In Evil Times

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “What rests on your conscience, my daughter?”

  Mercedes reared back from the screen, for the voice was not that of old Captain Father Antonelli, but a voice she knew very well for she’d grown up with him.

  “Jose? What are you doing here?”

  Since Mercedes knew that Musa del Campo had been up to his nutsack in the plot that had nearly derailed her military careers it probably wasn’t a coincidence that his son the priest was now aboard the Concepción. Who had arranged that? Could she trust him to keep the seal of the confessional or would everything she said go back to his father? She decided paranoia was vindicated. Confessing her irritation and resentments with her husband and her fears to the son of an enemy wasn’t the wisest course.

  Mercedes found herself wishing that her father had allowed SEGU to actually unearth evidence that Musa was plotting against them, but her father feared an airing of a schism between branches of the royal family could potentially lead to civil war. So they all pretended nothing had happened and watched each other. And now here was Jose… watching.

  “You were making a confession, my child. We should focus on that. We can talk after.” The paternal scolding had her wanting to reach through the carved wood and smack him, since only a year separated them in age.

  “I fear my success as an Infierno pilot has quite gone to my head. I find myself taking great pleasure in the compliments of the other pilots.” Even in her own ears she sounded like a simpering fool.

  “That’s all?” Jose said when she finished.

  She thought he sounded disappointed. “That’s it,” she answered.

  “Remember, Mercedes, that pride can be one of the mortal sins. Though in this case I think you are still in venial territory.” The humorous conclusion had her remembering her childhood playmate and wishing she didn’t have to be so suspicious. “I think ten Hail Marys will be sufficient.”

  “Thank you, Father,” she said meekly and left the box at the same time as Jose.

  He was a very attractive young man with pale brown eyes, and hair like burnished mahogany, though she did notice it was starting to recede. Mercedes wondered if the Celestial Novias de Cristo nuns would want him siring their children once he went bald. Stupid thoughts when she was faced with a more immediate problem.

  Being direct seemed the best approach. “So why are you here? Really? Was it your father or Mihalis who put you up to this?”

  He feigned outrage. “What an odd notion. Both my brothers are serving. It seemed like I should also do my duty.”

  “Yeah, I call bullshit because you don’t have to serve. Priests, ministers, imams, you’re all exempt unless you choose otherwise.” He seemed taken aback by her grilling. He opened and closed his mouth several times searching for an answer. “Jose, here’s some friendly advice. Don’t let politics replace your vocation. That won’t turn out well for you, your family or the church. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to make my penance.”

  Kneeling on the steps at the foot of the altar she began to pray the Rosary. The rubies that formed the beads rang because her hands were shaking, and her mind wasn’t on her devotions. Instead she was thinking about the message she would be sending to her father via diplomatic pouch. This wasn’t something she could put in a Foldstream message, but he needed to know that Cousin Musa was once more dabbling in intrigue.

  13

  THE WORLD AS IT IS

  Seven months. Seven months of casual insults, pointed insults, pranks, demerits, and feeling like the organ-grinder’s monkey every evening as he performed at the captain’s mess. He had yet to make a friend. Tracy sighed; he would almost have been willing to socialize with Talion, but they seldom saw each other apart from the Sunday fencing club. At least he had learned this archaic and pointless skill so there was one less area where they could mock him.

  The grey twisting wool of the Fold beyond the port was as dull as his mood. He sank down on one of the benches that lined the wall of the observation lounge. He had thought that perhaps the hombres might accept him if the officers wouldn’t, but that hadn’t worked out either. They seemed suspicious or resentful.

  Even Akihiko the musician was withdrawn and cautious around Tracy. The hombres treated Tracy as if he were one of the FFH. The FFH treated him with utter contempt; worse than they would have treated Tracy had he been an enlisted man. Tracy’s sin was that he’d gotten above himself. He didn’t have a place in either world.

