Open Secrets

Turning from the food slot, Reyes found Desai standing before him, a sad, resigned expression darkening her delicate features. Her eyes had begun to water as she reached for him and pulled him to her. “It’s almost time.”

“I know,” Reyes replied, stroking her hair with one hand as she buried her head against his chest. He rested his chin on her head, and they stood like that for a moment before he said, “Rana, I don’t think I ever thanked you.”

Raising her head so that she could see his eyes, Desai regarded him with a small smile that Reyes could tell was forced. “Thank Admiral Moratino. She’s the one who approved the conjugal visit.”

Her words had the desired effect, and Reyes laughed despite his heavy heart. “I’ll be sure to do that.” The admiral had approved his request for a single overnight guest on his last night before boarding the transport to Earth. Indeed, Moratino had been more than generous with regard to his situation while he waited for the ship that would take him to prison. He had wondered about that for a time, but she had not offered any reasons. Rather than spend any more time questioning the leniency she had shown, Reyes chose to focus on sharing this last evening with Rana, the first such opportunity they had enjoyed in months. Though an understandable pall weighed over them, they had managed to keep it at bay for a few hours.

“I guess this means our secret’s finally out,” Desai said, placing her hand on his chest.

Reyes released another dry chuckle. “I hate to break this to you, sweetheart, but along with the price the Klingons have on my head that cat’s been out of the bag for a while. If you don’t believe me, ask Tim Pe

“I did my duty by defending you,” Desai countered. “Right or wrong, I wanted to make sure you had your say.” She tapped his chest with one finger. “I suppose it didn’t hurt that I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

“It’s always something,” Reyes replied.

Desai’s expression fell, and a single tear dropped from her left eye, begi

Reyes wiped away the tear with his thumb and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “I’m not leaving you, Rana.” He drew a deep breath. “And who knows? You might be able to get my sentence reduced on appeal, or I can get an early release for good conduct. Either way, I’m hoping you’ll be waiting for me when it’s over.”

“I’ll be here,” she said, her voice soft and sounding as though it might break under the strain of fighting to keep her emotions in check. She tightened her arms around him once more, and they remained in that embrace, enjoying the moment and each other. Then the sound of the door chime intruded on the comforting silence.

“Come,” Reyes said, loosing his hold on Desai.

The door slid open to reveal one of the security guards stationed outside his quarters. She stepped aside, allowing entry for Dr. Fisher, who strode into the room dressed in his regular-duty uniform despite the hour. In his right hand, he carried what looked like four old-fashioned bound paper books.

“I heard you weren’t accepting visitors,” Fisher said, “but I figured you’d make one or two exceptions.”

Reyes nodded, offering a slight smile. “Jetanien already beat you here, back around di

Eyeing Fisher’s uniform before glancing to Desai, he said, “I’m starting to feel a little self-conscious.” His hands moved to smooth nonexistent wrinkles from the dull gray jumpsuit he had been given to wear—standard attire for a prisoner being transported.

“At least it’s not orange,” Fisher said. His eyes moved to Desai. “Good evening, Rana.” Then he frowned. “Or is it good morning?”

Desai shrugged as she crossed her arms. “Neither, really.”

Nodding in understanding, Fisher held up the books and offered them to Reyes. “Some light reading to help pass the time.”

His eyes narrowing in mock suspicion, Reyes replied, “Be-ware doctors bearing gifts.” He took the proffered tomes, holding them gently and ru

“Not first editions or anything,” Fisher said. “I had the quartermaster make them up. I know you prefer real books to data cards, and I didn’t know what kind of access to a data terminal you might have, anyway. Besides, these’ll look better on your shelf.”

Opening the largest of the books, Reyes closed his eyes and took in the musty smell of what should be centuries-old paper but that he knew had only recently been created. How did they do that so convincingly? Closing the volume, he turned it and its companions so that he could read the titles embossed on their spines. “The Count of Monte Cristo? Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption? Sunrise on Zeta Minor?”The first he had read as a boy in school long ago, whereas he had never heard of the other two, comparatively shorter works.

“They’re about prison breaks,” Fisher explained.

Desai added, “Those might prove educational.”

Chuckling at the gallows humor, Reyes eyed the fourth book. “One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich?”

“He spends ten years in prison, too,” Fisher replied, “but I figure you’ll have it a hell of a lot easier than he did.”

“I sure hope so,” Reyes said as he crossed the room to where a small black bag sat on his dining table. The bag contained the very few personal effects he would be allowed to carry with him, including—among other things—a collection of photographs and a few books from his own library. The rest of his belongings would be packed and transferred to one of the station’s cargo stores until he provided a final destination for them. He had packed no clothing or personal-hygiene items, as all of that would be provided for him aboard ship as well as upon his arrival at the penal settlement. “Your taste in gifts is about as good as my fashion sense.” He moved back to where his friends stood and patted Fisher on his arm. “Thanks, Zeke. I mean it.”

“I needed something big enough to hide the hacksaw blade,” the doctor retorted. Then his expression softened, and he reached out to grip Reyes’s shoulder. “Now, listen to me, Diego. I know you did what you thought you had to do, and who knows? Maybe some sense will get knocked into people’s heads as a result. Until that happens, you’re not alone, do you understand me? You’ve got friends.”

Reyes smiled again. “I know,” he said before the door chime sounded again. “Come,” he called out.

When the door opened this time, it was to admit Lieutenant Beyer and Ensign Tseng, the pair of security guards posted in the corridor. Beyer regarded Reyes with an apologetic expression clouding her fair features.

“I’m sorry, Comm—I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “It’s time to go.”

Nodding, Reyes replied, “Okay.” By mutual agreement, Desai would remain here, rather than accompany him to the hangar bay. He reached for Fisher, drawing his longtime friend into a firm embrace, a gesture shared by brothers and comrades in arms who had lived long enough to see far too much and come through it all because of the uncommon bond linking them.

“Take care of Rana for me, would you?” he asked as they stepped apart.