Massoud (Massoud Chronicles Book 1) Page 10

  The rain had held off for several days, but this planet was not made for such restraint. Finally, one tepid night, the skies opened, releasing their watery load onto the land below, and electrifying the air with lightning. Detzler looked out from their tent into the darkness and commented, worriedly, on the increasing runoff from higher ground. Suddenly, she let out a yelp, followed by “Oooh, Captain, you scared the life out of me.”

  Massoud heard the captain’s voice from beyond her nurse. “Detzler, the water flow here is increasing. Your shelter will be inundated. We need to move you and the commander to the new shelter immediately.”

  “I don’t think she can make it through all of this water, Captain. She isn’t strong enough yet.”

  “I will assist. Pick up and carry anything that may be of use or value. I will take care of the commander.”

  Detzler gathered the modest supplies that were located within the shelter. She helped Massoud wrap a rescue sheet around her shoulders and did the same for herself. Picking up the supplies, she exited the tent. Then Teloc’s shape was silhouetted by lightning in the opening of the shelter. He approached Massoud and lifted her easily into his arms. Her heart skipped a beat. She had been this close to him before, had looked up into his face from this position before, and had been as irrationally happy then as now. He did not look at her or speak to her, except to comment, “You have lost bodyweight, Massoud.” She yearned to tell him that she had missed him, that she wanted to stay in his arms, even if it meant being battered by driving rain all night, but he refrained from looking at her, discouraging her, as he kept pace to the new shelter.

  Massoud could hear Detzler’s and the captain’s feet sloshing through water. Detzler had been right. She would have stumbled in this onslaught. Gradually their footsteps quietened, as they rose to the less sodden ground where the new shelter lay. Once placed inside, Detzler fussed over Massoud, taking her sheet to the doorway and flipping it, to remove the water. Detzler did the same for her own sheet and the captain followed her example. Sitting by Massoud on the large fronds that acted as flooring, Detzler wrapped the sheets around them both, concerned that Massoud was chilled and attempting to share body heat with her. Massoud had an agonizing awareness that Teloc was behind her, sitting so close. She still sensed the pressure where his arms had supported her body. She wanted to wrap herself up in him, not sit companionably with the slender cadet.

  Detzler was antsy. The midnight excursion had her alert and unsettled. She stared out at the unbroken flatness of the plain.

  “I don’t like this planet, Commander. I hope we aren’t going to be stuck on it. It’s so...so nothing. Just a few plants and no real scenery, and it always rains. It’s just so miserable, with the rain and stuff. I miss my Ma and my boyfriend. I don’t want to be here. I suppose I want to go home. Is it bad for me to say that?” she asked.

  Massoud answered, pleased to be diverted by conversation, “No, but you shouldn’t dwell on it either. The planet isn’t so bad. We don’t have to worry about predators. That’s a real advantage. And there is food. I think it could make a good agricultural colony someday.”

  The lightning struck again, far away on the plain, vividly lighting up the sky, and the boom of the thunder forced a pause in the conversation.

  Massoud continued with a smile. “Actually, the scenery isn’t that boring when it’s lit with the right dramatic effect.” Detzler giggled nervously. She had no experience of lightning storms. None occurred on her home continent.

  “Just think,” Massoud went on, “we are the first people to see this valley, the first to sleep and eat on this planet. No-one has done what we have done—not on this planet. No-one has built a shelter, or harvested food or fetched water. We are the first. And when Seven B has a colony, sometime in the future, the colonists will talk about us. Someday, parents will point to this spot and tell their children, ‘This is the place where humans built the first structure on our planet, and the first to shelter there were Detzler and Teloc and Massoud.’ Every human society cares deeply about its own history and we are going to be part of their history.”

  “Wow. When you put it like that, it sounds really cool. Makes us sound really special.”

  “We will be special to the future people of this planet.”

