Massoud (Massoud Chronicles Book 1)

  She observed him openly. He seemed paler than usual, but he retained his wits.

  “You are suggesting that I am the father of your child?”

  “I am not suggesting it. I know it. The doctor couldn’t do a full obstetrical scan with the on-board equipment, so maybe that’s why the dates seem wrong. But you’re the only man I’ve been with, Teloc. You know that.” She gazed at him lovingly, fool that she was. It was a natural consequence of thinking about the conception of her child.

  “Could you please remind me of the normal gestation period for a Terran?” he asked, turning away.

  “About nine standard months. Why?”

  “I believe I understand the discrepancy. The Gnostian gestation period is five to six standard months, depending on the individual. It is highly probable that I am the father.” He appeared to be speaking for his own benefit. “The genetic projection should confirm it. I suppose the on-board equipment could not complete that either.”

  “No. There are concerns about the scanner’s emission levels being too high for a fetus. The doctor thinks I should wait until I get to Denison before I have a complete prenatal check. And you are the father.”

  “Forgive me. I am adjusting to the idea.” He was silent for several seconds. “You should not be in space. It will harm the child. The conditions on Delta Alpha Seven B could not have been conducive to the child’s health either.”

  “There was no choice. I’ll get fetal repair done when we get back to Denison, if it’s needed.” She searched his face. “You’re worried about the baby. Does that mean you’re happy about the pregnancy?”

  “I believe in duty. Few duties are more important than parenthood. I had planned to become a parent after my return to Gnost. As such, I have no inherent objection to becoming a father. However, this is quite unexpected. There must have been a contraceptive failure. Fleet contraceptive protocols have never been clinically tested on Gnostians. Such testing would have been worthless. We are not normally fertile. However, with my myash, that would cease to be the case. You may have been triggered into ovulation by my pheromones.”

  “Yes, your pheromones have been nothing but interesting.”

  “To say the least.”

  “Yes, to say the least.”

  They remained silent for a few minutes, before the captain asked the question, to which there was no simple answer.

  “Are you happy to become a parent, Massoud?”

  “I don’t know. I never planned on it. I just wanted my next promotion. I hadn’t even thought beyond that. With the baby, I’ll be grounded for at least eighteen years. I’ve no idea what to do with myself. I’ll never captain my own ship. I can’t think of any duty at Denison Base that I have any interest in. My career will be dead ended. I used to feel like I was in charge of my own destiny and could pick my own path. But these last few weeks have shown me that isn’t true. Circumstance has tossed me around like a rag doll. My life is totally out of control. I just want to be back in control. I want to make my own decisions,” she complained.

  She found herself fighting back tears. It was too much. She never cried. She was never petulant. It was just another example of how her life was falling to pieces. Unthinkingly, she threw herself at Teloc and wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his chest. It took only a few moments to realize that he did not respond; his torso was unyielding. He could be so irritating at times.

  “You’re the cause of this, you know. You could at least try to comfort me a little. I can’t talk to anyone else about it,” she grumbled.

  The captain patted her stiffly on the back. Massoud withdrew, dissatisfied.

  “Massoud,” he began. “I regret that you see the child in such a negative light...”

  She interrupted. “I don’t see the child negatively. Not at all. Don’t say that.”

  “Very well, you view the challenges of parenting in a negative light.” Massoud shrugged her shoulders, as he went on, “You are failing to recognize that there are options available to you. You have discounted my participation in the child’s upbringing. I could take full custody of the infant and your career would be very little impacted.”

  “No! I’m not giving away my baby. That would be a terrible thing to do. What would she think when she’s older? And you might return to Gnost, and then I would never see her.”

  “Joint custody is another alternative. I have only a few years remaining of required service. I could request planet-side duties for the remainder of my career. The child would be only part grown by the time I was eligible for retirement. You could return to space quite promptly after birth, while I cared for the child.”

  Massoud was appeased by this suggestion. She hadn’t thought that he was the kind of man who would be interested in the dirty duties of parenting. Although she hadn’t considered his contribution as a father, he presumed he would be fully involved. It was an enormous relief.

  “I’m not sure I would want to return to space immediately. I might want to breastfeed.” She ignored the fleeting look of distaste on his face and resumed speaking, “Perhaps I could stay with the baby for a year or two. It would only be a short time off my career track. A year or two won’t make a big difference. It would give you more time in space, too.”

  “You are being somewhat inconsistent, Massoud.”

  “Yes, but I’m hormonal,” she said slyly. “You of all people know how that affects your judgment.” The captain grimaced slightly and said nothing for several moments.

  “You described the child as a ‘she’. Is the child female?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I just have a feeling it’s a girl. In fact, I am almost sure it’s a girl. Would you like a daughter, Teloc?” Her voice filled with her yearning to connect with him. They were having a baby together. Shouldn’t that mean something?

