Dangerous
Tension
By
L.V. Lloyd
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This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 L.V. Lloyd
Thank you
to Soniador for the cover,
and to Gitte Ekdahl and Jenny Summerhill for help with editing.
Any mistakes are, of course, my own.
Dedicated to Rae Kitano
and all my friends over the years on Wattpad
RULE 158
“Rule 158: Homosexuals are advised and requested not to enlist in ships of the following types, P108, P112, M394 and M401. Any homosexuals who do so will be subject to transfer in the event that they cause a dangerous tension aboard their ship. The question of ‘dangerous tension’ shall be decided by the Captain or the Chief Medical Officer, provided neither is personally involved in the case. Providing there is no infringement of another regulation the person so judged to be causing dangerous tension will be transferred without penalty to his/her rank, career, financial position or any other consideration. Any person not classified on official documents as homosexual, who feels that s/he is showing these tendencies should report to the medical officer immediately. Transfer will be arranged as soon as practicable if requested.”
Second Officer Lieutenant Kent placed the notice in the centre of the common room noticeboard. He was a tall man, in his mid-twenties with unruly brown hair the colour of toffee and vivid blue eyes. Although communication was electronic these days, an important message was still occasionally displayed in hard copy when someone wanted to make a point. His lips tightened as he read it. His ship, of the P112 type, had been advised to remind the crew of the regulation by its command base an hour ago.
This was because a situation of “dangerous tension” had recently occurred on a sister ship, P108 Reval, resulting in a fight between two crewmen. One had died of his injuries. Most spaceships were crewed by both men and women but there were still several specialised military vessels which were single sex, the P108 and P112 with men and the M394 and M401 with women. It was considered more effective when crew were placed in combat situations where they risked their lives.
Captain Matthews watched his officer from a distance and noticed the tightening of his mouth. He stepped up to him casually, “Anything wrong, Lieutenant? Perhaps you don’t agree with the regulations against oms?”
“I think they all ought to be shot! Nothing but a bunch of filthy—” Kent stopped abruptly, suddenly aware that he was speaking to his captain. Matthews felt and looked taken aback by his officer’s cold viciousness. Kent started an apology, obviously expecting a sharp reproof but the Captain walked off without a word, leaving his Lieutenant surprised and rather alarmed.
Kent hero-worshipped his Captain and tried to make up for his lapse for the rest of the day, carrying out his orders with extra efficiency and volunteering for general errand running. Matthews was still cool toward him when he went off duty and it was almost with relief that he heard himself called back for what was obviously going to be a lecture.
The Captain spoke coldly. “Lieutenant Kent! Never speak that way again about any type of man who might be aboard this ship. It was an extremely vicious and intolerant attitude and I hope you will either do your best to moderate it or at least keep it strictly to yourself. Do you understand?” Silence. “Well do you? Lieutenant, please at least grant me the courtesy of looking at me when I am talking to you!” The Captain’s sarcasm seemed to bite into his Second officer and his head jerked up.
“Sorry sir. Yes, I understand.” Kent’s face was pale and he bit down hard on his lip.
There was an awkward pause and then Matthews said gruffly, “I didn’t mean to jump on you, Kent, but a man who is violently anti-om can cause a ‘dangerous tension’ just as easily as an om himself.”
He nodded briskly in dismissal and walked on. After a minute Kent continued to his own quarters, both grateful and embarrassed by the Captain’s apology. He knew he had deserved the reprimand and was ashamed that he had so shown his reaction to it that the Captain had felt obliged to apologise to him.
If the Captain had ever thought about it in that light, Kent thought to himself, he would have realised that he could not have worked out a more effective punishment. Every man on the ship was devoted to his captain. It only needed one word from him to quell the least disobedience, and as some men put it, a rebuke from the captain was worse than the lash. This was perhaps the reason why the P112 Kalar was one of the best of its kind, high in efficiency and morale, respected by the whole fleet.
It was a week later that an accident rocked the whole ship to its foundations. It happened in the personnel section. The Kalar had a system, common to the whole fleet, of dispensing knowledge about personnel according to rank. For example, a corporal could access information about privates, a sergeant about corporals and privates and so on up to the Captain who had access to information about everyone aboard ship. Conversely, no-one could find out anything about the Captain except himself. At least this was the way the whole system was supposed to work.
Sergeant Jonson was instructed to access the personnel records to find out the name of every homosexual on the ship. “Sergeant” Jonson, because oms rarely attained corporal rank let alone that of sergeant. Medical officer Simenson looked up, startled, as Jonson broke into the room, white-faced and caution thrown to the winds.
“Sir! Doctor,” he blurted out. “The Captain... the Captain’s an om! The computer said so.” Simenson was too shocked to silence him and within minutes the whole ship knew. Their Captain, their strong, brave, admired captain was a disgusting, shameful om. The news shocked the crowded common room into absolute silence.
Then the whispering began. Denials, disbelief, embarrassment but above all bewilderment began to fill the air. Men could almost feel the morale and confidence dissolving away. Kent, the highest officer present, sat stunned at his table. Chairs clattered as men rose purposelessly to their feet and voices grew louder, then a man climbed up onto a table and shouted “Quiet!”
Eager for direction, men turned to him, shushing their companions. Corporal Hamilton waited patiently till he had their attention and then spoke quietly but firmly, looking slowly from one man to another.
“I don’t know about you chaps, but what I do know is that about this time last year I was trapped under a ton of rubble down on Lamos. I thought I’d had it, that everyone had gone without me. Then someone got me out. It was the Captain, the Captain of this ship,” he paused, “and I don’t care what else he is! Someone said he’s an om—well I say so bloody what! He’s still my Captain, I still respect him and I’d still give my life for him!”
The Corporal sat down amidst a spontaneous burst of applause. Someone cheered. Someone shouted, “You tell ‘em chief!” The relief was enormous; men grinned and slapped each other on the back.
Jonson got to his feet this time. “Well what do you say, men? Are we going to be swayed by a bit of prejudice? I say no! There’s nothing really wrong with being an om anyway, it’s just different. That’s what I say, who’s with me?”
Men shouted and cheered and surged across to the Sergeant. It was a mob reaction but the crew felt like a mob at that moment. Jonson was saying somethi
ng about not letting the Captain know when someone drew his attention. Perhaps it was because everyone else had thronged so readily to Jonson that no-one noticed Kent continuing to sit at his table. Everyone turned to look at him. The Sergeant cleared his throat a little defiantly.
“Lieutenant Kent, sir, are you with us?”
There was a pause and then Kent answered slowly, “Last week I actually told the Captain to his face that I thought oms were filthy and ought to be shot.” There was an embarrassed shuffle as men remembered that until a few minutes ago many of them had held similar views. Jonson spoke again for them.
“Well yes, sir, but we’ve all agreed it’s different now, don’t you?”
“No.”
Jonson looked as if he couldn’t believe his ears.