The captain checked in occasionally. He was busy liaising with Security and Capt. Patel. He offered Detzler his cabin, but the girl did not want to be alone. A message was sent to Lt. Singh, and the business was quickly settled. Singh would bunk with a subordinate, leaving her own bunk free for Detzler.
Massoud was kept awake by the cadet’s sobbing until after midnight, but even after silence fell over the cabin she could not sleep. She reviewed her interactions with Speck repeatedly, wondering what she could have done to prevent this situation. Ultimately, she resolved that there was nothing she could have done. Speck was going to harm someone, sometime, regardless of how he was handled. It was in his nature. The best achievable goal was to stop him in the act, and her warning to the captain had made that happen.
Then there was the troubling conversation with the doctor. Had she allayed his suspicions? He had always been at odds with the captain and had hinted at prejudices she did not want to consider. The doctor had saved her life; she wanted to see him in a favorable light, but the captain had her loyalties.
The last, and dominant, concern was the fact that the captain was receiving medical treatment. His condition had to be serious if it required daily care. But then, Dr. Taylor wanted her to come for a daily assessment, and that was clearly excessive. Perhaps the doctor was being overly cautious with Teloc also.
After such an uncomfortable night, it was a relief to wake up and see Detzler dressing, declaring she was starving and on the way to the mess. Massoud’s near permanent hunger was up and alert too. They left for the general mess together. They were just reaching their destination when they bumped into Lt. Benton. Detzler was motivated by her need for food and went ahead.
“Is that your crewmember, the one who was attacked yesterday?” he asked. “She looks like she’s twelve years old.”
“Not much older actually. She just turned nineteen.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Alright. She’s tough in her own way, though you wouldn’t think it. She’ll bounce back.”
“What about Speck?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Massoud responded bitterly. “He was always nothing but trouble.”
“That’s pretty clear from the first moment you meet him. Every ship has one like him,” he concluded. “Hey, I didn’t get to show you my arsenal or any of my equipment,” he hesitated, recognizing his double entendre, but continued on gamely, “perhaps you could catch me later today.”
He was looking at her with unprofessional interest again. Massoud couldn’t determine how to respond to him. She did want to see the weaponry but didn’t want to encourage him improperly. Delay was the only tactic that came to mind.
“I think I should stay with Detzler today—just to be there if she needs me.”
“Duty first. I like it.” He grinned at her and he walked away with a wave. Her life was becoming too complicated.
She turned towards the mess, only to find Teloc observing her closely. It appeared that he had just exited the gym. She nodded to him as coolly as she could. It was another mystery. Why was a Gnostian visiting the gym? It wasn’t to pass the time; the smells would be too objectionable for his nose. Was it something to do with his visits to sickbay? She did nothing but worry about one member of the Constance’s crew or the other.
She stuck with Detzler for the morning, but the girl was not short of company or support. In the afternoon, Chrostowski and Painter took her to their cabin to watch a trendy holo-novella. Painter had pragmatically switched allegiances from the aggressor to the victim. Massoud returned to her own cabin to change into exercise gear but, before she left the cabin, she caught sight of herself in the mirror that Detzler had left active. Her gym clothes showed a bump! A stranger might think this was her normal shape, but anyone from the Constance would know it was not, or so she convinced herself. The truth was that her shape was unremarkable. Massoud was being overly sensitive. Her bump was barely perceptible through the loose clothing. Nevertheless, she changed quickly back into her uniform, resting her head in weariness on her bunk. Within a minute, she was disturbed by Singh’s entry.
“Hey, Massoud. What’s up?”
“I’m just standing here waiting for the next horrible thing to happen. Did you come to tell me all the yummy desserts were lost through a hull breach?”
“Ha! Nothing as serious as that. I just came to get some things. How’s your girl doing?”
“Right now, I think, better than me. I didn’t sleep last night. I’m just bone-weary. I should probably take a nap.”
“Yeah, you should. You’ve been looking a little green most mornings. You’re still getting over the oozing yellow puss disease that you had. You need to take time for yourself.”
“The oozing yellow puss disease? Is that what we’re calling it now? This has to be the work of ship’s gossip—the most powerful force in the fleet,” Massoud quipped.
“Absolutely. You people are the most interesting thing that’s happened on this ship in years. There are all sorts of stories about you. Even yesterday’s nasty business adds to the interest. But I’m serious. You need sleep. I can tell. I’m going to put up the do not disturb sign. Have you eaten today?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I just had lunch.”
“Good, that will help settle your stomach. I’ll check on you later.” Singh left the cabin with brisk aplomb and Massoud crawled into bed fully dressed, envying her cabin mate’s energy.
*
Almost a week later, Massoud received an unexpected request to meet with the first officer of the Achievement, Commander Volk, in the briefing room. He had taken to using this room for his own purposes since it had a privacy rating, like his own inaccessible cabin. Massoud knew the commander, since they ate their evening meals together, and had come to question his recent promotion as precipitous. On entry, Massoud recognized his apprehension immediately. He forced a smile of welcome.