  “I hope for a healthy child. I think that will be adequate.” After a pause he added, “Another consideration is that the child’s genetic projection will confirm that I am the child’s progenitor. The admiralty will look into the matter of fraternization. As the senior officer, I am likely to incur the more severe discipline for this transgression, but your record will not remain unblemished, Massoud. It may affect your promotion prospects. I believe it would be appropriate for me to reveal the full circumstances, pertaining to the child’s conception, and explain that you had no choice in the matter.”

  “And you don’t think that will affect my promotion prospects? A senior officer who can’t deal with someone who’s out of control isn’t worth her salt. And I refuse to give you permission to say I was coerced—or whatever it is you’re thinking of saying. What kind of legacy would that be for the baby? I wasn’t compelled in any way. I was totally into it. You know I was.”

  The captain had the courtesy to blush slightly. Massoud flushed with the sexual memories and caught his eye for a moment before he looked away. Silence overtook them both.

  “My sister will never talk to me again,” she opined after following her own thoughts for several minutes.

  “I do not understand.”

  “She won’t approve of me having a baby.”

  “My understanding of Terran culture is that children are considered a precious gift, as they are on Gnost.”

  “Meccan culture, my family’s culture, does not approve of unwed mothers—or more specifically, of women who sleep with men they are not married to. In my sister’s eyes, I’ll have shamed her and her husband. He’s been like a brother to me, and now they won’t have anything to do with me.” She suppressed a surprising sob. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like emotional displays, but I can’t talk to anyone else about this.”

  “Since I am the cause of your difficulties, I am obliged to be tolerant in this case. I am sorry that you feel your familial relationships will be harmed as a result of my actions. I could explain the circumstances to your family, if that would help.”

  “No. Nothing will help.”

  Massoud spent the next
few minutes recovering her composure, and silently indicated that she wanted to use the small sink in the room. She washed her eyes with water until they looked almost normal and dried her face in Teloc’s towel. He could launder it after she left.

  “Look, we need to absorb this news before we make any big decisions,” she said as she readied to leave. She scrutinized the impassive man who was to continue to be part of her life as long as his child was part of hers. She still felt so much for him, while he felt so little for her.

  “Indeed Massoud, this is a situation that requires thoughtful review.”

  She smiled at his formal turn of phrase. She was rather fond of his little peculiarities.

  “Take care of yourself, Captain,” she said softly as she departed.

  8. Wanting

  M assoud was in the gym and feeling like a fraud. The treadmill was set at only point eight-five standard gravity, and she was walking, not running. She had even stopped to watch virtual children playing zappo, along her route. The children were pleasant, but the simulation needed work. The pastoral scenes had too many hedgerows to be a real farming community. Hedgerows were useful to house pollinators, but this sim had them every fifteen meters. It was picturesque but impractical.

  She was tolerated in the gym, despite being a treadmill hog. Both crews knew she was in rehabilitation, and her exercise clothes displayed her flaming scar to anyone who was uncertain of the fact.

  Speck had become an informal trainer to anyone who visited the gym and he all but growled at those who went to speak to her. He had been offered temporary assignments on board, like others from the Constance, but he had not fitted in with the security personnel. However, being a gym trainer would keep him busy enough for the remainder of the voyage.

  She responded to a beep in the sim and shut down the visuals. Another muscular gym enthusiast, a Lt. Benton, greeted her and complimented her on her improved endurance. She didn’t mention that she had dropped the gravity setting since her prior visit.

  “Do you want the treadmill, Lieutenant?” she asked.

  “No, not at all. I think you need it more than the rest of us. You’re getting some muscle tone back. That’s good.”

  She held up a scrawny arm. “Well, it’s bit of a slow process.”

  “You didn’t ask the doc for tissue enhancement?”

  “Naw, this is a more permanent approach,” she answered, not wanting to mention the procedure presented hazards to her child.

  “Look, it must be pretty boring for you, with nothing to do. I know you’re on medical restriction, but I heard you were a weapons officer before. I thought you might be interested in an up-close view of our weapons systems. I’m the weapons chief. I’d be happy to give you a tour.”

  Massoud’s face lit up. “That would be great. I’ve only worked on Class C systems and they’re dinky compared to yours. When would be convenient? I’m literally available at any time.”

  Benton chuckled. “How about tomorrow? I need a couple of hours to get through my initial duties and then you can join me on the bridge. Eight hundred hours work?”

  “Yes! Thanks so much. It will be really interesting.” Massoud was excessively pleased with her invitation. She had been bored and discontent.

  Benton withdrew and picked up a bo-staff. Speck joined him on the padded floor located in the center of the gym. Massoud deactivated her sim to watch the two men. She had seen them spar before and it was a thing of beauty to see their powerful bodies moving in the unrehearsed ballet of blows and evasions. A tall and sturdy woman joined them, and each took turns to warm up with the other. By the time they engaged in a more formal bout, a small group of gym users had paused, some staying after they had finished exercising, to watch the expert competition. With knees bent and feet planted, the competitors faced off, their staffs clashing with a crisp note. Massoud took to a bench to watch the proceedings. She had nowhere else to be.

