Salvation (7 page)

Things were tense the next morning
. I tried to continue my work as usual, but I could tell that the captain was in a lot of pain. He was stoic, however, and continued making decisions as usual.

Just before our afternoon meal, Jeremiah walked past me into the captain's office. I couldn't see their faces, but I could hear what they were saying loud and clear.

"I'm so sorry, Captain," Jeremiah sounded devastated.

"What is this about, Jeremiah?"
The captain's voice was harsh and I could hear him shuffling his papers.

"I should have known we couldn't trust those
Ravians. I should have put their cargo in the reinforced section on its own."

The captain slammed his fist down on the desk and I jumped. I knew that was what had happened because he'd done it before and I'd had the same reaction.

"Dammit, Jeremiah, get out of here," he barked angrily.

"No,
Captain, not this time. It's my fault and I know it," he insisted. Then he took a deep breath. "Let me pay for the supplies."

I heard the chair scrape on the steel floor as the captain stood up. I briefly wondered whether I should alert the medical bay in case they actually
came to blows.

I heard his footsteps on the floor as he walked around the desk. "Who is the captain of thi
s ship, Jeremiah?" he asked, his voice low.

"Don't go there, sir. This was still my fault..."

His voice raised a notch. "Who is the captain of this ship?"

"You are, sir," Jeremiah responded immediately, and I was sure it was his military training that forced him to admit it.

"And who told you to put that cargo next to the medical supplies?"

"I recommended it..." he said, but the captain cut him off again.

The captain's voice grew even louder. "Who gave the order to put that cargo where it was?"

"You did, sir," Jeremiah answered unhappily.

His voice thundered and I imagined his hawk-eyed glare boring into Jeremiah. "That's right.
I
did. This is
my
ship and
I
gave the order. And I will
not
…" he shouted, punctuating the word by pounding the wall, which I was sure was pretty close to Jeremiah's head, "...have
you
taking responsibility for problems that are
mine
!"

"Yes, sir," Jeremiah responded sharply.

"Now get out before I throw you in the brig," he commanded, just as sharply, but his voice was lower.

Jeremiah strode back out. I had thought he would look more upset
at the exchange, but his face looked almost relieved as he brushed past my desk.

That night I tried to focus on studying, but really I was waiting with bated breath. Would he come?

Don't be silly
, I told myself several times.
If he doesn't come, it's because he doesn't want to admit to needing anything. If he does come, it's because his shoulder hurts so badly that he needs the ointment. Neither of those have anything to do with you
.

Just as I was about to retire for the night, there was a
rap at the door. My heart lurched and my hands felt sweaty.

"Come in," I called
out, trying to sound nonchalant.

The captain walked in, his face looking haggard. "Simmons," he said, walking over to the sofa. "I really hate to ask this, but could I have some more of that ointment?"

I knew how much his shoulder must hurt for him to ask. "Of course, sir," I replied, grabbing the ointment from the top of my desk. I'd had it in easy reach all night, just in case. I walked over and perched on the arm of the sofa beside him.

He leaned his head back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling as I worked the ointment into his shoulder.

"Sir," I asked softly. "You're the captain, why don't you just use some of the medical supplies we have left? We need you in top form to run the ship."

He sighed
. "I can still run the ship in my current form, it just hurts more. I need to save those supplies in case someone really needs them. For example, if someone gets hit in the leg with a blaster beam because they run too slow." He nudged me and I grinned.

"Half of the people on this ship are laborers, working with dangerous equipment. We all try our best to be safe, but accidents do happen. When they do, we'll need those supplies for someone who truly
needs them."

I smoothed my fingers over his shoulder, tracing the muscles softly. H
is eyes closed and I could see the dark circles under them.

"You have a soothing touch
, Simmons. If you weren't such a good translator, I'd recommend that you become a medic."

"Thank you, sir."
My eyes rolled upwards as I silently thanked my mother...again. She had learned how to make the ointment from a native tribes on one of her outreach missions. She'd also taught me how to make it if I could get some more of the right herbs. I would probably be close to running out after the captain's shoulder healed.

Breaking free from my musings,
I looked down at him again and noticed the lines of strain on his face. "Captain, if I may, you look exhausted. You really need to take better care of yourself."

He opened his eyes and barked out a laugh. "This from
the kid I had to take shopping to get clothes in his closet."

I could feel my face burning. "That's true, sir. But I'm not responsible for all these people either.
We all depend on you. And I'm not a kid," I finished defensively.

He
stood up and rotated his shoulder. "Well, Simmons, it's one of the perks of the job. Most people think that being captain is easy. I get to order people around, stand around looking cool, and make all the money.

"
But really, being a captain is a huge responsibility. You have to get the work first, work the hardest, you never get a day off, take all of the risk, and when the shit hits the fan everyone is always looking to you for answers." He paused and looked at me, but I just stood there with my mouth open.

I knew that he did all of those things, but they seemed to come to him so naturally that I hadn't really thought of them as
part of his job. I had never imagined that maybe those things were a chore for him too, and that maybe, sometimes, he had moments of indecision himself.

When he could see that I was at a loss for words,
he sighed. "Don't worry about me, Simmons. Things will be back to normal in a day or two."

I wished that I could have said something brilliant, or even funny, to bring the light back into his eyes.
But I had never been in a position of huge responsibility, and anything I could think of to say would seem like a meaningless platitude.

As it was, the set of his shoulders was resigned as he picked
his tired body up and walked to the door. I tried not to watch the way the muscles in his back moved as he walked. His huge shoulders tapered down to a trim waist. The muscles on his firmly sculpted good shoulder rippled as he reached up to tap the exit panel.

