Collision of Worlds - Chapter 15

Abdullah lay back on the cot in his spartan chambers and rubbed his face, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened in the last few weeks. His bed was basically just a rigid board built up against the wall, the kind he’d grown used to in his years of being a common soldier.

The original bed for the First Officer was plush, soft, and entirely miserable to try and sleep on. He’d replaced it in the first few days after being promoted when his back began hurting. He’d never looked back.

He’d also replaced the desk—the old one took up too much space—and given away a lot of rugs and paintings that the previous First Officer had collected. He liked to have as much open area in his quarters as possible to give himself room to think. Nothing in here was a waste of space or distraction.

Right now, though, he felt he could do with a little bit of distraction. He was exhausted but couldn’t sleep, and he hadn’t managed to relax since Captain Grove had first put him in charge of the trial.

He couldn’t get his mind to stop spinning and thinking through worst-case scenarios. He’d been expecting a day like this to crop up ever since his promotion, where he was finally in over his head, but so far he’d been lucky. Something crappy was bound to happen.

To be honest, he was amazed he’d managed to survive this long as First Officer without things going off the rails. But now that they had, he understood the weight that was on his shoulders. He had a terrible decision to make, and it was important that he got it right.

2

Eddie Boleman showed up a few hours later to give his daily status report. Abdullah had advised him to update him each afternoon about all of the evidence that had come up in the trial.

To be honest, nothing had changed after the first few days. The evidence was incredibly cut and dry, and there was no disputing what the soldier had done. It was an unforgivable crime, and he’d been caught virtually in the act of doing it.

Eddie still showed up every day, but Abdullah was fairly sure it was to check on him and make sure he was okay more than to fill him in on the developments in the evidence gathering. Abdullah appreciated that.

“How are you doing?” Eddie asked as he came into Abdullah’s chambers. He took a seat at Abdullah’s desk and looked quizzically at his friend.

“Fine, I think,” Abdullah said.

“You look exhausted.”

“I am. The Captain is getting antsy. She expected me to give my decision a few weeks ago. I know she isn’t happy that I’m taking this long.”

“She wants you to execute Gregory?”

“She’s never said what she wants me to do. Whenever I ask, she deflects.”

“Yeah, but…”

He didn’t bother to finish the sentiment, and he didn’t have to. They both knew—as did every other soldier aboard the ship—that the Captain would have executed the Ensign immediately for the crime, probably before the evidence was even gathered proving his guilt.

“So what are you going to do?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know,” Abdullah said, shaking his head. “There are some parts of this that just don’t add up.”

“What do you mean?”

“The reports.”

“Again?” Eddie asked, a touch of annoyance in his voice. “We’ve been over this.”

“It still doesn’t make sense. There was a restraining order on Gregory. He’d been stalking her for months, and orders were to keep them apart.”

“And the system made a mistake. They got paired up on duty.”

“How, though? There were strict parameters in place to keep them apart.”

“The system messed up.”

“Did it? I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if someone intentionally paired them up?”

“What? Who would do something like that?”

“I don’t know. But what if they did?”

“They didn’t. We went through the logs, remember? No one tampered with it.”

“Logs can be faked.”

“Seems like a lot of effort for someone to go through, and for what? To put the girl in the same room alone with her unstable stalker?”

“Isn’t it possible?”

“No,” Eddie said flatly. “And even if it was, it is still meaningless.”

“What do you mean?”

“The restraining order wasn’t to protect him, it was to protect her. You’re looking at this as though someone set him up, but what happened to her is the situation we are facing. Even if the two of them were paired together, he still had no right to do what he did.”

“Yeah, but—”

“There are no buts here,” Eddie said, cutting him off. “This isn’t a ‘what if’ scenario. It happened. It doesn’t matter how or why it happened, but now you have to decide what we are going to do about it.”

Abdullah hesitated. “What would you do?”

“Kill him,” Eddie replied bluntly. He didn’t even stop to think about it. “We don’t need people like him on this ship. There is a victim in this situation, and it isn’t Gregory Tillman.”

Abdullah didn’t reply. He wished he could have Eddie’s conviction, that complete belief that he was doing the right thing no matter what. For Eddie, this entire process was cut and dry, completely simple.

