He placed a firm grip on her upper arm, whispering hoarsely into her ear. “You can’t mess with me like that. Can’t offer and then take away. A man can’t deal with that.”
Massoud realized that some boundary had been crossed in his mind. Her rank and authority were meaningless to this brute. She could order him to stop but he was not going to listen. She’d only the same tools to deal with this as any other woman did.
“I’m not interested. Not interested at all,” she declared.
“Don’t believe you,” he replied in a voice that was both coy and creepy, and much too close to her skin.
“There’s someone else. I am not interested in you. You understand. Don’t touch me!” she snapped as he reached for her backside.
“I won’t tell him.”
His mouth was against her face now. Things were dangerously out of hand.
“I’m having his baby,” she shouted out in desperation. Speck pulled away, half disgusted, and half disbelieving. It was her opportunity.
“Look,” she said, pulling open her tunic, pressing her hands over the shape of her little belly bump. “Do you really think this is how I put on weight? Did you ever see me carry my weight like this? It’s his baby. I don’t want anyone else touching me.”
“You fucking bitch. You lying, fucking bitch. Coming on to me, and acting so respectable, when you have another man inside you. You’re just a twisted, fucking bitch.” He stormed out.
He had been in the cabin barely a minute but Massoud was left trembling by the encounter. Speck was angry—too angry to let things rest. Without hesitation, Massoud tapped the comms system controls. “Capt. Teloc, now” she ordered. The system quickly connected her, and she heard the captain’s remote voice, “Massoud?”
“Speck’s angry, really angry.” That said it all, didn’t it?
“Normally you handle him, Massoud.”
“I can’t. You don’t understand. He propositioned me. I rejected him. He won’t listen to me anymore.”
“I see. Where is he now?”
“He just left my quarters, deck four. I don’t know where he’s going.”
“I will deal with it.”
The communication was terminated. Massoud composed herself, took deep breaths and washed her face in water. She would be a little late for her appointment on the bridge. She paced back and forth in the miniscule cabin to burn up her adrenaline before heading out, expecting to hear some commotion along the way as Speck tore apart valuable equipment or engaged in some other act of vandalism. It would not be her problem. No, not today.
Benton was waiting for her on the bridge. Massoud bowed to Captain Patel as she entered. The captain politely bid her welcome. She liked Captain Patel’s style, warm but authoritative. Benton made space for Massoud at his console, explaining the controls which were very similar to those she had previously used. The weaponry differed from her prior experiences in its specifications. The photon masers, the swarm torpedoes, the ballistic weapons were all of a size to intimidate pirates into surrender. The Achievement was designed to seek out trouble and deal with it. The near defenseless Constance was supposed to avoid trouble but had found it, nonetheless.
“I suppose,” she asked indicating the unit controls, “that you’ve had reason to fire all of these at some point, Lt. Benton?”
“Nah, they’re just here to look pretty. The banditos surrender as soon as we’re within weapons range. Then it’s Lt. Yamanoi’s chance to have fun.”
Lt. Yamanoi was at the next console and wore the colors of a security officer—which, on a bandit raider, meant she was a ‘boarder’. She chimed in:
“Yeah, lots of fun. Once you board, they all claim to be hostages. It takes weeks to figure out who are the victims and who are the perpetrators. Some of the hostages are so brainwashed, they don’t even know themselves. Sometimes, I wish Benton would just blow them out of the sky and give me a break from all the headaches.”
“Still, you must see much more action than I ever do,” Massoud said. “I never used my weapons in anger. I’m sure you’ve fired some warning shots at least.”
“Yes, but that’s about it. We’ve never been seriously threatened. Never had to face the Xenos,” he replied turning his body towards her. “Hey, do you know how many ship’s crews survived a Xeno attack? Very few during the Last War. You’re kind of unique.” He was looking at her with more than a professional interest. Massoud became flustered; the experiences of the morning had made her twitchy. She took a sideways step away from Benton.
“You’re a bit of a historian then?” she asked, her voice tight.