“Ah, Commander Massoud. Good morning. Please have a seat. Did you find the briefing room without difficulty? How are you today? Well, I hope? I hope you slept well?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes is the answer to your last two questions. I lost track of the earlier ones,” she joked.
He looked a little baffled and fiddled with some open documents in front of him. He should have closed them; they looked like ship’s business and were not for Massoud’s eyes.
“Ah...” he looked around as if for something lost. “Eh...”
“Can I help you with something, Commander?”
“Uh, not exactly. Um, this is rather embarrassing—a delicate matter. The captain asked me to speak to you about it.”
“Captains often delegate the delicate matters to their first officers, don’t they?” she encouraged. “I think it’s why they accepted promotion to their rank—so they wouldn’t have to deal with the difficult stuff themselves. My experience is that it’s best to address the issue, whatever it is, head-on. Just spit it out. Get it over and done with. It minimizes the pain.” It was clear that Volk needed prodding.
“So true. Yes, you are right.” But still he did not proceed.
“What did Captain Patel want you to speak to me about?” she prodded.
“A delicate matter, very delicate.”
“What is the delicate matter in question, Commander Volk?” Her patience was thinning.
“Oh, something quite out of my experience you understand. I mean not totally. Rumors. Speculation. We’ve all heard this kind of thing before.”
Massoud was attentive. “What rumors exactly, Commander?”
“Foolish ones, of course. But the captain felt that you should be aware of them so that you could handle them in your own way. I reported them to her, naturally. The captain says I am to be her eyes and ears on the ship.”
“Quite so, Commander. But what are the rumors exactly?”
“Forgive me, Commander Massoud. But I have heard some comments—just a few random ones that indica
te that the crew, or at least part of the crew, or some among them, think you are, that is, that you are, perhaps, it is possible, maybe expecting a child.”
Massoud laughed out loud, whether this was due to Volk’s odd style, or because she was relieved that Dr. Foster’s speculations weren’t circulating, it was hard to say.
“Is that all?” she asked with good humor.
Volk looked startled. “Yes.”
“Are there any other rumors about me?”
“Well, one story is that you were briefly taken by Xenos and that the child is the result of some experiment they conducted...”
Massoud laughed again. “Oh, no. I’m not having an alien child!” and then realizing that this was not strictly true, she clarified, “My kid will be human with two arms, two legs.”
“Ah, so you are expecting?”
“Yes. There’s no point in denying it now. Captain Patel was right. I do need to take control of this information before it gets too wild. Are there any other rumors?”
“Another story has Lt. Benton as the father.”
This sobered Massoud promptly. “Well, that would make him a fast worker. I only met him a week or so ago. I had better quash that one. Anything else?”
“That’s all I’ve heard.”
“It’s quite enough, I think. Well, I’m sure you’re glad this interview is over, Commander. I gather you were dreading it.”
“Yes, the captain expects me to deal with all personnel issues, which means I have to handle the most irksome matters. The captain is little help. She holds herself quite aloof at times.”
“If you want aloof, you should try serving with a Gnostian,” Massoud remarked thoughtlessly.
“Ah, yes. Captain Teloc is a peculiar animal, not at all approachable and deathly pale. What kind of scientist is he?”
“A geologist.”
“I thought coroner would be more his style,” Volk sniggered.
Massoud had had enough of him. She instinctively adopted her command tone. “I will not hear you insult persons because of their race, Mr. Volk.”
Despite his superiority in rank, Volk stammered like an ensign. “I’m sorry, Commander.”
“So you should be. Thank you for the information,” was her cold farewell.
Massoud now had a decision to make. She could just let the rumors run their own course, or she could take the reins and control them. It was inevitable that her pregnancy would become common knowledge. With regard to that issue, she didn’t have a falsehood to correct. However, the rumors included misinformation that would distress others. Benton was a good man and he didn’t need to be dragged into her messy life. Also, if there was already speculation that she had become pregnant on Delta Alpha Seven B, and by aliens at that, it was only a matter of time before Teloc’s name would become attached to her pregnancy. That would only feed into Dr. Foster’s nasty suspicions. It was clear she had to control the story.
As lunch ended, she sought out the crew of the Constance, asking them to remain in the mess hall while she sent messages to fetch those who were absent. The crew looked at her expectantly, puzzled by the unusual summons to a real-space meeting. One or two of the Achievement’s crew lingered in the mess out of curiosity. The captain entered and stood at the back, tilting his head in question. Massoud took a breath.
“I have something to tell you all. It’s proving quite hard to say, although it shouldn’t be. I’ve heard that there are some rumors about me.” Some of those present looked at each other guiltily. “And I want to set the record straight.”
She hesitated. It was difficult to share something so personal with people she had commanded. She spat it out.
“When I came aboard the Achievement, Dr. Taylor informed me I was about nine weeks pregnant.”
She noticed the surprised faces before her. Perhaps the rumors had not permeated the entire ship. No, that couldn’t be true. The crew was shocked by her openness, nothing more. She scanned the room. Dr. Foster was eyeing the captain mistrustfully. The captain was examining his shoes. She continued.