But there was nothing simple about it for Abdullah, and if Gregory was sentenced to death and executed, it would be Abdullah making that decision and not Eddie. He greatly respected his friend’s opinion, but Eddie wasn’t the one holding a man’s fate and future in the balance.

“Thank you, Eddie, for stopping by,” he said.

Eddie nodded. “No worries. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on you and let you know if something else comes up.”

Abdullah nodded at him but didn’t reply. Eddie headed out into the hall, smiling at him before closing it, leaving Abdullah alone in his chambers once more. Alone, except for his thoughts.

He went back to the bed and lay down, hoping he might get some sleep but knowing he wouldn’t.

3

There was a chime at his door about fifteen minutes after Eddie left. He wondered if maybe Eddie had forgotten something and come back. He sat up, folding his right knee up to his chest and running his left hand across the stubble of hair on his scalp. It was slick with sweat, even though the room was frigid.

“Come in,” he said.

The door slid open.

Abigail Wade ran into the room, a giant grin on her face. She was cute with a round face and bright eyes, and it warmed his heart every time he saw her. That hadn’t been as often as he would have liked over these last two years, and he couldn’t help but think that she was growing up too fast.

It was like a breath of fresh air, and he found himself feeling better the second he saw her, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

“Dulah!” she shouted, jumping up onto his bed and throwing her little arms around his neck. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail with a red ribbon to hold it in place. She was wearing a blue blouse that matched her eyes.

He chuckled, hugging her back and closing his eyes.

“Hey, Abi,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“We came to bring you some food,” Jamir Paskin said, stepping into the room behind her.

He was carrying a large tray loaded with several plates and a bowl of food, a pitcher that sloshed with each step he took, and a few cups. It was some sort of steamed vegetable platter with rice, and it smelled heavenly.

Jamir set the plate on his desk, spinning his chair around and sitting down.

“I’m not hungry,” Abdullah said.

“Nonsense,” Jamir said. “You haven’t eaten anything in sixteen hours.”

“You’re tracking my eating habits?” Abdullah asked, more amused than angry.

It didn’t surprise him. Nothing surprised him anymore where Captain Grove’s personal servant was concerned. Jamir Paskin seemed to be everywhere and know everything that was going on. But never in a threatening or overbearing manner; rather, he was more nurturing. He was polite, intelligent, and friendly with everyone.

He was good with Abigail, as well, which Abdullah appreciated. He still felt terrible for the situation she’d been pushed into because of the Captain and Ministry, and he would never understand their decision. But at least he knew she was looked after.

“It’s not a difficult supposition to make even without monitoring your intakes. You have a terrible decision to make, and you’re worried about it. It upsets your indigestion and causes an imbalance in your blood sugar levels. We’re just here to remedy that.”

“You need sarton,” Abi said with a definitive nod and grin.

“What?” Abdullah asked.

Jamir chuckled at her mispronunciation. “Serotonin,” he corrected. “Tell Abdullah what we’re learning right now.”

“Algebra,” she said. “And chemistry and anatomy. But I don’t like anatomy. It’s stupid.”

“She prefers history,” Jamir explained, “which is excellent, but mental agility and aptitude requires a basic understanding of various fields of study before self-selecting preferences.”

“And tumbling!” Abi exclaimed.

Jamir smiled. “Yes, and tumbling.”

“Do you want to see me do a roll?” Abi asked Abdullah. He looked at her skeptically.

“I don’t think my room is big enough for gymnastics,” he started to say.

Abigail ignored him. She was already on the floor, doing forward rolls across the metal. Abdullah looked at Jamir, who only shrugged.

Breathless, she climbed to her feet. “I can do cartwheels too!”

He held up his hand. “Maybe you can show me later. In fact, you can teach me if you want.”

“Okay,” she said, climbing back on the bed and sitting next to him. Jamir scooped the food onto plates and passed one to Abdullah and another to Abigail.

“The rice isn’t special. It’s three-month seed we grew to supplement our pantry. Serves better as sticky balls than in a dish like this, but it’s all we have in stores. The vegetables, though, are from my personal garden.”

“You have a garden?” Abdullah asked.

“In my quarters. Since I’m not an officer, I don’t have access to the Fist’s stores of them.”

