Children of Hope (30 page)

A murmured reply.

“Yes, wrecked it. I had security, doting parents, confidence, an ordered world …”

“… my fault?”

“Oh, you saved us, sir, but Christ, the cost! Remember that poor middy, Tyre, who died ramming the launch into a fish? That deluded woman you shot?” For a moment, silence. Then, “Over time, as an adult, I became rather proud of what I’d done, what I’d been.”

“That’s as should be.”

“Bah. On
Challenger,
for once I faced myself. That was all the heroism I could muster.”

“You rose above yourself.”

“For what? I survived, and built a life here in the colony. Now it’s wrecked, and there’s no retrieval. My poor Kev!”

“Easy. Here, squeeze my hand. Let it hurt us both.”

“No, I’ll have all my life to grieve. But I’m staying aboard, do you hear? Until the last fish is dead, or you Fuse for home. Before that, you’d have to stun me and carry me off.”

“You know I’ll do no such thing.”

“Who knows what you’d do? Not I. Not Tolliver. Certainly not the Elders of the Church, or the U.N. electorate.”

A chuckle. “Nor I, at times.”

“Sir, give me a laser console, that’s all I ask. Until they stop coming. I suppose you’ll have to enlist me.”

“Why?”

“Years ago you insisted you wouldn’t trust
Challenger’s
safety to civilians.”

“That was a long time past. Now I’m more … flexible.” A pause. “Very well. I can’t imagine what to call it in the Log. I’ll have Tolliver write the entry.”

“I can stay? You mean it?”

“I mean whatever I say. I’ve never known how to do other.”

A whisper. “Thank you.”

“Do you want Kevin sent ashore?”

“No!” A
cough, that might have been embarrassment. “I’m sorry. No, sir. If I might sit with him during off hours, perhaps I could get through …”

“I understand. He’ll have to be kept in the cooler, when you’re not with him.” The Captain’s voice was gruff. “Chris, no matter what, you mustn’t open the body sack. There seems to be no virus and everyone aboard’s been given precautionary vaccine, but nonetheless there’s a risk of—”

“I’ll only touch him through the plastic. Unless you prohibit that too, you son of …”

A long pause.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Mr Dakko’s voice was unsteady.

“It’s all right.”

“Do you know, Mr Seafort, if I were sure, absolutely sure, of God’s existence, I’d join Kevin this moment.”

“What you need is sleep. Romez will give you a sedative.”

“To make me a zombie like Randy Carr?” His snort held contempt. “No, I’ll wallow in my sorrow.”

“As you will. I’ve got to resume the bridge.” A rustle, and a gasp. “Oh, that hurt.”

“Shall I walk with you?”

“Stay with your son.”

“I’ll call Randy to help you.”

“He’s gone to sleep. I’ll—” a grim chuckle. “—wallow in my aches.” Mr Seafort’s footsteps faded.

A long while passed. At one in the morning, nominal ship’s time, I slipped out of bed, donned my shoes, tiptoed past the Dakkos’ forlorn cubicle. I made my way out to the corridor, half expecting someone to stop me, but no one paid me heed. After all, I was ship’s boy, and had leave to pad about in the night.

The ladder wasn’t far.

Level 2 bustled with activity. I wandered as far as section six, found the corridor hatch to five sealed.

Frederich Stoll, one of Janks’s detail I’d known from my imprisonment, folded his arms. “Can’t go in, joey. Shouldn’t even be this close.”

“The hull’s patched.”

“Yeah, but …” He grimaced. “Even with Class A decon …”

“Doesn’t matter. I was exposed.”

Involuntarily, he took a step back, licked his lips. “Never thought I’d live to see a frazzin’ fish.”

I nodded. “They’re scary.”

The corridor hatch slid open. Lieutenant Frand looked weary, her gray-streaked hair awry. “Is the outer hull airtight, Hanson?”

The seaman at her side was grizzled, his cheeks hollow. “Randell’s crew buttoned up two hours ago.”

“That’s it, then. All passengers are reassigned belowdecks, their belongings irradiated. Everyone’s inoculated. Get some sleep. What are you up to, Randy?”

“Nothing, ma’am.” I tried to look innocent.

“You did well today. Pity about the Dakko boy. Let’s hit our bunks, Hanson, before you-know-who calls us to Battle Stations again.”

“Lord God forbid.” With a perfunctory salute, the rating trudged off. Lieutenant Frand strode down the corridor without a backward glance.

Before the guard could object, I scuttled through to section five. He made as if to stop me, thought better of it. Perhaps he was afraid to touch me, despite the decon I’d undergone.

