Perplexed, I took my problems to Chief McAndrews. At this point I didn’t hesitate to display my ignorance. He already knew my limitations.
“What did you expect?” he asked bluntly. “You asked the Naval station to supply you officers. Where did you think they’d get them?”
“I don’t understand.” I shuffled, feeling young and foolish, but I needed to know.
He sighed. “Captain, Mr. Chantir volunteered, yes? The other two officers were requisitioned. If Admiralty told you to supply a lieutenant for an incoming ship, whom would you pick?”
“Mr. Crossburn.” I spoke without hesitation.
“And which midshipman?”
I swore slowly and with feeling.
“You gave the joeys in the interplanetary fleet a chance to get rid of their worst headaches.”
I damned my stupidity, my blindness. “How could I have been so dumb? I asked for officers and didn’t even check their files to see who I was getting!” A real Captain would have Blown to watch for that trick.
“Easy, sir. What do you think the files would have shown?”
I paused. A good question. The notation “tyrant” or “sadist” was unlikely to appear in Mr. Tyre’s personnel file. As for Lieutenant Crossburn’s diary, what the man wrote in his cabin during his free time wasn’t subject to Naval regulations.
Even if his officious private inquiries stirred up trouble, that was hard to prove, and moreover it would be foolhardy to rebuke a man who had the ear of the fleet commander. No wonder his Captain was delighted to get rid of him.
I went back to my cabin to think. I had no sympathy for those who misused our Naval traditions for their own ends, but I didn’t know how to stop Mr. Tyre without violating tradition myself. As for Mr. Crossburn, how could I order him not to keep a diary? I found no solution.
In the meantime, I ordered Alexi to advanced navigational training, followed by a tour in the engine room under Mr.
Me Andrews. That should give him some respite from Mr.
Tyre.
It didn’t. Alexi continued to accumulate demerits. Again he reached ten and was sent to Lieutenant Chantir’s cabin.
Two days later we shared a watch. He eased himself into his chair, wincing. I blurted, “Be patient, Alexi.”
“About what, sir?” His voice was unsteady. Seventeen now, nearly eighteen, he could expect better treatment than he was getting. Yet his Academy training held firm. He would not complain to the Captain about his superior.
I deliberately stepped over the line. “Be patient. I know what’s going on.”
He looked at me, his usual friendliness replaced by indifference. “Sometimes I hate the Navy, sir.”
“And me too?”
After a moment his face softened. “No, sir. Not you.” He added quietly, “A lot of people are being hurt.” It was as close as he would come to discussing the wardroom.
Meanwhile Mr. Crossburn continued his scribbling. On watch he would flip idly through the Log, scrutinizing entries made prior to his arrival. He was delving into Alexi’s defense of the unfortunate seamen at their court-martial. He asked me how well I thought Alexi had performed.
“Lieutenant, your questions and the reports you write are damaging the morale of the ship. I wish you’d stop.”
“Is that an order, sir?” His tone was polite.
“A request.”
“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think my diary is under Naval jurisdiction. I’ll ask Uncle Ted about that when I see him. As for asking questions, of course I’ll stop if you order it.”“Very well, then, I so order.”
“Aye aye, sir. Since your order is so unusual I request that
you put it in writing.”
I considered a moment. “Never mind. You’re free to carry on.” A written order, viewed without knowledge of his constant prying, would appear paranoid and dictatorial. Anyone who hadn’t experienced Lieutenant Crossburn firsthand wouldn’t understand, and I was in enough trouble with Admiralty as it was.
I had little better luck with Philip Tyre. I called him to my cabin, where our discussion could be less formal than on the bridge.
“I’ve been reviewing the Log, Mr. Tyre. Why do you find it necessary to hand out so many demerits?”
He sat at my long table, his arm resting on the tabletop much as the Chief’s had before I’d isolated myself. His innocent blue eyes questioned me. “I’ll obey your orders, sir.
Are you telling me to ignore obvious infractions?”
“No, I’m not. But are you finding infractions, or searching for them?”
“Captain, I’m doing the best I know how. I thought my job was to keep wardroom affairs from coming to your attention, and I’ve been trying to do that. As I certainly haven’t called any problems to your notice, someone else must have.” It was said so reasonably, so openly, that I could have no complaint.
“No one’s complained,” I growled. “But you’re handing out demerits faster than they can work them off.”
“Yes, sir, I’ve noticed that. I encouraged Mr. Carr and Mr. Fuentes to spend more time in the exercise room. I’ve even gone myself to help them with their exercises. A better solution would be for them to stop earning demerits.” His untroubled eyes met mine.
“How do you propose that they do that?”
“By following regulations, sir. My predecessor must have been terribly lax. I observe a lack of standards in his own behavior, sir. It’s no wonder he couldn’t teach the others. I’m trying to deal with it.”
I sighed. The boy was unreachable. “I won’t tell you how to run the wardroom. I will tell you that I’m displeased about the effects on morale.”
Tyre’s voice was earnest. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention, sir. I’ll make sure their morale problems don’t bother you further.” “I want them eliminated, not hidden! That’s all!”
The midshipman saluted smartly and left. I paced the cabin, bile in my throat. Very well; he’d been warned. I would give him until we left Detour. If he didn’t improve, Mr. Tyre had made his bed; he’d have to sleep in it.
On my next visit to the exercise room I found Derek and Ricky working, Derek on the bars, the cadet struggling at push-ups and leg lifts on the mat. Alexi was absent. The two perspiring boys waited silently for me to leave.
I didn’t come across Alexi for three days, until we next shared a watch. “You haven’t been in the exercise room of late, Mr. Tamarov.”
He glanced at me without expression. “No, sir. I’ve been confined to quarters except to stand watch and go to the dining hall.”
“Good Lord! For how long?”
“Until my attitude improves, sir.” His gaze revealed nothing, but his cheeks reddened.
“Will it improve. Alexi?”
“Unlikely, sir. I’m told I’m not suitable material for the Navy. I’m beginning to believe it.”
“You’re suitable.” I tried to cheer him up. “This will pass. On my first posting my senior middy was very difficult to deal with, but we got to be friends.” I realized how fatuous I sounded. Jethro Hager was nothing like the vicious boy fate had put in charge of my midshipmen.
“Yes, sir. I don’t mind so much, except when Ricky cries himself to sleep.”
I was alarmed. “Ricky, crying?”
“Only two or three times, sir. When Mr. Tyre isn’t around.” That was bad. Ricky Fuentes was a cheerful, goodnatured boy; if he was in tears something was very wrong. I thought briefly of the lesson I had given Vax Holser when I succeeded to Captain, an approach I’d decided against with our new midshipman. In Vax’s case I’d recently been a member of the wardroom and had personal knowledge of his behavior. Also, Vax was a good officer who was making a sincere effort to combat a personal problem. Philip Tyre was not.In three weeks we would Defuse for a nav check, and then we’d have only a few more days to Detour. I could wait.
But a few days later Mr. Chantir raised the subject openly.
“Sir, something’s gone wrong in the wardroom. I’ve had Mr.