Westrons Pt. 02

Instead, she bathed my foot, and checked the surgical seal.

- "Swordfight." I said. "I won."

Vanova just shook her head, and took me to me bed. Our love-making was a little fiercer, a little more intense than usual.

***

- "I wouldn't want to face you in a real fight." said Karpov. "That's for sure."

- "Me neither."

- "Umm ... listen - Cook." His hesitation struck me as odd. I'd never seen Karpov look uncertain. If I didn't know better, I'd have said he was ... embarrassed?

"I need to ask ... I need a favor." he finally got out.

- "Name it." I said. I owed him at least a couple, for going easy on me in our matches, for being a decent guy ... and for taking a message to Vanova when I was confined to the dorm.

Still, he hesitated.

- "Your girl - she ... she works at that hotel, right?"

- "Yes."

- "Do you think ... would she be able to, uhh ... get a room for me?"

- "You need a room?" I could've sworn that Karpov had enough money to rent an entire building - or buy one outright.

The long and the short of it was that Karpov had a girlfriend. But he couldn't take her to any of the usual cadet haunts, because her family were over-protective. If they turned up on regular security vids, headed for his apartment in the 16th District, or if they ran into other cadets who also had rooms in the 16th ... and someone recognized them, or even just her ...

- "I get it." I said. "You don't have to tell me the whole story. I'll ask Vanova."

Vanova had met Karpov, when he delivered my message. I told her a little more about him, and explained the situation.

- "That's unlikely to end well." she said. "But if he's your friend ..."

- "You're an angel."

- "Far from it. Tell Karpov that a tip for the cleaning staff would be nice."

That night, Vanova let me watch as she collected and loaded the music she wanted, and then recorded herself singing softly in accompaniment. It was surprisingly intimate. She was letting me see her in a most private, unguarded moment.

***

Vanova got Karpov the room next to the one we used. It was easiest that way. I went with him, to meet his girl; three people, walking together, don't look so much like a pair of young lovers sneaking off to their clandestine love-nest ...

I thought he was being a tad paranoid, but didn't say so.

Katya was a slender blonde, and a little shy with me. She'd had quite a bit of sculpting done (which had to have been monstrously expensive), but it didn't seem to have done much for her confidence.

The hotel bar was empty, except for Samir. Vanova came out to meet us, and then led us into the hotel by the back way, so that we wouldn't run into any of the customers.

The rooms were adjoining, and had a connecting door.

- "Just knock if you need anything." Vanova told them.

- "Thank you." said Karpov. He had his arm around Katya the whole time, protecting her.

When they closed the door behind them, Vanova sighed. "Young love. Your friend seems to have it bad."

- "Looks that way."

- "Well, my young love ... what do you suggest we do for the next few hours?"

- "Umm ... chess? Cards?"

We were still standing, fully clothed (though I did have my hand under her shirt), kissing - when someone pounded their fist on the door to our room.

- "Military Police! Open up!"

Military Police?

It took me only a second to figure it out. This was no coincidence - if AFOTA wanted me, they could've waited until I turned up for class in the morning.

This was about Karpov - and Katya. Who was she?

- "Vanova - get them out." I whispered.

Their room had a connecting door with the room on the far side - and that suite opened up into the hallway around the corner from ours.

"Go - go!" I hissed. Thankfully, Vanova didn't hesitate, or argue with me.

- "Just a moment, officers!" I called out. "I'm getting dressed."

They just pounded all the harder.

- "Open up - NOW! Military police!"

- "I know - I'm coming! Just let me get my pants on!"

I delayed as much as I thought I could, to give Vanova a head start. When I finally opened the door, six MPs burst into the room. The first two took me down - hard - even though I didn't resist.

They immediately found the connecting door, and stormed into the next room.

- "No one here!"

- "Where is she?" snarled the MP who was kneeling on my back.

- "Where is who?" I got out.

They pulled me to my feet, and dragged me out of the hotel. They weren't gentle about it, either.