The section looked normal, except for the bare deck plating. They’d taken up the carpet in five, the easier to conduct full decon.

Cabin 257 was sealed shut; no amount of fiddling with the panel would budge the hatch. A shiny new alumalloy plate covered the jagged hole through the bulkhead melted by the outrider.

Frustrated, I sat on the deserted corridor deck, leaned against the bulkhead, drew up my knees.

“Kev’s worth ten of that silly Randy Carr.”

How had I failed to save him? By being too slow. By worrying about my own skin instead of my responsibility.

In the lounge, Mr Dakko glowered at my cuffed hands.
“You contemptible piece of shit!”

Was the truth that obvious? Had they all known beforehand?

I’d held Kev in my grasp. I’d pulled him into the closet, safe and sound. Then, somehow—I was inexpressibly tired, and my mind couldn’t grasp how I’d achieved my folly—I’d let him go. I wiped my eyes.

Mikhael snarled,
“What are you crying at, you vile bastard?”
In my bleak cell, he stood over me, fists bunched.

At what, indeed? At Kevin’s loss? At my own stupidity? At Chris Dakko’s unquenchable grief?

“You’re an arrogant, spoiled child.”

Yes, Mr Branstead. You’ve got that right.

“I ought to take you apart bare-handed.”

Do it.

No one answered.

I said aloud, “Do it!” I banged my head backward, hit the bulkhead with a satisfying thump. It felt good. I shut my eyes, did it again.

“Stop that!”

“No!” Which ghost was that? No matter; in time they’d all gather to haunt me. I nodded my chin to my chest, rammed my skull back to the alumalloy plate. This time, it rather hurt. Better.

Soft fingers interposed themselves, rubbed my locks. “No more, Randy.”

I blinked. Corrine Sloan, the Captain’s wife. No, she was merely Janey’s host mother. “Leave me alone,” I said.

“I’ll take you back to your cabin.”

“I’ve got to stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because …” I groped to explain. Because Kevin’s soul might linger. Because this was where he’d ended, and I couldn’t leave until I’d faced my culpability. Because …

“Come along.” Gently, persistently, Corrine pulled at me.

“No!” It sounded too harsh. “No, ma’am.”

“Then I’ll sit with you.” To my astonishment, she slid down the bulkhead, made herself a place at my side.

I asked, “How’d you get past the guard?”

“What guard? I came by way of section four.” She shrugged. “Taking a walk. No one quite knows what they’re doing, this hour.”

I said bitterly, “Do they ever?”

“Yes, Randy. Nick—Captain Seafort—is quite vigilant about training.”

I flushed. “He’s not the incompetent one.”

“Who is?”

I played with my fingers.

“Ah, I understand. That’s why you were banging your head? Randy, it wasn’t your fault.” Corrine’s fingers flitted to mine, with a gift of undeserved comfort.

“And who told
you
?” I pulled free.

“The whole ship knows. They’re talking of nothing else.”

“How I killed Kev.” There. It was said.

“He was too scared to wait for rescue. He dragged you so close to the fish that when Janks fired …”

“It’s called an outrider. The fish was Outside.” If I filled my tone with contempt, perhaps she’d leave.

“Kevin was the one who panicked, not you.”

“Of course! He was on a strange vessel, didn’t know his way. That’s why …” I pounded my leg. “Don’t you see? I’m crew, he isn’t. Wasn’t. I was ordered to take him to his father. That made him my responsibility. Expecting a groundsider to look after himself… do you know he’s never been on a ship before?”

“He spent weeks—”

“Locked in a cell near mine! Mr Seafort, the middies, the purser, all took time to show me the ropes. Kevin knew nothing, and depended on me.”

Her tone was soothing. “Randy, you’re fourteen. No one expects—”

I shouted, “
I
expect!” Didn’t she understand? Dad wouldn’t buy that excuse for a minute. We were Carrs. More was expected of us, and should be.

We sat in silence. My fingers worked at my shirt.

Corrine squirmed, easing her back. Her auburn hair brushed my shoulder. “Does Nick know you’re here?”

“Who cares?”

“I do.” She climbed to her feet, tugged at my arm until, reluctantly, I stood also. “It’s time you were in bed.”

I didn’t want mothering. I blurted out the crudest thing that came to mind. “Do you love him?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What brings that up?”

“Answer!” If Mr Seafort heard, I’d be punished. All the better.

“If I do—”

“If!” I spat the word. “Give what you ask, lady!”