  Detzler’s mood lightened temporarily. “Do you think those people will be our descendants? I mean, we might be stuck here forever, or stuck here so long that we won’t even want to leave when the time comes. You hear of castaways getting like that. They build homes and forget about where they came from. Then other colonists come and join them. Do you think that will happen to us?”

  “I hope we’ll get home before then. I can’t imagine myself setting up a homestead here, but I will if I have to.”

  “There’s a numbers problem, of course. I mean, more men than women. But Walsh doesn’t like women, so I suppose he would be lonely. And the chief wouldn’t want to match up with anyone either, so that would help even things out I suppose.”

  Massoud was distressed by the direction of the conversation. “I think you’re running ahead of things, Ditzy.”

  “No, not really. Speck is already eyeing all the women in camp. Gives me the creeps. I thought he was with Painter. She should be enough for him.” She shuddered a little. “You know, if we all go back to being cavemen, he’ll be the dominant male, and he’ll pick whoever he wants for his mate or mates. Kinda puts me off.”

  “Ditzy, this is going too far! Speck might fancy himself as some kind of alpha male, but he’s just one person. We won’t descend into barbarism unless we all decide to. I’m definitely not going to do that. I’m sure the others won’t either.”

  “It’s just the way he looks at me, as if he’s sizing me up. I don’t like it. Painter doesn’t like it either. But it’s not my fault—how he behaves—and she gets annoyed with me and I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Of course, you haven’t. And don’t worry, Speck won’t tell the rest of us how to live. He’s not going to have a harem of women—and you’re not going to be part of one.”

  “It’s just, you know, he thinks he’s better than everyone else, you know, the biggest and the strongest, and he could just take what he wants.”

  “No! No! He couldn’t! Collectively, we are stronger than him. We won’t let him do whatever he wants.”

  The captain’s voice interjected from behind. “Detzler, I will not let any harm come to you. Speck will be monitored, and his impulses controlled. I will speak to him about his behavior, if you wish.”

  Detzler responded, “I don’t know, Captain. He’ll take orders from you for now, but we’re so far from home. After a while, rank and the whole chain of command thing won’t mean anything. He might not listen to anyone.”

  “He will listen to me. I will make him do so,” Teloc said in a voice so cool it was chilling.

  “Maybe,” Detzler answered, unconvinced.

  Gloomily, she settled down to sleep and Massoud did likewise. She listened to the rustle of the captain doing the same, acutely aware of his presence, and scolding herself for her lack of emotional discipline. She drifted into sleep, dreaming of lightning and children and farmsteads.

  A touch on her hand startled her. It was the captain. “I am going to check on the others and bring back those who need to move. If I do not return, do not be concerned. It means that conditions at the main camp are satisfactory and I will stay there.”

  “Yes, Captain,” she replied, unable to stop the burning sensation on the back of her hand where he’d touched her, and simultaneously feeling that he was, once again, abandoning her. She had to stop reacting to him so intensely. She had to normalize things between them somehow.

  By the morning, four other crew members were in the shelter. The dawn air was crisp and clear and clean. The bright day needed only birdsong to make it perfect, but there was not even a wind to generate sound. The discussion turned to the need for additional shelters, perhaps one for men and one for
women to start. It seemed the crew was reconciled to a long domicile on the desolate planet.

  Later that day, Massoud saw the captain standing on a small promontory, in a posture something like parade rest, contemplating the plain in a manner that had become customary for him. The crew left him alone during these moments, instinctively knowing that he needed solitude. Massoud was normally willing to respect his privacy, but saw an opportunity to talk to him discreetly, away from the others. She walked to him, embarrassed by her lack of endurance as she went up the gentle slope. She was not recovering her strength.

  The captain turned to look at her, and then returned his gaze to the open land. Show me some respect! she thought indignantly and then added aloud, “Captain, we need to talk.”

  He nodded and gestured to a boulder near him. She was further irritated. After the attentiveness of her shipmates, and their thoughtful care of her, the captain’s indifference riled her. You could at least give me a hand up the last stretch, you heartless creature, was yet another involuntary thought that popped into her head. He seemed oblivious to her struggles and her fragile resentment.

