Prisoner's Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 3) Page 3

  Admiral De Marnay would also be pleased if I called it off. A day before, he had summoned me to his office to demand that I withdraw my challenge.

  “Is that an order, sir?”

  He waved it away. “You know perfectly well I can’t give such an order. You’re on leave and he’s inactive.” His fingers drummed the console at his mahogany desk.

  “Then, sir, I—”

  “There’s no point to fighting him, Seafort. You’re needed on Hibernia.”

  “Yes, sir. On the other hand, I gave my oath.”

  “That bloody dueling code should be amended. A Captain fighting an Admiral...it looks bad.” He glanced at me, said quickly, “Oh, I know in your case it has nothing to do with promotion or advancement. But people won’t understand.”

  “Captain Von Walther fought a duel with Governor Ibn Saud, sir.” Generations ago, but Captain Von Walther was the idol of every officer in the Navy. I’d once stood in his very footsteps.

  “The Governor wasn’t his superior officer. And you’re not Von Walther.” His tone was acid.

  “No, sir.” It was presumptuous to compare myself to the legendary Hugo Von Walther, who’d discovered the derelict Celestina, become Admiral of the Fleet, and twice been elected Secretary-General. “Still, there’s the matter of my oath.”

  “I could put you back on active duty.” It would effectively bar me from a duel.

  “Yes, sir. But I’m entitled to long-leave.”

  De Marnay’s stare was cold. “I know that. But Tremaine isn’t. I can recall him.”

  I swallowed, glad of the reprieve. “If that’s what you wish, sir.”

  His fingers drummed. “No, I won’t, even to save you. I wasn’t free to beach him myself, but now that he’s recalled, I’ll let it stand. I still want you to withdraw your challenge.”

  “Yes, sir, I understand.”

  His tone softened. “Seafort, you’ve been through a lot. You’re coiled tight as a spring. If you were thinking clearly, you’d find a way to let this go.”

  “I understand, sir,” I repeated. By giving no more, it was a refusal.

  “Very well.” He studied me. “That’s all.” As I left, I could feel his eyes pierce my back.

  “Sir?”

  I blinked, back on the dueling field. Alexi awaited my answer.

  Again I swallowed. For Annie, and for Alexi. For Admiral De Marnay. “Tell him—tell him I agree—”

  Father’s stern voice, as I sat over my lessons at the creaky kitchen table. “Your oath is your bond, Nicholas. Without it, you are nothing.” Yes, Father. But I am already damned. For some sins, there can be no forgiveness.

  Father faded to distant disapproval.

  The young voice had a catch in it. “I’m glad to have served with you, sir. Godspeed.”

  Blanching, I whirled. “What did you say?”

  Alexi stepped back. “Nothing, sir. I didn’t speak.”

  “Not you. Philip Ty—” I snapped my mouth shut. Was I out of my mind? Philip Tyre was dead, thanks to the cruelty of the man I faced. A troubled boy who’d striven to do his duty.

  I spoke to the Admiral’s second. “Sir, tell your principal that upon his humble apology to the memory of Lieutenant Philip Tyre and the passengers and crew of Challenger, I will consider my oath fulfilled. And on no other terms.”

  Tremaine didn’t wait for his lieutenant to repeat my speech. “Get on with it, then.”

  I picked up the round-barreled pistol, its grip vaguely familiar in my hand. Admiral Brentley’s parting gift. I turned to Alexi. “Thank you for your assistance, sir. I’m most grateful to you.”

  Alexi’s formality matched my own. “And I to you, sir.” He saluted.

  We paced and turned. I saw the savage glint in Admiral Tremaine’s eye as we raised to fire.

  2

  “HONOR IS SATISFIED. FOR God’s sake, get them to a doctor!”

  “The Captain, yes.” The lieutenant looked up from Tremaine’s inert body. “It’s too late for the Admiral.”

  I stood swaying, glad of the shade of the red maple. My chest was numb. I put my hand to my side. It came away wet.

  “It’ll be too late for Captain Seafort as well, unless you hurry.” One of De Marnay’s staff; I didn’t remember his name.

  “I’ll help you into the heli, sir,” said a solicitous voice.

  “I’m all right, Alexi.”

  “You aren’t, sir. Let me help you.”