***

On the bright side, they didn't keep me waiting long.

I was hauled into the anteroom, outside the Senior Commander's office, and sat down on the couch, with a burly MP on either side of me. The two of them were indistinguishable; I thought of them as Fric and Frac even though their nametags said Carter and Wing.

There were raised voices in Pelek's office.

- "I want that little fucker cashiered!" That was SC Pelek.

- "We can expel him, at the very least." said a quieter voice. It sounded like Gomez, to me.

- "A court-martial might not be wise." I didn't recognize that voice.

"Formal charges ... blahblah ... public hearing ..."

- "No! No public hearing."

- "There's an appeals process with expulsions."

I turned to the MP to my left.

- "Any idea what this is about?" I asked.

- "Shut up, you little prick." he said.

- "Carter!" snapped the other MP. Wing, his name was.

Wing stood up, and went into the Colonel's office. There was some whispering. Wing came back out, and resumed his seat beside me. Someone shut the door to Pelek's office, so I couldn't hear any more of what was said.

I watched the clock, for three solid hours. We'd been there so long, they brought in relief for Wing and Carter, the two MPs. Four new Military Police arrived to replace them. Two came into the waiting room, while two more waited in the hallway.

Wing whispered instructions to the new guys, while Carter wandered into the hallway, and spoke to the pair out there. He must not have known that sound carried so far.

- "Little bastard though he could screw Pelek's daughter and get away with it -"

- "Carter!" shouted Wing.

Too late. Now I knew what Karpov had gotten me into.

I was done. I'd like to think that I wouldn't have said a word about Karpov's presence. But there was nothing to be gained now by telling Pelek that I hadn't been there to fuck his daughter. The Senior Commander wasn't going to show mercy because I'd only been facilitating, rather than perpetrating.

All I could do was take Karpov down with me. And for what?

It was another hour before I was called into Pelek's office. The SC was there, with Colonel Gomez, and a third officer I didn't know.

He was the one who did the talking.

- "Cadet Cook, there are several options on the table at this point. Dishonorable discharge. Expulsion from AFOTA. Court-martial ..."

- "Excuse me, Sir - whoever you are. What am I charged with, exactly?"

- "Shut your mouth!" shouted Pelek.

Gomez restrained the SC. The third officer continued: "To preserve AFOTA's reputation, and to protect SC Pelek's family, we've decide to grant you an accelerated degree. You are, of this moment, awarded an AF commission."

I was completely lost.

- "I don't understand, Sir."

- "You just graduated, Cadet Cook. You are now an AF officer, with the rank of 2nd Lieutenant. AF Command has been notified, and we've already received a posting for you."

"As of this moment, you've been seconded to the diplomatic mission on planet CW144. You will immediately travel to take up your new post."

So that was it. Junior embassy gopher on some remote planet. This wasn't a reward; it was my punishment.

Exile.

Five years in some godforsaken backwater, after which I'd be free to request a transfer to active service. Pelek wouldn't even have to make sure that no one would take me. Who in their right mind would want a 28 year-old lieutenant with zero practical experience?

I'd be lucky to get another diplomatic posting, even if they never heard stories of my insubordinate behavior, or saw the reprimands and demerits in my AFOTA dossier.

Combat commands went to experienced officers. They'd take subordinates they already knew, or experienced junior officers who'd somehow distinguished themselves. If they took a youngster they didn't already know, it would most likely be at the request of an old friend, or an old comrade-in-arms.

Not me. I was thoroughly screwed.

Exile.

***

I didn't get leave. They wouldn't even give me a few hours to go see Vanova. My tablet had been confiscated, and I was denied access to my com, so I couldn't call or text her. No contact.

I thought that Karpov might find a way to see me, somehow. So I bit off half a fingernail, sharpened it up, and then wrote a note, in blood, on a piece of toilet paper in the lavatory.

Karpov never came. No one came.

Two days later, the MPs took me to the spaceport, and put me on a ship.

*****