I stood near him, lowering my voice. “My condolences, Mr. Carr. I never had a chance to speak to you after your father’s death.”
“Thank you,” the boy said distantly. His eyes remained on the holo. It was a dismissal.
“If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.” I moved away.
“Midshipman.” He didn’t even know my name, after sitting at table with me a month. I waited. “There’s something you can do. Talk with me.” He hesitated. “I need to speak to someone. It might as well be you.”
Graciously stated. I made allowances for his bereavement.
“All right. Where?”
“Let’s walk.” We strolled aimlessly along the circumference corridor, passing the dining hall, the ladders, the Level 2 passenger staterooms.
He said, “My father and I own property on Hope Nation.
A lot of it. That’s why we were going home.”
“Then you’re provided for.” I spoke just to keep the conversation going.
“Oh, yes.” His tone was bitter. “Trusts and guardianships; my father had it all worked out. He showed me his will. The banks and the plantation managers will run the estate for years. I won’t get anything until I’m twenty-two.
Six years! I mean, I won’t starve. But it’s not like... “
After a while I prompted, “Like what, Mr. Carr?”
He looked into the distance, beyond the bulkhead. “He’d been training me to run the plantations. He taught me bookkeeping, the crop cycles. We made decisions together. I thought... “ His eyes misted. “My father and I... We had money, we had a good life. I thought it would always be that way.”
Thrusting his hands in his pockets he turned to me, his eyes bleak. “And now it’s all gone. I’ll be treated like a joeyboy again. Nobody will listen. No one will care. It’ll be years before I can do anything about it.”
I said nothing, taking it in. “Do you have a mother?”
“No, I’m a monogenetic clone. Just my father.” Not an uncommon arrangement of late, but I wondered how it would feel. Back home in Cardiff we were more conservative; I carried my host mother’s genes as well as Father’s, though I’d never met her. After a moment Derek added, “I thought you might understand, being my own age and all. And having responsibilities.”
“Yes, I understand. Tell me something, Mr. Carr.”
“What?”
I probably shouldn’t have said it, but I was overtired and my nerves were on edge. “Do you miss your father?” He stiffened at my tone. I added, “You haven’t mentioned how you feel about him. Just the advantages he gave you.”
He was furious. “I miss him. More than a person like you will ever know. Forget we spoke.” He stalked back down the corridor.
I strode quickly to catch up. “How do you expect me to know, when you keep it hidden?”
He took several more steps before slowing. Finally he stopped, hand against the bulkhead. “I don’t wear my feelings for everyone to see,” he said coldly. “It’s uncouth.”
I felt I owed him something for jabbing at him. “The day I went to Academy at Dover, I was thirteen. My father brought me to town. I had my belongings in a duffel I carried at my side. Father walked me to the compound gates, his hands in his pockets, saying nothing. When we reached the gate I stopped to say good-bye. He turned my shoulders around and pushed me toward the entrance. I started walking.
When I looked again he was striding away without looking back.” I paused. “I dream about it frequently. The psych .
says I’ll probably outgrow it.” I took a couple of breaths to restore calm. “It’s not the same, Mr. Carr, but I know what loneliness is.”
After a pause Derek said, “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Midshipman.”
“It’s Seafort. Nick Seafort.”
“I apologize, Midshipman Seafort. My father always said we were extraordinary, and I believed it. In a way we are.
It’s hard to remember other people have feelings too.”
We wandered back to the lounge, saying nothing. At the hatch we stopped, and after an awkward moment we shook hands.
8
According to ritual Mr. Tuak stood in front of the presiding officer’s desk with his advocate, Alexi. The two stood at attention while Pilot Haynes declared his verdict.
“Mr. Tuak, the court finds you guilty of the offense of possessing aboard a Naval vessel a contraband substance, to wit, a magnesium starch colloquially known as goofjuice.
The court nominally sentences you to two years imprisonment for this offense.” The court always imposed the maximum sentence provided for in the regs, a nominal sentence subject to review and reduction by the Captain.
“Mr. Tuak, the court finds you guilty of the offense of rioting aboard a vessel under weigh. The court nominally sentences you to six months imprisonment and loss of all rank and benefits.” Pilot Haynes stopped for breath. It was the longest speech I had ever heard him make.
“The court also finds you guilty of striking a superior officer, to wit, Mr. Vishinsky, and likewise Mr. Terrill, in an attempt to prevent the performance of their duty. The court sentences you--nominally sentences you--to be hanged by the neck until dead, and remands you to the master-at-arms for execution of the sentence.”
Even though the sentence was known and expected, Alexi’s shoulders fell and his head bowed. Tuak stood unmoving, as if he hadn’t heard.
After, in the wardroom, I tried to comfort Alexi. He had been crying and paid no attention to my consolation. Vax watched as I fumbled at Alexi’s arm, muttering inane words.
After a time the burly midshipman tapped me on the shoulder and motioned me aside. He sat on the bed next to Alexi and put his big hand on the back of the younger middy’s neck, squeezing the muscle gently.
“Let go; I’m all right.” Alexi tried to pull away Vax’s hand.
“Not until you listen.” His hand stayed where it was. “My uncle is a lawyer. A criminal lawyer back in Sri Lanka.”
“So?”
“He once told me the hardest part of his job. He liked his clients, some of them.” Vax waited, but Alexi made no comment.
“When he couldn’t get his clients freed, the hardest thing for him to remember was that it was their own fault they were in trouble, not his. They were in jail not because he had failed them, but because they had fouled up in the first place.”
“There must have been a way to get him out of it.” Alexi’s voice was muffled, but at least he was listening.
“Not in this Navy.” Vax spoke with certainty. He picked up the younger middy and turned him over onto his back.
Again I wished for Vax’s strength. “Read the regs, Alexi.
They’re designed to protect authority, not to encourage flouting it.”
“But executing him--”
“That’s for the Captain to decide. Anyway, he’s a drug dealer. I have no sympathy for him. Why should you?”
I sat down on my bunk. I wasn’t needed anymore.
“But they might hang him!” Alexi propped himself up on an elbow. “Look, I know you want me to feel better. But tell me Lieutenant Dagalow couldn’t have done something to save him!”
“Lieutenant Dagalow couldn’t have done anything to save him,” Vax said evenly. “A ship under weigh is under the strictest military rules. It has to be, to preserve order and lives. The rules are clear. What happened down in berth three was nearly a mutiny. You don’t think mutineers should get off, do you?”
“Of course not!” Alexi said indignantly. It was unthinkable to us all.
“Tuak struck an officer in the performance of his duty.
That’s a form of mutiny. You have a hell of a nerve sympathizing with him, Tamarov!”
Alexi was smart enough to make the distinction. “I don’t sympathize with what he did, just the penalties. Sometimes we’ve screwed up too, you know. You mutinied against Mr.
Seafort, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and he let me off easy. Mr. Seafort should have taken my head off. I realize that, now.” Oh. Nice to know.
“Then we’re just luckier than Tuak,” said Alexi bitterly.