4. A Suspected Affair
- Clinton W. Waters
- Mar 10, 2022
- 5 min read
Updated: Mar 15, 2022
Location: Hegemony Ship
Aliens: Rechin, Arthropoid, Rivan

“Come in,” Captain Oomar said. I hesitated at the door, my finger still pressed to the page button. “Come in,” he repeated, impatiently. I released the button and the door nudged open. “Damn thing,” the captain muttered, “you’ll have to help it along, cadet,” he said. I wrapped my hand around the edge of the door and pushed gently. The door didn’t budge, so I put some weight behind it. Something gave way and the door flew into its groove in the wall. I stood stock still for a moment, jolted by the abrupt clang and the equally abrupt image of the captain, stooped over his desk.
Clearing my throat, I stepped inside. The door hiccuped and scraped, but eventually shut itself behind me. The captain’s office was tidy, as to be expected, but I wasn’t prepared for the amount of art he had tacked to the walls. Various different styles. What appeared to be a nude of a reclining Rivan, smiling at me. I snatched my eyes away to rest on the captain. “At ease,” he said, but I didn’t think I could will my body to be anything but ready to run. “Take a seat, Mr. Arno,” he said, waving a clawed hand at one of the metal chairs, bolted to the deck. I forced myself forward and sat down, the design of the chair forcing me to sit up straight. Classic Hegemony brutality. You may sit, but you may not, by any means, be comfortable.
“Mr. Arno, I won’t, what’s the human phrase - ‘beat around the tree’ with you,” he said, lacing his hands together. I didn’t think that was the expression, but I also wasn’t a gifted human linguist. “You are aware of the Hegemony Code of Conduct,” he said. I faltered, not sure if he was looking for me to answer, as he had said it so clearly as a statement. Of course I was familiar, we had tests over it weekly in the academy. I finally gave a creaky nod. For once, I was grateful to be an Arthropoid. We don’t have a lot of the same tells as other species do. Or so the other cadets say when we’re playing cards.
“So, you are, in fact, familiar with,” here Captain Oomar tried to remember the specifics, but gave up. “You are familiar with the rule against romantic entanglements,” he said after a dreadful pause.
“Y-yes sir,” I said, willing my antennae to not go wandering in search of an exit.
“Then, why is it you have entered into such entanglements with your fellow cadets?” he asked pointedly. His big, black eyes didn’t give much away, but somewhere in my mind I thought that some billions of years ago, something like him would eat something like me without a second thought.
“I’m sorry sir, but I don’t know what you’re referring to,” I said, as evenly as I could.
“Please don’t insult me, Mr. Arno,” the captain said. I didn’t budge. If I didn’t admit to anything, it would require evidence. I knew plenty of cadets that washed out for much more minor infractions. I thought of Mina and our time together on the last shore leave. I thought of Willem, in the barracks during basic training. Surely the captain wouldn’t be bringing up something from so long ago?
“I would never insult you, sir. I just mean to say I haven’t had any…entanglements,” I said, the word feeling gross in my mandibles.
“I was hoping not to have to resort to this,” Captain Oomar said with a sigh. He swiveled the dead, dark screen of his personal display towards me. He opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a data chip. Sliding it into the port on the side of the display, it flickered to life. There, in striated lines, was a depiction of me and Bilo. My organs quickened, moving the hemolymph around my body even faster. We were sitting quietly in the common room of our quarters that we shared with two other cadets. The time stamp showed it was late, well past general “recommended” lights out. I couldn’t gauge what night it was, but I allowed myself to breathe more steadily, the spiracles in my arms and legs taking in a steady stream of air. I think I knew what the captain was getting at, but we had never touched each other, had taken great strides to ensure it. We had practiced for hours on duty, me having to learn how to respond without speaking, how to return a touch or a kiss with just a thought. For most of the video, we weren’t even looking at one another. Finally, at the end, he turned to me and we shared a slight nod before going to our separate rooms. The video ended and the display clunked off.
“I apologize sir, we were up later than recommended,” I said. “But I don’t believe that’s a documentable offense.”
“Don’t lie!” the captain said, slamming his hands down onto his desk. The display wobbled on its fragile-looking neck. “Cadet Bilo is a Rivan,” he practically roared. “We all know what Rivans are capable of. You may not have-have entangled there in the room. But you were in your minds!”
“Sir,” I said quietly, tilting my head in mock confusion. “I know Rivans have telepathic abilities, but Cadet Bilo has his mandated inhibitor on through the entirety of the video,” I said. The captain, a little shaken, replayed the video. I nearly shuddered in relief to find I had actually told the truth. Bilo was almost neurotically more careful than I. In the video the light on the band that ran along his forehead blinked a few times. The captain didn’t need to know Bilo had long ago mastered working around the inhibitor. “If Cadet Bilo and I were having relations,” I said, still not enjoying having to come up with a substitute, “I would tell you the truth. ‘A member of the Hegemony does not deal in lies,’” I said, quoting the recruitment material. That may have been too risky a move, but after staring daggers into me for a solid minute, the captain acquiesced.
“Fine. But should I find out you’ve lied to me,” the captain said and ran a talon along the desk, easily leaving a groove in its wake. “You’re dismissed,” he said, and shooed me away. I stood and thanked him, adding a respectful salute with all four of my arms.
I practically ran back to the barracks. Bilo was in the common room, leaning back into the couch, his legs spread wide. “Hey,” he said, distractedly. “Bad news?” I heard his voice in my head. He was pretending to read a report on a handheld display.
“Hey,” I said back, matching his tone. “We’re in the clear,” I said to him silently. His eyes darted up from the report and he grinned. I looked about the room and sat in a far chair. I untied my boots, and I caught him staring. I kept the link between us open. “You were right. They’re watching,” I told him. I tilted my head up to the corner of the room, where now I knew a camera was watching us. Bilo stretched and turned, taking note of what I was referencing.
“Let ‘em watch,” he whispered to me telepathically. I felt his phantom touch run a finger up along my legs. I got out my own display and clicked buttons meaninglessly. In my mind I saw him on the floor, smiling up at me.
“Let ‘em,” I agreed.
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