I thought of home. Perhaps Father would take me back, after I was forced to resign. He would say nothing, of course.
That was his way.
As my watch ended, our first departing passengers were crowding into the small shuttles that serviced Detour Station.
Several trips would be required to accommodate them. The Treadwells were due to leave in the morning; tonight they would surely notice their son’s absence. I went to bed wishing I knew how to avoid the forthcoming row.
I woke to a commotion in the corridor. I thrust on my pants and flung open the hatch, peered to the east. Irene Treadwell, trying unsuccessfully to twist free from Vax Holser’s firm grip.
She caught sight of me. “Tell this brute to let me go!”
“You aren’t allowed up here, ma’am,” Vax said. He flashed me a glance of apology. “She was trying to get into the wardroom, sir.”
“Where’s my son?” Ms. Treadwell’s voice rose. “What have you done to Rafe? I went looking for him and he’s nowhere to be found! Are you stealing my other child?”
“We’re not steal--”
“Are all of you people crazy?” At last she freed herself and rubbed her reddened wrist. “I tried the purser but he wouldn’t tell me anything. I went to the lounge and Rafe wasn’t there. I tried the wardroom--yes, I know I’m not supposed to--and a big boy was on a chair hi his undershorts reciting a book! He didn’t even stop; they just closed the door on me! What have you done with my Rafe?”
I thought of sending for Lieutenant Crossburn. I took my holovid, slipped Rafe’s chip into it. “Go back to your cabin and read this.”
“Does it say you’ve taken Rafe? You monster!” Her scream echoed down the corridor. “Not my boy! You can’t!”
“Lieutenant, take her away!” I tried to close my hatch but she blocked it with her foot. Vax hauled her into the corridor.
I closed the hatch quickly, leaned against it until the shouting died away. My limbs felt weak. I climbed into bed, lay wide awake.
How often were similar scenes played out, back on Earth? When the origins of melanoma T were understood and the Navy lowered cadet enlistment age to thirteen, did parents face the loss of their children without qualms? How many mothers reacted with hysteria like Irene Treadwell? The Navy required consent from but one parent. I thought of my own host mother, in Devon, whom I’d never seen. What did she look like? Would she have cared? I tossed fitfully until early morning, then dressed and went to the officers’ mess for breakfast. I sat at the long table, alone except for Lieutenant Chantir, and sipped coffee while waiting for my scrambled eggs and toast. Other officers drifted in, found places. I picked at my food.
“I hear there was a ruckus outside your hatch last night.”
Lieutenant Crossburn took a seat alongside me.
“Urn.”
“Mrs. Treadwell was on the first shuttle down this morning.” A pause. “They say when she went to court in Hope Nation you tried to throw the judge in jail.” Crossburn took a forkful of his eggs.
My tone was acid. “I told you not to talk to her.”
“Oh, we spoke several days ago, before your order. I merely listened.”
“More grist for your mill, Mr. Crossburn?”
“Sir, I fail to understand your objections to my diary.
Frankly, I intend to bring the matter up with my uncle when we get home.”
I stared. No lieutenant could speak so to his Captain.
Mr. Chantir intervened. “Ardwell, I order you to be silent.
Leave the Captain alone!”
“Aye aye, sir.” Crossburn pursed his lips. After a moment’s thought he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and made a note. I considered hurling my coffee at his face, decided against it.
“Pardon, sir, may I join you?” Philip Tyre. My nod was curt, but he sat anyway. ‘.’Good morning.”
I responded with a grunt.
“Sir, do you think I might go groundside tonight? It’s been a year since I’ve seen Detour.” A shy grin. “I met a girl there last winter, but I suppose she’s forgotten me.” Your typical lighthearted youngster. I thought of Derek, humiliated, made to stand regs when Mrs. Treadwell barged into the wardroom the night before. About to refuse, I thought better of it. I would play out my hand. “Permission granted, Mr. Tyre. But a word with you first.”
For privacy I took him to the nearby passengers’ lounge.
“Mr. Tyre, I think you’re too hard on the midshipmen.”
He reflected. “I’ll obey every order you give, sir. Please tell me exactly what you want me to do.”
“Ease up on them.”
He wrinkled his brow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.
Should I ignore their violations?”
I lost patience. “No, just ease up. Consider this a warning.
Keep riding them and you’ll get a surprise you won’t like.”
His face clouded with dismay. “I’m terribly sorry I’ve offended you, sir.” Agitated, he ran his hand through his hair. “I try so hard,” he muttered, half to himself. “I really do, but people misunderstand... I wish I could figure... “
Abruptly his gaze returned to the present. He stiffened, almost coming to attention. “I didn’t think I was riding them hard, but I’ll try my best to do what you ask. I’m truly sorry, sir.” He seemed near tears.
I left him for the bridge.
All that day we disembarked passengers and unloaded cargo. I checked the manifest: a poly synthesizer was indeed on our cargo manifest and would be off-loaded with the next shipment. I stayed on the bridge, not sure why. I was free to leave the ship. Should I remain aboard, considering the wardroom tension and my problems with Ardwell Crossburn? No, we were docked at a distant port. I’d be blessed if I’d let those two joeys ruin my leave. I put on a fresh uniform to go shoreside. Too bad Derek couldn’t accompany me. Or Alexi.
Waiting for the aft lock to cycle I abruptly turned away, leaving the startled rating to gape at my retreating back.
I stalked down to Level 3, to the crew privacy room, where Alexi opened at my knock. He seemed fresh and rested.
Cadet Rafe Treadwell stood proudly at attention in his new gray uniform.
“As you were, cadet. Mr. Tamarov, come with me. Mr.
Treadwell, do you think you can you obey orders exactly?”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“That’s ‘yes, sir’.” Alexi, with disgust.
Rafe looked abashed. “Yes, sir, I mean.”
“These are your instructions. Lock the hatch when we leave and open it only when you hear my voice or Mr. Tamarov’s. Understand?”
“Yes, I--which do I say?” he asked Alexi.
“Aye aye, sir!”
“Aye aye, sir.” Rafe’s anxious glance darted between us.
I couldn’t help smiling. “Very well.” I went back to the ladder. Alexi followed, worried. At the airlock I keyed the caller. “Bridge, this is the Captain. I’m going groundside, alone.”
“Very well, sir.”Lieutenant Chantir would log me out.
“Come along,” I snapped at Alexi. The sentry gaped. I glared. “You have a problem, sailor?”
“No, sir!”
“I’m going groundside, alone. Note it hi your report.”
He was a slow thinker. “But the midshipman--?”
I fixed him with a cold glare. “What midshipman?” Eventually the man smiled weakly. We cycled through the lock.
We boarded the waiting shuttle. As we sat I said to Alexi, “Detour is quite interesting. If you weren’t confined to ship, I’d show you the town.” Comprehending at last, his face lit with pleasure.
For the rest of the day we wandered Nova City. Detour, with a population of only sixty thousand, was far less developed than Hope Nation, though it was growing fast.
The countryside bore the fresh scats of construction I’d expected to find in Centraltown. Trees and bushes grew in profusion, planted in their thousands by the terraformers, who’d brought insects and worms to aerate the soil, nitrates to fertilize it, and seeds to sow our crops. After seventy-six years of their labor, the terrain surrounding Nova City had at last begun to resemble home.