“For the last four weeks, anyway. I’ve been studying the historical record because we didn’t know what to expect when we were assigned to this mission. There was a chance we would engage the Xenos. But the only recent information we had about them were a few images sent with the automated distress signals from the science ships that were attacked. Apart from that, the historical record was all we had. I can’t imagine their weapons technology has stayed still, in the years since the war. Sometimes I feel that ours has. We’ve only developed enough firepower to keep up with piracy, nothing more. We could be in a whole load of hurt if there’s a full-blown war.”
He turned to his console and brought up a historical image of a Xeno ship and then brought up an image that made Massoud's blood run cold and her stomach turn over. It was the same image she had last seen on the bridge of the Constance—the Xeno ship that had killed her comrades.
Benton ran through an analysis of the two images, pointing out differences and similarities, sharing what he knew of the historical capabilities of the Xeno ship, which he labelled as Delta class. Massoud was abruptly aware that she should have been researching this data too during her free time on this voyage. There was a good chance she would need it.
Benton threw open another image. It was a view of the bridge of the Constance, transmitted with the distress signal, which was programmed to send the vessel’s data, as much as possible, in reverse chronological order.
“We got about the last seven minutes of your data, with the distress signal,” he noted. “Here’s the key difference between your experiences and that of the science ship that had no survivors. Their captain reacted too slowly. I don’t mean to criticize, but he was a typical fleet scientist—solid, but too analytical. By contrast, Captain Teloc understood the situation pretty much immediately, ordered an evacuation and used the thrusters to buy a few precious seconds. He’s a bit of a hero. And according to this,” he waved towards the image of Massoud pulling the captain from the bridge of the Constance, “you’re the hero who saved the hero. Quite impressive.”
“Actually,” she stammered, “it’s a little hard to view these recordings.” Benton shut them down. First the business with Speck and now revisiting the shipwreck had strained her nerves to high tension.
Both Benton and Yamanoi were looking at her with deep approval. She was beginning to understand that the deference she commanded on this ship wasn’t due to simple kindness or empathy. When disaster strikes, people identify heroes—no matter how innocuous the actions of those individuals might be. Massoud changed the topic.
“Actually, there’s something I’ve been trying to figure out. Maybe your research can help, Lieutenant. I don’t understand why the Xenos didn’t finish the job. We were helpless. Why didn’t they fire a kill shot?”
“I thought about that too. In the Last War, the Xenos were sparing with their weapons usage. Once their enemy’s ship—by that I mean the human ship —was damaged beyond repair and incapable of functioning, they left it alone. They seemed to consider the ship, not its crew, a threat. Perhaps they devote so much of their economic resources to weapons manufacture that they don’t want to use their munitions unnecessarily. Or perhaps they view their crews as irrelevant and presume we do too. Who knows?”
“Maybe so,” Massoud mused. “It’s strange that they attacked just two ships and then stopped. Do you have any
theories about that?”
“Both ships were working at the edge of our claimed territory. Perhaps, they were out a little too far, and they were a little too close to Xeno space.”
“I’d thought of that too. I hope you’re right. It minimizes the chance of a full-blown war.” The bridge crew had stiffened in their seats, hearing the nightmare scenario discussed so freely.
At that moment, Yamanoi was distracted by her earpiece. Captain Patel received the same communique and nodded dismissal to the security officer. Massoud was about to return to her conversation with Benton, when the captain beckoned her into the privacy shield which she started to erect. Massoud entered through the blurry periphery to a point where she could both see and hear the captain.
“This business, Massoud,” she pointed to her earpiece, “has to do with one of your people. There has been some kind of assault on a young woman. Perhaps you could attend her in medical. Capt. Teloc is not the comforting type, I suspect.”
Massoud blanched, turned, and left with no more than a nod to Benton as she passed. She wanted to run but knew that would not be acceptable. She strode, as quickly as she could, along the now familiar passageways of the Achievement, distractedly acknowledging those who greeted her. Entering the sickbay, she heard familiar voices, including that of a near hysterical Detzler. Massoud brushed past both doctors, a security officer and a med-bot to reach the cadet, who flung her arms around her, weeping.
