“Attack your betters, will you?” I stalked him.
Alexi was the first who was brave enough to fire at me intentionally. After that it degenerated into a wild melee that ended only after the huge piles of water balloons were exhausted. By that time all the middies and their Captain had turned on the two hapless cadets and bombarded them into submission from all sides.
I leaned against the bulkhead guffawing. After a while I feared I wouldn’t be able to stop. I brought myself under control and faced the grinning middies. “What a breach of regs! For punishment I order you to mop the place up, every inch of it. Acknowledge!”
“Aye aye, sir!” They acknowledged my command with unfeigned delight. I began wondering how I might get to my cabin to change clothes without being seen. I wasn’t aware yet that my funk had finally lifted and I could now face each day, if not cheerfully, then at least unafraid.
Once more, I began to take interest in my duties.
The Pilot asked again to see me. For months I had ignored his requests, but now I decided to evade him no longer. I went to his cabin. I hadn’t laid eyes on him in four months; his appearance shocked me. Gaunt, his eyes red-rimmed and sunken, he came quickly to attention. I released him.
He licked his lips. “Now I’m finally talking to you I don’t know how to begin.” I waited uncomfortably. He turned away, hugged himself as if from cold. “Captain, if you don’t restore me to duty before we dock, I’m finished. It--it’s my life, the Navy. It’s all I have.”
He glanced at my face. “Jesus, how old are you, eighteen? How can you understand? Nothing’s the same when you get older. Sounds aren’t as sharp; the edges of your hearing have gone. Colors don’t seem as bright. Even food doesn’t taste as good. Nothing smells or tastes or feels as alive as when you were young, when you thought your mind would overload from the sheer pleasure of the sensations... “ He trailed off, his eyes distant.
“I may not be a good officer--” He swallowed and began again. “Captain, I know I’m not a good officer, not really.
But I’m good at pilotage. Very good.” I nodded my acknowledgment.
“When I’m at the conn I feel the--aliveness again. I sense the instruments, the thrusters, through my fingers, with the intensity I could feel elsewhere when I was younger. Can you imagine what it is to face losing that? Please! I don’t know how to beg, but I’m trying.”
I couldn’t stand much more of that; he sounded like the late Mr. Rogoff. “I’m not asking that, Mr. Haynes.”
He said, “I can be a very good pilot. At the conn, that is. For the rest of it, I can try harder. If that’s not good enough... “He broke off. “I’m too old to start at something else. For the love of Lord God, Captain, don’t leave me to rot!”
“Those protests in the Log? Telling us middies to be quiet because we distracted you?”
He whispered the words. “Arrogance. I can’t afford it anymore. When you get down to it, this is all I am.” His eyes glistened. “I sail starships. I maneuver, I dock, I plot courses, calculate positions. I can live without my pettiness and my arrogance--oh, God, I’ll have to--but I can’t live without that!”
“You’ve been thinking a great deal, Mr. Haynes.”
“I don’t want to live, if I can’t be a pilot.” He swallowed.
“Please,” he said, his tone humble. “Give me back my life.
I’ll mind my own business, I swear. No protests, no remarks, no looks of disgust. I’ve learned what matters. Pilotage is important. Nothing else.”
I was moved. “We don’t like each other, Mr. Haynes.
That can’t be helped. But we don’t have to. Very well. Your rank is restored. I’ll put you back on the watch roster. We’ll see how it goes.”
He closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Bile rose in my throat. I had broken him. I felt unbearably ashamed.
22
In a few days we would Defuse for our final navigation check before arrival at Hope Nation.
I was running out of time; there was one more thing I had to do before I turned over command to my replacement. On afternoon watch, I assembled the officers on the bridge. Chief McAndrews, the Pilot, the midshipmen, and the cadets waited, perplexed. I called Vax Holser forward. He stood stiffly at attention as I faced him.
“Darla, record these proceedings.” Her recorders lit.”Mr.
Holser, step forward. I, Captain Nicholas Seafort, do commission Midshipman Vax Stanley Holser to the Naval Service of the Government of the United Nations”--thunderstruck, his face lit with unalloyed joy--”and do appoint him lieutenant, by the Grace of God.”
It was done. My own rank as Captain was subject to confirmation or revocation by Admiral Johanson, but the commissions and appointments I made were not. Unlike the old oceanic navy, field commissions were permanent. Admiralty would accept Vax’s lieutenancy regardless of its wisdom. To do less would cast doubt on a Captain’s boundless authority under weigh.
Vax, grinning foolishly, accepted the handshakes and congratulations of the other officers. I noticed Alexi’s bemused expression. It must have occurred to him that he’d just become first midshipman, in charge of the wardroom.
The new lieutenant took the cadets to help carry his gear to his cabin. It was a relaxed moment; the rest of us chatted before dispersing. “Well, Mr. Carr.” My tone was genial.
“Are you planning to challenge your new senior?”
His look was cool. “Perhaps, sir. If occasion warrants.”
My smile faded. He wasn’t about to forgive me for sending him to the barrel in a moment of irritation. I wondered if I could make amends. Probably not. Derek could forgive much, but not that unjustified humiliation.
A few days later I brought the ship out of Fusion. Alexi plotted our position and ran the coordinates for our last jump, under the Pilot’s watchful eye. Mr. Haynes said little. When the figures were presented I laboriously recalculated everything from scratch. It was a good day; I finished in less than half an hour. At last, all our figures matched. We Fused again.
Alexi relaxed with a sigh of relief.
“Not so fast, Mr. Tamarov.” I indicated the screens.
“Darla, simulate Hope Nation approach, please.” I thumbed the caller. “Chief, simulated Defuse and maneuvers. Middy drill.” I turned back to the midshipman. “Alexi, bring the ship out of Fusion and dock her.” I had failed miserably at the same maneuver eons ago under the tutelage of Captain Haag and Lieutenant Dagalow.
“Aye aye, sir.” Alexi studied the console. “Engine room, prepare to Defuse.” With confidence, he ran his finger down the screen. My envy grew as I watched him work easily through the complicated maneuver, firing his auxiliary engines, maneuvering to mate with Orbit Station. At the finish he tapped lightly on the braking thrusters, and the airlocks gently kissed. In simulation we were at rest, mated to Orbit Station.
If it weren’t for a barely perceptible sheen of sweat on his forehead I’d have thrown him bodily off the bridge.
“Very well, Mr. Tamarov. That’s all.” As he started to rise I reluctantly gave him his due. “Alexi, a fine job. Very good.”
He grinned with pleasure. “Thank you, sir. Thanks very much!”
“How do you like being first middy?”
“I like it a lot,” Alexi said. Then he added shyly, “I’m trying to be like you were, sir.”
At first I felt a pleasant glow. Then my anger rose. Why in the name of heaven would he want to be like me? An air of excitement, a feeling of goodwill, pervaded the ship; our interminable voyage was finally nearing an end. All that remained was to Defuse at the rim of Hope Nation system and maneuver to Orbit Station. Then, disembarkation.
Most of the passengers had a good idea what awaited them; they’d planned their trip for years and had careers, prospects, opportunities already arranged. I wondered what my future held. A court of inquiry, certainly, and probably a courtmartial; the deaths of crew and passengers and the invasion of my ship made it a near certainty.