bless our voyage, and to bring health and well-being to all aboard.” Seated, I nodded to my two tablemates. Weeks after I’d assumed command, Mrs. Donhauser and Mr. Kaa Loa were still my only dinner companions.

  The purser bent at my ear. “Sir, one of the passengers is asking if he may join the Captain’s table.” My popularity had just risen by half.

  “That’s agreeable, Mr. Browning. Who is it?”

  “Young Mr. Carr, sir.”

  I hadn’t spoken to Derek in the weeks since his letter. I was curious. “Ask him if he cares to start tonight.”

  A moment later Derek Carr approached with diffidence. “Good evening, Captain. Mrs. Donhauser. And you, sir,” this last to Mr. Kaa Loa, whom he apparently didn’t know.

  “Please be seated, Mr. Carr.” I introduced the boy to the Micronesian.

  After his courtesies to the older man Derek turned to me. “Sir, I apologize again for my behavior in my cabin. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  Where was all this heading? “No matter, Mr. Carr. It’s over and done.” Derek sat. I chatted with Mrs. Donhauser. She turned the topic to religion, a difficult topic on board ship. Her Anabaptist doctrines were tolerated, as were most cults, but the Naval Service, like the rest of the Government, was committed to the Great Yahwehist Christian Reunification. She knew full well that as Captain I was a representative of the One True God, and she shouldn’t be baiting me. I assumed she was just out of sorts; normally Mrs. Donhauser was a pleasant if argumentative companion.

  To avoid contention I turned to Derek. “How have you been occupying yourself lately, Mr. Carr?”

  “I’ve been studying, sir. And exercising.”

  Definitely a change in manner. I gave him another opening. “Were you enrolled in school before the voyage?”

  “No, sir. I had tutors. My father believed in solitary education.”

  “We should reimpose mandatory schooling,” Mrs. Donhauser grumbled. “The voluntary system doesn’t work; we don’t have enough technocrats to run government or industry. We’re constantly starved for educated people.”

  “Mandatory education didn’t work either,” I said. “Literacy levels dropped constantly until it was abandoned.”

  Mrs. Donhauser, savoring a good argument, launched into a vehement counterattack, demonstrating, at least to herself, that mandatory education was the only way to save society. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Carr?” she asked when she finished.

  “Yes, ma’am, I agree that a mass of uneducated people is a danger to society. As for the rest—” He turned to me. “Is she right, sir?” Now I was really puzzled. This was not the haughty youth who’d come aboard the ship. And I was likewise sure he had not undergone a complete change of heart. His courtesy had a purpose. I turned away the question and studied him during the rest of the meal.

  Going over watch rotations in my cabin that evening, I realized how little time I had to decide the fate of the three wretched sailors under sentence of death. I intended to make a deliberate decision; their fate wouldn’t be determined by default. Shortly, I would have to free them or allow—no, order—the executions to take place.

  I had spoken to Tuak and Herney, but I’d put off seeing Rogoff because I found the interviews unbearable. I made a note to see the man after forenoon watch.

  I undressed, crawled into my bunk, and drifted off to sleep almost immediately. In the early hours I awoke. I tossed and turned until I couldn’t stand it any longer; I snapped on my holovid and read ship’s regs. If they wouldn’t put me to sleep, nothing would.

  Again I closed my eyes and tried to sleep; I’d never found insomnia a problem in the wardroom. At three in the morning I turned on my bedside light. My stomach slowly knotted from tension as I began to dress.

  I walked the deserted corridors to Level 3. One of Mr. Vishinsky’s seamen guarded the brig. He was watching a holovid, feet on the desk, when I appeared in the hatchway. Horrified, he leapt to his feet and snapped to attention.

  I ignored his infraction. At that hour, one need not be prepared for a Captain’s inspection. “I’m here to see Mr. Rogoff, sailor.”

  “Aye aye, sir. He’s in cell four. If the Captain will let me get the cuffs on him—”

  “Not necessary. Open the hatch. And lend me your chair. You don’t sit on guard duty anyway.”

