Massoud (Massoud Chronicles Book 1)
Page 21
She was struck by his words. His logical argument resonated with her and obliterated her emergent objections to their union. Her deeper reasons for wanting to push him away began to percolate to the surface.
Teloc had reasoned, as best he could, from her perspective, although it cost him considerable effort not to challenge her underlying beliefs. He had adopted a very measured tone, but now changed it to something more expressive.
“Elizabeth, you said you loved me. Have you changed your mind?”
She stared at him and shook her head. “I don’t know what I think. I’m so confused. It frightens me that you are so strange, and that Constance will be so different.”
“You have known me a long time. Have you not become accustomed to my strangeness?”
“There is a difference between working with someone and being married to someone. This is so intimate. And I don’t know what being married to you means. I don’t even know what it means to be married,” she cried. “Isn’t it just a way for someone to hurt you? I don’t think I can tolerate it.” She tucked her shaking hands under her armpits.
He pulled himself behind her, wrapping his long legs and arms around her, so that she was engulfed in him, but he held her lightly, giving her the choice of escape.
“Marriage to me means that you will be secure. I will protect you from harm. I will promote your welfare in every way that I might. I will sometimes misunderstand you, but not for want of trying. I will help ease your daily burdens. I will listen to your fears. I will comfort you when you are sad. I will be satisfied when you are happy. When you wish, I will sleep with you. When you do not wish it, I will not. I will be yours, a part of you, a part of your life, but I will promote your independence and your strength. I will do my duty as a husband. I know that intimacy is difficult for you. Your past experiences make it hard for you to trust any man that is an integral a part of your life, but I will always respect you and honor you. Can you not take me as your husband, Elizabeth Massoud? Can you not take an alien to your heart?”
Elizabeth was overwhelmed and could only weep, heaving her body back and forth. She felt his hand stroking her hair, while his other hand supported her weight as she keened forward in her grief—a terrible grief at being too damaged to accept his offer with an untainted heart. She would take him because she had a greater fear of the empty place his absence would leave in her life, but she was unsure if she could truly accept him. Her wretchedness continued as she mourned all the misery in her life that left her too disabled to be happy with the man she loved. He was patient, soothing her, tending to her needs. He was everything she needed, and that disturbed her very much.
13. Judgment
S he was watching Alfred the Robot cleaning the vast windows in the atrium, scurrying from one part of the vertical surface to the other. It was as near to mindlessness as she could come. The responsive tinting of the glass had failed long ago, and the windows were now fixed in a haphazard patchwork of varied shades, unevenly lighting the space. Thirty years before, a plan had been floated to update the atrium, that graced the base headquarters, and to install virtual glass. The usual arguments had been made about energy efficiency and safety, but ordinary servicemembers had objected vehemently and the solid glazing, that the century-old Alfred cleaned, had been reprieved. Now the old windows were designated a historical artifact and every spacefarer thought it lucky to smudge the glass, and to see Alfred go to work, before embarking on a voyage.
Massoud wriggled her inelegant body to the edge of the bench and pulled herself up, intending to smear the glass, wanting every piece of luck her family could muster. Teloc’s closed-session Investigative Tribunal was in progress. Against the advice of counsel, he had decided to admit guilt. It was an olive branch to his government, which had withdrawn the unenforceable order for him to return to Gnost. His only concession to his lawyer’s advice was that he would allow the exposition of facts to occur before he pled guilty. The investigative session was closed even to his family members. It was to be absolutely confidential, with the intention that mere accusations would not sully a good officer’s reputation. Massoud knew that theory and practice diverged on this point. Over the years, she had heard too much about what happened in these supposedly secret tribunals to believe that confidentiality would be maintained in her husband’s case.
She was still fingering the window when Walsh appeared beside her. As the science fleet was being disbanded, he, like many others, was stationed at the base. Some of his old crewmates were filling unsuitable positions or simply waiting for reassignment. However, Walsh was receiving instruction in piloting larger ships and was excelling. His seventeen years of experience were serving him well.
“Commander, there are rumors going around about Capt. Teloc. Is he in some kind of trouble?”
As he uttered this question, Detzler arrived. It was lunchtime, and she too had been released from her training. In her case, she was being schooled to be a medical technician. She looked expectantly at Massoud. Her loyalty to Teloc was unbounded and extended to those most closely associated with him. As Massoud prepared to answer, she saw Painter hand-off to a colleague at the security desk she manned, and she approached also.
“What have you heard, Walsh?” Massoud asked.
He looked baffled. “They say he’s being charged with desertion.”
Massoud let out a bitter little laugh as Painter joined the group. “No, that’s not it.”
“Well, he’s being charged with something. That’s clear,” Painter said querulously. “What the fuck can they have on him?”
“I don’t believe the rumors. Some of them are awful,” added Detzler, crossing her arms. “I had to tell that catty cow, Trent, to keep her trap shut. She doesn’t know him at all.” She was obviously incensed and worried.
