Massoud (Massoud Chronicles Book 1)

  20. Good Health

  F or a woman who had, for most of her career, associated space travel with peaceful pursuits, Massoud was unconscionably pleased to be speeding towards a fleet that was an instrument of war. She simply could not suppress the strong desire to be near her husband. He had been without her support, and the support of his psychologist, for many months, and she believed his need for her was greater than that of the child she left behind.

  This was how she rationalized her feelings, because it was more acceptable than admitting that she preferred to be in space with her adult husband than to be on a planet with her helpless daughter. The guilt of such thoughts would have torn her heart to pieces if she had not suppressed them. In truth, her distrust of her maternal feelings was unfounded. Within a few days, and after several nights of excellent and restorative sleep, the desperate ache of a parent separated from her child returned. For now, however, she struggled to control her excitement as the Cobalt sped towards the Delta Sector Unified Fleet and the man she loved.

  In the end, the Cobalt was stationed with the fleet for an agonizing three hours before Massoud’s bridge watch ended. She eagerly left her post and darted to her quarters, desperately hoping that Teloc would be available for private communication. She tried to contact him on his personal channel without success. She didn’t know the details of his daily schedule, and she suspected he was still on duty. She left a text message for him to contact her. She then whiled away her time by fiddling the long hair he loved so much, hoping to show it off to the best advantage. After an interminable wait of seventeen minutes and twelve seconds, her husband’s holographic presence arrived in her cabin and her heart thrilled.

  Teloc stood stiffly in the center of the compartment, his image wavering a little. The holographic systems used by the fleet for personal communications were of an inferior variety and lacked the high-end algorithms that imitated a real-space meeting. Despite this, Massoud reacted as if her husband were in the cabin with her. She moved towards him impulsively and reached for him, only remembering the nature of their meeting when her hand hit air.

  Maintaining his habitual posture, with his hands behind his back, Teloc looked at her composedly. He was viewing her with a detached objectivity that she immediately recognized. This demeanor had faded from her memory but now it obtruded and turned her gut to painful ice.

  “Good evening, Elizabeth Massoud, I trust you are well.”

  Elizabeth stared at him, her chest caving in with hurt. There was no doubt that her loving husband was gone, and her old captain was back. She needed no more evidence of this than his restrained posture, his frigid manner, and his rigidly controlled tone. She read him too well to misinterpret the subtle changes in his manner, although they may have been imperceptible to others.

  “Teloc...” Her voice fractured. She could not continue. Her chest was wrapped too tight to breathe.

  “You appear to be unwell. Shall I summon the Cobalt’s medical responders?”

  “No. No, I’m just surprised. You seem…different.”

  “I have recovered my health.”

  “Oh, good…I mean…I mean…what does that mean?”

  “My emotions are diminished, and I now function as I once did. The separation that exists between a commodore and his subordinates, and the associated social isolation, have been a restorative. I experience no lingering effects from my illness.”

  “You didn’t mention that in your letters,” Elizabeth said plaintively.

  “I did not wish to mention it to you until the process was complete. There was a possibility of regression, and I believed your reaction to that would be unnecessarily emotional.”

  “Unnecessarily emotional! You don’t think emotions are necessary?” she cried, but immediately regretted the pitch of her voice.

  “They have their uses, but they should be minimized.”

  He responded to some distraction in real-space and added, “Forgive me, I have been called away—ship’s business.” With that, he was gone.

  Elizabeth collapsed onto her bunk absorbing the change in her husband’s manner, unsuccessfully trying to convince herself that his love for her had survived his return to health. Her disappointed heart was almost in physical pain, but she dared not wish for anything different. She had wanted him to be well. His health was more important to her than anything she yearned for, including her near overarching need to be loved.

  Shortly after Teloc’s departure, her comms chimed once more. She eagerly indicated ‘accept’, expecting to see her husband, but she was bewildered and disappointed to have Julius Benton’s image appear before her. Her reaction was pure annoyance. Why was he spending his precious communications allowance on a holographic conversation with her?

  “Hello, Massoud,” he grinned. “I heard you’d joined the fleet. Good to see we’re the same rank again.” Then, he noticed her expression. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something? Are you feeling alright?”

  Massoud’s manners abandoned her. “Benton, I thought you were Teloc. I was expecting to speak with him. That’s why I answered. I only want to speak to my husband not you.”

  Benton’s face dropped. “Of course,” he mumbled. “I just thought...”

  “I need to keep the channel open for Teloc,” she said unkindly.

  “Yeah. I’ll go. Eh, good to see you again.” His dissatisfaction was obvious, and Massoud was temporarily visited by guilt until she remembered it was best to discourage him.

  She waited in her cabin for the rest of the evening, waiving dinner with Capt. Van Berge and neglecting the food she ordered from the auto-cooker, ultimately recycling it. However, Teloc did not return, nor did she receive a message from him. By her normal bedtime, she was too stressed to sleep, and so she did the only thing she could think of. She began to write.

