David Feintuch - Seafort 01 - Midshipmans Hope

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Midshipman's Hope

Seafort 01

David Feintuch

PART I

October 12, in the year of our Lord 2194

1

"Stand to!" I roared, but I was too late; even as Alexi and Sandy snapped to attention, Hibernians two

senior lieutenants strolled around the corridor bend.

We froze in stunned tableau: I, the senior midshipman, red with rage; a portly passenger, Mrs.

Donhauser, jaw agape at the blob of shaving cream on her tunic; my two middies stiffened against the

bulkhead, eyes locked front, towels and canisters still clutched in their hands; Lieutenants Cousins and

Dagalow, dumbfounded that middies could be caught cavorting in the corridors of a U.N.N.S. starship,

even one still moored at Ganymede Orbiting Station.

If only I'd come down from the bridge a few seconds sooner I'd have been in time, but I'd been helping

Ms. Dagalow enter the last of our new stores into the puter's manifests.

Lieutenant Cousins was curt. "You too, Mr. Seafort.

Against the bulkhead."

"Aye aye, sir." I stiffened to attention, eyes front, furious at my betrayal by a friend whose sense I'd

thought I could trust.

Alexi Tamarov, the sweating middy at my side, was sixteen and third in seniority. When I'd first reported

aboard, he'd considered challenging me but hadn't, and we'd since become comrades. Now his antics

withSandy had gotten us all in hot water.

Across the gleaming corridor Ms. Dagalow's eye betrayed a glint of humor as she pried the canister of

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shaving cream from Sandy Wilsky's reluctant fingers. She passed it to Lieutenant Cousins. Once again, I

wished she were the senior lieutenant; Mr. Cousins seemed to take undue pleasure in the ship's discipline

he dispensed.

Lieutenant Cousins snapped, "Yours, middy? Are you old enough to use it?" From close observation

during the five weeks since I'd joined Hibernia at Earthport Station, I knew that at fourteenSandy had not

yet made the acquaintance of a razor. That meant he had, um, borrowed it. From me, perhaps. At

seventeen, I was known to shave, if rarely.

"No, sir."Sandy had no choice but to answer. "It's Mr.

Holser's." I bit my lip. Lord God, that was all this fiasco needed: trouble with Midshipman Vax Holser.

Vax, almost nineteen, resented me and didn't care if it showed, for he'd missed being first middy by only

a few weeks. He was full-grown, shaved daily, and worked out with weights. His surly manner and

ominous strength encouraged us all to give him a wide berth.

Lieutenant Cousins nodded to Mrs. Donhauser, whose outrage had subsided into wry amusement.

"Madam, my sincere apologies. I assure you these children"--he spat out the word with venom--"will not

trouble you again." His look of suppressed fury did not bode well.

"No harm done," Mrs. Donhauser said peaceably. "They were just playing--"

"Is that what you call it?" Mr. Cousins's grip tightened on the canister. "Officers in a Naval starship,

chasing each other with shaving soap!"

Mrs. Donhauser was unfazed. "I won't tell you your duty, Lieutenant. But I will make it clear that I was

not harmed and have no grievance. Good day." With that she turned on her heel toward the passenger

cabins, presumably to change her tunic.

For a moment Lieutenant Cousins was speechless. Then he rounded on us. "You're the sorriest joeys

I've ever seen! A seventeen-month cruise to Hope Nation, and I have to sail with you!" I took a deep

breath. "I'm sorry, sir. It's my responsibility."

"At least you know that much." Cousins's tone was acid.

"Is this how you run your wardroom, Mr. Seafort?"

"No, sir." I wasn't sure it was the right response. Perhaps my amiable manner encouraged Sandy and

Alexi to step out of line. Certainly they would never have done so under Vax Holser's tutelage.

"I expect stupidity from these young dolts, but it's your job to control them! What if the Captain had

come along?"

Lord God forbid. If they'd squirted Captain Haag rather than Mrs. Donhauser, Alexi and Sandy would

see the barrel, if not the brig. For good measure, the Captain might break me all the way down to ship's

boy. Mr. Cousins was right. I could think of no way to placate him, so I said nothing.

It was a mistake. "Answer me, you insolent pup!"

To my surprise, Lieutenant Dagalow intervened. "Mr. Cousins, Nick was on watch. He couldn't have

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known--"

"It's his job to keep his juniors in line!"