  Numb, I let Alexi lead me to the waiting heli. Bending to get in jarred something in me; a wave of pain carried me off to a far place. I coughed and it blossomed to fiery agony.

  “Christ, get moving!” someone shouted.

  I thought to rebuke the blasphemy, but choked and couldn’t find my breath. I spat salty red liquid. The whap of the heli blades merged with my ragged breath in a red crescendo that slowly faded to blessed black silence.

  The bridge was white, too white. “Have we Defused? Plot a course to Orbit Station.”

  “It’s all right, sir.”

  The middy knew he was required to say, “Aye aye, sir.” It was the only permissible response to his Captain. Well, he’d learn after a caning; the barrel was a quick teacher.

  But weren’t we still Fused? “I didn’t order a Defuse!” It emerged a feeble whisper instead of the bark I’d intended. And what was draped over me? A tent?

  “We’re groundside, sir. You’re in hospital.”

  Why was Alexi here? He’d gone on to Hope Nation with Admiral Tremaine.

  “When did we dock?” I whispered, groggy. “We just Defused for nav check.”

  “That was weeks ago, sir.”

  God, how my chest hurt. I slept.

  Shadowy figures kept me company. Walter Dakko, master-at-arms on Challenger and on Hibernia. Eddie Boss, the transpop who’d responded to my call for enlistment. Annie Wells, her face worried. Even Philip Tyre came to sit with me for a while, before I recalled that he was dead.

  I drifted in and out of consciousness as the sedation eased. Doctors and nurses loomed, disappeared, reappeared. The fires of hell burned.

  “The infection’s spread,” someone said crisply. “Yank the lung, replace it, and be done with it.” Two doctors conferred as I gazed passively through the vapormask.

  A medipulse pressed against my arm. Solicitous aides lifted me from my bed to a gurney. The ceiling slid smoothly past, and I struggled to stay awake. I failed.

  The officer across the desk quickly looked away from my face, but I was used to that by now. “Do you know where you are?”

  The tube had been in my throat too long; it still hurt when I spoke. “Centraltown General Hospital.” I read the nameplate on his desk. “And you’re the psych officer, Dr., uh, Tendres.” I coughed, flinching as a lance of pain stabbed.

  He smiled briefly. “This interview is to see how you’re orienting yourself. Your name.”

  “Nicholas Ewing Seafort, Captain, U.N.N.S. I’m twenty-three. Six years seniority.”

  “What else do you remember, before your recent cruise?”

  I said grimly, “I sailed on Portia, part of Admiral Tremaine’s relief squadron to Hope Nation. My baby son died in an alien attack and my wife Amanda followed soon after.” Then we’d encountered the Admiral’s flagship, disabled by the fish. “Tremaine off-loaded the elderly passengers and the young transpops. I swore I would call challenge on him. You know the rest.”

  “Tell me.”

  My throat was sore and I wanted to get it over with. “The fish attacked again.” My tone was dull. “Our remaining lasers were knocked out. I used the last of our propellant to ram the biggest fish just as it tried to Fuse. We were Fused with it, and starved for several weeks in a derelict ship. The fish Defused outside Jupiter’s orbit.” But before the stricken fish had brought us home, I’d broken my solemn oath.

  “Your memory seems intact, Seafort. You know how long you’ve been here?”

  “Three weeks, they tell me.” Enough for Hiber
nia to sail without me. I’d lost her, and what little home I had.

  “Much of the time you were delirious or under sedation.”

  “They gave me a new lung.”

  “Which your body is accepting well, so far. You’re loaded with antirejection drugs, of course. You’re familiar with anti-rejection therapy?”

  I nodded. “The time-release meds last a month or so. The second treatment will pretty well cut out any chance of rejection.”

  “That’s right. Routine replacement, a lung.”

  I fingered the skintape covering my healing incision, wondering when I’d be released. And more important, when I’d be fit for active duty. Before I could get a ship, I would need clearance from the man I confronted.

  As if reading my thoughts Dr. Tendres said, “You’ve faced a lot for a joey your age, Seafort.”

  I didn’t reply.

  He read from my chart in his holovid. “You still have the nightmares?”

