Chapter 10
Twenty years earlier
"I'm sorry, Wilson, but I'm not going to sleep with you." The dark haired young man was apologetic but determined.
"Why? Is there someone else?" The older man couldn't believe the other man was rejecting him, he had been so certain it was simply a matter of time before he completed his seduction, got that beautiful body underneath his.
There wasn't but perhaps it would be easier if Wilson thought so. "Yes, there's someone else." He was going to add that it was someone he had met while on leave on Capella, a reasonably likely scenario, but the other man turned on his heel and stormed out before he could finish. There was only one person this new lover could be, damn him to hell!
Only a few hours later, Tom Wilson, a private on the patrol ship P108 Reval, caught his crewmate Pat Doyle by the front of his uniform, and slammed him up hard against the wall. His face was flushed an angry red, his bloodshot eyes squinting in the dim light. They were in a small dark alley outside the Two Rings bar, having just been thrown outside by the security guard for fighting. Both men had been drinking heavily, much more than they should have while still in uniform.
"I told you to stay away from him!" Wilson snarled. He was a big man and had lifted Doyle almost off his feet.
"Get your fucking hands off me!" Doyle tried unsuccessfully to pull Wilson's wrists apart. "I'm the one he wants!" he taunted. "Get over it!"
"He was mine, until you came sniffing around." The big man blinked back angry tears.
Doyle seized on this display of weakness, twisting the knife. "I had him last night," he lied. Wilson slammed him against the wall again. "Afterwards he told me ..." slam "that you weren't ..." slam "man enough for him!" Goaded beyond reason, Wilson lifted him off his feet and threw him against the wall as hard as he could. There was a sickening crunch as Doyle's head snapped backwards and hit the wall first.
Private Jackson Murray was one of the first on the scene, staring at the two men in horrified disbelief. Tom Wilson was standing over the prone man with maudlin tears in his eyes, watching as the blood trickled out of Doyle's head. "I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have said that," he told him earnestly.
He looked drunkenly at Murray. "I wasn't good enough for you, was I? Bastard! He told me how you slept with him. Damn you! Damn you both!"
Private Doyle died an hour later. Private Wilson was arrested and, a month later, tried and convicted of manslaughter. An urgent instruction reminding personnel about Rule 158 was sent to all P108 and P112 ships as a matter of priority.
XXX
Present time
Captain Jake Farrell thought back to the incident twenty years ago that had convinced him in the strongest way possible never to engage in another relationship with anyone on the same ship. The tragic thing was, he hadn't slept with either man, had never intended to. He had exchanged a few kisses and gropes with Wilson until it dawned on him that although he liked him well enough as a friend, he wasn't sexually attracted to him. He hadn't even liked Doyle. Doyle had made a heavy pass at him which he had had absolutely no qualms in rejecting, vigorously. The man had a mean streak which he found completely unattractive. He had never dreamt Wilson would think Doyle was the man he was turning him down for. If only Wilson had talked to him first before leaping wildly to conclusions, if only Doyle hadn't lied about it. If only he, Farrell, hadn't started a sexual relationship, innocuous as it was, with Wilson in the first place!
He had changed his name after the trial, choosing his mother's surname, and shortening his first name to Jake, Jackson Murray had become Jake Farrell.
He had sworn a vow to himself, never to engage in a sexual relationship with a fellow crew member ever again. When he had been promoted to Captain he had seized the opportunity to make his personal policy a rule for everyone, it was the only way he could think of to stop a similar disaster happening again.
And if ever he had needed further proof that he was right to ban relationships on his ship, he told himself wryly, he had just provided it.
XXX
He wanted Petrov. He had wanted him from the moment he saw him, when he had lodged his application for Second Lieutenant on the Diell. Although he was the man best qualified for the job, Farrell decided reluctantly he was a risk he couldn't take. Instead, he chose Lieutenant Keita, and had just forwarded notification of his official acceptance when he got a message advising that Keita had been granted a twelve month scholarship to pursue his studies in Ancient Earth Cultural History, and was no longer available.
As his second choice, Petrov had been automatically promoted. Farrell had stared at the message, feeling a mixture of excitement, dismay and fear. He told himself he had to keep this man at arm's length, and had begun building up the barriers around himself even higher, only to find that Petrov in the flesh had been even more attractive than Petrov on the console. Not only was he gorgeous to look at but he was honest, intelligent and courageous. Just look at the way he kept fighting back in their practice matches, despite losing every time. He still felt a little uncomfortable when he thought how much he enjoyed covering Petrov's body with his own when they fought, though he was always scrupulously careful never to linger a moment longer than necessary.
Farrell found himself torn in two. He couldn't have Petrov himself but he didn't want anyone else to get too close to him either. Shehu was safe enough, after all he was bit of a dry stick, a couple of years older than himself and, well chess, hardly the most exciting of hobbies! He knew he was straight, he had a live-in woman friend on Capella, but someone young and attractive like Nguyen might prove to be too much of a temptation for the young Lieutenant, a temptation that he wasn't prepared to risk. He knew Petrov was annoyed with him for his constant interfering chaperonage, but he didn't think he had realised that it wasn't Nguyen who he was concerned about.
And now, the other night, he had just blown every careful plan, every painstakingly constructed barrier with one careless action. What on Earth was he going to do about Petrov?