I did, when I was present. What more could I do? For some reason Ms. Dagalow persisted. "But

they're young, we're moored to Ganymede Station, they were just letting off steam... "

"Lisa, take your nose out of the puter long enough to remember the rest of your job. We have to teach

them to act like adults!" From another officer it might have been a blistering rebuke, but Mr. Cousins's

acid manner was well known to all, and she took no notice.

"They'll learn."

"When our shaving cream runs out?" Cousins glared at us with withering contempt before turning back to

Ms. Dagalow.

"Consider that by the end of the cruise at least some of them should be fit to be officers. I grant you, it's

unlikely any of these fools will ever make lieutenant. But what if one of us is transferred out at Hope

Nation? Do you want silly boys standing watch, fresh from shaving cream fights?"

"We've time to teach them. Nick will issue ample demerits." I certainly would. Each demerit would have

to be worked off by two hours of hard calisthenics. They'd keep Alexi and Sandy out of trouble for a

while.

Lieutenant Cousins's voice grew cold. "Will he?" A chill of foreboding crept down my rigid spine. "Nicky

should never have been senior, we all know that." Even Lieutenant Dagalow frowned at the blatant

undercutting of my authority, but Mr. Cousins was oblivious. "He'll wag his finger at them, as always."

That wasn't fair; I'd kept wardroom matters from the attention of the other officers, as was expected.

Except this once.

"Will you cane the two of them, then? After all, it's a wardroom affair."

"No, I'll let Nicky handle them." From the corner of my eye I saw Alexi's shoulders slump with relief.

Then Mr.

Cousins added sweetly, "But perhaps I can teach Mr. Seafort more diligence." He sauntered toward his

cabin. "Come along, middy."

A half hour later I stood outside our wardroom, jaw aching from my failed effort not to cry out, eyes

burning from the stinging pain and mortifying humiliation Mr. Cousins had inflicted across the hated barrel.

I slapped open the hatch. Inside the cramped compartment Sandy and Alexi, on their beds, dared say

nothing. I crossed slowly to my bunk, stripped off my jacket and laid it on the chair. With care, I eased

myself onto my bed.

After a time Alexi said quietly, "Mr. Seafort, I'm sorry.

Truly." As was the custom, Alexi called me by my surname even within our wardroom. After all, I was

senior middy.

Only Vax Holser had the resources to ignore that tradition and get away with it.

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I fought down a smoldering rage; it should have been Alexi who was caned,notI. "Thank you." My thighs

smarted with exquisite agony. "You should have known better, both of you."

"I know, Mr. Seafort."

I closed my eyes, trying to will away the pain. At Academy, sometimes, it worked. "Who started it?"

"I did," they said in unison.

My fingers throttled the pillow. "Sandy, you first."

"We were in the head, washing up. Alexi splashed me. I splashed back." He glanced up, saw my face,

gulped.

Skylarking, like cadets at Academy. "Go on."

"After he flicked me with a towel I grabbed the shaving cream. He chased me so I ran outside, and I

was squirting him when Mrs. Donhauser came out of the lounge." I said nothing. After a moment he

blurted, "Mr. Seafort, I'm sorry I got you into troub--"

"I'll make you sorrier!" I sat up, thought better of it, eased myself back on my bunk. "No officer would

look into the middy's head to see how you behave. But running out into the corridor... Mr. Cousins is

right; you are dolts."

Alexi flushed;Sandy studied his fingernails.

Angry as I was, I wasn't surprised that they'd frolicked like the boys they were. What else could be

expected, even on a starship? One had to go to space young to spend life as a sailor, else the risk of

melanoma T was too great. Unfortunately, aboard such an immense and valuable vessel as Hiber-nia,

there was no room for youngsters' folly.

I growled, "Four demerits apiece, for letting your foolishness get out of hand." Severe, but Mr. Cousins

would have given much worse, and my buttocks stung like fire. "I'll write it as improper hygiene. Alexi,

two extra for you."

"But I started it!"Sandy 's protest was from the heart.

"You ran into the corridor, which should have ended it.

Mr. Tamarov chose to follow. Alexi, how many does that give you?"

"Nine, Mr. Seafort." He was pale.