“The Captain won’t let you have any?”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare to ask. It would be improper of me to even suggest such impropriety on her part, or for her to offer me special treatment.”

“I’d heard you don’t eat meat.”

“It’s inefficient,” Jamir explained. “Animal protein is difficult for our bodies to process without expending extra effort, so meat is an indulgence. When I indulge, my preference is for sweet treats. Right, Abi?”

“Right,” Abi said through a mouthful of rice.

“She assists me in tending my garden,” Jamir explained. “And we grow a tremendous variety of edible plants. She prepared this meal, in fact.”

Abdullah turned his attention back to the plate. Some of the vegetables he recognized, but there were a few he didn’t. One was a dark green leafy plant that tasted sour and another was a white stalk covered in tiny stems. It disintegrated into little strings when he bit into it, and the stems were rather tough and difficult to chew.

“It’s delicious,” he said, pushing the unknown vegetables to one side of his plate. He was careful that Abigail didn’t see him do it.

Better to focus on the known foods for now, he decided.

“I agree,” Abi said.

Only about half of the rice she scooped onto her fork made it into her mouth. The other half ended up on her blouse or his bed sheets.

Abdullah took a few more bites of the food, but his stomach was too off kilter to enjoy the flavors. It settled uncomfortably in his stomach, but he knew Jamir was right: he needed the calories to keep up his strength.

Either way, he was pleased by the distraction.

“Are you enjoying your classes?” Abdullah asked, setting his plate aside. He accepted an offered cup from Jamir. It was a sweet fruity drink laced with cinnamon.

“Uh huh.”

“She has a good memory,” Jamir said. “We’ve begun a little language study as well, but I haven’t decided which languages would be best to teach her.”

“Why teach her languages at all?” he asked. “Why not get her a translator?”

Abdullah had a universal translator implanted in his ear—standard issue for all officers—and with Abigail’s position, it would be easy for her to get one as well. With it, she would be able to understand more than ninety percent of all spoken languages and dialects.  

“Learning multiple languages is excellent for memory development,” Jamir explained. “And helps with brain formation and adaptive skills. Memorizing scientific terminology, on the other hand, while necessary, isn’t very fun.”

“Force equals mass times acceleration,” Abdullah said, sipping his drink. “That’s pretty much all I remember from school.”

Jamir smiled. “It’s really all you need.”

“What’s that mean?” Abi asked, scrunching her nose. Abdullah laughed and rubbed the top of her head, messing up her hair.

“You’ll find out later,” Jamir replied, sipping his drink.

“I appreciate you coming,” Abdullah added after a few more moments of silence. He didn’t finish the thought, not wanting to kick them out, but he felt that their distraction would get in the way of the serious deliberation he needed to do.

“Absolutely our pleasure, but we should be going,” Jamir said, fully understanding. He began gathering the plates and silverware onto his tray. “We have much to do.”

“Of course.”

“Abi, please go finish reading your chapter on nucleotides. I’ll be along in a few minutes to quiz you about it.”

“Okie dokie,” Abi said, jumping up and giving Abdullah another hug. “Bye, Dulah!”

Then she disappeared out the door. Abdullah watched her go and then let out a sigh.

“Thanks,” he said, turning to Jamir. “I needed a distraction.”

Jamir nodded. “I know. If you need anything else?”

“What do you think I should do with this trial?”

“I’m not here to offer suggestions. Only comfort.”

“What do you think I will do?” Abdullah asked. “You always seem to know.”

“Of course, I know,” Jamir said. “But telling you before you reach the requisite conclusions for yourself would defeat the entire purpose of this exercise. There is a necessary process to determinations like this. I’m here to ensure your body has the fuel necessary to think clearly so you can work through your predicament.”

Abdullah leaned back on his cot, staring up at the ceiling. “Is it always going to be this difficult to make decisions like this?”

“The trick isn’t making the decision,” Jamir explained, scooping all of the food into the bowl and stacking the dishes to easily carry. He left them, though, and turned to focus on Abdullah. “You’ve already made up your mind about what you will do.”

Abdullah sat up. “What?”

