I snarled, “Report by the book, middy. Two demerits!”
If the boy thought he could niggle over every petty infraction by his charges, then himself get away with-”Aye aye, sir! Midshipman Philip Tyre reporting, from the Level 2 lounge. Ricky Fuentes is--that is, Jared Treadwell has a knife; he’s taken Cadet Fuentes hostage and says unless he gets his children back he’ll--”
I was halfway to the hatch. “Vax, page Mr. Vishinsky to the lounge! Three seamen with stunners. Flank!” I dashed out.I don’t remember using the ladder but I must have plunged down at least three steps at a time. I fetched up panting against the Level 2 corridor bulkhead, outside the lounge.
Philip Tyre poked out his head, saw me, slipped into the corridor, saluting. “They’re inside, sir. The far end. I tried talking to him but he--”
I brushed the middy aside, strode in. Behind me, the hatch slid shut.
Ricky’s right arm dangled as if useless. Jared Treadwell, Rafe’s father, had an elbow wrapped around the boy’s throat, holding him nearly off the floor. Ricky’s head was pressed tight into Treadwell’s chest. The cadet’s good hand pawed at the throat hold, seeking air.
The knife was poised a millimeter from Ricky’s eye.
Treadwell’s voice was a snarl. “Want to bet I c’n take an eye before you stun me?” His swarthy face glistened with a sheen of sweat.
“Easy, Mr. Treadwell. Just put--”
“You think this is how I wanted it, Seafort?”
“No, of course not--”
“Give me my son! And Paula!” The knife flickered.
Ricky’s breath hissed in terror.
From the corridor, pounding feet.
“Mr. Treadwell, Ricky Fuentes has nothing to do with--”
“We tried petitions. We tried going through the courts. No matter what, you had to have your way!” A wrench of his elbow; Ricky squealed. “Call Rafe in here, or so help me, I’ll blind him.”
The hatch burst open. I whirled. “Out, until I call!”
“But--” The master-at-arms.
“Out!”
Vishinsky backed through the hatch. I spun back to Jared Treadwell. “Listen, sir, I know you’re upset--”
“No more talk! I’ll do the first eye to show you I mean it!”
I roared, “By Lord God, you’ll let me finish a sentence!”
It was so ludicrous he was stunned. So was I, but I knew for Ricky’s sake I had to keep the initiative. I flung off my
jacket. “You don’t need the cadet. You have me.”
“Get away!” The knife flicked; Ricky moaned.
“I’m your hostage.” I moved closer.
“Don’t, sir!” Philip Tyre, behind me. I hadn’t seen him enter.
“This was my doing,” I said. Fitting that I pay the consequences.
“Sir, you mustn’t!”
“Another word, Mr. Tyre--just one--and you’re dismissed from the Service.” My tone was ice. “Now, Mr.
Treadwell... “
“Here goes the eye.”
“Do it and I’ll kill you. With my bare hands.” Something in my inflection gave him pause. I took another step.
His manner*became almost conversational. “Irene went groundside this morning. Three lawyers she called, all she could reach. The first told her nothing could be done; you’d already ordered the judge not to hear the case. The others wouldn’t even talk.”
Another step. “You’ll let the boy go. I’ll take his place.”
Now I was quite near.
“You leave us nothing, see. No law, no court, no appeal.”
Suddenly his voice was a shout of torment. “Who appointed you Lord God?”
I swallowed. Who, indeed? Mrs. Donhauser had warned me, months back, of the hazard I’d blundered into. Protecting children was a basic human urge. And I’d set it against me.
“Mr. Treadwell.” My tone was more gentle. “First, let the boy go. I’ll take his place. Then we’ll call Rafe and Paula.
If they want to leave with you, I’ll allow it. Else, they stay.”
“What good’s that, after you’ve brainwashed them?”
“Would you keep them by force?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know what--Lord, help me!” A rasping breath, akin to a sob.
I gave the terrified cadet what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Ricky, in a moment Mr. Treadwell will set you free.
