The night before our final Defuse she waited outside the dining hall. “Nick, I don’t want to leave it... like this.”
Her voice was gentle. “With the strain between us.”
Being close to her made me uncomfortable; I moved back a step. “I’m still a murderer. Even more now than before.”
She blushed. “Yes, I said that, and I suppose I still mean it. But people are more complex than I was willing to admit.
You did what you thought you must, and you’re still Nick Seafort.”
I said coldly, “Thank you. There were times when I wondered.”
“Oh, Nicky.” She put her hand on my arm. “It must have been horrible.”
“I’ve been”--I thought of putting her off, then chose honesty--”very lonely. Sometimes.”
“I’m sorry. I wish you well.”
“That’s all that’s left?” Wounded, I turned to go. She still had the power to hurt.
“I do care for you!” she cried to my retreating back. I stopped. “How I wish it could have been different, Nicky. I missed you too!”
“But it wasn’t.” I managed a small smile. “I wish you well also, Amanda. Good-bye.”
“Come see me in Hope Nation,” she said impulsively.
“You’ll be in port for weeks.” After cruising interstellar for more than six months, crew and officers alike were entitled to four weeks of shore leave. The regs were firm on that, and I agreed. Our men were enlistees, not prisoners.
I nodded assent. “All right. I’ll look you up.” If I wasn’t under arrest pending court-martial. On that note we parted.
The next morning I had the watch, with Lieutenant Vax Holser. The Pilot was also present, waiting for his moment.
“Bridge to engine room, prepare to Defuse.”
“Prepare to Defuse, aye aye.” Chief McAndrews was ready, as always. “Engine room ready for Defuse, sir. Control passed to bridge.”
“Passed to bridge, aye aye.” I traced the line on the screen from “Full” to “Off’. Once again the simulscreens came alive with a blaze of lights.
“Confirm clear of encroachments, Lieutenant.” Whenever possible I used Vax’s title rather than his name, to help him settle in.
“Clear of encroachments, sir.”
“Plot position, please, Lieutenant.” I noticed the Pilot quietly doing likewise. He would not dock Hiberniaunder someone else’s calculations. After a few minutes the two men checked their coordinates with each other and with Darla.
“Auxiliary engine power, Chief,” I said.
“Aye aye, sir. Power up.”
“Pilot Haynes.” My tone was formal. “You have the conn.”
“Aye aye, sir. Steer oh three five degrees, ahead onethird.”
“One-third, aye aye, sir.” Our last jump had placed us within a few hours of Hope Nation and its Orbit Station. The planet gleamed bright and welcoming in our simulscreens, bringing a lump to my throat.
The watch changed, but I remained on the bridge, my thoughts fastened on what might have been.
Hours later, my long reverie was interrupted. “Sir, Orbit Station reports locks ready and waiting.” The comm room.
“Confirm ready and waiting, understood.” The Pilot was busy at his console.
“Relative speed two hundred ten kilometers per hour, sir.” Vax, to the Pilot.
“Two hundred ten, understood. Maneuvering jets, brake ten.”
I picked up my caller. “Comm room, patch me to Orbit Station.”
A pause. “Go ahead, sir, you’re patched through.”
“Hiberniacalling Orbit Station.”
“This is approach control; go ahead, Hibernia.”I said, “Identify yourself, please: name, rank, and serial number.”
“What?” The rating’s astonishment was evident.
Pilot Haynes shot me a glance. After a moment the corner of his mouth turned up. He nodded grudgingly.
“You heard me. Identify yourself.”
“Communications Specialist First Class Thomas Leeman, U.N.A.F. 205-066-254.”
“Darla, serial number check, please.”
A moment’s pause. “Prefix 205 is interstellar rating; suffix 254 notates communications specialist. 066 within valid ID ranges.”
“Who is your commanding officer, Mr. Leeman?”
“General Due Twan Tho, sir.”
“I’d like to speak to him.” I turned off the caller. “Darla, his file, please.”
Another pause. Then, “General Tho here. What’s the problem?”
“Visuals, please, General.” Once burned, twice shy.
“What nonsense is this?” His glowering visage came onto my screen. “Are you satisfied?”
He matched the picture Darla projected overhead. “Quite.
Thank you. We’ll be docking shortly.”
“You identify yourself too, Hibernia!”He was within his rights. My request appeared ridiculous, and he was returning the favor.
“Captain Nicholas Seafort commanding, U.N.N.S. 205387-0058.”
After a moment he said warily, “I’d like to speak to Captain Haag.”
“Captain Haag is dead of an accident. I am senior officer aboard.”
“Visuals, please.”
I switched on my video.
“My God, how old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“You were a lieutenant?”
“No, a midshipman.” I let him chew on that awhile. There was no further communication.
Pilot Haynes carefully edged the ship closer to the station until the airlocks gently made contact. “Stop all engines.”
“Stop engines, aye aye, sir.”
“Join capture latches, fore and aft.”
“Forward latches engaged, sir.”
“Aft latches engaged, sir.” Vax, from his station at the aft airlock.
“Begin mooring, Lieutenant. Open inner locks.” Belowdecks, a suited rating pressed his coded transmitter to the lock control. As the thick transplex hatches opened, the indicator light on my screen flashed.
“Inner lock ready aft, sir.”
“Open outer lock. Secure mooring line. Pressurization check.”
A pause, while the seaman labored under Vax’s watchful eye. “Line secured, sir. Pressure maintained one sea-level atmosphere.”
“How does it look, Mr. Holser?”
“Peaceful, sir.”
“Very well, open inner lock.” I sagged. I’d given my last significant order. Though still nominally under my command, Hiberniawas controlled now by the station commandant.
I thumbed the caller. “Mr. Leeman, patch me to Admiralty groundside, please. And I’ll want transport as soon as possible.”
“No problem, Captain,” growled General Tho. He’d stayed on the line. Well, our arrival had been unusual, to say the least.
Clicks and beeps from the speaker. “Admiralty House.”
“Commander U.N.S. Hiberniareporting. I’d like your senior duty officer, please.”
Faint static swirled through the line. “That will be Captain Forbee, sir. One moment.” I waited, my tension growing.
The ordeal I faced wouldn’t be pleasant.
“Forbee.”
“Captain Nicholas Seafort reporting, sir. U.N.S. Hiber-nia.”“Justin Haag was scheduled for this run, sir.”
“Captain Haag died interstellar, sir. I’m senior officer.”
“Can you come to Admiralty House or shall I come up?”
Odd, coming from a groundside commander. An Admiral and his staff didn’t go visiting, they summoned.
“I’ll be down as soon as the station gives me a shuttle, sir.
I’ll bring the Log.”
“Very good, Captain.” We broke the connection.
I went back to my cabin. I debated dress whites and decided against them; they would impress no one. I rummaged in my duffel for my unused wallet, checked to see that it still held money. As I’d be going shoreside I pinned my length of service medals to my uniform front, made sure my shoes were well shined.
On Level 2, passengers milled about the aft airlock for a look at the station, though they wouldn’t begin to disembark for hours. I went to the forward lock, where crews were already off-loading our cargo. Holovid in hand, I straightened my uniform and clambered through the lock.
“This way, Captain Seafort.” An enlisted man led me through the unfamiliar wide gleaming corridors and hatches of Orbit Station to the Commandant’s office. The design of the station was much like our disk, though larger in all respects. Higher ceilings, wider corridors, larger compartments.