“You are the man you are,” Jamir said, leaning back against the desk and crossing his arms over his large belly. “It’s taken many years for you to become this man, so your virtues and beliefs aren’t going to change at the whims of one problem.”

“So you’re saying I’ve already decided whether the Ensign lives or dies?”

“Of course, you have. You just haven’t yet figured out why you made your choice. That will require understanding who you are, a significantly more difficult task than determining how you will act. But, once you have done that, you will know more about yourself.”

“So you really think I’ve already made up my mind?” Abdullah surmised. “You’re not just blowing smoke?

Jamir nodded. “You have, you’re simply rebelling against it. Hindsight will be easier to navigate.”

Abdullah let out a long sigh. “Can you give me a hint?”

Jamir smiled. “Very well, what did the man do?”

“You already know.”

“Humor me.”

“He sexually assaulted a young woman.”

“What is his punishment?”

“That’s what I need to decide.”

“Yes, but there are recommended punishments for similar crimes, as well as precedent, correct?”

“But those run the gamut from a few months in prison to death.”

“What do you feel is the proper punishment?”

Abdullah hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Jamir replied, shaking his head. “What would you expect to happen to you if you did something like that?”

“I wouldn’t do something like that,” Abdullah replied.

“Then use your imagination.”

“I would expect death,” Abdullah said. “But that is my own expectation. I hold myself to a higher standard than I hold others to.”

“So, you feel that death is the proper punishment?”

“Yes,” Abdullah said. “But I can’t very well sentence a man to death because I feel like it’s the right punishment, can I?”

“Why not,” Jamir asked.

“Because…” Abdullah said, then trailed off. He held up his hands. “Because I’m in charge of this man’s entire future and making a decision like this shouldn’t be something I do because I feel like it.”

“You should make your decision exactly because you feel like it,” Jamir argued. “You feel like it because that is who you are. A million tiny decisions created the man standing before me and placed you in this position. If you spend too much time thinking about all of this, then of course you can find arguments against or for death. You are in the exact position you are in because of who you are, and that is the way you are meant to make this decision.”

Abdullah looked down at his hands. “But what if I’m wrong?”

“Now you’re asking if you are fit for the position,” Jamir replied, “which is an entirely different question and not the one you are here to make.”

“People can change. Maybe he deserves a second chance.”

“Why?” Abdullah said.

“He could become a better person.”

“There are millions of better people already. Billions, even.”

“Now you sound like Eddie.”

“He is a smart man. You picked him wisely to be your confidant. My point is, why spend so much time or resources on this one soldier?”

“Because every life is sacred.”

“Do you truly believe that?” Jamir asked. “Is the life of a rapist sacred? A murderer? What about the people they hurt? Doesn’t the family of such a person who committed no crime deserve vengeance?”

“So I should sentence him to death?”

“Should you?”

Abdullah sighed. “Damn it, Jamir.”

“The purpose of a civilized society is to be above the petty desires of any one person. Alone we are weak, but together we can climb above concepts like vengeance and punishment. This should be about justice. Rape is a terrible crime, but is murder an apt punishment for it?”

“You are terrible at giving hints,” Abdullah said.

Jamir bowed and picked up his tray. “This is something you need to discover for yourself. If you don’t understand the decision you’ve made, then how are you going to be able to live with it?”

Abdullah rubbed his face. “I’m even more confused now than I was before you showed up. The Captain is expecting my answer in a few days at the latest, and she’s already furious with me. And the only thing you can tell me is that I’ve already made up my mind. Oh, and that you can’t tell me what it is.”

“Another hint? Fine,” Jamir said. Carrying his tray to the door. It slid open, but he hesitated in the threshold. “The soldier’s name is Gregory Tillman.”

Abdullah blinked. “Yeah, that’s his name. So?”

Jamir turned slightly so that he could look Abdullah in the eyes. “When you spoke earlier, you referred to him by his rank. Ensign. You depersonalized him. Why would your subconscious mind do that in regards to a man you were about to pardon?”

Then Jamir stepped out the door. It slid shut behind him before Abdullah could respond. He sat alone on the cot, mulling the conversation over in his mind. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and he could breathe again. And he had to admit that Jamir was right. The more he thought about it, the clearer the answer seemed to be:

In hindsight, it was the easiest decision in the world.