far without hitting the wall—and came to attention facing me. “Midshipman Mikhael Tamarov reporting, sir.”
I gaped. The “sir” was directed to me.
“I apologize to you for my inexcusable conduct, for my juv”—his eyes strayed to Anselm, but the lieutenants face was impassive—“juvenile tantrum. For breaking all bounds of decorum, for violating ship’s regs and common decency, and exhibiting my immaturity.” Mikhael’s face was scarlet. “Sir, my misconduct has been brought to the Captain’s attention, and we assure you I am being disciplined for it.”
Silence.
He remained at attention.
I spat, “I hope you’re caned.” Dad had told me how much it hurt.
Anselm stirred. “He won’t be. He’s twenty, a couple of years over the line. But he’ll be made to regret his act.”
“What are you here for?”
“By direction of the Captain, to see that Midshipman Tamarov carries out his orders.” A pause, then a hint of what might have been compassion. “Mr Tamarov is an officer; his word is not questioned. Merely his judgment. Is that correct, Midshipman?”
Mikhael gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir. I’m told I showed the judgment of a small child.”
If it wouldn’t have hurt my chest I’d have shouted with glee. The best I could do was put as much malice as I could in my smile. “Do you agree?”
“My opinion is of no consequence.”
“Answer him, Mr Tamarov.”
“Aye aye, sir. Sir—” To me, politely. “—I hate you not one whit less than I did before. I chose to jeopardize my Naval career over that hate. Objectively, I have to agree that shows poor judgment.”
I jutted out my chin. “Why’d they send you, Anselm? Were you part of it?”
“I had no idea. If so, I’d have tried to stop him.” Lest I take too much comfort, he added, “Mr Tamarov is my friend, and I don’t care to see him in trouble.”
“Is he?”
“Very much so. Twenty is too old to be a cadet, or he would have been broken from officer, as I once was. Captain Tolliver nearly dismissed him from the service.”
A pang, that might have been my ribs, or something else. A feeling I didn’t enjoy. I looked away. “I’m sorry you’re in trouble over me. You were nice to me, groundside.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Anselm said, “That’s enough for today, Mr Tamarov.”
I almost felt sorry to see him go. “‘For today’?”
“He’ll be back tomorrow. Every day until your trial.”
I winced, turned away. When I opened my eyes, the hatch was sliding shut.
I was restless all afternoon, yearning to pace despite my aches. The confinement of the tiny cell drove me to distraction; there was no place to go, nothing to look at.
I wanted to see Mikhael again, so I could be cruel to him. He’d have to take it; I was “sir” to him.
I hated him. He’d beaten me without mercy.
I tried not to weep.
That evening Mr Branstead came again. “Are you recovering?” As before, he sat on the bunk, looked up at me.
I was eager for company, but my aches made me sullen. “Do you care?”
“Mildly. You’ll recover from your bruises. I’m more concerned for the middy. He’s on four and four watch. That won’t last, and he’s young enough to take it. But his file will carry a reprimand; he may never make lieutenant, and is probably sick with shame.”
“How do you know so much about the Navy?”
“I too was an officer,” Branstead said mildly. “Captain Seafort enlisted me as cadet on UNS Victoria, the first fast-ship.”
“On his way home from blowing Orbit Station?” After the Navy abandoned us, Seafort had remained behind. Even I had to admit that nuking the Station after luring hundreds of fish was a brilliant move. Hope Nation wasn’t attacked again during the war.
“Yes.”
“You were friends then?”
He said simply, “Not until I gave up goofjuice.”
I caught my breath. Goofjuice was an illicit drug, banned in all the worlds. Penalties were severe. Branstead was lucky; the
I gaped. The “sir” was directed to me.
“I apologize to you for my inexcusable conduct, for my juv”—his eyes strayed to Anselm, but the lieutenants face was impassive—“juvenile tantrum. For breaking all bounds of decorum, for violating ship’s regs and common decency, and exhibiting my immaturity.” Mikhael’s face was scarlet. “Sir, my misconduct has been brought to the Captain’s attention, and we assure you I am being disciplined for it.”
Silence.
He remained at attention.
I spat, “I hope you’re caned.” Dad had told me how much it hurt.
Anselm stirred. “He won’t be. He’s twenty, a couple of years over the line. But he’ll be made to regret his act.”
“What are you here for?”
“By direction of the Captain, to see that Midshipman Tamarov carries out his orders.” A pause, then a hint of what might have been compassion. “Mr Tamarov is an officer; his word is not questioned. Merely his judgment. Is that correct, Midshipman?”
Mikhael gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir. I’m told I showed the judgment of a small child.”
If it wouldn’t have hurt my chest I’d have shouted with glee. The best I could do was put as much malice as I could in my smile. “Do you agree?”
“My opinion is of no consequence.”
“Answer him, Mr Tamarov.”
“Aye aye, sir. Sir—” To me, politely. “—I hate you not one whit less than I did before. I chose to jeopardize my Naval career over that hate. Objectively, I have to agree that shows poor judgment.”
I jutted out my chin. “Why’d they send you, Anselm? Were you part of it?”
“I had no idea. If so, I’d have tried to stop him.” Lest I take too much comfort, he added, “Mr Tamarov is my friend, and I don’t care to see him in trouble.”
“Is he?”
“Very much so. Twenty is too old to be a cadet, or he would have been broken from officer, as I once was. Captain Tolliver nearly dismissed him from the service.”
A pang, that might have been my ribs, or something else. A feeling I didn’t enjoy. I looked away. “I’m sorry you’re in trouble over me. You were nice to me, groundside.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Anselm said, “That’s enough for today, Mr Tamarov.”
I almost felt sorry to see him go. “‘For today’?”
“He’ll be back tomorrow. Every day until your trial.”
I winced, turned away. When I opened my eyes, the hatch was sliding shut.
I was restless all afternoon, yearning to pace despite my aches. The confinement of the tiny cell drove me to distraction; there was no place to go, nothing to look at.
I wanted to see Mikhael again, so I could be cruel to him. He’d have to take it; I was “sir” to him.
I hated him. He’d beaten me without mercy.
I tried not to weep.
That evening Mr Branstead came again. “Are you recovering?” As before, he sat on the bunk, looked up at me.
I was eager for company, but my aches made me sullen. “Do you care?”
“Mildly. You’ll recover from your bruises. I’m more concerned for the middy. He’s on four and four watch. That won’t last, and he’s young enough to take it. But his file will carry a reprimand; he may never make lieutenant, and is probably sick with shame.”
“How do you know so much about the Navy?”
“I too was an officer,” Branstead said mildly. “Captain Seafort enlisted me as cadet on UNS Victoria, the first fast-ship.”
“On his way home from blowing Orbit Station?” After the Navy abandoned us, Seafort had remained behind. Even I had to admit that nuking the Station after luring hundreds of fish was a brilliant move. Hope Nation wasn’t attacked again during the war.
“Yes.”
“You were friends then?”
He said simply, “Not until I gave up goofjuice.”
I caught my breath. Goofjuice was an illicit drug, banned in all the worlds. Penalties were severe. Branstead was lucky; the
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