Whatever hopes the embassy and Teloc had of keeping his reputation unsullied, and his legal affairs quiet, had failed. Massoud bit her lip before making the irretrievable decision to take hold of the story and influence it, even if that meant revealing more than her husband would otherwise want. The Alliance Fleet was a gossip machine, and she had as much right to use it for her own ends as anyone else. She evaluated her target audience and deployed her information on the trajectory that was likely to have most impact.
“There are several accusations. Firstly, they say he used excessive force against Speck.” This was a direct hit. Detzler reeled back; Painter issued an intense and low “Fuck”.
Detzler’s quavering voice pitched high. “That’s wrong. I was there. Why don’t they ask me what happened? I can tell them what happened.”
“They are reviewing the testimony you gave against Speck. That’s the only information they will get from you.”
“But they are going to call me to get my side of the story. Aren’t they?” Detzler questioned, looking around at her erstwhile crewmates.
Walsh placed a restraining hand on Detzler’s forearm. “What else?” he asked Massoud.
“Fraternization, with me. That’s difficult to deny,” Massoud answered. “But there’s something more serious.”
Her listeners leaned in attentively. It was time to take direct aim. “Dereliction of duty. They say his ability to command was impaired because he reported for duty with a medical condition.”
“His ability to command was perfectly fine,” Walsh said tersely. “Where did this crap come from?”
“Dr. Foster.”
Another hit. Massoud’s former crewmates looked at each other knowingly.
“They paid attention to that idiot,” Painter finally spat out the words. Detzler looked torn, reminding Massoud that she owed her life the doctor. This was a bitter business.
Massoud now allowed a barrage of tears to flow down her face. Pregnancy hormones had their use. Her instant sobs almost obscured her words. “It’s because he’s Gnostian. He hasn’t got a chance of a fair hearing.”
“Fucking racist shithead bastards!” Painter seethed. Walsh and Detzler shook
their heads in reluctant agreement. “Well, they need to know that they can’t treat our captain like that,” Painter declared angrily, emphasizing her words with a pointed finger.
Painter was an emotional, illogical person, but there were times when her uncensored reactions were useful. She unfolded her slate, stepped aside, and coordinated with Walsh. Detzler placed a comforting arm around Massoud who was shaken to discover how sincere her distress truly was.
Within a few minutes, individuals started to pull themselves from the lunchtime throng in the atrium and the plaza outside. They formed a little semi-circle around Massoud’s group at the window. Painter was briefing them crudely. Massoud heard the words “trumped up charges”, “fucking stupid brass”, and more positively, “best captain in the fleet” and “saved my fat ass”. The random selection of people drawn from the Constance, the Achievement and those who had other connections to Teloc, or who were merely curious, responded positively to Painter’s report—once clarified by more rational commentary from Walsh. A Captain Third Class was lowly enough to be considered a victim of fleet bureaucracy, and the tale of heroism attached to his recent history was romantic and interesting.
By the time Painter had finished her explanation, the group numbered between twenty and thirty, and their presence was more obvious because of the slackening crowds in the building. At this optimum moment, the double doors, behind which the Investigative Tribunal met, opened and disgorged a bevy of legal actors who were somewhat startled to encounter the accusatory faces of the ad-hoc gathering.
Teloc was spotted within the room, nodding as he spoke to his legal counsel. The two continued to speak, focused on their conversation, as they approached the opening. It was only as they reached the doors that they discerned the throng outside. As Teloc exited, Painter exhorted her companions, “Three cheers for Captain Teloc,” and the crowd responded appropriately. Then a chant rumbled through the group and took hold, “Teloc, Teloc.”
The object of this adulation was clearly shocked, though no less so than the Gnostian diplomats who were close behind him. Such an overt display of emotionally-charged support and loyalty was not, perhaps, to the taste of a man of reason, but Teloc recovered his faculties sufficiently to accept the handshakes that were offered to him, and collected himself in time to mutter thanks to his supporters. His legal counsel grinned with a calculating look and took the opportunity to chat with some of the crowd.
Almost a quarter of an hour passed before the last of the well-wishers dissipated. Massoud had to urge a distraught Detzler to return to her classes, not wishing the young woman to be subject to discipline for tardiness. Elizabeth Massoud’s objective had been achieved and there was no need for her old shipmates to suffer negative consequences because of today’s little demonstration. The derogatory false rumors relating to the tribunal’s investigation of Teloc would be countermanded by stronger opinions in his favor. She had no doubt that images from these last few minutes would be shared around the base very quickly, attached to commentary complimentary to her husband.
Teloc and his counsel joined Massoud and, unsurprisingly, Teloc questioned her participation in the demonstration. She deflected his questions in a manner the lawyer admired but which, by its very nature, dissatisfied a scientist who favored more explicit responses. Before departing, the lawyer recommended that—just this once—Teloc accept his advice and let the matter rest. It was advice based on his deep understanding of marriage.
“Elizabeth Massoud, I am uncomfortable with the publicity that will accompany this incident. The intent was for the investigative process to be as inconspicuous as possible,” Teloc remarked.