I growled, "Work them off fast, because I'm in no mood to overlook any offense." Ten would earn him a

caning, like I'd just been given; Alexi would have to be vigilant while he worked down his demerits. "Start

now; you have two hours before lunch."

"Aye aye, Mr. Seafort." They scrambled out of their bunks. In a moment they'd slipped on shoes and

jackets and departed for the exercise room, leaving me the solitude I'd sought. I rolled onto my stomach

and surrendered to my misery.

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"It's time, Mr. Seafort." Alexi Tamarov jolted me from my fretful dream, from Father's bleak kitchen, the

creaky chair, the physics text I'd struggled to master under Father's watchful eye.

I shoved away Alexi's persistent hand. "We don't cast off 'til midwatch." Groggy, I blinked myself

awake.

From the hatchway, Vax Holser watched with a sardonic grin. "Let him sleep, Tamarov. Lieutenant

Malstrom won't mind if he's late."

I surged out of my bunk in dizzy confusion. Reporting late to duty station would be a matter for Mr.

Cousins, and after the incident two days prior, Lord God help me if I called his attention anew. I glanced

at my watch. I'd slept six hours! In frantic haste I snatched my blue jacket from the chair, thrust my arms

into my sleeves as I polished the tip of a shoe against the back of my trouser leg.

"Why do we bother waking you?" Vax sounded disgusted.

I didn't answer; he left for his duty station in the comm room, Sandy Wilsky tagging behind him.

"Thanks, Alexi," I muttered, and nearly collided with him in the hatchway. I scrambled into the

circumference corridor and ran past the east ladder, smoothing my hair and tugging at my tie as I rounded

the bend to the airlock. I'd barely reached my station when Captain Haag's voice echoed through the

speaker.

"Uncouple mooring lines!"

Lieutenant Malstrom returned my salute in offhand fashion, his eye on the suited sailor untying our

forward safety line from the shoreside stanchion.

"Line secured, sir," the seaman said, and by the book I repeated it to Mr. Malstrom as if he hadn't

heard. The lieutenant waved me permission to proceed.

"Close inner lock, Mr. Howard. Prepare for breakaway."

I tried for the tone of authority that came so naturally toHibernia 's lieutenants.

"Aye aye, sir." Seaman Howard keyed the control; the thick transplex hatches slid shut smoothly, joining

in the center to form a tight seal.

Lieutenant Malstrom opened a compartment, slid a lever downward. From within the airlock, a brief

hum, and a click.

He signaled the bridge. "Forward inner lock sealed, sir.

Capture latches disengaged."

"Very well, Mr. Malstrom." Captain Haag's normally gruff voice sounded detached through the caller.

The ship's whistle blew three short blasts. After a moment the Captain's remote voice sounded again.

"Cast off!"

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Our duties performed, Lieutenant Malstrom and I had little to do but watch while our side thrusters

alternately released tiny jets of propellant in quick spurts, rocking us gently. Our airlock suckers parted

reluctantly from their counterparts on the station lock. U.N.S. Hibernia slowly drifted free of Ganymede

Station. When we were clear by about ten meters I glanced up at Lieutenant Malstrom. "Shall we secure,

sir?"

He nodded.

I gave the order. The alumalloy outer hatches slid shut, barring our view of the receding station.

Lieutenant Malstrom keyed our caller. "Forward hatch secured, sir."

"Secured; very well." The Captain seemed preoccupied, as well he might. On the bridge he and the Pilot

would be readyingHibernia for Fusion. I felt a bit queasy as our weight diminished. We were slowly

losing the benefits of the station's gravitrons, and the Captain hadn't yet brought our own on-line.

We waited in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. "Say good-bye, Micky." Lieutenant Malstrom's tone

was soft.

"I already did, sir, back in Lunapolis." I would missCardiff , of course, and aloft, the familiar warrens of

Lunapolis. I would evenmissFarsideAcademy , where I'd trained as a cadet three years ago. But

Ganymede Station was another matter. It had been over a month since I'd cried out my regrets in an

unnoticed corner of a service bar in down-under Lunapolis, and by now I was long ready.

The fusion drive kicked in. In the rounded porthole the stars shifted red, then blue. As the drive reached

full strength they slowly faded to black.

We were Fused.

External sensors blind,Hibernia hurtled out of the Solar System on the crest of the N-wave generated by

our drive.

"All hands, stand down from launch stations." The Captain's voice seemed husky.