“You’re rude.” But she said it calmly, as if taking no offense. “Hmmm.” She slipped her arm through mine, started along the corridor.

“Do you?” Some perverse spirit made me vile.

“Love Nick?” A frown wrinkled her brow. “I’m not sure that’s what I’d call it.”

“What, then?”

“I respect him, certainly.” She stopped short. “Why does this matter to you?”

I sneered, “You’re the only one allowed to pry?”

“Oh, Randy.” She patted my arm. “You must hurt so badly.” When she pulled me to her bosom, I didn’t have it in me to resist. She enveloped me in a warm embrace. Despite my resolve, I clung to her like a young joeykid. She wore a scent, one of the new interactive ones, and abruptly I pictured Mother, poor Sandra Carr, lost in her lonesome chemdreams.

Goddamn pheromones. They drive you glitched.

After a time she released me. “Feeling better?”

Yes, but I didn’t want to. I was careful not to meet her eye. “Where are you taking me?”

By way of answer, she steered me to the ladder. Then, “Yes, I suppose I love him. Nick wants so to be honorable. And he dotes on Janey.”

I said nothing.

“When I boarded at Earthport I was booked to Constantine, no farther. Emigration was all I could think of, after the fiasco with John. A host contract paid my way, and more. But then Jane Ellen came and … she was so young … She paused for breath, halfway up the stairs. “After she was born, my duty was done, my contract completed. I watched Nick fumble with diapers … he looked so awkward holding her; who else could lend a hand?”

I trudged up the ladder, yearning to retreat to my own misery.

“By the time we reached port, it was too late. I begged him to let me stay. If he’d refused, I’d have had no recourse. None at all. Yes, she’s my child in a way, but still it was a decent, honorable thing for him to do. He’s a good man, who’s lost so much. His firstborn, his wife—two of them, in fact. And friends …

“Like my father.”

“Yes, Derek. That hit him hard.”

I cast about for another topic; Kevin’s loss was all I could contemplate this day. “Janey is … everything to him.”
As Kev had been to Chris Dakko.

“He’s been generous about sharing her.” She steered me along the corridor.

“You can’t spend your life cruising from one port to another.”

“I know,” she said, “but I can’t go ashore here.”

“Why not? A ship is a way to get places, not a life.”

Abruptly her eyes were bleak. “Shall I abandon my daughter?”

“Yours, or his?”

She asked simply, “Why do you want to hurt me?”

Did I?
Yes.
“I don’t know.” The admission shamed me. “I’m sorry.”

“Good.” She knocked at a hatch. The Captain’s cabin. Startled, I tried to pull away, but she held me in a firm grip.

The hatch slid open. Captain Seafort’s gray eyes flickered from one to the other of us.

Corrine’s hand shot to her hair, tucked it into place. “I found him belowdecks.”

Mr Seafort’s gaze fastened on mine. “You were to sleep in sickbay.”

“No one ordered me.” I sounded defiant, and was.

“Then I order it.”

“Nick, he oughtn’t be alone. He was … hurting himself.”

“Randy?”

I shuffled my feet. “I’m all right.”

“He isn’t, Nick. Please believe me.”

“I do.” He stood aside. To me, “Come in.”

“Why?”

“Do as you’re told!”

Abashed, I brushed past him, stood hugging myself in the cabin’s soft light. The Captain’s bed was mussed, as if he’d been sitting atop the covers.

Slowly, rubbing the small of his back, Mr Seafort slipped out into the corridor. He and Corrine spoke, too quietly for me to hear.

When he came in, he looked worn and gray. He flicked a thumb past the divider, and the bed beyond. “That was Mikhael’s bunk, when he lived here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll stay the night.”

“Sir, I—”

“Tomorrow, we’ll pray for him. Or you will. Now, we’re beyond exhaustion. Undress and get into bed.” His tone brooked no refusal.

“Yessir.” Or should it be, “Aye aye, sir”? I was too tired to know.

He stripped off his tie, slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

A moment after, I crawled under my covers.

With care, he eased himself onto the side of my bed, patted my shoulder. “You did no wrong, son. Somehow, we’ll convince you of that.”

“Kev’s still dead.”

A squeeze, which despite myself I found reassuring. “Close your eyes. I’ll be here. Wake me if you’re afraid.”

Holding his spine straight, he worked himself to his feet, made his way to his own bed, labored to undo his shoes.

M
ORNING CAME, AND I
swam to consciousness, watching Mr Seafort dress. It was clear his spine still ached; abruptly I recalled Mr Dakko slamming him into a bulkhead, in grief for Kevin. My heart plummeted.