  “Which ones?” I asked despite myself. Well, my medical records would indicate the recurrent dream I’d had for years. Father and I were walking from the train station to Academy, where I was to begin my first term; I’d never left Cardiff before, except for day trips. When we arrived, Father turned my shoulders and pushed me toward the gates. Inside, I turned to wave good-bye, but he strode away without looking back. I was thirteen.

  It was as it had happened. It was Father’s way.

  Perhaps my records also mentioned the dream in which Tuak and Rogoff, men I’d hanged for mutiny, shambled into my cabin, dead.

  I doubted he knew about the others.

  He raised his eyebrow. “Tell me your nightmares.”

  “I dream sometimes,” I said uneasily. “I’m all right.”

  “You’ve seen a lot of death.” His flat statement gave me no clue to read his thoughts.

  “Yes.” I’d caused a lot of death.

  He suddenly asked, “How do you feel about what you’ve done?”

  “The killing?”

  “Everything.”

  I hesitated a long moment. “I betrayed my oath, you know.”

  “That bothers you.”

  “Bothers me?” I half rose from my wheelchair, subsided when the pain stabbed. The man must be a freethinker. How else could he not understand my desolation?

  “Your oath is what you are,” Father had taught me. It was my covenant with Lord God Himself. I’d deliberately broken my sworn pledge. In doing so, I’d damned my soul to everlasting hell; no act of contrition or penance could save me. Now the thread of my life was all that stood between me and the eternal torment of Lord God’s displeasure.

  Yes, it bothered me.

  And even if I should somehow be granted the miracle of Lord God’s forgiveness, I must live with the knowledge that I was a man without honor, a man whose word could never be trusted, a man of expediency.

  I waved my hand irritably. “I’ve learned to live with it,” I said. Surely he must understand. If not, there was no point in laboring to explain.

  “Lookidaman be sleepindere!”

  The familiar voice recalled me from my doze. “Hi, Annie,” I said. Automatically I added, “Don’t talk that way,” though I knew she did so only to tease me.

  “Feeling better today?” She was beautiful in a new sky-blue jumpsuit, perhaps one size snugger than absolutely necessary. Annie had adapted with enthusiasm to the latest fashions and hairstyles.

  “Yes, hon,” I said dutifully. I felt a pang of regret that she would soon be gone to Detour.

  “Good.” I was rewarded by a chaste kiss on the forehead. Annie was restraining herself, lest undue excitement cause me breathing problems. She curled into the chair alongside the bed. “I been shopping.”

  “Oh?” My throat hurt hardly at all today.

  “Mira!” She emptied the shopping bag on my stomach. Frilly garments tumbled out. Gauzy, gossamer, weightless ones. Chemiwear. The material responded to changes in skin chemistry. Certain changes caused them to become translucent.

  “I don’t wear silk underwear,” I said, pretending crossness, which had the effect I intended.

  “I c’n see you on your bridge in these, sure,” she snorted.

  I raised myself carefully, aching; this morning they’d made me promenade the corridors for an hour. I took Annie’s hand in mine and lay back, wondering if my revenge against Tremaine was worth the cost: my health, my ship, Admiral De Marnay’s goodwill.

  Ashamed, I recalled the misery my crew and passengers had endured after our abandonment. I thought of Philip Tyre, sailing bravely to his death aboard Challenger’s fragile launch. Yes, it was worth it.

  My reverie was interrupted by Annie’s soft voice. “Where are you, Nicky?”

  I smiled. “Just dreaming, hon. Nothing important.”

  I glowered at the young lieutenant until I was rewarded by a look of nervous anxiety. I turned away; it wasn’t his fault. I swung my legs out of bed. Annie, sitting quietly in the corner, shot me a worried glance.

  “Very well,” I growled. “Where do they want me to stay?”

  “Shoreside, in the Centraltown area, sir. That’s all Admiral De Marnay said.”

  I glowered at the orders in the holovid before snapping it off. “Inactive duty until certified as fully recovered...” Well, that was fair; it had been my own doing. If I hadn’t chosen revenge, I wouldn’t have spent weeks in a hospital trying to avoid a cough that might dislodge my lung.

  I didn’t like at all the phrase that followed. “...from disabling physical injury and continuing emotional stress.” The orders were signed by Georges De Marnay himself.

  “Very well, Lieutenant. Thank you.” The young officer saluted and left with obvious relief.