  He saw Cipriana at the dinners, but they never got a chance to talk since she was a guest and he was entertainment. He had noticed that the conversation around the woman sometimes passed the bounds of propriety, and as he moved through the ship he had heard rough remarks from the enlisted men and officers alike. He was worried about Cipri’s safety. While it was comforting to have a familiar face among the thousands on this ship, he wished that Cipriana had been assigned to Mercedes’ ship where they could have looked out for each other. It looked like Cipriana was feeling the tension too. She had always been slim but she was now a rack of bones and her dark eyes flicked nervously as if expecting a blow. He needed to force the issue and find out if anything was wrong.

  A touch on Tracy’s shoulder pulled him out of his bitter reverie. He whirled. “What?” His tone was sharp and angry.

  Akihiko took a step back. “Sorry to disturb, sir, but it’s time,” Akihiko said.

  Tracy forced the frown away. “Sorry. I should apologize to you. There’s no reason for you to endure my bad mood—”

  “You owe me no explanations, sir.”

  “Akihiko, call me Tracy. It’s not like anybody else treats me like an officer.”

  “That is their shame then, sir. To show respect is only proper.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. It’s been months and nothing’s changed. I’m just the organ-grinder’s monkey. Oh, shit, I’ve done it again,” Tracy rushed to add as he watched Akihiko’s face stiffen. Tracy glanced at the guitar case the other man carried. “You’re a brilliant musician. I’m just icing… or something.” He paused. “I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

  The enlisted man surprised him by laying a hand on his arm. “It is wrong and I’m sorry it happened. Perhaps you could request a transfer?” he suggested.

  “Never a good move. If you ask to transfer during your first tour they assume you’re the problem.”

  “Ah, yes. I suppose I can see that.”

  “I can tough it out. And it’s not like I’d be in the captain’s private dining room if I weren’t performing.”

  “Others are. The young lady—”

  “Cipriana is ornamental and I think the captain’s sweet on her.” That earned Tracy an odd look. “Hey, if we don’t get going neither one of us will be providing background muzak, and that won’t be good.” Tracy forced a smile.

  They set off walking from the observation lounge toward the elevator that would take them to the officers’ deck.

  “Why do you go to observation? We’re in Fold. There’s nothing to see. Just grey fog,” Akihiko said.

  “Because there generally aren’t any people there when we’re in Fold.”

  “Ah… I see. Why don’t we use the access conduit?”

  “In the mood for ladders?” Tracy asked.

  “They are generally empty except during drills.”

  “Okay,” Tracy said slowly. They turned away from the doors of the elevator and entered the long passageway that linked the decks. There were pressure doors at each deck, all standing open now. It was a dizzying view up the length of the ship.

  They climbed up several decks. The very air seemed to quiver with suppressed emotion. Tracy stopped, hooked an elbow over a ladder run and looked down into the hombre’s face. “Okay, Akihiko, what’s eating you?”

  “How did you—”

  “I could cut the tension. You want to say something then say it.”

  They had rarely discussed anything beyond what to perform each evening. From the expression on the homb
re’s face Tracy had a feeling this wasn’t about deciding between a Gershwin, a Rodgers and Hart ballad or a swing piece by Duke Ellington.

  Akihiko glanced up at Tracy then stared down at the toes of his mirror-bright boots where they rested on a metal rung. “The captain is going to make a suggestion to you tonight. I want to prepare you so you can prepare your answer ahead of time and not react without thought.”

  “I take it I’m not going to like this suggestion?”

  “No. You are very much a heterosexual male.”

  Tracy couldn’t help it. He leaned back and felt his foot slip. “Oh God, you mean…?”

  “Yes. I have been in his bed since I came aboard—”

  “Wait! Akihiko. This is a violation of the military code of justice. Fraternization between officers and enlisted men is forbidden.”

  Akihiko shrugged. “Only honored when it’s convenient. When command or the crown decide they want to ruin an officer they bring the charge. Otherwise they wink at it.”