“I fought him. I really did. He’s just so strong. If the captain hadn’t stopped him, I don’t know. I didn’t do anything wrong. Why me? It’s not fair.”
“Of course, you didn’t do anything wrong and it isn’t fair. Did he...did he…,” Massoud searched for the right phrase, “hurt you?”
“No, the captain pulled him off. I tried to punch him in the balls, like they say you should, but he grabbed my arm.” Detzler held up her slim arm to display angry red marks. She was sobbing.
Dr. Taylor soothed, “We’ll take care of that for you, Cadet. We’ll have you fixed up in no time. Let’s get you into the examination alcove; it will tell us what needs to be done. It will also gather evidence. It will take care of everything all at once.” Detzler did not respond. She continued to cling to Massoud, so tightly that it was difficult to breath, but Massoud did not complain.
“Give her a few minutes. It won’t make a difference,” Massoud requested. Dr. Taylor nodded and stepped back to give the two women some space.
Eventually Detzler gained some self-control and agreed to enter the scanner, albeit somewhat skittishly. Dr. Foster watched while his colleague tended to the victim.
“Interesting marks on her arm. I’ve seen the same pattern before,” he remarked, looking sideways at Massoud. Her flesh crept.
The sickbay door opened and Teloc entered. His uniform had a small tear at the sleeve, and he had a swollen cheekbone. Despite this, he wore his usual settled expression. Detzler leapt out of the scanner alcove and threw herself around the captain’s neck, much to his surprise and to that of the onlookers.
“Thank you, Captain. Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. I don’t know,” she cried.
The captain stood stiffly. “Now Detzler. It is time to compose yourself. You must attend to your medical needs. Do I have to make that an order?”
Detzler, responding to his authority, made an effort to pull herself together, shook her head, and hugged the captain only one more time before releasing him. With a reasonable degree of self-possession, she reentered the alcove. A med-tech spoke to her in a lulling voice. While she was so engaged, Dr. Taylor turned to the captain.
“I need to record your condition too and treat that eye before it swells up like an impact seat.” He directed the captain to an alcove.
“No, Doctor, you must treat Mr. Speck first. His injuries are more severe. I understand he has a dislocated shoulder and fractured ribs.”
“I am not inclined to treat Speck, until I have the leisure to do so. I will treat all other cases first.”
“Doctor, Mr. Speck is still a member of my crew and his welfare remains my duty. You will treat him promptly.”
“He will not be allowed into this compartment until Cadet Crewman Detzler has left. I’m sure you understand the necessity of that. I might as well treat you in the meantime.”
The captain reluctantly accepted this logic. However, he submitted to treatment only within a privacy shield—a Gnostian peculiarity, it must be presumed—although a security officer had to enter the shield to act as a witness. Dr. Taylor, the security officer, and the captain disappeared into a blur.
Massoud fidgeted while she waited anxiously. A med-tech, who knew of Massoud’s condition, encouraged her to sit down, expressed the opinion that the excitement would have made anyone feel faint, and solicitously offered her some food. Massoud had not realized it, but she was rather lightheaded and appeared rather pale. Dr. Foster watched them both suspiciously. The med-tech brought a snack to Massoud, now seated, and returned to her duties. Dr. Foster sat down beside his first officer.
“So, what’s going on?” he asked. “Both you and the Captain report to medical almost daily. I thought I was your doctor. Can’t you tell me?”
“The captain is here daily?” Massoud asked. “Why?”
“I thought you could tell me. Do you both have the same condition?”
“No. I mean, I only know why I come here. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”
“What’s going on with you?”
“It’s private, Doctor. I don’t mean to be rude. You are my doctor, up here,” she pointed to her head. “You’re the one I owe my life too. I feel so appreciative of that. Dr. Taylor discovered my condition, so that’s the reason Dr. Taylor knows. But I’m not ready to tell anyone else—anyone else at all.”