  Once seated, she composed herself, and shared her carefully curated thoughts with the man who would not look at her directly.

  “Captain, this can’t go on. We have to be able to behave normally in each other’s presence. You’ve been avoiding me, and I’m surprised no-one has commented on it. Maybe it’s being discussed behind my back, but I’ve heard nothing. The crew may not say anything directly to me because they’re so protective of me at the moment. You and I used to spend a lot of time together when we were on the ship, so it’s just not normal for us to avoid each other. We’re stuck on this planet together with just a small group of people. If you don’t start talking to me soon, it will cause problems—truly it will. You can’t stay clear of me forever.”

  “As usual, when it comes to matters of this nature, you are perceptive Massoud. I thought it best to leave you be, while you were recuperating. I did not wish to agitate you or be a distraction. You still appear to be physically weak, but by initiating this discussion you have shown that you are well advanced in your recovery—of your senses at least.”

  “Yes, I am. Detzler takes good care of me. But what would I give for a half-hour in a modern sick bay with a decent medic! I hate being so dependent on others. I just want to be better. I feel like something is sucking the life out of me.” She shook her head and waved a dismissive hand in front of her. “Look, I didn’t come here to complain. Well, it might sound like a complaint, but I came to address the problem between us. I want us to have a more normal relationship, officer to officer.”

  “As you wish. How do you suggest we proceed?”

  “Well, you seem to be back to your normal self, so you should have no problem dealing with me in the conventional way. You just have to stop avoiding me. I’m having a harder time adjusting, so I need to be exposed to you more often, until I can react to you in the manner of a first officer to her captain. I think spending time with you alone, but in a visible way like this,” she indicated the view of the camp, “is the best thing to do. I don’t want to talk about the past, except to thank you for saving my life. I know it was hard for you to carry me here, due to your own injury. So, thank you. Thank you very much, Teloc.” Her voice grew soft momentarily, before she forced it into a more formal tone, “I think we should talk about the camp, the future, and about any problems the crew might have.”

  The captain seemed to consider her words, before turning to her fully. It was almost a shock to have him look directly into her face. She tried not to look at him longingly and dropped her own eyes.

  “I believe you are correct. Our little community is too small to accommodate a separate existence. I would like to clarify that I was not avoiding you unthinkingly. It was my belief that you would fare better without my company, in the short term at least. You form attachments so readily that I was concerned that you would...you would...”

  “Behave inappropriately?”

  “Perhaps. I am unused to intimate relationships and have no experience with their termination. I was unsure of what to expect.”

  “Well, ‘terminations’ are no fun, but I can deal with it. But you must be your usual self with me. That is the best way to help me, and it would be a lot more respectful. Right now, I don’t feel you are treating me with respect.”

  “I apologize. I assure you I respect you immensely.”

  “Right back at you, Captain.” She tried to look at him in a normal fashion but settled for staring at his shoulders. “So, let’s talk about Speck. Has he been more of a problem than usual? What’s really going on with him?”

  “If you were in better health, I would gladly return the supervision of Mr. Speck to you, Massoud. He balks at my authority. However, I have done my utmost to keep him busy, and out of the camp when possible. He has a talent for generating friction. He is currently assigned to harvesting building materials in the next valley. I believe physical exertion improves his disposition.”

  “I agree. Has he been bothering the other women?”

  “I believe Detzler when she says he has been assessing her inappropriately, but I am unqualified to identify such behavior independently. His relationship with Painter is inconsistent. There are times when they appear to be a couple and other times when they are at odds. The subtleties are beyond me.”

  “Perhaps I will take on the job of finding out what is happening with them. Since I’m idle, I have time to observe and question. Moving onto another topic, Captain, do you think a rescue ship will come for us?”

