“Could you show me how it works? Please?”
“I’d be breaking regs, Captain.”
“Never mind that.” My tone was magnanimous. “I waive the regs, for this occasion.” I handed him the tube. “Chief, I want to see how it works. Can you figure out how to set it off?”
“Yes, sir, I’m sure I could.”
Good answer. He still hadn’t committed himself. Perhaps he still suspected a trap. I could deal with that easily enough.
“Make it work. That’s an order.”
“Aye aye, sir.” He was not only off the hook, he had no choice. He could suck the thing with impunity, protected from retribution by my direct order.
The Chief opened the canister. Digging out a small metal spoon he rilled the cup with the flaked vegetables. Tobaccos.
He used the end of the spoon to tamp it down into the cup.
“I need fire, sir.”
“How much? A blowtorch?” I was prepared to order one up.
“No, sir. A candlelighter will do. I carry one.” I waited while he put the flame to the cup. He brought the other end of the tube to his mouth and sucked, exactly as he had described. After a while he exhaled. Gray smoke came out his mouth. Wordlessly, he handed me the tube.
“No, I want to watch. Keep going.”
“That’s all there is, sir. You just keep doing it until it’s gone.”
“Oh. Does it feel good?”
“Some people say so.” His tone was cautious.
“Finish it and tell me,” I said. “We can chat while we wait.”
“Aye aye, sir.” He studied me out of the corner of his eye. After a while he produced more smoke. I watched it curl toward the ventilators. The scrubbers would remove it from the air before recycling it.
“How is morale on Level 3, Chief?”
“Better than it was. It will be better yet, when the convicts are dealt with.”
“Oh, Lord. I forgot.” How many days had passed? I still had to make up my mind about the three men waiting in the brig for execution.
“Yes, sir. If you don’t mind my saying, the sooner it’s decided, the better.” The smoke seemed to have a relaxing effect on him.
“You’re right. I’ll make a decision soon. Does that tube thing get hot in your hand?”
“Pipe, sir. They call it a pipe.” It was automatic for the Chief to correct a youngster; I didn’t mind. “The bowl gets hot but not the stem.” He knew all the jargon about tobaccoing.
I made conversation. After a while I grew used to the aroma of the smoke. Finally reassured that I wasn’t looking to trap him, the Chief relaxed more fully. He stretched out his legs, his elbow on the table.
“How long did you know Captain Haag?” I asked.
“Twenty-one years.” He knew the number by heart.
“When he was first lieutenant we sailed together on the old Prince of Wales.We were in the same ship ever after.” He puffed on the tube. The pipe. “He would sit right where you are, sir.” His gaze was on the deck, or on something more distant. Mechanically he puffed until smoke appeared.
“I’m sorry, Chief,” I said gently. “We all miss him. You most of all.”
“Yes, sir. We didn’t talk a lot, you know. Often we just sat together.”
Perhaps the smoke had relaxed me too. Spontaneously I reached for his arm. “Chief, I know I’ll never be as good as he was. I’m just trying to get through each day. I know it wouldn’t be the same for you, but if you could come up sometimes, just to sit together... “
“You don’t need to apologize for yourself, sir.” He looked away, spoke to the bulkhead. “You’re doing all right.”
“Not really. You can’t say so, but I know I’ve made a
mess of things. With the Pilot, with Vax. Probably with everybody.”
“I hear you’re a pretty sharp navigator, Captain.” The corners of his mouth twitched.
“You heard about that?”
“It’s all over the ship. Your stock is up considerably.”
I wasn’t very surprised. Scuttlebutt went from the bridge to the fusion drive faster than a ship’s boy could run. Maybe Darla did it. “It was an accident.”
“You were being Captain. It’s what you’re for.” He puffed again, trying to maintain the blaze. “I’d be glad to sit with you, sir,” he said gruffly. “If it would be of service.”
“Thank you, Chief.” We sat peaceably until the fire was out.
12 I tapped my glass. The room quieted. “Lord God, today is March 14, 2195, on the U.N.S. Hibernia.We ask you to bless us, to bless our voyage, and to bring health and wellbeing to all aboard.”
I remained standing after the “amen”. “Before we begin, I have a few remarks.” Some of the passengers exchanged glances. “As you know, we have resumed Fusion and are sailing for Hope Nation.” They knew, but they didn’t like it.
I heard a brief murmur of discontent.
“My officers and I--” I liked that. It sounded confident.
“My officers and I expect to arrive in Hope Nation on schedule. But we are shorthanded by four officers, which means extra watches for all those who remain. I have therefore decided to allow enlistment of one or more cadets from among the passengers.”
I raised my voice to override the sudden angry babble. “A cadet trains to be a midshipman, an officer in the Naval Service. He or she enlists for a five-year term. Promotion to lieutenant or Captain may eventually occur. Service as an officer in the Naval Service is an honorable profession. If any of you want more information you may contact the purser, who will arrange for an officer to see you.”
I sat in the resulting silence. Tonight only two were at my table: Mrs. Donhauser and Mr. Kaa Loa, a Micronesian who spoke infrequently. I hadn’t gotten to know him.
“Good evening, Madam.”
“Hello, Captain.” She regarded me thoughtfully. “Aren’t midshipmen recruited as children?”
“Cadets are, yes. Midshipmen are adults, by act of the General Assembly.”
“Do you really expect parents to consent to your taking their children, Captain Seafort?” I realized how seldom my name and title had been used together. I liked the sound of it. “Probably not.”
“Isn’t it a useless gesture, then?” She never dodged an issue. Blunt and honest. I approved of her.
“Not really,” I said. “I don’t need their consent.”
She leaned close and grabbed my arm. “Nicky, don’t shanghai joeykids into the service!” She spoke forcefully, quietly. “You may not know it yet, but protecting our children is one of the basic human urges. Don’t get it working against you. You’d be asking for real trouble!” She wasn’t threatening me; it was a warning, and I appreciated it.
“I’ll take it into consideration, Mrs. Donhauser.” I changed the subject as quickly as I could.
I shared the evening watch with Alexi. His mood was brighter than my own. I just wanted to sit and think; he had it in mind to ask all sorts of questions. He was respectful enough, but he wouldn’t shut up. That was one drawback to our having been bunkmates; once past his initial shyness Alexi erred the other direction and was overly familiar. But I needed to decide what to do about my prisoners.
In addition to Mr. Tuak, ordinary seaman Rogoff and Machinist’s Mate Herney were also under sentence of death, Rogoff for clubbing Chief Petty Officer Terrill, and Herney for fighting Mr. Vishinsky. The last case bothered me the most. I had seen the fracas myself, and I didn’t think Mr.
Herney had any idea whom he was hitting. I reread the regs on striking an officer.
“Do you think Darla’s problem is correctable, sir?” Alexi.
His fourth attempt to start a conversation.
“I don’t know.” Did the crime of striking an officer require knowledge that the victim was an officer? Perhaps not; fighting was itself a crime, and hitting an officer could just be an unlucky consequence. On the other hand-”We could take her down for reprogramming while we’re Fused, sir.”
I thought my response mild, under the circumstances. “Be quiet for a while, Alexi.” Presently I noticed he wore the reproachful expression of a chastened puppy. He didn’t speak, but his silence was louder than words.