I locked Seaman Howard's transmitter in the airlock safe.

"Chess, Nick?" Lieutenant Malstrom asked when the sailor had departed.

"Sure, sir." We headed up-corridor to officers' country.

In the lieutenant's bleak cabin, a windowless gray cubicle four meters square and two and a half meters

high, Mr.

Malstrom tossed the chessboard onto his bunk. I sat on the gray navy blanket at the foot of the bed; he

settled by the starched white pillow at the head.

"I'm going to learn to beat you," he said, setting up the pieces. "Something I can concentrate on besides

ship's routine." I smiled politely. I had no intention of letting him win; chess was one of my few

accomplishments. At home inCardiff I had been semifinalist in my age group, before Father brought me

to Academy at thirteen.

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We played the half-minute rule, loosely enforced. In the weeks sinceHibernia had left Earthport Station

I'd won twenty-three times, he had won twice. This time it took me twentyfive moves. As was our habit

we shook hands gravely after the game.

"When we get back from Hope Nation I'll be thirty-five."

He sighed, perhaps a trifle morosely. "You'll be twenty."

"Yes, sir." I waited.

"What do you regret more?" he asked abruptly. "The years you'll lose, or being cooped in the ship so

long?"

"I don't see them as lost years, sir. When I get back I'll have enough ship's time to make lieutenant, if I

pass the boards. I wouldn't even be close if I stayed home." I didn't dare tell him how strongly the

ambition burned within me.

He said nothing, and I reflected a moment. "Thirty-four months, round-trip. I don't know, sir. I tested

low for claustrophobia, like all of us." I risked a grin. "It depends whether it's three years playing chess

with you or being reamed out by Lieutenant Cousins." For a moment I thought I'd overstepped myself,

but it was all right.

Lieutenant Malstrom let out a long, slow breath. "I won't criticize a brother officer, especially to one of

junior rank like yourself. I merely wonder aloud how he ever got into Academy."

Or out of it, I added silently. If only Mr. Malstrom had been the one assigned to teach us navigation. But

his primary duties were ship security and passenger liaison. Judiciously, I said nothing.

I wandered back to the wardroom. Inside, Sandy Wilsky sat attentively on the deck, legs crossed. From

his bed, Vax Holser scowled. "Well?"

With a shrug of despairSandy blurted, "I don't know, Mr.

Holser."

Vax's eyes narrowed. "You're not by some chance still a cadet? Have we a genuine middy who can't

find the munitions locker?"

I crossed to my bunk, ignoring the boy's hopeful look. Vax was entitled to haze him a bit. We all

were;Sandy was junior and just out of Academy.

"I'm sorry."Sandy glanced to me as if for succor, but I offered none. A middy should know such things. I

kicked off my shoes, flopped on my bed.

Vax demanded, "What's the Naval Mission?"

Sandytook a hopeful breath. "The mission of the United Nations Naval Service is to preserve the United

Nations Government of and under Lord God, and to protect colonies and outposts of human habitation

wherever established. The Naval Service is to defend the United Nations and its--its... "

He faltered.

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Vax glared, and finished for him. "--and its territories from all enemies, internal or foreign, to transport all

interstellar cargoes and goods, to convey such persons to and from the colonies who may have lawful

business among them, and to carry out such lawful orders as Admiralty may from time to time issue.

Section 1, Article 5 of the regs."

"Yes, Mr. Holser."

Vax said, "It's worth a demerit or two, Nicky."

I made no answer. If Vax had his way, the juniors would spend their lives in the exercise room. Within

the wardroom, only I could issue demerits, though Vax could make the middies' lives miserable in other

ways.

"Laser controls?"

"In the gun--I mean, the comm room." The youngster wrinkled his brow. "No, it must be... I mean... "

Vax scowled. "How many push-ups would it take--"

A few push-ups wouldn't hurtSandy --we'd all been subjected to worse hazing--but Vax got on my

nerves. He even had the boy calling him "Mr. Holser," which I resented. By tradition, only the senior

middy was addressed as "Mr." by the juniors.

I snapped, "Laser controls are in the comm room. You should know that--were you asleep during

gunnery practice?"

"No, Mr. Seafort." A faint sheen of perspiration; now he had us both annoyed at him.

I made my tone less grating. "On some ships the lasers are in a separate compartment called the

gunroom, which is also what old-fashioned ships call their middy's berth."