  Tracy gave a bitter half-laugh. “No different back home. Humans aren’t supposed to fuck aliens, but the alien brothels on Hissilek do a rousing business, and it isn’t just aliens skulking through those doors.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I thought you were married,” Tracy said. “I am.”

  “Are you…?”

  “No.”

  “Then why… Look, we can put a stop to this. I’ll go to—”

  “No!” The word was sharp, almost angry. “Don’t help. He’s promised to set me up with my own music store after I muster out. Be our patron. I don’t need you fucking that up.”

  “I don’t like this. I’m supposed to report violations of the code. Why did you tell me if you don’t want my help?” Tracy was feeling aggrieved.

  The hombre took a deep breath. “Because he’d like a threesome.” The words emerged in a rush. Tracy almost lost his grip on the ladder. “He loves artists and his tastes are eclectic, so…” Akihiko’s voice trailed away and he gave a shrug.

  “Shit,” was all Tracy could think to say.

  “He won’t make it an order. He’s not that kind of man. But I wanted you to be forewarned so you could make your refusal a polite one.”

  “Can you head him off? Say that you felt me out—so to speak—and it’s clear I’d refuse.”

  “I’ll try. Sometimes people hear only what they want to hear, and if he doesn’t hear it from you he might not believe me. I just wanted to warn you because you have a hasty temper and your feelings frequently show.”

  “Yeah, it’s why I don’t play poker. We better get going. We’re going to be late as it is. And, Akihiko, thanks for telling me. And if you change your mind—”

  “No, I accept the world as it is.”

  * * *

  It had gone just as Akihiko predicted. De Vilbiss had asked Tracy and Akihiko to stay behind after dinner and made his proposal. Tracy had politely declined and talked about his girl in the most euphoric terms possible while Mercedes’ image danced in the forefront of his mind. After Tracy finished his paean to love the captain got a sad, regretful little smile, then sighed and nodded. Tracy saluted and left, leaving Akihiko to assure his future by prostituting his present.

  Today Tracy had been given another pointless and time-consuming assignment by his third bunkmate Bellard. There was no question it was an abuse of the minuscule difference in their ranks and done only to harass and goad but Tracy knew better than to complain. A couple of times Tracy had snapped and struck back verbally at the trio. That’s how he’d earned those extra admonitions. Thus far he’d managed to keep it just verbal and not resort to his fists because he knew if he crossed that line his career would be over.

  So now he was down on the cavernous supply deck doing a visual count of the crates of powdered milk even though a computer would do a far better job of tracking the supplies. In an hour he had to report to Navigation. Duty rotation had at least gotten him away from Westley and the middle watch.

  Shelving, tethered both to the floor of the deck and to the ceiling, loomed around him. The upper shelves were in shadow in the enormous room. For Tracy walking the corridors between the shelving was like exploring an ancient temple if you didn’t look at the prosaic labels on the crates strapped onto the shelves. Gigantic cherry-picker robots slumped, weary monsters in the shadows. Eventually he was going to have to fire up one of the behemoths and use the bucket to reach the highest shelves. His footsteps echoed off the metal walls and he shivered. Due to the perishable nature of some of the stores the room was kept very cold. Easy to do in vacuum.

  A sound like the low cry of a dove reached him. Tracy froze. Listened. It came again and resolved into a woman’s voice, crying. There was only one woman on the Triunfo.

  Tracy ran toward the sound. “Cipriana! Where are you?”

  “No. Go away. I’m all right.” Her voice was thick with tears.

  “Yeah, of course you are,” he muttered to himself and followed the sound of her voice.

  He found her on the floor in a narrow space between the wall and the final shelf. Even in the shadows the split and swollen lips, the blood from her nose congealed on her upper lip, the torn utility uniform told the tale.

  “Oh God,” Tracy whispered and dropped to his knees beside her.

  She was naked from the waist down, her trousers an inside-out ball next to her. Her panties shredded lace. There was blood on the inside of her thighs. A few beads from her beautiful cornrows had been torn loose and lay like scattered pearls around her. The remaining beads rang as she gave her head a violent shake. She grabbed for her wadded trousers and tried to cover herself. Pity and rage warred in his heart. Tracy started to reach out to her then thought better.