“Those of you, who can do basic arithmetic, have realized that the rumors about Xenos inseminating me are false. I am expecting a human baby.” A few suppressed guffaws answered this announcement.
“But what I really wanted to tell you all, is how much you all mean to me,” she continued with feeling. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you—if it wasn’t for your strength and spirit and resourcefulness.” She smiled at Detzler and the Doctor. “Everything you did kept me alive on Seven B and kept my baby alive.” Massoud felt tears form in her eyes. “So, I have decided to name the baby to honor you. I am going to call her Constance.” A hormonal sniffle escaped her, and, with deep embarrassment, she picked up a serviette to dab her face.
There was a moment when it seemed the crew did not know how to react to their commander’s tears, and then Takei took a few steps forward and, breaking protocol, embraced her.
“I feel like I am going to be a grandfather again. This is the best news we’ve had. Little Constance. What a joy!”
Massoud looked around to see emotion playing on every face. Each member of the Constance’s crew was affected, and some were teary eyed. Most touched her in some way, depending on their level of familiarity with her. Detzler hugged her. Walsh patted her. Yuma shook her hand, two handed, in the old-fashioned way of her colony. It was clear they all found comfort in the news of her baby. Lives had been lost—they were taking Garcia’s body back to his children—but there was to be a new life. It was a consolation.
“Well, if the chief is to be the grandfather, I suppose that makes me an aunt,” announced Chrostowski. “I’ll babysit.”
“Only if you promise not to tell any risqué fairytales,” Massoud forced out in a cracked voice.
“There’s another kind?” asked Chrostowski affecting innocence, and eliciting laughter. It was good to see the crew laugh and to bring them joy.
9. Character
O nly three days remained of their journey to the planet of Denison. Massoud was supping from a hearty bowl of pulses at the captain’s table. The Constance’s officers were still being treated as honored guests, to the extent that most entrees were now vegetarian. Capt. Patel had announced that her extended family was vegetarian, and she wished to return to her roots—an intent that curiously coincided with Capt. Teloc’s arrival on board.
Massoud was contemplating the return to base. The Achievement was not her home; the Constance had been. The next best thing to home was the place that was officially designated as her residence, the city of Denison. Once there, she could pick up the threads of her life, apply for a planet-based assignment, prepare for the baby’s arrival, and, most importantly, take control of her life again. She would also have better opportunity to talk freely with Teloc about their plans for parenting the baby.
Commander Volk, being exceptionally intolerant of silence, was prattling. As if reading Massoud’s thoughts, his subject tonight was the future of the Constance’s crew, a topic that he bandied about with his usual insensitivity. It did not occur to him that the surviving crew would be severed into nineteen parts, and that the cuts would be painful.
“Commander Massoud will have to accept a shore assignment of course, at least for the immediate future, or perhaps longer. So few single parents return to space, at least while they are still young enough to pursue their career.”
Captain Patel gave him a look which he partially understood, and he continued, “Of course there are some wonderful career opportunities at the base.” Volk paused a moment, apparently to consume some soup, though he took but a partial spoonful. It was his effort at politeness. He despised the soup and had consumed a large meat-heavy lunch to sustain him.
“And Capt. Teloc’s reputation has been enhanced by Commander Massoud’s pregnancy, of course.”
Massoud spluttered out her soup, busied herself with her napkin, and barely heard Teloc’s severely posed question:
“
What do you mean, Commander Volk?”
Volk cringed and answered, “I just mean, well, you know, it was rather heroic for you to carry your first officer for two days in the wilderness. Everyone on board thinks so. Now the story has been amended to include you carrying your heavily pregnant first officer in the wilderness. Of course it enhances your reputation.”
“Both are exaggerations. The time duration is too long and Massoud was emaciated, if anything, at the time in question.”
“Even so, the story is good for your career. It’s the perception that’s important, even if the truth is a little less flamboyant.”
“Flamboyant! No, Volk.” Teloc had a terrible bitterness in his voice. “The truth is important, very important. I am not heroic. I am the captain who lost his ship and four of his crew. That is all that matters to me.”
Massoud and the other diners stared at the rattled Teloc in amazement. Although everyone capable of empathy felt for him, they were astounded at his atypical behavior—an outburst more Terran than Gnostian. He sat with his hands on either side of his placemat, staring down, evidently struggling to control his emotions. Capt. Patel spoke to him with careful sensitivity:
“Capt. Teloc, both of us have been in the service long enough to know that a science ship is no match for a Delta cruiser. You did everything that you could.”
Her words of comfort were futile. Teloc rose quickly to his full height. “Captain.... Please excuse me,” he said with a tremulous voice, before leaving hurriedly.
A chill settled over the company after the departure of the strange captain and his unfounded self-reproach. Accusatory eyes were directed at Volk, who mumbled something to the effect of “Captain, I’m sorry.”
“Enough has been said, Volk,” she responded frostily.
The group broke up soon afterwards, but Captain Patel insisted Massoud stay and complete her meal, reminding her that she was on a medically approved diet. Massoud recognized an order, despite the paltry disguise, and remained in her seat, playing with her now unpalatable food.
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