  “We shall know quite soon. At best, a ship, prepared for another mission, was at Denison Base the moment our distress signal was received and was dispatched immediately. If so, it may arrive very shortly. We have been on the planet nineteen days and the shortest journey time is twenty-one days. The next most favorable scenario is that a crew had to be assembled, and a ship provisioned, before being dispatched to Delta Alpha Seven B. In such a case, the ship would arrive, at most, five weeks after our arrival. If, however, the distress signal failed, or warlike conditions prevent our recovery, we will remain here for a very long time. Therefore, if we are not recovered in the next sixteen days or so, we will, most probably, need to make a life here. My intent is to keep the crew busy with the preparations for such a circumstance so that, if it becomes inevitable, they will be better equipped both practically and psychologically. Long term, our greatest concern will be the lack of protein. Hence the emphasis I have placed on Lt. Walsh’s expeditions to find new food sources. In addition, Cadet Crewman Detzler’s prognosis is correct. If we remain on the planet for an extended period, our fleet ranks will become meaningless and we will have to adopt another societal format.”

  “Once it doesn’t involve Speck’s harem, I can handle it. Still, I hope we are rescued. Life will be difficult here, once our current supplies are used up or wear out.”

  “You are correct, but the crew is intelligent and resourceful. I believe that, for the most part, we could not have selected a better set of fellow castaways with which to share this experience.”

  “That’s true, Captain,” Massoud concurred. There seemed to be nothing else to say. “Now…I think I’m due for my afternoon nap. I wear out quite quickly these days. If you’re agreeable, I’ll consult with you daily, just like today. I think it’s the best way to proceed.”

  The captain nodded his acquiescence. Massoud struggled off her boulder. The captain offered her a hand, just as any member of the crew would, but when she took it, she felt a singular thrill. She reminded herself that such an offer of assistance was appropriate, given her frail condition. She had to learn to accept his touch as an inconsequential.

  The ensuing days at the campsite followed the established pattern for the crew; harvesting, cooking, eating, construction, and gathering at the evening campfire when the weather allowed. Massoud consulted with the captain daily, becoming more comfortable in his pre
sence.

  In due course, the third week came to an end. Only a few hushed conversations referred to the rescue ship timeline. It was too painful a topic to address freely. Each passing day represented a buried hope. Eyes scanned the horizon almost constantly. Work was insufficiently engrossing. The fourth week, equally stressful, was almost done, when it happened—a sound, a technological tone, mingled with the quiet rustle of the planet’s breeze. The crew stood uncertainly, looking at each other. No-one dared to draw the obvious conclusion; the pain of being wrong would be too great. It was only when a tiny object in the sky grew in size and developed a recognizable shape that their voices erupted. It was a fleet shuttle.

  7. Rescue

  B y virtue of her poor health, Massoud was the first of the recovered crew to be delivered to the sickbay of the Achievement, the Class B ship that had rescued them. Unsurprisingly, Dr. Foster had prioritized her evacuation and had also chosen to accompany her on the first shuttle back into orbit. Detzler tagged along, still doggedly shadowing Massoud.

  All three of the new arrivals had the same question. Was there a state of war? No, not yet, they were both surprised and relieved to hear. There had been two isolated attacks on science ships, nothing more. Diplomatic efforts were being made regarding the attacks, according to the politicians. However, such statements were specious since there were no open channels to Xeno society. In contrast to the political response, personnel in the Alliance Fleet were in uproar due to the attacks on their comrades. The fleet was unhesitatingly pivoting from being an exploratory force to being a military one. The pivot may have been more psychological than practical to date, but the change was palpable in the attitudes of the Achievement’s crew.

  Massoud and her colleagues devoured every piece of information that the medical staff delivered, staccato style, while ushering their charges into examination alcoves. Med-techs assessed the physical status of both Detzler and Dr. Foster, but Massoud received the attention of Dr. Taylor, the chief medical officer of the ship. He admired her scar, having received a hurried briefing on Massoud’s recent medical history from the other new arrivals.