David Feintuch - Seafort1-Midshipman’s Hope
v1.0 Original PDF 12-Mar-2002
v1.1 Converted from PDF to HTML 12-Mar-2002. Made sure layout is correct (Checked chapter breaks etc. against the original PDF). No proofreading done.
PART I
October 12, in the year of our Lord 2194
1
“Stand to!” I roared, but I was too late; even as Alexi and Sandy snapped to attention, Hibernianstwo senior lieutenants strolled around the corridor bend.
We froze in stunned tableau: I, the senior midshipman, red with rage; a portly passenger, Mrs. Donhauser, jaw agape at the blob of shaving cream on her tunic; my two middies stiffened against the bulkhead, eyes locked front, towels and canisters still clutched in their hands; Lieutenants Cousins and Dagalow, dumbfounded that middies could be caught cavorting in the corridors of a U.N.N.S. starship, even one still moored at Ganymede Orbiting Station.
If only I’d come down from the bridge a few seconds sooner I’d have been in time, but I’d been helping Ms. Dagalow enter the last of our new stores into the puter’s manifests.
Lieutenant Cousins was curt. “You too, Mr. Seafort.
Against the bulkhead.”
“Aye aye, sir.” I stiffened to attention, eyes front, furious at my betrayal by a friend whose sense I’d thought I could trust.
Alexi Tamarov, the sweating middy at my side, was sixteen and third in seniority. When I’d first reported aboard, he’d considered challenging me but hadn’t, and we’d since become comrades. Now his antics with Sandy had gotten us all in hot water.
Across the gleaming corridor Ms. Dagalow’s eye betrayed a glint of humor as she pried the canister of shaving cream from Sandy Wilsky’s reluctant fingers. She passed it to Lieutenant Cousins. Once again, I wished she were the senior lieutenant; Mr. Cousins seemed to take undue pleasure in the ship’s discipline he dispensed.
Lieutenant Cousins snapped, “Yours, middy? Are you old enough to use it?” From close observation during the five weeks since I’d joined Hiberniaat Earthport Station, I knew that at fourteen Sandy had not yet made the acquaintance of a razor. That meant he had, um, borrowed it. From me, perhaps. At seventeen, I was known to shave, if rarely.
“No, sir.” Sandy had no choice but to answer. “It’s Mr. Holser’s.” I bit my lip. Lord God, that was all this fiasco needed: trouble with Midshipman Vax Holser.
Vax, almost nineteen, resented me and didn’t care if it showed, for he’d missed being first middy by only a few weeks. He was full-grown, shaved daily, and worked out with weights. His surly manner and ominous strength encouraged us all to give him a wide berth.
Lieutenant Cousins nodded to Mrs. Donhauser, whose outrage had subsided into wry amusement. “Madam, my sincere apologies. I assure you these children”--he spat out the word with venom--”will not trouble you again.” His look of suppressed fury did not bode well.
“No harm done,” Mrs. Donhauser said peaceably. “They were just playing--”
“Is that what you call it?” Mr. Cousins’s grip tightened on the canister. “Officers in a Naval starship, chasing each other with shaving soap!”
Mrs. Donhauser was unfazed. “I won’t tell you your duty, Lieutenant. But I will make it clear that I was not harmed and have no grievance. Good day.” With that she turned on her heel toward the passenger cabins, presumably to change her tunic.
For a moment Lieutenant Cousins was speechless. Then he rounded on us. “You’re the sorriest joeys I’ve ever seen! A seventeen-month cruise to Hope Nation, and I have to sail with you!”I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s my responsibility.”
“At least you know that much.” Cousins’s tone was acid.
“Is this how you run your wardroom, Mr. Seafort?”
“No, sir.” I wasn’t sure it was the right response. Perhaps my amiable manner encouraged Sandy and Alexi to step out of line. Certainly they would never have done so under Vax Holser’s tutelage.
“I expect stupidity from these young dolts, but it’s your job to control them! What if the Captain had come along?”
Lord God forbid. If they’d squirted Captain Haag rather than Mrs. Donhauser, Alexi and Sandy would see the barrel, if not the brig. For good measure, the Captain might break me all the way down to ship’s boy. Mr. Cousins was right. I could think of no way to placate him, so I said nothing.
It was a mistake. “Answer me, you insolent pup!”
To my surprise, Lieutenant Dagalow intervened. “Mr. Cousins, Nick was on watch. He couldn’t have known--”
“It’s his job to keep his juniors in line!”
I did, when I was present. What more could I do? For some reason Ms. Dagalow persisted. “But they’re young, we’re moored to Ganymede Station, they were just letting off steam... “
“Lisa, take your nose out of the puter long enough to remember the rest of your job. We have to teach them to act like adults!” From another officer it might have been a blistering rebuke, but Mr. Cousins’s acid manner was well known to all, and she took no notice.
“They’ll learn.”
“When our shaving cream runs out?” Cousins glared at us with withering contempt before turning back to Ms. Dagalow.
“Consider that by the end of the cruise at least some of them should be fit to be officers. I grant you, it’s unlikely any of these fools will ever make lieutenant. But what if one of us is transferred out at Hope Nation? Do you want silly boys standing watch, fresh from shaving cream fights?”
“We’ve time to teach them. Nick will issue ample demerits.” I certainly would. Each demerit would have to be worked off by two hours of hard calisthenics. They’d keep Alexi and Sandy out of trouble for a while.
Lieutenant Cousins’s voice grew cold. “Will he?” A chill of foreboding crept down my rigid spine. “Nicky should never have been senior, we all know that.” Even Lieutenant Dagalow frowned at the blatant undercutting of my authority, but Mr. Cousins was oblivious. “He’ll wag his finger at them, as always.” That wasn’t fair; I’d kept wardroom matters from the attention of the other officers, as was expected. Except this once.
“Will you cane the two of them, then? After all, it’s a wardroom affair.”
“No, I’ll let Nicky handle them.” From the corner of my eye I saw Alexi’s shoulders slump with relief. Then Mr. Cousins added sweetly, “But perhaps I can teach Mr. Seafort more diligence.” He sauntered toward his cabin. “Come along, middy.”
A half hour later I stood outside our wardroom, jaw aching from my failed effort not to cry out, eyes burning from the stinging pain and mortifying humiliation Mr. Cousins had inflicted across the hated barrel.
I slapped open the hatch. Inside the cramped compartment Sandy and Alexi, on their beds, dared say nothing. I crossed slowly to my bunk, stripped off my jacket and laid it on the chair. With care, I eased myself onto my bed.
After a time Alexi said quietly, “Mr. Seafort, I’m sorry.
Truly.” As was the custom, Alexi called me by my surname even within our wardroom. After all, I was senior middy.
Only Vax Holser had the resources to ignore that tradition and get away with it.
I fought down a smoldering rage; it should have been Alexi who was caned, not I. “Thank you.” My thighs smarted with exquisite agony. “You should have known better, both of you.”
“I know, Mr. Seafort.”
I closed my eyes, trying to will away the pain. At Academy, sometimes, it worked. “Who started it?”
“I did,” they said in unison.
My fingers throttled the pillow. “Sandy, you first.”
“We were in the head, washing up. Alexi splashed me. I splashed back.” He glanced up, saw my face, gulped.
Skylarking, like cadets at Academy. “Go on.”
“After he flicked me with a towel I grabbed the shaving cream. He chased me so I ran outside, and I was squirting him when Mrs. Donhauser came out of the lounge.” I said nothing. After a moment he blurted, “Mr. Seafort, I’m sorry I got you into troub--”