  “Who did this?” he demanded. She flinched and he realized his tone was loud and harsh. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry. Not with you,” he said, softening his tone. “My first question should have been… how badly are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think anything is broken. I think he sprained my wrist, and…” She gestured at her battered face.

  “You fought.”

  “He won.” She looked away. When she resumed talking her voice was flat and unnaturally level. That in itself was alarming. “They teach us, do the best they can, but in the end you’ll always be stronger, have a longer reach. Be able to take more punishment.”

  “We need to get you to sick bay.”

  “And say what? I can’t report this. You know that.”

  “But what if you’re…” He made a vague gesture too uncomfortable to say the word.

  “Pregnant? You’re so cute. I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen. Shhh, don’t tell the chaplain.” She gave him a wink then winced as it pulled the skin around her bruised eye.

  She sounded like her normal insouciant self while tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and her body was shaken with shudders. The juxtaposition told him she was in real trouble. He didn’t know what to do. Bodily carry her to sick bay? Run for a first aid kit and patch her up? Shake her until she told him who had done this? Rage and punch the wall?

  “Who was it?”

  “You’re a smart guy, Tracy. You can figure it out.”

  “Wessen.”

  “Give the man a prize!”

  “I’ll handle him.”

  “No, you won’t. You can’t any more than I can. Turn your back.” He did and heard her groan. “That nothing’s broken thing? I was wrong.” A few moments later she said, “You can turn around now.”

  She was dressed, trying to lace up her utility boots. “Let me,” Tracy said. He knelt at her feet and laced and tied her boots. He stood and backed away until his shoulders rested against the shelving. She was pressed up against the wall. “You have to get off this ship. Request a transfer.”

  “No. You know how that looks. I have to stay for Mer’s sake. Sumi never graduated. Dani’s dead. If I’m perceived to have failed then everyone will say she’s being carried because of who
she is. That can’t hap—”

  “For God’s sake, Cipriana. This isn’t the time for political calculation! You can’t stay on a ship with the man who raped you.”

  “I wouldn’t be the first woman who had to stay in a job or a marriage with a man who… who…” She began to shake.

  “Cipri.” He stepped toward her then froze. “May I touch you?”

  “Please do,” she sobbed.

  He took her in his arms. She clung to him and wailed, her tears dampening his shoulder. Eventually the storm passed. He offered her a handkerchief. She gingerly wiped her bruised face, blew her nose. “Ow,” she said. “Add the nose to the broken ribs.”

  “You have to get medical attention.”

  “We need a story.”

  Tracy looked around. His eye fell on one of the loaders. “You were down here helping me with the inventory. I fucked up and left a loader in gear and you got injured.”

  “No, it’s not fair for you to take the blame. I’m the one who got my… myself… in this mess.”

  “I’ve already got so many admonitions on my record one more won’t—”

  “No! I’m not adding that guilt to everything else I’m feeling.”

  “Okay.”

  She began limping toward the doors. Tracy walked beside her. She stopped before the sensor could read their presence and open the doors. “Promise me you won’t do anything about Wessen. It won’t work and it will just hurt both of us. It’s just how things are. I won’t be stupid again. And I don’t think he’ll try again. I’m sure it wasn’t all that fun. I did get in one or two good hits.” She gave him a brave but sad little smile.

  “I don’t know if I can do—”

  “Please, Tracy. Promise me.”

  “All right. I promise.”

  * * *

  Commander Dr. Exeteur stepped out of the examination room. Tracy stood up. He had reported the accident to the bridge and Sukarno had excused him from duty, telling him to “see to the young lady”.

  “Interesting story the two of you spun. Unfortunately for you two I wasn’t born yesterday, and I did go to medical school so she stopped lying, but she won’t permit me to report the rape or tell me who assaulted her. Do you know?”