The doctor’s face softened a little. “You’re going to be alright, aren’t you?” he asked with genuine concern.
She nodded confirmation.
“When I first saw you on Seven B, you were in pretty bad shape. Even after the fever broke, you were still fragile and I didn’t want to trouble you with my concerns, but I saw the bruises on your body. Your wrist was injured. You had that nasty cut. How did all that happen, Commander?” he asked softly.
“I had trouble in the escape pod. I was messing with the controls when I should have sat still for a moment to let the restraints catch me. I got banged up around my shoulder and wrist. I didn’t really notice they were hurt until later. Things were so wild.”
“The cut?”
“I lay down in a stream to wash and there was a broken stone underneath. I guess that’s when the bacteria got in. The water on that planet was riddled with pathogens. It did need to be purified before we drank it.”
“And the finger marks on your arm? They were newer than the other marks, Commander.”
Massoud said the first thing that came to mind. “I slipped once. The captain reached out to catch me. He grabbed too hard, I suppose. It didn’t bother me.” It was surprising how smoothly she lied to protect someone she cared about.
The doctor spoke in a very calm and measured voice. “On Seven B, there was little privacy. When the captain bathed, I noticed an injury on his chest. It looked like a weapon’s discharge pattern.”
There was no question asked, and no need to provide an answer. “I don’t know about that,” she lied.
“Commander, we both know that the captain was on the verge of a mental crisis just before we left the Constance, but when I saw him, over a week later, he was as composed as ever. However, you must have witnessed the crisis as it occurred. Did he harm you in any way?” The question was gently posed, but Massoud heard menace in it.
“No, no, not at all. He did get a bit moody and irritable, but that was all. I had to order him about a bit. But that was all.”
She wondered if she had said to much or too little. She couldn’t deny the captain had undergone the myash; he had previously t
old the doctor it would happen. However, she could deemphasize it.
The doctor stood in front of her and took her hand. His expression was compassionate. “Massoud, you know I’m your friend. If anything happened to you, I’m on your side. I saw enough to corroborate whatever you have to say. You don’t need scanner data to prove a case. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”
“Doctor,” she said in a distressed voice, “you’re mistaken, badly mistaken. Nothing untoward happened to me that wasn’t a direct, or indirect, result of the Xeno attack. They are the bad guys here. Why are we looking for problems among ourselves?”
“We have problems among ourselves.” He looked behind her, perhaps towards the slight figure of the cadet stepping from the scanner alcove, perhaps towards the tall captain emerging from the privacy shield.
Detzler claimed Massoud immediately. Standing beside the treatment bed, Massoud’s hand was nearly crushed by Detzler’s long elegant fingers. The girl was shaking. Massoud ordered a blanket for her, knowing that she needed the comfort of it.
“I’m going to tell Ma how you and the captain took good care of me, Commander. But I wish I’d never joined the fleet. Nothing good has happened. My first voyage, and I get shipwrecked. And now all this stuff. It’s not fair. I wish I’d never joined up. I wish my Ma was here.”
Massoud felt for the poor thing and comforted her in a tender voice. “Don’t say nothing good happened, Ditzy. You saved my life—you and the doctor. I would never have made it if it wasn’t for you. You were my angel. I am so glad you were there, even though it was hard for you.”
“You always know how to make me see things better, Commander, just like Ma,” said Detzler burying herself in Massoud’s arms.
Dr. Foster added kindly, “And you found your calling, Detzler. You’re a natural nurse, with the best bedside manner a crusty medical chief could ask for. We’ll get you trained up as a med-tech and you’ll show the entire fleet how it’s supposed to be done.” This earned the doctor his first hug from Detzler.
She was an elastic young woman, emotionally resilient, capable of expressing her feelings, and then letting them go. She would regain her normal cheerfulness in time. For the moment, however, she clung to Massoud who sat beside her for the rest of the day, through her witness interview and medical treatment, and all the quiet times in between.
Massoud (Massoud Chronicles Book 1) Page 13