"Thank you."Sandy sounded appropriately humble.

Vax growled, "He should have known it."

"You're right. Not knowing your way around the ship is a disgrace,Sandy . Give me twenty push-ups." It

was a kindness. Vax would have made it fifty.

Dinner, as usual, was in the ship's dining hall rather than the officers' mess. I sat at my place sipping ice

water, waiting for the clink of the glass. When it came I stood with the rest of the officers and passengers,

my head bowed. Captain Haag, stocky, graying, and distinguished, began the nightly ritual.

"Lord God, today is October 19, 2194, on the U.N.S. Hibernia. We ask you to bless us, to bless our

voyage, and to bring health and well-being to all aboard."

"Amen." Chairs scraped as we sat. The Ship's Prayer has been said at evening in every United Nations

vessel to sail the void for one hundred sixty-seven years, and always by the Captain, as representative of

the government, and therefore of theReunifiedChurch . Like crewmen everywhere, our sailors considered

shipping with a parson to be unlucky, and any minister who sailed inHibernia did so in his private

capacity.

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Few ships had it otherwise.

"Good evening, Mr. Seafort."

"Good evening, ma'am." Mrs. Donhauser, imposing in her elegant yet practical satin jumpsuit, was the

Anabaptist envoy to our Hope Nation colony."Did yoga go well today?" She smiled her appreciation of

my offering. Mrs. Donhauser believed that daily yoga would get her to Hope Nation sane and healthy.

Her stated mission was to convert every last one of the two hundred thousand residents to her creed.

Knowing her, I had no reason to disbelieve it was possible.

Our state religion was the amalgam of Protestant and Catholic ritual that had been hammered out in the

Great Yahwehist Reunification after the Armies of Lord God repressed the Pentecostal heresy.

Nonetheless, the U.N. Government tolerated splinter sects such as Mrs. Donhauser's. Still, I wondered

how the Governor of Hope Nation would react if she succeeded too well in her mission. Like Captain

Haag, the Governor was ex-officio a representative of the true Church.

Hiberniacarried eleven officers on her long interstellar voyage: four middies, three lieutenants, Chief

Engineer, Pilot, Ship's Doctor, and the Captain. We all took our breakfast and lunch in the spartan and

simple officers' mess, but we sat with our passengers for the evening meal.

Our hundred thirty passengers, bound for the thriving Hope Nation colony or continuing on to Detour,

our second stop, had their informal breakfast and lunch in the passengers' mess.

Belowdecks, our crew of seventy--engine room hands, comm specialists, recycler's mates,

hydroponicists, the ship's boy, and the less skilled crewmen who toiled in the galley or in the purser's

compartments caring for our many passengers--took all their meals in the seamen's mess below.

Places at dinner were assigned monthly by the purser, except at the Captain's table, where seating was

by Captain Haag's invitation only. This month I was assigned to Table 7. In my regulation

blues--navy-blue pants, white shirt, black tie, spit-polished black shoes, bluejacket with insignia and

medals, and ribbed cap--I always felt stiff and uncomfortable at dinner. I wished again I could wear the

uniform with Vax Holser's confident style.

At his neighboring table Chief Engineer McAndrews chatted easily with a passenger. Grizzled and stolid,

the Chief ran his engine room with unpretentious efficiency. To me he was friendly but reserved, as he

seemed to be with all the officers.

The stewards brought each table its tureen of thick hot mushroom soup. We dished it out ourselves.

Ayah Dinh, the Pakistani merchant directly across from me, sucked his soup greedily. Everyone else

affected not to notice. Mr. Barstow, a florid sixty-year-old, glared as if daring me to speak to him.

I chose not to. Randy Carr, immaculate and athletic, wearing an expensive pastel jumpsuit, smiled

politely but looked through me as if I were nonexistent. His aristocratic son Derek strongly resembled

him in appearance, and copied his manner. Sixteen and haughty, he did not deign to smile at crew; what

courtesy he had was reserved for passengers.

"I started a diary, Nicky." Amanda Frowel favored me with a welcome smile. Our civilian education

director was twenty, I'd learned. I'd thought her smile was for me alone, until I'd seen her offer it to all the

other midshipmen and two of the lieutenants. Ah, well.

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David Feintuch - Seafort 01 - Midshipmans Hope

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