It was my lot to be banished from paradise.
Overwhelmed by despair amid the stark beauty of the Venturas, I mourned for Sandy Wilsky, for Mr. Tuak, for Captain Malstrom, for Father lost forever in his dour hardness. For the beauty I hadn’t known and would never know again. I cursed my weakness, my pettiness, the lack of wisdom that made tragedy of my attempt to captain Hibernia.Then Amanda, sweet Amanda, came from the glade and enveloped me in her arms, caressing, hugging, rocking, lending me solace only she could give.
After a while we walked together back to the campsite, my soul clinging to the gentle warmth of her touch. Derek, wearing short pants, shirtless, was just starting off to the stream with a bar of soap. Seeing us, he went on his way, mercifully silent.
“Micky, those terrible events on Hiberniaweren’t your fault.”
I sat brooding near the firepit, waiting for the micro to heat my coffee. “No? My talent is to hurt people. I killed Tuak and Rogoff; you know it wasn’t necessary. At Miningcamp I killed the rebel Kerwin Jones and his men, yet made a deal to spare his cohorts on the station. What was the difference?” “You’re too harsh on your--”
“I was cruel to Vax for months. I sent poor Derek to the Chief to be caned for nothing at all. Even Alexi--if I’d been a better leader I wouldn’t have had to send him to the barrel.
The way I treated the Pilot I can’t even discuss. I think of them all the time, Amanda. Lord God, how I hate being clumsy and incompetent!”
“You’re not, Nicky.”
“Tell that to Sandy Wilsky.” My tone was searing.
She was silent for a time. “Must you always do everything right?”
“Not always. But I’m talking about losing my ship and killing my midshipmen and brutalizing the crew!” Again the miasma of despair closed about me.
Amanda sat near, her arm thrown across my shoulders.
“You’ve done your best. Give yourself peace.”
“I don’t know how.” I lapsed silent until Derek returned, his skin pink and briskly scrubbed.
“Man, that’s cold!” He plunged into the firesite and stood warming himself by the flames. He glanced at me with concern. “Are you all right, Mr. Seafort?”
“Fine.” With an effort I lightened my tone. “What would you people like to do today?” It was to be our last full day in Western Continent.
Over breakfast, we decided we’d hike across the valley to the waterfall. I packed my backpack and set out with the others, hoping physical exertion would help banish my melancholy.
It took only a couple of hours to descend our side of the slope. But the valley was wider than it had appeared from the heights, and we had to pick our way among fallen trunks and viny growths that fastened to every crack. At last, weary, we reached the far side of the glen. A short hike brought us to the base of the waterfall where, to our delight, a pool was hidden in the dense undergrowth. Hot and sweating I began to strip off my clothes. After a moment Amanda did likewise.
Derek hesitated, ill at ease.
“Come on, middy! It’s no different from the wardroom!”
My annoyance was evident. His shyness was from his aristocratic past, not his Navy present. Perhaps, groundside for three weeks, he’d forgotten he shared a bunkroom, head, and shower with Paula Treadwell and the other middies.
Blushing, he took off his clothes and waded in.
I’d forgotten how wonderful were simple pleasures. A cold swim after our long hot exertion had a marvelous restorative effect. We cavorted and splashed like small children until our energy was spent. Finally we dressed, had a snack from our packs, and prepared to go back.
“Hey!” Derek pointed to the ground at the pool’s edge, where a sandaled footprint was outlined in the mud.
“We’re not alone.” Amanda was crestfallen.
I said, “Just some other tourists.” They’d come to see the spectacular waterfall, as we had.
“We didn’t see anyone.”
“They’re not here now,” I said impatiently. “Who knows how long ago they left that footprint?”
Derek stared at the mud. His voice was quiet. “It rained hard two nights ago.” The hairs rose on the back of my neck as my imagination brought forth an alien creature sipping water from this very pool. Then I laughed at my foolishness.
Aliens wouldn’t wear sandals like our own.
“So, someone else is around,” I said. It didn’t matter.
Derek jumped up with enthusiasm. “I’ll bet they’re down there!” He pointed to a wooded area past an open field farther down the valley. “Let’s find them!”
I didn’t want to disturb the other group’s privacy, but I had little choice but to follow unless I asserted my authority and demanded that we turn back. My sour mood returned. We scrambled across rocks and through broad-leaved vines until we reached the thicket. We walked along the edge of the field toward the woods.
“Good heavens, that’s com!” Amanda stopped to examine it. Several rows of stalks stood above low-lying vegetation that covered the meadow.
“It can’t be; there’s no native corn.”
“Don’t tell me about corn, Nicky.”
Ignoring our conversation, Derek ran ahead, out of sight.
“Wait,” I called, to no avail. Uneasy, I hurried after him.
“Let’s go, Amanda.”
I stopped so suddenly she caromed into me. Derek, his hands raised, backed slowly away from a ragged man waving a laser. “All of you! Stay right there!” The scarecrow waved his arm back and forth between Derek and the two of us.
Casually, I stepped between Amanda and the laser. The man’s eyes darted among us. Deeply tanned, he wore cutoff pants with ragged edges.
I cleared my throat. “Good afternoon, Captain Grone.”
The gun wavered. “Who told you my name?”
“How many other settlers are hiding in the Venturas?”
“There could be more. How did you know my name?”
“The heli service told us about you.” Not exactly a lie.
They’d mentioned him in passing.
He waved the laser, sounding glum. “I can’t let you go knowing where to find me.”
Time to gamble. “Did you bring a recharger for that pistol, when you fled Centraltown?”
He glared, then dropped his eyes and lowered the gun.
“It’s been out for months,” he admitted. “Damn the thing.”
“It’s all right, Derek,” I said. “Put your hands down.”
Sheepishly, the middy let his hands fall. I stepped forward.
“Nick Seafort of U.N.S. Hibernia.” Ioffered my hand.
After a moment the ex-Captain took it. “May I present Miss Frowel, and Midshipman Derek Carr. Midshipman, you salute a Captain!” Derek snapped his fanciest salute, which after a moment the fugitive sailor in his ragged shorts and torn shirt returned.
“Honey, come out!” he called over his shoulder. In a moment a lithe, well-tanned young woman emerged. Amanda quietly looked her over, with a glance my way; I pretended not to notice.
“This is my wife Jana. Jana, this is Mr. Seafort and his friends Derek and Amanda.”
“Hi, everyone!” Jana Grone seemed pleased at our company. “Come join us for coffee.” As if it were an everyday occurrence, she turned and led us into the woods. We came to a simple hut, hidden under the leafy canopy. A precarious mud-bricked chimney rose from one side. She took a kettle from an iron grate and poured coffee into several glass jars.
Ceremoniously, she handed them around.
“To our first guests,” she said.
“And our last.” Her husband was morose. “He’ll report us and they’ll come for me.”
“As far as I’m concerned,” I blurted, surprising myself, “you’re a deranged joe who thinks he’s the missing Captain Grone. Until I see proof, I’ve got nothing to tell Admiralty.”
Hope flashed in his eyes. “You’d really do that?”
I thought briefly of impressing Grone back into the service to sail Hibernia,and decided the ship was safer even with me. “You’re a local problem. I have nothing to do with it.”