  My beloved Teloc,

  I need not tell you how much I’ve missed you. I’ve told you that so often in my letters over the last few months. Your absence left such a hole in my life that I think I would have wilted away if I could not have seen your eyes and your expressions in little Constance’s face. Being with her, and knowing that someday we would be reunited, were the only things that kept me going once you left Denison.

  I can’t tell you how happy I was on the journey here, looking forward to seeing you, looking forward to hearing your voice, and sharing real-time with you. It was my consolation for leaving Constance behind, knowing that I was rushing towards you.

  Your illness still worried me: I expected it would have worsened, because you were away from your doctor’s care. I thought that my arrival would be useful to you, that you would be able to share your feelings and thoughts with me and that would make your emotions more tolerable. I only wanted to help you. I only wanted you to be healthy. I truly want you to be healthy. Consider me a fool then that I did not recognize—or maybe I did not accept—the natural consequence of that wish. I must have chosen, on some level, to not see the obvious. If you are well, you will not feel. If you do not feel, you will not love.

  I think I have known you long enough to appreciate your sense of duty and responsibility. I am your wife. You feel you have responsibilities towards me.

  But I am not a child. I can take care of myself. Don’t consider yourself bound to me by duty. I do not want a marriage without love. I could not bear it. To see you do what is required, without the impulse of love behind it, would be torture to me. The hurt I feel when I think of you looking at me without emotion is intolerable. Please do not subject me to it. Let me be. Leave me alone if you cannot come to me with love.

  We can still find a way to take care of Constance. You should be dutiful towards her. But I don’t want a heartless marriage. Truly, I do not.

  I’m not saying I don’t love you. I do. That’s why it hurts so much to lose your love. I love you with all my heart and soul, but you can give me nothing in return. I have been wondering all evening if you still feel anything for me. Perhaps a fondness, I think. Perh
aps you feel that much. But it isn’t enough.

  You wanted to be a normal Gnostian. I won’t stand in your way. Do what is sensible and reasonable with your life. Think kindly of me when you look back at our marriage.

  For the last time—your loving wife,

  Elizabeth.

  She sent the missive and clambered into bed, her heart a heavy clod within her chest. Drained and exhausted, she quickly fell into a deadening sleep.

  Several hours later, she was woken by an insistent chiming of the comms system. Groggily, she lifted her head to see who was contacting her. Her stomach clamped when she saw Teloc’s name. She dreaded hearing his acceptance of her offer to terminate their union. Reluctantly, she pulled herself to a seated position and rubbed her eyes. She breathed deeply several times before she accepted the communication, noting that it was well after midnight fleet standard time.

  Teloc stood beside her bed, adopting his usual parade-rest posture, wearing an impenetrable expression.

  “Elizabeth Massoud, I have come to say farewell,” he stated. Immediately, her eyes stung and the weight in her chest multiplied, but the reason for the farewell was not what she expected.

  “It has been judged that the conflict in the Beta Sector has reached a turning point. The admiralty has determined that a major putsch is required to drive Xenos from human controlled space in that sector. My division has been ordered to the Beta Sector for that reason. We depart in another four hours and forty-two minutes.”

  “Oh Teloc, the Beta Sector is so dangerous,” Elizabeth exclaimed, more concerned for his safety in this moment than worried about her own selfish wants.

  “That is why we are needed there.”

  Her face crumpled with this logic.

  “Elizabeth Massoud, I received your letter. In these circumstances, I cannot leave it unanswered. I wished to talk to you in person, but Vice Admiral Lightfoot would not give me permission to shuttle to your ship, even for a brief visit. We must communicate in this manner.” He swept his hand in front of him to indicate the virtual space they were occupying. The image of his hand wavered, as if to emphasize the unsatisfactory nature of their communication.

  Elizabeth nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement. She hunched on her bed looking at him with sorrow and trepidation, feeling very small and vulnerable.

  “Please step to the center of your cabin, Elizabeth Massoud.”

  She was confused but complied.

  “Release your hair from its net.”

  She complied again, sweeping the length of her hair with her hands to settle her locks into a semblance of order. The tendrils curled randomly against her plain nightshirt. Teloc observed her inscrutably. “Stay there,” he ordered, which she did, as he walked around her.

  She sensed him pausing behind her before he stepped into her. She felt the tingling of the holographic energy on her skin; she saw herself within his image. She lifted her hands and he lifted his. Her arms were located within his arms, her person within his. Their images stood unified, the holo-system too unsophisticated to separate them but sufficiently confused to lose image cohesion. Elizabeth saw Teloc shimmering and trembling around her.

  “Your hair is so beautiful,” she heard him say in a voice that was so dearly familiar to her. They were silent for a long time as they contemplated their unity.

  At last, she heard his voice again, uneven and ragged. “Do not say that I love you no more. Do not believe that is possible. No matter how I comport myself, no matter how I express myself, my feelings for you are too integral to my identity to be abandoned. They are at my very core. You are at my very core. This is how you are to me. You stand within me. I carry you within me.” He seemed incapable of proceeding.

  “Teloc...”