“I understand,” she soothed. “And I promise, I wasn’t the one who revealed you were under investigation. I don’t know how word got out, but I was quizzed about it. You shouldn’t be surprised. This kind of thing is never kept under wraps. It was idiotic of the embassy to think the investigation could be kept quiet. That might have worked on Gnost, but this planet has too open a society. There’s no secrecy or privacy here.”
Teloc looked perturbed. “This will drive a further wedge between me and the few compatriots I have on this planet. I may be excluded from embassy society after all.”
“I’m so sorry, Teloc. I wish they weren’t so unreasonable. And I wish you weren’t so willing to do whatever the embassy asks. Did you plead guilty as planned? How was it in there?”
He glanced back at the room he had exited. “It was most surprising. They would not accept my plea regarding the business with Mr. Speck. They discharged that matter. My guilty plea was unanimously accepted in the matter of fraternization. When it came to the charge of dereliction of duty, my plea was accepted by a majority of the three investigators. Rear Admiral Ybumka felt that further review of the legal issues was appropriate. Rear Admiral Williams argued strongly against that, as you may imagine.”
“I hate that woman.”
“You used to admire her.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t remember that,” she retorted, unconvincingly.
Teloc was tempted to remind her of her exact words of praise, and when she had shared them, but wisely kept silent. Possibly, he was learning to navigate the hazards of marriage. More probably, he saw himself responsible for the observable degradation in Massoud’s character. He had previously believed her to be a person of integrity, but since she had developed an affection for him, she had lied repeatedly in his defense and had become notably inconsistent in her viewpoint—at least where his interests were concerned. These observations led him to experience an emotion that he identified as guilt—a purposeless emotion in this situation and, therefore, the most irrational one he knew of.
“What happens next,” Massoud asked, although she had been present when his counsel had briefed him on the matter.
“I will be notified of when I am to report to the base commander for sentencing. The embassy has assured me that I will be dishonorably discharged and will receive no other punishment. However, I am a little uneasy on that point. Admiral Biash does not have a diplomatic turn of mind, and he could choose to ignore agreements to which he was not party.”
Massoud said nothing. There would be no comfort in repeating rumors about the base commander’s hatred of Gnostians. Biash had, objective records indicated, made strong statements against Gnostians participating in the fleet while their government failed to fully fund the Alliance. Less reliable sources attributed to him the statement that the Alliance was for the earth-descended only. Massoud’s only hope was that a man could not achieve such a powerful position without being capable of fairness.
They had only to wait a few impatient days for the matter to be resolved. Admiral Biash, Commander of Denison Base and Commander of the Alliance Fleet in the Delta Sector, summoned Teloc to his office. This office was protected from the elements by the same antique glazing that graced the atrium. Without the responsive filters of virtual glass, the sun generated square patches of heat in the room. Teloc stood, at rest, in one of those squares directly in front of the admiral’s narrow desk. Rear Admiral Williams had invited herself to the meeting, and an aide witnessed the proceedings from a desk near the door.
Admiral Biash stood in the comparative shade. The uneven light played on his grey and white eyebrows which were wildly overgrown and stood in distinct contrast to his otherwise immaculate appearance. If he wanted to play the curmudgeon, his mobile brows were his supporting characters. They were now forced together in displeasure.
“I am not happy at all. In fact, I am very unhappy. Do you think I like to be told to expel an officer from the service who, until this time, had an unblemished record? Almost thirty years with nothing but sterling reviews; you never so much as reported late for duty. In fact, nothing untoward has ever been reported about you, and now you commit an offence worthy of court martial. Are you trying to ruin my day?” His gravelly voice grated with discontent.
“That was not my intent,” Teloc responded calmly.
“I am sure you do. Perhaps, then, it would be better to proceed apace.”
“I’m the hell not going to end a man’s career without knowing why I’m doing it. I’ve been through all these legal reports with a fine-tooth comb and I see nothing but facts. They explain nothing, nothing at all.”
“Facts are, by their very nature, expository.”
“I’m in no mood for Gnostian sophistry, Captain Teloc.” The admiral allowed his slate to drop loudly on the desk and walked around to face his subordinate, being careful to maintain himself in shade. “The facts tell me nothing of motive. Why the hell did you do something so stupid? Are you the first stupid Gnostian I’ve met?”
“I am not stupid.”
“So, there was an intelligent reason for this—reporting for duty when you were about to turn into a blithering maniac.”
Teloc remained silent.
“Aren’t you going to answer me, man?
“I presumed your comment was rhetorical.”
“Wrong!” the admiral snapped. “I want an answer, and I expect an honest one from you—without any of the usual Gnostian evasion. I’m ordering you to give me a direct and honest answer to my question. I want to see some of that famous Gnostian truthfulness. Why did you report for duty when you were unfit?”
Teloc shifted in his stance. “It was Massoud.”
“What was Massoud? Be clear, for heaven’s sake!”
“I wanted to be with Massoud. I knew she was likely to be reassigned soon, and I did not want to be parted from her prematurely.”
Biash stared at him in disbelief. Williams crossed her arms smugly, pleased to have her suspicions validated; Teloc was just another predator in a position of authority. Biash recovered himself rapidly, rubbed his chin, and ruminated for a minute.