that’s not necessary. You have no rights aboard this ship; the Captain can summarily execute you if he chooses. Nonetheless, he sent me to advise you where you stand. One colonial to another, as it were.”
“I don’t need your—”
“On a warship, the Captain is sacrosanct. For a crewman merely to touch him uninvited is a capital charge. You’re no crewman, but if the Captain dies, your life is forfeit. Even if he lives … Attempted murder with premeditation is itself a capital offense.”
I wanted to throw something, but had nothing. Even my shirt lay on the bed, next to Branstead. I snarled, “Why the fuck do you care?”
He stared, saying not a word.
Time passed. I began to fidget.
When he spoke, his voice was low. “Randy Carr, as Lord God is my witness, if you curse at me again, I’ll take my belt and thrash you.”
I struggled not to redden.
“Is that clear?”
I stared at the deck.
He stood.
“Yeah.”
He came at me.
“Yes, sir!” I backpedaled to the wall. It wasn’t far.
“Ask your question properly, boy.”
I took a long breath, tried for calm. “Why are you involved? For that matter, why are you on ship?”
“I was SecGen Seafort’s chief of staff. He retired, I stayed on. But when I found out his next cruise was to Hope Nation, I came along.”
“Why?”
“The new SecGen really didn’t need me, and it’s time I saw home again.”
My breath caught. “You’re that Branstead? The one who gave up Branstead Plantation?”
“Many years ago.” His lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “I was just about your age, and nearly as obnoxious.”
“You’re home to stay?”
“I don’t know.” He ran fingers through his hair. “All these years serving the U.N… and I never applied for citizenship. I’ve always been a Hope Nation national, except for my years in the Navy.” Naval service conferred full, if temporary, citizenship.
I yearned to pace, but the cell was even smaller with Branstead visiting. My tone was meek. “I’m sorry for what I said.” I’d thought he was part of Seafort’s Navy, not a fellow Nationeer.
On the other hand, he’d been Seafort’s chief of staff. New doubts assailed me.
“Anthony Carr can’t help you. Captain Tolliver is plenipotentiary of the United Nations Government, and has all its powers. He’ll apply U.N. law. Your, ah, nephew will have no say.”
How much had I told them, in the flickering twilight of confession? Had I revealed our sordid family squabbles? My truancy? My affront to the Bishop?
Did any of that matter?
“Edgar Tolliver’s livid. He means to kill you.”
“What’s stopping him?”
“Nick would never forgive him. He may do it anyway. I warn you; if Tolliver summons you, none of your insolence. It would be suicide.”
I closed my eyes. Dad tousled my hair. I was still giggling at his promise to bring home an elephant. “ I love you, son.”
“Mr Branstead?”
“Ah. Civility.” His tone was dry.
Cautiously, I crossed to the bunk, sat beside him. “Do you understand why I did it?”
“I’d ask rather: do you understand what you did?”
One of my jailers brought a thick, meaty sandwich. He held it before me, spat on it, dropped it on the bed,
I left it uneaten.
Branstead’s visit had unsettled me. If Seafort had died at once, I was sure I’d have gone unafraid to execution. If the Captain had been unhurt, I’d have gritted my teeth, endured my punishment. But the uncertainty gnawed at my courage. How could I prepare for death if I wasn’t sure it was coming?
I’d been punched and jostled. My food was spat on. I hated it, but worse, it disturbed me.
It was obvious the reactions of the crew weren’t orchestrated. They hated me for what I’d done.
Which meant they loved Captain Seafort.
But, why? He was a tyrant, a vain despot who used lives as fodder for his ambitions. Dad had told me tales of Seafort’s heartless sacrifice of his men. True, Dad hadn’t seen it that
“I don’t need your—”
“On a warship, the Captain is sacrosanct. For a crewman merely to touch him uninvited is a capital charge. You’re no crewman, but if the Captain dies, your life is forfeit. Even if he lives … Attempted murder with premeditation is itself a capital offense.”
I wanted to throw something, but had nothing. Even my shirt lay on the bed, next to Branstead. I snarled, “Why the fuck do you care?”
He stared, saying not a word.
Time passed. I began to fidget.
When he spoke, his voice was low. “Randy Carr, as Lord God is my witness, if you curse at me again, I’ll take my belt and thrash you.”
I struggled not to redden.
“Is that clear?”
I stared at the deck.
He stood.
“Yeah.”
He came at me.
“Yes, sir!” I backpedaled to the wall. It wasn’t far.
“Ask your question properly, boy.”
I took a long breath, tried for calm. “Why are you involved? For that matter, why are you on ship?”
“I was SecGen Seafort’s chief of staff. He retired, I stayed on. But when I found out his next cruise was to Hope Nation, I came along.”
“Why?”
“The new SecGen really didn’t need me, and it’s time I saw home again.”
My breath caught. “You’re that Branstead? The one who gave up Branstead Plantation?”
“Many years ago.” His lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “I was just about your age, and nearly as obnoxious.”
“You’re home to stay?”
“I don’t know.” He ran fingers through his hair. “All these years serving the U.N… and I never applied for citizenship. I’ve always been a Hope Nation national, except for my years in the Navy.” Naval service conferred full, if temporary, citizenship.
I yearned to pace, but the cell was even smaller with Branstead visiting. My tone was meek. “I’m sorry for what I said.” I’d thought he was part of Seafort’s Navy, not a fellow Nationeer.
On the other hand, he’d been Seafort’s chief of staff. New doubts assailed me.
“Anthony Carr can’t help you. Captain Tolliver is plenipotentiary of the United Nations Government, and has all its powers. He’ll apply U.N. law. Your, ah, nephew will have no say.”
How much had I told them, in the flickering twilight of confession? Had I revealed our sordid family squabbles? My truancy? My affront to the Bishop?
Did any of that matter?
“Edgar Tolliver’s livid. He means to kill you.”
“What’s stopping him?”
“Nick would never forgive him. He may do it anyway. I warn you; if Tolliver summons you, none of your insolence. It would be suicide.”
I closed my eyes. Dad tousled my hair. I was still giggling at his promise to bring home an elephant. “ I love you, son.”
“Mr Branstead?”
“Ah. Civility.” His tone was dry.
Cautiously, I crossed to the bunk, sat beside him. “Do you understand why I did it?”
“I’d ask rather: do you understand what you did?”
One of my jailers brought a thick, meaty sandwich. He held it before me, spat on it, dropped it on the bed,
I left it uneaten.
Branstead’s visit had unsettled me. If Seafort had died at once, I was sure I’d have gone unafraid to execution. If the Captain had been unhurt, I’d have gritted my teeth, endured my punishment. But the uncertainty gnawed at my courage. How could I prepare for death if I wasn’t sure it was coming?
I’d been punched and jostled. My food was spat on. I hated it, but worse, it disturbed me.
It was obvious the reactions of the crew weren’t orchestrated. They hated me for what I’d done.
Which meant they loved Captain Seafort.
But, why? He was a tyrant, a vain despot who used lives as fodder for his ambitions. Dad had told me tales of Seafort’s heartless sacrifice of his men. True, Dad hadn’t seen it that
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