  Speck was superior to his two opponents, who took their losses lightly and congratulated the victor warmly. Speck had used raw power to defeat the woman, whose speed and skill exceeded that of her companions. Benton was faster than Speck, but Speck’s superior height and reach gave him an edge. The small crowd applauded the performance. Speck grinned broadly, owning the arena and parading for his audience. “Is there no-one else? Doesn’t this ship have anyone better than this?” He waved his staff towards his opponents who shook their heads good-naturedly.

  There was a surprise response to this challenge. Capt. Teloc stepped forward from somewhere near the entrance. He had never been seen in the gym before. Gnostians didn’t need to exercise to maintain their muscle tone.

  “Let me attempt this sport. I have experience with something similar on Gnost, but the staff was of a different design.”

  Speck was astonished. There was a general increase in interest among the onlookers. Words were shared on comm units. More spectators began to trickle into the gym almost immediately. There was novelty in seeing a captain, even a lowly Captain Third Class, face off against a crewman, especially one who had quickly developed a reputation as a hard head.

  Benton provided the captain with a staff and talked him through some matters of technique. The captain nodded understanding. The woman combatant warmed up with him. He paused often to weigh his staff and adjust his grip, listening attentively to the advice the woman gave him. Finally, he confirmed he was ready. By this time, the gym had filled. Massoud had to stand on her bench to see above the new arrivals, attempting to appear casually interested, and damning the admiralty for letting such tall people into the service.

  The men took position on the mat, Speck bowing with the bo-staff horizontal at his waist, the captain saluting in a foreign manner, with his staff at his side. Benton exchanged some final words with the men before dropping his hand as a signal to start. Massoud was almost breathless at the captain’s grace, as he bent and twisted his body away from his opponent’s strikes, ducking low under a high blow, and then rising up, bringing his staff down to the top of Speck’s head, close enough to deflect his hair but sufficiently controlled to avoid harmful contact.

  “Point,” Benton called out. The audience grinned in appreciation. Speck was good, but the captain had panache.

  Again, the staffs swung and blocked. Speck gained a point, then the captain, and so on until the round ended with the captain edging ahead of his subordinate.

  “Just letting him warm up,” Speck announced with bravado. The crowd snickered at his jest.

  The second round began. The captain was athletic and fluid, exceeding Speck in power and matching him in speed. He appeared to be adjusting to the staff and the conventions of the new sport. He overtook Speck easily this time. In the third round, the captain thrilled the small crowd with a spinning move that brought his staff to the verge of Speck’s neck for a final and winning point.

  Massoud was enthralled, watching her former lover with undisguised admiration. She was a cavewoman at heart, responding to the physicality of the competition. Suddenly self-conscious, she looked around to see who might have observed her, but she had nothing to fear. All eyes were on the mat. All eyes were on the captain. Hers were not the only admiring looks cast in his direction; every female eye was riveted upon him.

  A woman standing in front of Massoud said, “I got to get me some Gnostian”. Her friend replied, “Either that or a cold-water shower!” Massoud was tempted to smack their heads together, annoyed by the crudeness directed towards her gentlemanly captain. Her own primeval instinct was to declare, Back off, he’s mine, but he was no more hers than he was theirs. If she were ever to regain her composure, she needed to put a galaxy between herself and Teloc, but that was not going to happen. They were going to raise a baby together.

  Speck was not pleased with his loss. Benton gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder which he brushed off angrily. He strode off the mat, giving no recognition to his opponent’s victory. Benton and his colleague were more congratulatory in their manner,
praising the captain’s moves and trying a few themselves.

  The crowd began to disperse, and Massoud decided to leave before she was observed making eyes at the captain like a besotted adolescent. She resolved to see Teloc at the captain’s table each night and nothing more. If anyone noticed she was avoiding him, it would seem strange—but not as strange as what they would observe if she acted on her instincts. Avoidance was not a good method to deal with difficulty, but she could think of nothing more effectual.

  The following morning, she prepared for her visit to the bridge to review the weapons systems, the prospect of which had brightened her mood. She was just about to leave her cabin when she heard the door chime. “Enter” she ordered, and the door slid open to reveal Speck.

  “I’m just on my way to the bridge. Is it important?” she asked, as she finished closing her tunic.

  “Yeah,” he said stepping into the snug cabin and tapping, as he entered, the master controls for the lock and communications. Massoud’s senses came to full alert, her pulse pummeling.

  “What is it Speck?” she asked, facing him squarely.

  “We’ve only a few more days in this tin can. It’s our last chance. I saw the way you were looking at me in the gym yesterday. I thought we should take that a little further.” He placed his hands on either side of her, leaning against the bunk behind, and pinning her in place. She considered ducking under his arms, but that would elicit a reaction from him, and he was faster and stronger than she. She had to outsmart him, not out maneuver him. She used her most authoritative tone.

  “Mr. Speck, what you mean? Release me immediately.”

  He brushed a finger against her cheek, and she flinched. “Com’on. You were giving me the big brown eyes yesterday. What’s up today? I won’t tell no-one. Just a fling. You and me. I promise you won’t forget it.”

  Of that Massoud was quite sure.

  “Mr. Speck, you are out of line. Leave now or I will put you on report.”