by L.V. Lloyd
12 Betrayal
David Hardy was unfortunately the type for which Rule 158 had been written. So far he had managed to keep out of trouble but it was only a matter of time before he was transferred. Unlike Kent, he couldn’t or wouldn’t keep the relationship private. He was familiar when other crewman were around, assumed special treatment as his due and in short, soon helped to create just that air of resentment among the crew that Matthews had previously hoped to avoid.
He had been flattered when the Captain called him to his quarters and agreed to everything he wanted in a matter of minutes. He was slightly built with blond hair as long as regulations permitted and a pretty face. Unfortunately, he tended to be spiteful and rather selfish, his one redeeming trait being an almost brilliant understanding of his job, which was maintaining the space drive. Matthews was not fully conscious of the fact that he had chosen him because he was as opposite to Kent as he could be.
When Kent heard the news he sought instant refuge in his cabin. He felt so hurt and humiliated that he thought he hated Matthews. When he imagined him kissing Hardy his own face burned with shamet was that how the Captain had seen him? Just like Hardy, perhaps a bit harder to get? He obviously preferred Hardy’s practised caresses to his own shy attempts. Kent squirmed in agony. The Captain had known perfectly well how he felt about homosexuality, why on Earth had he led him on if he hadn’t really wanted him? How could he have been so cruel?
He didn’t turn up for duty that next shift and the men under his command covered for him. It was the first time that anyone could remember that the crew of the Kalar had supported someone against their Captain. Pride got Kent out of his cabin for the next watch. He was a responsible officer, not a lovesick mooner, and besides, he would not give Matthews or Hardy the pleasure of witnessing his pain and humiliation. Despite his good intentions, he could not concentrate properly on his work. A couple of times he made mistakes which could have been dangerous if his subordinates had not seen and corrected them. His temper was short and although he apologised immediately he was disintegrating as an officer and he knew it.
On his way back to his cabin after that shift, a man who he knew was one of the other few oms on the ship, knocked into him coming out of his own quarters and Kent nearly lost it. In a split second he had the crewman backed up against the wall, his hand at his throat. “Don’t touch me!” he hissed.
The crewman looked at him as steadily as he could. “I’m sorry, sir, it was an accident,” he gasped, the pressure around his throat made it difficult to speak. He stayed motionless, waiting for sanity to return to the Lieutenant’s eyes.
Kent looked at his hand in horror and drew back instantly from the other man, shaking his head. “Sweet gods! I could have killed you.”
The crewman looked at Kent, saw that he was about to come completely to pieces, decided to take a risk, and quickly drew him back into his cabin. He set the privacy seal and sat down as far away from the other man as he could so as not to alarm him further. “Take a deep breath, sir. Sit down and put your head between your knees for a minute. Take some time out.”
In a daze, Kent followed the instructions. After a couple of minutes he felt as if he was starting to get back in control of himself. He looked at the other man, sitting there watching him with concern on his face and rook another deep breath. “I am so sorry, Nguyen! Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, sir. What about you? Do you want to talk about it? I am more likely than most men on this ship to understand,” he added with a slight smile.
“What’s there to say?” replied Kent bitterly. “I love him, I hate him. He dumped me. End of story.”
“Oh!” said Nguyen a little weakly.
Kent looked at him for a long intense minute, then cleared his throat and asked, “Do you want to have sex with me?”
“Oh, wow,” breathed the other man. He looked at the handsome young officer sitting on his bed but shook his head, “That’s some offer, but I think the last thing you need right now is some revenge sex. Ask me again in a couple of months if you’re still interested.”
Kent couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth. “I am so sorry, Nguyen, I didn’t mean any disrespect. I am just a mess at the moment.”
“Believe me I’m not offended, but I wouldn’t make that offer to anyone else if I were you! Not everyone is as principled as I am. I suggest an hour in the gym with a punching bag, followed by several fast games of racquetball, would do you more good right now than anything else.”
Kent sighed. “You’re probably right.” He got to his feet and looked at the other man, held out his hand to him, and said seriously. “Thank you! You’ve been very decent to me, but I’d better go.”
Nguyen shook his hand and released the privacy seal to open the door. “You’re welcome, Lieutenant.”
Kent thought he might as well follow Nguyen’s advice and headed for the gym. The vigorous exercise did help somewhat, he admitted, heading toward the racquetball court, until he caught sight of the Captain stripped down to a pair of shorts, on the other side of the gym bench-pressing weights. He must have seen the Captain undressed before, but he had never paid attention as he was doing now, checking out the well-muscled, compact body, the solid thighs and smooth brown skin. His black hair was just long enough to need flicking out of his eyes and his mouth was tight as he strained to raise the weights as high as he could.
Feeling like a glutton for punishment, Kent strolled over with false casualness to get a closer look. Matthews caught sight of him approaching a minute later and faltered with the weights, struggling to get the bar back in the slot. God, Richard was beautiful, broad shoulders, long legs, skin and muscles glistening after his workout, his blue shorts riding low on his hips. His mouth went dry. Richard made a show of looking at the weight he was using, smiled condescendingly as he realised he could lift heavier and turned on his heel and walked out, unintentionally giving Matthews a view of his perfect tight backside. He was unaware of the Captain’s eyes following him all the way to the door.
As soon as he was outside, the false bravado fell away and he leant against the wall. He couldn’t take this any more—the pain was just too great. He showered and dressed and then went in search of Simenson before he could change his mind, the irony so bitter he wanted to laugh.
“Rule 158. You’ll have to transfer me under Rule 158 because I’m causing a dangerous tension!”
“You!” Simenson was astounded.
“Yes, me. Sim, where have you been living lately? I’m sure everybody else knows the Captain picked me up after the Harper affair, and has since dropped me like a stone for Private Hardy. And... and I just can’t take it. I have to get out of here while I can still function as an officer.”
“Leave? But you’ve been on the Kalar your whole career!” Simenson was still struggling to come to terms with the news.
“I know. I don’t want to leave, God knows how much I want to stay, but I’m not responsible for what I’m doing any more. I’ve got to go or I’ll be sent. Sometimes I think I could kill him with my bare hands!”
“Kill who?” demanded Simenson urgently.
“Never mind. Just get me out of here before I lose it!” Kent was pacing furiously up and down.
“What does Luke think about all this?” ventured the Medical Officer.
“Frankly, I think he’ll be glad to see me go! You know the crew’s actually on my side over this.”
“That doesn’t sound good. I hope you’re not deliberately turning men against the Captain?”
“No, I haven’t sunk that low yet. I’ve even tried to tell myself he has the right to treat me however he likes. My reason might be able to accept that but my feelings certainly can’t!” He paused. “So, will you do the necessary things for my transfer?”
“If everything is as you say, I have no right to stop you.”
Kent heaved a sigh of relief and tried to relax as Simenso
n moved reluctantly in search of the form. It was an old fashioned hard copy, requiring actual signatures. About ten minutes later, Simenson handed him the partly completed document. “All it needs now is Captain Matthews’ signature. If for some reason he doesn’t give it, bring it back here and I’ll sign it as Chief Medical Officer.”
The Lieutenant nodded his thanks and left the room, slipping the form inside his uniform jacket. Now he had to find the Captain.