  “Elizabeth, if it was not for one thought, I could not survive further separation from you. It is this simple logic. I need to protect you from harm. I need to protect our precious child from harm. Therefore, I will dedicate myself to defeating the Xenos. I do not go because duty requires it. I do not go because of loyalty to my race or to humanity. I do not go to ensure my own survival. I go only for you and Constance. I would do anything for you both. I would sacrifice anything, even my own wellbeing. Yes, my emotions are in check, but without the consolation of being useful to you, I could not be content.”

  Elizabeth’s response was unimaginative but sincere. “I love you, my darling.”

  “As do I you.”

  Teloc directed his voice to an unseen place. “Yes, I will be there momentarily, Attwood.”

  They stood quietly for several more minutes, the energy skimming their flesh where their images intersected.

  “I must go,” he said tenderly. “I do not know when we will see each other again, or if we will see each other again. You will always be my wife, my one love, my very essence. Farewell my beloved.” With that he was gone.

  21. Duty

  V ice Admiral Lightfoot had never shirked duty, but if he was ever to be tempted to do so, it was on a day like today. Already he had visited two families and had said what was right and proper: Their loved one’s sacrifice would always be remembered, and their memories would always be honored. The hollow, patronizing words nettled him, although he strove to hide that fact. He was wise enough to say what needed to be said with as much humility and kindness as he could muster. Although an egotistical man, he had enough empathy to know that his importance was irrelevant in the face of grief. These visits were not about his status or self-interest.

  He hated to be on planet after this kind of loss. Normally he was not, but he had returned to base for a confidential briefing—the kind that could not be risked to a hackable communications system. On the second day of his sojourn, the news of the near disastrous engagement had followed him to Denison.

  If he had been in space, he would have written letters to the bereaved. If the officers were junior enough and unknown to him, their immediate superiors would discharge that miserable duty. However, in this case, the fallen had been senior officers personally known to him, and he could not by any stretch of etiquette avoid these visits of consolation.

  He now stood outside the third residence he was to visit today. He was not yet ready to request entry, so drained was he by prior commiserations with shell-shocked families. He stood outside the door and observed that it was undecorated. As he had walked down the corridor, he had passed doors painted with flowers, pastoral scenes, space-scapes, family pictures, and pet artwork. Civilian homes, he conjectured. The doors of the homes he visited today had been bare of external decoration. It was a common demonstration of bereavement, although that may not have been the reason for the absence of décor. Fleet personnel were pragmatic and tended not to indulge in artistic expression.

  He composed himself and pressed for entry. The front door opened, and he went in. The occupants were not visible, so he gave a polite cough as he entered the short corridor leading to the living space. He passed the galley kitchen as he went, noticing a pile of dark hair on the floor beside the culinary units.

  He found the wife in the living room and, at first, he thought she was staring vacantly out the window overlooking the plaza below. Her head was unbowed. It took a moment to understand that she was pressing—no squeezing—a small child to her breast and weeping with her eyes closed. She was gripping the squirming baby so fiercely that the child’s movements were little more than spasms shuddering her tiny limbs.

  He was surprised to find the mother alone. The homes of the bereaved were usually cluttered with puffy-faced relatives and schadenfreude friends. He worried that the woman was harming the child, she held it so tightly. This was a most uncomfortable situation. He wished for the buffer of those who knew the bereaved well enough to intervene on the child’s behalf. He contemplated encouraging the woman to release the child to him.

  “You’ve cut your hair,” he said, unsure that any other topic would divert her from her hellish embrace of the baby.

  “Yes, I don’t ne
ed it anymore. He loved it so much,” Massoud answered, her voice thick from the moisture in her throat.

  She softened her grip on the baby, yielding enough space to kiss the child’s chubby cheeks, diminishing the admiral’s concerns about the child’s ability to breathe. He now felt free to express his formal sympathies in the manner that was unfortunately routine.

  “Commander Massoud, I came to commiserate on the loss of your husband. I know that nothing I can say can relieve your grief, but I wanted to say that his memory is honored...”

  “Please, don’t say that!” she cried. “I can’t bear to hear those stupid things.”

  The admiral paused, unsure of how to proceed. “I am terribly sorry,” he stated simply, unclear if he was apologizing for his empty platitudes or whether he was expressing condolence. She nodded acknowledgement, in a way that was wild with anguish. He stood in awkward silence, before quietly asking:

  “There is no one here with you?”

  “My sister went to fetch her children. She’ll be back soon. The embassy officials have just left.”

  “They left you alone! They couldn’t wait for your sister to return?”

  “They’re Gnostian. They don’t understand. The embassy never respected him anyway,” she said resentfully. “I didn’t want their company.”

  There was silence for a few moments, before he found something to say that sprang from his own feelings.

  “He was a fine man. We were not close, but he was a brother officer.” Lightfoot heard his voice catch in his throat as he overcame genuine emotion. It was shocking that Teloc’s death had affected him so. He had never warmed to the man. Surely, he had lost one brother officer too many.

  “Did you hear how it happened?” he asked after an interminable minute.

  “They told me, but I didn’t really hear. I suppose I was in shock.”