Carr and Mr. Fuentes up again. The Log is littered with demerits.”
“I know.”
“Is there anything you could do?”
“What do you suggest, Mr. Chantir?”
“Remove the first midshipman, or distract him. Lord, I’d enjoy having him sent to me with demerits after what he’s done to the others.”
“He’ll make sadists of us all, Mr. Chantir. No, I won’t remove him. I have witnessed no objectionable behavior.
He’s scrupulously polite, he obeys my orders to the letter, he’s excellent at navigation drills and in his other studies. I can’t beach him simply because I don’t like him.”
“That wouldn’t be the reason, Captain.”
“No, but that’s what it would look like to Admiralty. They don’t know that Derek and Alexi aren’t giving him a hard time.”
“What do you expect of me when these joeys are sent to the barrel, then?”
“I expect you to do your duty, Mr. Chantir.” He quickly dropped the subject.
As time passed Mr. Crossburn threw caution to the winds.
Twice he mentioned how eagerly he was looking forward to seeing his uncle Admiral Brentley and talking over old times.
I ignored him, but my uneasiness grew.
For a diversion I called drills. The crew practiced Battle Stations, General Quarters, Fire in the Forward Hold at unexpected intervals. The sudden action seemed a relief.
At last came the day Pilot Haynes took his place on the bridge, along with Alexi and Lieutenant Chantir. I brought the ship out of Fusion, and stars leaped onto the simulscreens with breathtaking clarity. The swollen sun of Detour system glowed in the distance. We would Fuse for four more days
and emerge, hopefully, just outside the planet’s orbit.
I waited impatiently for the navigation checks to be done.
With Pilot Haynes, Mr. Chantir, and Alexi all computing our course there was no need for me to recheck their calculations, but still I did. Finally satisfied, I ordered the engine room to Fuse.
That evening, I had a knock on my cabin hatch. Philip Tyre stood easily at attention, his soft lips turned upward in a pleasant expression. “Sir, excuse me for intruding, but a passenger wishes to speak to you. Mr. Treadwell.” A passenger couldn’t approach officers’ country; he needed an escort to arrange contact with me unless he found me in the dining hall.”Tell him to write--oh, very well.” Though I could refuse to see him, another tirade from Jared Treadwell about his daughter was no more than I deserved for rashly enlisting her.
“Bring him.” The middy saluted, spun on his heel, and marched off. I paced in growing irritation, dreading the interview.
Again, a knock. “Come in,” I snapped. Mr. Tyre stepped aside. Rafe Treadwell came hesitantly into my cabin. I blurted, “Oh, you. I was expecting... “ I waved Philip his dismissal.
The lanky thirteen-year-old smiled politely. “Thank you for seeing me. sir.”
“You’re welcome. Is this about your sister?”
“No, sir.”
I waited. He stood formally, arms at his sides. “I’m hoping, Captain Seafort, that you’d allow me to enlist too.”
For a moment I was speechless. “What?” I managed. “Do what?”
“Enlist, sir. As a cadet.” Seeing my expression he hurried on. “I thought I wanted to stay with my parents, but things have changed. I don’t know if you need more midshipmen but I’d like to volunteer. I’d like to be with my sister for a while longer, and I just can’t believe how much the Navy has done for her.”
I shot him a suspicious look. If the boy was twitting me I’d stretch him over the barrel, civilian or no.
“I mean it, sir. She always used to ask me for help. Now she doesn’t even have time for me and when I do see her, it’s like talking to a grown-up. She’s about three years older than me now.” He shook his head in wonderment.
“What about your parents?”
“Paula and I were creche-raised, sir. Community creche, back in Arkansas. I knew our parents but we didn’t spend much time with them. They took us out of creche when they decided to emigrate. They can survive without us.”
“They don’t act like it.”
He grinned. “They think togetherness is something they can proclaim. They don’t realize you have to grow up with it. They’ll get used to being without us.”
“And the discipline? You’d enjoy that?”
“No, I’ll probably hate it. But it might be good for me.”
He sounded nonchalant, but, at his side, his hand beat a tattoo against his leg.
I paced anew. Another midshipman would be useful, though hardly necessary. Having Rare in the wardroom would certainly help Paula’s morale. But taking both Treadwell children without their parents’ consent wouldn’t be appreciated by Admiralty at home, to say nothing of the Treadwells.
Well, I was already in so much hot water that one more mistake didn’t matter.
“I’ll let you know.” I opened the hatch.
“But I’ve only got--”
“Dismissed!” I waited.
“Yes, sir.” His tone was meek, passing my first test.
That night Mr. Tuak came, for the first time in months. He peered at me through the cabin bulkhead, making no effort to grab me, until at last I woke. I was disturbed, uneasy, but barely sweating. I showered and went back to sleep, unafraid.
Three days later we Defused for the last time on our outward journey. We powered our auxiliary engines for our approach to Detour. Pilot Haynes, Mr. Tyre, and Alexi had the watch; of course I was also on the bridge.
Philip Tyre sat stiffly at a console checking for encroachments. I noticed he kept Alexi on a very short leash, ordering him to sit straight when he relaxed in his seat and observing Alexi’s work closely. Tyre never raised his voice, never asked anything unreasonable, and never missed a thing.
Detour Station drifted larger in the simulscreens as the Pilot maneuvered us ever closer. Finally the rubber seals on the locks mated. We had arrived.
I thumbed the caller. “Mr. Holser, arrange a shuttle. I’ll be going planetside.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
I turned to Philip Tyre. “Where’s Mr. Carr?”
“In the wardroom, sir. I believe he’s sleeping.”
“In the middle of the day?”
“Yes, sir. I had him standing regs last night. Then he did some exercises.” His wide blue eyes regarded me without guile. “Shall I wake him?”
“I was going to take him groundside.”
“Yes, sir. I’d told him he was confined to ship during the layover for his insubordination, but of course your wishes prevail.”
“I’ll take Mr. Tamarov, then.”
“Him too, sir. Unless you countermand my orders.” As he’d spoken in front of Alexi, it was impossible for me to countermand him. Discipline had to be maintained.
I turned to Alexi. “What did you do, Mr. Tamarov?”
“I was insolent, sir,” he said without inflection. “So I was informed.”
A cruel punishment. The midshipmen had long leave in Hope Nation so they weren’t entitled to go shoreside as a matter of right, but to travel so far and be denied what could be their only chance to see the colony was harsh indeed.
“Very well. I’m sorry, Mr. Tamarov. You’ll stay aboard, I’ll go alone.” As I left the bridge the rank injustice helped steady my resolve. I saw Lieutenant Crossburn coming up the ladder from Level 2.
“Mr. Crossburn, find young Mr. Treadwell--Rafe Treadwell--and take him to your cabin. Keep him there until I order otherwise.” I would keep the Treadwell twins together. Their parents be damned. Injustice was the way of the world.
Crossburn gaped. “Aye aye, sir. Don’t the passengers disembark today?”
“They’ll start later this afternoon. Do as you’re told.” I went on to my cabin.
A few minutes later I was climbing into a shuttle in the station’s launch berth. Everything about Detour Station was smaller than at Hope Nation: far fewer personnel, smaller corridors, lower ceilings. Even a smaller shuttle. This one held only twelve passengers and looked well used.
“I’ve radioed down to tell them we’re coming, Captain,”