Mr. Tyre, when I sit down in that chair, take Cadet Fuentes out to the corridor and explain to Mr. Vishinsky. Then bring Cadets Paula and Rafe Treadwell to the lounge.”
“Sir, if he takes you host--”
“AYE AYE, SIR! SAY IT AT ONCE!”“Aye aye, sir!”
I sat, kicked my chair to within Jared Treadwell’s reach.
For a moment we were frozen in anguished tableau.
With, a cry of hurt, Ricky tumbled free to the deck.
Treadwell wrenched back my hair, caught my chin, yanked upward. His knife dug at my throat. It took all my strength not to move. Please, Lord. Keep the children safe from harm.
In the edge of my vision I caught sight of Ricky’s face. It was unharmed. “Philip, take him--”
“Shut up, Captain!” The knife pressed.
“--out to the corridor. Flank.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Tyre darted forward, helped Ricky to his feet. The two of them stumbled out.
Silence. Then Treadwell’s voice came in a hiss. “I hate you.
I hate your arrogance, your certainty that you’re doing right no matter how much you hurt others. If it weren’t for my children, I’d slit your filthy throat and have done with it!”
I made a sound.
“What?”
“I said, do it.”
“Jesus, you’re crazed.”
I could think of nothing to say.
A knock on the hatch. “Are you all right, sir?”
The knife tightened. “No tricks!”
“Fine, Mr. Vishinsky. Remain outside.”
Now that the die was cast, I felt more peace than I had in months. I waited, watching the hatch. “They’ll be here in a moment, I think. If I might suggest... “
“Hah. As if I care what you--”
“Do you want your children to see you with the knife?”
“There’s no way I’m letting you--”
“I give you my word I’ll sit still.” My chin ached. It was hard to talk, with his fingers grinding into me. “Do you want their sympathy or their horror?” Nothing. “Mr. Treadwell, you haven’t a chance to persuade them if they see you hurting me.”“Are you insane? Why would you help me?”
I thought a long while. “So the test will be fair.”
His hand wavered. “Shut up. I want to despise you.”
A knock. A tremulous voice, from outside. “Cadet Rafe Treadwell reporting, sir.”
I said quietly, “Put the knife away, Mr. Treadwell. I’ll stay seated where you can reach me.”
His moment of decision. Slowly, the knife lowered, disappeared. “Go ahead. Betray me.” Vast bitterness.
“Come in, Cadet.”
Rafe entered, snapped a rough salute. He hadn’t had much time to practice. “Sir, I heard--what’s... “ He gave up, came to a ragged version of attention.
“As you were, Rafe. It seems your father wants you to go ashore. To resign. I’m willing to let you.”
“No!”
Behind me, a hiss of breath.
The boy cocked his head, looked at his father strangely.
“Jared, why are you doing this? I’m a cadet now. I’m where I want to be.”
“You can’t just walk away from your family.” Treadwell’s voice was hoarse. “You’re barely thirteen.”
“Old enough to enlist.”
“And you left us nothing but a note. You didn’t have the guts, the courtesy to tell me to my face!”
The boy’s eyes teared. “Would you have listened?”
I said, “Rafe, it may have been a mistake. You decided so fast. Wouldn’t it be best if--”
“You said it was for five years, and I couldn’t change my mind!”
I nodded.
Rafe cried, “That’s what I want, not a chance to back out! You think it was easy, signing up?” His jaw jutted. “See what you’ve done, Jared? Now he’ll have me whipped for insolence. Can’t you leave things alone?”
At the hatch, a knock.
“Son, I... “ Mr. Treadwell sounded uncertain. “Your mother and I, we thought--” His voice broke. “Rafe, why do you run from us?”
“Because I’m not your son!” Rafe’s face twisted. “I’m a creche boy. Sheila was my nurse, and Martine. I had forty brothers and sisters. God, how I miss them!” He ran fingers through his short-cropped hair. “It was your choice to creche us as babies. When you took us out, Paula and I warned you: we weren’t really a family. Irene paid no attention, and neither did you.”