From then on, the captain came to my room every night again for the 'miracle ointment', as he called
it. I spent longer and longer putting ointment on his shoulder, using the excuse to sit next to him. I felt closer to him than I ever had to anyone, and every time I saw him, my heart fluttered in my chest.

A couple of times, I caught him looking at me oddly. Once was when I had just finished putting the ointment on his shoulder, my lips close enough to kiss it. He turned his head slightly to look at me, and for a moment I saw something blaze in his eyes. But he got up quickly and left, and never mentioned it again.

Working with him became a daily struggle after that. The only thing I could remember was his skin, firm and smooth under my fingers. When he talked, I found myself looking at his mouth and wondering what his lips would feel like on mine.

Finally,
when he was mostly healed, he came over one night with a beer in his hand. I sat next to him on the sofa as usual, though he didn't need the ointment anymore. I knew that I was sitting too close, but I couldn't make myself back away. My eyes took in every inch of his profile as I stared at him.

F
inally, the captain sighed and put down his beer. "Simmons," he said gruffly. "I need to talk to you."

My heart started to pound.

"One of my friends is putting in at the same port as we are tomorrow. He is the captain of a transport ship for passengers, and he needs a translator. I told him that I would transfer you to his ship, and you'll leave with him."

I shrank away from him and I knew my mouth was open in horror. I could feel the blood drain from my face and my entire body started trembling. My worst fears were happening. He was forcing me off his ship.

"B-but I'm a good translator," I
stuttered, my teeth starting to chatter.

He cursed. "Dammit, Simmons, why do you always make me want to protect you?" He
clenched his fists. "I'm not abandoning you. I'm sending you to the man who is my closest friend besides Jeremiah. I trust him completely, and he has promised me that he will look out for your best interests. The job is very safe, and they only go to the wealthiest planets."

He took another
drink of his beer, then continued. "You are truthfully the best translator I have ever had. I can't deny that I am going to be sorry to see you go."

I just wanted him to leave so that I could cry, but it seemed he was trying to convince me that forcing me to leave was the right decision. 

"Remember I told you that being a captain is a responsibility? Well, it is. I have to think of my crew and what is best for them. You are very young, and you need an opportunity to travel work with different types of ships and meet different types of people. Believe me when I say this...I'm doing what is best for you."  He plunked down his glass roughly to punctuate his last sentence, then stood up and left.

Once
he was gone, I fell off the sofa to my knees and shoved my fist into my mouth, trying to control my gasping sobs. The emotional pain I felt was almost physical...it felt as though he had shoved a knife into the center of my chest. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't do anything except kneel there with my arms about myself and tears slipping down my cheeks.

Finally, I crawled over to my bed and covered my cold body with the blankets. I needed to sleep to be ready for what faced me, because t
omorrow, I was going to lose the only home I'd known in years, and the only man that I had ever truly loved.

My hands were shaking as I packed my bags. Although I had only brought the backpack when I had arrived, my shopping spree had been enough to fill the larger duffel bag which had magically appeared outside my door this morning.

My emotions were in turmoil, and I knew I had to get them under control.
I wanted to hate him for abandoning me. But unfortunately, I knew that he was trying to do the right thing, and that made me love him even more.

And a
lthough I wanted to beg to stay, I knew that I should get off the ship as soon as possible, because I wasn't going to be able to hide my femininity for much longer. I'd already been on the ship for a year, and I had to face the fact that I didn't look like an eighteen-year-old male. It was better for me to leave nobly, and for him to remember me as a good translator who had idolized him than as someone who had lied to him the entire time he'd known me.

I didn't know everything about the captain, but the one thing that I did know was that if he ever found out about my deception after all this time, he would never forgive me.

When my bags were packed, I knew that I couldn't
avoid it any longer. I threw my pack over one shoulder and heaved the duffel up over the other one. Then I took one last look at my quarters. They were clean and bare, and it seemed as if I had never even lived there.

I
walked slowly down to the cargo bay, which I knew would be bustling with merchandise being loaded and unloaded. There would also be a crew fixing the burnt section where the fire had been; my last job as a translator had been to hire them. Life for everyone would go on as normal, life for everyone but me.

I saw the captain standing in the middle of the hold, as always, his wide stance and powerful shoulders still making him seem to tower over the others. He shouted out orders as he had the first time I'd seen him, but now that I knew him, I could
hear the underlying concern in his voice as he watched the crew operate the heavy machinery. How much has changed in a year, I thought.

I didn't hesitate
this time, wanting to be brave and knowing that I would never live it down if I cried in front of him. I marched straight up to him and held out my hand.

He caught me out of the corner o
f his eye and turned to face me. It felt surreal, like a strange, nightmarish kind of déjà vu in which everything was the opposite of how it should be. His face showed compassion, which for some reason I resented. It might have been appropriate if I really was a man, but I just couldn't make myself think that way right now.

I
took a deep breath and reached out to shake his hand.

"Oh, no, Simmons," he said, shaking his head. "I'm making sure you get to that other ship safely."

I leaned forward until I was almost touching his chest. "Sir," I said in a pained whisper. "You're already letting me go, let me leave with dignity. Please."

I stepped back and I could see that concern warred with respect on his face. Finally, he nodded once
and said loudly, "All right, Simmons. You've been an excellent translator and I'm sorry to see you go. Please report to dock 2437 and Captain Finn will meet you. I wish you the best of luck in your new position."

We shook hands formally, and then he clapped his hand on my shoulder one last time. "We'll see each other again, Simmons."

"I hope so, sir," I replied. Then I turned around, squared my shoulders, and forced myself to place one foot in front of the other. I felt his eyes bore into my back.

Don't look back
. I told myself.
Keep walking.
Don't look back
.