  “Aye aye, sir. No, sir.” He jumped to obey.

  Rogoff, wearing only his pants, was asleep on his dirty mattress when the light snapped on. Bleary, he looked up as I entered and set down the chair.

  “Mr. Rogoff.”

  “Mr. Seafort? I mean, Captain, sir? Is it—oh, God, I mean, are you here to—” He couldn’t say the words.

  “No. Not for a few days yet. I’m here to talk to you.”

  “Yessir!” He scrambled to his feet. “Anything you say, Captain. Anything.”

  I turned the chair backward and straddled it. “If I don’t commute your sentence they’re going to hang you. Tell me why I should pardon you.”

  He rubbed his eyes, standing awkwardly in front of my chair. “Captain, please, for Lord God’s sake, let me go. Brig me for the rest of the voyage, or whatever you want. But don’t let them hang me. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “No harm?” I asked him. “You clubbed the CPO unconscious while Mr. Tuak held his arms.”

  “Not in cold blood, sir. We were fighting, all of us.”

  “You can’t brawl with a superior, even a petty officer.”

  “No, sir, you’re right, sir. But the thing was, the fight started. Your blood gets hot, you don’t see what’s going on, or stop to think things over. Right then, Mr. Terrill was just another joe, you know? He wasn’t the CPO, he was just somebody to hit. It’s not like I meant to mutiny, sir.”

  He had stated in a nutshell why the affair should have been handled at Captain’s Mast. Damn Captain Malstrom for leaving me this mess. I felt guilty for my anger, and it made me cross. “Maybe that’s so for the first blow, Mr. Rogoff. But you smashed him several times in the face. By then you knew who you were hitting.”

  “Excuse me, Captain, no offense, have you ever been in a fight?”

  “Yes.” I hadn’t won.

  “While you were swinging did you stop and think about the consequences? Did you consider how hard you should
fight, or whether you should hit a joe?”

  “I never swung against a superior officer, Mr. Rogoff.” Except my senior middy when I was posted to Helsinki, and he blackened both my eyes and kneed me so hard I couldn’t walk upright for days. But that didn’t count, did it? Challenging the first middy was understood and accepted. I wasn’t like Rogoff, was I? “You kept punching him in the face. Your superior.”

  “Sir, look at me. Pretend it’s you here, in this god-awful place. You had a bad fight, and they’re going to hang you for it. Please. Don’t do that to me.”

  I made my voice hard. “It wasn’t that simple, sailor. You were fighting to protect that bloody still of yours, to make sure the officers didn’t find it. You were covering up a crime Mr. Terrill was about to discover.”

  Rogoff hugged himself. He looked at the deck, shaking his head from side to side. His bare feet wiggled nervously. “Captain,” he said, looking up, “I ain’t no angel. I do things that ain’t right. I know I been in trouble before. But the still, that’s brig time or a discharge. If I’d of realized what I was doing I wouldn’t have touched him. You gotta believe that.”

  “I believe you weren’t thinking about court-martial, Mr. Rogoff. I can’t believe you were unaware you were hitting Petty Officer Terrill. Is your being excited reason to pardon you?”

  “Captain, I beg you. I’m begging for my life.”

  “Please, don’t.” I didn’t want that power over him.

  “Look!” He dropped to his knees in front of me. “Please, sir, I’m begging. Don’t hang me! Let me live, give me another chance!”

  I scrambled to my feet, sweating. I had to get out of the cell. “Guard!”

  “Sir, I’m not evil!” He put his palms on the deck, abasing himself. “Please let me live! Please!”

  I didn’t run out of the cell. I walked. I walked out of the brig anteroom. I walked to the turn of the corridor outside. Then I ran, as if the devils of hell were at my heels. I tore up the ladder past Level 2 to officers’ country, past the bridge to my cabin. I fumbled at the hatch, slapped it closed behind me. I barely made it to the head before I heaved my undigested dinner into the toilet. I remained there, shaking with fear and disgust. It was when I realized that I was kneeling with both my palms on the deck that I began to cry.