  I’d killed De Marnay’s fellow Admiral; was that why he was beaching me? He had a reputation as a fair man, but...

  No, my careless answers to Dr. Tendres’s probing questions had caused my grounding. I should have pretended a relaxation I didn’t feel, and denied my nightmares.

  Still, I’d come this far without having lied to a superior officer. I had little else to be proud of; I would keep that shred of honor, even if it cost me my posting.

  I smiled at Annie. “They gave us more time together, hon. Would you like that?”

  Her grin of delight was answer enough. I wondered when she’d be called for Detour. By unspoken agreement we never mentioned our parting.

  The door swung open. “Why all the smiles, sir? Oh, good afternoon, Miss Wells.”

  “We have a vacation, Alexi.” I reached for my shirt.

  “For how long, sir?”

  “Awhile.” I dressed myself slowly. “Until they say I’m recovered. I’ll need a place to stay. At least they haven’t taken my pay billet; could you two find me a home?” Annie had closed our apartment when it was clear I’d be a long while in hospital.

  “Of course, sir,” Alexi said automatically. “We’ll look this afternoon, if Miss Wells is ready.”

  “You knowin’ my name be Annie,” she said disdainfully. “All that Miss Wells goofjuice be for records an’ all.” She tossed her sweater over her shoulder. “I be ready now, Mist’ Tamarov.” At the door she turned regally. “Good afternoon, Nick.” Now her diction was flawless. “I’ll be back to see you after dinner.” With a scornful toss of her head she was gone.

  Alexi, at the doorway, shrugged ruefully. “Sorry, sir.” He followed. Alone, I wondered what strings Alexi had pulled to be assigned as my aide during my recovery. Well, it was a soft shoreside billet...

  On the other hand, perhaps he hadn’t even volunteered. After all, why would he want to be posted with me?

  “Do you know how many capital ships we have in system? Thirty-eight! And we’ve seen not a single fish.” Captain Derghinski stared morosely into the setting sun.

  I turned away, my hand tightening on the rough-sawn balcony railing. But for my self-indulgence in challenging Tremaine, I would have a vessel of my own. Absently I fingered the scar
on my cheek.

  “Is that bad?” Annie asked.

  His visage softened. “I realize you’ve met the aliens, ma’am, and it wasn’t pleasant. But we can’t beach the fleet in Hope Nation forever, waiting for fish.”

  I sipped at a cold drink, feeling the welcome sting of the alcohol. Being grounded had advantages; alcohol, like most drugs, was contraband aboard ship.

  “I’m surprised at how much of the fleet Admiralty committed here,” I admitted. In addition to Tremaine’s squadron, two others had arrived while I was in hospital. They provided Admiral De Marnay with more firepower than had been massed anywhere for many decades.

  Derghinski nodded. “Eventually we’ll have to go home. What if the fish show up near Terra or the Lunar bases? And while we’ve diverted squadrons to Hope Nation, our interstellar commerce has gone to hell.” Naval vessels carried most of our cargo and all passenger traffic between the stars. Schedules had been sparse enough before the alien invasion. Now, they were almost nonexistent.

  That was one reason Annie was still with me. In the past, the lone supply ship that visited Hope Nation would have continued to Detour, taking her to her new home.

  The apartment Alexi and Annie had found was in a row of connected town houses on the outskirts of Centraltown. From our balcony I could just glimpse Farreach Ocean in the distance. It wasn’t far from where my wife Amanda had once roomed, in another time, another life.

  “A fine party, Mr. Seafort.”

  I smiled back at Captain De Vroux. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  To my surprise, my home was becoming a shoreside refuge for off-duty officers. The constant replenishment of drinks and food ate into my savings, but I didn’t mind. At least it helped keep me informed. The lieutenants and Captains, for their part, liked to unwind without guarding their speech as they’d have to among civilians. They probably enjoyed Annie’s good looks and careless charm as well.

  I breathed deep, glad to be free of pain at last. I turned back to Captain Derghinski. “We can’t hit them until we find them,” I said. “So far we’ve never found a fish...they’ve always found us.”

  A confident young lieutenant from Resolute spoke up. “Well, sir, if your theory is right that the fish hear us Fuse, they should be swarming over us by now. All our ships dropping into normal space as they arrive...”